#oh do not apologise for your long starter because i certainly am not apologising for my long(er) reply

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Rizzo

Oneshot about how Sirius obtained his motorcycle. Prompt by @daylily-evans.

I should add, to all my non-UK readers, I use the word f*g in this as a slang word for cigarette, which is what it’s commonly used for over here, especially at the time the oneshot was set. I tried not to use it, but eventually it was impossible, and unrealistic, for the characters to not use it, so I apologise for the use of the word and I promise in this context it is not a slur word, and is only a slang word for cigarette. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Request a oneshot here!

~

When Sirius graduated Hogwarts, he really had no idea what he wanted to do. Short-term wise, he wanted to go on missions for the Order, help out in any way he could and take down the death eaters one by one until only You-Know-Who remained. He couldn’t wait.

But long-term, after the war had ended, he was clueless. Truth was, he hadn’t planned that far ahead, just in case he didn’t survive to see it. But he was beginning to see that having a job now would be beneficial in a number of ways. Maybe as a cover-up, or a hiding place, or at least an opportunity to earn some well-needed money.

Dumbledore wanted him to get a job at the Ministry, to try and collect any inside information. But this suggestion made Sirius angry enough to ignore it completely. For starters, he didn’t care about what Dumbledore wanted. He tried to hide this of course, as he didn’t think the others would approve. But he’d lost his taste for obeying the old man ever since Dumbledore had forced Remus to live among the werewolves. And while Sirius could vaguely understand why it was useful, he couldn’t forgive Dumbledore for placing Remus in such a horrible situation, away from his friends, and possibly making Remus feel like the monster that Sirius knew he wasn’t. When Dumbledore had first suggested it, Sirius had been absolutely livid, and it was only Remus himself who managed to stop Sirius from marching down to Dumbledore’s office and giving the guy a piece of his mind. Remus had calmed Sirius down, but Sirius knew that he’d never shake off the resentment he had for the headmaster.

The other reason that he was angry at Dumbledore’s suggestion, was because he hated the Ministry. It was full of people like his parents, making rules to oppress anyone who wasn’t a pureblood wizard. And after having grown up with Remus, watching as the boy had to work for a future he didn’t have because of the Ministry, the last thing Sirius wanted to do was work for the bastards.

But what other jobs were there in the Wizarding World besides a ministry job? Hogwarts teacher? There wasn’t anything he could teach, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with a bunch of teenagers, and nor did he want to give Dumbledore an opportunity to keep a close eye on him. Healer? He couldn’t think of anything less suited to him, though maybe Moony wouldn’t mind seeing him in a healer’s skirt and cap.

No, the problem was, wizarding jobs didn’t suit Sirius. So perhaps he needed to look outside the Wizarding World for a job.

Sirius wasn’t exactly familiar with muggle jobs, at least not first-hand. He’d seen plenty of them before. He, James, Remus and Peter had been to a few muggle clubs and bars together, and Sirius had spent all night chatting up the male bartenders, until he was quite knowledgeable on the job itself.

Sirius thought he’d be a great bartender. All he had to do was serve drinks, listen to music and chat up hot guys. And okay, so there was probably a little more to it than that, but he had the people skills, and he could easily learn about all the different muggle drinks.

Yes, he decided. I can be a bartender. I’ll be safe in the muggle world, I can still go on missions, and I can earn some money for the Order, or at least to support myself and Remus.

Sirius even knew about a bar that had an opening, since he’d been there so many times. He had to walk there, since he couldn’t apparatus, or floo there, and he still didn’t know how to use the muggle bus. But it wasn’t too long a walk, and it was a nice day at least. Sirius liked muggle towns, especially the underground-type, diverse, grunge places such as the one where the bar was situated. The streets were lined with music shops, pubs and all things that screamed rock n roll in the 70s. Sirius loved it.

When he was almost at the bar, he suddenly got distracted by a shop he hadn’t noticed before. He noticed it this time because Queen was blasting out of the speakers of some tinny radio from inside.

Sirius looked at the exterior: Lomax Motorcycles said the sign at the front. Another, smaller sign, stuck onto the window said: job vacancies with some smaller writing underneath that Sirius couldn’t read. But he was intrigued enough to go inside.

The interior- Sirius was quick to notice- was incredibly cool. There were two adjoining rooms, all filled with motorbikes. Sirius had seen motorbikes before, mainly in the films that he watched with James, Remus and Peter, but he hadn’t realised how much he liked them until he looked at them up close. These ones were all slick and shiny, some with patterns of fire along the side. They were like broomsticks, but with a muggle twist, and from Sirius’s limited experience, they were always ridden by punks in leather jackets. Sirius could definitely see himself riding one.

The shop itself was dimly lit, but he could see a number of framed posters lining the walls, of muggle bands that he loved: Pink Floyd, Ramones, Blondie, Joy Division. Not to mention all the cool-looking accessories that hung above the motorcycles.

Just then, the owner of the shop walked out.

“Alright, mate?” Greeted the man. Sirius nodded, taking the guy in. He looked around his late thirties, with a dark brown mullet, a badge-covered sleeveless jacket, leather gloves, at least twenty different piercings and full sleeves of tattoos. Sirius looked like Sandy from Grease compared to this guy.

“Yeah, hi.” Sirius replied, immediately intimidated.

“Looking for a bike?” The man walked behind a counter against the wall opposite to Sirius and started restocking a container of different locks.

“Nah, I’m just looking. I’ve never actually driven a motorbike before.” The man looked him up and down.

“Really?” Sirius nodded, awfully self-conscious. The man took out a cigarette pack and lit one up. The shop was quite smoky, but Sirius actually enjoyed that about it.

“I saw you had a job vacancy sign in your window,” Sirius plucked up the courage to mention.

“You looking for a job?”

“Yeah.” Sirius of course hadn’t intended to try for a job here, but since he had the opportunity he thought he might as well. See how far he could take it before the man asked him to leave. The man exhaled smoke out of his nose.

“You haven’t even driven a motorcycle.”

“I can learn. I pick things up quickly.” He realised that he sounded inexplicably uncool. It was typical. Around his friends he was effortlessly punk. Laid-back and relaxed, cigarette balanced between his lips, fluent in witty remarks and sarcasm. But here, in front of an almost carbon-copy of his cool persona, Sirius was sounding like someone who’d only recently entered the punk scene and had no clue on how to act.

“How old are you?” The man asked.

“Eighteen.”

“Pretty young, you even out of uni yet?”

“Oh, uh... I’m not going to uni.” Uni. University. Remus said that muggles went there to learn even more. Sirius didn’t see the point of it.

“I didn’t go either,” replied the man. He seemed very friendly, which certainly didn’t match with his overall appearance. “Didn’t interest me. Started working here instead. It was my dad’s.”

“Oh.” Sirius wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I’m Darren by the way. Darren Lomax.”

“Oh right, like the name on the shop. I’m Sirius.”

“Sirius? Never heard that name before. It’s cool.”

“Thanks?” He’d never thought of his name as being cool before. It was run-of-the-mill in the Wizarding World. In fact there were already two other Siriuses in his family. He was Sirius the Third.  “If you’re interested in motorbikes, I can take you on as an apprentice if you want. Give you a bit of money. Teach you how to fix up these babies.” Sirius blinked.

“Really?” He hadn’t expected any kind of offer. His resume wasn’t exactly impressive, especially not to a muggle. An inexperienced eighteen year old with no muggle qualifications and less knowledge of motorcycles that literally anyone else who could’ve walked through that door. Sirius wouldn’t hire himself.

“Yeah why not? If you’re shit I’ll get rid of you. We’re not a professional garage. Really we just piss about fixing engines, listening to music and smoking. That your style?”

“Yeah, blimey.”

“Great. You can start tomorrow. Fag?” Darren offered him his cigarette pack, and Sirius took one. Darren lit it for him.

“Cheers.”

~

Dumbledore wasn’t happy with his choice of job.

“How are you planning on gathering information for the Order if you’re spending your days working in a muggle shop?” The man asked. Sirius had no intention of being guilted by him.

“Isn’t the information that Remus is gathering enough for you? I should hope so, considering everything he’s going through to get it.”

“Mr. Black, in case you haven’t noticed, there is a war going on. You can’t spend your life thinking about yourself and Mr. Lupin and no one else.”

“I am thinking of everyone else! And what everyone needs is money. And I can get them that money, as well as staying safe in the muggle world. I’m not exactly useful if I’m dead am I?” Dumbledore sighed as if he was talking to a child. The old man was pleasant with everyone, but with Sirius there was a slight curt undertone to everything he said. Dumbledore knew that Sirius wasn’t happy with him at all, and it showed. Sirius didn’t care. Dumbledore hadn’t done shit for him. He didn’t owe him anything.

Sirius was taking that job.

~ His first day went well, in the sense that he got along with Darren and he enjoyed the environment of the shop very much.

Because of his very limited knowledge of how to fix a motorbike, Sirius’s main job was at the front desk, talking to customers. He really did have great people skills, as he quickly discovered, and he put this to his advantage, bagging more sales in a day than Darren achieved in a week. So even if Sirius was shit at the mechanical side of things, he certainly wasn’t going to be fired any time soon.

At the end of the day, when the shop closed, Darren asked if Sirius would like to stay late and learn his way around the motorbikes. Sirius, who hadn’t been assigned any missions, and therefore didn’t have much going on, agreed immediately.

Darren showed him the engines of one particular motorbike that was in rather a lot of disrepair.

“Completely useless she is,” explained Darren. “Not likely to get her running any time soon, probably won’t even be able to fix her. Engine’s blown, parts are missing, tyres are a wreck.” Sirius knew that she’d easily be fixed with magic, but obviously this wasn’t an option. So he was sad that she’d never be ridden. But even if she was little more than a shell, she was a good example for Darren to use as an introduction to the inner workings of motorcycles.

Sirius listened intently to everything Darren had to say, learning how to change the oil, how to change a tyre, how to know when a motorbike needed new spark plugs (and learning what spark plugs were in the first place).

Outside of the workshop, Sirius tried to research more on the motorbikes he was working with. When he wasn’t spending time with the Order, or talking to customers in the shop, or following Darren around like a puppy, he was at the library reading up on all the different motorbike types, how they worked and how they were made.

Whenever Remus was permitted a break from staying with the werewolves, breaks that usually only lasted a few days maximum to avoid any suspicion, Sirius proudly took him down to the shop and showed him all the motorbikes that he helped to fix.

Darren greeted Remus happily, commenting on his name too. “The weird name couple” he called them. Darren, being the punk anarchist that he was, that was so prevalent in the late 70s, didn’t give a shit about Sirius and Remus’s relationship. Sirius didn’t need to hide it for very long, especially since he hadn’t tried to hide his sexuality in the first place.

Remus was very interested in the shop, and as soon as he stepped foot in it his first response was “Shit, Pads, this place was made for you.”

Sirius showed him the motorbike that was “unfixable”, but that Sirius had still been determined to work on as much as possible. The engine was still a bust, but he’d at least changed the tyres, and given it a new paint job (red and black). Sirius felt very close to the bike, especially once Darren had struck up a deal with him, saying that if he could fix the bike he could have it: “even if it’s fixed, it’s a shit model. No one’ll want it, believe me. Besides, I’m already paying you fuck all, so consider it a raise.” Darren was paying Sirius, but it was apparently much less than the usual muggle wage, since Sirius was still technically an apprentice. However, the current muggle to wizarding exchange rate meant that Sirius got a lot of galleons for his pounds. So, he was perfectly able to support himself, and if he ended up with a free motorbike in the process? Well, he almost couldn’t believe his luck.

Sirius fixed up the engine as much as he possibly could, until it was simply a case of the engine just not working. It had been months now since he’d first started, and the engine was the only thing left. The motorbike looked good as new, and despite Darren claiming it to be a shit model, Sirius had fallen in love with it. He’d even named it Rizzo, after Betty Rizzo from Grease.

Sirius was absolutely determined to have Rizzo, and deciding that the engine simply needed a boost, he risked using magic out of sight of Darren. Darren would never know, and Rizzo would have a new lease of life.

“Fucking hell, you actually got her working!” Exclaimed Darren the next day, as Sirius showed off the brand new humming engine of his prized motorbike. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“She just needed a boost, that was all. Good as new.” A boost with a little bit of magic, thought Sirius. Darren was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, shit. I guess a deal’s a deal. She’s all yours, mate.” Sirius couldn’t refrain himself from grinning. He patted Rizzo’s paintwork proudly. She was all his. He couldn’t wait to show her off to Remus and James and Peter and all the others. James was dying to get a glimpse of her: Sirius had been bragging about his motorbike for weeks now, annoying the hell out of the others.

“This motorcycle better be fit for Merlin himself, Pads, or I’m gonna be pissed,” James had semi-joked. Sirius assured that she was even better than Merlin. “She was made for me,” he claimed.

When James did finally see Rizzo, he was very impressed, but then again, he was as knowledgeable about motorbikes as Sirius was when he first started at the shop. Sirius probably could have put a mound of metal in front of him, moulded into the vague shape of a motorbike and James would still have been impressed.

“Can’t believe you named her Rizzo,” James laughed. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well. I have a motorcycle and you don’t, so jokes on you.” James put his hands up in surrender.

“You’re right. I’m just jealous.”

~ Sirius had a lot of fun with Rizzo. He rode her everywhere, through muggle and wizarding towns alike. It felt even more freeing than a broomstick. He could weave in and out of traffic, the wind in his hair and the roar of the engine blocking out everything.

There was also room for two. Or at least, two was the legal amount. But Sirius could be rather lax with the law sometimes, especially muggle law. So it wasn’t uncommon for all four of the marauders to squeeze onto the back of Rizzo and go driving off into the night.

Eventually though, Sirius decided that four people on one seat could damage Rizzo, which was the last thing he wanted (and he supposed it could be dangerous as well). So he splashed out some of the money he’d saved on a sidecar. James was particularly keen on it.

Remus on the other hand nearly always opted to sit on the back with Sirius. Sirius loved these journeys the most. Just he and Remus, the man holding tightly onto him as they zoomed down roads, ending up in country lanes. He could feel Remus’s arms around his waist, and Remus’s head on his shoulder, and after everything Remus was going through, as well as the risk of sudden death around every corner for both of them, when the two were pressed together on the little black and red motorbike, roaring through the countryside without a care in the world, it felt like the most precious moment of their lives.

#does this end badly #hopefully not #i could write more but this felt like the natural stop #no I didn’t forget about the fact that the motorcycle could fly #he charms it later #and that’s writer for ‘I didn’t get round to it yet’ #harry potter #wolfstar #sirius black #sirius x remus

[happykawa]

[ lukewarm ] k.t

This is my first kags fic so bear with me, pls?

The raindrops tatter against the glass windows. It makes for a picturesque scene. Across the street, one could spot a couple. The taller person covers the smaller one with their considerably large jacket as they make their way towards cover from the storm.

You sigh and look down on your phone once more.

7:30 pm

More than an hour past when he’d said he’d be there. What’s even worse is that you’re not even surprised, just disappointed. And you hate it.

You hate that you don’t expect him to come anymore. You hate that this has already become the norm, the routine. 

You stand up, and waste one lasting glance on the cup of yogurt that was once in front of you. It’s lukewarm.

‘What a waste.’

The drive back home was silent. You didn’t feel like playing some music, afraid that it would draw unwanted emotions out. You couldn’t deal with them then, not yet. Those emotions are reserved for the comfort of your bed, and occasionally the kitchen floor.

You go through the mechanical motions of fetching your keys and unlocking your apartment. Before you know it, you’ve plowed through your nightly routine. 

You head to the kitchen and start cooking. The silence is deafening, so once you hear the sizzle of liquid on the pan, you feel relieved. At least you’re sure you’re not deaf.

You plate the pork curry beautifully, topping it off with an egg. The vegetables on the side should compliment it, Google said so. For a job done on auto-pilot, you’d say you did a damn good one. 

You sit across the plate, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You sit there for about five minutes before you put it down and run a hand through your hair.

“What am I doing??” You think to yourself out loud.

You chuckle. “What were you expecting, [Y/N]?”

What were you expecting? That, for once in two weeks, he’d come home early? That he’d some other excuse as to why he stood you up, again, besides volleyball? 

You lean your elbows on the table and take your face into your hands. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

You’ve known what you need to do for the past 3 months now. But each time you think you have the courage to go through with it, something happens that just makes that courage disappear. 

The first time was because he’d apologised so profusely. And he did make it up to you the next day. And the next. And that was it. 

The second time was the same thing.

The third time he was in a really bad place, and you weren’t about to leave him then and there. He needed you, and you loved him, still do, so you couldn’t bear the thought of it.

The fourth time was the worst. It was his first time as a starter, and they’d won the game in straight sets. You watched the whole of it and once he won, he ran straight to you, lifting you off your feet and kissing you. 

That night was one of the best sex you’ve ever had. And the only one you’ve had in the past 3 months.

But the worst part of it wasn’t that, it was his smile. That damn smile. The smile that said ‘I’m so fucking happy but I’m even happier because you’re here.’.

That smile.

That was a month ago.

You feel yourself smile at that memory. Suddenly, you feel your hands moisten. 

No, not moisten, they’re wet.

You’re crying.

Crying because you were so happy then. Crying because you’re so proud of him, so happy for him. Crying because you know what you need to do. Crying because what you need to do is let go of the most important man in your life.

You had to let him go because as you both are now, you’re just holding each other back. Because he doesn’t need you anymore. Because you need to explore things on your own. Because you’re tired of being the only one who succeeds in making an effort. Because you’re tired of being in a relationship that feels so stagnant. Because you’re tired of feeling unloved.

You could list a thousand more reasons, and you could list a thousand more as to how you could solve the problem without letting him go, save for one. 

Because for all the reasons that you love him, not a single one can justify losing your life, losing your self because of him.

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you let that happen. 

You refuse to let the man you love turn into the man who ruined you.

You realised this 3 months ago. You had gotten an offer from a huge publishing company as an executive editor in Osaka, but the salary was lower.

Naturally, you turned it down, as if by instinct.

What scared you was that the first thought that came into your mind wasn’t, “Oh the salary is lower,”, it was, “Oh, that’s too far from Tobio. No can do.”.

You were terrified that day. You were losing your self in the relationship, in him. You realised that this wasn’t the first time it happened. Granted, the job offers you got weren’t exactly better than the job you have right now, but that wasn’t the first reason that came into your mind. The first reason was always surrounding Tobio.

You hear the door open and the shuffling of feet. You quickly wipe your tears on your sweater, however futile. If the man could notice his opponent’s tells just by a few rounds, he could certainly notice how red your eyes and nose are.

You hear Tobio walk towards you, his steps suddenly come faster when he notices you sniffling.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He kneels to eye-level as he gently pries your hands from your red face.

Your first instinct is smile, shake your head, and say it’s just something you watched on the internet.

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing happened.” You send him a small, gentle smile. Your sore eyes complain nonetheless. “But Tobio, we need to talk.”

Tobio’s face is blank, worry gone as the words leave your mouth. He nods as he sits across you, pushing the food you prepared for him aside. It smelled so good, but devouring it would have to wait. 

You take his hands in yours, and you will your tears back. No, not now, not yet.

You look him in the eyes. “Tobio, you know I love you right. I love you, and I always will. I don’t think I have a choice, anyway.” You laugh lightly, and his eyes often.

“I love you too.” He replies seriously. You know it’s not easy for him to say, and you know he means every word of it. And it breaks your heart knowing what you’re going to say next.

“But I think, I think we should go our separate ways.” You whisper before biting down on your lip as hard as you could. You could feel Tobio’s previously warm hands drop at least a few degrees in temperature.

Tobio tries to put on a blank face, but you see through his feeble mask. He’s hurt. And your instinct screams that you should go over to him, hug him, tell him it’s a prank. But you brain conquers it.

“Can I ask why?” He whispers loud enough for you to hear. You know that voice. He’s trying not to cry, so he doesn’t trust himself to speak loudly, if at all. “You just said you love me, so I’m guessing it’s not that.” He mutters, more to himself than you.

“Tobio, this relationship–this–this–” You fumble for words to say, everything you prepared just going down the drain. “Us. We’re just... so... stagnant. A relationship should be two people helping each other, loving each other. Not two people who’ve barely spoken in 3 months, who haven’t had a date in so long, who are doing nothing for each other. Because Tobio, if we aren’t there for each other, then what are we doing?”

You know you’re taking a roundabout route. You didn’t tell him the real reason, and you don’t want to because you know it’ll hurt him. It’ll hurt him to know that he made you feel that way. He’ll feel like it’s all his fault, which it isn’t. You were partially to blame to, for letting it come to this point.

“So this is about me, and volleyball?” He asks and furrows his brows.

At this point, you can’t look him in the eye without telling him the truth. So you settle for his beautifully manicured hands instead. 

“Well–no–I mean, yes, I–” You fumble around for the right words, unsure which ones will make you more believable.

Tobio sighs quietly. “You’re not the only one who can read people here, [Y/N]. It’s part of my job too, and even if it weren’t, we’ve been together for 2 years. I know you’re lying. And frankly I’m both insulted and hurt that you feel the need to lie to me. So would you please just tell me the truth? So you know, we can fix it?”

You can’t help but smile. Yeah, you forgot. You’ve been together for 2 years. 2 very happy years. It’s almost enough to make you forget your situation. Almost.

Your smile drops, and you feel the tears welling up again. The whole weight of what you’re going to do is laid upon your shoulder once more.

You struggle to find your voice. You can only muster up a small voice, almost a whisper, without crying. 

“I wasn’t lying, with what I said. But–who am I kidding? We could’ve worked around it. Volleyball, our schedules, we could try harder...” You run your hand through your hair. It’s true. You could work through it. But at what cost?

