#and how he and the actor line can crack a tear in one minute flat

[randomingoftherandomness]

Lately, every single time I think Na Inwoo is so cool and suave and so so put together on Marry My Husband, I just remember that he ate his food on his living room floor for at least a month after moving into his new apartment and has the barest minimum in terms of personal clothes and is such a huge easygoing goofball that he isn’t fussed by a lot of things and just takes things as they come :)

Our family’s Natriever, indeed 💖

[reki-of-the-valley]

Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It’s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Forever Hold Your Peace | Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader  | Chapter 1 | The Break Up

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader

Summary:  Tom Hiddleston dated Benedict's little sister (reader) back at Cambridge, after a bad breakup Tom and Benedict are now friends. The reader is now engaged to an American who Benedict does not trust. Ben turns to his good friend Tom to help break up the wedding and win back the girl he never truly got over.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slapping, cursing.

-

Benedict glanced at the name of his cell phone screen and rolled his eyes.

“Hello?” he said in a flat tone.

“Hello, Benny boo.” the giddy voice bubbled up on the other side of the line.

“What can you want at…” He glanced at a nearby clock. “five in the morning? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere sleeping off a hangover?”

“Can’t a sister want to talk to the older, wiser brother?” you commented on the other side.

“No.” Benedict deadpanned. “Not at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. You want something. Or rather, you need something. So why don’t you save us both some time and just tell what it is.”

His tone grew more and more irritable. You knew your brother was not a morning person, but this news was too big to wait any longer.

“So I met a guy…” you started.

“Another one? Honestly, I don’t need to hear about all your conquests at Cambridge. We’re close but your sex life—”

“It’s not like that! And ew…” you interrupted. “And this guy is not just a conquest. It’s serious.”

“Just like you thought with James, and Charles, and Stephen…” Benedict rattled off names of ex-boyfriends like a grocery list.

“I get the point, so stop. Now if you would listen for a minute, I can tell about Tom.”

He slumped into his chair, knowing he wasn’t getting out of the conversation soon. “Go on.” he gestured in the air not that you could see it.

“So he is studying the Classics.”

“Dead languages, that’s a useful life skill.”

You scowled at your phone. “Who is talking here?”

“He went to Eton.”

“Stuffy and pretentious.”

“Says the man who attend Harrow.”

“And he is an actor.”

“WHAT?!” Benedict yelled into the phone. “You of all people should know better than to date an actor. They are insufferable.”

“Says the actor.”

“I’m your brother I don’t count. So how did we meet this actor, which means unemployed student?”

“At a play.”

“Naturally.”

“He is charming and polite and handsome. And I want you to meet him.”

“Absolutely not.”

“At graduation. He’s graduating this year. It would mean a lot to me.”

“Nope.”

“Please…” you whined and Benedict swore he heard the pout through the phone. “… you can pick the restaurant for dinner.” You attempted to appeal to your brother’s voracious appetite.

“Even that curry place you hate?” he asked with hope in his voice.

“Even the curry place I hate.” you parroted back in defeat.

“Then it is a date.”

“Thank you. And Ben… be nice.”

“I make no promises. I hate him already.”

“Under different circumstances, the two of you could be friends.”

“I doubt that.”

“Just keep an open mind.”

“Fine.” he huffed into the phone. “Send me the date and I will be there.”

“Thanks, bro. I will talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

Benedict ended the call and slumped even further in the chair, covering his face with his hands. He loved you more than anything in the world as his baby sister but he sometimes wondered in your taste in men. He hoped this time he was wrong.

Three Days Before Graduation

“This isn’t working out between us.” Tom started as he took a bite of the burger.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked as your jaw dropped open. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

Tom ran his hands through his messy blond curls. His blue eyes darted around the pub. “Well…” his lips pulled into a thin line as he chooses his next words. “… yes. I’m going off to RADA and you will be abroad for your third year. Long distance never works. I need to focus on my acting on my career, I don’t have time for a girlfriend. I mean did you expect this would last past graduation?”

“Yes!” you screeched, not caring if you made a scene.

“Keep your voice down.” Tom hissed as he leaned across the table.

“Is that why you brought here, so I wouldn’t make a scene!?” you lowered your voice only slightly.

Tom reached for your hand but you pulled away. “Come on, that’s not why. I thought we could enjoy a nice dinner out… as friends.”

Tom gave you one of his killer smiles. The smile that until thirty seconds ago would have made you melt in your seat. But all you saw was a smug grin and white hot flames of anger.

CRACK! You reared back and slapped Tom hard on the cheek. He sat stunned holding his face in silence.

“WE ARE NOT FUCKING FRIENDS, YOU BASTARD!” you threw your napkin on the table and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Tom there with the rest of the patrons glaring at him.

You dialed your brother once you got home.

“Dinner is off!” you sobbed into the phone.

“What? How?” Ben tried to decipher what happened between your sobbing and sniffling.

“He… broke… up… me…!” you managed squeak out between gulps of air. You collapsed into sobs once again.

“He who?”

“Tom!” you snapped.

“What? But everything was going so well.” He resisted the urge to say “I told you so” but only because you sobbed so loud into the phone.

“Apparently not. He said something about wanting to be a serious actor and needing to focus when he goes to RADA.”

“He clearly has poor taste and is ill educated. Everyone knows LAMDA is better.” He joked trying to get you to laugh.

“Not helping.” you gave a halfhearted chuckle through stifled sobs. “I thought he was the one. Is it me? Why do I always pick the wrong guys?”

“It’s not you, these guys do not realize what they are missing out on. As for picking the wrong guys, if you just listened to your big brother…” his voice trailed off.

“And here is the ‘I told you so’.” you snorted, your tears drying and sobs subsiding.

“Did I say those words?” Benedict feigned mock hurt. "Those words came out of your mouth, not mine.”

“Hahaha.” You gave a joyless laugh.

“See? You are already laughing. The healing process has begun.”

“Hardly.” you wiped your nose with your sleeve.

“How about I speed that process along with coming up a day early and taking you to that diner place like?”

“You would do that for me?” your voice perked up.

“I would do anything for you. You’re family. That includes beating up the rat bastard that broke your heart. You never told me his last name. How else am I supposed to exact revenge?”

“It’s a ridiculous last name.”

“More ridiculous than Cumberbatch?”

“Hiddleston. His name is Tom Hiddleston.”

That name seared upon Benedict's brain for the next eight years.

-

2009

Even after several years in the industry, Benedict wasn’t sure if he loved or hated these kind events. A bunch of young actors grouped together like they were all friends. His agent and publicist insisted he needed to attend. This event was no exception, a gathering of upcoming British actors. He tugged at his jacket out of nerves.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep baritone asked. Benedict turned to catch a tall man with messy blond hair looking at him with questioning blue eyes.

“Please.” Ben pulled the seat away from the table and the man took a seat. “Better to grab one now than have to stand all night.”

“Right.” the blond man commented. Ben studied the gentleman next to him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, name’s Benedict.” He extended his hand.

“Tom.” he took Ben’s hand and gripped it with enthusiasm. “I don’t think we have. I haven’t gone to many of these events yet.”

“A few tips, drink slowly, find a seat early, and use hand sanitizer.” Ben leaned in as he took a long sip of his drink.

Tom laughed. “I will remember that. Now that I look at you, there is something familiar, did we go to school together?”

“Harrow?” Ben offered.

“Eton. Cambridge?” Tom offered.

