#i was like laced?? weaves?? fuck me up english

[diejager]

hii!! just so you understand, I have real brainrot because of your “Only Human” series! I love it madly tenderly and with all my heart😭😭 anyway, I saw that you have requests open, but feel free to ignore if this is not the case or I indicated something incorrectly. how about our favorite monsters and hybrids 141 with a new member of the team who is a witch??

also, sorry for my english, I use google translate☠️

Hey, no worries, I understood your request!

Spell Cw: witchy stuff, death, murder, drowning, blood and injury, fluff, magic, inaccurate understanding of magic, tell me if I missed any.

He always found it mesmerising, the soothing coldness of your spell working its magic on him, gleaming like water embracing his bleeding wound, the skin ripped apart at the middle and flesh throbbing painfully. It wasn’t anything new, pain wasn’t a stranger to him, rather a friend, a brother to him. Pain was a repetitive thing in his life, wound after wound bleeding him, and scar after scar painting his skin, he’d gotten so used to it that the stripes on his face were now an integral part of his identity, pushing the facade of a tiger if he didn’t have his ears and tail out.

But with you, everything had smoothed over to a soft thrum, like the warm waves cradling his shifted body, your magic, attuned to their aches through your bond and being, worked to cure everything to ensure that the pack he grew to love and care for stayed safe. Your being was like a body of water - the ocean - a beauty of nature when calm, but a terror when enraged, storms crashing against land and causing devastation in moments of fury. You were as dangerous as you could be caring and loving —just like the sea.

“Why didn’t you come see me first?” You sighed, tone laced with amused disappointment, brows tensed but your pretty lips quipped up, “I thought I put you in control of this Horangi…”

You worked your magic on König, fingers weaving invisible threads over his bleeding forearm, pulling the strings of puppet of flesh and bone, controlling the sinuous fibre of his skin to sew itself back. Horangi watched his friend’s wound steadily close up, injury shrinking with every pull of your finger until all that was left was the lingering scent of your cool magic and the metallic odour of blood.

“König is stubborn, ” Horangi chuckled, flashing you a sly smirk despite your exasperated expression, “Big too. I can’t move him.”

“And I can?” You scoffed, finishing off your skin weaving with a soft pet on his arm, letting König admire your work like a child with a new toy even though you’d gone through the same process over and over in the past, König had a habit of collecting scars as often as he toppled his enemies.

Your magic wasn’t only used in healing, you were an adaptive soul, your comfort found itself in water, and water meant life, and life meant whatever violent fury came along with quiet calmness. And in the right situation, where Laswell sent the Task Force on a boat or by the shore, you could level the oceans at your will in anger or protection. You gave men and women a watery grave on land, drowning them in their water-made coffins to stop them from reaching your wounded comrades, glaring off at anyone who tried approaching your cover .

You had Gaz, Price and him, tending to their deeper injuries and letting them use their first aid while you kept the enemy at bay, lower lip pulled between your teeth, gnawing on the skin until it bled. Separating your attention for both healing and defence/offence demanded a lot of concentration, especially when you were sewing up Price’s deep gash on his leg, listening to his hiss and groans of pain.

“Fucking-” Horangi busied himself with wrapping the bandage and gauze over Gaz’s wound, his eyes occasionally peeking at your clenched fist that pushed out your anger through the waters you controlled, “Bastards keep coming.”

You were a puppet queen and the sea your mannequin.

“Almost done, Hunter,” Gaz hissed out when Horangi pulled too tightly on his bandage, sending you a reassuring look to calm down your raised hackle, teeth bared and eyes burning the enemies alive as much as you were depriving them of air.

This was another show of your prowess, your fingers puppeteering water, commanding it and coaxing the water’s will to follow your call, heeding your every whim. It was a majestically show, as tragic as it was beautiful, much like the cleansing of the world when the oceans flooded Earth, leaving but Noah and his wife, and couple of animals to remake the land. You were remaking the land you fought on in an imagine, to make it safer and protect them —it would tire you out for the day, Horangi will ready to help you with anything wile you doze on and off.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah

[petriichors]

yoonseok + royal!au as requested by @in-theory​.

there’s a certain charm in the way hoseok calls him by his title; it’s the way hoseok encompasses everything he feels for yoongi (reverence, happiness, love) in just two words. 

“my prince.”

yoongi tugs him closer by their interlocked fingers, “husband.”

SEND A SHIP + PROMPT FOR A THREE SENTENCE FIC!

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by.  What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths.  You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee.  Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound.  Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great.  “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well.  “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin.  What could you possibly say about that?  Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it.  “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly.  A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm.  “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear.  Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.  

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill.  “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers.  You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs.  Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat).  He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look.  “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled.  “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee.  Do you want some?  Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.”  Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder.  He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up.  When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped.  You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs.  He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on?  Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid.  Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here.  I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back.  “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed.  “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know!  He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed.  You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem?  Strangeness?  Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you.  Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.  

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry.  “Jesus, Michael!  Are you hearing yourself?  This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders!  Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected.  “It was never just sex.  I love her.  But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing.  It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all.  “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first.  He had always had a bit of a temper.  “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now?  And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not.  You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly.  Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.  

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael.  “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back.  “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with.  “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you.  “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest.  It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense.  After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen.  I'm not leaving with you.  I'm not forgiving you.  Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came.  None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled.  "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently.  "I came here to tell you that I love you.  I need you.  And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.  

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it.  We'll get through this.  Isn't that what marriage is?  Fighting for each other, struggling together?"  He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw.  "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you.  But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that.  "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do." 

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber.  "I want to stay and work this out," he explained.  "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there.  But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me.  You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb.  To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back.  But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.  

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor.  Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before.  Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.  

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head.  "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure.  I'm moving on.  Take it back," you demanded.  He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band.  "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away.  "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed.  "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him.  You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms.  “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest.  "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again?  Would you go to his?  Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room.  He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure.  And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 002

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all~ Down the rabbit hole. TW: Teenagers can be the worst. Bullying. Fatphobia. Slut shaming. Cruel boys being cruel boys.

Chapter 2: A Million Dead Stars

   All Evie had to do was wait patiently. For Heather to pop out back and for Billy to swoop in and make his bold move.

   The goofy grin Heather walked back in with did not disappoint. Not at all.

   “Hey, you.” Curls bounced when Evie cocked her head and Heather plopped down with a drink. They tapped red plastic cups.

   “So, I just had an...amazing conversation.”

   “Yeah...?" Evie sang softer. "Pray tell."

   “Just...wow. Billy Hargrove. Him too, huh?”

   “We knew it would happen. He was being way too cool around us at lunch when the guy has been nothing but shitty toward me since moving here. He gave me a ride home, it was obvious. And so…?”

   “Where to start?” Heather put her arm up on the couch and took a long drink, laughing. Pretty in pink girl. “First he brought up Jane Austen. Said they were studying it in English which was a total bluff.”

   “We’re not.” Evie confirmed. “He’s in my second period.”

   "You gave up choir for that specific period with Bowers." Heather recalled more so to herself.

   "No, I just," Evie scrambled, "I just didn't want to do choir anymore. The teacher played favorites. Got sick of it."

   Another longer drink and she went on.

   "So, continue..."

   “He brought up Pride and Prejudice. Which, okay, but Emma is way better.”

   “You’re wrong, but I still love you.” Evie curled up to face her friend. Heather laughed and took her hand, leaned her head on the couch to gather herself in a fit of giggles. 

   “He said Mr. Dancy.”

   “No?” Evie died there. "And I hoped he might learn something."

   “Yes!” Heather smacked at her. Music pumped behind them. Teens roaming and making a mess of the nice mansion. "I felt bad because...I snorted about it. In his face."

   “You know, I’ll give Billy a point. Go on.”

   “Museums. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, I love you...but I’d soon jump into a pit of alligators before going to a museum for a date. Bowling or mini golf please.” Heather was chuckling. “Ballpark hot dogs are way better than cheeseburgers. Popcorn over cheese fries and a damn milkshake? Slushies or nothing. I’m lactose intolerant. He was trying to bore me to death or poison me, Eve.”

   Evie broke to laugh again, barely able to speak.

   “I know! That’s why I suggested all of that.”

   “You bitch.” Heather was giggling still into her shoulder. Hands clasped. They broke to drink. “Oh! And campy action adventure movies or rom-coms only for Heather Holloway. I don’t get why you even go for horror, you wouldn’t hurt a fly and you squirm.”

   “He bombed.” Evie covered her eyes, wiped a tear aside. “I almost pity him.”

   “What’s funny is you like all that stuff. I’m not sure if he was faking it well, but he seemed kinda into most of it.”

   “I’ve been running out of ideas when your followers scramble. Sue me, Heath.” Evie pushed up. “I definitely need another drink.”

   “Fine, fine. Hey,” Heather laced their pinkies together, “teen boys are the worst. Thanks for bouncing another off me. Billy’s cute and all, but hell, I have too much on my plate for a boy right now.”

   “Got that right.” Evie weaved between dancing crowds to the punch bowl. Passed some guy puking into a vase and another group cheering on an arm wrestling match. Spooned herself a full cup. Was mid gulp when she turned to a pair of scathing blue eyes. Oh, Billy.

   “You fucking-”

   “I’m going to stop you right there, Hargrove, and walk that a-way.” She gulped again and passed him.

   “You think that shit’s funny?” Billy had a fistful of her jacket collar. Snarling like a mad dog. "She laughed at me."

   The humiliation of it seemed to make Billy the angriest.

   Evie felt that resonate bitterly because he sounded wounded and oblivious to what life threw her way.

   “Funny? Only after the first ten boys.” She shrugged. “Now it’s just sad. I’m not stupid.”

   “I’d say jerking me around is pretty stupid.” Billy was clearly smashed. Smelling of beer and weed. Eyes red to hell. “Maybe you’re so fucking single and miserable, you make sure your friend stays that way too, huh.”

   Billy knew a nerve was plucked at that by the way she stilled to go colder. Brown eyes molten at him.

   “You don’t know me. You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I think we both know which one of us is miserable. Go show off for the school all you want, you don't fool everyone with those pretty blue eyes.” Evie shoved off him. Wondered if she caught that same frayed nerve.

   "Hey, we got a problem here?" A Hawkins football player towered. Couple of his buddies from other schools that weren't Ridgemont made a barricade between Billy and Evie.

   "I'm talking to Fenny, dickweed. You mind?" Billy spat. Evie huffed and rolled her eyes.

   "You're talking to the girl who kicked Brock Tannen's ass. Show some respect." Another meathead joined in. Evie hid amusement because this was an odd change over the year.

   "Guys, stand down, you really don't have to do this for me." It was...weird. Frankly, Billy looked like he was about to take on all of them.

   The boy in front gave Billy's shoulder a comical brush and they went off like a herd of happy buffalo.

   "The fuck, are you teen royalty somehow?" Hargrove made a face at her tired expression.

   "No, just some lucky idol they keep around. I still get stepped on in the hallway and I pass everyone's love notes for them." Evie sipped. "I don't care that you like Heather, I care that you pretended to be something close to kind with me to get at her."

   "Don't worry, I'm not interesting in being kind to you again." It came out nastier than he meant it too. Alcohol did that to his old man as well. Disgust welled and Billy had nowhere to put it so it flowed out. "No one here gives a shit about what you have to say, Fenny. Don't count on them trying either just because you're some freak they keep around for one sick story. They're all gonna laugh at you."

   Evie blinked a few times. Saw Billy's shoulders sink while they stared into each other, both searching long and hard. Finished her drink in one swig and tossed the cup at his shoes.

   “You fucking insecure asshole, check a mirror in five years and let me know if you like what you see. Not like you even do now, I bet, so enjoy denial. And stay away from me, Hargrove.” She went down the hallway beyond a spiral staircase and almost ran into a huge chest. As if this night couldn't get any worse.

   Fuck.

   Brock Tannen. Poster boy of rich asshole quarterback from their main rival school. Chestnut hair and chiseled good looks covered evil.

   “Fat Fenny. Oh, sorry. Old habit. Evie. Missed you around these parts.” He nursed a can of beer and leaned into the wall. “Go psycho on anyone lately?”

   “The year isn’t over.” She moved to pass him.

   “Look.” He jolted in front of her. “Admittedly, I was a real shithead. I know that now. My folks even got someone for me to talk to. I'm working through all my shit. But, I was an ass to you.”

   “We knew this.” Evie tried to go the other way, but his shoulder blocked her. She caught sight of his chain. A silver playboy bunny charm he loved to show off.

   “Listen, the year is almost up. I want you to know I don’t hold it against you. You went through some shit at home too. Truce?” No response. A beat before his chin lifted. “You never went crying to your slut mother about me. My dad said she sucks the mailman off.”

   "Don't say shit about my mother." Evie was on her toes. Hands clenching.

   "Didn't cry to daddy either, oh...my bad. You can't." Brock's laughter rang sirens around her head. He was begging her to go off again. "Why didn't you tell mommy about me? We almost had fun."

   “You didn’t get far with me if that’s what you mean, you think I’d give you my tears? Just embarrassed that you bat at fat chicks and get turned down. Eat shit, Tannen.” She got around him, staggered away.

   “Maybe I’ll convince you. I just want to be friends. It’s going to be a new year soon.” His voice lingered along the hallways. "Just messing with you cause I like you is all." More chuckles followed.

   Guys like Tannen secretly wanted her. Unobtainable and strange girls who didn’t conform to stupid high school stereotypes, it really pissed people off. Exotic, which was truly the worst word. Evie was easy to fetishize. 

   Billy got over Heather because Evie passed him moments later with his tongue down some Ridgemont girl’s throat.

   The boy was all mouth and hands. Sucked face like a fucking giant squid attacking a ship at sea.

   "Ick. Fucking Cthulhu." She got away from that, drank more to forget.

   Heather pulled her friend into the dancing. Lights blasting all directions. Music pulsed. Couple more drinks and they were stumbling to Heather’s place. Sneaking up the stairs to fall into a queen sized bed.

   “Can’t believe we didn’t wake my parents.” Heather rolled to her front, smudged the pillow with makeup. Evie was on her side snickering. “Hey, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

   “Nothing is wrong.” Brown eyes blinked. Heather nuzzled her pillow and breathed even, searching.

   “You changed last year. After, what happened at home… I know you miss your dad.” Delicate fingertips ran over Evie's arm. Slipped away.

   “He left.”

   Evie remembered coming home from school. He was just gone. Clothes and all. Mona crying at the table. Pictures down. Like he never existed.

   And her mother never really explained why. Just said they had problems and her dad wanted to be with someone else. He never called. Mona cried that day and hasn’t cried since. Evie couldn’t even remember the last thing she said to him. 

   People vanish. They have that power.

   “After...what happened with Tannen. You got all distant with me. I just worry about you a lot.” Heather’s fingers curled into Evie’s sleeve. “Kids are cruel, I don’t understand why. Why they're so mean...”

   “Some people don’t know where to put it when they hate themselves.”

   “I don't think I hate myself. Sometimes I hate that myself isn't enough, you know? Enough to please my parents all the time and enough to help other people out."

   "You're more than enough for me, Heather." Evie heard a sniffle.

   "D-Do you hate yourself?” An airy tone slurred.

   “I don’t know.” Evie sighed. “I’m fine, Heath, I’m happy. I dealt with it.”

   “Happy or pretending to be?” Heather mused, pulling at her hair scrunchie to relieve brown locks. “I just don’t see you a lot, like you’re always with someone else. You never wanted to hang out over the summer.”

   “I’m just busy with stuff, it’s nothing.” Evie peered at the walls plastered in their friendship. Felt every smiling version of herself in those old photographs wince at her lies. Stars exploding in total silence.

   “You’re going to leave Hawkins and sing your songs for people on a stage. You’re going to be world famous and I’ll get to point and say, that’s my best friend.” Heather grinned. “Keep breaking that shell. I can help you.”

   “I’ll try.” Evie scoffed. “You’re so drunk.”

   “I am…” Heather hummed. “Just talk to me, okay? I want you to be so happy again. Like we used to be when we’d go to the park. Play on swing sets.”

   “I won’t shut you out.” She replied as Heather settled, started to snore. “Goodnight, Heath.”

   “M’night.”

** ** **

   Billy was still raging into that night. Stumbled out of a bedroom pulling his tee back on, rooting around for his jacket. Most kids were starting to pass out on floors and couches.

   “Hey, this belong to you?” Brock plucked up leather so Billy snatched it. “Good to see you, Hargrove. You know, they say Hawkins would have finished out the basketball season with the title if you stayed on the team.”

   “They played favorites. Got sick of it.” Billy passed him, lightning a cigarette.

   “Come outside, sit with the guys.” Brock cocked his head, square jaw setting when he smiled.

   “Hey, B.” Tommy was stoned out of his mind. Looked at Billy like he was trying to find him in a haystack. Not with Carol so they must have had some fight. 

   Billy eyed the clear covered pool. Lights played up to touch his face before he plopped into a metal chair. Boys from Hawkins and other schools gathered around a glass table, drinking and shooting the shit. A joint was passed. Mostly rich, sporty types.

   “Hargrove. Hear you’re the Hawkins Keg King. What the hell happened with Harrington?” Brock faked interest, hands clasped.

   “Crashed and burned, man.” Tommy chortled, smacking Billy’s arm.

   “Who?” Just play dumb.

   “Don’t play coy, man, we all know you beat the shit out of him. Knocked the pretty boy down a few pegs.” Brock only grinned there. “So, you’re in the circle now.”

   “Oooh, do I get a medal?” Billy flicked his smoke aside and swiped Tommy’s beer to drink.

   “I like this guy, Hagan.” 

   “We can trust him.” Tommy winked, sitting back.

   “You’re not going to hunt me for sport, are you?” Billy inhaled sharper, unworried. Laughter erupted.

   “It’s funny you say that,” Brock took the floor, “because we are going to let you in on the deepest secret between the high schools. Something that brings all the boys together. Hawkins. Ridgemont. Hill Valley. Bates. We have this little tradition we do between Homecoming and Prom.”

   “Skirt Safari.” Brock’s right hand man chuckled, sucking the joint down. Few boys echoed it with laughter.

   “The hell is that?” Billy drank, shaking his hair out.

   “Some of us guys throw this big dance party. Rent out a nice place in town, pour some good money into a pool.” Brock shrugged. “You take a girl and we vote.”

   “Vote?” Billy puffed. More cruel smiles.

   “Yeah, on which girl is the ugliest beast.” Hyena cackling followed. Billy just stared with his brow raised.

   “Ah...What the fuck is this? Are you joking?”

   “Open season, man.” Another boy chimed in.

   “Walk with me, Hargrove, you have something special about you.” Brock got up, swiped the joint to finish it. Billy looked irritated and followed. Fresh air cleared his head. Behind them, teens chattered. “I think you’ll fit right in here. You live on Cherry Lane, right?”

   “What’s it to you?” Billy chucked the beer aside.

   “Next to that Fenny girl. Kinda cute in her new little outfits if you like something extra to grab onto.” Brock shrugged. Turned from Billy to eye the sky clearing up.

   “Didn’t she beat your ass last year?” A sly grin crossed.

   “Ah, you heard. Rumors have been exaggerated. Just like you and Harrington I’m sure. Getting booted from the team over a tiff.”

   “I left on my own, fuck them.”

   “Fenny had a thing for me and I said no because I was with someone, so she got emotional. Girls are like that. They get attached and upset when we don't give them what they need.” Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She’s untouched, you know, so I heard. Flaunting her shit now and not letting us grab the goods. Asking for it man, but too afraid to follow through. I hate that teasing shit. They say the bookworms are wild in the sack. Bet you that musical girl can sing too.”

   “You obsessed with her now and her little outfits?” That earned Billy a brief heated expression. The boy was more observant than he was given credit for.

