#part twenty two

[fishnets-fingers]

Six Months - Part Twenty Two

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

PAIRING - camboy!harry x indian!oc

a/n - i’d like to apologise for the impromptu two month break. work was hectic and my bosses are grade a pricks. things are slowly starting to wind down. this part took a long time to write with all the angst but i hope it’s readable. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome.  happy reading!

Word Count - 11.5 k

Warnings - angst cental, fluff, allusions to smut.

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

Layla does not know how long she can go on like this. She is  currently behind Earl’s stall at the farmer’s market, where he’s selling his produce and flowers. The slanting rays of the afternoon light, permeate through the thin petals of the dahlias, making the pointed edges seem luminous. It was unusually busy, the marketplace, almost all of Earl’s produce were sold out. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand - wrapping a sheet of newspaper around a bouquet of aster and dahlias. But her body is hyper aware of the boy standing at the other end of the stall, longing for him to glance her way but he was busy counting money to give to the man for whom she was putting the flowers together. 

“Here you go,” Layla smiles, handing him the bouquet.

The man thanks her and heads on and she shoots a quick glance in Harry’s direction. She’s met with the broad expanse of his back clad in a black t-shirt, hair tousled with a pair of glasses tucked behind his ear, and black skinny jeans. He’s talking to Earl, pointing to something on his phone. She sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears, grateful for her Aunt who insisted on getting her a pair of fleece lined tights. The crisp autumn air does not make her quiver, like it used to. She’s still getting used to layering for the cold, but she thought she did a great job with her outfit. Much better than the one she sleepily pulled together this morning for golf, an outfit that made her uncle howl at the green.

She was even looking forward to the compliment when she walked out the door. She was wearing her white tennis skirt, with the fleece lined tights, doc marten loafers, her thrifted jumper and a faux leather jacket that she flicked from Abi’s closet. But Harry had stepped out with a surly look in his eyes, doing nothing but giving her a curt nod and he’d remained like that till now. She chalked it up to a bad day. Everyone had those days, even if he was chipper that morning. Hoping to lighten his mood Layla jabbered about what happened in golf and the nosey question a student asked about the two of them; she received nothing but apathetic nods and muted hums. 

That’s how it started then it snowballed into completely pretending like she doesn’t exist until now. He didn’t meet her eyes and went out of his way to put space between the two of them. Gone was the warm touchy, kissy boyfriend and in his place stood this lanky frigid boy - who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with her. It was someone pressed a button that bought a sledgehammer that shattered Harry’s lavender haze. 

Maybe he realised loving you way too much of a burden, she shakes her head, trying to dispel her thoughts.

“Hey,um, I’m gonna go pick up some stuff and head over to yours to get a head start on dinner,” Layla informs the two who were transfixed at something on Harry’s phone, hiking her bag up her shoulder. THe gang was congregating at Earl’s for dinner today.

“You’re sure? We’ll be done in a few more hours,” Earl tells, looking at her through the rim of his glasses; she was picking away at a fray thread on her tote bag.

“Positive.” She smiles at him. 

“Here, take this then,” Earl hands over the keys to his car. “I don’t want you lugging over that cast iron all the way home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, putting the key in her pocket, shuffling over to the other side. It doesn't go unnoticed that Harry immediately steps away from her when she brushes past the two, making her frown. Since when does he pass up the opportunity?

////

Layla had managed to make quite a spread. A creole potato salad, sweet chilli halloumi with cashew slaw, and Ribollita . Her Uncle and Aunty were setting up the dining room, Anne and Earl were somewhere in the house and Harry was busy fiddling with Earl’s record player in the living room. Layla’s slumped behind the kitchen island waiting for the stuffed butternut squash to finish in the oven, while lazily flicking through Earl’s wife’s recipe book. There were so many pages that were blank towards the end. She wonders what she would have filled them with had she had more time. 

The ding of the oven, pulls her attention and not before long, she’s slipping on some mitts to take out the pan, to pull out the butternut squash she picked out in the farmer’s market. She notices Harry’s wallet peeking out from his tote - abandoned on the kitchen island - as she sets the hot utensil down. 

Maybe if I put the tickets in there? Maybe the surprise would make him perk up and stop being surly, she ponders. She looks up at him, sitting on the floor hunched over the turntable with his hair pushed back with the red silk bandana she got him from New Orleans. He was fixated on the red light that was on the side of the circular spinning table, as he was tuning something to help adjust the pitch. She takes it as an opportunity to  quickly pull out the black Gucci wallet and flip it open.

The image in his photo pocket makes her want to run over and tackle him in a giant hug. He’d put a picture of her in his wallet. He went out of his way to print a wallet sized picture and slotted it in there. Important enough for his wallet, it makes her smile. It was the picture he took on the day of Abi’s flower braiding ceremony - the two of them on her bed smiling into the kiss, dimples on display, her hands cupped around his face, lips pouring affection into each other. She runs her fingers on the laminate that protected the image inside, almost like she was checking to see if it would disintegrate, like she needed to make sure that the boy who was currently icy towards her all day was the same one who did this. She notices him move from the corner of her eye, making her swiftly dig into the pocket of her black faux leather jacket, slot the two fall carnival tickets she bought at the market behind his dollar bills and discretely slip it inside the tote.

She pretends to look for something in the cabinets as he stalks towards the kitchen, as he swings open the door of the refrigerator. 

“Harry,” she turns to face him, fighting the urge to control the simper that stretches across her face. “I made ribollita.”

The corners of her mouth droops when he barely looks at her, staring pointedly at the glass as he pours in the pineapple watermelon  big boy soda Earl has stocked up.

Despite not being acknowledged, she continues, “I remember you telling me about your final night in Tuscany where you, Mitch, and Sarah were so drunk and how you all stumbled into this dodgy looking place run by an elderly couple at midnight. And how that ribollita was the best you’ve ever had.” He even told her that if he ever got a chance to take her anywhere in the world, he’d fly her out to Anghiari and trudge up the steps of the town, wine drunk with interlinked hands under the starry Italian skies. “I found this recipe on YouTube by some nonna. Took a while to make it; hope it tastes -”

“Whatever,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders, walking over to the dining room with the glass of green liquid on one hand and the squash on the other with the dish towel.

“Prick,” she mutters, shooting daggers on his back.

////

Hushed voices float from the end of the hall, it had to be Anne and Earl. Layla walks quietly towards the partially closed door.

“I would not recommend it, Earl,” Anne says, looking at a report.

“You’re being overly cautious,” he chuckles, adjusting the rim of his glasses, so they sit higher up the bridge of his nose.

Layla tiptoes, hoping the wood of the floor does not creak, closer to the door. Angling herself so most of her body is hidden behind the white door.

“Everyone has headaches,” he says, popping an ibuprofen in his mouth.

“Not everyone had a stent placed on their heart three years ago. You’re feeling faint often, yeah?”

“It happened a couple of times,” Earl answers.

“Any fevers? Chills? Body pain?” Anne enquires.

Earl shakes his head. “I think you’re being overly cautious, Anne.”

“I still want you to come into the hospital. I think it’s best to do a cardiac cath, and run some bloodwork. I think Dr. Siegelbaum would also agree,” she states firmly.

Layla knocks - in hopes that she could join in her conversation so she can convince him to visit the hospital. Slowly creaking the door open, popping her head in, “Hey, dinner’s all set. Just waiting for you two,” she tells them in her best chirpy voice. 

“Give us a minute, sweetheart,” Anne says, putting back the papers in a folder.

 “We can talk later.” Earl tells her. “I have something very special planned for dinner,” he smiles, opening a drawer from his bedside table, pulling out a manila envelope.

Layla sits next to her Uncle, putting as much distance as she could with Harry. Earl walks in and sits next to her, handing her the envelope.

“What’s this?” She asks, eyebrow arched, as she takes a sip of water. 

“Open it,” he smiles.

She pries the tab open to find red coloured rectangular papers inside, she shuffles them out and five ticket stubs fall out. There’s a picture of Mickey and right underneath it it says ‘THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH.’ The other end of the tick stub is perforated, and it says ‘ADMIT ONE.’ “No fucking way!” She squeals. “You got tickets to Disney World!”

Earl gleefully cackles. “Yes. I did. All five of you are hopping on a plane for a four day trip to Orlando,” he announces. 

The table chuckles at Layla. “Wait, you were all in on this?” She asks.

Anne nods. “He coordinated with us for dates.”

“We’re going during the Thanksgiving break. It will be crowded but we all didn’t have similar holiday windows, so we settled for this,” Abi says.

“And before you protest. You have to accept it. We’ve been planning this for over two months now.”

“But it’s so expensive - “

“Hush,” Earl shuts Layla down. “You and Harry have worked in my shop and helped me with so many orders. Think of this as your wage.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” She tells him, kissing him on the cheek as she throws her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re very welcome,” he says, giving her a warm squeeze. 

“ Why aren’t you coming with us, Earl?” Vasanth asks.

“I’ve been there multiple times with my grandkids. Plus, I’m heading to Florida in the new year to stay with my son for a few weeks.”

“Did you make these tickets yourself?” Layla asks, passing them around. 

“All the tickets are emailed. I’ve already forwarded them to everyone. It’s a shame that you kids don’t have ticket stubs anymore for keepsakes. Harry made this on Photoshop. He even got it printed, so you all can have a tactile reminder.”

“Thank you,” Layla smiles at Hary who’s scooping up the Ribollita.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives her a tightlipped smile in return as she spoons some salad on her plate.

////

“You’ve been driving?!?” Vasanth screams, looking at Layla who’s burrowing behind Anne on the couch. He quickly walks away from where he was in conversation with Earl to his niece, who he believes Shiva put on his Earth to turn every hair on his head grey. “I see you!” He steps in front of her, arms folded up, stance upright.

“What?” She muffles over a mouthful of leftover creole salad. Earl had specially requested Layla to make it and she spent over an hour trying to meticulously follow his wife’s recipes hoping the elimination of thick cut bacon won’t affect the taste as much.

“Answer the question, kutti.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about what Earl told me just now. Like you, manoeuvring his Prius from where it was parallel parked.”

“So it seems,” she shrugs.

“உன்னை அடிக்க வைக்காதே(don’t make me whack you), Layla. I’m being deadly serious. You could end up in trouble with the cops.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a driver.”

“I know that. Your Indian licence is valid in this state for only three months. You came here in August, meaning, you are not legally allowed to drive now. Don’t - Do you not care about how that infraction would look when you’re applying for a student visa?!?”

“Calm down, சித்தப்பா! Look,” she shuffles through her tote and whips out her licence from her wallet. 

He examines it closely. “When did you-”

“தாத்தா ஒரு நாள் என்னை அழைத்துச் சென்றார் (Grandad, took me one day).” She winks.”You’re crazy to think I would do anything that would jeopardise my shot at a PhD.”

“If you have an international driver’s licence, then why do you insist on me driving you to the Indian store?”

“Because,” she blushes, knowing Anne’s right there. “I don’t get to spend much time with you,” she says quietly. “Aunty works remote on certain days but you always go out the door at nine and get back home after six. Then you have things around the house to take care of and I know this is really selfish of me to say this but I don’t know how to share you with someone as needy as me.”

“Are you talking about the -”

She nods. “I’m just selfishly trying to bank on Layla Vasanth time before you run out of that because you have an infant to cater to. And I know that’s how it it should be but -”

“நீ என் பயிற்சி சக்கரங்களாக இருந்தீர்கள். அப்பாவாக இருப்பதில். (You are my training wheels. For being a dad.)” He sniffles, pinching her cheek. “Besides we both know the minute you’re gonna start studying here, you’re gonna be my pain in the ass full time.” 

She laughs. “Shut up!”

“How about we go golfing every weekend and head to Dominos for lunch? Just the two of us.”

“No golf. It’s really cold. I much prefer playing back home where it’s sweaty.”

“Bowling then? I can teach you how to,” Vasanth proposes. “We can even go see a movie while we’re there.”

“It’s a date.” Layla smiles.

////

Layla raps against the cherry wood door, before poking her head into the master bedroom. She finds her Aunt propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched on the fluffy olive green duvet, bump in the way - giving an ample distance between Abi and the Macbook bolstered on the wooden bed desk. One of the many advantages of working from home was getting to be the most comfortable - with a rapidly growing five month bump -  while working a humdrum nine to five. That and being in your sleep clothes; Abi’s is in one of her tattered wrap around skirts, and a tank top. 

“Hi, kutti,” she smiles at her niece, who makes her way meekly to the cushioned bench at the end of the bed.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks, nodding towards the laptop.

“I’ve got a couple of minutes. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to talk,” she plays with the end of the tie of her kimono style robe. 

“I’d love to talk but I have a hop into Zoom for a meeting in ten,” she informs, reaching out to take a sip of coconut water. “But we can talk after.”

“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair then. Have a pleasant meeting.”

“Can you get my blazer on your way out please?” Abi requests.

Layla heads into the walk-in closet to pull out a latte coloured blazer and she hands it to her Aunt, who is now sat straight up on the bed. 

“நன்றி (thanks), kutti.” She shrugs on the coat, and pulls out the banana clip that was holding her hair from her face. Her shiny raven locks cascade down her shoulders and curl at the ends, where it sat atop of her belly. Unfair, Layla thinks as she watches Abi muss up the hair at the scalp to give it that oompf. Layla would kill to look that effortlessly gorgeous. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Layla informs. “Do you want the door open or shut?”

“Open, please. Harry’s coming with?”

“He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment. Don’t know why but nevermind, you finish your meeting.”

“Don’t forget to take your phone with you then,” Abi tells her.