“Manchester. How about drama school?”

“RADA.”

“LAMDA.”

Tom smiled. “You must just have one of those faces.”

“Must be.”

Before long, they were laughing and chatting like they were old friends. Tom raised his glass.

“To new friends.” He offered in a toast.

“To future costars.” Ben countered.

They clinked their glasses and drank. A young woman came up and tapped Tom on his shoulder.

“Mr. Hiddleston…” Ben stiffened in his chair. “… you are need outside for a moment.”

“Of course.” Tom stood and gave Benedict a nod before walking off. “Save my seat.”

“I’ll do my best.” Benedict choked out.

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as Tom’s lean frame walked. This is the man who broke his sister’s heart. After about ten minutes, Ben downed the rest of his watered down cocktail and stood from the table to find Tom.

He entered the empty lobby and moved along to see if Tom had ducked into a side room. Benedict rationalized he just wanted to talk to Tom. But Benedict’s hands fisted at his side told another story.

A door opened at the end of the hall, Tom stepped out. In several long strides, Benedict caught up with Tom. In a single motion, he pushed the taller man against the wall.

“What the hell?” Tom exclaimed as he pushed back against Ben’s grip.

Although Tom outmatched Benedict in weight and height, he could not overcome Ben’s anger fueled strength.

“Does the name Cumberbatch mean anything to you?”

Tom tilted his head down, searching. “No… oh… “ His face grew in recognition. "Are you related to her somehow?”

Ben pushed him against the wall, digging his forearm against Tom’s throat. “She is my sister.”

Tom threw his arms up in defeat. “I didn’t know, I swear, mate. Listen, I acted like a jerk back then, I could have handled things better.”

Benedict stared down Tom. Tom gave a smile to Ben to diffuse the situation. “Bygones?” Tom offered.

Benedict contemplated letting him go. But the image of his sister absolutely crushed flashed in his brain. Before he knew what he was doing, he punched Tom square on the nose. Not enough to break any bones but Tom saw stars.

“Bygones.” Benedict muttered as he walked away.

Tom stood still, regaining his bearings. He left the event thinking the Cumberbatch family had a mean right hook.

[spacebrick3]

WHG Day 1: Snow

Welcome to the first day of the Hunger Games, featuring a doctor who’s starting to doubt her life choices...

Featuring Radan from @rhikasa​ and Begonia Rex from @ratracechronicler​, who I hope I’ve done justice!

The podium rises from the ground, carrying Snow to the grounds of the Arena. A bleak place, both in terms of environment and hope. She shivers in the damp fog, an icy name doing little to protect her against the cold, surveying the thirty-five other tributes thrown into the same precarious situation.

Some look uncertain, others outright fearful; determination and anxiety mix in equal measures in the eyes of many. As the timer ticks away the last certain seconds of her life (for in the Games, every moment is laced with a possible finality), she presses a hand to her chest, feeling for the small shape of her oath. Such a fragile thing. One twist of her fingers and the thin glass walls would shatter, tearing the paper apart. No, she tells herself with a shake of her head. Not yet.

The Cornucopia is tantalizingly close, and she resolves to run for it. All her certainty of the past few days, concocting a strategy and trying to play psychologist, now seems as nebulous as the fog. The tributes with whom she worked and watched will try to kill her, and she is expected to do the same of them-

The bell tolls.

Snow runs. Her shoes slide on the damp grass, muffled shouts and screams filling the air above her. Too many others seem to have had the same idea, blurred shapes all racing for the Cornucopia—she passes scattered backpacks and supplies lying on the ground, tempted to grab one and run, but the fighting has moved to that same outside ring. She leaves them behind, internally wincing, racing for the golden walls in front of her because they at least promise shelter.

Behind her, an explosion rocks the earth, silencing the Arena for a split second. The shockwave pushes her those final few feet into the Cornucopia, tripping over her own legs and nearly slamming headfirst into the arches of the horn—its supplies and resources strewn across the ground she just left. She presses herself against the wall, trying to appear as small as possible and hoping they notice, quicker than her, that the Cornucopia is empty and avoid it.

Her breath comes heavy and fast, echoing in the small space. Should have grabbed supplies. Should have picked up a weapon, for what if another tribute finds her—what if, what if, what if-

She peeks around the corner, cursing silently, the mist outside now mixed with bloody, ashy smoke. It’s been minutes. Goddamn minutes since they were sharing their last goodbyes—only hours since they were working and training with one another. All that crushed underfoot by the Games in just a few seconds.

How long will it take? she wonders, before the same happens to me? Before I’m killing with the rest of them?

Perhaps the most frightening thing is that she can’t answer.

***

When she does leave the Cornucopia, it’s in the steps of one of the District 6 tributes—Radan, she remembers his name being, who seems to know what he’s doing. She makes sure to keep a safe distance behind him, as well, placing her feet carefully as to not step on anything that will give away her presence.

It would be easier to announce her presence, to propose an alliance for the duration of the day. But that means trusting him, trusting that he would buck the expectations of the Games and decide not to kill her. And from what she saw at the Reaping, she can’t wholly think that of anybody, no matter what she might have seen of them during the training or the interviews. 

As it turns out, that choice is made for her. Radan turns around, obviously spotting her even through the trees. “Hey!” he calls. “I know you’re following me! Show yourself!”

She freezes, raising her hands to show she carries no weapons. “I don’t…want to hurt you,” she says quickly. “Don’t think I could if I tried.”

“Why are you following me, then?” he asks, backtracking so that the two of them stand nearly face-to-face. He’s significantly taller than her, carrying himself with the appearance of royalty and regarding her with deep suspicion. “This is the Hunger Games. No one just follows one another.”

“I understand that,” she says with a sigh. “I wanted to get away from the Cornucopia, and I didn’t know where to go. You seemed as though you did.” Five dead there, she’d confirmed. Five who she hadn’t been able to help—one another tribute from her own district, Aurum, with a knife in her chest, the others thrown about by the explosion. “This is the Games, but we can still help each other-“

“Prove it,” he says.

She blinks. “What?”

“Only one person is left standing at the end. Prove that I can trust you, that you won’t backstab me as soon as you have the chance.” He crosses his arms with a sigh. 

If this were university, there would have been a lecture—with numerous citations to Karl Popper—about the difficulty of proving anything, much less means and intentions, probably set up in the form of a Socratic debate for half the class to ignore. But it’s not, and she has little to give him besides an oath even she doesn’t know if she can keep. “I—I can’t.”

“Then I don’t think an alliance is on the table,” he says. “I’m sorry.” A brief, awkward pause, the kind that tends to fall across conversations where both parties have admitted to not fully trusting the other. “You’re Snow, right?”

“Yes. And you’re Radan.”

He nods, glancing away to the direction he was originally taking. “Well. I do wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Snow, but as it stands I hope we don’t run into each other again. Can’t end well.” He shakes his head. “Good luck with the Games. May the best of us win.”

“May the best win,” she echoes, though with much less conviction.

***

Somewhere around midnight, her makeshift camp is rudely invaded by a familiar face, identifiable even in the shadowy moonlight by the streak of red in his hair and the simple fact that he’s nearly hopping up and down with excitement. “Snow!” he whispers with all the subtlety of a stage actor. “Is that you?”

After briefly entertaining the possibility that this is a fever dream of some sort, she pushes herself up to one elbow and regards the quasi-botanist with a flat look. “Begonia. What the hell. Are you doing here.”

His smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Back on the train, you were talking about an alliance! So I’ve been looking around—and I may have gotten just a little bit distracted here and there,” he admits, “especially in the fog and the rain—but I did find you in the end! Just that way, actually, there are some impressive rain lilies that seem to be particularly happy in the fog and the rain, and—oh! I found a little bit of Piscidia piscipula by a stream…”

She lets him talk for a couple minutes, amazed that he can find any wonder in the Arena, of all places. “I’m glad you’re still alive, Begonia,” she says, voice cracking unexpectedly at the word ‘alive’. “I—I mean, I don’t…” 

“I’m glad I’m still alive, too!” he says, clearing a small space to sit on the ground beside her. “Are you quite sure you’re all right, though? I know most people don’t like being woken up so late—or is it early now? I just thought it might be a bit surprising if you woke up in the morning and I was right here, so I decided to let you know now.”

“No, no,” she says, burying her face in her hands. “It’s—look, I don’t know the right way to say this.”

His smile fades to a look of concern, though with the same cheerful energy beneath it. “Oh, of course! I never know the right way to say anything, so I just say it! It’s worked out so far.”

Snow laughs quietly. “It’s been a day. A day, Begonia. Look what the Games have done to us already. We were all working together, training together, listening to the others talk about their families and their homes and their dreams. And now seven of thirty-six are dead, and five times that will be by the end. I’m scared that the Games will do that to us all. That everyone I thought I knew in the center will become a killer because they don’t have a choice otherwise—hell, I can’t be certain that I wouldn’t do the same, that I could stick to my morals and my oath if my life was on the line. And I’ve no fucking clue what to do about it.”

A midnight confession, made to the one person she unconsciously exempted from that fear. “Well. I’m not entirely-“

“I shouldn’t be—you shouldn’t have to worry about this,” she says quickly. “These are my fears, not yours. Who knows whether they’ll even come true or not. Plenty of time in the Games.”

He shrugs. “I mean…people are difficult. Even plants don’t do what I want them to all the time, and they have to make far fewer decisions than people do, so there’s really no point in worrying what they’re going to do or not…and if you think about it like plants, then the only thing you can really control is what you’re doing. So as long as you’re sure you won’t….uh, start killing people, then you should be fine!”

Only he could say that she’ll be fine in the Hunger Games of all places. In some sense, there’s no point in worrying about whether the Games will turn them all into killers, because chances are high she’ll die long before then. But if that’s true, then what’s the point in keeping the oath that hangs heavy around her neck—what’s stopping her from fighting tooth and nail to hang onto life if probability says she’ll be dead anyway?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that’s what terrifies her.

But it’s hard to stay anxious around Begonia, with his seeming insistence that so long as he believes the best of the world then it will surely come to pass. After a few empty words about the tributes and the Games, the conversation turns inevitably back to plants, where he shows her some of the carefully-cut flowers he’d found in the Arena and their bright colors visible even in the night. Tiny pieces of beauty he’d managed to scrounge up somewhere, half of which he gives to her before falling asleep.

She tucks the flowers into her own pocket, feeling slightly more hopeful about the days to come.

[hazeleyesirwin]

i’ve seen you before: part one

summary: an entirely self-indulgent soulmate au where past lives are common and link you to your soulmate

(this is a little scary for me because this work is really personal to me.)

Word Count: 4k or so???

part one

Some people believe they have past lives; that our souls can’t just exist in our bodies and then go nowhere or to heaven or hell. They can’t just be floating around. I believe strongly in this concept. Our souls have to start over. Of course, some souls are new on earth and some don’t come back for whatever reason. But, generally, we all have at least one past life. I also believe our soulmate is always our soulmate because it’s the souls that are connected, not whatever physical body the soul inhabits. Friends also stay together through their lives. Sometimes adding or losing one or two through the centuries. Those friends the soul is connected to cause a sense of peace within the soul. The soulmate makes the soul feel complete and at peace. Some people have dreams with flashes of their past lives, some have intense deja vu, some have actual tangible memories from other lives. I have all of these from time to time. Dreams that leave me walking around during the day with this intense deja vu. Two or three vivid memories. Our souls are looking every day through our bodily eyes for its partner. Some would say the soul is looking for its other half. I believe we’re all whole by ourselves, but we’re better when our soul is at peace. A soulmate also doesn’t have to be a romantic partner in every life. A friend, sibling, mentor, or lover could have the soul your soul is looking for. For the purposes of this story I should tell you my soulmate is a romantic partner. This is the story of how my soul found peace with a soul it met in a coffee shop in LA.

My friends, the ones I’ve had for at least two lives now, and I moved to LA shortly after graduating college. We settled in fairly quickly. It felt like the right place at the right time. I’m the most spiritual, you could say, out of the four of us. I’m also the most connected to my past and the oldest soul amongst us. All of us wanted to work in the entertainment business. Chloe as a dancer, me an actor, Kass a talent manager, and Ken in any way she could. I got up earlier than everyone else as usual and went to get coffee down the street from our apartment. I decided to take the binder full of scripts with me to work on lines for upcoming understudy roles I had. I got my coffee in the biggest mug they had in the shop because after coming here every morning for three months, my favorite barista Christina knew I needed the extra caffeine. I thanked her and leaned over the counter to hug her and kiss her cheek, saying something about getting drinks later in the week. I took my mug and my giant binder to the rustic wood table by the picture window. I settled in and opened the binder. 

I heard the bell at the front door jingle about an hour later and looked up; no one was ever in here this early when there was a starbucks a block away. When I looked up I saw a shock of short, clearly dyed red hair that was slicked back. The man that the hair belonged to was wearing a black t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He didn’t bother to take off his sunglasses when he came inside until he got up to the counter, pushing the glasses up onto his head which pushed back the one red curl that had fallen out of the otherwise perfectly slicked back style. Christina started to flirt with him after he ordered, so I looked back down at the lines I was supposed to be committing to memory. All I could see was the bird tattooed in jet black ink on the back of the guy’s neck. I looked back up to see him facing the other way. I shook my head and tried to focus. When I couldn’t I decided to give up on lines for the time being. I closed my binder and stood, picking up my mug. I walked over to the counter and set down the mug, then tossed a goodbye over my shoulder to Christina before walking out the door and turning down the street to begin the walk home. 

I couldn’t get the image of that guy’s tattoo and red hair out of my head so much that I nearly walked out into traffic while blasting the most unromantic song I could in my headphones. I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull. I turned sharply and took a step forward, ending up with my face directly in a worn black t-shirt. I took a step back and mumbled an apology, not bothering to look up into the face of whoever had just saved me from my own absent-mindedness. Scientists and my high school acting teacher have said that smell is the sense most connected to memory. So, when I say he smelled so familiar, you don’t think I’m crazy. It was like walking into your own house after being gone a while; familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was like home when you had been calling somewhere else home for a long time. That feeling made me look up into his face. My eyes met red hair, sunglasses, and dimples that were the only thing stopping his smile from taking up his entire face. He pushed his sunglasses onto his head like he had done minutes before in the coffee shop. His eyes met mine and I wanted to cry. Brown around the edges and green like trees in the spring around his pupils. My daze was broken when he spoke,”You okay?” I nodded and took out my headphones,”Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.” “You look a little dazed, how about we sit down over here for a minute?” He suggested. 

