#Visible from 5 miles away

[adrixivy]

Peter is seriously underestimated. By everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. In and out the suit.

First group of people that underestimated him was the Avengers before they recruited him. Looking through reports from SHIELD and videos posted online, the Avengers sees him as harmless at first. A vigilante that despite being seen helping people, they still don’t know if his intentions are truly good. They’re looking at a video of him catching a school bus filled with kids from a ten feet height and they’re impressed but that also means he’s way stronger than he looks and not so harmless. So they want to recruit him and at the same time find out his intentions and identity. And they’ll make him reveal it if they have to.

So cut to Tony trying to talk to him about telling his identity and he’s immediately saying no, telling Tony he has to hide his identity so that his loved ones won’t get hurt. Peter tries to run and immediately a fight breaks out. Tony shoots his beams and is stunned to see Peter dodge it all effortlessly, as if knowing when its coming(He has his spider sense to thank for that). Next, Natasha comes at him, appearing from behind. She throws a kick and he immediately dodges. At first, Natasha hits managed to throw him off and even hit him but it quickly changed to him dodging everything and even catching her fists and kicks and soon webbing her up(He memorized her fighting pattern as she used most of the same moves since she didn’t think that he would be able to stop her). Again, they’re underestimating him.

Suddenly, beams, arrows and even a shield is thrown at him all at once. He dodges the beams, catches the arrow and flung it up to the sky with immense strength, making the arrow explode in the air and he catches the shield with his bare hands. A shield that was traveling probably more than 100 miles per hour and he easily catches it! He swings it away and Steve is charging at him with hand to hand combat. Imagine everyone’s surprise to see him hold up against Steve who is a superhuman with little effort! Soon, he outsmarts Steve and has him webbed up on the floor and he scrambles away. He is webbing himself away, out of sight immediately. He can fight the Avengers but he chooses to run so the Avengers are left dumbfounded. Everyone is helping Steve and Nat out of his ridiculously strong webs.

Second group of people are villains that don’t know Peter’s capabilities like his usual villains. Villains that know to never underestimate the spider are basically the sinister six or anyone that has fought the Spider on some rather personal level. But imagine villains who are completely new to Peter. The new villain has seen videos of the Spider and didn’t think much of him. He notices Peter fights with flips and webs so one day, he has Peter trapped in a very small room, barely any space to move so Peter is standing there with restraints on his hand and legs.

Villain: Your acrobatic tricks and webs will be of no use in here, Spider-Man!

Peter, thinking about what the villain said and realised the villain thinks he uses webs and flips since that is what he commonly use in his fight: You don’t know I have super strength?

The villain is visibly stunned in the camera and Peter stares at him for a moment then looks down in his handcuffs and easily rips it apart. He does the same with his legs and scoffs in disbelief. He easily breaks through the wall and within 5 minutes, the villain is webbed up and thrown over to the police.

Honestly that doesn’t even scratch the surface on how much people underestimate Peter. They think he’s strong because of his mutant powers but he also has the intellect and they just don’t realise that. Its not only when he’s spiderman he’s being underestimated. Even as Peter Parker.

When he trusts Tony enough to know his identity, Tony makes him work as his personal assistant in Stark Industries(He has made Peter his son without Peter knowing). Peter obviously accepts because he idolizes the man. Imagine people’s disbelief to hear that the head engineer of the largest tech conglomerate in the world’s assistant is a freaking high schooler! Words spreads and everyone is thinking Tony is crazy for hiring a kid! Everything in their work is insanely difficult that a kid from a science high school definitely won’t understand(They don’t know who’s the kid but they heard of a kid roaming around the labs)

Now, cut to problems scientists left on whiteboards suddenly being solved. The problems were left on the board to be worked and solved on another day but suddenly its solved! Soon, inventions and formulas under the initials P.P are on display in the labs as references for other scientists and engineers to have some inspiration from and they’re all insanely incredible and even Tony Stark personally set those arrangements. Now everyone is wondering ‘who is P.P?’ as a kid in iron man pajamas pants and M.I.T sweater walk away in the background with materials from one of the lab and walked into Tony’s Stark personal elevator that leads straight to the penthouse. (Peter does not know Tony has done that and is absolutely clueless)

[lostberet]

˚ ༘ ♡ ⋆.˚ WORLDTOUR teaser | ot7 (m)

𐙚 synopsis: The year 2026 has arrived, and instead of returning to their loving jobs as Idols, Bangtan is stuck serving South Korea after a mysterious outbreak. However, what these two jobs have in common is their World Tour.

༘⋆ genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , romance , violence, suspense , smut ; military au , idol au? ,

༘⋆ disclaimer: Violence, Gore, Graphic Violence, Use of Weapons, Mention of death, eventual smut, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

༘⋆ a/note: ANOTHER SERIES, hello my jelly fishies, this is a series that will be broken up into a mini-series for each member, please let me know who's tour you'd like to read first!

South Korea, Jeju Island     time: 7:35 pm

“I apologize, but there is not enough space for you and your crew at this moment, captain.” There was commotion, each service worker going into their own phone calls answering, some sobbing and others yelling in frustration, “Please stay safe, I will send a boat whenever there is one available.” 

Yoongi removed the head-phone caller from his head, taking in a deep breath as he stared at the large screen before him. A world map showing multiple red dots of the Korean Military’s location, and some of them were his friends. 

“They’ll be fine.” A familiar voice said beside him, Yoongi turned his head, meeting NamJoon’s. Yoongi only remained silent and Namjoon took his silence as a rejection, “SeokJin wants to have dinner together.”

Namjoon tired again, trying to bring his older brother back from his dark thoughts, “I can’t stomach anything right now.” Namjoon nodded, a faint smile on his face as he patted Yoongi’s back, “I know.. But whole they’re out there━ surviving━ so are we back here.” 

Japan, Tokyo               time: 7:37 pm 

“Hyung!” Hoseok turned from his still-position, his vision blurry from the heavy rain, “yeah?”  Squinting, he was able to make up one of his members, “Hyung, time for dinner, chief also has some information regarding international news,” Jimin’s voice was calm, his body turning to look out into the city. The rain filled the silence between them. Hoseok only swallowed, he was worried, nervous━ yet, what he was feeling was nothing compared to what Jimin felt. 

Jimin will be able to know more about the two younger ones. The two who were selected to actually fly across the world in where they had absolutely no contact. Hoseok held onto Jimin’s shoulder, “I’m sure everything is fine!” Hoseok chirped, a bright smile on his lips. Jimin only gave a small smile back. He was just thankful that among all this chaos, he had a brother with him.

United States of America, Texas - San Antonio      4:30 am

“We gotta get moving, let’s go soldiers!” an American soldier commanded as he waved the small group into a building, shutting the door behind him. 

The American soldier removed his helmet, turning to another American soldier, “when is the plane arriving?” The American took a while to respond as he checked his watch, “In about 5 minutes, captain.” 

The American Captain nodded, clenching his jaw as he looked at his small team, his eyes landing on the two foreigners, “Ya hear that, you two?” The Captain bit back a grin, “you motherfuckers are going back home.” 

Jungkook leaned against the concrete wall, panting from running a few miles, a toothy smile visible as he heard the Captain’s words. He looked over at Taehyung, who smiled at the thought of going back to Korea. 

“We’ll have to go down to Mexico, from there, the flight will be directly towards Jeju Island.” The American soldier informed the crew, earning nods in response. 

The clock had struck 4:35 am, and the door’s of the safe house were opened once more, the American Captain commanding his troops to run towards the plane location━ 1 mile away. 

Taehyung jogged behind the Captain and one other American soldier, Jungkook was right behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the dark morning. Taehyung wasn’t tired, he’d trained to the point that running miles didn’t make his heart pump to the point of fainting. So, why was his heart pumping so fast? 

It became so loud to the point that he only heard his heartbeat against his chest━ it didn’t take long for him to realize that something was right, his whole body felt it, but he kept moving forward. He’ll be on the plane home no less than a mile away. 

“Get down!” Before Jungkook could process the foreign warning, a building on his far left exploited━ sending building pieces flying towards their direction and with it, the familiar grunts and screams of death. “Everyone run!” 

It took a second for Jungkook’s body to react before he started springing to the desired location. His eyes focused on Taehyung’s back. As the group got closer to the military base, sounds of gun-shots started taking over the grunts and screams. Startled by the sudden fire, Jungkook dropped to his knees, covering his ears━ a bad reflex response his body had come up. However, his arm was being pulled by one of the American Soldiers, “Get up━we’re almost there!” 

Almost being dragged by the American, Jungkook stumbled upon his feet, running alongside them. His reaction had cost him some time. Upon entering the gate to the military airport, he witnessed Taehyung entering the plane, along with 2 others. 

20 feet more and Jungkook will also be in that plane. 19 more feet and Jungkook was tackled down on the floor, the sound of fire getting louder and louder━ but Taehyung’s call was the only thing Jungkook could hear. 

And as the door of the plane closed and the plane rose from the ground up to the air━ the last image of Taehyung Jungkook will never forget was how he still reached for him.  And the last image of Jungkook Taehyung got to witness was how he was being dragged off the ground by the American Captain, his gun firing at the dead. 

It was 4: 50am when Taehyung threw his helmet against the metal floor of the plane, pacing around, his body trembling as he tried wrapping his head over what had just happened. He wasn’t going back home without Jungkook.

It was 6:00 am when Taehyung had come up with a plan to return to America and find Jungkook. It was also the time the plane began to share the same trembling as Taehyung’s body. It was 6:15 am when Kim Taehyung’s plane crashed into Mexico, Monterrey. 

South Korea, Jeju Island     time: 8:05 pm

The small lobby held a few soldiers, it only held the ones who had loved ones internationally━ So, SeokJin, Yoongi and NamJoon found themselves in that same room, awaiting their turn to receive their news. 

“Jun-ha,” The Captain called out, “Your sister is doing just fine in Thailand. The Thailand Military will bring her home, she’ll take a plane back to Korea in about a day.” The sound of sobs echoed in the room, 

It was 8:15 when the group was dismissed, bringing panic and confusion among the oldest Bangtan members, “Captain, what about our boys?” SeokJin called out, earning a few looks from the leaving soldiers, “Hoseok and Jimin are just fine in Japan.” 

“We know they’re fine, we’re talking about Taehyung and Jungkook.” NamJoon butt-in, his eyes dancing across the Captain’s face, trying to find any sense of emotion. The Captain only licked his lips, avoiding eye contact, “about that..” 

“I swear to god, if something happened to them━” Yoongi stepped in, panic running through his veins before the Captain spoke, “They are fine. Separated but fine.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Japan, Tokyo               time: 8:10 pm 

“Okay.. Taehyung is on his way..” Jimin muttered, his leg bouncing as he tried to calm his nerves, “What about Jungkook?” Hoseok looked between the Captain and Jimin, “Jungkook will take his plane from Miami, we’re not sure when, but he’s safe.” 

South Korea, Jeju Island     time: 8:13 pm

“Thank God..” Seokjin sighed, his head falling into his arms, relief falling into his body. His boys were coming home. Not together, but soon. 

Japan, Tokyo | South Korea, Jeju Island              time: 8:30 pm

Jimin and Hoseok stood on top of the military base, guarding and scanning the area. It was their turn to stand guard for the night. Jimin felt drained, his eyes only focusing on the far distance of the safe house. His thoughts eating him away. 

“Park, Jung, you two copy?” The Captain’s voice echoed through their radio, Jimin slightly turned his head towards Hoseok. Hoseok grabbed his radio, “Yes, Captain, over.”

“Come to the lobby.” 

South Korea, Jeju Island     time: 8:33 pm

“You told us they were fine!” Yoongi yelled, his eyes burning with tears, “The plane fell near a safe base, I’m sure if━” 

“Sure of what?! Do you even know if Taehyung is alive?” Yoongi cut the Captain off, SeokJin bringing Yoongi to sit back down on the chair, “Yoongi’s right.. I don’t want to jump to conclusions.. But.. we want to know if Taehyung survived..” 

United States of America - Dallas, Texas          6:36am

“What..” Jungkook’s voice came out faint, almost a whisper as the color of his face drained, “We’re sending the Mexican safe house near the accident to check the place.. In the meantime, you will head to Miami for your flight.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until I know about Taehyung.” Jungkook said, the American Captain only sighed, “You’ll know, but you need to get to Miami, go back home.” 

Mexico, Monterrey         10:25 am

Taehyung coughed, his eyes opening as he scanned the area, the beaming sun burning his face. The air was very hot against his face, and with a grunt, he pulled himself from the ground. The moment he stood on his feet, he felt the pain run through his spine, he hissed and crunched down. 

“Fuck..” he muttered, his hands running through his body. He hadn’t broken a bone, thank god for that, but his thigh was bleeding, a deep cut, too. He looked around, but there wasn’t much he could do. Just walk it out. 

12:09 pm

Taehyung reached a point where his leg couldn’t keep up, causing him to stop near a small town. Silence welcomed him, no life in sight, and he didn’t mind. His uniform was becoming unbearable, and his thigh was hurting too much. 

He stumbled upon a small store, entering and blocking the entrance behind him. And just like that, Taehyung found a small place that kept him safe for the day. When Night time fell, the heat of Mexico kept him warm, but his thigh still ached. He couldn’t find anything to fix it, he’ll have luck next time. 

That was if he wasn’t found first. 

2024 © LOSTBERET, all rights reserved. please do not copy, plagiarize, translate, repost, or steal my work.

[vorfreudevortex]

4. breathe

a street racer!ino takuma x f!reader fic

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 3 // next: chapter 5

warnings // 6.3k words - swearing, alcohol, smoking, reckless driving (duh), all characters in college or recently graduated, mount hakone's details are not accurate for the sake of the story so pls don't try to clown me for it, descriptions of blood (cut from glass) mdni - small smut scene in a car (towards the end), fingering, handjob, clit stimulation, nipple stimulation, praise, nipple play, dry humping, multiple orgasms, petnames, whiny ino who's kinda obsessed with you lmao

if you can spot the ford vs. ferrari reference, i'll marry you rn

the vibes for chapter four

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

the next morning you’re pouncing on suguru’s bed, anxious to get him awake and back to the mountain. “go back to sleep,” he groans, burying himself deeper beneath the blankets. his face is barely visible beneath his bedhead, and his morning voice is deep and hoarse.

“please, sugu?” you pull out his childhood nickname in your softest, sweetest voice. he just huffs.

“call toru or ken. i’ll meet you out there later.”

“how much later?”

“dunno…” he’s already drifting back to sleep.

fine, then. after breakfast with your papa, you group facetime the boys. ken answers right away and immediately asks if everything is alright, already awake and dressed. toru answers on the last ring from bed, obviously woken up by his blaring phone. his white hair lays flat against his forehead and eye boogers hang from his long lashes.

“what do you want…” he hisses with a pouty frown. unlike suguru, satoru’s morning voice is light and whiny.

“ew, toru! your eye boogies are huge!” you laugh. you see the corners of kento’s lips twitch up as well.

“i’ve got something even bigger,” satoru’s mind works in mysterious ways.

“oh my god, you pervert—”

“—truly disgusting behavior,” kento adds.

“i was calling to tell you to meet me at mount hakone right away, but i’m rethinking it since i don’t wanna catch chlamydia from potential contact with you.”

“wow— okay, first of all, i don’t have any diseases,” satoru rolls his eyes. “and it’s not like suguru would let me anywhere near you in the first place—”

“—as he should,” kento frowns.

“get out of bed or i’m telling him you said that!”

“tell him what? i didn’t say anything,” satoru scoffs.

“i’ll tell him what you insinuated—”

“—okay, relax,” he interrupts with a huff. “i’m getting dressed right now.”

✰✰✰✰✰

you end up spending the entire day tearing through the pass, anxious to keep shaving down your time and memorize each remaining detail of the roads. it’s completely empty when you first arrive, except for kento leaning against the back fender of his car waiting for you. he very thoroughly checks your motor and brakes for you before agreeing to ride along during your first turn.

“would you like me to keep an eye on the handbrake for you?”

“nah, i got it,” you respond, pulling the helmet over your head. you don’t want to wear it but you know that kento will say something if you don’t. “just time me, please.”

he gives you gentle advice and reminders during the 8.5 miles, you make sure to soak up every word. kento might not race anymore, but he can read a road and engine better than anyone else, aside from your brother. he can still keep up with suguru and satoru if he chooses to.

8:40:22 — just one second slower than inumaki.

satoru rolls in by the time you’re ready for your second turn. he lazily slouches in the passenger seat but reaches up to grip the door handle when you shoot off the starting line.

“where’d you learn to drive so aggressively?” he asks. “there’s no way you picked this up from me.”

“maybe i did,” your voice is slightly muffled beneath the roaring motor and the cushioned helmet. “i’m trying to concentrate, please stop talking.”

you tear your helmet off and kento pulls you out of the car — 8:40:52.

“how did i manage to go slower that time?!” you whine.

“don’t worry too much about it,” kento reassures. he notices your trembling frame, adrenaline pumping viciously through your veins from the drives. “take a break now.”

by the time suguru arrives with gas and lunch, you’re itching to go again. he makes satoru race beside you so you can get more comfortable with another car on the road. on your 5th time back, a few others including okkotsu, inumaki, takuma and his team are parked on the shoulder. he wears his rough demeanor now, shoulders hunched and missing a smile. it’s completely different from the giddy attitude he had with you at the skate park. but his back straightens when he spots you, unable to hide the lively look in his eyes.

“what’s all this?” takuma’s playful voice rings out as he approaches the phantoms with his friends in tow.

“clutch got a new ride,” satoru sings, placing a hand on each of your shoulders as you sheepishly smile. “and it’s twice as fast as yours.”

“i don’t doubt it,” he smiles, and lets his eyes fall on you. you can feel both kento and suguru’s sharp glares in the back of your head.

“damn, these are some nice wheels,” choso comments as he crouches down to get a better look at them.

“this wide body kit was installed well,” todo nods. megumi just stands silently with his hands in his pockets beside takuma, letting his eyes rake over your silvia. he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know he approves.

“what do you need, ino?” your brother asks.

“just came to talk with gojo and run a few before the race tonight,” takuma shrugs.

“then go somewhere else and do it,” suguru waves him off. “my sister runs first.”

“are you’re racing tonight?” takuma’s eyes widen as they land back on you. “who?”

“toge inumaki,” your brother answers you before you can. in suguru’s mind, takuma does not need to be talking to his sister directly. “the one who just pulled up in the s13.”

“ah, he’s not too bad. i’ve seen him around,” he glances across the way at him and okkotsu, who watch your conversation and wait for you from afar. takuma turns back to you with another sweet smile. “good luck tonight, clutch! i know you’ll do—”

“—get the fuck out of here, ino.”

your face is bright red when takuma walks away. suguru angrily mutters something about the the inappropriate use of your nickname before lighting a cigarette, and kento looks away when you meet his gaze. you don’t dare say a word. for an unknown reason, in the depths of your brain, you like when takuma's cheekiness riles up your brother.

