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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

boston

summary: as a recurring visitor from boston to the outer banks and one of kiara’s childhood friends, you get to know the pogue gang for the summer. oh, and it seems like jj has a thing for you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and typos, probably.

a/n: i hope boston doesn’t throw people off because i used it as nickname (i think it’s cute). and im not even from boston. ALSO WTF THIS IS 4K WORDS.

add yourself to my taglist!

this is my gif, please credit if using!

You’re starting to think that coming to North Carolina for the summer wasn’t as fun as you remembered.

The water touched your fingertips as you leaned away from the boat, sticking your hand out to dip it into the cold water. It was too humid for you, for starters. You were used to the colder weather of Boston and often found yourself in long sleeves and jeans with boots with an extra sweater in your car. When it got warm, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt sufficed. North Carolina’s outer banks required swimming suits, shorts, and see-through shirts in order to avoid overheating. That wasn’t exactly your style.

Your parents insisted on having you do something with your summer instead of lounging around and hanging out with people you’d see on a daily basis during the school year. There wasn’t much to do here other than drink and help your relatives on the boat with their fishing company, and the idea of working for free didn’t seem so amazing as it did when you were a child. This was the first summer you’d be spending in the outer banks for the entirety. While you and your parents travelled here for a few weeks, you were the only one staying behind until it was time to go back for school.

In all honesty, you hadn’t recalled much about the place nor the people who lived here. You were aware of the “Kooks” and “Pogues,” and the unofficial war raging between the two groups. What you gathered was that your family lived civilly between the two, not quite in either territory. If you weren’t mistaken, you were welcomed on either side of the island without drawing too much attention to yourself.

Kiara, or Kie, who was your childhood best friend, was the only person you were even remotely close to, and that was overstating it. She resembled the summer camp friend who you barely spoke to until it was time to go away for summer camp. She lived in Figure Eight but hung with the Pogue crowd, from what you understood.

You recalled meeting her for the first time at age eleven, the first time your family had made it a tradition to travel to North Carolina. Your family had wandered to The Wreck, the restaurant her family owned, and became friends because you were the only child in the building and her father had forced her to escape from her shell of a bedroom and spend some time outside. Eleven-year-old you was ecstatic to find another person to spend your summers with, and thus a friendship was born.

“Y/N, you okay there?” your uncle had asked. Pulling yourself out of your daydreams, you whipped your head back and wiped your hand on your shorts.

“I’m fine, Uncle Jim. Just thinking, is all,” you replied. Uncle Jim laughed and pulled the rope from out of the water and asked you to open the ice bin for him to put the fresh fish he had caught.

“Special order for the Camerons,” he explained. “Ward offered to pay me double if we could have this in by this afternoon.”

“So that’s why you pulled me out of bed so early,” you teased. “Mom and dad just left and you’re already putting me to work.”

You closed the ice chest and watched as Uncle Jim put away the cage neatly in the back before wiping his hands on a white cloth towel.

“You know this job like the back of your hand. Might as well put you to good use.”

“Yeah,” you said, sighing. “It’s weird being here without them.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

You shrugged. “It’s just different.”

“I know you wanted to spend your summer in Boston, but your Aunt Camille and I are happy you’re staying until September.” You smiled and gave him a side hug.

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you two. It’s just that I’m growing up and want to spend time with my friends before we all leave to college, you know?” Uncle Jim started to steer the boat top the main land and nodded.

“I hear ya. Mind dropping the fish off at the Cameron residence after I clean it up?”

You shook your head and watched as the island grew bigger as the boat approached the dock. When Uncle Jim docked the boat, you jumped out and told him you’d be getting a bite at The Wreck, hoping to see if Kiara happened to be working. The door chimed and you could see a few people seated at tables with she was preparing smoothies behind the juice bar.

“You always look like you’re thinking so deeply,” you said, taking a seat at the bar.

Kiara looked up and dropped the banana she was holding and wiped her hand on a towel, the biggest smile painting her lips as she ran behind the bar to embrace you. You laughed and reciprocated, giving her a gentle squeeze as she held you in a near lockdown.

“Two years, Y/N. It’s been two very long years,” she said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer last summer,” you said. “My grandpa called us to say my grandma had broken her hip and we flew out the next morning.”

“Is she okay?” she asked.

You nodded. “I think he was just scared but it was probably for the best that we went back home.”

“So I hear you’ll be here for the whole summer, right? I heard our dads talking last night.”

“I can’t tell whether I’m excited about that or not. Happy to be here with you but not happy about working on a fishing boat. You know how sensitive my stomach is.” Kiara laughed and walked back behind the bar, resuming making the smoothie she had halted to welcome you.

“Don’t I know it. Well, when you and I aren’t working we can hang out and I can introduce you to my friends,” she said. “I think you’d really like them.”

“God, I hope so. I’m gonna need friends if I’m going to be here for three months.”

“John B’s kind of like our ring leader,” she explained before turning the blender on. She poured the drink and continued. “He’s kind of like you. A little mischievous but he’s keen for leadership. Pope’s the smart aleck. He knows everything about anything and overthinks when we do something spontaneous.” Kiara gave you a look.

“That’s because my parents were always here!” you said in mock defense, raising your hands.

Kiara laughed. “Then there’s Sarah, who you met before. She’s cool though, not like her Kook friends. We weren’t friends before you left. Then there’s JJ. He’s kind of all over the place and there’s not really a way I can describe him. You just have to experience him for yourself.”

“As long as I have a fun summer without getting in trouble, I think I’ll be fine,” you said.

“Smoothie?” Kiara asked. You nodded and took out your wallet, but she shook her head.

“I’m pretty sure my dad would bite my head off if you paid for anything here,” she said. “Your mom did help advertise for us.”

“How about a tip,” you said, putting a five dollar bill into a glass jar. Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned.

“The Pogues and I are gonna hang out on Pope’s boat, if you wanna come. We’re just gonna hang out and eat, probably.”

“I’ll have to ask my uncle but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” you said, taking a sip of your smoothie.

“It really was nice getting to see you again,” Kiara said. “I think you’re probably my only other girl friend, aside from Sarah. God knows a girl needs her time away from testosterone.”

“I’m gonna be at Sarah’s later this afternoon to drop off some fish. I think her dad paid a lot of money for it, and I will never understand that.”

She laughed. “Well with that kind of money, I guess you wouldn’t need to think twice about paying for fish.”

You hopped off of the seat and waved goodbye before heading home.

***

When the sky turned into a shade of deep orange, you double checked to see that your phone was fully charged before slipping on your shoes and grabbing a blanket plus the bag of snacks you had purchased earlier that day. You waved at Uncle Jim and Aunt Camille, promising them you’d be safe with Kiara before you locked the front door and slipped the keys into your bag.

From your recollection, Pope’s boat was fairly large and Kiara told you it would have lights strung up so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss. The dock was quiet with the exception of fireflies buzzing in the air and the faint sound of laughter in the distance.

You could see a group of boys and Kiara lounging around with beer in their hands and you were unsure of how to approach them. Luckily, Kiara saw you in the corner of her eye and rushed down to greet you.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “Boys are annoying and I need some company. Here, let me get your bag.”

You handed her the bag and climbed onto the boat, aware of three pairs of eyes following you. Suddenly feeling a little self conscious about yourself, you waved awkwardly at the three boys.

“Don’t be weird, you guys,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Pope. Brains of our operation. You two are more alike, I think.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, tipping his hat at you.

“That’s John B,” she said as you waved at him. “He’s kinda of like you when you start talking about something you’re passionate about.” You began to blush at how Kiara was introducing you to her friends.

“Any friend of Kiaras is a friend to us,” he said, grinning.

“And that’s JJ,” she said, pointing at the blonde who was too busy looking at you to speak. “He’s, well, JJ.”

He scoffed. “These two get great introductions and I get ‘that’s JJ’?” he asked, using his fingers as faux quotation marks. Kiara shrugged.

“I happen to think I’m great, thank you very much,” he said sarcastically before winking at you. You gave him a soft grin and sat next to her, unfolding the blanket and placing yourself on it.

“And this is Y/N Y/L/N, probably the smartest one out of the five of us. She’s from Boston and comes here every summer with her parents.”

“It’s usually for a week or two to visit my aunt and uncle but this time I’m spending the entire summer here,” you explained.

“Why’s that?” asked Pope.

“My parents thought it would be good to not spend my time indoors and God knows my uncle will put me to work.”

“She’s Jim’s niece,” Kiara said.

John B’s eyes lit up. “Jim’s niece! That’s right, I remember he said you were coming to work for him this summer. He’s such a legend. How he and Camille live between us and the Kooks is beyond me. Love that guy.”

You beamed, opening a bag of popcorn. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“So how’d you and Kiara meet?” JJ asked.

“We were the only kids in The Wreck when it first opened,” she said. “Dad forced me to go outside and Y/N’s parents forced her to do the same and we just clicked.”

“So what’s Boston like?” John B asked.

“Jesus, one question at a time,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes.

“Cold, for the most part. I live on the edge of the city so I’m between suburban area and the metropolitan. It’s kind of the best of both worlds.”

“Outer banks is a wake up call,” Pope joked.

“It’s really different than what I’m used to, but this is my sixth summer out here,” you said. “And this time I came prepared with the right clothes.”

Kiara bursted out laughing. “When we were twelve, she insisted on bringing sweaters and jeans because that’s all she owned. For two weeks straight she had to borrow my clothes.” The boys chuckled.

“I’m not all that used to wearing shorts,” you said, gesturing to your clothes. “But I guess I like to lounge around in oversized shirts, so it’s a win-win.”

“Beer?” JJ asked, holding a bottle. You shook your head.

“Nah, I’m good. But thank you for offering.” He quirked his eyebrow but put it back in the cooler.

“Damn, I’ve never been off of this damn island,” said John B. “Let alone a big city.”

“It’s great, honestly,” you began, “I feel like I’m unimportant and that leaves me with so much room to grow. Nobody has any real expectations from me because I’m just another stranger. And I’m starting to sound like a cliche.”

JJ chuckled and shook his head. “Not a cliche. It’s nice to get to know someone who’s not from here.”

“God knows the Kooks aren’t welcoming,” said Pope. “But never mind them.”

“Sarah’s not coming,” Kiara said, looking up from her phone. “Said she’s too tired to make the ‘treacherous’ walk.”

“Bummer,” you said, pouting. “I haven’t seen her in so long. She wasn’t at the house when I went earlier.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her soon,” said Kiara.

“Oh goodness,” you said, shivering. “I didn’t think it would be cold tonight.” You rubbed your upper arms with your palms and tried to move to feel some friction.

“Take my jacket,” JJ said, reaching behind him to grab his discarded windbreaker.

“Thanks,” you said softly, a little confused that a stranger would let you wear his jacket.

“Damn, JJ. You’ve got broad shoulders,” John B joked, looking at how big the jacket was compared to you.

“It’s two sizes bigger than I am,” JJ said said, taking a swig of his beer.

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking between JJ and John B. “Thanks, JJ.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. You looked away to speak to Kiara and didn’t notice JJ checking you out with the jacket you had put on.

“So you think Y/N’s attractive,” Pope said, leaning in and whispering.

“Pfft, what?” JJ asked, shaking his head.

“C’mon, dude. It’s just a matter of time before you and her, you know,” he said, making a crude gesture before laughing. JJ shoved him and laughed along.

“It’s not like that,” he said. Pope raised his eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“It’s not like that either! Jeez, Pope.”

“Whatever you say, man,” said Pope, leaning back and opening another bottle of beer.

An hour had flown by and you yawned, the entire group silently understanding that it was probably too late to stay up. Pope had left ten minutes earlier after his dad had called and promised to see the rest of you tomorrow.

“This was fun,” you said to Kiara, John B, and JJ. “I really like you guys.”

“But I’m the best,” said Kiara, striking a pose that made you laugh.

“And no one’s taking that title away from you,” you replied. You folded the blanket and began to walk off of the boat with JJ offering his hand for you to step down. You took it and noticed how unusually soft they were. You started to walk back to your house before abruptly turning around.

“Oh, JJ! Wait, let me give you your jacket back,” you said, dropping the bag you were carrying. JJ laughed and shook his head.

“Keep it for tonight, Boston. It’ll give me a reason to see you tomorrow,” JJ said. You grinned at the nickname.

“Okay,” you said, picking up the bag you dropped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” JJ smiled. You could grow to like seeing his smile.

He winked. “See you tomorrow, Boston.”

***

As the weeks went by, you starting to feel disappointed whenever you thought about going back to Boston, which meant leaving your new friends behind. All the adventures you had raked up were memorable ones and it would feel weird not seeing the four rambunctious teens nearly every day.

It was a hot Thursday morning when you sat on the dock. Uncle Jim had given you the rest of the day off after helping him load his cargo, offering to make the rounds that afternoon if you were willing to go to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for that night’s dinner.

You couldn’t help but think about JJ and all the times you two had been near one another. Kiara had made an innocuous comment the prior night before you left her house about how he was much gentler when he was around you and didn’t seem to be as loud as he was when you were there. JJ, she said, was always so outspoken but whenever you were near, it was like he was censoring himself.

You were sure Kiara didn’t mean anything bad by it, but you weren’t really sure how to interpret what she said. You and JJ, aside from Kiara, had hung out the most since you met. You two spent the afternoon together at The Wreck the day after you met him, partially to give him his jacket back and partially waiting for Kiara’s shift to be over. You could feel yourself letting loose and confessed to feeling extremely nervous and self-conscious about meeting Kiara’s friends. JJ reassured you that he (and the others in the gang, of course) really liked you.

He would accompany you home and save you a seat next to him. He’d hold your bag and wait for you if the gang was running ahead. JJ would volunteer to come get you if you weren’t answering your phone and he’d make trips to visit you while you were helping Uncle Jim at work.

If you were being honest, you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t developed feelings for him. It was minor and fleeting, but it was there. The blonde made you blush without having to try too hard and you were sure Kiara knew, but she never said anything. JJ was attentive to you and let you speak when you felt your voice be drowned by someone else.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard running footsteps on the dock, only to turn around and see JJ running towards you. He peeled his shirt off and jumped past you and landed in the water, splashing you in the process.

“JJ, what the hell!” you yelled as he came up for air. He shook his head and wiped his face, grinning at your surprised reaction.

“What a morning, huh?” he said, swimming closer to you. Your legs dangled in the water and he came up, pushing his body upwards to let his arms rest on your lap. “You thinking too hard again, Boston?”

Boston. There was that nickname again. You think you hid your blush pretty well.

“You know I’m always thinking,” you replied.

“Someday I’m gonna get inside your head and know everything you think about when you disappear,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot of good stories to tell.”

“Maybe so,” you teased. “I was just thinking about how I have a month and a half left before going back home.”

“Don’t think about that,” he said, pouting slightly. “I’ll - we’ll - miss you tons. It won’t be the same until you come back.”

You laughed. “I wish I could bring you guys back with me. I don’t have that many friends I consider close.”

“And you consider us your close friends?”

“I might even say my best friends,” you said with a smile.

“Well, well, well. I’m honored to hear that, Boston. Truly.”

“Why’d you jump into the water, anyway?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s a hot morning and the sun is shining. Plus, I got to scare you, which was pretty priceless.” You shoved him back into the water and laughed as he came up with a feigned surprised expression.

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious.”

“You’re so mean to me, JJ,” you said, sticking your tongue out.

“Why don’t you join me? The water’s cool and it’s hot out.”

“I think I’m good from where I’m sitting,” you said. JJ swam closer and caressed your legs before trailing his fingers to your lap, resting his chin on your knee.

“Please?”

It was times like this when you were grateful you developed a habit of putting a swimsuit underneath your clothing. You stood up from your spot and took off your shirt and shorts, slowly dipping in the water beside him.

“Okay, you’re right,” you confessed. “Very refreshing.”

JJ swam closer to you and smiled, finding your hand and pulling it above the water to give it a kiss.

“I’m never wrong, Boston.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

JJ was quiet for a moment. “You’re so innocent.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“I don’t know. You have a purity to you. Maybe it’s Boston or maybe it’s just that you’re better than us and the Kooks combined.”

“Well, I’m definitely better than the Kooks,” you said. JJ chuckled. He pulled you closer to him to the point where your chests were almost touching.

“I just mean that I don’t know how to act when I’m around you. Usually I’m reckless and an idiot, but I’m not that way when you’re around.”

You frowned. “I don’t ever want you to be anyone but yourself around me, JJ.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that. I think you pull this calmness out of me. I don’t think I’m not being myself when you’re around. I just think that I’m much more of a person than ‘reckless’ JJ who gets into too much trouble.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he began with a deep breath, “I like you. As in, more than a friend. John B and Pope have been teasing me about it all summer but I never took it seriously until you talked that Kook’s ear off about not being a racist and sexist piece of shit.” You took a moment to recall and laugh at the memory. “There’s never a moment where I don’t want to be with you or tell you things. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, honestly.”

“JJ,” you said softly, your hand giving his bicep a squeeze in reassurance. “You know, I’ve been overthinking these past few weeks. Last night, Kie said something about how you were so aware when I’m around and how you’re less reckless and I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I just,” said JJ, “I like you a lot. More than I thought I did.”

You looked into his gaze and his arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you closer so your chests were touching. The sound of the waves was the only noise in the vicinity and the sun made JJ’s eyes look more impeccable than they already were. His lips were plump and you noticed he had stolen a glance down to yours, squeezing the small of your back as if to ask for silent permission. You inched your way closer and he followed suit until his lips had landed gracefully on yours as if it had belonged there all along.

His skin was hot under the sun and the water around you felt like it moved to push you two closer together. JJ let this kiss be a simple one, unlike the other girls he had been with before. His eyes remained closed until he pulled away and looked to see you in your entirety. You did nothing but smile and bite your lip, reaching out to kiss him once more.

“I like you too,” you said. “And I like kissing you.” JJ laughed and leaned in to kiss you a third time.

“You’re real cute, Boston,” he replied.

“Do you think we could go and get some sandwiches from The Wreck? All this swimming and all this kissing has me starved.” You shared a laugh before pushing yourselves out of the water and hoped the sun was hot enough dry you both before you reached the restaurant.

You were already counting down the days you would be coming back to the outer banks.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank imagines #jj x reader #obx #obx x reader #outer banks #my writing #boston

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hiirunakaarchive · 4 years

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– to act in haste (pt. 4)

↳ preview

Dr. Sakurai, between acknowledging her company and putting on a smile for the press, let her eyes flit away momentarily from whoever it was she was shaking hands with at that moment. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile in an attempt to keep herself collected amongst the overwhelming attention, and her eyes wandered outside of her immediate surroundings.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his.

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue.

“Ethan...?”

↳ (pt 1), (pt 2), (pt 3)

◇ pairing: ethan ramsey x mc (haruna sakurai)

◇ genre: angst, a lot of yearning, maybe a little break in between :/

◇ word count: 3.3k+

◇ tags: @aworldoffandoms, @perriewinklenerdie, @jooous, @senseofduties, @moteestro, @haesselnut, @princessfuzzy12,

◇ author’s note: to the very limited audience who actually enjoy this fic: thank u for ur patience!! this chapter was so mf hard to write and FOR WHAT. after a couple months of sitting on google docs at 4am trying to update this fic instead of doing my schoolwork like i was supposed to, it turns out this chapter is not the finale at all🤡 ive considered incorporating smut into this since those seem to get notes but that’s one of my literary shortcomings so im gonna refrain and save face✨ feedback appreciated, yall know the drill xoxoxo luv u guys

chapter four

Diamonds. Oh, how that woman loved diamonds.

Carbon atoms arranged in a tetrahedral structure. The hardest natural substance on Earth. Yet another natural phenomenon upon which mankind had imposed their shallow, materialistic beliefs.

But he bought one anyway; kept that damn two carat, marquise cut ring in the bottom drawer of his bedside table for five years. The velvet box sat in the dark that entire time, unworn and collecting dust, thus Dr. Ramsey couldn’t help but wonder if it was still suitable for the hospital heiress it was intended for.

“Dr. Sakurai will be present as the keynote speaker.”

Harper regarded Ethan carefully when she said it, far too aware of his and the younger doctor’s history. Ethan met her pensiveness with a simple nod of his head.

“I see. She’s made quite a name for herself.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” Dr. Emery observed, raising a brow, “I was expecting a bit of protest in attending, but you seem fine.”

But Dr. Ethan Ramsey was not, in fact, fine.

“Have you seen her?” Harper continued,

“Aurora ran into her in Manila, doing some philanthropy it seems. She looks different, might be the afterglow of success. Might be that boyfriend she brought along too.”

That what?

It didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, but he still stopped listening. He’d tuned Harper out, something about the boy being on Haruna’s research team in Japan, a prodigy that interned at the WHO when he was only fourteen; Harper said they were a good match, but Dr. Ramsey, as a final form of consolation, hoped he’d heard her wrong.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, because Dr. Ethan Ramsey was far too old and far too calculated to rely on something as subjective as a “marriage pact”. Blurted on a whim, didn’t keep in touch, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he still remembered her face. That shallow promise they made five years ago came with too many uncertainties, and far be it from him to be bitter over her newfound happiness.

So his silence spoke for him, living a life of 52 seconds before Harper noticed he’d gone quiet. He earned a glance from his colleague, Dr. Emery trailing off and sparing him a thoughtful look. Her gaze softened in realization, and she bit her lip regretfully.

“Oh, Ethan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you still-”

“I don’t.” He snapped.

Bullshit.

He released a long, drawn out breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting himself. But the damage had been done, and nothing he could say would wipe the suspicion off Harper’s face. The rueful shake of her head and the sympathetic pat of his arm told him all he needed to know.

“I mean it.” Ethan said, the excessive sternness of his tone taking away the credibility of his statement.

“Dr. Sakurai is…”

A pause.

“She’s nothing to me.”

–––––

And he was so damn wrong.

Ethan and June boarded a flight to Kyoto two days later, and for the entire duration until the conference, Dr. Ramsey was concerned at his own indifference.

Concerned, but desperate to believe it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect out of seeing her again, but some sick part of him wanted to have fallen out of love with her. Then that meant he wouldn’t have to care at the blatant reminder that she was with someone else. He wouldn’t have to admit that she was probably better off with someone that wasn’t him. Most of all, he wouldn’t have to pretend that the idea of them never getting a second chance didn’t absolutely shatter him.

But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy.

Because there he was, standing on the outer circle of a ring of reporters and conference guests that demanded the young doctor’s attention. Like the crowd, Ethan was completely and wholly entranced by her and it was in the moment that he realized–

Haruna Sakurai still meant everything to him.

Her hair had been cut short, its length reaching her chin and dyed a shade alike to walnuts. She wore glasses now and on the bridge of her nose rested thin circular frames that accentuated her ovular face, Haruna’s features fixed in a permanent smize as she charmed the crowd with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The woman trickled in ivory and quartz from head to toe, and Ethan’s breath caught in his throat at the memory of how much he loved her.

How much he still loves her.

And he recognized it. The moment her face fell and her smile faded, he realized that Haruna’s eyes had already met his.

Her lips parted slightly and then back shut at the sight of him, as if to stop herself just before reacquainting with the feel of Dr. Ramsey’s name on her tongue.

“Ethan...?”

She looked at him like he was some figment of her imagination, breathing his name like saying it was an anchor to keep the man from disappearing. Dr. Ramsey could almost feel himself unravel if not for the deadwood that entered the scene.

Satoshi Date.

The boyfriend.

God, her fucking boyfriend.

He was stuck to her like glue, a hand protectively encased around her shoulder as Haruna caught herself and resumed in indulging the crowd. She smiled proudly and crossed her arms, everything but her wrists and beautifully manicured hands hiding underneath the cape of her white pantsuit. Her male company, just as charismatic and smartly dressed, entertained the representatives of Big Pharma.

From what Ethan could see, Date was young. Bright. Approachable with an award-winning smile that was almost too friendly for his liking. Together, the doctor and scientist looked invincible and Ethan found himself for admitting that they actually complimented each other.

“What a tool.” He couldn’t help but scoff. “...Spit it out, Hirata.”

Beside him, June’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. She brought a hand up to her mouth and turned away, responding between giggles she tried to suppress. Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I apologize, it’s nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t let it bother you, you and Sakurai were always the better- pft.”

Dr. Hirata failed to contain herself and released a snort, shaking her head as she walked away to scout for their seats in the lecture hall. Ethan’s irritant gaze followed her retreating form and his chest bubbled with annoyance as he remained clueless towards the reason behind his colleague’s laughter.

He looked over his shoulder one more time to where Haruna and Satoshi stood, close as ever, and the jealousy weaved knots in Dr. Ramsey’s stomach to the point that he settled in looking for his assigned seat instead. Ethan glanced at his watch; fifteen minutes before the official start of the conference, and from his peripheral vision he could see Haruna beginning to make her way backstage to prepare for her speech.

Finding his spot beside Dr. Hirata, Ethan looked up to the stage, sat in the very front row and directly in front of the podium.

Fuck.

The lights finally began to dim at ten o’clock, and Dr. Sakurai, clad in white, appeared on stage.

The woman’s presence commanded the attention of the room as she made her way to the centre in a powerful stride. The anticipant stillness of the crowd broke and Haruna’s entrance was greeted with a light smattering of applause as she enveloped the audience in warm welcome and a dazzling smile. Ethan watched her with bated breath, wondering when she had become this beautiful.

“It warms my heart to see so many familiar faces.” She began.

Her kind eyes scanned the audience and Dr. Sakurai’s gaze fell momentarily on Dr. Ramsey, conflicted, before getting to the punchline of the joke.

“Forgive me when I say I wasn’t expecting so many of you to still have a full head of hair the next time we met.”

–––––

The next 45 minutes passed that way, with Haruna completely and wholly engaging the crowd as she shared knowledge and humour, establishing a pleasant tone for the remainder of the conference. Ethan could sense the nearing end of her speech as Haruna began to smoothly transition from the central theme to her concluding words.

“A very important person to me once said that as doctors, all we do is delay the inevitable-”

Ethan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and with a valiant effort, careful not to let his emotions betray the nonchalance in his face. The reminder of that lesson he taught her so long ago revived something in the older doctor that he thought had died when Sakurai left for Japan.

Then he remembered her obsidian hair dipped in red. Her long delicate fingers that he held in his when they first met, steadying the tremor before saving a life. He remembered her downcast eyes when he reprimanded her over a patient, and the embarrassment in her voice when she admitted to crying in the storage room.

Now here she stood, six years later. Confident. Unshaken. A poetic opposite of the young intern he once knew.

“—to healthcare professionals,” The sound of Haruna’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “one word immediately comes to mind when discussing the inevitable.” She said the words with air quotes.

“Death. Mortality. Demise. I always found it ironic how we, doctors who so value life, were the very crowd who imposed such negative connotations on the word.”

“We follow the paved path of the Inevitable because it’s the only one we know. It provides a definitive answer. But inevitably, we grow tired of this tedious destination. We inevitably seek more, strive for more and thus deviate from that paved path and become drawn to the unexplored dirt road; you find that it leads to so much more. My research team has offered me invaluable guidance on this road to the unknown, which is why I’m proud to officially announce that the Sakurai Medical Centre has discovered a cure for multiple sclerosis.”