He took my free hand and led me over to a bus stop where there was a bench. He sat and I sat beside him on the hard painted green metal. “I’m Ashton by the way. I don’t usually just go around saving girls from walking into traffic. I actually saw you leave the coffee place and you looked upset. I had to go this way anyway so I just… kept an eye on you I guess. I don’t know why I told you that. It’s a little creepy.” I laughed softly. He was charming. I was so screwed. “I’m Michaela. And I’m weirdly okay that you followed me. I usually don’t let strange men, who followed me at least two blocks, hold my hand.” He glanced down at our hands that were still intertwined. “Well, considering we just got to Kindergarten third base, can I maybe buy your coffee tomorrow morning?” Ashton asked. “That would be nice,” I replied. 

When I got home it was noon already and Chloe was standing in our kitchen with her arms crossed,”Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” “I have a fucking date tomorrow!” I dropped my binder on the bar then heard Kass and Ken come out of their rooms. “You what?!” Ken cried from the doorway of her room. “I have a date tomorrow morning!” I screamed back. “Holy shit, I guess getting up at the crack of dawn finally paid off for you,” Kass commented, walking over to the fridge and pouring water from our Brita filter into a glass. We’re earth friendly in this household. “What’s his name?” Chloe asked. “Ashton,” I answered. Kass full on spit out the sip of water she had taken, “Ashton as in Irwin?” I nodded,”I wanted to flip my shit, but he’s so different than I thought he would be that I didn’t have a chance. He didn’t even mention the band so I’m not going to until he brings it up. I’m not gonna be that crazy bitch. I didn’t know it was him until he introduced himself.” “How the fuck did you not know?” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. I shrugged,”He’s different.” 

I got consumed in my own thoughts for a moment, again seeing nothing except red hair and tattoos and Ashton’s hazel eyes that I could fall into. Ken’s voice broke me out of my thoughts,”Do you think he could be your soulmate? Did you recognize anything about him?” I started to tear up, which was not an uncommon occurrence for me. Still isn’t. “He smelled familiar. His hand felt familiar in mine. His eyes look how my mom’s hugs feel,” I had to sit down, actually lay down flat on our tile floor. “Do you think he’s the guy you haven’t been able to see in your memories and dreams?” Kass asked. I covered my face with my hands to hide the tears streaming down my face and nodded. “Oh my god, Mich. That’s amazing. Also, please introduce us to his friends for God’s sake I’ve been single for so long there are cobwebs in my vag,” Chloe joked. I laughed and sat up, wiping the tears off my face. My phone rang as Ken handed me a tissue. I picked it up and saw that Ashton had typed his name in all caps with three hearts after it when he put his number in my phone. I clicked the answer button and held the phone to my ear,”Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s Ashton. I felt like I needed to call you. I don’t know why. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?” 

“I’m alright. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to call.” 

“I’m glad you did. It’s nice to hear your voice.” 

“You just heard my voice twenty minutes ago.”

“I know, your voice is just nice.” 

“Cheesy.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you want to get dinner tonight instead of coffee in the morning? I want to see you again. I can’t seem to get you out of my head.” 

“Cheesy.”

“Shut up.” 

“I would love to have dinner with you tonight, Ashton. Pick me up at 7?” 

“Yeah. Hell yeah. I’ll be there. Wear a dress. We’re going big.” 

“Okay. See you then. Bye.” 

I took the phone down from my ear and clicked the end call button. 

“Dinner tonight? Dude, you’re so gonna get laid,” Kass teased. I got up from where I was sitting on our stained tile floor,”Okay, he said we’re going big so I gotta find something to wear.” “Bet you wish you would have unpacked like I told you to a month ago,” Chloe raised her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, for once, you’re fucking right I wish I’d listened to you,” I replied, wandering down the hall to my room where there were still three boxes to unpack. Formal clothes being one of them. I picked up the box marked “fancy shit” and set it on my unmade nest of a bed. I scratched at an edge of a piece of packing tape until it started to lift then tore it off the top of the box. I pushed the cardboard flaps open and the first thing on top was my senior prom dress. I picked up the purple satin and looked at it for a moment before discarding it in a heap on the off-white carpet. Chloe leaned on the doorframe at the entrance of my bedroom,”That black wrap dress you have would be good.” “That’s what I’m thinking. Do you have shoes I could wear? I need heels, he’s literally a tree,” I watched her disappear in the direction of her room. She reappeared a moment later with simple black heels,”He’s only six foot.” “Okay, that’s seven fucking inches taller than me,” I scoffed. I took the shoes and shooed Chloe out of my room to shut the door. I sat on my bed and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Nervous doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. There was a pit with butterflies coming out of it in my stomach. My heart was racing. I was honestly a little light-headed. Something in the back of my mind was screaming “This is it! The moment you’ve been waiting for since you were five and were told about the whole soulmate idea”. I pulled myself together the best I could and started to get ready for what could possibly be the first date with my soulmate. Now I sound like a bad contestant on the Bachelor. Sorry. Let’s move on, shall we?

I finished getting ready at 7:30 then had to sit around and panic for what felt like a year. It was actually fifteen minutes. He was early. I think my heart might have actually leaped when he rang the buzzer. I let him in and he knocked on the door. Kass and Chloe got to it before I could. It was a scene out of a movie. Slow-motion. I turned around just as I finished putting in my earring and brushed my hair behind my left ear. Ashton was standing there in a black suit with a red shirt under it. No tie. He was holding white roses. Chloe and Kass stepped aside and beckoned him in like Lurch from the Addam’s Family. He walked in and his eyes never left my face until he pulled me into a hug, whispering,”You look beautiful,” into my ear. It felt like all my broken pieces were being pulled back together in that hug. Ashton pulled away after a long moment and gave me the flowers. “Thank you, they’re beautiful,” I said softly,”I would put them in water, but we might want to leave before our spectators get popcorn and start watching us like an episode of the Kardashians.” Ashton turned his head in the direction I motioned and saw Ken, Kass, and Chloe watching us from the sofa. “I’m gonna take her now, don’t wait up,” He took my hand and led me out the front door. 

We walked down the concrete staircase to the bottom floor then down the block to where Ashton had parked. He drove a black muscle car that gave off major douche vibes, but the way he opened the door for me put my mind at ease. He got in the car and looked over at me. “What?” I asked softly. “Nothing,” He replied, smiling gently. He put his seatbelt on and pulled out of the parking spot. We drove for about half an hour before Ashton pulled into a parking lot that was in front of an old theater. Ashton turned the car off and got out, coming around to open the door for me. I got out of the car and felt Ashton’s hand on my back, leading me toward the door of the theater. 

When we got inside the theater, it was crisp red and gold. Classic. It felt like somewhere Ashton fit in. When I looked up at him all I wanted in the world was to kiss him. He was explaining that there was an experimental theatre piece he had wanted to see, but no one would go with him. There was an indescribable fire in his eyes. He laced his fingers with mine, leading me over to the usher collecting tickets at the door. He then led me down to our seats that we in the perfect place. Just far enough from the stage that we could see all of it at once, but close enough we could really hear the dialogue with the actors not using mics. There were a few older folks in the house, as well as two young women who looked like they were on a date as well. The show was far from sold out. The seats were covered in that itchy red school auditorium fabric. The drapes on the stage were the same color. The house lights dimmed, in the same moment I felt Ashton’s hand on my knee. I didn’t realize it had been shaking until he stopped it. “Breathe, love,” He whispered. He offered his hand for me to hold. I laced my fingers through his then put my other hand on top of his. His hands were so much bigger than mine, but it felt like a perfect fit to be connected like that. The stage lights came up and redirected my attention from Ashton’s hands to the stage. 