   “I just wanted to raise a challenge for you. Get Fenny to go to Skirt Safari as your date. New Years Eve, we’ll give you the address. Kiss her before the clock strikes twelve. She won’t earn you the win, but I’ll bet you money that you can’t get the famous ice queen to go.”

   “Man, this is so fucking stupid.” Billy clearly didn’t fit with this crowd of uppity shits. Heels spun to go.

   “Is three hundred dollars stupid?” Brock watched Billy skid. Blue eyes shifting to see him again. “Ah, I have your attention.”

   “Cash?” Billy could use it. Three hundred would go far for him. Brock Tannen knew that immediately about him.

   “I can show it to you if you like.” Brock displayed his teeth, almost glowing and sharp. “Show us that Hargrove charm and break the unbreakable. If you're the Keg King. Prove it. Let us see you in action.”

   “I take her to the shitty party and you give me three hundred bucks?" Billy asked carefully, eyes darting. "She doesn't have to find out about this vote shit you guys do?”

   “No, not a word from us. I'll even pay your end of the pool as a token. Just an innocent kiss before the ball drops. You don't have to screw her, unless she's your thing. Easy enough?” Brock held out his hand. Billy eyed the campy bunny chain around Tannen’s neck, huffed out his nose.

   Took the offer with a hard expression.

   “Deal.”

** ** **

   Evie rubbed her eyes the next morning and said bye to Heather, raking fingers through curls as she was dropped off. Jacket pulled close while she fumbled for keys and Heather drove off.

   Not even a second after, a blue Camaro was pulling up next door. 

   It was annoying how great Billy looked even with a hangover after a hard night of partying. He stunk of beer and smoke and his hair was ratted, but glowy as always. Evie groaned when he spotted her and got the key in the door.

   “Hey, Evie.” Was that her name he just used? “Hey, wait up.” Boots clicked to hurry toward her house. A stronger hand yanked the front door closed and Billy held his ground there. "Wait a second, I'm trying to talk to you."

   “Aren’t we both too hungover for this?” Already on the defensive. Makeup smeared around her eyes. She turned, applying some chapstick and sighed out. "What?"

   “Look.” Billy pushed his hands into his back pockets, eyes flicking away and back. “It was a dick move. The whole Heather thing.”

   “Yeah.” She waited for him to go on.

   “And I’m…” Sorry? “It was shitty.” He craned down toward her. "The stuff I said, I was fucking wasted."

   "And you're..." She tried to spell the word out with her eyes. Billy blinked innocently.

   "An asshole."

   Evie flattened.

   "Yes, but not what I was...ah, look, it doesn't matter. I was drunk and I jabbed too. And I am...sorry." A shrug before she tried the door again.

   Billy pulled it shut once more like this was a game, earning a sigh of irritation.

   "I'm still talking at you. I was...I am...a shithead." He couldn't wrap his squid tongue around a fucking apology. Christ.

   Evie looked expectantly, leaning in as if more should come.

   Billy sucked at this so he decided to jump right in.

   “I wanted to make it up to you. There’s this dance up in the city. Real bar. Real drinks. New Years Eve bash. Go with me.” It sounded like an order.

   “Go with you?” She blinked in shock. Grew pointed. “Ah, no, Billy.” Evie got her front door open again and pushed by him. Wondered if he was used to rejection in any form. So, she pushed pride aside. “But, Heather thinks you’re cute okay. Just ask her. It’s fine.”

   She got around the door and hid half behind it. Billy’s hand went flat to stop it from shutting.

   “I don’t want to ask Heather, I’m asking you.” He shrugged with big eyes. Bet ladies fell for it. Evie searched him, beyond confused. She hated confusion. It was too much. “You’re single, it’s this or some lame ass high school party.”

   He noted she opened her mouth and decided not to protest the single part. The hesitation was odd.

   "I...I happen to like lame ass high school parties." She stammered out.

   "Oh, sure." He winked.

   "Y-Yeah, I just love them actually because kids our age are very stupid. It's better than public television."

   "Right. Right." He sounded not convinced.

   "And, you're Billy Hargrove so any girl will jump at the chance, just ask-"

   “I’m asking you, Angel. Deal with it.” He lowered his tone and got closer. Flashed a darling smile then bit his lip. Slid that tongue over it. "Don't make me beg. You know I will."

   “You...I… Look, I’m...flattered but, I can’t. I, uh, have a thing.” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry.” The door shut.

   Billy gave this growl low in his throat. 

   “We have time, Fenny, I’m fine asking again.” His voice picked up. Silence. "All you gotta do is nod that pretty head of yours."

   Billy knew she heard it. He turned and dropped the grin when he spotted Max there on the sidewalk, skateboard in hand. Watching.

   "Are you asking Evie out?" She narrowed on him.

   "Mind your fucking business, shitbird." Billy stepped off the porch. "She's going to a party with me."

   "Sounded like she just said no to you."

   Billy swerved to get angry. Remembered a nail bat crashing between his legs. Shut his mouth.

   "Whatever." A puff.

   "She's nice," Max trailed after him, "you should, you know...ask her to something if you... She's cool. Cooler than you."

   He slowed, eyebrow raising.

   "Doesn't matter."

   "It's Saturday." Max explained, red hair catching the sunlight to flame up.

   "I know what day it is, Max, leave me alone." Billy was going up toward their house.

   "She probably said no because you stink so bad."

   "What the fuck?" He wheeled around again, chest puffing.

   Max smirked at him and Billy found himself matching it. Bold little shit.

   "I know what I said. And it's Saturday, that means she'll probably be helping her mom at that salon later. You should shower and show up. Girls like spontaneous stuff, it's thoughtful and you suck at that."

   Billy scrunched at her.

   "Since when do you care about...?"

   "About what?" She shuffled there on the grass. Peered at Neil's car in the driveway. "We're family now whether we like it or not. Which means I'm stuck looking out for you. Right, Billy?" Max dropped her skateboard, popping it up with one foot. "I like Evie and I don't want my brother being a jerk to her. Or anyone."

   Billy scoffed, near amused.

   "Right." He grumbled. Went up and paused to turn once more. "Max."

   "Yeah?" She readied to ride off.

   "Watch the board around my damn car, will you?" Billy heard her snort. "I got shit to do now, stay out of the way."

   "Take a shower and show up. Try asking instead of telling. See what happens." Max rode off with a clatter of wheels on concrete. He only shook his head again. Smiled to himself without thinking before he went in.

   Billy decided to take the advise on all accounts. She'd go with him.

   Certainty crept the more he looked at himself in the mirror and applied his aftershave. Maybe he forced the feeling so often, it was second nature. Fuck, looking at his reflection was never this difficult. Evie's words rang harder this morning.

   He didn't blame her for once.

   All these false fronts Billy showed the world. Old photographs flashing like a million dead stars. That was all we ever saw of them. Somewhere else, Evie heard those same stars dying too. Decayed and twinkling too pretty even still. It sounded almost like a cruel fate.

   A tongue swept over his lips before he tried something new. Eyes averting to speak quietly like someone might hear. Fingers twisting the silver ring about his middle finger.

   "Sorry."

   He resumed fixing his curls. Polished up that Hargrove charm until it shined bright.

   What Evangeline Fenny didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her, Billy reasoned.

   Right?

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, chat with me if you have time! Tried to push another chp out quick. Imma pass out now XOXO TAGGED: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​  

[404fmdhaon]

self para — first time meeting

summary: he meets yeseul inside a club, too young to know better. too innocent to see anything else. dated: 2008, mapo-gu. (yes i will never stop writing about this npc bc she is my favorite npc) warnings: none (ig alcohol tw? but none of the listed triggers on the trigger page!) wc: 1045

fifteen. 

and he’s lucky the contours of his face haven’t deepened since age eight. baby faced, it’s what the bouncer does in a double glance and narrowed eyes — a check back into the fake id. the bouncer flashes him a smile, a mutual agreement in the last week they’d down the shots sweet of soju. gyujeong dips his head, fingers run through his hair.

a call back over for his friends already behind the bar. they’ve got his favorites poured and ready — jagerbombs, loaded and he downs one quickly. and maybe it’s the warmth simmering underneath his skin and the thrums of the beat blasted through the speakers. he’s alive, more than he has been when he’s thrown out the repercussions of a staged life. a house sitting somewhere in yongsan gone and out of mind, and a heart that breathes the beginnings of right now.

he slips to the back, palms slapped against those of old faces and new. he laughs, a rattle of the typical “you looked so fucked up right now”, and then, he laughs again. 

yet, his eyes wander to a new face. coy smiles, a dimple pressed when her mouth breaches across her face shattering the illusion of beauty. her hair in coal black wave, one not meant for salons nor the press of some styling — it’s natural, just like her laughter.

“who invited this fucker.” it’s english, the way her voice tapers down into a husky laugh. there’s a glass weaved in her hand, filled with a sapphire-stained drink (he knows, it’s bombay. he learns, that’s her favorite when she’s on the hunt to kill).

gyujeong mirrors the contagion thats embeded in her laughter (she smirks right back — dead-on eye-contact lingering long), lets the facade of some sort of sanity keep his peace. tongue in cheek, he dips his head. “you’re a bitch — not even that pretty, you know that?” it’s a return in english when he reaches for her drink, lips pressed to the rim inside a smoldering smirk.

“you think i’m pretty.” her hands snatch it right back, yanking it out of his hand for only the remnants of droplets to flood onto a shirt worth more than the dj’s monthly pay.

he shakes his head, slowly then all at once. his eyes never move past the way she forebodes danger like he’s entrapped in a pre-destined fate upon first glance. “no.” 

tantalization at its finest — he moves, takes the vacant seat next to her. spine feigning a sort of relaxed the way he curves uneasy into the seat, and a gaze that pins her straight-on. she doesn’t fidget — instead, she laughs again (this becomes the soundtrack to his greatest downfall).

“you don’t fool me. not at all when you’re wearing hedi’s first season in dior homme.” 

he nods again — a match, he’s met. lost, felt himself reaping in the riptide of her destruction. “and you don’t fool me when you say hedi slimane, rich bitch.” 

what he assumes is a claw back in a cuff against his face, but when the same simpering curve of her ruby stained lips come across her face, he knows — he’s stepped foot into no man’s land, and now, there’s no way out. 

“lim yeseul, year 1994. rich bitch in hannam hiding away inside some club next to sangsu station — and let me guess, you’re 1994 same rich bitch in hannam hiding next to me?” she puts her hand out, and he sits there completely still. at loss, a mouth agape with uncertainty tainting the words he doesn’t know what to say. 

instead, he nods. once more, slipping back into the drink inside her other hand. it’s the first instance of skin on skin contact, and her skin’s soft. warmed from the rouge layer painted over her face, focused on her nose. “you’re underaged.” it’s a blurt, an aftermath slipping past with no hesitation (drunkenness is a curse, and she’s holding it down better than he knows he ever could).

“you don’t fool me.” she whispers, a repetition hitting like dejavu of minutes prior. “tell me your name, 1994 rich bitch from hannam.”

“haon.”

“i said, tell me your name.”

“chung gyujeong.” he recedes, downing the last droplets of her drink. his gaze wavers steady, picking apart the thick brows and the face wrapped in mystery. intoxicated, it’s her he’s drunk off of. 

“when’s your birthday?”

“april 22.”

“call me noona, i’m april 13.”

—

it’s five in the morning — the sun steadily coming up to the horizon. his vision blurred, yet it doesn’t take more than the same anchored laugh to paint each divot inside her features and the robustness of her voice to cover him whole in visions of her mangled hair and roguish grins when she’s quizzing him on the theories of kafka and the magnetic attraction of rosenberg (in hindsight, he knows nothing, mind blank when her fingertips graze the surface of his hand in an accidental mishap guised purposeful).

his feet teeter on the edge of the sidewalk, balancing back and forth with a cigarette tipped between his mouth — for a minute, he stares. tilts his head when he sees her head high up in the clouds, eyes closed (the first time he sees her as human).

teeth pressed onto his bottom lip, his heart beat drums woven into the what-ifs of throbbing insecurities. he takes a step closer.

“야 임예슬 (yah, lim yeseul).” he calls out, voice faltering at the push of the first step. “번호 좀 줘. (give me your number).”

her footsteps come in worn out converses stepped across the concrete, fingers in the air hailing for the next exhausted taxi driver. “같이 타자, 돈은 네가 내고, 아저씨 고생하니까 잔돈 까지 챙겨줘라." (let’s take this together, you pay. since the taxi ajusshi is working hard, don’t forget to tip). and she steps in, fingers laced around his wrist yanking him to follow. he complies, and he turns to her before the next words become muffled with a simple scrape across his lips — burning, scathing. all encompassing, electrifying. 

(he gets her number when they’re drunk in staggered steps inside the home of their neighborhood -- her arms out, his trailing behind.)

[randaccidents]

Revelations

In simple terms: Sara’s answer a few days back about the Vex helped me resolve that small problem with the Vex that I had. I always thought I was writing them being overly antagonistic, but I just couldn’t pin down the reason.

Now, I know that the Vex are just two English majors in a trench coat who have fae magic. :3

That's just what happens when your entity isn’t aware of the power difference between it and humans.

So, a nicer Vex fic for once. Cause I really need to clear this up and I also hate two-dimensional characters. The struggles of only revealing a character’s intentions late into the story ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Shadow People AU by the glorious @mine-sara-sp

TW: PTSD, discussion of trauma (to clarify, I have no experience with any of this, so I am deeply sorry if anyone thinks I did it wrong)

When entities don’t know their own power and fuck up.

-----

"What's your game?"

You feel multiple sets of eyes turn to look at you questioningly, uncertain of the meaning behind your question. You keep your eyes closed, hands focused on weaving the water under your skin into flames above your hand, a daunting task that you knew would send you into a panic if you opened your eyes. Too many bad memories attached.

Game? We are playing no such game with you.

You shrug, feeling the threads of control slip through your fingers at the distraction. Blue fire was never your strong suit, what with your… problems with it. You arched your fingers, pretending to hold a fire charge as you answer the entity. “You’ve been nicer than normal lately, even if I have become an Anchor. Way too nice in my opinion. So, what are you playing at?”

You hear bell-like flutters echo through the room, the sensation of eyes looking at and away from you at all angles. As we have said, we are playing no such game. The reply was short, curt, and told you nothing. You funnel your frustration into the fire you hold in your hands, letting it flare upwards in a burst of heat and, hopefully, light. You wouldn’t know, your eyes are still closed. “Then why are you suddenly being so nice? I haven’t heard you use any of your vocal tricks in ages.”

The overlaying voices that responded held a note of hurt in them, although it felt overlaid by a layer of lies. Fake. Is it not allowed to be nice to others?

You do not fall for it. “That’s not the reason why you’re doing this. Stop avoiding the question and tell me the truth already.” A devious memory came to mind, a trick that you had seen work time and time again. “Or are you too chicken?”

Rattling bells and breaking glass echoed angrily through the room, sending your mind reeling for a second through worse times. You snap back to the weight of a small body landing on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, closing your fist over the wisp of fire left after that breakdown. You breathe out. “So are you going to tell me the truth or not?”

There was a light jingling noise, different sets of eyes locking onto you. You take another steadying breath. Fine. The Convex had a small talk with us, and we understand that our treatment of you previously was too harsh for your mortal mind. This is our apology. Are you satisfied?

You turn this information over in your head. The realisation of what is truly happening shocks you into opening your eyes, turning to look at the vex mob on your shoulder in amazement. “Did Cub and Scar scold you? And you listened?”

The vex mob hiked up its wings in agitation, windchimes accompanying each movement. They did not scold. They advised. We are not very well acquainted with the fragility of mortal bodies and minds, for your information.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. They sounded so petulant, almost childlike, and you forgot the danger they could pose. You could hear intertwined sighs weaving between your laughs. Are you quite done laughing?

You mimic wiping a tear from your eye as you calm down. “Alright alright, I’m calm now. So from what I gather, this is an apology. Are you saying that that’s not how you normally get d-” The word caught in your throat, choking you slightly. You quickly shift gears into a different turn of phrase. “-is that not normally how you operate?”

You watch as two more of the vex mobs float down from the bookshelves around to settle on the table before you, waiting, almost anticipating your incoming questions. You feel the weight on your shoulder lift, the vex mob floating to settle on the handle of the pickaxe still wedged in the table, falling into sync with its companions. The voice of the Vex wove through the air, interlaced tightly with bells and seashells. No, it is not. That is how we treat challenges to our authority.

That was not the answer you expected. “What?” you whisper confusedly.

Windchimes clashed with bells. Both you and your shadow challenged us in our own dimension and got out with more than we would have given. Amongst entities, that is a challenge, and we treated it as such. That is our norm. We moderated it from time to time when the Convex grew worried for you, but otherwise you were faced with our response to your challenge. It’s why we were so surprised when you agreed to make a deal with us.

You couldn’t hold back the flinch at the word you hadn’t been able to say earlier, sudden shivers running up and down your spine. The Vex seemed to notice your discomfort, the mobs breaking out of sync and looking in different directions, only one pair of eyes still staring at you. They almost looked ashamed. The bells and windchimes died down to a faint ting-ling. Recently, we were informed by Convex that what we did was too extreme for mortals, and that we have broken you inside. Thus, we are trying to make amends.

You lean back in your chair. You don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry. Did they really think that a simple apology was enough to make up for a seasons worth of trauma? You decide on biting anger instead. “Do you really think I would forgive you that easily, after all you’ve done over such a long period of time? I still don’t know the full extent of what you’ve damaged!” You can feel tendrils of bitterness rise up from your gut, lacing their vines through your next words. “I’ll never be the same again, and neither will Paladin, and it’s all your fault.”

That is why we are trying to make ame-

You know what they are trying to say. They are not getting the point. You slam your hand on the table, standing up in a sudden fit of rage. “THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS!” you roar.

The room falls deathly silent, even the background ambience of bells and vex wings silenced in the moment.

… it sets you on edge, how unnaturally quiet the room was. It felt like anticipation, like something big was about to happen, and it felt too close to past encounters in the same space. You start pacing, focusing on the steady beat of footsteps in the room. The singular gaze of the Vex follows you. It makes you walk faster, perturbed.

Then explain to us how it works. The sentence was said calmly, clearly, barely a hint of chiming to obstruct the multilayered voice of the Vex. It made you seethe in anger. You open your mouth to-

To what? Explain the meaning of trauma and how it works? You don’t even know the extent of your own. You close your eyes and mouth and ears to the world, taking a deep breath, pulling yourself into that space without emotions that let you think clearly.

How were you supposed to explain the problem? Simple, you had to explain trauma. Except it wasn’t that simple. You think about Shadoc and how he bottled his trauma until it exploded. You think to Paladin and their new instinct to freeze and break. You think to Grian, hiding his until a war sprung up around it. You think to the shadows, to the many different reactions they had to being ‘abandoned’ from anger and malice to clingy fear. You think, and you speak.

“I can’t explain it. It’s different for everyone and there is no true explanation.”

You feel more than hear the smashing gong that hums through the floor, vibrating up your body. Then explain how we are to help you. We aren’t interested in anyone else right now, only you.

You breathe, in, out. You speak slowly, thinking through every line as it drops from your mouth. Your eyes remain closed. You are certain that if you faced them, you would explode. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you did. You hurt my family.” You feel the rage trying to steal your tongue from you. Breathe, in, out. Continue. “But you can start by being better. Learn the limits of what you can and cannot do to people. We aren’t like you, and it would be good for you to start learning that. A spoken apology would be nice too.”

You let the ringing debate and answer wash over you. It sounds affirmative. Of course. We apologise. What do you want to do now?

You think. You open your eyes. “I think I want to try fire magic. This time, eyes opened.”

