#and he's this round headed sweet grey bully dog

[fawningoveradream]

i wanna draw my fursonas and ocs so bad. But i haven't drawn in so long. The creative juices are poisoning me. Cause I got this idea of how I envision em but it just isn't coming outright on paper.

Trying to draw my hellhound/y2k fursona Pretty Pink Devil Princess E and their pops Sebastian Sprinkles. Both inspired by candys/sweets and like dogs but also colors and also hell hound adjacent.

I keep looking at refs at their dog breeds I associate them to get the shapes right but lol the anguish. The shapes man....

I need to get back to the basics.

[thomas-and-the-chocolate-factory]

Thomas and the Chocolate Factory - Chapter 1

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Crossover

Summary: Remus Duke is the greatest chocolatier of all time, and after living the past few years a recluse, he decides to finally open his factory once again. And it's young orphan Thomas Sanders' dream to win a ticket and get to go! Will he win a ticket? And if he does, will he make it out alive?

Masterpost

----------

Thomas Sanders was an orphan. He’d never known his parents, and had grown up in an orphanage with the many other kids there all his life. The owners of the orphanage, Dot and Larry, weren’t very wealthy. They tried their best to keep the place in good condition and give all the children the care they needed, but with every passing day, it became more apparent that the place was facing problems.

Not all the children realised as the portions of food became smaller at meals. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as the chocolate they got weekly as a treat changed to be a monthly treat, and then changed again to a yearly one that every kid only got on their birthday. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as things in the orphanage like the television and furniture were sold and switched out for cheaper, second-hand stuff. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed the look of relief Dot and Larry had when a child was adopted or fostered, as it meant they had one less mouth to feed. Thomas did.

So, Thomas decided to try and help out. He got an after school job doing the paper round. It didn’t earn much, but Dot and Larry were grateful all the same.

His new job meant the boy would have to pass a certain building in his town four times a day. A building that was torture for him to be near.

This building was a chocolate factory. And it was the largest in the world.

Remus Duke, the owner, was like the local town cryptid. Many in the town were once employed at his factory, where he created the most amazing candy inventions in the world. While the Duke brand chocolate bars were the signature item, other creations included ice-cream that would never melt, gum that never loses its flavour, bubblegum that can be blown to enormous sizes without popping, and more! It was incredible!

However, other chocolatiers grew envious of Remus’ booming business and ability to create things seemingly impossible. So, they sent in spies to go undercover and learn Remus’ secrets. Soon, Slugworth was releasing the ice-cream that never melted, Fickelgruber was selling gum that never lost its flavour, and Prodnose was selling the bubblegum that could be blown to enormous sizes! Remus, panicked, fired all his workers and closed his factory forever.

Forever didn’t last very long.

One day, smoke was coming from the chimneys again. Duke products were being sold at candy stores once more. Remus’ ex-employees raced to the factory, hoping to be given their jobs back. But Remus never came out from the factory to announce his return. Ever since its closure, no one had ever gone in, and no one had ever come out. No one knew who his new workers were. Apparently, shadows appeared in the windows, but no one could ever make them out.

Thomas would give anything to go into that factory. The place had fascinated him ever since he first heard the story of it. He wanted to know how Remus created the things he did, he wanted to know who the workers were, and he wanted to have the chance to try all of the Duke products he could. The only thing he’d ever tried were the chocolate bars he got for his birthday.

That’s why it was torture for him to walk past. As he walked from the orphanage to school, from the school to the news office, from the news office to the houses subscribed to the paper, and from those houses back home, he’d pass those large gates and the smell of warm sweet chocolate would flood and override his other senses. His stomach would growl hungrily, and he’d shuffle by slowly, imagining he were eating it as well as smelling it.

Torture. But blissful torture. It was his method of escapism.

One that he really needed as food portions got smaller and smaller.

One night, he’d been getting ready for bed. Larry came into his room to say goodnight, only for Thomas to speak before he could. “Larry? How much longer will you be able to keep the orphanage open? And where will we go when it closes?”

Larry sighed. He walked over, sitting on the end of Thomas’ bed. “... We don’t know how much longer. But there’s an orphanage in the next town over with a lot of spare rooms and in much better condition. They’ve agreed to take you all in when the time comes.”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Okay… What about you and Dot? What are you going to do?”

“Dot’s probably going to go back to teaching. As for myself… I’m not that sure yet. But we’ll make do. You don’t need to worry, Thomas.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll miss you too, Thomas. But it’s okay. We’re not closing this place just yet. Now get some sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Thomas. See you in the morning.”

Thomas buried himself under his thin blanket as Larry stood up, flicked off the lights, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Thomas’ eyes drifted to the window. There in the distance was the Duke factory, and the sky above it was filled with stars. And one of said stars was a shooting one, firing across the sky. As he saw it, Thomas wished with all his might that some good luck would come his way. That something would save the orphanage. That he’d get a new life and not have to go hungry anymore.

-

“I’m home!” Patton Gloop called through the bakery as he stepped inside. Only he shouted in German, obviously, given he lived in Germany.

His mother, Harley Gloop, poked her head through the doorway behind the counter that led to the kitchen. “Pat! Perfect timing, I just put in some cookies in to bake for you. I made an extra batch of dough with no eggs so you could eat it.”

Patton grinned, dropping his school bag. He ran behind the counter and into the kitchen, going right over to the bowl and digging in with the spoon. Mm, it was so good! He really needed this…

Patton hadn’t had the greatest day at school that day… He’d had PE, his least favourite lesson.

Patton was fat. He knew the word had bad connotations, but he didn’t think it should. He liked his body!

Well… he tried to. But it was hard to stay positive when no one else seemed to like his body.

He didn’t get bullied necessarily, but… People would tease him, call him nicknames like ‘butterball’, ‘chubs’ and things like that. He knew most people meant it in an endearing fun way, but it could still hurt sometimes.

However, one person who always meant for it to be taken seriously and hurtfully: his PE teacher. The guy was a… was a b-hole.

I know, it sounds very harsh, but it’s true. Due to Patton’s weight, he decided to force him to work a lot harder than any of the other kids. Patton would have to do exercises double time, put all the equipment away after the lesson on his own, sprint when the other students were told to jog, and jog when other students had to walk, and multiple times had been worked to the point he was physically sick. One of his best friends, Terrence, often found himself knelt beside him, comforting him as his breakfast came back up.

Little did Mr Wyatt, the PE teacher, know, said actions just enabled Patton and made him eat more. Because that’s what Patton did when sad: eat! It made him feel so much better; the delicious tastes distracted him from the bad feelings and made him feel bright and happy! Which is why he was so happy to be having this delicious cookie dough.

“So, honey, how was your day?” Harley asked, finishing up icing a cake to put in one of the display cases for the next day.

“It was good.” Patton didn’t like telling his mum what happened to him in PE. It would make her sad and angry, and he didn’t want to feel the bad feelings he did. “Terrence and I were talking about having another sleepover soon! I’m on snack duty as usual. I know both our favourites, after all. I think it’s going to be at Terrence’s this time.”

“You know what date yet?”

“Not yet. Hopefully soon, I can’t wait!”

Harley smiled, kissing his head as she passed him, taking the cake to the front of the store. “Why don’t you take that dough up with you to the apartment, get in your onesie and pick out a movie. Once the cookies are done, I’ll bring them up and we’ll watch it together.”

“Okay!” Patton picked up the bowl, running upstairs to his and his mother’s flat above the shop. It was small, but neither of them minded. It was all the two of them needed, and they were happy in it. He put the bowl down on the coffee table, before running to his room. “Hey, Toby!”

Toby, Patton’s dog, yawned awake from where he was curled up in his bed. Patton gave the dog a quick hug before going to his wardrobe and pulling out his grey cat onesie. Once he’d changed into it, he whistled for Toby to follow him, before leaving the room, returning to the lounge. He scooped up another spoonful of cookie dough, before going over to the DVD shelf.

“Hm… which one…?”

Patton looked over them a little longer, before smiling and pulling a DVD from the shelf. Winnie the Pooh was his favourite movie, but this was his favourite documentary. Well, by ‘favourite’, I mean the only one he actually liked and was interested in. It was all about the Duke factory, detailing the rise, fall and resurgence of it. Though, Patton didn't care much for the mystery side of the factory’s history. He just liked watching the candies, sweets and chocolates being produced. It looked so delicious, and always made him desperate to go out and buy a bunch of Duke chocolate - it was his favourite, after all.

Patton ran to the TV stand, putting the DVD into the player, before returning to the sofa. Toby immediately jumped up and curled up on his lap. Patton petted the dog’s head, before picking the bowl of cookie dough back up and digging back in. Soon, it was empty. With perfect timing, his mother came in holding a plate of cookies just as Patton put the bowl back on the coffee table. Harley sighed, smiling, as she saw what DVD Patton had chosen. “Why am I not surprised…?”

Patton giggled, taking a cookie from the plate. “You know how much I love Duke chocolate; it’s the best ever!” He smiled, turning back to the screen and pressing play on the remote. “I’d give anything to get a lifetime supply or see inside, or anything like that.”

That would be nice. Maybe, if he got to go and see inside, he wouldn’t be picked on anymore because everyone would want to be his friend to hear his story of what’s inside. Or, if he got a lifetime supply, everyone would want to be his friend so they could have some.

Either way, he’d get a lot of friends. And that would make him happy.

-

“Daddy, I’m home!”

Roman Salt called through the mansion as he stepped inside, the butler having let him in after driving him home from school. He pulled off his fur coat and handed it to said butler, waiting for his father to come in and greet him. He waited… and waited… and-

There were the footsteps. He turned to the person coming into the entrance hall, and his face soured. It was neither of his parents. Instead it was his nanny, Pryce.

“Welcome home, Roman. Now, I-”

“Where’s my father?”

