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betweensceneswriter · 6 years

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Island Hopper - Chapter 4: Skinnydipping

Just what it sounds like. . .

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Previously on Island Hopper Chapter 3 : Hashtag Blessed

The Scots make an effort to be culturally thoughtful for their American friend.

Leika was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met, with dark hair and dark eyes, high cheekbones, and the most perfect shade of mocha skin. She’d already been obviously pregnant when I arrived, even in the body-hiding muumuus she and the other Marshallese women wore. Now that she was nearly nine months along, she walked with the distinct sway of a very uncomfortably pregnant woman. She smiled as she entered the clinic door, and I quickly ushered her to a chair.

As I examined Leika, Sharbella explained that women out on Arno didn’t tend to rely on the care of medical professionals to give birth. The local women had been helping their daughters and granddaughters, sisters and nieces to give birth for centuries. However, Sharbella told me, Leika wanted me to be there for the birth. The younger generation put value on Western education and Western medicine.

“Did you go to the Peace Corps school?” I asked her.

“Yes,” said Leika shyly. “But I forget a lot of my English.”

“Well, I’m still learning Majel,” I said understandingly. “The children say, ‘Miss Peachay ej ba kon jiddik nin͂nin.” It made Leika laugh to hear that the local kids still told me I talked like a tiny baby whenever I tried to engage them in conversation.

“How long you take classes to be nurse?” Leika asked me.

“Emān iiō,” I said. “Four years. And then two more, to become a nurse practitioner. That means I can do some things a doctor could do.”

Leika looked at me with wistful admiration. I wondered what she would have become if she’d grown up in a more westernized culture or a larger place with more job opportunities.

“Well, this little dude is getting big,” I said, taking the measuring tape off of her belly. “I’d say you have anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks before he shows up. First babies tend to decide when they are going to come—and that’s going to be one of three: early, right on time, or really late.”

Leika looked at Sharbella for the translation, and I smiled apologetically. With Leika being in her early twenties, it was easy to fall into patterns of talking to her like she could easily understand me.

I helped her off the exam table, and she smiled. “I send my brother to get you when time comes.”

“Good,” I said. “I am happy to be able to be there to help, and to make sure the baby is healthy.”

It had been a while since my midwifery rotation, and I wanted to refresh my memory in case Leika went into labor anytime soon, so that evening I sat at the kitchen table with my huge textbooks spread out in front of me. Today was definitely one time I really missed having access to phones and the internet. To be able to look up articles, call or email Joe, or watch a video refresher course would have made the process a lot easier. It felt a little like being back in school, poring over the books and taking notes. I was grateful, actually, that the local women felt so confident helping in the birthing process, because I’d only been present at a few, and had never presided over a delivery.

I looked up from scribbling down some suggestions to ease the pain of the mother during labor as well as the basic time line for the phases of delivery to see Jamie staring at me from his spot on the bed where he had been reading a novel, now leaning back against several pillows, a half-smile on his face.

“I never knew that I could feel this way about a person. My heart aches, just looking at ye. Will you come over here so I can hold ye?” He had such longing on his face, my own heart responded with a similar ache.

Grateful for any excuse to leave the dry academic reading behind, I walked over to the bed. Jamie reached out his hand to me, and ushered me into his arms. His chest beneath his tee shirt was warm, and the arm behind me was warm. I felt slightly sticky.

But, you know, he’s actually wearing a tee shirt. And she has clothes on.

“It’s so hot,” I groaned. “I think you and I should live at the North Pole, just so we can cuddle as much as we want to.”

Jamie’s chest leapt under my ear as he chuckled. “Scotland might be cold enough,” he offered.

“Is it?” I asked. “I’ve never been.”

“Hmm. I have an idea,” Jamie whispered into my hair. “Do ye want to go skinny-dipping, Ripalle? If we get cold, it’ll feel good to cuddle each other…”

I met his eyes, raised my eyebrows, and with a suggestive smile on my face I reached across him to turn off the lamp.

We giggled as we turned off the remaining lights and stripped off our clothes. In the darkness, I reached for Jamie, finding his hot flesh grown even warmer with his excitement. He gasped as I ran my hands down his firm body, pulling him to me as I grabbed his backside.

“Sure you want to go out there?” I asked, as he stroked my hips, then cupped my breast and groaned.

“Aye,” he said, removing his hands from me. “‘Tis a boyhood fantasy come true if we do.”

We wrapped ourselves in towels, and I grabbed a sheet, thinking that should we decide to make love on the beach, I’d rather not get sand in my crevices.

It was a challenge to avoid descending into laughter and alerting our neighbors, but we managed to feel our way across the yard in the darkness. Then we dropped our towels at the crest of the beach, Jamie leading me by the hand into the ocean. Our one concession to safety was that both of us were wearing water shoes. It would be no laughing matter to step on a sea urchin or poisonous cone shell.

The tide was on the low side, so we had to wade out a distance before the water reached Jamie’s chest. By that time it would have been up to my neck, but before then Jamie had put his arms around me, I wrapped my legs around him, and he muscled both of us through the water. The air was cooler, and the water felt nearly cold, so I relished having the heat of Jamie’s body against mine.

Jamie stopped walking finally, and began exploring my curves with his hands. “Oh, Claire,” he started to wax poetic, as he was wont to do when the nearness of my body was driving him mad. “Your body is so luscious…your breasts like…”

“Shut up and kiss me,” I said, pulling my body closer to his. In the darkness, I focused on sensations: the slow surge of cold waves making us sway together, the soft pressure of Jamie’s mouth on mine, his tongue exploring the perimeter of my lips, gently tasting my tongue. He cupped my buttocks and lifted me higher, bringing my cleavage up towards his mouth, sampling the skin under my ear, my neck, and my collarbone. As he drew one nipple between his lips, electric shocks traveled from my breasts to my groin. Jamie latched on to my nipple, suckling me until I could feel the pressure of arousal flood my abdomen.

“God, Jamie,” I said, lifting his face up towards me, wrapping my arms around him and clinging to him with my legs. I felt desperate for him to enter me, but inwardly acknowledged to myself that he often spent so much time on me that he didn’t get a chance to receive.

“Take us shallower,” I gasped, trying to slow myself down so I could focus on him. He obeyed, returning to a depth where I could again stand, putting me at just the right height to lick the salt water from his nipples and reach my hands around to grab his muscular ass.

Both of us laughed at precisely the same moment, which made us pull apart for a split second, and each offer our own explanations.

“I love knowing exactly how much you want me,” I murmured into his damp chest hair, running my hand down his belly to seize the clear evidence.

A chuckle rumbled through Jamie’s chest. “I was just wondering if there was a dangerous level of being aroused. I feel like I’m going to burst. Or pass out, one of the two.”

“To shore, then?” I asked. “I only foresee a sandy disaster or dual drowning if we try to make love out here.” Jamie laughed in response.

We sloshed back to shore, stopped frequently by the magnetic pull of each others’ bodies and lips. It took a few minutes, but we found our towels and dried ourselves off…slightly. Jamie was desperate for me now, and dropping his towel, he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and with my towel still around me, he pressed me against the rough bark of the closest coconut palm. With his arms holding my thighs, Jamie grunted, easing himself in partway, and then withdrawing.

“Christ, yer so wet you’re practically dripping,” he moaned, the next few slow strokes proving he was not exaggerating.

I grabbed him around the neck, supporting my weight slightly, as the pace of his movements and his volume indicated he was very close.

“It’s no working for ye?” he panted. “I dinna think I can wa…” He spasmed, jarring my back against the tree repeatedly, and ending with one crushing thrust, then gently releasing me to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he murmured. “Did I hurt ye? I was rough. And I didna wait for ye.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “That was sexy. I just…”

He was on his knees in front of me before I could finish my sentence. This time it was me panting and moaning as he explored me with his tongue and fingers, caressing my rear and thighs with his strong hands. My climax announced itself with whimpering gasps, and when I had ceased my shaking, Jamie kissed me on the thigh and stood up.

I clung to him for a moment until my own lightheadedness faded.

“That was somethin’,” I whispered. Jamie laughed, we gathered up towels and the sheet, and headed back into the house.

Back in the apartment, we met each others’ eyes in amusement as we each returned to our former tasks. Jamie wrapped himself in his sarong, but I was still feeling damp and sat down at the table with my towel wrapped around me.

After just a few minutes of silence, though, Jamie spoke. “Christ, Ripālle, you are so sexy.” He stared at me from his spot on the bed, shaking his head.

“Says the man on the deserted island,” I grinned back at him. “Flatterer.”

I noticed then that Jamie looked uncomfortable, needing to speak. “I’ve been wondering something, and I want ye to be honest wi’ me, even if it hurts me.”

“Absolutely, Jamie. What do you want to know?”

“Did ye make love to Frank, to say goodbye?” He was struggling to meet my eyes.

“No!” I exclaimed earnestly. “What made you ask that?”

“I just…when I first heard about Frank, when I first met you, I couldna understand how a man could let his fiancé leave him behind. And that was before I had any idea what making love wi’ ye was like, what you were like as a sexual partner.”

“Well, honestly, Jamie, I wasn’t this kind of sexual partner with Frank.”

Jamie looked taken aback. “What do ye mean?” he asked.

I felt slightly embarrassed, and didn’t want to expose Frank to judgment. “You are eager, enthusiastic, generous, and very complimentary, and that inspires me to generosity as well. Frank and I had kind of gotten in a rut. Sex was good, but pretty routine. What we have together is anything but that.”

Jamie had been looking down at his hands with a shy smile, but then he met my eyes with an intense gaze. “Still, Claire, how would any man who had ever been with ye keep his hands off you? And you and Frank were even in a hotel room together. Didn’t he try?”

“He did kiss me,” I admitted. “He wanted to see how I responded to him.”

“And did you respond to him? Did you want to make love to him?”

I looked at Jamie, inwardly debating whether he could handle the truth. “I didn’t feel like I used to, but I considered it. He was so sad. That’s how I used to comfort him.”

Jamie’s face was stricken.

“But I couldn’t, Jamie,” I insisted, leaving the table and coming to sit by him on the bed. “I didn’t want to. It would have been cheating on you.”

“Aye,” he said, nodding his head.

“You knew you were taking that risk when you sent me, Jamie,” I said. “How did you do that?”

“I kent it was risky,” he said. “And I did feel a fool once you were gone. Murtagh said I definitely was one; that if I’d been in my right mind I would never have let you go.”

“You trusted me, Jamie,” I said. “That meant a lot to me. And it made me choose–it made me decide what was most important to me. Even though I didn’t want to go with Frank, you were right to force me.”

“I just wondered. Cause the next day, you were crying when we made love. And I wondered if maybe ye felt guilty. Or sad about Frank.”

“No, I just feel a lot, now that I’ve come back. I’m grateful for someone who loves me so fully, who focuses on me.”

Jamie still looked disconcerted. “You loved Frank once, and you stopped. I dinna want to, but sometimes I find myself wondering: how can I know you won’t change your mind?”