[longassr1de]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem!reader Genre: Smut Word count: 3,165

Summary: In which your smart mouth drives Jaehyun so mad, he can’t even wait to get home.

Warnings: Car sex, bratty reader, dom!Jaehyun tbh, oral, dirty talk/slight degradation if you squint, spanking, orgasm denial, etc. Look, this is just pure, filthy smut. I have no excuses for myself anymore.

A/N: The English version of Highway to Heaven is officially out and I have been losing my mind all damn day thanks to the lyrics. They did give me all sorts of ideas, and seeing as I haven’t written for Jaehyun yet, I decided to dedicate this one to his horny ass. (Loosely based off Taeyong’s infamous “Baby you a bad girl, watch yo mouth” line.)

What has begun as a simple game of cat-and-mouse had turned into so much more, thanks to your smart mouth.

You were out with your boyfriend Jaehyun and his friends, who had all gathered at a local nightclub to celebrate the birthday of their other dear friend, Taeyong. Most brought their own girlfriends along, while others were hoping to score while at the club tonight. What had resulted was a mess of inebriated young adults congregating at a booth while playing truth or dare, with a twist of course. Whoever failed to complete their dare or refused to answer their question had to take a shot of some hard liquor concoction of Yuta’s that you’d rather remained a secret, if you were being honest. It smelled like death and tasted like hellfire, to put it kindly.

The problem wasn’t the drinking at all however, it was the fact that it was so late into the night already and Jaehyun had barely been sparing you a glance. He was too busy catching up with his own friends instead, as it had been awhile since they had been able to all meet up like this. Your usually sweet and attentive boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to you, and you refused to sit there and take that. Sure, you had the other girlfriends to speak with. But you hardly knew each other and only had so much to say after the game died out.

Glancing over at Jaehyun, you notice him laughing so hard at something his friend Johnny had said, but your eyes only hone in on the way his head is thrown back and the way his Adam’s apple bobs before he speaks. Given that you were tipsy at best, as well as needy after a few too many sensual songs danced pressed together on the dancefloor… you decided it was high time to exact your revenge. Keeping your eyes trained on the young men opposite your side of the booth to pretend you were engaged in the conversation, you innocently place your hand on his thigh, leading him into a false sense of security. Jaehyun finally looks over at you after feeling your hand on him, shooting a megawatt smile in your direction, dimples and all.

“Something up, baby? Do you wanna head home?” he questions before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You shook your head sideways, “I’m good, Jae, but thank you for asking.” And so, he turns his attention back to a story a boy named Mark had been telling this time, while you lean your head on his shoulder and plan your course of action.

Opting for something more subtle, you decide to slide your hand gently across his thigh in an up and down motion, repetitively doing so whilst going further up every time. You’re nearly at his crotch when he clears his throat, playing it off as having choked on the sip of the drink he was taking. Jaehyun shoots a stern glance your way, the slight twitch of his eyebrow signaling for you to stop. Oh, but how could you stop now when this was just getting fun?

Taeyong, the birthday boy himself, starts to give a little speech, albeit slurred, so thank everyone for celebrating with him as well as for the lovely gifts. He goes down a memory lane of adventures with the guys, a wild mess of everyone yelling over one another; if they were loud enough sober, imagine these ten boys gathered in a drunk clump of excitement. Only, you didn’t have to imagine that anymore. This however, is the perfect moment, and you seize the opportunity while everyone’s distracted, even Jaehyun. You laugh along to something one of the guys you recognized as Doyoung had said, playing your part as your hand rubs Jaehyun through his pants. You don’t miss the way he swallows hard at the contact, nor the way his face momentarily falters mid-sentence.

As the conversation takes yet another turn, he turns to you and practically hisses in your ear, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You told me to have fun tonight, and that’s exactly what I’m doing,” you purse your lips coyly, the picture of arrogance all but painted upon your features at having the upper hand in the situation.

“Play with fire and you might just get burned,” Jaehyun warns you as he places your hand back on his thigh, lightly gripping it before letting go. He’s more tense now, but still manages to let his mind drift back for long enough to say his farewells with three of the boys and their girlfriends who were heading home due to the time. It doesn’t stay for long as it begins to wander at the touch of your hand, palming him under the table until you’re certain he’s hard now. You avoid his scowl with a quick announcement of your intention to get one last drink for the road, and your boyfriend, ever the gentleman, says he’d like to go with you so as to keep you safe.

Once you’re both situated at the bar, he feigns his best smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You both place your orders before he speaks up again, preferring the bartender out of earshot for this conversation. “What did I tell you?” his tone is light but nearly oozing venom, akin a cupcake laced with poisoned frosting.

“But Jae, maybe I like a little fire,” you quipped, running a hand down the front of his shirt, “I mean, you are smoking hot.” You send a flirty wink his way as you graciously accept your drink, thanking the bartender as Jaehyun follows suit.

“You are so paying for this little stunt when we get home, I can’t wait for it,” he takes a sip from his glass of water, eyeing you over the rim of it with an almost predatory look.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Probably push me onto my knees and watch me suck you off, or spank me until I’m sore and crying, maybe even tie me up and blindfold me,” you don’t finish your train of thought when you feel the intense aura that is a riled-up Jaehyun, the sight of his jawline clenching feeling victorious, knowing how deeply your words affected him. His pupils are dilated, and noting how he slams enough cash to cover your drink and then some before storming back to his friends, you know you’re in for it.

Goodbyes are quicker this time around, what with everyone but a straggler or two still trying to find anyone to take home wanting nothing more than to finally get some peace after such a long night. Jaehyun grabs you by the wrist as the two of you exit, dragging you to match his pace as you make your way to the car. You were grateful now that you weren’t relying on a cab tonight, seeing as how Jaehyun barely drank; and even then, it was so many hours ago. The true reason you’re grateful is because this was all part of your plan: to piss Jaehyun off just enough to get him to fuck you in his car.

You wait until he’s unlocked the car before pushing him up against it with your body, pulling on the collar of his shirt as your lips assault his in a bruising kiss, sucking the life out of your unsuspecting boyfriend. Your hands wander down his sides and back up again as you suck small kisses down the side of his neck, popping a button or two off his shirt as you lick at his collarbone. He lets out an audible groan, hands holding your waist with a vice grip. It isn’t until a door slams in the distant while you grind your hips against his that Jaehyun remembers that you’re still in public. And, figuring you two should have some decency, he quickly ushers you into the backseat of the car, his mind too clouded by lust to wait until you’re both back home.

Once you’re both seated and the doors are locked, Jaehyun is relieved to notice how empty and dark the lot is. But even in that brief moment of realization, he can’t escape your incessant teasing.

“Come on Jae, I thought you were gonna punish me? Or are you scared of someone watching?” you run your hand across his waist as you move over to settle into his lap, only to be pushed onto the floor by his much stronger arms. He makes quick work of his shirt, followed by his belt, tugging his trousers downward so that his cock slaps at his toned abdomen.

“Can’t keep sassing me if there’s a dick in your mouth, can you princess? Now suck,” he commands, voice stern as his hands weave into your hair, guiding you right up to his crotch. You open your mouth to say something when he leaps at the chance and bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock now busying your mouth. You roll your eyes up at his glaring, deciding that maybe blowing him wouldn’t be such a bad punishment anyway. He’s certainly given you much worse ones before, like denying your orgasm to the point you ended up crying.

You barely have to move as Jaehyun ends up fucking up into your mouth, holding your head steady via your hair, sweat beading at his temple as the windows start to fog. He pulls away when his length starts to pulse, a telltale sign that he’s close to his release. Jaehyun drags you back up to sit in his lap, hastily pulling at your dress to bunch up around your torso, freeing your breasts from its confines. His gaze is nearly as rough as his hands manhandling you on all fours in the all but spacious backseat of his car. He spanks your ass so many times you lose count, just knowing that you’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow, and you’ve never been happier to have Sundays off. Neither one of you remembers to care much about all the noise you’re making, though you doubt it really would have mattered in a place like this.

Jaehyun leans forward to slide two fingers into your mouth, a silent warning that sends shivers down your spine, and he can’t help the desperate moan that escapes him when you suck his fingers the same way your mouth had taken his cock earlier. He wastes no further time, sliding a finger through your folds as he deems you certainly wet enough, rutting his hips into your ass before thrusting into your heat all at once. You yell out a muffled cry around his fingers, wobbling forth onto your elbows as you lose the strength in your arms, the air knocked right out from your lungs in one fell movement.

You’re only given that lapse in time to recover any sense of self, as Jaehyun almost immediately begins to pound into you from behind. It’s hard and fast, rather shallow as he’s still so high strung from being terribly close to his orgasm when your pretty lips were encasing his length. Looking down at where the two of you were joined, you clench around his cock, causing him to pull out and grip the tip with the hand that had just been keeping you quiet, trying not to come too quickly.

“You’re so fucking tight, you miss my cock that badly, princess?” he chastises you, getting off on the whine you let out as you sit up, looking for him. Placing your hands on the window, you wiggle your ass playfully, trying to tempt him to return between your legs. “What is it? Use your words.” Jaehyun is smug in both his words and his actions, fully aware of his control over both the situation and your release.

“P-please, your dick,” you groan, frustrated at your lack of coherent thought, licking your lips hungrily when you turn and catch sight of a fucked-out Jaehyun eyeing your body. “Just fuck me, Jaehyun, God!” you beg, uncaring of how pathetic you may have sounded or how much power you placed into his hands. All you really, really wanted was to finally be able to come tonight.

“You’re such a filthy little cockslut for me, you’re even willing to call me your god, hm?” he bites at his lip as he teases the tip of his length through your wetness, making your thighs quake as he outright laughs at your desperation. All at once, he’s gone, and you’re no longer in contact with Jaehyun; and then all at once, you’re filled to the brim, slower but deeper thrusts replacing his previous shallower ones. Your hands slip down the glass pane as he sinks balls deep into your pussy, thick and veiny as he ruts up against you.

Jaehyun pulls you back against him, your back firmly against his taut abdomen, his arms like a boa constrictor around your own as he turns your head to devour your moans. You’re entirely at his mercy in this heated moment, your arms trapped beneath his burly forearms alone. Given the context, Jaehyun’s arms could make you feel like you were in heaven or hell; and right now, you were riding the highway to heaven, milking it for all it was worth.

Your attempts to fuck yourself back onto him are futile as he holds you right where he wants you, your punishment being that your own orgasm is but an afterthought as Jaehyun chases his own relentlessly. As he mouths at your shoulder, small moans slip past his lips, and he pushes you until you’re nearly flat against the seat, a hand in your hair as his pace stutters then slows. Jaehyun is loud when he orgasms, for usually being calm and collected when he’s in charge, the angry sex must really have had him worked up. Silvery ropes of his cum line your walls, seeping out as he withdraws his softening cock, leaving you frustrated as you have yet to find your bliss. Your eyes widen as he quietly tucks himself back into his pants, reaching for his shirt and calmly redressing, as if he hadn’t just left you hanging entirely.

“J…Jaehyun, what the fuck?” your nostrils flare angrily, eyeing him in disbelief.

“I told you to watch your mouth, didn’t I baby? But you wanted to act up, so take your punishment with grace.” The bastard still has the gall to smirk at you as he pats your thigh, reminding you to fix your dress before you rejoin him in the front of the car so that you can head home.

_______________

You’re pissed beyond belief, frustrated at being denied your orgasm, and absolutely fuming at the way Jaehyun was carrying himself with such composure the whole ride home. The entire, tense, dead silent ride home. When the car halts to a stop at its designated parking spot, you reach for the door handle, fully intending to walk away from your annoying boyfriend. A quick slap to your inner thigh jolts you, both further arousing you and further angering you.

As you turn to face him, your eyebrows furrow from pleasure this time, your seething words dying in your throat as Jaehyun shoves three fingers into you, all the while calmly remaining in his seat. He quirks a single, questioning eyebrow at you as he thumbs at your clit, working you into a frenzy as you try to ride his hand the best that you can, given your odd positioning. One of your hands shoots out to grab onto his bicep, feeling every twitch of his arm as it fucks away at your pussy.

“I think I’m gonna…!” A single tear escapes your eyes, followed by another as you’re yet again denied your release, his fingers wiping your own slick against the inside of your thigh, adjusting the hem of your dress as he pushes open his door, Jaehyun opens your own door like the perfect gentleman, amused beyond belief at the childish way you scowl up at him before stomping off into your apartment. Upon arrival, the door slams behind you, and Jaehyun pulls you towards him, almost like you’re sitting in his lap as he leans against the front door.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me now, or do you have any other wiseass comments you’d like to make, princess?” Jaehyun’s gaze bores down at your form as he towers over you, even more so now that you’d removed your heels. You nod furiously, needing more than anything right now to let that coil wound so tightly deep within your belly to finally snap.

“Say the magic words then and it’s all yours.” He peppers kisses across your shoulders as his thumb runs across the swollen pout of your bottom lip.

“Please… please let me come, Jaehyun. I can’t take any more,” you mumble weakly, already shaking in his grasp as his other hand teases at your wetness. Little gasps escape you as he continues to circle your entrance, not yet taking the plunge. Just as you start to complain, a hand comes over your mouth, one of his knees parting your legs wider to allow him to finger you so easily it almost hurt but not quite. Dull pain and heightened pleasure flood your senses as Jaehyun holds you up with his thighs, your heavy breathing and loud, muffled moans indicating all that your body needed to say.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you’re finally, finally allowed your release, climbing higher and higher until you hit your peak, bending forward with a cry, coming so hard you swear you see white for a good minute. Jaehyun pats your hair as you come down from your high, kissing every inch of skin his lips can reach, praising you to high heaven for taking him and your punishment so well.

“Thank God that’s over,” you mutter weakly, limp against his chest that rumbles with laughter.

“About that…” Jaehyun insinuates, grinding the erection he’d been sporting since your last little tryst into the base of your spine. You look up at Jaehyun, neck craned uncomfortably, as you catch onto his implication, comically wide eyes giving up hope on any rest today as the sun shines brightly now through the window.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, babygirl,” he chortles as he lifts you over his shoulder, kicking his shoes off before making his way to the bedroom. His earlier words ringing all too well in your ears as he hungrily kisses you, wrists pinned tight to the mattress.

Had you bothered to watched your mouth, perhaps you would have saved yourself the road trip to hell. Oh, but how the highway to heaven was calling your name, and you had a VIP ticket. After all, the ride named Jaehyun was always so, so pleasant. And you just couldn’t pass that up.

[winterisakiller]

Get Better - Chapter Eight

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 8/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do. This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list:@tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @blacksuitofdoom @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @wolfsmom1 @just-the-hiddles @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @echantedbytwh

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER EIGHT

 “Large English Breakfast with Almond milk and a double latte macchiato.”

 Tom smiled brightly at the barista and grabbed the two steaming mugs from the counter. He weaved his way through several tables towards the back of the small café. The store front was busy enough for a Monday morning; a stream of tired and warmly attired commuters parading in and out in search of much needed caffeine. But sitting in the back of the shop, tucked away by a small working fireplace, guaranteed they would be left more or less alone.

 “Alright, one tea.” He placed the white ceramic mug in front of Ben and settled into the cushioned chair opposite, placing his own steaming mug down on the dark wood table. “And my own spot of heaven.”

 Ben chuckled, blowing gently on the steaming tea before him. “I see the caffeine addiction is still running strong.”

 “Stronger than ever.” Tom laughed, picking up his gently steaming mug and taking a careful sip. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the warmth and the rush of caffeine as the smooth and bitter drink hit his tongue. Bliss. He placed the mug down, resting his folded hands on the table. Ben stifled a yawn, rubbing his free hand over his face. Tom took the opportunity to study his friend; taking in his stooped posture, heavy-lidded eyes, and the tension in his shoulders.

 He hadn’t talked with Ben much in the past few weeks and hadn’t seen him in longer; between rehearsals and the birth of Ben and Sophie’s youngest, a boy, neither man had been much up for socializing. Tom had called the afternoon before to check in on Ben (and his newly expanded family) and had been not entirely surprised when Ben had jumped at the chance to get out of the house. “I don’t care when or where, but please take me away.” It had taken all he had not to chuckle at the desperation in Ben’s tone and plans were quickly set for a meeting at a café halfway between their two homes the following morning. “Thank you,” Ben had all but implored before the call had ended. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

 Tom picked up his mug and took another sip of his macchiato. “How are things with Sophie and the kids?”

 A tired but warm smile spread across Ben’s face. “Good…Exhausting, but good.” He took another sip of his tea, his eyes closing briefly, before placing the mug back onto the table top. “Sleep is a fond but distant memory.”

 “I can only imagine,” Tom laughed, with an understanding nod. He ran his finger up and down the side of his mug. “And how are the boys adjusting?”

 “Kit’s been a bit moody but seems to be settling in. He does however look at Sophie and me from time to time as if we’ve betrayed him in the worst way.” He chuckled softly, taking another sip of his tea. “But Hal seems fine for the most part. He’s been a bit fussy when Sophie can’t hold him but he overall seems to be handling it much better than either of us thought.”

 “And the littlest one?”

 “He’s been giving us a run for our money. Fussier than either of the other two unless he’s being held.” Ben laughed in earnest. He was drained, that much was abundantly clear, but he happy, albeit exhausted, pride that shone in Ben’s eyes spoke volumes. “So inevitably he spends most of his time in either mine or Sophie’s arms. Though he seems to be taking to the self-rocker Sophie’s mum sent up after Hal was born. Needless to say, we’re hoping it sticks for more than a week or so. I don’t think I can stand watching Hal cry because we aren’t able to hold him too.” Ben laughed again and took another sip of his tea.

 “I’m thrilled for you mate, both of you.” Tom took another sip of his macchiato. “Though,” he started again with a raise of his eyebrow, “I can readily admit I don’t begrudge you the lack of sleep.”

 Ben laughed and shook his head, pointing a finger at Tom with a knowing look. “It’ll be your time soon enough, mark my words.”

 Tom shrugged and shook his head with a soft sigh. There was no sense in trying to argue either way with Ben; he’d tried so many times and it was frankly exhausting. The best course of action, it seemed, was simply to let it be. He picked up his mug once more and took another long sip.

 After several minutes silence, Ben tapped his fingers idly on the tabletop and asked. “How is the show going?”

 Tom’s face lit at the question, a full smile spreading quickly across his features. “Bloody wonderful.”

 “Wonderful, eh?” Ben rested his elbows on the table and leaned his chin against his opened palms. “Do tell.”

 Laughing, Tom rambled through details about the play and the people he worked with. The ridiculous way Charlie had taken to try to make him laugh during a serious scene (he hadn’t cracked yet but Tom could admit it was coming) and the pranks he and Zawe had taken to pulling on both each other and, in turn, on Charlie. He talked about Cath and the way she made him laugh, shared silly anecdotes they’d discussed, talked about how she remembered how he liked his coffee after one run in at the coffee shop near the theatre. He smiled, rubbing his finger along the rim of the mug, as he remembered the way her face lit up when she laughed at a stupid joke he’d shared with her the evening before.

 In the week that had passed since their impromptu coffee meeting (he refused to let himself think of it as a date), he and Cath had taken to trading coffee runs and talking. She’d asked fondly after Bobby; it appeared the spaniel (the flirting menace) had left quite an impression and he’d found himself contemplating asking her to join them on one of their morning runs. The only thing stopping him (he told himself fiercely) had been the look of disgusted horror she’d worn when he’d mentioned running. “You’re telling me you do that for fun. Insanity. Complete and utter insanity.”

 Ben’s voice broke through the memory. He glanced across the table to find his friend shooting him a sly look. “This Cath sounds like quite the woman, to have captured your attention so singularly.”

 Tom blinked, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Ben, she’s just a friend.”

 He watched as Ben’s eyebrows rose comically. “And I’m a tea pot.”

 “And aren’t you a lovely one?”