“fucking prick,” suguru mumbles through puffs of smoke, before putting the helmet back in your hands. “put this on and go before he comes over here again.”

✰✰✰✰✰

takuma ino: i see why u been busy this past week 

you: i’m so sorry, i’ve barely been on my phone

takuma ino: don’t even worry bout it :) it was worth the wait ur silvia looks sick af takuma ino: ur gonna kick ass tonight too i just know it!!

you: i’m sososososo nervous you: do you think you’ll beat toru tonight?

takuma ino: no doubt about it takuma ino: are u still down to go out tonight after? for ur bday?

you: yes!! i already have my outfit picked out!!

takuma ino: i can’t wait.. i know ur gonna look so pretty takuma ino: u better not bail if u don’t win ur race

you: i won’t!

takuma ino: good i’ve missed u :) good luck tonight pretty

you: good luck kuma!!

✰✰✰✰✰

you sit back on your hands with your knees bent up, letting the cool road attempt to ease the boiling blood in your veins. your toes wiggle in your white converse, and your nails pick at ashphalt. shoko sits beside you, puffing on a cigarette, letting you sneak a hit or two when suguru isn’t looking to help calm your nerves. the chattering crowd and booming subwoofers on the shoulders are nothing more than a murmur in your ears, you’re too anxious to focus on anything except your upcoming race.

“you’ll do great,” shoko smiles. “i heard that people are betting for you.”

“really? betting on me?”

“uh huh. the streets say that there’s no way you’re slower.” even if shoko’s just making it up to make you feel better, it’s working.

you’ve spotted takuma and the shadows a couple times. his face is stern, he doesn’t even look at anyone else. the phantoms are bent over your engine, feet on top of the starting line. kento checks, double checks, triple checks everything while suguru nosily watches over his shoulder, ensuring he doesn’t miss anything. he knows he won’t. satoru yaps about everything and nothing at all. he’s not nervous for his race with ino, he’s raced him a handful of times before. he’s both won and lost, and tonight there’s money on the line. 

suguru helps you to your feet when inumaki’s headlights come over the hill, but you don’t hear any of the words coming out of his mouth. your mind is far away. inumaki parks beside you, the nose of the car placed just before the starting line. he’s right on time.

inumaki doesn’t wear his mask tonight. the floodlights reveal his flushed, tattooed cheeks as he steps out of his car. the boys start talking with okkotsu, and inumaki points to you before holding his palms face down in front of him with a gentle shake.

“am i… nervous?” you question, and he nods.

“uh, yeah… i’m pretty nervous,” your voice shakes. he points to himself, then holds up two fingers. me too. his slender fingers fly gracefully in the air through his dumbed-down version of sign language for you. you will do great!

“you, too!” you smile, and your stomach starts to flip in on itself as the boys finish helping okkotsu check over inumaki’s engine. you’ll be off any minute now. kento closes inumaki’s hood with a loud wham and the boys close in around you.

suguru looks nice tonight, with the top half his hair pulled up in a neat bun, black jeans, and a deep purple oversized hoodie over a plain white shirt. he comes over and picks a piece of lint from the fabric of your top before brushing his fingers through your hair, silently calming your tension with ease.

“ready?” suguru asks.

“ready,” you smile, holding your hand out for inumaki to shake. he graciously accepts it with a wide grin and a polite bow. you settle in the silvia, all four of the group hanging their heads in through the windows.

“we talked to okkotsu,” satoru chirps. “they won’t do anything stupid.”

“relax, girl. you’re gonna do great,” shoko says.

“remember to breathe,” kento reminds. “drive safely.”

“put this on and do not take it off,” suguru pushes the helmet into the car as the others leave. he pecks your cheek before you pull it over your hair. “as long as you do the same thing you’ve been doing, you’ll win.”

“i’m nervous, nii-chan.”

“you have nothing to be nervous about,” he fastens the chin strap, pulling twice to check. “listen to what your gut is telling you, don’t try to fight it.”

“which marker will you be at again?” your shaky fingers fumble with the seatbelt.

“mile 4,” suguru’s voice is smooth and light, the solidity you need right now. your mind whirs as he helps you with the harness, tugging another two times. “ken’s at 2 and toru’s at 3 so we can be here when you get back, don’t worry.”

“what if something goes wrong?” every possible concern you've had is now bubbling out, you can’t quiet it.

“sshhh,” suguru hushes. “that’s what your radio is for. keep it tuned to what ken set it on and use the walkie-talkie in your console if you need help. your phone won’t work well out there. you’re gonna be just fine.”

you nod under the helmet and turn the ignition. you shift uncomfortably in your seat as it comes to life, humming and purring under the hood.

“listen to me,” he turns your head to face him. “you’re gonna do great. you’re faster than inumaki. you’ll win, no doubt about it. drive just like i taught you, okay?”

“okay.”

“i’m proud of you, clutch. drive safe. i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

with a handsome grin, he taps the side of the door and leaves. you look to your left, inumaki smiles at you through his window and holds up a sign. good luck. you return the gesture with a trembling hand. the flag girl takes her place between the cars. your heart pounds relentlessly. you spot takuma and his team, they made sure to park close. takuma waves with a warm smile, and you return it since the boys have disappeared into the mountain, unable to see the forbidden interaction.

the flag girl raises her arms. your sweating hands grip and release around the wheel, over and over again. just feel it. your feet press into the pedals. your tires spin. she throws her arms down. without a hesitation, the brake is released. the silvia lurches forward, finally free to run. your cloudy mind completely clears as you tear through the straight. inumaki is right by your side as your approach the first turn.

downshift. brake. you slow down first. inumaki starts to lead. damn it. breathe. the rear tires lose traction, you feel it.

turn, turn, turn— feather, feather, feather— not too much, not too little.

you both shoot out of the corner, the nose of the car practically touching inumaki’s back fender. breathe. focus. 

“mile 1, inumaki in the lead,” okkotsu’s voice barely registers in your ears. do it again, better this time. you veer beside him.

downshift. brake. inumaki slows first. do you take him over? do you wait? kento’s warning echoes through your hazy thoughts… you’ll wait this time, you’ll be safe.

you slow as well, he’s still ahead. downshift. brake. feel. breathe. both cars’ tires scream into the night, their sounds almost harmonizing.

turn. feather. the gauge violently redlines, trembling on the dash. it’s exactly where it should be. it’s better than last time. breathe.

your roaring silvia and inumaki’s s13 enter a small patch of straight highway. this is your chance. throwing it back into gear, you attempt to push your way ahead of inumaki. he tries to chase you. the third turn, the hairpin, flies towards you. it’s too fast, you feel it. slow it down. brake. breathe.

“mile 2, inumaki in the lead,” kento’s voice calls out through your radio, you barely notice his blurry silhouette as you fly by him.

icy air blasts from the vents. your hair is crammed and damp under the helmet, but your bare arms have a shield of goosebumps. your trembling hand grips the shifter, the leather wet from your sweaty palms. breathe.

hard brake. downshift. brake. it’s coming. it’s coming. not quite… it doesn’t feel right… almost—

now.

you clamp your fist around the handbrake, yanking it towards you in one swift, smooth motion. the familiar feeling of the rear tires locking up surges through the car and into your bones. rubber screeches and the motor sings as it redlines. the back end swings around, almost farther ahead than the nose, but not quite.

just like your contorting body on takuma’s skateboard, the car teeters on the edge of losing control. unlike that balmy evening with your hands clamped to his soft shirt, tonight your hands are clammy around the stiff steering wheel.

and unlike the skateboard, letting the car slip away from your control is simply not an option.

you’re practically weightless, floating through the air like a haunting ghost, and you’re once again addicted to the feeling. breathe, just one more split second of bliss to savor—

“clutch leads into mile 3!” satoru’s giddy voice fills your ears. focus— you didn’t even notice how you had squeezed between the guardrails and inumaki’s wide drift to slip in front.

turn, feather. handbrake down, upshift. breathe.

you glance down at the dashboard and gauges. everything kento and papa taught you about them looks exactly how they should. the silvia craves more, you feel it. you do, too. inumaki is only a few feet behind you, but you’re gradually gaining more and more on him. you're winning, it sends another rush of thrill through your bones.

with one hand, you flip open the center console and snatch the walkie-talkie. a finger fumbles around on the side of your helmet until it finds the button. the visor pops up, letting cool air hit your burning face. your palm is back on the gear shifter with your thumb and pointer holding the ‘talk’ button against it, a beep rings out— everyone will hear your next words.

“suguru!” you call.

“clutch?! what’s wrong?” his voice crackles back to you over the radio.

“nothing’s wrong,” you can’t help but belly laugh, your mind dizzy with adrenaline and happiness.

“what?!”

“watch me, sugu!” you smile. “watch this steeze!”

you know takuma heard you, copying his goofy slang from that blissful night at the skate park, and you can imagine his smooth laugh ringing out around the other listeners so clearly in your mind.

you throw the radio to the floor of the passenger seat and fly into the next hairpin, mimicking your previous actions exactly. you let each rumble and veer of the car lead your timing and intuition. inumaki is a whole car length behind you now, both cars smoking past your brother and out of the drift.

“mile 4, clutch in the lead,” suguru says. “you stress me out, little shithead.”

and for some reason unknown to you, the world suddenly grows quiet. 

your muscles relax, your mind empties. inumaki’s threatening headlights in your rearview mirror no longer lingers in your thoughts. the uncomfortable touch of the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead disappears. the echo of your uneven breaths under the thick helmet turn steady. 

you take a deep breath, tasting the burning rubber and wafts of exhaust as you inhale. the machine around you becomes weightless.

you feel it. 

you are simply just driving now, a body moving through time and space—

it feels so good.

✰✰✰✰✰

you’re not really sure what happened after that. but at the same time, you somehow remember every detail so vividly. since the moment everything clicked after that last hairpin, you’ve been in a drugless, dreaming daze.

you know that you won— 8:29:41— an incredible 11 seconds faster than your most recent pass through hakone. you were 2 full car lengths ahead of inumaki as you passed over the finish line.

you know that suguru was at your door as soon as you yanked the silvia in park, pulling you out and ripping off the helmet, smiling and laughing with utter pride. inumaki’s hands had waved excitedly in front of him before he hugged you with a smile that made his tattoo tightly stretch over his red cheeks.

you know that kento had shown you another rare grin with teeth, and satoru had once again thrown you over his shoulder. you had seen takuma’s huge smile between the faces of the excited crowd around you.

you failed to notice the brooding onlookers that stayed on the shoulder.

you were still catching your breath when satoru and takuma took off into the mountains, and you remember that takuma had won by just a few feet. it left satoru pissed and pouting, and about ¥30,000 poorer than he came. there was no fight this time.

suguru didn’t seem to mind when you told him you were going out again this weekend, he was going to the bar with the boys anyways. so when you got home, you pulled a black, off-the-shoulder mini dress over your buzzing body before fixing your hair and makeup. you knew you’d regret wearing thigh-high stockings and uncomfortable, black platform heels when you took off in your mustang, deciding to leave the silvia to rest in the garage.

the underground felt like it was empty with every bit of your attention focused on takuma. he had literally melted when he saw you, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you all night. megumi, yuji, choso, and aoi were nowhere to be seen as you danced with takuma, shot after shot and song after song, still reeling from both your victories.

there was never a moment takuma let your body sway against his without a searing touch on your skin— the glaring red eyes from across the room needed to know you were with him and him only.

you know at one point, you were back in the shadows’ booth, utterly drunk and sat between takuma’s thighs. you remember his hand around your waist and a finger just under the hem of your thin black stockings. you remember the way his intoxicated breathe felt in your ear and the way it sent chills down your spine when he had mumbled, “we should go, it’s too loud in here.”

“go where?” you had asked.

“anywhere but here.”

✰✰✰✰✰

the daze is suddenly over as you find yourself underneath takuma ino in the backseat of his car.

you can barely see a thing around you in the dark, empty corner of the parking garage, but you can feel everything as his calloused hands roam your body and thighs, which hook around his waist, as he grasps at the soft fabric of your dress.

you hold his face in your hands, teeth and noses clicking and bumping as you attack each other’s lips. your fingers travel to his soft, brown hair and lightly tug when he meets his tongue with yours. the taste of vodka, tobacco, and your own sweet lip gloss mix between your mouths.

takuma’s hips come down to meet yours, the cool metal of his belt and the rough, black material of his jeans grind against your core so deliciously that you can’t help but let out a small gasp. he grips your thigh as the other hand gently cradles your nape upwards, exposing your neck and jaw for him to plant hot, wet kisses on as your eyes close with a flutter. it’s really not fair how the hard length beneath his jeans continues to roll into you, the pressure of it shooting desperate need through your bones.

"you're so fucking beautiful," takuma pants against your skin. "you know that, right?"

the rising temperature of the car and your melding bodies leaves you both breathless as takuma sits up to tear off his shirt. every coherent thought he has left in his brain vanishes when he finally registers the scene below him— your messy hair and lidded eyes staring at his toned figure, your swollen lips and heaving chest. 

"oh," takuma damn near chokes on his own spit when he sees that your dress has bunched up just above your hips from his groping, legs spread around him to reveal cherry red panties against the straining tent below his belt. he’s completely losing it—

“my shoes…” you finally manage to say.

“what?” he thickly swallows. “o-oh, yeah. your shoes.” he lifts your legs and does his best, tipsy job to fumble open the buckles of your heels. your dress lifts higher, and takuma prays you don’t notice the pink tinge on his cheeks as your shoes fall to the floor of the car. 

“fuck, you’re so pretty,” he breathes, returning his lips to yours. he just can’t stop himself from grinding into you repeatedly as he grows more desperate to ease the ache in his jeans. “is this okay?” one hand finds your breast, the other slides beneath the hem of your dress to the bare skin of your waist.

as soon as you nod he’s back to your mouth while your fingertips roam his shoulders and back. a thumb rolls over your covered nipple right as he rolls into your core, the angle and pressure just right enough to make you gasp again.

“m-more, please?” you ask so sweetly, takuma knows he could never deny you.

“more?” he begins to pull the top of your dress down. “like this?”

“yeah… please?”

takuma squeezes your hardened nipple and the fat of your hip at the same time, earning another sharp gasp from you. he smiles at that, eager as hell to learn every sign and signal of your body. he plants another wet kiss on your collarbone before hovering his lips over your other breast, letting the heat of his breath tease it for just a moment.

“can i—”

“—yes.” you pant, and his tongue is wrapped around your bud immediately. the insistence of his hips against yours combined with pulling tugs and sucking lips on your tits has your fingers tightening in his hair and back arching up, and the first candied moan finally escapes from your throat.

god help him— takuma swears he could cum in his pants just from the sound of it alone. he can’t believe he’s managed to get you here, splayed out so erotically underneath him in the backseat of his car, lucky enough to be the one to make you produce such a beautiful noise. he doesn’t dare stop his movements, savoring the privilege of having his own tongue swirling over your nipples just to hear you sing again.

it only takes a few minutes until takuma is drunk off your gasps and moans, drunker than he was before, and you’re starting to writhe under him. he plays with the band of your panties as your thighs squeeze around his waist.

“kuma, if you keep going,” you pant. “i’ll… oh, i’m gonna…”

“you want me to stop?”

“no, more.”

“more where?” a hand comes to rest on top of your pelvis, a finger dangerously close to where you need it most as he asks for permission. you nod frantically. takuma rests a thumb over your panties at the peak of your aching clit, “here?”

“y-yes, please,” you moan. your back arches and all muscles tense as he presses gentle circles into your bud. he groans around the nipple under his tongue when he finally feels for himself just how wet he’s made your lingerie. 

takuma still can’t control his desperate grinds as he’s hunched over you, the only thing separating his twitching length and your burning cunt being your clothing and his thumb. his teeth softly clamp around the peak of your breast and you call out his name, sending him spiraling.

“oh— kuma!”

“cum for me,” he pleads, dark and needy brown eyes boring straight into yours. “please, pretty? i want to see you cum for me.”

you clench around nothing at his words, making takuma groan as you pull harshly on his hair and clamp your eyes shut. "please please please, just for me," he prattles helplessly.

you suck in a sharp breathe and let your head fall back into the soft seat. it’s silent for a moment as your entire body tightens into the peak of your orgasm. it has to be the most beautiful thing takuma’s ever seen. you start to fall over the edge, crying out in pure pleasure as your legs shake at the lightning that courses through you.

“fuuuck, baby,” takuma moans at the sight of you, not daring to stop his ministrations for a single moment to extend your orgasm as long as he can. he’s utterly addicted, he wants to see it over and over and over again. you wish you could say something, anything, but the burning fire rooting from your clit takes over all your senses. “so pretty, so so so fucking pretty.”

your chest heaves beneath his as you choke and gasp. “breathe, baby,” takuma softly reminds you, moving his lips to your tingling neck. you whimper and pant as you come down, takuma’s slamming his mouth back onto yours. “so beautiful,” he mindlessly mumbles against your lips. “thank you, baby. so good, so pretty.”

a playful giggle is the first thing to leave your mouth when your body settles. “what are you laughing at?” takuma smiles, he can’t help but chuckle along with you. you both feel light and airy, bright red blushes smear across your cheeks.

“i just…” you blink repeatedly with a sheepish smile, clearing through the lustful haze in your eyes to try and look at the boy above you. “i’m not very experienced, and that was, um, kind of… my best?”

“your best?” takuma looks at you with wide eyes. “i can do better.”

“…show me?”

takuma’s face flickers with an unrecognizable look. you playfully shriek when he pulls you up by the waist to straddle over his lap. his muscular thighs are spread apart across the backseat and your sensitive core meets his jeans once again.

“much better,” he grins, kneading the fat of your thighs. he looks down at your stockings with parted lips and darting eyes— his touch feels heavenly. “these are… dangerous.”

“you can take them off, if you want,” you mumble shyly, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer into his bare chest. 

“no, no, no. they stay on.” he prefers to be buried with the image of you over him like this, cheeks flushed and enticing eyes.

“okay, kuma,” you laugh. “whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?” his middle finger finds the path back to your soaking clit, gently pressing for permission. “what about what you want?”

“i want…” your eyes dart down his sculpted chest and abs, and over the soft chestnut happy trail that disappears beneath his jeans. you thought you had reined your head back in place, but the thought of that path of hair leading straight to takuma’s throbbing length suddenly has you fumbling mindlessly with his belt buckle. “fingers,” you blurt, remembering he had asked you a question. “i want your fingers.”

takuma doesn’t waste any time attaching his lips to yours, circling your soaking heat once again. you tear open takuma’s button and zipper, revealing just a peek of the angry red tip that hides beneath the waistband of his boxers. he lets out a beautiful, deep groan that reverberates down your throat when you palm him over the fabric.