“It’s already in my pocket!”” 

With that Layla heads to her room to throw on her Panic! At The Disco t-shirt and throws Abi’s faux leather jacket over her shoulder. The black paper bag from Fink’s catches her eye. She sighs, as she pockets the long black box with the gold foil lettering. It's one of the things she loves about her high waisted blue denim boyfriend jeans she’d picked up at a factory outlet sale back home. The jeans did not flatter her pear shaped body the least bit, it was loose around her waist - she’d often need a belt to stop it from riding down, tight around the tops of her thighs, digging into her guts whenever she sat down, but the redeeming factor were the pockets. They were as deep as the mines in Moria; Layla was akin to greedy dwarves throwing it into the shopping cart, when the pocket swallowed half her forearm. 

She locks the door, punches the button to arm the security device but instead of heading over to the house next door, she crosses the road and bimbles her way to the playground in the park and settles herself in an unoccupied swing. Best thing about coming to the playground at three in the afternoon was that there were no snot filled cretins running around wreaking havoc. She pushes her heel on the grimy green and orange chequered rubber foam floor, making herself oscillate to and fro. It’s funny that she’s going to her Aunty for advice when ten years ago, her mother and grandmother swore that she will end up miserable when Vasanth gets married. And as much as she believed that it would happen - it was only logical to her - with stories multiple relatives told her about absolutely losing her shit as a child when her Uncle would pick up another kid to endlessly fixating on some potential ‘fault’ with the other with the marriage proposals that came their way; disliking Abi was one thing that never happened. 

Layla didn’t even get to meet Abi in person until the engagement and wedding dates were fixed. Her grandparents came across her profile and breathed a sigh of relief when they found out that she was tall; it was a right pain to find someone for Vasanths’s towering six foot two. Their families got along well, and much to everyone’s delight Abi and Vasanth got along well over FaceTimes, calls and texts. It didn’t take very long before both the families went to the nearest temple and to fix up wedding dates. Layla had only got a chance to meet Abi’s parents and siblings before the dates were fixed. In hindsight, she suspects it was her mum and her grandmum’s doing to keep her away until she had no option but to be a cavalier. The day she met Abi was one filled with a constant stream of advice from her mum and grandmum since this was someone her Uncle fancied - she was told to be kind, respectful, welcoming, and most importantly to not run her smart mouth. Her grandad had taken her to the shops to get some sweets, and had told Layla that she should get something for her future Aunt. So, she used up some emergency snack money she’d set aside in her wallet and got her a set of these dragonfly pearl earrings and a matching pendant. It wasn’t made of real pearls or gold, it wasn’t the fanciest choice either, she’d bought it in a small fancy store - a small shop that often sold bangles, bindis, kaajal, and some cheap imitation jewellery - but Abi’s reaction indicated that it was the most precious thing that she’d ever received. Layla’s heart warmed when she caught sight of the tarnished, worn out dragonfly pearl necklace in Abi’s jewellery drawer yesterday, when she raided Abi’s closet for the faux leather jacket.

Things only blossomed to fruition after that initial reaction, she can’t recall what they talked about but the conversation flowed. Layla was surprised about how much Abi already knew about her; she was privy to some hilarious antics she’d been up to with Vasanth. Layla had managed to convince Abi to try pineapple on pizza and even told her loads of things that would fetch her brownie points with her Uncle. And by the time her granddad came to pick Layla up several hours later, they’d already planned another meetup but this time at a beach.

Layla's phone buzzes with and a picture of her father fills the screen. It was a picture from Vasanth and Abi’s wedding reception, his phone in hand staring to the side trying to flag off one of the venue managers. One where her father refused to buy a suit and bought a suede jacket, paired it with a sky blue button up and some dark wash jeans - he’d insisted to her and her mum that it was something that James Bond wore in a movie, making the two crack up in response.

“Aren’t you up late?” Layla speaks.

“Amma and I came back from a movie half an hour ago,” he answers.

“What movie?”

“Ponniyin Selvan. Did you all watch it?”

“No. How was it?”

“It’s certainly a spectacle but Amma understood it a lot better than me. I think I need to watch it one more time.”

“Book படித்தது உதவியாக இருக்கும் (reading those novel would have helped).”

“Yes. How did your classes go? Are you finding it easy with the time zone and all?”

“நன்றாக சென்றது (they went really well)! Time zones aren’t bad actually, but it’s only been two days. So I can’t say for sure.”

“Good. பேராசிரியர் உங்களுக்கு கருத்து தெரிவித்தாரா (did the professor give you any feedback)?” Her dad inquires.

“இதுவரை இல்லை (not yet). அநேகமாக professor வார இறுதியில் feedback கொடுப்பார் (she’ll probably will at the end of the week).”

“You do exactly what she says, okay? Incorporate whatever she says. That’s how you show her that you’re a good hire. Kutti, listen, do you remember my friend’s house we went to in Bangalore?”

“Yes. The house with two dobermans,” Layla recalls.

“இன்று அவனிடம் பேசினேன். ஒரு ஐபாட் வாங்க முடியுமா என்று கேட்டார் - (I talked to him today and he asked if you could get him an iPad -)”

“Appa! Do I look like an Apple mule to you all?”

“It’s cheaper there, kutti. And there’s nothing wrong in helping.”

“I’m already carrying five apple products with me. One homepod thing for you, iPad mini for Amma, AirPods for அத்தை (Aunty), and the new phone for my cousin.”

“That’s only four, Layla.”

“You do realise I have to bring my own phone too, right?”

“Oh. Then what’s one more product going to do?”

“Fine, I’ll get your friend the iPad. But if I get detained by the TSA for looking too suspicious with this many Apple products in my carry on. You’re gonna pay.”

Her dad guffaws on the other end. “உன் முகம் கடத்தல்காரன் மாதிரி இல்லை (Your face doesn’t scream smuggler).”

“To you maybe, நான் எப்படி மற்றவைகள் இருக்கிறேன் என்று யாருக்குத் தெரியும் (who knows what I look like to others)?” She laughs.

“சாப்பிட்டாயா (have you eaten)?” He asks.

“Yes. Had gobi fried rice  from the microwave. சித்தப்பா made it before he left for work.” 

“You are helping them out around the house, right? Remember that they are both busy with jobs. I know that they’ll never say this but you make sure to not burden them, especially now with a baby on the way.”

“I am helping. Reorganised the garage and all yesterday. I make sure to cook at least a meal everyday. Clean the house.” She exhales. “That’s more than what I do back home.”

Her dad lets out a laugh. “Now, Amma will hold you to the same standard when you get back. Listen, பாட்டி (grandmum) wants me to remind you to buy Ziplock-”

“Already bought three boxes of her precious ziplock bags.”

“Good. Okay, kutti. I’m gonna head to bed. You take care okay?”

“Will do. Tell Amma I said hi. Bye.”

She hangs up the call, and jumps off the swing; slowly making her way to Harry’s. The pit of the stomach seemed to bubble with nervousness. Hopefully his pisssy mood had lightened since dinner at Earl’s yesterday. She could punch in the security code but the boulder in her stomach only weighs heavier. Decking not to somehow piss him off by walking in, she rings the doorbell. Her feet tap against the white porch, waiting for him, mind racing. Usually he would have opened the door by now. She steps aside to peer into the window and spots no one. No signs of a tall lanky boy making it across the foyer. She presses the doorbell again and holds it down for a few extra seconds for good measure, craning her head to see if his Range Rover is parked in the driveway. The door swings open as she makes a fist to try knocking on it and there he was - clad in one of his muscle tank top that had darkened patchily with sweat, blue shorts, hair pushed back with the blue bandana she’d got, lips  and eyebrows pursed in a grimace.

“Oh god, are you okay?!?” Layla exclaims, zeroing in on the frozen bag of peas he had pressed up against the slope of his shoulder. 

“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, as he looks down at her - a result of the trapezius bundle protesting.

“I just stopped by to - did you hurt yourself working out?” 

“I’m fine,” he winces.

“You clearly are not, earth boy. Let me help,” she states, taking a step forward into the house but finds her boy fixed in place, blocking her. “Harry,” she says firmly, looking into his forest green orbs.

“Did mum ask you to drop something off?” He asks.

“Well no,” she takes in a huge breath, she slides her hand into her pocket, fingers curling around the box. “I’m actually here to see you.”

“I don’t want anyone’s company.”

“Well -” the door shuts on her face, and she feels her heart drop. “I’m not anyone,” she mumbles dejectedly at the wooden door, tears prick the corner of her eyes and she makes her way back to her room. Tossing the gift box on her bedside table. Tearing off a page from her notebook, she scrawls with tears beading her waterline. 

I don’t know what’s happened

Just tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?

She blinks back the film blurring the words on the page, wiping away the tears that landed on the paper. She uses the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks, breathing out slowly. She wipes her nose on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

I understand needing space. But the door slam to my face hurt

That’s all she manages to jot down before her mother’s voice echoes in her head, “சில நேரங்களில் உன்னை விரும்புவது கடினம் (It’s hard to love you sometimes).”

She crushes the paper with the note she was trying to write. It can’t be. Harry himself said the opposite. She abandons the crumpled ball, as she trudges her way up to the home theatre to fire up her PlayStation. All she needs for the next few hours is to mindlessly kill some Valkyries in God of War. She’d finished playing the game’s story days ago and the open world game gave her the opportunity to kill all eight of the valkyries. But she’d soon found out that  killing them was tricky business. What other perfect way is there to channel gamer rage other than using the bubbling anger directed at her boyfriend to kill the remaining two warrior women with wings.

////

“Wait, you actually wanted to get married?” Layla asks, sitting up straighter, tilting her head from side to side until an audible crack is heard.

“Hmm…” Abi smiles at the huff her niece lets out. She had trailed upstairs - after her meeting - to the sounds of Layla shouting ‘சாவு, பன்றி, சாவு (die, pig, die)’ at the projector screen armed with one of her video game controllers.

“You were the perfect daughter weren’t you, Aunty?”

Abi laughs. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to negotiate.”

“Go on,” Layla motions with her hand, as she reaches for her water bottle.

“My relatives zeroed in on my parents the minute I graduated from engineering. They initially didn’t give it much thought but then matches actually came home through Aunties and Uncles we knew. They sat me down and asked me if I was seeing someone -”

“Wait! Your parents were okay with a love match?”

“Yup. As long as the boy was Hindu and from our caste,” Abi answers.

“Of course. It came with terms and conditions,” Layla giggles. “As long as they were from the same caste. Could you imagine going around and asking people what caste they belong to when you’re out on a date.”

“I know right! Hella awkward.” She joins in with Layla, giggling away feeling her baby move in accordance. “But I guess it really didn’t matter because I wasn’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. I told them I wasn’t in love with anyone but I also asked them to give me three years to get some work experience. I knew I wanted to do an MBA in the US. My parents weren’t on board with my moving abroad alone. They wanted me to have ‘protection’” she explains, making air quotes for the last work.

“Ech,” Layla reacts. “Why are all parents the same? When Vasanth told everyone that he’s gonna prep for his GRE and move to the US for his Masters my grandparents were over the moon. I bet they never even considered his ‘protection.’ Fucking double standards.”

“It enraged me too but I realised it was that or not doing my MBA in the States. I pulled up some of the prerequisites and my parents got to know that the degree needed students to have work experience. After many fights, they finally relented and gave me three years and started looking for matches while I was working.”

“Didn’t that throw you off? Knowing that time was ticking?”

“It did. It made me feel guilty, knowing I needed to have all of these experiences before I got tied down but it melted away when my friends and coworkers started settling down and starting families. They still had the experiences just married and sometimes having those experiences with their significant other; life didn’t stop. It took four years of searching before Vasanth.”

“Four years?!?”

“Yeah,” Abi chuckles. “I didn’t make it easy for my parents either. I had given them a zillion expectations that they needed to meet. I rejected many. Plus, they had to find someone taller than me.”

Layla laughs. “It’s the same thing that happened with Uncle. Finding someone tall enough for him, தாத்தா பாட்டி (grandad and grandmum) almost pulled out their hairs trying to find someone tall.”

Abi laughs. “My dad made so much fun of me on the days leading up to our engagement, because I was running around trying to find heels to try and match his height. I only owned flats prior to your Uncle.”

“How did you know சித்தப்பா (uncle) was the one?”

“There was no one moment. We got along well. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing what I envision my future to look like. Others I talked to often talked about the future in terms of their goals or a collective familial goal. Your uncle asked me what I wanted, rather than ask me what I want as one half of a couple. He was supportive with my MBA plans and work goals too. Seemed open to moving closer to whatever college I got in. That’s how we moved to North Carolina from San Francisco; I got into Kenan-Flagler. I haven’t told him this but when he readily put his notice in and moved to Charlotte with me - before he found himself a job here - he just became so much hotter.” Abi uses one of her hands and fans herself.

“Eww,” Layla grimaces. “Don’t call him hot.”

“Is it a crime to find my husband hot?” She laughs.

“When the husband is my Uncle, yes.” She shivers in disgust. 

“Oh- லேலா உன் கையை கொடு (Layla, give me your hand),” she says urgently, grabbing her palm and pressing it to the side of her ever growing tummy. The baby rewards the two with a jerky roll. “Never gets old,” Abi whispers with a smile blooming. “I initially thought the kick would be like a ping but it’s like a jelly rolling around with her. Getting more active by the day this one.”

“Even Laya agrees with me,” Layla says. Bending down to the active baby, “Don’t worry. I find it weird that she thinks he’s hot too.” She whispers, making Abi laugh at their private conversation.