 “Thomas, I know you. I know the way you get when you are interested in someone.” He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “And, my dear fellow, you are definitely interested in this one.” He paused for a sip of his tea. “Out of all the people you’ve worked with on this show, she is the one you’ve talked about the most.” He quirked an eyebrow once again.

 “She is a friend,” Tom insisted, pausing to take another deep sip of his coffee. “Or at least someone I could consider one, in time…”

 “And someone you find attractive.”

 Tom grunted under his breath. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

 “But you don’t deny it?” Ben countered with a grin.

 An exasperated sigh was his only reply for a long while. “Fine, yes she is attractive and I’m not blind to that. But it’s not the best idea.”

 “Why ever not?” Ben threw back. “You like her, no one is saying you’ve got to marry her this instant.” Tom narrowed his eyes. Ben simply ignored him and carried on. “I’m just saying don’t lie to yourself. You like her and from what I’ve gathered she doesn’t think you’re a complete waste of a man.”

 Tom narrowed his eyes further. Ben burst out into a deep laugh at that which only served to deepen his friend’s already scathing glare.

 “Oh poppet, fix your face. People will think we’ve had a falling out.” Tom fought the smirk that threatened to spread across his face. And lost. Ben grinned cheekily. “I’m just saying why not give it a shot? What do you have to lose?”

 “My track record with these things is…less than stellar. I don’t want to fuck things up by just jumping in. She’s a good person…She deserves better.”

 “That is utter bullshit.” Ben snapped, starling Tom with his ferocity. “Okay yes, you’ve made some spectacularly unfortunate decisions in the past but the fact that you’re pausing to think about them speaks a great deal towards just how much you’ve grown and to just how serious you are about this woman.” Ben reached out and placed a hand on Tom’s arm, squeezing it in reassurance and in understanding. “You don’t have to jump into anything. Just talk with her. Get to know her, be her friend. And see if this…If she is ultimately worth taking a risk for.” He offered Tom a warm smile. “The only thing you have to lose is this…” Ben waved his hand before him. “Fear that’s still holding you back.”

                                                          —

 Tom shook his head, pausing to tie his laces, the conversation from earlier replaying itself once more in his mind. His mid-morning run with Bobby had taken nearly an extra half hour as he thought over everything Ben had said to him and tried to figure out just what he was going to do about it. Bobby had been utterly delighted with the change and had taken full advantage; sniffing new territory, marking it as his, and finding even more wildlife to chase.

 It was still a relatively cool day, though warmer for mid-March, and he found most of the park and surrounding streets were dotted with people, but not as crowded as he would have expected for the time of day. He’d been stopped a handful of times, a few young women and a little boy who pointed at him crying out “It’s Loki, daddy!” as he pulled on his father’s hand. Tom had done his best to be friendly and open with each and every one of them. He’d refused pictures but had signed the receipts and other bits of paper they’d handed him. Thankfully, he’d managed to get away before a bigger crowd had a chance to form.

 Not a damned thing was any clearer though when he climbed his front steps and mechanically unlocked and opened his front door. Bobby shuffled around contentedly as Tom unclipped his lead and hung it on the hall tree next to his jacket. He toed off his trainers and jogged up the stairs to shower. He was hot, sweaty, and tired, but still utterly confused. He hated it, hated how indecisive he was being. Annoyed, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket by the bathroom door. His shorts, leggings, and socks were next. As he tossed them into the basket as well, he let out a resigned groan, knowing he couldn’t put off a load of washing for much longer. He could send them to a laundry service, it would certainly make his life infinitely easier if he did, but doing simple things like his own washing or running to the shops on his own helped to keep him feeling grounded. And despite everything, that was something he still desperately needed.

 The bathroom light flickered to life as Tom padded his way towards the walk in shower and fiddled with the knobs until he’d gotten the water temperature just so. He all but sighed in bliss as he stepped into the steaming water, letting it soothe his aching muscles and warm him from the chill of the late morning. He soaped and shampooed with a delightful lethargy, not quite wanting to give up the peace and warmth. But the day would carry on without him whether he was ready for it or not. Rinsing thoroughly, Tom shut off the water and rubbed his face with his hands. He reached for the towel hanging on the rack beside the shower and made quick work of wiping his face and rubbing his hair before wrapping the towel efficiently around his waist.

 He found Bobby curled contentedly at the center of his made bed. Tom knew he should scold the spaniel and move him, but couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. Bobby rolled onto his back, mouth hanging open and tongue lulling to one side and barked once at Tom.

 “You are trouble,” Tom laughed, making his way towards his wardrobe and pulling out jeans, a jumper, socks, and boxers. Laying the gathered clothing on the edge of the bed, Tom quickly dried himself and dressed. It was a late day today and he technically didn’t have to be at the theatre until around five. That gave him plenty of time to putter around before he needed to consider heading out.

 As he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar ring of his mobile echoed from the table near the front door. Tom darted forward, managing to grab it and swipe to answer without dropping either the mobile or himself.

 “Hello?”

 “Afternoon, brother mine.” He could hear the amusement in his younger sister’s voice.

 Tom let out a soft laugh. “What do you want Em?”

 “Want something? Me? I’m hurt, Tommy. So hurt.”

 “Funny,” he quipped, heading into the living room. He plopped himself onto the couch, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. He hit the speaker button and dropped his mobile on the couch beside him. Bobby padded in from the hallway and jumped up beside Tom on the couch, resting his head on his master’s crossed legs.

 “And don’t you ever forget it,” Emma chuckled. “Seriously though, you know Jack and I are planning to come see the show tonight.”

 “Yes…” A sense of foreboding rushed through him. He reached out and absently stroked Bobby’s ear.

 “If you are alright with it, would you mind me swinging by with Allie for a bit? Mum’s coming up tonight to mind her, but I have a few errands I need to run…”

 “And they’d be easier sans toddler?” Tom finished, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

 “I know it’s horribly last minute but I am utterly desperate.”

 Tom let out a quiet sigh. “What time do you think you’ll be back? Or is Mum coming here?”

 “Um, I should be back by half two…quarter after at the latest…” Tom heard shuffling in the background, followed by a car door shutting. “Come on baby.” Allie’s high pitched giggle filtered through the phone’s speaker. A few moments later his front gate buzzed.

 Tom groaned. “Please tell me you’ve not done what I think you’ve done.” The gate buzzed again and Bobby barked elatedly, jumped off the couch and made a mad dash towards the front door. “Very cute, Em.” He pushed himself up to his feet and wandered towards the panel by the door. He didn’t bother checking the monitor before buzzing Emma and Allie in. Bobby continued to bounce excitedly by his feet.

 A knock sounded on the door a few moments later. He made quick work of the locks and pulled the door open, using his back leg to keep Bobby from darting out. Emma smiled brightly at him, her daughter clutched in her arms.

 “Uncle Tommy!”

 Tom’s face brightened and he reached out to take the small girl from her mother. “Hello princess. Are you ready to have fun?” She nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

 A small, warm smile spread across Emma’s face as she watched the sight before her for several moments before seeming to remember herself. “Alright, darling,” she started, clapping her hands together. “Be good for your uncle. Mummy will be back in a few hours.” She kissed Allie on the cheek then smiled brightly at her brother. “Thanks, Tom. You’re the best.”

 He raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger of his free hand at Emma. “You’d do well to remember that.”

 Emma snorted. “Funny.” A horn sounded from the street. Emma leaned over and kissed Allie once more before running down the walk and towards the gate. “See you in a bit.”

 Tom pushed the door closed with his hip and placed his squirming niece down so that he could relock the door. He then made quick work of removing her pink coat as she squirmed and hanging in on the hall tree beside his own. Bobby, excited by the arrival of a new friend, barked once and began to lick Allie’s face causing the little girl to squeal in delight and reaching out to pat the dog in return. Tom found himself smiling at the sight and lowered himself to the floor beside them. There was something so simple and so beautiful about the innocence in which they interacted and he was taken by it so completely.

 He sat on the floor in his front hall beside his dog and his niece for what felt like ages before he broke the contented silence. “So my darling, what would you like to do?”

 Allie tore her attention away from Bobby with great reluctance and faced her uncle. She scrunched her face in thought, sandy brows nearly reaching her the coppery curls that brushed her forehead. “Park,” she finally answered with a decisive nod of her head.

 Tom laughed and nodded. “Park it is.” He let out a soft groan as he pushed himself to his feet and Allie giggled at his efforts. “Laugh now, little girl, but someday you will understand all too well.”

 “Uncle Tommy silly.”

 “Yes,” he answered with a chuckle. “Yes, I am.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and grabbed Bobby’s lead from the hall tree. Bobby barked twice then sat still, his tail a blur against the hardwood floor. “Two walkies in less than two hours. You, my lad, are spoiled,” he joked as he clipped the lead and harness around the spaniel.

 Patting his back pocket to make sure he had wallet, phone, and keys, Tom grabbed his coat, shrugging it on before helping Allie into her own. Both dog and child bounced excitedly by his feet and Tom couldn’t help the smile which spread across his face. Taking Allie firmly in one hand and Bobby’s lead in the other, the trio made their way from the house and out into the bright early afternoon light.

Next Chapter

[sonicawareness]

The Best Albums of 2019

After listening to more than 2000 new albums in 2019, I’ve narrowed my picks down to The 20 Best Records of 2019.

I’ve included 3 essential songs from each pick, as well as a choice lyrical clip and a brief description of the album.

Noting beats actually LISTENING TO MUSIC! So don’t just read my thoughts: follow and listen to the Spotify playlist containing 60 songs from the top 20 albums:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5TWlfWoo54MQ5cYTMmB0RI?si=M_23L6DDRieVuA845A90Pg

01: Yung Gravy - Sensational

Aptly titled Sensational, this debut full-length is a thirty minute party that dances between the hottest trap beats, well-placed samples, and the young Minnesota rapper’s braggadocious persona and ridiculous raps

Hey Alexa, how many bitches can we fit in the Tesla?...Pull up in that Model X with your model ex!

“Whip a Tesla” • “1 Thot 2 Thot Red Thot Blue Thot” • “The Boys Are Back in Town”

02: TWICE - &TWICE • Feel Special EP • FANCY YOU EP

Nine young South Korean women radiate endless energy, bountiful bliss, and some of the catchiest songs to come out not only in 2019 but recent memory 

Even when things go wrong, feelings out of control: lessons, to be sure. Be okay, all right! Even a crying face is glittering, filter and laugh! You can return to invincibility, right? Blow off, and we havin’ fun! [Translated from original Japanese]

“Fake and True” • “Breakthrough” • “Stronger”

03: Sublime with Rome - Blessings

Frontman, bandleader, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Rome Ramirez delivers his finest record to date: eleven heartfelt reggae-driven songs that are as well-written as they are masterfully recorded and produced

Watching you feel good tonight: it's your song up on the station, and we don't even know no words. I wanna hear you roll your R’s, singing Spanish in the car, “Dime algo hermosa tonight”.

“Wicked Heart” • “Light On” • “For the Night”

04: Bring Me the Horizon - amo 

Cohesive yet genre-spanning (metalcore, hip-hop, electronic, and pop, to name just a few), the sixth album from the English quintet is an emotional yet insightful rollercoaster masterpiece

Before the truth will set you free, it'll piss you off. Before you find a place to be, you're gonna lose the plot. Too late to tell you now, one ear and right out the other one ‘cause all you ever do is chant the same old mantra.

“MANTRA” • “wonderful life” • “i apologise if you feel something”

05: Weezer - Weezer (Black Album)

Expertly produced and instantly memorable, the long-running Rivers Cuomo-driven California quartet is once again in top form, adding yet another fresh and unique — but distinctly Weezer — record to their extensive discography 

Don't get mad at me, I'm just being honest. I should have lied, now you're mad at me? I'm just being honest. How 'bout from now on you'll write the script, I'll read the lines?

“Can’t Knock the Hustle” • “Zombie Bastards” • “Living in L.A.”

06: Big Data - 3.0

Like this sophomore album’s lyrical content — exploration of the impact artificial intelligence will have on humans and on the Earth — the latest project from producer, multi-instrumentalist, and mastermind Alan Wilkis is paradoxically dark yet bright; like AI, this album’s execution is equally flawless and Dangerous

I created a monster, it's out of control, it's going to take me...I didn't know what I was making...But now it's coming, coming for all of us!

“Monster” • “See Through” • “Evolution Once Again”

07: blackbear - ANONYMOUS

Vibrant yet dark, personal yet accessible, the fifth album from Mat Musto is a collection of 18 vulnerable, confessional songs told over slick electronic and hip-hop sounds

You drop the bag and ask me how my weekend was. I love that, though. You laugh when I make stupid jokes, and when I went to rehab, you didn't judge me that bad. I struggle with addiction probs, you always got my back. What am I gonna do the day that my drug dealer moves away? Whatever am I gonna say to my new plug? It just ain't the same.

“DOWN” • “HATE MY GUTS” • “DRUG DEALER”

08: Denzel Curry - ZUU

Hit-after-hit of hip-hop bangers pack this album’s half-hour runtime, with a plethora of guests joining the fray but never quite knocking it out like the young Miami native, Denzel Curry 

First they mockin', now they hoppin', all on the wave, 'cause they see me poppin'. Big-big-big large pockets, they start flockin'. Here's what I say when they ass keep knockin'...

“RICKY” • “BIRDZ” • “ZUU”

09: DaBaby - KIRK / Baby on Baby

On his two 2019 albums, his first proper efforts after countless mixtapes and singles, DaBaby unleashes his signature, incessant vocals over relentless trap and modern hip-hop beats

Prolly heard I was broke from a broke nigga, prolly heard I'm a ho from a ho! I don't know what you know, I ain't runnin' from no nigga, let’s go!

“BOP” • “OFF THE RIP” • “Suge”

10: Bayside - Interrobang

On their eighth album, the Anthony Raneri-fronted New York natives sound refreshed, focused, and tighter than ever telling their trademark tales of heartbreak and healing

I love that music saved you, and Lord knows it’s saved me too, but songs never love you back, and you never know the person preaching to you...

“Interrobang” • “Prayers” • “Bury Me”

11: The Hold Steady - Thrashing Thru The Passion

Few frontmen can weave an album’s worth of compelling narratives, yet the Brooklyn band’s Craig Finn finds himself on the seventh The Hold Steady album once again delivering ten more engaging, interlocked tales over his band’s fierce guitar riffs and all-too-catchy choruses

Thanks for listening, thanks for understanding: tequila takeoff, Tecate landing.

“Entitlement Crew” • “Denver Haircut” • “You Did Good Kid”

12: Electric Guest - KIN

Sugary sweet, the third record from the California duo promptly polishes any rough few rough edges they once had to deliver a perfectly slick yet quirkily heartwarming collection of eleven easy-listening songs

I'm like, “this mothafucka might sue me, and that mothafucka might boo me”. I'ma keep on goin' to a better day, all this other bitterness can fade away.

“Dollar” • “I Got the Money” • “More”

13: Billie Eilish - WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?

Part punk energy without sounding even slightly punk, part emo diary without being a dashboard confessional, the debut record from American teenager Billie Eilish craftily bounces between genres, haunting sounds, and strange stories

If you think I’m pretty, you should see me in a crown. I'm gonna run this nothing town. Watch me make 'em bow one by one by one.

“bad guy” • “my strange addiction” • “you should see me in a crown”

14: The Cat Empire - Stolen Diamonds

The eighth album from Australia’s The Cat Empire is a full-blown dance party packed with catchy, clever songwriting and a room full of drums, horns, strings, keyboards, turntables, and bass

Operator, please, I can’t get out my head. Tell me where I’m going or where I’m being led. Tell me like an order, and order I’ll obey. Maybe I just thought you said, or did I did I hear you say, “We’re going to ([kill a man]) Kilaman-jaro, jaro…”

“KIla” • “Stolen Diamonds” • “Ready Now”

15: Dirty Heads - Super Moon

Co-frontmen Dirty J and Duddy B return to the beach for the seventh Dirty Heads album, borrowing sounds from across their entire discography of acoustic guitars and witty hip-hop to craft a surprisingly delicate record

I'm a flame, I'm a beacon that won't go out. In the dark, in the rain, I'm your lighthouse. When you can't stand the pain, hope you know now, I'll keep you safe, I'm your lighthouse.

“Super Moon” • “Lift Me Up” • “Tender Boy”

16: TENDER - Fear of Falling Asleep

Dark and uninviting, the second album from this London duo is an intimidating but rewarding listen delicately spiced with just enough hooks to keep you trapped in its atmospheric dreams 

I’ll be looking for the scent when it goes cold. I’ve been trying to beat the maze with a blindfold on. I’ve been foraging through mud and sticks searching for that power that don’t exist.

“Closer Still” • “Bottled Up” • “Handmade Ego”

17: Logic - Confessions of a Dangerous Mind / Supermarket Soundtrack

Logic returns once again with countless rhymes delivered over his trademark breathless bars, frequently painting an all-too-vivid picture of a famous rapper struggling to comprehend the world around him

All these comments got me lost in my mind; all these thoughts that I'm having are not mine. I always post that I'm having a good time so my life looks perfect online...

“Homicide” • “Don’t Be Afraid to Be Different” • “Lemon Drop”

18: Tyga - Legendary

More than just a collection of hits, the seventh album from the Compton rapper is well-sequenced and effortlessly laced with hook-after-hook for Tyga to deliver his signature obscene lines about things he self-admittedly has too many [sic] of: money, cash, hoes, cars, clothes, flows

Hey, shut the fuck up, bitch, you know who I are. Point blank range, and I'm shootin' for the stars. You niggas subpar and I just raised the bar. You got Rollies on your wrist, this is Chopard. Slide on your block like a fuckin' go-kart, my nigga A&R, still got an AR.

“Haute” • “Lightskin Little Wayne” • “On Me”

19: The Chainsmokers - World War Joy

The third album in three years from Alex Pall and Drew Taggart (and no shortage of guests) is an easy, light collection of ten slick relationship-focused pop songs that find the duo largely eschewing their dance-centric history 

You said, "Hey, whatcha doing for the rest of your life?" and I said, "I don't even know what I'm doing tonight". Went from one conversation to your lips on mine.

“The Reaper” • “Family” • “P.S. I Hope You’re Happy”

20: Bear Hands - Fake Tunes

Brooklyn’s Bear Hands returns with another collection of bright, bouncy songs that ever-so-slightly conceal the trio’s underlying sadness and struggles  

I don't see how you think you can come to me, and bitch to me, lay out your problems, like ancient history, like I ain't got no other shit to do. I love you, baby, but my lips are turnin' blue.

“Blue Lips” • “Back Seat Driver (Spirit Guide)” • “Mr. Radioactive”

THE BEST ALBUMS OF 2019

Yung Gravy - Sensational

TWICE - &TWICE • Feel Special EP • FANCY YOU EP

Sublime with Rome - Blessings

Bring Me the Horizon - amo 

Weezer - Weezer (Black Album)

Big Data - 3.0

blackbear - ANONYMOUS

Denzel Curry - ZUU

DaBaby - KIRK / Baby on Baby

Bayside - Interrobang

The Hold Steady - Thrashing Thru The Passion

Electric Guest - KIN

Billie Eilish - WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?

The Cat Empire - Stolen Diamonds

Dirty Heads - Super Moon

TENDER - Fear of Falling Asleep

Logic - Confessions of a Dangerous Mind / Supermarket Soundtrack

Tyga - Legendary

The Chainsmokers - World War Joy

Bear Hands - Fake Tunes

[impulseislost]

Orange

Something like 2k of word vomit

there’s mentions of felix being drugged. that’s all i have for warnings

"You know, it'd be quicker to just kill him." The younger commented, watching as the other man quickly pushed his clip into place and double checked that safety was off. Chan glanced over at Jisung , raising an eyebrow.