I turned to Jamie, and grasped both his hands in mine. Looking in his eyes, I said, “Til death parts us—and maybe even past then.”

His blue eyes were wide as he looked at me.

“It’s a vow, Jamie,” I said. “We have something special here. It’s worth protecting. It’s worth fighting for. When I proposed marriage, you said marriage wasn’t something you took lightly. That when you got married it would be forever. Well, I promise that, too.”

He stroked my hands with his, running his long fingers over the simple gold band on my third finger.

“Til death parts us –and even past then,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss on my lips. Then he lay back against the pillows, and I reclined next to him.

“So, you joked about moving to the North Pole,” Jamie said. “Have you thought much about the future?”

“Not really,” I said. “In Boston, I was just focused on school and then work. Every once in a while I thought about what it would be like to have kids. But I wasn’t much of a dreamer back then, though I’ve always wanted to be an adventurer. How about you?”

“I dinna ken, really. I know I like kids. I know I love you. I miss Scotland, but I dinna ken if I’ll be able to go back there, with my record. But, I want to do something good, ye know? Like, there’s already enough evil in the world. I want to be good.”

I snuggled under his arm, the residual chill from the ocean making me relish Jamie’s internal furnace. “Well, we both chose service professions. Helping people, healing people, teaching people. Nursing and teaching are both flexible careers, which we could take anywhere in the world. But for the present, we’re here. In this incredible, beautiful place, with each other.”

“Aye,” said Jamie. “And that’s good enough, for now. Whether we adventure in the future will be up to both of us.”

I sighed in his arms, relishing the thought that no matter what life brought, I would have this. Suddenly I wanted to look at him, so I sat up, letting my eyes settle on his face, the strong jawline with a little bit of reddish scruff. The thoughtful blue eyes, under eyebrows that currently were asking me why I was looking at him. I reached up to touch one of his red curls, still damp from our ocean adventure. And then I looked at his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, the cut of his hipbones, the strong lines of his thighs beneath the sarong, his copper leg hair, and his long toes. Having filled my eyes with my handsome husband, I lay back down again.

“Now, what was that?” he laughed, as I leaned against him again.

“You’re so handsome, Jamie. I like to look at you,” I said, feeling him chuckle beneath me. “I was just thinking that even if I don’t know what the future will hold, I’m pretty happy about the person who will be there with me.”

“My turn,” he said. “But I need you naked.”

“That’s not necessary,” I responded, instinctively bringing my hands up to where the towel was tucked in at my chest. “Besides, we already had sex.”

“I just want to take in your beauty,” he said. “Nothing sexual about it. Like seeing a nude statue in a museum.”

I hesitated.

“Will ye please?” he asked, eyes twinkling, raising his eyebrows. “Ye did tell me the other day that I was to enjoy you with my eyes.”

“Tsk,” I rolled my eyes. “You would use my own words against me.” I rested my head on one hand. “Okay, unwrap me.”

From the care he took in untucking the towel and uncovering me, I got a feeling that Jamie was a child who didn’t destroy the wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Then he took his own turn gazing up and down at me, a look of longing, love, and pained desire on his face. He met my eyes in a question, and I nodded. As he continued to caress me with his eyes, he reached out his hand and stroked my body, his fingers gentle and warm. The directness of his gaze was almost disconcerting, so I lay back against the pillows and closed my eyes, focusing on his touch, like angels’ wings on my skin.

“Claire,” he whispered. I opened my eyes, to see his face inches from mine. “I dinna think I could love ye any more than I do right now,” he said, leaning in to seal our union, again, with a kiss.

On to Chapter 5 : Telephone

Jamie does a science project with his students.

#BetweenSceneswriter #jimjeran #Marshall Islands #claire x jamie #Outlander #outlander fanfic #canon divergent #but also #canon compliant #island hopper #skinnydipping #Sarah Carrell

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rfsak2 · 6 years

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Cactus, Part XVI

Enjoy! Leave me a line or two!

Cactus, Part XVI Summary: Style. The Styles Warnings: A mild panic attack brought on by claustrophobia.

“Harry Lambert.” Jamie whined and cast a look back at Harry. “Why is everything for pregnant women so… yuck?”

The blond man giggled. “Well, not every pregnant woman is a tattooed guitarist married to a rock star. That’s why.”

Jamie chuckled. “I just don’t want to look like…” She gestured vaguely at the whole maternity section in Selfridges. “I don’t want to look like this.”

“I told you we wouldn’t find anythin’ here, Jamie. I did tell you. I swear, you just wanted to brave Oxford Street for shits and giggles.” He smiled at Jamie and squeezed her elbow. “We’ll go downstairs get a few pairs of maternity denim made. I’m sure they have a rush fee we can pay and get them relatively quickly. Then we’ll call Alice + Olivia and see if they won’t make a wardrobe for you.”

“Do you think they will?” Jamie continued shuffling through the racks with lackluster enthusiasm.

“Oh look! This is cute!” Lou lifted a shirt from the rack and made a face. “Nevermind. I lied.”

Gemma huffed. “It’s all so shapeless.”

“And therein lies the rub. Harry… my Harry…our Harry?” Jamie smiled at Gemma and made a face.

“I’m our Harry too.” Harry Lambert pouted.

Turning to kiss him on the cheek, she nodded. “I know. Poor word choice. Shapeless won’t square with Harry, my husband, Harry. He’s already obsessed with my stomach and I’m just now showing. Shapeless will not fly.”

Gemma shook her head. “It simply won’t do, dahling. No sister of mine is going to walk around in a muumuu. You are a young, sexy mummy. This is unacceptable.”

Jamie smiled. “Yeah, this is all horrible. Harrods didn’t have anything?” Harry shook his head. “Okay and you’re sure that Alice + Olivia will do maternity for me?”

“Love, they’re going to trip over their feet to accommodate you. You’re basically a brand ambassador given the amount of money you spend there.” Harry smiled and leaned on a rack. “And if they won’t, then we are in London, love. We can go to Jenny Packham.”

Jamie made a face. “I love Jenny Packham and I love Kate-”

Lou made a face. “Boring!”

Shrugging, Jamie nodded. “She’s a very fashionable woman, but I’m a musician not a princess. She’s so stately and proper… I wanna keep being sexy for a bit longer.”

“You’re gonna always be sexy, dearie. I promise. And I see your point. No to Jenny Packham.” Harry hung up a jumper. “Okay. Downstairs to Paige for denim and we’ll make do with what you have as far as tops. You can always wear your hubby’s clothes if push comes to shove.”

“I do that anyways.” She grinned at Gemma.

“Exactly. No harm no foul.” He ushered them out of the maternity section. “I’ll call A+O on the way.”

Jamie nodded and they made for the escalators, pausing to grab Brandon from the bench where they left him.

She was getting measured by the tailor, chatting with Gemma and Lou, when Harry sauntered to her, phone pressed to his ear. “So A+O’s rep is patchin’ me over to Stacey Bendet as we sp- Stacey Bendet! How very nice to talk to you. I’m Harry Lambert-” He paused and nodded, smiling. “Yes, I’m in the process of collecting together a maternity wardrobe for a regular- well a religious- client of yours.”

Another pause and Jamie lifted her arms over her head at the direction of the tailor.

Gemma smiled and whispered. “Have you always worn Alice + Olivia?”

Jamie nodded. “At least since I moved to LA.”

“I need to go shopping with you then. I like your clothes.”

“I think Harrods carries it. We should run by.”

“Yes. Jamie Styles.” Harry grinned. “Yes. That Jamie Styles. She’s worn a number of your pieces during not only this current tour but past tours as well and I’m fairly certain that she owns every single leather or suede item you’ve ever sold. She’s been quite taken for a good long while.”

He smiled at Jamie and gave her a thumbs up. “Currently, we’re looking for a full wardrobe honestly. Everything she’ll need to get her through the next seven months. We’d need mostly casual pieces, pieces she can wear on stage, but there is always a need for some more formal pieces.”

Jamie smiled and stepped down off the fitting pedestal and moved to choose denims. Gemma and Lou leaned over her shoulder to lend their assistance.

“Well, I’m sure that everything that comes out of your pencil is gold and my client agrees. She likes leather, she likes print and color, she likes classic shapes and she’s young and sexy and a little retro and doesn’t want to look matronly or proper or anything like that. I think she just honestly loves your aesthetic and doesn’t want to have to sacrifice that because she’s got a bun in the oven.”

“Do you think she could make me maternity trousers in like leather or suede…” Jamie winced and turned to Lou. “Is that weird?”

Lou shook her head and Harry smiled. “I have a direct request from my client. Maternity trousers in leather or suede. Maybe both?” He hummed. “She’s currently 14 weeks. She hasn’t even really started showing in earnest, honestly.”

“I’m a sucker for leather and suede.”

Harry made an obscene face. “So is young Hazza.”

Jamie giggled.

“That’s excellent. We are so very pleased. We’ll be in Europe for the next three weeks roughly. Is there an atelier here in London that I can take my client to get measured?” He nodded. “That’s perfect. Thank you! My client is very excited.” He hummed and relayed his contact info. “I’ll be looking forward to your email. Thank you again.”

Jamie smiled and leaned against the counter while the cashier processed her payment. Her hand drifted down to rub idly at her tiny baby bump. “So what’s the verdict?”

“She’s going to make you an entire wardrobe as promised.” Harry curtsied. “She says she’s going to try and hide clever gusseting so you can keep wearing them throughout your pregnancy. We’ll go get you measured when she finds out what atelier here she wants to use. She’s actually quite excited about this project. She likes the idea of maternity wear for young, cool, sexy mums.”

“Good!” Jamie clapped. “That’s excellent! How long do you think it will take?”

“She’ll start pushing out basics as soon as they’re done. Within the month, I’d imagine. Maybe two months for everything?” Harry linked arms with her. “Where to now? Lunch, ladies and Brandon?”

They started strolling toward the front door. Jamie rubbed idly at her belly, Baby Styles was doing somersaults in her uterus. “Yeah. I’m half-starved.”

Gemma smiled. “Duck and Waffle?”

Lou made a face. “Can we get a last minute res?”

“I’m sure w-” Jamie cursed under her breath and paused just outside the door, where she could see people with cameras loitering outside.

Brandon pulled out his phone and shrugged. “I guess it’s a good thing we left Jack in t’car, huh Mrs. Styles?”

Nodding as he spoke into the phone, Jamie sighed and smiled at Gemma and Lou. “Well-”

“Oh my god! You’re Jamie Styles.”

The dull chatter that followed filled Jamie with a unique sense of dread that she was sure she’d never become familiar with. Sooner than she’d like, there was a small group of people crowded around her, pressing in on what felt like every side, all pushing and shuffling to get closer, talking over each other to be heard.

She never considered herself particularly claustrophobic until moments like this started happening more frequently. She had to fight the urge to cradle her stomach protectively, shielding the little flutter that lived low in her tummy from the chaos that surrounded her.

She smiled and nodded, posing for a selfie with the nearest girl, someone just a bit younger than her who was all but screaming that she had gotten tickets to one of the three shows they were playing at the O2. She nodded and mouthed ‘thank you’ and turned to pose for another selfie.