“You two are gonna team up and make fun of us, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between fits of laughter.

“Obviously.” Layla’s eyes flicks up to her Aunt’s with the most earnest expression on her face. She settles back into the recliner and lets out an audible sigh. “So is that all it is… I can’t possibly get out of this arranged marriage thing and the best I can do is negotiate.”

“I never said you can’t get out of it, kutti. It will just be an arduous journey to get there but knowing your mum and knowing you're the only girl child - I think the best course of action is to negotiate like I did. If you say no marriage and stand your ground now, what’s to say your mum won’t also resist and force you with that intensity of your refusal. So, don’t say anything, stay out of it. This way your PhD won’t be affected by it.”

“What do you mean PhD not being affected?” Layla sits up, tucking her feet under her thighs.

“I mean, your அம்மா (mum) might just put her foot down and refuse to send you to school -”

“But she can’t do that,’ Layla shakes her head. “I’m an adult and it’s not like I will be financially dependent on them. The colleges that I’ve shortlisted are the ones that are the most likely to give me financial aid.”

“That’s all true,” Abi agrees, taking Layla’s hand. “You were also an adult and financially independent for the Singapore trip, weren’t you? Look what happened. You ended up coming here.”

“So you’re asking me to let things be?” Layla says quietly.

“I’m asking you to consider playing it smart. Don’t worry about all this marriage nonsense. You have your eye on your goal - PhD, don’t get distracted. The time to fight this battle is not now. It took me four years to find a match. Who knows how long it’ll take for you? Maybe you can get your doctorate by that time. If not, don’t worry; one of the perks of an arranged marriage is that it’s democratic. Everyone - or at least most of them -  in the family should agree. Vasanth and I are on your team no matter what. And as for அப்பா, பாட்டி, and  தாத்தா (dad, grandmum and grandad), you can always convince them to join your side. We will not let you discontinue your studies, kutti. I promise. You have no idea how proud we all are that you’re so bloody smart.”

“I’m not that smart and all,” Layla mumbles.

“Hush,” Abi shushes her. “Plus, if you do change your mind on marriage, we all be here to make sure that you are on board with the match. We will not force you to marry someone you do not like. For now let it go. They won’t bother you much until they have matches shortlisted and that itself could take a long while. And we will cross that bridge when we get to it, for now you worry about your PhD applications. ”

“Okay. What you’re saying makes sense. Besides, the application deadlines are on the first of December; it’s not very smart of me to keep fighting this and get distracted. Need to have my eyes on the bigger picture.���

“Are you applying for Chapel-Hill?”

“It’s on the maybe list. Why?”

“Vasanth has been wanting to sit down with you this weekend, to look at the places before you start applying. Get your safety and reach colleges and all in order. He’s been secretly hoping you have UNC at the top of the list, so you can live with us while you study.”

Layla chuckles. “Do you reckon he’s gonna convince me to move Chapel-Hill from the maybe list to the yes list?”

“I’m sure, he’ll try bribing you with all sorts of things,” Abi answers, warmly squeezing Layla’s freezing fingers. “Kutti?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m just saying because I think it’ll be best for you to figure out what you want in terms of a relationship. Especially now that you have Harry to consider too. I heard you tell him the other day that you’re gonna marry him when you were eating the focaccia he baked. And I know it’s not my place to say this but I get that you meant it as a term of expression but sometimes it necessarily might mean the same for him. Have a talk with each other. The sooner the better. I know he means the world to you and I know you mean the same to him.”

“I didn’t think of it that way… I never thought that I’d feel all these things for him. I just thought it’ll be a fun hookup but I guess you’re right. I think he knows that I don’t mean it like that. Whenever we talk about things we know our priorities - colleges. We always talk about the future like it’s distant. I think the hardest thing about January rolling around soon is him. I don’t want to leave,” Layla bites down on her wobbly lower lip. It only makes the angry flames in her chest spark up again because Harry’s being an utter asshole to her. All she wants to do is cosy up to him and drum her fingers down his back as he presses wet kisses on her pulse. 

“Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds but do you ever see yourself getting married or are you just saying no because of what happened between your mum and dad?”

“Oh um,” Layla worries her bottom lip, trying to think things through and lets out a long sigh.

“Bit of both, I think. As much as I respect the sanctity of marriage, I’ve seen it go right and wrong. Sometimes I think I’ll end up just like அம்மா (mum) - you know how everyone says we often butt heads because we have similar personalities - and that means I’d have to go through the same things she did. As much as I do and villanise her sometimes, I honestly don’t think I have an ounce of the strength and determination she does. We lived alone for almost a year and she single handedly took care of all of the finances and even now, she works and does so much work at home too. அப்பா (dad) is not like Uncle, he never does things around the house, except groceries; and on most of the days, I don’t either. But I don’t think I need to get married either, as long as I’m in a long term relationship with someone I trust. It’s just a piece of paper, right? I don’t see it happening for a long long time.”

“Marriage is more than a piece of paper, Layla.”

“Easy for you to say, you and சித்தப்பா (uncle) have the breeziest of marriages,” Layla comments.

“That’s not true, kutti. We hit a rough patch during my final year of my MBA. We even talked about separating,” Abi explains.

“What?” Layla can’t help but gape at her. They were the perfect love birds in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what it’s like universally but with arranged marriages, it’s more companionate, the relationship. You go into it with a stranger, you become friends and then start loving the other. Yes there is passion in there too but it’s more so a companion type thing. We went months leading our own lives, devoid of the other in it. Vasanth was busy working two jobs, and I would be busy with schoolwork and friends. All of the little free time we had went to chores. We went weeks without talking to each other, and didn't even acknowledge each other. It was like two strangers living in a hotel. Every time we’d open our mouths, we’d snap at each other and both thought that things weren't working out because we’d grown apart.”

“Wait, is that when your parents and தாத்தா, பாட்டி (granddad, grandmum) all flew over and stayed in shifts with the two of you for like three months?”

Abi nods. “We’d told our parents that we didn’t see a point in being married and they’d all immediately created an intervention of sorts. They asked us to give it one last try - wholeheartedly - and that they’d take care of things around the house. We signed up for marriage counselling and went to multiple sessions. Since we had our parents taking care of everything else - the minute we came back home after work and school - we would spend time with each other; getting to know each other again from scratch. Marriage is not easy. They don’t just work. You make it work. It’s very easy, at least, with arranged marriages to drift off to your separate paths - be strangers - and it takes work to meet in the middle again. And it needs to be done because you’re growing as your own individual too. That’s how we make it work - we’re not the same Vasanth and Abi who’d agreed to marry each other. We set aside time for ourselves. We talk. Go out on dates. Take holidays. We make each other a priority. It’s work. We are at this point because we put in the work to get here and we will need to put in the work after the baby too.”

“Isn’t it exhausting though? Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Everything in life requires work, Layla. But it's not exhausting with Vasanth. It’s easy to put in the work with him. Because it doesn’t feel like work with him,” she smiles.

“I guess it makes sense. This was a great talk. I should come to you often,” Layla tells her.

“Oh yeah? Finally realised that Abi is like that tortoise from Kung Fu Panda,” her Aunty jokes around.

“Yeah. An old tortoise,” Layla snickers.

“Are you calling me old?” Abi pinches her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Layla tries to say it earnestly but her giggles give her away. She shuffles closer to her, throwing her hands around her shoulders, slotting her body to the side, mindful of Laya’s residence. “By the way, you didn’t overstep your bounds at all. I’m glad it took you four years to find Uncle because there’s no one else I’d rather have as my Aunty.” 

////

Harry can hear Layla’s voice faintly drifting from the floor above - wrapping up her class - as he makes his way up the stairs to her room. It’s twenty past one in the morning and every time Harry shut his eyes, he couldn’t help but shake the image of her walking back home dejectedly when he slammed the door. When he silently creeks open her bedroom door, he’s hit with a mixture of baby soap and Charlie Red that makes his shoulders slump in relief. Her room is neat - like it always is; there was freshly washed load of laundry that she hadn’t gotten around to folding stacked in an opened suitcase pushed to the corner of her room. What catches his eye was the crumpled ball of paper lying limply at the foot of the bed.

He grinds his teeth at the pain shooting from his shoulder, bending down to pick it up, and his heart falls to his stomach when he reads what she’s scrawled in cursive. Fuck, he shakes his head, plopping down on the mattress.

Layla walks into her room rubbing her eyes, clad in her embroidered Winnie the Pooh t-shirt dress and the kimono robe loosely tied around her waist. “ஹம்மாடி (whew),” she exhales out, looking forward to cosying up in her duvet. Harry can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward - she always grunts out that word when she’s finished with whatever exhausting activity she was engaged in. “Oh,” she mumbles, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him holding on to the letter she wrote.

“Layla, I-” Harry starts.

“No!” She says, voice louder than either of them anticipated, stalking further into the room. “Leave,” she seethes, chest heaving as she rapidly takes in shallow breaths, clicking the door close to not wake Vasanth and Abi. “I don’t care. Just go.”

Harry gets up. “Baby, please listen to me.”

Layla steps back - out of his reach - shooting him a warning glare that told him to not get closer to her. “I don’t know what’s up, but you’ve done nothing but be an asshole to me -”

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt yo-”

Layla chuckles. “The hurt ship has sailed. I’m fucking livid!” She blinks back the angry tears that begin to prick her eyes. “Please just leave! I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

Harry’s eyes blur as a thin film beads at his waterline, and he’s quick to blink them away before they have the chance to trickle down. The last thing he wants to do is upset her further, so he sighs and mutters, “Okay. I’ll go.” He makes his way to the door with his head hung dejectedly.

“Wait,” Layla calls out, quickly rummaging through her bedside table to find the long black box. “This is why I came over in the afternoon before you so kindly slammed the door on my face,” she says, voice dropping an octave lower. “Take it and fucking go,” she throws the suede box in his direction. 

Harry’s hands lift up to catch it in reflex but the second the box lands on his palm, he lets out a loud grunt, face twisting in pain from the muscles of his shoulder. “Christ,” he bites, as the other hand - one that’s not holding the box - cups over the spot of affliction.

Layla’s eyes soften, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Shit. Your shoulder still hurts?” She enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gives her a weak nod. “Go wait downstairs in the kitchen… I’ll be right behind you,” she exhales.

“But…” he trails off, not knowing what exactly to say when she’d just asked him to leave a few seconds ago. When he blinks his eyes open to examine her face, she’s already stalked off to the bathroom when he can hear her meddling with her stuff. He takes a deep breath in, hoping it quells the pain, and calls out to her. “Okay.”

He sits on the bar stools, gently placing the black box on the kitchen island, as she walks in. He watches her beeline towards the microwave, taking a small bowl from the cabinet, Harry examines the two glass containers she’d placed on the island. A hexagonal glass jar with a copper lid that reads Tiger Balm and a green cylindrical container that reads  Monison’s. 

“Can you take off your hoodie for me?” Layla asks, as she spoons some of the brown and green balm into the bowl.

Harry slowly slips off his grey hoodie, watching her punch in thirty seconds on the panel and shuts the door. Layla steps over to the pantry, coming out with a tiny blue chequered cotton kitchen towel. She takes the melted mixture from the microwave when it beeps, using the spoon to stir it together. She dips her pinky in to check if the liquid is not scalding, and proceeds to sink her fingers in the murky looking concoction. 

The room is filled with scents of herbs, camphor and eucalyptus as she slowly lets the liquid drip down from her fingertips onto his defined shoulder blade. “Sorry about the smell,” she tells him quietly as she kneads his muscles in circles - easing the taunt muscles under. 

Harry’s speechless as she works her way down his shoulder and back, letting the warm liquid trickle down and later gently rubbing it all over. He doesn’t deserve this from her, especially with the way he’s treated her the past two days. But here she is carefully working the knots in his shoulder, even after asking him to leave her sight. He feels his heart weigh heavy in his throat, and he closes his eyes to succumb to the emotions his girlfriend’s tender act stirs up in his chest.

“Once in basketball practice, these huge fifth graders tripped and two of them managed to fall right on my arm. I was in so much pain that I thought it was fractured but it wasn’t. And Amma (mum) did this for me and I swear the pain subsided the next day, which I know is not possible but I barely felt it after. I mean it’s just pain gate theory, right?” She waffles on hoping to distract him from the pain she might be causing him as she massages the last of the liquid on the expanse of his shoulder. When she’s done she quickly washes her hands before she takes the clean towel and presses the button on the sink tap for hot water. Once it’s dripping wet she wrings the excess liquid out; opening it up and flapping it twice for good measure, when she’s satisfied she drapes the toasty damp towel over his clavicle and smooths it down his shoulders. “Sometimes I think I’ll perish if I don’t have a jar of Tiger Ba-” she stops where she hears a sniffle, followed by a shaky inhale and feels his frame tremble under her palm.

“Harry? Shit.” Layla rounds the corner to stand in front of him. “Hey,” she coos, gently tilting his chin up using her thumb and pointer finger. Moss green eyes gleam up at her under the buttery overhead lamp, a broken shudder follows as tears trickle down his face, and Layla realises that he’s hurting. He’s been hurting the past two days and that he wasn’t apathetic and detached. 

“Oh honey,” Layla says soothingly, thumbs coming to wipe away the hot tears that stream down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - Sorry,” he blubbers, pulling her close to him, burying his face in her midsection as his arms hold her in place.

Layla wraps her arms around his head, one hand caressing his scalp and the other tracing circle on his cheek, “Shh. Har, you’re okay.” She presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m -,” he hiccups, a fresh wave of tears halting him and all he could do was nuzzle into her warmth as he bawls.