The play was more emotional than either Ashton or I had anticipated. By the end, I was failing to choke back sobs and stop the tears from streaming down my face. Ashton turned toward me and wiped away my tears with the hand I didn’t have a death grip on,”Well, kind of a first date ruiner, huh?” He asked softly, which coaxed a laugh from me through my tears. He led me outside. He started to walk toward his car immediately, but I stopped, closing my eyes and turning to let the warm California breeze dry the tears on my face. When I opened my eyes, Ashton was watching me. “You okay?” He asked. I nodded. He reached out his hand for me to take and we walked to his car together. He opened the passenger door for me again and I got in. 

Twenty-five minutes of driving, slightly too fast, we pulled up to a gate and Ashton rolled down his window to enter a code into a little box. The gate slowly opened. A few minutes later, Ashton opened my door and walked me up to his front door. He unlocked it and walked in, pulling me behind him. When he shut the door behind me, he finally spoke,”So, I was thinking we could make dinner together. And, maybe you could stay with me tonight?” “Bold move, Ash. Trying to get into my pants on the first date,” I smirked at him. “Okay, first of all, did you expect any less of me? Second, I just want to be near you. Sex or not,” Ashton explained. “Why?” I asked, before I thought about what was coming out of my mouth,”Wait, don’t answer that. Sorry.” 

“After being around you for less than a day, I already want to spend every waking moment with you. Something in me is connected to something in you. You know it, I know it. Your friends knew it from the way they were staring at us. My friends know it because I was with them when I called you and they gave me shit about it for the rest of the day,” His eyes were greener than before as he looked at me. “We should make dinner before you make me cry again,” I changed the subject slightly. “Hey!” He protested,”Technically the show made you cry last time, not me.” “Sure, babe, let’s go with that story,” I replied. The world around us slowed to a crawl as Ashton kissed me for the first time. He tasted like mint gum and smelled like aftershave. I reached up to cup his jaw in my hands. His skin was prickly under my fingertips. He pressed his hands into my back to pull me closer.

 My friends in purple, holding wildflowers. They look so different, yet they’re the same. A dream I knew well. I always saw my friends, my family. Never the man dressed in a uniform that looked vaguely familiar. I feel my face being tipped up. I look into hazel eyes. Ashton. I have an aching feeling this is one of the last times I’ll see his eyes in this life. I reach up to brush back the curl that always falls in my husband’s face. Husband. “You may kiss the bride.” Mint and aftershave. Prickly skin under my fingertips. Hands pressed into my back to get me as close as possible. 

Ashton broke the kiss and looked at me. Hazel eyes filled with the same love I had seen a moment before. I brushed Ashton’s cheek with my thumb and smiled gently at him,”We better get cooking.” He agreed and led me into the kitchen. I kicked off my heels and realized once again how much shorter I was than him. Ashton walked back into another room and came back out with a hoodie. He handed it to me to occupy my hands so he could reach down and untie my dress. “Horny bastard,” I whispered. His hoodie was warm from the dryer as he pulled it onto my body. His hands lingered at the hem. I reached up and pushed back the red curl that fell in his face. I pressed my lips to his again.

When I walked back into my apartment early the next morning I shut the door as quietly as I could, but I got caught. Kass and Chloe both emerged from their rooms as soon as the lock clicked. Ken emerged a moment after them. “Bro, we had a system and you were late,” Kass said, looking at Ken with her arms crossed. “Sorry, fuck, that would’ve been such a good bit,” Ken apologized, pouting slightly. “Anyway,” Chloe interrupted their bickering,”How was fucking one of the members of one of the biggest bands in the world?” I pressed my lips in a flat line for a moment before replying,”We didn’t fuck.” “Oh whatever,” Kass protested,”You’re wearing his clothes.” I looked down and tugged the sleeves of Ashton’s jacket over my hands then looked back up at my best friends in the world who were waiting for answers. I thought about lying. I thought about keeping what had happened between Ashton and I a secret. I thought for just a moment about telling them maybe I was wrong about him. That maybe he wasn’t my soulmate. The image of those same women in purple, holding wildflowers and tearing up at a wedding for a doomed marriage flashed before my eyes. “We went to a play. Then, we went to his and we cooked together. He’s taking me to lunch when he gets done at the studio today. If one of you wants to come, I think he’s bringing Calum,” I explained. I was partially cut off by Chloe yelling “Dibs!” then celebrating her claim on Calum with what looked like a well-choreographed endzone dance. 

“Wait, hold on, when do we get to meet the rest of the band?” Ken whined. “I haven’t even done that. We went on one goddamn date slow your roll. The only reason I’ve met Calum is because he and Ashton have breakfast together every Tuesday morning so he was there when I got up this morning,” This response made Kass throw herself on the couch and groan loudly. “Okay, okay, but Ash and I were talking about maybe getting everyone together and going bowling or mini-golfing or something really cliche like that,” I tried to comfort her slightly with my words. “Already?” Ken asked gently. “What do you mean?” I replied. “Like you said, you’ve been on one date. We know you. You definitely didn’t fuck him last night. You’re already thinking about introducing your friends? It’s fast,” She looked at me with concern in her eyes. “It doesn’t feel fast. It feels like we’ve been together forever. It feels like we’re supposed to be together forever. I saw his face in one of my flashes last night when he kissed me. He’s the one I married in every life before. I can’t stand the thought that I might not get to spend much time with him in this life like previous ones. I want as much time as I can get, even if it means moving fast.”

Tattered green plaid couch. Doilies. Linen against my skin. Tears streaming down my face so fast nothing I do can stop them from soaking the collar of my dress. Sobs rip through me harder than any pain I’ve ever felt. I feel a hand on mine. I try to look up through blurry eyes. Two sets of arms around me. One set of hands holding mine. Soft, soothing voices I know well whispering that I’ll see him again someday. One means heaven, one means another life, one means in my dreams. A flag in my lap. I don’t want it. I want him. Forever was supposed to be longer than a day. 

END OF PART ONE

[fulldreamsahead]

Cold Feet Cold Body

So we have our players, 3 girls and two boys. In my dream they did not have names so I will just retroactively give them names that I think fit them. My name is Maria. My female friends’ names are Tina and Janine. Tina is a dyed blond with her roots showing, she likes to do smokey eyes but never really washes away the rest of her makeup correctly and it always ends up looking a bit too smudged. Janine is a yes girl with a big mop of curly black hair on her head and warm-toned skin, she is always beautiful and on point. I never get to see myself but in snippits of movement I can see I have dark-ish skin and thick dark colored hair. Our men are Travis, a man who looks like Adam Devine in a Anders Holm-style hat, and Jared his associate, a man that is tall and jacked.