"Our contact said they wanted him alive. We deliver what they want, or we don't get payed." He commented dryly, tucking the handgun into it's holster, "Remember, you pair have the easy job."

Changbin grumbled, turning back to his laptop and tapping a couple keys.

"Cause hacking security feed is easy, hyung." He muttered, glancing up to catch Chan shrug.

"I have to catch the guy. You get to stay safe. I don't." Changbin snorted. Safe? What was that?

"Whatever. Just remember the codewords, and I'll get you outta there as fast as I can."

"Orange, mission complete. Lime, get me the fuck out. Tangerine, get yourself out." Chan recited dryly. Changbin offered a nod up.

"Get going then." Jisung noted, pushing at Chan's arm. The elder got up with a groan, double checking the holster was hidden by his suit jacket.

"Hopefully, I'll be done by 12." He said once, staring at Changbin, then Jisung, before strolling out the door and picking up the invitation that rested on the table by the door.

"Do we worry?" He heard Changbin ask Jisung as he went. The last thing he heard before the door slammed shut was JIsung's reply of, "No."

Festivities were already in full swing by the time that Chan walked in the door, folding his invitation back into his suit. The Australian's eyes glanced around as he surveyed the room for his target. A flash of orange in the crowd of browns and blacks was his only catch of the boy he was looking for.

"You found our guy, hyung?"  Changbin's voice came through an ear piece. Chan hummed at him, as he strolled through the crowd, ducking and weaving around people.

"Not yet." He whispered, as he slipped after the trace of orange he'd seen, "But I will." He heard a grunt of affirmation from the other side as he searched around again. Another flash of orange hair flicked past him. And Chan headed after it.

It was the man he was looking for after all.

His eyes followed the orange hair as he followed it, watching as the man it belonged to ducked into an alcove in the hall. Chan smiled gently as he rounded the corner, adjusting his features into one of pleasant surprise.

"Ah, I see someone else found the corner I planned to hide in." He commented with a gentle laugh, leaning next to the... Young man.

His target was a lot younger than he thought, now that he looked at the guy. Freckles dusted the bridge of his nose as the boy's eyes widened into genuine surprise.

"I um, pardon?" He mumbled, in a slightly accented tone. Chan hummed once for Changbin's benefit.

"Ah, nothing. Who might you be?" He asked like he didn't already know the boy's life story. Still, had to keep up facades. Especially if he wanted to get this job done without a hitch.

"Uh, Felix. Lee Felix." Chan was genuinely surprised here. Records had always referred to him as 'Yongbok'. Although, Felix suited him rather well. Much better than the Korean name did.

"Felix? Not from South Korea I take it?" The boy fidgeted under Chan's gaze. And he wasn't surprised, really. He'd been told he was rather intense sometimes.

"N-no. I'm, uh... From Australia?" He'd said the country's name in English. Chan nodded once, hoping Changbin was getting this.

"Oh really? Me too. Uh, oh! My bad. I'm Chris, sorry." It'd been a while since he'd used his English name, but better put up appearances right? Either way it seemed to relax Felix, as the boy nodded slowly, slouching on the wall with a quiet sigh.

"Long day?" Chan asked sympathetically, as the boy nodded.

"Mm, Mr K-- My Father wanted me to be here but... I'm more of a socially recluse kind of person." Chan noted the slip up. It'd be interesting to tell Woojin when he finished the job.

"That's understandable." He murmured, glancing around once, "Want a drink?"

In hindsight, it'd been all too easy to lace the drink he was retrieving for Felix with sleeping pills. And once he'd gotten Felix to drink it, it'd been easy to sneak the sleeping boy out the building. The moment he'd reached the car Jisung had running for the pair, Chan smiled, setting the sleeping boy in the back seat and making sure he wasn't falling anywhere anytime.

"Code?" Jisung asked him, as he slipped into the front seat. Chan smiled again, buckling his own seat belt.

"Orange." And they drove off, long before the alarms went off for the missing boy from the party.

Felix found himself awake, on a plain bed, and still in his his suit from the party Mr Kim had thrown that night -- Minus the jacket which he spotted draped across the edge of the bed. To his surprise, it seemed as if he'd been just... Left.

The boy glanced around the room, (It was plain, bare walls with three beds in the room, one of which looked like someone had recently slept in it.) and sat up. The last thing he remembered from last night was... Chris, and the drink and gosh damn it what the hell had happened last night?

The door opened, and speak of the devil, there was Chris, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a slightly too big t-shirt.

"Great, you're awake." The man noted, leaning on the wall. Felix blinked, slowly.

"You drugged me!" Chris tilted his head slightly, watching the boy with a guarded expression. Felix hated when people did that.

"I did. Would you rather I left you to the party? I can just as easily return you." He replied, a yawn escaping him soon after. Felix hissed, looking away.

"Look at it this way, Lee Felix, you've been given a chance to return home," Chris continued, watching as the boy squirmed, "I thought you'd at least be happy to know that."

"I am, but--"

"Then seize what you're given. Anyway, you should really talk to Changbin about this. Probably should get changed first, unless you're comfortable in a suit?" Chris cut Felix off, asking his question with an eyebrow raise. Felix quickly shook his head, because no this suit wasn't the least bit comfortable. And he kinda wanted a shower anyway.

"Good. You look slightly too tall for most of Binnie's clothes, but take a look at mine or whatever, I don't care. Bathroom's the first door to the right, my shit's there." And with that, Chris left the room.

Felix blinked before hesitantly standing up.

"Oh. Fuck."

Chris had been right about  this 'Binnie's' clothes being to small. At least pants wise. He wasn't sure about anyone else, but Felix wasn't exactly fond of his trousers showing off an inch of his ankle. That's what he had shorts for anyway.

So that's how he found himself, about half an hour later in a mash up of two different strangers clothes in variations of black, grey, and dark grey. It wasn't the best, but at least he was wearing something other than what he'd been practicably forced into last night. Anything was better than that right now.

The door to the room opened as he was half way through this thought, and a different man comes in, and speaking.

"Hey Channie Hyu-- You're not Chan. Uh... Yongbok?" The man clearly had no clue about his other name, but the use of his Korean one was enough to have Felix making a noise of displeasure. The other man paused, biting at his lip for a moment.

"So this is where Hyung left you then." He noted after a moment, offering up a grin before continuing on, "Anyway, I'm just gonna let you know that... Your cousin I think it was, is gonna drop by in a couple hours to get you back home."

That was news to Felix. He hadn't seen Minho in... Months now. Even before his own strange disappearance. The family didn't talk about him either.

"Minho Hyung?" He asked cautiously. The man paused, be nodding.

"That's what he said his name was." Felix relaxed for a moment before the man continued, "Now then. I'm uh, Changbin. And you're apparently Yo--" He cut himself off as Felix hissed once at the name.

"It's Felix, actually."

"Right, Felix." The man --Changbin, Felix reminded himself-- leaned on the wall, staring at him dryly. Felix glanced away, fingers drifting to his neck and finding his pulse without him even realising.

"So, Minho hyung is going to take me home, how do I know you're not lying and you're not selling me back to Mister Kim?" Changbin smiled grimly at him, before looking out the window in the room. Felix couldn't tell where they were from the scenery and he hated it.

"We won't. Because Jisung'd probably shoot Chan if he were to try. Then you." He said in a light tone, as if this were normal. Normal to have some sort of trigger happy... Person in your friend group. Changbin laughed then, watching Felix again.

"Trust me here, he would rather kill you than have you go through that again." Changbin said, his voice soothing.

"Th-That's fair. Then... What do I do while I'm waiting for him?" Changbin shrugged in reponse. Gods, this is going to be a long few hours, Felix told himself then, allowing himself to drop onto the nearest bed, and allow slumber to take him.

"Hey, Kid. Wake up." A boy shook Felix's shoulder, rousing the boy enough for him to blink blearily into the other's face. The stranger sighed, pulling him up into a sitting position and shaking him again.

"Oi, Freckle boy, your rides here. Wake the fuck up, or I'm going to unceremoniously help you do the ice bucket challenge or some shit. " That seemed to wake him up, as Felix jerked back from him, and promptly fell off the bed. The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly judging him pretty hard.

"Welcome to the land of the living Orange-Head. Now get your ass up before Chan Hyung comes for either of ours for being slow." Felix stood up, lips parted in surprise, as the boy reached over, and wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling him out of the room.

"That only took literally forever." He muttered, casting a glance back at Felix. Or, more like a glare.

"Sorry." Felix mumbled, for the person pulling him to scoff, nodding at Changbin as they pass by the guy in a hurry.

It's a relief when they make it to Chris, and Felix is let go.

"Here you go Hyung, I'm done now." The boy whined, sitting down in a chair nearby and turning to a game, as Chris started talking to Felix in English.

"Minho ssi should be here soon, and it'd be better if you weren't falling asleep as soon as he got here." The boy in the chair twitched his hands, moving whatever character in the game he was playing. Felix nodded numbly, looking at the ground.

A bell rung from somewhere within the house, and Chair boy turned to Chris with a frown.

"Think he's here Hyung." Chris, just sighed at him, rising in a fluid motion and nodding at Felix before leaving. Silence fell in the room, before the boy sighed and looked at Felix carefully.

"Hope you at least get a good few weeks before Kim comes looking for you." He muttered. Felix started, surprise gracing his face, before he offered up a shy smile.

"Um, thanks." He whispered, before Chan came back into the room with another man, and Felix felt himself smile brightly.

"Minho Hyung!" He chirped, running over and hugging the elder male with a pleased cry. The man... Paused, glancing around before hugging Felix back.

"He wasn't harmed I suppose?" Chris shook his head, stepping back from the pair. Minho hummed, a pleased smile gracing his face.

"Felix-Ah, are you alright?" He murmured, stepping back from the boy with a cocked eyebrow. Felix nodded shyly, feeling safer now that his cousin was here. Minho hummed again, looping an arm around Felix again and glancing at Chris.

"The payments been transferred to your account. So, uh.. I'll take my cousin and leave your be now, then?" Chris nodded, gesturing behind him.

"A pleasure doing business with you."

[swaggy-izla]

Red Eyes - Lucas Soulmate AU

a/n: this is my first time trying this so excuse errors and basically everything else – feedback thoroughly loved and maybe a part two in the future?

word count: 1.6k

warnings: like two curse words??

wong yukhei x reader x soulmate au

summary: never had you been so grateful for dying your hair unnatural colours, as you started into those red eyes and felt your heart beat shake in your rib cage more then it ever had before

You’d be completely and utterly lying if you denied counting the days down till your eighteenth birthday; the day in which the link between you and your soulmate would finally be revealed. Since a kid, you’d constantly pondered over what your tie to each other would be – maybe each other’s names? But you knew fate wouldn’t be that kind to you, it made finding them to easy (unless they were called Dan, then you’d be completely screwed). So, when your eyes peeled open on your eighteenth birthday, your frantic beating heart bought you out of your half-asleep state, and made you frantically search your body for any skin-etched timers, or tattooed words.

Your body slumped slightly when you found none. Everyone in your family before you had had tattoo related ties, your parents having each other’s first word to each other, your sister and her soulmate having each other’s birthdays imprinted on one another’s palm.

But you reassured yourself it was fine, and you weren’t an anomaly among fate. It could always be a mental thing, and those sorts of ties don’t settle till both of you are eighteen. Your eighteenth was not going to be destroyed after only being awake for five minutes.

Casually making your way downstairs to make yourself a feast of whatever remained in the cupboard, your sister stopped to ambush you.

“Y/N, your eye!” she gushed, slapping her hand over her mouth.

You knew you stayed up late last night, but you didn’t think it’d cause your bags to look so shocking.

“Ugh, ignore the bags,” you brushed her off, continuing your trek to the kitchen.

“No, not that,” she yanked your arm, and ran you to the bathroom and turned you to your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t see much difference, but mentally reminded you to sort out the roots that were poking out your obnoxious red hair. “Your eye,” she urged, shoving you closer to the mirror.

As you looked closer, you saw a shard of brown, patterned with gold flexes, in your iris.

“Is that my tie?” you questioned, staring at it in amazement.

“I’d assume so. Maybe it’s their eye colour? Hair?” your sister shrugged.

“It’s so pretty,” you mumbled, your eyes not leaving your reflection.

“I pray it’s eye colour, other wise they’ve got a red in their eye,” your sister laughed.

Running a hand through your hair, you smiled sheepishly, mentally apologising if it was. But you weren’t changing it anytime soon, you’d payed a lot of money for it to be done you added.

Every time you caught your reflection, whether it was in the back of a spoon, or the black screen staring back at you between each episode of Netflix as you were doing your usual binge, you couldn’t help but be mesmerised by your eyes – more specifically the gold that stuck out with in it. It had been a few weeks, but you couldn’t help the slight giddy feeling that swept over you at the fact

you had a soulmate

. That soulmates were actually real, and life hadn’t been lying to you for the past eighteen years.

When your best friend, Aria, rocked up at your door one day, hollering “guess who found their soulmate? This bitch!” at the top of her lungs, your constantly fluttering butterflies in your stomach fell limp. Yes, you’d had your mark for only a few weeks, but the desperation to find them was building more each day because you didn’t want to wait too long. You assumed old age wasn’t going to take your soulmate anytime soon, but that wouldn’t stop death from sending a violent end to them.

“Oh Y/N, don’t worry,” Aria hugged you, sensing the paranoia leaking from you, “Mine didn’t even feel our tie till two years after they’d turned eighteen, so you shouldn’t let this soulmate thing take over your life, anyway?” she nudged you reassuringly, a soft smile on her face, which you returned, taking her words into account. A buzz filled the air, and Arin whipped her phone out of her pocket.

“NCT are doing a V Live, I got to watch this,” she helped herself into the house, leaving you by the door.

“Come in I guess,” you joked, shutting the door behind you as you saw Arin settle herself into your sofa, ushering for you to join her.

“They’ve got new members, and my gosh they’re flawless,” she muttered, her concentration on the screen, as she held her phone out, so you could both see. You’d never been that into them, but you did have to admit ‘Chewing Gum’ was a catchy song, and after Aria had shown you it you’d had it on repeat in your head, and you’d crack out random moves whilst doing daily chores.

Aria was mumbling simplified translations of what each member was saying, as you knew no Korean whilst Aria had taught herself a few years before, and enrolled herself in advance lessons this year, to perfect it.

 “This one’s a new member, he’s called Lucas,” Aria narrated, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw the red laced within in his irises.

“Do you think that’s his soulmate tie? Do you think he has the same one as me?” you thought your words had came out clear, but they were rushed and crushed together, leaving Aria confused for a second trying to decipher what you’d had said, for her eyes to instantly widen.

“Oh. My God,” is all that left her lips, as you both sat in stunned silence. “Why else would he have red in his eye? Unless there’s some demon concept coming up,”

The word ‘soulmate’ left Aria’s phone, and the both of you simultaneously jumped and then laughed a light – yet tense – laugh at the ironic timing. The other guys on the screen were laughing and pointing at the one Aria had identified as Lucas, for Lucas to interrupt them.

“Soulmate, don’t do this,” he gestured to his eye, “I have to wear contacts!” he cried.

“He can speak English?” you questioned.

“Apparently so,” Aria shrugged, for you to hum in response. “Imagine if it was actually him though. That would be great,”

“Not really,” you scoffed, “the number of girls that would want to dig my grave would be stupid.”

Aria’s hand hovered over the mouse, ready to purchase the two plane tickets to Seoul.

“You sure on this?” she asked again, to which you nodded. You gulped, as you said your farewells to the money you’d saved for so long. Your soulmate clearly wasn’t local, and your heart told you they weren’t national either. Why you started looking in South Korea, you didn’t know, but there was a tiny part of you that was hooked to the idea of it being Lucas (along with the fact Aria was desperate to try out her Korean she’d been learning for so long).

You both counted down the days till your flight, adrenaline building inside you, yet constantly reminding yourself that there was no guarantee you’d find your soulmate there. When you finally reached Korea, your excitement had doubled, maybe even tripled. Whilst Aria tried to find a coffee shop for both, you tried to come up with a plan.

“That’s not coffee, nope that one’s a hairdressers, they sell cushions,” Aria rambled.

“Hairdressers? Maybe we should go there,” you suggested.

“Last time I checked, hairdressers did not sell me cake,” Aria stated,

“But I want to die my hair. It’ll be beneficial to identify who’s my soulmate, because they’re eye would’ve changed from red to another eccentric colour recently, and it would just make it easier for the both of us,” you recalled the plan that had been brewing in your head for the flight here. And your gut was telling you something – that you had to go into that hairdressers.

Aria did that talking for you, and you decided purple would be your new colour. They got you seated, as Aria retold the same story she’d already told you ten times before about her soulmate and a broken coffee machine. The store was oddly empty, with the two of you being the only ones in it.

“And then the coffee machine like threw up milk foam-” but her story got cut short as a bell went off, indicating someone had walked in. You peered over to see a parade of boys walking in, each nattering to one another. The colour in Aria’s face drained, her jaw dropping open.

“That’s NCT” she mouthed, her eyes glued to each guy that walked past.

The gut feeling you’d had exploded within you, as your eyes landed on another pair, with a faint red weaved trough their iris, it fading to purple.

You fucking knew it

Aria followed your gaze, and practically screamed. Everyone – literally everyone – stopped what they were doing to stare at you two with a mix of fear, annoyance and worry. The women blow drying your hair glared at her, before helping you out your seat and to the mirror for you to look at your new hair colour. You could feel his eyes piercing your back as you admired your now purple locks.

“It’s him, it’s him, it’s him,” Aria chanted at you, as you tried to stop the butterflies that were going to burst out of you any minute now. The other members in the store seemed to pick up on what was going down, one of them nudging Lucas, with a smirk on their face. You watched as he approached you in the mirror, not being able to control the smile forming on your face.

“You couldn’t have gone for a brown, could you? He sighed, a grin etched upon his face.

And, oh how you fell in love with that grin

[cardshcrp]

FIVE TIMES KISSED

FIVE TIMES KISSED.

@prctettcre // BILL WEASLEY // always selectively accepting !

                                                                                                                     i.

         So it isn’t his most graceful moment in the world when he yelps and nearly topples right off his seat, but that’s just what happens when someone pops up when you’re half-dozing, which he’d been plenty guilty of. Bill hardly notices, swings himself right onto the bench to face Remy, straddling the wood as he details his latest escapade. 

Remy’s groggy brain finally catches up, realizes it’s the boy he’s spoken to a few times, can tentatively call a friend even if it’s only been a couple of weeks since he’d arrived. And maybe it’s the sunshine keeping him drowsy enough to forget that not everyone follows the customs he’d grown up with, or maybe it’s the vague need to make Bill stop and slow down so he can actually comprehend the elaborate scenario being laid out for him, but - 

He leans in, fingers curling around Bill’s shoulder, and brushes his lips to one freckled cheek and then the other, the chatter cutting off abruptly.

“Bisous,” he offers belatedly once he pulls back and sees the look of frank astonishment on Bill’s face as he stares at him. It’s only then he realizes that maybe this doesn’t carry over for Brits, he isn’t quite sure - and that even if it did he probably should have done bises and not bisous for a new friend, but he’s always been affectionate - but it doesn’t seem to matter, because Bill just grins at the way Remy’s going pink all down his throat and starts his story over. 

Remy decides later that day that he rather wants to keep Bill Weasley and that he’s quite fun, mostly spurred on by the fact that they construct a very elaborate prank to play on one of the snobbier Slytherins over dinner, and maybe also because when Bill next bounds up to him, he stops to give Remy bisous.

                                                                                                                    ii.

         When Bill had offered Remy a place to come for winter holiday, he hadn’t been sure exactly what he’d expected, but the reality of it was much better. The Weasleys make everything feel like home, which is rather odd because he already has one, but he doesn’t bother questioning it. 