“We’re okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’m sorry too, babe,” she whispers, mollifying him as she rocks him to and fro, letting him cry it out.

Harry pulls back, with broken shudders, sniffling, blinking at the dark patch on her t-shirt dress from his tears. “I - I uh - came -,” he breathes out between empty sobs. “I saw the tickets for the carnival,” he says with a weak smile.

“Yeah? You wanna go?” She asks, sitting down on the stool next to him, slotting her knees between his and scooting closer to the edge to weave their hands together.

He nods, looking up at her shyly through wet lashes. “I’m sorry.” He says, rapidly blinking down another fresh set of tears.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, hand coming to caress his cheek.

“Why?” He chuckles. “I’m the one in the wrong.”

“It wasn’t very nice of me to ask you to leave and throw that at you,” she points to the forgotten black box on the counter.

“You were angry.” He shrugs. “When did you manage to slip the tickets in my wallet?”

“When you were busy fiddling with the record player at Earl’s.” Layla worries her bottom lip, not knowing how to phrase her next question. “Why were you so cold to me?”

The question only makes Harry tilt his head to the side, as he tries to weigh the answer in his mind. “I uh - I was jealous,” he replies, cheeks reddening in response.

Layla snorts out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the words that had stumbled out of the messy beheaded boy’s slightly pouty mouth. She slaps down on his wrist as she guffaws, driving her emphasis further. “Harry,” she gets out. “Be seriou- oh!” She stops in her tracks when she’s met with his earnest gaze. “Jealous of what though?”  

“Ashwin,” he admits, feeling the blood rush to the tips of his ears as he hangs his head.

“Why would you be jealous of Ashwin?” She asks.

“It’s just - It’s like - Like you getting into his car this morning and just driving away,” he explains.

“You make it sound weird. You know we were meeting up with the others at the golf course.” She swallows. “Do you not trust me?”

It doesn’t escape Harry that she’s now leaning away from him, and the hands that were holding him, now were crossed protectively over her chest. “I do! It’s a me thing. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t understand. How am I not supposed to take it personally?” She barks offensively, eyebrows arching. “Harry, I’ve met the girl you were hooking up with! Do you see me getting jealous and throwing a fit whenever you take me to the lookout point in Chapel Hill? No, because it was before us and I trust you. Ashwin is literally an acquaintance and you throw a hissy fit for days because I hitched a ride to him to the golf course. That’s fucking stupid!”

“Hissy fit,” Harry chuckles, and it only makes Layla shoot daggers as she glances up at him. 

“I cannot believe it. Fucking jealous,” she continues and she isn’t sure if the last past was directed at herself. “Your mum told me that you tend to latch on to people but I didn’t expect you to be possessive. I don’t know if I’m okay with that.” She shakes her head, hand coming to frustratedly rub at her forehead. “How are we gonna work through this? What are you gonna say next? ‘Let me mark my territory when you hang out with others, like how a dog would do?!?’” She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths through her nose so she would raise her voice and wake her Aunty and Uncle. She knows she’s spiralling and spewing out ridiculous things but she can’t help but feel hurt by his admission. 

“Have I -” she says softly looking up at him, “did I do something to make you feel that way?” 

“No, baby. No. It’s not you!” He sits up cupping her face cursing himself for making her doubt herself. “It’s just,” his voice breaks as the tears well up in his jade irises, “every time I see you two hanging out, it makes me insecure and I didn’t like feeling like the second best again.”

“Again?”

“It’s stupid,” he sniffles.

“It’s clearly not stupid if it’s hurting you,” she reminds him.

“I’m just scared that you’ll realise he’ll give you something I can’t.” He confesses. “Like you don’t need to check if a Tamil movie has subtitles at the cinema to watch with him, he gets all the references you make, you don’t have to translate things in your head or explain why you’re doing certain things - like the other day when you accidentally stepped on my book and you’d stopped talking to bend down to touch it and bring your fingers to your eyes and you’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining why for me. And it’s scary to think that one day you’ll realise that I’m not worth it and leave.”

“Babe,” Layla frowns. “I don’t think that at all. If anything, all those instances only makes me endeared that you’re curious about where I come from, plus, you actively participate in them. It works both ways too. You taught me so much about your home too. I didn’t know what a chip butty was before I met you,” she jokes weakly. Harry doesn’t laugh - or even smile - instead he looks crestfallen, Layla leans over and stamps a soft kiss on his pink lips and his splotchy cheeks. “I’ll never not think you’re not worth it. Ever. You mean the world to me. You make me feel safe and you make me feel loved. And that is something I will not take very lightly. Ever. I have nothing like that with Ashwin. I hitched a ride with him the other day because everyone else was gonna shower at the country club and head straight for work. Ashwin had a day off and obliged to drive me to Raleigh to pick something up for you,” she tells him, nodding towards the black box. “Besides, he acts like he’s from the hood sometimes - I guess most brown boys do that when they come here; pretend to be an African American rapper. It just does not get my motor running like you in a pair of fishnets.”

There’s a lingering undercurrent of teasing in her voice towards the end that makes Harry smile - the ones where he flashes his teeth and it makes the dimples carve out in his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have been cold to you. That was wrong of me. I should have come and talked it out with you. I cannot apologise enough for that,” he resolutely tells her.

“It was,” Layla agrees. “I did not deserve to be treated that way. I thought you were mad at me or that you needed space which is very unlike you. Because I’m the one that pushes you away-”

“Not in the way that I did. You always told me that you need some time to yourself before you share but I just pushed you away.”

“True,” Layla sighs. “Would inviting you along help whenever I go out with that gang? I’m not gonna stop hanging out with them because I feel like I’m hanging out with my cousins. And I’m trying to make the best out of that because they’re gonna fly out as soon as the wedding is over.”

“That’ll be nice. I sorta felt left out when you went to watch that movie without telling me because I’m really used to being your number one go-to person for everything,” he admits.

“I understand that you felt left out but I didn’t invite you because the movie didn’t have subtitles and I didn’t want you to be bored because of me. It would have helped if you told me earlier. We could have gone to the cinema - just us - and made a date night out of it.”

“I didn’t want to seem clingy I guess.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Layla questions and Harry nods. “You said earlier about not wanting to feel second best again. Has it got something to do with your dad? I mean you don’t talk about it and I’m just theorising but feel free to tell me to back off if I’m crossing a line.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he chose us. He was a good dad, Layla. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But I guess, I was not enough for him with anything I did,” his lower lip wobbles. “He’d had another family and I guess in the end my step-siblings - god,  it’s so weird to call them that - had something that I didn’t and when he figured it out he’d just left mum and me.”

“Harry,” Layla whispers, arms wrapping around his torso to pull him into an embrace. Harry nuzzles his face into the crook of her shoulder, chest shuddering as he takes in his favourite scent. It made sense to Layla now - his icy behaviour was not to attack her but to protect him, his inner child. She had the power to make him feel the things he once felt, and the second Harry realised that she held the power; when he felt ‘not enough,’ he’d cut her off so she wouldn’t put him through that - like a hedgehog balling themselves up and straightening out it’s quills when it senses his predators were nearby. “Babe, I’m so sorry you went through that. Those choices were your fathers - an adult. You in no way played a role in the shitty choices he made. You were a child, babe, and it’s not your job to make yourself the best option for your parents. Remember when you told me love is not a burden?” She can feel him nod against her neck. “Love shouldn’t be earned either. It’s not conditional - especially from a parent.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, crying again, but this time it’s tears of relief. “You know,” he chuckles, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Earl said something along the same lines.”

“He’s a wise man,” Layla says. “How’s your shoulder? Is the warm towel and தைலம் (pain balm) helping?”

“It is. Thank you.”

“No need for thank yous. I’d take care of you anytime,” she shrugs.

“So you made Ashwin drive to Raleigh to get me something?” He questions, stretching out to grab the black velvet box.

“Uh huh.” She smiles. “I got a commission from this woman. She wants three still life oil portraits of her favourite food for her kitchen. She’s paying me three fifty dollars for each. So, I’d figured I’d treat you with something.” She nods to the box. “Open it.”

Harry’s fingers trace the gold foiled lettering - Fink’s -  against the soft material. He flips the box open to find a dainty gold chain and a thin cross pendant hanging from it of the same metal. It looked identical to the silver one he’d have around his neck - he’d go on a limb and say this one looked even more beautiful. He immediately looks into her homey raven eyes, bottom lip trapped with her teeth, as she looks at him expectantly.

“I know I ripped it off your neck that day,” her face flushes with heat thinking back to their lecherous activity upstairs in the swing room in front of his giant ornate mirror. “I’ve been feeling bad since. I’ve never ever seen you take it off and when I got the deposit money for the commissions, it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to get you an exact replica but I just couldn’t bring myself to get it in silver, so I called Fink’s and had them make it gold. You kept complaining that the clasp on the old one was too tiny, so I asked them to use a circular clasp, so it’s easier for you.” She rambles. “They said they couldn’t make the chain dainty in 22 karats, something about them not able to get the metal to bend, so it’s only 18 kara-”

Harry cuts her off with a passionate kiss, hands clutching her cheeks holding her close, as he pours his devotion. His tongue melds with hers and it makes her breathe out a quiet moan, as she sinks his fingernails into his bicep. He breaks apart, pressing his forehead to hers as they both catch their breath from the dizzying ordeal. “I love it! Put it on for me?” He asks her, thumb caressing her bottom lip, making her smile.

////

Bright blue powdery skies can be deceiving, especially in North Carolina. While Layla usually dressed up in her lightest cotton clothes with skies like this, today she’s tugging the drawstring around the hood of Harry’s hoodie to protect herself from the nippy breeze that blows through. Once she’s done securing the hood in place by knotting it under her chin, so the frigid air caused by a hurricane in Florida won’t freeze her ears off.

She kicks up the basketball that was at her feet, dribbling it up the driveway towards the garage door where her Uncle had screwed in a hoop. She jogs to it, gasping for a breath of air as she spins, tossing the ball above her head towards the net when she faces the street. She turns around expectantly to watch the ball kiss the rim as it tumbles into the basket but huffs when it bounces off the ring towards the hydrangea bushes.

“Ugh,” she groans, trudging behind it and when she’s picking it up she feels a sharp swat to her ass. “Hey! Not nice!” She squeals at Harry, turning around to face him.

“Not so nice when someone spanks you now, is it?” He laughs, clutching a pair of headphones in his hands. He’s dressed in his workout gear - brown trousers with a spatter of gold paint he’d managed to get when he helped her paint the ornate frame of his mirror. It cuts off at his knees, exposing his si no and oui and non tattoos. It baffles her that he’s not freezing while she’s been having goosebumps wearing sweatpants. He’s in one of his full arm length muscle hugging athletic t-shirts, with a hoodie tied around his waist.

“I don’t do it hard,” she replies.

“Well my stinging ass cheek would beg to differ.”

Layla rolls her eyes at his dramatic flair. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you were not gonna work out until your shoulder is better.”

“My better is better but I’m not gonna work out for the rest of the week and fuck up my muscles. Just going out on a walk. What are you doing up at seven in the morning?” He asks.

“Had a review meeting with my department head at four about my first week. Couldn’t go back to sleep after,” she shrugs. “I was scrolling on Instagram and I came across this trick shot on this basketball page where people run up to the net, do a spin and throw it in. Been trying to do that for an hour now and I’m nowhere close to nailing it,” she frowns, nodding to the ball she’s stationed against her hip.

“I could just lift you up and spin you around,” he suggests.

Layla laughs. “Cute that you think you can lift- aaah!” She shrieks as Harry quickly squats down, to grab the junction where her bum and thighs meet, hoisting her up.

“You were saying?” He arches his eyebrow up at her.

“Put me down,” she demands as he makes his way to the hoop.

“Nope. Make this backwards basket and come on a walk with me around the pond.”

He positions her right in front of the hoop and she’s hoisted up high up that the end of the net touches the top of her head. “I’m not supposed to face the net, you idiot,” she giggles.

“Alright then,” he turns them both around towards the street and marches down to the end of their driveway. Layla spots Nandhini Aunty right away, standing right in front of her open garage door, staring at the two with a cardboard box in her hand.

Layla tosses the ball and Harry turns them around to watch it perfectly go into the net, making him hoot and spin her around in celebration. They both laugh as Harry loosens his arms around her thighs making Layla slide down his torso. She doesn’t stop giggling as she wraps her around his neck, fingers massaging the baby curls at the nape of his neck, as she rubs her nose against his - feet still dangling above the ground as he holds her in place. ��I like this trick shot so much better,” she whispers.

“Nandhini’s watching,” he mumbles, reminding her of her PDA rule around brown aunties, as she angles her head.

“Fuck her,” whispers with a smirk as her eyelids flutter close and she closes the distance between their lips.

  LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!    

