#i can’t BELIEVE i forgot about this lyric until someone reminded me earlier it is quite frankly. line of all time

[ilostyou]

happy open eyes right at 23 day !!!!! 🫶🏻

thank you bestie!!!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻💘💘

[annieintheaair]

In a way, I'm glad that my guilt keeps fallin' on me like rain. At the same time, I can't help but wonderin' why I put your love on the line.

I can’t believe that it has been two whole years. Two years without Dan feels like a lifetime. So much has happened since he has been gone.

I woke up yesterday morning in Tulsa with a song in my head but the lyrics were a little off and I kept hearing, “it has been a couple of years since someone has been gone.” I knew that day was coming and I thought about it often but then the day arrived, and I almost forgot but subconsciously, I didn’t because that song was in my head.

Whenever I feel really sad and miss Dan the most, I send him a message on Facebook. I know he’ll never respond but something about it is therapeutic for me. The other night, I had a dream. I can’t remember all of the details but that Dan was replying to my Facebook messages. He told me that he’s always here, never gone, and wants me to be happy. After having gone to the medium earlier this summer, even though no dead people spoke to me through her, I believe that those we’ve lost actually do come in our dreams. When we see them there, it is actually them. Especially after my dream in January, I really do think that Dan visits me in my dreams to remind me that he’s still here with me.

I was in my pool on Saturday with my neighbors and Marx when a bee landed on my arm and stung me. It hurt like hell and still does now that it’s swollen. After it happened, I wondered if it was Dan coming back to get my attention and remind me. I remember being at the pool a few days after he died and having fun when I ran home to get a margarita. Garty called me and told me the news and I went back to the pool, stone-faced, trying to keep it all together. Marx snuck up on me and pushed me in the pool and in that moment I completely lost it. Something about Garty’s news didn’t feel real until that moment.

I knew it then and know it even more now that the world would never be the same without Dan. Our college, JWU, posted online the other day about renovations at Snowden dining hall, where we met nearly 17 years ago. Part of me thought that sounded nice but another part of me was a little sad about it because that place would never be the same again and it was another reminder that everything changes.

I've been busy flying nearly every night but trying hard to fit in time for friends, too. Saturday morning I was able to catch up with Julie for brunch and we checked out Jam + Toast, which was super busy but worth it because it was really good.

Sunday I felt like I needed to stay busy all day. I drove home from work, showered, got ready, and ran out to go to church. I was home for a brief time after and then went out to lunch at MiCocina. When I got home, I changed into my swimsuit and went straight to the pool. It was empty so I was able to play music and relax and then Eric came over to hang out with me. We stayed in the pool until I had to get ready for yoga. I was overly relaxed at yoga and clearly super tired so I think I may have fallen asleep a few times.

I had less than an hour when I got home from yoga. I finished my leftovers from lunch for dinner, got ready, and worked more on assembling a cabinet for my half bath. I guess I was so distracted and rushed that I pulled out of my driveway and realized I had forgotten my scarf and had to turn around and go back home. I thought for sure I would be late for work since the bus drove away without me even though I ran towards it I made it just in time.

Work wasn't bad but I wasn't in a super chatty mood. My friends Catherine and Antoinette were working in the back and a guy named Tim was up front with me. I found it interesting that his name was Tim since earlier in the day I texted Dan's friend, Tim, as we always do on the anniversary of Dan's death. It's always hard because I feel like I have no one to talk to about Dan anymore and I constantly feel judged for never being able to move past it and accept that he's gone. It seems like the only person who really gets it is Tim and I'm thankful that I at least have that relationship with his friend where we can support each other through the most difficult day of the year.

I went to therapy this morning and Diara gave me more homework. We talked about a lot of things and made some connections between current situations and past experiences. I have a lot of trouble with being a people-pleaser and it's hard for me sometimes to not care what other people think. I made that mistake with Dan and it's something I have to live with forever. I never want to make that mistake again because I'm worried about everyone else's opinions. Diara told me she couldn't make my decisions for me, obviously, but that didn't stop me from trying to read her face to guess what she would decide for me if she could.

The thing is, I know what I deserve and what I shouldn't tolerate, and in my strongest moments, I know that I can be strong and protect those boundaries. I keep thinking about what I posted on Facebook in March and I knew then that someone who loves you should fight for you, not with you. Someone who loves you should hear you out and communicate with you. There's a song I've been listening to lately, called I Do by Andy Grammar and Maddie & Tae, and in the song they say:

Even when I don't love you I do, I do, I do, I do You don't make it easy to But I do, I do, I do, I do And we give and we take And we fight, but we find a way to stay Even when I don't love you I do

The song is a good reminder that love is a choice you make every day. Even when times are rough and you're fighting, you stay if you love someone because even when you don't like them, you still love them; that's what love is. I know I deserve a love like that, where someone stays regardless of everything. I deserve to be with someone who is going to put in all of the effort because it's not 50/50 but 100/100.

Anyway, my landlord came over this morning to put up some cabinet hardware for me and we set up the garage door opener. I hoped to see my niece for her 7th birthday today but I was so tired that I stayed home and fell asleep on my couch for the afternoon. I am so glad to be off work and home tonight! Five nights in a row was rough.

xoxo

Annie

[taetaespeaches]

“Wait, I’m nervous.”

taehyung x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.9K

a/n: Ok, lovelies, here is just pure wholesome fluff with Tae and Peaches. They are in their own little world again, of course, and they are just feeling real in love at this point lol. Very loosely based on ‘invisible string’ by taylor swift. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

p.s. if you want the playlist Tae makes in this, here you are. 

HIS hands were gorgeous as he dragged the pen across the page, etching lines to form an abstract piece straight from his vibrant mind to the drawing pad. The diner, one you were well acquainted with, was relatively empty, only a few other patrons besides you and your boyfriend as you awaited your best friends’ arrival.

Jimin and his girlfriend were unsurprisingly late, and as you waited, Taehyung suddenly stopped drawing, reaching for his phone that was attached to a set of earbuds from his pocket. Holding the left bud out to you, he positioned the right one into his ear.