“i need to,” he tugs at the edge of your underwear, pleading for entrance. "i need it, please?" the second you nod he’s pulling them to the side, both of you whining at the touch of his long fingers spreading the slick up your drooling cunt. you shudder against his chest, the pleasure being tenfold what it was over your lingerie. the sensitivity of your clit leaving you clenching and tense.

“f-fuck,” takuma whines when you reach past his boxers and squeeze your soft fist around his raging cockhead. you’re grinding desperately against the palm of his hand, he pushes a finger past that first ring of resistance and into your gummy walls. you moan and pant as he pumps steadily, relishing how your pussy squeezes and clenches around him.

“kuma!” you squeal as he easily pushes a second finger in your squelching cunt, curling into a spot that has your vision blurring. his head drops to plant wet, open-mouth kisses to your throat. you cradle his head against your chest as you swipe over the slit of his head, making him jerk with a whimper as his gushing precum coats your digits.

you’d be embarrassed that your second peak was already approaching after just minutes of his obsessive attack on your pussy if it didn’t feel so fucking good. the inhibition of your brother finding out about your whereabouts has completely vanished. any hesitation you had of takuma’s rumored wrongdoings is completely forgotten as you fist his long, pretty cock… 

“shit,” he pants, atrociously enamored by a thin streak of your slick that appears from under your dress and trickles down your thigh until it soaks into the material of your stockings. “you’re so so good to me, too good for me, baby.”

the grip around his dick has him going ballistic, he knows he could cum immediately as long as it’s your voice asking him to. if angels are real, he thinks they’d sound like your sloshing cunt around his fingers and your saccharine moans in his ear.

“i’m gonna—” you gasp, snapping takuma out of his trance. “k-kumaaa…”

“you gonna cum again for me, pretty?” his cock twitches in your palm at the thought of it, this time around his nimble fingers. you subconsciously start pumping him faster, your numbed body so desperate for more of him.

“yes, i’m sorry!” you whimper, almost ashamed. takuma clenches his jaw with a sharp groan when you swipe against a particularly sensitive area near his leaking head, his own peak rapidly nearing. the perfume on your bare chest makes him even dizzier, he’s nipping at your breasts without thought. 

“you’re gonna make c-cum, too.” good god, he’s obsessed with you. takuma can’t be bothered to care about how his pathetic whining and stuttering sounds to you. “cum for me. p-please, pretty?”

you’re a fucking mess straddled over takuma, a fistful of his shaggy hair in one hand as you’re veins start to run hot. you tremble as you start to peak once more, messily rolling your hips harder into the palm that he’s been grinding so delectably into your clit. takuma isn’t any better, jutting and jerking his cock farther into your hand. words pour out of his throat, babbling and groaning your name.

“oh, fuck— fuck, you’re so good to me, baby. cum with me, please? please… sh-shit, i—” takuma throws his head back and digs his nails into the fat of your hip as his pretty length spews hot ribbons of white over his clenching stomach. the sounds of his hoarse moans repeating your name, thanking you, and his fingers curled tight against your squelching walls is enough to send you over the edge right after.

you cum with a sharp cry, eyes rolling back into your head as takuma’s whining, drunk voice praises you through your orgasm. “breathe, pretty girl,” he reminds as you’re once again gasping for air. “good girl, that’s it. god, you look so pretty cumming on my fingers like this…”

takuma gifts you with gentle, slow circles over your nub to come down with, holding you close against him as he presses loving kisses over your jaw and neck. completely pussydrunk, he can’t get himself to shut up as he continues to stream out a steady flow of compliments and praises for you. 

it’s when the car is quiet, except for both your panting, when you realize your phone is vibrating incessantly. abandoned at some point on the floor of takuma’s car along with your shoes, suguru’s name lights up the screen.

“shit…” you breathe.

sugu: lmk when you’re otw home please sugu: everything ok? sugu: 1 missed call sugu: text me back soon ok? wanna make sure you’re safe

toru: text ur brother back dumbass. he’s tweaking out in the bar rn lmao

sugu: clutch sugu: 1 missed call

ken: your brother is worried about you, it’s very late. you should give him a call when you see this.

sugu: i’m getting worried, did something happen?? sugu: call me back asap please sugu: 1 missed call

your heart drops. suguru texting or calling you a few times to make sure you’re okay is nothing new, but satoru and kento reaching out worries you.

“kuma, i’m sorry. i need to get home,” you apologize.

“can you stay just a few more minutes, please?” those big brown eyes of his are so hard to say no to.

“i’m so sorry, suguru’s freaking out. i… don’t want him coming to find me,” takuma must see the stress in your expression, because his pleading eyes disappear as his thumbs rub comforting circles around your waist.

“don’t feel bad, i get it,” he smiles. “we’ll get you home safe and sound for him.”

✰✰✰✰✰

you keep the shop lights off as you park your mustang. you’ve already probably woken up the entire neighborhood with your car, you don’t need to blind them as well. the cold linoleum floor of the garage feels nice on your socked feet as you walk with your heels in your hand to the door that leads to the kitchen, barely visible. 

suguru will be waiting for you in your room, but you know he’ll simply help you into bed and tell you to get some sleep instead of reprimanding you, despite his concerning texts. that’s what he always does.

your cheeks still feel hot and your knees weak from your time in takuma’s backseat, but your mind is disoriented and giddy. his handsome smile and sweet moans are still fresh in your mind, you can still feel his warm touch over the skin of your waist and hips. you know you’re a mess right now; eye bags, tousled hair, smeared makeup, and your socks falling halfway down your legs… but you can’t seem to care.

there’s a small crunch, and the sole of your foot screams out in pain. you stumble backwards in the dark as you bite your lip against the searing feeling until you can turn on the flashlight of your phone. the bottom of your foot drips bright red blood onto the clean, ashy grey tiles.

you’re nothing except confused at the smalls shards of glass lodged in your foot. the light of your phone pans to the floor before you, covered in more glittering glass, and up to the driver’s door of the car in front of you.

it’s your silvia. you stare in disbelief as you realize the driver’s side window is completely gone, blue and green shining fragments covering the seat you raced in just hours ago. the passenger window is shattered but intact, with a singular bullet hole through the center. you scramble to the kitchen door, heart beating out of your chest and blood smearing your path. as soon as you grab hold of the knob, it flies open on its own.

“where the hell have you been? it’s 4 in the fucking morning!”

it’s suguru, shirtless and barefoot from being in bed. he looks disheveled with fretful and bloodshot eyes, his ebony hair frizzy and flat. he had obviously just been woken up from the sound of the garage door creaking open through the house.

“what’s going on, clutch?” he demands, grabbing your arm to pull you inside. but you’re unable to form words, tears streaming down your cheeks as you resist him. you fumble desperately at the wall for the shop lights, the fluorescent blinding you both when they snap on. the horrifying sight of your car makes you gasp, clutching onto suguru as you take in the scene.

“oh my fucking god,” suguru has never woken up faster. “get in the house. now.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 3 // next: chapter 5

ongoing tag list // @stillnotherapy @rieamena @magiamad0ka @mawhoreagaa

© vorfreudevortex // all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 25 (Arsenal)

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

You jolt awake as thunder crashes in the distance. Your heart is racing, fear coursing through your body. Thunderstorms- the childhood fear you never outgrew. 

You’re trying to control your breathing as you hear shifting in the other bed. You freeze, holding your breath. Praying that she’ll fall back asleep. 

“You’ve gotta keep breathing, ya know?” a groggy Katie says from across the room. 

With that reminder, you release the air from your lungs. 

“There you go, you’re a natural.”

It’s dark and quiet for almost a minute before the storm makes itself known again. You gasp at the rumbling, stifling the sound in your blankets. It’s clearly not enough, as you can hear Katie sit up in her bed. She throws the covers off of herself, hurrying across the chilly room to your bed. 

“Scoot,” she insists. 

You do as she says, moving to one half of the bed. Katie climbs in the free side, crawling under the covers. 

“You don’t like storms?” she asks. 

There’s no judgment in her voice, no pity. It’s simply curiosity. 

You shake your head, the motion barely visible in the room. That is, until a flash of lightning lights up the room. You try to brace yourself for what comes next. It never comes. 

Instead, you feel soft hands covering your ears. Katie’s. 

“You know, my sister doesn’t like storms very much. She always curls up in my bed when it’s storming when I’m home. Always has, since she was really little.”

Katie smiles slightly, clearly reminiscing on the past. 

“Anyways, I taught her a trick, it helps not to be so afraid of the storm. Wanna try it?”

For the first time that night, you manage to find your voice, “‘m not scared.”

Katie wants to laugh at the fearful trembling of your voice when you say that. She manages not to. 

“Of course not. I was just thinking it might be fun.”

“If you really want to, we can,” you say timidly. 

“Alright. It’s simple really, we’re going to wait for the lightning then start counting. When we hear the thunder, we stop. However many seconds, divide that by 5, and that’s how many miles the storm is. Think you can handle that?”

You nod, the two of you waiting in the dark. When the room lights up next, Katie nudges you gently. She begins counting slowly out loud, your shaky voice joining hers. The two of you stop when the thunder’s heard. 

“What was that, 17? So the storm’s almost 3 and a half miles away. That’s way too far to hurt us.”

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. 

“Remember what we talked about earlier, you’ve gotta keep breathing over there. C’mon, let all of the air out. Good, suck a big breath in. Easy, let it out now.”

Katie quietly coaches you through your breathing. 

“I know you’re not scared of storms, but you wanna know what else I would do with my sister?” 

You mumble a quiet agreement. 

“We’d sit in the hall or the bathroom, anywhere without windows really. Sometimes we’d bring flashlights and play board games, but we’d usually just talk.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, yeah it really was. You want to try it?”

You want to refuse. You want to tell your teammate that you’re not her little sister and that she should go back to sleep. But the thought of hiding from the storm sounds so appealing.

Katie can sense your internal debate, making the decision herself. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” she says, slipping out of bed. She grabs a pile of blankets, instructing you to grab pillows. 

The two of you take your linen stack into the hallway, making a nest. Before you can sit down, though, Katie speaks again. Even though you can’t see her face in the dark, you can hear the mischievous smile in her voice. 

“This seems like the perfect opportunity for team bonding.”

With that, she starts knocking on the doors lining the hallway. Many of your teammates were already awake, the storm making it hard to sleep. The nest spreads as more and more players drag their blankets into the hallway, plopping down. Some fall straight to sleep, others start up conversations. You stay quiet, observing. It’s not until you yawn that Katie’s reminded that it’s the middle of the night. 

“Why don’t you settle down and get some sleep?”

You shrug, not thrilled with the idea. 

“Yeah, you’ve gotta get some sleep. If you don’t at least try, I’m gonna make you go lay with mum and dad over there, and I don’t think you want that.”

As she’s talking, she gestures to where Beth and Viv have settled on the floor. The two of them are talking, keeping an eye on you. It’s obvious to them that you’ve had a rough night. 

You giggle, the sound brightening the hallway. Katie elbows you in the ribs, dramatically shushing you. This only causes your laughter to increase. 

Finally relaxed, you fall asleep not long after that. Pretty much everyone’s asleep at that point, the storm having passed. 

“You’re a good person, McCabe,” a voice whispers. 

“Thanks, pops,” Katie responds. 

“Seriously?” Viv whispers, “I’m the dad?”

“Yeah, you’re the dad and Beth’s the mum,” a small, sleepy voice chimes in. 

“I thought you were asleep, kid,” Katie says. 

You only hum softly in response, almost back to sleep already. 

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have the second part to our heat fic rec list! You can also check out the first part to this rec list here and you can expect another one at some point in the near future. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4,135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

2) The Prints Of Your Hands Are Still On My Canvas | Not Rated | 4,563 words

Harry and Louis broke up not long ago. Everything was fine until then, problems started with Louis’ heat just around the corner, an important presentation that he could not miss, and a very visible (or more like invisible) alpha that could help him go through his heat. And then Harry shows up. (Again.)

3) Haze On The Horizon | Explicit | 6,397 words

“— Louis?” He couldn’t speak. He should hang up. He should’ve never called. His breaths were building into a staccato. “…baby? Are you doing alright? Talk to me, please.” Harry sounded so concerned, and it was quickly weakening his defences. No. No, he wouldn’t. No- “Omega,” Harry called, voice low and just shy of his alpha voice, even through the phone, and Louis just… Louis broke. “I miss you! I-” he cried out, an agonising crack in his voice, a loud sob being ripped from him. “— I need you!” Louis sniffled harshly, slumping, before admitting, quieter, “I need you.” Louis finds himself unexpectedly going into soft heat. Which would’ve been fine, except he is hundreds of miles away from his alpha, Harry, and he needs him. They make it work.

4) The Box | Explicit | 8,895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent.  Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck. 

5) Teacups For The Wine | Not Rated | 9,111 words

Harry's possibly the most handsome and kind alpha Louis' ever met but the problem is that he cannot take a goddamned hint.

6) Part Time Soulmates (Full Time Problem) | Mature | 12,072 words

Sworn enemies Harry and Louis are soulmates. Everything is going smoothly until the pain hits.

7) To Have Touched the Sun | Explicit | 12,491 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis has been taking suppressants ever since he first presented as an omega, and because of that, he has his heats dwindled down to just once a year. When he suddenly goes into heat in the middle of a supermarket only two months after just having one, he immediately knows something is wrong. It takes the act of a very kind stranger in that supermarket to change Louis' life forever.

8) Like A Hurt, Lost, And Blinded Fool | Not Rated | 13,919 words

ABO college AU where alpha Harry is a frat boy and he asks omega Louis out multiple times but he rejects him every time because Louis doesn’t like how frat boys act towards omegas. One night at a Halloween party, Harry dresses up as a stormtrooper and keeps his mask on all the time and flirts with Louis and Louis flirts back without knowing that’s Harry under the costume.

9) Good Panic | Explicit | 14,517 words

Louis is an Omega student studying botany at uni. He suffers from a disease trigger by the SFG (Soulmate Finder Gene). This is a disease that makes his scent strong, and alluring to all Alphas, but makes everyone, Alphas and Omegas alike, smell absolutely rancid. Everyone except for his Soulmate. For three years he has used scent soothers, and neutralizers to keep himself safe. Even though the majority of the population deems him ungrateful of such a “blessing”. Who wouldn’t want to find their Soulmate. Right? No matter what the cost.

10) We Chase The Stars To Lose Our Shadow | Explicit | 15,962 words

“I think it may be time for you to try something… different.” Louis fidgets on his sofa, nervous. “What - what do you have in mind? A new medication?” He is less than enthused about being forced onto another medication. He has already tried most of them, to no avail, and the cocktail of prescriptions he is currently taking has been very expensive, even after using his drug benefit copay for each refill. “Sort of…. Louis, have you heard of Prescription Pillows?”

11) Butterflies, The Beautiful Kind | Explicit | 18,401 words

Prompt 36: Louis is a single parent with a child who is terrified of doctors. However, one day, the kid gets sick. Thankfully the new pediatrician, doctor Styles, has wild curly hair and green eyes, and a soothing deep voice that the kid immediately grows attached to.

12) Apparently By Chance, At Precisely The Right Moment | Explicit | 19,329 words

Alpha Harry doesn’t believe in soulmates. Omega Louis has been looking for his soulmate all his life.

13) This Love Is Ours | Mature | 21,028 words

“I told you to call me Harry.” Harry looks amused. It’s not funny. Louis throwing up because of him isn’t funny. “But I’ve been calling you Mr. Styles for so long.” “And now you’re carrying my baby.”

14) Manners And Misjudgements | Explicit | 21,178 words

“Everyone you mention the Duke to raves about him, just like you are defending him now. But no one looks behind the façade he so ably maintains to deceive you all.” Liam sighs deeply. “You sound like a crazy man right now, Louis.” “I will prove to you who the Duke really is, just wait.”

15) Alone Together | Explicit | 28,320 words

Alpha Harry moves to Oslo, Norway and is perfectly content being mostly alone in a strange foreign land where he barely speaks the language, until a certain skittish blue-eyed boy seeks refuge in his video rental store. Almost immediately, Harry feels connected and protective over him. So what choice does he have when the boy drops other than to take him home and nurse him back to health?

16) Perfect | Explicit | 28,856 words

Between the usual stressors of school, losing his mum, and being partly responsible for six underage kids, Louis didn’t need anything else in his life to go wrong. Yet here he was getting the worst news of his life: he was an omega.

17) I Don’t Want You | Mature | 35,941 words

Louis never wanted to be an omega. He didn’t want to end up like his mother- a submissive omega that married his father in an arranged marriage, and is now living her life as a baby making machine, and a trophy wife who can never voice her opinion- Louis was never the quiet type, he always said exactly what he thought. But life has a funny way of fucking him over and Louis finds himself forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Harry styles.

18) Truebonds | Explicit | 39,687 words

Louis doesn’t mind being an omega, most of the time. Modern medicine allows him to suppress almost all of his omega traits, but the one thing it can’t suppress is his scenting cycle. Fortunately, that only needs to be dealt with every seven years and he counts himself lucky that he can afford the services of a reputable agency. With his cycle due, he reviews the matched candidates and there’s one alpha who fits all of his criteria, S28A. That’s pretty much where things start to unravel. Enter Harry Styles, scenter for hire.

19) Some Records Turnin’ | Explicit | 49,330 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry is a soft alpha who owns a record store and Louis is a closeted singer omega masquerading as an alpha who randomly stumbles into Harry’s store.

20) All The Small Things You Do (Remind Me Why I Fell For You) | Not Rated | 53,685 words

Prompt 68: Pack alpha Harry only wants to marry for matrimonial benefits but no other omega wishes to marry him for his reputation of being a big scary wolf who snarls at everyone for even breathing the wrong way. Omega Louis, to improve his pack’s condition, decides to be Harry’s pack Luna but is taken aback by how soft and sweet Harry actually is with him. AU where Harry is intimidating pack alpha but is very sweet and lovely with his soon-to-be mate and would do anything for his pack Luna, even make fool of himself in front of everyone just to see his giggle.

21) Love Me If You Dare | Explicit | 54,721 words

Harry and Louis’ friendship starts with a game, after a simple dare. The two little boys quickly become the best of friends and referees of their own game. Unfortunately, as they grow up, they sometimes become the victims of it too. With them, everything is possible. They are capable of daring each other to do anything. But will they dare confess their feelings for each other?

22) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57,077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

23) The Cottage | Explicit | 70,600

Louis hates alphas and he has good reason to, but when his beloved omega grandmother dies, and he inherits her cottage, he meets Harry, an alpha hazelnut farmer who sneaks his way into Louis’ life. While Louis struggles with his severe touch deprivation, he forms a friendship with Harry that turns out to be exactly what he needed.