Then another one and another one…

“Can I take a video for my instagram? Say-”

“Oh my God! Will you-”

“Can you-”

Brandon leaned over and whispered in her ear. “The car will be around in a bit, Mrs. S.”

She nodded while Brandon gently corralled them back against the wall nearest to the door. She tried for friendly and kept smiling, mentally counting down the seconds. She sucked in a deep breath as people pressed even closer. He stepped in front of her, pausing the sudden everflow of people. “Let’s give her some room, guys.”

“Are you pregnant, Jamie?”

“You’re gonna have adorable babies!”

“What’s it like having sex with Harry fuckin’ Styles every night? I bet he’s real kinky.”

She tried for another smile but could feel it cracking around the edges as Gemma grabbed one of her arms. “Are you okay?”

Jamie nodded.

Lou came up on her other side. “Are you sure? You’re white as a ghost, love.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just too many people.” She glanced out the door and sighed, noticing the paps that were now blocking off the sidewalk, some already snapping pictures through the glass door. “So many people. Shoulda never-”

“Hey, none of that.” Harry shook his head at her. “We needed to do some shopping and you needed to get out of the house. Doesn’t do to sequester you like you’re a bloody invalid.”

Brandon’s phone rang and he went into overdrive, tucking her up against his side as shouldered his way through the crowd, out the door and through the paps.

Gemma, Lou and Harry seemed to form a protective shield around her free side. She’s not sure she made it into the car before she passed out.

When she came to, the car was in motion and someone was fanning her. Gemma gasped when her eyes opened and she smiled, still fanning her. “Oh Jesus! You’re awake!” She smiled. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Jamie nodded and moved to sit up fully in her seat, hand instinctively coming up to cradle the baby. She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. “What happened?”

“You passed the fuck out!” Lou turned to her, eyes wide. “Are you okay? Brandon had to physically carry you into the car. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.. I’m fine.” Jamie smiled. “I just got a bit overwhelmed, is all. I’m fine. I feel fine.” She smiled softly, looking outside and noticing the familiar neighborhood. The baby did another little dance and she smiled at the reassuring little flutter. “Sorry that I scared you. Guess that means no Duck and Waffle.”

Harry snorted. “Your husband is not so blase. He’s going mad.”

She smiled and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She hit Harry’s number and he answered on the first ring.

“Jamie? Jamie, is that you? Are you okay?” He sounded frantic and she smiled. He seemed to be getting the lion’s share of her pregnancy anxiety.

“Hey, baby. I’m fine-” She smiled at Gemma and rolled her eyes.

“Jesus. Monster, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Didn’t mean to scare ya. Sorry, baby.”

She could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re sure you’re alright, love? You’ve never passed out before.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’m fine.”

“Is the baby?” He sucked in a breath. “I should’ve gone with you, love. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You had interviews, baby. I’m fine. The baby is still dancing tap in my belly. We’re both fine. I probably should’ve taken something to chew on. Got too hungry and then the crowd… Just got a bit overwhelmed, it’s fine.”

He breathed deep again. “Okay. You’re on the way home now?”

“Yeah, five minutes more probably.”

“Good thing we don’t have a show tonight.” He chuckled. “We can take it easy and stay in, yeah?”

She frowned. “Weren’t we supposed to go out with Nick tonight?”

“We can have him here. No need to tempt fate twice, right? I’ll text him, we can invite the London crew over for dinner or summat.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” She smiled. “You’re cookin’ though. I’ll clean.”

“Deal.” He chuckled. “How was shopping?”

“Only really found jeans at Selfridges, they’ll be ready by the end of the week. Everything else was dowdy and boring and shapeless. However…”

“Yes?”

She smiled. “Harry Lambert talked to the folks over at Alice + Olivia-”

“Your favorite.”

“Indeed. They’re gonna design a maternity wardrobe for me!”

Harry Lambert stole the phone. “Be pleased with me, Mr. Styles. I got leather trousers for your wife.”

Jamie chuckled and nabbed her phone back. “I asked him to ask A+O about leather or suede trousers, thank you very much.”

He chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”

She smiled and looked out the window. “We’re at the driveway now, baby. See you in a mo’.” Everyone turned to her, besides Jack in the driver’s seat. “I’m fine, y’all. Promise.”

Brandon looked so upset, she leaned forward and squeezed the burly man’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Brandy. I’m fine.”

“You fainted.”

“It’s part of pregnancy, bro. I’m fine.”

“Well, everything looks fine. Still as healthy as ever. You’ve not had a fainting spell since, right?” A different doctor in a different city smiled and pressed the ultrasound wand to her belly.

“Nope.”

He nodded. “That’s good. You’ve been feeling baby move for awhile, right?” Jamie nodded, eyes on the screen. “Dad, have you?” Harry pouted and squeezed Jamie’s hand. “No, not yet.”

The doctor laughed. “That’s to be expected. Baby’s not quite big enough yet but soon. Any time now really.” He skated the wand over her stomach. “And there they are!”

The image on the screen was almost eerily detailed. The baby shifted bringing their hands to their mouth and she gasped, the dimple forming in its cheek.

“They have your dimples, Haz. Holy shit!”

Harry dropped a kiss on her shoulder and smiled. “So beautiful.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank yeh, love. Thank yeh for this.”

She smiled. “You helped, baby.”

He snorted. “You’re the one growing them inside a’yeh. I just did the fun part.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “I love yeh. So much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

The doctor smiled and pointed out different things, commenting on development. “Baby, looks good. Very healthy.” The wand skated over her belly. “Did you want to know the sex? Or are you planning to do one of those fancy gender reveal parties?”

Jamie smiled. “No party. We’d like to know. Right, baby?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I wanna know.”

“You sure. You can still say no.” She turned to the doctor and shrugged. “Ever since the first ultrasound, he’s been back and forth. ‘Yes, I wanna know,’ ‘No, I wanna wait.’”

“I wanna know.” He grinned. “Gotta get Gucci started on baby clothes.”

She snickered and kissed his forehead. “Technically you don’t really need the baby’s sex to get Gucci started.”

“No, of course, not.” He looked aghast, comically so. “It’s not that I want gender specific clothing. I want them to embroider initials on everything. We need to name our little monster so I can get them started on monogramming literally everything we own.”

She smiled and turned to the doctor. “So what are we havin’, doc?”

The Doctor smiled and pointed out the legs. “Baby Styles is a baby girl!”

“You know she’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger, right?” Jamie snickered, later over dinner. “She’s gonna be able to get away with anything and everything.”

Harry smiled. “Just like her mother then.”

She grinned. “And those dimples. She is gonna rule the world.”

Harry kissed her temple. “Can I look at the picture again, love?”

She dug the 4D scan out of her bag and passed it over. He sighed, wrapping his arm around her waist. “She’s so beautiful.” He grinned. “We make a pretty kid, monster. She’s bloody perfect.”

She nodded and took the scan back. “We do indeed. She’s got your mouth, I think… Your dimples for sure.”

“Do you think she’ll be blonde?” He grinned and pulled her hand to his mouth. “If she is, she really will be a little Aphrodite. A little platinum blonde heart-breaker.”

She smiled and traced the baby’s cheek, her other hand moving to rest discretely on her baby bump. “I can’t believe I haven’t even really met her yet and I love her so much.”

Harry sipped his wine. “What do you mean you haven’t met her yet? You’ve been carrying her around for almost five months. I haven’t met her yet. She won’t even let me feel her.” He pouted.

Snickering, she stowed the scan safely away in her purse. “She knows you’re voice though, baby. She always gets more active when you’re talkin’ or singin’ to her.”

He grinned and spread his massive hand over her stomach. “Our little baby girl.” He kissed her.

“What should we name her?” She grinned.

“Jagger.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Fleetwood.” She arched an eyebrow at him and he smiled. “Walsh? Joey. That’d be cute. C’mon.”

She shook her head.

“Santana.”

“Nice try but no.” She smiled. “My mother will appreciate that you threw it out there though.”

He grinned, dimple deep in his cheek. “Janis or Jimi.”

“As much as I love them, I’m not naming my child after someone who OD’d on heroin. Given family history and all that…” She shrugged. “Seems like tempting fate.”

“Reasonable.” He nodded casually. “Stevie is a nice name.”

“No. We’re not naming our child after musicians. I wanna give her a normal name. Not one everyone and their mother is going to criticize.”

“Stevie is normal.” He pouted. “And she’s a very cool lady. Great role model.”

She shook her head, giggling against the back of her seat. “Granted, but we are not going to name our child after someone we actually know who isn’t related to us.”

“Why?” He sipped at his wine. “It’s cute.”

“It is. Absolutely and she’s a helluva woman to be named after but that opens the door to ‘well, why didn’t you name her ‘x’, I’ve known you longer…. Blah blah blah.” She shook her head. “No. We’re going to have a real hard time choosing godparents as it is.”

“I was actually thinking Mitch for godfather.”

“Oh that’s a great idea. I love that.” She nodded. “I was thinking Lola for godmother. She’s insane but she’s a great mother and I love her.”

“I’m fine with Lola.” He leaned over to kiss her again. “Though she is absolutely off her bloody rocker. Kid will never be bored, I guess.”

“Mitch will even that out.”

“No to Stevie. Okay.” He chuckled. “What’s yer suggestion then? Ye’ve suggested literally nothing. I’m doing all the hard work.”

She grinned. “I was thinking of naming her after one of our mothers.” She shrugged. “Next baby girl can be the other mother.” “Next one?” He grinned.

“Do you really think we’ll stop with just one? I’m from a massive family, you love kids.”

Shaking his head, he blew her a kiss. “I’m happy to keep making babies with yeh as long as yeh are happy to have them. So Anne or Angelica?”

“Well… I was thinking of changing it a bit… like Annette or Annemarie and Evangeline.” She shrugged. “Give them their own identity so it isn’t always ‘Big Anne’ and ‘Little Anne’, y’know?”

He smiled. “I like Evangeline and I like Annemarie. Very pretty. I feel like Evangeline is a little blonde with dimples who’s going to rule the world.”

“We don’t know that she’s blonde yet, baby.” She smiled and sipped her water. “Evangeline eats chauvinists for breakfast and has her daddy wrapped around her finger. Already.”

He relaxed back against the booth, one of the truest, purest smiles she’d ever seen on his face. “I’m a daddy.” He grinned at her. “I’m a daddy and yer a mummy and we’re having a little girl in five months. Can I see the picture again?”

“Is it sinking in yet?” She passed it over.

“Little by little.” He kissed her again, before tracing his little girl’s nose. “We can called her Evie.” Jamie made a big show of closing her eyes and savoring the name. “Evangeline Styles… Evie Styles. She is going to be the coolest little girl ever.”

He nodded. “Middle name?”

She shrugged. “That I haven’t really given much thought to, honestly.”

“Evangeline… Evangeline Elizabeth… Evangeline Catherine…”

“Too many syllables.” She smiled. “Needs to be shorter.”