“I made you a playlist,” he smiled softly, a tinge of bashfulness evident in his features. Your lips curving up happily, you eagerly put the earbud into place.

“Show me,” you told him in excitement, Taehyung chuckling as he started the first song, ‘Make Out in My Car’ by Moses Sumney and Sufjan Stevens. Your boyfriend leaned over to you, leaving a sweet kiss to your shoulder before sitting back upright, returning to the drawing pad.

As you took in the lyrics, Taehyung continued sketching the simple but interesting image, you watching ever stroke of the ink. The lyrics entering your mind reminded you of the shift in yours and Taehyung’s relationship, as you skirted the lines of friendship and romance, fighting yourselves, trying not to fall in love with each other despite desperately wanting to love one another fully.

I’m not trying to go to bed with you

I just wanna make out in my car

And though I’m dying to fall in love with you

I just wanna make out in my car.

Despite the public setting, as you sat with your boyfriend listening to the music only you two could hear, it felt as though you and Taehyung were sitting in a moment of time separate from reality, isolated from the other patrons and kitchen staff. A space that was made for you.

When Taehyung entered your life, he came unannounced, all his youthful vibrancy interrupting your daily routine and changing everything forever. He was eccentric, radiating an array of colors that everyone saw, and you fell in love with them easily. If someone were to ask you what your favorite color was, you’d reply with whatever color is shining from him today. The inner-child within Taehyung inspired you, reminding you of the little girl inside yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, building up to months and accumulating into years, Taehyung was still by your side. You’d watched each other grow up, make mistakes, achieve goals. It’s not that Taehyung completed you, or you him, but life, within your little world, just seemed a little less worth living without him in it.

The song ending, Frank Ocean’s version of ‘Moon River’ started playing, you resting your head on Tae’s shoulder as you allowed the music to penetrate your heart.

My dream maker, my heartbreaker

Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ the same.

How true that was. The man beside you was the one person who could both make your dreams come true, but held all the power to shatter your heart, but regardless, you were going with him wherever he went.

The song had a slow fade out, providing a nice transition into the next tune, ‘Early’ by Joy Crookes and Jafaris. The lyrics portrayed a relationship that is either doomed or is meant to be and meant to last. Much like how you and Taehyung viewed your relationship. The fear of failing as a unit plagued you for years until you and Taehyung mutually decided to take the risk.

I’m crossing borders of this friendship

You’re turning water into wine

I can’t believe it

Because, what if it works? You recalled asking him that very questioning, both of you choosing to throw caution into the wind, telling yourselves you were destined. You were either going to last forever, or it was going to crumble in front of your eyes, and you were both still aware of the risk that came with giving into your feelings. But you both decided it was worth the risk. He was worth it.

My ride or die

And I cross my heart

This is where we start when you walk my way

Left the baggage on the floor

You want us and we want more

Don’t you know I open door when you walk my way?

Lifting your head from Taehyung’s shoulder, his eyes drifted from the sketch to you, you smiling softly, matching his fond grin. “Is it ok?” He asked.

“The drawing or the playlist?” You asked, bringing your hand to his face to stroke his cheek with your knuckles.

“Uh,” he looked at the drawing for a split second before lifting his eyes to you again. “Both.”

“Both are great, baby,” you complimented. “You know what you’re doing,” you grinned, Taehyung chuckling.

“With the playlist?” He asked knowingly, both of you understanding the storyline of the songs he chose. You nodded, leaning toward Taehyung, the man dropping his head to gently rest his forehead against yours. “I can’t believe it,” he sang along with the song, moving his head a little bit to go along with the groove, you giggling at the cute action.

“Out of all the places I could have been that day,” you commented, Taehyung’s eyebrows raising as he pulled back a bit to allow his eyes to travel your face. “We could have so easily missed each other.”

“That’s crazy to think about,” he let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes falling to your hand that was resting atop his thigh. “I mean, I guess everyone we come across happens by chance, but not everyone ends up meaning so much,” he noted thoughtfully, you smiling at the comment.

As the song came to an end, Bruno Major’s ‘Easily’ starting, Taehyung wrapped his hand gently around your wrist. “If either of us had been walking by there just a few minutes, or maybe even seconds later or earlier, we would have missed each other completely,” your boyfriend realized, setting your hand on the tabletop.

Coming and going

Inside out and back to front

Oh, tangled and messy

That’s how we’ve always been and we’ll always be

And that’s alright with me

Just because it won’t come easily

Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

The song added to the story line, bringing you back to the fights and the jealousy, the falling out and ignoring each other, only to always end up back together. You couldn’t quit each other, and you didn’t want to. Taehyung was the easiest yet most complicated relationship you’d ever had, and he probably always would be.

Bringing the pen to your skin, you watched as Taehyung drew a little heart on the inner edge of your wrist. “You’re cute,” you smiled, Taehyung flashing you his stunning boxy beam. The smile you’d never tire of seeing.

“Don’t look,” he told you as he prepared to add to his drawing. “I mean it,” he smiled wider, you mimicking the expression as you covered your eyes with your free hand.

Anticipating the touch of the pen against your skin, you spread your fingers apart, finding a glaring Taehyung staring at you through the slits between your digits.

“No peeking,” he whined with a giggle, you chuckling as you apologized.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I won’t peek, do your thing,” you told him recovering your eyes.

“I knew you’d do that,” he complained as the pen touched your wrist, moving over your veins.

“I promise I won’t again,” you giggled, Tae letting out a huff of feigned frustration. When ‘Easily’ ended, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice soothed through the earbud, singing ‘In A Sentimental Mood’. Your lips formed into a soft smile at the song, swaying your body gently as Taehyung completed his work on your arm.

“You can look now,” he told you, you tentatively pulling your hand from your face, looking into Tae’s warm brown orbs.

“Yeah?” You asked, not wanting to jump the gun and ruin his surprise. The man immediately turned your hand over so your wrist was against the table, you frowning at him.

“Wait,” he smiled bashfully, “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” You asked in surprise, smiling at him. “Why? What did you draw on me?”