And a stunned silence instilled itself into the audience.

Ethan stared at her in silent disbelief. Hirata’s jaw hung open before she threw her head back in proud laughter and clapped. Suddenly, a frenzy ensued with the commotion of the crowd, the entire room suddenly engulfed in cameras and flashing lights and the vocal disbelief of the fellow doctors around them. Haruna held up a hand and the guests, still buzzing with excitement, toned down to audible murmurs.

“I will answer any questions anyone might have about this medical feat throughout the day, but as I conclude this speech I’d like you all to do one thing–”

“Question yourself. Question the world. Challenge the things thought to be set in stone, and when all is said and done, ask yourself-”

Haruna looked meaningfully at the hundreds of people seated in front of her, a sharp tension emanating in the room as her cat-like gaze scrutinized the crowd. Her eyes finally fell on Dr. Ramsey, and the hold of her stare made it clear that this was no accident. She directed her query at her former lover and in a voice dripping with purpose demanded an answer.

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?”

And he could do nothing but applaud.

–––––

The continuous ticking of the clock in Ethan’s hotel room was the only sound that intercepted a dead silence. Alone yet with his thoughts, he packed his luggage in preparation for his flight the next morning, pondering his weekend in Japan.

They met at the evening reception. Purely coincidence. She stood alone at an accent table, her back to him with a flute of rosé, and he approached her in an honest mistake.

“June.” Ethan sighed exasperatedly. “It wouldn’t have killed you to wait two minutes instead of making me scout you out in this crowded room for your damn blue dress-“

“Hey, I happen to like this damn blue dress.”

Then he found himself met with pearls and a gown of charmeuse silk. She came to him in the shade of blue orchids, her gown pooling at the floor like a blossom at its prime and Dr. Ramsey remembered just how perfect she’d always been.

They spoke. Briefly. Awkwardly. Watching their words like untested waters though the two were the furthest thing from strangers.

“Hi.”

Was what she said.

“...Hi.”

Was how he responded.

Then he couldn’t look at her. She was within arms reach, too easy to pull towards him and trap against his chest. Too easy to blurt out something he’d regret with her just close enough to hear it. Too easy to meet her eyes and remember that she was with someone else.

So he brushed past her, putting as much distance between himself and Dr. Sakurai before he lost himself. Before the crushing weight on Ethan’s chest pressed on until the words piggy-backed the next breath he released.

I still love you.

And he should have let it, because he hasn’t seen her since.

Zipping up his luggage and setting it upright, the sudden sound of Ethan’s default ringtone reverberating through the room made him jolt. He snatched his phone off the bedside table, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, only to relax as he saw Naveen’s name flash across the screen for a FaceTime call.

“You have work.” Ethan observed, unimpressed upon recognition of Naveen’s office from the background.

“Which starts in an hour, I’m simply early! Speaking of work, administration wants you to bring back souvenirs.”

“By administration, you mean yourself.”

“Humor me a little. Dr. Tanaka tells me they have exclusive KitKat flavours and I’m absolutely beside myself with curiosity. Pick up a pack or two, your retirement gift to me.”

Ethan sighed in surrender.

“...What flavour do you want.”

“Dr. Tanaka recommends Hokkaido melon with mascarpone cheese, but I also recall June mentioning sakura matcha latte. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“What? You can’t possibly expect me to find such arbritary— hello?”

So fate let him out onto the Kyoto streets, into a grocery store, towards the snack aisle and right in Haruna Sakurai’s line of fire. She was on her way to the cash, he was still searching for those fucking KitKats, and they lightly bumped shoulders before meeting each other’s eyes for a polite apology.

“Ah, I’m sorry-“

“My apologies-“

And they both froze.

At first, they refused to acknowledge the familiarity in each other’s voice. She spoke in Japanese, but he recognized her assertive tone. Firm but pleasant, like running your hands across a velvet seat. She had a unique accent given her history of travel, and Ethan remembered how much he used to love hearing her talk.

It was the English for her. They weren’t too far off from the hotel where the conference was held, so Haruna immediately deduced that the stranger was one of the guests. But she knew Dr. Ramsey’s voice. All too well. His words uttered in low timbre, deep and rich like fertile soil that only further nurtured her adoration for him. The articulate nature of his speech that would substantiate the validity of his advice. Intimidating delivery of his words that grabbed her attention in fistfuls. It wasn’t until Haruna had her own intern that she became aware of how much she had begun to sound like him, and it was then that she realized she loved hearing him talk too.

“Dr. Ramsey.” Haruna didn’t bother to mask the surprise in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

The collectedness in Dr. Sakurai’s voice almost irked him. She looked nothing short of amicable, pretending like Saturday evening never happened where he fled from her after a one-word exchange. And her nonchalance, amidst Ethan’s struggle to find words, rapid heartbeat and sandpaper-dry throat, was only further confirmation that she moved on from their past.

“We’re on the same boat, Dr. Sakurai. I wasn’t expecting to be here but you know how Naveen is.” He struggled to maintain the apathy in his voice.

“Let me guess, KitKats?”

“Right on the nail. He’s looking for–”

Ethan stopped himself as Haruna turned to the shelf on her right, dragging a finger across the plastic wraps before swiftly plucking several packages out from under each other and tossing them into his basket. He peered into his bin of potential expenses and looked up at Dr. Sakurai as she tossed one more his way.

“Rook- Dr. Sakurai, Naveen is going to end up with diabetes.”

She retracted her hand from another pack and glanced at him once, then to his near-full basket in something alike to realization. Then she laughed. Like, really laughed. Her disciplined features melted into a toothy grin, replaced with something youthful. Something real. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his own smile beginning to form.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” Haruna gathered herself as she breathed out a chuckle. “You know how much of a sweet tooth he has.”

She tilted her gaze up to meet Ethan’s eyes, an almost distant look brewing on her face until she caught herself and her smile faded.

“But it wasn’t all for him.”

Ethan raised a brow, and the female doctor’s attention flickered to the pack she last threw into his basket. He looked down, and his forehead creased with inexplicable conflict.

“That one’s for you. Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

Yuzu flavoured KitKats. She used to love those, and he wondered if she still did. They were saved for special occasions and only shared with special people, but those “care packages” Haruna’s doting parents sent every once in a while from Japan never lasted. The original five that shared the penthouse used to come with snack sized versions, and Dr. Ramsey had to hide his in the drawer of his desk.

She would loiter in his office sometimes during her break, sitting across from her mentor as they passed the time talking.

“Snacking in my office? I’ve grown too lenient with you, Rookie.”

She popped a piece into her mouth and grinned with full cheeks.

“So you have.”

“Yeah… your influence– don’t get ahead of yourself.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Haruna pressed a hand to her chest in faux flattery. He failed to suppress a smile and she returned her own, the awkwardness and the tension slowly alleviating between the two of them.

They grew silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The two doctors shifted on their feet, waiting for someone make the first statement, and Ethan racked his brain for words to say. What could he say?

“I meant to congratulate you,” He settled.

“These past five years have been good to you, Haruna. You’ve accomplished something great.”

Her smile widened at her ex-mentors praise.

“Thank you, I had an amazing team behind me.”

And as if on cue, the shrill marimba ringtone sounded in the air and made them both jump. Dr. Sakurai’s recognized it as hers and patted around her sweatpants, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Looking at Dr. Ramsey apologetically, she accepted the call and pressed her phone to her ear.

“Toshi?”

And the bitter reality settled back in. She turned her back to him, mumbling in rapid Japanese and Ethan breathed in deeply. Starting towards the cash register, he snuck past Haruna quietly, squeezing her shoulder in goodbye. A subtle alarm weaved itself into her features, and her gaze followed his back, unable to leave the call. Ethan rushed through the payment and took long strides out of the grocery store, pulling on the collar of his sweater as his throat began to constrict.

Get back to your damn hotel and finish packing your things. You’re going to get on that plane tomorrow morning, start work the day after and start forgetting about Haruna Sakurai.

He exhaled in a long breath. He could do this.

“Dr. Ramsey…?”

He could do this.

“Didn’t you really used to like those back then?”

He could do this.

“Is the inevitable really as dreadful as we might think?”

He couldn’t fucking do this.

Ethan slowed to a stop, and he cursed at himself. For developing feelings towards the one person he shouldn’t have fallen for. For being the root of the cause in this mess they entangled themselves in. For loving this woman so damn much that his own medical expertise couldn’t suffice in explaining the tight feeling in his chest whenever he missed her. Whenever he saw her.

Dr. Ramsey looked up to the sky, met with a streetlight hovering above his head and despite himself, he laughed.

He just couldn’t forget about Haruna Sakurai.

“Christ, I’m too old for this.”

And back towards the direction he came from, he began to run.

#choices #playchoices #open heart fanfiction #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc

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whetstonefires · 4 years

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"the top three of its forty floors are filled with brass telescopes of every size, pointing in every possible direction, including several that do not exist within the normal three dimensions of space." thats SUCH a cool image / "If any harvest will come." ooh i wonder whats going on / "The roofs are of red tile, the stucco of the houses painted in shades of blue. It stands empty, but has not had time to fall into disrepair." the little bits of detail getting added to the picture im LOVE (1/?)

I’m gonna do these all as one post but broken up for ease of reference, I think.

Thank you! 🥰 Deciding the theme for the Tower and giving it that visual anchor really helped to pull things together. If you consider the whole setup, it seems unlikely the Tower was originally built as an observatory, since those tend to benefit from height (especially if you’re looking around you rather than up, but for the up ones also) and the builders could easily have put it on top of a mountain or at least some hills, but instead put it by the river. It’s above sea level, and it’s away from light pollution, but there were better locations. Nearby.

So either it wasn’t an observatory, and it’s been refitted as one, or they had so many observatories they didn’t care about locating them optimally, there was some other factor making having the tower there important even if it was suboptimal in terms of observation capacity. Or, potentially, it’s been moved since it was built!

:} Yay thank for being interested by the foreshadowing. I tried to put just enough in without actively overshadowing the actual place-setting-up and making the reader impatient with the description.

"If you look through an enchanted telescope you may see trees without needles fail halfway up the nearest of the great peaks, and even these fail before the top, though there is a span of nearly barren stone past that line, before the snow begins." you: mentions different plants living in different climates me: :0 / there's so much good description!! its all so pretty!! (2/?)

sflka;l;jlk i mean yeah, that’s pretty straightforward isn’t it. But! It establishes How Much Mountain it is visually rather than by saying ‘it was a big fucking mountain’ or ‘it was tall enough for the thinness of atmosphere near the top to create a small tundra region.’

o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

<3 Thank you! I kinda cut loose lmao.

"blocks veined with every color, pale blues and purples, reds and greens and golden-duns all mottling toward white and grey and black" god i want to live there so badly!! this tower is meeting all my standards!! cool pretty magic tower with rad telescopes!!! / "make a remark no one present understands about a Doctor named Seuss. His guide, the dousing tracker Amnaphi, will assume this person to be a famous astronomer from his homeland." im love!! misunderstandings about references!! (?/?)

💗💖✨ Yay! That’s an important feeling to create in fantasy, imo. The wanting.

I really enjoyed playing with the standard forms for ‘thing made of marble’ here, because all these marbles really exist, but in spite of the existence of the word ‘marbled’ our narrative uses of it tend to be tied up with Neoclassical aesthetics. So very white and smooth, yeah?

Also idk if it’s obvious to the reader but this Tower is to some degree in dialogue with Orthanc, which made a great impression on my mind as a child as the iconic wizardly tower, and while I don’t disagree with any of Tolkien’s use of symbolism for the purposes he was deploying it, there’s so much potential in Isengard as a setting that LotR had no space to explore, even if Tolkien would have noticed those angles at all.

Like...the parkland around the Tower is shown being despoiled for the orcish war machine and then reconquered by the forest, but of course it wasn’t forest to begin with. What was it for before Saruman lost his shit? Ordered gardens, for peaceful contemplation? Who dedicated the space that way? Who maintained it?

Did Saruman employ a gardener? Did he design his own gardens, or did they come with the keep, which we’re informed was built not by him but by the Numenoreans?

(“I liked white better” is still one of the greatest lines in a fantasy novel, Tolkien does not get enough credit for his contextually hilarious one-liners that rely on pointed code-switching, but Saruman’s evil rainbow oil-slick robes also sounded really baller and it’s kind of a shame they were not attempted for the movie lol.)

The fact that this is a world designed around a kid getting portal-fantasied into it and staying for 30 years really gives me some options which are fun to deploy but also like. Risky lmao. Because it encourages the reader to surface from the setting-logic and apply their own perspective, which can really break up the magic.

Being able to zoom out on the Tower after all that detail and be like ‘it’s awesome but also it looks like something Doctor Seuss would draw’ was fun though.

"Within the even hexagon of its outer wall, the Tower encloses a great parkland, enough that if it was all put under cultivation it could easily feed as many people as could live in the Tower itself." the tower has PLANTS i love it so much / "Ten Years’ Winter" god PLEASE tell me this is going to get into the agriculture and society stuff game of thrones didn't about long winters that would be SO cool / "Watchers of the Stars" AND they have a cool name holy shit (?/?)

Plants are important! As is food supply. As everyone who’s been reading this blog for a while already knows I think lol.

I mean, it’s not about that, really? The Ten Years’ Winter is a historical event--the most recent meteor impact severe enough to have global climate fallout. The dust it kicked up took a while to settle, and the famines were pretty severe.

But the cultural consequences of something that happened a hundred and fifty years ago exist, and are important, including the relationship between governance and disaster preparedness, which varies a lot regionally as you may imagine.

Astronomy has a long history as a wizardly sort of activity in the real world, both because it’s had continual overlap with astrology and just because the process has always been mystical and abstruse. In this setting, with a history of both devastating meteor impacts and being invaded from the Moon, but also actual magic, it’s got more obvious practical importance. Although since neither of these are remotely everyday occurrences, the average person on the street might not agree lol.

So it’s on the one hand a purely descriptive title, and on the other hand a serious boast, suggesting as it does that they are primarily responsible for Watching The Sky For Stuff. While also having broader philosophical implications and just sounding nice lol.

You gotta have good marketing if you want to persist as a wizardly order, because if talented students aren’t motivated to come to you how will you gain new members? Natural replacement is not an ideal strategy to say the least. That’s how you turn into a cult instead of an intellectual powerhouse.

"The northern third of the Tower’s park contains neatly regimented orchards, apples, pears, plums, and a few rows of carefully tended peaches and apricots, all clipped flat against low brick walls angled south and slightly west." hhh t r e e s / "wizards, while enthusiastic about innovation in the abstract, hate change." me too, wizards. me too / "The Tower grounds are filled with refugees." ooh now we get to why everything was empty earlier (?/?)

Trees! Which are also food!

And technology lol. Greenhouses built against fruit walls with good insulation are so much more sensible than ones heated from inside. Obviously as a passive solar-powered technology these only work when the sun is available and not, for example, cut off by a giant dust cloud.

These people are fairly acutely aware of their dependence on the sun and it figures prominently in a majority of their religions and their magical theory, even more than in ours.

There seems to be a mild consensus that the wizards are relatable. In truth: we are all wizards. :D

Yup! At long last lol.

"This division corresponds imperfectly to the usual split of the town by the course of the Meroda." because people!! take comfort!! in what normalcy they can find!! / "Makeshift pallets line the spaces between every fruit wall—the injured are being laid out here, now that the Tower is full, to get the benefit at night of the warmth meant to mature fruit." the awesome magic tower people trying to do everything they can for the injured who come to them for help in case i thought i couldn't be (?)

more in love / "Half of them are making ready to turn south along the Meroda." oh nooooo / "but the Moon People are the successors of the ancient magics, and just because they could not break the walls the last time they came, according to legend, does not mean they have not worked out a method now." im so worried for the people oh no (?)

Yeah! It really seemed natural. But of course they also aren’t recreating it obsessively; lots of people are grouping up with relatives who normally live across the river, or with people in the same line of work on the river, because people also adapt to circumstances.

No institution is ever perfect, of course, but I’m glad the Watchers have come across this way so far. They’re broadly well-intentioned and mostly well-organized.

And they were not ready for this.

A significant fraction of the reason for the order of the Watchers to exist at all, particularly in this observatory with its great eye fixed ever on the face of the green moon, is to be able to warn the world if this ever happens again. But the Moon People knew they were being watched, this time, and they kept all the build-up to mobilization that might have given them away on the far side of the moon until the last minute.

What the Magister is doing, as I hope was made clear or at least successfully indicated--I wish your commentary on the ending had come through!--is summoning what turns out to be an actual child from another world to do hero stuff.

Even if he’d gotten an adult that would be kidnapping someone to help with your problems, a routine element of the portal fantasy whose ethics have been addressed in a variety of ways, most famously ‘is Lion Jesus and always right.’

The reason they need a hero from another world is that the Moon People build a lot of their wards and their offensive and disabling magical attacks around a targeting system based on what planet people are from, because even though they’re originally from the same stock--they’re the descendants of ancient moon colonists who evacuated ahead of a major meteor impact somewhere approaching four thousand years ago--on a magical level having been born and raised on the planet or the moon makes a pretty huge difference.

So no one can get into the place their magic space elevator is anchored and fuck it up so they can’t keep bringing troops and supply in and loot out. Their single supply line is their only strategic weakness, and they’ve taken appropriate precautions.

Getting someone in from a third location is the best idea anyone’s been able to come up with in the very limited time available. Since no one can figure out how to turn one of the Moon People against the cause they came here for, on short notice, when they aren’t even stopping to talk to anyone so far. Like, that’s clearly not going to happen.

Heron Yl Fanult isn’t unaware that it’s ethically questionable, but he’s doing it anyway.

So I’m glad the ominous imminent oncoming of the Moon People can really be felt, because that atmosphere is fairly essential context for the decisionmaking going on at the top of the Tower.

"Young wizards sit in their bunks, six each to rooms that were previously individual, and hold lighting cupped dancing in their palms." a quick break from being worried to point out that this is rad as hell / "some with their heads decorously covered..." cultural differences!! especially with regional purposes like the Hedro!!

Thank you! 😆💖 I thought so too lol.

It also establishes the parameters of the magic system a little more. Throwing lightning bolts is pretty iconicly high-powered, right? And here it’s what most of the student wizards are practicing in anticipation of a battle, because most of them aren’t specced into combat and this is actually one of the easier lethal spells to master, especially if you have an academic background.

‘Electrocute’ isn’t a very flexible spell and it’s easy to lose control of, but it’s actually easier than, say, ‘set on fire to a significant degree in a non-electrical manner’ because concentrating a lot of heat in a certain location takes a lot more brute force than encouraging ionization.

You can pull most of the actual destructive force for the palm lightning spell out of the physical air and/or earth if you grasp the principles, which is much easier than channeling a comparable amount of magic directly because it doesn’t have to go through you.

The limiting factors on magic in this setting are how much power you can tap into and how much of it you can actually use without hurting or killing yourself. It’s not usually a lot, though the amount can be increased by things like choosing your workspace, prepping your workspace, and a whole lot of practice and meditation and things like that.

Magical traditions that get bundled under the heading of wizardry tend to focus on force multiplication, obtaining enough contextual understanding of a subject to make whatever power is applied go further. This means a lot of studying theory and using magic to make observations (such as the existence of microorganisms and their connection to disease) and often results in making clever devices based on what you’ve learned that may not actually wind up being magical at all.

Which is why the solar greenhouse proposal is considered ‘more wizardly’ than the fruit walls, which are wizardly in the first place even though the technology is pretty widespread at this point--it’s carried the principle of minimizing the energy you have to invest to get the result you want to the logical conclusion, where you don’t have to do any magic at all, you just set up the situation and get out of the way and the sun will do the work for you.

Other schools of magic, particularly religious ones, are more likely to emphasize just getting better at handling energy for yourself, which tends to yield a lot more in the way of immediate practical dividends and in a lot of quarters wizards who don’t do something obviously practical like physic or smithcraft with their theoretical background are considered crackpots or dilettantes

An impression helped along by the fact that being taken on as a student of wizardry at a basic level tends to focus more on your reading comprehension than your ability to actually do any magic, so in places where religious and wizardly institutions coexist the most talented students have a tendency to gravitate toward the religious life. This is particularly marked in areas religiously dominated by the Compact of the Golden Circle, wherein full ordination is contingent on being able to pull off certain fairly hefty rituals, so if you aren’t physically or mentally up to that kind of magical heavy lifting your religious career will stall out in one of the lay fraternities. In some of the cities on Sutouchel, the landmass to the southeast where the Compact is based, a slang term for wizard is ‘sanctum washout.’

But of course force multiplication is something that can scale up pretty far, and studying theory doesn’t stop you from also putting work into your practical skills, and not having talent isn’t the only reason someone would choose not to seek out a clerical career, if it’s even an option. Religion along the Meroda is pretty localized; communities tend to have local deities who correspond to a natural feature like the nearest mountain or the river or something, and if that deity rates a fulltime shrine the keeper also tends to be the major local medical provider, and since the wizards got settled in at the Tower it’s become pretty popular for shrinekeeping families to send their kids there for a year or two to get some educational polish in addition to what their parent already emphasized.

So depending on where you live and what your personal experience has been you’re going to have very different ideas about what wizards are good for.

Hrm. I’ve gone on a tangent. But that wound up taking so long you came back! :D I love it when being turtle works out in my favor.

Or was this actually the meta I was supposed to be doing in the first place? Aaaaa who knows.

im fairly confident you said eight asks survived so this is number nine? anyways onwards! "The hale survivors of the First Battle of the Second Descent sit waiting in their leathers, jack-chains and helmets laughably inadequate armor against the coming danger, and yet the best hope now just as they were on Carun Tol once the wizard fell" i have a lot of emotions about how their best bet is also a terrible bet but its all they have (9/?)

Yes 8.

Woo, thank you! ^^ & I love that you described it that way because that also describes the ‘summon alien’ spell Yl Fanult is casting and echoing the same emotional theme throughout the scene was very much the goal here.

"Threads have escaped from the braids pinned across the top of her skull: she has not had the chance to take them down for two days." god just the continuation of how desperate everything is / "He leans forward to peer through the narrow glass that has been turned on its articulated base to face the middle of the room, and relaxes very slightly. At least there has been no catastrophic alteration there, either." what does that one do id assume theres no approching army in the middle of the room -

:D Yeah, the fact that one of the chief medics available is already overworked to the point of neglecting nonessential personal hygiene and the enemy isn’t even here yet I hoped would resonate.

Well, remember how some of the telescopes at the beginning point in directions not included in the normal three dimensions of space? :}

- "trained as it long has been upon the face of the moon" also forgot to mention their enemies being from the moon is Rad As Hell / "He snaps his fingers for a spark that falls into the deep circular groove full of distilled spirits, and steps through that as well. He is not burned." ooooh whats he doing / "At his feet lie a glittering piece of gold ore, a moonstone, and a carefully sanded round of pumice." i see the connection to the moonstone bc moon army but i wonder about the others -

Thank you! It took a fair amount of poking before I decided it was a solid approach; it provides just enough physical alienation that there’s no direct cultural relationship and you can have that ‘everyone in the entire world Disliked That’ vibe, without needing to create any complicated magical and cultural explanation for such a long run of isolationism. They were out of contact because they were On The Moon.

Also I really get a kick out of putting space invaders in a fantasy setting in a way that stops just short of turning into sci-fi.

I’m glad the ritual lead-up is exciting! Even if the foreshadowing wasn’t as obvious as I thought it was lol. That’s fixable.

Gold is for the sun, moonstone is yeah for the moon lol (although in other circumstances people also use jade, because it’s been a long time since the moon was uniformly silver on account of it having been terraformed a few thousand years ago) and pumice is for the world--it’s a stone full of air that floats on water, so it’s popular as an anchoring device for rituals that call on all three local celestial bodies.

"He cannot take much time. He has only until the ring of fire dies." whats he doingggggg / anyways i love this so much!! the descriptions are gorgeous and im so invested in all of everything!! i hope you write more im so curious about it all!!

XD Ok I covered this already, I would have saved it for down here or Been Mysterious if tumblr hadn’t eaten the last few asks the first time lol. Thank you so much again! For encouragement! Before and now! I’ll try! To keep it going!

Here’s hoping this successfully posts, tumblr just kicked me onto New Dashboard again and disabled the turn-it-off button, so now my alternate posting strategy is borked up too. 🤞😅😘

#hoc est meum #ask #worldbuilding #a nonny mouse #the tower of sight #people say nice things #long post #<3

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done-mer-moved · 4 years

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i Also don't know ur OCs but: 1, 4, 5, 8, 15, 22, 23, 24, 25, 33, 42, 50, 54, 56, 61, 73, and 78 please? -drunkmiraak

[[LKdghlkj sorry this took so long!! I got super sick so it sat half-done in my drafts for 84 years. @drunkmiraak]]

Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

So, while I’ve got half a billion OCs by technicality, my main idiot is Azaryne Redoran who takes the role of the Vestige in the ESO story I write with @sinnaroll by the name of Soulbound. (Ima also just casually pass on these questions for her to answer in reply for D'tannen, who is the other main character in this thingy so you can get to know him too!)

Thank you so much for asking!! Here we gooooo~!

1. What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

Az’s main nickname is the self-explanatory name shortening from “Azaryne” to “Az”. But D'tannen has kinda stuck on jabbing him with “pretty boy” to the point where it’s basically a nickname lol

Also, in-game plot reasons dictate that the Five Companions also know him by “Vestige”, much to his dismay. It’s what the Scrolls named him by, so the Prophet tends to slip and refer to him that way, and the others kinda do too by proxy for a while. However, after Az makes it clear that he’s really uncomfortable with it, Lyris and Sai specifically make a point not to call him that.

4. What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

So I memed twice earlier before I got to these questions lasdgkh gomen, but my goofier answers are Dorito Shape and Resting Trouble Face

But more seriously, one of his major notable physical features is that he’s pretty much covered in tattoos from his neck down past his waist and starting down his legs. They’re being redesigned from scratch right now because I can’t ever allow myself to have characters that can be adequately represented in game i guess lmfao but here’s the in-game tattoos with some photo-editing for an earlier visual draft on where they might cut off—

It’s a total personal headcanon but I decided that since the in-game body marking style was pretty clearly influenced by Maori-style kiriituhi, that Az’s tattoos are also highly significant in a similar way. Each piece symbolizes or connects to either his ancestry, or his own life and skills and milestones. His designs weren’t finished, but have the indication of where they were meant to continue as he hit new points in his life. Unfortunately, since his life was cut so short, that’s as far as they ever get.

On a lighter note, he also has pretty big ears?? Lmao

5. What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

He likes clothes that are comfortable but flattering. He knows what his assets are and enjoys looking well-dressed – a bit of a remnant from his previous life as a noble.

He tends to favor sleeveless tops and cool-colored fabrics with neutral accents. He particularly likes blues of all shades, and some purples. He’ll also occasionally wear red. On his travels he wears leather armor that fits within these features, and notably has a Khajiiti-style jack because he liked the aesthetic of it when he saw the style in a tailor’s display.