Pryce sighed. “Roman, your father is on a very important business call in his office, and it will probably last for the rest of the day, so-”

“The rest of the day?!” Roman almost screeched. “My performance is tonight! He’s seriously missing it?!”

“Yes, he is. I’m sorry, Roman, but I’ll be taking you in-”

“This is unfair, he’d better be able to properly make it up to me! If not I’ll SCREAM!”

Before Pryce could respond, Roman was storming off in the direction of his dad’s office. Pryce chased after him, calling for him to stop and calm down, but Roman’s temper was a fire that could not be put out. He slammed open the door, causing his father, Romulus Salt, to almost jump out of his chair.

“YOU AREN’T COMING TO MY SHOW?!”

Romulus muttered to himself, before turning to his laptop. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He muted the call, before standing and turning to his son. “Roman, let me explain-”

“DON’T! I don’t want to hear an excuse! What I want is retribution!”

Romulus sighed, knowing what was coming. He put on a smile. “I’ll get you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Good! I want a horse. Valerie said she got one for her birthday, and they’re so much better than my stupid ponies. She may be my best friend, but I cannot let her show me up. Also, I would like a new mink coat - the fur’s getting all matted on my current one.”

“Of course, my little pri-”

“I’m not done! I want you to get a professional dressmaker to make me personal, high quality replicas of all the Disney Princess dresses. They need to be good, not like some cheap dress-up thing from a Disney store.”

“Okay, Ro, I’ll make sure you get all those things as soon as possible.”

“...Good.” Roman turned and left the office, head held high, the smuggest possible look on his face.

Once the door was closed, Romulus sighed in relief. Peace and quiet, once again. He took a moment, enjoying the calmness, before sitting back down behind his desk. He unmuted himself from the call, and returned his focus to business.

Roman, on the other hand, found Pryce once again, and gestured for him to follow him to his room. “I need to look my best for the show tonight, I need you to do my makeup. BUT!” He turned on his heels, glaring up at his nanny. “If you ruin any of my palettes, lipsticks,  anything … I’ll make sure daddy has you fired.”

Pryce nodded. “Of course. I’ll be very careful, Roman, I promise.”

“You’d better hold to that promise.” Roman led the way into his bedroom, sitting down at his dressing table, which was laden with more makeup than most people would buy in a lifetime. “Right, I’m playing a prince, so I need to look as handsome as possible, obviously - though to be fair, you don’t really need to do much to make that the case. A red and gold colour scheme is best, as my costume is white, red and gold. Make sure it’s bold enough to stand out on stage, but not to the point where it’s too unnatural and weird looking.”

Pryce nodded, already planning out the look in his head. Thanks to working with Roman for so long, he was an expert at creating very high quality makeup looks and then applying them fast. The boy had very high standards, and Pryce knew if he didn’t meet them, he would be fired. And he couldn’t let that happen - the pay was extremely good. So, Pryce had to bring out his skills now, and make sure not to comment on how extreme Roman’s makeup request was for what was just an amateur school play performed by a bunch of ten and eleven year olds.

Well, Roman did like to stand out and be the centre of attention.

Eventually, Pryce finished. He stepped back as Roman turned to his mirror. Pryce waited with bated breath, before Roman hummed. “It’s acceptable.” He picked up a hairbrush and hairspray, handing them to Pryce. “Now do my hair. It needs to be neat, and enough hairspray to hold all evening, but not so much that it will take ages to wash out.”

Pryce held back a sigh, starting to brush Roman’s hair. ‘Don’t worry, Pryce…’ he thought to himself reassuringly. ‘When you finally put your creative writing degree to good use and write a book and get it published, you can quit and move away...’

Roman raised an eyebrow as he noticed Pryce wasn’t quite focussed. He folded his arms, clearing his throat. When that failed to get Pryce’s attention, his expression soured. “PRYCE! Focus!!!”

Pryce started, face flushing. “S-sorry…” He drew his focus back to what he was doing. When he was done, Roman gave a nod which translated to ‘acceptable’.

Roman stood. “We need to get going if we’re going to get there on time. You packed me a dinner to have at school, correct?”

Pryce nodded. “I’ll go grab it from the kitchen and meet you in the entrance hall.” He held the door open for Roman, letting him past. Roman didn’t thank him, heading down to the entrance hall.

“Butler!” he called. He’d never bothered to learn any of the staff’s names apart from Pryce’s, since Pryce was the one who practically raised him.

The butler came in. “Yes, Master Salt?”

“Get my coat.”

“Which one, Master Salt?”

“Hm… the leopard print one, please.”

The butler nodded, heading to the coat room. Roman’s patience wore thin very quickly, as it usually did. When the butler came back, he snatched the coat. “Took you long enough.” He pulled the coat on. “You’ll need to drive Pryce and I to school. He’ll be here in a minute.”

When Pryce finally came in, Roman snatched the bag that contained his dinner away from him immediately. “Be a little faster next time.” He opened the bag, humming as he looked over its contents. Pasta, garlic bread, and for dessert, a Duke chocolate bar. He nodded. “Acceptable. Now, let’s go!” He turned and left the mansion, Pryce and the butler promptly following.

-

It was all down to this. The teams were tied. The Bayshore Little League team had one batter left. They needed a homerun. Luckily, it was their best player who was stepping up to the plate.

Logan Beauregarde narrowed his eyes at the pitcher, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. He sucked the bubble back in as he raised his bat, gaze focused on the ball in the pitcher’s hand.

The pitcher threw the ball, and as it neared, Logan swung his bat as hard as he could, hitting right on target. The ball was sent flying, and he took off running. He reached first base as the ball had landed and stopped rolling, was at second by the time one of the fielders got to it, reached third as the ball was thrown back near the diamond. It was a race to home base.

He skidded to a stop at the base just before the catcher caught the ball.

Cheers rang out from the home team’s dugout as well as the stand where the team’s family and friends were. Bayshore had won! The team ran out from the dugout, all going into a hug on the field. Logan beamed with pride as his teammates and coach all started cheering him, calling him awesome and the best player. He knew it to be true, but that didn’t change the fact he liked to hear it. However, he knew he couldn’t stay for long; he had somewhere to be. He pushed through the crowd, heading towards the stands, which his dad was coming down from.

“Lo! Oh, you did amazingly, I’m so proud!” Teal Beauregarde smiled, hugging his son close.

“Um, Dad? Hugging… You know I don’t really like hugging…”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Teal pulled away. “But you really did do great.”

“Thank you…” Logan paused, looking around. “Where’s Pa?”

“Oh, he, um…”

Logan sighed. “He didn’t come again?”

“He was probably busy with work. But hey, you know he’ll be really happy when he hears you won!”

“True...”

Teal sighed, trying to think of a way to cheer his son up, before remembering something. “Hey, I ran into Joan earlier. I said maybe they could come round and you two could have a sleepover tonight. We could order pizza, you can watch movies, play video games-”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“Huh?”

“Dad, you know the high school asked me to fill in for a missing member of their mathletes team, and then after that, tonight, I have a chess tournament.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Tomorrow night, then?”

“I have astronomy club, a soccer match and then karate. And before you say the day after, I have robotics club and then ice skating. Now I need to go get changed into my mathlete uniform, Pa’ll probably be here soon to take me there and I need to be ready.”

Logan turned and was about to walk away, when Teal caught his hand before kneeling down in front of him so he was the boy’s height. “Lo, you don’t get too overwhelmed, do you?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You do so much in a week, every week. So much extracurricular, so many competitions… Promise me you’ll let me know if it’s ever too much, okay?”

Logan responded with a simple eye roll accompanied with a slightly cocky smirk. “Dad. I’m a world record holding gum chewer; I’ve been asked to fill in for a high school mathletes team when I’m still in the 5th grade; I currently hold the title of the champion of the under elevens national chess championship, a title which I’ll defend tonight; and I could go on with a bunch of my other achievements. Trust me, I can never get overwhelmed by a workload. Remember the motto Pa gave me? ‘Win or die trying’. I’m sticking to it.”

And with that, he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms, blowing a bubble with his gum as he went. Teal sighed as he watched his son leave. He often worried Logan was a little too confident for his own good. Teal wished he had the guts to talk with his husband about what he was teaching their son...

Logan, meanwhile, quickly got changed, before heading back out, only this time leaving the field and going to the sidewalk, where he quickly found his Pa’s car parked. He ran over, before climbing in the passenger seat.

Anton Beauregarde turned to him as the boy climbed in. “Did you win?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good,” Anton nodded. “Still got your gum?”

“Yes, I do.”

Anton nodded again, before starting the car. As he pulled away from the curb, he started talking again. “It’s very important you win this round of mathletes tonight. You need to get through to the quarter finals, since that’s televised.”

“I’m not aiming to get into the quarter finals,” Logan replied. “I’m aiming to win the finals. And before you say it, yes, I’m aiming to keep my chess championship title. Don’t worry, my motivation hasn’t waned.”

His father didn’t respond, so Logan assumed Anton had heard all he wanted to hear. Logan turned, looking out the window, absentmindedly blowing another bubble.

Logan’s pa had always been… hard to please. He wasn’t the affectionate type, a trait Logan appeared to adopt from him over his development. This led to Logan quickly learning that he would gain praise - the closest thing Anton gave to affection - if he made his father proud by being high achieving and being, well, a winner. So, at school, Logan threw himself into academic studies. He quickly climbed to the top of his classes, and started taking academic extracurriculars. It didn’t do much. So, he started going outside of his comfort zones, dipping into different sports. Baseball, soccer, karate, ice skating, gymnastics. Still nothing. So he decided to do something big: break a world record.