Our plot begins with me being invited to be a bridesmaid at Tina's wedding. We’re living in a relatively metropolitan area that is skirted on all sides by farmland (much like DFW) and her dream, even though she has NO REALATION WHATSOEVER to the country, is to have the ultimate country wedding. She has always liked the idea of barn raisings and such. In her wedding preparations she has become a 'country girl' and even adopted a slight southern twang even though she is from California born and raised. I find this detestable but am very polite and smile through the fields of fake. I want to believe Janine is my guiding light, I try to take her aside to talk about it but in dipping my toe into the water I realize that she cannot even tell the difference and is just elated to be maid of honor. I am at a loss. While preparing for the wedding realize the most perplexing thing; I have not met or heard of the groom, a man by the name of Timothy. For some reason I find it weird that no one is allowed to slang it to Tim, his visage seems too elegant and I am suspicious. Timothy is apparently loaded and rents us out a mansion-like air bnb in the middle-of-nowhere farm country to do our wedding preparations. The wedding itself will be held at a neighboring farm, ONLY 20 miles out and the preparations there are going smoothly. The groom and the groomsmen will be staying at that location, but it is not as updated as our location, and he wanted us to be pampered and have a girls spa weekend prior to the Sunday wedding.

  On Friday morning we arrive, I park and find mysterious Timothy helping his beloved move all her things into the air bnb. It turns out he is actually my high school boyfriend TIM who dumped me after cheating on me with some 'skank' at a party. I found out via an old friend Bernice, who had been at the party and showed me photos of him macking on some blond chick in a skimpy pink tube top and then taking her into one of the bedrooms. We do a flashback of the scene and me dumping him while pouring an entire route 44 over his head. Back in the present I make pleasantries with him. He doesn't seem to remember me but I am not surprised. It's been about 11 years since then and we only dated a few months in freshman year. Tina giddily grabs his arm to officially introduce us and of course Janine asks the stereotypical question of “how did you guys meet?” It turns out that Tina was the 'skank' at the party and we have another flashback revealing so. She refers to the 'me' in the story as 'some bitch' that she gladly stole this hunk away from. She says they lost touch after their one night stand but then by fate they met up again about 6 months ago and the sex was 'just as good'. I am furious, I have been friends with Tina since high school. I know for a fact she knows what I went through, she was with me while I was ugly crying in the high school bathrooms. I am already on edge when she brings out a dog. A big fluffy husky who turns happily at the sight of his owners (Tina and Timothy). My fists clench. That is my dog. This is where it gets really strange, apparently. I lost my dog earlier that year having a bad time (maybe there can be a bad year montage at the beginning of the movie) and Tina offered to help me look. She was the one who insisted that I finally give up after about a month, but I was heartbroken nonetheless. I mention that out loud that he looks just like my Archduke Ferdinand. I can see the cracks in her glass smile as she says “oh hun, not this again, I just loved your sweet pooch so much I had to get one of my own! Is it too soon?” She turns to Timothy to ask him to take the dog with him and I insist it's ok. I have a sure fire way of figuring it out, I just need a moment alone with the dog. After hauling in the rest of the belongings, I say goodbye to TIM much to his discharge.

  We spend the rest of the morning setting up the house and taking stock. There are some farm animals in the house and, while from the outside it looks like a regular old fashioned country two story, on the inside it is a totally decked out fully modern gorgeous property. The backyard has endless greenery rolling up to a crashing wave of cedar forest lining the property. There is a gnarly hundred-year-old oak tree on the eastern half of the property. As Tina is setting up her expansive makeup collection in the bathroom and Janine has decided to lay down on the couch and take advantage of cable, I met up with 'Fluffykins' in the yard. When I had Archduke Ferdinand, I had him micro-chipped. Out here in the middle of nowhere I can't actually get it checked to see if he’s mine but I do remember that he was mistakenly micro-chipped in his butt instead of his back due to his eagerness. I doubt anyone else would make a similar mistake. He follows me eagerly (remembering me?) and I go to investigate a local shed on the property. Opening the door looks like a scene out of a horror move; you see my silhouette power stance in the doorway of the dark and cobwebbed palace of yard instruments. While a stud finder can't identify any microchip information, it can ping you to its location in the dog. A quick swipe over the butt and I hear the ping. I drop to my knees and shed a few tears and hug my dog. He struggles and licks my face in confusion. After I am able to recollect myself I am furious, the rages of Satan burn in my eyes and we have a montage of some stupid things that Tina has done to me over the years. “Oh yeah, those bangs totally suit you!” “No girl that dress does not make you look fat.” “Oh honey, there is no way a man can resist a girl with frosted tips.���

  Oh why did I let her go with me to the salon more than once. This 'bitch' has been ruining my life for years and I am done. I breath in, sigh, and Ferdinand follows me out of the shed and I lock up shop. I go inside and put on my customer service smile and greet Tina who whines at me and asks me where I have been. I tell her that I was just getting some fresh air and she makes a note about how she doesn't want the humidity to throw off my hair because we all have to look in sync. The corner of my mouth twitches but I stay focused.  I ask about food options and she sighs haughtily saying she couldn't get the host to feed us so we are going to have to send someone to go get food. I offer quickly and she thanks me with a fake sickly sweet sound. Everything about her looks like a cracked up doll: the eyes too big, the smile too painted on, and I can't take it. I go down to a local 'grocery store' or shall I say dollar mart and pick up what can be turned into meals for us for the weekend. This is where we meet Travis and Jared. They are bumming it in the back of a pickup in the parking lot, drinking monster energy drinks and doing chew. I put my bags in the car and approach them. They begin to puff out their chests like birds to hit on me and I stop them right in their tracks. “Hey fellas I have a fucked up idea, want in?” They deflate immediately and seem a bit scared of how abrasive I am. I tell them the gist of what is going on and Jared is particularly passionate about taking another person’s dog. I thank him and I ask him if they could pull a little Texas Chainsaw Massacre and come over to scare the shit out of the girls tonight. That will teach Tina to be in a place she doesn't understand and crack her fake-ass exterior. They seem reluctant so I offer them each 50$ and they are in. The plan is they go at the house Strangers style, with no intention of actually entering the house and we will disconnect the phone lines prior. I make a mental note to unplug the girls’ phones and tamper with the lock screens to keep the brightness on so they lose battery and we are 'trapped'. They understand their limits and not to hurt anyone and we are golden. I give them the address and we are set. 

I return with the food and Tina nitpicks my choices while Janine makes the best of it. The rest of the evening is uneventful, while Tina complains that she wishes she had catered a sushi platter to us instead of the burgers we were forced to eat because the meat goes straight to her non existent flat ass. As it gets dark I put my phone plan into action and convince the girls to watch a horror movie to really set the mood. We watch Friday the 13th and at 11 p.m. the fun begins. I hear the boys shit truck putter by on the highway, they honk just driving past the house to alert me that they will be parking down the road and on their way. The movie still has 15 minutes and this could not have been planned better. As the movie winds down the boys make it to the property. First they disconnect the power. The girls scream in the dark and I follow suit, I’m a pretty good actor after years of putting up with Tina's bullshit. As we head as a group for the breaker box outside the house, a light hung just above the small scary shed to make it even more erie is still on and tall Jared is standing under it in a mask. Tina is terrified and runs back inside the house, Janine pulls on my should and screams we need our phones. We run back in, lock the door, and the girls run for their cells phones finding them all to be drained and dead. They also cannot seem to find the cords to their chargers. Tina immediately blames me for my shitty unpacking for some reason and I snap at her in the heat of the moment that her dumb-ass fiancee must have misplaced them! Janine is crying, poor girl, she does not deserve this but she is an innocent bystander in what must be done. Ferdinand is pacing by the back glass door whimpering. Tina asks him what's wrong. He barks and a sickle shines just right and scratches down the glass. The girls freak out and run around the house. Tina makes a beeline for a neighboring bedroom instead of the master for some reason. Meanwhile the boys are laughing outside about what a good job they are doing, they are over in the barn with the other animals laughing about why a sickle is even on the property. “Are they harvesting wheat like the slavery ages?” Travis has a great idea to let the animals out and Jared is skeptical, he doesn't want them to get hurt. Travis says “Why would they? It’s a closed property. They'll probably just run amok.” So Jared agrees and they open the barn and all the cages. The horse runs out first and they snicker about which windows they should harass next. 