24) As Sweet As You Are | Mature | 87,394 words

“Do you not have something more expensive?” The alpha gives him a weird look, resting his hands on the table. “Definitely not something the cost of that shade of blue that are your eyes,” he responds effortlessly. “Why is a male omega on his own out in the middle of the woods at this time of night?” Harry speaks, staring intensely at the prince, smirk lingering on his face. “Your kind is rather rare. You should be more careful. There are a lot of rogue alphas around that won’t blink until they’ve knotted and bred you up.” The blue eyed omega swallows, shuffling in his seat awkwardly and looking anywhere but the alpha before him. “I ran away from home,” Louis admits, occupying himself by taking a sip of the lager instead of thinking about the fact that the alpha hasn’t yet taken his eyes off him. “My parents want me to marry someone I do not want to marry, so I ran.”

25) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry gritted out, wild-eyed. “You should be scared of me.” Louis opened his mouth to speak, to cut him off, to disagree, but Harry was pushing. “I could hurt you.” “You won’t hurt me,” Louis said, simple and assuredly. Calm. “I’m capable of hurting you.” “But you won’t. That’s not who you are, Harry. I trust you,” Louis whispered. As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

26) Siren Calls Me Home | Explicit | 133,762 words

Harry and Louis’ kingdoms have rivaled one another for ages. When the time comes for Prince Louis to choose a mate, Harry’s father puts him in the running for his hand. But Harry has no intentions of marrying the omega. He is only using the opportunity to investigate and expose Louis’ sordid past, where rumors of fornication and murder abound, and bring justice down on his rival once and for all.

27) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 144,281 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

28) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won’t be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family’s business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend’s couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

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Word Count: 1,555

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Thorin leaves Erebor to visit his dear friend Bilbo, will new feeling shine through? What will happen?

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Note:

Listen to me I’ve never done anything like this before, I have written and sure I have posted one of two things and immediately abandoned them. If you want to give me constructive criticism or feedback please do I wanna get better at this kind of thing.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thorin had sent a letter to Bilbo not too long ago by raven, telling him of his departure from his kingdom and hopefully swift arrival. It had been a year since he had last seen his hobbit.

Thorin had found himself missing his hobbit. Even with the regular letters between them, now It had only been a week since he had gotten the last letter and Thorin had begun to feel a sort of ache in his chest the longer he went without contact from Bilbo.

Now the King Under the Mountain found himself hundreds of miles away from his Lonely Mountain, the one he had left in questionably capable hands, right back were it all began a year ago now, and getting himself lost once again on the roads and in the Shire. passing farms and burrows, even at one point finding himself on the road to brea. He had turned red when he realized, though he wont tell you that, and turned back hoping to find the burrow of his hobbit.

Thorin grumbled as he thought to himself and took another turn down a path he swears he’s seen hundred times before. ‘Now if I can just- have I already been here before?’ Thorin thought, sighing. ‘Mahal, am I even in the right place?’

When Thorin passed a deceptively familiar-looking farm, one he had to have passed twice now, he sighed and swung his pack off his shoulders to fish for a map. Maybe it can help him figure out where he was.

That’s when he heard a very familiar voice. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, as lost as a chicken with no head.” The voice was full of a teasing tone as it spoke.

Thorin whipped around and looked at the familiar small hobbit, his caramel-colored curls wild on his head, suggesting that he hadn’t done much more than wake up and throw clothes on. The hobbit seemed to be wrapped and almost gilded in gold in the light of the early sun, the old dwarf couldn’t fight himself from blushing at the hobbit.

His undershirt was a buttery yellow, a little warn but clearly loved, and his pants an emerald green that could put any gemstone that the king had seen to shame. The bottom of his pants were embroidered with flowers and other things hobbits seemed so enchanted by. The hobbit had no waistcoat, so his suspenders were visible. He stood not a few paces behind where Thorin stood. Thorin only just began to notice how long he had been staring at his hobbit.

Bilbo was smiling broadly, chuckling fondly at the sight of the bewildered and red faced king. Thorin didn’t wait long to rush forward and embrace his friend in a hug, which the hobbit gladly returned it with just as much enthusiasm. Thorin patted Bilbo’s shoulder affectionately and looked down at him when he pulled away from the hug.

Thorin smiled as he spoke. “Bilbo Baggins, and here I thought I’d have to stumble around here for a day until I found you.”

Bilbo laughed and grasped at the dwarf’s arms as he leaned a little closer before teasing. “Now what kind of hobbit would I be if I let one of my guests stumble his way around here like a newborn fawn?” Bilbo said as he moved to hook Thorin by the arm to lead him up a path toward his burrow. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find you something to eat! I’m sure you are starving.”

And that’s where Thorin found himself, sitting in an uncomfortably comfortable armchair in the living room of Bilbo’s burrow. He watched the small hobbit as he made tea, to quote, ‘hold him over’ till Bilbo was done cooking.

The warmth that wafted from the kitchen seemed to almost lull the king to sleep. The next time his eyes opened, Bilbo was handing him a warm mug of tea that smelled and tasted sweetly of elderberry and mint And a cloth that held a sweet blackberry tart.

Bilbo headed back to the kitchen to continue his task of making breakfast for the two of them. Thorin stood to follow after him, leaning against the door frame as Bilbo mixed something together in a bowl. He found himself observing the hobbit’s every movement, from the way his curls bounced as he worked to the concentration furrowing his brow.

‘He really is quite charming,’ Thorin mused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘The way he moves about his kitchen, so at ease, so… endearing. Why didn’t I see it before?’

Bilbo grinned at Thorin when he pulled himself a chair over. After a brief silence, Bilbo asked, “How are the renovations of your kingdom going?”

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes as thoughts of Erebor’s restoration filled his mind. They had found that the old techniques of his forefathers had been forgotten or abandoned for more useful skills during the time they had lost their home. But Thorin couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him at the thoughts of his people and how he and his Company had reclaimed his home. And how he feels that his hobbit was to thank for that.

Thorin let his voice sound as tired as he felt, as he spoke, “They are progressing well, but it seems many of the secrets of my people have seemingly been forgotten over the years.” He looked at the mug he held, now half full and tart long gone. He rolled the mug in his hands, it being a tad bit smaller than any other mug he was used to. It had flowers and soft things painted underneath its glaze.

“Still,” Thorin hummed and looked to Bilbo now. ‘Have his eyes always been so sweet?’ “It will be grand and restored to the best of our ability.”

Bilbo hummed and went back to cooking. He scrambled eggs in a hot pan. “Well, I wait patiently to see. You better keep me updated properly this time.” Bilbo said with a bit of a teasing tone and smile. Then he stopped what he was doing, looked at Thorin again as he set a plate down on the counter, and started plating food.

“I dare ask, you are staying a few days, are you not?” Bilbo asked. Thorin felt his breath catch in his throat. He had to think a little harder than he was used to, to speak.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded as he spoke. He found himself once again thinking of Bilbo, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity and care. ‘Why does my heart quicken every time he looks at me?’ Thorin wondered, a bit confused by his own feelings.

“Then, who is running the kingdom in your absence?” Bilbo inquired.

“Fíli,” Thorin replied with a fond smile. “He is capable and eager to prove himself. And I am not one to disappoint.”

Bilbo nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Ah, well, I am sure he is quite excited, and I am sure Lady Dís is not pleased at your sudden absence not too long after you have taken back your mountain.” Bilbo teased lightly as his eyes shined with mischief.

Thorin found himself chuckling and nodding softly. “No, she is not, but it will be a good experience for the lad to practice how it truly is to run a kingdom.”

“I see…” Bilbo hummed and pulled a loaf from the oven, setting it at the table to cool.

“How has the Shire been?” Thorin found himself asking as he helped Bilbo’s food find its way to the dining room table.

Bilbo’s face lit up happily as he smiled “Oh! Well, the Shire has been peaceful, as always. You know how things can be here, quiet!” He started digging through the cabinets for more plates. “And! I’m sure you saw on your way here but the fields are green with new crops, the harvest looks promising.” He said.

As Bilbo went to grab his cutlery as he spoke he gasped and looked to Thorin before almost yelling. “Oh! Do you remember what I told you happened a week ago well! It had happened again!!Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has tried to make off with my good silver again!”

Thorin watched Bilbo with growing affection and amusement as he animatedly recounted the events of the Shire. ‘He gets so heated over these things,’ Thorin thought, finding it endearing. ‘How could someone be so fiercely protective and yet so gentle?’

They continued to talk as Bilbo and Thorin prepared and set up breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and bacon filled the air. As they sat down to eat, Thorin felt a deep contentment.

As Bilbo went on about the Shire and what had been happening since his last letter to the king only a week ago, Thorin thought to himself, ‘This visit with Bilbo,’ he mused as Bilbo went on about how some children had trampled over his marigolds, ‘will be as lovely as I imagined.’

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

There it is, please don’t get to mad at me if I have made a mistake or messed something up. Okay, please leave feedback! Let me know what I can do better next time!

[starlostseungmin]

LIE TO ME, LMH.

✰ pairing: idol!minho x gn!reader

✰ genre: angst

✰ warnings: profanity, cheating, allusions to sex but not executed, just pain, grammatical errors and typos ahead. not proofread.

✰ word count: 1.5k

✰ song used: lie to me by 5 Seconds of Summer ー the afterglow series collab. ♡

✰ notes: thank you so much @comet-falls for making this collab possible! it was a challenging fic for me to write but i enjoyed it so much. please, to all who are reading the series, make sure to leave feedbacks and reblog the works of our wonderful authors because they deserve it for their hard work! don't forget it.

✰ series taglist: @fxckedupbitch ,, @rachabreathing ,, @haneuljisung ,, @mm-apples ,, @goblinracha ,, @maknaeswrld ,, @deyareasstuff ,, @michbang02 ,, @unsweetenedpeatea

There’s nothing wrong about breaking up. 

But to Minho, you were just so hard to forget. Maybe it was his fault that he blames himself whenever he thinks about you. Why did it happen? Where did he go wrong?  Where did you go wrong? For the past three years, you have been so happy. Who would have thought that your relationship would end with one repetitive mistake? 

“How many times did you do it?”

They say that the strongest relationship doesn’t depend on how long it is, but it depends on a person’s loyalty and faithfulness. You had seen a lot of it. He cheated because she wasn’t enough, she cheated because he’s stupid, he cheated because she’s not attractive, she cheated because he is just treating her like everyone else, there are a lot of reasons. You don’t know if they’re telling the truth and you have no idea how many times they did it behind your back. The relationship you build with him doesn’t go any different. 

“Did you love me?” 

There are questions unanswered. Lies. Happiness. Satisfaction. The love and domesticity. But a relationship is not complete without suffering and pain. Tears. Drunken messages and calls. 2 am fights and other bullshits. And just like everyone else, you and Minho had the same. It’s just that, one just had to take the ties between. You can cut it in half or he can just rip it apart. 

There’s nothing wrong about breaking up. 

You just did it late. 

“How long has it been?” 

The wind blows as it dances with the branches of the trees around the park. It is cold and your clothes aren’t enough to warm you up. But what feels more freezing is the relationship that turned into stone after years of being genuine. Minho sat beside you on the bench, watching the scenery together with the Namsan Tower standing a few miles away with the city lights glowing on a dark horizon. None of you decided to talk after every question. One had been keeping the answer. 

“I saw you.” A pause. “You were happy with them, and I thought I was making a name in your life,” There was a pain in that smile. One that could hide all the aftermath of what they did and as for youーnothing ever changed. “I went to New York to see you, even had to stay with you for a few days because I know you wouldn’t be home for at least a few months,” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” One said. 

“I did,” A pause again. “I did because I love you and I want to see you. How long have you been hiding this from me?” 

There were tears visible as it streams down to your cheeks. You loved him dearly, but you couldn’t stay like this forever and suffer. You admit your relationship with him had been crucial for the past few months, his life was busier than ever as you work in your family’s business. It wasn’t an issue before, the lack of time was not to blame一maybe it was or you were never really meant for each other. 

Or it was caused by a third party. 

It’s funny how the night changes when it started with Minho who was so head over heels as much as you. But when you woke up from a dream, everything fell differently. 

“I’m sorry,” He said. 

“Did you ever love me?” You asked, trying not to sound petty. 

“I did,” Minho said. “I loved you so much!” 

“Then how can you cheat on me?!” 

There was no answer again but pure silence. Nobody dared to talk, but you are sure it’s over for the both of you. He seemed happy with his new one but you feel the opposite. There are words that you wanted to yell at him, scream at him and tell him how fucked up this situation was. But there was none. It’s over, and if you were smart, you’ll forget about this and move on. Words come out makes it easy but how could you do it in just one snap?

And now, you couldn’t get something from him. 

Even those nights when you were lying naked on his bed as he kissed your body filled with warmth. The I love yous between heavy breaths and kisses. The way he made you feel his love and how your brain settled to think of him, and just him. Or those days when he would take you out on dates and escort you to your favorite places, cook for you, attend to his cats with you, and take care of you when you get sick. Minho was perfect, he was perfect, everything was perfect. 

He welcomed you into his arms as you cried harder. It hurts so much. You wondered why, how, and when. But all he said was, “Sorry,” 

Bullshit. 

“I bet he still thinks about you,” You heard Seungmin say beside you. 

“No,” You smiled bitterly. “He doesn’t,” But you weren’t sure. 

It is the night of the event that you were personally invited by the boys. It was a party to celebrate their success in completing their world tour and the awards they received from their recent album. And that closure with Minho that happened a few nights before has led to no changes at all. Seungmin patted your back as he gave you a small smile. He is your protector tonight and asked for a separate table from the 8 of them. Jisung also joined in. 

The staff already served the food but you don’t seem to have an appetite to devour it. Seungmin noticed how tired and exhausted you were from the breakup, and he knew he couldn’t do anything but keep you company. He understood how big of a jerk his hyung is, and still furious about why he had the guts to cheat on you. As if something changed overnight. 

“How long did you know?” You asked him. 

“4 months,” Seungmin answered as you gave him a nod. 

“Y/n, we did everything to stop him,” Jisung butted in but you just shake your head. 

“Thanks Jisung but, it doesn’t matter now,” You smiled at him. 

You looked at Minho from afar as he shared conversations with the CEO and his new partner. He looks happy, more than he ever was when he was still with you. And there, you wished you never started that relationship. You wished you never met him that night at the animal shelter. The pain he left still bothers you until 3 am. You couldn’t sleep at all, overthinking and everyone close to you knows you’re not happy. 

Seungmin held your hand when he sees tears running down your cheeks. It is such a pity to be this sad at an event when the public knows he is dating that person but your relationship was private. There are thoughts you wanted to tell him but just like what happened at the park that night, all he said was sorry. Seungmin pulled you into his arms and let you cry as Minho stole a glance at your table. You knew you are going to spend the next few months taking care of yourself and cleaning up the mess he made out of you. He licked his lower lip and contemplated to carry on another conversation with you again. 

“That damn asshole,” Jisung said clenching his jaw when Minho asked to talk to you. 

“Let them,” Seungmin said. 

And there you found yourself with him at the parking lot, standing face to face. 

“I have questions,” You started. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever get some answers from you. Sometimes I just don’t want to ask them.” You added, laughing bitterly in between. “Are you happy?” 

Minho bit his lip and took a deep breath before opening up, “I am,” He said as you gave him a nod. 

“After what you did, you are happy?” You asked again but before he could even speak up, a bunch of words followed from you. “You know what? I think you’re just a pure asshole who doesn’t care about me even if you showed affection. I still can’t believe you could turn your back away and the next morning you are already seeing someone else while you are still with me.” 

“But I loved you!” He argued. 

“Exactly!” You cried again. “But how about now? No, right? I’ve been dying to know but at the same time, it’s pretty stupid of me to think that you still love me because I still love you. But I’m not asking you to take me back. Just tell me you still love me, for the last time, please? Lie to me,” Your sobs were uncontrollable now and Minho just stood there, watching the mess he made out of you. 

“I love you,” He said, but sure there was hesitation before he spoke. 

“Thanks,” You smiled bitterly. “I hope you live happily,” You added turning away. 

And that was it. 

He lied. 

It is over. 

official taglist: @lix-ables ,, @zoe8stay ,, @gwynsapphire ,, @cherryhanji ,, @seungly ,, @sleepyleeji ,, @ppiri-bahng ,, @snow-pegasus ,, @milkybonya ,, @l3visbby ,, @djeniryuu ,, @tangylemonade ,, @hwan-g ,, @awkwardnesshabitat ,, @chrispychans ,, @therealhyunjingf ,, @hyunverse ,, @lino-jagiyaa ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @svngiem ,, @foxinnie8 ,, @ohish ,, @alyszaen ,, @dreamingsmile ,, @skzfelixlove ,, @stealanity ,, @minluvly ,, @flirtyskzbutterfly ,, @iadorethemskz

[was-mcr5-announced-today]

they found the body.

he guided the police to the place where he had hid her body. he had dumped her in a well in an abandoned warehouse located about 13 miles away from where he had taken her, and only 200 yards away from his home. when they got to the place, the killer refused to get up close to the well, instead choosing to stay a good 30 feet away from it. he said he couldn’t face it: the image of the girl in the well had been haunting him (yeah, I sure hope it was). they took the metal covering off of the well, to find her body submerged face-down in the well full of water.

removing her body from the well proved to be a difficult task. After 5 hours, they managed to lift her out. she was found completely naked, with 40 lbs worth of bricks tied to her waist, which her murderer had done to keep her from surfacing. the autopsy came next. her body was in a state of saponification, so badly decomposed that the tattoo they wanted to identify her by was no longer visible. still, they were able to prove it was, in fact, her. they were also able to determine her cause of death to be strangulation with a cable tie. this proved that her murder was premeditated to some extent: no cable ties were found anywhere in the warehouse, except next to her body, meaning that her killer had brought one with him. they also found she had injuries consistent with someone who has been violently sexually assaulted, and was unable to fight back.

her family now finally has closure, and the murderer is going to prison for life. but the town has completely lost it. it was bad enough when we thought someone had done something horrible, but now we know it for a fact. and the guy who did it was one of us. now that we know this can happen anywhere, even here, it feels like we're all just preparing for the next one. because there's bound to be a next one, there always is.

[saturnville]

smoke, drink, break-up

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x black fem oc (linnea lowtower. warning: a few curse words. content: coriolanus lies to linnea about something major, resulting in a nasty disagreement. an: ngl, I don’t like this as much as I thought I would but it’s too late now lol. I thought of smoke, drink, breakup by mila j when I wrote this, so, that’s a loose connection to the title. hope y’all enjoy!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

The silence was deafening and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. He had never felt so small; not since his father was alive. It had been years since someone’s harsh gaze made him quiver, stammer over his words, and feel shame like a peasant in the presence of a king.

He wasn’t used to seeing her hard gaze. Her brown eyes were often full of love, adoration, and desire. Just for him. As they bore into his raging seas, he saw behind them flames of fire that he couldn’t quench. Out her ears blew steam and from her nostrils quick and shallow breaths.