Harry squinted in thought. “Evangeline…”

He shifted and the sleeve of his shirt rode up, revealing the rose inked into his skin. “Rose!” She smiled and tapped his tattoo. “Evangeline Rose.”

“Evangeline Rose Styles.” He leaned forward. “For the record I like it, it’s pretty, but no. We won’t be naming anyone after my tattoos… or yers for that matter. We’ll end up with like William T-Rex Styles and that won’t do, love.”

She snickered and stuck her tongue out. “Be the coolest kid on the block though.”

“Annette Saggy-Tits Mermaid Styles! Come back here right now!”

She threw her head back against the booth and laughed. “David Mossy-Rock Styles. You stop that right now. Leave your brother James Made-for-Walking Styles alone.”

His head hit the table with an audible thunk and neither of them could speak for a good ten minutes between the giggles.

“Okay no Rose.”

He wiped at his eyes. “Dolores? Evangeline Dolores.”

“Nope. Try again.”

“It’s pretty, love.”

“It means sorrows.” She shook her head. “I’m not naming our child something that literally means I’m sad. I’m not sad. No.”

He sighed. “What about Stevie for her middle name then?”

“Evie Stevie.” She looked as if she wasn’t convinced that she disliked it.

“That is cute. You have to admit.”

She smiled. “Evangeline Stevie Styles.”

“Evie Stevie Styles is literally the cutest name on the planet.” He turned puppy eyes on her. “Please love.”

#StylesBabyWatch can begin.

Now most of us considered the StylesBaby to be all but confirmed after the guitarist’s fainting spell in London early last month, but with no word coming from the Styles’ camp and no baby bump to be seen, it was clearly only speculation.

Well today, nearly a month and a half later, we are proud to be able to offer our congratulations to everyone’s favorite tattooed couple. Said couple was seen out and about in Sydney on Sunday, the day before 1D’s show in Allianz Stadium.

In addition to her brand-new baby bump, Mrs. Styles rocked a custom Alice + Olivia chiffon blouse, leather trousers- yes, you read right: she may be preggers but she is not laying down her sex appeal just yet.

Mr. Styles rocked protective future-dad, glaring at any pap that came too close to his glowing wife.

“She’s definitely pregnant and she’s absolutely adorable,” said a diner at the restaurant the Styles ate dinner at. “They spent most of dinner laughing and they were always touching each other. At one point, he leaned forward and put his hand on her belly and kissed her. So cute.”

Cheryl, visiting with Bear, set down her phone. “Guess the cat’s outta the bag, eh?”

Jamie snorted. “Oh, the horror! A pregnant woman not wanting to look like she’s wearing a tent.” She sipped her non-caffeinated herbal tea and grimaced, still rather salty that the only hot beverage she could drink was a tasteless cup of leaf and flower juice.

Harry chuckled, chugging half his kale shake. “I for one appreciate it, love.”

Smiling, Louis sipped his tea, chuckling when she glared over her cactus mug at him. “How did the doctor’s appointment go?

“Went fine.” Harry chugged the rest of his shake and nodded. He smiled down at Jamie and kissed her hair. “Mum and baby are healthy.”

“We had another ultrasound.” Jamie slid the photo to the middle of the table.

Cheryl gasped and nabbed the photo before anyone else could. “Oh m’god! Dimples!!”

Liam leaned over her shoulder. “Your mouth, innit, mate? Very cute.”

Josh accepted the photo from Cheryl and made a face, impressed. “I didn’t know the picture was this clear.”

Niall nodded. “Rather impressive tha’. Do ye know what yer havin’ yet?”

Jamie smiled up at Harry. “We’re having a girl!”

Cheryl squealed. “With those dimples? She’s gonna be a little dynamo.”

Louis whistled. “She’s a gorgeous little thing.”

Niall made a face at Josh and whispered. “All babies look the same, dun they?”

Josh nodded.

Part XV Up Next: A Blurb

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/oc #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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fanfictionreader2015ad · 4 years

Text

Humans First Contact with Alien Race Kanamit

Backstory

Date: April 25 2012

14 Year Old Young Girls (Claire Brady, Ciara Brady, Paige Larson) were reported missing this afternoon. They were last seen last Monday, right after high school, walking down the Gunning Street near North Park. The police supported by concerned parents and volunteers are still searching. Let's listen to one of the functionaries working on the case talk about the progress made. A finely dressed reporter on the screen announced coldly.

Then the image changed, a man in his 40s appearing on the screen. "So far we have no clues. No leads to follow. We might as well be just flouncing around in the dark." he said before his worried face was replaced by reporter's emotionless one again.

"As you could hear, the case is very difficult to handle for the police and especially for the parents. Stay tuned for the update on the case in the evening emission. Now, shortly, a kitten stuck on a tree lead to a 4-hour intervention involving firefighters and even an ambulance..."

The sound and image were cut abruptly with one press of a button, and whoever was watching the News left the room quietly.

Prologue

Date: July 4 2012

It was hot summer midday, the sun was shining tenaciously, blasting the pavement, the buildings and anything else on its way. This kind of heat usually makes people hide in their houses behind the shut sun blinds, but the town's promenade bustled with life. Young families with children, old couples strolling around, dogs on leashes and off leashes, followed by their owners. There even was a small group of foreign tourists, whom all were holding cameras in their pale palms and taking pictures of completely trivial objects and rather unimpressive looking buildings.

The gardens of the restaurants and cafes were full ass well, full of people and of noise. All the conversations combined together into an even cloud of buzz, raising above crowd's heads. Three girls sitting at a round table out in the Blair's cafe's garden were sipping slowly on their Carmela frappes while chatting with excitement. One of them was holding up a phone. She fiddled with it for a while then turned the screen in two other girl's direction.

"This is him?" asked a dark-haired girl. A pinch of disappointment could be heard in her voice, and the blond girl, that showed her the photo, took her phone back scrolling through her photos.

"Well, he looks different in person," she answered, failing to hide how someone could look at the hottest boy at their school and remain completely oblivious to his charms.

"Heh, don't worry Hanna, Spencer doesn't get it because she only has eyes for Daniel," reassured her the third girl, smiling widely. Her hair was short dark blond with pink speckles and she had a pencil stuck behind her ear, in a manner that's supposed to imitate an concentric artist's style.

"Daniel?" Hanna turned to her intrigued. "Who's that and why have I never heard about him?" added turning to Spencer. The latter made no move to answer, instead, taking a big group of her drink.

"Yes, Daniel Peters. The British student from 8-B."

"Muumuu, an upperclassman" Hanna wiggled her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, stop. I'm not in love with him and-" Spencer tried to put an end to the conversation, her face turning bright red.

"So where have they met?" Hanna pushed her chair closer to Aria's ignoring Spencer's protests, which only caused the latter to complain louder. Hanna and Aria began pretending they can't hear her, just so all three of them could burst out in laugh mere a minute later.

Their attack of uncontrolled laughter git disturbed by a notification pinging off on Hanna's phone.

"What is it?" asked Aria curiously, then leaned over Hanna's shoulder as the other was too absorbed in her phone's content to answer. After a moment or two of silence, Hanna raised her eyes from her phone, giving her friends a serious look.

"Have you heard about this new restaurant?" she began conspirator. "Which one?" asked Spencer unimpressed.

"Okay, so there's this restaurant that only a few chosen guests can visit. Its name and location are a complete mystery and in order to get inside you need a special invitation from the owner themselves!" With every word Hanna's, the smile widened, matching her eyes shining with excitement.

Aria looked similarly, as id she was ready to vibrate out of her skin any moment from now.

Spencer, on the other hand, remained skeptical. "Oh yeah? And how do you know that if the whole thing is so mysterious?"

"There's few YouTube's that got the invitation themselves. In the beginning, the whole thing was pretty low-key, but ever since my YouTuber mummy Grey Rouge uploaded a video about it, it got super popular!" said Hanna, undisturbed by her friend's negativity.

Spencer opened her mouth, about to ask another one of her pointy questions, but she was disturbed by a deep male voice coming from their left.

All three girls turned like on cue. They were met with a sight of a tall man around thirty, dressed in a nicely tailored black suit. The man smiled gently before greeting them with a simple "Hello" His voice was a nice calming tenor.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation..." he began.

"Would you be interested in visiting the said restaurant?" he asked before offering them a truly charming smile.

Hanna and Aria stared at him with eyes shining with excitement.

Spencer, on the other hand, stared at him suspiciously. Understandably she didn't want to believe that an extremely exclusive place as this almost mythical restaurant would send their staff to invite some random people from the street, just like that. Instead, thinking it was a scam, even more so given the man appeared.

However before she could thank him then politely tell him off, Hanna and Aria pushed the stranger for more information. Hanna, in particular, seemed interested in visiting the restaurant, which had Spencer stare at her cagily.

Eventually, the man left, but not before handing them three envelopes, each with their full names written on top in a fancy, swirly handwriting. Each contained a name invitation to the restaurant. At the very bottom in fine print, it was written that the invitation was valid as long as the concerned parties agree upon not sharing the location of the restaurant nor that they received the invitation with anybody, at least until the visit is concluded.

"We ask only that you trust us, Only that you simply trust us." Hanna finished reading the paragraph out loud, then raised her eyes to her friends. Her cheeks were painted red, bright smile an obvious indication she was willing to pass over any red alarms in order to visit the famous place.

Under Spencer's pressure tough, they all agreed to simply ignore the man and forget the whole situation, Hanna resultant so.

It didn't take much time for Hannah to break. Tuesday after classes she hurried to gather her stuff and left the school as fast as possible, trying to avoid being seen by her friends. However in vain. She was soon caught by Spencer and Aria, as she tried to sneak out through the main school gate unnoticed. Spencer tried once more to convince her that it is not a good idea. But Hanna didn't even want to listen to what she had to say. She refused to change her mind in pursuit of "her dreams".

"What dreams?" asked Spencer coldly. Hanna stared at her for a while then turned her back at her and crossed the street without a word.

Spencer and Aria shared a surprised stare then ran after their friend. When they caught up with her, they chose to accompany her, for the minimum of safety.

Spencer was still skeptical, which she hadn't failed to point out repeatedly. She did, however, believe it was better than to leave Hanna on her own, and so she followed her and Aria to the restaurant.

They arrived at the place indicated in the invitation about fifteen minutes later. At the entrance, they met a woman, with crazy eyes and cloths in complete disorder. She gave them an oddly pointed stare then walked up to them. She walked up to Spencer who tried to back up with disgust. When the woman saw that, she grabbed the girl by the wrist bringing her closer. Spencer struggled, trying to free herself from the unwanted touch. Before she could escape the lady leaned down and whispered to her ear in a weak voice. "TO SERVE MAN RESTAURANT IS HUMAN COOKBOOK!" Spencer looked at her with a mix of confusion and disgust on her face. To which the latter answered with a stare, crazy eyes fidgeting, thin lips forming a desperately sad smile. Then she let go of Spencer and nodded sadly, murmuring something intangible under her breath. Girls quickly walked way, thinking it was just yet another crazy lady, they were nothing of a rare specimen in the town.