Breaking the world record for the longest time spent chewing the same stick of gum was an obvious choice. Logan liked gum - he often chewed it while working to stop himself fidgeting. The current record was only three months, something he knew he could easily beat. So, he went to a candy store and bought a stick of Duke brand gum, specifically the gum that never loses its flavour. Not losing the fruity taste to bland nothingness would make it easier.

Three months and a day later, he was awarded a certificate saying he was now a world record holder, which was hung up in the living room to this day. Anton finally started acknowledging his son’s achievements and started getting more involved in Logan’s life. Logan could have given up gum chewing then… but he’d gotten kind of addicted. And what if someone broke the record and he lost his pa’s respect? So he kept chewing, and hadn’t stopped since.

And he was happy. Yeah… he was happy.

-

“Virgil! Virgil!”

Virgil Teevee’s eyes did not leave the TV. He didn’t even hear the voice calling his name to be fair - he had a headset on, his ears filled with the noises from the game he was playing as well as the voices of the people he was playing online with.

“Shoot, I’m out of ammo…” he mumbled as his character pressed his trigger to no avail. “Can you guys cover me while I try to find more ammo?”

“Sure,” one of the guys he was playing with - Andy - replied. “Also, here. Not much ammo left in it, but it should last until you find more.” Andy’s character dropped a handgun in front of Virgil’s.

“Thanks.”

“VIRGIL!!!”

This time, Virgil heard. He pulled off his headset, before calling, “What?!”

His mother’s voice called back. “We have to get going, come on!”

Virgil immediately paled. “Um… go where…?”

His mother, Linda Teevee came in, pulling on a cardigan. “We have that meeting with your teacher, remember? I reminded you this morning.”

Virgil felt like he was going to be sick. He knew his grades had been dropping. He knew he hadn’t done 90% of the homework assignments that he had been set so far this year. He knew he barely paid attention in class, just sitting in terror that he’d be called on to answer a question. This was going to be the worst meeting with the teacher of his life.

He needed to prepare.

He left the game, turning off the TV, before running upstairs to his room. He pulled on his sneakers first, before he grabbed his largest pair of soundproof headphones, as well as his phone and Nintendo Switch. He plugged the headphones into his phone, started playing music, and turned up the volume. He slipped a game cartridge into the Switch, turning it on, and starting to play. He left his room, heading downstairs, not lifting his eyes from the console in his hands.

This was his plan. This was how he was going to get through this whole evening. Just ignore everything and bury himself in Mario Kart and Animal Crossing and the other games he had for his Switch.

It had worked before, and would likely work again.

Linda didn’t bat an eye as she saw Virgil come in head down, glued to the screen. Over the years, she had gotten used to his apparent gaming addiction. If anything, she encouraged it. His games kept him out of trouble.

Linda remembered when Virgil was younger… He was such a handful! When he was in kindergarten, she felt like she was called in every other day because Virgil had a screaming match that led to him being sick. Then, when he started elementary school, she kept having to come in because Virgil passed out in lesson, apparently due to getting extremely panicked when called on, leading to him hyperventilating and being unable to breathe.

But then he started getting into video games. Suddenly, he was calmer, much more reserved, and kept out of trouble. She didn’t have to come running to pick him up from school on a regular basis anymore.

So, she got him the consoles and games he wanted, and left him to his own devices. She was happy, her son was happy. It was good all around.

“Come on, then, lets go,” she said despite knowing full well Virgil couldn’t hear her. She left the house, Virgil trailing behind. They climbed into the car, before heading off.

Linda didn’t bother to try and start a conversation with her son as they drove up to the school. She knew by now that he always kept his music up so loud he couldn’t hear anyone. 

And she was right. To Virgil, the journey up to school, the meeting with his teacher, and the journey home all blended together. Whatever happened during the meeting, Virgil knew it couldn’t be good, so he purposefully stayed ignorant. When they got home, he wordlessly went up to his room before his mom could try and question him about what was said by his teacher. He turned off his Switch, before getting out his laptop. On it, he returned to the game he had been playing before he left the house.

“Hey, Verge, where’d you go?” Andy’s voice spoke as Virgil turned his mic back on.

“Had some stuff. Doesn’t matter, I’m back now. What’d I miss?”

“Missy choked on his Duke chocolate bar after his brother scared him.”

Virgil chuckled. “Missy, you need to get Pranks under control…”

Missy mumbled incoherently in annoyance, Virgil and Andy laughing.

Talking to his friends online was the best thing, Virgil thought. Even better than having real life friends. Real life friends judge you based on your appearance and popularity. Online, all that mattered was whether you were good enough at gaming, and if you were, boom, you're in a group who’ll invite you to play no matter what. They couldn’t see Virgil and what a mess he could be. All they knew about him was what he told them. And they liked what they knew of him.

And that was good enough for him.

-

To be continued

Feel free to ask if you would like to be tagged!

[antihero-writings]

Reminded by a Flower—Pandora Hearts fic for Phmonth19, Rainsworth Trio, Day 6: Flowers (Full fic)

Fic Title: The Simplest Gifts

Chapter Title: Reminded by a Flower 

Fic Summary: Christmas may not be the happiest time for the Children of Misfortune, still, sometimes it's the simplest things that can bring joy

Notes: This was a Christmas fic I started during Phmonth18 last year. I wasn't able to write Break’s chapter for it, so I decided to use one of the Phmonth19 prompts to finish it this year! Oh, and you dont need to have read the other chapters to understand this one! 

Fic: 

Kevin crouched beside a flowerbed. Most of the flowers were white, especially considering the snow, but as he dusted off the frost he found a single red bloom amongst the rest.

“Which of them is to be tonight’s victim?” a voice only he could hear said behind him.

He glanced over to the group it was referring to, which probably looked like a lavish dinner table to the Chain.

Christmas had taken over the town. Evergreen trees were set up like well-decorated sentries at the corners of streets, a large one guarding the town square. Candles, tinsel, ribbons, bells, and other assorted decoration had claimed shops and houses as their own, inside and out. There was barely a person without a candy cane, gingerbread or other cookie in their mouth. The children were especially affected by its cheer, making angels and fights out of the cold.

People did litter the area, carolers, rich folks in suits and fancy dresses, chatting in benches, poor people in rags sharing bread and a smile, kids slipping and giggling as they fell on on the ice, families, parents holding their children’s’ hands, friends drinking together.

The world rarely looked so alive, so…merry. Often he wouldn’t care, his eyes glazed with the potency of his goal…Today was different.

He returned his gaze to the flora, reaching down and picking the red bloom.

“Master?” Albus asked.

*****

He had never seen the place so alive. The manor, the family, always radiated a sort of warmth, but the glow of the assorted candles, the fires in their places—picture perfect, like everything else— the reflections in the ornaments and plates glittering like the sunset on the ocean were enough to make anyone feel the cheer of the time of year. The sweet scent of pine flittered down from the trees, the aroma of cakes, gingerbread, and other treats drifting in and out of each room. The hubbub of party guests, along with music, floated in the air like butterflies drawn by the lamplight.

Kevin stood by the door, his eyes sharp, surveying the room, the guests, like a guard dog, always trying to find a threat, never fully relaxed. It was his job of course, but the festivities didn’t appear to interest him in general. The guests, with their fanciful dresses, words, and smiles, didn’t seem to notice the young man either, like he was just a decoration, a painting in black, white, and red, on the back wall.

Two did notice him, however: a rather large man, with a brown—greying—beard, wearing a nice black suit, (the tie only slightly askew), with a white flower on his lapel, a smile on his face, and a little girl with short blonde hair sitting on one of his shoulders.

“Roman-sama,” Kevin bowed to his master. “Do you require my services?”

He laughed a little. “No, no…Well, yes. Actually…seeing as it’s Christmas, little Emily wants to give you something.”

Kevin blinked, as if waiting for the punchline. The thought that his master’s daughter would give him, a servant, a gift for Christmas, was at the least improper, at the most mad.

Upon seeing the quizzical look on his face, Roman grinned. “Come now, it’s Christmas!! Will you not allow one little gift?” he leaned over and spoke behind his hand, (though she could probably still hear him), “if you don’t accept, the little tyrant might just get offended. We wouldn’t want that, would we? Who can tell what her majesty’s ruling would be?”

“Please, I couldn’t possibly accept—”

“Keeviin!!” The little girl moaned. “Just let me do something nice for you, you dummy!”

He blinked. He knew The Sinclairs to be both benevolent and stubborn, but this was something else.

“My apologies, Ojousama,” he bowed.

The little girl had been attempting to hide something by keeping it behind her father’s back. Roman now lifted her off his shoulders, giving her to the floor. She pattered up to Kevin and offered him the gift with the innocent smile only little girls are capable of.

It was a red flower.

He blinked, reaching down and plucking it from her hand.

“It’s a…I forget what they’re called. But I’ve only ever seen these flowers be white. I’d never seen a red one, and it made me think of your eyes!”

The aforementioned eyes widened.

“See, I’ve never seen a person with red eyes either! I think they’re really pretty…and I just thought maybe you and the flower should be together!” She put her hands behind her back and swayed back and forth.

Others had noticed his eyes too...’noticed’ was a bit of an understatement. At her age he often got bullied for his strange appearance, but as he grew older people would often avoid eye contact, or seem very uneasy beneath his gaze…and those were some of the milder reactions.

“Well, what do you say?” Roman said like someone had just complimented his young son. Kevin cleared his throat and spoke properly and simply. “Thank you…I appreciate it,” he added when she continued staring at him.

She grinned, giving a small curtsey. “Good. Then I won’t have to behead you for your impudence!”

Something of his expression must have shown his shock because her father laughed, patting her head, ruffling her hair, “Always the little jester, this one.”

“Father! You’ll mess up my hair!” the Sinclair girl put her hands on her head, scowling at him.

“Sorry, sunshine!”

She took his hand, dragging her father back out into the party.