[chobit92]

House Of Wax: Part Twenty Two

@rubycstory07 😊

(Kaia wakes up. It’s raining outside and she can hear the wind howling and beating against the house. She hasn’t seen much of Vincent over the last few days. She guesses he’s been busy with the campers that decided it was a good idea to camp out in the woods nearby. More people dead. She wonders how nobody has noticed all these people going missing. How can the police not realise that they are all missing? They must have friends, family, people who know that they are gone. They would have reported it wouldn’t they? Filed missing persons reports. So why haven’t the police come looking? She sighs. The police obviously don’t think that anyone is still living out here. Maybe they are aware of the missing persons but she guesses if they are all from different states then there wouldn’t be much of a pattern. But they have to know that they were travelling this way surely? They must have told someone where they were going. She knows it’s futile to ask these questions. Bad things happen to good people and nothing is done about it. That’s the world. How it is. She has found herself hoping that someone somewhere would show up and investigate. Some Sheriff would piece together all the missing travellers and notice Ambrose and come looking. But she knows that hope is useless. No one is coming to save her. She can only save herself not that she has any idea how. This plan of hers involving Vincent she doubts it will work. He isn’t going to drive her out of here and he’s made it clear that he isn’t going to leave. If she tries to run she will be caught again and most likely killed this time. If she did get away she would probably starve or die of dehydration before she made it anywhere. Her last option is to somehow convince Vincent to spare her. To get Bo to spare her. Maybe if she manages to stick around long enough she can pretend she’s family. She might get to drive the trucks around to help Vincent and maybe try and escape then. She sighs again and gets up leaving the bedroom. She walks down the hall to the bathroom. She can hear the shower running and wonders who is in there. She doesn’t want to see Lester in the shower, he’d probably invite her to join him. She shudders at the thought. She slowly opens the door and steps inside. Vincent is in the shower and he turns and stares at her. She smiles at him then slips off her clothes. She then steps into the shower with him. He steps back glaring at her.).

Kaia: It’s okay.

(She reaches out to touch him, her fingers brushing his chest. He grabs her wrists and lets out a grunt before shoving her backwards. She trips and falls backwards out of the shower hitting her head on the tile. She lets out a groan and gets up. Vincent is staring at her, his eye wide.).

Kaia: The fuck was that for?

(He steps out of the shower and peers down at her. She sits up rubbing her head.).

Kaia: Why are you being like this? I thought...

(He lifts her to her feet and she looks up at him.).

Kaia: So...

(Bo shouts from downstairs and Vincent gets back into the shower.).

Kaia: Is that why you don’t want me in here with you? You’re scared of him seeing us?

(She picks up her clothes.).

Kaia: I don’t think he’d care. He doesn’t care about me. He just keeps me around to cook and clean. You’re not stealing me from him Vincent. I was never his.

(She turns and leaves the bathroom closing the door behind her. She goes back to the bedroom and shoves some clothes on. Vincent is so weird. One minute he’s kissing her next minute he’s shoving her onto her ass. She rubs the back of her head which is throbbing now and sighs. So much for this plan of hers.).

 (They have just had dinner and Kaia is cleaning up the plates and cups. She fills the sink and starts washing up as Bo sits swigging beer. Vincent walks in and puts his plate on the side next to the sink. Kaia smiles at him and steps closer to him, brushing her hand over his. He moves away from her hurriedly. Bo gets up.).

Bo: I’m going out.

Kaia: Anywhere nice?

Bo: None of your business. Keep an eye on her Vincent, make sure she don’t run off while I’m away.

(He heads for the door then turns back.).

Bo: Oh and there’s a body in the basement over at the station. Go get her before she starts rotting would yah?

(He grins then turns and leaves. Kaia hears his truck drive away from the house. Lester appears in the doorway.).

Lester: Bo left?

Kaia: Yeah.

Lester: Guess it’s just us then?

Kaia: Guess so.

Lester: I’m gonna have a movie night if you wanna join. We could cuddle up on the sofa.

Kaia: No thanks.

(She finishes the washing up and grabs the rag that passes as a tea towel. She dries everything up and puts it away.).

Lester: So you got something better to be doing huh?

(Lester has opened the fridge and taken out a beer.).

Kaia: Maybe.

Lester: Uh huh. Like what?

Kaia: Like...Paint my nails.

(Lester laughs.).

Lester: Well whatever you know where I am if you change your mind. You coming Vincent?

(Vincent shakes his head.).

Kaia: Bo wanted him to take care of something. Think he’s gotten rid of his new girl.

Lester: Without even introducing us? Shame.

(Lester grins. Kaia shudders. Some poor girl is dead after going through God knows what and Lester thinks it’s funny. Great. Vincent doesn’t seem to care either. Why is he gonna care about her? She sees her plan falling apart yet again. Lester has gone back to the lounge. Vincent heads to the door. She stands there for a moment then follows him outside. He turns back and looks at her.).

Kaia: Thought I’d come with you. Might as well, haven’t got anything else to do. Bo said to keep an eye on me anyway so...This way you’re doing what he’s asked.

(His eye narrows, he looks suspicious. Probably wondering what her game is now. He gets in the tow truck and she climbs in the passenger side. He starts the engine and drives down the road to the gas station. She wonders why he bothered taking the truck when it’s just down the road. He switches off the engine and sits there for a moment. She bites her lip then slowly reaches over and places her hand on his thigh. He turns and looks at her.).

Kaia: You know we could go to that stream if you like.

(He shakes his head.).

Kaia: Don’t you find it boring just pottering about here all the time?

(He offers no response to this. He opens the door and gets out of the truck before walking towards the gas station. She glances down and notices that the keys are still in the ignition. Her heart thuds in her chest as she realises this is a perfect opportunity to escape. Bo’s gone God knows where and in this she can probably get away pretty quick. She’s just about to move into the driver’s seat when the driver door opens. Vincent stands there staring at her. She smiles at him. He then leans into the cab and yanks the keys out of the ignition before closing the door again. She watches as he walks back to the station. She sighs. There goes that plan. He really isn’t as dumb or as simple as she thinks. She sits there waiting, for what she doesn’t know. A few minutes later Vincent emerges from the station carrying the body of a young brunette girl. He tosses her body in the back before getting back into the driver’s seat.).

Kaia: Poor girl.

(Vincent starts the engine and turns the truck around. He then pulls up outside the wax museum. He switches off the engine and removes the keys before getting out again. She gets out and sees him picking up the girl’s body before turning and walking up the steps of the museum. She follows him inside and down the steps to his basement workshop. He lies the young girl on the table and turns the red tap on the wall. He then walks across the room and lights a fire underneath the large vat of wax. Kaia looks at the young girls body. She’s pretty beat up and she is covered in cuts and lacerations from Bo’s knife.).

Kaia: Aren’t you coming back to the house?

(He shakes his head and points at the girl lying lifeless on his table.).

Kaia: You’re doing all this now?

(He stops fiddling with his tools and looks at her.).

Kaia: Why don’t you do this tomorrow? She’ll still be here. We could watch a movie instead. I’ve got Vodka. Bo got some when he went shopping.

(He turns away from her. She sighs.).

Kaia: Okay. I’m gonna go back the house. Don’t be up all night working.

(She walks up the tunnel that leads to the house feeling for the light switch as she goes. She finds it and flicks the lights on illuminating her path. She turns and glances back to see Vincent fiddling with something on his homemade contraption. She turns away and walks faster up the tunnel. She reaches the trapdoor and pushes it upwards before climbing up into the house. She can hear the TV blaring and when she passes the lounge she sees Lester sat on the sofa swigging beer laughing at whatever he’s watching. The dog is curled up next to him. She goes upstairs and into the bathroom. She brushes her teeth and has a quick wash at the sink before using the loo and washing her hands. She then goes into Bo’s bedroom and sits down on the bed. She runs her hands through her hair and sighs. She then looks through her clothes and picks up a white cotton nightie. It’s the only nightie she has left that hasn’t got any stains on. Her other white nightgown and her dress have bloodstains on. She takes off her clothes and removes her bra before slipping the nightie on. She then bites her lip and thinks for a moment before leaving Bo’s room and going down the hall to Vincent’s room. She lights the candles that he has scattered around before she gets into bed. She lies there staring at the ceiling wondering if Vincent will be mad if he sees her in his bed. He probably won’t even come back here tonight. He’ll most likely end up sleeping down in his workshop. She sighs and wonders what the hell she is even doing anyway.).

 (Vincent switches off the lights in his workshop before leaving the wax museum and getting into the truck. It’s late, he ended up working for hours. He was considering just going to sleep in his workshop but he needs to shower. He drives back to the house and parks outside. It doesn’t look like Bo is back yet. He goes inside and sees that Lester has fallen asleep on the sofa. The dog is curled up next to him. He makes his way upstairs and goes into the bathroom. He strips off and takes a piss. He then carefully removes his mask before stepping under the shower. He washes working hard to get the wax out of his hair and out from underneath his nails. He turns off the water and steps out wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs another towel and uses it to dry his hair as best he can. He then switches off the light and goes down the hall. He stops as he passes Bo’s room, the door has been left open and Kaia isn’t in bed. He wonders if she’s run away again. He didn’t see her downstairs. Maybe she’s at the church. Vincent has noticed that she seems to spend a lot of time there. Talking to her friend Whitney. He supposes he now has to go and look for her. Bo will be furious if he’s let her get away. He stomps down the hall to his room and opens the door. He stops dead as he sees Kaia lying in his bed asleep. He slowly walks into the room and places his mask on his desk. He then looks back at Kaia. He dries himself off with the towel before tossing it into the corner. He rummages around in his dresser for something to wear. He takes out a pair of black pants with holes in. He slips them on then walks over to the bed peering down at Kaia. She fidgets and lets out a small moan. The clock on the bedside table catches his attention, it’s gone 2am. He was in his workshop longer than he thought. He leans down and reaches out to touch Kaia brushing his fingers down her arm. Then he touches her hair, her neck, her legs. She fidgets again and her eyes flutter. He yanks his hand back and looks at her. Then he slowly climbs into bed next to her. He lies there staring at her taking in her features. The curve of her jaw, her lips. She would make a beautiful sculpture. He can’t wait for Bo to get bored of her and give her to him. Her eyes suddenly open and she blinks several times staring at him. Then she smiles.).

Kaia: Hey.

(He swallows hard.).

Kaia: What time is it?

(She sits up and looks at the clock.).

Kaia: Have you only just come to bed?

(He nods.).

Kaia: You’ve been down in your workshop this whole time haven’t you?

(He nods.).

Kaia: I told you not to work too late.

(She reaches out and touches his hair. It’s still wet from his shower. She lies back down next to him and brushes her fingers over his cheek. His eye widens and his mouth moves as if he wants to say something.).

Kaia: You should get some sleep.

(She closes her eyes. Vincent reaches out and brushes his fingers over her cheek then he cups her jaw. She opens her eyes and looks at him.).

Kaia: What?

(He just stares at her.).

Kaia: I hope it’s okay for me to sleep here. I...Didn’t want to be on my own. I don’t like sleeping in the other room either. The bed smells of him.

(She looks sad.).

Kaia: You won’t hurt me will you?

(He frowns.).

Kaia: You’re not like him. You’d take care of me.

(She presses a kiss to his lips. She wonders if she could really make Vincent spare her. Make him let his guard down so she can get away. She also wonders if she can really do this. Can she actually be intimate with the man that killed Whitney? She supposes it would be no worse than what Bo has done to her. Vincent is suddenly kissing her back. She decides to just go for it. See what happens. Maybe he’ll fall in love with her or something and he’ll leave with her. She still doesn’t think it likely but then crazier things have happened. Maybe she’ll just end up stuck here for the rest of her life. She doesn’t want to die but she doesn’t think that she could live here with these men. With Vincent. Maybe she would be better off dead. Her hand moves downwards and she presses her palm against the front of his pants. This seems to be a mistake however as Vincent pulls away from her. He is staring at her, the gaze from his only eye seems to pierce right through her. She sits up.).

Kaia: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I...

(So much for her plan of making him fall for her. She really has gone insane. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had. Vincent swallows hard.).

Kaia: I just thought...Never mind.

(His eye widens and his teeth stick out biting down on his lower lip.).

Kaia: I’ll just go back to the other room.

(He suddenly takes hold of her arms, he is breathing heavily.).

Kaia: You don’t want me to go?

(He shakes his head. He is biting his lip again. She wonders what he’s thinking.).

Kaia: What’s wrong?

(She bites her lip wondering what’s going on with him.).

Kaia: After we kissed I...I thought you wanted me.

(She slides her nightie straps off her shoulders letting it fall down revealing her breasts. He stares at her. His gaze isn’t like Bo’s. It isn’t filled with lust and desire. She realises that he sees naked women all the time when he’s sculpting them. He doesn’t seem to have any sexual feeling towards them. Perhaps he’s viewing her as art and that’s it. This was a mistake. But then he reaches out and touches her breasts, almost as if he’s sculpting them, his hands are surprisingly gentle. He rubs his thumbs over her nipples and she sucks in a breath. She tries not to think about the fact that she’s actually going to willingly sleep with this madman. It probably won’t do her an ounce of good anyway. Vincent is kissing her again. She reaches out and takes hold of his pants tugging them down. He pulls away from her and looks down. She swears that his face has gone red.).

Kaia: Are you embarrassed? Don’t be.

(Vincent’s eye has widened again and his mouth opens and closes. She suddenly realises something.).

Kaia: You’ve never done this before have you?

(He shakes his head then looks down.).

Kaia: Do you want to do it?

(Vincent thinks back to the other night. When he was pleasuring himself while looking at the photos of her. It felt so good. He wonders what it would feel like to be inside her. He’s never even kissed a woman before let alone done this. He nods.).

 (Lester wakes up and rubs his eyes. He sits up realising that his neck is stiff. He needs to piss so he gets up and goes upstairs. He’s just about to go into the bathroom when he hears a noise from down the hall. He stops with his hand on the doorknob. He frowns listening. Then he hears it again. A moan. He creeps down the hall to Vincent’s bedroom. The door is open and the sight that greets him isn’t what he was expecting. A grin splits his features as he sees Vincent pounding into Kaia. Kaia is moaning and Vincent lets out a loud groan. Lester doesn’t think that Vincent has ever been this vocal. Lester suddenly goes to step into the room but thinks better of it. He stands watching for a few more seconds before he creeps back down the hall to the bathroom. He takes his piss then goes down the hall to his room. He closes the door and lies down in bed. He can still hear his brother at it and he lies there grinning. He can’t wait to tell Bo about this. He can’t wait to see the look on his face.).