After walking up the stairs they stopped in front of the heavy, wooden door and raised their heads to read the name of the restaurant. "To Serve A Human" announced simple black letters on a whiteboard.

"Ha, what a strange name," commented Hanna, aiming for a joke, but her voice sounded a bit wobbly. Neither Aria nor Spencer said anything. First absorbed in the

Once inside they were met with luxury in its purest, most old fashioned form.

They were greeted by a clean-looking old butler, dressed in a black tuxedo and white shit. Butler asked them respectfully to hand in their invitations. He inspected the papers shortly, then invited them inside with a simple hand gesture.

Three girls stood in the entrance, looking around admiring in the softness of the couches pushed against the walls of the large corridor, stunned by the richness of the colors, aromas, and textures surrounding them. However, before they had a chance to make even one step they felt something dull and heavy, hitting their heads. One after another they dropped on the soft surface of the fluffy carpet.

Chapter: Spencer Jill Hastings

Date: July 5 2012-August 4 2012

The first thing she saw after opening her eyes was a long dining table extending in front of her in a dim-lit room. Dull pain in her head reminded her the last few minutes before she was stunned. Walking into the mysterious restaurant, the guard checking their invitations then being hit from behind with something heavy.

"Well, that's how going to shady restaurants that you got an invitation to from a man in fancy black suit end like." she thought bitterly. She sat in the half-darkness for a while before she dared to make any move. Then she stood up. That had to cause some kind of motion sensor to trigger because suddenly the main lights turned on and Spencer was left squinting in the now brightly lit room. It had its pluses, however. Now at least she could properly inspect her surroundings.

The room was nicely furnished. With a large table laid with modern looking-late and shining silverware. Red wallpaper was home to oil paintings of landscapes and flowers, all of them flailed in golden frames. All that gave the room a look of a privet suite in a fancy hotel. But Spencer doesn't have time nor mood to appreciate the beauty of her prison. Apart from the expensive furniture and paintings, the room was empty, which meant she was now separated from her friends.

She did a tour of the room inspecting each piece of furniture, each painting, then finally the door placed on the opposite side of the room from where was the table placed. However, as expected her search turned out to have no issue. The furniture was just regular furniture, the door was shut closed.

She returned to "her" chair at the top of the table and sat its fluffy cushion, doubting highly that this was a part of the "amazing restaurant experience".

Soon enough a calm voice reached her. "It is the mealtime, Miss Hastings, kindly state your preference please." At first, it seemed though it came from nowhere. But upon quick look around she was able to locate a speaker, placed right above the door-frame.

When she made no attempt to answer the same message was repeated a few times. The voice unchanged each time starting with a high pitched "I" then sliding through the curves of the vowels and sharp peaks of the consonants ended low on the final "e". With each listening it appeared coldly unnatural, somehow dead in spite of its colorful appearance. Last time left Spencer shivering with uneasiness and disgust.

Finally, the unsettling announcement stopped leaving space for the equally unsettling silence to take over. Spencer wasn't however left to herself as she initially thought. After no longer than a few minutes from the end of what she concluded was a morbid recording the door opened.

A Male Kanamit, with large head supported by a puny, Female Kanamit walked inside, pushing in front of them a hotel-cart containing a wide variety of food. Next, the being started placing all of the delicacies one could imagine, from filet mignonette, trough meticulously plated ratatouille to the golden-crusted creme brulee. Spencer couldn't help but feel her mouth-watering at the sight of all the delicious food placed right in front of her, some steaming hot some freezing cold, but all without exception looking luxuriously tasty.

When she managed to shake away the amazement the Kanamit was just about to leave. She only had time to shout after them a pathetic "Where am I?"

At that, the Kanamit turned and looked her straight in the eyes. Their ice-cold gaze had Spencer shiver once again. The being smiled politely and offered her a robotic "Enjoy your meal". Then they walked out. The door shut closed with a muted thud and she has left to herself yet again.

She looked at the food suspiciously, with no intention to touch any of it at first. But then her stomach reminded her kindly that she hadn't had lunch this day yet, by rumbling loudly. The sound echoed in the empty room. She looked at the food once more. It was truly beautiful, like a piece of art shining in the yellow light of the lamps.

After another few minutes of hesitation, she reluctantly took one of the plates to inspect its content. It was definitely food, she wouldn't say "regular" as it appeared to be top tear chef's work, but at least she could say it wasn't plastic or some disgusting slime-like substance shaped into this beautiful pieces of sustenance. Carefully, reassembling a scared-cat she took the silver fork and dipped it into the piece of golden baked potatoes. She cut a little piece of it, then brought it to her mouth. The smell was amazing, taking over her senses, causing her nostrils to expand. She could feel spit gathering in her mouth at the godly aroma of the butter melted into the Pommel de Terrie's crisp skin.

Unable to control herself anymore she shoved the bite into her mouth. The food was almost dissolving in her mouth, tender flesh of the potato contrasting with its crisp skin.

After that first bite came another, and another, and another. She couldn't stop eating, all of this delicious food fitting in her mouth perfectly, as if it was its desire to find itself in her stomach.

After that, all the days became one, under the electric light of the room she was provided with all the foods she could imagine and more, some she couldn't even name. The Kanamits were coming and leaving, each time bringing more and more food. She felt full, constantly expanding, but there was nothing she could do as her body constantly longed for more. More gracious salads, creamy soups, crispy baked vegetables and tender meat such as Ribs to Burgers to Steaks. More sweet chewy toffee, more golden brown nougat cracking under her teeth.

Sometimes she tried to talk, to the Kanamits or to herself even, but no words came out of her mouth, only animistic growls and choked squelching sounds.

Before long she couldn't stand up anymore, her body spilling out from both sides of the chair.

Month Later, No longer than a day or two from there, although it was hard to tell as now her life was just a single string of endless meals, one of the Kanamit came, but they brought no food.

The Kanamit looked slightly different from the others, it wore a black uniform with a white headpiece, weirdly imitating a policeman hat. The Kanamit opened the door wide and Kanamits in similar uniforms came in.

They walked up to Spencer and no without great effort pulled her out from her chair. They then placed her on a cart, similar to those that were used by the Kanamits to bring her food. She is then dragged away, unable to protest or fight back, weakened and dumber by the weeks of being imprisoned, Delicious calories that she was fed with for weeks now proving themselves to be her greatest enemies.

She was led through cold corridors until they reached a large room full of hot steam, clinging of metal against metal and shouts. Spencer's fogged mind manages to identify the room as a kitchen. She was placed in one spot, then put away, treated no different, then a pile of dead meat. The worst part is that she was still unable to do anything but passively observe her environment. And what she has seen was a truly horrifying image of an organized butchery.

One of the Kanamit, the one walking around and shouting at everyone around attracted her attention. Spencer followed them with her eyes. They looked no different than the Kanamits, anatomically that is. The high hat and different colors of clothing made it obvious that they were way more important than all of the Kanamits, walking around with confidence, scolding the inexperienced novices, the Kanamit seemed to be this kitchen's top chef. However it was not their appearance or behavior that interested Spencer, but the book they were holding. It was a large tome, on its hardcover painted navy blue gold letters stated: "To Serve Human". This title rung a bell in Spence's mind, she couldn't, however, remember where she had seen, or maybe heard, it.

She focused on trying to dig the information out of her lazy brain, but with no result until the Kanamit read out a few sentences out of the said book.

"In order to make the human flesh tender and for the meat to tear easily apart it is imperative to cook the Human over medium heat for no shorter than two hours. The crispy skin is obtained by..." the rest of the text was muted by the loud pounding of the blood in Spencer's ears.

"It's a Cookbook For Humans!" echoed in her head.

She looked around in a panic, hoping for a last chance, for a way to escape. That's when she saw it. A huge grill with gentle orange flames rising dangerously, all the way up to the ceiling in one of the corners of the kitchen. Above the open fire, Huge Meat Hooks were hanging from the ceiling painted in black by the smoke. Sharp points of the hooks shone in the flames, waiting for flesh to pierce. Spencer tried to scream, but it was too late.

The Female Kanamit stripped her naked, then covered her body with thick brown sauce (Kanamit's BBQ Sauce), before finally hanging her on the hooks above the fire. Metal pierced through the mass of muscles and tendons, entering her body right under the shoulder blades on her back and peaking out on the other side, going right through her chest muscles. Flames began to lick her feet lazily, the heat rising steadily. With each second pain becoming more and more unbearable, up to the point when she could no longer tell when finished her body and where started the flames. She was being cooked alive on a slow fire, just as the Human Cookbook said.

She screamed in agony, once twice, until the smoke from the fire filled her lungs up completely. She drew one last breath of heavy grey pall, for her head to finally drop down. Her motionless body hung over the grill, surrounded by trivial sounds of a busy kitchen.

Meanwhile, in the great dining room, a Kanamit Noble awaited his lunch. The midday was approaching quickly, and as a reputable member of the Kanamit society, the aristocrat was getting impatient. It would be savage to start lunch even a mere second after 12 o'clock. And for any Kanamit being anything but sophisticated was unthinkable.

What's more, the table was laid in a truly bizarre fashion. Kanamit Noble squinted at the paper plates and plastic covers placed in front of them. Two colorful bottles, one red the other yellow stood in the middle of the table. The sides of sour pickles and other fermented vegetables were organized in gimmicky meanders on silver plates displayed in the center of the table. Kanamit Noble gave the setup one more critical look before the servants finally brought the main dish. Mountains of cooked, smoked and grilled meat rode into the room on few different carts. The aroma of meticulously prepared humans filled the room and caused the aristocrat's mouth to water. As the meat in various forms was put in front of them, they took a napkin and placed it on their knees, but made no move to touch the food. They waited patiently for the top chef to walk out through the kitchen door and present the dish.

They didn't have to wait long, The latter emerged from the kitchen shortly after the dish. The chef stood in front of their boss and reassured them that this is the way people on Earth eat their meat. To which the aristocrat answered by nodding and digging in without any further questions.

The meal was proven to be delicious. Tender meat easily separable from the bones dissolved on the tongue. Steaks were so juicy that a plastic knife could smoothly cut through the muscle. The crispy exterior perfectly complimented meat's tenderness.

When the lunch ended, pleased Kanamit Noble called their chef to congratulate him on a delicious meal and praised them for their job well done. Then they asked curiously about the name of the dish. The answers surprised them even more than the dish itself.

"It is simply called Steak and ribs sir," said the chef proudly. "Oh" Kanamit Noble raised their eyebrows astonished. "It's a popular food on Earth." added top chef. "Barbecue?" Noble Kanamit continued the questioning.

"Yes, Sir." answered top chef, now getting slightly uneasy. Was their master not content with the dish? Did they change their mind after hearing the simplicity of the name the dish was given by Humans?

"Very well, those humans are onto something," said the Kanamit Noble finally, as their grey tongue swung against their purplish lips. "I'll be awaiting your next creation chef." They added, at last, motioning for a top chef to leave.