Back in the house shit gets real when Tina pulls out a fucking gun from the top of the extra bedroom closet on the second floor. Both Janine and I are twice as on edge. “When the fuck did you get that?!” Janine asks (a huge anti-gun person). Tina says “Shut the fuck up Janine, you know they could have stopped Sandy Hook if the teacher would have been armed.” Janine is furious and Tina loads the gun and holds it loosely in her hand, the two of them bicker and I am panicking. I have to tell the boys to get out as soon as possible this has gone tits up and that is when I here a smash of glass downstairs. Tina takes front position and we all get dead silent. I panic realizing we never set up a safe-word and knock over a decorative vase in the hallway. Tina pivots the gun at me and I shout a little too loudly for her to GET THAT FUCKING GUN AWAY FROM ME, hoping to alert the boys and also scolding myself remembering that I told them specifically not to come inside the house. We reach the bottom of the stairs and we hear some non-specific crashing in an adjacent room, we move around the corner and see nothing and then, jump-scare, it’s the fucking horse, his eyes illuminated red with the flashlight we found in an upstairs bathroom sink cabinet. Tina fires the gun instantly, missing the horse and the thing goes fucking nuts, kicking and neighing destroying everything. We collectively lose our minds and scatter. The boys are on the east of the house and contemplate if that was a gunshot. Jared says “This shit is too much” and that they should bail. Travis agrees and as they pass the gnarled oak they hear a sound and turn. It’s a mother raccoon. Jared punches Travis for scaring him and comments on how cute it is. Travis tells him to fuck off and screams at the animal hoping to scare it off for scaring him. It full on attacks him and he runs careening around the corner of the house with Jared cursing under his breath to help him.

A lot of other high-jinks ensue over the night and in the morning we are all wrecked. Especially Tina whose hair is a rats nest and her smokey eye has become a smokey face. We trapped the boys at some point and somehow by the grace of god they do not blame me, they just say they were trying to have some fun with city girls and something about gentrification of air bnb in the area, surprising everyone with their wit. I took the gun away from Tina and am rubbing my temples with it in my hand. She was too trigger happy anyway. I end up sighing and saying fuck it and come clean about everything, going from screaming to tears, Tina is sympathetic and right when we are about to make up there is a crackle in the tree line and something gray comes running at us in full speed. In total automatic reflex Tina grabs the gun an fires at it thinking its the raccoon, but its Ferdinand, he is hit. Everyone goes into fast motion at that point, we bring him to the vets office and in the waiting room Tina and I have a screaming match and everything comes out.  

Unfortunately like most dreams there is no real ending... Though I wish there was... 

[wtfholland]

the light behind your eyes☎

summary: Growing impatient waiting for her lover to return home, (Y/N) decides to stay awake, waiting for Tom. Unfortunately, tragedy strikes.

word count: 2,315

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

warnings: swearing (when is there never), sadness, angst, crying, death of a character (sorry), *trigger warning* mentions of car accidents

a/n: HEY GUYS! this is my first story/post/anything on this account! PLEASE give me some feedback and be my friend because I don’t have any of those lel. ALSO, Tom is not an actor in this story, he has a regular job. I honestly really liked how this turned out, I hope you guys like it too! :) Enjoy♥

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The sigh of grief I let escape my mouth rang throughout the empty room. This was probably the latest I’ve ever stayed up whilst living in this small, run down house. After repeatedly waking up gasping for breath and trying to get some rest in my bed that was coated with cold sheets, I let my flag down and decided to stay awake; Sleep apnea will do that to you, I suppose. I unwillingly made my way toward the open bedroom door. I dragged my feet across the lonely hallway, listening to random things creek and crack in the house. I reached the doorway of the kitchen. It was pitch black, aside from the moonlight illuminating the floor from the window. It was a beautiful sight. I lazily lifted my aching arm and flipped the switch on. The fluorescent light bulbs lit up the room immediately and I slumped my way in, like a lazy turtle. I turned my head in the direction of the microwave and began to watch the flashing green numbers on the microwave clock; two thirty seven in the fucking morning.

I had been overtaken with disappointment ever since Tom called and said he’d be leaving work fairly late. But then again, it’s really no surprise. He is a hard worker. 

“I’m sorry I have to stay so damn late. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with these people but I promise, it’s just for tonight. Try to get some sleep, darling. I’ll be the first thing you see in the morning.”

I remember his words briefly. They were still fresh on my mind. Tom’s voice is like a symphony. It envelopes me like a warm, velvet robe. Goodness…I love that man. Thinking about him sent sparks through my body; I felt like I was about to explode.  I wondered where this sudden happiness all came from. Probably from someone as lovely as him staying with me and refusing to ever leave me. We’ve been engaged for a year and we planned for the wedding to be taking place this upcoming July.

We couldn’t afford any type of fancy Church ceremony because at the moment, we’re practically in the gutter. All we can afford is the house, food and basic necessities that all humans require. Hell, Tom has to borrow Harrison’s car when he goes to work. His job didn’t pay very much but Tom does all he can to provide for us. I have a crappy job working as a cashier at a local coffee shop in the area. The people I work with are barbarians. They say things behind my back as if it doesn’t hurt me. I’ve always been struggling with money ever since I was eighteen. After getting kicked out of my supposedly haunted flat, from living in my best friend’s basement, I was rescued by my knight in shining armour. We were doing well for about a year or so until Tom got laid off from his previous job. We lost all we had and we forced to find a new place to live. This tiny house was the only thing within our budget. We’re thankful we have shelter, regardless of the size and the condition of it.

The wedding is in three months, right around the corner. All we can do is have a few friends join us in our backyard as (Y/F/N) reads scriptures from the Bible, as if she were a priest. Tom is reusing good ol’ Harrison’s homecoming tux and I had to purchase an old dress from the thrift store. The dress was in decent condition and it was quite lovely. Of course not being able to buy an actual wedding ring, his grandmother gave him her wedding ring. Tom refused to take it but his grandma insisted and convinced him that she wanted him to at least have something that was extremely symbolic come from high value. She was the sweetest woman, besides Tom’s mother.

I’m ecstatic for the wedding. Even if we can’t have the wedding in Church, I’ll be happy knowing that I’m with him. I chuckled to myself, remembering how Tom spent a month’s worth of grocery money just for the engagement ring.

“I just want you to have the best of everything, even if what I’m giving you isn’t actually the best. You’re the most important person to me.”

I looked at my left hand, twisting the cheap ring to the right so it was snaked around my finger straightly and properly. A smile slowly crept on my face. I realized that even though I didn’t have much money, I still have everything else because I have Tom. My love, my soul, my whole life.

The phone rang, shaking me violently out of my thoughts. I quickly swiped the phone off the receiver, not wanting to hear the irritating, continuous ringing.