Neither does Jean-Luc, who’s mostly just pleased his son has made friends, though Henri is the practical one that gives Remy an extra deposit to stay in England instead of coming back between their father’s scattered cheers and enthusiasm.

Instead, he lets himself get swept off in the humdrum whirlwind of activity that is life at the Burrow, sure to stick cold finger and toes on Bill’s ankles and cheeks every morning and laugh out a good morning one each to Molly and Arthur. He also makes sure that Ron gets a liberal amount of tummy tickles, and he learns not to protest very much when Bill is put in charge of dressing him the once they venture into Ottery St. Catchpole, because as it turns out Remy is wonderfully good at wizard fashion and a disaster at the ordinary kind.

It’s easy to settle into a scratchy sweater and kick his friend half out of his place until they can scrunch in together on the couch. It’s easy to yelp when the twins latch onto his legs in a coordinated attack and bring him tumbling down. 

It’s easy to kiss Bill properly for the first time when they’re back on Hogwarts grounds with snow stuck to their hair and scarves, easy as breathing to wrap his arms around the other boy’s neck and just steal his lips without an ounce of hesitation. 

Later he wonders what he’d been thinking, because he could have ruined everything, but it doesn’t matter so much then either because he’s got his fingers laced through Bill’s and his head on his shoulder, and it all fits pretty nice.

                                                                                                                   iii.

          He’s panicking. That’s the first thing his very helpful brain tells him, which really makes everything worse, but there isn’t a whole lot he can do about it because he’s on one knee and ow the gravel drive is really taking its vengeance out on him, but he’s staying put, damn it.

Served him right for being to chicken to go according to plan, anyway. If he had, he would’ve dropped down an hour ago before they headed home from the Muggle concert he’d gotten them tickets for (which was, as usual, some band that Bill very much liked and Remy thought was nice but had no brain space to remember the name of).

“Uh,” he starts, very eloquently, and cracks open the ring box - it’s simple enough, really, just a gold band inlaid with tiny, complex patterns that shifted and changed with movement, but that sudden sinking weight of what if he doesn’t like it settles deep in his belly anyway. “I thought, um - since the world is going to shit, and you know I love you, and I meant to do it a little while ago but I got nervous. And, um, uh, if it doesn’t fit or you don’t like it, that’s totally fine, I don’t know if it will fit anyway, I tried to guess the size just holding your hand and this was a horrible idea, I am so sorry - ”

Bill is just staring, mouth half-open and jaw working wordlessly as he stutters something incomprehensible, and suddenly Remy is that much more anxious because oh no, he sees more ginger heads peeking just barely out of the Burrow and this was the worst idea, absolutely terrible, he’s about to get dumped in front of the whole Weasley tribe and suddenly he can’t tell if he’s speaking in English or French but he would bet it was the latter and - 

That’s about when Bill decides to slap a gentle palm over Remy’s mouth and haul him up to his feet. “Yes, I will happily marry you,” he tells him, and then he kisses the absolute hell out of his stupid French fiancé, who very nearly faints on the spot in absolute relief, not that he would ever admit it.

It’s alright, though, because they’re equally embarrassed when they make it back into the house and have enthusiastic questions and congratulations peppered off of them, and it’s quite enough that Remy’s hair (though not the rest of him because angry is the last thing he is at the moment) catches fire in half a minute, and that’s a whole fiasco in and of itself.

                                                                                                                    iv.

          His hands are sooty and stained, bloody too, when they go back to looking like his own hands and not twisted with claws. They’re also shaking, all the noise and clamor lost in the way his ears are ringing but he does hear one thing, and he recognizes Jean-Luc’s face hovering before his, warm eyes anxious as he brushes hair flaking ashy remnants of dye away from his son’s face. 

“You hear that, boy? He’s alive. Go. Je l’ai.” And really, what did it say that they’d put up shields, hidden him in the middle of a dying battlefield for losing his temper in all that rage and grief and oh, no, he’d done it, hadn’t he? Remy’s eyes dart to Charlie’s face, and he swallows hard, but he’s already reaching for the younger boy’s outstretched hand. 

After all, his father was good at memory spells. If even one person left remembering what they’d seen, it would be strange - and there was time to worry later.

Alive. Alive. Alive. 

He keeps turning the word over in his head, a half-prayer as they stumble off and make their way to the infirmary. It’s the only word that matters when unsteady fingers drift over the gashes on Bill’s face, not touching for fear of infection - it’s the only thing he thinks when he looks up to see Molly staring at him with some kind of wariness on her face, like she’s expecting something bad from him; he doesn’t have anything else in his head, can’t process what that means. 

“He’s going to be okay,” he rasps, and it comes out like a question, more hopeful than maybe is allowed and god, he’s fucking terrified. He’s so small all of a sudden, or he feels it, squashed with the weight of all that fear and fuck, just fuck, but the next thing he knows he’s getting swept into a big warm hug (the Weasley specialty, innit) and they’re both crying all over each other but that’s alright too.

Remy loses track of how long it takes for Bill to wake up - days, probably - but when he does, it’s with a whole lot of anxious family hovering over him, and the first thing he says is “My face hurts,” sounding vaguely indignant. It’s enough to earn him several eye rolls and sighs of oh, he’s fine - Remy opts for bursting into tears of relief. He hadn’t meant to, but he does, and Bill looks awfully startled, but he can’t help it.

It takes a while longer for everyone else to filter out, but they eventually do, leaving Bill to rest and Remy to settle back into the chair at his side. Before he does, he leans in, brushes careful lips over the corner of his fiancé’s mouth, fingers curled under his jaw so soft he thinks he can pick up the ache from all the torn flesh above. 

“You’re an idiot,” he tells him, tart, and Bill shakes a little with a laugh he can’t quite get out without it hurting. “You picked me. Who’s the idiot now?”

                                                                                                                     v.

          Ras Abu Gali is very much off the beaten path for Muggles, let alone wizards, and the local Bedouin are friendly enough that they stay there awhile; they are strange no matter what they do, so Remy doesn’t bother to dye his hair and lets it hang to his waist like moonlight though he does cover it most days. 

It’s comfortable, he thinks, the way he can roll over under heavy travelling blankets to kiss Bill awake, weave long fingers through red hair and press a scarred cheek to his collarbone and fall back asleep. It’s nice, actually, that he dresses in stupid loud colors and glaringly mismatched patterns and no one cares at all even if Bill rolls his eyes at the worst combinations. 

He ducks his head down, bites soft at his husband’s ear with a low hum, a chuckle slipping from him at the answering grumble of protest. Bill tugs the cover up over their sleep-rumpled heads to block out the light, and Remy kisses him, still smiling.

“Vite-vite, wake up,” he murmurs, and pinches Bill’s side gentle, rolling them until he’s resting atop him with chin settled nice and neat on his hands. “We need to pack. We’re going back to visit today, remember?”

Bill sighs, and Remy presses warm lips to the underside of his half-sweaty jaw, thumbs tracing warm circles over his ribs until he finally shifts, toppling Remy onto his back instead and pinning him there. 

“Five more minutes,” he sighs against Remy’s skin, and with a snort Remy gives in, wrapping his arms tight around him like he really minds at all. Five more minutes.

And then if he didn’t get up, Remy would shove ice down his pants.

[bethsilliteratewriting-blog]

Can I get one off you?

Words: 1,990

Pairing: Treebros

slight tw for anxiety and smoking? 

Evan was once again, completely and utterly anxious. His anxiety was rather high today, being that it was the first day of senior year. Gripping his backpack strap with his uncasted arm, he made his way into the school, his heart-rate quickening and breathing becoming unsteady.

Anxiety and panic still steadily creeping its way towards Evan, he maneuvered his way through the busy hall to his locker, actively avoiding everyone and trying not to flinch at the sounds of lockers being shut or classroom doors being opened. He was near tears, and damn he really didn't need to be crying right now. Taking a shaky breath and trying to rid the knot that was growing in the base of his throat, he makes it to his locker.

As he was still trying not to have a full-blown panic attack and get his breathing under control, someone slings their arm around his shoulder, causing Evan to jump and let out a surprised gasp-like-squeak.

"Wow, did you turn into a dog toy, what the hell was that sound, Hansen?" Jared asked, amusement lacing his voice. Evan released a shaky fake laugh himself before gripping the hem of his shirt, an anxious habit he somehow picked up. Jared follows the sight of Evan's hand before letting out a startled laugh, "Shit, what's up with the cast? Did you really jerk off so much that you broke your arm?" Jared laughs again, releasing his grip on Evan's shoulder.

"Wha- No! I just.. I fell out of a tree.." Evan mumbled quietly in reply,

"Oh my god, that's is so lame!" He said loudly, causing a few heads to turn. "Are you an acorn or something?"

Evan quickly shook his head and bit his lip, he cast his gaze down. Jared was talking too loudly, everyone was looking. They were all probably staring. Everyone was thinking he was some kind of idiot. There were too many people, it was too much, too much. The knot at the base of his throat was back, and he was struggling to breathe, his entire body was shaking and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Panic kept ebbing its way towards Evan until he was near hyperventilating, finally choking out a stuttered sentence.

"C-Class, I, I h-have to get to c-class."

He pushed his way past Jared, his legs trembling and barely holding his weight. Only briefly hearing Jared saying something about someone's hair as he pushes through the hall buzzing with people, each in their own respective friend groups. Getting enough control over his shaky legs, he somehow makes it through the hall and past the exit doors of the school. Tears finally streaming down his face, he exited the doors to the back of the school, using the wall to support himself. Evan sank down the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and focused on trying to get oxygen in his lungs. His throat burned with the lack of air, and his eyes itched with the number of tears he was shedding due to panic. He sat that way for a while, trembling and waiting out his panic attack, waiting for his body to run out of adrenaline.

As his anxiety eased, and he could finally breathe, he shrugged off his backpack, letting his head hit the wall he was sitting against. Knowing he was probably missing his first class, anxiety slowly clawed its way up again, causing Evan to drastically search through his backpack for the cigarettes he stored in the very bottom of his backpack. Normally the very idea of getting caught smoking on school grounds caused Evan to be too paranoid to ever attempt it, but after the encounter with Jared, he's pretty sure he couldn't be too bothered to care. His anxiety was expectedly high today. The thought of senior year, the last year of high school, the thought of having to apply for colleges, having to pay for college, getting scholarships.

Evan lit the ciggerate with shaking hands and slowly took a practiced drag. With the nicotine filling his head, he could feel his anxiety easing away entirely, taking another long drag and exhaling slowly, letting the smoke cloud in front of him.

Half a ciggerate later, Evan was feeling less on edge, and almost okay enough to walk back into the school building and be on time for his next class. This was quickly changed by the school doors he was sitting next to aggressively swinging open, revealing a trembling teen clad in black. Said teen paced back and forth, long hair covering his face from Evan's view. Which was just fine with him, as Evan was now holding his breath and trying his hardest to blend into the wall. He was quickly discovered though as the teen, who turned out to be Connor Murphy swung around, glaring angrily at Evan. Really, Evan should have guessed. From the fraying messenger bag, black hoodie and painted nails, it should have been a dead give away.

A tense silence of staring passed over them, Connor now with his hands balled into fists and breathing heavily. Connor stood still, staring at him for a long moment, radiating nothing but rage. Suddenly his shoulders slump as if life has been drained out of him and he looks at Evan now with exhaustion. The heavy silence is broken with Connor's heavy sigh and question,

"Can I get one off you?"

Evan stares dumbly, the question not processing at all. He simply blinks, still staring openly at Connor before blurting out, "Wha- What?"

Connor takes a deep breath, his eye twitching in irritation. "A fucking ciggerate, can I get one off you?"

Evan, as if now just remembering the lit cigarette in his hand, nods quickly and holds up the pack to Connor, his hand shaking again. Connor sighs in what sounds like relief, pulling one out and slumping down against the wall next to Evan, before holding his hand out expectantly. Staring at his hand dumbly again, Evan finally realizes he's asking for a lighter. He shuffles around in his backpack again before placing it in Connor's hand and watching him lite his own cigarette taking a drag with ease. Not wanting to be caught staring like some creep, Evan takes another drag of his own. An awkward silence settles over them again, as they sit, taking drag after drag. Evan wonders what would be the easiest and less obvious escape route. God, what if they get caught. Connor was known to be the resident school druggy, so it was no surprised he asked for a ciggerate, but Evan was starting to panic at the idea of being caught or told on. He really couldn't afford to have this on his school record. Oh god, I have to get out.

His racing thoughts were halted, by Connor breaking the deafening silence.

"What happened to your arm?" He asked,

"O-Oh! Uh- I, well, fell out of a tree." Evan sputters out, looking at the cast.

"Well, that's just about the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." Connor laughs, taking another drag before finishing off his cigarette.

He nods, a laugh dying on his lips, "I know."

"Want me to sign it?" Connor asks, giving a sideways glance at Evan.

"Y-You don't have to. I mean, you can if you want, but like, no pressure or obligation or anything." Evan rambled on before sighing and taking the last drag of his own cigarette.

Evan finally looked over at Connor, at the sound of shuffling. He was looking through his pockets and pulled out a sharpie. Evan would have asked why he conveniently had a sharpie in his pocket, before noticing the intricate swirls and doodles that covered Connor's hands. His staring was interrupted by Connor harshly grasping at Evan's casted arm, making him squeak out a small 'ow.' Connor, looking at Evan's face mumbled out a 'sorry', easing his grip on the boy's arm. Uncapping the black marker, he wrote out his name in large blocky letters.

"Now, that just looks like shit, doesn't it?" Connor mumbled, glaring down at the sloppy handwriting.

"It's not bad," Evan replied, looking down at the cast as well. He was actually rather happy to have at least one name on his cast, even if it was from Connor Murphy. He lightly ran a hand down the name, careful not to smudge the still damp ink.

"Nah, it looks like crap, let me try and fix it." He said, grabbing at Evan's arm again, albeit softer this time. Connor leaned down, scribbling on the cast. His long hair obscured the view of whatever he was writing, making Evan panic slightly. He just hoped to god he wasn't drawing a dick on his cast. Sometime later, Connor stopped, placing the cap back on the sharpie and looking over his work. When Evan finally had the nerve to look down at his cast, he was pleasantly surprised. The same swirl designs that decorated Connors' hands were distributed on his cast, flowers, leaves, and vines were all around and weaved through the large letters of Connor's name.

"Oh- T-Thank you," Evan said, giving a hesitant smile to Connor. "It's really pretty, I mean, like, you're a really good artist."

He just shrugged, placing the sharpie back in his pocket. "It was just to make up for my crappy handwriting."

"It's really not the bad," Evan replied, still looking at Connor, whose eyes had closed and was now resting against the wall.

"I guess," Was the disinterested answer he gave,

Evan, trying to grasp at something else to say as to not go back to the awkward silence, blurted out the first thing he could think of, "Why are you skipping class?" That did get Connor's attention, as he turned his gaze to Evan, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why the fuck are you skipping class?" Came Connor's defensive reply.

Evan shrank back into the wall, again bringing his knees close to his chest and hugging them. Not wanting to face the truth of having an anxiety disorder, and not being able to function like a normal human for two damn seconds, he went with the next best thing. "It was just a stressful morning I guess.. I needed some time."

Connor let out a puff of air that sounded almost like a laugh and a disbelieving sigh. "So you went to the back of the school to smoke? Gotta say, never expected shy Evan Hansen that I shared English with to smoke outside the school." He grinned, prompting Evan to give a sheepish smile back. "To answer your question though, Jared Kleinman is a dick."

Evan let out a muffled hum of an agreement, remembering the comment Jared made before he ran down the hall. "Yeah.. He kind of is. Sorry if he said something to you."

Connor just shrugged again, standing up and hoisting his backpack up higher. "It's not your fault he's a dick."

Evan quickly packed the lighter and pack of cigarettes away, looking up at Connor. "Where are you going?" He asked hesitantly, a frown carving its way onto his face. Evan was rather enjoying the small conversation he was having with Connor. It was more than anything he ever did with Jared, no insults being thrown, no one poking fun at his anxiety. Connor glanced back down at Evan, a mischevious grin etching it's way onto his face.

"You're not what I expected you to be, Hansen. And for that reason, you and I," he paused pointing at Evan before himself for dramatic effect, "are going to ditch school." Connor held his hand out again, but this time he was awaiting Evan's hand, a grin still in place on his face, lighting up his normally scowled features. The anxiety that coursed through him at the thought of ditching an entire day of school almost propelled him to say no. Almost.

[mcyourbiisshowing]

Child of Death

Part 4

“Hey, hey, what’s up?” JD catches me when I reach the tiny alley between Razi’s and the building beside us- my back pressed against the wall firmly, eyes closed as I inhale sharp, gasping breaths- all of them coming out stuttered and ragged.

“I--I can’t…. I can’t breathe.”

Their arms wrap around me, body warm as they press my head into their chest and mutter lowly.

“It's ok, it's ok.” I cling onto their tank top, trying to time my breaths with theirs, reason with myself. JD is endlessly patient, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my back and lips pressing to the top of my head until my breaths steady and soon, it’s silence except the quiet breathing between the two of us.

“Thanks.” I mutter, arms wrapping around them properly, too comfortable in the solace the darkness of their chest provides.

“I got you.” They sigh, hands stilling, “Now, what made you go into full on panic mode? Even the bits of the conversation in English was hard to understand.”

I swallow thickly, before mumbling an answer, “That was Hera, my Mom- step-mom technically but she and Dad have been married nearly ten years now. Anyway, she was using Dad’s phone, he was asking about a disturbance.”

“That thing?” JD doesn’t sound very surprised and I nod.

“Yea, that came from the underworld. But I had to tell Dad about what happened anyway and Gods--”

“Shhhh.” JD hums, thumbs returning to their soft circles on my back, “Slow down, or you’ll set yourself off again.”

I take a deep breath, before continuing, “I have...rules, about my existence. Who, what I’m supposed to tell. Unfortunately…”

JD snorts, “Let me guess, your local Jersey Devil ain’t one of them.”

I sigh into their chest, placing a brief kiss against the exposed skin at the top of their tank. A gentle hum emits from them and I grin and do it again. The easy affection comes so naturally, that the thought of it being ripped from me makes my chest ache.

First Grace…..Could JD be next? Havenfall?

“I won’t let them. Whatever the consequence is, I won’t let them.” JD murmurs into my hair, sighing, nuzzling their nose into my hair, “Your Dad, would he….” “Dad wouldn’t. Zeus, Zeus is the problem.”

“Well he can stick it.”

I can’t help but laugh at that, and I feel the curve of JD’s smile against my temple when they press a kiss there.

“C’mon, it’s Sunday, day-off. We’re not sticking around here all day.”  They grab me by the hand, dragging me out of the alleyway, straddling their bike parked outside.

“What--JD, where are we going?” I pick up my helmet, tugging it on my head before I swing my leg over, getting a loose grip around their waist.

“You’ll see!”

====

I half expect the water tower to come into view, but I soon realise we’re going in completely the opposite direction. I keep myself pressed close to them, almost lulling off with the warmth of their body, but I keep myself awake, the crow of my aura swooping high above us. I don’t think JD notices it, otherwise they would have freaked.

“Here we go.”

I swing off the bike, JD killing the engine a second after, shaking my hair out of the helmet- looking to see where we actually are.

“A forrest.”

JD takes my hand, fingers lacing through mine as they pull me along behind them, “An old haunt of mine.”

I nod, the initial fear of the deep, dark woods swept away by the warmth of JD’s hand and the glimpses of crows in the trees above us. To everyone, crows can link back to death. To me, it’s familiarity. When I went on my first couple of missions, every time I saw a crow nearby, see it turn its head towards me, or something, I’d always find comfort in the fact Dad could be looking out for me. Later, it became me looking out for me.