“But what would it cost us, Tobi? I can’t make you give up volleyball. You’d be losing yourself–”

You take a deep breath.

“–just like I am... I’m losing myself in this relationship, in us.”

He freezes.

When you said that you thought you needed to go your separate ways, he stayed optimistic. He said to himself that both of you could fix it. Whatever it was. You had to. Because the thought of losing you terrified him. It shook him to his very core.

So when the words losing myself left your mouth, he suddenly froze. 

It dawns him that it isn’t fixable, that you’re not going to come out of this together like you had in the past.

And it’s his fault.

How had he been so naive? How could he make you feel that way? So much for loving you. How could be so stupid? How could he let that be?

A million thoughts run through Tobio’s head, all of them pointing to one thing: it’s all his fault.

A long stretch of silence ensues. You dare sneak a glance at his face, and you completely regret it. Tobio’s normally stoic facade was broken. His eyes show the different things he feels.

He opens his mouth then closes it as he fumbles for words.

“I-I’m sorry.” His voice quivers. “I’m sorry that you... for making you lose yourself. I–I’m... I understand.” He looks you in the eye, and you almost break.

You see every emotion flash in his eyes. It’s rare to see him so vulnerable. 

You savour how beautiful they are. How you can somehow lose yourself in that sea of darkness and still feel safe every time. 

If only that was the only sea you lost yourself in, everything would be much simpler.

Alas, life spurns simplicity.

“I’m sorry too.” You whisper out hoarsely. “I’m sorry that I’m so weak. I’m sorry that I–” You are unable to speak anymore. The weight on your shoulder just keeps getting heavier and heavier until you’re sobbing.

You hear the chair scrape against the floor, and in a matter of seconds, Tobio pulls you from your seat and against his chest.

Your senses are overwhelmed by the scent of soap and lavender, and you cry even harder.

It stays like that for a long time. The two of you cling to each other as you sob.

Eventually, you do stop. And you both just stand there.

A part of you wonders desperately why Tobio isn’t fighting back. It’s the part that desires him to plead with you, to beg for you to come back. To fight for the two of you. It’s the part of you that wants to give in, to come back, to the caution to the wind.

It’s the part of you that scares you wholly, because it’s the part that screams you can’t live without him. You can’t survive without him. You can’t be without him.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, and you hear him inhale.

You sigh and take in his scent, because this would be the last time you’d be able to. You savour the feeling of his arms around you. 

“Me too.”

There’s a short stretch of silence, and Tobio breaks it. “So where do you plan on staying?”

You enjoy the sound of his smooth voice. “I’ll stay with Hitoka-chan for a while. I’ll ask her to get my things. I’ll be out of your hair before the week ends.”

The weight is once again crushing you, but you will yourself through it. You will not have Tobio’s last memory of you be a sobbing mess.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

There’s one thing left to say, and you both hesitate to say it out loud. You both know once you say it, it’ll be finally over. There won’t be an us between you to anymore. And as much as it terrifies you to go down that road, you know you have to.

You lift your head to look at Tobio’s face. It’s unfair how handsome he is. The kitchen light highlighted his features anymore, and you’re tempted to sob again. Just so you can stay in his arms longer.

Tobio’s gaze is intense. His eyes drink in your features, knowing it will be the last time he’ll be able to do so. It hurts that it is, but he refuses to let his last chance go.

Slowly, your lips are drawn together by an invisible force. He hesitates once you’re just a whisper apart, but you don’t.

You press your lips against him firmly. His lips are soft, as it has always been. The thousand times that you’ve kissed him flash through your mind, and you wish that you savoured each and every time more. You wish that you just pressed your lips together longer, even if it was just by a second.

You cry. You don’t even notice it until you feel the tears running down your face. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as you stand on your toes. Neither of you want this moment to end. Neither of you want this to stop.

Surprisingly, it’s Tobio that pulls away first. He leans his forehead against yours, though due to your height, it’s more like he bends down. At any other time, you would’ve chuckled.

“I love you, so much.” He whispers. 

You look into his eyes, and behind that world of hurt and blame is love. 

You hesitate to say it back, knowing the time you say it will be the last. You take one final sweep of his face, memorising every curve, every slope, every line. You end it in his eyes.

“I love you too. 

Slowly you pull away. Each step hurt. It’s as if someone is crushing your heart every time. 

Finally, once you’ve opened the door, you spare Tobio one last glance. The kitchen light makes him a tall, dark shadow. And you suppose you’re thankful for that. It makes it easier, not seeing his eyes. It makes it easier to say what you’re about to next.

“Goodbye, Tobio.”

Tobio watches the door close. He looks over to the meal he’d set beside before. He sits in front of it and starts eating.

It’s lukewarm.

part two? anyone? hehe

#haikyuu!! #haikyu headcanons #haikyū!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio #haikyuu reader #haikyuu requests #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama imagine #hq imagines #hq #hq oneshots #hq kageyama #hq tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Gold Digger - Chapter 1| Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: Sunday, 6:11AM. This dumb bitch realized she never posted the first chapter because it got stuck in her drafts. I’m so sorry. 

Warnings: Absolutely none. Maybe some mild swearing? 

Word Count: ~1.4K

Prologue

Lizzie and Gwilym had just calmed down from a laughing fit. Still in the cafe, they  were so preoccupied with their conversation, they didn’t even realise time was flying  by.

“Seriously, clowns?” Gwilym dabbed at the corners of his eyes as he chuckled.  “What’s so terrifying about clowns?”

“The make-up, for starters!” Lizzie pointed one finger up in the air. “They’re  always chasing kids around with balloons and candy.” Another finger. “They aren’t  funny, at all!” Third finger. “They’re usually creepy old men.” Fourth.

“Alright, solid points.” Gwilym smiled and ran a hand through his hair. Lizzie felt  her breath hitch for a split second. “How long have we been here?”

“I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Judging by the amount of coffee and food we’ve  consumed, though…”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” Gwilym apologised, yet again. “I didn’t mean to keep you  from going about your day!”

“You didn’t, I chose to be kept.” She winked and smirked before having a quick  look at her watch. “God, we’ve been here for hours!”

“Have we, really?” Gwilym’s face scrunched curiously as he looked at his own  watch. “Would you look at that!”

“I have an odd question,” Lizzie said and bit the inside of her cheek. “Feel free to  tell me to sod off if I’m out of line, of course.”

“Yes?”

“Do you work?”

“Do I work?” Gwilym parroted. “Yes.”

“So, is this your day off, then?” Lizzie cut a chunk of croissant with her fingers  and popped it in her mouth.

“In a way,” Gwilym propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist.  “I’m sort of on a hiatus. In-between projects.”

“Right.” Lizzie nodded slowly. “Well, I should get going. I have so much I need to  do still -”

“Oh, not a problem!” Gwilym cut her off. “Is it alright if I asked for your number,  maybe?” 

Lizzie mulled it over. 

On the one hand, this man is probably the best looking man  she had ever seen, let alone spoken to. On the other, she’s had enough of in  between jobs and waiting for my next project type of men. Yet, again, he was so  devastatingly handsome.

“Sure.” Lizzie finally said and took Gwilym’s phone to tap in her number. He  called her and hung up after two rings.

“Now you have mine, as well.” He grinned.

###

‘I see what you meant about clowns.’

Lizzie opened the text and snorted when she saw the picture attached. It was a  T-Rex photoshopped as a clown.

‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, clowns are terrifying!’

She didn’t even put the phone down before it dinged again, notifying a new  incoming message is waiting for her.

‘Today was great. I don’t think I’ve ever lost track of time in conversation  like that before.’

Lizzie’s thumbs hovered above the screen for a minute while she pondered what  her response should be.

‘It was definitely nice :)‘

“Earth to Elizabeth!” her roommate snapped her fingers in front of Lizzie’s face.  “Hello? who are you texting all the time?" Shelly almost scared Lizzie out of her skin. "Whoops!"

“Sorry, Shelly,” Lizzie switched the screen off and tossed the phone aside. “You were saying?”

“Answer my question, then!”

"No one." Lizzie smiled sweetly.

"So, a bloke?"

"He's a man, yes." Lizzie tried to sound nonchalant.

"Handsome?"

"So handsome." Lizzie smiled to herself.

"Sharing is caring, Liz." Shelly sauntered over and flopped down on the sofa next to Lizzie. "Get on it with it. Go on."

"His name's Gwilym -"

"What kinda name is that?" Shelly snorted.

"Welsh."

"Right."

"He's about as tall as a tree, he looks like a prince out of a fairy tale."

"How'd you meet?"

"He knocked me on my arse a couple'a'hours ago." Lizzie mumbled.

"He knocked you on your arse?"

"He was jogging, we both weren't looking where we're going and just..." Annie clapped both of her hands. "On my arse."

"Charming."

"Bought me coffee later. Talked for hours at the cafe."

"That's nice." Shelly said. "What's the catch?"

"There's no catch." Lizzie lied.

"There's a catch. You did the thing with your lip. You're lying."

"I think... it's just that... well, he's unemployed..."

"Oh bugger." Shelly groaned. "Another one bites the dust."

### "Hello?"

"Oh, there she is!" Gwilym drawled. "How are you? Been trying to talk to you all day!"

"Yeah, it was hectic." Lizzie blew a strand of hair away from her face. "Work, you know?"

"What happened?"

"The kids got into a huge fight in the yard during recess," Lizzie jumped back as a hoard of kids ran past her. "No running in the halls! Sorry, the kids..."

"School's still going?" Gwilym frowned. "I was hoping you were finished by now!"

"Oh, I am!" Lizzie sighed gratefully. "Just leaving for my car, now. How was your day, Gwil?"

"Good, good!" Gwil smiled to himself. "Met up some mates, had a couple of pints down at the pub..."

"It's not even five o'clock."

"I'm on hiatus and an adult." Gwilym snarked. "Don't judge me."

"Right."

"Would be lovely if you joined me next time I'm at the pub." 

"I've got such a hectic week ahead, Gwil." 

"Righty-O."

###

Lizzie sat with her legs tucked under her, her sock-clad toes poking out slightly. She typed at the screen furiously, giggling out loud occasionally, totally lost as far as the Netflix series she and Shelly watched. At first Shelly had some things to say about her behaviour. Lizzie could not be pulled away from her phone no matter what. 

The only thing that got her to stop texting was when she had to teach class. Other than that - it's like the thing was glued to her hand. It has been going on for three whole days now. 

"Liz -" Shelly turned to face her roommate and best friend. 

Lizzie jumped and dropped her phone. It landed on the rug with a muffled thud. "-Jesus, didn't mean to scare ya." Shelly stifled a chuckle. "Are you even watching this?" 

"What?" Lizzie bent down and picked up her phone. "Yeah, yeah!"

"Did you even listen to my question?" Shelly raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "Liz?" 

"Yes! It's just that -"

"Will?" 

"Gwil." Lizzie corrected her. "His name is Gwil." 

"Right, then." Shelly rolled her eyes. "So are you going out with this bloke or...?" 

"What?" 

"Is he taking you out on a date or are you just going to text infinitely?" Shelly asked as she got up and went to the kitchen to make herself something to drink.

“Are you serious?" 

"About what? Drinking or asking if the lad's gonna take you out?"

"Both!"

"Yes." ### "Gwilym?"

"Yes?" Gwil smirked to himself.

He tidied his place up while talking to Lizzie on the phone. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed phone calls this much. It's like they never ran out of things to talk about. The more they spoke, the more he liked her - and the feeling seemed mutual.

"What is it you do for a living?"

"I'm an actor," Gwilym stated. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lizzie sounded disheartened. "An actor, you say?"

"Indeed."

"What, like, theater? Movies? TV? Commercials?"

"A little bit of everything." Gwilym shrugged and dusted off his coffee table. "Why?"

"Just curious." Lizzie sighed.

"Everything ok?" Gwil asked. "You sound... preoccupied."

"Oh, just thoughts," Lizzie said. "You know how it is. Work, life..."

"Adulting."

"Yeah."

###

Bloop.

Lizzie glanced at her phone as she towel-dried her hair. She's been texting Gwilym almost all day, every day for an entire week. Not that she complained, though. Devastatingly handsome, witty, and intelligent. He was every girl's dream. 

But there was that one thing.

For the life of her, she had no idea whatsoever what Gwilym Lee did with his life. He never talked much about work. He said he's "in-between projects," whatever that meant.

'Dinner?' 

Lizzie huffed and sat on the edge of her bed, biting her nails. It's not that she didn't want to go to dinner with him. 

She most certainly did. But his weirdness around the subject of employment made her feel rather iffy. She's had her fair share of Dead-Beats, as Shelly so fondly called them. Leeches. Roaches. Pests. Men who did absolutely nothing with their lives, yet somehow manipulated Lizzie into being their care-taker. The amount of money she spent on those blokes brought her to the threshold of utterly broke. She knew better this time. This time, she'll listen to her gut.

'Working tomorrow, need a good nights' sleep. Sorry.'

'Everything alright?'

'Yeah, yeah. Why?'

'Not sure. You keep rejecting my invitations to go out...'

'Just a bit stressed out from work. It's fine.'

'Right... Have a splendid night, then. Sweet dreams! x'

###

TAGLIST: 

@ramibaby @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #gold digger

[silliusssoddus]

The First Names Concept - Night 3

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Vince Neil)

MASTERLIST

A/N: HI HEY IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! there were a lot of exams

and of course a writing-deleting cycle but i've finally gotten it to a point where 'm sorta content w it

anyways i am so sorry for being all ‘ooh symbolism’ in this part i just...really like fleetwood mac...and i’m kind of trying to do the whole ‘show don’t tell’ thing, but i’m terrible at writing and idk when to use what so...yeah...idk

WARNINGS: very small mention of smut, mentions of people taking drugs (not reader), mentions of coke, weed, alcohol, fluffish and angstish at times, car accident and that’s it

WORD COUNT:  5,456 (a lot of stuff happens folks)

SPECIAL THANKS TO: @scarecrowmax for making sure this doesn’t suck, i appreciate it so much!!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Elektra Records have signed Mötley Crüe their record deal and they celebrate with Queen. You make amends with both boys, which leads you to the position you were in the first place.

(creds: @taylormaydwithlove)

“Ready Freddie?” 

(creds: @getthefckouttahere)

“...grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss...”

-

It was perfectly normal for people to like morning, but some could call you insane for waking up at an ungodly hour just to see the sunrise. But more than often it was because you couldn’t sleep and last night was no exception.

You managed to find your way up to the hotel roof at 5am, seeing the first few orange streaks in the purple-ish clouds, and walked on over closer to the railing.

You wrapped Vince’s jacket - the only thing you could find in the darkness and you couldn’t afford to lose more time finding something else - tighter around your body. Yes, LA had a reputation for being warm all the time, but only when the sun was out.

Thoughts of the past few days flowed through your mind as you saw rays of the orange light flood onto the floor.

Vince was right though, maybe you and Roger weren’t ‘destined to be’. Did that mean you were finally over him? All thanks to Vince himself?

Even if that was the case, you were still mad at him. You wanted to go after the woman and apologise, both on his behalf and your own, but after seeing her with Roger, you began to think that she deserved it.

Turning back around to find a seat, you spotted a metal bench and made yourself somewhat comfy. Your head angled itself so that the back of your head rested on the top of the cold railings, trying your best to ignore how blatantly uncomfortable it felt. Besides, your mind whirred in thought too much for you to even realise it.

Maybe it was how deep in thought you were, or maybe it was because you were starting to fall asleep, but you didn’t realise that Roger had come up to the roof. And you certainly didn’t realise how intently he was admiring you and how you were hugging your knees and staring into the landscape.

“Uh, hey.” he finally cleared his throat to say. You didn’t really have the energy to turn around, especially because you could already recognise the voice.

“Hi.” you returned, failing to meet Roger’s eyes when he made his way over to slump down beside you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, so Freddie sent me up to say sorry...or something.”

“I’m late for breakfast? Isn’t it 5?”

Roger let out a sharp laugh at that, so you returned with a look of annoyance. It was way too early to deal with this.

“Maybe it was when you got here.”

You looked down at your watch, eyes widening in shock when you saw that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh whatever, I can wait ‘til lunch.” you relaxed, too tired to even care at this point.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I guess I know you too well,” he shrugged, “or, at least I thought I did.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re here to talk about. Look, I don’t know how it happened, okay?”

“Yes, but- Y/N I told you I missed you and you just-”

He was struggling, you could tell from the way he paused and groaned in exasperation to let his head fall into his hands.

“You know how unfair that is, right? You had 13 years to say something, but you never did. You brought this on yourself, Roger.”

“I- I know, that’s why I don’t know what to...feel...and Fred wanted me to apologise-”

“It’s alright.” you cut in as a desperate way to help him from struggling so hard.

“H-how do you feel about...me?”

“Rog…” you sighed.

Picking his head up out of his hands, he turned to look at you, his face full of worry when he saw that you still hadn’t moved an inch.

“You know I really like you, I always have and I always will…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Everything. Brian, our age-”

“It’s Vince, isn’t it?”

You gave him an irritated sigh again, hoping he’d take it as a sign that you wanted to change the subject. It was the first time the two of you had even discussed what your relationship was, but he could not have picked a worse time to do so.

Giving up, he finally realised the position your neck was in and let out a little chuckle, in hopes that it would be enough to change the topic and lighten the mood.

“Is that even comfortable?”

“Not really,” you laughed in return, “but it’s the only thing that’s stopping the throbbing in my head.”

“Course you got a sore head, you’ve drunk two nights in a row. Uh, here.”

You looked up to see him patting his shoulder and decided it would be better to rest there instead. He used one of of his hands to guide your head, before snaking down your shoulders to place itself on your arm. You grinned to yourself when you felt his hand rubbing your shoulder, while the other rested on the bare skin of your leg, lazily and platonically.

“This might...sound weird...but have you ever thought about what you want to do? I mean, you can’t be around us forever.”

“Christ, you sound exactly like Brian.” you giggled.

“Well he’s right, y’know, you have to find something to spend the rest of your life doing.”

“But I literally can’t do anything. Like, I barely even went to school, because half of the time you guys were too tired or too busy writing songs to drive me there. The only time I actually went was when Oliver’s parents drove me.”

“Oh yeah, Oliver. Never liked that chap. He seemed distracted all the time. But he had you as a girlfriend, I don’t blame him.”

Your cheek grew warmer against his shoulder, but as soon as he realised what he had let slip out, he did everything he could to stop you from talking about it further.

“And don’t say that you can’t do anything, ‘cause I’ve heard you play the organ.”

“God, you’re a genius, I could get a job in a church!”

For some reason, he seemed to think that was the funniest joke in the world, seeing that his chest was rising up and down rapidly as he bellowed in laughter. You joined him, equally as amused, letting yourself get distracted from the conversation you had managed to throw away.

“Hey, uh, speaking of the organ. Freddie managed to seal Vince’s band their record deal and they really want us to be there for their first official concert, to say thanks and whatever, and Freddie suggested we do ‘The Chain’, ‘cause that’s your favourite song...and because you’re the only one that can play the organ...”

“Absolutely not.”

You loved ‘The Chain’. You loved Stevie Nicks, her voice, her words and the meaning behind them. But you had always associated that song with Roger.

“What? Why?”

“For starters, I’m still mad at the both of you.” you said, sitting up straight out of his arm.

“But you’re not mad at Brian, Freddie or John. And you haven’t met the rest of the band. You’d absolutely love Tommy, he’s like a child in an adult body. Reminds me a lot of you.”

“Fuck you too.” you snorted.

“Oi, watch your mouth.” he chuckled in return.

A few seconds of silence passed again as you weighed your options for what you could do.

“Alright fine. But only because I’m not letting Brian down. Or Stevie Nicks.”

He laughed again, watching as you got up off the bench and were headed back indoors.

-

“I look ridiculous.” you told Freddie, standing in front of a mirror as he zipped the back of your purple leather dress.

It looked as if a low neck, leather top was sewed onto a flared, leather skirt, while being horribly tight around you. But you weren’t going to lie by saying you didn’t look great.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this self conscious in my 26 years of living.”

“Oh, don’t be so fucking daft, darling, you look fantastic.” he said, smearing some bright red lipstick on your lips. You had done everyone else’s makeup in that hour, but you spent a little while longer on Roger as a result of him mucking around.

“You know you look absolutely gorgeous in anything. And you already have two men drooling over you, imagine what they’d be like after seeing you like this.”

He fluffed up your hair again as a final touch for your outfit and gave you a toothy, reassuring smile.

“On the subject of those two men...can I ask you something?” you said, giggling slightly at his comment.

“Always, love.”

“When we went to see them live, I noticed that Stevie and Lindsey kept looking at each other, like they were singing this song to each other. And it made sense, ‘cause, y’know, that’s what the song’s about - them not wanting to lose their love, because if they did they’d never get it back.”

“And you were wondering who you should sing it to?”

You nodded, letting a sigh out along with it.

Freddie noticed that both bands were just an earshot away and if they concentrated, they would definitely be able to hear your concentration.

“I can’t speak for your mind, darling. Just go with what’s natural.”

“That would be Roger.”

“There you have it.”

“But-”

“Vince is quite alluring, isn’t he?”

“And he told me something really...wise, to be honest. He said if we were meant to date, we would’ve by now.”

“That is a good point. But listen-”

Before he could tell you anything else, the stage manager had knocked on the door and warned you all that there were only 5 minutes left until they were expected onstage.

You and Freddie both made your way back to the boys, not at all surprised to be greeted by wolf whistles and cheers from the younger ones. The fact that their leather jackets had the same ridiculous studs and patterns as your skirt eased your nerves a bit, because you didn’t feel as embarrassed. Besides, you were more than used to trying on Freddie’s and Roger’s clothes in the past. This was nothing compared to that.