Her lip twitched. The restraint was clear from a mile of way. Her fingers clenched around nothing. If she could wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze, she would. So tight until the vein in his temple became visible and the vessels in his eyes swole with fear.

“You lied to me.” Her words were sharper than the knife in front of her. It laid beside aggressively chopped vegetables—potatoes and broccoli spears. “Not only did you lie to me, but you lied about lying to me.” Her hands now gripped the sides of the counter.

“Baby—“ Linnea held her hand up. Coriolanus halted immediately.

“We had this conversation. When you became president, you’d end the Games. What did you do instead? You met with Gamemakers, teachers, politicians, and the freaking students at the Academy to tell them about the upcoming games!” Her voice was a lion’s roar—mighty and rumbling. “You promised that you’d end it. We agreed that there was no point in continuing to divide the Capitol and the Districts. What is wrong with you?”

How dense and unaware could she be, he thought. The Districts were no better in the present day than they were during the Games six years prior. Everyday, the Districts proved to be primitive, uncivilized places with inhabitants that lacked discipline.

“The people in the Districts need to learn that actions have consequences, Linnea. They’ve worsened over the years, and surely have worsened since our last conversation. Some things don’t need to be changed just because we think they do.” Coriolanus tried to be careful with his words. The last thing he wanted to do was anger her beyond repair, but it was too late.

She didn’t agree with his thought process. It was evident as her nose scrunched and her lips turned up. “I am District 11.”

Coriolanus scoffed. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like those—“

“Those what?” Linnea challenged sharply. “Those people? Newsflash, I am not Capitol, Snow. I am District 11 and District 11 is me. I was one of the lucky ones. And if I had missed my mark, you know where I’d be? In that arena fighting for my life while people like you, those people, laugh, mock, and torture people born like me for fun, and because their feelings were hurt.”

Snow? How could she—“Linnea,” Coriolanus stepped toward her. She stepped back. “It goes deeper than that.”

And there it was. The volcano erupted and flames spewed from her pores. She smacked away the hand that cupped her waist and jolted a finger against his chest. “You are an insufferable human being, Coriolanus Snow. Insufferable, prideful, and a damn fool. Find someone else to keep you company.”

Linnea brushed passed him and swiped her coat off the hook near the door. Coriolanus’ footsteps were heavy as he stayed hot on her trail. She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She’d be damned if she stayed with him.

“Linnea, where are you going?”

She didn’t turn back as she stated calmly, “Away from you.”

He never understood why people downed their sorrows in alcohol until the loneliness settled. Linnea hadn’t returned in a little over a day and it drove him mad. He knew where she was, he always did, but it didn’t make it any better.

The dismissed every call and message that was addressed to her. He hadn’t felt such a deep sense of rejection since his adolescence. He couldn’t go a day without speaking to her, but to know she could go without communicating with him with ease? It ate him alive.

Once she left, he took the time to ponder on what she said. Linnea was right—she was a District 11 citizen, and no marriage, no amount of money, and no prestigious education would erase that. And had her father not married a Capitol woman after her biological mother passed away, they’d still be in District 11. Attending a reaping, planting seeds in the group, or dead. God, he couldn’t imagine life without her.

Coriolanus knocked back the last of his drink and reached to pour another.

Insufferable. Prideful. Foolish. Had she truly meant that? Prideful, he could agree with. But insufferable and foolish? Unbelievable.

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall above his desk. 2:14 AM. He took another heavy swig of his drink. No sign of her return.

The home was eerily quiet when Linnea crossed the threshold a few hours later. Only the ticking of the clock was heard. She kicked her shoes off by the front door and padded toward the dining room. She threw her locs over her shoulder then winded her when her rings got caught in her hair. “Dammit. Coriolanus!”

Linnea stayed with her father and step mother for two days. She knew it wasn’t a wise decision to leave her husband without communicating with him, no matter how upset she was. Her father reminded her of that.

She wished she was more like him. More understanding and empathetic. He wasn’t pleased when she told him about the argument she and Coriolanus had, but he reminded her that they were of different groups—the elite and the working class. He saw things in a way she didn’t because that’s how he was always raised to see things. His view was narrow, and he needed someone (her) to help him expand it. So, she came home. To settle the tension and to talk to her husband.

“Coriolanus,” she repeated. She frowned when she entered the living room and found him on the couch, covered by her favorite throw blanket and a bottle of expensive alcohol on the coffee table. He was never the type to drink heavily. “Coryo.” Linnea tapped his shoulder. He stirred in his sleep like a child, but his eyes opened widely once her face became clear.

“You’re back,” was all he managed to say. Linnea nodded slowly. She nudged his side and he made room for her body. Her head rested against his chest and her was tossed over his. Coriolanus wrapped an arm around her waist and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah,” she said lowly. “I’m sorry for leaving. I was just really upset and didn’t want to say anything else I’d regret later.”

Coriolanus hummed softly. “I’m sorry for not being competent. For not trying to see your point of view of things. I think when you’re in a certain headspace for so long, it’s engrained in you until you’re willing to unlearn it.

“The Games are unnerving. I don’t know what I’d do if things were different and you died in them. Your father would’ve been without a wife and a child…and I never would have gotten the chance to call you my wife…my friend. I am sorry, Linnea.”

There was a silence. So, he continued. “I’m not saying it will be easy, nor am I saying no punishment will occur for any act of treason or rebellion, but I’ll bring an end to the Games. Effective immediately.”

Her head shot up. “Are you being serious? Don’t lie to me, Coriolanus.” He nodded. Linnea smiled softly. “Thank you.”

His hand dropped from her waist to the swell of her bottom, which he squeezed softly. He leaned down and capture her lips with his own. She moaned softly as his tongue caressed her lips. Her mouth opened and he explored it with delight. Coriolanus smiled against her lips, “Thank me upstairs.”

[doublekanble]

dead meat

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 11.1k

Or, the progress of going down and deeper. (please treat this as if theyre a bunch of drafts coupled together (they are) this read so much funnier if you keep in mind the fact alastor have genuine feelings/genuinely cares for you but he’s just batshit insane) its 13min til 2am if theres an error no theres not tw: gorish talks and imagery littered thru specifically 1, 5 and 7. alastor chased you down in 7.

1. Because you listen.

When you finally came back — frayed at the seams, run-through you with a headache and a rock in hand. You looked down, the warm wetness oozing from him and seeping into your pants quickly turn cold. You couldn’t tell what you’re looking at for a minute, adrenaline still running through you and your head ache just a tad. When you finally see the pink bits and the leaking blood, your breath runs ragged and your thought run miles. You try to remember all the warning your mother gave you about getting involved with a man like Alastor, you don’t know how you’ll tell mom she never gave you any advice or warning about this.

“God… Oh my God what did I—What—“

Not a single book warned you about the way you physically feel ill touching a body growing cold. So with guts churning and the prickling on your skins, you scrambled to throw yourself off and backing away from the body on all four. Desperately, you called out to whatever is there and beg in your head to wake you up from this nightmare of a show. And when you hit something distinctly warm and alive from behind, you call out to it, thinking it’s your mother, coming to save you from this, to tell you that it’s alright and that everyone make mistakes and this is nothing more than a bad dream. You’ll wake up from this soon, in your childhood bed, in your childhood room, in your childhood house and you’ll be anywhere else and not here.

But when the warmth embraces you, and you feel a warmer breath by your right ear, pressing a soft smile and a bliss-filled chuckle into it, it hit you that your mother would’ve hated you if she sees this. If she sees him.

“Oh, mon Chéri, I knew you’d have it in you” You hate the way the voice swallowed and a take a breath, as if mesmerized by the sight, like you but so wholly unlike you, it whispered in your ear, “What a show. What a show.”

Your eyes is focused on him, but not on him, not a person. That couldn’t be a person at all. Saliva tasting bitter, the bile rising in your throat hurts as you desperately tries and tear your eyes away from it. But enraptured by the intricacies inside his head, you only do so much before finding yourself looking closer for something you couldn’t understand.

“Don’t worry,” setting his lips on your temple, he sigh into your skin, one hand held onto yours and gently rubbing the red from your fingers onto his, as if helping you clean up, “It’s your first time, everything will be so much better once you’re used to it.”

Your eyes flickered between the thing and whatever of yourself visible to you. It’s all red, so much red. Its head, his head was caved in, you can see the front of his skull, everything else is everywhere. How could this ever get any better if it’s going to be this red? Was it going to be this red every other time too? You can feel your fingers going numb from the grip you have on that rock, you can feel the dent from where it dug into your palm, you can feel clearly the traces of well-kept nails running down your left arm from where he tries to pull you away. And every bit of it is red. And suddenly your clothes and his grip and the night air and your skin felt just a bit too tight, too suffocating. Your brain pulses and compressed against your skull. It hurts to think, it hurts way much more to speak.

“I—I don’t want to – I can’t-“

“I thought I couldn’t too, until I did it again, and then again. And then I realized that this,” raising the hand he held onto so kindly, almost like guiding your eyes to the sight. While the pain in your stomach is almost unbearable, he couldn’t sound any more ecstatic. “This, is freedom. Our freedom”

You were sure that the freedom that you’ve been yearning for wasn’t supposed to be associate with a corpse. No type of freedom will ever be going to drive someone to cracked open a skull in the middle of the night. There’s nothing but pure malice that will drive someone to bring a rock onto another man’s head and refuses to stop even when his ears bleed and he stop fighting and started begging. Your mother hated Alastor, and she never break his skull open. You hated your mother, and you never break her skull open.

You want to open your mouth and tell him to shut up. You want to say your mother was right, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, no matter how inviting his offer is. You shouldn’t have run off night after night chasing the daylight with him. He is a scoundrel, he is disgusting, he’s the worst type of delusional criminal there is, the most pretentious man in all of Louisiana. But you can’t, because you just maimed a good man and refused to hear his pleas. With nothing left to you, you all but break down into his arms.

“There, there~” he coos into your hair as your wailing get swallowed up by the cold night air, “I’m right here, aren’t I?” if only he’s anywhere else but here with you, mouth spewing reassurances one after the other.

(It’s alright, he’ll take care of it today. It’s ok, he’ll teach you about some other day. From now on, you’re going with him, whether liking it or not.)

2. Because you wouldn’t

“Isn’t he one of those highbrows you like to rub shoulders with?” her tone accusing and upset, you almost choked on your tea when she slapped the papers down in front of your food and walk out the living room. Even though you have an idea about what she talk about – the news came out just in time for it to be covered on the radio first, you still pick it up and scanned your eyes along.

“So I’m supposed to remember every face I came by now?” you glowered to yourself, “How do you know who I’m ‘rubbing shoulders’ with anyway?”

Over the sounds of your heart beating wildly in your ears, over the humming in your head, you hear her mumbled something about “that boy” as she starts to vacuumed the carpet. It’s a ridiculous thought, but for a brief second, you were sure she’s going to ask you about your numb fingers.

‘SON OF FAMOUS MUSICIAN, REPORTED MISSING AFTER NIGHT OUT-’

It’s so odd to you, how much he worth, yet how little people care. Name printed in bold font atop news about the fast declined of the economy and crashing stock markets a full week after he disappeared. He never told you his full name, nor does anyone around him ever make mention of it despite their occasional jeering and jokes. You didn’t bother with it at the time, you two weren’t the most talkative person in the room, let alone together.

Then again, it does make sense. He told you before that he’s not proud of what he came from or what he became, under drowsy lights and forced to sit side-by-side like all the other night. You still can’t drink, he still can’t dance while being miserably drunk, and nobody else wants to babysit a miserable drunk. You don’t get why anyone needs you to look after him, despite being so out of his head, he seems perfectly well with handling himself.

Your lift the tea cup to your dry lips and take a sip, the tea tasted bitter.

A voice loudly called for you, irritation written clear in it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and all but jump to her spot in the small hall, unwilling to let the two talks for more than necessary. Your mother stand with a huff to her posture.

“It’s him again.”

You laugh dryly, “It’s always him, mom.” tugging the receiver from her hand, you bring it up to your ears. The moment you do, a chuckle rang out. You shivers.

“There’s the lad of the hour! Why, I almost thought your mother was trying to stringed me along before shutting the line off again!” the mother in question grunt and grumble about how annoyingly persistent he is, you agree. Last time she did so, the phone kept ringing until she relented. “In any case, I hoped you’re all up and ready today!”

“We have nothing planned today.” Your reply was immediate and flat, hoping he would leave you alone, but Alastor only laughs in an almost affectionate tone.

“And I’m here to changed that!” he exclaimed, you run a hand down your face and try to keep your calm.

“Alastor, John’s missing. This is not the time.” you whispered sharply into the receiver, hoping to whatever’s true he’ll shut his trap for once. You’re not interested in getting caught by the neighbours over the phone of all thing.

“John? Now that sounds familiar…” he pauses, you can almost see the way he turn a brow up and pretends like he’s lost in thought, it’s almost endearing, “Why, isn’t that the lad I named on the radio yesterday?! What a horrible case! Some people are saying he finally throw himself onto a train and-“

“Alastor!” at the sound of your own voice scrapping in your ears, you pauses. You relax your grip and lower your voice, doing your best not to pay attention to the figure peeking out from your kitchen, “Listen, I don’t have the time to play around. Get to the point.”

“Clearly, you’ve the time for nothing, you and your mother…” sighing heavily, he dropped the act. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop kidding. We’ll talk once I get there. Be ready in twenty.”

“Wh— Alastor!“ The phone turn dead in your hand and you’re left standing in the hallway.

You stare at the receiver in shock, then, you grip it. Holding back the urge to break it open over the table it sits on, grinding your teeth, you place the receiver back. You clutched at the end of the table and count to ten, jaws aching and head spinning from anger. Even with your head hanging low, you can hear footsteps falling along the hallway. Your mother red house slippers stand in view from the side, you wondered if you can burn it and buy another pair.

“You’re going out with that creepy radio host again.” she’s standing with her hand crossed and an exasperated look, you just know it.

“Mom, please,” heaving a sigh of your own, you don’t want her to rub it in your face, even if she doesn’t know it, “Alastor’s not creepy. He’s a good man, I promise.” you have to believe he’s a good man, after everything. If you don’t, you’ll lose the rest of your mind. You prayed that she leave you alone, but she kept pressing.

“You keep saying that, but I know he’s nothing but trouble. I mean- look at you!? You looked so exhausted every day. Every time you leave with that scurf, you came back looking more lost than before!”

Turning to her, you have a retort at the tip of your tongue, you always do. But the looks on her face was nowhere near what you thought it was, so you stumbled. For a second, your vision blurs and your head spins. When it cleared up, your eyes met.

“That good for nothing man, dragging you out every night! Have he ever asked what you want before?!”

Standing like a cornered rat, you try to find your voice.

“I-“ you swallowed again, “I don’t mind it, mom. I like going out.”

Have your mother always looked this tired and worn beyond her age? It almost as if she’s been holding the world alone. She said your name, and you feel all lost again. Like a small child with bare knees stripped red and wailing for her to come and save you.

“You don’t even like parties.”

You remember how much she always scolded you when you got yourself into troubles, but your mom always patches you up while she does so. In the time frame before your home became more of a house and your front door is a front door without any sort of implications. And then it hit you just how old mom looked now. She used to be so tall compared to you, but now you’re over her slightly hunching figure, a little bit or a lot, it’s just enough to look down on her. Suddenly, the world feels too constricting and your skin feels too tight.

All this time, she wasn’t angry at all, was she? Your mom haven’t been angry for a long time now. But it doesn’t change you, it doesn’t change anything else. You closed your eyes and push a breath through your nose.

“Maybe I’ve changed, mom,” you walk past her into the living and tug on your overcoat with fingers stained red, fighting against the waver in your voice and hoping she won’t hear it, “maybe you should be happy for me.”

Alastor always take less than twenty to show up, but you didn’t know how long he was watching you for before clearing his throat. You didn’t bother to respond, only lifted your head up to make sure it wasn’t some random prude before shifting aside. He have the decency to stay silent and sit down with you on your front porch, offering a sympathetic smile at your sorry state and gently wiped away your tears with his red handkerchief when you refused to move and take it yourself. It wasn’t the first time you sit out and wait for him on the porch instead of listening to her outburst, but it was the first time you ever cry over it.

You wanted so desperately to turn back and tell her that you haven’t change, that you’re still her little kid. The same one that want to sit out the parties and the smokes and the dancing and the jazz just to spent the days working on something with her nearby, in the kitchen working on something or sleeping in the armchair, always in the old set of red house slippers. You want to show her something you make, only for her to not get a single part about it. You want to fall at her feet and begged her to tell you you’re still the same kid. You want her to go back to closing the front door and locking you away from the world again.

But you’re nothing but a rat, fresh off from a murder. You’d soon throw yourself in front a running train than to ever let mom know her child will ever do anything wrong. So you swallowed everything back, stand up, and walked away from her porch with Alastor hot on your trail, smiling all the while.

(you want to tell her you haven’t changed at all, but you know better than anyone else. you thought you know better.)

3. Loosely, you’ll fall.

The show was an utter bore, you’ve concluded. The allure of watching history made quickly died out when it pertains to dancing, something you’ve been watching people do with much more grace. It might’ve been much more interesting too, if the dull drums in your head invites itself out. But even when you step outside into open air outside the theater, it remains.

“Well, that certainly was… something.” Walking after you in a leisured pace with one hand behind his back, another going back and forth on brushing off his coat or adjusting his glasses, to anyone else, he looked completely normal. But you know him long enough. “I could’ve sworn it’s a musical show.”

Usually, it’s fairly hard to catch Alastor in a flustered state, facial or demeanour wise. You supposed years of practice couldn’t really stamp out personal discomfort. You would’ve felt bad, but you don’t have enough strength to bother.

“There is musical, alright,” you grumbled, a hand to your temple as you walk on without waiting for him, “I’d say it’s too much even.”

Obediently, silently, Alastor traces your footstep as you seethe to yourself. You were supposed to be back in bed and sleep away this headache and your free day at this hour. It’s a shame you just can’t help from talking back to your mom and chased yourself out of the house, onto the street, and right into his games.

You wish you could rub those kissing scenes into his face and mocked his offbeat timid nature and tell him to go shove it. For once, the mere thought of intimacy itself reminds you of that night and forced you to think about how Alastor always stands just a bit too close to you, always just behind you. It takes everything in you to not scratch at your wrist and tears your skin open, so you opted for patience and sympathy, no matter how much the image haunted your eyelids said otherwise.

Before you know it, the voices and the hollers and bumping shoulders traded itself for a single bell chiming, then hushed murmurs and echoing clinks of porcelains and glasses filled the space. You invited yourself to a small spot off in the corner with a lone seat and hunched over with your left hand over your face, while Alastor comes up to the counter. When he came back, he pulls another chair from the table right next to yours and all but covered you from everyone else’s sight. You stare at him in between the webs of your fingers while Alastor rest his chin in his right hand and hums all softly at you.