The latter bowed respectfully then left the room in haste.

Chapter: Aria Marie Montgomery

Date: July 5 2012-August 6 2012

The gentle sound of a monotone voice brought Aria back into the consciousness "It is the mealtime Miss Montgomery, kindly state your preference please."

She shook off the remains of the sleepiness and looked around a classy room she had to be transported to while she was still unconscious. She was sitting at the table laid with astonishingly beautiful silverware and plates covered with contrived motives. For a while, she got lost in the smooth ribbons and circles painted on the plate's surface. Her head begun to spin and her mind was running a thousand miles an hour, away into the kingdom of art. When the voice spoke again bringing her back from the realm of abstract shapes and fantastic swirls, it appeared equally calm, but now that she focused on its timbre it sounded somehow inhuman

She looked around searching for voice's source. She was quickly able to locate a speaker attached to the wall above the door on the other side of the room. She hesitated, but it lasted only for a minute or two before she decided to speak, at first a bit in a shyly "Hello, who's there? Where am I?"

Yet she was met with the same monotonous voice, repeating the same question. After one more attempt to get something out of the voice, she shrugged then asks curiously "What's on the menu?"

"Whatever your heart desires" stated the voice.

"I'll take a Steak..." she responded almost instantly.

"A steak? Without ribs?" asked the voice truly surprised.

"Yes, who eats steak and ribs all alone?" Aria was confused. First, she was placed in this fancy room all alone and now she was to hold a conversation with what most likely was an AI. This restaurant operated in a truly bizarre fashion.

"We thought..." the voice sounded straight-up abashed. "Barbecue?" it finished hesitantly.

"Ahhh." finally the understanding flew down on her "No, thanks I'll take just a steak with mashed potatoes and Carrot Salad," she said cheerily. But the voice said no more, she was left to the complete silence and solitude of the room.

To her surprise, shortly she was provided not only with exactly what she ordered but with exactly what she envisioned as well. The dish was brought by a Kanamit server. But again this was a fancy, new, eccentric restaurant. That could explain the costume... When the Kanamit server placed the dishes on the table she accidentally touched the "disguise" and discovered it was real skin. She drew her hand back quickly as if she was burned on the contact. The slimy realness of the skin made her tremble inside. It either meant this was not a costume and the server was Kanamit. "Maybe an ill person?" she hoped. Once she's seen a documentary about the "tree man" disease maybe it was a similar case?

She looked back at the Kanamit server who seemingly undisturbed and oblivious to her disgust bowed slightly and left Aria with a horrible thought in mind. What if that was a costume? A costume made out of Human Skin or Alien? She laughed at herself and her over-reactive imagination, shaking her head violently, but her insides felt cold.

After she finished the meal weird sleepiness washed over her and even though there were around a million questions buzzing under her skull. Before long she was deep asleep with her head snuggled to her chest in a peaceful picture.

She woke up with the loud rumbling of her stomach. The food was brought to her, this time without the voice asking her about her preferences, just informing her coldly "It's the mealtime, Miss Montgomery".

The food placed in front of her had an amazing aroma, but it was not enough to calm her shattered nerves. She tried to stand up, however, all her strength had to leave her completely because when she attempts to even move her finger she feels a wave of violent nausea swipe over her. Scared, she pushed out a scream of panic, but with no result. No one came to rescue her, no one responded to her desperate calls. Tears flew down her chin, a waterfall of salty water

She decided she won't touch the food until she was informed about the whereabouts of her friends, but she didn't last even an hour. Met with the luring aroma of the meal she failed to resist the urge to fill up her mouth with something, with anything. She began to eat slowly, shame poking at her mind with each bite. However, before long, she was grabbing the food by handfuls, pushing it into her mouth savagely.

She ended up swallowing hungrily everything she was given, and the more she ate, the more hunger she felt. Time passed and all was just a hazy sequence of the alternating feelings of emptiness and fullness.

After several days or maybe weeks, Aria couldn't tell, three Kanamits walked into the room. Instead of food, they brought an empty cart. They approached Aria, who still in the state of half-sleep couldn't do much but murmur weakly "What is happening? What do you want? What... do... you... want?"

Next similarly to what happened to Spencer, she's led by the guard to the kitchen. She can't move due to her overweight and food-induced sleepiness.

She was next led through cold corridors until they reached a large room full of hot steam, clinging of metal against metal and shouts. She was placed on a large metal table and left by herself to observe her surroundings, what painted itself in front of her was a truly horrifying image of an organized butchery. The knives cutting rhythmically through raw vegetables, the fire flaring on the grill.

She tried to move but her body felt too heavy, as felt her eyelids. She fought with the sleepiness, and for an intensely painful minute, she managed to keep her eyes open. However, then the warmth from the grills and ovens put her to sleep, the sounds of cutting and frying a morbid lullaby.

She was brought back into consciousness by an explosion of pain in her chest. She looked down and in the haze periphery of her vision, she's seen a hook poking up from the middle of her chest. It took her a while to link the pain to what she was looking at, but when she did, she pushed out a loud, high pitched scream. Few Kanamits turned and stared at her with blank, emotionless expressions. They kept looking in her direction as she screamed and screamed until her lungs filled up with smoke. She stilled, then it was just a dead body hanging down from a hook above the fire.

This time the paper plates and the so-called barbecue were expected and the main dish was awaited with impatience.

The Kanamit Noble munched on the meat hungrily, as soon as the meal was delivered on the table. In a disgusting fashion, they devoured the whole human by themselves. Then licking their lips they ordered the servant to pay their compliments to the chef again.

The servant disappeared being the kitchen door and soon the Chef themselves emerged from the kitchen. Kanamit praised them once more, to which they answered with a polite bow. Next, the Kanamit Noble asked them to get the new batch ready for tomorrow.

At this request, the Chef made a worried face. He hesitated for a minute but rushed and encouraged by their employer he explained that the last "Human aka Animal" is not quite ready yet. "We are having some minor issues, Sir," he said squinting frightened.

Unhappy Kanamit Noble ordered the Chef to go back to the kitchen. Kanamit Noble offered him a parting "I expect better results by week midday." before the Chef crawled away in shame.

Chapter: Hanna Olivia Rivers

Date: July 5 2012-August 20 2012

There was light and sound of the dishes. Then the darkness behind closed eyes.

Once she woke up in a lit room, full of stains and silks, and pieces of art. Another time a long dining hall with a discretely elegant wooden table stretching its arms from one side of the room to another.

When the lights were on there were also appetizing aromas of many foods, swirling around, mixing together in a delicious dance of steam. After the aromas usually came the visions, the images of an infinite string of food of insanely wide variety being brought into the room, by strange figures. For Hanna, the Kanamit were no more than the silhouettes, faceless shadows behind the food carts. The food, however, was oh so vividly colorful, then, when the time for consumption came so tender, so delightfully dissolving on her tongue. And the taste! She had never tasted something similar before, the Boer bourgeoisie was sweat, yet salty with a little earthy note, meat falling apart before a fork even touched it.

After a while, all she could remember was waking up just to fill her mouth up with whatever she was given. Gasping around the food, astonished by its perfect texture and refined taste. Then she would fall asleep. What was happening in between those short periods of consciousness? She had no idea, and no way to find out. After a meal her body becoming so heavy, eyelids falling closed on their own. The sleepiness overpowered her, and she had no way to fight.

She was wakened up once more, but this time it seemed different. The room though still luxurious looked somehow menacing. Tall lamps in the corners emitting dim yellow light, which while it should be soughing somehow spelled danger to Hanna. A high pitched voice called "The mealtime" and Hanna lifted herself up from the chair she was seated on, not without struggle. She then took a look around the room, but with no significant results. She admired the craftsmanship on the heavily craved furniture for a while, then as she heard the sound of the doors opening she rushed back to take her seat. Yet again she was brought the food, but now she ate it in full awareness of what she was shoving into her mouth. The dishes were of truly godly appearance and taste. Once she finished and all the plates were taken away she crouched in one corner of the room. She leaned against the wall for a second then raised up her head opened her mouth, and forced to fingers into her throat.

You fat pig. You lazy bitch. You're disgusting. If you take the next bite you'll be fat, so fat. Spit it out! I said, SPIT IT OUT. Reasoned in Hanna's head, that the images of her previous self leaning over a toilet, with her fingers shoved deep down her throat returning to nature, the food she just swallowed.

She came here with a hope for change, thinking the restaurants amazing "fit food" would solve all of her problems. And now she was being fattened. Now she really was a pig, an animal to the slaughter. Bitter thoughts of her naivety fill up her mind as a string of half-digested food finally leaves her mouth. She vomits violently, her body shaking, even convulsing.

After being scolded by his boss, Kanamit Chef called his subordinates and presented them to a new plan, to a solution for the problematic "Animal Meat aka Human" he came up with. Kanamit kitchen workers and servants nodded approvingly, after hearing his words.

A guard came in and Hanna was taken away. She was brought into a completely dark room. She started to crawl-walk, trying to investigate her surroundings by touch. She found some cold, long "sticks" that to her horror turned out to be piles of femurs, humerus and other bones and Humans Heads in Glass. All human. This confirmed her initial suppositions, that is the fact that she was being fattened in order for her kidnappers to consume her flesh. She shivered in the darkness, letting herself spill a tear. There was no chance of escape for her. No hope for rescue.

Next, the door was open and a guard came in, the light was switched on, and she could now see the grim piles of bones, she had touched before. She was chained to a chair with an IV is fixed to her wrist. Then, suddenly a metal straw was forced into her throat. Ever since then she was forced to swallow disgusting pulp through this straw. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, even speaking was hard. She felt disgusting, like a container that was filled up with pulp which then spilled out through the other end. Her excrement were evacuated through a hole in the seat of the chair, their smell filling up the room with their

After a few weeks when she was finally properly fattened a guard came to see her once more. They took her to the kitchen, where she was hooked over the grill, just like many before her. She tried to scream, to struggle, but with no What was the most painful and horrifying for her though was that for hours she was forced to look at her own reflection on the surface of the metal fridge. The morbid image of her feet and the rest of the body cooking slowly over the medium fire. She couldn't help looking at her own mouth opening when she silently screamed in agony and closed forming a thin line when she tried to mentally push the burning pain away. Finally, she followed her friends passing out, then suffocating.

The steak and ribs were served the next Tuesday, to Kanamit aristocrat's excitement. They sat at the table looking approvingly at the now well-known paper plates and plastic knives. The meal rode in shortly after, a pile of meat plated graciously on a large platter. Aristocrat gave the servant a little nod, after which gesture the servant left the room with a polite bow. Once alone in the room, Kanamit aristocrat indulged in the dish.

This barbecue was proven to be by far the beast one of the those that they have eaten so far. Chef had to be congratulated at least twice for this one. Kanamit aristocrat licked their lips. Oh, and then prized, prized with a possibility to prepare the godly meal once more. Murmuring that under their breath the aristocrat called the servant back into the room. They ordered them to bring the Chef into the room, and so they did. A few seconds later Chef was already standing in front of their boss, with their back straight and head high they awaited a prize or a bane. What followed was a prize and that brought a wide smile to their face. They nodded vigorously at each end every of their employer's words then walked away an height spirits when told so.