“Leather really suits you, Y/N.” Roger commented with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, especially that jacket that I gave you. You gonna wear it?” Vince tried his luck.

You had been giving him the silent treatment from the moment you got here. Sure, you couldn’t help laughing at the greeting he yelled when he saw you (“Ah, the royal fuckers made it!”), but besides that you wanted him to know what he did was bad.

“Actually, I wanted to give it back. It’s not like I was gonna keep it anyways.” you snapped, grabbing the jacket you slung over a chair earlier so that you could shove it on his chest.

Subconsciously, you found your eyes flickering up to meet his and it made you stop your actions altogether. There was a hint of sadness in them, like they were screaming ‘red from crying myself to sleep last night’, but it could’ve easily been ‘red from smoking a blunt’. It wasn’t easy to tell from a guy like Vince.

Maybe you were misjudging him though, because ‘a guy like Vince’ wouldn’t be this affected by his mistake only because of the girl he cheated with.

Girl he cheated with. You felt disgusting. But the feeling couldn’t stay for long, thanks to your own empathy. You blamed Brian for the fact that you care too much.

“Actually, it might look good with the purple on my dress.” you spoke softly, taking your arm back to put the jacket on.

It was a way of forgiving Vince, because if anyone would know how it felt to act out because you had feelings for someone, it was you.

John walked toward you with his blue shirt and the same leather jacket as everyone else. It was hilarious, you felt like a motorcycle gang of rainbows, having  guitarists in red, the singers in yellow, drummers in green, bassists in blue and you in purple. He was the last one to meet them, having to perfect the curly mess of hair on his head so that his furious bopping onstage wouldn’t ruin it.

“Looking good, D!” Tommy said, greeting him with a high five.

“Yeah, yeah, took you long enough.” Roger grumbled, picking up the drum stick he had managed to drop due to attempting one of Tommy’s drumstick twirls. He seemed to give out another huff of annoyance after you, John and Tommy - the only ones that saw what happened - laughed at him.

“Right. Let’s get going, shall we?” Brian said, managing to peel himself away from a very deep conversation about guitars with Mick and turned to lead both bands to the wings of the stage, holding various doors open for them along the way.

There was no doubt that the nervousness was visible in the younger band. John managed to calm Tommy down and talk him out of drinking right before the show, Freddie kept reminding Nikki how proud he was of them, Roger was trying his best not to bite Vince’s head off but gave him useful tips to ease the nerves and Mick and Brian lagged behind, laughing at them.

You noticed Freddie’s jolly expression turn to that of concern when he looked from the stage and back to you. Returning with furrowed eyebrows, which he then answered by nodding over to the stage, you immediately grew more nauseous.

The stage was set perfectly for the situation you were in. The organ was placed so that you faced both the drumkit and the microphones. Great.

You let out a shaky sigh as both John and Freddie gave you a reassuring pat on the back, before turning to give Brian a hug. Despite having made fun of the boys, he tended to be the most nervous one before shows, so you couldn’t even being to think how scared he was to perform with another band.

“What if they hate it?” he said as you pulled out of the hug.

“Bri, you’re asking me if people’ll hate one of England’s greatest bands.” you said with a teasing chuckle.

“Don’t worry, everyone loves it when there’s a change of routine. You of all people should know that, being in a band with Freddie Mercury.”

“Huh, and people call me the smart one. Thanks, sis.” he laughed, before turning around to set up his guitar.

With a scoff of disbelief, you decided to join Freddie and Vince as they were vocalising and warming up their voices, but it shortly turned into a competition of who could reach the highest note.

Of course you won out of the three, using your higher pitched voice as an advantage, but Vince came very near to beating you.

“Ah, it seems like Roger’s got competition.” Freddie had joked, causing everyone onstage (apart from Roger) to erupt into laughter.

That was over as soon as it started, seeing as the stage managers in the wings were frantically waving for silence onstage so that they could flip the spotlights on.

“Please put your hands together for Mötley Crüe!” you heard from the loudspeakers around you. It emitted a tiny roar of excitement, nothing compared to the reaction Queen got.

“And joining them tonight, England’s royal highness, Queen!”

The curtains drew back and you were suddenly greeted by the faces of thousands, screaming and chanting their names like bloody murder. They seemed like restless, tiny blobs of colour, the way you always perceived the audience to be ever since Roger used it to calm you down.

It was right before a gig at the Rainbow back in London. Both Brian and Freddie had insisted that you sang and played with them for one song and you gave in, but you were an easily frightened teenager and didn’t know what to do. Roger spent the day calming you down to the point where you ran onstage with nothing but confidence.

“Ready Freddie?” Roger repeated the words he was so used to before every show.

Freddie gave him and Tommy both a nod to start their drumming before turning to give you a nod to start playing.

And it went really well. Everything was perfect. Your high pitch matched with Freddie’s and Vince’s low tones, the organ sound fit perfectly along with Brian and Mick’s guitars, which you could keep in time with thanks to Tommy and Roger on the drums. Nikki had nothing to do for the time being, so John had kept him occupied by teaching him a few moves that he clumsily followed.

The audience enthusiastically clapped along with the two drummers, on the edge of their seats to see how brilliantly the two sounds were going to mix during the chorus.

But as soon as you thought all of your own fears had melted away, you made a mistake. Not a noticeable one that ruined both bands’ reputation, but one that was sure to ruin your relationship with one of the ‘two men drooling over you’.

You looked up and met Vince’s eyes.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again...”

You wanted to break the eye contact, but the audience was going absolutely ballistic and the giddiness on his face when he took the small action as a way to confirm that you weren’t mad at him anymore gave you double the guilt you already had. You knew that Mötley Crüe needed this. It was a good way to kick start their band, a way to gain more popularity by actually putting on a show for the audience.

And because you were set on doing things for the audience, you let Vince pull you up from the organ seat and lead you by the hand to the centre of the stage during the little bass solo. The two of you bobbed your heads in time to the gradual crescendo of the drums and you let out a yelp when Vince picked you up by the waist, spinning you around a couple times.

As you were gasping and squealing along with the audience, Vince used his hands to ensure your legs were wrapped around his waist before sliding around your waist. By letting your head fall in the crook of his neck, you deepened the hug.

“Chain, keep us together.” you sang into Vince’s mic once you were on the ground again.

“Running in the shadows.” he sang back, leaning over your shoulder so that his arms stayed wrapped around your waist. His lips then fell on your shoulder to give a quick peck.

Tommy noticed how the drummer’s arms swung down harder by each second, the expression on his face growing angrier.

“Yo!” he hissed to Roger, then doing it louder the second time when the first one failed to get his attention.

“If you break the toms, you’re paying for a whole kit.”

“Sorry.” Roger mumbled, returning his strength back to the softness it was before.

The song ended and Vince made you curtsey (while the rest of Queen bowed, of course) before giving you a kiss on the cheek and a teasing slap on the ass to send you off backstage.

And you didn’t think much of it, because it was only for the audience.

It was only for the audience.

The sentence was the only thing that kept Roger calm.

It was only for the audience.

Vince didn’t mean it and you didn’t actually choose him.

-

You were sat on the floor of the band’s apartment, chatting away with a drunk/slightly high Nikki and finding out that the two of you were more similar than you thought you were.

The topic of parents came up when you noticed a lady had walked over to you, holding out a plate with two lines of coke. Nikki looked ecstatic, rubbing his hands together before picking up the tiny, metal straw. He looked at your blank expression and pointed to the second straw on the plate in confirmation.

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Just one line. I promise I won’t make you an addict.” he laughed.

“I’m good, thank you though.” you laughed in return.

And just on cue, Freddie had waltzed his way over.

“Yo Fred! Want a line?”

“Course I do!” he exclaimed, picking up the straw and copying Nikki’s movements from before.

“I didn’t know cocaine was your thing, Fred.”

“Neither did I. But it doesn’t hurt to try new things. Have a great night, darlings. Ta!” he cheered, getting up to turn on his heel and walk away.

You were about to ask Nikki for a line yourself, but Tommy shortly stumbled toward you after Freddie had left.

“Y/N...I have a serious question for you.” he spoke, forcing creases on his forehead to show that he was indeed being serious. It concerned you, if you were being honest.

“Sure…”

“Are you a witch?” he continued, still no sign of it being a joke on his face.

But you did notice that there was something off in his eyes and you turned to Nikki for help. He only mouthed the word ‘drugs’ and gave a very drawn out nod to ensure that you understood, which you showed by laughing.

“And why do you think that?”

“‘Cause Vince is going crazy about you, dude! It’s like you’ve got him in a spell or some shit. Look.”

And sure enough, you heard the repetitive chanting of your name, accompanied by the blonde singer hopping around the place.

“It’s fucking wild, man. He’s never done this for any other girl.”

You felt your cheeks heating up wildly at the realisation, more so when he decided to add the words ‘I’ and ‘love’ in the mix.

“Who’s up for a beer drinking contest?” he suddenly screamed, evoking a loud cheer from everyone at the party.

There was only one voice that didn’t do the same.

“We don’t have any fucking beers, dumbass.” Mick chuckled.

“Well, I’ll go get some.” he slurred, stumbling his way over to the ashtray in which his car keys were, but falling before he had the chance to even stand up properly.

“Take Y/N with you. She’s the only sober one here.” Tommy chipped in, earning drunk nods of the head from the rest of the boys that wanted you two to make up.

Roger himself nodded, too enticed in an argument with a woman about how bad Queen’s music was. But he didn’t seem mad, rather the opposite. They kept giving each other teasing touches and you suddenly didn’t want to be sober anymore.

You managed to steal Vince’s bottle of vodka and take a swig from it as you were walking out of the house, resulting in him giving out a cry at his stolen good.

“Shit...I didn’t bring my license.” you huffed after you had ruffled through your purse.

“‘S fine, I can drive.” he mumbled, slamming his hip square against the back of his car.

“You sure about that?” you giggled, tightening your grip around the neck of the bottle when he tried to grab for it.

“I know these roads like the back of my hand, pretty lady. And you know how much I look at that.” he winked.

His hands fumbled on his car keys, but eventually managed to put the key in and start the car. For a drunk man, he was surprisingly good at driving, but you guessed it was just muscle memory.

The car radio played softly, tinkling out different hits from the 70s. Vince drunkenly nodded along to the beat of the songs, singing along if he knew the words or looking over to you singing and laughing at the exaggerated movements you made to the love songs.

You loved the way he laughed. You loved the way his teeth glistened and his eyes shone when he did and how the night lights enunciated all of that. The sound itself was boyish and charming and made your heart soar every time you heard it and washed away some of the fears you had letting a drunk man drive.

“Wait wait wait...I need to pull over.” he stated after 5 songs, slowing the car down and parking it on the sidewalk.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“...I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Vince.” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

“No don’t worry, that’s not the reason.”

The smirk he gave you before he left the car made you fear for your life even more.

He appeared once again, now right outside the car door, and opened it up for you.

“M’lady.” he kept the smirk, earning a playful kiss on the cheek from you as you got out of the car.

He took your hand and lead you in the direction of a tatty, old and seemingly abandoned building, with its door broken so anyone could come in. There were no signs, but it screamed ‘keep out’. And Vince didn’t obey.

He dragged you through the endless corridor, which was only lit up by a few lamps scattered on the walls here and there, but you eventually managed to end up in a place that felt colder. Dragging you to a stop, he slammed his hand on the wall and activated some kind of switch that lit up the pool in front of you.

“This place always looks better at night.” he spoke proudly.

“Vince, why are we here?” you asked, trying your best not to sound as irritated as you were.

As you stood there grumbling to yourself, you didn’t notice that Vince had put you on the perfect spot right on the edge of the pool and had lined his hands on your shoulders to push you in.

You fell in with a scream and a loud splash, flailing your arms and legs around desperately to get above water.

Seeing Vince collapsing to the ground in laughter sent something through you. It wasn’t anger or irritation - you just wanted to find a way to get back. So you swam up to the edge and had him perch closer to you.

His childish grin and droopy, naïve eyes almost made you feel bad for even planning your impromptu revenge, so you decided to take it easy on him. You bunched up the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you with your lips puckered, but ducked under the water before your lips could touch. It caused him to tumble into the pool beside you and a louder fit of laughter from you.

“You asshole! I can’t swim!” he gargled, swinging his arms around in desperate need of something to grab on.

A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you immediately made your way over to him, avoiding the splashes of water the best you could. But as soon as he had access to your shoulders, he found a way to push you down underwater, completely off-guard so you didn’t have the chance to take a deep breath, and kept you there for a few seconds.

When you came back up, you were fuelled with nothing but anger. Maybe a little bit of hysteria along with it.

“Wanker!”

You managed to send a huge wave of water crash over him with your arm, to which he returned the favour and did the same, and things continued like that for a bit. Until he dived down at the same time as you and grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss.

Slowly, your laughter came to a halt after the two of you came back up for air, him getting a chance to get a hold of your legs and wrap them around his waist for you. It also gave you both a chance to look into each other’s eyes properly, like when you were in the bathroom, or when you were onstage.

There was still that sense of awe in the way he looked back at you and it was still evident despite the alcohol. It warmed your heart to see, but it didn’t feel right at the same time.

“Stop thinking.” he grumbled, wading through the water over to the edge of the pool with you still in his hold.

“What d’ya mean?” you queried when he hoisted you up onto the concrete surface again.

“Lemme show you.” he stated, reaching over to the jacket he smartly placed on the poolside before you pulled him in. You hadn’t even noticed he had bought his Polaroid along with him, due to the fact that the bag holding the camera was hidden under his jacket.

(thank daniel webber for inspiring this part, i love his photography)

“Say cheese!” he said after pulling the camera out, drawing out the ‘e’ in an adoring manner.

So you gave him a big smile as you were blinded by the flash for a few seconds, but when he looked at what he had taken, you saw that the smile on his own face had disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” you pushed when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“You’re thinking.” he repeated, showing you the picture. You couldn’t see what was wrong, though.

“The light from the pool fills your eyes and your face perfectly. You’re so fucking gorgeous. But your smile ain’t right, babe.”

You bit your lip, not because you didn’t understand what he meant, but you were scared of what he was implying.

“You wish I was Roger, don’t you?”

The sentence hit harder than it was supposed to. Even Vince could see that.

“I- Vince-”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can take you back.” he hummed sadly, hoisting himself onto the poolside next to you.

“No- Vince, please, I want to be here.” you said, but even he could detect the uncertainty in your words.

“I want you.” you corrected yourself

“Then prove it.”

You pulled him by the neck for a rough, messy kiss, causing him to topple onto you. But he pulled away as quick as the kiss started.

“I’d continue if it wasn’t for those two cockblockers standing there.” he answered your confused expression.

You turned to look at what Vince was referring to, only to meet the eyes of two scary-looking security guards (that’s what you assumed they were at least) towering over the two of you with stern faces and crossed arms.

“You’ve got 5 seconds to leave before we call the cops.”

With that, Vince leapt off you and pulled you up with him so that you could bolt out the building into your car again, laughing like mad men along the way.

“That was the most embarrassing to ever happen to me.” you half-mumbled, half-laughed to yourself.

“Let’s get these fuckin’ beers!” he whooped, igniting the car once more and speeding down the road.

It didn’t take long for Vince to drive to the nearest gas station and use his rockstar money to get 8 boxes of 8 cans of beer, which he then had to buckle a seatbelt over because it was his ‘duty as a father to protect his children’ and ‘you’re the mother, you should be concerned about their safety too’.

The ride back to their apartment had a lot of stopping and starting again, as Vince kept his hand on your thigh and couldn’t help going further. You had to frequently scold him and tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but of course he didn’t want to.

‘Baby, It’s You’ started to play on the radio and the two of you simultaneously went to turn the volume up. Vince then rolled down all the windows so that everyone in their cars and their pet dogs could hear the song and your voices harmonising/borderline screaming.

But Vince didn’t keep his eyes on the road at all and you were having too much fun to notice. He leant in to your side to try and steal a kiss, but he pulled the steering wheel in the same direction without realising it. The car skidded and spun in the direction of the grassy field next to you and before you had the chance to grab the wheel and put the car back on track, two blinding lights suddenly appeared in the darkness with a blaring noise you assumed was the horn.

The only sounds you could hear after that was the shattering of glass, the screeching of both cars attempting to break and the song quietly playing in the background. Only, it wasn’t The Beatles’ soothing vocals, nor was it Vince’s.

“I love you too, Roger.”

-

“Holy shit.”

-

TAGLIST: @lifesasickjoke @slowandangry @rrrogah-tayluhh @fatbottomedgorl @ugly-shirts-girl @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @kawennote09 @totallynotkaibiased @amy-brooklyn99 @hannafuckingsucks @miss2001babe @anxious-diabetic @drowsebaby

PART 4

#why do i suck at writing beginnings #i'm actually quite proud of everything else i've written here #this just #ugh #anyways #the dirt #motley crue #queen #bohemian rhapsody #fan fic #female reader #vince neil #daniel webber #daniel webber!vince neil #vince neil fluff #vince neil angst #daniel webber fluff #daniel webber angst #roger taylor #ben hardy #roger taylor!ben hardy #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor angst #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy angst #roger taylor x reader x vince neil #roger taylor x reader #vince neil x reader #the first names concept

[borhapstyles]

Headcanon: First Date with Ben

HEY so it’s my spring break and i’m back temporarily :) i hate saying temporarily but i know that once school starts again i’m never gonna have time to breathe lol but i’d like to think school is temporary, writing for you guys once summer hits will be the real thing <3 

this wasn’t requested but as a starter, i’ve written this headcanon :) sorry if it’s shit, haven’t written in a while so i’m a little rusty. i hope you like the ending though, i certainly do. 

**this is going off the “Meeting Ben” headcanon I wrote a while back xx

“so uhm…”

“yes?” you giggled, brows raised as Ben swallowed harshly

“i-i was wonderin’ if you’d like to go on a date with me.. sometime..?”

“is this not a date?” 

then Ben’s cheeks went red, even more so than they were before

because like

he had been waiting for the right time to ask you on a date since he followed you into that cafe

how was he supposed to know he was gonna spend the next two hours talking to you in that back table

but you looked so lovely underneath the fairy lights of the cafe

and he adored the rose tint on your cheeks whenever you subtly dropped in your love for Queen

that’s another thing, he loved your taste in music

i mean, it’s a given that you liked Queen because of Bo Rhap

but when he learned of all the other bands / artists you loved, he kinda sorta just wanted to kiss you right there

he should’ve

anyways

“n-no, i mean, like a proper date, not that this can’t be considered one, but-”

“i’m joking, i’d love to” you cut him off, more laughs spilling from your mouth

and then you and Ben set a date, a time, and after he insisted on picking you up, you finally let him

the day of, he showed up with your favorite flowers which uh

u didn’t tell him what ur favorite flowers were

he uh.. kinda found out through instagram stalking

he didn’t specifically stalk you

but Joe did

Ben mentioned you to Joe and Joe was quick to find your account

(let’s pretend it’s on public if it’s not)

“oh she’s on public, this is gonna be fun” Joe said to Ben while they were hanging out the next night

“she is?!” Ben jumped over and

for a moment he wanted Joe to like.. stop because he kinda felt weird doing it

but i mean

he also was super super curious to see your posts and kinda also wanted to see more of ur face

so he went along with it

“she might even be funnier than I am” Joe said when he went over one of your captions

“I couldn’t stop laughing when I was with her, she’s hilarious” Ben gushed

“oh wait, what’s that one?” Ben made Joe stop scrolling to click on one of ur pics

it was of u and your friend’s dog

with the caption “don’t tell (your friend’s name) but i’m stealing her dog forever sorry”

“she likes dogs” Ben whispered to himself, a smile on his face as he imagined you with Frankie 

that’s when Joe stopped and looked at his friend

“you’ve known her for a total of 30 hours and yet i’ve never seen anyone do this to you.. you really like her, don’t you?”

Ben sighed, he didn’t want to let himself get so deep so quickly but

there was something about all this that just felt so easy, like it’s come into place

and something about you that made him feel as if he’s known you his whole life even if you had never been to england before meeting him

so Ben just smiled and nodded, hoping he wouldn’t get his heart broken with all the risk he’s taking

and they continued scrolling till Ben got a text from … 

surprise surprise, you 

and completely forgot Joe was there for a moment 

“oh by the way, just so you know, her favorite flowers are…” Joe told him before leaving

“how do you know?”