When he’s dressing up, he’ll wear more flowing robe-like attire. He had more reason to do so while he was alive, and at the time it was usually specifically Dunmeri cultural clothing. Over the course of Soulbound, he only dresses up the once so far for a date with Sinna. That takes place in Orsinium, so it’s Orcish formal wear.

Even if the situation’s not a fancy one, though, he’ll usually still wear kohl eyeshadow, which D’tannen gives him shit for, of course lol.

8. How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

Az’s voice is light, crisp, warm and friendly. It’s between tenor and baritone in range, and the expected Dunmeri accent. He’s well spoken, and you can tell he’s well educated, but his phrasing isn’t snobbish or condescending, and there’s a firm sort of sincerity to his speech, even when he’s being playful.

15. What was your OC’s childhood like?

Az’s childhood was a little complicated in that it came with a great deal of privilege, but also a great deal of expectation. He was noble-born— the eldest son of House Redoran’s Archmaster— so before he was even old enough to have an awareness of the world, his parents had already decided many things about his future.

In spite of both this and the constant pressure of the Redoran philosophy that “a light, careless life is not worth living”, Az had an untamable spirit that continuously tried his parents’ patience. As a child, his impulsivity, tendency to bend the rules, and headstrong defiance on points he fundamentally disagreed with led to frequent discipline, and a particularly strained relationship with his father.

Over time, he begrudgingly learned to play by the rules, but would still disappear from time to time for brief moments of freedom.

He had two younger siblings— Eralane and Meril, and they had very close and loving relationships with each other. Az always did his bes to see right by them, so they felt safe in knowing that he would always have their backs. They didn’t ever keep much from him, as a result, and Meril specifically often looked up to him as a role model.

By the time he was fourteen, he’d been arranged into a political betrothal to solidify clan relations within the House, and it was decided that the two would be married in 16 years when they were both fully grown adults. Neither he nor his intended fiancée were really comfortable with this, but even as young as they were, they knew it was a sticky situation far bigger than just the two of them. So, they quickly established that, future aside, they didn’t feel entitled to each other’s feelings. They would both rather have a straightforward, honest friendship than try to force things between them.

Because of this, there was no tension when other chemistries developed in later years. Instead, they continued to ignore their inevitable marriage, and turned their performative date nights into formally-dressed vent and gossip sessions. Using the expectations put upon them to their advantage as they got older, they also happily became each other’s alibi when either of them needed time away with other people.

22. Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

Since arriving back on Tamriel, he’s been shuffling company a lot on his journeys. He’s also pretty introverted, despite being fairly socially adept. He doesn’t have any real connections from his previous life anymore, but has met many people and made casual friends and positive acquaintances with a solid chunk of new ones.

In terms of more serious friendships, D’tannen is honestly the closest, which is kind of incredible honestly laksdhg. But, they travel with each other day in and day out, so there’s a tight bond there that’s developing fast.

He’s also particularly attached to Irvane, who was his first friend since coming back to Nirn.

23. Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

Along the same lines as I just said above, he’s never in one place for very long right now, so he is constantly around new people. His kind heart and need for hands-on activity means he tends to gravitate toward people he can help in some way or another. His empathy and sense of honor do most of the weeding. He’d rather be around someone who has shown good intentions, even if they are rough around the edges, than someone who rests on the laurels of past deeds and judges others against themselves.

24. Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

It’s pretty damn hard to make this list, at least if you have any sort of good bone in your body. He’s really very empathetic and patient, and will forgive so quickly once he feels amends have been made that it’s honestly gotten him into trouble.

But, even with that said, he’s got some strong resentments for some strong reasons… Notably: Mannimarco and his Worm Cult, ol’ Molag Bal himself, and pretty much anyone who allies with them… Malacus is another name that quickly finds its way on the list under “kill unflinchingly” as he becomes closer with D’tannen.

25. If your OC has a soulmate, who is it?

oh my god im so sorry this joke is just right here its too easy to grab i can’t help myself –

Doesn’t a soulmate require… a soul…?

33. What subjects interested your OC?

He’s always done whittling as a hobby, so he’s currently kinda advancing on that in woodcarving. Since he was also trained in maintaining and repairing his own weapons and armor in life, that’s carried over into an interest in actually crafting weapons on his own. He does wind up making his own bow way later on, and even spends a bit of time with the Morkul Orcs in the Orsinium arc learning to do some metalwork.

42. What makes your OC happy?

He’s very attached to his dog Blackjack, and the mutt can always seem to pick him up when he’s otherwise faltering. He loves whittling and tends to carve little objects to occupy his mind. Complicatedly, D’tannen makes him happy as well, lol.

He also tends to have moments where he finds happiness in specific things, but the emotion related feels strange or misplaced. When this happens, it’s usually because whatever he’s experiencing— a particular sight or smell or flavor— is something that ties directly to a positive memory he’s lost from his life before. A sort of unwitting-nostalgia that’s hard to pinpoint or replicate.

As a general rule, he’s pretty easily contented. He lives very much in the moment, which combined with his adaptability and natural optimism, means that he’s usually able to find some small spark of cheer for himself anywhere he goes. He’s always wanted the freedom of life as an adventurer, so if circumstances were different, this would honestly be an ideal life for him. However, it’s pretty dampened by the stress of current events, along with the nagging restless and hollow feeling of having lost his soul.

50. What secrets does your OC have?

This is a bit of a tricky one. He’s not a super open person, but he also doesn’t like to lie to cover things up. However, there are many things about his life at present that he finds he has to dance around giving knowledge of. In some ways, the very nature of his current existence is something he keeps tucked away. It’s not very easy to explain to anyone, so he’s grateful that for the majority of the people he interacts with, direct questions never really come up.

In the second act of Soulbound, however, after he becomes very close with Sinna, Sinna asks him directly for his story. He dodges it for quite some time before finally giving him the details, but he’s kind of nervous at that point to state it. He doesn’t know how Sinna might react. But, he lays it out on the table anyway: He’s not truly alive. He’s what remained of himself after he was sacrificed by cultists to Molag Bal. His soul was stolen, and he has only vague pieces of memories from when he lived. And now, he’s been prophesied to assist in stopping a daedric invasion.

Sinna’s response was heartfelt. But, nobody could blame him for the fact that all he could manage for a brief moment after listening was “Wild….”

54. Does your OC think with his/her head or heart?

Heart… His upbringing tried its best to instill an ability to detach for the sake of duty, but honestly, he’s never been able to. Even when he knows there’s no way he can avoid a difficult situation, and is able to approach it tactically, emotion will be gnawing at him all the while, and he’ll be completely staunch on the things he believes the most if those interfere with the “logical” course of action.

56. What are some of your OC’s strengths?

He’s honestly got a wide range of skills in a lot of ways. He’s a highly skilled archer, and has a very well-rounded set of combat and survival skills that have been hardwired into him since a very young age. He’s also got a great sense of aesthetics, which he likes to express in woodworking and whittling when he can. He’s intelligent, but a lot of his skill specifically in emotional/social intelligence comes from his powerful empathy, and how dramatic swings of circumstances in his life have given him many perspectives to draw from, even subconsciously through the massive amnesia he struggles with. He’s incredibly adaptable. He’s intensely loyal, courageous, and firmly optimistic even through the worst circumstances. He’s got an incredibly strong character to him, and it tends to be both charming and inspiring, even when he doesn’t recognize that he’s producing these effects himself.

61. What is the general impression your OC gives other people?

Honest. Empathetic and selfless. Good-natured, down to earth, and a bit wild-spirited. Patient, incredibly forgiving. Helpful. Playfully charming. A protector. A defender of good.

73. What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment?

He likes art, stories, nature, animals, and adventure. Crafting from time to time as well.

78. What is your OC’s favorite time of day?

Late morning. The point in the day when you’re up and awake and setting off. The whole day lies in wait before you, and you’re ready to meet it

#eso #the vestige #dunmer #redoran #the elder scrolls online #drunkmiraak #thank you again!! <3 #az #azaryne #soulbound

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silverliningslurk · 5 years

Text

Looking Up

A pinch hit I wrote for @harutobirbi for the HQSSII! I really hope you like it, and I’m very sorry it’s late. It ended up longer and more troublesome than expected.

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Kageyama Tobio Word count: 6k Rating: Teen for swearing Potential Trigger Warnings: None. Summary: There’s a mistake with the futons during a camp, and via a ridiculous series of stupid events, Kei is left sharing with Kageyama. This can only go badly. Right?

You can read it on AO3 here! There’s an extra tidbit I wrote that didn’t quite fit on AO3 too, tumblr formatting doesn’t really work for that...

Kei feels a sense of impending doom as soon as they are led into a room full of futons, and one of the faculty gives them an apologetic look as she turns to face them. He feels it, completely, in every one of his bones, when she opens her mouth. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's just having seen those looks before, usually off his mother when she announces they're spending New Year at his aunt's place. Never fun.

"So, I do apologise, but, you see, we made a slight miscalculation on the number of futons we would need, another member of staff saw the name 'Miya' twice and assumed it was a typographical error, and so, you see..." She mumbles, fumbling around with her hands like there is an easy solution to be found there, her red face indicating that perhaps she was indeed that staff member. Kei raises an eyebrow, as do most of the room. They're all tired, and they just want to go to sleep. "Is there a possibility, at all, that perhaps, two of you could maybe share? Only for one night, and we shall do our very best to rectify this situation tomorrow, I understand this is difficult, but I don't believe there are any extras within reasonable distance, you see..."

They all stare at her, puzzled. It's not exactly the first thing they expected her to say; the sense of imminent disaster builds, although Kei will be the very last person to volunteer to share.

Getting even more flustered, she flaps her hands in embarrassment, her face a stunningly bright shade of red. "I'll confer with the rest of the staff and see if there's any other options! Please decide amongst yourselves in case there aren't, though." She nigh on runs out the room, pausing barely long enough to bow deeply, and Kei is certain she started running before she'd fully finished. Not particularly interested in mentally debating whether it counts as a respectful bow if you start running in the middle, he just glances around at the others.

"Before any o'y'all say 'nythin', I ain't sharing wi' 'Tsumu." Miya Osamu drawls, shoving his hands in his pockets. Atsumu sneers at him.

"I ain't sharin' with 'im either! He farts!"

Osamu makes an impressive kind of 'psssssh' sound. "Not as much as you." "How would’ya even know, asshole?! You're asleep!" "So are you!"

"All votes in favour of having them on opposite sides of the room?" Kei suggests, crossing his arms. Most of the others raise their arms, which – thankfully – ends the argument between the twins. Mostly. They keep grousing at each other quietly, while Kei glances around the room again.

Sakusa looks visibly ill at the very notion of sharing with anyone. Kei is with him on that one, certainly. Hoshiumi looks like an ice demon who would warm his feet on your legs, and also seems like the kind of person to jump out of bed at 5am just to announce they were awake. Chigaya looks as though he’s trying to meld into the corner of the room, playing on his phone to avoid the whole situation. Kei guesses if he had to choose someone to share with, it’d probably be him, mostly for the reason that he looks like he’d sleep right on the edge just so he wasn’t touching anyone.

Motoya looks mostly disgruntled by it, like he doesn’t really care either way and just wants it sorted. Again, Kei can relate to that. He kind of wants to pick a futon, but then again, that might volunteer him for it.

He glances at Kageyama, frowning deeply at the Miya twins. Kei genuinely can’t tell if he even understands what’s been asked of him – knowing Kageyama, he’s been in a volleyball world ever since arriving and hasn’t left yet, certainly not to contemplate sleeping arrangements. He probably just assumes someone else will do it, unable to think of group dynamics off a line-marked court. Good for him, Kei thinks a little bitterly. He should probably be one of them having to share, because it seems like it would be funny to see how Kageyama, single child of the century, would react to that. He smirks to himself as he imagines the kind of outrage that would happen, but then gets to thinking who would make the funniest reaction.

Sakusa, certainly, but Kei doesn’t think he could be paid any amount of money to get in the same bed as someone else. He seems like the kind of guy who brought his own sheets because of his distaste of sleeping on someone else’s. Kei is quietly surprised, now he thinks about it, that he didn’t bring his own futon.

The rest of them he doesn’t think would have any particularly interesting reactions. Maybe Hoshiumi, but then those two are so obsessed and single-minded, they’d probably end up not sleeping and practicing instead. That would result in an incredibly ratty Kageyama, and a sleep-deprived Kageyama means everyone gets yelled at way more. Maybe less so here, but it will happen, and if it does, Tsukishima will get most of it, since he’s the one Kageyama is most comfortable with.

He uses the word ‘comfortable’ incredibly loosely indeed.

Although, having him share with either of the Miya twins could be interesting. As soon as he thinks about it, though, it makes him frown for no reason he can really put his finger on. It’s like… Kageyama almost gets on with them, but equally, there’s a feeling Kei gets about Atsumu, and to a lesser extent Osamu, that he can’t really trust them. Atsumu’s interactions with Kageyama set him on edge, just a bit, and he generally chooses to ignore it, and certainly hasn’t examined it closely. It’s probably just a sense that they’re taking advantage of Kageyama, but why would Kei even care about that? He doesn’t care about Kageyama. He’ll admit his talent, and the fact that he’s better than he was, but even so.

He doesn’t care about Kageyama, and that’s final. He’s not even thinking about that simmering weirdness right now, or the fact that Kageyama’s been acting kinda weird for a few weeks even before this camp.

It’s probably just been the thought of the camp itself, but it’s never happened before, Kei doesn’t think. It didn’t happen in first year, so unless he’s had a run in with someone here, but then, the one who seems to be getting the brunt of the weirdness is actually himself.

But that’s a puzzle he’s left in Miyagi, or tried to, at least. It’s Kageyama’s problem, and Kei doesn’t care enough to try to work it out.

He does not care about Kageyama. He’s good at avoiding things, and that’s a thing he’ll ignore wholeheartedly. Kageyama is probably just jealous Kei got invited. Hinata was too, but he’s got the flu. Kei thought there was some saying about idiots, but maybe that’s just colds, rather than the flu. Kei heard his mother had to practically lock him in the bedroom to stop him dragging himself over here.

He probably just imagined that, in actuality, but it's an amusing image. He smirks to himself, then sobers up and mentally thanks Hinata's mother for being sensible and not getting him to spread it. Hinata can keep his damn viruses to himself.

"Psssh!"

With that noise from Osamu, he becomes aware of a growing argument in the room, and realises the Miya twins never quite stopped grousing at each other.

“- you’d probably want to sleep with someone, manwhore.” “Wha’s wrong wi’ that? Too innocent for that kinda shit, ‘Samu?” “Not in a room full of other people, ‘Tsumu. That’s just gross.” “Well, nobody said I couldn’t!” Atsumu remarks brightly, and turns, surveying the crowd. His eyes almost immediately latch onto Kageyama, and gain a gleam Kei would say that he hated the look of. If he had cared enough about the whole thing. Atsumu makes a lewd expression and saunters forward towards Kageyama. "Say, me an’ Goody-Two-Shoes here could always makes ourselves comfy... together... couldn’t we?"

And Kei would normally just let it go. Would have let it go the year before. Should have let it go. But from something about Kageyama's face that says he doesn't get it at all, to not trusting Atsumu as far as he could throw him off the court, to a hot ball of unpleasantness squirming in his guts, instinct takes over the few brain cells that don't think before they act. The remaining brain cells look on tiredly and do not stop him.

Just because he thinks Atsumu is probably joking doesn’t mean he trusts him to not be serious. Everything about it rubs him up the wrong way, and he may not care about Kageyama, but.

So he strides to stand in front of Kageyama and puts an arm in front of him, like that would really stop Atsumu. But it halts him temporarily, puzzled. He feels the rest of them staring at him, and kind of wishes he hadn’t done anything at all.

Why does he care? It's only Kageyama, but then, it's Kageyama. Kageyama who wouldn't know flirting if it kissed him square on the lips, Kageyama who's probably never had a stray thought since he found volleyball, Kageyama who is probably just about dumb enough to go along with anything if he thought it would make him better. The thought of Atsumu too close, unsupervised, to the dense-enough-to-be-a-black-hole Kageyama, makes Kei feel intensely uncomfortable. Makes him kind of want to lock Kageyama in a different room altogether.

The door opens. "I'm terribly sorry, there really aren't any other futons..." She trails off, seeing Kei where he is, and maybe she's just grasping at straws, maybe she thinks it actually looks like they're agreeing on something or whatever, an incredibly stupid chain of thoughts happens in her head and her face lights up in relief. "So you two have decided to share for the night? Thanks for volunteering, we do have a slightly bigger futon over here you can use, you know where the bathrooms are, let us know if you need anything!" She says, and dashes away, as if sensing the disagreement.

Funnily enough, the rest of them snort, then scuttle off to occupy their own beds and mark their territories, leaving Kei and Kageyama in the middle of the room, dead still. Atsumu shrugs, and winks at Kei as if he knows something, and Kei swears murder will happen before these three days are up.

Kei is just trying to process. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, he’d brought ear plugs in case anyone snored so he wouldn’t be too tempted to strangle them, and he’d been going to pick the very corner futon to be furthest away from everyone.

Now he’s going to be the one sharing?

He doesn’t know how much worse it could get. Now though, most of them are settling onto futons and are not going to give them up easily.

Atsumu, still looking at the two of them, laughs raucously. "If you don't wanna sleep with him, I could always swap wi' ya?" He drawls, and it seems likely to be engineered exactly to piss Kei off. Osamu snorts. "Bet you ten ramen pots they don't make the night." He pitches in, and it swiftly descends, with the others making various bets as to the transient of this arrangement. Kei hates it, but he's nothing if not stubborn and refused to let people win. Furious, he leans over to Kageyama, still in his daze.

"You'd best not piss me off." He hisses, and storms off to attempt to get to sleep as early as possible. He wanted to read. He wanted to listen to music. "Who said I was gonna piss you off! Maybe you shouldn't piss me off!" Kageyama snaps, his first words in some time. Probably in volleyball dreamland like always, his freakishly sharp mind providing video replays of all the plays he made and how he could tweak them to improve. Instead of focusing on real life. Instead of seeing the things in front of him. So much of his brain is trapped on a volleyball court, Kei swears that’s the reason he’s so utterly stupid off it. Most people would be at the same level of stupidity if only 1% of their brain travelled around with them.

"Maybe if you weren't so stupid and kept responding, it wouldn't be a problem." Kei returns acidly, and grabs his headphones.

"So you want me to ignore you, then." Kageyama spits, and for a second, Kei thinks about it. His heart kind of... droops, when he does, like that would be a bad thing. The very idea that he might care about Kageyama and the fact that he does talk to him pisses him off. His grip on his headphones tightens. "Too bad. You're in the team, so I have to get on with you! Besides I-" Kageyama halts himself dead in his tracks; Kei notices several of the others furtively - or not so furtively - watching, and turns on his heel. He doesn't want to examine Kageyama's weirdness now. He'd not found any solution before the camp, and he especially doesn't want to find one now, whatever he might find, before he has to spend 8 hours sharing a futon with him.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with. I'm not interested in anyone making money on me." He says, casting acerbic stares at certain parties in the room. Much to his disgust, most of them don't react too much, and mostly with amusement and the occasional 'we'll see about that'. Kei decides to do what he does best and ignore it fully, lying down, tugging his headphones on and putting on his loudest music. Which isn't that loud, but it is at least continuous in its volume, leaving no chances for snippets of surrounding conversation. He hates having it too loud for fear of damaging his hearing – and knowledge of how irritating it is when everyone else can hear music from someone else's headphones – so he sets it at the exact volume required to cover up most things. If anyone shouts he'll hear it, but they don't.

It's only about half a song later when the futon shifts. Kei freezes on instinct, and glances across – it is indeed Kageyama, which just increases his discomfort. Their eyes meet, then skitter away, Kageyama gaining a constipated sort of look in the split second Kei keeps looking. He then resolutely closes his eyes, determined not to look, or make this weird, or think at all.

He has shared with his brother. It can't be any worse than that, surely. Kageyama isn’t as tall or gangly as his brother, and probably not as much into casual touches. Kei’s never seen Kageyama instigate any kind of friendly contact, at least, which is a godsend, but still. So he’s probably not going to find himself hugged to death, but equally, this whole thing is so awkward and irritating, he’s not convinced he won’t. But the thought of people handing over cash and ramen pots because he couldn’t keep his cool in such an annoying situation irritates him more. If he has to deal with their smug faces on top of a bad night’s sleep, he cannot be held responsible for whatever he does do.

It can’t be any worse than sharing with his brother.

But it is. His anxiety is such that every shift Kageyama makes is heightened, and Kei even feels his presence when he is still, an odd kind of emanating presence. The rest of them have started to settle down and someone's turned the lights off, so it just feels so close. He doesn’t want to sleep in his headphones, but the music is the only thing distracting him, so he clings to them for as long as possible.

But even in his edgy state, he’s still incredibly tired, so it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to start feel heavy, the ceiling only taking so much of him burning holes in it. Reluctantly, he pauses his music and delicately places his headphones on the rest of his stuff, then his glasses in their case, habitually softening the snap as it closes, and puts that too on top of his bag, nestled down a bit so neither of them roll off and get stepped on, hopefully. The world takes on an auditory clarity, and a visual blurriness, and Kei tries to relax.

There are blurry light patches where some of the guys are checking their phones, and some hissed whispers he doesn’t catch enough of to understand. There’s just enough light from the windows to make out some shapes. Simply the act of putting his headphones away – and having to look at his phone to pause it – has temporarily banished a modicum of his immediate sleepiness, and he once again becomes aware of his current predicament.

The futon, as the faculty member had stated, is a little bigger than the rest, but it is not big, by any means. Even as close as he can get to the edge without falling off it, their shoulders are touching. It’s a burning heat he can barely stand, mostly because it makes him think.

“Move over.” He grouches quietly, uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. He’s not used to close proximity with people, least of all Kageyama. There’s a flick of movement, and a hmph sound.

“I’m not falling off for you.” Kageyama grouses back, and Kei recalls the bets, and bites back a returning taunt. Presumably Kageyama is as far away as he can get too, and there goes his thought that perhaps he might avoid that contact.

And he can’t help but think about it. Kageyama’s been acting weird for weeks now. Nobody else had really commented yet, but it was only a matter of time, and if Kei had noticed surely it was obvious enough. He doesn’t even watch Kageyama much, so surely someone like Hinata has picked up that Kageyama’s been acting weird.

Which is in itself weird. Kageyama is consistent to a degree that you could set your clocks to, Kei has always thought to himself. Emotionally, at least. He got the same level of irritated at the same things every time. He got the same type of ecstatic when they won, and the same type of begrudging defeat whenever they lost. He got the same type of glint in his eye when he respected a player, and the same type of anger when someone pissed him off or worse, didn’t try hard enough at volleyball.

Kageyama didn’t act different.

But now he was.

Kei hasn’t been able to put his finger on it. He just seemed quieter than usual, not really challenging Kei on the same things he always would, not rising up to the bait the same whenever Kei taunted him. There was a slight, but noticeable, lack of quality in the shots to Kei, in particular. Sometimes one of the others, but Kei hadn’t seen Kageyama fumble this much since difficult games in first year. Nowadays, settling into his skills and scouted for the National Team, he rarely fumbled like this, and his irritation with it seemed… wrong, somehow. It didn’t seem quite the same as it had – he didn’t promise to work harder, or blame some aspect of the spiker. No, he tended to glare at Kei as though his mere presence had the ability to mess things up, and turned away just as fast.

Kei’s been intrigued, to say the least.

It happened more in practice than in practice matches, although it did happen then too. Every time it happened in a match, the opposing team never really seemed to think much of it, but Kei couldn’t stop. His analytical mind had latched onto it like a difficult maths problem, and refused to let go, even as much as it irritated him. He had to work it out, partly because real matches were coming up soon and it better not affect this year’s chance at Nationals, but mostly because Kei just could not stop thinking about it, and Kageyama.

And the more he thought about Kageyama, and observed, and taunted and spoke to and worked with, the more he noticed. The way that Kageyama was actually always sending him glances. The way he was sitting closer than he ever had, but never really looking at Kei when he did so. The way that he’d shove his homework under Kei’s nose just as much as Yamaguchi’s, now. (Mostly because Yamaguchi was better at explaining maths to them, but Kei was better at English and Science. The rest, as far as Kei was concerned, wasn’t hard enough to help them with. Rote memory, Kageyama had already shown to be very proficient at, so Kei didn’t bother with those.)

So he’s found himself spending a bit more time before and after practices sitting with Kageyama going through homework concepts. Kageyama even seems to get some of them – for five minutes, anyway. Sometimes Hinata is there and other times he gets wrapped up texting Kenma and drifts off like he seems to more nowadays. It’s become a common enough occurrence, him and Kageyama in the library, watching Kageyama get more frustrated with something and him just smirking more and more because it’s funny and kind of- nice, in a weird way. The lights in the growing gloom set a halo in Kageyama’s hair, his brows furrowed and calloused hands twitching to spend fractions of a second sending a volleyball on abnormally accurate courses, rather than holding a pen.

Somehow, he never gets much work done at those sessions, even though he swears he’s working. He blames Kageyama entirely. Him and his unending stupidity.

Stupidity that’s led to this. If he’d responded normally to Miya’s taunts, Kei never would have had to step forward. If he’d even realised, none of this would have happened. Kei would be asleep in his own futon and never worrying about any of this.

“Just so you are crystal clear on this,” Kei murmurs as quietly as he can muster, turning his head to glare at Kageyama, “I’m blaming you for all this.”

He can’t really see properly, but Kageyama looks at him, and frowns. He does not, as Kei would have possibly expected, get angry. “Why.” Kageyama mutters. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you.” Kei returns, and Kageyama huffs. “Tell me.” “It was because you’re thick. You didn’t get it.” “Get what.”

Kei is kind of glad that it’s dark. He can’t believe he’s having to explain this to Kageyama. “What Miya was doing.” “Which one?” “Atsumu.” “What was he doing?”

“Flirting, you numbskull.” Kei only says it, and says it quietly, because he’s sure that the others are just far enough away to not overhear. A few of them have started snoring, anyway, and the phone lights have all gone off. “Oh.” Kageyama says, and pauses. “Oh…” He stops again. “Why is this my fault?” “Because you didn’t get it.” Kei reiterates, annoyed. “What, so you felt you had to protect me or something?”

Kei feels like his lungs stop working for a second. “No,” he wheezes, acutely aware of how unconvincing he sounds. “Of course not. Anyway, this is just ridiculous.” “Oh. Okay.” “I’m going to sleep.” Kei retorts, put off-centre. Protecting him? From what? He didn’t care if Atsumu had his wicked way with Kageyama – except he kind of did.

That is a whole ballgame he does avidly not want to think about right here, in this second, pressed up against Kageyama because there is nowhere else to go. Kageyama hums, and he sounds kind of pleased. Kei turns away, and thinks so hard about music and volleyball and dinosaurs and very literally anything other than Kageyama, it gives him a headache, then bores him to sleep eventually.

The faster he goes to sleep the faster this situation disappears.