The next day a new "Meat Delivery" was ordered by the Kanamit Noble. And so dozens of Humans Agents strolled out on the streets in the search of the new prey.

(Samara Cook's Breaking Fourth Wall to Readers)

Samara Cook hidden in the bushes in front of the "To Serve Human" Restaurant breathed in sharply. Humans Agents wrote a few words in their handy notebook then shook their heads violently. There was no way his suppositions were correct, though officer Public. Right? Right? If Samara was however right it was probably wiser to kill yourself than continue walking on this Earth surface. Not that it really matters, Samara thought. Then Samara stared intensely into the darkness, Samara eyes two wide plates of white and black in the dense blue marine of this night. There is no hope, Humans will all finish on a Kanamit Dinner Table.

#To Serve Man is Human Cookbook #To Serve Man (Humans eaten by Aliens)#Invited As Dinner #Humans Ribs #Humans Steaks #Humans BBQ #Fattening Up Humans #Fattened Up Humans #Teens Eaten by Kanamits #To Serve Man Restaurant is Human Slaughterhouse #To Serve Man #To Serve Man Trope

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chiaroscuro-life · 5 years

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gods of the broadway-7th avenue line

The station is unbearably hot for this early in June, several stairways deep in the dripping dark beneath ramshackle Brooklyn housing. The normal bustling of people is almost nonexistent, even for a Wednesday afternoon. Only a few stand at the platform, slouching against the walls, listening to music, flipping through brochures, all limp and exhausted. None of them are really present beneath the weak fluorescent bar flickering dimly into the tunnels ahead. Even the rats are quiet. Perhaps because of the sweltering heat, all grime and sweat and exposed-pipe ceiling.

There's a creak at the turnstile, loud and echoing in the emptiness when someone steps through it. No one turns to look, not even when he trips over the threshold and scrambles to regain his balance, muffled cursing under his breath. Only the short woman fanning herself by the movie posters looks slightly affronted, and she shoots him a nasty look as she pulls her stroller closer. The station soon reverts back to its miserable silence as all fought a wordless battle against the pulsing warmth.

The train arrives in an unwanted fanfare of squealing brakes and hot wind buffeting everyone's faces. It brings the stink of the city with it, and upon its arrival the short woman stands, smooths her skirt, and pushes the stroller with the sleeping baby on board. Her heels click so loudly she doesn't notice the footsteps of the man behind her until they both board the car. They're alone together when the doors squeak shut. Her maroon lips clamp in a firm line and she pulls the stroller closer again as he sits down across from her, graceless in the way he falls back with a huge grunt and kicks his boots out in front of him. She sniffs haughtily, and in doing so catches a strange scent, unusual for the common odor of the subway. It smells like the burning of fresh wood, strong and harsh and she smells it even more so when the man opens his (overcoat?) and settles back. The train lurches forward and they're speeding off into the humid dark.

She can't help but stare at him. The man looks very strange, face long and thin framed by scraggly black hair. He's lean and bony but thickly clothed in a very odd, black, muumuu-looking cover. His (overcoat?) is a deep maroon and from as far as the woman can tell, only his pale face and hands are naked to the air. His boots are tall and long and pointed, scuffed to the point of wearing through. The woman wipes the perspiration from her brow and she notices he's not even broken into a sweat. She thinks he must be very crazy or very religious to be wearing such layered...well, she could hardly call it attire. When he throws his head back and laughs at nothing, she decides on crazy. She is murmuring her thanks to God when the train pulls into the next platform and three or four people amble on board, each one with the same tired face as the next.

"Is this the 3 train into Manhattan?"

The high tenor voice startles the thin man and he looks up at the short stranger before him. He grimaces.

"You didn't bother checking?"

The short one shrugs. "It doesn't matter. I knew where you were anyway."

"I'm honored."

The short one sits down and the car returns to silence. The few other passengers are grasping weakly to the overhead bars, eyes vacant as the movement rattles them around like rag dolls. The woman stares at the new arriver. He's dressed just as strangely as his companion, but almost the complete opposite. He's stocky and bald, covered head to toe in mismatched Hawaiian floral patterns one might find at a foreclosed fabric store. His doughy face is ruddy and shining. "So much for not standing out," says the tall one.

"You're one to talk."

The tall one smirks and shrugs, leaning closer to the short one to whisper something in his ear. The short one laughs and says something back. They continue their silent conversation as the train barrels on. The woman lifts her head high, clasping her purse and the stroller, straining to hear their voices. She bristles when they both look in her direction and stare at her for a moment, silent, unblinking. But soon they're speaking again so quickly and quietly that she can't decide if she's hearing them or the rush of the train on the tracks.

It isn't until the train stops and everyone save the three of them drain away onto the platform that she decides to spy on them. The baby in the carriage is still sound asleep despite the jostling, but she gets up as everyone swells forward and moves just a little further away, still within earshot but far enough so she feels safe. She pretends to examine her neatly pressed skirt as the doors close and they start off again. Out of the corner of her heavily lined eye, the men have stretched out some on the hard plastic seats as if they were pools of cheap fabric melting over the shelves. As much as she would hate to admit, she’s slightly amused at the sight of them, polar opposites sat beside each other as if they were two trees shading the same brook. For lack of motivation to speak to them, she’s named them in her head; the tall one she calls Skinny, and the short one she deems Baldy, beautifully asinine and wonderfully simple.

"It's a shame, you know."

She jumps as Skinny speaks. His soft, husky voice seems to echo throughout the entire car. Baldy, who had seemed to be falling asleep, opens one bleary eye. "Come again?"

Skinny twirls his hair in his fingers, not looking at him. "It's a shame," he says, "that you still couldn't do your job."

Baldy sits up, stiff as a post, very red in the face. "Are you really starting this now?"

The woman leans forward.

Skinny is focused on his hair. "What better time?" he muses. "He sent me to help you clean up."

Baldy swells. "You don't have to rub it in."

"I'm not rubbing it in. I'm just telling the truth. You did a rubbish job."

Baldy stares down into his lap, fiddling with a loose thread. "It was going to be part of my portfolio," he grumbled. "I want that promotion."

"Yes, -------" (the woman could not tell what language the name was from) "but it does no good to have a rubbish portfolio, too."

Baldy glares at him, fists clenched. "What exactly is wrong with this world, anyway?" He crosses his arms. "You tell me why you think it's so terrible, and then I will help you destroy it. My own handiwork. My brain child, that which I spent actual eternities working on, as you well know. "

Skinny pushes his hair behind his ear, red-rimmed eyes meeting his friend's with an almost palpable contempt. "I would, but I'm afraid it would break you."

"Try me."

The woman is leaning so far forward to listen that she is practically hanging over the metal partition between the seats and the doors.

Skinny says something in that strange language of his again, a guttural hissing noise that the woman can make neither head nor tail of. But it must have struck Baldy sharply, because he leans over and moans so loud into his hands the baby wakes up, blinking confusedly in the dimness.

“That was one time!”

Skinny presses on, his forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “And don’t even get me started on the Abrathain mess,” he snaps. “Honestly, man, what in His name were you thinking?”

Baldy sniffs, his eyes watering and puffy. “It was my first time.”

“Even I didn’t screw up that badly my first go.” He leans back and sighs. “Last time I checked, they had a very hard time with half their intestines hanging out of their faces.”

This gets the woman’s attention. She sits bolt upright, staring in their direction, then all around. She is completely alone with them save for the baby, who had fallen asleep again with his pacifier. The train is speeding along the tunnel. She doesn’t know how long it will be till the next stop .My dear God, have mercy. Have mercy.

“What about the Orthonian Sphere? I did pretty well on those volcanoes. You have to admit…”

“Headquarters didn’t much like those acid eruptions, mate,” replied Skinny boredly. “Can’t say your underlings did either.”

“How did things turn out for them? My, it’s been long…”

“They’re dead, remember?”

“Oh.”

They sit silently for a while. The woman pats her forehead with her handkerchief, panting, panicking. My God, they’re insane, she thinks wildly. She’s moved down to the end of her row without being obvious – no matter how crazy her fellow passengers were, she was a lady. She didn’t want to be rude. She fixes her eyes on the windows, mouth in so firm and thin a line her lipstick has all but disappeared. She watches their reflections.

Skinny is staring at the seats in front of him, lost in the tunnel lights rushing past. Baldy sniffs, rubbing his nose on his acid-orange florals.

"You know, it's not entirely your fault."

Baldy looks up, surprised. "Come again?"

Skinny shrugs. "One may build a perfect utopia and still it sours when natural order sets in." He looks at his partner. "It's not your terrarium. It's your pets. You spend millennia crafting the perfect landscape, watering the finest rivers, cultivating the perfect creatures. But bless those beasts with the power to want and it all goes haywire." He grimaces. "Look where we sit. We're crawling around in the underdark as they squabble and kill above us. They bring black scum to this palace. It's vermin, straight and simple. There is no perfect beast, -------. The very words are contrary."

"We've given second chances before."

Skinny's expression darkens. "The Divine Cleanse," he murmured, his hair falling in front of his face. "I believe the people of this world call it 'The Great Flood.' And yet, see how it turned out. You gave them their chance, and they're aware of it. But look what they've done."

The woman is straining so hard to hear that her necklace is taut against her neck and her knuckles on the stroller handles turn white.

"Look how selfish and disgusting they are. Their idea of government is selfish and bloodsoaked. They revel in absolute decimation. They kill one another simply to call a single sphere in the universe their very own. And still you believe in second chances." Skinny shudders. "Humans are simply revolting."

The woman has heard enough. "I daresay that's quite hypocritical of you," she snaps, and both men glance in her direction. She's seething, her lips trembling, as well and her hands. "How miserable can you be, really?" She sniffs. "Honestly, if there's anyone disagreeable as you say, it must be you. Now speak with some amount of intelligence or kindly don't speak at all." She crosses her arms. "How horrid."

They look at her, then at each other, nonplussed. They pass each other a glance of oh well and resume to their depressed slump, the woman breathing hard through her nose at them. Skinny reaches into his pocket and brings out a pipe, setting it against his lips. Smoke curls around his face though his hands stay by his sides, as though the pipe sprang to life by itself. The woman doesn’t sense this, though, as she glares through the acrid purple cloud.

“Excuse me. You’re not to smoke on this train.”

He glances in her direction.

She stiffens. “I say, you’re not to smoke on this train. It says so right above your heads. It’s a safety hazard to all passengers aboard and I simply will not stand for it.”

Baldy chuckles. His eyes have suddenly turned cold. “What does it matter, lady?” He sneers. “It won’t bother you shortly.”

She is trembling with a mixture of both anger and fear. “I tell you, why must you make everything so disagreeable? Both of you are quite incorrigible men. You’ve got no sense of decency in front of a lady, have you?”