Taehyung giggled cutely, his eyes shaped in crescents, his smile wide and boyish, the man looking adorable as ever. “Nothing,” he said with the innocence only your boyfriend could convey.  

“Why are you nervous, Dearest?” You asked again, nearly cooing at how cute he was. Just as you were preparing to turn your wrist over, a knock on the outside of the window next to your booth startled you both, you and Taehyung jumping as your eyes darted to the noise, spotting your best friend standing with Jimin as they waved dorkily at you.

“Jesus,” you huffed, clutching your racing heart, Taehyung immediately letting out a noise of complaint. “I forgot they were even coming,” you commented, Tae letting out a low chuckle at the comment.

The surprise intrusion made you forget the ink on your wrist for a moment until you re-registered the song humming in your ear.

Rose petals seem to fall

It’s all I could dream to call you mine

My heart’s a lighter thing

Since you made this night a thing divine

The lyrics resonated so deeply with how you felt toward Taehyung, you found yourself rotating your arm to view the addition on your wrist, the air leaving your lungs for a moment as your heart skipped a beat, then pounding several times quickly to catch up.

Next to the heart he drew were the words, I’m in love with you.

Taehyung’s lips appeared near your ear, their soft plumpness just barely grazing your skin. “It’s true, Peaches,” he told you, making you turn to face him as Ella Fitzgerald continued to sing to you both, the song coming to a close.

In a sentimental mood

I’m within a world so heavenly

For I never dreamt that you’d

Be loving sentimental me.

Leaning toward Taehyung, you kissed him with intent and passion and love. So much love. It wasn’t the first time he had told you he loved you, or you him, but it was the first I’m in love with you, and it was definitely the first since the terms of your relationship had changed. You were both very careful in skirting around the word “love” since you crossed the line of friendship.

Your hands were on both sides of his face, his gripping your wrists as his thumb brushed over the confession he scribbled on your skin.

“I’m in love with you,” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m so in love with you,” you told him again before falling back into the kiss, though Tae’s widening smile, which caused you to smile, made the kiss a bit harder to maintain.

“Jeez, you two, we’re in a public restaurant,” your friend suddenly spoke as she scooted into the booth, Jimin following behind her. Separating from Tae, you rested the top of your head against his chin, your boyfriend wrapping his arms around your body, holding you to him as he placed a kiss to your hair.

“Whatever, we’re in love,” Taehyung dismissed the girl, Jimin smiling widely at the scene.

In love. You were. And you couldn’t help but be beyond thankful that you decided to take the leap of faith with Taehyung. Because in that moment, it was absolutely the right decision. You were meant to find Tae, and love him with all of you. Your paths weren’t simply meant to cross. They were meant to meet and become one. You had no doubts. And you were in love.

[junko-and-riri-domain]

❦ red lights, stop signs | p.js / park jongsong of enhypen

“I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one. I just can't imagine how you thought I could be okay now that you’re gone. Did you mean the things that you wrote in your letter to me?. We said forever now I drive alone past our street”

inspo: “driver’s license” by Olivia Rodrigo

note: lyrics were changed to fit the story 

genre: park jongseong x reader fanfic / park jay x reader fanfic ; rapper Jay ; Jay wrote his own song ; flashbacks ; enhypen x reader

Warning: story where the reader has died and Jay is looking back on the relationship, angsty (obviously)

6 years, Jay thought to himself as he woke up and saw the date on his phone. Like every year, today was the day when no amount of honey he consumed could comfort him. All he wanted was to see you one more time. After doing his morning routine, he knew you wouldn’t have wanted him to be sad but he couldn’t help that he was. No one was awake at this time and he hoped that it’d stay that way as he got ready for the day then made his way to his car. With the key in the ignition, the radio started playing, “Let Me In,” was on. Reminded of you, his mind went back to a few weeks after ENHYPEN’s debut album went out.

Flashback:

“I’LL BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!” you practically yelled as you looked at Jay with a smile. A slight tinge of red appeared on his cheeks as he rolled his eyes,

“Y/n, what the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as he took out the toast from the toaster he gifted to you a few days ago. You leaned on the kitchen counter taking in Park Jongseong and all of his glory, still unsure as to how the two of you ever became this close.

“Who do you think of when you sing this line, huh?” you teased.

“You,” he said as his eyes met yours, voice barely above a whisper.

“Me?” you asked, unsure as to what exactly he meant. Suddenly, he moved so that he was in front of you, hands on either side of you but not on you. The height difference was notable, but not one that you minded.

“You.” It was a more authoritative tone this time, in how long you’ve known Jay, he wasn’t one to lie. The next sentence that came out of your mouth was selfish, you knew that it was after all of the thoughts running through your mind and your future plans. Despite that,

“Let’s make it a reality,” you said.

End flashback 

98 miles per hour.

104 miles per hour.

111 miles per hour.

The rush of speeding filled his senses as he shut off the radio, not giving a damn about the red lights that greeted him. If he was being honest, he was surprised he hadn’t yet gotten pulled over. What made him stop was reaching Hiraeth Street. The car stayed parked, at he looked at the colored sign. It was the street the two of you grew up, the street where you daydreamed, and the street where you’d one day would have a future together. And now he was alone.

Flashback:

All he could see was your lifeless body laying on the bed. The sound of wires and machines were the only thing keeping your heart beating and he knew that but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. You were still breathing, right? You had to be. Earlier today you were talking to him about what you were going to wear on your date. And you were wearing that purple dress he always loved the color and more so on you.

“Jongseong,” your mom said softly, tears brimming to her own eyes. She held his hand, placing an envelope with the words “Angry Bird” written on it. 

“She wrote this for me?” Jay asked. Your mom nodded,

“I’ll give you some time,” was all she said before walking out. Jay sat on the chair by your bedside, hands shaky as he opened the envelope. Letters was always his favorite way of talking to you and here he was reading the last one you’d ever give to him.