Except of course, that it is a situation that reappears upon waking up. The first time he wakes up, it’s far too early, and he’s been awakened by motion. He barely remembers it until later, and then wishes he had properly woken up, because he could have saved himself a lot of problems. The next time he wakes up, it’s to a camera shutter sound, and he feels warm and snug. And safe.

And somewhat trapped.

Kei decides to evaluate his situation firstly, and open his eyes next.

He is laid on his back, nothing abnormal about that. His left side is warmer than it should be, and there is a pressure across his chest, and his legs, and his whole left side.

He can guess, he thinks, but he needs to know, needs to check visually.

So he opens his eyes, and looks across and finds exactly what he ought to have expected. Kageyama is, for lack of any better word, flopped on top of him, head nestled into Kei's shoulder. His face is- remarkably relaxed, for once, not grinding his teeth or scowling like normal, and Kei just.

He doesn't know what to think. He knows what he wants to do, which is to not rouse him, or pull him closer. He feels like smiling, like taking a picture, like staying there for a while, like he's maybe possibly a little bit fond.

Fondness equals alarm bells. His eyes dart upwards, and find several of the other guys looking down at him - them. A smudge that looks like it could be Motoya has got his phone out taking a photo, and Miya Atsumu is grinning like like Cheshire cat. Kei squashes his eyes shut again, to give himself space, to think about this.

There proceeds to be a suspiciously Miya Atsumu sounding murmur of 'hah, gaaaa-yyyyyy' shortly followed by a slapping sound. Kei decides Miya Osamu is probably alright, but still, he's not staying in this situation. He needs to extricate himself and get some quiet. There's a level of controlled panic in the way he shifts sideways, and hears Kageyama groan. Discontent? Kei doesn’t want to think about it. He has just enough forethought to grab his glasses in their case, and ignores some suggestive and smug sounding voices as he pushes through them, to hide out in the bathroom.

Once there, he sets the glasses case on the side, and splashes his face with cold water. It does nothing to soothe his racing heart; it does nothing at all except bring him further into wakefulness and the awful realisation he has arrived at.

He’s fond of Kageyama.

He thinks, for a moment, that his brain has just skipped the friends stage, but then, it hasn’t, really. What are study dates in the library if not between friends? What are the teasing conversations, no longer as barbed as they used to be? What is the glare he gets when he calls Kageyama king, half-hearted and softer than usual? What are the allowances he’s been giving Kageyama, the more time spent with him, the more time dedicated to matching up with him? They’ve been friends, but Kei never realised. Like he never realised how much he’s been watching Kageyama, been thinking about Kageyama, and indeed been avoiding thinking about why he’s been thinking so much about Kageyama.

Yet still, this fondness, a pooling dripping sentimentality he’s never quite fully erased from his heart. It’s similar to the way he can’t quite throw out his oldest childhood toy, a stegosaurus with some of it’s plates falling off and patched up a hundred times. He’s used to Kageyama now, and in some ways looks forward to seeing him, looks forward to his blunt stupidity, the banter they have between them. The way they’ve started syncing up on court, and working together.

Fuck, he thinks to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, clear now he’s put his glasses back on. How could he have let this happen? He doesn’t know what to do with this, he’s never had this before. Maybe that’s why he never saw it coming, creeping up on his blindside and taking him unawares. How is he going to get out of this now?

The door swings open, and Kei prepares to defend himself – but it’s Kageyama, and now he doesn’t know how to react. Stunned by his newest revelation, he just kind of nods. Kageyama has gone red, and stops.

And there’s a thick silence. Kei doesn’t want to admit that he didn’t mind it, but doesn’t quite want to say that he hated it either. He needs time to work it through, get on top of his feelings.

Kei decides to leave. He grabs his glasses and makes for the door, even though Kageyama is between him and it. He expects Kageyama to move. He doesn’t.

“Are you disgusted?” Kageyama demands, looking anything but peaceful like he did in sleep.

Kei thinks about it. Yes, would be one answer. He’s disgusted with himself for not noticing, for letting it go on so long. But equally, feelings aren’t quite so easily hauled into line. He’s not disgusted with Kageyama, particularly. He doesn’t care if anyone is that way inclined, he just had never thought he was himself. With little to no precedent, how was he meant to know?

“No,” Kei murmurs, “Are you going to move?” “Are you running away from me?” Kageyama tries again, glaring defiantly up at Kei. Kei can’t quite meet his gaze. “No.” Kei says, more certain this time. He means yes, of course. He needs time to think on it, analyse the problem, and find a solution. Needs to weigh the evidence, pros and cons, and external opinions. If he can get them without alerting the parties to the fact that he’s collecting them. Can’t be seen to be too interested.

“You are.” Kageyama states, blunt as ever. Kei huffs an incredulous laugh, but Kageyama continues. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Characteristically blunt, as always. Kei glares at him. “Happy now?”

Kageyama looks surprised that he complied. Daunted, even. He swallows, a manoeuvre Kei cannot help but watch.

“Someone is going to come in, soon.” Kei mutters, eyes glued to Kageyama’s. Kageyama nods. “Are you going to move?”

Kageyama gets that face like he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult problem.

Then he reaches around the back of Kei’s head and pulls.

Caught in a moment of surprise, Kei doesn’t fight it; consequently, he smacks into Kageyama’s face with some force. There is an instant of nothing, then a flash of pain. He coils away, holding his lips and nose, trying to ascertain whether there’s bleeding or breakages.

“Holy shit, Kageyama!?” he screeches. “What was that? You trying to kill me?!” Kageyama, in the midst of howling quietly, chokes, and ends up in a coughing fit. Kei brings his fingers away from his nose, and finding no blood – and no signature trickle at the back of his throat or down his nose – whips his head around. He’ll check his teeth in a minute. “What the hell was that.” He demands, and then- observes. Kageyama is red as anything, and although he does look like he’s choking, he’s not been doing that long enough to cause that reaction. He’s got one hand over his mouth and his eyes are flitting around frenetically. His brain starts clicking over, the previous conversation and everything prior, and fits it imperfectly together into- “Was that supposed to be a sorry attempt at a kiss?”

“No!” Kageyama shouts, too fast, too high pitched. Kei narrows his eyes. “So it really was? Because that is not the way to do it.” Regardless of whether Kei actually knows the proper way to do it, he can be fairly certain that any way that involves possible permanent damage to his nasal cartilage is not it. “Like you know better!” Kageyama spits, sounding faintly panicked. “Clearly better than you, if that’s what you think is a good idea!” “Why don’t you try then!” Kageyama dares him, and Kei swears that proto-kiss knocked a few brain cells loose, because he actually considers it.

“No.” Kei remarks, and stands up, intending to check his teeth for blood, and also to hide his face from Kageyama. “Because I’m not into messing with people like that.” It’s ridiculous to get his hopes up. Kageyama has the social skills of a slug, and the finesse to match. People cling to things in their sleep, it’s a natural habit left over from being an infant, and a human need to be close to things. It’s for warmth, more importantly, and therefore likely means nothing. Kageyama probably has some weird idea in mind that for some reason involves Kei.

There’s no blood in his teeth, and none apparently forthcoming. That’s good. He’ll go and get changed and start his day and analyse this all later, or better, after the camp. He’ll package away the hurt and the confusion, and dwell on it later. He’ll only get annoyed if he does that now.

But before he can turn and leave, there are footsteps across the floor, and a hand on his arm. He barely gets a chance to raise an eyebrow and take a breath to speak when Kageyama steals it from him.

It’s much softer, thankfully, although his bruised lips still complain. It’s clear still that Kageyama doesn’t really know what he’s doing, screwing his eyes shut, but he makes a good approximation; he weaves his hand into the fine hairs at the nape of Kei’s neck and makes him shiver. Kei’s wide eyes stray to the mirrors, reflecting this scene, black and blond, fuzzy out the side of his glasses.

They’re so different. So very different. How can they be here? How can they occupy the same space, and not explode like antimatter meeting matter? Maybe that’s why they’ve always fought before, but then why is this good, and not bad? Why does it feel like a summation of their parts, rather than a negative and positive clashing and negating the other’s effect?

He could push Kageyama away, right now. He could push him and all this away, and run. It occurs to him in the same breath that he gives in, closes his eyes and puts his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, pushes back into the kiss, because now he thinks about it, the thought that Kageyama was organised enough to mess with him seems wrong. Unlikely, somehow. Kageyama is not known for his grand schemes off the volleyball court, nor his ability to manipulate people.

And Kei can make the most of the opportunity in front of him. If this is the only time he gets to do this, he’s not going to pass it up too easily.

By the time they separate, they’re both breathing harder than usual, and Kageyama frowns at him. “I don’t mess with people.” “I’m getting that vibe, yes.” Kei murmurs. “Someone’s going to come in here soon.”

Kageyama nods, and steps back. He keeps his eyes on Kei, expectant. “But I want to do that again.” Kageyama says. “Of course, but not now.” Kei returns, thinking it’s been a surprising amount of time without interruption. It’s only when he notices Kageyama’s eyes widen that he realises. “I mean…” Ah, what the hell. “I need to think about this. Later. We have camp to survive, first.”

“Later.” Kageyama repeats, sounding pleased with himself. “Alright. I can wait.”

Kei grimaces as he hears loud footsteps and voices storming up to the door. “You were always going to have to.” He remarks, but, quietly, to himself, he can reflect that he’s kind of looking forward to it.

But he can enjoy teasing Kageyama by making him wait.

Where’s the fun in making it easy? Plus, he has no interest in giving any of the others any smug pleasure. In addition, he’s going to be a rich man if they all cough up their debts to him. He might even see to sharing a few ramen pots with Kageyama.

If he’s lucky. If he hasn’t actually knocked any teeth loose.

Well, there’s room for improvement, and time for it, too. Things are looking up.

#hqssii #haikyuusecretsanta2018 #kagetsukki #tsukishima kei #kageyama tobio #hq #haikyuu #tsukishima kei does not care about kageyama #except he kinda does #i really hope you liked this #sorry it's so late #bweh #*slinks back into the void*#i would like to sincerely apologise to miya atsumu #i treated you wrong for plot devices #you became a miya ex machina #and i apologise

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allivegottodoislove · 5 years

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A Lad Insane

i know i promised this to you guys on friday but my life got hella busy & im so sorry about not posting it earlier! but i figured better late than never! here it is, chapter four of a lad insane

This was far from a normal night for David. A simple night like this hadn't existed since he had been with his mother, though there had never been a nude woman then. It put him in a weird place. A normal night wouldn't have ended this early. It was why he had to wait for Angie. Usually, he assumed, she would be standing by waiting for him. The crew likely didn't take that long to dispose of the girls given to them. Though, he was sure someone was disappointed that they didn't get to drain Adeline.

How they had never gotten caught still amazed him. There had to be a mass of bodies every night. There was no way that Angie would let any of them live. That was evident from his interactions with Angie some hours prior now. It didn't surprise him. He just didn't understand it. How did no one notice the masses of missing girls, there had to be at least ten to fifteen a night, if not more. How were their bodies not found? No one would put it together, at first. That's how he thought about it at first. They went from city to city. But, surely, the police could never be that dumb. Tonight was truly the first night David thought about it. Perhaps because it was the first night he was not contributing to the missing.

The night was different, and in a way David was grateful for that. Typically, he would pass at out the end of the night. It would be a complete fuck fest. David wouldn't stop until he had his share, or the girl herself seemed unable to take anymore. Then he would feed, once they were tired and unaware. He never wanted to make a big show of it. At least, he would try to, sometimes it wouldn't be an option. The drugs would overpower his ability to hold back his urges.

Looking over Adeline, David was grateful for the change of pace. As she slept, he only became more grateful for that. She was a change of pace. If he could convince her, David would be happy to keep her for the week. Perhaps longer, but only if she agreed. Something told him that she wasn't one took help easily.

As he watched her sleep, he realized how beautiful she was. Not that she wasn't beautiful before, but there had been so much anxiety on her face. She clearly had a lot on her plate. Her work uniform said it all. She hadn't been at the concert; David knew that much. While he likely would never be able to get a straight answer out of her, he assumed she came straight from work, just to try and get a glimpse. Her friends would never believe this story. It was one that no other girl got to live to say, after all.

The night passed quickly. David would switch between his own thoughts, and paying attention to her. The hours, he thought, were creeping by slowly. But, as he turned his attention to the windows and their partially opened shades, he realized that wasn't true. The night had passed in the blink of an eye. It amazed him that time could pass that quickly without any sort of drug. Perhaps Adeline had been the drug he had been looking for. No, no, he mustn't think like that.

As the light continued to creep into the room, David fell a bit back into the bed. Any minute now, Adeline could wake up. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up staring at her. It might just scare her away, and that's not what he wanted to do. She felt good to be around, and something about her pissed Angie off. It was a win-win situation for him, really.

The light eventually reached Adeline's eyes. David closed his own, knowing that soon hers would be open. He was the rock star in this whole equation, he would be able to sleep through the whole night. He didn't need to give up the game at the very last second.

Her wake-up was smooth and easy. Adeline's eyes just fluttered open. It had been so long that she had such a simple wake up. At first, she thought nothing of it. Her brain just said that she had a day off work. But, it didn’t take long for the alarms going off in her head. Firstly, because she never had a day off work. As her eyes adjusted to the light, her brain began to whirl. Even if she did, she still would have set her alarm. It was second nature at this point. Where was her alarm?

The panic was starting to set into her. Her eyes flung open and she sat straight up. This wasn't her room. This wasn't her bed. And she certainly never went to bed naked. Despite how hot it could get in her apartment, she didn't trust her neighborhood enough to do that. Too many people had break-ins around her. This, though, was too nice to be her apartment.

As she felt the panic rising in her, she wiped the last bit of sleep from her eyes. Where was she? As she looked next to her, she noticed the bright orange head of hair. The night began to come back to her. She, of course, remembered going to look for David, and then meeting him, and then the rest of it… It had been a weirdly perfect night after a bad day at work.

The panic had settled for a moment as she remembered the events of the night before. It returned in full forced when she remembered work. The panic and fear rose in her. It threatened to leave as either her screaming or vomiting, or perhaps both. Right now, Adeline wasn't sure which was more likely. But perhaps, just perhaps, she would get lucky.

That was the only thing keeping her from ripping out her own hair. Her life hadn't always been the most luck filled, but she got where she needed to. Adeline, though, could feel her heart racing. As much as she wanted to believe she would get lucky, and only have to pay for a cab she could barely afford, something told her all her luck had been used up before this.

David was more than aware of what's going on. Well, not why it was happening. Was she experiencing regret? David didn't think so. It wasn't like he had much experience with the morning side of this whole thing. But, she didn't seem to be angry with him. He imagined that there would be more screaming, more yelling. She just seemed anxious. For now, he opted to continue to pretend to sleep. It seemed the safer option.

Any involvement on his end he wanted to wait for. Humans could sometimes be more dangerous than his own kind. If he interrupted something… No, he could afford to wait. She didn't seem to be angry, but one wrong move could set her there. Humans could be more dangerous than his life, and he didn't want to cross that.

As David sat in his thoughts on what to do, Adeline had enough of thinking. She knew she had to find out the right answer. The only clock, unfortunately, was not right next to the bed. Whoever designed this hotel room was a fool. Who didn't put the clock right next to the bed? With shaky legs, she stood up. It hit her all at once that she had lost her virginity less than twelve hours ago. Her body was sore, and ached.

For a moment, she was afraid her legs might give out under her. David worried as well, one eye open to watch her. With her back to him, he could afford to spy on her just a touch. Thankfully, she managed to stay upright on her own, and David didn't need to give herself away.

As she walked to the little corner with the small radio alarm, she said the same prayer over and over again. It had never failed her in the past. It wouldn't fail her now. It couldn't. It was the prayer she used to get the job. Surely, it would fail her now, when she needed it most. Losing this job… No, she couldn't think of that yet. It was still early, it had to still be early. The universe wouldn't be that cruel to her. It wouldn't ruin her life because she had given into her biggest temptation.

Somewhere in her heart, Adeline had come to terms with the truth. Her brain wouldn't accept the idea of it. For now, she couldn't afford to. She would break down before she even made it to the clock. But her heart knew, knew that she was already screwed.

Once she turned the corner, her walk slow and clearly of someone in fear, she saw the clock. The little white letters had never seemed so angry before. It felt like someone stabbed her in the gut. There was no way, it couldn't be right. She rubbed her eyes, trying to will herself back in time. No such luck, as the clock changed from 10:39 to 10:40, she knew it was real.

Her shift had started some two hours before. That wasn't even considering the unpaid time she was supposed to show up earlier. If she thought she could scream, she would. But right now, no sounds would come out. Perhaps that was the best.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed David shifting in the bed. It made her incredibly more aware. This wasn't something she could have a huge freak out over. No, no, she would need to be an adult about this. David was passed out, unlikely to awake any time soon. That was how it was meant to be. If she managed to wake him, what kind of person could she consider herself? Her need to stay silent was what would keep her together, for the most part.

The phone was located next to the clock. TO get to it, though, she had to close the small distance between herself and the little table they sat on. The numbers on the clock stared back angrily as she did so. Little whimpers escaped her mouth as she walked. It wasn't too loud, but it was certainly audible. But, she wasn't too worried about it. David would be passed out, and he was the only one that would be capable of hearing it.

This wasn't what she liked to be. The only reason she hadn't stormed out of the door and home to deal with this was that David was awake. No one ever saw this side of her. She couldn't afford to. The last person she had cried in front of was her mother, and that had been years and years ago, when she was just a small child. Adeline had learned early in life that crying in front of people got her nowhere.

Seeming meek had gotten her nowhere in life. Sure, she seemed a bit submissive, and usually would bend to other people's wills, but she wasn't pathetic. No one ever got to see how they affected her. She wouldn't allow them to. If people saw how they could hurt her, it would only make things worse. They would only know how to harm her more. No, she took everything with a smile on her face, and would deal with the emotional fallout later, when she was alone.

With one eye open, David watched the honestly pathetic scene play out in front of him. His heart ached for the poor girl. The noises leaving her were pitiful. All he wanted to do was wrap her up and protect her from whatever was bothering her. But that was the problem. David couldn't figure out what had caused such a swing. Sure, the night before she had seemed shy and nervous, but nothing like this. For a second, he considered that perhaps having Angie kill her might have been the most humane thing to do. Something inside him wouldn't allow him to follow that thought, though.

When she reached for the phone, David only became more confused. Adeline herself was in such a state of shock, she didn't notice that David was clearly fully awake. Instead, she just focused on the phone. She had thought she knew the number for the restaurant. As she tried to recall it, it became clear she didn't. Maybe she had one known it, but in her state of absolute panic, she couldn't think straight enough to remember it.

Her words to the operator were jumbled at best and completely unclear at worst. Even David couldn't pick out what she was saying. It took her three times to be able to spit out the name of her work. Her stuttered apologies in between each attempt made it worse. God, she wanted to drop dead on the spot. Not only had someone heard how pathetic she was, but she was sure she had made the operator's day that much unnecessarily harder.

Her heart, as the call was put through, was beating like she had just run a full marathon in a single hour. David feared that she truly might just drop dead. No one's heart ever sounded like that, unless they were completely doped up on coke. What was so upsetting to her? Nothing she had said yet gave away what the problem might even be. The noises coming from her felt like a punch in the gut to him. But until David could understand the problem, he didn't want to intervene. What if the problem was him?

"Hello, this is Mr. Johnson at The Chateau. I'm so sorry for the delay of your phone call, how may I help?" The voice on the other end of the line was almost foreign to Adeline. There was only one person it could be. The other person scheduled to work that morning was a lady, and never showed up before noon. It had to be her boss. Was this what other people saw? She never heard this man so friendly. Is this why people had told her to apply there?

"Uhh, hell-hell Mr. Johnson, it's Adel-" was all she managed to get out. It was all he needed to change his demeanor completely. The nice, friendly man was gone in a flash. If she was in front of him, she would see his face turning a bright shade of red. As it was, she could imagine what he looked like.

That friendly voice was quickly yelling. He erupted into an angry stream of swears and slurs, all screamed into the phone and at her. For a brief moment, he paused and Adeline saw her opportunity. As much as this hurt, she had to try and make it better. There had to be something she could do. Perhaps this was where her luck would fall into place, perhaps her prayer would be answered.

"Sir, sir, I'm so so so sorry about this, but I can still come in. I can, I can be there in-in." Her voice stumbled as she tried to figure out exactly where she was.

"In? You want to come in? You think you still have a job here, you ungrateful little slut!" He screamed. "I told you that if you were late, you were fucking dead to me! Do you take me for a joker?" He paused to take a deep breath. Adeline was more than familiar with the bright shade of red his face would be. "You're fucking fired, don't you get that you dumbass!" He screamed.

There was another small break in his voice, and Adeline thought he had hung up. No such luck. It seemed that all her luck had finally run out. Her now former boss launched into another tirade of screams and slurs. She just stood there and took it. Her brain was slowly breaking as the reality hit her. Her life, it now seemed, had been lived on luck. That luck truly was gone, and she was about to face real life.

She stood there for another few moments, listening to everything he said. All the nasty things he said she believed. But she just took it, trying to keep her brave face for the world. She could only hold it for so long, though. Even she had her limits, and she was fast approaching it.

As much as she wanted to hang up the phone, she simply couldn't. Her knees gave out first and she collapsed to the ground into a ball. The thud from the phone falling against the table was no doubt audible on the other end of the line. That didn't seem to faze her boss. The screams, while she could no longer make out the specific words he said, could still be heard.

Sobs escaped from her lips. She curled tighter and tighter into herself, trying to silence herself. David was mostly forgotten to her now. Her mind was very much focused elsewhere. But, she couldn't bring herself to remember why she had to be quiet. The pain of her new life situation, jobless and soon to be homeless, weighed too heavily on her.

David had watched, with one eye open, the scene play out from the bed. When she collapsed onto the floor, he knew something was wrong, extremely so. Nothing she had said made sense to him. He wasn't sure what she had been babbling about on the phone. It seemed to be about her job, but David honestly wasn't that sure. But, he did know he couldn't just say in bed anymore. As much as he tried to seem unaffected by the world, her emotions and pain moved him.

He moved from the bed silently. Though, something told him that she would hardly pay him any attention. Whatever the issue truly was, it had nothing to do with him. She was lost to her own little world. David assumed it was for good reason.

A soft sigh left his mouth as he got himself out of bed. This was the last moment he wanted to be naked in. It was vulnerable enough, his junk didn't need to be involved. But, dressing wasn't an option. He had other things that were much too important to bother getting dressed.

He stood over her for a second and then grabbed the phone. He put it too his ear for just a few moments, and felt his stomach lurch. Whoever this man was, the things he was saying were vile.

"You're truly a pathetic man and I promise I'll make you eat each and every single word you've just said," he said before he slammed the phone back onto the receiver. Not once did Adeline look up as this happened. That truly worried him.

Anyone within a ten-mile radius of the hotel would know that she needed to be comforted. Angie, with her heart of stone, might even be moved to care for this poor girl. That wasn't the issue David was having. He knew what he needed to do, he just didn't know how to do it. It had been so long since David had seen grief and sadness like this. What was he to do?

He racked his brain for a few moments. The only thing he could compare this to was his son, to when his Zowie and kicking and screaming and crying and only a parent's love would calm him. Perhaps his instincts would kick in. But that still required figuring how to go about this. Did vampires even have compassionate instincts? He had seen them in his mother. But, if they belonged to all vampires, Angie had kicked them to the curb decades ago.

David decided to pretend, for a second, that she wasn't crying. Crying people could handle. He could hold them and whisper all the right words to them. Surely this moment wasn't that different from those moments.

As he crouched down, Adeline still seemed unaware of his presence. He didn't know how to go about making himself more obvious. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her. But, he was standing right in front of her, stark naked as the day he was born.

"Sweet, sweet Adeline," he whispered. He sat down next to her and listened to her sobs. No words came out, which was unhelpful to him. How was he going to figure out how to fix this if he couldn't even figure out what the problem was?

At the sound of his voice, Adeline's head snapped to look at him. It was clear from the look in her eyes she wasn't processing this at all. His heart ached for her. She looked startled, as if he was about to kill her. If only she knew the irony in that thought.

A twinge of fear filled David for a second. Would she blame him for whatever happened? Adeline, of course, felt no such emotion. She herself felt fear. Would he be angry at her? Of course she had managed to wake David with her pathetic sniveling. The one man in the hotel that was supposed to sleep like the dead, the one man that should have slept until nighttime, and she had woken him up. Not only had she woke him up, but she had likely brought more trouble to his day than he expected.

The tips of her ears flushed hot. She shook her head at what he said. It was embarrassing to be seen like this. Of course, it wasn't the first time she had lost her mind like this. It wasn't her first break down. Her job was incredibly miserable. The stress of it normally got to her. Her boss was unhelpful, screaming at her with every slight mistake. It was obvious she was treated differently from the rest of the staff. Adeline knew why. But, she was helpless to change anything. No one would listen to her. She would simply just lose her job. Though, that didn't matter now.

But with those breakdowns and crying fights, she never had an audience. No one knew that she often cried herself to sleep. Adeline wouldn't allow the world to see that. She didn't want to appear weak. And now, now she had an audience of one for her worst breakdown. Her hero, out of everyone, got to see her absolutely lose her mind.

For a moment, she forced the tears to stop coming so quickly. Her mouth opened to give some sort of apology. She stammered and stuttered and her words didn't quite make sense. Whenever he attempted to get closer to her, she would just shake her head and back away. David didn't quite understand what was going on. Perhaps she was mad at him. He couldn't make out what she was trying to say. Did she mean to tell him off in between her sobs?

Once she backed herself into a corner, David seemed to pick up on what she meant. A few of her words were more coherent, made more sense together. It was him she felt bad for. She was, she was trying to apologize. David didn't quite understand. He wasn't getting quite getting that she assumed she had woken him up.

"No, no no no my darling," he said softly. "Get out whatever you need to first, and then we can talk. Yes? You're alright." His voice was soft as he spoke. Even to Adeline, in her state of sheer panic, she picked up at the compassion and kindness in his eyes. He sat on the floor, next to her, and opened his arms wide. "Come," he said gently.

It took her a few seconds to understand he truly was not mad. Her brain was quite up to processing that just yet. He wasn't upset about the rude wake up. At least, he didn't seem mad, for now. Perhaps once she calmed and down and he could make sense of the situation, that was when the anger would set in. Addie realized she needed to calm down first.

She leaned into him and David only pulled her closer. Her face pressed up against his chest. She felt like she was completely engulfed by him. It was also in that moment that they realized they were both nude. It made the whole thing incredibly more vulnerable. Here she was in just panties, and he seemed to be completely stark naked. It was a shocking experience for her, but her tears didn't show any sign of stopping.

They sat like that for some time. The only sound that filled the room was her uneven breathing and her soft sobs. Even with him right there, comforting her, she tried to hold some of it back. She just wanted to stop crying. Once she was in control of her nerves, she looked up at him with her tearstained face. "I'm-I'm so sorry for waking you like-like this," she mumbled.

David's immediate response was to just tut her and take her face into his hands. He held her gaze for just a moment. "No, my darling," he whispered, "don't apologize to me." He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her took her more into his arms. That seemed impossible to Adeline, but somehow he managed to get them closer.