 (Kaia is in the kitchen making herself a coffee. She can’t believe what happened last night. She actually slept with Vincent. The man that killed her best friend. She feels sick but she knows that she can’t give up. She has to keep going. She has to keep fighting. She must do whatever it takes to survive. Like Whitney said. Only Whitney didn’t say it because she’s dead. She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Vincent walking into the kitchen. He sits down and looks at her. She smiles at him.).

Kaia: Did you want coffee?

(He nods. She makes two coffees and puts one down in front of him. She smiles before turning back to the counter. The front door opens and Bo walks in. Kaia stiffens.).

Bo: Morning.

Kaia: Morning.

Bo: I’ll have a coffee. Some eggs too.

Kaia: Okay.

(His hair and clothing are dishevelled and he looks tired.).

Kaia: Did you have a nice time?

Bo: Hm.

(He turns to Vincent.).

Bo: You take care of that bitch over at the station?

(Vincent nods.).

Bo: Good.

(Kaia is busy preparing Bo’s breakfast and she doesn’t see Lester enter the kitchen. She only notices he’s there when he speaks.).

Lester: Morning. Didn’t get much sleep last night.

Bo: You and me both.

Lester: I was kept awake.

Bo: Oh yeah?

(Lester is grinning at Kaia. Bo frowns.).

Bo: You steal my girl?

Lester: Nope. But Vincent did.

Bo: What?

(Kaia freezes, her heart thudding in her chest.).

Lester: I saw ‘em last night. In his bed.

Bo: No.

Lester: Yeah. Ain’t that right Kaia?

Kaia: What?

Lester: Oh don’t act all dumb now. I saw my brother fucking yah. You were loud too. ‘Vincent oh Vincent!’

(Lester roars with laughter. Kaia feels her cheeks heating. Vincent is just sat there staring at the table. Bo is looking confused.).

Bo: Vincent was fucking Kaia?

Lester: Yeah! I saw it with my own eyes.

Bo: Nah.

(Bo shakes his head.).

Lester: Serious.

(Bo looks at Vincent grinning.).

Bo: Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t know you had it in yah! Finally lose your virginity huh freak?

(Bo and Lester roar with laughter. Vincent looks at the floor. Bo walks over to Kaia.).

Bo: You get lonely without me huh?

Kaia: No.

Bo: Hm. You decided to fuck my brother while I was away. If I’d known you needed some attention I would have given you it before I left.

Kaia: I never wanted attention from you.

Bo: Nah you just wanted my brothers instead huh? I always knew you were nothing but a fucking whore.

(She moves away from him. He chuckles. He turns to Vincent.).

Bo: I’m done with her anyway. You can have her brother. She’s all yours. Make sure you don’t burn my eggs bitch!

(He leaves the kitchen. Lester stands there grinning.).

Kaia: What are you looking at you fucking creep?

Lester: I’m happy Vincent finally got himself some. I’ll have some eggs and bacon too.

(Still grinning Lester leaves the kitchen. Kaia stands there staring at Vincent. He looks at her and she wonders what the fuck is gonna happen now. Bo is done with her. He’s given her to Vincent. He’ll probably turn her into a sculpture now. She’s as good as dead.).

[laniidae-passerine]

I made my post about Dean Highbottom and then as I was writing my tags realised that his Hunger Games counterpart is Haymitch. and now my head is in my hands and I don’t think I’ll ever recover

[layzeal]

something about the way wwx, against all odds and against his own plans, just kept living and surviving through events that he was certain would kill him, so by the time sunshot ends and his heart is still beating he just becomes... mellow

[coquelicoq]

yeah natori is 23 and since matoba is one year younger, he's 22 at the very start of the manga/anime :))) i think it was like around season 3 of natsume when i learned this and went ????????????? and had to go lie down for a while

unacceptable. midorikawa-sensei answer for your crimes. the thing that's killing me currently is i know i learned this information back when i read a bunch of fic after watching the show for the first time - which was less than a year ago - but apparently REPRESSED IT because it was sooo does not compute. and then had to learn it all over again just recently. my poor brain tried so hard to protect me from this knowledge but alas.

FREE THEM they're baby adults they should not have this kind of weight on their shoulders and have like. employees and shit!!! "oh look a dumbass teenager with a heart of gold. how about i protect him with my life" HOW ABOUT YOU WORRY ABOUT YOURSELF YOU MAN-SIZED CATERPILLAR!!! they need to be in their cocoon era not in their head-of-the-family life-and-death-decision-making era. when you're 22 you're legally obligated to make questionable life choices and it seems self-evident you should not have to be forming lifelong contracts with supernatural beings until after you've gotten some of that out of your system but WHAT DO I KNOW, i'm just a thirtysomething with over a decade on natori who still does the modern-day equivalent of unplugging my answering machine so people can't leave me cursed voicemails. i look back on my 23yo self and i want to cry from how much she was learning and how hard she was trying. i love her so much it breaks my heart. stop putting these young men into situations they need to be in situations but maybe ones less fraught with mortal consequences. maybe some situations more along the lines of figuring out the hard way not to buy dryclean-only shirts because who has time to go to the drycleaners? that's just one idea, i've got more of these. midorikawa-sensei are you listening??

[quicksilversquared]

I need the rest of the week to calm down because it's only Tuesday and I am already tired enough to just want to walk straight into a wall and give up for the week.

[puppyeared]

save me old flipnote studio MVs.......

[the-busy-ghost]

There are many reasons my interests are more geared towards mediaeval Scotland than mediaeval England, but at least one of them has to be the fact that I am completely incapable of Being Normal about the Lion in Winter and Shakespeare's second tetralogy.

[aingeal98]

cass visiting cain in blackgate for intel/batman reasons and/or for personal reasons?

"What have you done with Poison Ivy?"

David Cain grins up at the man who stole his daughter. Batman stares back, intense and angry as always.

"I voluntarily put myself in prison and have been here all the time. The question isn't what I've done with her Batman, it's what mistake you made. Like say for example, letting stray members of The Colony escape with their special Batsuits."

He leans back, enjoying the stress on Bruce's face. All he needs is a bottle of vodka and this would be perfect. None of that in solitary confinement sadly, so angry Batman is just going to have to be enough.

"It's going to be such a great look, those stupid Batsuits descending with full force to attack an innocent civilian yet to violate her parole. Does it make you sad, Batman? To see people take a symbol you spent all of your time and effort lovingly crafting, only to have it warped into representing your enemy?"

"Answer the question, Cain."

"Already did." Cain smirks. "I've done nothing. The Colony on the other hand... well who knows. Those idiots always did seem a little trigger happy, and not too good at distinguishing bad people from those attempting to change their ways. Sad, that."

Batman says nothing further, although the rage emanating from his eyes is palpable. Cain detects a slight tremor as he walks away and out of the room, leaving Cain alone.

He waits patiently. Bruce was never going to be the one to make him crack and he knew it. He was just the good cop, the easy way out.

But Cain hasn't seen his daughter in a while. Pleasant visit or not, maybe it's nice to just get a face to face chat every now and then.

Someone grabs his face and slams it all the way off his chair and onto the ground. Excellent technique, if Cain wasn't in so much pain he'd tell her how happy and proud he was that her skills don't seem to have diminished.

"Where is she?" The voice growls out, with a rasp so deep not even Bruce can mimic it.

"Sternativo Drive. 12th house unless they've moved her."

The pressure on his skull eases off. David pushes himself up so that he's sitting facing her.

"I did it for you." he says. "But you already knew that."

Cass glares at him. He sees disgust and fury there, but he also sees recognition. She knows exactly what he's talking about. The fight that sent Ivy back to Arkham last time, the poisonous vines that Cass took on to save another of Bruce's pathetic inferior children, the toxin levels so high she was in a coma for a week.

If David hadn't gotten her resistance to poisons so strong as a child, she would have died. Not that Batman's ever going to thank him for that, or appreciate the masterpiece he created. No, David alone can see all that makes Cassandra wonderful. One day maybe she'll understand that he loves her and wants her to get everything she deserves. After all, Bruce just let Ivy go right back into Arkham. Not even any excessive force used to avenge the girl who was supposed to be his daughter now. Pathetic.

He waits for Cass to reply, to yell how much she hates him. As much as he did it to avenge his daughter, he did it to get her attention too. Doesn't have much else to live for nowadays.

Cassandra sees that, because of course she does. Her expression goes carefully blank, and David's heart sinks.

"Wait-"

She turns and walks out without another word.

He sighs, leaning back against the wall. His nose is broken, blood slowly trickling down his face.

Maybe it's time to look into Blackgate's vodka smuggling options.

[ambitions-of-an-eccedentesiast]

oops, all hands

Next->

<-Previous

[fishnets-fingers]

I'm fast. I'm very fast.

[She is  currently behind Earl’s stall at the farmer’s market, where he’s selling his produce and flowers. The slanting rays of the afternoon light, permeate through the thin petals of the dahlias, making the pointed edges seem luminous. It was unusually busy, the marketplace, almost all of Earl’s produce were sold out. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand - wrapping a sheet of newspaper around a bouquet of aster and dahlias.] Please I LOVE the way you describe things!!

[longing for him to glance her way but he was busy] awh :(

[The crisp autumn air does not make her quiver, like it used to. She’s still getting used to layering for the cold, but she thought she did a great job with her outfit.] I literally spent the last two summers in my summer clothes and one jacket but this winter I've been layered up since the midst of November... and every one's surprised, including me

[But Harry had stepped out with a surly look in his eyes, doing nothing but giving her a curt nod and he’d remained like that till now.] Someone's being rude this time I see

[Hoping to lighten his mood Layla jabbered about what happened in golf and the nosey question a student asked about the two of them; she received nothing but apathetic nods and muted hums.] Oh no he did not.  

[That’s how it started then it snowballed into completely pretending like she doesn’t exist until now. He didn’t meet her eyes and went out of his way to put space between the two of them. Gone was the warm touchy, kissy boyfriend and in his place stood this lanky frigid boy - who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with her. It was someone pressed a button that bought a sledgehammer that shattered Harry’s lavender haze.] Oh my god I can't stand them separated from each other already.

[Maybe he realised loving you way too much of a burden, she shakes her head, trying to dispel her thoughts] OH HELL NO SHE DID NOT GURL I'M JUMPING THROUGH THE LAPTOP SCREEN

[It doesn't go unnoticed that Harry immediately steps away from her when she brushes past the two, making her frown. Since when does he pass up the opportunity?] Ah tell me what happened already so that I can fix these two folks' brains!

////

[Layla had managed to make quite a spread. A creole potato salad, sweet chilli halloumi with cashew slaw, and Ribollita.] das my talented gal.

[she’s slipping on some mitts to take out the pan] some writers use ANY OTHER word than mit's and that confuses the hell out of me always.

[She notices Harry’s wallet peeking out from his tote - abandoned on the kitchen island - as she sets the hot utensil down. Maybe if I put the tickets in there? Maybe the surprise would make him perk up and stop being surly, she ponders.] First of all, do no tell me she's going to do exactly that and Harry will catch her in the midst of it all and taunt her of robbery cause I will snatch all the hair off this guy's scalp if that happens. And second, do not tell me those are the tickets to where I think they are.

[She takes it as an opportunity to  quickly pull out the black Gucci wallet and flip it open.] I'm on my toes.

[The image in his photo pocket makes her want to run over and tackle him in a giant hug. He’d put a picture of her in his wallet. He went out of his way to print a wallet sized picture and slotted it in there. Important enough for his wallet, it makes her smile.] AWWH

[It was the picture he took on the day of Abi’s flower braiding ceremony - the two of them on her bed smiling into the kiss, dimples on display, her hands cupped around his face, lips pouring affection into each other.] I REMEMBER I REMEMBER

[making her swiftly dig into the pocket of her black faux leather jacket, slot the two fall carnival tickets she bought at the market behind his dollar bills and discretely slip it inside the tote.] NOT THE FALL CARNIVAL TICKETS I WANNA GO TOO 

[The corners of her mouth droops when he barely looks at her, staring pointedly at the glass as he pours in the pineapple watermelon  big boy soda Earl has stocked up.] This bitch ain't gonna get away with this behaviour.

[Despite not being acknowledged, she continues, “I remember you telling me about your final night in Tuscany where you, Mitch, and Sarah were so drunk and how you all stumbled into this dodgy looking place run by an elderly couple at midnight. And how that ribollita was the best you’ve ever had.” He even told her that if he ever got a chance to take her anywhere in the world, he’d fly her out to Anghiari and trudge up the steps of the town, wine drunk with interlinked hands under the starry Italian skies. “I found this recipe on YouTube by some nonna. Took a while to make it; hope it tastes -” “Whatever,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders, walking over to the dining room with the glass of green liquid on one hand and the squash on the other with the dish towel. “Prick,” she mutters, shooting daggers on his back.] THIS BOY DID NOT. HE DID NOT JUST DO THAT. I SWEAR I'M ON MY WAY TO PUNCH HIM IN THE DAMN THROAT.

////

[“Everyone has headaches,” he says, popping an ibuprofen in his mouth. “Not everyone had a stent placed on their heart three years ago. You’re feeling faint often, yeah?”] Oh no. OH NO NO NO.