Park Jongseong,

I don’t know how to start writing this, I don’t think I’ll ever know. I know that you’re probably bawling your eyes out as you read this, full of r.a.s and I won’t tell you cliche things like “it’ll be ok in the end” because I know that you won’t be comforted. The truth is, I don’t know if it’ll be ok because I won’t be there with you. What I do know is how strong you are and your sense of passion in everything that you do. Loving you was the best choice I could’ve made in my entire life because for a moment, the burden of life was lifted from me. I want you to be happy, find someone, and do the things we couldn’t. And I know you will because that’s how life works and good things come to people who deserve it. You have good people in your life, especially the members. Don’t spend too much time grieving my loss because you’ll miss out on what’s in front of you. 

Forever yours,

l/n y/n

p.s.

win that Grammy for me, ok? :)

End flashback 

He placed the bouquet of flowers in the glass box where your ashes laid and stood there looking at the memories. He didn’t know how long he was there until his phone buzzed. Answering it,

“Hello?”

“Jay, how’s that track coming?” Bang PD asked. He wasn't going to openly admit that he forgot about tonight’s due date so instead,

“It’s coming, I’ll get it to you by tonight,” Jay answered. 

He spent the rest of the day in the studio with his thoughts were filled with you so that was what he wrote about. It was sent in and the track, titled “red lights, stop signs” was approved, making it onto the album.

The lights shone on him as he held the microphone, performing the song on the Grammy stage for the entire world to see. What came was his rap verse,

“Even with the world in my hands, happiness left a while ago

Regretting not getting there fast enough helped me grow

Trust lost my faith, I transferred it to anger

After so long I still haven’t found the answer

On Mapo Bridge my map to hope fell away

The second your eyes closed my sight turned gray

I know we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one 

I just can’t imagine how you thought I could be okay now that you’re gone

Did you mean the things that you wrote in your letter to me?

We said forever now I drive alone past our street.”

| ❦ end of story, written by riri | | blog master list |

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - Addiction (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is addicted to affection. Addicted to touch. But being an addict, he can't seem to manage to find a healthy relationship, nor make any relationship last. After his latest break up, he decides to forgo the emotion and go straight for physical satisfaction.

... He just wants to find someone who needs his body. He's not particularly picky as to who - or what - that entails. (5792 words)

Notes: A major re-working of another piece I wrote. If you guys like this one, I will complete the scene that should come after it ;) Let me know. Vampire Crowley. Warnings for mention of blood and blood sucking. Sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Aziraphale walks slowly around the perimeter of his bed, eyeballing the outfits he’d laid out earlier, scathingly critical of every item he chose even though, had you asked him two hours ago, he would have claimed each as tied for favorite. He’s 90% dressed already - cream colored trousers and a matching long-sleeved button down, a pale blue waistcoat (one he’s been told matches his eyes perfectly), tartan socks, and his best cocoa brown Derbys. All he needs now is a bowtie.

Does he need a bowtie? He doesn’t know exactly what the protocol is regarding neckwear where he’s going. He definitely prefers to wear a bowtie. Would not wearing one send some sort of message? Aziraphale assumes forgoing a bowtie might make him appear more casual. At ease. But in the context of the place he’s headed, might it also mean that he’s easy?

He sighs. He’s thinking too hard about this. This place he’s going - he’s paying to be there! What the Hell does the possible hidden innuendo of wearing or not wearing a bowtie matter under those circumstances? He hasn’t left the house without a bowtie on in over four decades!

He’s wearing the bowtie.

His gaze slides over his bed, the ties in the running lined up side by side on his comforter. He reaches for one, fingers hovering just above before he changes his mind and goes for the one beside it, picking it up between pinched fingers and holding it to his neck. He turns to his full length mirror and takes a peek.

“This one?” he asks no one, appraising the plain, gray fabric. “No. No, that won’t do.” He tosses it back on the bed and grabs another one - a tartan tie that matches his socks.

Heaven’s Dress Tartan. His family’s tartan. It’s pretty much the tie he wears for every occasion.

Naively, it makes him feel protected.

“This one?” he muses, already nodding his head. “Yes, this one.” Aziraphale slips the narrow strip of fabric about his neck and ties it. He looks himself over in the mirror, chest puffed with pride, but it doesn’t last long.

What is he doing?

He’s too old for this.

Maybe he should pack it in, wrap up his libido and call it quits. He’s had a good run, hasn’t he? He doesn’t need the physical. No more hugs, no more kisses, no more sex - that wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Aziraphale’s eyes drop from his smart outfit to his feet.

Except it would.

It would for Aziraphale.

He can’t give up touch. He’s never done well without some speck of it in his life.

Deep down inside, he knows he can’t survive without it.

It’s not as simple as feeling lonely or unfulfilled. His need for affection goes beyond that. And it’s stronger - so much stronger - than him.

Being an addict is no small burden. Aziraphale knows that firsthand. He’s seen what addiction can do to people. He’s seen how it can devastate families.

He sat around for years and watched, powerless, as it destroyed his own.

Addiction tore his father apart – his need for money, a lust for more, more, more that he valued over his wife and child, turning him from parental figure into perfect stranger well before Aziraphale’s formative years, then into an enemy when Aziraphale decided against going into medicine, law, or business (the big three that would ensure the family fortune would multiply and thrive long after his father was gone) and instead majored in linguistics and literature.

His father’s addiction led to his mother’s. She’d hit the bottle to numb the pain of watching her husband, the man she’d loved since secondary school, drift away, drinking herself stupid until she couldn’t remember what day it was, where she lived … or that she had a son.

But addiction isn’t only cause and effect. It can be hereditary. It spread through the Fell family like wildfire, jumping from generation to generation. It started with Aziraphale’s great-great-great-great-grandfather on his father’s side and trickled down. Since Aziraphale is the last living Fell, his family’s vices have caught up to him, pooled around his ankles with nowhere else to flow to.

Threatening to drag him under.

Aziraphale has an addiction, too. Anyone who talks to him for about five minutes would say that his drug of choice is books, and indeed there are a good many reasons to believe that. Aziraphale loves books. He’s amassed such a collection that he even became an antique book dealer, but mostly as an excuse to find a place big enough to house his vast collection.