“We’ve leave you to keep manning the fort!” Roman saluted, and Emily waved.

Kevin leaned back against the wall, twirling the stem, watching the petals twist like a dancer in a red dress, trying to hide his smile.

*****

Kevin twisted the stem between his thumb and forefinger.

The same flower, but the times were so different.

A lot can change in a year.

“Master?” Albus asked again.

Kevin stood, looking the way of the painting-like scene the Chain looked at as a menu.

“It’s Christmas,” he said softly.

On this day last year, he was in a warm manor, the knight of an even warmer family. On this day last year he was a part of these traditions and games, even if on the sidelines.

Now he was cast out of that world, and no fires warmed his skin, no glittering lights peppered his vision, no candy or cake gracing his tongue…Not that having come now could sooth the ache in his stomach.

“And?”

His eyes darted from the twirling children to the twirling petals in his hand.

But others could still enjoy the warmth of this day. Even he was alone, and cold, his eyes attuned to the dark, others still gave each other gifts, and told stories, and ate sweets in the firelight. Others still had families they could sit with, and who they would be devastated to lose…especially tonight.

He began walking forward, tossing the bloom to the ground, it landing like a drop of blood on the snow.

“I won’t be killing anyone tonight.”

*****

“Break! Break!” the little girl toddled up to him, her feet carrying her as fast as they could in the snow, causing her to nearly topple over in her oversized coat. “I—” she panted, “I found something for you!”

She held up the bouquet of unevenly picked flowers like a trophy of war.

“Mother said you’re supposed to put flowers on people’s graves.” Sharon explained once she’d caught her breath, “I don’t really know what that means, but I made sure to pick the prettiest ones I could find.”

He blinked at her, taking them in an almost ginger way. It took him a moment to notice the red bloom hiding, slightly wilted, amongst the white.

“Do…Do you like them?” she asked, drawing circles in the snow with her boot.

He tried to smile, “Yes. Thank you, Sharon.”

Reim caught up with his friend, then gasped when he saw the makeshift bouquet.

“Sharon! You shouldn’t have picked those! I was just reading somewhere; the red variety is very rare!”

“You have nothing better to do then read about flowers?” she put her hands on her hips, “Why not pick up a book about something exciting,” she flourished with her hands, “something that will actually strengthen your mind… like a romance novel!”

“Shelly told you you’re not ready to read those!”

As the children squabbled—(he tried not to smirk at their fight…he’d slipped her that romance novel)—Break carried the bundle to said graves.

He pieced out the group, setting a few blooms on each, until only the red one was left.

As he let it drift onto the last stone, he murmured, “Merry Christmas, Emily.”

*****

Break strolled through the frosty Pandora garden. Reim had left his notebook back here—(…either that or someone hid it from him)—and he had commissioned (more like drilled) everyone in a nearby radius to help him look for it.

The garden was mostly barren at this time, though there were a few flowers that bloomed in winter. In particular, white blooms lined the pathway near the ground. He thought nothing of them until he rounded the corner to find a bit of a disaster on the pathway:

Petals were strewn about the stones, the stem in fractured pieces, like flower had offended someone, and this was their revenge.

Break knelt down and picked what was left of the bloom, guessing exactly who had decided to take whatever frustrations he had out on the innocent flower—(he made a mental note enhance those frustrations later).

“Oh, there you are Break!” Sharon ran up to him, hugging Reim’s notebook to her chest, “I found—Oh! What’s this?” She knelt down, observing the crime. “Who would do such a thing?”

“I think a rat may have gotten in here.”

She frowned, standing back up. “That’s too bad, I would have liked to put it in a vase. I think I remember someone telling me the red ones are very rare variety. It’s pretty... It kind of reminds me of your eye.”

He tried to laugh it off, crushing what was left of the flower and standing, joining her to return Reim’s property, thinking all the while it probably reminded Vincent of his eye too.

*****

“What is it, Sharon?” Reim asked.

She had stopped, before proceeded to running off to a nearby patch of flowers.

He couldn’t recall their name, but when he caught up to her, he saw that they were white flowers, blending in to the surrounding snow. Sharon knelt down before them and plucked one.

The one in her hand, however, was red.

“It’s been a long time since I saw a red one of these,” she said softly, twisting it in her finger.

“Yes,” he leaned over her shoulder, trying to get a better look at it, “I believe they’re quite rare.”

She proceeded to add this red flower to one of the bouquets she was carrying.

“My apologies for the detour,” she mentioned properly as he helped her back up.

They finished the rest of their journey, stopping before the graves. She knelt down and set one down at each respectively, removing the red flower and carefully placing it on top of the headstone.

His wife tried to smile as she said, “Merry Christmas, Mother. Merry Christmas, Break.”

[mynameisfrankie]

Seven Feet.

Summary: This is a Romeo and Juliet esque story involving my original character and Billy Hargrove. I have kinda used the story line of the the series but some of the events may be changed. Also this is for @waiting4inspiration 's 2K challenge

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x oc, Platonic!Steve Harrington x oc

______________

Part 1

When I was six, I moved to Hawkins, Indiana. I remember the day just as if it were yesterday. The crystal clear blue sky, the warm but not humid breeze that rushed against my face as I sat in the backseat of my father's mustang. Windows rolled down; brushing fine specks of dust from my eyelashes every few miles. The rumble of the engine rattling my small bones sending a giddy feeling through my body. My mother's sweet voice beckoning me from the front seat telling me not to put my hands out of the window. Her soft brown curls bouncing against her shoulder as she turned to look at me, cherry red lips parting to show a smile that will forever be seared into my mind. My older sisters soft breathe next to me as she dozed in the summer sun. My parents' hands intertwined, a symbol of their undying love for each other, and the soft hum of the radio playing.

This was a new start; a normal start. For a child who loved the idea of an adventure to a faraway place, to find monsters and heroes. Discover princes and princesses and let her imagination run wild across the vast expanse of Hawkins, Indiana.

I hadn't felt that weightless in a long time.

-

Starting a new school was a scary experience for me, being without my mother seemed like the end of the world through my then six-year-old eyes and meeting new people was even worse. I would no longer be with my sister, I was alone in a world that was large and daunting. It was this day that I learned kids could really, really be mean. A girl called Jenny became the reason I would sit alone during class, no one would want to talk to me due to the nasty things that girl was saying about me behind my back.

One time the bullying got physical, Jenny pushed me to the ground and grabbed my brown hair that was in one long plait coming from the crown of my head. She began to pull me along the hot tarmac floor of the playground, screaming protests filled my mouth as the gravel ripped at my elbows and forearms. Cackling laughter was interrupted by a figure that blocked the sun from my watering eyes. Fully taking the scene in the figure lurched forward and took a swing at poor old Jenny, knocking her to the ground with an animalistic yell. This is how I met Steve. Steve Harrington. A lanky boy with slightly pointed looking features and a huge mop of brunette hair on top of his head. He became my best friend.

Even though he was a year above me in my sister's grade we were inseparable. The best of friend that friends could ever be. When Steve needed help fixing his bike I would be right by his side and when I needed help with school work he would be right next to mine. We were like long lost souls, our mothers often joked we were probably friends in a former life. Which looking back on, I can't argue with that.

-

As we moved up in our school careers our differences became strikingly obvious. I was the perfect A+ student and Steve showed promise in the athletic side of the curriculum gaining constant praise from his coaches. I would go and watch his games sometimes and scream words of encouragement just in case he could hear me over the buzz of the crowds. He would put up with my incessant chatter about the difference between Christopher Marlowe and William Shakespeare and my lectures about how iambic pentameter wasn't a type of poetry despite his very strong belief that it was.

As our bodies change and our physical differences became obvious we moved into high school, specifically Hawkins High School. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Going through the double doors of Hawkins High can only be compared to lambs being sent to slaughter, one after another mindlessly following through a narrow entrance to Hell. 

Finding a corner in the huge lunch hall, I sat in the slightly greasy plastic bucket chair, a book in hand, flipping the pages every so often. I was so absorbed in it  I didn't see Steve and his group of friends stroll over to where I was currently seated. Banging my knee violently against the table as Steve slammed his hands down next to be. The clammer of my metal water bottle hitting the ground and my pens rolling out of my pencil case onto the floor made almost all of the people in the vast room look over. Steve's laughter echoing through the hall interrupted my short moment of pain, his smile wide and joyous, he was having the time of his life right then at that moment. I was not. Tossing my copy of little women he had got me for the previous Christmas at his head, I aimed to hit him, but of course, I didn't; my aim being at about a negative 2. At least I managed to distract him from his manic laughter.

"Nice to see you too Diana" he spoke my name in his normal teasing tone, smirking and breathless from laughing as he said it. Bending down to pick my previously discarded book up from the floor he handed it to me. Snatching it from his hand and rubbing the non-existent dust from the already worn blue cover. "Jerk" was my simple answer to his teasing, looking up at him through a frown. Steve put his hand over his heart, his tousled looking hair bouncing with the dramatics of the action.

Crouching down, he put his elbows on the worn, grey canteen table, he placed his head in his hands and looked at me with puppy dog eyes. When I didn't budge in my stern demeanour he poked his bottom lip out like a small child, eliciting a small giggle from between my lips. "You owe me ice cream Harrington." Before I could say any more he jumped towards me picking me up out of my seat and spun me around like a ragdoll, my legs flailing, hitting his friend as we went round. "All the ice cream in the world just for you bookworm!" The mention of my pet name making me laugh hysterically. I wrapped my arms around his neck in a vice-like grip pulling him closer in a familiar and comforting embrace.