[She pries the tab open to find red coloured rectangular papers inside, she shuffles them out and five ticket stubs fall out. There’s a picture of Mickey and right underneath it it says ‘THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH.’ The other end of the tick stub is perforated, and it says ‘ADMIT ONE.’ “No fucking way!” She squeals. “You got tickets to Disney World!”] WE LOVE EARL IN HERE

[“Hush,” Earl shuts Layla down. “You and Harry have worked in my shop and helped me with so many orders. Think of this as your wage.”] awwwh

[“ Why aren’t you coming with us, Earl?” Vasanth asks. “I’ve been there multiple times with my grandkids. Plus, I’m heading to Florida in the new year to stay with my son for a few weeks.”] Why do I feel like he'll be in his grave when they come back... maybe I've read too many stories.

[Harry made this on Photoshop. He even got it printed, so you all can have a tactile reminder.” “Thank you,” Layla smiles at Hary who’s scooping up the Ribollita. He doesn’t say anything, but gives her a tightlipped smile in return as she spoons some salad on her plate.] what happenedddddd tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

[He quickly walks away from where he was in conversation with Earl to his niece, who he believes Shiva put on his Earth to turn every hair on his head grey.] lmaoooooo

[she spent over an hour trying to meticulously follow his wife’s recipes hoping the elimination of thick cut bacon won’t affect the taste as much.] please I'm either awing, or shouting my head off.

[“உன்னை அடிக்க வைக்காதே(don’t make me whack you), Layla. I’m being deadly serious. You could end up in trouble with the cops.” “Hey! I’m not that bad of a driver.”] okay this was funny.

[“Calm down, சித்தப்பா! Look,” she shuffles through her tote and whips out her licence from her wallet.  He examines it closely. “When did you-” “தாத்தா ஒரு நாள் என்னை அழைத்துச் சென்றார் (Grandad, took me one day).” She winks.”You’re crazy to think I would do anything that would jeopardise my shot at a PhD.”] SLAYYY

[“Because,” she blushes, knowing Anne’s right there. “I don’t get to spend much time with you,” she says quietly. “Aunty works remote on certain days but you always go out the door at nine and get back home after six. Then you have things around the house to take care of and I know this is really selfish of me to say this but I don’t know how to share you with someone as needy as me.” “Are you talking about the -” She nods. “I’m just selfishly trying to bank on Layla Vasanth time before you run out of that because you have an infant to cater to. And I know that’s how it it should be but -” “நீ என் பயிற்சி சக்கரங்களாக இருந்தீர்கள். அப்பாவாக இருப்பதில். (You are my training wheels. For being a dad.)” He sniffles, pinching her cheek. “Besides we both know the minute you’re gonna start studying here, you’re gonna be my pain in the ass full time.”  She laughs. “Shut up!”] watch me cry-laugh.

[“Bowling then? I can teach you how to,” Vasanth proposes. “We can even go see a movie while we’re there.” “It’s a date.” Layla smiles.] heheh

////

[Unfair, Layla thinks as she watches Abi muss up the hair at the scalp to give it that oompf. Layla would kill to look that effortlessly gorgeous. ] Her might might be gorgeous but that doesn't make Layla any less drop-dead gorgeous like queen you slayin'

[“Open, please. Harry’s coming with?” “He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment. Don’t know why but nevermind, you finish your meeting.”] sigh.

[Panic! At The Disco t-shirt ] we love it

[but the redeeming factor were the pockets. They were as deep as the mines in Moria; Layla was akin to greedy dwarves throwing it into the shopping cart, when the pocket swallowed half her forearm. ] lmaoo, true tho.

[ breathed a sigh of relief when they found out that she was tall; it was a right pain to find someone for Vasanths’s towering six foot two.] hahahahah

[So, she used up some emergency snack money she’d set aside in her wallet and got her a set of these dragonfly pearl earrings and a matching pendant. It wasn’t made of real pearls or gold, it wasn’t the fanciest choice either, she’d bought it in a small fancy store - a small shop that often sold bangles, bindis, kaajal, and some cheap imitation jewellery - but Abi’s reaction indicated that it was the most precious thing that she’d ever received. Layla’s heart warmed when she caught sight of the tarnished, worn out dragonfly pearl necklace in Abi’s jewellery drawer yesterday, when she raided Abi’s closet for the faux leather jacket.] my heart is in your hands. my heart is in your hands.

[“Aren’t you up late?” Layla speaks. “Amma and I came back from a movie half an hour ago,” he answers. “What movie?” “Ponniyin Selvan.] ayeee i know which one you talking about!!

[“இன்று அவனிடம் பேசினேன். ஒரு ஐபாட் வாங்க முடியுமா என்று கேட்டார் - (I talked to him today and he asked if you could get him an iPad -)” “Appa! Do I look like an Apple mule to you all?”] LMAOO

[But if I get detained by the TSA for looking too suspicious with this many Apple products in my carry on. You’re gonna pay.” Her dad guffaws on the other end. “உன் முகம் கடத்தல்காரன் மாதிரி இல்லை (Your face doesn’t scream smuggler).” “To you maybe, நான் எப்படி மற்றவைகள் இருக்கிறேன் என்று யாருக்குத் தெரியும் (who knows what I look like to others)?” She laughs.] help- als I really like her dad. Better than her mother, at least, Maybe that's why I've briefly mentioned him in the fic.

[Her dad lets out a laugh. “Now, Amma will hold you to the same standard when you get back. Listen, பாட்டி (grandmum) wants me to remind you to buy Ziplock-” “Already bought three boxes of her precious ziplock bags.” “Good. Okay, kutti. I’m gonna head to bed. You take care okay?” “Will do. Tell Amma I said hi. Bye.”] I'm happy with this conversation.

[The door swings open as she makes a fist to try knocking on it and there he was - clad in one of his muscle tank top that had darkened patchily with sweat, blue shorts, hair pushed back with the blue bandana she’d got, lips  and eyebrows pursed in a grimace.] oop-

[“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, as he looks down at her - a result of the trapezius bundle protesting.] dare you fucking talk to her like that again.

[“I don’t want anyone’s company.” “Well -” the door shuts on her face, and she feels her heart drop. “I’m not anyone,” she mumbles dejectedly at the wooden door, tears prick the corner of her eyes and she makes her way back to her room. Tossing the gift box on her bedside table. Tearing off a page from her notebook, she scrawls with tears beading her waterline.] I SWEAR TO GOD THIS BITCH DID NOT I WILL RIP HIS HEAD OFF HIS SHOULDERS HOW FUCKING DARE HE I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM FOR THIS OH MY GOD HE WILL NOT SEE THE NEXT SUNRISE IF ONLY I WERE THERE

[That’s all she manages to jot down before her mother’s voice echoes in her head, “சில நேரங்களில் உன்னை விரும்புவது கடினம் (It’s hard to love you sometimes).”] NO NO NO NO NO I WILL KILL HARRY

[She abandons the crumpled ball,] he better find that.

[What other perfect way is there to channel gamer rage other than using the bubbling anger directed at her boyfriend to kill the remaining two warrior women with wings.]* practices deep inhaling and exhaling*

////

[(die, pig, die)’ at the projector screen armed with one of her video game controllers.] I'm not even able to laugh at this I'm SO upset with Harry

[“Yup. As long as the boy was Hindu and from our caste,” Abi answers. “Of course. It came with terms and conditions,” Layla giggles. “As long as they were from the same caste. Could you imagine going around and asking people what caste they belong to when you’re out on a date.” “I know right! Hella awkward.”] trew. I hate Harry I'd have been enjoying this convo rn.

[“Yeah,” Abi chuckles. “I didn’t make it easy for my parents either. I had given them a zillion expectations that they needed to meet. I rejected many. Plus, they had to find someone taller than me.” Layla laughs. “It’s the same thing that happened with Uncle. Finding someone tall enough for him, தாத்தா பாட்டி (grandad and grandmum) almost pulled out their hairs trying to find someone tall.”] heheh

[ Your uncle asked me what I wanted, rather than ask me what I want as one half of a couple. ] big slay

[I haven’t told him this but when he readily put his notice in and moved to Charlotte with me - before he found himself a job here - he just became so much hotter.” Abi uses one of her hands and fans herself.] lmao

[“I initially thought the kick would be like a ping but it’s like a jelly rolling around with her. Getting more active by the day this one.”] my mum said the same thing!

[“You two are gonna team up and make fun of us, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between fits of laughter. “Obviously.” ] duh Abi

we love some good advice.

I literally just fought with my parents to let me stay up (to finish an essay *wink wink*)

[He’s been secretly hoping you have UNC at the top of the list, so you can live with us while you study.”] I hope so too

[I heard you tell him the other day that you’re gonna marry him when you were eating the focaccia he baked. And I know it’s not my place to say this but I get that you meant it as a term of expression but sometimes it necessarily might mean the same for him. Have a talk with each other. The sooner the better. I know he means the world to you and I know you mean the same to him.” “I didn’t think of it that way… I never thought that I’d feel all these things for him. I just thought it’ll be a fun hookup but I guess you’re right. I think he knows that I don’t mean it like that. Whenever we talk about things we know our priorities - colleges. We always talk about the future like it’s distant. I think the hardest thing about January rolling around soon is him. I don’t want to leave,” Layla bites down on her wobbly lower lip. It only makes the angry flames in her chest spark up again because Harry’s being an utter asshole to her. All she wants to do is cosy up to him and drum her fingers down his back as he presses wet kisses on her pulse. ] nooooo don't cry!!

[“Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds but do you ever see yourself getting married or are you just saying no because of what happened between your mum and dad?”] oh this question is an attack to both our guts.

[you know how everyone says we often butt heads because we have similar personalities - and that means I’d have to go through the same things she did. As much as I do and villanise her sometimes, I honestly don’t think I have an ounce of the strength and determination she does. We lived alone for almost a year and she single handedly took care of all of the finances and even now, she works and does so much work at home too.] LITERALLY SAME. that's the problem.

[“That’s not true, kutti. We hit a rough patch during my final year of my MBA. We even talked about separating,” Abi explains.] wot-

[All of the little free time we had went to chores. We went weeks without talking to each other, and didn’t even acknowledge each other. It was like two strangers living in a hotel. Every time we’d open our mouths, we’d snap at each other and both thought that things weren’t working out because we’d grown apart.”] ohhh

[Marriage is not easy. They don’t just work. You make it work. It’s very easy, at least, with arranged marriages to drift off to your separate paths - be strangers - and it takes work to meet in the middle again. And it needs to be done because you’re growing as your own individual too. That’s how we make it work - we’re not the same Vasanth and Abi who’d agreed to marry each other. We set aside time for ourselves. We talk. Go out on dates. Take holidays. We make each other a priority. It’s work. We are at this point because we put in the work to get here and we will need to put in the work after the baby too.”] I- I've got nothing to say, your honour.

[“Oh yeah? Finally realised that Abi is like that tortoise from Kung Fu Panda,” her Aunty jokes around. “Yeah. An old tortoise,” Layla snickers. “Are you calling me old?” Abi pinches her cheek. “I wouldn’t dare,” Layla tries to say it earnestly but her giggles give her away. She shuffles closer to her, throwing her hands around her shoulders, slotting her body to the side, mindful of Laya’s residence. “By the way, you didn’t overstep your bounds at all. I’m glad it took you four years to find Uncle because there’s no one else I’d rather have as my Aunty.” ] ah, love this duo and also want to watch kung fu panda again...

////

[Harry can hear Layla’s voice faintly drifting from the floor above - wrapping up her class - as he makes his way up the stairs to her room. It’s twenty past one in the morning and every time Harry shut his eyes, he couldn’t help but shake the image of her walking back home dejectedly when he slammed the door. ] oh look who's here.

[What catches his eye was the crumpled ball of paper lying limply at the foot of the bed.] good, you're doing good h.

[his heart falls to his stomach when he reads what she’s scrawled in cursive. Fuck, he shakes his head, plopping down on the mattress.] yeah, fuck.

[Harry can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward - she always grunts out that word when she’s finished with whatever exhausting activity she was engaged in.] i know i know.

[“No!” She says, voice louder than either of them anticipated, stalking further into the room. “Leave,” she seethes, chest heaving as she rapidly takes in shallow breaths, clicking the door close to not wake Vasanth and Abi. “I don’t care. Just go.”] SLAYY

[Harry gets up. “Baby, please listen to me.”] dare you call her baby bitch

[I’m fucking livid!” She blinks back the angry tears that begin to prick her eyes.] oh no-

[Harry’s eyes blur as a thin film beads at his waterline, and he’s quick to blink them away before they have the chance to trickle down. The last thing he wants to do is upset her further, so he sighs and mutters, “Okay. I’ll go.” He makes his way to the door with his head hung dejectedly.] see how it feels?

[Layla’s eyes soften, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Shit. Your shoulder still hurts?” She enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gives her a weak nod. “Go wait downstairs in the kitchen… I’ll be right behind you,” she exhales.] that's love right there and i'm here for it

[“Can you take off your hoodie for me?” Layla asks, as she spoons some of the brown and green balm into the bowl.] omg watch her grumpily tend to him I always eat that shit up omg

[“Sorry about the smell,” she tells him quietly as she kneads his muscles in circles - easing the taunt muscles under.  Harry’s speechless as she works her way down his shoulder and back, letting the warm liquid trickle down and later gently rubbing it all over. He doesn’t deserve this from her, especially with the way he’s treated her the past two days. But here she is carefully working the knots in his shoulder, even after asking him to leave her sight. He feels his heart weigh heavy in his throat, and he closes his eyes to succumb to the emotions his girlfriend’s tender act stirs up in his chest.] *nods* yeah.