"What's upset you so much? What happened? You were just fine last night. What happened, my girl? What happened on that phone call?" He asked.

For a moment, Adeline felt like she was in shock. She hadn't expected him to be a complete ass. Well, at first she had. But it had become obvious he felt a bit of sympathy for her. He seemed to truly care, though. It was hard to follow. Adeline had expected for him to ask her to leave. She hadn't expected him to as what was wrong.

Anyone else in his class, at his level of rock star, would have been screaming and kicking her out of the room. This wasn't his problem. Why should he care? IF that had happened… Addie wasn't sure how she would have managed to get home. But, to show so much care for another person, for someone he had only signed up to fuck?

As she tried to process the moment, David's eyes never left hers. It wasn't a hard stare. There wasn't a shred of anger or disappointment or fury anywhere on his face or hidden in his eyes. They only showed kindness and compassion. Something about that scared Adeline. She hadn't prepared for it. The whole situation seemed so foreign to her, it was too much of a wild care.

"I-I should get going. I'm sure you've got a lot of things to do today. You're a busy man, no doubt," she mumbled while shaking her head. It was a pathetic attempt to change the subject. When she talked, she couldn't bring herself to look at his face, let alone looking into his eyes.

"I can't, I simply won't let you out into the world like this. No girl has ever left my room crying, and you won't be the first. Tell me, dear Adeline, what upset you so?" It wasn't a lie, what David said. At least, he assumed none of the girls had left crying. It was easier to omit some important information than tell the truth. She would be the first to leave crying, and he couldn't allow for it. Not after how hard he had worked to keep her alive.

"I'm just, I'm being dramatic is all. It's nothing it's fine, really," she insisted. "I should leave you in peace." It took her another few minutes to full realize he meant everything he said.

At first, she hadn't taken what he said positively. She was just one girl in a long line of them. She hadn't fooled herself into thinking she was special. It was why she had started to insist she leave. But to be reminded she was nothing special? She had lost her virginity to him, and she was nothing to him at all. Why should he care about her? But there was something in his eyes that she noticed once she could look at him.

"Unless you are the best actress in the world, I doubt you're overreacting," he said gently. He sighed though, assuming he might not get anywhere with her. "But if you truly do not want to tell me, I can't keep you forever. I don't want to kidnap you. That certainly isn't my goal," he said with a soft chuckle. Adeline found herself laughing as well.

"But, I truly would like to know what upset you so. Such a pretty face shouldn't be so tear-stained and distraught," he said gently.

"I'm just, I'm an idiot," she mumbled after a moment. Again, all she seemed capable of doing was shaking her head. "I-I missed work and I got fired. I really, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm so sorry for that, you should have been able to sleep in and I ruined that and I'm just-" she rambled but David stopped her. It was all incredibly embarrassing to admit, especially to him.

The whole situation was, of course. But saying why she had broken down like that? Surely normal people only reacted like this when someone died. People lost their jobs all the time. It was the nature of the game. But, she knew she wasn't simply out of a job. Finding another job wouldn't be quick. If she didn't get one within a few days, she knew that she stood a good chance at becoming homeless. She'd have to explain it again to her landlord, to the next job. It was all so crushing. To tell her hero? It made her want to crawl under a rock and die.

"You've done nothing wrong to me." His voice was stern, but still understanding, as he talked. It did help to lessen Addie's guilt, if only a little. There wasn't anything that would wipe it away. In her eyes, she had still woken him. David couldn't explain that he had been awake the whole time. That would just open another can of worms he didn't want, couldn't, deal with right now.

"You shouldn't be too hard up until your next one, I'm sure. A darling like you should be able to find a job quick, or at least have a few friends you can rely on for a bit." There was confidence in his voice that Addie didn't want to ruin. He didn’t need to know all the details. That wouldn't stop her from opening her big mouth, though.

"I don't know about that," she mumbled and shook her head. "No, no I'm sure I'll be fine." She continued to mumble as she talked. Why would David want to listen to her complain about her life? He was so far past the issues of her life. Why relive them? Assuming he had ever faced such issues as she was now facing. Addie didn't know much about his early life. There was no way to be able to find anything.

"Darling," David's voice was low, "tell me the truth. Don't put on a brace face for me. You're not protecting me from anything, you're just hiding yourself. You don't need to hide from me," he said gently. It was almost interesting to him to see such raw emotion. The people around him… They were incredibly fake.

It was easy to deal with those fake people, of course. That's why they were the way the were. The put up a wall to try and act how they thought he would want to see them. Everyone from the roadies, to his wife, to even a few of his band members. They created a caricature so they could fit into the rock star lifestyle. It sickened him to deal with them all the time. It's why he had to create his own wall, to keep his own emotions in.

But Addie hadn't down that. Hadn't created any sort of wall between them. Instead, she laid everything in front of him. He knew that people like her existed, he just never got to see them.

"I'll probably be evicted," she mumbled quietly. "It took me months to find this job, and I haven't enough saved up for rent and it's due next week and I know I won't get paid for the work I put in last week," she mumbled. It was a small rant. David had asked, and now all her fears were spilling out of her.

It really was that one missing check that was screwing her over. If she knew it was coming, she would be safe for another month. It would have been rocky. Food would have been tough to come by, but she would still have a house. A roof over her head would have made the job search a little less stressful. Now, she knew she wouldn't have that comfort.

David just listened for the moment and took in her words. It was sinking into him how truly dire this situation was. His life might not have always been the lap of luxury he now had, but he and his mum certainly hadn't had worries like this. It was obvious she was going to suffer. Suffer because he had demanded to feed from her. Perhaps letting Angie take her during the night might have been the kindest thing to do.

Because of him, he was realizing, she was going to lose everything. She was going to lose everything and be out on the streets. They sat in silence as that sunk into him. The words had left her mouth and she had simply returned to crying. David couldn't blame her.

"Oh, darling sweet Adeline," he said as he pressed her face close to his chest. He rubbed her back and ran a few fingers through her curls. Words were failing him at the moment. All he could offer were physical comforts. How could he make this better? She couldn't lose everything because of him. He wouldn't allow it.

"Darling, will you let me help you? This is easily blamed on me. Stay with me for a while, stay with me for the rest of the tour. Let me help you back on your feet after knocking you down," he said. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he had said. It was true, he would love to have her for some time. There was something inside of him that didn't want to let her go.

Perhaps it was just her blood, she was his preferred type after all. Perhaps it was some bizarre hero complex. Perhaps he just needed to save someone and she fell so conveniently into his life, and into his lap. A beautiful bird with a broken wing had finally come to his window. All the tools to fix her, or at least aid in her healing, were at his fingertips.

It felt like something deeper than that, though. This was personal to her. Any of his other girls, and he likely wouldn't have cared. He let them all be murdered, night after night. She had helped him, even if she didn’t know it. She may never know it. If nothing else, she could be the beginning of his separation from Angie. He knew he could use her for it, just as she could use him for money and stability.

Of course, it helped that she didn't seem to see him as a dollar sign. Everyone around him did. It was one of the reasons they put up the walls they did to deal with him. From the roadies, to the groupies, to his very own 'wife,' he was nothing but a way to get money. And blood, for those that fell into needing that more than cash.

It seemed to him that Adeline rarely put herself above other people. He could be wrong, but this interaction didn't suggest that. He hoped to change that, at least a little bit. But, it was still refreshing to see someone that cared for others.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," she mumbled. She rapidly shook her head as she talked. "I can't, I can't accept that. You haven't done a thing." She looked up at him as she spoke. His face was stern. It told him not to argue. No wasn't an answer he was going to accept. With David, it never seemed to be. At least, it wasn't an option unless she truly meant it. She felt the guilt eating at her now. He blamed himself for this. He shouldn't, he couldn't. She was the one that gave in when she knew from the beginning that she couldn't.

For once, David and Adeline seemed to be on the same mental path. He simply wouldn't allow for her to say no. In this situation, she couldn't afford to back out. All the other times, if she had wanted the no, he would have allowed it. Right now, she couldn't afford to refuse his offer.

"No, I simply insist. I won't take no for an answer my dearest Adeline. You've nowhere else to turn. I'd hate to see you on the streets and hurt. You've such a pretty face," he said.

As he talked, he began to wipe tears away from her face. "Let me care for you. You can do some work with the roadies to earn a bit of money if you feel you must," he explained. "Let me help you on your feet."

Adeline simply couldn't say yes to this offer. It was too grand; it was too kind. What if he grew sick of her? "You have a wife, I know you do," she whispered. It was the only way she could think to back herself out of this. She shouldn't have opened her big mouth. "She wouldn't approve. I can't do that to you, this was already too much."

At the mention of Angie, David simply laughed. "We're not in love, my wife and I, if that's what you worry about," he said. "We fell out of love a long time ago." Of course, there had never been true love between them, but David wouldn't let that be known. "She doesn't care that I take girls. She knows at the end of the day that she's still my wife, and gets any legal benefits. You might ease her, just a tad. If I keep the same girl, she won't have to see me go through so many. Won't have to watch me looking night after night."

What he said wasn't a complete lie. But he knew this girl would not ease his wife. That was the only lie he planned to say to her. He did want her to say. Even if it was just for her blood.

With his response, Adeline found herself in a tough place. It was a dilemma she hadn't expected. There was no way she could say yes to this. It was simply too nice of an offer. He said there would be work involved, if she wanted it, but how helpful could she ever really be? It seemed so unfair, especially to him. He'd have to support her both on the road, and then give her money for later. All she would end up being was a burden.

Adeline opened her mouth to explain all this. She was determined to get David to understand her point of view. He had to understand why she simply couldn't. But the words would never get a chance to leave her mouth.

Just as she was about to say what she was sure would persuade David, he put a finger too her lips. It was a surprisingly efficient way to shush her. "Tell me yes, darling. I don't want to hear another word slip off your tongue. Don't deny me this, it's the one request you simply can't. I beg you," he said gently, "Say yes. Cone on the road with me, finish out the tour. The road gets so lonely, so many passing faces. Be a constant."

Something inside of Adeline couldn't say no. She felt foolish. He'd finally convinced her, she guessed. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was magic. She would have thought David had cast a spell on her. But that wasn't possible, not from him. Addie knew what a foolish thought it was. David wouldn’t be capable of that.

A moment passed between them. David felt an unexpected bit of anxiety rise in him. Would she say no? Her head was saying yes before she could find the words. She nodded for a few moments, before a soft "yes," left her lips.

The grin that grew on David's face was impossible to describe. Even he didn't truly understand why he had pushed so much for this girl. For now, he would say it was a way to drive Angie away. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Go wash up, take however long you need to in the bathroom. I'll have some clothes waiting for you when you get out," he said as he stood. He extended his hand so that she could take it. "Then we can do whatever it is that you need to," he said.

Adeline stood and found her legs a little less shaky this time. David seemed to be a good rock. At least, he was a good rock for now, until the end of the tour. "I have just a few things I need to run and do, but they'll be quick," he said, "so just make sure to take your time. Unwind a little."

#a lad insane #david bowie fanfic #david bowie fanfiction

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nakadoo · 7 years

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softly,,, i wrote souyo drabble,,,,,, bec,, ,, im obsessed,,, with the idea that yosuke has nice hands too, ,, , theres probably gonna be a part 2 to this but not right now, ,,

Yosuke tended to sell himself short. Souji's not really sure why it is, but it's been keeping Yosuke from seeing his true potential to be more than what he thinks he's capable of. He keeps comparing himself to Souji, keeps saying that he's just an average guy among more than average people. Souji wonders sometimes if Yosuke's aware that he was practically the glue that kept them all together, that his title as second in command wasn't just because he was the second among the group to attain his own persona.

Yosuke is capable of so much but he just didn't really believe in himself; if someone held him at gunpoint and asked him to praise himself even just once, he'd probably consider his options for longer than necessary considering his own life was on the line.

They had a meeting today. No one was in the T.V. but Souji had decided that it was best to train, to keep them all sharp and on their toes, just in case an obstacle was in their path. He came to Junes a little early, mostly to grab a few groceries to take back home for Nanako.

Then he spots him, lingering around the hardware section of Junes, just looking down at a few items. Yosuke picks up something that Souji can't identify or put a name to, inspects it, weighs it in his hand, before dropping it back into it's bin. He does this several more times with similar looking items before deciding that the first one he picked up was the one he wanted.

"What's that?" Souji asks him, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the item. He knows what it is now, not the name but just by it's appearance, and wonders what Yosuke could probably want with it.

Yosuke jumps at Souji's voice and nearly drops his item but he manages to catch it before it hits the ground. But he accidentally elbows Souji in the process, which would have been really funny if he weren't on the receiving end of the pain. "Sorry, partner!" he practically yelps. He offers a hand and tugs Souji back onto his feet. "You really need to stop surprising me like that."

Souji rubs at his stomach where Yosuke hit him and shakes his head. "Yeah, sorry. My bad," he apologizes. "So what're you doing here so early?"

Yosuke looks down at his little item, then taps one ear piece of his headphones with a click of his tongue as he explains. "Gonna fix them," he says simply.

"Fix?"

Yosuke's already making his way out of the hardware department, but not before grabbing some wire that looks too thin to be of much use. "Yeah, with how often we get roughed up in the T.V., it'll only be a matter of time before these break too."

Souji is a man of many talents and various tidbits of information. However, he's not quite sure he understands what his best friend is trying to say. "Huh?"

He's already paying for the items. He scratches under his chin as the cashier rings him up, before reaching into his pocket to unplug his headphones from his music player. He raises it up for Souji to inspect.

Souji takes it into his hands gingerly, like he's scared he might break it. But not that he's actually looking at it, it the wire doesn't match with the bit at the end (he still doesn't remember what it's called). "You can replace these?"

Yosuke gives a little laughed, amused by the fact that Souji looks stumped. "Of course you can," he tells him, taking his items without having them bagged. "I'll show you," he says, gesturing with a beckoning hand for his friend to follow. "Let's go round the back."

He is no stranger to Junes' staff room, he's been there countless of times before, so he drops his bag on the worn out couch and makes his way towards Yosuke.

Yosuke drops his bag down on the single table in the staff room and flips a switch to turn the ventilation fan on. He sits down, takes out a few things, and prepares to get to work. He pulls his headphones on, plays his music while he tinkers with the wire, pulling it and pinching it and bending it at various degrees until he stops and grins a little bit. "It's always the jack," he tells Souji as if Souji completely understands what he's talking about. "Good thing too, would have been a pain in the ass if it was the wire."

"Uhh, sure," Souji replies uncertainly, pulling up a chair so he can watch Yosuke work.

Yosuke unplugs his music player and sets it aside, picking up an exacto knife before getting to work. He's carefully cutting at the protective plastic, peeling at them until the wires are exposed.

There aren't many wires but Souji doesn't know what each one does but he's pretty impressed with the confidence that Yosuke works. He's probably done this many times before and for some reason Souji's a little bit bewildered and wondering why he's so surprised his friend knows all this when its so blatantly obvious how much he loves his headphones.

"See?" Yosuke says, straightening his back as he shows his handiwork to Souji again. There's a little wire sticking out that looks wrong, and Yosuke pokes it with his knife. "That's why one speaker isn't working."

Souji nods again. He knows the very basics of wires, like the difference between a series circuit and a parallel circuit but that's mostly it. He plants his elbows on the table, leans in a little closer and Yosuke hunches his back in concentration as he carefully separates the jack from the wires. He continues on, talking about how he has to strip back a few of the wire, expose something Souji again doesn't understand, and the rest of the explanation is still something that Souji isn't really too keen on. But the way Yosuke explains it makes it seem like its so easy to understand.

Yosuke plugs in the soldering iron he took from his bag and waits for the end to heat up. He takes out the wire he bought and the replacement jack, then arranges and prepares them on the table. "Just gotta put everything together then we're good," he grins cheekily.

"You know," Souji says as he watches Yosuke get back to work once the iron is ready. "You said I was pretty good with my hands... You're not too shabby either."

"Ah, jeeze," Yosuke says with a light blush dusting his cheeks and an almost pained look on his face. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"Well, it was a compliment. And I liked it," Souji admitted easily.

"Dude you are so weird sometimes," Yosuke laughs.

Souji shrugs and watches him connect the wires to the jack. If he really thinks about it, Yosuke's probably a lot better with his hands than he is. The way he manages his knives in battle is telling, and though the first forays into the T.V. world had Yosuke's hands all cut up with how bad he was, he'd improved so much since then. He could toss his knives five feet in the air and catch them easily.

...Now that Souji really thinks about it, he kind of really likes the way Yosuke's hands look. There are still scars from cuts that never really faded, calluses from battles as well as from practicing on his guitar. He had shorter fingers than his own, but they were bony and knobby and almost as awkward looking as Yosuke's whole personality but just as charming as Yosuke himself.

Souji leans his cheek into his palm, watching intently as his partner picks the soldering iron and starts attaching this to that, here to there, before finally encapsulating the exposed wires into the bought jack.

Yosuke tugs on the wire of the soldering iron and sets it aside to cool. He fiddles with his music player and plugs in his headphones. Sure enough, music is pouring out through both of the speakers and he smiles before plopping his beloved headphones onto his head. He plays with the volume settings, letting it go as high as it can, then slowly lowers it until he can't hear music anymore. He turns to Souji then, a little smile on his lips that makes Souji's heart flutter a little bit. "I fixed it," he says causally, "but I guess these are pretty old. Sound quality just isn't what it used to be."

Souji tries very hard to make it look like he wasn't staring dreamily at his best friend. "Then why not buy new ones?" he offers. "With all the money we get from the dungeons—"

"One," Yosuke interrupts with a happy appreciative smile. "That money is for new equipment and items for the T.V. World." He swivels in his chair to face his best friend and mirrors him, leaning his cheek onto his palm as well. "And two, I'm kind of attached to these. Unless they're completely ruined beyond repair, I'm not getting rid of them."

Souji hums thoughtfully, wondering how much it would cost him to buy a set of high quality headphones in the shade of orange that matched Yosuke's eyes. "You've had them for a long time then?"

"Mhmm," Yosuke hums at him as he cleans up his work place now, carelessly shoving his tools back into his bag. "Anyway, we should head up to the food court in case anyone's there already."

"Yeah," Souji agrees with a smile. He wonders idly if someday he'll be able to get a look at Yosuke's hands up close.

#souyo #im on this ship 4ever and ever #wordydoodles #persona 4

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fairydrarry · 7 years

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to [ @dr-aco ] ; hello suha and happy birthday my queen i love you so much!!! ur so old jeez im so proud of u! you’re like the best person ever?? and we don’t talk as much anymore but i want you to know that you are like the best non-blood-related sibling i’ve ever had :’) i hope you have the best day today <33

summary: everyone knew draco was conceited: he loved himself, and he was proud of how well he took care of himself. but everyone also knew that draco’s world didn’t completely center around himself - it also centered around harry.

Draco tossed his head back and laughed enthusiastically, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he messed with his blond strands. He had been midway through telling the story to the other eighth years in the common room of how he had been pranked by Dean and Seamus the day before - it was a brilliant prank, involving a well-timed distraction by Ron and a bucket of some green, slimy substance - when Harry walked into the room. Draco immediately reddened, leaning back in his chair as he avoided the brunet’s eyes.

“Hey, Draco.” Draco glanced up at Harry, his eyes immediately returning to their gaze at his restless fingers right after. “You seen ‘Mione anywhere? I asked Ron, he didn’t know.” Harry carded his fingers through his hair, tilting his head to the side in utter confusion.

Draco took his lip in between his teeth, trying to avoid any eye contact with Harry whatsoever. It was harder to talk to Harry, since every gesture the boy performed seemed to appear sexual - even something as innocent as running his fingers through his hair. “Um, n-no, haven’t seen her, sorry, mate.” Draco stammered, slowly lowering the wooden chair he sat in on the ground, which clattered cacophonously despite his attempts to gracefully set the chair down. Everyone in the vicinity flinched at the noise. Draco felt shamefully embarrassed at having been so clumsy in front of Harry.

“Alright, thanks anyway. See you tonight at the party?” Harry smiled politely and almost forcibly, tapping his fingers against the door frame he now leaned casually upon. Draco didn’t understand how Harry never reacted to anything embarrassing. As if he didn’t take note of every mess-up Draco made to reflect on and laugh about later. The blond paled at the thought, managing out a “Definitely” in response to Harry’s question. Harry nodded happily, exiting the room, and Draco exhaled a sigh of relief; he had never felt more stupid in front of Harry. Of course, the others in the room felt his pain of embarrassing himself in front of his crush, and a few consoled him and patted his shoulder. Draco welcomed the comfort and murmured a “thank you” in return, but he was lost in the intricacies of his mind.

Draco knew he had fallen down the metaphorical ladder in society after the war; he and his family had been on the losing side of the battle. He refused to call it the “wrong” side, because he detested being wrong. But he knew he had to work that much harder to earn back his place in the wizarding world. He was aware of the fact that he had essentially nothing left after the war, and had to build his way back to the top. It was a challenge he had gleefully accepted. Taking the challenge meant getting in with the right people - and the right people were the ones on the winning side, of course, which meant that Draco would have to infiltrate the Golden Boy’s little circle of friends. And he did. But he didn’t expect it to be so… rewarding.

Entering the circle, of course, was a tedious process, but Draco had yearned for the success of being in with the Boy Who Lived Twice. It was also a painfully sluggish process, composed of months and months of sucking up to the Patil sisters, then up to Dean and Seamus, and even impressing Lavender and Luna by winning over most of the Weasleys. He still carried a tiny grudge against Ron - it was usually small insults, thrown at each other only to relieve some stress and never laced with anger - but Molly adored Draco, and treated him as if his light hair were the same shade of her children’s; every year, Draco got his own knitted Weasley sweater. Hermione gained respect for Draco after he did everything to purchase a first-edition copy of Great Witches In All Ages (he had handwritten and Spellotaped in Hermione a detachable page about herself in the very front, as she was a great witch too), and anyone Hermione respected was respected by Harry as well. Which led to his place in the circle - he was Harry’s #1 (to be fair, Harry had two other #1’s, consisting of Ron and Hermione, but Draco felt honored nonetheless). He felt like he had a second family when he spent time with his friends.

Yet he still couldn’t speak a coherent sentence around Harry.

Harry, his best friend, outweighing both Blaise and Pansy, who had practically learned to walk with Draco. Harry, who never seemed to notice Draco’s mess-ups, no matter how large they were. Harry, who was seventeen years old and sported the same messy hair that he had when he was eleven. Harry, who probably wasn’t even into blokes, much less Draco.

Draco sighed aloud, blushing at the thought of Harry liking boys. What if he did like boys? Had he ever been with a boy? Kissed one? Draco could imagine Harry after curfew, sneaking around the castle with some random seventh year boy, kissing him just to see what it felt like.

The blond’s cheeks had turned a shade similar to Ron’s hair. His thoughts lately had been spiraling out of control. And they were usually about Harry.

Harry jogged down the stairs and turned the corner, headed for the library. He looked over to Madame Pence, who disregarded his entrance by continuing to examine a large book. Harry scanned the entire room for bushy hair. Spotting a glimpse of fluffy auburn behind a bookcase, Harry briskly strolled towards his best friend.

“Hermione!” Harry loud-whispered, effectively grabbing Hermione’s attention. She looked up from her spot on the floor, leaning against a bookshelf full of dusty, cracked volumes. Smiling, Hermione pushed her curls back and closed the book in her lap.

“How can I help you, Harry?” She asked sweetly. Harry always got the feelings that if he had a sister, Hermione would be the embodiment of how she would act. They commonly fought, but in the end, they always made up. Not just because Ron and Hermione had become closer than ever and were practically married, but because Harry cared a lot about Hermione.

The boy sighed deeply, sinking down to the carpeted floor and crawling next to ‘Mione, leaning against her shoulder. “I’m having boy troubles.” Harry mumbled, using a Muggle-world cliché to make Hermione laugh. It was a successful attempt; Hermione stifled a giggle, patting Harry on the head absentmindedly.

“Draco?” Hermione felt Harry nod against her side. “Oh, Harry. You know how he is - he’s just a shy boy.” Hermione lied straight through her teeth to the boy leaning on her shoulder. Draco was outgoing, stubborn, and proud, but it was a different story whenever Harry was around. Harry’s presence reduced Draco to a fumbling, illiterate mess. And Harry had no idea about the non-magical spell he put the taller boy under.

“I know, but it’s like…” Harry put his face in his hands, trying to find the words to express his thoughts. “He seems… uncomfortable around me, almost,” He raised his head to gauge Hermione’s reaction, “Like he’d rather me not be around.”

Hermione gave the dark-haired wizard a great frown. “That is most definitely not true, Harry James Potter.” Harry was unaware of what he did wrong, but snapped his attention to Hermione and had enough grace to look shameful. “To him, you’re his very best friend. You’re more important than everyone else.” The witch twisted Draco’s true feelings towards Harry into a more friend-like way; she didn’t want to spill Draco’s secret if he wasn’t ready. “He’d do anything for you, it seems to me.” Hermione adapted a faraway look in her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the floor. “He cares about you deeply. He’s just… shy.” Hermione finished her soliloquy, lamely reiterating her point at the end. Harry looked dumbfounded, as if he didn’t know what to do with all of this information.

His mouth opened and closed, similar to a fish. Hermione, contented with their talk, patted Harry’s nest of a hair and opened her book, resuming her reading.

Draco was pacing the floor, completely stressing about what to wear, and the party was meant to start in an hour.

The get-together was being held in the Gryffindor Common Room, as opposed to the Eighth Year one, meaning that Draco’s outfit absolutely couldn’t be red, gold, or orange; He didn’t want to clash with the most likely red and gold banners and furniture that would decorate the party place. Luna went around the school handing out invitations to everyone, and the little card stock square read that the invitees were to wear casual attire - those two words knocked out 75% of Draco’s closet. All the blond really owned were fancy robes. He supposed that wearing slacks and a button-up would be okay, but he knew he wouldn’t look casual. Fuck it, he thought, abruptly crossing his private room to the walk-in closet. I’ve got to own something that isn’t formal.

After a minor meltdown and two worried knocks from Pansy, who roomed in the chambers adjacent to his, Draco had decided on a long-sleeved light grey turtleneck and black “joggers.” Hermione, with her all-knowing self, had swooped over in Draco’s time of need and dropped them off. “Harry couldn’t fit these when I bought them for him, and neither could Ron.” They shared a glance at the name. Ron could have never fit any pair of pants that couldn’t fit Harry. That boy was built like a red-leaved Italian cypress. “They’re casual enough for the party.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” Draco softly smiled at his bushy-haired friend as she slipped out of his room, shutting the door quietly. He sighed, flopping on his bed.

At least he didn’t have to worry about what to wear to the party anymore. But he still had to worry about Harry.

Harry was still laying down, relaxing without a care in the world, even though the party was meant to start in ten minutes.

That is, until Hermione bursted open the door and made him get ready in less than seven.

Draco fiddled with his fingers, a habit he only performed when he was nervous. He was standing outside the Gryffindor common room, waiting for his friends to show up. Standing alone next to a portrait of the Fat Lady made Draco feel even more helpless. Even if his friends were inside, he couldn’t get in - he didn’t have the password.