No, Aziraphale gets addicted to people. To affection. To whatever feels like love at the time. And he can’t live without it. He’ll take it from anyone willing to give even a smidgen of it, usually finding himself in relationships that dry up before they fully blossom with people who weren’t worth his time to begin with. Not that these relationships would have gone anywhere if given the chance. That’s part of the problem. Aziraphale tries so hard to find the tenderness stolen from him at too early an age, he doesn’t necessarily look for substance. He plants the seeds of his affection in ground long wrung out, spots where rain won’t ever find them, away from the sun’s nurturing rays.

Tonight, walking alone through the city streets at a truly ill-advised hour, he’s suffering the aftershocks of one such break-up. But this time, Aziraphale was prepared … somewhat. Which is to say he saw the signs. He knew the end was coming, even if he couldn’t stop it. But instead of doing the adult thing and cutting ties painlessly, he let it play itself out, sucking from it every drop he could. And afterwards, when he’d brought home his obligatory box of random stuff from his ex’s apartment – toothbrush, shaving cream, CDs, a few shirts, underwear, the possessions that he’d used to stake his claim - he knew where he would go.

He arrives at the obscure establishment before ten o’clock, having fooled himself that he’s ready to move on even before his ex’s side of the bed is cold. He’s doing right by himself. No more leaping into empty relationships just to have his mind messed with and his heart broken.

He’s skipping straight to the physical.

This is the way to go.

But there is also the chance that he’s being phenomenally stupid.

Aziraphale has paid money for questionable things before, things that he’s looked back on and regretted, shoving them as far behind him as he could so as not to think about them ever again.

But paying to feed his addiction - he’s never done that.

The place he’s gone to, with its ornate wooden door set into the face of an everyday brick wall, looks like a day spa if anything – a rather foreboding day spa. In a way, Aziraphale had expected it to look that way. That or a bar. Where else did these kinds of transactions take place? A bordello, perhaps? He’d heard about one that operates out of a hotel downtown, but this one got far better reviews from people in the know.

Let it never be said that Aziraphale didn’t do his research.

From what he’d heard, this place isn’t only the most exclusive of its kind in London, it’s the most discreet.

Silent as the grave, he’d been told.

There is no buzzer, no knocker, not even a door knob. No indication at all that anyone is allowed in but Aziraphale knows better. He sends a text to a number he paid a hefty sum for, along with a selfie that takes longer than he’d care to admit to take, but that’s not entirely his fault. There are strict requirements for this photograph - angle, background, head tilt, etc. The phone number is one-time use. After he hits send, he won’t be able to follow up with another message, so his picture needs to be up to spec.

Each selfie he takes, he despises immediately. The first one … well, the first one always bites, doesn’t it? In the second one, his face is too fat. Chubby chipmunk cheeks and puckered lips? He looks like a frickin’ cherub! The third one … ugh! Where was he even looking? The fourth one - definite serial killer with that awkward, thin-lipped grin.

He can’t keep doing this. He has to pick one! He’s running out of time! Ten o’clock sharp the message had said! If he’s going to do this, he can’t afford to be even a minute late!

He decides that his next picture will be his absolute last. Whatever comes out of this shot, he can’t take another one. He holds his phone up at the pre-determined angle, holds his breath, plasters on his most sincere smile … and prays to God.

Just then, the unthinkable happens.

He fumbles his phone.

He’d been holding so hard to it and his smile that his fingers had begun to sweat. He loses traction, the traitorous thing sliding out of his grasp. The shutter clicks, the flash fires, and his phone makes a lyrical trill of affirmation.

Aziraphale’s stomach drops like a lead balloon straight to his feet.

That noise - that skipping of high-pitched notes that he chose at random because they reminded him of Rites of Spring - indicates that the picture sent without Aziraphale having a chance to double check it first.

“Oh … Hell!” he curses. He should have taken the damned thing at home! The glow from his reading lantern would have given his skin a soft, golden cast; made him look younger; mysterious; but he forgot that a picture would be required. In every photo he’s taken in this doorway, illuminated only by a chemical bulb above his head, he looks anemic, harsh shadows thrown by the overly bright flash elongating his nose, hollowing his cheeks, sinking his eyes into their sockets. But this one, snapped off while his phone was negotiating gravity, is likely to be the worst one yet! Instead of a solid face, he’ll look like a blur.

A middle-aged blur with absolutely no relationship prospects. Not even a cat.

Aziraphale scrolls frantically through his gallery to try and find the picture, see what disaster he’s unleashed, but he can’t locate it.

“Where are you, you little …?” he mumbles, heart thrumming so hard it’s beginning to make him nauseous. The picture isn’t in his saved file. Not on his SD card. It’s not in his sent messages. So where the frick is it!? Aziraphale has to see it, has to know what he’s done, has to know if he’s failed. Has to know if it’s worth waiting out here, or if he should turn tail and head for his bookshop. Somewhere in between bribing his phone and threatening to smash the screen to bits, the door pops open with a click.

Aziraphale’s blood runs cold, his head shooting up like a prairie dog’s on its guard.

The door.

The door is open.

He mustn’t have sent a horrifying photograph after all!

But it may not stay open for long so he’d better move his arse!

He pushes the door further and steps inside. It closes behind him the moment he’s through. He turns quickly to see who shut it since he didn’t notice a doorman when he entered.

But there’s no one.

He’s in the foyer of this large, imposing place completely alone.

As far as he can tell.

He has the distinct feeling he’s being watched.

Of course he’s being watched! he scolds himself. They probably have security cameras everywhere in a place like this! There’s nothing sinister about that! Why, he went to a thrift store not too long ago that had a security camera installed over every aisle, and the most notable item they had for sale was a velvet painting of Margaret Thatcher! Pull yourself together, Aziraphale, for Heaven’s sake!

Now that he’s inside, the place reminds him more of a bank than a spa: long stretches of empty hallway decorated in shows of old school wealth - leather chairs, ornate mirrors, glossy wood drawing tables, a long Persian runner leading him to his destination with chandeliers marking the path every ten feet or so. There’s been more money invested in this one hall than Aziraphale’s father could afford to put into their entire house, even with his lofty inheritance.