“You have a lot of haunts.”

JD laughs softly, feet threading the leaf covered floor carefully, but still surely, like using a muscle that they haven’t stretched in a while.

The forest is surprisingly light and airy, the quiet a settling calm in my head. JD hums softly as we weave deeper and deeper in, until we come to a high climb of branches and ivy.

“Huh, it really has been a while.” They mutter, breaking hands with my briefly, kindling a small flame in the palm of their hand before they let it catch on the branches. I can see their eyes glow orange and red as they dart over the branches, keeping it controlled as the flames eat up the foliage. When it reaches the edges, it extinguishes into a small billow of smoke.

I cough, my eyes watering at the smoke, turning away for a second. JD just grins as they stand in the middle of it, breathing normally, even going as far as to take an exaggerated deep breath in.

It’s surprisingly darker here, the branches here knitting together in a strange way, the leaves providing the rest of the shade that casts the area in darkness. There’s a circle of rocks in a corner, soggy, half-burned logs lying in the middle of them. It’s just a clearing though, but it’s the most calm and peaceful place I’ve probably ever been in.

“It’s been a while since I’ve really came here. Haven’t felt angry enough to, to be honest. I’d come in here to let off some steam.” JD points to a couple of boards in the corner, some of them clear broken in half, the rest having a single solid crack across the surface.

I’m about to comment on it, when there’s a huge screeching of crows in the air, and I furrow my eyebrows. JD keeps wandering around, unbothered by the sound, but something crawls in my gut. Something not right.

“Hey what--”

JD spins, and their mouth drops open at the purple and blue, mist created crow hopping obediently on my arm.

“Ok, what the actual hell?”

“Crows don’t fly off like that,” I mutter, before my own one takes off, misting through the roof above us. JD’s mouth hangs open as they watch the place it was. I try to get a teasing remark in, but then the ground beneath us tremors. I almost fall flat on my back, but a hand on my back keeps me steady.

“Ok, I was about to dismiss the crows but that definitely wasn’t nothing.” I pull a sigh from my nose, before I run down a path that I can see, the easy jingle of JD’s zippers and belts following me. I only stop when I come to damned cave?

“What the actual hell.” JD mutters, side stepping in front of me to stare down the dark abyss, “I do not remember this.”

They summon a flame, before throwing it as easily as a baseball. I watch as it sails down, down, down.

But then I spot the single, terrifying eye that if flashes past.

“Oh fuck me.”

[themrmalice]

Station Lamia Prime

By Malice

Narrated on YouTube by The Disciple: https://youtu.be/dju620v-WAE

We approached the floating structure, a ring with a large pillar mounted in the center. From it a cacophony of electromagnetic waves erupted through the cosmos, assaulting our ship with near unstoppable strength. Our shields were strong enough to repel most advances, but the waves consistently tore through some sections, deadening rooms for minutes at a time. Death tone plates shimmered in the blue light with a magenta pigment carefully dotting the lower half of most plates. 

I'm a Derelict, ordered by the cosmological council to investigate this station, Lamia Prime. They mentioned peculiar anomalies that had been previously undocumented were a constant force in this place. Between visionary hallucinations to memetic distortion, this place covered all of the enigmatic anomalies recorded by the council with varying levels of detail. As a Derelict, I was only sent in to investigate and record any findings. A crew of 25 men and women on a small shuttle are to monitor my neurological behaviour, as that is the most prevalent report when passing through this area. 

This lone station was a place of vast technological advancement, unrivalled in its prime! Now, it is a ghost of what it once was. There were no signs of external damage, no signs of technological malfunction, no signs of panic or struggle aboard the station. Everyone just disappeared. Leaving only their clothes lying on the ground. Chilling, absolutely, more chilling however is that the reactor is still running without an operator. Unless they developed an autonomous reactor, which is nigh impossible, then this is the work of an anomaly. 

             The station was in range for the smaller pneumo pod to be shot towards it. There was no technology within the pod itself, only lead plating to protect the contents within from radiation. I climbed into its cockpit, before me was a window, through which I could see the grotesque station listing slowly in a dead orbit. The radio clicked on “You ready?” a female voice blared, “Yep!” I responded, almost excited to enter this stations recesses. The cabin around me, laced with woven cloth to protect the contents from kinetic force, began to expand. These were the “Punch Pillows”, so to speak, and they grew rapidly, surrounding my body in their grasp. Then came the “Punch" a massive plume of pneumatically sealed air exploded from behind the shuttle, and I propelled forward towards the station. Above me, circles of lights turned to lines and the station ahead grew into a vast, rotating mass. I was pulled into it, and I was about to slam into the side when an unknown force cushioned my assault. My window had strings of baby blue constantly crawling from bottom to top. “Don't worry,” the female voice spoke, “Its merely an Electron Field, it will pull you in shortly.” and just like that, it did. I was being guided gently into a small opening near the bottom of the pillar, where I was thrown into a room filled with meteorites and asteroids. Essentially the junk drawer of this station, where it preserves any meteors that come hurling its way towards the station. 

The airlock spewed open, and the pressure kicked the door off its hinges, opening my deflating cabin to the meteor storage. I got out, searching immediately for a door to go through. Luckily, there was an illuminated door opposite the entrance. A bulkhead of sorts, clearly where the airlock was. I stammered over to it, carefully weaving through the meteors until I could embrace the handle on the door. To my surprise, it turned without hesitation. Indicating that it was recently used. As it opened I pulled out my Plasma Pistol, standard issue for all Derelict Personnel. Inside was a well lit, glossy surface with dotted dirt patterns all around. I slowly walked in and closed the door behind me, swiftly jolting back and forth as I checked the room for intruders. Nothing found. As the door slid into place, it automatically sealed and fresh oxygen was pumped into the room. I turned up my visor, allowing the oxygen to fill my lungs. I looked down and saw more dirt, once again dotted towards the door out. Cautiously I approached, the glassy texture of this place made the dots stand out to an extreme. 

The door slashed open with both sides moving in perfect unison, something now alien to me entirely. Before me was a vast hallway that ran seemingly forever then wrapped around the sides. All I knew was that I was at the bottom of the pillar, and around me stood flat dead black monoliths of incredible size, silent from lack of use. Brushing past one caused its black face to ignite into bluish tones with a blaring sound cascading down the hallways and echoing back to me. The screaming reverberation startled me as it returned and split off into the other halls, disturbingly enough, I could hear other sounds it carried as it passed. The screen spoke an ancient dialect originating in primordial English. I could only make out “Lamia Prime” and “Welcome” from the degraded radio. Beyond it, I saw a large corridor which whipped to the right, interwoven into a hive of lost knowledge. I began my investigation, only to be interrupted by the perfect porcelain white halls having one dark brown interlocutor. More particles leading off from where I came from. Dust from the Meteorites, no doubt. I followed the breadcrumb trail, which traced the halls loosely. Whoever this was, they were disoriented. 

Each step into this place was another step into madness, white walls, white floors, white fluorescent lights, with only the light baby blue interjections of screens followed by green and magenta iridescence radiating through the windows. The iridescent glow was hypnotic, perfectly even in its distribution. Wait, green? I thought the star was blue. Taking a slow and cautious step into a small room decorated with dispersed and erratic placement of lab tech, I gazed out the nearby window at the star, which was indeed blue. Looking back at its iridescence, I saw blue and magenta pigment. The magenta was the colour of the nebula, so that's consistent. Perhaps a part of the Anomaly. Down the corridor I heard gas spew as a door screamed open, I crouched and slowly walked towards the sound. All was silent in this moment, I approached, peering through the quartzite glass at a now opened door with a shimmering light exuding from it. My feet squealed on the floor as I motioned towards it, and as the first squeak from my foot echoed from beneath me, the door gently closed. 

My radio clicked on, and again I could hear that female voice, “The whole station stood still for a good 5 minutes, what the hell is happening in there?”. Stood still? I thought, how the hell does an entire station of this size stand still then go right back to regular rotation? I clicked my radio, “I believe there is another being aboard this station, dirt tracks have alluded to it, preparing to investigate.” I realized that I hadn’t asked about the station, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I opened my mouth and no words came out. Made me shudder. I moved towards the door, which automatically opened upon noticing my movement, I readied my pistol, and stood with my back against the frame. Snapping into place with my pistol aimed into the room, I swiftly strutted in. Nary a sound but the squeaks of my boots and the charge of plasma. The room had no alternative entrances or exits, nothing was there, not even a sign of life, no dirt on the ground, nothing. Everything was as it should be. Noticing this my heart began to pound. Maybe a malfunction? But Thus far I haven't seen the stations infrastructure malfunction even minorly. 

The radio clicked again, “Warning, Incoming Magnetic Storm, prepare for Electronics and Machines to begin malfunctioning or turning off entirely.” My heart jumped again, the thought of more of these malfunctions happening was comforting but also terrifying. Almost immediately, the Magenta Hue began to offset the Turquoise, and the Iridescence faded as a massive nebula began to envelope the station. Now, all that shone through the window was Magenta, interrupted by streaks of reddish lightning. Magnetic Storms were no joke, they have blasted whole ships out of the stars. However, this one was different. It seemed almost targeted. The Lighting slashed through the hull of the outer ring, gargantuan pillars of light erupted from within the cloud and plasmatic fire skewered throughout it. It was collapsing! The Outer Ring no doubt acts as a Gyroscope for this damn station, I need to get the hell out of here before the Gravity starts to decay! I bolted down the hall, with the rooms behind me exploding into Magenta tones that roughly splattered against the wall, Panic shrouded me and I began to sprint blindly towards a staircase! I grabbed my radio, almost screaming “The storm is tearing through the station, I need evac NOW!” and almost immediately a calm response resonated from my earpiece, “What the fuck are you talking about Damien? The Storm is oncoming, it's not even here yet! We still have an ETA of 3 hours!” I stopped, no chaos encapsulated the halls behind me. Just silence. I jogged down the staircase I had ran up, and saw that the station was all intact. The radio clicked back “Are you alright? Your neuron activity is sparking right now, perhaps we should evac and get a mag helm for you.” She spoke in a very worried tone. With a shaking voice, I responded, “Yeah, get me out of here.” she responded, “Are you positive? You understand the danger of sticking around, right?” Confusion struck like a bat at the back of my head, “What the hell are you talking about Helen, get me out of here!” I shouted back. Audibly frustrated, Helen spoke, “If you insist then fine, we still have 2 and a half hours till the Magnetic Storm is on us.” Before I could speak, my throat scratched and only a whine was let out. The fuck is going on here? I thought. Guess there's no helping it now. Got 2 and a half hours in hell. Much as I would like to get out of here I would need Helen to send a shuttle here. For some reason, she couldn't hear what I was saying, sounded like she was hearing something entirely different. 

I press onward, the clicking and whirring of the space stations electronics began to grow louder. I looked at the iridescence again, the pale blue and magenta hue were even. The Nebulon Cloud that enveloped the station began to grow in size, indicating the Magnetic Storm. I eventually wormed my way through the facilities until I reached a room with a computer that spoke my Dialect. I opened the computer, finding that this station, Station Lamia Prime, was one of a number of stations. It mentioned another, in Belial's Trench, about 10,000 meters down, called Sub Station Lamia. Belial is another Anomalous Planet. Prime is where they all sent their data. Instead of pouring through 13 petabytes of data, I instead searched for a simple map. When i found a file containing Technology Mapping, Room Layout, and eventually a full map, I was worried. There were several recalculation maps, one which stated that floor 133 was above floor 142, and one where floor 133 was in the outer ring, where only floors 200-220 are. These recalculations happened once every week, and a recalc was scheduled in just a few minutes from now! But between all the Recalcs, I found that only 133 changed position, and was rarely in the same place twice. I checked for a room layout of Floor 133, and found that the rooms were under constant recalc too! I found eventually that Floor 133 was where the Reactor was held, which means I have to hunt this floor down to shut off this station. 

The Recalc began, and would take an estimated 10 minutes to complete. I wish it would be instant like at Prometheus. This station is responsible for sending a few encrypted messages to Prometheus and a number of other Lifehold stations. But the encryption doesn't make sense whatsoever! Its a basic encryption that a preschooler could solve, but the message is still taking the galaxies best scientists to decipher. The messages are sent to each of the 5 Lifehold stations, sometimes voice codes, sometimes text, and even sometimes Morse Code, a dead format from centuries ago! Thus far they have only determined that it is a 12 word statement, split up into 2 sentences, sent in 5 separate messages. They have only determined where 2 words go, and that is “Send” and “Assimilating” and their placement in the statement. They have deciphered that Send is the first word of the first sentence, and that Assimilating is the sixth word of the second sentence. They sent 3 units of derelicts to Help, with only 2 returning in full health. This station has baffled everyone involved, due to its impossibility of investigation. 

The screen beeped, saying that the recalc was done, and that Floor 133 was 3 floors above me. I checked the Layout and the Reactor was on the left, 5 doors down. I practically leaped out of the chair, crouching down, and gliding through the corridor to the staircase. When i reached the staircase, I made careful note of the floor I was on, floor 062. I sprinted up the stairs, the next floor was 063, 064, and 06...2? I checked the floor above me and it was, 063. Wait, what? Hold on now, maybe floor 133 disguises itself as the floor you were just on. Doesn’t explain the next floors repeating though. I opened the door to floor 062, 5 doors down on the left and I was in a Lab Room. I went back to the staircase and began ascending till I was back at floor 062, where i entered again and jogged 5 doors down to the left. Again, the Lab Room! This time, I grabbed a small glass bottle on my way out. Back at the staircase, I placed the bottle on the floor before entering the staircase. I jogged up the stairs, 063, 064, 062 again! I opened the door and sure enough, there it was! The damned bottle! Okay! I thought Lets try going down. I began to descend, going down to... 063. Now I was getting frustrated. I don't have time to play games! I walked over to the edge of the staircase and peered up. An endless flight was above me, same below. I opened the door to 062, grabbed the bottle that happily waited for me, and closed the door. This time, i sat the bottle on the railing next to 062. Keeping an eye on it as I jogged up to 063, 064, and when i reached what was supposed to be 133, the bottle remained where it was. I looked at the sign on the door, and it said, 062. Turning around I saw the bottle standing there. Frustrated I took the bottle and slammed it against the wall, where it shattered, bouncing off an invisible force. I was shocked! I looked at the wall I had thrown it against and placed my hand on it, a pale blue luminance echoed from where my hand had met the wall. I grew curious and began to apply pressure, only to see the sign next to the door begin to distort. It now said 074, and when I tore my hand away it said 062. So that means I ascended 12 floors! I started counting during my descent, passing shards of broken glass 9 times, I eventually reached a point where I was 3 floors above where I began. I pressed against the wall and sure enough, it said 133. The real sign was slightly above where it should be and was ascending. I opened the door to be met with the same corridor as 062. Perhaps I have to distort the energy causing this visual fluctuation? 

I clicked my radio, “Hey, can you fire a high energy EMP at the lower half of the central pillar? There's some energetic force blocking my progress.” Immediately it clicked back, “Are you sure your okay?” Helen said, her tone was off. “Im fine, why do you ask?” Helen spoke back, “I'm serious, you need to evac, alright? You have an hour and a half until the Magnetic Storm hits, and you don't want to be on board when it does.” I realized that the Anomaly is still messing with my comms. So that's not an option. Then, another idea struck me! I pulled out my pistol and set it to stun, maybe the energy blast from it will be strong enough to distort the field! I pointed it right at the door and began charging. Just before I released I heard a shout, “Don't shoot!” It sounded like it was right next to me! I jolted and released the trigger, it struck the field, a streak of blue tore through the hexagonal field that had encapsulated the entire staircase. Floor 133, finally! But the door was halfway through the ceiling. I couldn't see the button to open it, so I was going to have to go to the next floor. I tried my comms again, “Helen, I just distorted a sort of field, in the stairwell, and I'm about to enter the floor that has the Reactor on it.” I waited a minute, no response. “Hello? Helen, you there?” Again, no response. I turned and was about to jog up the stairs when my foot touched something soft. I looked down to see colourful clothing lying on the ground. My heart sunk when I noticed a scorch mark on the right shoulder. Looking around, there were dozens of clothing sets laid out, shirt above, pants below, like ghosts. What the fuck? I thought. 

I slowly walked up the stairs, passing by the shirts of varying colour. None of the others had a mark on the shoulder. Nothing made sense to me right now. When I made it to the next floor, I saw floor 133 was still slowly gliding through the wall, but I could at least access it. I had to kneel to press the button. And when it opened a headache slammed into the back of my skull, like a train it struck again and again. A migraine. Whatever the Anomaly is, I found it. When I hopped into the floor, an icy chill ran up my spine, causing me to reflexively contort. My arms pulled to my chest, and my eyes fixated ahead of me without moving. Now, terror filled my lungs, as I stumbled towards a large observation deck. Before me were shattered fragments of a previous planet, still intact to some capacity. The Nebulon Cloud was far smaller now, and the Iridescence on the ground was a dark blue complimented by a dead Magenta. Now the blue was overpowering the Magenta. This terror was only furthered when I turned around. Hundreds of clothes were scattered to and fro, with the shirts all pointed in the same direction. Towards the 5th door on the left side of the entrance. I walked over silently, I had the innate sense I was being stared at. My pistol drawn, I pointed it towards the door. Now, the clothing seemed to disperse around my feet, clearing a path as I walked. Parting the sea of clothes, I made my way to an inactive generator. I placed my hand on a terminal, and looked at the readings. I couldn’t make out the dialect, but the layout of the readings were familiar, luckily. The Reactors Energy output was above 60% with a 10% usage. I was confused by this, as a Lifehold Station normally has an 80% usage with a 90% output. But the numbers were fading. I looked forward to see a lever, the obvious on/off switch. I moved towards it, only to feel something brush against my arm. I jumped forward and glared back to see all the clothing was now floating, shirts above, pants below, neither were filled with anything! Flat clothing that walked towards me slowly, in unison! I grabbed the lever and they all halted, as if scared to see what would happen if I were to turn the Reactor off. One motioned and I immediately pulled the lever.

As swiftly as the clunk of the energy output shutting off sounded,the entire room went dark, the clothing fell, and the room was filled with the Magenta Hue followed by Red Crackles! And only in those flashes of red did I see black smoky bodies, humanoid, standing where the clothing did! I screamed, fired at one of them, they did not respond, none of the smoky bodies were moving! Despite this, and despite me seeing the bolt of blue slash into the wall, I saw a burn mark form on the shoulder of one of the articles of clothing. I sprinted wildly past all of them, feeling nothing as I ran right through some! Panic filled me again, and the cloud of the Magnetic Storm began tearing away at the room I was in, I opened the door and slid out just as a flash of Red revealed that the smoky figures were all standing around me with arms extended. I slammed into the ground, the smooth white tiles were comforting to me. I clicked on my radio, “Helen, can you hear me!?” I yelled, no response yet again, I ran down 4 flights of stairs, ran into floor 062, which now had clothing in the corridors! Disarray filled the corridor, I heard a loud crash at one end of the hall. The Magnetic Storm was upon us, I saw the cloud ripping at the outer ring. I ran towards the Meteorite Store, only to be halted by a figure holding the same pistol that I use, with it charging and pointed at me. Another Derelict, but, how? Nobody else was sent in! I drew my pistol and pointed it back, mine was still set on stun, but theirs was shrouded in purple. Not a word between us, the figure was feminine, and tears streamed down her face, she screamed at me “Are you one of them!?” I calmly spoke back, “One of who? My name is Damien, who are you?” She shook as I spoke, and not a word was spoken from her lips, but she did peer out the window. With a dead expression, she took the pistol and pointed it to her temple. I quickly shouted “Woah! Wait!” But by the time my words left my mouth, a blast of purple clouds and scarlet streaks soared through her skull, annihilating her head. I looked out the window and saw a flash of red sheer towards my corridor, and I braced for the impact.