The Fat Lady shot him a nasty glance, making the blond cringe inwardly. Draco came to the conclusion that the lady of the portrait had heard of his being a Death Eater through gossip. It was a very silent, wordless conversation that passed between both of them, mutually agreeing that neither would exchange words to each other unless in a dire emergency.

Tugging on his sleeves, Draco took deep breaths in an attempt to relax. It was working, until he saw Harry climb the last stair of the staircase. He felt his heart immediately begin to race and his cheeks flush as he dragged his gaze to the Fat Lady, who was eying him with distaste.

“Hey, Draco.”

“Hi, Harry.”

Draco kept his eyes on the portrait, determined to not do anything embarrassing. Harry looked onward, walking right up to Draco and stopping right next to him. The blond stopped breathing.

“Gryffindor Gumdrops.” He spoke the password softly to the Fat Lady, who looked upon him with adoration as her frame swung open and revealed the chaos inside.

The two boys held despair and interest in their eyes as they saw students dancing around the common room with glee, tiny fireworks exploding dangerously close to the chandelier that multiple people were swinging off of. The familiar beats of Weird Sisters was blaring through a muggle-style speaker.

“Come on, Draco!” Harry yelled enthusiastically over the music, absentmindedly grabbing the blond’s hand and hopping over the ledge of the portrait hole, rushing into the noise that was this party. Draco reddened immensely at the contact between him and Harry, and stumbled along behind him, almost tripping over the portrait ledge.

Draco sat sandwiched between Parvati and Patil, who were braiding different parts of his hair and talking. The music had noticeably switched to a different genre, playing random Muggle songs that Hermione was in control of choosing. To say the blond was enjoying himself was an understatement: he was having the time of his life, hanging out with all his friends. Earlier in the night, there was a few rounds of “Don’t Wake The Lion,” which Hermione had informed him was an enchanted form of Jenga — though she had to explain that concept to him, too. Draco was too enraptured by the adorable little sleeping lion sitting atop the stacked wooden blocks to prepare himself for the loud roar that occurred after Seamus made the tower topple over. Harry had laughed at Draco’s reaction to the little lion. Draco was still filled with embarrassment at that moment. After that, they had what Dean had explained was a modified American football match with a sized-down football. Harry had scored a ‘touchdown,’ or at least, that’s what Ron yelled when the brunet had climbed on top of a chair and cheered. He had looked so happy with his ruffled clothes and messy hair, the blond wished he had taken a picture of that moment so he could cherish it. There was now a crowd of people standing on the outskirts, watching students dance in the middle of the room what Draco believed was called the “Cha Cha Slide.”

“So then I told him,” Patil continued her story, “‘That’s no ostrich, that’s a hippogriff!’” Draco was too polite to admit that he didn’t know what an ostrich was, but he chuckled at the story anyway. The twins began shaking with laughter as Hermione and Ginny strolled over. Draco waved at the two of them.

“Hey, how’s it goin’, partygoers?” Ginny wore her lopsided smile with twinkling eyes, her hands resting in her pockets. Parvati replied, “Never been better!” while Patil was too occupied with a particular fishtail braid in Draco’s hair to hear the question. Draco was about to reply, an overjoyed smile on his face, when he spotted Harry out of the corner of his eye. His smile dimmed. “It’s, uh, spectacular, Gin.” As Harry met his gaze and smiled, he rose quickly, the twins mumbling about how he had interrupted their hairstyling session. “I have to go immediately, I’m sorry.” He placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you for the party.” Draco sincerely told her before rushing out of the Gryffindor common room, bumping into a few students on the way.

“What the hell happened?” Ginny said, shocked at Draco’s speedy exit. “Did I say something wrong?” She frowned, recalling the one sentence she had spoke.

“I don’t know,” The twins said in synchronization. They both looked at each other and giggled. Hermione gestured over her shoulder to Harry, who was watching the blond leave with a confused look, before sharing a knowing look with Ginny.

“I’m going after him.” Hermione spoke determinedly, but Ginny held her back.

“I think Harry’s already got that covered.” The redhead replied, watching Harry excuse himself from the crowd and dart out the portrait hole just before the painting swung closed.

“Draco, wait!” Harry shouted after the blond, who started walking faster after hearing the brunet’s voice. He sprinted after Draco, who stopped abruptly, causing Harry to bump into him and topple over.

Draco turned around with a frightened look on his face, a rosy blush settling across his cheeks as he frantically held out his hands towards the wizard sprawled out on the floor. “Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to knock you over-“

“It’s fine, Draco. You’re fine.” Harry took Draco’s offered hands and stood up. But then he just stood there. Looking down at Draco’s hands.

The blond became flustered and tried to tug his hands away, but Harry tightened his grip to the point where he wasn’t crushing his hands, yet there was no way he could just slip them out of his hold. “Can you… let go?” He whispered quietly, not meeting Harry’s gaze and instead very focused on their intertwined hands.

“I’m afraid not. This might be the only way I can talk to you without you disappearing on me.” Harry held a note of concern in his eyes for the taller boy, who stood silently. His warm hands shifted in Harry’s. The brunet leaned in and tilted his head, trying to meet Draco’s gaze, but only succeeding in making the blond panic and take a step back. Harry sighed, inching his glasses farther up by scrunching his nose. Man, that was cute, the blond thought silently.

He took a tiny step forward, then spoke. “I’ve seen you excited and bubbly, relaxing with everyone and telling jokes and being the person I know you to be.” He took another step, this one minutely larger than the first. “But when I’m around you, it’s like you lose all function to speak and interact. You’re my best friend, Draco, you know that.” He took a pause and swallowed, the blond glancing up to look at his Adam’s apple before returning his eyes to a spot on the floor. “I want you to be who you are around me. Because I like you, the real you, and not hiding-behind-this-facade you.”

Harry let go of Draco’s hands, which fell limply at his sides. He waited patiently, watching Draco for any sign of movement.

“Are we having a heart-to-heart on the fifth floor of the Gryffindor Tower?” The blond replied, hoping that a joke would convey to Harry that he would do anything for Harry’s happiness. Harry smiled, but it was a slightly disappointed smile. The joke didn’t work. He shifted his gaze to a point beyond Harry’s left shoulder.

“You’re hard to talk to, Harry.” Draco bit his lip, trying to choose his words carefully. “I spent so long trying to be here, with all of your friends who are now my friends, and if I ruin it with you…” The blond took a pause to collect his thoughts. “Then I ruin it all.” He finished softly.

They stood there, quiet and pensive. Draco was scared on the inside, scared to say something that would mess up everything that he had worked hard for, and everything he had wished to work harder for in the future. He took a shaky breath. “I become a mess around you.”

Harry blinked slowly, examining the shy visage of the boy in front of him. “You won’t ruin it with me.” He took Draco’s hand into his and smiled. Draco smiled back.

#happy birthday suha!!!!!!#i didnt proofread this im sorry #drarry #my writing #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Meat and greet (Trixya) ~ Evelyn°c

AN: I saw the fic challenge and i was truily inspired. Somwhere along the line i associated Anatomy, Flawless and Crispy with a cannibal AU. Its a weird concept, and the fic ended up going on alot longer than i expected. Also its set in England for some reason. ENjoY!!,!.!

Dear Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova

You are cordially invited to the annual feast of baroness needles, and we would be delighted to have you cater for the event. Im sure you are already aware of the guests unconventional tastes and trust you will prepare each dice of meat to the highest quality. We await your reply, and presence at the table.

Yours faithfully, Alaska~ ~

Of corse the invite was no surprise. It had been this way for the past four years. She’d chopped, diced, seasoned and minced food for the best. Baronesses, Countesses, even Queens.

Katya took another glance at the finely inked words on the parchment in front of her. She rolled her thumbs over the flat surface of the paper, it felt like it was probably worth more than her entire existence.

The words burnt into her mind. Unconventional tastes. Thats certainly one way to put it. Nothing about this was conventional. She choked the rising feeling of dread back down into the pit of her stomach as she looked up from the paper to the stone structure ahead of her.

She found herself on the infamous driveway of Sharon’s mansion. Anybody who was anyone had been here, gawking at the archaic stone structure and probably questioning their decision to visit. The sunrise casted a silhouette of abject terror over Katya.

The nicest way to describe it would be intimidating, but even this was a push. The walls were draped in ivy and lichens, spilling from each crevice, crack and gargoyle the mansion contained. The stone itself was less of a grey, more a stained black, presumably from the years of moss swallowing the building. Twisted trees with dislocated branches splintered in the distance, bearing no leaves.

The thick fog rolling over the valley didn’t exactly ease the atmosphere either. Katya began her trudge up the drive feeling the gravel underfoot envelope her heel with a satisfying crunch, the feint buzz of light coming from the tinted windows just visible as it soaked into the mist.

The only thing spookier was probably Baroness needles herself.

Katya felt the sting of cold air knife her as she grasped the edges of her jumper, knuckles turning white. She let out a drawn breath before finally making it to a large regal door, equipped with a bronzed knocker in the shape of a serpents face. She ran her hands through her frizzy blonde hair taking in the feeling of deja vu.

The cook gave a brief knock, awaiting a response. Of corse Alaska or Sharon themselves wouldn’t answer, it would be one of their various butlers unfortunate enough to find employment there.

Katya leaned on the frame of the door, observing the landscape. Thorn bushes never yielded any type of flower in the vast courtyard, and any pond with once running water was reduced to a thick mass of brown and black algae. Sharon had inherited the mansion but god knows how. Her chats with Baroness needles were normally limited to food preparation, so much of her past was unbeknownst to Katya.

Alaska on the other hand was a more sharing individual. She’d stop by the mansion kitchen every now and then, maybe ask for advice on what colour to wear then and wander off. Katya could only imagine what drew Alaska and Sharon to marry in the first place, but she had a feeling Alaska’s lust for money had some role in the matter.

Nothing about Alaska and Sharron’s wealth was subtle. They flaunted it. Every social event, every gathering, they wore crowns and jewels supplied by countries Katya couldn’t even pronounce. They threw events left right and centre, but this event was special.

Not because the guests were royalty, not even because of the excessive amount of cash being flaunted. It was special because the dish Katya would be serving was human flesh.

Admittedly, this was an acquired taste, but Katya was never one to judge a pallet, especially that of the richest people in the country. She liked to treat it as any other dish she prepared. Any other shank of lamb, any other belly of pork.

Katya could picture the stiff pale body in the middle of the cold metallic table. She could picture the apron she’d been so used to, draping around her form, covered in copper blood, rusted and brown. She could picture the blank milky eyes staring into Katya’s blue ones, eyelids peeled back from de-hydration.

She had become accustomed to the anatomy of the human body very well at this point. She knew what flesh tasted good with what kind of wine, and what parts were rendered useless and chucked outside for the crows. She could recite every meat cleaver in order of size and tell you the best one to use for cutting cartilage.

Alas, each calculated chop and stab still brought up a question in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to shove it down. How did they die?

Of corse Katya didn’t kill the victim herself, thats just immoral. Her best guess is that Sharon sourced dead bodies from a local morgue or something, but the bodies never looked a day over 30. Whatever they died of wasn’t old age.

Though morally twisted, Katya found herself in this position every year. She never stuck around to eat the specially prepared meat, her clothes just didn’t match the high fashion atmosphere. She looked like a pebble in comparison to the diamond encrusted corsets and gowns.

Why would this year be any different? For starters, a butler didn’t answer the door, Sharon did. The Baroness instinctively grimaced at Katyas apparel after looking her up and down.

“Hello to you too” Katya sniffed after a few seconds of silence, turning her attention from the courtyard to the well dressed woman ahead of her.

No surprises, Sharon was clad head to toe in black, pale skin in stark contrast, creating the visage of some sort of undead leather fetishist. Her pupils were two pin pricks, sharpened further by the shadow that engulfed her eyes.

She looked behind Katya, scanning for other people in the way only a paranoid cannibal would. “Katya, do come in” Sharon spoke through her jagged teeth, gritted into an obligatory smile.

Katya stepped into the confides of the mansion. whilst the exterior was more than grim, the interior screamed sophistication and wealth. Her eyes were first drawn to the long velvet staircase, a rich shade of red with gold lining. Katya could picture the grand entrances Sharon had probably indulged herself in over the past few years.

The room was a warm hue of red, lit up by a glass chandelier just overhead. Paintings strung up around the wall depicted past and present queens, a good deal of them a participant in the annual feast. Katya shuddered, picturing gravy dribbling down chins with the noise of crunching bones and fat filling the dining hall.

The pair entered the front room as Sharon began to furrow her brow almost instantaneously. “Look there’s been some trouble with the…meat”

“How much trouble can dead meat cause? Did it bite you?” Katya joked, feeling the gust of wind slam the door behind her, causing her to jump.

“Theres been some trouble getting the meat” Sharon spat back, rolling her eyes. She began pacing the room, rubbing her temple instinctively. “Ive got too many people coming tonight, i can’t tell them they aren’t getting any food…”

Katya shrugged, making her way over to the shelves to observe the various taxidermied creatures on display. “So ill just cook up some beef. The posh bastards will never know the difference”

“Katya, they’re paying thousands to eat human flesh, if its not somebody else’s they’ll eat mine” Sharon sighed, looking up at one of her many paintings.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it, we could cook Alaska?” Katya laughed, poking a particular stuffed racoon apprehensively, only half listening to the baroness.

“For god’s sake I’m being serious, my reputation is on the line!” Sharon yelled, lacing a hand through her white hair, balling her fist. She looked tense. Sharon’s expression cleared slightly as she began to approach a startled Katya. “I need you to do something for me.” She spoke with a hint of desperation.

Katya backed off a little bit here, bumping into the shelves. “No way you aren’t eating me, back up” She said frantically, raising her hands in front of her.

“Not you dipshit”

Oh.

“Then who?”

The baroness narrowed her eyes in consideration here. “A member of staff.” She nodded, happy with her conclusion. “I want you to kill a member of staff.”

Katya reeled back, she was used to cooking people, not killing people. Those were two completely different leagues. “Why cant you?”

“I have to tend to the guests, completely out of the question” Sharon shook her head, crossing her arms expectantly. “Are you in need of some extra persuasion miss Zamo?”

“Im not sure i like where this is going” Katya grimaced, looking around for Alaska.

“I’ll pay double”

“Well this is a potentially traumatic experience for me. The guilt may drive me insane…” Katya drawled, tracing her finger across the wooden surface of the shelf.

“Triple”

How could she refuse? She’d live in luxury for the entire year with that kind of change in her pocket. Katya pursed her lips. She needed to show Sharon she meant business here. “Triple plus that stuffed racoon” She pointed, grinning manically at the creature.

The white haired woman planted her head between her palms. “I can’t believe you” She croaked. “Fine, just have them dead and cooked by this afternoon” She said, making her way over to the staircase where she took one last glance at Katya.

“Any member of staff?”

“Except the butlers”

“And just to confirm not Alaska?”

Baroness needles stormed up the staircase, mumbling some profanities to herself. Katya chuckled before taking a glance at the grand clock in the corner. 9:45. Sharon was right, the guests would arrive soon and there was only so much stalling she could do.

With that, Katya brushed the lint from her jumper. Nothing stood between her and getting £100,000. By any means necessary, she’d eliminate another human being for the satisfaction of 50 inebriated millionaires.

Katya strolled around the courtyard. The air was still thick with fog as she tried to navigate her way around the rows of dead greenery and fallen leaves. The blonde squinted her eyes, trying to distinguish any kind of human silhouette.

Katya wasn’t sure who she was looking for, but she concluded most of the butlers worked in the house, and Sharon had made it clear butlers were off limits. Perhaps she could find a nice janitor, scrubbing the gutters precariously balanced on a ladder that could take an ‘accidental fall.’

Katya was enjoying this a little too much, going over each possible scenario for murder in her head.

After a small walk and a few unfortunate accidents involving stepping on snails, Katya found herself at the furthest end of the courtyard. She felt the cobblestone and leaves under her feet abruptly end as it was replaced with lush grass, still moist from last nights downpour.

If the rest of the garden was dead, this part was living, breathing.

The hedgerows littered with berries, a glossy red colour, resembling small marbles rather than fruit. Circles of mud decorated with soft pink primroses and petunias surrounded Katya. Gusts of wind would rustle the trees and wind-chimes, sounding delicate metalIic clinks. It was an idealistic flawless sanction of growth.

Everything was undeniably pretty, but also raised a few questions. Why the hell would such a thriving area of garden be in an otherwise stony decaying courtyard? It wasn’t exactly fitting with The baronesses aesthetic. Alaska didn’t seem the type either.

“Oh, can i help you?” A hushed voice sounded behind Katya, causing her to jolt and grasp at her heart in mild shock. She spun in place towards the source of the noise.

Stood by a small tree with a pair of hedge clippers in hand was a woman with long blonde hair. Katya was completely caught off guard, she was almost as flawless as the garden she was maintaining. Deep blue eyes, a sympathetic smile, a terrifyingly large pair of hedge clippers. Katya almost forgot to breathe. She shook herself out of it. This had to be a sign. The other woman was tall and curvy in figure, she looked delectable. “Just admiring this beautiful garden.” Katya admitted, making her way over to the blonde. “You did this yourself?” She asked, arching a brow.

The other girl grinned, flushing slightly, using a well manicured hand to brush some dirt off her pink skirt. “I thought it was a shame such a large garden was so empty” she said propping the clippers against the tree.

Katya was standing in front of her now, putting on her best smile. She needed every moment to be casual, nothing out of the ordinary. If Katya did this right the girl would think she’s just making a new friend. “I didn’t think Sharon hired gardeners?”

“Ah she brought me in a couple of months ago…” She looked to the floor here. “Do you work here too?”

“Im the chef for the event tonight, Katya Zamolodchikova.” The smaller woman said, enjoying the blondes reaction to hearing her last name. Katya was aware it was an unusual one, most would assume she’s Russian.

“Trixie Mattel” she beamed, extending a hand for a brief shake. “You’ve been to the feast?? Whats it like?” She gasped, her pink lips thinning into an expectant smile as they parted hands.

“Have you seen the scene in Indiana jones where they serve monkey brains? Sort of like that” Katya chuckled. Trixie screamed in delight. Of corse she would have no idea what the real dish was, if word got out there would be a public scandal no amount of money could cover up.

“Ive always wanted to sit at the table with Sharon, thats a life long dream” Trixie admitted, crossing her arms and drifting off into fantasy. Little did Trixie know she would be at the meal. She’d be the guest of honour.

A plan formulated in Katya’s head as Trixie looked wistfully into the distance. She’d have to murder her of corse. There was too much money riding on someone being dead to not go through with it. Still, she was such a sweet girl. Shyly breaking eye contact, red around her ears and cheeks. Such a waste of life.

“Well” Katya said, pulling Trixie out of her daydream and placing a hand on her shoulder. “How about i whip you up some food? You must be hungry”

Trixie burnt under Katya’s touch. “I couldn’t expect you to do that for me” she shook her head, looking both apologetic and grateful.

“Nonsense it would be my pleasure, lets go” Katya spoke sternly. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Katya pictured the scene in her head, Trixie biting down on Katya’s specially prepared dish, the poison seeping into her body, inevitably shutting it down. Quick and easy. She’d poison Trixie mattel.

Trixie tried to protest but Katya’s hand moved from her shoulder to the small of her back, forcing her along the pathway. “Its a lovely offer but-”

“How does a nice beef wellington sound?” Katya cut in, flashing a perfect row of teeth to the taller woman.

Trixie looked slightly confused, knitting her brows. “That wouldn’t be so bad” she shrugged as the pair made their way down the path, exchanging pleasantries and light conversation.

“I’ve never had a chance to explore the mansion” Trixie said, wide eyed admiring the dining hall, running her fingers across each surface as she passed. “If Alaska or Sharon found me slacking off they’d have my head on a platter”

Katya let out a small laugh, but not for the right reasons. She looked over to the other girl, she really was in awe of everything the mansion contained. She felt a small pang of guilt remembering this would be the last thing Trixie would ever see.

“It has it’s charm” Katya admitted, making her way over to the table in the centre of the room. Silver cutlery circled the edges, placemats probably woven from the silk of Scandinavian jumping spiders or something outrageously posh like that.

Trixie nodded, taking a seat. Katya instinctively took the chair besides her, quirking a brow. “So, how do you like your beef?” Katya inquired, a joking tone in her voice.

“Ive literally never thought about it…crispy?” Trixie giggled, resting the side of her head into her palm.

“Eloquently put miss Mattel” Katya leaned back in her seat, taking in the smell of floral incense that attempted to cover the smell of thick varnish that plagued the stately home. She heard Trixie sound a small chuckle beside her.

“I cant help feeling a bit bad, i have nothing to offer in return for a lovely meal” The gardener admitted to Katya. She sounded sincerely apologetic. This made Katya shift in her seat. The more the other blonde spoke the more real the situation was. She felt sick.

“How about a bunch of flowers?” Katya spoke, voice strained. She just wanted to get this over with. The less time it had to fester in her mind the better. “We’ll take a stroll back to the garden before i have to begin meal preparation for the guests”

“I’d like that” Trixie nodded, that familiar creep of red showing around her ears.

Katya smiled, giving her a quick wink before standing from her seat and making her way over to the kitchen door. This was getting alot more sentimental than Katya was hoping for. Her time with Trixie, though brief, had sent a hurricane of conflicting feelings through Katya.

Her laugh, her smile, her sense of humour. Of all people deserving of death it certainly wasn’t Trixie. Katya took a glance back to the gardener. She was poking at the silverware on the table with a huge grin. Adorable.

To think she was about 6 hours away from being served on a platter.

Katya burst through the kitchen door, hand over her mouth, feeling about ready to eject her stomach through her throat. She saw the room she’d been so used to. For the past four years she had no hangups about slicing and dicing dead bodies, why would Katya start growing a conscience for a poorer-than-dirt worker?

Katya wiped a growing bead of sweat from her brow. No, this wasn’t right. 100,000 quid doesn’t make it any more acceptable to take another life. Still, she had to give Sharon something. If she went back empty handed, Katya would never find work again.

The cook groaned. She did know one thing. She had promised a delicious, crispy, beef wellington to Trixie.

After about half an hour of pounding beef and rolling puff pastry with pure rage, Katya had popped a savoury dish in the oven. She opened the overhead cabinet and spotted the rat poison, wincing at its glaring warning sign equipped with skull and crossbones. This would be the garnish, the finishing touch. Taking it down from the shelf, Katya placed the poison on the side for later use, turning quickly to exit the kitchen and check on Trixie.

“In the oven” The chef puffed, taking the same seat beside the gardener. “You, Trixie Mattel, are in for a treat”

“Im sure i am” Trixie laughed breathlessly. They were sitting close. Katya could see each of her features gleam under the intensive lighting. “Can i ask you a question though?”

Shit, had Katya blown it? Crap she could only imagine what Trixie was about to ask. The last thing she wanted was to raise suspicion.

“Your last name is odd, are you from Russia?”

Oh.

“Not last time i checked” Katya let out a sigh of relief hearing the other blonde chuckle. God, she enjoyed Trixie’s laugh a bit too much. It was infectious. Katya let out a breathy laugh grasping the side of Trixie’s arm leaning forward. Not that her comment had been particularly funny, but the gardeners delight was infectious.

“I didn’t think there was anyone on the estate that would go near me” Trixie admitted, Katya’s hand still clasped around her arm. “I was surprised when you offered me food” Her voice softened.

“Well you seemed like you earned it. Anyone who has to put up with Sharon needles deserves a 5 star meal”

They sat there for a moment, Katya realising her grip on Trixie was a little too tight as she reluctantly removed her hand. She broke eye contact and began to scoot back her chair. “I should go check on the-”

“Wait, Katya” She felt a warm grasp around her hand, stopping the chef in her tracks. She looked over to a flustered Trixie. “I-uh…Thank you”

Katya paused for a moment before offering a large open mouthed smile. “You are too sweet miss Matell, thank me after you’ve eaten” Katya squeezed down on Trixie’s hand before letting go, standing from her seat. Trixie sunk back down in her chair slightly with a defeated look. It pained Katya but she really couldn’t allow herself to get attached.

Katya pushed open the kitchen doors and glanced over the prepared food, baking in the rattling oven. She took it out, chewing the inside of her cheek, feeling the sting of heat under her fingertips as she placed it on the cool counter by the rat poison.

This is for 100,000 pounds. Thats alot of money. How many copies of contact can you buy with that kind of cash? Alot probably.

Katya steadied herself as she opened up the poison container with a satisfying pop, before taking a handful of pellets in her fist. She was shaking badly, trying not to picture Trixie’s face. Reluctantly the cook stuffed the pellets within the confides of the beef wellington. She was sure enough they could be passed off as fancy herbs if the question arose.

She added the finishing touches before delicately placing it on a silver platter. Katya would even consider eating it herself aside from the fatal dose of rodent killer. Walking through the doors into the dining hall, Katya saw Trixie’s look of amazement as she oogled at the steaming dish.

“I can see why they hire you here” Trixie said with an exited tone, eyes fixated on the silver platter. “Want to half it with me?”

Katya shook her head patting her stomach, placing the platter on the varnished surface. “Im watching my diet”

Trixie shrugged before taking the knife and fork from the table, sinking it deep into the beef wellington, relishing the slow cracking noise of the pastry. She looked so contented. Katya wanted to look away but she couldn’t. All the thoughts and doubts she had been pushing down were surfacing. She was about to commit murder, no better than a petty criminal. No amount of money would rectify that.

No amount of money would change the fact she’d taken another life.

“Wait wait Trix” Katya spluttered instinctively before the beef could reach Trixie’s lips. The gardener turned to her expectantly, a little confused. Katya had to think of a reasonable explanation fast.

“I…didn’t check the expiration date on that beef” Katya choked, mustering up the lamest excuse she could. “I wouldn’t eat that”

Trixie put the fork down, still smiling. “You tease” She joked, shaking her head. “Well, i still got to see the mansion at least”

Katya felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed by the jolt of realisation that she’d never find work again. Sharon would make sure of that. It didn’t phase Katya at this point, her newest friend would stay alive and healthy, planting flowers, blood pumping.

She felt the urge to just run. Get out of the mansion as soon as possible. Katya shrugged at Trixie before giving another one of her manic grins. “Fancy going out for a meal instead?”

“Im supposed to be working”

“I’ll vouch for you” That was a lie on Katya’s behalf. She was never going to set foot near Sharon or Alaska again. Or at least thats what she hoped.

“Well-”

Before Trixie got the chance to reply she was being dragged out the door, into the low fog. Katya knew this was the right choice, the dinner guests would just have to go hungry tonight. Their meal was safe and sound by Katya��s side, laughing at her terrible jokes.

They left the estate laughing maniacally, talking about food.

#trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #au #cisgirl au #fic challenge #Evelyn°c #rpdr fanfiction #submission #tw cannibalism #lesbian au

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spiteweaver · 7 years

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Mergo came around slowly. He was, at first, aware only of how cold he was. When he breathed in, his lungs filled with needles, and he was overcome by a fit of hacking, choking coughs. The air smelled of damp stone and rusted metal; he smelled of vomit and blood.