“her instagram, which, if your elderly ass would bother to learn a little more about, is a great app”

so anyways when Ben showed up with your favorite flowers u were happy and he was happy that u were happy

but also lol because you were staying in an airbnb and didnt rlly know where to put the flowers down

aaaannnywaaaays 

then you two drove out into beautiful London 

the night life was buzzing with Londoners and tourists alike and you couldn’t be happier to be in such a city

much less next to Ben, who if a week ago someone told you you’d be with him 

u might punch them for playing with your feelings

but here you are

“you see that building? that’s Abbey Road studios”

“so much history here, I think I’m in love”

when Ben finally stopped driving

you two were in front of a rather tall building somewhere in the financial district

Ben rushed to your side to open the car door

“can i ask where we are now?” you laughed and Ben chuckled as he finally told you

and he made sure to open the door for you on your way in

im convinced chivalry is still alive and comes in the form of ben hardy 

and u two rode the elevator aaallll the way up 

then you two went through a couple other doors

and then eventually you were met by a host who checked you guys in

then you were led outside

let’s say it summer by the way so you guys arent freezing when u go out

it’s a rooftop area, with outdoor furniture and plants decorating the area

fairy lights strung around the pergola, soft gentle music in the background

there’s a few other couples having dinner but it’s peaceful and everyone’s rather into each other so you know no one’s eyes will be wandering

but your favorite part of the whole thing

was that you could see the entire london skyline from your position, with a table in the perfect spot so no one was blocking the view

“what d’ya think? i-is it too much?” Ben asked shyly as you hadn’t said anything 

but you were in love with the place, your heart filled with joy

“it might be too early to say that this is the best date i’ve ever been on but i will, if that gives you any idea for how i’m feeling” 

as the dinner progressed, any nerves you felt coming in vanished

as did Ben’s

it felt natural, comfortable, meant to be

and when Ben reached over to hold your hand across the table

part of you never wanted him to let go, even if it made it a little harder to eat

in any case, he himself never quite wanted to let go either

with you, he wasn’t Ben Hardy, actor. he was just Ben

and he felt like he could be anyone he wanted to be around you

he loved that even if you were a fan, you never made him feel like he needed to take on the actor-persona he had 

in fact part of you forgot he was even an actor when you asked him if he had met anyone famous 

which made Ben laugh and your cheeks go red 

but Ben slipped up too lmao

“so I heard you like dogs?”

“...yes but...from.. who..”

then his cheeks got red as he had to carefully explain how him and Joe didnt stalk you on instagram but stalked you on instagram basically 

celebrities, they’re just like us

that’s when you laughed

which made Ben realise he could hear you laugh all day and never get tired of it

and never get tired of your smile

something about your twinkling eyes when you spoke about your friends and family back home

and about all your passions, ridiculous and not so ridiculous

u may or may not have let him in on your love for Queen, even more so than in the cafe

and u kinda forgot he was in Bo Rhap for a hot minute

but he was amused, he loved seeing you speak about something so close to your heart

and felt proud to be part of it

all in all Ben felt a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite a long time, if ever in his life

a feeling of completion, of relief

as if he had been waiting his whole life to meet you

and so he continued listening to your rant about how much you love Freddie and JIm together

watching as you blushed and apologised profusely for going on about them

“don’t be sorry, i wished we could’ve had more of them in the film as well. and i love hearing your opinions on them, i love hearing you talk about it all. it makes me more and more fortunate to have been part of it”

“well i have much more to say about anything Queen related if you’re interested”

“then i’m always here to listen for when you do wanna speak about them” 

when dinner finished, you and Ben decided to postpone driving you back 

you two walked around the city more and eventually made it to a little park just up the road

your hand in his, humming ‘39 by your favorite band

Ben smiled to himself as he realised you felt the same comfort around him as he did with you

and so the months went on, date after date with Ben

till you found yourselves on your one year anniversary, walking around the same park you two had gone through on your first date

“do you remember when we first came here?” he asked

“of course, it’s when I realised I love loved you and was basically fucked”

“why’d you say you’re fucked?” he laughed

“i mean, i was like, oh god i’ve scared him by talking about my obsession with Queen and he actually knows them and he’ll tell them and Brian and Roger will think i’m crazy and he won’t ever date me again after this and all i can do now is hum ‘39 and hope he won’t block me on instagram after this” 

Ben cackled

“that’s not at all what i was thinking, i hope you know that”

“well obviously” you rolled your eyes

“d’ya wanna know what i was thinking?” 

“hm”

“I was actually thinking of Freddie while we were walking around”

“same”

“no, i’m serious” Ben chuckled 

“why were you thinking of Freddie then?” you giggled, squeezing his hand a little tighter

“well, if I was just going in my head about how if it wasn’t for him there would’ve have been Queen, wouldn’t have been a Bo Rhap, I never would’ve been in anything like it, and I might not have met you then because of it”

“i don’t like thinking about that” you muttered, leaning your head into his side

“really though, it’s mad how much he’s influenced all our lives in a good way” he stopped walking, you standing below him with curious eyes batting at him 

“i guess we have Freddie to thank then for bringing us together” you said before pecking his lips

and then you two stood there for a moment, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his heartbeat

that’s when Ben looked down at you in his arms, then up into the starlit sky and whispered; 

“thank you, Freddie” 

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy headcanons #ben hardy headcanon #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #rami malek #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x you #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fluff #roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody

[ledonjuann]

THE PHANTOM  ↳ fate/grand order.

hello hello hello! this is my UNCAPPED starter/plotter/relationship call post open to anyone and everyone who may wish to thread with me now or sometime in the future! i must stress however that you take note of my guidelines prior to choosing to like/interact with this post, for your safety is the most important thing! phantom is by no means a good and wholesome character, his story featuring many themes that people may find upsetting!

now that’s out of the way, let’s get on with the show then!

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY + INFORMATION

this version of the phantom, whilst very much deriving from the original character within the novel, is a servant from the fate/ universe. if you are unfamiliar with the series, here is a page devoted to explaining this concept. in short, he was summoned firstly to aid jeanne alter, residing over the living dead occupying the destroyed city of lyon, france. he is an assassin-class servant, who has since become the servant of gudao. 

i have a lot of information about his life and personality on my application so to save space i will just link it here! naturally there are a lot of details i have left out so feel free to message me for an in-depth biography. 

✔ friendships, hateships, relationships ✔ violence, murder, comedy, light-hearted, dramatic/intense, fun! ✔ anything related to music/opera/acting etc etc!!!! ✔ fourth wall breaking

liking this ad will imply that you wish to write with me, so expect a message from me sometime about that, but it’d prefer it if you messaged me privately and let me know where you think your character could fit from the descriptions listed below. 

LOVERS OF MUSIC

↳ friend. 

i am being sincere when i say he’s never really had friends. most of the people in his life hated him or were afraid of him, so him finding friends here would be very, very strange. that being said, here’s how to do it! being a musician, specifically classical music, will certainly have him reveal an interest in you. if you’re a singer ( opera preferred but singing in general is fine! ) then he may just become too interested. he is obsessed with music, so much so that when he speaks it’s sort of a sing-song way. he can often be found singing to himself or playing his pipe organ. he’s also written his own music and has an amazing knowledge of the theatre and can be quite the coach if you are pretty enough. he can usually be found in the theatre here, as well as creeping around the churches and such in the archimedes ward!

SWEET & GENTLE TOUCH

↳ friend.

ah yes... the touch of a lovely lady ( or man! ) who sees beyond the ugliness of his face.. past the wretched life and slight habit of murder he possesses. those kind and warm people who just really want to cure the sick and tame the monster -- if you’re that type of person, here’s a real challenge for you! the phantom can be your very own beast to your beauty, if you’re up for the rough time ahead! he’s misunderstood, abandoned, lost, alone and oh, just so incredibly tragic. hah... he’s really awful, honestly. 

OBSESSIVE, OBSESSIVE, OBSESSIVE 

↳ friend / associate 

he is well known for his obsession with christine daaé, going as far as to threaten to blow up the entire opera house if she doesn’t agree to marry him. yeah, he’s not a great guy. but there’s never ever only one obsessive weirdo around, whether it’s over a lady or something else, perhaps finding others maddened by love will help him, somehow. maybe? who knows. gilles is the only person in fate/ he seemed to have a kind of connection with and that pretty much says it all. 

SERVANTS OF CHALDEA

↳ friend / associate / rival / anything.

there’s a lot of servants in isola so i’ll keep this bit short and just say if you want to have pre-established relationships with phantom, go right ahead. whether that involves hatred or friendship; i do not mind at all. you are free to recognise him and refer to him as phantom or assassin if you’re from the grand order timeline! 

DRAMA KIDS ARE THE WORST

↳ enemy.

of course he’s the antagonist in his own story, so hating him is very easy. he’s creepy, weird, stalkerish and just generally pretty awful. he has a habit of watching people closely and singing softly as he follows them, so you can absolutely kick his ass for that. he also has a habit of murdering people when they become an inconvenience so? yeah? also if anyone’s out to bust some ghosts or something, this guy literally calls himself a ghost. keep that in mind.

this post is super long i apologise, if you need any more info please message me on this account via IM or the inbox. also please note i only have like 10 icons because there’s not a lot of official art of him so get ready to see the same icon five hundred times! 

#isola rp ad #This post is absolutely huge I apologise 100 times. #isola plotting call

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Prompt #210 - Not Ashamed

@lunabelles : ‘holy shit! She’s on her way over here right now, she/he CANNOT see you! 

ANON: ‘who topped?’ 

from: morning after sentence starters

it’s not the morning after??? nor is it a sentence starter?? idek what happened here??? It’s also 4am??

AO3

NOT ASHAMED

‘Oh, oh, Owen!’ Claire moaned on a high note as her orgasm snapped and flared, sending shockwaves through her body. She gave him a lazy grin, cheeks split as she lowered her chest to his, their mouths meeting upon decent. With Owen’s arms wrapped around her back, Claire allowed herself to collapse onto him. ‘Why don’t we do this more?’

Owen hummed, fingers splayed across her back as he drew nonsense shapes, giving her a minute to recover before he started thrusting again with small strokes from beneath her sated body. ‘You work too much.’ He told her without hesitation, face drawn in stern lines as sweat continued to sit on his brow. Owen was too concerned about his own release to notice her small flinch.

He wasn’t wrong. Her hours were long and relentless, her job unforgiving. He had once asked her why she lived at the resort instead of employee housing, expecting her answer to be one of a higher standard. She lived in the Hilton purely because it provided closer access to the Innovation Centre and all that it held. Claire wasn’t exactly proud to admit that, but this was why Masrani hired her; dedication to her work. It did, however, interfere with their arrangement.

They were currently tangled in the sheets belonging to her bed in said resort apartment. It didn’t interfere that much but it certainly made Claire say ‘no’ on far too many occasions where her place was the only option. She didn’t want him spotted sneaking in and out of her apartment. She didn’t want to be caught fucking the Raptor handler when Claire knew she should damn well know better. Owen wasn’t jeopardising her job but in the eyes of a few, he was well below her league. That and she knew the hullabaloo it would cause when the Jurassic World staff uncovered that she and Owen were doing something about all that sexual tension.

He was just a bad habit. Nothing permanent. That was why she wanted no one to know. Because the second people found out would be when things started getting sticky.

Claire used work as an excuse not to see him. Late meetings. Early meetings. Busy schedule. All of it a means to control what was happening between them. To doctor when they did and did not see each other. But, work had also become her excuse to see him too. Bad day, stressful day, brilliant day, high achieving personal goals day or a completely slow and out of her mind kind of day. Owen was stress relief with a cocky smile and a firm hand on her hip. He made her happy for those short hours she allowed.

Claire pulled away from him, rolling off the man's chest as his cock slipped from her body, still hard. She pouted at him, playing sympathetic as wrapped her fingers around the base of him and brushed her lips against the tip. Claire didn't know what it was, but she liked giving Owen head. Never had she usually enjoyed that part of intercourse but Owen was selfless and Claire was happy to return the favour without his need to ask. The thing was, he never asked her to do it, never gripped her hair or forced her to stay on her knees. Things with them were always about what made the other comfortable. The sex was often rough and hard, pushing the air right out of her lungs as his hands left marks on her skin. But, never would he thrust his cock in her face and demand she swallow. Claire found she liked it when the option was her choice. Her idea. She loved it when Owen was completely unaware, the man never expecting it and always surprised when she settled between his legs and lent forward.

He propped himself up on his elbows, eager to watch as her gaze met his, Claire’s smile wicked before her lips spread across the width of him. She had barely begun when she scraped her teeth gently up the sides of his thick cock, Owen letting out a sound of pleasure when someone knocked on the door. She ignored them at first, but Owen could tell Claire's attention had shifted. She was still bobbing her head in his lap, her tongue swirling around him but not with the same focus. He sighed, dropping down on his back in defeat as the knocking persisted, Claire letting him go with an easy pop as she reached for her robe and moved for the door.

From her bedroom, Owen could hear Claire’s voice but not her words. Someone there kept her attention for a few minutes before her voice got closer, her words clearer. ‘I just need fifteen minutes and I’m all yours.’ She reappeared, cheeks red and eyes wild as she shut the door behind her with frantic movements. ‘Holy shit!’ Claire swore for the first time outside of sex. He had never heard her cuss in panic or anger, just sheer lust. ‘She’s gonna come down the hallway, she cannot see you!’ Claire moved for him, hissing as she grabbed his wrist in an attempt to pull Owen up.

‘I’m sorry? Who?’

‘Zara.’ She hissed, keeping her voice down low as Owen sagged worry flaring in the back of his mind that she had a partner who didn’t know about their activities. ‘Get up.’ Claire grunted, letting go of his wrist as she stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. ‘Seriously, Owen. I don’t want her to see you.’ She busied herself in picking up his clothes, throwing them at him one by one.  

‘Where the hell am I supposed to go?’ He asked, standing in front of her, butt naked and clutching his clothes to his chest as he heard Zara’s footsteps approach the door. Claire just stared at him, wide-eyed and annoyed asking him silently how on Gods sweet Earth was she supposed to have the answer to that. Her eyes trailed behind him, landing on her large closet before she stalked towards him and encouraged the man inside.

‘Claire?’ Zara knocked on the closed bedroom door. Claire hummed in acknowledgement, opening it with a smile. ‘Do you want me to go over your schedule?’ Owen listened as the other woman perched herself on the edge of the messy bed without a word before unlocking her phone and going over Claire’s meetings for the day. The closet door was left open just an inch, enough that Owen could see Claire in the en-suit brushing her hair and starting her makeup routine.

He crouched there for ten minutes, knees starting to ache as he mourned the perfectly good erection that went to waste — for him, at least Claire seemed to enjoy it before she shoved him in her closet to put her job first.

Zara was still talking, no longer sitting as she leant against the bathroom doorframe blocking his view of Claire. He had zoned her out, too busy cursing himself for getting in the damned closet, to begin with.

He liked Claire. A lot. Owen couldn’t count on both hands the number of times he had dropped something to be at her beck and call. It was a little too eager maybe, but it said a lot about how he felt for her. He was still denying it was anything more than lust buried deep in his bones. They were working on getting it out. She had taken the opportunity one too many times to push him away and this was his final straw. Owen grunted as he forced his stiff knees to move, bringing him back to his full height as he pushed the closet door open and stepped out into Claire’s bedroom.

‘You know what? I’m too old to be hiding in the closet until the coast is clear. I did that enough when I was in high school.’ Zara startled, but Claire, standing behind her looked at Owen like she half expected him to throw in the towel. She shrugged, trying to play nonchalant as Owen’s frustrations grew. ‘Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who shoved me in there Claire like you’re ashamed.’

‘I am — I’m not ashamed of you, Owen Grady.’ She answered but he couldn’t hear an argument as to why not. ‘Would you put some clothes on?’ She sighed, hands raising and falling to hit her hips with a soft smack. He was still naked, Zara standing so her face was turned away, embarrassment tinting her cheeks.

He apologised as he turned back to the closet to find his jeans.

‘I’m going to leave you two alone.’ Zara announced as she hurriedly moved for the door. He thought Claire’s assistant was gone when the bedroom door squeaked, her voice sparking up again. ‘Just curious,’ she started, ‘who topped?’ Owen didn’t hesitate in pointing a finger towards Claire, too scared of Claire’s wrath to verbally answer the other woman. Zara winked at him, her smirk wide as she turned back to Claire. ‘Your first meeting isn’t until ten. I won’t expect you any earlier.’ She sang `have fun’ as she disappeared out of the apartment leaving Owen and Claire to their standoff.

‘I’m not ashamed of you.’ She told him again, eyes sincere but tired. Owen tracked her, watching Claire move from the en-suite to her bed, pulling herself onto it before sitting with her legs crossed. ‘I just, I don’t know.’ There was no excuse to pull. She honestly couldn’t look Owen in the eye and give him an answer as to why she panicked. It was just that: panic. She didn’t want anyone to know about them but she wasn’t ashamed. Claire was so used to keeping things private. Secrecy was her default. ‘I just didn’t want everyone in our business.’ That was honest. ‘I’m still trying to figure out what is going on here.’ She didn’t know if she wanted anything out of their relationship beyond sex. Hadn’t even stopped to think about Owen as a permanent fixture in her life. ‘If other people know they might push us in a direction we’re not ready for.’

Owen could reason with that. He didn’t know what he wanted or expected from Claire but if she felt like her boundaries were about to be pushed he would do anything to stop her from running away or feeling pressured. ‘Just don’t shove me in the closet again.’ He dropped beside her, bed bouncing under his weight. Claire nodded, chuckling softly as she apologised, her hand on his.

‘Why don’t you stop by my place later tonight and we’ll continue what we didn’t finish this morning?’ Owen asked, leaning into her side. ‘And you can’t say you’re busy because I heard Zara say your last meeting ended at seven, three times.’

She turned a grin to him, eyes rolling as she stood and stepped away from the bed. ‘I can do that.’  

#clawen #claire x owen #owen x claire #jurassic world #despite the odds #i'm sorry this is probably terrible Jill #but yolo #it was Eliot or Dickens who said 'write a short story a week for you can't possibly write 52 terrible stories' #so that's my theory on life #sometimes they're terrible but sometimes they're good???

[allonsysilvertongue]

Wiping History

“What will happen when we get to your arena?” she demanded. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.“ 75 arenas and one colossal task for Effie Trinket. Hayffie. Post-MJ. Previously

4. The Old Colleague

For the second time that day, Effie checked her watch as she hurried down the third floor corridor of the Parliament that Plutarch had so graciously given to her for the duration of the project.

Inwardly, she cursed Enobaria for being the reason she was running late.

The phone call Effie had placed to the victor of District Two had been disastrous from start to finish.  For starters, Enobaria had not been pleased at all that Effie had her contact details much less knowledge that she had moved to District Five.  Of course, Effie had tried to explain that any information pertaining to her whereabouts she received from Plutarch which in itself was a mistake because the woman blew her top, going off about being tagged even after President Snow had fallen. Truthfully, Effie did not think there was any surveillance on any living victors except that the Government kept information on where they were currently residing.

Effie was not easily intimidated not even by a woman with fangs but she did grow tired of being on the receiving end of her tirade. When Enobaria finally slammed the phone down after Effie managed to get a word in regarding the arena, Effie let out a breath in relief. She took Enobaria’s ‘do not ever call me again or I’ll rip your throat out’ to simply mean ‘no’.

Some people just wanted to live in peace without being dragged down memory lane and she could certainly respect that.

Effie pushed open the door to the meeting room and hurried in, quickly noting that nearly everyone was present, including Barron Holland, the leader of their demolition team. She nodded at each of them in turn, apologising for being late.

“I was not expecting you here, Plutarch,” Effie remarked.

“Oh, just the off-chance that I was around the area and as it is I also have some excellent news to share,” Plutarch smiled. “Haymitch Abernathy will be joining the team. I have since officially appoint him as representative of the victors as a whole.”

If Effie was the kind to groan outwardly in displeasure, she might have done so. The only indication that she was in any way affected by the news was by the slight clench of her jaws.

“From my visit to Twelve a few days ago, I had the notion that he might be,” Effie said when Cressida turned to look at her questioningly. “He said something to the effect of wanting to see the destruction of the arena through.”

“Perhaps he does not trust us to do the job,” Plutarch chuckled. “But be that as it may, it will make for a good publicity.”

“No,” Effie disagreed firmly on that. “This will be difficult on the victors as it is. We do not need to make a spectacle out of it. Cressida and Pollux will film what is necessary for their post-war documentary with the interest of preserving this as part of our country’s history – that is all and nothing more.”

A murmur of assent rippled through the room, and Barron who came from a district seconded her decision for which she was grateful.

“It is too short a notice for Haymitch to attend this meeting but I trust that you will keep him updated?” Plutarch said in a clipped tone.

“Yes, certainly,” Effie nodded. “Plutarch, I need your word that there will be no camera crews except for Cressida and Pollux when each of these victors arrives in the city. If the public noticed that they are here so be it, this project would hit the papers soon enough, but I will not have them hounded by the press. I gave them my word and now I need yours.”

Plutarch, she noticed, looked as if he had swallowed something sour. It was not every day that he was talked to in this manner by anyone, much less her but those victors are hers and she would protect them while they were here to the best of her ability.

“Of course,” Plutarch bowed before excusing himself from the meeting.

“That went better than expected,” Cressida commented.

“Yes, I am glad he did not argue on it. He controls the media and if I do not draw the lines….”

They spent the next half an hour going through the procedures with Effie giving Cressida full creative control on her plan for the documentary.  From Cressida’s history with the victors, Effie trust that she would have their best interests at heart and thus gave her permission to interview the victors as long as they consented to it.

“The hovercraft should leave for the first arena as scheduled,” their pilot updated. “We’re planning for two arenas per day. If any of the arenas are situated close to each other, the plan is to do more – at which point, I will advise you accordingly.”

Effie nodded.

“We’re on track,” Barron chimed in. “My team is ready, and the explosives are stocked.”

“Haymitch should arrive before then,” said Cressida.

“He will,” Effie assured.

That was another thing she needed to arrange. He would need some place to stay and she certainly was not going to offer the extra room in her apartment to him.

XxX

Haymitch arrived one day before the day the first arena was scheduled to be destroyed. He hopped off the train with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair messy from the wind and his clothes a little rumpled from the journey, and just like that, at the sight of him, her heart skipped a beat.

She hated how traitorous her heart was.

“Sweetheart,” he greeted, his smile was cocky and smug as if he won something just by being here.

Still, she was not an idiot. On any other circumstances, Haymitch Abernathy would not have been happy to have to set foot back here in the city but since he was here on some personal challenge that he had set for himself, and because he knew she really did not want him here, she figured it was the exception.