[And Amma (mum) did this for me and I swear the pain subsided the next day, which I know is not possible but I barely felt it after. I mean it’s just pain gate theory, right?” She waffles on hoping to distract him from the pain she might be causing him as she massages the last of the liquid on the expanse of his shoulder. ] i love her so much i'll cry

[ “Sometimes I think I’ll perish if I don’t have a jar of Tiger Ba-” she stops where she hears a sniffle, followed by a shaky inhale and feels his frame tremble under her palm.] oh no there we go, as he should be. he should be crying but hey i feel bad now why is he crying

[and Layla realises that he’s hurting. He’s been hurting the past two days and that he wasn’t apathetic and detached. ] oh?

[“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - Sorry,” he blubbers, pulling her close to him, burying his face in her midsection as his arms hold her in place.] oh no it's okay i don't hate him make him stop crying

[“Sorry. Sorry. I’m -,” he hiccups, a fresh wave of tears halting him and all he could do was nuzzle into her warmth as he bawls. “We’re okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’m sorry too, babe,” she whispers, mollifying him as she rocks him to and fro, letting him cry it out.] sigh

[“I’m sorry.” He says, rapidly blinking down another fresh set of tears. “I’m sorry too,” she says, hand coming to caress his cheek.] that's a healthy relationship right there.

[“I uh - I was jealous,” he replies, cheeks reddening in response.] oh NO DO NOT MAKE ME MAD AGAIN

[“Ashwin,” he admits, feeling the blood rush to the tips of his ears as he hangs his head.] i knew it!! i fucking knew it hahah!!!

[“I do! It’s a me thing. Don’t take it personally.”] not that, uh-uh

she's right in this argument.

[“Hissy fit,” Harry chuckles] how dare he?

[ “How are we gonna work through this? What are you gonna say next? ‘Let me mark my territory when you hang out with others, like how a dog would do?!?’” She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths through her nose so she would raise her voice and wake her Aunty and Uncle. She knows she’s spiralling and spewing out ridiculous things but she can’t help but feel hurt by his admission. ] oh shit- it's getting real now

[“No, baby. No. It’s not you!” ] stop calling her baby when she's mad!! it makes you look like a shitty man!!

[“every time I see you two hanging out, it makes me insecure and I didn’t like feeling like the second best again.”] oh no I'm going to cry not the second best oh no

[“I’m just scared that you’ll realise he’ll give you something I can’t.” He confesses. “Like you don’t need to check if a Tamil movie has subtitles at the cinema to watch with him, he gets all the references you make, you don’t have to translate things in your head or explain why you’re doing certain things - like the other day when you accidentally stepped on my book and you’d stopped talking to bend down to touch it and bring your fingers to your eyes and you’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining why for me. And it’s scary to think that one day you’ll realise that I’m not worth it and leave.”] naurrrrrrr

[ It works both ways too. You taught me so much about your home too. I didn’t know what a chip butty was before I met you,” she jokes weakly. Harry doesn’t laugh - or even smile - instead he looks crestfallen, Layla leans over and stamps a soft kiss on his pink lips and his splotchy cheeks. “I’ll never not think you’re not worth it. Ever. You mean the world to me. You make me feel safe and you make me feel loved. And that is something I will not take very lightly. Ever. I have nothing like that with Ashwin. I hitched a ride with him the other day because everyone else was gonna shower at the country club and head straight for work. Ashwin had a day off and obliged to drive me to Raleigh to pick something up for you,” she tells him, nodding towards the black box. “Besides, he acts like he’s from the hood sometimes - I guess most brown boys do that when they come here; pretend to be an African American rapper. It just does not get my motor running like you in a pair of fishnets.”] I was going to write something sappy but OOOOH HIM IN FISHNETS EH

[“It was,” Layla agrees. “I did not deserve to be treated that way. I thought you were mad at me or that you needed space which is very unlike you. Because I’m the one that pushes you away-” “Not in the way that I did. You always told me that you need some time to yourself before you share but I just pushed you away.” “True,” Layla sighs. “Would inviting you along help whenever I go out with that gang? I’m not gonna stop hanging out with them because I feel like I’m hanging out with my cousins. And I’m trying to make the best out of that because they’re gonna fly out as soon as the wedding is over.”] yes woman, slay.

[“That’ll be nice. I sorta felt left out when you went to watch that movie without telling me because I’m really used to being your number one go-to person for everything,” he admits. “I didn’t want to seem clingy I guess.” ] ahhhhhh okk

[“You said earlier about not wanting to feel second best again. Has it got something to do with your dad? I mean you don’t talk about it and I’m just theorising but feel free to tell me to back off if I’m crossing a line.”] oh..

[“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he chose us. He was a good dad, Layla. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But I guess, I was not enough for him with anything I did,” his lower lip wobbles. “He’d had another family and I guess in the end my step-siblings - god,  it’s so weird to call them that - had something that I didn’t and when he figured it out he’d just left mum and me.”] imagine if anyone were to walk in on me tearing up and red nosed

[It made sense to Layla now - his icy behaviour was not to attack her but to protect him, his inner child. ] I WILL sob whenever it has to do something with inner child of a person.

[She had the power to make him feel the things he once felt, and the second Harry realised that she held the power; when he felt ‘not enough,’ he’d cut her off so she wouldn’t put him through that - like a hedgehog balling themselves up and straightening out it’s quills when it senses his predators were nearby.] i can't fucking see tears are blurring my sight

[ Remember when you told me love is not a burden?” She can feel him nod against her neck. “Love shouldn’t be earned either. It’s not conditional - especially from a parent.”] oh no tears are falling out.

[“No need for thank yous. I’d take care of you anytime,” she shrugs.] I will 'aw' out loudif it keeps going like this

[Harry’s fingers trace the gold foiled lettering - Fink’s -  against the soft material. He flips the box open to find a dainty gold chain and a thin cross pendant hanging from it of the same metal. It looked identical to the silver one he’d have around his neck - he’d go on a limb and say this one looked even more beautiful. He immediately looks into her homey raven eyes, bottom lip trapped with her teeth, as she looks at him expectantly. “I know I ripped it off your neck that day,” her face flushes with heat thinking back to their lecherous activity upstairs in the swing room in front of his giant ornate mirror. “I’ve been feeling bad since. I’ve never ever seen you take it off and when I got the deposit money for the commissions, it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to get you an exact replica but I just couldn’t bring myself to get it in silver, so I called Fink’s and had them make it gold. You kept complaining that the clasp on the old one was too tiny, so I asked them to use a circular clasp, so it’s easier for you.” She rambles. “They said they couldn’t make the chain dainty in 22 karats, something about them not able to get the metal to bend, so it’s only 18 kara-” Harry cuts her off with a passionate kiss, hands clutching her cheeks holding her close, as he pours his devotion. His tongue melds with hers and it makes her breathe out a quiet moan, as she sinks his fingernails into his bicep. He breaks apart, pressing his forehead to hers as they both catch their breath from the dizzying ordeal. “I love it! Put it on for me?” He asks her, thumb caressing her bottom lip, making her smile.] AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

////

[a spatter of gold paint he’d managed to get when he helped her paint the ornate frame of his mirror.] we love quality time

[“I don’t do it hard,” she replies.

“Well my stinging ass cheek would beg to differ.”] LMAO

[“I could just lift you up and spin you around,” he suggests. Layla laughs. “Cute that you think you can lift- aaah!” She shrieks as Harry quickly squats down, to grab the junction where her bum and thighs, and hoists her up. “You were saying?” He arches his eyebrow up at her. “Put me down,” she demands as he makes his way to the hoop. “Nope. Make this backwards basket and come on a walk with me around the pond.”] i'm literally smiling ear to ear and my throat is hurting bad

[Layla tosses the ball and Harry turns them around to watch it perfectly go into the net, making him hoot and spin her around in celebration. They both laugh as Harry loosens his arms around her thighs making Layla slide down his torso. She doesn’t stop giggling as she wraps her around his neck, fingers massaging the baby curls at the nape of his neck, as she rubs her nose against his - feet still dangling above the ground as he holds her in place. “This is my favourite trick shot,” she whispers. “Nandhini’s watching,” he mumbles, reminding her of her PDA rule around brown aunties, as she angles her head. “Fuck her,” whispers with a smirk as her eyelids flutter close and she closes the distance between their lips.] ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh

MAYA YOU WERE BACK AND WITH A BANG. Literally only you can pull so many emotions out of me i love you sm and this part too <33

Here, lots of Lotuses for ya:

Aaah lotuses my heart just can't!!! You went on a ride reading it and I went on a ride reading this!

My favourite moment is Layla being grossed out by the fact that her her aunt thinks her uncle is hot and the baby agreeing with her. And omg Earl's gonna be there to hear about the adventures in Disney World... Plus, the gold chain finally made an appearance... I love the fact that it was her that bought him something he'd have on him for a long long time.

I love that you were ready to throw hands for Layla and wanted to smack Harry so much lmao... I can't believe you read it so quickly aaah!!! Thank you so much!! Here are some virtual flowers from the hundred acre wood!

[petricorah]

in the end, she drew this instead

[feral-and-or-horny]

For my friends in academia, do you ever have a moment where you're explaining your area of interest to someone and have this moment of "Oh fuck, I sound super smart??? And I'm not faking it?????"

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[imperpetuallylost]

kinda crazy but…

im gay for you

:o no way i’m also gay for u <3

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Snippet Monday

Some weeks ago, @sparguscityangel and I were discussing the world map in Jak 2, and it occurred to me that at least one character refers to the northeastern area of the main continent as The Wasteland as well as the island to the west. And in the Jak and Daxter franchise, plot holes are just writer worldbuilding opportunities. So we started tossing around the idea of there being two or three separate communities of Wastelanders, all in different environments, because "wasteland" doesn't automatically mean "desert". And we thought "maybe they're all loosely affiliated and the leaders of the clans meet up every once in a while". For context, my idea of the other clans was Longstump Clan, down where the swamp used to be in TPL, and Foothills Clan, which lives around what used to be the Spider Caves and the base of Snowy Mountain. All this then got incorporated into Adopted Dadmas au with a pinch of Spy Tess. (That bit comes tomorrow)

"Fine young gun you've got there, Wolf."

The chief of the Longstump settlement took a drag on his intricately carved pipe and nodded to where Jak was climbing up one of the old pillars to watch for Marauder activity below. The old man snorted as the boy turned an unnecessarily elaborate flip to make it to the top.

"What is he now, eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Sixteen, by count of his last physical," Damas answered, sparing the boy a glance. A faint smile tugged at his cheek. "Sixteen, impudent, and always climbing, that one."

Sal puffed out a smoky chuckle. "No wonder the Foothills band likes him."

He leaned back and shook out the soft hide vest and tunic common to the inland Wastelanders, rattling with wooden beads and Precursor metal. His hands were wrinkled, and his face creased; Sal was old enough to be Damas’s father, but his hair was the same deep teak it was in his youth, tied back in neat plaits.

"At the rate he's going, he'll have no trouble when it's time for his Proving," Sal observed.

"Hm."

The Proving. That was what the Wastelanders of Longstump called the trials to usher newcomers into their ranks: a three day test of strength against metalheads in the basin, with an amulet awarded for each day survived.

The Foothill Wastelanders called their test Running the Spire. Young warriors or outsiders wishing to join had to race up a dangerous trail on the border of the Marauder homelands, without being caught by Marauders or dangerous wildlife, and infiltrate Snowy Mountain to bring back a piece of Marauder armor.

By comparison, the Arena was a far more controlled environment, with more rules. There was a strange irony in that.

Damas couldn't have said why the swell of pride he felt was so overwhelmingly strong, but he didn't bother to hide it.

"Jak has already passed the first two trials of his Proving," he corrected the Longstump chief with a full smile.

"I predict that before winter, he will join the warriors' councils as an equal."

Sal took another puff of his pipe and shook his head in wonder. "Two amulets and he's sixteen. Shee-oo! You dune-wolves don't do anything by halves, do you? You must be so proud."

Damas looked up. "I am," he murmured, smiling.

From the top of the pillar, Jak seemed to feel his stare. He looked down and made a questioning face. Damas snorted and signed up at him, "No moncaw-business! I'm not stealing light eco from the temple if you fall down and break both your arms!"

Sal laughed out loud beside him. "Ah! I remember telling my daughters that all the time!"

Yvelle, matriarch of the Foothills Clan finally looked up from the trade agreements the three had been exchanging. "Sometimes you just have to let them learn the hard way," she offered.

Damas made a face. "Can't. He convinced an Oracle in Haven city to teach him how to battle-shift -- like the Sages used to in the history books -- and now half the time he just regenerates whatever damage he's done to himself. I tell you, if my hair wasn't already white..."

"Your boy is a War Sage?" Sal sputtered, choking on smoke.

Yvelle's eyes glittered with interest. "No wonder he's half done with his Proving already. Hey, if you need a break, just send him up to the Caves. We'll tire him out."

"In your dreams, Yvelle," Damas scoffed. "Get your own kid: Jak's mine!"

"Worth a shot," the woman joked. "But seriously, my Lurker Wastelanders are asking about taking back their ancestral city in Frosthold. Loooooot of Marauders up there. We could use a War Sage."

Damas leaned back and searched the sky for a moment before his eyes landed on the Day-Star. He frowned. "Let's deal with subverting the apocalypse first. Then we'll see how far I'm willing to let my boy travel unaccompanied."

Of course, Jak would likely have all three amulets by then, and thus be considered old enough to go where he wanted. But Damas wasn't fond of the idea. He'd lost one son, why tempt fate by letting another wander far from home without supervision?