“You should’ve told me it’s still there, dear. I wouldn’t have bother dragging you out.” His free hand brush against yours in a gesture you can blindly guess as benign and kind. Unlike the Alastor from this morning, unlike him in the theater. Unlike Alastor from the broadcast and unlike the man holding onto you that night. You’ve seen this so many times before in so many people, it’s just make-believe for adults and you’ve already seen this in him. You thought you have, anyway, so you take your hand away from him and look at the approaching waitress. It must’ve been a trick of the light, the way his eyes grows just a bit darker. But you still think hard about what you would’ve said back then.

“I need to get out anyway, better here than there right now.” You would’ve been fine with the idea of going back in, but by the time you do, Alastor was standing in front of you, and you would rather let him think whatever he wants than to pissed him off even further somehow.

“Better with me~” When push comes to shove, he is a bitter man with a silver tongue, you’ve seen him pour drinks onto people and getting away scot-free. It’s always funny to everyone else in the group, until they’re at the direct end of his bitter temper.

Alastor have never even so much as raising his voice at you in anger, but you also thought he would never kill anyone, so you refuse to take any chances. As long as you stay cordial and don’t step past your line, Alastor won’t ever have a reason to. So long as you keep to your leash, he’ll be pleasant and let you go home soon. It leave a nasty taste on your tongue, how you know exactly what to do with him.

“Whatever you say, Alastor.” Gently nursing your headache, you sits a bit straighter. You really couldn’t tell what’s worse, the oddly plastic smell of the café, or the light from the bulbs burning your retinas. “You never told me why we’re out here in the first place.”

Clapping his hand together, he grins. “Oh, yes! Terribly sorry my dear, I figured we shouldn’t talk about it over the party line. Who knows what else is lurking, yeah?” you stay seated despite your instinct telling you to run. You know this was coming anyway, “See, we didn’t get to celebrate the other day. You got so sick, after all-”

He kept on talking, seemingly perfectly fine with you tuning him out. Even if he’s not fine with it, he can’t do anything to stop the almost freakish way statics filled your head and washes your entire body in a cold and numbing wave of sweat, electrics ran through your head while you grips your hair. And it’s almost like he knows what’s going through you, because he wiped away a drop of sweat running from your forehead with a knowing smile.

“Be careful now, if you get sick, I’ll have to take care of you.”

“As if you can take a step into my house.” As if she’s ever going to let him take a single step inside after today. But he kept that irritating look on him, if only the thought of tearing it off his face doesn’t hurt you so badly.

“Who said it’ll be at your house~”

His chuckle right after shuts you up. Right, you forgot. Of course you did. He have a lodge somewhere near a bayou. You weren’t sure whether Alastor meant it as a tease or a threat, you don’t really want to think about it. So you forced a laugh when he grows just a tad silent. Tilting his head, he looked at you with something you couldn’t tell, and like aways, he switch topics without a bat of an eye while you sat there with sweats running down your back in the middle of winter.

You reach for your cup and bring it to your lips without bothering to know what’s in it, trying to follow along while Alastor rattled off a to-do list he made without your consent for today’s hangout. A visit to a confectionary shop, a trip to the tailor, quick stop at a small dinner he discovered recently and, if there’s still time, he can take you to your book shop. As your vision blurred for a second, the bitter taste of coffee hit your tongue, and it took everything in you to bite back a swear and to hold your mask of politeness. Accidentally flitting your eyes up, you catch him smiles. But it isn’t the kind of smile friend gives to one another, it isn’t the type where two people love and care for each other. So you keep your gaze low and keep drinking the coffee he ordered, at least they do a decent enough job at taking your mind off of John.

(somehow, it felt so familiar, it wasn’t until the moment you crawl back into your warm bed after a cold dinner that it hit you. it wasn’t against your ear this time, but it was the same smile. you swallowed the acid in your throat and thought about how many people saw it just before they lay six-feet under.)

4. And when you finally fall,

John wasn’t that much of an asshole, but he lives like he’s the most wretched man in all of Louisiana. A shadow of a person, beyond that of a ghost. Alastor told you that the only reason anyone ever stuck around is because John have more money than anyone could ever understand, and as long as you can withstand the awkward silent and the sneers, you can count your worries for the night’s drinks goodbye.

Coming from a long and well-known line of gifted artist, John was set for life, even with his less-than-responsible lifestyle. His great grandfather wrote plays, his grandfather paint, his father plays the piano and John drink himself blind. He stop touching anything that even insinuate the idea of creating art on his twenty birthday. Ever since, he wanders the night, going from place to place to emptied his family’s wealth into pretty floozies and drink away his own shame.

With an eerily out of place grin, just close enough to his normal happy demeanour to count, just a bit too wide to be normal, Alastor show you off to John like an exotic pet while his friends already dash off to dance.

“Oh! And how could I forget, this one might not be able to play it, but they have a fantastic taste in music!” then, he turns to you with a friendly hand on your shoulder and a sympathetic look, “If only you ever have the means to pick it up, you’ll be the talk of the town for sure!””

“Surely.” John reply with an odd laugh and look you up and down, suddenly the idea of sitting back with him and watching the others felt just a bit too much for you. But you only brushed their comment off with a wave of your hand. Acting like you didn’t pick up on how John down his drink with just a bit more fervour and Alastor smiles breached the border of normalcy before he pats your back gently, as if encouraging a shy dog to socialize, before inviting himself out and leaving you alone with a man you’re not sure was all there.

You tell yourself you just won’t go with Alastor to his night parties next time, but you pick up the phone every time. And every night you have to sit right by John’s side in complete silent when everyone spreads across the bar.

At first, it was somewhat scary and unpleasant. Then, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Every time you sit right next to him, he would scoff and chuff at you under his breath. Refusing to ever talk or look at you. Unless it was time to leave, John will never do anything more than call for a drink and then sip on it until he needs another one. Every time Alastor came to check up on you, he would smile at you sweetly and make a jab or two at John. You figured by now it’s a show of sort to him, but sometimes you still make a small effort to shut Alastor up and direct him back to whatever he was doing before. It became your new normal for half a year at least.

And then one night, completely worn out and tired with the day and the loud jazz inside a loud room with lousy lights and lousy companion, you stand up without a word to anyone and went out the back door. Outside in the cold air of October, you huddled by a wall inside the back-alley and pulled your knees to your chest. Staring at your hands, you can only sigh and ruffled your hair, digging the palm of your hand into the base of your skulls and wishing you can break it open.

“If you’re so tired, then why not haul yourself back home?”

Jumping up with a yelp, you clutched at your heart, completely missing the door creaking open the first time. You forgot how John even sounded like for a minute, voice low and gruff, completely contrasting everyone else in the group.

“…” halfway peeking through the door and staring impassively, you wondered why he even bother when he seems so done with you. Words right on the tip of your tongue, you him a passing glance, debating whether this worth an excuse out of your pocket. He cut you off before you even begin to open your mouth.

“What? You’re deaf now?” John shouldered the door and step outside fully, standing in front of you.

“…And if I am?” You frown, this feels too much like being scolded. At least his voice is kinder to your ears . “Better off if you are.” He chuckled, “…So?” You would be upset, but you’re too tired and he’s not leaving you alone, so you shrugs your shoulder apathetically.

“Horrible day at work, fight with my mom, then got dragged out here again.”

“Heh, figured.” You glare up at him, he raises his hands up in defence, whiskey with a single ice cube in its glass clinking as he does so, “You seems miserable whenever the lot isn’t around to see.”

You want to spat at him, what would he know about you? But you know he’s right. It really does feel miserable, going all the way out here just to sit and having nothing to do. So you dropped your head into your palm and groan.

“Ugh-…Is it that obvious?”

He cackle, you take it as a yes and sink your head a bit lower at the sound.

“Why not just—not come?” taking a sip from his whiskey, he sat next to you without invitation, “You can just say no to him, y’know.”

“As if I haven’t tried.” You grumbled, but stop when he raised a brow at you, motion for you to keep on. A bit clueless, you shrugs again, “What? You know him for longer than me. You should know that.”

John looks at you as if you’re stupid, and you’re beginning to think you are. Pointing a finger at you, he asked you about your job. Then with a nod, he stated outright.

“But you don’t do anything for him.”

You sputtered, the irony of a drunkard basically calling you useless and being right about it doesn’t escape you at all.

“What does that have to do with anything? He’s a persistent guy, that’s it.”

“That bastard doesn’t bother hanging around anything that isn’t useful. He’s not that type of guy.”

“Then what type of guy is he?” you ask. He looks at you, licked the top row of his teeth, then heave a heavy sigh.

Dowing the rest of his whiskey, John stand up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before slowly taking hold of it and nearly fell over when he pulled you up. He mumbled a half-hearted sorry with a look.

“Not whatever you’re thinking of him, that’s for sure,” he drag you inside by the shoulder, snickering when you try to keep up and failing miserably before slowing down for you, “Now common, I need another drink.”

It’s all John ever told you about Alastor, it’s all you ever need, but you never listen.

-

John didn’t change fully after that night, but he still change somewhat. The John that was so drained and empty was still there, but he sits up a bit straighter, as if managed to confirmed whatever else he have in his head. For three months, you two never talked about what happened in the back alley, nor do you talk at all. He still down enough drink to kill an elephant and lost his balance to the point someone needs to take him home. But he nodded his head whenever he’s not tipsy enough that the ceiling spins like a globe and you catches eyes, and sitting beside him felt a bit less draining and off-putting.

You told Alastor about it later, the conversation you two have in the back alley, because of course you do, telling everything to your good friend. Alastor would then look over whenever John’s acting friendlier to you, because of course he does, and joked about it. You saved him five years of his life, he laugh. You laugh along because his tone seems just a bit off. You sometimes think about who Alastor is, whenever you have a moment to sit back and contemplates everything between you two. But not for long, because like clockwork, Alastor would pull you away to do whatever he wants for the day, and like always, you would follow along with little to no complains.

Sometime before John went “missing”, you break the thinning layer of ice between you two and tell him out of the blue that you never actually touch an instrument in your life, but you wished you have the chance to. You thought he would’ve laugh at you, but he sat through your recount of younger you being enthralled by a street musician, seeing it as a form of liberty you can only hope to capture through any other art you made. He asked why, you said there was no space in your life for making music. Not then, not now. He asked if it’s ever a regret, you stay silent.

You asked him to play you something, he huff a laugh behind his glass, but shut up when you didn’t laugh along. A false police alarm got the place empty enough for your group early that night, and the owner was desperate enough for extra cash, enough for him to mousey up and play a song you remember by heart. He played really well, you told him. His playing is the bare minimum, it lacks the souls his father have, he sneers at you. He doesn’t need to have a soul in it, just get used to being mediocre while having fun instead, you reply, leaning against the piano and staring at the group chatting away from you two. He didn’t bother with a counter, but he kept playing, this time it’s a melody you’ve never heard before. You saw Alastor turning his head to you two, but you pay him no mind and turn back to John. He looked so calm playing something like this.

John trips over his fingers and curses a lot, you tell him to keep playing. Until the song’s finished and you left standing in silence for just a bit, waiting for the other to say something. Turning the word over in your mouth, you’re a bit speechless, like you’re face-to-face with a kindred soul. But there’s no real comfort in telling a drowning man he can breathe, so you say his melody felt like home.

Worn beyond his age and exhausted in a way that’s so out of place for someone who have the world in his hand, his smile was genuine, facing towards you, like an old friend and a warm meal. The bar dives and the social circles Alastor loved pulling you along have always made you feel so out of place. Their grin’s too perfect and their voices too pleasant, all with an oddly rotten attitude. It’s like watching a picture show, it’s not how people genuinely act, it’s the semblance of one.

Maybe that’s why you and John never got along too well, he was too busy hiding his face behind glasses of gin and whiskeys, you’re too busy hiding in Alastor shadows. But you both never play along, and you both never faced each other fully before that night. You hope John never have that realization, the fact you’ve never faced him at all.

Then before you knew it, his face to the ground, all red, turned from you. That’s all you knew about John Holloway, that’s all he ever get to tells you.

(deep inside, you want to say that it wasn’t your fault. but the difference between getting swept along with life and standing in a back alley with blood on your hands is that somewhere in your empty head, you did register his scream. there’s a reason you can’t see his face and there’s a reason the rock was in your red hand, sitting in your red palm.)

5. so far down, you won’t know the way home

The forest floor was red, by the time you realized it.

It wasn’t by your hand, but it’s enough for you to step back and breathe. It always so odd to you, just how easy it really is to see in the dark, even when the moon hides away behind strips of clouds. In the dark, at the dead of night, your eyes should’ve been blind to the red that’s bleeding all over, but it never does. It took you a second to remember what you’re supposed to be looking at, and you turn the light towards the main figure, standing so proudly in the middle of this. In through nose, out the mouth. Don’t focus on the thing below, look at him and smile. He smiles back, genuine joy stiches itself on every corner of his face. If only this flashlight is weaker.

“Sorry darlin’. This one have more fight in him than I thought he would,” he strides towards you, the familiar metallic stench overwhelms your senses when his red hand came up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “Good thing we got it done before he find his way out, huh?”

Good thing he got it done at all, you thought. You can only bother to hide your exhaustion with a mute nod and a grim grin. Knowing exactly how this will plays out again, you remind yourself to be ready. Alastor laughs and pat your cheek affectionately before pulling you by your hand towards the corpse quickly growing cold amongst the grass. As he does, you try to ignore the echoing in your eardrums.

It was gut wrenching at first. The panting, the gasping, frantic steps that echoes through the empty woods, devoid of bird calls, devoid of life. Just a hound, chasing its prey, and a vulture perched on a tree waiting, watching. The choked exhale when they fall, eventually tired out and tripped over themselves or getting a bullet to the thigh. The way they all looked so confused, then they bargain, then they get mad and calls him every name under the sun before shutting up and look at him in the eye. You weren’t sure just how he looked to them, but perversely, you’re glad you never get to see it.

They scream and yell and beg for someone to please come and save them until they can’t anymore, but it felt like they never stop at all.

“Come here.”

He sits you down by the body, open and ready, still holding onto your wrist while you fight every bone in your body to keep your hand still and keep your foot nailed down. His face, flushed with excitement and sweat running down his forehead as he rattled on about how soon, you’ll have enough guts to do this with him instead of only ever following after and picking up the scraps.

“Remember that feeling? Remember the rush?” lifting your clenching fist up to his lips, he smiles and chases your gaze, you stare back, “Etch it into your brain, don’t ever forget it.”

With that, he plunges your fist into the open cavern of flesh and red and it feels so incredibly blasphemous and wrong. While Alastor knitted his fingers atop yours and guide your hand through the process, you feel your senses grows fuzzy around the edge. Half of you wish that headache didn’t die after the 3rd time, at least then you have something else to focus on other than the sopping wet red mush slipping in and out between your frozen fingers. The idea that someone’s inside would immediately cool off after their death is a farce to you, their warmth still so tangible and so fragile it takes everything in you to stop the burning acid from bursting in your throat. He told you on your fifth time that if you vomit on the body, he’ll have you cleaning it with him, sounding just a tad bit considerate, as if the idea of forcing you into doing something you dislike hurts him.

It's almost too much to think about, how you’re becoming something so different, something that’s just enough to his liking, to the point where all you have left are instincts and the alarms in your head. It felt like years ago when your weekdays are filled with nothing but sitting inside your cozy home and looking out the window, hoping one day you’ll be able to experience that high life and being cared for by someone who love you with everything they have, even if it’s the worst experience of your life. It’s almost like decades ago when your thoughtcrimes are no more than passerby on a long day and your smile is a sham but it’s ok because everyone bought into it and you do too. Now you spent your days looking behind your shoulders for excuses while pinprick runs up your neck, waiting for the day you’ll be buried with the people he hate.

You hope when, not if, you do have to, you’ll manage to come up with an excuse to mom for the body in that alley way. You clenched your fist, only the red squelching and spongy inside of a man you barely know respond.

(the hound stare up at the vulture and leave with a red maw, it watches the vulture from the shadow of the trees. the vulture learned to ignore the hound and feast away at leftovers.)

6. I hope you’ll call out for my name.

Unconsciously, you tap your index finger to a rhythm a man showed you some years ago. One you called beautiful, and one that made him smile. Like always, your weary and sunken eye catches red painting your left hand, but you only sigh and return to penning out your letter. A ringing echoes throughout your bleak and empty house, but no voice call out for you. There’s no point in picking up, you simply let the call die on its own. If it’s him, he’ll crawl his way to the front door with or without that call either way.

When the noise abruptly ended and didn’t pick up again, you put down your pen and hold the letter in hands that never lost its stain. Staring down at the words you’ve painstakingly poured over since her funeral, you crumbled the page and held your head. Over and over again, you write and write, hoping that some way, somehow, something can change.

But like always, nothing is enough, so you throw the paper into the small bin next to your seat, holding back the urge to throw everything else on the table with it too; your mom raise a murderer, not an ill-manner rodent. There’s no longer a point in lamenting things that can never be change in your lifetime. You can do this tomorrow, or the next day, or the day next to that, you’re considering how to go out still. As long as he’s not here, that is. You check the clock, eleven and a half, you have around fifteen minutes before he’s here.

Alastor was always suffocating, you thought, dragging yourself to a wardrobe that haven’t felt familiar for more than half a year now. Nosy and meddlesome, it’s something you picked up on even when you were a doe-eye little rat running across the night without realizing you were walking with a hunting hound, but you always thought it was simply how Alastor cares about people. Your mom was right, you were so naïve about him, thinking he can care for anyone else aside from his mother and himself.

He was always suffocating, but ever since the funeral, he all but latch onto you.

The pure black outfit he gave you was something you would wear to mom’s funeral. But coming from him, it makes you feel like a stranger was staring back from the mirror’s view, out of your own skin. So you boxed it and hid it under the sofa after the whole thing.

And of course, Alastor knows this. So whenever he browse through your wardrobe on his own accord, he would always make sure to make a comment about how these plain and boring clothes never look right on you with a good-nature smile. You no longer have the mind to bother with a reply, so you let him do whatever he wants. As long as he get his digs in, you get your peace of mind. The things in here means the world to you, but what use is there to defend something you’ll soon have no use for.

Clicking your tongue, you pulled out something that looks decent for the street and locked the door to your room. You fixed your clothes until it fits right on you and sat on your bed, wondering if you should just stay inside and make him take some couple extra steps. But decidedly, being in your own room with him will always be so much more unnerving of an experience rather than just letting him shuffling through your stuff on his own. So, the door to your room open with a click, and you step out into long familiar but distant hallways. You wish you can unlearn the concept of loving something that isn’t tangible anymore. It’ll make the hallways a bit brighter.