“Haymitch,” she said cordially. “I never thought I’d say this but welcome back.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I’ll be gone as soon as it’s done," he said and then looked her way. "And you'll be coming home with me this time 'round."

He was so certain, so confident but Effie said nothing to that.

She spent the entire car ride staring out of the window wondering just how he was acting as if the argument they had on the day he brought Katniss home didn’t happen. That scene was still fresh in her mind even after all these months, and she could remember how hurt she felt when she found out he was leaving her again or worse, the betrayal that twisted in her heart when she learnt of his vote.

The feelings had dulled with time and she had months to think it through. Haymitch had never done anything without a reason, she understood that. Still, he could at least have told it herself instead of her finding out from Johanna.

You forgave Johanna, a voice whispered. She voted yes.

Except of course, Johanna didn’t leave her behind twice and because of their history, she somehow held Haymitch up to a certain degree that she did not impose on Johanna.  With Haymitch, it was the cumulative events and she had been exhausted, hurting and angry.

“You excited?”

“What about?” Effie turned her gaze to him.

“Working together again – you and I.”

“Could it be that the position has reversed?” she asked, referring to years before when she had been eager to work together with him.

He narrowed his eyes and she went back to staring out of the window until they reached their destination.

"What's Clemens getting outta this?"

"I am not privy to the details," she answered truthfully, "but he has run out of favours and I'm certain he knows it will be in his best interest to cooperate. Now," she turned to him just outside of the door of the place he would be staying for the coming weeks or months, "are you completely sure that you want to do this?"

She was still trying her luck to dissuade him but he had always been as stubborn as her.

"Yeah."

With that, Effie turned the key and pushed the door open. She had managed to rent the place on a short notice and billed the expenses to the project's finances. Considering that she did not have much time to look around, she was still proud of this place. It came completely furnished, granted the furniture were a little mismatched from her taste but one cannot really be choosy right after the war. There was one bedroom and an adjoining kitchen. The living room had a two-seater sofa, coffee table and small television.

He let his bag fall to the floor with a thud and surveyed the place.

“You'll be staying here until the end of this project. The faucet in the bathroom sink is not working unfortunately, a burst pipe or something," she waved her hand and she had used that little fact to ask for a reduced rent. She could be very adamant when she wanted to. "Other than that, everything works as it should be. I trust it is to your liking?”

“I'll stock up a couple bottle of booze and everything will be right as rain,” he shrugged.  “You'll tell me where I can get the alcohol, yeah? This place's changed."

She produced a map of the neighbourhood and he smirked.

"Always prepared," he chuckled, taking the proffered map from her. "Where are you staying?”

Effie held her tongue and then duly released the information to him. Sooner or later, he would find out.

"There," her finger tapped an area on the map, "about ten minutes' walk from here."

"So that it'll be easier for you to come over and haul my ass out of bed in case I'm late?" He teased.

That had certainly been one of the points she considered when choosing this place but she merely smiled at him.

“You want me to walk you back?” he asked, startling her.

“I will be fine. Thank you for the offer.”

Haymitch sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Don't do this, Effie. Don't talk to me like... I'm a stranger."

She looked away and that was when she saw the glint of gold under the sleeve of his shirt. It was the bangle she had given him during the third quarter quell and he was still wearing it after all this time, even when he had no reason to.

"See you tomorrow, Haymitch. Nine am. Do not be late."

With that, Effie closed the door behind her and let out a trembling breath.

Haymitch isn't the only one who can be protective. Effie can be protective over her victors just as well. Now that they're both here in the same place, tell me what you think!

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #plutarch heavensbee #johanna mason #wiping history

[sakyou]

Diabolik Lovers Dark Fate: Sakamaki Shuu (Maniac Epilogue)

--When I woke up, I was place similar to a prison.

Holding my aching head I got up. Beside me was Shuu-san. To start with I was relieved.

He was covered in injuries, and he seemed to have fainted but for the time being we hadn’t been separated. 

However, there was no sign of Lilie anywhere.

-

(Lilie...don’t tell me, because of that...)

Yui: ...Lilie...

Shuu: ....nn.....

Yui: ! Shuu-sa....

Shuu: I was wondering who was crying....so it was you

Yui: Shuu-san....?

Shuu: Why.....are you crying?

Yui: Sorry.....but Lilie....and Shuu-san, you were both so badly hurt....

Shuu: Is the cat....not here

Yui: It’s nowhere to be found...

Shuu: ....even if I have to sacrifice myself, if I can protect.....my family then...

Shuu: It....really did think of you as family. That’s why it tried to protect you....

Shuu: ...but in comparison I....

Yui: Shuu-san....do you think the little one is dead...

Shuu: ...don’t cry

Shuu: I don’t really care when others scream or cry but....if you cry then i’m troubled

Yui: ....i’m sorry....

(This certainly isn’t the time to be crying. I’m well aware of that but...)

Shuu: ....my bad

Yui: Eh-...

Shuu: You, and the cat. I was supposed to protect you both

Shuu: That’s how it’s supposed to be...I’m disgusted at myself

Yui: That’s.....but Shuu-san, you were trying to protect me...

Shuu: There’s no point in just trying....if I can’t protect you, it’s meaningless

Shuu: It’s too late i’ve lost it. I know just how much I hate such things but...

Shuu: I did it....again

(Shuu-san....)

Shuu: ...your hand is injured. Is that from when the founders brushed you off?

Yui: Ah, yes....but i’m fine with this much. that aside Shuu-san is...

Shuu: It doesn’t matter about me. You’re my woman that’s why i’m worried

Shuu: Nn....

Yui: ....Shuu-san...?

Shuu: Does it hurt?

Yui: I’m fine now. The bleeding has also stopped....

Shuu: ...up until now i’ve bitten into this body harshly, still you’ve been hurt a lot 

Shuu: For you to be injured, i’m irritated right now

Shuu: At those that hurt you, and myself who couldn’t protect you

Shuu: ....sorry. I couldn’t protect you

Yui: That’s.....don’t apologise. As long as Shuu-san is alright, i’m fine

Shuu: I’m sure it....Lilie is still alive

Shuu: Because those that have that name are brash and incredibly stubborn

Yui: Eh...?

Shuu: That’s why....it’ll be okay. If we believe in it and wait it’ll definitely come back

Yui: ...yes

Shuu: ...Nn....

Shuu: ...ah, speaking of which, I won’t be able to express it with this alone

Yui: Eh?

Shuu: You want it in words more than actions right?

Shuu: ...I vow, to never subject you to something like this ever again.

Yui: Shuu-san....

Shuu: To only see your crying face when I drink your blood...is more than enough

(For Shuu-san to be this direct with his words...)

(Shuu-san conveying his feelings straightforward....i’m really happy)

(...but, right now I can’t just be happy can I)

Shuu: .....dammit...it still hurts

Yui: You shouldn’t push yourself trying to get up...

Shuu: I wish I could relax but the one those guys are after you

Yui: ....I wonder why me?

Shuu: Who knows. maybe it’s to do with your blood again....well, there’s no point in us guessing here

Shuu: I just know one thing....those guys are planning something troublesome

Yui: What do you mean?

Shuu: If you’re the only one they’re after then, why am I still alive? Even though all I do is get in their way...it’s weird right?

Shuu: I wonder what they’re planning...?

???: Our bad for having a reputation of scheming

Yui: Shin-kun...

(Since Carla-san was one Shin-san must also be a first blood....founder right)

Shuu: Yui, don’t leave my side

Shin: *laughs* ....no need to be so alarmed

Shin: I came here to let you guys out see

Shuu: What....?

Shin: Here, go ahead. You can come out

Shuu: ...what’s the meaning of this

Shin: I don’t know. But nii-san said to do this

Yui: Carla-san...?

(I’m sure Carla-san was also the one who imprisoned us. So why....)

Shin: Come on, hurry up. I was told to show you to the guest room

Shin: I really don’t know what nii-san is thinking

Shuu: ....Yui. For now don’t leave my side

Shuu: I don’t really understand what those guys are planning but...i’m sure it can’t be good

Yui: ....yes

-

Shin: Here. This is the guest room

Shin: It would’ve taken time to arrange separate rooms, not that you really mind having the same room do you? You two have that kind of relationship right?

Shuu: ....are you saying you don’t plan on treating us as prisoners?

Shin: Who knows? That all depends on nii-san

Shuu: ...

Shin: Are you thinking about....places you can escape?

Shin: I’ll tell you this, it’s pointless. This is the depths of the demon realm 

Shin: You can tell by looking out the window can’t you, it’s far too high for a human woman to jump down

Shin: It’s a vampire they probably could but...with those injuries if you tried your hardest you could take yourself

Shin: Well, if you left the girl behind you could escape by yourself. What will you do?

Shuu: ...Quit it with the unfunny jokes. It’s irritating

Shin: *Laughs* I thought you would say that. Well then if you two get along, and stay locked up here everything will be fine

Shin: After all sooner or later-

Carla: You’re talking too much, Shin

Shin: Ah nii-san. Sorry sorry. I was just having fun 

Carla: Have you forgotten about my orders?

Shin: Not at all. After i’ve shown the prisoners to the guest room, bring Sakamaki Shuu right

Carla: If you remember then hurry on with it

Shin: Ah. Isn’t it your fault nii-san got mad

Shuu: Don’t blame others for it.....i’m fine going wherever

Shin: Oh you’re being surprisingly obedient. That kind of thing isn’t bad.

Shin: Nii-san is waiting in the hall. I’ll show you the way

Yui: ....please wait! Is it just Shuu-san?

(Perhaps, he really might be killed this time, yet to go on his own...)

Shin: The one nii-san called for right now isn’t you

Shuu: It’ll be alright, Yui

Yui: But, Shuu-san....!

Shuu: You wait here.....don’t worry, i’ll be back soon

Yui: ....do you promise?

Shuu: Yeah, I promise. So trust me and wait here

Yui: ...I understand

Shin: Alright alright. Leave the flirting for later and hurry up. Could you not leave nii-san waiting too long?

Shuu: then i’ll be going

(Shuu-san....)

-

Shin: Nii-san, sorry for making you wait. I brought him

Carla: Come in

Shuu: ....I came as you wanted. What do you want with me

Carla: Do you not understand that I called you out here intentionally?

Shuu: It’s because I understand that i’m asking you

Shuu: The one you’re after is Yui right? So why didn’t you kill me?

Carla: It’s certainly just as you say. We have business with that woman

Carla: However, that is not the pressing matter

Shuu: ...what does that mean?

Carla: Soon you will understand

Carla: The reason I called you here has nothing to do with that woman

Carla: Sakamaki Shuu. You detest your father do you not?

Shuu: ...what are you trying to say

Carla: Hmph...I see. I too dislike things said in a roundabout way

Carla: I will be straight with you. We want to overthrow the vampires

Shuu: ...you want to say that to me? the vampire- though imperfect son of the vampire king, me. 

Carla: I feel that we are the same

Carla: We detest the king of the vampires, Karlheinz

Carla: And....i’m sure that deep down you also hate Karlheinz. Am I wrong?

Shuu: My old man?

Carla: Think about it. Who’s fault is it that your family fell apart? 

Carla: It was that man’s fault, he ruined it all. Your family, your mother and your brothers. As well as you yourself....isn’t that right?

Shuu: ...absolute rubbish

Carla: Is it? Just try to trace the source of all your pain. In the end where- who is it connected to?

Shuu: ....that doesn’t really matter to me. After all this time I have no intentions of resenting or hating my old man

Carla: Is that how you truly feel?

Carla: If that man wasn’t here then, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t you really think so?

Shuu: ...

Carla: Vampires that worship Karlheinz are detestable beings, however if they become our comrade then that’s a different story

Carla: If you harbour feelings of hate towards that guy then, join forces with us. Sakamaki Shuu

Shuu: ....how stupid. Am I supposed to agree to that or something?

Carla: Are you saying you have no intention of joining us

Shuu: Unfortunately, whether it’s vampires or first bloods or other people in general I have no interest. The same goes for my old man.

Shuu: ...She’s my only family

Carla: Hmph....I see. Well it’s fine

Carla: For now take your time to think about it. If you do that then, you’ll also come to see my way of thinking

Shuu: ...

-

(...Shuu-san still isn’t back. Please come back soon....)

Yui: ! Shuu-san!

Yui: Shuu-san, i’m so relieved.....! Are you okay?

Shuu: ...

Yui: Shuu-san? ....did something happen?

Shuu: ....no, it’s nothing. That aside have you been waiting in front of the door all this time?

Yui: I was worried...

Shuu: I said I would return didn’t I....you must be tired too. Rest up

Yui: ....Shuu-san, are you okay? Did Carla-san and the others say something to you...?

Shuu: No, it was nothing important. You don’t have to worry about it

Shuu: Now...for starters our top priority is finding a way to leave this place

Yui: You’re right....but you shouldn’t over do it okay? Your wounds haven’t healed yet

Shuu: I know

Shuu: We should leave here as soon as we can. If we don’t....then i’m certain something troublesome will happen soon

Yui: ...

(Once again, it’s nothing important. It would be nice if that really was the case....)

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers dark fate #sakamaki shuu #aarutranslations

[whoinwhoville]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lee McAvoy/Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Sylvia Noble Additional Tags: Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Fluff, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die, Crack, maybe? - Freeform, Wedding, wedding florist and photographer au, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, mean sylvia, rude sylvia, over-the-top sylvia, pre-romance ten x rose Series: Part 14 of I love AUs Summary:

Sylvia Noble: Mother-of-the-Bridezilla. But Donna, Rose, and Jonathan Smith are quite adept at standing up for themselves.

Response to this fic prompt: I’m the caterer and you’re the florist on a huge expensive wedding and we bond over what an awful person the mother of the bride is AU (with a few adjustments to the prompt).

“That dress does nothing for your figure. You look like a wedding cake topper. What do you need pockets for, anyway? Frosted coral lipstick? I don’t know why you even need a new dress. The one you wore to your first wedding was gorgeous.”

 *

“Purple and lavender? You know I don’t wear purple. I simply won’t. It is the colour of mourning. But then again, I am in mourning over this marriage.” (sniff sniff)

 *

“Cupcakes? Really Donna. I know money is tight, but that’s going too far.”

 *

“This reception hall is in a very rough part of town. No one is going to dare to go to the reception! Afraid their cars will get nicked. Pick someplace else.”

 *

“You can afford an open bar, but you are serving frozen starters from Tesco. You haven’t even hired a proper caterer.”

 *

“You are going to need more fairy lights to brighten up this dismal reception hall. At least you found a location in a safe part of town. But I can’t see my hand in front of my—“

“I. Have. Had. ENOUGH! I don’t want your help. And I certainly don’t need it!“

“But darling, it’s only three months away! And I have so much to do!”

“I am taking care of everything, and am doing a bloody good job of it, too.”

oOo

“Donna Noble, you will not sign that contract. She has no experience! The flowers will be a disgrace. I will not have my garden club friends gossiping because you carried a bouquet of food-colouring-dyed pink carnations! If you choose Rosie’s Posie’s, I’m withdrawing my support of your marriage.”

“Your support? What do you mean by support? You’re not the one shelling out the money for my wedding! Lee and I are paying for it! And as for support, you supported Lance. Even after you found out that he was a two-timing, cheating arse! You got angry with me after he left me at the altar! Support my third foot.”

“Lance has ambition! He’s going places! I saw him at the market the other day. No ring on his finger, Donna. There’s still a chance. Call him. Apologise.”

“Apologise for what? For not inviting him to the reception?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re making the mistake of your life. Lee owns a fishing tackle shop. No one goes fishing anymore. Do you really think there is a future in tying flies?”

“Lee is a good man and we love each other, and I’m getting married whether you support me or not!”

Donna squinted at her mother, and with a toss of her glorious ginger hair, signed the florist’s contract, even adding a smiley-face at the end of her name.

Sylvia stood slowly. “Goodbye Donna.” She sniffed. “Come and see me sometime, maybe when you’ve decided to stop being so hurtful.” The blonde woman gathered her things, wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, and quietly left her daughter’s flat.

Rose Tyler, the forgotten third person in the room, cleared her throat. “Right. Um, thanks. We can go over the details when you’re ready. Why don’t you call me—“

“No. We’ll do it now, Rose. Your designs are exquisite. First thing I want to order: a food-colouring-dyed Carnation corsage for my mother-of-the-bridezilla.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and then she snorted a laugh.

oOo

“I forbid you to hire that person, Donna Noble. That man is a farce! He isn’t even a professional photographer! He’s a professor! You’ll regret it every time you open your wedding album and all you see are 1970’s starbursts on the candle flames and out of focus pictures with half of your face cut off. And his idea of creativity is probably photoshopping you with angel wings in a field of stars, being he’s an astronomy teacher. What a useless degree that is. If you hire Professor Smyth, I’m withdrawing my support of your marriage.”

“Again with the support. Jonathan is brilliant. He’s a genius. He’s photographed the weddings of royalty!”

“Ha! Queen Victoria’s great-great grandniece twice removed doesn’t count as royalty. You’ve only chosen him because he’s your employer. He’s told you he’ll fire you if you don’t hire him, hasn’t he?”

“No! And I’m not hiring him. It’s his wedding gift.”

“Well, you’d be better off if he bought you towels.”

oOo

“So, what do you think, then?” Rose asked. “Is this what you were thinking of?”

“Rose, these designs are perfect! It’s like you can read my mind. And you’re sure you can do this for the contracted price?”

“Yeah. I have a great supplier. Now, it’s possible that I won’t be able to get the Lily of the Valley. Sometimes it’s scarce, but I have a backup plan. I’m going to force Paperwhite Narcissus. They’ll be gorgeous with the purple crocus and lavender hyacinth. But the purple and white tulips will be the centerpiece of your bouquet. Would you like any iris?”

“Whatever you come up with will be perfect.”

Rose blushed and bit her lip. “Thanks for giving me a chance, Donna, this being my first wedding job and all. Who recommended me?”

“My boss bought me an arrangement a while back. I remembered it.”

“What did it look like?”

“Yellow roses, daisies, and chrysanthemums in a yellow smiley-face mug.”

“I remember that order. The mug was delivered to my shop with instructions to make an arrangement that matched. That he had a friend that needed a cheer-up.”

Donna smiled wistfully. “That was right after the Lance… thing. And yeah, it did cheer me up. It’s my favourite mug.”

Rose gently squeezed Donna’s arm. “From what you’ve said, good riddance, yeah? Lee is just about perfect.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

oOo

“Anything special you’d like? Any particular shots?”

“I have a list of all of the standard group shots, but mainly we want to remember our day in a more casual way. Candids.”

“Good. That’s what I like to shoot best. Well, stars are my favourite thing to photograph, of course. How about a few pictures outside? There’s going to be a full moon that night.”

“Sounds perfect.”

oOo

Rose parked as close to the church as she could manage, but it was still several hundred feet away. Her boot, the back seat, and the front of her red VW Beetle were jam-packed with flowers. She wasn’t wearing her usual work clothes — jeans, trainers, and a t-shirt. She and Donna had struck up a friendship, and Donna had invited her to the wedding. Rose almost lost her balance as the heels of her precarious stilettos dug into the gravel of the church yard. “Shoulda brought trainers,” she grumbled as she picked up the first flat of arrangements — the boutonnieres and corsages.

“Oh! Let me help!” called a friendly voice.

“Thanks. I’m running a bit late. Got stuck behind a crash on the way and traffic was backed up for miles. How do you know Donna?”

“She’s my assistant. You know, I ordered flowers from you for Donna a while back.”

“Thanks for that. Donna hired me because of you. What’s your name again?”

“Jonathan Smyth.”

“Hello Jonathan. I’m Rose Tyler. Since you offered, I’m going to put you to work.”

oOo

“Donna, I take back everything I said about Rosie’s Posies. She did a lovely job. Now where’s my corsage.”

She presented her mother with a white box.

“Why’s this box so big?” Sylvia asked as she lifted the lid. “What in blazes is this abomination?”

“You did say you were expecting dyed carnations. Rose’s assistant left the flowers in the purple dye too long and they’re almost black. We’ll call it aubergine.”

“I refuse to wear this hideous thing! It’s six inches across! It’ll block my face!”

“No no no! You don’t pin it to your dress. It’s a wristlet! See?”

“It looks like a ruffled Frisbee. Ridiculous.” Sylvia sneered as she pinched the enormous corsage with her fingertips as if it were a dirty nappy.

“Go on then, put it on. I want to see how it looks. I designed it myself.” Donna grinned.

“No. I refuse.” Sylvia tipped her nose into the air.

“It’s my wedding, and you’ll wear the bloody wristlet.”

“I’m withdrawing my support.”

“Support or no support, it’s my wedding. Put the thing on.”

Sylvia hissed as she slipped the enormous floral accessory onto her wrist.

oOo

Jonathan hid outside of the doorway, trying to contain his laughter as he set the camera to slow burst, taking shot after shot. He heard someone else laughing behind him.

“Did Donna really ask for that flower thing for her mother?”

“Donna’s takin’ the mick. I have the real one. She’s gonna give it to her mum right before Sylvia’s ushered to her seat. Isn’t it hideous?”

He grinned at her. “I think it’s absolutely brilliant.” He made a funny little happy noise. “Has Sylvia been difficult to work with?”

“Difficult? There’s no word that describes how difficult. She’s the mother-of-the-bride version of a bridezilla.”

“She gave me a list of about 500 formal family photo configurations. Mother with daughter, mother in chair. Mother with bride and bride in chair. Father and mother with bride, bride in chair holding her flowers in her lap. And then without flowers in her lap. Mother with bride’s flowers. Bride sitting on the steps with bridesmaid’s flowers ‘pillowed’ around her feet. Pillowed. How do you pillow flowers. Wouldn’t be very comfortable to sleep on,” he whinged. “And don’t get me started on the cousins, aunts, uncles, step uncles, step aunts, half cousins, and then Lee’s family and all of those iterations.” He pinched the bridge his nose.