“Hello?” “Hey! Sorry love, did I wake you up? I didn’t think you would answer the phone. My heart melted as I heard Tom on the other line. It rang through my head. His low, groggy voice is delicious. “Hey,” I giggled. “No, I was already awake.” “I thought I told you to go to sleep, (Y/N). You’ve been out and about, on your feet all day, baby. You should go get some sleep, rest those dazzling eyes of yours.” My heart soared. I swear, I melted right there in the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep knowing you weren’t there beside me. I need you here, Tommy. Are you almost done?” I questioned, craving his answer. “Yeah, I’m actually on my way home right now. No need to worry,” he began. “I’m like…ten, fifteen minutes away? Something like that.” I couldn’t wait till his ass was back home. I need him like how we all need oxygen…but I felt like I needed him more. “There’s way too much fucking traffic…” Tom muttered in annoyance. I giggled slightly but then rolled my eyes. It was so cold. I wanted him here now.

“Hurry up! Ten or fifteen minutes sounds so far.” I could hear him laugh on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m almost home. I can’t wait to just hold you in my ar—” There was a sudden loud bang, immediately causing my stomach to knot. Followed by that, there was the terrible sound of tires screeching and glasses being juggled around. After a few seconds, all I could hear was static. “Tom?” I said. No answer. I suddenly heard the car alarm in the distance begin to go off. My heart plummeted. “Thomas…” I repeated. Still no answer. Tears began forming in my eyes and threatened to escape. I quickly, but forcefully brushed them away with the back of my hand. No. Nothing happened. He’s okay, he’s fine. I thought; but I knew, I knew deep down…he wasn’t okay. I was lying to myself. It was no use. My eyes flooded with tears and before I knew it, I was on my knees, screaming into the phone.

I felt my heart stop. I couldn’t breathe. Hot tears ran down my face and gathered at the tip of my chin. I could feel the warm liquid fall onto my bare legs and pyjama shorts. My nose was running, which disgusted me. I sniffled as I continued to cry loudly. My sinuses were clogged by this point, only making breathing a harder task in that moment. By now, there were some voices on the other line of the phone. I listened carefully to try and make them out. Everything was quiet for a moment.

Nothing.

But then suddenly, to my horror, I could hear a woman’s shriek. “Call 911! Someone! Oh, my god! Anyone! This man is hurt, I think he’s dead!…David, where’s my phone? Call the police! Fuck, I told you not to try to make the red light!” the woman screamed at someone who happened to be with her.

No…no…no! Tom, my Tom can’t be dead! I quickly stood up, mashed my finger on the speaker button and viciously slammed the phone down on the counter. I was desperate by this point. I needed to know for sure. “Someone answer me! Please! Hello?! Someone please tell me he’s okay!” I croaked. My throat was on fire from all the screaming. I wouldn’t be surprised if I began coughing up blood. “Tell me my Thomas is alright…please! He has to…he has to be…” I whimpered. I don’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this! We have to be together, I won’t have it any other way. Tom has been the light of my life for five years. He is my best friend, my partner in crime, my muse, my fiancé. I can’t be alone, I don’t want to be either.

“Tommy…please. My love…answer me. You h-have…” I couldn’t finished my sentence. I didn’t know what specific emotion I was portraying. Anger, sadness, love, hate… I couldn’t control myself. Without a warning, rage filled my body and I burst. I roared as hot tears shed from my tired, red eyes. I began to punch myself in the stomach and the sides of my head. “It’s your fault! It’s all your fucking fault! Dammit…you monster!” I taunted myself. My back arched so I was able to feel the hard blows of my tight fist repeatedly colliding with my stomach. I then hunched over in pain as I began coughing. I didn’t care about the physical pain I was in. I can’t lose him. I just can’t.

I hurried over to the cupboard and forcefully jerked the door open. There were a few thin glasses sitting on the bottom shelf, lined up but in a disorganized manner. I glanced at them for a nanosecond before grasping one in each hand and hurling them to the floor. They shattered instantly. The phone was still on speaker, releasing the horrible noises from the other line. “Fuck! Fuck! Tom, what the fuck did you do?! Fucking hell!” I was screaming bloody murder. I continued grabbing glasses to destroy, littering the floor with shards. I felt crazy, I was losing my mind within seconds. The sounds of sirens began to grow louder as they continued to get closer and closer to Tom’s car. I snatched more glasses and smashed them down on the counter. The bits and pieces from the cup were scattered around the phone.

“Someone help my husband! Please, I can’t lose him! Can anyone hear me? Fucking do something,  I’ll die without him!” I reached up to take hold of two more glasses but then I stopped. It was like time froze and everything became cold. It hit me. It hit me hard like a ton of bricks were being dropped on my head.  I could’ve slit my throat and died right there, in my kitchen decorated with glass shards. But I couldn’t do it. Oh…no. What is happening? I set the glasses down on the counter and took fistfuls of my hair, yanking at them hard. I began groaning like a zombie. My mouth was open wide, strings of saliva began seeping out while I continued to make ugly noises. Every single memory I shared with Tom was running rapidly through my brain. I didn’t wanna forget a single one. “Tom…baby, p-p-lease come home…please come back to me.” I weakly begged. I quickly snapped out of it, feeling a sharp pain run through my head. I snatched the phone from the counter and crouched down so I was in a squatting position. I raised the phone up so my mouth was in level with the microphone.

“Thomas S-Stanley Holland, you need to answer me right now! Please!” I begged. I was back to square one. “You can’t leave me like this! Not now or ever.  I love you so much, you’re m-my whole heart! Please, I love you! Come home to me.” I was panting. He needs to be okay. He has to be. “Tom! Tom! Please answer me! I l-love you! Answer m-me, goddammit!” I couldn’t stop choking on my words. This can’t be happening. These are the types of things that happen in PSAs or movies. This isn’t real life. Why? This shouldn’t be happening; Not to me, not to Thomas. Oh, god.

“Thomas! Please,” I gasped in desperation. “why won’t you answer me?” I heard more shuffling on the other line, the police sirens were loud and up close now. I tinge of hope ran through my body. “Mister? Mister, can you hear me?” a man on the other line said. I heard soft taps coming from what I assume was the outside of the car. “Jon!…Jonathan! Come over here and help me, we have to remove the car door quickly. He’s not responding.” the man yelled out to someone. Please, please, please. I thought. I let my mind repeat that one word for as long as it took. After some loud knocks and what seemed to be the door hinges being broken off of the car, I figured they successfully removed the door. “Jon, get Gabriel and tell him to bring the paramedics over here with a stretcher.” the man demanded. I then heard foot steps running off. Now was my chance. “Hello?! Can someone hear me? Is my husband okay? What’s going on?! Please answer me?” I shrieked, only to be ignored. “Shit fuck.” I muttered to myself. I just kept listening for something. Anything. “Here they are, Ralph!” another voice announced. There were a couple seconds of silence.

“Jon…could you fetch the coroner?” the man, Ralph asked, in a chilling tone. No…please. “Oh, god, no. Did you check for a pulse? Is h—” Jon was cut off abruptly. The following words will forever haunt me for the rest of my life; it becoming one of the most vivid memories I’d ever share with Tom.

“Yes…he’s dead.”

...sorry! ugh i didn’t want to kill him but that was the whole point of the story. GUYS, don’t ever text or talk on the phone while driving, it is extremely dangerous and can change your life for the worse in seconds (sorry for my lil psa cause you are all smart and have probably heard it a hundred times but it’s important nonetheless) tom’s alive and kicking ass in real life cause he’s invincible af sooo🌚 anyways, i hope you guys liked it! please leave me some feedback and/or let me know if you want to be on the taglist (that i am still yet to start lol)

-sara♡