He can’t help thinking it would make the old man pea green with envy if he were alive to see it.

Little does Aziraphale know that there are two other hallways ahead of him just like this one.

Aziraphale walks through a total of three locked doors to get to what could be deemed ‘the main lobby’. He’s not escorted, but he does need to be buzzed through, the same melancholy voice asking him to repeat his name through an intercom at every checkpoint. Aziraphale marvels at the embassy-level security but he can’t help but wonder: is this a common practice at these places? No one mentioned anything about this.

What sort of trouble are they trying to prevent?

Aziraphale imagines most people might turn around at this point, go back the way they came and forget all about this place, but not him. As he approaches the final door there is no going back for him now. Not when he’s so close to what he wants.

He goes through the procedure one last time – name and then buzz. But this door is heavier, takes a bit more strength to push open. Black lighting overhead engulfs the room, creates a void that makes everything within indefinable. A few feet in, a wraparound counter fluoresces purple. Aziraphale sees only a single occupant in this room - a man sitting behind the counter who looks, from the outset, like a regular human being.

Of course, Aziraphale has never met a vampire before. He has no idea what one should look like.

He walks up to the counter, the door behind him swinging close and shutting with the same poignant click as the rest. But once this door seals, it takes the light with it, plunging Aziraphale momentarily into near complete black.

The man doesn’t look up at Aziraphale’s arrival. Aziraphale clears his throat to get his attention.

“E-excuse me?” he says nervously, his stomach flipping somersaults from his pelvis up to his neck. His voice sounds thin and disappointing to his own ears. Then again, he barely speaks to anyone from day to day. Maybe it sounds exactly the way it should.

The man sitting behind the counter – dark-skinned but with an ashy paler - blatantly ignores Aziraphale, who’d be standing practically on top of him if not for the counter between them. He flips exaggeratedly through the pages of his magazine (Aziraphale can’t tell which one in the unhelpful light), but doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale repeats, louder but still weak.

The man sniffs the air. He shifts only his eyes to address Aziraphale, looks him over, then returns to his magazine. “Wot do you want?”

“I … uh … I have an appointment. F-for a session.” Session. Is that the right word for it? No one Aziraphale talked to about this gave him the in on the lingo. “With a man by the name of Crowley.”

The disinterested man flips another page. “An appointment, huh?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s eyes dart around, looking for anyone else who might be willing to help him. For as popular as this place sounded, it’s surprisingly deserted. Aziraphale can’t see a single other soul anywhere. Of course, aside from the glowing furniture, it’s so dark in there – a darkness his eyes refuse to get accustomed to – someone could be standing right beside him and he might not know it. “I’m … uh … sort of new at this.” His statement is met with a silence as thick as a brick wall. He chuckles, anxiety starting to get the better of him.

He feels vaguely like he might be in danger.

If he backed out now, walked out the door, would the man behind the counter even notice?

Then Aziraphale realizes fuck! He’d probably need to be buzzed out the same way he was buzzed in. And the man behind the counter might have to be the one to do it. He has the same dry, unenthusiastic tone in his voice as the one that greeted Aziraphale at every door.

The man glances Aziraphale’s way, then blows out a breath, obviously annoyed he’s still there. “I’ll tell him you’re here Mr. …”

“Fell. Aziraphale Fell.”

“Aziraphale Fell,” the man repeats but doesn’t reach for a phone or make a move to inform anyone that Aziraphale has arrived. He gives the air another disdainful sniff and scrunches his nose, raising his magazine to cover it. “Did you have sushi for lunch, Mr. Fell?”

“Uh …” Aziraphale clamps his lips together tight, self-conscious of what he must smell like to a creature with super-sensitive olfactory organs. He did have sushi, but that was days ago. There’s no way he could still smell like it, especially with the amount of Listermint he uses daily.

“Was it refrigerated properly? Or do you buy your food from the day-old section of your local market?”

Aziraphale’s hackles rise. He disregards the feeling that he’s in danger in defense of his favorite restaurant. “I really don’t think that Hot Stone would stoop to selling day-old sushi!”

“Did you even remember where you were going when you left your house today?” the man scolds without listening to him. “I mean, have some respect, for Satan’s sake!”

“That’s enough, Ligur.” A new voice, amused but stern, says from the shadows. “If you don’t stop badgering the customers, we won’t have any, and then how will you afford your flat? Hmm?”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir,” Ligur replies, barely bringing himself to care.

Inconceivably quick, their new guest goes from standing in the light to standing before Aziraphale. Ligur snickers at the move, like he’s seen it too many times before, but Aziraphale doesn’t pay him any mind. Ligur might not be impressed, but Aziraphale can’t. stop. staring.

Aziraphale has never seen such a man.

He’s never imagined a man like him could exist. He’s sure he could spend his entire life trying to think him up and still never come up with him. He captivates Aziraphale in a matter of seconds, mystifies him without lifting a finger. He’s tall, slim, and fair. He reminds Aziraphale of a prince from an old world fairy tale. In fact, Aziraphale knows just the book he’d find it in. He intends on searching for it the moment he returns to his shop (he thinks hopefully). The man’s eyes, even in the absence of light, are piercing, simmering in their depths with a light all their own.

The man doesn’t walk up to Aziraphale. He stalks. And the way he carries himself leads Aziraphale to believe he can take anything he wants with a snap of his fingers. At the moment, he’s stolen Aziraphale’s voice, his breath, practically every thought in his head.

Aziraphale’s entire focus becomes this man.

The man moves a step forward. Aziraphale takes a subconscious step back.

“I believe that you are my ten o’clock,” the man says.

Aziraphale nods, not sure if he’s expected to speak ... or if he’s allowed. “Are … are you … Mr. Crowley?”