Rose picked at her already-chipped pink nail polish. “I’m done with the flowers. I could, I don’t know, help round up and arrange the people? You did help me set up the flowers, after all.”

“I’d love that. Thank you, Rose Tyler.”

oOo

Jonathan’s pointer finger was sore. It was ten pm, and the dancing was still going in full force, thanks to the unlimited drinks being pouring liberally by the bartender.

“Jonathan, I think you’ve taken enough photos,” Donna said kindly.

“Can never be too thorough. I don’t want you to miss a single moment.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t forget one thing about this wedding.” She snorted a laugh. “Don’t know that my mum is ever going to forgive me for that corsage. It was pretty awful, wasn’t it?”

“Donna, it was perfect.”

“Ha! Serves her right, saying all of those awful things about you and Rose.” She took a sip of champagne. “She did like the real one though. Doubt she’ll ever forgive me.” Donna took another sip of champagne. “So, what do you think of Rose?”

“She’s very talented.”

“Bloody right, she is. Started that florist business all on her own. You know how much I loved those flowers you gave me. How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Yelp. Read the reviews. One review stood out, though. Can’t go wrong with the username Old-Man-With-a-Telescope.”

“Hold on. That’s Grandad’s email address. I set it up for him so he could email those star pictures he takes through his telescope. What a coincidence.”

“There are no coincidences, Donna Noble.”

“Come to think of it, he brought me a bouquet of flowers after Lance,” she mused. “Must’ve bought ‘em from Rose.”

Jonathan squinted and looked off in the distance. “His name is Wilf, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew I recognized him from somewhere. It’s been niggling at me all night. He’s been coming to my planetarium shows for years! Always asks the best questions! Emails me his pictures from that email address.”

“That seals it. You were destined to meet Rose. Now why don’t you go and ask her for a dance.”

“I think that is a brilliant idea.”

She yawned. “Oh, Lee is back from saying goodbye to his family. Time to head out. Please. No pictures. I want to sneak away. Would rather avoid another confrontation with Sylvia.” She snorted.

“That won’t do, Donna! You want to remember your clandestine getaway, don’t you?”

Donna pulled her friend into a hug. “Jonathan, thank you. For everything. For putting up with my mother, for the gift. For being a great friend. And for being a great boss.”

“Donna Noble. You are brilliant. Now go. I’ll create a diversion. See you in two weeks.”

“Two? I only scheduled help for one week.”

“I’ve already arranged a temp. And the break is paid.”

oOo

It was the last dance, and Jonathan and Rose were the only couple left. Her shoes were off, she was leaning on his shoulder, almost asleep. They weren’t really dancing so much as swaying in place to a slow song — Frank Sinatra singing The Way You Look Tonight. It wasn’t really a romantic moment — more a mutual sigh of relief.

“You really do have a way with flowers,” Jonathan complimented.

“I suppose I was destined to work with flowers, given my name and all.”

“You could do anything and be fantastic at it, I think. And speaking of destiny, how’s this… Donna’s grandfather, Wilf, bought Donna flowers from your shop after her fortuitous breakup with that wholly unacceptable Lance bloke. I wanted to buy her flowers, too, so I Yelped, and found your shop. I read a frankly glorious review — and it turns out it was written by Donna’s Grandad. So I sent Donna flowers, and she was so impressed that she hired you to do her wedding. And here I am. And here you are.”

“Mmmm hmmm. Here we are,” she said contentedly. Beginning of a beautiful friendship, I think. I think we should collaborate again.”

“Oh, I do believe that’ll happen sooner than you think.”

oOo

“Donna Noble-McAvoy! These pictures are completely unacceptable! How in the world did that amateur photographer think it was even remotely appropriate to include that florist in almost every single picture! And look at this album! It’s absolutely hideous! It’s for a five year old! My Little Pony…” She slammed the album shut. “I demand that you ask for your money back!”

Donna snorted a laugh. “Mother, you are just too easy. You really need to learn how to take a joke. Here.” She handed an elegant white leather album to her mother. “Here’s the real one.”

Sylvia opened the book with a disdainful sniff. But then her face softened. “Donna… You’re beautiful. Oh, my baby girl.” She pulled her daughter in a hug, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

#ten x rose #Lee x donna #wedding au #sylvia noble #crack #fluff #i wrote this #ficandchips #pre romance

[louhilainen]

Better late than never, chapter 2.

It’s finally done! I took so long with this chapter. There will be third chapter, then the story is finished. I hope you enjoy!

****************

His birthday had started promisingly enough. His first chore, well, to Jakob it was more like a privilege, was to cook Lady Corrin breakfast and serve it to her. Corrin had wished him happy birthday and asked him to come to the mess hall at dinner time. “Don’t come to the mess hall after lunch!” She smiled mysteriously while sipping her tea.

He had decided this would the perfect opportunity to catch up some patching of lady Corrin’s clothes. He had been going at it for few hours in the solitude of his room, when he had noticed he was running out of thread. Making his way to the storage room, he had run into Prince Takumi on corridor who asked Jakob to help with his archery training. Corrin’s request to help his brother whenever he could flashed in Jakob’s mind, so he accepted reluctantly. Once again, he was made a sitting duck while that spoiled prince shot apples that were at the top of his head! Thank the gods he did not miss. When Hoshidon prince had finally had enough training, the camp was flooded with wounded from the scout mission. There were few gravely injured, so Princess Elise and Sakura tended on them. He and Felicia had healed the rest. Although Jakob was used to smell of blood after many battles, he didn’t enjoy hearing his allies’ moans of agony. When everybody was finally healed and were resting or sleeping quietly, he was exhausted both mentally and physically. After changing into clean clothes and washing his face and hands, Jakob wobbled toward the mess hall. Dinner time was long gone. I hope she’s still there.

The mess hall seemed completely vacant by quick glance, nothing but rows of clean tables and chairs. Jakob walked to the desk of the mess hall. One of the tables nearby had been prepared for two diners: cutleries, napkins, a glass bottle of water and glasses were placed neatly ready for late diners.

He saw a head of his mistress peeping from kitchen.

“Oh, you are finally here!” Corrin gave him a radiant smile.

It was very strange to see Lady Corrin in the kitchen. Corrin, being royalty had many demanding responsibilities so she did not have mundane duties like the low-ranked members of the army. Has she really cooked something for us? When did she learn how to do that?

“My apologises for being late, Lady Corrin”

“It’s alright. I heard what happened, are you okay?”

“No need to worry, milady, I’m just a little tired. I take it there is a dinner for us?” Feeling hungry after a long day, he hoped that was certainly the case.

“That’s right, I have prepared something for us to have!”

Seeing Jakob’s surprised look she laughed. “Of course, since I have never cooked I asked other members of our army to help and I must say I am very pleased with the results! Wait just a moment, I’ll fetch it from the kitchen.” With that she disappeared to the kitchen.

Butler was surprised to say the least, but at the same time he was flattered that Lady Corrin had taken time from her busy schedule for him. He felt his cheeks go warm. She’s just doing it because he likes me as a butler, don’t think too deeply into it!

Then the scent reached his nostrils’. The scent of something that Jakob had deemed a long time ago absolutely disgusting and repulsive.

Corrin returned from the kitchen carrying a silver dish with a round lid. “Thank you for waiting!” She put the plate middle of the table with cutleries and raised the lid. “It’s a pie! And not just any pie, it’s made from mushrooms! Your favourite!”

Jakob could only stare in shock, his appetite completely vanished. On the plate was the source of the disgusting smell. Greasy looking, round pie. Stuffed with mushrooms, which he rejected and despised with all his being.

Corrin did not seem to notice Jakob’s horrified stare. “Remember that time I gave you some of my mushrooms? You ate them so eagerly and even told me how you loved mushrooms more than anything, so I decided that a meal with them would be the perfect way to celebrate your birthday!”

He remembered all too well. The servants did not usually eat together with Corrin, but Corrin had insisted it just this once since she was tired eating alone all the time. Gunther had given in but only if she practised her table manners. They had mushrooms for starters. Corrin had never tasted them before, but she wolfed them down heartily. Jakob made a comment of them looking very delicious out from politeness. He did not expect Corrin happily offering a half of her mushrooms to him. Jakob had no heart to actually say the truth so his lady shoved mushrooms into his plate with a big grin on her face. Gunther had scolded Corrin. “Corrin, it’s not good manners to share your meal with other diners. If your siblings saw this they would most certainly be astounded!” He ate his mushrooms reluctantly, careful not to make his disgust show on his face. To this day, Corrin still did not know that Jakob had no love for mushrooms.  

Jakob tried to collect himself. “Yes, I remember, Lady Corrin. It looks very delicious.”

Corrin noticed butler’s weird tone of voice and turned her head to Jakob. “What’s the matter Jakob? You don’t look too well.”

“Oh, I’m just so touched that you would actually remember such a detail about my preferences.” Jakob said quickly to hide his discomfort. I can’t believe she actually remembered that, of all the things. It happened years ago.

Corrin gave him a flash of smile and sat down and gestured Jakob to the same. Butler sat the opposite of Corrin trying his hardest not to start puking near the pie.

“Here let me do it this time! It’s your birthday after all!” Corrin giggled and cut a very generous slice for him and put it on plate. She placed the plate in front of Jakob.

Trying not to gulp, Jakob took the fork and the knife to his hands. He carefully and slowly cut a small piece, trying to delay the inevitable. He could see a bit of mushroom peeping from the piece innocently. Dusk Dragon, give me strength… Jakob put the fork into his mouth, took it off, leaving the bit on his mouth. He bit few times and swallowed.

“Well, what do you think?” Corrin asked curiously.

Jakob smiled despite the horrid taste in his mouth. “Delicious. Oh, do I love mushrooms…”

“I’m so happy you like it! I know you pretty well, don’t I?” Corrin looked happy with herself.

“I commend your knowledge of me, milady.”

Jakob had never seen his mistress so happy over something so silly. She had taken time for him, even though she had millions of more important things to do. She had wanted to surprise him with her present. He could never tell her the truth that her thoughtful present was actually his worst culinary nightmare.

A plan began to form in his mind. A plan which would allow him not to ruin the present his mistress had so graciously given him and not to eat the goddamn pie any more than he had to.

They started to eat. Corrin seemed to truly like the pie, as she chewed her slice with her eyes closed. Jakob bit the small pieces he had cut as little as he could and tried to swallow them without tasting or feeling mushrooms’ slimy form too much. Even though he hasn’t had any meal but a breakfast on the whole day, it didn’t make mushrooms any less distasteful. He didn’t know which was worse, eating nothing but mushrooms or a mushroom pie. At least when eating just mushrooms he knew what was coming. Eating the pie, he dreaded every bit he put in his mouth. After eating almost half of the piece Jakob decided to put his plan to action. His plan to deceive Lady Corrin.

Jakob put the fork and knife down politely to show he was done and wiped his mouth with napkin.

Corrin noticed Jakob finishing. ”Jakob, are you ill after all? You barely had one slice!”

This is it! ”Oh, I guess I’m just not too hungry. Forgive me for not saying this earlier, but I actually had something to eat not too long ago.” Butler lied swiftly.  

“Hmm… is that so?” Corrin looked perplexed.                      

”Yes, even if I like mushrooms, it’s impossible for me to eat them after having an early dinner a while ago. But I will gladly take the pie with me to my room. I can eat it when I feel hungry.” This was his plan. To take the pie with him and then dispose it as quickly as possible. Maybe feed it to Effie.

“But that’s impossible, Jakob.” She said after a while in cold voice that was rare for her.

“I take your pardon, Lady Corrin? Why I could not take the pie with me?” Jakob asked confused.

Princess shook her head. ”I didn’t mean that. I know you were busy with your tasks the whole day. There’s no way you had time to eat anything.”

Jakob panicked at the truth. “Wh- what makes you say that?”

Corrin explained calmly looking directly into Jakob’s eyes. “Takumi came earlier to the mess hall and said you were helping him with training for a pretty good time, only little breaks in between. I wanted to make sure you would have an appetite for the pie, so I asked Felicia if both of you had had time to eat while tending to the wounded. She said that both of you were so busy with the healing you barely had time to even sit down.”

”Er, that is…”                                                                          

”Jakob, tell me the truth. Could be it that you don’t actually like mushrooms?” Corrin said firmly, but not unkindly.

“Of course not! I love them!”

“Jakob, you do know you don’t have to force yourself for my sake, right?” She said crossing her arms.

There was no running anymore. “Oh, if you must know. The truth is… I am not very fond of… mushrooms.” Jakob admitted with his head tilted like a child caught in a lie.

“Very fond of? You couldn’t even eat one slice.” Corrin asked a bit amused.

“Well, I suppose that is an understatement. I can’t honestly stand mushrooms at all. There is nothing in them I like.”

“But why did you ever tell me you loved them, if you actually can’t stand them?” She did not look angry but puzzled.

“That’s because milady loved them so much. When you offered share some with me, I couldn’t hurt your feelings and offend you by stating the truth.”

Corrin stared at her butler “So when we were younger, you just ate whole bunch of them for my sake? Oh Jakob, you never cease to amaze me how much you take care of me…” She burst into laughter.

“That is both my duty and my privilege.” He was relieved that his mistress did not seem upset with him.

“Well, I’m sorry, Jakob. I guess I don’t know you that well after all.” Corrin’s laugh stopped and corners of her mouth went down. “I wanted only to show you appreciation for everything you have done for me and for this army, but I ended up only troubling you.” She looked down on her plate, remains of her slice still left.

Jakob could not stand his mistress looking so crestfallen. “Please, Lady Corrin, I know you had best intentions in mind. In fact, I am very grateful to you from the bottom of my heart that you would take such lengths for my sake.  So thank you, Lady Corrin for doing all of this for my sake. It’s more than I deserve.”

She seemed loss at his words. Corrin started to open her mouth but closed it quickly. Jakob looked at his mistress in wonder. Lady Corrin…?

“Well, even if the main dish is not edible, I still have desert left.” Princess stated briskly “You… don’t hate fruits, do you?” She asked apprehensively.

“I don’t, I’m very fond of them. This time I’m telling the truth.”

At last a smile returned to Corrin’s face. “At least I got that right! I’ll get them!” She rose from the table.

“Please, milady. Allow me to get them. I am still hungry, so I will prepare myself something while I’m on it.” Jakob rose from the table and left for the kitchen.

He found sausages and bread in the pantry. That went better than I imagined. Although I hate to disappoint Lady Corrin like that. He placed his loot on a plate and took it and the bowl of fruits with him, returning to the table. Corrin was waiting for him in a silence.

Jakob started to eat his much more edible meal while Corrin took one of the oranges in her hand and started to peel it.

“Milady, you really should not do that.” It was not proper for a master to peel a fruit for her servant.

“Oh, Jakob, let me at least do this today.”

Jakob sighed. “If you wish it so, milady.” Butler decided to let it go, it was his birthday after all. Some leeway could be acceptable within reasons.

Butler watched princess peeling oranges and decided to ask about her previous behaviour. “Milady, a moment ago, did you have something on your mind you wanted to say?”

“Well, it’s a long story. It’s a reason I wanted to do this.” She said while staring at the orange.

“Please tell me.” Jakob put his fork and knife down. He had not finished his meal, but wanted to give his all attention to his mistress.

Corrin put the now peeled orange from her hands. ”Alright.” Her gaze was in distance. “You do know when I was kidnapped, I lost my memory and was sent to the Northern Fortress? Gunther and other servants took care of me and my siblings paid me a lot visits. But I was so young. I felt so lonely, being an only child in that dark place.”

He knew about her past before he came to work as a servant in the Northern Fortress. Lady Corrin had been isolated from his adopted siblings a good portion of her life. At such a young age, it must have been undoubtedly too much for her. His heart broke thinking the loneliness she had to endure.

“It must have been hard for you, milady.” Jakob said compassionately.

Corrin nodded. “Yes it was. Luckily for my sake, you arrived one day.”

Wait, did she say… luckily for her sake?

“Remember the other servants were so horrible, they wanted to throw you out because you weren’t very competent as a servant? I wanted to have someone near my own age to play with me so I begged them to allow you to stay. I was so happy Gunther finally gave in!” Corrin gave a beautiful smile, which made Jakob’s heart beat faster. “I know after that you worked very hard just to become my butler. While you kept me company… I was not so lonely anymore. You don’t know how much it meant for me to have you there.” A light blush appeared on her face.

“…Lady Corrin.” Corrin had sometimes said something like that in passing, but never this directly.

“Although I could not leave the castle, having you and later Felicia, Flora and Lilith, made it so much for bearable. You guys are my second family, or third I guess…” She giggled. ”Even after leaving the fortress, that has not changed. You are always there for me, whenever I need you, Jakob.” Corrin blushed smiling.

Jakob could not think anything to say, so he just stared back.                                              

“That’s why I wanted to do something for you this time, to show you appreciation for being with me all these years. But I guess that did not work out like I expected.” She gave a small laugh.

Jakob made his decision. This is my change. “Lady Corrin. I had no idea you felt this strongly. Since today is my birthday, may I ask a gift that only you can give?”

“Please tell me. I want to know if there is anything I can do for you.”

“Allow me to me by your side as your butler and a friend from now on as well. As I eased your loneliness, you kindness saved me. If you had not stepped in, I would be dead or Dusk Dragon knows where. By saving me you gave me a purpose when I had lost hope finding happiness ever again. That’s why being allowed to be your butler is the best gift you could ever bestow on me.” This way, I will always be near Lady Corrin.

Corrin had listened attentively and when he finished she looked him in wonder. ”That’s your wish? That is so much like you, Jakob.” She burst into a merry laughter. “I will be counting on you like always. To be truthful, I could not imagine my life without you anymore! So, thank you Jakob, for being born.” Corrin’s flush returned to her cheeks.

”I… think this the happiest day of my life.” The long day without nourishment and Corrin’s genuine praise took their toll. Jakob felt himself go weaker. Lady Corrin thanking me for just existing… It’s too much…

“Wait, Jakob, don’t you dare to faint! Jakob!” Corrin cried out and jump from the chair.

It was too late. Jakob’s body started to fall towards to the floor, but Corrin jumped quickly to his side and caught his upper body before he fall to the stone floor. Sighing from relief, she pushed his body with ease back to the chair. Corrin looked at her butler’s face, his head now hanging with eyes closed. His hair had gone messy from the fall. She pushed his hair back gently with her right hand while supporting his weight with her left. Her hand moved down to Jakob’s cheek. She caressed it softly with her knuckles. ”Happy birthday, Jakob.” She whispered.

*****************

I think this is an improvement from the first chapter, but my writing is still not at the level I would like it to be. I have a long way ahead of me....

All kinds of comments are most welcome!

#jokamu #joker fire emblem #kamui fire emblem #corrin fire emblem #fire emblem jakob #fire emblem fates fanfic #Being Jakob is suffering #Jakob fainting lol

[writingrosesandcoffee]

The Princess and the Wizard (Part 2)

Title: The Princess and the Wizard Author: Nesma A/N: Still writing. Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-&-

"So, how was our walking date?" Petunia asked as she walked into my bedroom. Immediately kicking off her black ballet flats, dropping her tan leather bag on the floor along with her black jacket, before throwing herself on my bed.

"It was good. We read you spent a lot of time getting the books and food items that you forgot to bring." I said, putting my book down and uncurling myself in the arm chair nearest my bed. "I also got to know one of the newest security members of my team," I said, wiggling my eyebrows a bit at Petunia.

"Oh yeah? Which one? The one with the long black hair? He's quite fit." Petunia said, perking up in my bed. She rested her head on her hands as she stared at me with excitement.

I snorted. "No, that's Sirius by the way. I got to know James, the one with the messy black hair-"

"Oh. That one?" Petunia asked, her face immediately scrunching up into a look of disgust. Which, I took offence too. So, Petunia and I did not share the same views as far as attractive men but James was certainly attractive.

I mean, first, he looked like he was in shape. Though he was wearing a jacket, it did seem that he had toned arms and his shirt did fit him quite nicely. Then, there is jet black hair and hazel eyes. Nothing makes me swoon as much as the combination of dark haired men with light eyes. Always a combination that I am fascinated with (and I tend to go after those guys considering my dating history). Then, there is the small detail that James has dimples. Cute little dimples that would make any girl want to grab his face and litter it with small little kisses. Because dimples are dimples.

Of course, would I even dare share all of these thoughts with Petunia? Of course not. The girl is actually attracted to someone who looks like he is a human bull of some sort (very large, though Petunia claims he's strong). He has basically no neck (which I guess means opposites attract since Petunia has double the neck). And, he has blonde hair and brown eyes – actually, this part isn't terrible. But he's always so serious and plain and no jokes whatsoever.

"I think James looks nice. To each their own after all." I said calmly. Which, I thought was a much more diplomatic line rather than saying, 'I think James is much fitter than Vernon so there.'

"Whatever. Is he like Kingsley with a million and one degrees?" Petunia asked, rolling onto her back and staring up at my canopy.

"Actually… I'm not sure. I know James went to school with Kingsley at some point but it is unclear when that happened." I said, twisting my strand of hair as I tried hard to remember if James said anything about his past.

"Mysterious background. That's probably why you think he's fit." Petunia said suggestively.

"I don't think he's fit, well, not like that at least," I mumbled, standing up and walking towards my desk. I started to shuffle some papers around, even though no organisation was really needed as a slight blush started to creep on my face.