A flash of white, I blinked, and I was on the floor, in 062. My nose and ears were bleeding extremely, I groaned and rose to my feet. The first sound I heard was over the radio, “Damien, are you there?! Damien!” I clicked my radio, “Yeah, I’m fine, glad to hear from you. Whats the ETA on the Magnetic Storm?” Helen, who was clearly confused, said “Are you kidding me? The station was torn apart when we left! We tried to wait for you but we took a Mag Blast right to our bow! We left, its been 2 days Damien!” I couldn’t comprehend what she meant, Two days? I clicked back “What are you talking about Helen? How long have I been out?” A moment of silence, then the click “Damien what the fuck is going on!? Been out, you went totally dark! It happened like 30 minutes after you left! How long have you been in there, how long do you think you’ve been in there?!” “To me its only been about 2 hours, Helen! I dont know whats happening, all I know is what I saw!” Helen quickly responded, panic in her voice, “You need to get off that station Damien, I already ordered for its kinetic destruction! They are going to be blasting it in a few days, getting rid of it altogether!” Before I could respond she spoke, “we have 30 minutes to get you out of there, there's another Storm coming in. Are you ready?” I groaned again, “Yeah, yeah I'm ready. I'll head to the Meteor Store.” I began to stumble haphazardly through the halls. When I reached the junction to the Meteor Store, I was about to turn when I noticed that the Dirt Trail lead right to where I woke up. I followed the trail back to find that it lead in different directions. I began that way, figuring I had enough time to quickly find where it went and head back. Stumbling slowly through the hallways, I looked at my watch, which indicated that I had about 15 minutes before the arrival of the storm. 15 minutes? It's only been like 5! I clicked on my radio, “Helen, how long has it been since you contacted me recently?” Helen responded, “It's been only like 10 minutes, Damien. Are you near the meteorite store?” I snapped awake in panic, “Ten minutes!? Helen, my watch says 15 and to me it's only been 5! What the fuck is happening here I feel like I'm losing my mind!” She took a moment to respond, then said “I don't know Damien. When we left the Station was torn to shreds. We would have stayed away if there wasn't another message sent to Prometheus the day after. Another encryption, from this station.” My head swam, the migraine from before returned, “Helen the shit I’ve seen here is nothing like you would imagine! I'm getting out of here.” Filled with determination, I began to careen towards the Meteor Store. I entered the Airlock to be met with a click from the radio again, “Damien you need to get out of there,we can't wait forever!” I snapped back, “Helen whats going on?!” Full realization that I was not perceiving this as she was. No response, but I understood her panic when the airlock doors opened, and I saw the Storm tearing through the ships force field. I screamed into my microphone, “Helen its not real, I’ve seen like 5 of these hit, its not real!” She screamed back “Its fucking real enough! Our goddamn reactor is dead we are using a backup generator, we are getting out of here!” I saw the ship warp out. I closed the airlock door, waiting for the hit. But once again, none came.

Exacerbated, I stood up after waiting 20 minutes, and opened the door back into the station. Where I was met with a bustling corridor filled with smoky people moving in flashes, and only in between each flash did I see clothing. Some stopped and glared at me, and I warily walked through them to the opposite side. Doors opening and closing on their own, parting clothing seas, and smoky figures in between red flashes. I saw the Iridescence, it was flashing between being primarily magenta and primarily blue. I slowly walked through the hall, my shoulders hunched at my sides. Between each flash I admired the colourful array of clothing on the ground, and during each flash I watched as the smoky figures walked right by me. I made it to an observation deck, where I sat down and tried to collect myself. Crimson dotted the ground beneath me, my nose and ears were still bleeding. I heard a voice, “Um, sir, who are you?” I turned around to see clothing on the ground. I got up and faced them, a flash occured and I spoke to the smoky figure, “My name is Damien.” No response. I sat back down when the next flash happened and the smoky figure was no longer there. Eventually, a longer flash of white occured and shrouded my vision for what seemed like an eternity. When it all came to, all I saw outside was a magenta cloud with streaks of red slashing through. Behind me though, was an endless gauntlet of sprinting clothing and smoky figures, complimented by red lights and blaring sirens. The flash happened again, and I saw the Magenta Cloud emitting from the planet, spewing from it. Then, another long flash, and Everything was white again, silent and calm. The nebulon Cloud was rested around the station again. I clicked my radio, “Anyone there?” I said in a tired tone. No response. I looked ahead, and saw a dot of brimming white growing in size. Initially I thought it was a distant supernova, then I thought about it. If this is back to where I started, then this would be the future, right? Then, if its the future, that's not a distant supernova, that's the intergalactic Railgun!

I jumped to my feet and ran down the hall, towards the meteor store. Before I could turn, I saw the same feminine figure from before standing where the hall is. She pointed her gun at me, and had tears streaming down her face, just like before. This time, however, I could make out smaller details. I recognized the face of this woman! It’s Helen! “Helen! Wait! Please!” she narrowed her eyes, and said something in a dead tongue, “Mor Flos Vale”. And before she shot, she crossed her arm over a badge on her shoulder, a red badge on her shoulder with a blue flower in the center, with the words, Flos Occidere. Then she fired, I ducked under the bolt and ran back towards the observation deck, the shot from the railgun was now in the Solar System, and would strike us in just a moment. Behind me, I saw a Magenta hue paint the corridor that Helen was in, she gazed out a window, tears streaming. She brought the gun to her head, and fired. Another storm. I looked back and watched as it swallowed the payload whole, pushing it off its course. Before the storm could hit, and without hesitation, I followed in Helen’s footsteps, I gazed out, shed a tear, and fired a plasma bolt into my temple.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Eight

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 8/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Previous

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Large English Breakfast with Almond milk and a double latte macchiato.”

Tom smiled brightly at the barista and grabbed the two steaming mugs from the counter. He weaved his way through several tables towards the back of the small café. The store front was busy enough for a Monday morning; a stream of tired and warmly attired commuters parading in and out in search of much needed caffeine. But sitting in the back of the shop, tucked away by a small working fireplace, guaranteed they would be left more or less alone.

“Alright, one tea.” He placed the white ceramic mug in front of Ben and settled into the cushioned chair opposite, placing his own steaming mug down on the dark wood table. “And my own spot of heaven.”

Ben chuckled, blowing gently on the steaming tea before him. “I see the caffeine addiction is still running strong.”

“Stronger than ever.” Tom laughed, picking up his gently steaming mug and taking a careful sip. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the warmth and the rush of caffeine as the smooth and bitter drink hit his tongue. Bliss. He placed the mug down, resting his folded hands on the table. Ben stifled a yawn, rubbing his free hand over his face. Tom took the opportunity to study his friend; taking in his stooped posture, heavy-lidded eyes, and the tension in his shoulders.

He hadn’t talked with Ben much in the past few weeks and hadn’t seen him in longer; between rehearsals and the birth of Ben and Sophie’s youngest, a boy, neither man had been much up for socializing. Tom had called the afternoon before to check in on Ben (and his newly expanded family) and had been not entirely surprised when Ben had jumped at the chance to get out of the house. “I don’t care when or where, but please take me away.” It had taken all he had not to chuckle at the desperation in Ben’s tone and plans were quickly set for a meeting at a café halfway between their two homes the following morning. “Thank you,” Ben had all but implored before the call had ended. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Tom picked up his mug and took another sip of his macchiato. “How are things with Sophie and the kids?”

A tired but warm smile spread across Ben’s face. “Good…Exhausting, but good.” He took another sip of his tea, his eyes closing briefly, before placing the mug back onto the table top. “Sleep is a fond but distant memory.”

“I can only imagine,” Tom laughed, with an understanding nod. He ran his finger up and down the side of his mug. “And how are the boys adjusting?”

“Kit’s been a bit moody but seems to be settling in. He does however look at Sophie and me from time to time as if we’ve betrayed him in the worst way.” He chuckled softly, taking another sip of his tea. “But Hal seems fine for the most part. He’s been a bit fussy when Sophie can’t hold him but he overall seems to be handling it much better than either of us thought.”

“And the littlest one?”

“He’s been giving us a run for our money. Fussier than either of the other two unless he’s being held.” Ben laughed in earnest. He was drained, that much was abundantly clear, but he happy, albeit exhausted, pride that shone in Ben’s eyes spoke volumes. “So inevitably he spends most of his time in either mine or Sophie’s arms. Though he seems to be taking to the self-rocker Sophie’s mum sent up after Hal was born. Needless to say, we’re hoping it sticks for more than a week or so. I don’t think I can stand watching Hal cry because we aren’t able to hold him too.” Ben laughed again and took another sip of his tea.

“I’m thrilled for you mate, both of you.” Tom took another sip of his macchiato. “Though,” he started again with a raise of his eyebrow, “I can readily admit I don’t begrudge you the lack of sleep.”

Ben laughed and shook his head, pointing a finger at Tom with a knowing look. “It’ll be your time soon enough, mark my words.”

Tom shrugged and shook his head with a soft sigh. There was no sense in trying to argue either way with Ben; he’d tried so many times and it was frankly exhausting. The best course of action, it seemed, was simply to let it be. He picked up his mug once more and took another long sip.

After several minutes silence, Ben tapped his fingers idly on the tabletop and asked. “How is the show going?”

Tom’s face lit at the question, a full smile spreading quickly across his features. “Bloody wonderful.”

“Wonderful, eh?” Ben rested his elbows on the table and leaned his chin against his opened palms. “Do tell.”

Laughing, Tom rambled through details about the play and the people he worked with. The ridiculous way Charlie had taken to try to make him laugh during a serious scene (he hadn’t cracked yet but Tom could admit it was coming) and the pranks he and Zawe had taken to pulling on both each other and, in turn, on Charlie. He talked about Cath and the way she made him laugh, shared silly anecdotes they’d discussed, talked about how she remembered how he liked his coffee after one run in at the coffee shop near the theatre. He smiled, rubbing his finger along the rim of the mug, as he remembered the way her face lit up when she laughed at a stupid joke he’d shared with her the evening before.

In the week that had passed since their impromptu coffee meeting (he refused to let himself think of it as a date), he and Cath had taken to trading coffee runs and talking. She’d asked fondly after Bobby; it appeared the spaniel (the flirting menace) had left quite an impression and he’d found himself contemplating asking her to join them on one of their morning runs. The only thing stopping him (he told himself fiercely) had been the look of disgusted horror she’d worn when he’d mentioned running. “You’re telling me you do that for fun. Insanity. Complete and utter insanity.”

Ben’s voice broke through the memory. He glanced across the table to find his friend shooting him a sly look. “This Cath sounds like quite the woman, to have captured your attention so singularly.”

Tom blinked, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Ben, she’s just a friend.”

He watched as Ben’s eyebrows rose comically. “And I’m a tea pot.”

“And aren’t you a lovely one?”

“Thomas, I know you. I know the way you get when you are interested in someone.” He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “And, my dear fellow, you are definitely interested in this one.” He paused for a sip of his tea. “Out of all the people you’ve worked with on this show, she is the one you’ve talked about the most.” He quirked an eyebrow once again.

“She is a friend,” Tom insisted, pausing to take another deep sip of his coffee. “Or at least someone I could consider one, in time…”

“And someone you find attractive.”

Tom grunted under his breath. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

“But you don’t deny it?” Ben countered with a grin.

An exasperated sigh was his only reply for a long while. “Fine, yes she is attractive and I’m not blind to that. But it’s not the best idea.”

“Why ever not?” Ben threw back. “You like her, no one is saying you’ve got to marry her this instant.” Tom narrowed his eyes. Ben simply ignored him and carried on. “I’m just saying don’t lie to yourself. You like her and from what I’ve gathered she doesn’t think you’re a complete waste of a man.”

Tom narrowed his eyes further. Ben burst out into a deep laugh at that which only served to deepen his friend’s already scathing glare.

“Oh poppet, fix your face. People will think we’ve had a falling out.” Tom fought the smirk that threatened to spread across his face. And lost. Ben grinned cheekily. “I’m just saying why not give it a shot? What do you have to lose?”

“My track record with these things is…less than stellar. I don’t want to fuck things up by just jumping in. She’s a good person…She deserves better.”

“That is utter bullshit.” Ben snapped, starling Tom with his ferocity. “Okay yes, you’ve made some spectacularly unfortunate decisions in the past but the fact that you’re pausing to think about them speaks a great deal towards just how much you’ve grown and to just how serious you are about this woman.” Ben reached out and placed a hand on Tom’s arm, squeezing it in reassurance and in understanding. “You don’t have to jump into anything. Just talk with her. Get to know her, be her friend. And see if this…If she is ultimately worth taking a risk for.” He offered Tom a warm smile. “The only thing you have to lose is this…” Ben waved his hand before him. “Fear that’s still holding you back.”

                                                        —

Tom shook his head, pausing to tie his laces, the conversation from earlier replaying itself once more in his mind. His mid-morning run with Bobby had taken nearly an extra half hour as he thought over everything Ben had said to him and tried to figure out just what he was going to do about it. Bobby had been utterly delighted with the change and had taken full advantage; sniffing new territory, marking it as his, and finding even more wildlife to chase.

It was still a relatively cool day, though warmer for mid-March, and he found most of the park and surrounding streets were dotted with people, but not as crowded as he would have expected for the time of day. He’d been stopped a handful of times, a few young women and a little boy who pointed at him crying out “It’s Loki, daddy!” as he pulled on his father’s hand. Tom had done his best to be friendly and open with each and every one of them. He’d refused pictures but had signed the receipts and other bits of paper they’d handed him. Thankfully, he’d managed to get away before a bigger crowd had a chance to form.

Not a damned thing was any clearer though when he climbed his front steps and mechanically unlocked and opened his front door. Bobby shuffled around contentedly as Tom unclipped his lead and hung it on the hall tree next to his jacket. He toed off his trainers and jogged up the stairs to shower. He was hot, sweaty, and tired, but still utterly confused. He hated it, hated how indecisive he was being. Annoyed, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket by the bathroom door. His shorts, leggings, and socks were next. As he tossed them into the basket as well, he let out a resigned groan, knowing he couldn’t put off a load of washing for much longer. He could send them to a laundry service, it would certainly make his life infinitely easier if he did, but doing simple things like his own washing or running to the shops on his own helped to keep him feeling grounded. And despite everything, that was something he still desperately needed.

The bathroom light flickered to life as Tom padded his way towards the walk in shower and fiddled with the knobs until he’d gotten the water temperature just so. He all but sighed in bliss as he stepped into the steaming water, letting it soothe his aching muscles and warm him from the chill of the late morning. He soaped and shampooed with a delightful lethargy, not quite wanting to give up the peace and warmth. But the day would carry on without him whether he was ready for it or not. Rinsing thoroughly, Tom shut off the water and rubbed his face with his hands. He reached for the towel hanging on the rack beside the shower and made quick work of wiping his face and rubbing his hair before wrapping the towel efficiently around his waist.

He found Bobby curled contentedly at the center of his made bed. Tom knew he should scold the spaniel and move him, but couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. Bobby rolled onto his back, mouth hanging open and tongue lulling to one side and barked once at Tom.

“You are trouble,” Tom laughed, making his way towards his wardrobe and pulling out jeans, a jumper, socks, and boxers. Laying the gathered clothing on the edge of the bed, Tom quickly dried himself and dressed. It was a late day today and he technically didn’t have to be at the theatre until around five. That gave him plenty of time to putter around before he needed to consider heading out.

As he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar ring of his mobile echoed from the table near the front door. Tom darted forward, managing to grab it and swipe to answer without dropping either the mobile or himself.

“Hello?”

“Afternoon, brother mine.” He could hear the amusement in his younger sister’s voice.

Tom let out a soft laugh. “What do you want Em?”

“Want something? Me? I’m hurt, Tommy. So hurt.”

“Funny,” he quipped, heading into the living room. He plopped himself onto the couch, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. He hit the speaker button and dropped his mobile on the couch beside him. Bobby padded in from the hallway and jumped up beside Tom on the couch, resting his head on his master’s crossed legs.

“And don’t you ever forget it,” Emma chuckled. “Seriously though, you know Jack and I are planning to come see the show tonight.”

“Yes…” A sense of foreboding rushed through him. He reached out and absently stroked Bobby’s ear.

“If you are alright with it, would you mind me swinging by with Allie for a bit? Mum’s coming up tonight to mind her, but I have a few errands I need to run…”

“And they’d be easier sans toddler?” Tom finished, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“I know it’s horribly last minute but I am utterly desperate.”

Tom let out a quiet sigh. “What time do you think you’ll be back? Or is Mum coming here?”

“Um, I should be back by half two…quarter after at the latest…” Tom heard shuffling in the background, followed by a car door shutting. “Come on baby.” Allie’s high pitched giggle filtered through the phone’s speaker. A few moments later his front gate buzzed.

Tom groaned. “Please tell me you’ve not done what I think you’ve done.” The gate buzzed again and Bobby barked elatedly, jumped off the couch and made a mad dash towards the front door. “Very cute, Em.” He pushed himself up to his feet and wandered towards the panel by the door. He didn’t bother checking the monitor before buzzing Emma and Allie in. Bobby continued to bounce excitedly by his feet.

A knock sounded on the door a few moments later. He made quick work of the locks and pulled the door open, using his back leg to keep Bobby from darting out. Emma smiled brightly at him, her daughter clutched in her arms.

“Uncle Tommy!”

Tom’s face brightened and he reached out to take the small girl from her mother. “Hello princess. Are you ready to have fun?” She nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands together.

A small, warm smile spread across Emma’s face as she watched the sight before her for several moments before seeming to remember herself. “Alright, darling,” she started, clapping her hands together. “Be good for your uncle. Mummy will be back in a few hours.” She kissed Allie on the cheek then smiled brightly at her brother. “Thanks, Tom. You’re the best.”

He raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger of his free hand at Emma. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Emma snorted. “Funny.” A horn sounded from the street. Emma leaned over and kissed Allie once more before running down the walk and towards the gate. “See you in a bit.”

Tom pushed the door closed with his hip and placed his squirming niece down so that he could relock the door. He then made quick work of removing her pink coat as she squirmed and hanging in on the hall tree beside his own. Bobby, excited by the arrival of a new friend, barked once and began to lick Allie’s face causing the little girl to squeal in delight and reaching out to pat the dog in return. Tom found himself smiling at the sight and lowered himself to the floor beside them. There was something so simple and so beautiful about the innocence in which they interacted and he was taken by it so completely.

He sat on the floor in his front hall beside his dog and his niece for what felt like ages before he broke the contented silence. “So my darling, what would you like to do?”

Allie tore her attention away from Bobby with great reluctance and faced her uncle. She scrunched her face in thought, sandy brows nearly reaching her the coppery curls that brushed her forehead. “Park,” she finally answered with a decisive nod of her head.

Tom laughed and nodded. “Park it is.” He let out a soft groan as he pushed himself to his feet and Allie giggled at his efforts. “Laugh now, little girl, but someday you will understand all too well.”

“Uncle Tommy silly.”

“Yes,” he answered with a chuckle. “Yes, I am.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and grabbed Bobby’s lead from the hall tree. Bobby barked twice then sat still, his tail a blur against the hardwood floor. “Two walkies in less than two hours. You, my lad, are spoiled,” he joked as he clipped the lead and harness around the spaniel.

Patting his back pocket to make sure he had wallet, phone, and keys, Tom grabbed his coat, shrugging it on before helping Allie into her own. Both dog and child bounced excitedly by his feet and Tom couldn’t help the smile which spread across his face. Taking Allie firmly in one hand and Bobby’s lead in the other, the trio made their way from the house and out into the bright early afternoon light.

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