-

Later that day after my first day of attending Hawking High, we went to get ice cream as promised. We sat in a booth in the ice cream parlour eating the ice cream Steve had kindly purchased in comfortable silence. Steve and I sat across from each other in the red leather seats a white table with a silver rim divided us. Mindless chatter began after a while, I was talking about some essay we had been given in history about the civil war when Steve raised his spoon to eye level. My conversation came to an end as I stared at Steve, he had a look on his face that told me nothing good was about to come out of his mouth. 

"Have you ever noticed that spoons are just little bowls with sticks on them?" He asked in a wondrous tone as he examined the spoon in the light, his mouth falling open slightly. "Did you really just say that?"I questioned flatly, raising an eyebrow. Apparently, I had interrupted his lovey-dovey moment with his so-called bowl on a stick because his brown eyes darted away from the offending object and his cheeks tinged a slight pink colour. Steve opened his mouth to talk but,  I quickly interrupted him. "Steve, do you remember when we were younger and we promised each other that we would tell the other if they were ever going to do or say stupid things?" nodding in confirmation he furrowed his brows "this is one of those moments Stevie." Slumping in his seat he pouted at me "those thoughts are supposed to stay in here" I continued tapping the side of his head with my pointer finger, smiling at him from across the table.

At a lightning speed, Steve grabbed my wrist, dug his spoon in and out of his bowl of mint-choc-chip ice cream and striped a line straight onto the bridge and tip of my nose. Squealing at the sensation of the cold substance on my nose, the look of surprise on my face change into one of complete excitement. "I love you too Diana!" This statement had us laughing like we were six and seven again. This was an unbreakable friendship and we knew it.

______

I'm very new to this please be kinda and tell me what you think. Love you all... Frankie.

[unsettlingstories]

Updated index of all stories. May 16, 2018.

Transfigurations: A small, self-published collection of my favorite short stories from 2015. Individual Stories

3 Signs You May Be An Introvert and How to Cope: Some great tips! 30 years ago today, my neighbor’s son disappeared: They miss him. A Case of Hives: My son isn’t feeling too well… A Cure for Writer’s Block: How to find inspiration when it’s just not there. A Curious Dog: My dog won’t stop pawing at a wall in the basement. A Gifted Chef: My friend was one of the greats. I miss him. A Life Worth Living: Big changes lead to bigger results. A Most Welcome Visitor: He’d come to me in the middle of the night. A Pathetic Wretch: His neighbor just won’t stop crying. An Artist’s Canvas: The beauty of symmetry. A Questionable Glory Hole: A young man’s first sexual experience. A Warning To Women With IUDs: Be careful whatcha put up ya. Adrenochrome: The horrible, impossible truth. All Horror Stories About Dolls Are Fake: My daughter was bullied mercilessly. Allison’s Loss: My daughter is devastated by the death of her friend. Alternative Medicine: A wife treats her husband with an old remedy. All Thumbs: My embarrassing habit. A Message in a Bottle: I’m suddenly filled with dread. A Very Bad Place to Hide: Maybe even the worst. Amy’s Wish: Blow away the eyelash and make a wish! An Unlucky Samaritan: Think twice before stopping to help. Are My Twins Spending Too Much Time Together?: For woke mommies only. Assisted Suicide: He begged me to help him die. Attempts to Repair the Irreparable: How do you move on? Bad Sex: Has this ever happened to you and your partner? Bags: A hunting trip goes very, very wrong. Beach Bodies: What’s that out in the water? A whale? Ben’s Fear: He just hated seaweed. Bitcoin Mining and the Death of the Universe: I think I fucked something up. Bits and Pieces: Chunks and portions. Bitumen: A man who loves dinosaurs. Black Balloons: My little daughter saw shapes in the sky. Bluebirds: Possibly the most reprehensible thing I’ve ever written. Bluefin: Use caution when poaching an endangered species. Body Cast: The worst thing that can happen when you’re immobilized. Body Hair Removal: I learned a valuable lesson. Bridgeport Power Plant: There’s something living there. Bubbles: Strange happenings in an emergency room. Butt Stuff: The activity - not the other thing. Caroline’s New Teeth: The Tooth Fairy’s best customer. Caviar: Only the best for discerning palates. Centipedes: There’s some big ones out there, you know. Charles Robert Olevsky: Ever Google yourself? Chopped!: An unaired episode of the Food Network show. Christmas Morning With Danny and His New Puppy: Danny gets a puppy. Comfort Food: Anything to help fill that void. Coping Mechanisms: Life after losing a husband and a daughter. Cracks in the Foundation: A relationship on the edge. Dawn: I hurt my sister so badly. I’ll never forgive myself. Daycare Massacre: A terrible incident before a hurricane. Death Looking into the Window of One Dying: His final days. Dede Elgy: This monster story will make you feel dirty. Very dirty. Deniehyfield, Australia is Being Dismantled: My town is disappearing. Dermatographia: Words on my skin. Devil’s Hole: The geological anomaly, not the…you know. Dial Tone: What’s going on with my phone? Diary of a Woman in New Hampshire: Found a diary. Wtf. Dilation and Evacuation: A friend in need is a friend indeed. Division: Nothing is right. Double Dare: The long-lost episode never seen in the US. Dumbwaiter: A family learns something about their house. Elective Surgery: I just want him to be happy. Elf on the Shelf: He’s watching. Endless Chirping: Ever get a cricket in your room? Escaphism: The journey of one man, his love, and The Verdant World. Ethan’s Halloween Mask: Not all friendships are positive. ExpressionCaptioner.com: This website is seriously weird. Fallenfield Mountain: A geological survey gone wrong. Very wrong. Family Tree: A unique family tradition is revealed. Farm to Table: Fucking hipsters. Fertility Treatments: Some people are desperate to have a baby. Fireflies: You would not believe your eyes. For Lena and Clair: Trapped after an earthquake. Found the Bees: Well, that solves that mystery. Gratification Through Annihilation: Suffer the little children. Great Potential: A lady who loves children. He Went Ahead: My friends and I were into urban exploration. Heather’s Phases: My wife always had body-image issues. House Sounds: What do we keep hearing? I Dream of Names and Cancer: My eternal nightmare. I Pressed My Hands Against My Eyes: And only then could I truly see. I Shouldn’t Have Broken Into My Neighbor’s Garage: I’ll never unsee it. If Anyone Asks: An old farmer notices something about his scarecrow. I’ll Never Wear a Condom Again: No way, no how. Instantiations: An AI gets powerful and utilitarianism rears its head. In Praise of Our God: A helpful neighbor. It’s Hard to Clean Blood Out of a Fur Suit: Right? Jerry’s Mouth: Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats. Jill-o-Lanterns: The murders are all connected. Jim Jameson’s Pumpkins: A dead farmer’s secrets. Know it All: See it all, feel it all, know it all. Last Weekend: Hazmat suits, horror, and a mystery. Licks From a Bear: Skull + electric drill = story. Lippy: I’ve always been self conscious about the size of my labia. Little Cows: Meet the milkmaid. Long Fingers: I can feel them. Making Faces: Strange prints on the windows… Making Their Dad Proud: A family that plays together… Malcolm: You know those floaty things in your eyes? Maria’s Extra-Credit Assignment: Gotta get a good grade. Medical Issue: What’s the stuff I found on a rock? Memoir of a Cam Girl: She is being controlled. Missing Mousetraps: My neighbors had an infestation. Moaning Lollipops: Why do they make that sound in my mouth? Motility: My sperm sucked. Mr. Puddles: A little boy just won’t stop splashing. Mushy Stuff: My parents never let me have any fun. My Amazon Alexa Does More Than Laugh: Please help - I’m in danger. My Brother’s Fall: Horror deep below the Iraqi desert. My Cellar Door is Breathing: Is that normal? My Constellation: Want to be sad? This will make you sad.   My erection lasted longer than 4 hours: and I didn’t call a doctor. My four year old son woke up with a full head of grey hair: Help us. My Last Abduction: All the other ones don’t count. My Only Experience With ASMR: Hint - it didn’t go well. My Sister Found the Coolest Thing!: You’ve gotta hear about it. My Sweet Boy: A mom who loves her son. My Trouble With Fairies: They’re so mischievous and unpredictable! My Wife, the Artist: A couple who loves Halloween. Nests: Ah, the great outdoors. Network Security: Two friends get a glimpse of a Russian science lab. Never Ride the Subway at Night: You never know who could be watching you. Norwalk Cemetery: There’s something alien in there… Not All Men: Temper, temper, young man. Of Malevolence; Of Misanthropy: A disturbed scientist makes a discovery. Open Mouths: A hideous ritual. Otter: I’ve always wanted to be one. Ouroboros: Why cut when you can cut off? Pebbles: A strange meteor shower. Phone Sex: It all started when I realized my iPhone was self-lubricating. People are disappearing in Northern Canada: What is happening? Pool Cover: I almost drowned when I was 13. Pray Away: Conversion therapy for deviant behavior. Pretty Little Bugs: A new job as a cameraman. Prosopagnosia: After an accident, my husband couldn’t recognize us. Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice: What can be better? Quarry: Trying to beat the heat on a summer day. Randall’s Chatty Leg: He said it was talking to him. I heard it. Rats in the Barn: An exterminator’s apprentice. Recycling: Parents try to understand their depressed daughter. Rediscovering the Newness of Sex: Let’s spice it up a little. Regarding Danny and Micah Stevenson: Two brothers rely on one another. Regina’s Raspberry Jam: She put everything she had into it. Road Head: Who doesn’t like getting sucked on? Seriously. Roo: An old man watches a girl grow up. Roots of Change: Something is happening beneath our feet. Ropes: Be careful what you eat. Rotting Pumpkins: A Halloween ritual. Round Faces: My daughter keeps complaining about monsters. Safety: Our grandfather was obsessed with it. Seed of Man, Pollen of Angels: A family tradition. Sex, Gender, and Other Social Constructs: Destroy them all. Sex in the Cemetery: Gotta do it somewhere, I guess. Skincare Diary: My acne was getting out of hand. Smokey, the Dog I Rescued: A very very good boye. Snapshot of a New Man: Evil (Inspiration for The Coronation Cycles series.) Soft Teeth: A man used to sneak into my room at night. Sprouts: Something beautiful from something small. Still a Family: Two sisters have lunch while waiting for their parents. Stop Being Such Babies: The woods aren’t scary, for fuck’s sake. Stuffing: Grandma’s was the best. Suicide Woods: Not just in Japan anymore. Tainted Candy: The legend is real. Teeny-Tiny: Katie wants to lose weight. That Good Dick: You know what I mean ;) The Alzheimer’s Ward: This isn’t right. The Bleakness Before Our Old Eyes: The Universe tasted us that night. The Blissful Insensate: An experiment goes terribly wrong. The Cave in the Lake: A discovery while scuba diving leads to horror. The Chernobyl Abomination: My father saw something he shouldn’t have. The Cotard Delusion: A new drug has a frightening side-effect. The Day I Started Believing In Ghosts: I’m still in shock. The Empty Cribs on Hawthorne Lane: Missing children. The Face in the Clouds: A meteorological anomaly? Or something else? The Floor is Lava: We all used to play that game, right? The Giggliest Girl: Don’t tickle me, Mommy. The Gray in Girl: A man finds a girl on the side of the road. The Hitchhiker: I think I need a new car now. The Incident at the Train Station: After a suicide, something…worse. The Job I Couldn’t Leave: I was employed by a psychopath. The Last of the Trick-or-Treaters: A strange costume. The Last words of an Explorer: A city on no one's map. The Least Satisfying Explanation: And the biggest understatement I’ve made. The Little Ghost: That nagging voice inside your head. The Lord of Hosts: Lice The Moose Hunt: Is…is that really a moose? The Perils of Live TV: It’s not all fun and games. The Perks of Working in a Funeral Home: There aren’t many, but still. The Pilot: A UFO crash. The Oblivion that Masks Pain: Escape. The Old Mine Outside Town: Everyone was too scared to go in. I wasn’t. The Only Solution: How to bring back a loved one? The Only Thing That Matters: Zombies attack a supermarket. The House in the Woods: Bad title, good story. The Shores of Pluto: A journey without moving. The Sleeping Game: We played when we were kids. The Small Eyed Children of Canyon del Cristo: A local legend comes alive. The Squirming Man: Please leave me alone. The Star Bridge: My friend found something beyond life. The Tomb of the Builders: Divers looking for sunken treasure find something evil. The Trawl: We dragged something up from deep underwater. The Wisdom of Moms: Mother knows best. The Worst Party in Ten Thousand Years: Trust me, it’s pretty damn bad. There is nothing wrong in East Flatbush, Brooklyn: Ignore the dragonflies. There’s something very wrong with my parrot: WTF. Tiptoeing the Line of Consent: But never crossing it. To Adore: Our beautiful baby girl. To the Kind Folks at WebMD: Just a couple questions.   To Travel: Bodies in bodies, bodies of bodies. Trees of Eyes: They’re watching. Tunnel Rat: My grandfather told us the worst story I’ve ever heard. Seriously. Uncle Liam: I never told the real story about how he died. Under My Teeth: My mouth is screaming. Uplift: A brilliant scientist works to improve the human condition. We’re All Smiling: Whether we want to or not. We Share the Empty Roads: You’re never, ever alone when you drive. Wet Bedroom: A haunted house with a hideous history. What He Told Me: Evil (Inspiration for The Coronation Cycles series.) Wikileaks: A document they refused to leak. What to expect when I’m expecting: Hint - it’s the worst. Why I Don’t Hike Anymore: Not what you might think.