There was water dripping nearby. From where, he couldn’t guess, but it was constant--plip, plip, plip, into some unseen puddle on some unseen floor. Further off, carrying down what he supposed must have been a very long corridor, he heard footsteps, the jingle of keys, a drake clearing his throat and cursing under his breath.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

Near as he could tell, he was in a type of cell. The walls were made of rough cobble, and the only light came from a single dying candle, sat upon the ground in the corner nearest the door. He was lying in a rickety bed, on a mattress that he hesitated to call a mattress, and he ached. He ached in even the obscurest parts of his body.

In the corner opposite the candle was a figure--tall, broad, with a familiar shock of orange hair and a smell like fire whiskey he would not soon forget.

“What do you want?”

Argus shifted slightly, awkwardly, his eyes looking anywhere but at the drake he’d betrayed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Mergo could tell, even in the dim lighting, that he was trying to appear aloof. The distressed crease of his brows gave him away.

“I was just checkin’ on ya,” he said.

Mergo scoffed. “How kind of you.”

“I’m not happy about alla this, y’know?”

“Just get out.”

With immense difficulty, Mergo rolled over to face the wall. “There is nothing you could say to me,” he added, “that I would care to hear, so save your breath.”

“I ain’t here lookin’ for forgiveness,” Argus said.

“I can see you’re not going to heed my advice.”

“No matter how much I regret draggin’ ya into this mess,” Argus pressed on, “it’s not somethin’ that can be forgiven, so ya won’t hear me askin’ ya to.”

The mattress sank down, and Mergo felt Argus’ presence against his back. “I’m just here to try ‘n make this shithole more comfortable for ya,” Argus said. “Figured maybe I could tell ya s’more stories, to take your mind off it.”

Mergo played absently with a lock of his own dark hair. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked.

“Three days.”

“Why hasn’t your master come to fetch me?”

“He’s lettin’ ya mull things over, I s’ppose.”

“How ugly.”

“He’s not a pretty guy.”

Silence descended between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was the sort in which both parties knew there was more to be said, and that they were merely avoiding the inevitable.

“Who else is here?” Mergo asked. “You mentioned a Shadowling having captured his mark.”

“‘Dunno their name,” Argus said, “but they’re Shade-sick.”

“Their name is Penumbra,” Mergo informed. “Are they safe? What does your master want with them?”

“They’re safe, far as I know,” Argus replied. “As for what he wants with ‘em, eh, I couldn’t tell ya. Only one he talks to about the finer details is Atsushi.”

“What is Atsushi doing here?”

“Asked ‘im once,” Argus said, “he told me he’d cut out my tongue if I didn’t watch it. Can’t imagine a coward like him doin’ somethin’ like that, but, well, I guess it’s a secret he’d be moved to violence to protect. I’m guessin’ it’s somethin’ real personal.”

“How long have you two worked together?”

“He’s been here longer ‘n me, and I’ve been here a couple eons now.”

“Then he was under your master’s employ when he arrived in Feldspar.” Mergo exhaled, and with it came a weight upon him that he thought would crush the life from him. “We knew,” he said. “We knew what sort of person he was, Dreamweaver and I both. He didn’t lie to us, though--not in the initial residency interview and not any time after it.”

“Aye,” Argus said, “that was the point. He was our drake on the inside. We got eyes on the place, a’course, but he was the only one of us the boss trusted to get in deep.”

“He won’t be able to go back now,” Mergo said. “Dreamweaver will put two and two together.”

“Aye,” Argus said again. “Don’t think he was plannin’ on goin’ back, after doin’ somethin’ like this.” He chuckled. “Wish he would, though. Reckon your founder’d tear ‘im a new one.”

“What else is your master planning?” Mergo asked.

“You tryna get me offed, mate?”

“I have no way of relaying this information to Dreamweaver,” Mergo pointed out. “Telling me won’t make a bit of difference.”

Argus snorted. “Ya got me there,” he said. “Atsushi planted a powerful Arcane artifact in your Arcane Rep’s workshop before he left. Supposed to do some real damage. ‘Dunno if it’ll kill him.”

“It won’t,” Mergo said. “I’m beginning to think Crucis is indestructible.”

“Most Arcanites are,” Argus said. “Other’n that, he’s got us watchin’ a couple of prospectives--pair of demons, a mage with a funny talkin’ book, I think one of ‘em’s more’n half machine--but we haven’t been told to move on any of ‘em. To be perfectly honest, I think he thinks he’s gonna break ya, and you’re all he’s gonna need.”

“He’s welcome to try.”

Argus pursed his lips. Another brief silence settled between them--again, not uncomfortable, but laden with things left unsaid. “Why don’t ya just tell ‘im, Mergo?” Argus wanted to ask, but the words turned to ash on his tongue. He rolled his shoulders in their sockets and tried to think of a more delicate way of saying, “I wish you’d spare yourself at their expense.”

“I’m not going to betray Dreamweaver, Argus,” Mergo said.

“If ya’d just--”

“Dreamweaver is a dear friend,” Mergo interjected, “and I owe them a great deal. I would rather endure unspeakable torture myself than be the cause of their suffering.”

“Ya ain’t gotta be that noble!” Argus insisted. “They can take care of themself!”

“Certainly,” Mergo agreed, “but even they have their weaknesses, and if I were to reveal those weaknesses to one who wishes them harm, I’d be as good as killing them.”

“It’s them he wants,” Argus said, “not you! Aren’t ya the slightest bit angry about that?”

“Not at them,” Mergo replied. “It’s not their fault.”

“It ain’t yours either!”

“If you’re so concerned,” Mergo said, “then warn them for me.”

Argus clenched his jaw. “What’re ya askin’ here?”

“I’m asking you to warn Dreamweaver,” Mergo repeated, and struggled upright in the bed. Argus was quick to steady him. “Warn them of your master’s plans. If they know what to expect, they can prepare for it and keep our people safe.”

“If the boss finds out--”

“I know it’s at great risk to yourself,” Mergo said, “but, Argus, if you don’t do it, no one else will, and people will die. I will die.”

“You’ll be fine,” Argus said, “if you just tell the boss--”

“You honestly think he’s going to let me live?” Mergo asked. “Once I’ve outlived my usefulness, he’ll kill me. Dreamweaver is the only one who can do a damned thing for me, so if you won’t do it for them, then do it for me.”

Their fingers brushed. Argus’ chest grew tight at the touch. Mergo’s wounds were beginning to heal, and he noticed, with a pang of regret, that the diviner was regaining his mysterious beauty. He dropped his gaze to his lap and squeezed Mergo’s hand.

“Damn,” he mumbled, “can’t believe I got done in by a pretty face.”

“I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you,” Mergo said, “or of anyone.”

“How d’ya know I’m not just gonna tell the boss about this?”

Mergo smiled, and Argus’ heart skipped a beat. “Because I know you’re a better drake than you think you are,” Mergo replied. “You wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t.”

“You’re payin’ my funeral expenses if I die.”

“Of course.”

Their lips met again, only for a moment. To Argus’ surprise, Mergo didn’t resist, and he couldn’t help but grin into the kiss. “So,” he said when they parted, “have I won your heart, then?”

“You’re getting there,” Mergo replied. “Be patient.”

“Hard to be patient when I’m sittin’ in bed with the most beautiful drake I ever saw,” Argus replied.

“This isn’t exactly the most romantic atmosphere,” Mergo said. “Are you really thinking about such things at a time like this? That’s a mercenary for you, isn’t it?”

“Hey, this mercenary’s gonna save your hide!”

“Then this mercenary can have his reward after he’s saved my hide.”

Argus frowned, but it was half-hearted. He knew Mergo was already being quite generous in forgiving him, so he wouldn’t push his luck. “All right,” he said, “I’ll let ya off this time, circumstances bein’ what they are.”

“My, how chivalrous,” Mergo teased, and laid his head upon Argus’ shoulder. His eyes slipped shut. Argus felt his body relax against him. “Tell me the pig story again,” he breathed, “before you go. I liked that one.”

“I’ll tell ya whatever story ya’d like,” Argus said, “so long as it’ll keep that lovely smile on your face.”

#flight rising #fr #zach writes #clan feldspar #feldspar lore #chapter: heart of darkness #c: mergo #c: argus #argus hold me

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cilyhairstylist · 7 years

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😭😍😱 episode 1 - SNOW GIRL | SECRETs OF A RESPECTABLE TOWN | ORIGINAL YOUBOOKY|

WARNING: this is a story about domestic violence, secrets, incest and crazy love. Romantic and disturbing. It's a reading for adult and guys from sixteen years old.

https://booky-italia.blogspot.it/

A story written by Ryan Shepherd

SNOW GIRL

Secrets of a respectable town

Preface: Your start with your end.

“Close your eyes, my friend, and breathe very deeply. Imagine a different world from these days, so clouded by the cynical human grudge. Imagine being free and being able to fly across the pure simplicity of words and feelings. Imagine living passionately each moment of our survival. When you'll open your eyes again, promise not to forget the place where your mind has brought you... because if you did, it would mean you're not able to dream any more. And you know, dreaming is the most beautiful and tangible thing we can do.”

In that freezing winter morning, I understood deep-down that I had lost you forever. I remember snow dancing silently around you,

while falling gently. I remember everything being slowly covered by a pure and icy-cold white. Blurry and far images fluctuating in my mind as solitary ships in an icy-cold morning. It's been so many years since that day; maybe that's the reason why I can't remember it completely. I feel it vanishing little by little; I feel it dissolving just like the snow around you. You were so beautiful, so lively... And then him, the one who carried you away from your loved ones, away from me. I still miss you and I still wonder where are you now. If I ever knew it, I swear I'd run so fast that I'd tear apart violently the winds: I still miss your bright smile, your hands, the pieces of sky which replace your eyes. If only I hadn't hurt you so bad... I remember you were shattered, when you ran away from my house. I was the only one you ever trusted and I betrayed you, turning myself into a pathetic beast. You slammed the door impetuously, while I was sitting on the bed, staring desperately into space. In that moment, I couldn't realize that you were moving your latest steps on the snowy path away from my house. When I opted for running after you and apologizing, it was already too late.

That's it: the gentle dance of the snow. There it was, the pleasant dye which was covering everything with white. While your footsteps were covered and deleted little by little, you got in front of the one you really loved unconditionally, the only one for whom you could ever feel something of pure and authentic. Long since he needed just a gaze to succeed in enchanting you. You said you liked the sinister air you could breathe only around him and his stunning, inexpressive, blue eyes. I've loved you so much that I spent each moment of my existence bleeding for you, although I knew I could never have you. Idyllic love is a double-edged weapon: it falsifies reality, it compromises souls, it sets fire to your bowels with suffering feelings. I remember your disappointed look getting relieved when you met the man you loved. Not even all the pain I had caused you could discourage the love you felt for him. Then, there I stood, hidden in secret, while observing you and drowning in my grim love. The wind was interrupting your talk; I could only hear a few words he said: «Come with me. Leave any white thing is chasing

us... And love me forever» Come with me... You hinted me at his idea, before running away from me. You were running out of breath because of a stroke you did, when you told me he asked you to go away from our village with him. He even proposed to you. If only you had managed to keep yourself from telling me, from rejoicing... But our paths catastrophically interlaced, so that my dark and insane side overwhelmed you and just like a wave of incandescent lava it burned all the love you could feel for me, leaving you empty and lonely. If only I hadn't betrayed you, If only I hadn't hurt you so bad, you would have been still here. Your existence moved out of our snowy heaven for ever, and all you left me is a bitter awareness. Now, lying on this bare hospital bed, five years later your leaving, I recall all the beautiful things I've done in my life. Obviously, I still recall the moments we spent together, you and your charming ability to overwhelm anyone beside you. I get lost in the dark and abstract oblivion created by my closed eyes. I get far from reality, recalling our first meeting and each moment of our enchanted and miserable story. We were happy,

until I hadn't soiled in vermilion the deepest part of my frail and anxious soul for you.

Carry me away with you

September 20th, 2005

Time flows gently and silently over my beloved village, riding upon the cold wind in this Tuesday morning of September. Lightdark. That's the village's name. Legend has it a foreign bishop gave the town this name, during the darkest Middle Ages. Inhabitants of Lightdark, indeed, are characterized by this perpetual interior struggle between darkness and light: often these two sides of men blend so as to create a colourful shades of gray. Whether someone lives in Lightdark or not, inside of each of us there's not just good or evil, light or darkness: they both coexist in an odd balance inside everyone. The village where I live stands on a hill enclosed by thick forests. It faces mighty and huge mountains which hostilely and arrogantly obstruct the rosy dusk. Therefore, Lightdark is a never-never land: it actually exists, but nobody can see it; not even maps show it. Also, this is the reason why many truck drivers get continually lost when they have to carry here necessaries. We don't regret the solitude, which characterizes our life in this village, encircled by majestic and imposing firs: thanks to this each of us can experience a natural life-style. People don't need anything more than what this place offers to its inhabitants, who can dream a different existence every time they want to.

The alarm rings in a sudden haste, waking me up from a long and full of content images night. I rub my sleepy eyes, then I turn to watch the clock: it's 8.30 am. so I close my eyes again just for a few moments, before opening them back soon after. I stare at the boards supporting the ceiling. It's just the beginning of a new high-school day. It would have been a day in the life, if I hadn't been turning 20 years old. Just now I'm able to realize how time is passing by so quickly. I'm getting older every day, without realizing it properly and, what's more, soon I'm becoming an adult. Today I'm leaving behind my teen-years, turning twenty...

I'd like to rest a little more in bed, letting myself go through these apparently rambling thoughts, but as soon as I hear my mom's voice – as respectable as an opera singer – I decide it's really time to get out of my bed, covered with cobalt blue. I sit on my bed, placing my feet on the bright and shiny hardwood floor, while looking for my soft and yellow slippers. After wearing them and stretching my back, I go to the cheerful kitchen downstairs, where I find my little brother sitting down on his favourite chair, as always, while eating star-shaped cocoa cookies with milk and egg yolk. My mother says it's an energizing and helpful mixture to get through the cold weather. Unluckily, cold winter is coming up again. Lightdark is covered with snow for most part of the year. While summer is leaving and is making room for the cold autumn, pure white clouds bringing snow will cover again this village and I'll cheer up thanks to their usual work. That's true: I adore everything around me. I'm similar to an old tree which got rooted in his birthplace.

I briefly look out of the streamed up window and I notice old houses' roofs and green gardens

covered by drew points, under the bright grey sky. «Happy birthday, my boy» my mother says, drawing my attention. «You're becoming a man». She nods towards my cup of hot barley coffee. As soon as I'm about to sit down, she kisses my cheek warmly. I smile. «Thanks, mum» I say, then, looking at her. «I just hope to become a sensible man». «My boy, no one ever is» she replies, unexpectedly apprehensive. «Being judicious is something hardly anybody knows what really means. That's why it's hard to become truly sensible. Getting old doesn't mean becoming mature, intelligent or right-thinking. You'll make mistakes, my son, and you'll have to pay for it. Everyone at your age has got through it» I listen to her words which seem to be a little bitter, while drinking my hot barley coffee. «Really? Then, why you and dad seem to be so sensible?» I ask her, with curiosity. She starts cutting the soft home-made bread to prepare my snack for school, while she answers: «Well, maybe we seem to be so right-thinking because we've already made our mistakes...» I hope she's not talking about the fact she got

pregnant of me when she was eighteen. She had to run away from her parents' house, because of her pregnancy. Her parents live in the south of the country and she always describes them as a typical narrow-minded couple. I've never known them and, probably, it's better this way. Thinking about it, my parents didn't have an easy life: they made their mistakes, probably because of their lack of sensibility. Despite this, they found here in Lightdark the needed peacefulness and tranquillity. Snow acted like a cure for their wounded hearts.

My dad fell in love with my mother when he went living in the south of the country, during the years in which he did military service. They had to escape because of her unexpected pregnancy, but once they got here, my dad's parents welcomed them with open arms. They live a few houses down from our home, and I usually spend enough time with both of them: I admire their wisdom and their empathy. I find it really helpful to dialogue with them: they're able to calm my rebelliousness. I finish my barley coffee and put the empty cup on the ovoid table. I look briefly at my little

brother, who's still eating his star-shaped cookies. I smile toward him, stimulated by his tender and amusing face. He's got curly and blonde hair, similar to an arid bush; his eyes are dark brown: he totally looks like daddy, no doubt about it. He's only five years old, but he's quite intelligent for his age: he can perfectly deal with our computer and can perfectly access to everything through passwords. «Hey, Michael» I tell him, while ruffling softly his hair. «Make sure you'll be careful with my computer» He nods, smiling and looking at me. The cookie he's eating now stained his lips with chocolate. I stretch my arms, before going back to my room and getting ready to go to the haughty highschool. It would be nice if today something of unexpected prevented me from studying. Who knows, maybe something or someone will show up – or, at least, I hope so...

By the way, as every single day I take my roving rattletrap to go to Leto's railway station. Leto is a village slightly bigger than Lightdark and to get to school I usually need to get the train there.

I park Mr. Rattletrap, an old Fiat Uno which most of the times breaks up and leaves me on my feet. I lock the car and run into the little station, before discovering that the train is delayed as always. Great. I'll be late at school also today. The same school where I've already failed two times... I can only wait in silence, in front of the empty rail. I start walking back and forth to avoid further freezing. I've learned how to partly defeat cold thanks to the weather of the hill where Lightdark is placed. All of a sudden, I stop and my eyes set on the rails free from the snow as I realize there's something strange wavering around here. My gaze becomes consciously suspicious. I must admit that until now my intuition has always been infallible: indeed, everything around me seems like it's following an intriguing and arcane symphony. Suddenly, wind starts blowing heavily, hitting my face and shaking my long and curly hair. I'm forced to close my eyes because of the violence of the cold wind, but when I open them again that's it: I see you for the first time. You are the one who I'll have learned to love more than myself, thereafter.

You're just arrived to the railway station and you look around confused and insecure. Your bobbed hair, dyed in firecracker red, stands out in the station covered by the white snow. Though we're far enough, I can notice your big blue eyes: both beautiful and lost. You're that sort of new attraction which draws the attention of my soul. I'm sure you had never been here, because otherwise I would have noticed you at first sight. You're one of the most precious darlings I could have ever found, just like a ruby. For a few minutes you keep staying where you are, still, without moving nor narrowing the gap between us. You don't seem to be bothered by the cold, even though you wear just a jeans jacket and summer trousers. Damn, compared to you, I look like a roll, in my scarf, cotton gloves, a sweatshirt and a double-bedded jacket to hold as much heat as possible. And finally, you move, after having been so still for a while: the cold temperature forces you to rub your hands very quickly, while letting mist out of your mouth. Then, all of a sudden you stop and turn, looking at me with a strange frown. No doubt about it: you have something to ask me. You turn the other way, while outside it's snowing

again. You put your hands in your pockets and at last you move towards me, biting your lips delicately. As you get closer, I turn back to you and crack a smile, while looking at you carefully. You look so sweetly frail and insecure; it's clear you're trying to be brave to talk to me. «Excuse me». That's it. I can read the uncertainty in your eyes. «I'm looking for a place... but... well, I don't know how to get there.» Your voice is so delicate and fine, your pure white skin flawless. The blue in your eyes seems to be stolen from a faraway sea. Oh boy, I'm adoring your good features, your high cheekbones. Also, I'm quite pleased you're shorter than me – therefore, at first sight you must be five feet six. «Which place?» I ask, both kindly and firmly self-confident. You look away from me for a moment, because it clearly makes you uncomfortable talking to me. Godness, you look so lovely when you blush. «It's a small village...» you murmur and it's like you don't want to say anything else. «Which village?» I ask, then. «Lightdark, the snowy hill's village» I crack another smile, as I think that this must be

a fate's trick. Then, I look at you, pleased. «What a coincidence: I live just there. I got to Leto because I've to take the train... You know, school» What an idiot! At first, your face suddenly lights up, when you got that I live in Lightdark, but when I went on talking you grow sad, faking a smile and asking with kindness: «Well, do you know how to get there, by chance?» and then, looking around quickly: «I can't see any bus or taxi, you know...» «I'm sorry, but the only bus who gets to Lightdark stops to this station at eleven in the morning» I can see your sorrow because of that news. Despite the roof of the station can protect us from the snow falling down, cold rules the air unperturbedly and stings violently our bodies. You look at your watch. It's nine o'clock and you should wait two ours here, before taking the bus to Lightdark. Then, after biting again your lips, you move back, saying: «Thank you so much for the information, I'll wait till then» While I answer politely and sadly «you're welcome» you turn your back on me and go to the gloomy lounge, sitting on the only one bench and regretting the absence of any radiator. People, who are not used to this, can be upset by

discovering the poverty of godforsaken places. Time goes by, and after thirty minutes I start not feeling my legs any more because of the furious cold. By the time it's too late and the train is not likely to arrive any more: at last, I've found an excuse to play truant. So, I decide to join you in the lounge, saying: «It's cold... Really cold» Maybe, this isn't the best I could say; your eyes are on me, making me feel nervous, therefore I stutter: «You know, it's cold and late, and probably the train is not going to arrive this morning» You crack a smile in silence, before staring into space. «I'm going back home, in Lightdark.» Hearing this, your attention is completely focused on me. I enthusiastically recognize you're wishing I offer you a lift. «But, how are you getting there if there's no public transport?» you ask impatiently. It's clear curiosity has tied up your heart. «I have a car, in the park» «Oh, and... Could you-» «Could I give you a lift? Yeah. Sure. Do you trust me?»

You nod, standing up quickly. All of a sudden, you're in front of me and you look lighted up by happiness. «Yeah. I think I trust you...» you say in the end, making me already cheerful. I nod you to follow me, adding a joyful: «Let's go, then» Meeting you this way is probably the best present Fate could ever give me.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Do you want to buy the book? Click here⛆⛄⛄

#snow #girl #romance #free ebook #story

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melchixr · 7 years

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You’re the One That I Want (PT. 2)

Anon said: pt. 2 of the hernst grease au maybe? it was amazing im in love

Part one

Okay i LOVE writing this so much!!! Also, we’re singing Grease in musical theatre and i get to be the loud ass alto leader of the greaser girls and i’m in the VIBE (do ya’ll want part 3 tho????? you know where my inbox is)

Words:1385

Ernst had kept the piece of lined paper in his pocket all day. Ever since Hanschen passed it to him in English in the middle of them watching a horrendous video of Macbeth. All it read was a simple:

‘Come to the drive-in tonight. You can find me in the very back. Look at me and smile if you’ll be there.’

Ernst looked over his shoulder to the blond boy sitting in the back corner of the class, lazily placing his feet on the empty desk next to him with eyes locked on Ernst. The brunette boy smiled back gently, eyes shining before he saw Hanschen smile back and turned back to the wheeled in television.

The whole rest of the day, Ernst’s stomach was in butterflies. When he saw Hanschen and his friends around the campus, he would see all of his cool friends nudging at Hanschen and pointing at Ernst. And judging by the blush on Hanschen’s pale cheeks, they were saying good things. And they all knew what he had promised Ernst.

Sneaking out wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be though. All he did was tell his father, as he often would, that he was going upstairs to study. His father shrugged, not questioning why Ernst had pegged his jeans and made sure his normally unruly hair was well parted and much more styled than previously.

Now he just had hop out of his window, which was possibly the hardest thing to do besides get over the stress. But after he realized he can jump from his window onto the awning of his back porch then scramble down to the ground from there.

Truly, it was a thrill. He hopped a couple fences, letting his heart race as he left his sprinted across the small park he lived behind and from there to the backroad Ilse promised she would pick him up on.

And ten minutes later, he was there. Of course, in a car with three other girls and Moritz sitting in Wendla’s lap, who then sprinted to the trunk before they got to the front gate.

As soon as they were in and the movie was about to start, Ernst hopped out of the car began to roam the lot. There were lots of smiling kids wandering around. A few couples were already shamelessly making out. He ran into Georg, who pointed out how red his lips looked, making Ernst really aware at how maybe the tiny tube of lipstick he stole from Martha’s backpack when she was looking for a library book was a bit more obvious than he assumed.

Melchior shoved Georg a bit, scoffing before looking over the back of his seat at Ernst and staring him up and down.

“You look fine, Ernst. And Hanschen’s in his car by the back exit. And if anything gets too crazy I WILL ask for stories so….” He smirked and got back to actually watching the film while Georg carved away on Melchior’s dashboard with his switchblade.

Ernst continued his slow walk to the back of the lot and saw the dark blue cadillac he remembered being driven around in on their first ‘date’. Go grab some fries at McDonalds and drive around town until they got to a look at where most couples go to make out and they sat and talked for hours.

Finally, Ernst walked to the passenger side door, seeing now that the top was still up and Hanschen was inside with nervous hands on the steering wheel. He was staring straight ahead at the screen but not focussing on what was going on. Ernst rapidly knocked on the window nervously. He saw Hanschen jump a bit and turn to see Ernst. As soon as he did, a soft smile spread on his face and he leaned over to unlock the door.

“Hi there,” He exhaled as Ernst slid into the leather seat. The whole front seat was a bench seat so he sat a bit closer than a single passenger normally would. “I missed you.”

Ernst closed the door, hearing his companion breath a sigh of relief and lean back a bit, “Hey there, Hanschen. How are you?”

“Good, good….Yeah….” Hanschen cleared his throat anxiously. He looked from Ernst’s face to his hands, still clutching to the steering wheel. “Uhh...Who are you here with?”

Ernst looked at the screen for a moment, seeing a blurry beginning of a horror movie before seeing Hanschen panickedly pushing back his hair. He seemed so much different than before. He never seemed anxious and awkward around Ernst before. But here they were now, nervous as all hell with clammy palms and unreasonably quick beating hearts. “I came with Ilse but I’m uh….I’m here with you.”

Hanschen nodded, smiling and turning briskly to look at Ernst. Ernst felt the cold eyes glance over him. His face, his neck, his hair, his clothes. “That’s uh….That’s sweet….” He whispered. “You look really uh….good tonight actually….”

“You always look good, Hanschen,” Assured Ernst as he attempted to act nonchalant. But he still couldn’t help but giggle at Hanschen’s flustered gaze. “So well….what did you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you….”

Ernst chuckled, shifted a bit closer, “About what, Hans-”

Before the last bit of his name could escape Ernst’s lips, Hanschen was on top of them. Kissing them to be specific. And he was doing a bang up job at it.

Ernst barely believed it while it was happening. But this was his first kiss. Ever. And it was by Hanschen Mother-Fucking Rilow. Who was touching his cheek gently and, with the other hand, clinging to the side of his sweater. He felt himself get pulled into the kiss by Hanschen. It was needy and hysterical and fervent and messy and desperate.

But still, as Ernst moved his hand up to knit in Hanschen’s hair, his heart raced and he noticed the kiss was still somehow innocent. It felt like every single moment of his life had come to this, with Hanschen kissing the life out of him.

And then, it was over. They separated slowly, eyes still fluttering between open and closed. Their breathing was heavy and chest shuttering. Hanschen’s eyes were hooded, full of craving and absolute bliss. Hanschen was smiling like this was the best day of his life.