Like usual, you peek into the empty, almost sterile kitchen and walk up to her armchair. After confirming that you’re alone today also, you found yourself back on the sofa with nothing else to do, simply waiting for Alastor. Checking the time again, it’s exactly mid-day now, so his mother must’ve needed help with something, you’ll have to wait for a bit. Gulping down the uncomfortable heavy weight that settled over your heart since a year and a half ago, refusing to ever die, you lie down and close your eyes.

A year, a half, two week and three days, it’s really a wonder how you work. Maybe that’s what Alastor sees in you, a walking list of contradictions, or maybe this is how everyone works, and you were just cruelly kept out of the loop. Even though you never bother to consider her in your own life, ever since a year and a half ago, you wake up staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes wondering what’s she’s doing every day and why you can’t hear her. Then, remembering that she won’t be doing anything from now on, you get up and make yourself breakfast. Sometimes you would still hear someone calling for you, along with the constant ringing from the phone, but then one day, you forgot how she sounded like, so you starts to ignore the calls.

The day you realized you can no longer hear her voice, calling out to you from the door to your house, you’d tried to trace her footstep by opening her cookbook and making the dish she love. One moment, you were staring down into the pages, the next, you’re seated at the counter, surrounded by Alastor’s companions. You’d call for a  whiskey. Everyone find it absolutely hilarious and jokes about your new life while you held the glass in your hand and stare down into the amber-colour liquid. Just as Alastor laugh and reach out for your hand to take it away, talking about how you simply won’t be able to handle the aftermath, you knock your head back and the glass ran clear in one gulp. His friends all cheered for you and shoving another glass into your hand, assuring you’ll get used to this soon, but you don’t know how much you can trust them.

Quite frankly, the whiskey was beyond repulsive. As if you just swallowed flaming charcoal, your throat burns so badly, it’s stopping you from forming a single coherent sentence. You can’t stop yourself from tearing up over it, either, vision blurred and unsteady while a beginning of a headache started creeping up on you, so you down whatever’s in your hand again in the hope of becoming familiar with it fast enough to never have to think twice about it. Before a pretty dame in the group can pass you a third drink, you were hauled up by the shoulder and drag out the door, Alastor hissing a goodbye to the group through his teeth.

Storming off ahead and ranting about how utterly irresponsible you are while you stumbled behind him like a fawn, Alastor would slow down and stare when he can’t hear your soft footstep anymore. You remember walking by a closed tailor shop and flopping yourself down, back against the glass window and weeping without a word. He walked back and sit next to you after a while. You know he’s waiting for you to say something on your own, but you only shrink into yourself. You don’t know what was worse in that moment, the burning in your throat, the head splitting ache slowly brewing or the fact you never know your mother favorite food. How are you supposed to grief someone you don’t know anymore?

In the midst of it all is Alastor, who seemingly lost all of his previous anger. You’ve seen a lot of him over the years, you know he sees all of you. But this is the first time you break down without a word or a reason and you wondered if he feels just as lost and confused as you are. It as if he doesn’t know what to do with you once you actually breaks in a way that doesn’t serve his vision of you, in a way he never have to fix before.

“…Tough day?” with an oddly shy tone, he nudge you from the side, “Didn’t know you’re this much of a sad drunk, honey. Guess I was right to keep you off the bottle after all.” He chuckled, then trail off when you stay silent and stare off into nothing.

It must’ve been no more than ten minutes, but it felt like years before you gave up and open your mouth, voice breaking and quiet. “He made it look so easy.”

“He? Michael?”

He perks up the moment you speak, mouthing off the names of all his associates in hope of finding the one that raises your ire. You would’ve found him endearing if things were different, but you cut him off.

“John,” Then as if it’s not enough, as if Alastor never remembers anyone else, you try to keep your voice even while rubbing your eyes “John Holloway. He made drinking look so easy.” Even without looking, you can see his lips pulled into a taut line.

“Ah, right, John Holloway,” rolling his eyes and shuffling that much closer to you and pulling out his handkerchief, he sneers, holding your wrist still while wiping your face, “No doubt he does. If you didn’t take him out, that chump would’ve drink himself to Hell on his own.”

“At least then he gets to pick his own way out…” You huff.

“It’s been years, honey!” done with cleaning you up, he stuff the handkerchief in his left pocket, “I can’t believe you’re still hung up on him!”

With every word out of his mouth, Alastor’s fake and chipper accent gets just a bit firmer, as if finally knowing what to do. Sitting up straight and pulling his glasses off, he wiped it on his vest and ask dismissively.

“When did he die again? Was it 1928?”

“1929,” you breathe and lean your head against the glass, “Remember that musical you called innovative and new?”

“If only I can forget.” He blanch at the thought of it, you smile wistfully.

“The music was nice, it’ll be nice to watch it again.” From the corner of your eyes, you catches his. You hated how he look so content with this.

“That makes one of us…”

After that, a blanket of silence fell onto you two. With a headache in full swing, you recalled asking whether he ever remembers how they look. Chuckling, he only leans close until your nose almost touch and say that he does. You ask if he’ll ever remember you, he froze and stare into your eyes with an almost incomprehensible look. Standing up, he brushes himself from dust and give you a hand, you take it.

Before you two departed in front of a door that no longer lead to a home, he tells you in an almost too quiet voice that he hope he never have to remember you. You hate his everything in that moment. From how his stands was just a tad bit different from his usual tall and confident poised self to the way he looks so abnormal with the corner of his lips dipped down. You hate how you’ve grown fond of his smile, so you turn and closed the door with a good night.

In the morning, sounding like you just dragged yourself from hell back up, you asked him for a clipped picture from the old newspaper and leave it under your pillow. And ever since, you’ve been rewriting the same letter. To everyone that you ever have a hand on, and to John and your mom. But specifically to John and mom.

John was a good man. It’s a shame he drank too much and care too much in one night. It’s a bigger shame that you can’t keep your thoughtcrime as exactly that, a thoughtcrime. He was right, too. You never knew the man you called Alastor, you don’t think you’ll ever do and you’re happy for it. You only ever find the cowardice to take another man’s life with his help, and you’ll only ever find yourself in more trap than being free from it.

You still bought yarns and cookbooks that you think your mother would’ve love. You come back with enough groceries for two people and the kitchen table are always set for two. You check every day in the kitchen for her still. You still crept up behind the armchair just in case she’s sleeping. Her red slippers still sat patiently just in front of her door. You know she never will be there, but it’s a nice thought. And since mom won’t ever going to be there again, you’ll take a nap. Alastor can have fun dealing with half-asleep you once he’s here.

(you’re woken up by the sounds from your kitchen, the smell familiar. as if finally escaping a bad nightmare, you sprang up on your feet and peek in like a child. Alastor stood at the stove, smiling at you. for the first time in years, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.)

7. we’re going to hell together, after all.

Left, right, right, left.

The silent always puts you on edge, as if there’s something out here, biding for it’s time. If only it’s a beast you can take down with a shotgun. You try to recall the forest trail that you know is somewhere out here as shadows of trees covered you from the moon. But you know Alastor, and you know for a fact that if he wanted to, he could herd you out of New Orleans with just a couple of words and a smile. So you uselessly try to focus past the thundering in your ears, you can’t hear a trace of him anymore. So on the count of three…

Throwing yourself to the right, you almost slammed into a tree as a bullet lodge into the trunk of another just right ahead. A soft chuckle rang out from behind, you kept running. Left hand clutching your right wrist, a sob bubbling up from your aching throat, it’s between running like this and letting the hand ram itself into whatever’s there in the forest. Even if you’re blessed with the chance to get out of this alive, you’ll never have use for your right hand ever again. Bones doesn’t heal right when they sit past five days, but you’re not sure you can even hold a pen with a mangled thumb and a pinkie barely hanging on. You  lost a bit of your will at that, but the silence of the woods draws you from your thought. You want to die by your own hands.

Right, left, right.

But you know you won’t be able to. The moment you let him take you here, you already lost. Alastor knows the woods better than you. He knows hunting better than you. And you’re sure he knows he can outrun you at any time. You refuse to dwell on the meaning of it and push your left hand against a tree.

Another shot rang out, this time hurling right by your head and nicked the tip of your right ear and went into the night. You don’t know where it goes, but you staggered just a bit and nearly launch yourself forward when a small bush snatches the end of your clothes.

“Sorry honey!” his voice gets further and further away while he stand still and yell out to you with a casual tone, as casual as he can keep it, “Frayed nerves and all~” he laughs, the rest of his words intelligible, and then suddenly, the forest went silent again. You can’t afford to stop and think anything through, so you push on ahead.

When you’re stuck with only the breaking and crushing of leaves under foot and your own winded breaths filling your ears, you cursed. Your throat starch, your lungs burns. With every step you take, your visions blackened around the edge and breathing alone hurts so horribly. It’s a blessing you even lasted for this long, you never have to chase anyone like he did. You wishes you burn that letter instead of dropping it in the bin, you wish you burn that house down instead of living with a ghost you can’t see. You wish you burn him. You know something was off with him that day, Alastor couldn’t shut up to save his life ever since he gets the key to the house. But he didn’t so much as uttered a word to you while staring down at the cutting board, but you didn’t care enough to ask him. Biting back a curse when a stinging pain shot up from your ankle, you feel your head spin as a short and pained chuckle escape your dry lips, he was thinking about how he wants you dead, surely.

Left, left? Right. L-

You can’t help but cry out the moment the bullet sink into your right upper thigh and sent you down. You crashed sideway onto the forest floor and black out for just half a second when a rock dig into your left temple. Clutching at your thigh with a broken hand, your laugh sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, almost choking as it drags nails and spikes through your throat, like that of an animal, like you’re an animal. The loss of oxygen is getting to you, the irony doesn’t escape you.

While your body winds down and the pain and exhaustion settles in, you go into the most horrible aftermath you’ve ever have to endure. Your head pulsating with every beat of your heart and your limbs grew heavy and cold. Vividly, you pick up on leaves breaking and sticks crushed under heavy footstep and you abandoned all sort of dignity to scrambled and try to drag yourself away from him, fingernails dug into dirt and grass to pull your lead like body away. But another clink, another shot hit your lower torso from behind as your choke scream got swallowed up by the earth, left to clutch at your wounds with face buried into the earth and tears streaming from your eyes.

“Oh honey, why so sad?” a heel sit on your bullet wound, dancing in circle before he slowly press his whole weight onto it. Your suffocating wail isn’t enough to amused him, but he still laugh with such gentleness in his tone. “I thought this is what you want? Weren’t you writing to dear old John about leaving? Well, here it is!”

The relief he granted you last for all but half a second before he bring his foot down. Stinging, numbing pain spread through your entire body and you’re left gasping for air while he held your shoulder and set you to face him. Hunching over your shivering body with a hand on your face, he smiles. Or at least you think he is, there’s not a point trying to make out a single thing over the agonizing pain that’s making a home in your body. You wanted so badly to just black out and die right here, you pretty sure you did black out at some point, but Alastor slap your cheek lightly and calls your name with almost a whine to his tone. The warmth from his hand stand out amongst the incomprehensible burning of your flesh and the blood rushing through your head, why are you here again?

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging like this. You know I hate it when you ignore me.”

You’re not, you want to scream. If there’s anything you can ever say for him to get off of you and leave you alone, you would. You don’t know if it’s the blood lost or the pain getting to you, but your already waning visions of him blurs beyond recognition while he coos at you.

“I guess it really do hurts that badly?” he laughs, “One question solves then!”

At the mention of it, your blood ran cold and the forest felt just a bit more freezing than it already was. Right, he did say something about John, didn’t he? Almost like it was yesterday, when you’re sitting alone in your room at eleven in the morning. Although barely able to remember the exact wording of every letter, you know by heart the concepts and questions in all the letters you’ve written and rephrased a thousand times and over. But the question wasn’t in that one, it was at least several drafts before it, dropped because it was too presumptuous to ask your first and closest victim such a horribly him question. All of it, sitting neatly in the bin right by your writing desk. All of it, he could’ve read in the hours it took you to wake up.

You want to stick to what’s left of you and die raising your head just a bit higher than when you live by not letting him hear a word out of you, either the fact your throat still hurts so badly just swallowing or the fact you know it’s all but useless talking now that’s keeping you. But from the corner of your eye, you saw his right, red hand gripping tightly onto something that you can’t properly make out, and then you remember the reason you never anticipated any of this occurring within your lifetime.

“Th-the letters…” you groaned, “it’s not-you-“

Right, the reason you were caught off guard by him breaking your fingers while pinning you to his car, the reason you couldn’t even begin to make head from tail when he pressed you for the name of whoever it was that makes you do this. The letters that is, for all its intended purposes, your suicide note.

“Yes, yes,” with a draws to his voice, as if he’s tired of this, “Your lovely letters, to dear old ma and John. We both know I read all about them.”

“No-“ you cough, it’s hurts just to breathe, “I wasn’t going to- tell them-“

“Oh, that. I know.”

For just a moment, you’re void of anything. All the pain and the blistering heat and the cold night air leave your body for just a second and left you with nothing at his words. You’re aware of his every movement, even through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, everything is too much, too loud.

“I thought you’re smarter than this, love.” you can’t see him properly at all, but you can’t see him smiling and it scares you,  “It never was just about the letters.”

“Then what-“

Shushing you, he leans down until your forehead nearly touched, you try to focus and find his eyes at this awkward angle but it only worsen the unbearable pounding in your head.

“This, is what you want,” he pauses, you can see the outline of his jaw shifting, like rolling words on his tongue. You want to call him a madman, but you don’t even know if this is him anymore. This isn’t the Alastor you know for years. He would’ve never talk to you without that stupid accent that’s everywhere on the radio. The Alastor you know doesn’t need to considers his words talking to anyone, always with an excuse on his sleeve. And that Alastor would never gotten so close, wouldn’t have sounded so personal. “You said you want to leave. To get to that ‘freedom’, right?”

He sounded so hurt, as if it’s him that’s being crushed under weight with bullets in him and two broken fingers, as if it’s not you writhing on the forest floor, as if he’s the one dying tonight.

“You can’t bear to live anymore, right? You can’t do this with me anymore, can you?” you’re painstakingly reminded of the fact he still have his right hand on you, casually moving it down to your neck while he raises his left. You aren’t sure why, but you still try to claw at the hand clasping gently around you. You think this happened before, but you weren’t sure where the idea came from, the loss of oxygen getting to you quicker than you thought it would. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your fingers, two broken and eight dirtied with dirt and your own blood, it lost the red that have been clinging onto you like a disease.

“Al-“ in that moment, your vision suddenly cleared, like a last-ditch attempt at life. The grip he have around you is like that of a snake, too. Coiling gently and kindly, with a thumb digging into your skin while the inners of your ears felt like bursting open.

“It’s alright, mon Chéri, I’ll help you. I always have, haven’t I?” he always have been helping you, but that was Alastor, your friend and the demon on your shoulder. Not the man that’s staring down at you with such a look and speaking to you with such tenderness and love you can’t begin to dissect.

Desperately, you stare up at the image of an unfamiliar man with voices you’ve never heard before. He smiles a smile so painful, as if losing his mind too, but you can’t tell who he is anymore. Your mom was right, John was right, you’re right, but none of it matters when you’re running out of breath and the rock in his left hand fits so well into his palm.

“I’ll come see you when I’m down there, wait for me.”

Your vision bloomed and blurred away. You stay awake for long enough to hear the first crack of skull, reverberating through your eardrums. You’d stay awake for the second hit, and the third. And you stay awake for just long enough to grow envy of John for never having to faced you that night.

(the hound leaps, sharp fangs breaking tough skin and tearing veins, the vulture, without a mind to think of god, only knows how to cries out.)

[benisbeaaaaans]

The Discord Disease

(More below break)

As the name suggests, the Discord diease is derived from the entity of the same name, the Chaotic Chimera, Discord. The first signs of it occured when the statue of Discord disappeared from the Canterlot Gardens and started inside of Ponyville some many miles away. Ponies there that were later diagnosed began to lose the color in their coats, as well as exhibit behaviors that were “opposite” of their average behaviors. The first afflicted was Rainbow Dash, the assigned weather pony, refusing to do her job and behaving dismissivly of those she was reportedly close to, and her colorful appearance notably changing. This continued to spread via unknown means for some time until Twilight Sparkle, a scholar and student directly under Celestia, discovered anomolous particles inside some deceased subjects some time after the disease went unchecked.

Those afflicted will begin to experience behavioral shifts and sometimes flu like symptoms if exposed to the disease in large quantities. A pony can still be treated in this state. However, as they progress into stage 2, they will be more difficult to treat, as well as treat them without lasting damage remaining present.

Stage 2 progresses once the pony afflicted loses all color in their coat and mane, pigmentation turning completely white. In this stage, their bodies begin to rapidly decay, and within a week they will be visibly ill and their hair will begin falling out. Pegasai will fly irregularrly and aggitatedly, and unicorns will have sporatic bursts of destructive magic.

Stage 3 begins about 2 weeks after initial infection, where the pony’s torso will become bloated. They will be unable to move for 2-5 hours, depending on their natural resiliance, but will eventually burst, leaving their ribcages exposed, most likely destroying their internal organs, but not killing them, leaving them in an automotous state. This stage is particularily dangerous, as the afflicted pony will begin displaying more hostile behaviors, attacking other ponies, and attempting to either bite or wound them. Once they do this, they will no longer attack the pony, seemingly aware they have been afflicted.

As of right now, there is no known stage 4 of the disease.

[yippeeometer]

A (correct) timeline of NE thanksgiving

4:00AM: Hammy arrives. the party isn't supposed to start for another many hours, but he went out drinking and, when realizing he couldnt drive, simply treked the many miles to mass's house. it took him several days. no one is awake when he arrives so he sets about on a sidequest trying to find some rocks to throw at mass's window.

5:00AM: Hammy is allowed in the house. it turns out maine was also staying there, but was so shocked and bewildered by the idea of having to host before he was ready that he laid face down on the floor so Hammy would think he was a rug. Hammy notices him very easily. They won't be speaking for a few hours.

7:00AM: actual thanksgiving prep begins. Mass and Penn divorce 5 times over how to correctly cook a turkey. maine stares into the camera and serves child of divorce whilst taking notes for his next murder mystery. somewhere, many miles away, York is visibly shaking and sweating at the idea of having to talk to people.

8:00AM: First political argument. Cut arrives under the guise of being there to help prep, but actually wants the ego boost of having a life slightly more put together than these lunatics. singlehandedly almost cancels thanksgiving for everyone for not getting the fuck out the kicthen fast enough.

10:00 AM: nothing has been done for two hours. PA and Hammy ripping cables out the tv angrily muttering to themselves. Theyre actively doing each other hindrance as Hammy is sure hes doing this for the parade and PA's only focus is the football. luckily, they havent communicated since the 1800s so the argument can be delayed at least an hour. mass stood outside like ben affleck w a cigarette rekindling his relationship with god to ask him to just let the meteor hit.