Story Series

The Smols: Maybe the most fucked up stories I've ever written.

Sade Smols Emmy Smols

The Secret Doctors of NASA: A wide-ranging conspiracy.

A Dentist's Discovery A Psychologist's Suicide A Surgeon's Nightmare

Tales from Social Media

Something horrible is happening to me on Tumblr Something horrible is happening to me on Facebook Something horrible is happening to me on Reddit Something horrible is happening to me on Grindr Something horrible is happening to me on Myspace Something horrible is happening to me on Pokemon Go

Sockets: Craigslist allows you to meeting interesting people.

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3

[artistic-writer]

Between Now and Nether :: Ch 4 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer  [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4]

A/N: Ok, things are really starting to kick off now!  Things are going to get twisty and turny from now one, with Killian discovering things, Emma discovering things and the whole story unfolding into something that will (hopefully) make you gasp with shock and awe! This was written for CS Halloweek : Spirits & Traditions.

Future updates will be Sundays AND Thursdays! (providing I can get the art made in time)

Huge thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @rouhn  and @wordsmith-storyweaver for your advice and suggestions.  This fic would just be so much worse without you guys! <3

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @resident-of-storybrooke @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @galadriel26 @yellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @the-captains-ayebrows @yayimallamaagain @takhisismb @officerrogerss @ i-nvr-wrote-it

If you would like to be added please let me know for ch 5!

———————————————————————————————————

On day two, Kilian decided to step up his game and focus his energy on making Emma see him. Well, not in the sense of actually looking at him, but in the sense of accepting that he was the presence that he knew she could sense around the house all the time. He began first thing in the morning, fiddling with their alarm clock so that it rang out at the same time each morning. Despite never setting it the night before, Emma simply turned it off and frowned at the time; the same one they used to set for work.

And then there was the faucet in the bathroom. It had always been a bit stiff, Emma’s early morning strength next to nothing compared to his meaning he was always having to turn it on for her so she could brush her teeth. Killian had taken to setting off the alarm and then rushing to the bathroom to make sure that the water was already flowing when she stepped through the door.

He had to admit, he was getting the hang of this haunting thing. Except, if he didn’t find a way to help Emma piece all of the occurrences together, he would never get to see her again.

Maybe there was a clue in how he had died. He still didn’t know who had killed him and why, but he was sure as hell going to find out today. Torn between staying with Emma and heading to the precinct to check on his case, Killian’s decision was made for him when Emma’s sister-in-law arrived shortly after ten.

The Nolans were good people, even if Emma had been adopted into their family, and when Dave had married Mary Margaret nobody was surprised. She had the biggest heart in the smallest of packages, her smile lighting up every room she entered. She was patient yet strong willed, and the perfect woman to keep David in check, and the perfect comfort Emma needed right now.

As he left the two women, both clutching a glass of sweet tea between chilled palms, Killian couldn’t help but sweep his hand over Emma’s flat stomach and feel his unbeating heart swell with pride.

The police precinct was the same as always. Graham sat at his desk, ever the boy scout, eager to finish his assignment and move onto the next one. Killian hoped he was on his case because next to Emma, Graham was the best cop Killian knew, and with Emma at home, he needed someone he could trust.

Across the room, Leroy was reclined at his desk with his corded phone pressed to his ear, soft grunts and nods of agreement sporadically filling his workspace as he chomped on a donut. The dark brown beard he sported was always dusted with some kind of icing or sugar sprinkle, the slightly curled facial feature catching everything that fell into it. Generally, everyone left him alone, but Emma had always been kind enough to give him a knowing nod and a brush of her chin to indicate his newly acquired attire.

Killian wondered how he was going to survive with Emma absent. Leroy was already the stereotypical cop - short, rotund and balding with a coffee stained shirt and a penchant for sugary treats. Without Emma, he had no chance. And neither did Killian, which is why he had to find out who was on his case and what they knew.

To Killian’s absolute horror, the ‘murder board’ indicated that Leroy was the lead on his case and he laughed out loud. He had the worst luck it seemed.

“Hey, Leroy!” An officer called as he entered the bullpen, walking straight through Killian on his way to the detective’s desk. Killian groaned and rolled his eyes, the sensation of being passed through something he would never get used to.

The officer slapped a brown manila folder down in front of Leroy who lifted his legs from his desk and sat forward, a rainbow of sprinkles falling from his facial hair. “What’s this?” He squinted at the name on the folder. “Who the fuck is Jefferson?”

“Yes, who is Jefferson?” Killian moved across the room once more, glad that he had absolutely no sense of smell when he got a look at the state of Leroy’s desk. Things were growing on it.

The officer shrugged and leaned back, one hand resting on his holstered weapon. “Small time drug dealer as far as we can tell. No known connection to Jones at all.”

“He works with Gold,” Graham piped in from across the room and all three heads turned towards the Irishman. Graham hadn’t even lifted his head, insistent on finishing his paperwork to an excellent standard before signing the bottom and placing his pen down on the form. He finally looked up at them and raised a brow. “For Gold, actually.”

Leroy narrowed his eyes and interlaced his fingers, resting them on the curve on his belly that was stretching his shirt fabric to its limit as he leaned back in his chair. “Is that so,” he snapped. “How do you know that, Humbert?”

“Yes…” Killian rushed to Graham’s desk, noticing his paperwork was for a measly parking violation. Humbert was better than this. He might be the new guy in the department, but he deserved better than grunt work. “...tell me how you know.”

“Detective work,” Graham shrugged and let a sly grin slip over his features as he pushed himself to his feet, shuffling his papers into a perfect pile. “You should try it sometime,” he grinned at Leroy.

Killian almost laughed, shooting a glance back over to Leroy who had flushed red with anger. He was a veteran, almost as old as the furniture in the whole building, and the new guy was not only embarrassing him, but he was doing so in a room full of other cops.

“Now listen here, rookie,” Leroy stood, his chair skidding backward and his gut falling down to fill the space around the belt of his pants.

Graham stepped forward around his desk and Killian shot a glance between the two of them. Leroy was always causing a tension in the bullpen but it never came to blows. As big as he thought he was, Leroy was a coward and would never risk a fight. He just had a big mouth and liked to bully the new guys. Killian watched Graham intently and smirked when the younger detective didn’t back down.