She sits there, rigid, her blonde hair beginning to fall free from its strict bun, squinting against the furious tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her lipstick has faded to a sickly pink color and she fans herself more erratically with her subway map. She can’t help but feel surges of hate for the indifferent eyes upon her, so placid and incomprehensible. The baby squirms and cries out weakly.

“You really are a stupid broad, aren’t you?” Skinny speaks suddenly, face hazy behind his smoke. He nudges his friend. ‘You have to do it at some point. Better if it was quick.”

The woman squawks furiously. “Do what? When? Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?” She jumps to her feet and stalks to the end of the carriage. “I hope you know there are police tapes recording everything you say. And I mark my words, I’m going to report you to the officials the moment this train stops at the next platform.” Her eyes dart around fervently. There must be some sort of security measures in place on a public train, I’m sure of it.

The train slows suddenly, lurching with the sudden change in speed, sending the woman stumbling back into her seat. The lights flashing outside in the tunnels have gone out some time around the bend; she isn’t sure. With a great screech of metal on metal, the train pitches and rocks back onto the tracks as it comes to a complete stop.

Any minute now the doors will open and I will be safe on the platform. Any minute now. There will be a guard at the entrance and I will be sure to put these men away.

“I’m going,” she announces. She stands and grasps the stroller, wheeling toward the doors. The bright lights in the car suddenly flicker, and in that moment she realizes it is as black outside her window as the other side facing the tunnel wall.

“What on earth…”

She grabs the doors, tries to pry them apart, but they remain sealed. She shoves her entire body into them, her tiny frame jostling and she’s panicking more and more as they remain unsullied by her weak movements. “Let me out!”

Behind her, Baldy speaks. “You know, of all the lovelier places we could have gone to see one last time, you had to choose to meet underground in a grime-slicked subway station.” There’s a smile in his voice. “You never fail to raise questions.”

“There is nothing more perfect and pure than a two-way path, my friend. One has the pleasant choice of going one way or the other into the same old darkness.” He gets to his feet, boots tapping gently on the grimy floor, and every last bulb on the subway bursts into a shower of sparks and glass and plunges them all into blackness.

The woman has slid down the wall of the subway, her head in her hands, unable to make a sound. Someone moves; there’s a rustle of fabric and the tinkling of broken glass. The baby is wailing and the heat has suddenly drained away so quickly that the woman thinks she can hear the moisture freezing against the windows, and she’s reminded of snow and falling flakes she could reach out and touch, back when she was a child –

A sudden flicker of light, and Baldy’s face is illuminated by a dancing flame in his palm. The shadows dance, hellish on his heavy features. Fire drips from his fingers.

“I’m ready.”

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nalufever · 7 years

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A Girl Worth Fighting For

Prompt: White Day ~ A Girl Worth Fighting For Pairing: Nalu (can't resist) Rating: fluffy Word count: 1646 'A Girl Worth Fighting For'

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Summary: Natsu navigates unspeakable horrors to win Lucy's love ~ or ~ Natsu goes shopping, looking for the perfect white day gift.

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A fun little drabble exchange for White Day tagging @impracticaldemon @ff-darkshininglight @cheer-chan @magerain @rizzy09

"Happy, are you sure this is the best department store in Magnolia?" Natsu craned his head up to look at the fancy lettering on the big glass windows. "Hudson's Em - poor - e - um? Doesn't look that great. You sure this the best one?"

"Well yeah, lookit all the stuff in the windows!" Happy gestured to the fancy display of mannequins wearing the latest Heart Kreuz fashions. "Mira and Erza love this place!"

"But will I find Lucy the perfect gift here? She's not like other girls."

"Yeah, she's weird." The exceed chortled and flew out of reach. "But you're getting just as weird as her, worrying about finding a white day gift. Give her fish!"

Natsu shook his head. "If you're not gonna help you can leave."

"I wouldn't miss this for all the fish in the river."

Putting his worries aside for the moment, Natsu strode up to the double doors and entered Hudson's Emporium. Clothes, shoes, handbags and luggage were on the immediate left; on the right were displays of sporting equipment, kitchenware and lamps.

Natsu wandered aimlessly, Happy trailing behind him giving a constant stream of poor advice. "Ooh! Buy her a vacuum! How 'bout hip waders? Gym membership? Lookit that muumuu, maybe they have one in her size."

Natsu glared at his exceed. "Oi! I said if you're not gonna help you could leave!"

His usual shit-eating grin in place, Happy responded. "I never said I was gonna help - I said I wouldn't miss this for all the fish in the river!"

An announcement blared over the public address system: "White Day Special Sale next to the food department starting in five minutes."

With shining eyes and hope reborn in his heart, Natsu let go of Happy. "Lucy loves food!"

Rubbing his sore neck, Happy coughed. "That's one thing we can agree on, she loves greasy food!"

They joined the torrents of men rushing to the back of the store also intent on procuring the perfect White Day gift for their special lady. In between the food and millinery departments was a long table bedecked with a blinding white tablecloth. Upon it was a dazzling selection of white items; from marshmallows and white chocolate to candles, coffee cups and lingerie - all astonishingly white.

All the men trudged closer beginning to paw the merchandise. And once the P.A. system squawked alerting them to a time limit they began to toss through the sale items with terrible haste.

Natsu had never been subjected to such indignities before. As a mage of incredible power and wild disregard for personal safety and the subtleties of personal space, Natsu had never, ever been elbowed in a brouhaha over merchandise. Each man was desperately digging, searching for a cheap yet stylish and hopefully beloved gift for their special someone.

Happy flew overtop and dive-bombed the now swarming group of men pawing the selection of marshmallows, candles and skimpy night attire. Competition got fiercer. A fist-fight broke out over a set of mugs emblazoned with a cheesy 'love' print. Three men were sprawled on the marble floor - tussling over a package containing white slippers, a nighty and robe.

Shouted threats, kicks and thrown elbows kept Natsu off balance. He had never seen non-mages act like guild members before - it was more than a little off-putting. Finally his frozen state broke. Natsu dove into the throng with a battle cry worthy of Erza fighting for the last piece of strawberry cake. He searched with single-minded aim, finding and discarding novelty knickers embroidered with a suggestion he almost burst into flames just reading. The candles were a bit tempting, but not nice enough he decided. Marshmallows were 'meh', the chocolate too similar to what he'd received, the nightwear was all too nosebleed inducing and the mugs were honestly ugly.

The same voice emerged from the speakers: "Final five minutes left in our White Day Special Sale!"

The table of sale items was now engulfed in a writhing sea of desperate men still seeking the perfect purchase to please their girlfriends. Intent on one final item he'd had yet to examine, Natsu was taken unawares by two people playing tug of war with a large box. The smaller of the two men fighting head-butted his opponent who then stumbled backwards, grabbed at the table trying to keep upright, and flung a white metal trivet as he fell - which happened to conk Natsu on his forehead, knocking him out. Happy dragged his friend under the table, hiding from the melee. He lightly slapped Natsu's face and when that didn't work, he put some muscle into it. Natsu roused ten minutes later as the special event table was being put away - the saleslady and her two assistants screaming were the perfect wake-up call.

A bit groggy and now with a dully pounding headache, Natsu ran with Happy as the three shop workers yelled 'pervert' at the top of their lungs.

Down a corridor and then up a set of stairs they found a quiet corner of the store. More than a little depressed and despondent Natsu sighed and confided in Happy. "That was my last hope. White Day is tomorrow and I don't have the slightest idea of what to get Lucy."

"Let's have a snack!" Happy tugged Natsu by the hand to a set of café tables and chairs. "Hudson's has the best tako-yaki in town."

"Maybe food with help me think." Natsu slumped into a seat. "I just wanted to give her something as nice as she is." Picking at the food Happy brought back, Natsu ate slowly and sparingly. "The sale is over and I don't know what to do."

"We won't leave until you find something."

"You're the best, buddy!"

<><><><><><>

To mark the special occasion, Natsu entered the apartment building on Strawberry Street using the ground floor entrance after reminding Happy he had is own special gift to deliver to Charle. Natsu trudged up the flights of stairs clutching Lucy's gift, wrapped in white paper and silver ribbon. It wasn't as flashy as some of the gifts he'd seen available, nor as sexy as the underwear - but upon seeing it, he'd known his search was over.

Knuckles poised over the door, the slayer paused. Natsu took a few deep calming breaths and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He knocked and waited, shifting the parcel from under one arm to the other.

The door opened showing Lucy's welcoming face becoming confused. "What are you doing?"

Natsu grinned. "Is that how you greet a guest? Weirdo."

"I don't think I've ever seen you use the door - or wait for me to let you in - or -" Lucy went silent as she saw the gift - and more importantly - the gift tag that bore her name in big swooping letters. "Come in."

Natsu remembered his uncertainty over his gift and his swagger lost a lot of his strut. He covered up his lapse in poise by setting down the gift box on the coffee table and dropping into his usual spot on Lucy's couch. Natsu clasped his fingers together and puffed air, blowing the unruly lock of hair that covered one eye out of the way.

"What happened?" Lucy couldn't stop herself from leaning over close from her seat and gently tracing over the band-aid over his eyebrow, full of concern for her best friend. "Does it hurt?"

His cheeks coloured a dull pink, clashing with his hair. "Nothin'. An' it only hurts a little bit."

"You have to take care of yourself you know."

"Yeah - but it was for a good reason." He gave Lucy a timid smile. "Remember those chocolates you made for me?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "I remember."

"Please accept this." Natsu snatched up the box and thrust it at Lucy. "It's not one of the traditional recommended gifts, but as soon as I saw it I wanted you to have it."

"…" Lucy took hold of the proffered box. "Thank you." She smiled and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "You didn't have to get me anything. I did hope but I wasn't expecting." Lucy stared at the pretty white paper with silver ribbon on her lap and traced her name on the card.

"Open it." Eagerness coloured Natsu's voice as he encouraged Lucy. "I saw it and thought of you."

Lucy plucked the card off the gift and set it aside on the table (that was going into her scrapbook later). Lucy tugged on the ribbon and set that beside the tag. Using her nails she slit the tape all around the box lid. Slowly she prised off the lid and sat silent. Natsu had given her a selection of pens, ink and a leather bound notebook in the creamiest pale yellow colour.

She blinked, set the gift down on the table and held out her hands to Natsu who was holding his breath as he tried to figure out if Lucy was pleased. Her eyes sparkled and in that instant Natsu knew Lucy was happy. He lunged forward hugging her; wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, breathing in calming air. "I'm so glad you like it!"

"Yeah, I like …it…and you."

Natsu nodded, then realized Lucy couldn't see that - he needed to speak. "I know, or else you wouldn't have taken so much time and care to make those chocolates."

Lucy blushed. "This is a very thoughtful gift, but it's much more than three times the value of what I gave you. You didn't -"

"Don't be such a weirdo." Natsu pulled back so he could see Lucy's face. He looked into her eyes as he rubbed his forehead. "You're worth it, and never let it be said you're not a girl worth fighting for."

#white day #nalu #ftfanfics #teen #fluffy

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