"Oh come on, please tell me that you've moved on from Robert," Petunia said movements could be heard in her direction as I turned around to face her. "He was honestly such a bore and a jerk." Petunia said, crossing her arms.

I rolled my eyes at her. "I know. I dated the bloke, remember? Believe me, there is nothing that makes me want to date him." I said with a sense of finality as I shoved some random pieces of paper into a drawer.

And I was telling the truth. After all, I had no interest in really seeing Robert. Though, that was impossible since he did go to a majority of the social events that my family does. You see, Robert is a fine guy. He's attractive, at least to me, and I can have a good time with him. We like to talk about History a lot. But, he has this streak of arrogance that makes him so unappealing. And this nasty quality in which he could only talk about himself. Which meant the relationship ended rather swiftly (four months). Which was a record for my shortest relationship, while my longest was for a year or so.

"Good. Just making sure." Petunia said as she stood up from my bed. "I suppose I better make an appearance in front of my own security team. Let them know I am alive and all." She said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder as she collected her items.

"I'll walk with you. I need to pick some things up in your room anyways." I said, standing up and walking with Petunia on her side as we left my room. Though, nearly immediately after ten seconds that we left the room, James was at my side.

"Do you mind if I talk to you miss? For a moment?" James said, fretting a bit as my sister gave him a once over glance. Giving Petunia a small smile, and a pat on her shoulder, she waltzed off.

"Of course, what would you like to talk about?" I asked, putting my hands behind my back as James' hand went through his hair.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier, it was quite impolite and disgusting how I talked you-" James said quickly, his breaths coming in short.

"Ah, so you realised your walkie talkie transmitted sound both ways?" I said innocently, smiling at him as his hand dropped from his hair and his jaw went slacked. Chuckling to myself, I put out my hand.

"Can I see your walkie?" I said, and James gave me a suspicious look as he started to fumble with the electronic on his belt. I don't blame the guy, I did after all, perhaps, land him in some serious trouble with Kingsley.

After thrusting the small black box in my hand, I peered at the side and flipped a switch before handing it back to him.

"There. Now you can hear what's going on from their end, but they won't be able to hear us so you can speak candidly." I said and James took the device from my hand and peered at his closely. "How do I know I can trust you?" He asked, putting the device back into his belt holder.

"Well, the fact that I did just show you a nifty trick on your device should soothe you soul." I said sweetly, tilting my head as James' eyebrows raised.

"Yes, but you nearly got me fired-" He said, cooly. I rolled my eyes at such an atrociously false comment.

"No. I didn't." I said quietly, fixing my eyes on him. He took a step back as if he was aware of what I was going to say next. "You nearly got yourself fired." Jabbing my finger at his chest as he stared down at it dumbly. "It is hardly my fault that you were so bold, so arrogant as to think that you could talk to me like that without turning off your walkie." I said roughly because I had an entire country blaming me (well, my family) for the poor state of affairs in this country.

Adding James Potter to the mix? No, thank you.

"Besides," I said quickly, flipping my hair to the side as I crossed my arms, "I hardly doubt that Kingsley would ever fire you-"

"We are talking about the same Kingsley, right? Big man, huge muscles? Looks like he eats ten of me for a snack?" James asked in a panic way, exaggerating his body measurements as I laughed as his impressions.

"Yes, yes we are. But I still stand by what I said, he won't fire you in a million years." I said simply.

"What makes you so sure?" James asked hotly, crossing his arms over his chest as I leant back on the wall behind me with his eyes squinting down on me.

"Well, for starters, you don't have the exact military or educational requirements that Kingsley desires in his security team. Nor do you seem to have the personality type that Kingsley wants in his security team." I stated as James face's eyes went wide, as his arms went slightly slack as if I had punched him in the stomach.

I was never one to shield from the truth.

"But," I lowered my voice a bit for this, causing James to lean in a bit, "But-you clearly possess something that impresses Kingsley. And that's not a small feat." I said kindly, grinning at him as a hard-line set in on his face.

"Really? Because I pissed him off twice today. Once for when you stumbled on me and I acted like a complete fool and the second because I talked to you in an improper way." James gave a sigh as he shifted his weight, his hand going to his hair again. "I feel completely out of my element here and I'm starting to realise that the learning curve is quite steep. And I probably shouldn't be saying any of these things to you. I mean, I know how to protect you and I have gone through the training necessary for this job… it's just the politics I'm struggling." James said, running a hand through his hair again as he took a few steps away from me.

I frowned a bit at this. It's not that anything he said worried me, after all, I did completely trust Kingsley choices. It's just… how often does someone grow up in England without knowing any real knowledge of the royal family? With the number of products out there with my face and the news coverage of our every movement… there have only been a few people who I've met who were completely oblivious to my status. But they recognised my name. And James? It seemed like he had no idea the power of the Evans name.

"You're doing fine. Besides, I thought it was part of training to learn the history of our family and politics?" I ventured, and James froze for a second-his hand back in his hair and his glasses almost tittering off of his nose.

"Yes. Usually, that is part of training, but Kingsley was very eager to have us join the team. Something about us having dashing good looks if I recall correctly." James said, his shoulders relaxing as he gave me a red carpet smile.

And usually, because of the dimples, I would have been swayed with such a smile and laugh, maybe even placing a well-thought hand on his shoulder. However, that is not at all what I did. I went back to leaning against the wall and stared down at the floor thoughtfully. After all, why was their training compromised? What was so important to have them join the team that Kingsley threw the training manual out the window?

After a few seconds, I brought my gaze up and gave James a wide smile, the photo-ready smile. And with the smile finally reaching his eyes, it was clear that he bought my confidence. "Huh, interesting theory. But I do suspect that he hired you because of your skill, you're not that pretty." I said, giving him my own wink as he chuckled along.

"Right. Well, I do apologise for any inconvenience… I'll behave better in the future."

"There's no need to though." I said and James stopped in his tracks as he gave me another wide-eyed look, his jaw slightly slacked. "I mean, uh, well, not as it may imply… but I shockingly like talking to you. I wouldn't mind a few rounds of conversations with you." I said bluntly, my cheeks heating up and praying to God that it was the cute pink cheeks versus the flaming fire that splashed across my face.

James gave me a smile, one with dimples. "Consider it done." He said, giving me a small wink as he sauntered off, his hands went to the walkie talkie and a switch was turned on. My heart thumped a bit more than usual, but then again, perhaps that wasn't so strange.

-&-

"Right, what do we have for the next few weeks?" I asked, as I finally plummeted to bed that night. My lazy pyjamas were on, too big and worn far too often, while Petunia sat like an angelic faerie at the end of my bed.

She raised her eyebrows, "Do you mean as far as social events this coming month? Or as far as dates with Vernon?" She asked, pulling a strand behind her ear.

"Both." I said, lying back on my pillows as a small, secretive smile spread across her face. Which would mean that we would be discussing her calendar with Vernon first.

"Well, for the next two days, there is nothing so we can actually work out together. But then, on Thursday, we're hoping to get another walk in so we'll be 'reading' outside again-"

"Lovely." I murmured, as I fiddled with the bed spread in front of me, trying not to fall asleep at the utter boredom of my sister's love life. Petunia simply ignored my moody tone as she continued to ramble on about her calendar.

"Then, this week is a mad house at all the events we have to be at, where the only thing we need to do is just be there. Oh, and we have an interview coming up in a few weeks-"

"Oh, gosh, I'm so good at those." I said, giving a sigh as Petunia gave me a hard look, "We'll practice this time. Extra hard, I promise."

"Okay, then what?" I asked, as Petunia put a hand to her chin as a look of concentration washed over her.

"Oh – we do have a meeting the Malfoy family." She said and I gave her a look of confusion. Because, first, what kind of name is Malfoy? There are, admittedly, a lot of odd names in this country. Though, I had never heard of a Malfoy. And if they were meeting us, that must mean that they were extremely well connected. And I had no memory of ever meeting a family named the Malfoy.

"I know. I didn't know them either, and I couldn't find out too much about them when I tried to research them. They must be relatively new on the social scene. Kinda surprised that they were able to get a meeting with us though so soon." Petunia said as she shrugged her shoulders as I scrunched up my face.

"When are we meeting with them?" I asked, putting my own hair up in a pony tail.

"At the start of next month, so four weeks or so." Petunia said as she leant back on the bed post.

"Odd. Alright, do we need to prepare anything?"

"I think it's just a formality? Like, congratulations for unlocking level royalty in the social networking of England, please collect your prize of meeting the princesses." Petunia said in a sarcastic tone and I threw my head back to laugh.

"Well, I do say we are an amazing prize." I said between my laugh as Petunia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, we'll see how it goes. Oh, what did that James bloke want with you?" Petunia asked, her head snapping up to monitor my gaze.

I bit my lip as I twirled a strand of my hair. "Oh, he just wanted to apologise… again for his behaviour today. He may have crossed a line. I can't tell yet." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Did he? What did he say?" Petunia asked, pressing in and I could hardly find the need to tell her the odd conversations of the day.

"Nothing terrible. Only Kingsley would find them scandalous for my pure ears-"

Petunia snorted and I grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked at her head. Luckily for her, since pillows as weapons can be quite deadly, it missed her by a mile. "Oy. That's not a very nice thing to insinuate about the youngest princess."

"I know, but can you imagine how they would react if they knew our lives? Our dating lives especially?" She asked, trying to resist to grin as I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"I'm sure they know some of it…. Hopefully not all of it." I said, as I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. Petunia shrugged as she hopped off the bed.

"Hopefully Kingsley won't be too harsh on him, looked like he was a kicked puppy or something." She said, over her shoulder as she opened the door and slipped out.

For James' sake, I truly hoped his punishment wasn't severe.

-&-

But I had no time to discover how James was reacting to his new role or punishment.

"What is going on?" Petunia whispered frantically in my ear as our car arrived at the hospital that we had to make a visit at.

I looked out at the window. As usual, there were large crowds pushing back against the officials that had been station there. There was lots of yelling, some had signs painted in multiple colours that splashed how much they loved us. There were grinning faces, sobbing faces, and shocked faces. These were the faces I was used to at an event like this.

But a number of the people looked angry. Furious even as they brandished their hateful signs, faces turning a deep red, and I could hear their voices so clearly that I know that they'd be whispering hoarse in a few hours. Eyes were bulging out as I skimmed the signs - mostly declaring justice for the Prewett.

"Angry. Clearly, over the Prewett murder." I muttered, smoothing down my skirt, my hands trembling slightly as I took a quick glance out the window.

"Who?" Petunia asked, her head swivelling around her neck as she tried to read the signs as I heaved a sigh.

"The Prewett. One out of the latest families that have been murdered behind homes that appeared to be locked. It is as if they murdered themselves but… nothing really points to that. The case… it's gruesome." I said, feeling my stomach twist and turn as Petunia gazed thoughtfully out the window, her lips parted slightly as her eyes scanned the crowds.

In honesty, the Prewett murders were one that shook me to my bones. It was a case in which when the police had arrive, everyone was dead. Everyone had a look of absolute horror and pain on their faces. Their bodies had suffered massive internal organ failure before their heart gave out. To put the body under that much stress… it is cruel, to say the least. And if there is someone or something out large, people have the full right to demand that someone steps in to over see it all.

And thus, when got out of the car, we were nearly mobbed by those fighting for the Prewett's right to life.

-&-

The next few days was complete insanity. It was one of those weeks when it was difficult to tell when the day started and when it ended. I had to spend every night with my sister picking out appropriate outfits for the next day. Researching what the tabloids had written about us. Seeing if there were any unflattering photos of us or if there was another essay about our fashion sense.

I was constantly being shoved out in front of cheering crowds, crumbling buildings, newly built buildings, and strictly quiet political settings. It was all completely tiring, that by the middle of the following week, I was looking forward to the solitary walk that I would have with my books as Petunia slipped out to Vernon.

Despite eagerly setting out the blanket and pulling out my books and such, did I notice that Sirius Black was standing nearby at a tree. A nagging worry was tugging within, and I resisted the urge to throw my cares away with an open of a book. Standing up and wiping the debris off of my dress, I wondered over to Sirius who made it a mission not to look at me per say.

"Kingsley didn't give him too much hell?" I asked, crossing my arms as I shifted my weight around as Sirius coughed.

"I don't care if Kingsley or the others can hear this conversation. If you're worried, you can shut it off. I know your mate must have shown you how to turn it off." I said stiffly, as Sirius gave a huge sigh and tugged at the device and flipping the switch.

"Happy?" He asked as he tucked it back into his belt. I staggered a bit as I wasn't used to facing annoyed security guards as he clearly was.

"You didn't answer my question-"

"No, he didn't get into too much trouble. Just extra studying time, how to treat princesses and such." Sirius said sternly, refusing to meet my eyes.

Oh, wonderful. Those manuals are so poorly written (they are updated so often that it's very confusing of how to keep up on them). Also, all the images in there of Petunia and I are very obviously retouched. Like, glaringly retouched and laughable. Then, the cartoons in there are priceless. This isn't too bad of a punishment, James is probably laughing is head off.

"Oh, that's not too bad. Those manuals are dry but hopefully Kingsley will let up on you two."

"Excuse me, but I actually knew how to respond to you when I first met you. I also didn't turn into some blubbering goon-" Sirius rambled as I laughed, cutting him off.

"Oh, stop being so harsh on him, he was nervous." I said, dropping my arms to the side as Sirius eyed me.

"I know he was, he's just a little out of his element. Not used to the whole royalty thing. Lived under this pitiful rock with hermits as parents." Sirius said with wagging eyebrows, causing me to laugh again.

"I mean, I think he'll do fine. Just as long as he stays out of Kingsley's way." I said, before frowning, "Well, actually, if both of you will. Didn't you both get in trouble at school a lot? And probably from Kingsley thanks to his Head Boy duties?" And Sirius smirked as he tossed his long hair back.

"Well, James always relied on my wits and charms to get us out of trouble. They tended to work 100% better on the Head Girl rather than on Kingsley…" Sirius trailed off with a wink and I giggled to myself.

"I can't even imagine someone trying to flirt their way out of trouble with Kingsley." I said, grinning at the thought. The man was always so serious, always so strict, and I doubt that the man ever broke a rule in his life.

"Oh, many tried and many failed." Sirius said wistfully, staring off into the sky as I laughed.

"I have to say, glad that you two still have your job. Though, I'm sure you'd have more fun doing something else. I lead… well, apart from the crazy mobs that want to attack and kiss me, a quiet life." I said, and Sirius grinned.

"The crowds were a little out of control. Especially at the event early this week." He said, his face darkening a bit as I heaved a sigh.

"Well, what could we expect? There was a protest not too far from us about the recent murders. Especially with the Fabian and Gideon Prewett being murdered-"

"You heard about that?" Sirius asked incredulously, his face that was smiles moments ago harden, looking more menacing than welcoming.

I sniffed angrily as I rolled my eyes. It appeared that the only appropriate response to the Prewett murder was to be blissfully unaware as my older sister. Batting my eyes and expressing my deepest sympathies as furious citizens yell for investigation and then casually forgetting the brutality hours later.

Lord forbid that I would know what's actually affecting the country.

"Of course I did. It was all over the news-" I snapped, crossing my arms as I stared at Sirius' bewildered and darkened face; his eyebrows drawn down as his eyes focused solely on mine.

"Your news-" He muttered, glancing slightly to the left before, for the briefest of seconds, flashing an angry look with his lips snarled back, before resuming his brooding look.

"What do you mean my news?" I asked quietly as Sirius' eyes shifted a bit as he shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Sorry, I… I know that not all of the murders were getting the lime light of being written about. I guess I was surprised that you bothered to learn names. I… I'm sorry." Sirius stammered as I gave him an odd glance as he stared directly at the ground, heaving slightly.

"Yeah, well, it's horrible. Twins too, right?" I asked as Sirius stared off into the distance and nodded. His hands were clasped in the front and his shoulders were tense.

"Right, well, not exactly shocking then that the public is angry." I said, trying to shift the topic of the conversation onto something else.

"Yeah, but it's obviously not your fault. Those people are morons." Sirius said bitterly kicking at the ground a bit.

"I suppose. Oh well, have any fun plans tonight after you're done here?" I asked, crossing my arms again as Sirius took a deep breath.

"I have a meeting tonight with James and Kingsley, some security stuff. Maybe go to a pub and grab a drink or two. It's been a long week to be fair." Sirius said, heaving a sigh.

"Drink extra for me, will ya?" I asked, and Sirius grinned.

"Now, that's something that I would never deny." He said and I laughed a bit.

"Say hi to James from me?" I asked, and Sirius gave a small grin. "Of course." He said as I walked back to my blankets and book. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading, focusing on the words and not on the bloodshed taking place in the world.

-&-

Three days later, on another walking date with Petunia, James was the assigned security guard. I gave him a small wave as I set up the blanket and books. Though, it was only a matter of time before I heard the crunching of leaves as James stood at the edge of the blanket.

"I thought I'd tell you hi back." He said, and I looked up at him, shielding my eyes as I stared up at him.

"Excuse me?" I asked as James crouched down.

"Well, you told Sirius to tell me that you said hi. So, I'm saying it back. Hello." He said, grinning as I laughed at his awkward antics. James took this as an invitation to fully sit on my blanket and something in my heart swelled when he did.

"Did you turn it off?" I asked, pointing to the walkie talkie as James nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I did. I am learning rather quickly." James said as I bit my lip.

"How did your meeting go from a few nights ago?" I asked, and snuck a glance at James who wore an expression of shock on his face.

"How did you know about that?"

"Magic. Duh." I said, laughing at my own hilarious joke; though I was the only one since James merely chuckled along before giving me an expectant look.

"Right, well, Sirius told me. It's not top secret now, is it? It's just between you two and Kingsley." I said and James heaved a sigh.

"Something like that. We had others come in, helping with training and such." James said gruffly as he started to pull a bit at the grass.

"Were you two able to go out afterwards? Grab a drink or something? It has been a few hectic days on the job I assume." I said and James laughed a bit.

"Yeah, we did. We couldn't stay very long, though, Sirius did make an utter fool of himself in front of the bartender." James said, grinning at the memory.

I smiled a bit as I leant back on my hands. "Oh yeah? What happened?" I asked as James messed up his hair, a grin forming on his face with my favourite dimples.

"Well, we already had a bit to drink but right before we left, he went straight up to the bartender and told him, 'I need to have an extra drink – it's for Princess Lily. I need to drink extra for her.'" And I started to roar with laughter. After all, how many people drink because of me?

"That sounds great." I said after I gained control of my happiness as James smiled at me.

"It was, the bartender thought he was full of shit of course. I mean, part of our job is never disclosing that we're in fact part of your security team. As I'm sure you know." And nodded, thinking that this was a little extreme but Kingsley, as usually, disagreed.

"Sounds nice." I said, grabbing a book and gripping it closely to my lap as James eyed it.

"Still Jane Austen?" He asked and I nodded, and a proud look spread on James' face.

"You know, I looked it up after you were reading it. She seems to have written a lot of books." He said as if that was supposed to impress me.

I mean, it's Jane Austen. Of course, she's written lots of books! I mean, dear lord, where did this boy go to school if he thought that Jane Austen was this obscure author?

"Uh, yes, I take it you've never read any of her books? Have you seen the films?"

James blinked rapidly, "Uh, there are films? Of her books?" And burst out laughing, placing a hand on his shoulder as I continued to laugh hysterically.

"I'm guessing your parents never really let you watch television or go to the cinemas?" I asked, taking my hand back and wiping my eyes as James eyed the place my hand was previously.

"Well, yeah, of course. I mean, I know what films and cinemas are. Please." James said, scoffing and pretending to look deeply offended as I rolled my eyes.

"I know you do. Otherwise, I'm not sure how you would be functioning in this world here. But yes, Jane Austen is rather famous. Many films have been made based on her stories. I quite like Emma and Pride and Prejudice but that's just me." I said, rambling a bit as James eyed me from the corner of his eyes.

"Perhaps I'll pick up a copy of the books. Or maybe just watch the movie and dazzle you with my knowledge." He said, swiping a hand through his hair as I scoffed and laughed at him. Unsure of how to really respond.

With the other blokes… well, neither of them picked up a Jane Austen novel unless it was required for their literature lessons. And all of them would pick it apart and constantly remind me that she essentially wrote 'chick novels' for her generation and why would we even bother to give her the time of day? This was usually when I would close my eyes, count to ten and try very hard not to shout at them until my throat went hoarse.

But James didn't seem to mind of what Jane Austen wrote. To be fair, it sounded as if he had no idea who Jane Austen was which… well, I had never met someone who didn't have the faintest idea of her.

"Perhaps. We'll see, though." Giving him a small grin before opening my book, James took the hint and stood up. Wiping debris off his pants before taking station further away from me.

I found it rather hard to concentrate on the Bennet sisters that afternoon.

-&-

The next two afternoons, Petunia and I went to the gym for our workouts (considering we had an interview coming up, we thought it would be best to look slightly toned so that when we get the dreaded body question we could at least answer it somewhat truthfully). However, after two gym sessions, we decided a break was in order and Petunia went to visit her boyfriend and I spent my afternoon with my books.

Of course, James was on duty this afternoon. As soon as I settled onto my blankets, I found that his shadow was overcasting me as he stood on the edge; waiting for me to invite him to sit down.

"So, I'm part way through Pride and Prejudice." He stated, crouching down and settling on the edge of the blanket after I gestured for him to sit.

He did what?

"You… you're in the mist of reading Pride and Prejudice?" I asked in a disbelieving way as James chuckled.

"Don't sound too surprised. You're hurting my feelings over here." He said, giving me his puppy eyes. I bit my lip as I averted my gaze.

"I'm sorry, you just don't seem the type to read Pride and Prejudice." I said, blushing a bit.