“Wow….” Hanschen muttered, slowly pushing a strand of Ernst’s now messed up hair behind his ear. He noticed that his still taped together glasses were slightly askew on his button nose. And he couldn’t possibly be more enraptured by Ernst. “You’re uh….well... Wow….”

Without thinking, Ernst spat out, “You’remyfirstkiss!”

Hanschen stared with a wide eyed shocked look. Ernst turned a light shade of pink as Hanschen’s smile burst across his mouth. “Are you serious?”

Ernst nodded simply before Hanschen rubbed his knee slowly and let a hand rest on his shoulder. The simple touches put Ernst as ease as Forbidden Planet continued to play on the screen before them all. No one seemed to notice the two boys wrapped up in each other. No one except Hanschen and Ernst, who just now noticed that Hanschen had pulled Ernst almost completely against him. His arms, thin and draped in thin blue wool, were trapped between Hanschen’s chest and his own.

“Oh God,” Hanschen snickered and sighed to himself. “Mind if I…”

“Oh absolutely!”

Directly after Ernst’s squeal, Hanschen captured his mouth one more time. This kiss was more subtle and soft, with Hanschen guiding their mouths together slowly. The taller boy slowly wrapped his arms around Hanschen’s neck, pulling him ever closer as the kiss went on and on and on.

“ How do you feel?” Hanschen whispered once they separated. Ernst’s glasses were all fogged up. But Hanschen could see his amazed expression.

“Great….I just need to get home….”

Hanschen shrugged playfully, slowly letting himself lean back so that he was laying across the front seat. He held Ernst by the waist, tugging him down along with him. “Well, the movie just started so… And I can always give you a ride home.”

Ernst smiled back and leaned down, kissing him slowly and letting the two of them melt down into each other without another fear in the world.

#hernst #grease au #hanschen #Hanschen Rilow #ernst #Ernst Robel #spring awakening #spring awakening fic #Deaf West #deaf awakening #deaf west spring awakening #hanschen/ernst #fic #fan fic #drabble #prompt #spring awakening fan fic

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iosihexa · 7 years

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petals for your efforts

ao3 link

warnings: none

ship: dan / phil

wordcount: 1757

extra stuff: tiny trace of pastel dan, dreaded 2nd person POV but according to a few people i pull it off In A Manner That Is Readable, soft, high school setting (ish), i recommend reading on ao3

You catch your first glimpse of him – the real him, you think, or at least a part of him that is a little more raw – at the far end of an overground station platform. Granted, you’re perhaps a bit more than distracted given the dismal weather, everything feeling blurry and a little too bright against the glary pale grey of the clouds, but. He’s there. And he looks miserable, clutching what looks like a delicately wired flower crown with sad, wet petals between his fingers.

For a brief moment, you’re highly tempted to wax poetic about his hands, because they’re beautiful, but there are other issues at hand.

“Hey,” you begin, and wince because you absolutely did not think this through. “Dan, right? Doing alright?”

He stares back at you, hair curling slightly from the moisture – he must straighten it every day, you muse – and then promptly looks back down to his shoes. “Hello, Phil.”

The two of you aren’t really in the same friendship circles. You have been vaguely aware of Dan since the beginning of the school year, but it’s a whole new experience to see him out of uniform and wearing – well.

“That colour looks nice on you,” you comment, gesturing vaguely towards the pale pink jumper he’s wearing, and squint, leaning closer to the little design in the centre of the shirt. “Is that an egg?”

He looks at you again, and you’re satisfied to note that he looks happier now, if a little amused. “Yes. Sunny-side up, so the egg’s name has been delegated Sunny. Also, thanks,” he surveys your own attire carefully, “your, uh. Subtle selection of black clothing is pretty neat, I guess.”

A nervous laugh manages to escape you lips as you gesture towards the flower crown still grasped gently between his fingers. “Can I take that? Perhaps it’ll be good to have some colour on me for a little while. I’ll return it on Monday at school?”

He looks surprised, to say the least. You blame the general concept of toxic masculinity and also the fact that he probably thinks you are the strangest, most uncouth person to have ever interacted with him.

Nonetheless, reaches up and places the flowers in your hair, and studies you evenly. “Looking good,” he says, and winks, and you think that you like him a bit.

DAN: look im just saying but you have to get your priorities straight WATCH THE CLASSICS FIRST god I cant believe you havent even watched fmab yet PHIL: Ok, ok, but sometimes I can’t help but go into the weird obscure things my friends recommend me, you know? PHIL: like it’s not like I know any better PHIL: anyways fine!!! I’ll watch your weird animes. But you have to read that novel I recommended to you. DAN: if it’s along the same lines as a john green novel phil i swear to god i’m never trusting your recs again PHIL: hey! John green’s books aren’t that bad. romance isn’t as bad as you make it out to be. PHIL: and it’s a good book, I promise. It’s exactly the kind of hipstery thing you’d like DAN: what on earth are you insinuating DAN: ok one of the protags isn’t straight I can get behind this PHIL: I can’t believe I managed to peg your interests just like that. DAN: hey, now. PHIL: Just read it. Tell me if you cry at the end :D DAN: i wont DAN: we must discuss this book when ive finished reading on saturday

Your mother is probably extremely glad that you’re getting out of the house of your own accord to meet up with friends for once. Or just a friend. Singular. You’re not about to admit it, but you’re very ready to see Dan in soft, colourful, non-school related clothing again.

He’s sitting in the very corner of the café you agreed to meet at, hunched away over what looks like a milkshake, and you take the opportunity to admire the robin’s egg blue of his shirt, and the demeanour of calmness he seems to have cast over himself, still reading the book you lent him. It’s just starting to sprinkle as you make your way into the shop and order.

“Hello,” you say, and he looks up and his smile stretches across his face languidly, dark eyes making contact with yours – he seemed awkward with eye contact the first time you talked to him at the station those few weeks back, but now it’s fine.

You curse the existence of involuntary physical responses as you heart beats a tiny bit faster, because it’s only been a few weeks, but you do like him. You’re not in denial, just frustrated and perhaps wishing that you could have a highschool romance story like any silly romcom film you’ve watched.

“Thought you were going to abandon me, like the terrible person you are,” he says, still grinning as he pats the seat next to him. “Sit down. We have some important themes and subtextual information from within this book we need to discuss.”

He slides the novel over to you, finger tracing a few lines. “Here, see this? And,” he flips a few pages over, “this? They only talk twice in the whole book – yes, I’ve been rereading – and yet everyone is convinced they’re in love. Remind me why, again?”

You smile back, and push his hand off the book. “You’re reading into it wrong,” and from the way his gaze challenges you, you’re willing to bet you’ll have a fun discussion.

Dan leans his head back on your blanket, somehow already at ease. The late afternoon light is filtering in through the windows, casting hazy, shattered beams of sun onto the bed.

“Your room is exactly as nerdy as I thought it would be,” he laughs a bit, and reaches over to examine the cactus you have placed on your desk. “You’re absolutely the type to name your plants, aren’t you? What’s this one’s name?”

You glance over. “Alistaire the Second,” you say. He lets out his soft, quiet laugh, the one that makes you feel a little bit more intimate and as if he trusts you.

“Of course,” he mutters quietly, then stares at you, not for the first time today. “Let’s paint our nails.”

“Our- what?”

He seems almost disappointed. Almost. “My sister let me take her collection of polishes, and I figured since I’m sleeping over, we should do cliche teenager sleepover things. And, since all the stuff boys are probably supposed to do during sleepovers are a lot less interesting than, say, gossiping about dudes and painting nails, we should do this.” He looks nervous for a moment. “Unless you don’t want to. We can put on a movie whilst we do it though, that’d be cool.”

Nodding vigorously, you set up your laptop and he brings out a suspicious number of glass bottles from his bag, looking a little relieved. You examine his array of colours, laughing a little bit. “Fluorescent yellow, a dodgy shade of mauve, this awful olive colour - this is quite a selection.”

He just does his grin again, and holds up a nice, bright, RGB colour wheel-worthy shade of blue. “This one for you. Actually,” he says, pushing another few bottles forwards, “you can have a rainbow.”

You end up playing Mulan in the background (Disney never fails), and he paints each nail on your left hand a different, horribly bright colour. In turn, you paint all his nails a wobbly black, except his pinkies, which he insists are painted a nice, glossy white. He wiggles his hands in front of your face. You have the urge to lick his hand, just because it’d be gross and maybe annoy him a little bit.

“Piano hands, Philly,” he says, and you look down at your own nails, which have very wobbly jobs as well.

“Uh. Vaporwave unicorn hands, Danny,” you reply, and he does his soft laugh again. Your gut clenches, and you decide you have to tell him before you regret staying quiet for months and months.

“Listen, D-”

“Oh yeah, heck,” he interrupts, jumping off the bed. “Look here, I got you a flower crown, I nearly forgot. We don’t talk about my favour for pastel clothing much, but you seemed to like the one I gave you at the train station a few months back, so you can have this.” He’s holding out a different crown, with slightly smaller roses on it, petals stained pink and orange and looping neatly with a few small leaves. “You don’t wear enough warm colours. Look, even your room is just blues, greens, black and white.”

“Thanks, Dan,” you say, almost whisper, and slot the flowers on your head. There’s a wash of fizzling happiness that rushes over you, and then you steel your nerves, pausing the film. “Listen, Dan,” you start again, and he looks ridiculously concerned for you, a tenebrous expression that you want to wipe off his face and replace with warmth again.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing super terrible. Although I guess it depends on how you take it, but…”

“Oh, come on, Phil, you’re not allowed to keep me in suspense like this,” he jokes, wavering.

Your brain just a one-eighty and you collapse back onto your pillow. The flower crown is dislodged slightly, flipping back and resting against the headboard. “I can’t do this,” you groan, and stretch out your hand. “Here, take it.”

“What?”

“My hand. hold it.”

Silently, he acquiesces. “Um, Phil-”

“Look,” you say, staring at the ceiling fan, watching it spin lazy circles above you, “I kind of fancy you. In, yeah, that kind of way. I don’t know, but I like you a lot, so I guess that’s that. I mean,” you mumble, beginning to ramble, “I know you’re my friend and you probably don’t- ah.” You’re cut off by Dan flopping down next to you, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s alright, Phil.” he says, flicking your head. “I think you’re pretty neat too,” and he gives your hand a squeeze. You think about how nice you thought his hands were when you first saw him at the station. Outside, the summery orange tint of sunset has darkened into a shadowy navy, and the sky flashes white and blue with lightning, a thunderstorm carving patterns of rain down the window. “No kissing till the third date, though,” he teases.

You can accept that.

#phanfiction #pastel dan #phan #How To Tag Fics #hexagonal words #this is really quite bad but i needed to write something because my brain loves procrastination

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motherlifesucher-archives · 7 years

Text

In The Name of Jealousy l Shawn Mendes Imagine

(a/n): famous (y/n) is back, yay! thank you to the anon who requested this! Had a great time writing it <3.

prompt: Martin Garrix is (y/n)’s ex, and Shawn isn’t too fond of him after they find each other at Capital’s Jingle Bell Ball.

Shawn knew the hottest DJ in the world had been your boyfriend for almost two years.

He knew he was your first serious relationship, and that you had fallen in love with him, and that you had been absolutely heartbroken when you both had decided to end things due to you never being together, since Martin’s schedule was way crazier than yours, because one day he was in Miami, then on a plane to Ibiza, then to India, then to the Netherlands, to finish his week in Rio. After that you promised yourself to never have a relationship with someone from the industry again, but your words were long forgotten after you met Shawn, who was the sweetest person you had ever met and made it very hard for you not to fall for him.

He was aware of your past, and he dealt with the constant comparisons the media and the fans made between him and your ex, though it did bother him when people brought up that Martin’s latest single, In The Name of Love, was inspired on you, and though the song had been done for a long time, he had just dropped it now, making media talk about how he wasn’t over you and things, but deep down he knew you were head over heels for him and no one was going to change that.

Though Shawn had to admit that when he heard you, him, and your ex were performing on the Jingle Bell Ball he freaked out a little. You were performing on Saturday while he and Martin on Sunday, but Shawn was going to keep you company and you were going to do the same with him during Sunday, although he was tempted to tell you to just stay at the hotel to keep the unavoidable from happening; he even talked to mum, sister, dad, and manager about it, but they all told him it would be too much and that he would have to face it eventually. He even felt bad when you showed on his hotel room after weeks of not seeing each other with a bag of muffins, and a Gryffindor hoodie she had bought him during her visit to Universal Studios with her family.

“I’ve missed you so much, I thought I was becoming crazy since you were always on my mind” you said to him as you laid on the bed, with his arm under your neck.

“I missed you, too” he whispered, but you sensed something was off. You turned your head and stared at him.

“Is something going on?” You asked him and his eyes found yours, but he just shook it off.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” he answered and directed his gaze to the ceiling, again.

You sat up on the bed and looked for his eyes. “Shawn, look at me,” you said softly, moving your fingers to his soft cheeks. “You can tell me what’s wrong, it’s part of my job of being your girlfriend,” you both smiled. “Maybe I can’t fix it, but I’ll listen to you and I’m gonna stand by you no matter what”

Shawn sighed at your words and sat up on the bed. “I’m just a bit nervous about Sunday” he confessed quietly.

“Why? For the performance?” you asked him not really understanding, since he had done this plenty of times.

“No,” he took a deep breath before continuing. “I know Martin is going to be there”.

“Oh…” You said and silence filled the room. You took a deep breath and positioned your body on top of him, so your chests were almost touching. “Baby, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Hey, I understand how you’re feeling, and I’m so sorry that it’s because of me…” You were going to continue but Shawn interrupted you.

“It’s not because of you.”

“Yeah, we probably we’ll cross paths with him, and I’ll talk to him, because I care about him because he’s a great friend. But when that happens I don’t want you to feel bad about it, because at the end of the day it’s you who I want, it’s you who I love” you said and kissed his cheek softly.

He sighed. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know” you responded, making you both giggle.

Saturday.

You arrived to the arena in the morning for soundcheck. You insisted Shawn that he could stay sleeping since he was a bit jet lagged, but he decided against it and went to keep you company. While on the van, you both were falling asleep since it was pretty early, but your manager who was on the van with you, woke you up. People greeted you and Shawn as you made your way through backstage, but neither of you were in the mood to stop and make conversation so you just waved and told them you were seeing them later. You finally found the door that had your name on it; a man welcomed you and pointed a table that had lots of food so you could have breakfast. He left and so did your manager who wanted to check some things before soundcheck, leaving you and Shawn alone.

“God, I’m starving” you said fixing your hair into a ponytail while walking towards the table.

“Hey, is that my sweater?” Shawn said pointing at the grey sweater you were wearing.

You moved your eyes around the room before staring at him. “Maybe” you answered, earning a chuckle from Shawn.

“I had been looking for it and you said you hadn’t seen it” he said placing his arm around your waist.

You whined playfully before answering: “But it’s so warm, and comfy. And it smells like you.” you left a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Are you staying here or you’re coming to the stage with me?”

“Let me think… Stay here staring at the walls or go to watch one of the best vocalists in the world that also happens to be my girlfriend… Tough choice.” he teased you.

You laughed and walked to kiss him, both your mouths tasted like coffee, and you found yourselves enjoying the little moment you had more than you were supposed to, you didn’t notice when you both were sitting on the couch. You knew you had to stop but none of you wanted to, until you heard the door open and you both quickly separated from each other, though your swollen lips and Shawn’s rosy cheeks gave you away. Your manager gave you a cheeky look before telling you they were waiting for you.

You and Shawn walked hand-in-hand through the narrow halls. Your band was ready on the stage, and it wasn’t hard to spot some flashes from the official photographers from the event. Someone from the radio approached you to ask a couple of questions about the show and how you were feeling to be in London. The guy looked like he wanted to ask Shawn something, but your boyfriend quickly unlocked his phone and acted like he was texting someone so they wouldn’t bother him. The interviewer thanked you for your time before walking towards the backstage area. You giggled quietly at the sight of your boyfriend.

“He’s gone” you whispered on his ear, making him jump in surprise.

“Sorry about that, they’ll get to interview me tomorrow” he said putting his phone back into his pocket.

“I understand, I would’ve done the same” you said and Shawn pecked your lips right when your manager called your name.

“I’ll be standing right there” Shawn said pointing at the seats. You nodded and kisses him one last time before walking to get the wires and your microphone.

You started singing and noticed your boyfriend watching you with a smile on his face, and you couldn’t help the stupid grin forming on your lips even though you were singing. You noticed your manager giving you a look since you looked a bit disconnected, but you re-directed your eyes to Shawn, who winked at your direction and blew you a kiss. He was perfect.

After soundcheck, you went back to the hotel for a couple of hours, where you and Shawn spent your time keeping up with your favorite shows until it was time to get prepared to leave to the venue. You were wearing a white dress, a black leather jacket, and black knee-high boots since there was a red carpet before the show. While you were leaving the hotel you posted some videos on your Snapchat since you hadn’t been very active for the last days because you had been enjoying your boyfriend, and of course your fans knew that.

“You look hot” Shawn complimented you as you started walking to the van that was driving you.

“Thank you, sir” you giggled as he intertwined your fingers.

The drive to the venue was quiet, and Shawn did a great job at making you forget the usual nerves you got before these events. From inside the van you were able to make up some paparazzi, and you noticed the flashed from the cameras through the tinted windows. The van stopped moving and your manager said it was time. You took a deep breath and kissed Shawn one last time; he wished you luck right before the door closed. He was going to be at your dressing room after you were done with the press, and that made the whole process a lot more smoother.

After you were done, you were walked to your dressing room, where your boyfriend was waiting for you while sipping on a glass of juice and a muffin on his hand. Of course. You smiled and sat beside him and placed your head on his shoulder. Your manager said she was going to leave you for a few minutes before you had to get prepared for the show.

“Twitter says you were looking gorgeous, and I have to agree” he said showing you pictures of you just moments earlier.

“You’re so sweet” you left a kiss on his neck, but your lipstick left a stain that looked like a hickey. “Oops, I left you a hickey” you giggled.

“Yeah? but you barely touched my neck” he said trying to take a look at his skin, but of course he couldn’t.

“My lipstick, silly”

“Oh… Well, you know I don’t mind hickeys, so.” he shrugged and his lips were barely containing a cheeky grin from forming.

You tried to remove the stain but your manager walked in and said it was time to get ready. You sighed as different people walked inside to help you get ready. Shawn patted your thigh lovingly and placed his mouth on your ear.

“I can’t wait till we get back to the hotel.” he confessed and your cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

He was going to be the death of you.

Sunday

It was impossible not to notice that Shawn was different that morning.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you. If your hands weren’t interlocked, he made sure he had an arm around your waist or shoulder, and while you were sitting his hand didn’t move from your thigh, and while you watched him perform during soundcheck, his eyes didn’t move from you, which earned him more than a glare from Andrew, but he didn’t seem to mind.

You knew why he was being like that, even Andrew did as he messed a note when he noticed the staff was fixing the DJ booth, and it wasn’t hard to notice the way his jaw clenched when the producer announced it was Martin Garrix’s turn to use the stage. Shawn quickly motioned you to join him on stage, he told Andrew he was going back to his dressing room as he squeezed your hand and quickly walked yo back to his dressing room. You were almost running to catch up with his pace, and after you almost tripped you decided to stop him.

“Baby,” you said but he kept walking. “Baby… Shawn!” you said and separated your hand from his.

“What?” he said sounding irritated, but it wasn’t hard to see through it.

“Baby, calm down” you said placing your hand on his cheek.

Shawn looked up and groaned in annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t feel comfortable knowing we are on the same place” he muttered.

“Shawn, I’m right here with you, and I honestly don’t know what else can I do to make you feel right” you said in a soft tone, making your boyfriend sigh.

“I don’t know what is happening to me” he said running his hands through his face.

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s go to your dressing room, okay? Then we can grab our things, go back to the hotel and enjoy ourselves until it’s time to come back here, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect.” he said and this time you grabbed his hand and walked him to the dressing room, softly running your thumb through his hand.

Today it was your turn to wait for Shawn on his dressing room while he dealt with the press. You and Andrew were walking to his dressing room when you found yourself face to face with very familiar faces. It was Team Garrix, people you knew like the palm of your hand and they knew a lot about you. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips when you saw them. They all greeted you effusively, telling you it was great to see you again and that they often remembered you, even if you and Martin had broken up more than a year ago. Andrew excused himself at the same time most of the team started walking to Martin’s dressing room, but Louis, Martin’s best friend and photographer, stayed talking to you.

“How have you been?” Louis asked you, and you smiled at his accent.

“I’ve been good. What about you?”

“It’s been great, you know how this works” he answered and you nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I know how it works” you said smiling softly.

“I hear you have a new boyfriend…” he said with a teasing smile.

“I do, and he makes me very happy” you said a bit hesitantly, not really sure how to talk about Shawn to your ex’s best friend.

“I’m glad to hear that, you deserve having someone who is as good as you are” he said.

“Yeah…” you said wanting to ask about Martin, but you didn’t know how.

“Martin’s fine.” Louis said like he was reading your mind. “It took him a while to get over you, and releasing ‘In The Name of Love’ reminded him of you a bit, since you were the main inspiration, you know… But he’s fine, he’s happy” he told you, and you couldn’t help staring at the ground.

“You know I never wanted to cause him trouble…” you said feeling a bit guilty.

“You don’t have to apologize, it was going to happen eventually. And he hasn’t found someone to start a stable relationship for now, but he’s just fine” he reassured you. You chatted a bit more until you saw Shawn appear. You said goodbye to Louis before following your boyfriend who had just walked inside his dressing room. You walked in quietly and found him sitting on the couch.

“How was the press, baby?”

“I found your ex,” he blurted and you closed your eyes. “And it looks like you didn’t mind finding his friends or whoever that guy was.” he said and you sighed.

“Shawn…”

“You know what? Let’s just not talk right now, I’m seriously not in the mood” he said just when Andrew walked inside the dressing room.

“God, Shawn. I seriously don’t know what you want for me to do to help you realize I love you, and only you. I’m getting tired of this, seriously.” you said as you watched your boyfriend open a bottle of water before you grabbed your bag and left the dressing room.

You found your back pressed against the wall as people passed by. You tried to mask your anger and sadness as people greeted you, since you knew that if people saw you outside Shawn’s dressing room looking down, they would start talking. The door opened revealing Andrew, you sighed since a bit of you hoped it would be Shawn.

“I’m sorry about that.” Andrew told you but you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, just make sure he okay for his performance.” you said and Andrew tried to mask his discomfort of being in the middle of you and Shawn’s arguments.

“Are you still going to watch from the side stage?”

“Of course,” you answered. “I’m always up to see him perform, even when he’s being an ass” you said making Andrew laugh.

“Okay, I’ll let you know when it’s time… Are you sure you don’t want to come back inside?”

“I’ll just stay here for a while, it’ll be good for him.”

Andrew said goodbye and you stayed there until you noticed a pair of blue eyes shyly looking at your way. Great, you thought as Martin appeared in front of you. You separated your body from the wall and slowly approached him since he had stopped walking.

“Hey” you heard his voice for the first time since a long time.

“Hello” you greeted him and a smile appeared on your lips.

“It’s been a long time” Martin said scratching the back of his neck.

“It has…” an awkward silence appeared between the two of you. “I just saw the team, and talked to Louis. And congratulations, you’re officially the number one DJ in the world!”

“And i just saw your boyfriend, and thank you, I still can’t believe it.” He said and you couldn’t help but notice he was the same boy you had fallen in love with.

“He might have mentioned something.” you said and now you couldn’t contain your smile.

“it’s so good to see you… I had planned to talk to you after we broke up, but months passed and then you were with your new boyfriend… I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” he confessed.

“I understand. It wouldn’t have done us any good.” you said and he slowly nodded.

You both stayed in silence for a few moments until Martin spoke up. “I have to go now, but it would be very nice if you could watch the set. The booth is always open for you, you know that”

You smiled at the sight of him. He hadn’t changed at all. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but thank you”

“Don’t worry about it. You can watch it from the side stage if you want to”

“I’ll try,” you smiled at him one last time. “Good luck”

“Thank you” he said before walking away.

You stayed there and thought about what had just happened. You smiled because it was great to see he was doing just fine, and nothing had happened inside of you at all. He hadn’t made you nervous, or all giddy like he used to. Now the only thing in your head was your boyfriend who was everything you could ask for. You were going to knock on the door, but someone opened it first.

“Walls are thin, did you know?” Shawn said and his bitter tone was obvious.

You sighed, your prior smile long forgotten. “What happened now?”

“You know what? Don’t bother going to watch me sing, and don’t feel bad for going to his booth or whatever. I’ll do just fine without you” he said before walking past you.

Could this day end already?

When you heard the first chords of his performance, you couldn’t help it but go to your spot and watch your boyfriend perform. You couldn’t help the tears that escaped your eyes as you heard him sing with such passion and emotion, knowing he was angry at you. Andrew appeared and gave you a side hug before he disappeared to check something.

A few seconds before Shawn’s set was done, you walked away, not wanting to face him yet, an you found yourself considering Martin’s offer to watch his set, since he was coming right after Shawn, who hadn’t noticed you had been staying there the whole time. Before disappearing, you told Andrew you were going to call an Uber to get back to the hotel so he didn’t have to worry.

You stayed in the shadows as Martin appeared on the stage, making the crowd jump and have the time of their lives, but though everybody was smiling, you found yourself craving for your boyfriend’s touch. You just wanted him by your side, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, running his fingers along your back, smiling at something you said, or humming his favorite songs. Just as Bebe Rexha appeared on stage to sing ‘In The Name of Love’, you left your spot and went to Shawn’s dressing room, only to find it empty. You grabbed your phone and called an Uber to drive you back to the hotel. The man seemed to know you but he didn’t mention it, which you were very thankful for.

You masterfully avoided the paparazzi and fans waiting for the different artists that were staying on the hotel before you made your way to the elevator. You pressed the floor number and in a matter of second you were in front of Shawn’s door. You took a deep breath and knocked the door three times, before a shirtless Shawn opened. He was going to open his mouth but you crashed your lips against his. He didn’t hesitate to respond with the same enthusiasm, and walking you inside the room, closing the room behind you.

He left your body trapped between the wall and his body. You broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. Both your breathings were rapid, making your chests gently touch each other.

“I’m sorry.” you both blurted out, making you two smile goofily.

“I should’ve realized it bothered you the thought of him, but I just want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world, and that you’re perfect. You’re a dream come true” you confessed

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way, I’m sorry. I’m so in love with you I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else. I’m so sorry”

You pecked his lips. “You did amazing, I’m proud of you”

“You saw it?” he asked you with a smile.

“Of course. You looked hot”

“I am hot” he joked.

You kissed him again. “I love you”

“I love you more” he responded.

“I highly doubt that” you said furrowing your eyebrows.

“I can show you” he said leaving kisses on your earlobe.

“You never waste an opportunity, do you?” you said and he grinned.

“It wouldn’t be me if I did” he said before colliding his lips against yours one more time.

There was no doubt no one could make you feel the way your boyfriend did.

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes au

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