“In the flesh. And you must be Aziraphale.” Crowley’s tongue curls around his words, the hint of an accent making an appearance. Several accents, actually. At his root, the man sounds English, but not born. But his accent is acquired, not practiced, bred from immersion. There are other touches here and there - a dash of Birmingham, a little cockney perhaps, an Irish brogue, peppered upon a foundation that sounds firmly Scottish. Lilts and rolls add flavor to Aziraphale’s name so that he feels he’s hearing it spoken out loud for the first time. Even lost in that dialect soup, Aziraphale doesn’t think it’ll ever sound more perfect than it does rolling off Crowley’s tongue. It tickles his eardrums, silently begs Crowley to say it again.

“I am,” Aziraphale says. “Aziraphale Fell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It will be soon.” Crowley winks. “Follow me, Mr. Fell.” He smiles, teeth impeccably straight and disarmingly white. It could be a trick of the black lights, but those teeth … that smile … make him look predatory, and Aziraphale considers again if coming here was the smartest idea, especially since he did so impulsively, took no precautions. He was so distracted by his break-up, so wrapped up in shoulds and shouldn’ts, what people would think of him if they ever found out, that he didn’t tell anyone where he was going.

What if he simply disappears?

No one in his life would dream of looking for him here, and he left absolutely no clues to point them in this direction.

Regardless of the warning bells tolling in his head, new ones firing off with each pound of his heart, Aziraphale follows Crowley down several vacant hallways. The place was dark to begin with, but this section is nearly pitch black with the exception of a red light bulb here, a green light bulb there, their faint illuminations doing nothing more than throwing shadows on the walls – shadows deep enough to disappear in. Crowley walks swiftly. Aziraphale almost loses him twice, but he slows in a hall lined on both sides with doors. Aziraphale hears moans come from behind several of the doors and his heart speeds in his chest.

It slams to a stop when he hears a man scream – strained and blood curdling.

Aziraphale can’t tell if the man is screaming in pleasure or in pain.

Aziraphale points to the door. “Um … is he going to be alri---?”

“Right this way, Mr. Fell,” Crowley interrupts, opening the last door on the left. “This is my private office. No one will dare disturb us in here.” Aziraphale hesitates but decides to go inside, not because he feels any more comfortable with this than he did a moment ago, but because if he doesn’t, he might run the other way. Crowley waits patiently till Aziraphale steps in, then shuts, and locks, the door. “Now … what can I help you with today?”

Aziraphale paces the room, examining its violet walls with their black-and-white photographs mounted in minimalist glass frames. It isn’t much brighter in here than in the lobby, but it’s more inviting - the sort of space created specifically for people to spend time in together, get to know one another. A round, wooden table in the center of the room holds a pair of crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. Candles cover every level surface - some thick white pillars, some long white tapers, in holders of brushed gold, and scent the air with the sweet fragrance of vanilla. Their dancing flames reflect off the glass, the constant flickering making the room appear to sway. It’s disorienting. It gets Aziraphale’s adrenaline pumping and his heart racing, which Aziraphale assumes is the desired effect.

He’d heard that a speeding human heart can be a powerful aphrodisiac for a vampire.

They apparently get off on it.

Against a far wall sits a plush, red sofa, and against another, a four-poster bed.

Aziraphale bypasses the bed (it isn’t his gut decision, just the safest seeming one) and heads for the sofa. “I … I have a problem. An addiction.”

“Go on.” Crowley strolls over to join him, each step he takes deliberate, noiseless, as if his feet don’t make contact with the ground at all, gliding on the air right above. Aziraphale watches Crowley settle onto the far end of the sofa, sitting catty-corner to keep his amber eyes on him. That predatory expression he wears moves from his smile to his eyes, which track Aziraphale’s movements with unnerving precision. “Well, I … I’m addicted to affection, a-and everything that comes with it - touching, holding, kissing, sex, from anyone who wants me, really. And I fall irrationally in love with the wrong people over and over because of it.”

“A-ha.” Crowley crosses his legs. He draws it out, diverting Aziraphale’s attention purposefully to them. “So tell me why you think I can help you.”

Aziraphale swallows hard, mesmerized by the way Crowley moves, the fluidity of limbs that would look spindly on a human but not on him. Not in the slightest. “Because even though I need companionship, nobody seems to need me. But from the things I hear, you gentlemen … do.”

“We’re not desperate, Mr. Fell,” Crowley groans, rolling his head back on his neck, his eyes following along.

“Oh, no! No, no, no! That’s not what I …!”

“We service a distinguished clientele. We have certain expectations.”

“I understand that.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a thorough once over with eyes that burn through him, every move Aziraphale makes telling Crowley more than his words.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Fell?” Something about the way Crowley repeatedly calls Aziraphale ‘Mr. Fell’ shoots right to his stomach and lower, twisting everything up inside him, making him feel compliant, confused ...

“I’m an antique book dealer,” Aziraphale replies.

Crowley chuckles. “Ah. So you hawk old, worn-out romance novels to elderly women wanting a tingle in their lady gardens?”

“Uh … no,” Aziraphale says with a chuckle himself because, he has to admit, he’s gotten one or two of those in his lifetime. “Mostly literature, first editions, rare texts, misprinted Bibles, that sort of thing.”

“And you make a living from that?”

“I do,” Aziraphale says, a tad uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Not that I need to. I live mainly off the interest of a generous inheritance. I get to do whatever I want mostly.”

“I see.” Crowley’s tone shifts, as if Aziraphale passed some sort of test. “And where do you currently live?” With a flick of Crowley’s eyes, Aziraphale’s hand crawls up his own shirt, reaching for his bowtie. He grabs a tail and pulls it, unties it, then goes after the top button. He toys with it, undoes it, feeling constricted, uncomfortable while it’s fastened.

“I live over my store front in Soho.”

Crowley slides an inch closer. “With a roommate or …?”

“A-alone.” Aziraphale moves on to the second button. “I live … I live alone.”

“Impressive. And your blood type is AB negative?”

“As far as I know.”

“Interesting.” Crowley moves another inch closer. “Alright. Let’s give you a shot.”

“A-and how do you do that … exactly?”

“Give me your arm so I can take a taste. Then I’ll know if we can use you.”