"No, you're right. I normally wouldn't read Pride and Prejudice but Jane Austen is one of our greatest national treasure. And, I really should start reading the classics more, and what better way to start than with Pride and Prejudice?" He asked, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky.

"What part are you at?"

"I'm a slow reader and the language took a little getting used to for me… but I'm at the part where they're at the ball." He said sheepishly.

"That's not bad at all considering you just started reading it."

"I know, but I'm hardly as fast as you are." He said, gesturing to my stack of books. I blushed and laughed a bit.

"It's different, I'm rereading some books. And I can never decide what to read-"

"Just like your sister, who, I've noticed has never joined you on these walks despite what her schedule states." James said, giving me this irritatingly knowing look: a smirk on his face, eyebrows raised, and his eyes full of mirth as I scrambled in my own head for a clever lie.

"Well, you see, Petunia can be sensitive to the chemicals they use for the grass-"

"You have a blanket-"

"Yes, but, she needs to have her medicine just in case. And sometimes, she'll take the medicine inside, making her drowsy? Right, and so she'll fall asleep right then and there." I said, feeling my face heat up as James locked eyes me, squinting a bit as if he was trying to see if I was lying. And then, his face relaxed and he shrugged as his hand went over to the walkie talkie. And pulled it out of his belt loop.

Oh no.

I could feel myself panicking as James gave me a grin before pressing a button and bringing the device close to his lips. "Princess Petunia is in her room, copy that, please send a confirmation once you've laid a visual-"

"She's not in her room!" I blurted, reaching over and trying to tug at his hands to release the walkie talkie (and only for the walkie talkie, it's not as if I wanted to feel the callouses on his fingers or anything). Yet, he tightened his grip as my fingers were nestled within his.

"Oh, she's not?" James asked innocently. "Where is she then?"

I bit my lip as I eyed our hands. They did look nice together. "Sometimes, she takes her medications in the hall way so she literally falls asleep on her feet. In the middle of a hallway." I said quickly, and realising that it was the dumbest lie that could have ever flown out of my mouth.

"Alright then, I'll just send some people over-"

"Why don't I help? I can search the hallways for her and then just alert the nearest guard when I find her-" I said quickly, standing up as James buried his face into his hands.

"Merlin-I mean, oh my god Lily, are you that stubborn?" He asked, laughing a bit into his hands as I stared down at him.

"What do you-"

"We all know that she's snogging Vernon Dursley senseless right about now. In fact, we can give you coordinates." James said, lifting his head out of his hands as my jaw dropped to hit the floor.

"For how long?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips as James started to chuckle.

"Since the start of their romance. Do you really think that there is anything in here that happens without Kingsley's knowledge?"

"Obviously I did if I told you my sister falls asleep in the middle of the hallway." I sputtered, as I buried my own face in my hands as I started to blush a wonderful crimson colour.

"It's quite amazing the lies you told. I can't believe you slept in her bed that one time-"

"You were hired after that!" I spluttered out, taking my face out of my hands as James gave me a guilty look.

"Sorry love, the other blokes were talking about it. Couldn't help but overhear."

"Ugh. Well, that's great." I muttered, plopping myself down and rolling onto my stomach as I hid my face in my arms. James laughed and put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's fine. It's funny and it shows that you're loyal and dedicated to her. That's never a bad thing." He said in a soothing tone.

"True." I said, lifting my head up. "I guess it's fair that you 'officially' know considering that she's going to go public with her boyfriend in tomorrow's interview." I said, shifting around so that I was sitting up and looking across to James. He shrugged.

"That's great? I'm sure it'll make some tabloid headlines, but it's not as if he's a bad choice or anything."

"No, he seems nice. I'm sure the media will go crazy now that Tuney has a boyfriend." I said, sighing a bit as I fiddled at the grass.

"Is that a bad thing?" James asked, tilting his head to the side. I shrugged.

Though we've both had boyfriends, and tabloids have picked up on it… we've never done the whole publicly announcing it to the world fiasco. For royalty, that is a big move and signal that marriage may not be too far away. While the relationship is young for Tuney and Vernon… they already seem serious. And if she's announcing the relationship to the world… well that means that she thinks Vernon is the one. And it won't be long until she's announcing the engagement and leaving me behind.

Not that I was worried about our relationship but things do change once one person in the dynamic duo gets into a serious relationship. And I wasn't quite sure how I felt about the whole situation.

"I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I don't mind the guy, it's just… things will change and I'm not sure how I feel about it, you know?" I said and James nodded.

"I went through a similar thing with Sirius." James said quietly, fidgeting with his hands.

"You did? Sirius had a serious relationship?" I asked, leaning forward as James nodded stoically.

"He is. And it was very hard me to comprehend what she had that I didn't-"

"Oh, James." I whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder as he hung his head.

"Yes, and I often grew jealous of how much time he spent with her versus me… we even got into a drunken fight-"

"Over a girlfriend?" I asked quietly and James tilted his head back and laughed.

"No, no. His damn motorcycle." I scoffed as I removed my hand. "You got jealous of a motorcycle?" I asked incredulously.

"He named it Bella. Because it was so beautiful." James said seriously and I couldn't help but erupt into a fit of giggles.

"Bella? He actually named it Bella?"

"Oh, yes he did. And he talks about her all the bloody time. Drove me mad, so I told him. Granted, I should have simply talked to him rather than shout at him… We should have both been sober too. That would've helped." James said, shrugging a bit though as he smiled at me.

"Anyways, my point is to just talk to her if you're feeling that you're growing apart. Though it still seems that you two are close… just from the security side. Seems like you two have something special." James said, and I couldn't help but smile. Because Petunia would never leave me behind, and even though she drives me absolutely bonkers, she is still my sister.

"Thanks, James… that was nice of you." I said, giving him a small smile that he easily returned.

"Well, with that, I guess I should pretend to be working." He said, giving me a wink as he hopped up, brushing some debris off his pants. "Enjoy your afternoon!" He cried, as he walked away as I started to read about the Bennet sisters again.

Except, this time, I flipped back to the ball and started to read from there.

#lily evans #james potter #royalty jily fest

[creativitytoexplore]

[RO] Cursed Words https://ift.tt/3x4RYJZ

Some people have what the kids call ‘resting bitch face’. I have the opposite. Something about my face, something I can’t put my finger on, makes people want to engage me in conversation. My mother says it’s the family curse. My grandmother says it’s a blessing and I should be grateful. Either way, even when it’s 8am and all I want in my waking coma is coffee, another hasty grab-and-goer will make a comment about the weather or the increasingly poor service of British railway lines. I nod and smile because I like to think of myself as a polite, reasonable human being. Yes, it’s raining again, yes all week, yes hope the sun comes out soon. Oh, your train was late? Mine too, it’s terrible, simply terrible, did you know in Japan they apologise if the train is so much as thirty seconds late? Why don’t we do that here, it’s just an outrage, it really is.

If this city had an emotion it would be ‘simmering disappointment’.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we? I could swear I saw you at Jim’s party,” says a bloke with a briefcase. The pair of us jostle for prime position, as close as possible to where the train’s carriage doors jolt to a stop. I clutch the cardboard sleeve of my coffee cup, ridges digging into my fingers.

“I don’t know anyone called Jim.” I smile distantly.

“Really? Oh. Well. Did you see in this morning’s paper-”

I am the queen of small talk. It’s a crown I never wanted. On the plus side, I never have to check the news. There’s always someone eager to tell me what the prime minister’s gone and done now, or which celebrity recently got pregnant. I nod along to what the bloke is saying, agreeing that the country really has gone to the dog’s. It’s just easier not to argue. The train draws in with a chuffing screech. I get my elbows ready, even as I step back to let out a trickle of people with backpacks and rollalong cases.

I board. There’s not so little room I’ll be left standing but there are no free double seats either. I’ll have to choose someone to sit next to. Getting the same train at the same time, I spot all the usual suspects. There’s the old lady with the grandson studying in Sweden. There’s the schoolboy who plays football and scores practically every goal, don’t you know? On the other side of the carriage is Mary. I know her name is Mary because she is unapologetic about using her speakerphone to have loud arguments with her boyfriend, rolling her eyes at me whenever he’s talking. Behind her there’s a pair of men too old to be lads but still eager to talk about laddish things like Top Gear and the FTSE 100. Today I am not in the mood for guessing if a Lincoln Continental Mark V Landau is a car or an investment fund.

At the very back, I see someone new. She’s dressed for the office in a prim grey skirt and sheer black tights, but her feet are clad in chunky trainers. I spot a pair of heels jutting between the handles of her handbag. Her eyes look dreamy and far away. The moment I spot the white gleam of earbuds, my mind is made up. Earbuds buys me two minutes of quiet. Maybe even five, if I’m lucky.

I hurry to claim the seat next to hers. I have my pinched smile at the ready, a weapon to deal with the awkwardness of sharing personal space with a stranger. Pretending someone isn’t there when your knees are almost touching is one of the weirdest phenomenons of public transport. She doesn’t look up. I allow myself a slow exhale. I watch the other passengers board, the way they carefully scan the seats for the most favourable option. Someone’s put their bag on the seat next to them. There’s something wonderfully satisfying about the “Is anyone sitting here?” they get for their efforts. Etiquette on trains demands irritation be disguised as perfect, placid politeness.

I wait for my new neighbour to pop out her earbuds and ask what stop we’re at. She doesn’t. I wait for her to comment on the weather or the increase in train fares. She doesn’t. I actually get to drink my coffee before it gets cold. Between sips, I peek at her out of the corner of my eye. I decide it’s her eyes that make her pretty, the colour of the sea on a sunny day. I wonder if she’s going to get off first. We’ll have to perform the awkward train shuffle when I get up to let her out. I’ll accidentally stand the side closest to the doors and she’ll need to squeeze past me, making the whole thing even more excruciating. The thought’s enough to put me on edge. I sip my coffee and try to discern which carriage door makes for the most sensible exit.

Thankfully, I am spared by being the first to leave. It must be the only silent train journey I’ve had in my whole life. I am so grateful I want to say thank you. The only thing holding me back is knowing how resentful I feel when people ignore the fact I’m wearing headphones. Even the biggest ear dustbins in the world do little to neutralise my curse. So I say nothing.

For once I’m not exhausted before the day’s even started. It’s easier to bear the good morning chatter of my colleagues without having to sip cold coffee. I whizz through the day’s customer complaints, managing to sound sincerely contrite on the telephone. Amazing how much difference a quiet morning makes!

The arrangement becomes regular. Every day she’s on the train with a free seat next to her. I don’t hesitate for a second, ignoring any attempts to make eye contact and/or conversation on my way there. For the first time, I realise peace somewhere away from home. I get to drink my coffee. I start to bring books now I have the quiet to read them in. We’ve never spoken and yet I look forward to seeing her each day and claiming a few precious minutes of silence. Well, not really silence, not with the chuff of the train and the ringing of phones, the rumble of wheeled bags and the flat automated pronouncements of “The next station is-”. But the closest I’ll get to it in the middle of the city.

I wonder what my new seat buddy is like, where she’s come from, which office she’s going to. I briefly consider sweeping social media to see if I can find any trace of her. I surreptitiously scan her for details – a badge, lanyard, a branded carrier bag. It’s at the point when I’m sneaking glances at her phone to see if I can discern whether she’s an Apple or an Android girl that I realise I may be a little obsessed.

Then I start to consider if there’s a reason she won’t talk to me. Is it because I’m ugly? Unfriendly? Have I offended her in some way? Maybe she overheard me saying something she didn’t like. Maybe I’m not cool enough for her to talk to, which overrides any curse I may or may not have.

I decide, for the sake of my sanity, to sit somewhere else.

“Hello, love. Haven’t spoken in a while.”

Oh, help. I remember this lady, she’s always tanned from long holidays in the Mediterranean. I make ‘mmm’ noises. I stuff my book into my bag.

“Nice to see the sunshine, in’t it? Just last year I went to Spain and-”

I make the required impressed noises. I wonder what it would be like if I told her I wasn’t interested. But that just isn’t what you do, is it? Anyway, it makes her happy to talk about her holidays and I don’t have the heart to put her off. I feel my coffee growing cold.

She gets off at the next stop. I hear someone else on the search for a seat and brace myself, wondering what I’ll end up hearing about next.

I blink, stunned. The quiet girl takes the seat next to me. I should say something. But she doesn’t look at me. She sits and taps at her phone. She’s still wearing earbuds. Her getting up to sit here was a purposeful decision, she was already on the train. I should say something. But what? I don’t start conversations, other people start them for me.

For the rest of the journey, words gum up my throat. Everything I come up with seems stupid. When we reach my stop, she gets up without me having to ask. And she smiles. I smile back, utterly dazzled. Then I have to run to get off the train before the doors close.

I spend the rest of the day thinking of conversation starters. I scribble questions on my notepad, only half listening to angry customers. I come up with a shortlist. I cross out half of them. I list categories: weather, news, TV shows. I strategise what path to go down for each topic. I try and guess her responses.

The next day, I square my shoulders. I am ready. I even rehearsed, watching my face in the mirror to check my expressions. I take my seat. As usual, she’s listening to something.

Why isn’t she talking to me? I can’t take it anymore! I have to hear her voice. Just to check she isn’t some strange hallucination. If I make a complete embarrassment of myself, I can always start boarding a different carriage. Or maybe I’ll just walk.

“It isn’t raining today!” I blurt out. “We might even get a glimpse of sunshine.”

She blinks at me. Her eyes look darker when she’s actually focused on something. Someone. Is every word supposed to be this gut-wrenching? Is this how it feels for all the people compelled to talk to me? I used to think people liked to prattle on and on about nothing. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe this is just a safe way to get started, a tentative check to see if the other person wants to chat. Please talk to me. Please.

She nods. “Only because I brought my umbrella. Forgetting it means it’s guaranteed to rain, carrying it around all day brings out the sun.”

Her voice doesn’t sound like I imagined. It’s lower but sweeter, soft on vowels. She parries my lame line about the weather perfectly. I thought she might be shy, but maybe not. Already the plans I spent hours on have become useless. She takes out her earbuds, watching me curiously.

“You must be cursed!” Then I laugh, high and nervous. She looks at me, opens her mouth, closes it again.

Silence. Awful, awkward silence.

“The train’s busy today, isn’t it?”

Why did I say that? The train is busy every day and it’s certainly no busier than usual. I cringe into my coffee cup. My strange gift has left me extremely lacking in conversational skills. This may just be the most painful train ride in history. I think it even beats the time an old man insisted on telling me all the ways I reminded him of his ex

“Yeah.”

She leans back in her seat, looking away.

“I work near Farringdon. Customer complaints.”

“I’m closer to the Barbican. Office admin.”

It’s clear she’s only being polite. I struggle and flail and pity the numerous individuals who have ever felt the same way. I could ask her more about her job, but her face tells me she’s not particularly interested.

I take a gamble and ask a question I genuinely want to know the answer to.

“Do you mind if I ask what you’re listening to?”

Her face comes to life. “A thriller about an alcoholic stalking her ex. Not sure if I like it.”

“Oh. Why not? Is it not exciting?”

“Well – “

We have a conversation about novels. A perfectly passable conversation where I sound halfway intelligent. I make her laugh. I want to do it again. I feel ridiculously light, as if I might fly away like a carrier bag on a windy day.

I didn’t realise a single conversation could mean so much. I briefly worry it’s a fluke and she won’t want to sit with me again. But I’m wrong. Each morning, we smile at each other and say hello. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes I’ll open my book and she’ll put in her earbuds, both of us welcoming a quiet journey.

“I don’t even know your name,” I blurt out one day, rain-damp hair stuck to my cheeks. My coffee cup sleeve is soggy. I check her bag for the bulge of her umbrella. It seems to be missing.

“Lou,” she says.

It’s about a year since we began sitting together on the train. I mention this to her and she laughs and says I have a good memory. Lou laughs. I can talk about her. I can think about her as something other than the girl I sit next to on the train.

It’s a Tuesday morning and I’m looking forward to sitting down. I want to tell Lou about this one customer who insists on using a Nokia phone he bought the year of the millennium, but is outraged it ‘doesn’t do Skype’.

I bounce onto the train. Look around to the two or three seats Lou favours – window, slightly to the back of the second carriage.

She isn’t there.

It’s fine. She’s probably on holiday or maybe she’s sick, though she didn’t mention anything about travelling to sunny climes or coming down with a cold yesterday –

I sink into the nearest seat, mind racing. I don’t have her number. I don’t even have her second name. There didn’t seem much point as we saw each other every day. But what if she never comes back?

“You alright?” asks the chap in the seat next to me. “You look pale. Do you want a drink of water?”

“My friend isn’t here today,” I tell him. “I hope she’s alright.”

His glasses have thick black frames a fraction too big to be trendy. He launches into a rant about the lack of carriages on the train and I tune him out. I’m thinking. Plotting. How do I find one woman in the near infinite depths of the city? Maybe it won’t come to that. Lou will probably be back before long.

A week passes. Then two. Maybe she really is gone. Without even a goodbye.

Is this related to the curse? I don’t know what else to do. I scroll through my contacts to find a number I should dial more often than I do. I dial. No answer. She’s probably left the phone in a plant pot or next to the sink. I don’t bother with voicemail. I dial again.

“Hello?” a deceptively feeble voice says.

“Hello Grandma. How are you?”

“Why are you calling me? You never call me. Your mother says you don’t have time for idle conversation. Are you still living in that horrible mousehole?”

“Yes but – “

“You need to get onto the landlord, you must be so embarrassed whenever you have people around.”

“Grandma, I need to ask you about-” I lower my voice so I sound less crazy to my fellow passengers. “The curse.”

Silence. Has she dropped the phone? Accidentally hung up while trying to work the volume?

“It’s not a curse!” she suddenly squawks. “That mother, putting ideas in your head -”

“OK, fine! The blessing then. I met someone it didn’t work on. She didn’t talk to me. And I think she might be cursed – or blessed – as well. It always rains when she forgets her umbrella.”

“Ridiculous. Witches these days have absolutely no imagination. When I was young, they had fire in their bellies. Old Tommy, he said – ”

I have to interrupt her or I’ll be here all day. One mention of Old Tommy and it’s all over.

“Grandma, do you know how to break the, um, blessing?”

“Why would you want to? Before I met that nice witch I spent all my time chatting with people because otherwise we’d all sit in silence!”

I imagine my grandmother yapping the ears off anyone who would listen with her never ending stream of dramas, just like she does now. The young witch must have thought she was being oh so clever with her curse, not realising my grandmother would revel in it. In stories, curses can be broken if the person mends their ways. My grandmother was eighty-nine. I didn’t have a hope of her changing.

But maybe that was fine. If she didn’t want to tell me all about her neighbours Messy Margerie and Sly Simon I would only worry something had gone terribly wrong.

I listen for as long as I can before lapsing into friendless despair softened only by copious amounts of ice cream.

The next day, I decide I’ve had enough of despair. I don’t have to be friendless, not when people come to me so effortlessly. Lou might be gone but I can make another friend. Maybe.

I try hard for the rest of that week and the next. I ask earnest questions about paella from the Mediterannean and relate anecdotes about my mother’s holiday infatuation with a waiter named Luca. I learn I really should consider investing in a stocks and shares saving account if I ever want to buy a property. I urge Mary to break up with her disappointing boyfriend because she deserves better than someone who can’t properly pair up socks.

I feel better. I feel connected. I feel like people’s smiles are more genuine and maybe my grandmother is right, my ability isn’t so bad after all.

Although. I can’t quite quell my longing for quiet. Even one morning a week drinking coffee and sharing a pair of earphones with Lou would be enough. My head spins with new names – I wish I’d found out hers. I wish I’d followed her on Twitter or asked for her Instagram or if I were really bold maybe even her phone number. So many ways to connect and I couldn’t use a single one of them. I try typing her name into Google and Facebook but do you know how many Lous there are in one city? Too many for one tiny screen to handle. You can probably scroll to infinity. Even then I’d have to hope for an up-to-date picture without a hat or sunglasses on.

I board the train. I decide to sit next to Mary and see how her boyfriend hunt is going. But just as I am about to head over, I catch a flash of a familiar face.

“Hi!” says Lou.

I stare at her, wondering if she’s real. Someone behind me sighs loudly when the train doors bleep a warning. I am hustled onto the train by the impatient throng behind me, to the empty seat next to Lou.

My heart thunders in my mouth. I don’t know what to say to her. I’m pleased to see her and desperate to know where she’s been and on top of all that I feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“It’s nice to see you,” says Lou. “I missed the smell of your coffee in the morning. Always wakes me right up.”

“…Are you back now?”

“Not really. There was a flood in the office and I got relocated. Maybe permanently.”

“Oh. So I probably won’t see you around as much then,” I mumble.

“That’s kind of why I’m here.” And then she gave me the most adorable look, simultaneously beguiling, sheepish and shy. “I really miss you.”

“I missed you too. I wish I’d asked for more than your name.”

“Are you asking now?” she laughs.

And I did. And then question after question after question. We miss Lou’s stop. Then we miss mine. We ride the train all the way to the end of the line and by the end I glow, warm and happy and sated by a conversation I want to have with all my heart.

After that, a strange thing happens. People stop cornering me everywhere I go. I am no longer burdened by the chatter of strangers. I get the odd person every now and again, but they no longer seem compelled to talk to me. Questioning my grandmother gets me nowhere but I have a sneaking suspicion I know what broke the curse – a genuine interest in my conversational partners, a return of their efforts to connect.

The only downside – I have to start buying newspapers! And I carry an umbrella everywhere, because if Lou forgets then it rains.

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#June 07 #2021 at 12:24AM