“Yeah, Leroy?” He asked, chest puffed out and tongue pressing the back of his teeth. His Irish accent had grown thicker, somewhat Gypsy-like and Killian wondered what kind of history the mild-mannered detective had.

Leroy tugged his belt up and pushed his sleeves further up his arm, striding towards him. Killian forgot himself for a second and stumbled backward, falling straight into Graham but instead of everyone else who he had passed through, he felt himself stop, held in place by something he couldn’t explain as a ripple passed over his skin.

He was instantly invaded by the smell of sweat and cheap cologne, the overtones of coffee hanging thick in the air. It was pungent, and unexpected after not having any sense of smell for a few days, and Killian shook his head to try and dislodge the smell from his nostrils. He grunted in disgust but had no time to really register what was happening before Leroy pounded his flat palms to his chest.

“Oh I stink now too, eh?” Leroy bellowed, puffing out his chest and trying to appear larger than his short stature allowed.

Killian took a trip, catching his suddenly heavier feet on something behind him and falling arse first to the ground. He frowned but had little time to react before the Captain’s voice erupted over everyone else in the room. She emerged from her office, a short round lady who looked sweet and innocent but would strike fear into the hearts of most men.

“Leroy!” She shouted angrily, slamming her hand on the desk beside her. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Ma’am, I was just…” Leroy stammered, backing away from the man on the floor in front of him, confusion plastered all over his face.

“Get back to work!” Captain Lucas screeched, her patience for Leroy clearly waning. “And Humbert!” she shouted again and when Killian looked around, Graham was gone.

“Humbert!” She bellowed louder and Killian felt someone grab at his arm, yanking him to his feet. He looked at the fellow officer with a twisted frown and then back to Captain Lucas as she made her way towards him. Or Graham. Was he Graham? What was going on? “What’s wrong with you? Did you bang your head or something?”

“Uh..no...ma’am,” Killian mumbled, unsure as his words left his mouth in an Irish accent. It surprised him and he looked down at his unfamiliar hands.

“Well, then get back to work. Good call on the Jones case,” she smiled, almost sweetly but even he knew better.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Leroy chimed, returning to his desk to retrieve the folder his lackey officer had planted in front of him earlier. He scooped it up and panted as he ran back to the curly haired woman, handing her the folder like an obedient dog. “Jefferson was the shooter. He works for Gold.”

Captain Lucas took the folder and plucked her glasses from the top of her grey mop, planting them on the tip of her nose and looking over the paperwork within. Leroy bounced beside her like an excited child eager to show teacher his project. “And you found this out all by yourself?” She peered over the top of her narrow glasses at Leroy who nodded instantly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said proudly with a crooked grin.

“Fantastic,” She said dryly, closing the folder and handing it to Killian who took it with a frown. Leroy opened his mouth to object but she cut him off instantly. “I won’t tolerate a liar or schoolboy antics in my precinct,” she sighed, irritation lacing her words. “Hand everything you have to Humbert. He is the lead now.”

Killian’s lips twitched into a small smile and he clutched the folder possessively. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Leroy would never be able to solve his case. Graham would have more luck and maybe crack it. But what kind of cop would he be if he couldn’t solve his own murder? And he knew just the person to help him.

Plucking Graham’s brown leather jacket from the back of his desk chair, Killian offered Leroy one more smirk as he scrubbed his name from the whiteboard. He pulled the cap from the pen, wrote Graham’s name in the ‘lead’ column and headed out of the precinct and back to his home. Maybe being Graham Humbert could work in his favour. If he couldn’t convince Emma he was there in spirit, maybe he could show her that he was there in body. Even if that body belonged to another man.

[jayraephoenix]

Rainbow

  All his life the Engineer had been colour-blind. He only found out when he was five, and when his teacher told him to paint the frog a light shade of green. He ended up with a neon pink amphibian. How was he supposed to know the difference between the two shades of grey> When his parents found out, they were devastated; how was their son going to survive in a world without colour? Remarkably well, actually.

  At the age of seven, he found his love for maths, and from there he moved onto circuitry in science. By the age of nine he’d built himself a robot who followed him around, much like a small dog. The way his mind worked was fascinating, but his real stroke of genius was at the age of thirteen.

  After living so many years in a monotone world, why couldn’t he build something to fix his eyesight? He spent many hours in his room planning, calculating, making, until finally he’d solved his problem. He had created a pair of goggles that, when worn, acted like the three cones in a human eye, and let him see in full colour. He had some minor tweaks he need to mend, of course, but the first time he put them on he nearly cried. Everything was beautiful, and finally he fit in.

  Except he didn’t.

  Fast-forward years of bullying, either over his goggles, height, intellect, or some other stupid subject, and here he was, standing in front of his new workplace. He’d been approached by a lady in purple, who’d asked if he wanted to get paid for building machines. She didn’t even need to say anymore; he’d accepted as soon as she said the word ‘engineering’.

  He wasn’t jumping into the deep end blindfolded though. He’d been smart enough to read the entire contract, including the small print, before signing anything, and once he’d put his name on the dotted line he received a welcome pack explaining his job, and what it implied. He was not allowed to tell anyone his name, but rather use the title of the ‘Engineer’, or talk about his private life and disclose sensitive information about himself, family and friends. This was completely fine by him. He’d also been provided with multiple blueprints, some things he need to build and others, like the one labelled ‘Respawn’, that were already in place and he just needed to maintain. Sure, he had to shoot at fellas in blue, but they wouldn’t die. At least, not permanently. That was what the impressively complex piece of machinery was for, bringing them back from beyond the grave.

  When he arrived at his workplace, he was greeted by the same lady from before, and eight other mercenaries with a range of impressive skills suitable for their titles. There were two women amongst the men, the ones that he had to refer to as the Pyro and Spy. On the opposing team he learned they also had women fighting for them, but the classes were different: Medic and Scout. The old-fashioned Texan in him felt uncomfortable hurting a lady, but after seeing his own colleagues in the training room, the idea of them being vulnerable left him. These women were deadly.

  Over the first few weeks of working with the RED, the Engineer had started to form professional relationships with some of the members of his team. He and the Doc got on quite well, as both were on the same level intellectually. He’d even made some improvements on his medigun, so the soft-speaking Texan was always welcome in the medibay. Another beneficial friendship he had was with the Pyro, which made sense. She was good at spy-checking, and often guarded his sentries while he went searching for scrap metal. Like the Heavy and Medic, the pair were an unstoppable duo.

  It was a little more surprising that they spent a lot of free-time together, because they had next-to-nothing in common with one another. She was uneducated, he had seven PhDs, she was from England and he from the South, but somehow they could find things to talk about. She seemed to think of him as a father figure, and he was more than happy to spend time with the bubbly arsonist.

  Day had become night, and after struggling to gain any ground against the BLU in the blistering heat, the Engineer was thankful to fall into his bed and sleep. His joints ached, his brain was buzzing, and when he’d managed to pull off most of his clothes he closed his eyes blissfully. Wearing overalls in the desert was crazy, but it was his uniform so couldn’t complain. Next were his goggles. No, he did not sleep in them, though sometimes he wished he could. Falling to sleep surrounded by colour would be a nice change to the bleak shades of grey.

  He was starting to drift when a shy knocking rose him from this state. “What in tarnations…?” He asked nobody in particular as he sat up in his bed, turning his head to look at the door. The light was white against the dark wood, and standing he shuffled over to open it. He didn’t care all too much about his appearance- just pyjama bottoms were reasonable enough- so he opened the door without a second thought.

  For a minute he was stunned into silence, and he could suddenly see as if he’d been blind before.

  The Pyro stood in his doorway, clutching a pudgy unicorn and dressed in the official team pyjama’s, her symbol dotted over the fabric. It wasn’t seeing her that shocked him, but… It was HER that shocked him. Bathed in the hallway light, he could see the bright red of her clothing, the flush of colour on her cheeks, the dark brown of her short, slightly curly hair and how deep her eyes were, like chocolate he’d happily drown in. “Engie…?” She broke his train of thought with a single soft word. Her voice, unlike most women, was scratchy and rough, through a mixture of smoke inhalation and her fondness for cigarettes, but it surprisingly suited her. “Engie, I had… I had a nightmare. Can I stay with you tonight?” She squeezed the toy in her arms, which he’d noticed was pink. “U-Uh, yeah, ‘course yah can darlin’.” He held the door open for her, his mind still trying to process what was happening. He wasn’t wearing his goggles still, was he? No, she was the only thing in colour, and he could clearly see his goggles on the bedside table.

  Closing the door, he watched as she put the unicorn down on his bed, only to crawl onto the sheets. When she let go of the soft toy it lost its colour, fading to a dull grey, but when she touched the duvet the crimson burst to life under her fingers, staining the material and brightening his bed. Anything she touched bloomed like a flower in spring, and he was in awe.

“What… What was yah dream about honey?” He asked, slowly sitting beside her. His hands were trembling, so he bunched the sheets beneath his fingers. “The BLU Spy. He was laughing at me, and I could see you… But you didn’t look like you. You were all grey, and you looked sad…” The Engineer breathed in deeply through his nose when she explained what she had seen; only the Medic knew about his condition, and that’s because he had access to his medical files. He wouldn’t be surprised if their own Spy knew too, the way she asked questions about his goggles. “Well I’m fine, don’t you worry ‘bout me. There ain’t any spies round here, ‘cept the one in her room.” “But what if he is here?” Worry was swimming in her eyes as she bit her lip, and he felt his heart break a little. “Well, I said that yah could stay the night, and I’m a man of mah word. If I see a Spy, I’ll wake yah up, yeah?” “Yeah.” She smiled a little, before leaning forward and giving him a hug. She usually tackled him into a bear hug if they won a match, so he wasn’t surprised by the gesture, but rather what it did to him. Returning the embrace, his eyes widened when he saw his skin start to brighten, basking in the colour the Pyro was unknowingly giving him.