11:00AM: another political argument. dela, upon figuring out he was not a key part of this years celebrations, threatens to join the south and tell them all the family recipes. unfortunately, the person he complains about this to is NJ, who was kicked out the chat for too many your mom jokes and doesn't even know whats going on. dela is now faced with the worlds most difficult decision; hold this fuck up above everyone silently or bitch about it to their faces. one of the options involves carpooling with new jersey.

1:00PM: Monty arrives. despite being given a list of things he was supposed to bring, he completely forgot and brought tape, maple syrup and insulated tubes from the nearest gas station. the only reason he doesn't die on the doorstep is bc maine says 'at least theyre edible' and everyone focuses on that bullshit instead. This is a mistake, as one of the things on his list was Rhode Island. The most happy PA looks all day is when he says he'll go get him before anyone else can offer. he and mass divorce once more over him being wayyyy to happy to get away from this.

2:00PM: NJ and dela arrive. dela instantly makes a big deal of mass fucking up the invites. mass threatens to throw him in a lake bc fuck you, he invented thanksgiving, he gets to host. Hammy has long since given up on the tv, and is now establishing a complicated system of terrible drawings w monty and maine so they can experience the parade without seeing it. NJ banned from the kitchen bc hes unable to not be a total control freak.

4:00PM: Rhode and PA arrive. Rhode is instantly pissy and threatens to turn monty into a frittata. is only stopped by the fact that cut is there and he hates his ex-wife more. NJ asks why hammy didn't just use the remote to turn on the tv, to which PA has to refrain himself from smiling. the remote is in his car. fuck that fucking parade. the dinner finally starts.

5:00PM: 3rd political argument. this one is slightly more advanced in the fact no one can hear what anyone else is saying, so they just argue about whatever. communism. the bruins. what a frittata is. York has not shown up yet. Cut tries texting him to ask where he is and he says 'fuck off, thsi number isnt in use'- which is suspicious bc autogenerated texts dont normally contain 'fuck'. they go around saying what theyre thankful for. 80% of the answers are to do with not being from jersey. Nj takes a 45 minute smoke break during which he googles 'fbi' 'how to get the fbi to raid you' 'how to get rid of the family'.

6:00PM: random 4 minutes of actual feelings. very odd. everyone feels deeply uncomfortable with saying they genuinely like each other.

7:00PM: York finally arrives. when asked where hes been, he says the sight of mass's red sox doormat repeled him like a demon with a ring of salt. so he went home. the only reason he's back is becuase its too dark to see it. he brings cheesecake, which causes a great deal more fighting than expected as they all genuinely crash out at the concept of a cheesecake made in a way tehy didn't expect. rhode and mass stood in the garden, again like ben affleck, thinking of the sad relity of their love of thanksgiving vs the people theyre surrounded by.

8:00: 4th political argument. they decide to resolve it with a game of football, forgetting that its pitch black outside and maine has the night blindness of a mole. unfortunately for maine, running at speeds not to be expected for a casual game, rhode is only 5 apples tall- maine instantly faceplants. mass has been doing shots since he woke up and can't even say what a bone is anymore. that brings him to the second, worse choice. dela.

10:00PM: final political argument. they all agree this has been a waste of time. they all agree they hate each other. they stay in mass's house for hours more, which seems to contridict this.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#26: We Should Go To Washington (S5E09)

This moment - Powerful. Pivotal. Romantic. I’ve said before that I believe Rick and Michonne more fully fell in love with each other by the end of season 4. And to me, how they interact with each other throughout season 5 just further confirmed my theory, especially in this stunning episode 'What Happened And What's Going On.' And part of what's going on is Rick and Michonne falling for each other even more as they make a big game-changing decision rooted in the love and trust they've developed. I love that this is where Rick shows he would truly go the distance for Michonne...

(Sidenote: Now this scene ranking might be my most controversially-placed one because I know this is a very beloved classic Richonne scene that would understandably make a lot of ppl's Top 10s and even Top 5s. It’s a super significant moment between Rick and Michonne and I love it, I promise. Richonne's journey is just that abundant with top-10 worthy moments so I had to make some sacrifices on my list because I adore every second of every moment they’re on screen.😅)

So I already just love the way Rick and Michonne are color-coordinated in their brown outfits. So much of season 5 really established how R&M are a pair and each other's match.

And in this ep, Rick touches her, I believe, for the first time since she told him never to touch her again in s3., showing their growth and the strengthening of those magnets.

Something I appreciate about the Richonne 5B scenes that occur before they arrive at ASZ is that they really did an effective job of confirming the depth of their bond. During this period, we consistently see just how much Rick and Michonne's attraction to each other is more than skin-deep because they've built a genuine love and trust with each other.

They cement their partnership in so many ways during this time of searching for a home, and it's important to see this depicted before they enter ASZ because it lets you know that while there will be situations that could potentially cause a divide between them at Alexandria, it's 5B scenes like this Washington one that tell you Rick and Michonne's bond was too strong, too battle-tested, and too important to them for anything in ASZ to break it.

It’s also very clear throughout this season 5 mid-season premiere how much Michonne’s well-being is on Rick’s radar and really matters to him, and it becomes extra clear in this #26 scene here. 

Michonne is making her case for why this place could maybe still work as a home, only to find that the community clearly was brutally attacked as severed body parts lay scattered around. Michonne is quietly disappointed as she walks and observes, and Rick’s attention immediately shifts to her as he follows behind her. It’s one of the clearest cases of their damn-near literal magnetic connection. 🧲

She doesn’t leave his sight. Even when Glenn says, "it doesn’t matter," Rick stays staring at Michonne. I love that their “you're okay, I'm okay” interconnectedness is so visible. Michonne isn’t okay, and that so clearly doesn’t sit well with Rick, so she’s top of mind for him in this scene.

Glenn starts speaking, and Rick peels himself away from looking at Michonne to hear Glenn share a very bleak perspective on how it wouldn’t matter who killed Dawn. Michonne turns around and pitches that they go to Washington. At the end of this season, a very special scene will have Rick admitting the way Michonne can influence his decisions, and this moment in 5.09 is an example of that. 

Michonne turns to Rick and tells him they're close, and it's 100 miles away - and one thing I love about this point in their relationship is that she and Rick have established enough trust with each other that Michonne can be vulnerable enough to really show some raw emotion here and speak her mind. 

Rick listens as Michonne questions what if there are people there and what if it’s a chance to be safe. “It’s a possibility. It’s a chance” This is the season of Michonne really wanting tf to find a home and I know so much of that would be rooted in the fact that she was one of the few who knows what it’s like to extensively wander out in the woods and go a bit mad. She doesn’t want that for her and her new family.

Michonne gets more emotional but still with such poise as she suggests going to Washington is better than just being out there and just making it since making it looks like all those bodies sprawled on the ground. I love that she’s pouring her heart out to him. And what a great man that Rick is so ready to not take this lightly and to really hear her.

And we get another one of those long lingering looks from Rick as he stares right at her, listening. The arresting effect she always has on him is gold, and I appreciate that he lets her words seep in. Especially when Michonne asks, “Don’t you want one more day with with a chance?” 

Danai again slays the vulnerable delivery of that line and it’s also deep for Michonne to pose this question hoping Rick also wants to live and not just survive. This is important for her to know too because her last man had given up on trying to have one more day with a chance and so it’s great she gets this confirmation that Rick is different and far more aligned with her.

(Also watching s1 back, in the finale, Dr. Jenner asks what they want, and Rick says, “A chance.” which just further indicates how he and Michonne are cut from the same cloth) 

Then I love the romantic way this next part plays out cuz the walkers draw near, Rick says we should go, and Glenn and Michonne think he means we should leave the area. So Michonne turns away thinking her words fell on deaf ears, but then Rick reveals no I heard you and I will go where you lead, when he repeats her words and says, "It’s 100 miles away...We should go to Washington."

Hearing this gets both Glenn and Michonne to stop in their tracks and turn to look at Rick  Cuz this isn’t a choice Rick would make this quickly for just anyone. And Michonne’s look of surprise is so touching. I was just looking at this moment thinking - that’s right girl, he’d do anything for you.😊

I’ve always felt like in this scene Glenn is an adorable third wheel to the Richonne bubble because Rick is completely facing and staring at Michonne solely when he says this. It just makes it clear that he is declaring this because of her. Like of course he wants to secure a home for his whole family, but in this moment what's especially evident is Rick wants to give a home to Michonne.

So Rick makes this big decision for the group fully based on what Michonne thinks is best and once again it really was giving romantic when he looked right at her and said, "We should go to Washington."

And then Michonne's subtle smile...that’s an “I love this man” reaction, y’all. Better yet, she's looking at Rick like...

I appreciate how Rick and Michonne’s love for each other makes them do things differently, because while in the past it was said by Lori that Rick would never just go somewhere on a hunch, here he’s showing that he would go somewhere and bring all of tf with him if Michonne’s instincts say it’s a good move.

I love that here Rick can’t help but be so focused and in tune with her and Michonne can’t help but look at him with so much love. Again she gets confirmation Rick is different from her past and cut from the same cloth as her. The way Rick looks at her and looks away, I really feel like it’s a brief moment of him knowing that he so swiftly agreed to this for and because of her because he loves her. Whipped in the best healthiest way.

It's also great watching scenes like these back and knowing Rick is looking at the woman who he will go onto happily make his wife, and Michonne is looking at the man she will fully embrace as her husband. 🥰

All of Rick and Michonne's s5 scenes suggest that they had fallen for each other and were becoming more and more aware of how special and influential they were in each other's lives. And this moment was a beautiful illustration of what Richonne means to each other and what they’ll do for each other. Scenes like these - weighty, quiet, but full of love, just solidify that this is a beautiful love story for the ages. 😌

[blasteffect]

Comet 12P

Potograph taken in Pons-Brooks on the evening of March 16th. The comet is still 151 million miles away and slowly getting closer. The comet is also slowly brightening but also getting lower in the sky after sunset making it more difficult to capture. It will continue to get closer to the Sun over the next few weeks and become more difficult to see.

There was only about 40 mins from the start of darkness after sunset to when the comet set in the northeast. The comet is now magnitude 5, technically making it visible to the naked eye under a very dark sky, but practically speaking you will need binoculars to see it.

Courtesy: Stars Over Bucks

[lokiforever]

🖤Love in the Dark 🖤

Mafia!Loki x Fem!Reader

Series summary: After Loki was banished from Asgard he landed at some place in midgard. Now that he didn't have his powers and magic he was just like another mortal. After a few years of struggle and rejection he became a mafia boss. A billionaire. Yes, he was a trader ...but of lives. His heart didn't feel much emotions now.Can a girl whom he met accidentally be his remedy ? Will she be able to break the wall he had built around his heart? Will she be able to bring light in his dark world?...

Series Masterlist

SHORT CHAPTER!! ⚠️☢️

Chapter 4

➡️

He couldn't even begin to describe how much he despised seeing you with another man and why. He can't do it. He can't have you. He knows better than to repeat that whole falling in love and dating nonsense.

........Right?

But then why does it feel as if the adrenaline pumping through his veins would burst out even at the thought of you being with another man?

The sound of your echoed laughter pulled him out of his trance as he took in the dreadful sight in front of him - that guy, whoever he was- he didn't see his face as he had his back towards him, had his hands all over you, as you danced in his hands.

He had to do something.Why? He had no clue.

He saw him walking towards the bar as you too went there after a few minutes and he gave you a drink.

"Y/N?" Loki said as he approached you from behind "Oh, hey" "Would you mind if I talk to him for a second" he said referring to Marc "Uh, sure go ahead"

He took Marc and walked away till he was out of sight and as soon he was... "Do you know who I am ?" "Y-yes I do, Mr. Laufeyson" "Good. And know this, if I see you with her for even a millisecond from now, you'll be history. And if you even think about harming her, I'll make you beg for death" he growled. The fear was evident in the boys eyes as he heard this. "I'll count till seven...run. 1...2.." before he could reach till 5 the boy ran for his life.

Then Loki returned to you and sat on the bar stool beside you "Enjoying ourselves, are we?" he said, a tiny smirk playing on his lips "More than I thought I would... Where's Marc ?" "You seem to like him a lot, huh?" he said, controlling his jealousy. "I was just asking cuz he went with you....then he didn't so" you said with a shrug "And he never would." this made you visibly confused "I mean, he received a call and he had to go... who knows when you're gonna see him again" "Hmm...fair enough

Standing up, he offered you his hand to you with a little bow "May I have the privilege of sharing this dance with you, my lady?" he said making you blush deeply. "You may" you took his hand as he lead you to the dance floor.

Both of you swayed in each other's arms, uncaring of the world around you as you twirled and dipped.

Much to your surprise, and not in a pleasant way, you started feeling dizzy and lightheaded after sometime. Your body seemed like it was about to go limp. "Loki ...I ..I feel.." you started "What's wrong? Are you okay?" he said

"I..I sort of...I just.." before you could complete your words you went down like a stone but luckily for you, Loki was your night in the shining armour.... again. He, almost instinctively, picked you up, not letting your head hit the floor as a wave of concern washed his face

"Y/N? Y/N!? Darling, wake up!" he tried but it was to no avail. He signalled one of his guards and then moved out of the crowded hall, picking you up in his arms effortlessly as he carried you to his car with his guard backing you up from close behind.

The chauffeur opened the car door for him as he laid you down in the backseat. His mind was running a hundred miles per second. 'What happened to you?' ; 'Is someone behind it or is it just some deficiency of the body?' ; 'And if someone is indeed there, who could it be?' ; 'Could it be the kidnappers from earlier?' ; 'Could it be .....' then it hit him.

His nostrils flared and jaw clenched. "Darling, please open your eyes. Please" he said, sounding almost desperate. But it was again in vain. Then he turned to the chauffeur "You know where we need to go. There's only one accurate place" he said to him "Yes, sir" the chauffeur said with a nod and started the limo.

Loki tried all he could, from gently patting your cheek to restless attempts of calling you by your name but nothing seemed to he helping.

After sometime, the car stopped in front of what seemed like a lab. Loki stepped out the limo and a man wearing a white lab coat, with short brown curls and specs walked out with a smile on his face

"Laufeyson, after so many days! What's up? Everything okay, I hope?" he said, offering a hand for Loki to shake, which he did. "Hello, Bruce. Everything was okay, a few hours ago, but now ... you'll have to do your job, Dr. Banner" he said forcing a smile on his face as he was visibly tensed because of you. He opened the car door, revealing you.

"Wait, is that ...Y/N?" Bruce said, surprised "Uh, yes? How do you know her?" Loki asked, visibly confused "I will tell you, hut not now. Better if I treat her first, don't you think?" "Yeah, right. Sure, ofcourse. But don't think that I'll drop it." "Obviously. I know you that much by now. Bring her to the lab"

"Hey- watch your tongue! You don't get to order me or boss me around" "I'm not doing either, just performing my job as a doctor" this earned an eye roll from Loki and a "Clearly" which was dripping sarcasm.

You were brought to the lab and laid on the strecher as Bruce took your pulse and did all the essential things needed to be.

"She's been drugged"

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Taglist :

@holdmytesseract @jennyggggrrr @lotsoflokilove23 @jaidenhawke @wolvesmom1 @gruftiela @mary-jinx @mischief-dream@ladychota @dishahaldar @eleniblue @foxherder @allesiaandnx

[onboardsorasora]

De aged Daniel sneakily putting on Max’s race suit and helmet then going to show max and he says “look Maxy ima race car driver like you!!!” because he may love Ferrari at his young age but he’s grown to love his maxy more

Hey besties! I hope you don't mind me putting these two prompts together! I love when we hive mind lol

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | De-Aged Daniel Pt3 | De-Aged Daniel Pt 4 | De- Aged Daniel Pt 5 | De-Aged Daniel Part 6 | De-Aged Daniel Part 7

Max blinked in shock as he stepped out onto the patio with a cold can of redbull. Little Daniel was riding around the backyard, laughing joyously with himself. That wasn’t the surprising thing of course, Max was used to Little Daniel playing games with himself and his squeaking honking laugh echoing in the living room normally.

No, what was surprising was that Little Daniel was wearing his helmet. Max’s helmet. The one from his first season in RedBull. It looked comical on the little boy, made him look more like a bobble head than ever before. But Max couldn’t deny how overwhelmingly adorable it also was.

Little Daniel wobbled to a stop, spying Max’s presence. He slid backwards off of the slightly taller bike before running to stop in front of Max.

“Maxy Look! I’m a race car driver like you!” Little Daniel grabbed onto the helmet to hold it steady, his little fingers clutching at the red bull logo. Max could see his beaming smile a mile away.

“You look good! I bet you can go very fast!” 

“I would win the race firsht! I will be the fastestest!” Little Daniel ran in a circle around Max before throwing his hands in the air in victory. Max couldn’t help his crinkly eyed grin.

“Hmmmmm, you can’t win a race dressed like that!” Max said teasingly.

“But Fewawi is racing clothes! Silly Maxy!” Daniel giggled, the helmet bowed forward as he laughed and Little Daniel clutched it tighter. Max looked at him, in his favourite bright red Ferrari shirt and Max’s helmet. 

“I have better racing clothes.” Max said matter of factly, thinking to the other things in the red bull gift bag that Little Daniel had so quickly spurned. Max knew his time had come.

“You do??” Little Daniel asked curiously, his large brown eyes wide. Max was about to blow his mind.

“Yes, I can show you.” Max motioned for Little Daniel to follow him, grinning around his can as he helmet wobbled and bobbled as they went.

They ended up in Little Daniel’s room and he dove onto the bed while Max put down his drink and went into the closet. He turned around to see little Daniel jumping up and down on the bed, giggling wildly.

“I’m an ashtronut!” He cackled, gripping Max’s helmet so it stayed on his head.

“I thought you were a racing driver?” Max asked ‘confused’.

“Racing drivers can’t fly Maxy!” Little Daniel squealed.

“Well I guess since you are an astronaut now, you don’t need a racing driver suit, I think.” Max shrugged, as Little Daniel gasped loudly.

“A racing suit? For me?” He bounced into a sitting position, wide eyes and tiny nose visible through the open visor. 

“For you!” Max presented the navy red bull kid sized replica race suit.

“Can I wear it?” Little Daniel gasped, his leg started bouncing excitedly.

“Of course. Let's put it on.” 

Little Daniel bounded off the bed in an excited whirlwind. Getting the race suit on was a comedic montage because Little Daniel refused to take off Max’s helmet and he giggled every time Max’s head hit it.

Soon though, the little excited body was running around the room in the just a smidge too big overalls. The sleeves bunched on his wiry arms and the legs were bunched a little at his ankles but he didn’t seem to care as he was vibrating out of his little body with energy.

He looked in the mirror once before running around the room like a maniac. 

“I look so cool!!!” Little Daniel screeched before running out of the room making car zooming noises. Max chuckled and grabbed his phone, he figured Grace would appreciate a video or two.