  The cuddle didn’t even stop, which was the best thing. He felt his nerves tingle when she pulled him down onto the bed with her, and shuffling a little closer he pulled the blankets over them both. She was warm, like a hot water bottle, and the way she lay her head on his chest made his heart go funny. Was it her touch that was causing his cheeks to heat up, or the fact that he could enjoy the sort of colours she was giving him without watching through a sheet of glass? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t too worried about searching for the answer.

  Slowly running his fingers through her hair, he heard her let out a content sigh, relaxing into his touch. He wouldn’t mind her visiting more often, staying over the night to snuggle, nothing more. He’d always wanted to protect her (he supposed it was a part of his nature), but now she was even more precious to him. “Sweet dreams, mah little rainbow.”

[seventeenbiscuits]

Friendly(?) Banter (Minghao Imagine)

Word Count: 1909 omg no how

Genre: FLUUFFFFF

A/N: slipped into the “my bias wrecker is minghao” phase bc of this damn fic

“Oi Minghao, get out of my way.”

“Maybe you just need to slim down, Y/N.”

You summon the most pissed off look you can muster, and shove your most favourite person in this world to the side before storming to the back of the bus.

He doesn’t thud satisfyingly to the ground, to your dismay, and instead catches himself and aims a low kick at your heels.

“Are you a little dog, Minghao? Is that why you need to nip my heels?” you retort, pushing your bag onto a seat and pulling out your earphones to block the irritating boy out. Unfortunately, the cord is tangled with almost everything in your backpack: your hair ties, strips of paper, pieces of your soul, the body of your latest murder victim…

You grin. Just kidding, you reassure yourself.

As you feel like you’ve finally untangled the earphones, someone plunks down next to you and tugs at your hair.

Rolling your eyes, you don’t even need to turn your head to know who it is.

“Get away from me, idiot,” you hiss, messing up his perfectly styled hair and shuffling as far away as you can get from him.

He mimics your voice, pulling a stupid face as he does, and you’re ready to punch him so hard that he’ll fly out of the bus, over to the moon and land on a crater and stay there forever.

You stuff your earphones into your ear and crank up your music as high as you dare. Minghao’s lips are moving with a smirk on his face, but you’ve got no idea what he’s saying. It’s music to your ears.

“Good morning, old man,” you grin with a quick ruffle of MInghao’s hair. “I see you still haven’t stopped dying your hair, or is that just your natural grey hair showing?”

He pokes his tongue out at you. You do the same.

“If I’m old, then what are you,, Y/N?” he retorts with a cheeky smile as he tags on the bus. “Ancient? Where can I find your fossil?”

With a grumpy sigh, you wait for him to find a seat before you pick one far, far away from him.

Tugging out your earphones like you do every day, it's a wonder how they don’t yank out all your possessions as you pull them out of your pocket. You plug them and put your music on shuffle. The bus starts, and you stare out of the window at the passing trees and cars.

A loud thud catches your attention. Minghao’s bag is on the floor, and he’s desperately trying to reach it but it just keeps sliding further down the bus. He looks so comical, arms and legs outstretched, trying to conserve his pride while his backpack just runs away from him. You giggle, and feel just a little bit sorry for him when you see how embarrassed he is.

As the bus continues on it’s journey, more and more people begin to fill up the bus. At this stop, an elderly couple and a couple school kids board the bus. You frown intently at the rowdy group of kids as they shove and push each other on the bus. Thankfully, they move to the back of the bus, leaving space for other people to stand.

Your eyes flit to Minghao, who’s offering his seat to the elderly couple. “Would you like to sit here?” he offers with a charming smile. He pushes his newly dyed, soft and silky lilac hair back and gets up in one fluid motion, standing to the side as the old man helps his wife into the seat. At his dashing smile and sweet act of compassion, your weak heart skips a beat.

“Thank you, young man,” the aged man says gratefully. Minghao dismisses it with a grin and a salute. He catches your gaze upon him and winks.

Your heart, beating painfully fast, starts palpating faster than Usain Bolt can run.

Whyyyy, you cry silently. Why is he just so damn attractive?

As Playboy by EXO graces your ears, you internally shriek at this unfair situation.

Ok, so in high school, he was always the one who got all the girls. Everyone wanted to date him, you groan. And now, he hasn’t changed one single bit!

Except maybe he got even more handsome, if that’s possible, you frown. And it’s like every time I want to tell him “You look nice”, instead I say something stupid like “Ew you look old”.

The automated voice on the bus announces with an almost sarcastic voice, “This stop, Botanical Gardens. Alight here for direct bus services to the National University of Performing Arts.”

Minghao, I’m expressing my undying love for you by bullying you, I hope you understand.

You get up with a sigh, brace yourself for the swarm of girls waiting at the bus stop for Minghao the playboy, and with a forced smile on your face, you dive right into your day headfirst. Today you have a packed schedule and rehearsals between classes, after classes, and a ton of choreography to learn, and you really don’t know what you’re doing.

By the time you get to the bus stop after your exhausting day, it’s dark out and the stars are winking back at you amongst the rich wine of the summer night. The moon is round and full, silver like Minghao’s hair. You let your mind wander to your rehearsal in the dance studio, watching him dance was so distracting. Every movement he did was so sharp and precisely executed with a passion and feel that you could never hope to achieve. All the little things about him made you swoon just a little, from his gorgeous hair to his flushed cheeks, pink lips and-

An electrocuting feeling races down your back and brings you back to reality as you sense someone’s presence behind you. They are wearing a long black hoodie and you can see the malicious glint in their eyes. Fear curls icy fingers around your neck, and dread writhes in your stomach. This person does not mean well.

They are tall, too tall to be anyone you know. Before you can sprint off or reach for your phone, a muscular arm wraps around your shoulders and a rough hand squeezes the sides of your face together. You choke on the combined stench of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke.

“It’s a little too late for outside to be someone like you…” purrs the man in your ear.

Despite the disastrous situation you’re in, you can’t help but laugh at the stupid attacker’s mixup with his words.

“I think you should practice your cliche “creepy harasser” lines before you go and prey on people,” you snigger, forcefully lifting his arm off your shoulders and removing his hand from your face. You pat the stunned man on his back, and slap a 5 dollar note on his hand.

“Go buy yourself a better life,” you beam innocently, before lifting your knee to land a hit where it hurts the most on him.

He crumples pathetically on the floor, and you feel just a tiny bit bad, but he really should’ve thought things out before he went and put his arms around you.

“Y/N!”

The sound of running feet attracts your attention, and as you turn, two hands grip the sides of your shoulders.

You instinctively grab the wrists of the person who just grabbed you, and you twist them, your nerves tighter than your skinny jeans after eating a whole bowl of mashed potatoes.

With a shock, you realise that you’re twisting the wrists of a very pained Xu Minghao.

“Please let go of my wrists,” he croaks, face contorted in pain.

You let him go with a startled and genuinely worried “I’m so sorry” and as soon as you do, he resumes his previous action before you interrupted by bending his wrists.

He grips the sides of your shoulders and with concern embedded in the warm orbs of his brown eyes, he examines your face, tilting you this way and that.

“Are you alright? I saw that guy grab you, so I ran as fast as I could!”

You grin. “I’m fine, but you run really slow…”

He drops his arms and puts them on his waist. “Hey, I stopped because I saw you knee him,” he protests, pushing his hand through his hair.

Oh no, you think. Not the hair, not again…

Your heart takes off again, and you can just imagine tangling your hands in his hair, tugging on it for fun, holding his hand…

“Holding his hand??” you accidentally blurt out loud.

Minghao grunts in confusion. “Holding who’s hand?” he asks, and all traces off tough boy Minghao have disappeared, his head cocked to the side like a little puppy dog. If you concentrate hard enough, you could see something glint in his brown eyes, something that feels a lot like jealousy…

“Y/N?” he calls, waving his hand in front of your eyes.

Uh oh.

“Um… um… holding… your… hand?” you try, your racing heart speaking instead of your brain, which is panicking because for the love of everything in this world, he looks so innocent and adorable and you just cannot.

When those words leave your mouth, you’re ready to just die. Your face is burning and you can feel your hands getting sweaty.

He smirks, and you remember why all the girls fell for him and his stupid heart fluttering moves in high school. With a deliberate motion, he plants both his hands firmly on the glass wall behind you, trapping you between his arms.

Uh oh.

His eyes crinkle with amused confidence, and he brings his face so close that just a little push would be enough for him to kiss you.

You panic just a little bit, and blink as fast as you can to maybe deter him from coming any closer.

Uh oh. You repeat mentally, and your brain suddenly floods with unadvisable courses of action. He’s going to kiss you, turn your head! Knee him! Throw your bag at him! Slap him! Tell him to leave! Nuke h-

In the time while you were internally carrying out your bad excuses for escape plans, he had leant forward and ever so gently brushed your lips with his.

Everything falls away. The beating of your heart and the rush of your blood hits a perfect ostinato, the bass line of his breathing and yours synchronise with the lilting melody of pure joy erupting in your heart and the notes of lightheadedness in your head. The symphony of utter happiness envelopes you, and everything feels so right, so flawless that you wonder how you lived without it.

Minghao pulls away from the kiss, eyes sparkling and a dopey grin on his face. You’re sure that your expression mirrors his, because he beams brighter than you thought was possible. He squeezes you into a tight hug and you bury your head into his chest, loving the feel of his arms around you. It feels safe.

“You don’t know how long I wanted to do that for.”

“Neither, you dork.”

Thanks for reading!