Crowley holds out his hand, long fingers with black painted nails motioning for Aziraphale’s, but Aziraphale doesn’t take it. He has a second of doubt, of Are you nuts!? that stays him. But it’s been so long since Aziraphale has felt truly wanted. And this man … or this creature … wants what he has to offer. Aziraphale can see it in his eyes. It’s cut and dry. No muss, no fuss, no emotions involved. Giving in should be easy. This is what he came for.

“If you’re nervous, I could always …” Crowley makes a gesture toward Aziraphale’s neck and smiles an alluring, toothy grin – charismatic, hard to resist. But Aziraphale might not be ready for what Crowley’s proposing. It seems a little too intimate.

“O-oh no.” Aziraphale rolls up his sleeve. “It’s not that. I was just … uh … thinking.”

“Oh.” That single syllable sounds tragically disappointed. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, of course. But just so you know, it’s always an option.”

Aziraphale gets a sudden image in his head of Crowley lying on top of him, licking down his neck, his fingers undoing the rest of his buttons and reaching beneath his shirt, nails scratching lightly down his skin. He envisions Crowley removing his clothes one piece at a time, marking his flesh with kisses, with bites, taking small sips as he paves a trail to his trousers. Sharp fangs slice through the threads that keep the button sewn on and he pulls down the zip with his teeth. There’s a mouth on Aziraphale’s cock, sucking, hands massaging his chest, the gentle brush of silky hair against his thighs, the occasional sting of a cut opening, a tongue collecting, and Aziraphale writhing with the sweet agony of it. He doesn’t picture himself cumming quickly, but sees himself sliding along the beveled edge, getting to that point, hanging from the crest of it, just to be sent back to the beginning, to start the process over again.

It feels planted, a suggestion. Aziraphale isn’t sure how. He’s not savvy to the abilities of vampires beside the blood sucking thing. It’s not real. Aziraphale knows he’s still dressed, can feel the fabric of his shirt sleeve balled in his fist, but he starts to sweat at the thought of it. His cock aches because of it. That’s what he wants – the give and the take.  

It changes his mind, stops him rolling up his sleeve.

“You know,” Aziraphale says, gaze fixed to Crowley’s seductive eyes, “that does sound like it could be … nice.”

Crowley grins. It’s almost too easy. “Oh, it will be,” he purrs. “I promise.”

Aziraphale scoots closer until they’re sitting beside one another, knees touching. Crowley wastes no time kissing Aziraphale’s neck, cool lips pressing against hot, sensitive skin. Aziraphale moans. God, it’s been so long. And whatever Crowley is doing with his tongue, circling the same spot, nibbling with just enough pressure to make it tingle, feels so intense, it overshadows the hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, creeping up steadily to his crotch, squeezing along the way as the excitement of kissing builds.

As Aziraphale’s heart beats faster and faster, until individual thumps are no longer distinguishable from the whole.

Crowley wraps an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder, fangs lengthening as he searches for a place to sink in and drink. He finds the perfect spot and bites. Aziraphale’s eyes go wide.

“Oh … God.” He becomes rigid as the sensation of smooth and sharp assails his skin, but he succumbs to the sublime numbness and melts into Crowley’s arms. “Oh … oh God …”

Crowley retracts his fangs, licking them clean. “This isn’t really the place to be praying,” he says, inhaling Aziraphale’s scent – fresh, rich, healthy, untainted blood. The blood all vampires crave - not from unconscious drunks in the alley behind a night club or filled with preservatives like the bagged gunge they have the option to buy down at NHS Blood and Transport. But whole, pure, and willingly given.

Oh, yes – Aziraphale is an exquisite delight. A rare treat. He’ll make Crowley rich … if he can bear to share him.

Crowley might just decide to keep Aziraphale to himself.

It’s not just Aziraphale’s blood that tempts him. There’s something else, something sizzling beneath his skin that Crowley suspects Aziraphale doesn’t even know about himself. But it sends sparks through Crowley’s skin with every touch, a white light that nearly burns too hot to hold but fuck it all! The second Crowley moves his hand away and it’s gone, it makes Crowley want him more.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” Aziraphale mumbles, following Crowley’s mouth, whining like a kicked puppy when it seems he won’t be returning to the task of biting his neck. But it’s not that. Crowley has every intention of taking his time with Aziraphale. Savoring him. He wants to hear Aziraphale beg for it, beg for Crowley’s teeth buried deep into his neck, beg for the euphoria that comes with being fed upon.

“Do you like that, angel?” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s skin. He punctuates his question with a nip around Aziraphale’s jugular, carefully so as not to prick it.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whimpers, his shaking hand grabbing Crowley’s knee and squeezing. “Yes, please.”

Crowley hums, lips pressed to Aziraphale’s neck so the vibrations travel down his skin. He licks over the pinprick marks, exploring with his tongue for a spot to take another bite. “You know, I think we might be able to help each other out.”

“You … you do?” Aziraphale rises from the sofa in a trance, following Crowley when he moves their soiree to the bed, preparing to make Aziraphale his own private nightcap.

“Oh yes.” Crowley lays Aziraphale out on the mattress and crawls over him, like in the vision. His fingertips creep up Aziraphale’s neck, up his cheeks, the pads coming to rest against his temples. A blue spark, an arc of static electricity, and Aziraphale’s brain fills with images that cloud his vision over so that Crowley’s eyes disappear, replaced by what promises to be a long night in this room, and all the methods of pleasure Crowley plans on using to distract him while he feeds. Skin against skin, Crowley’s hands covering his as Crowley enters him, his body possessing his. Aziraphale can already feel how hard Crowley would claim him, how sore he would be after, and Aziraphale wants it. Wants it more than life itself.

And he’s willing to pay with every drop to have it.

The vision rolls on. With every fantasized thrust of Crowley’s hips, it monopolizes all five of Aziraphale’s senses - his own moans in his ears with Crowley’s voice dripping honey underneath, the pungent smell of sweat and sex around them, the coppery taste of Crowley’s mouth, the slide of a flesh against his so smooth it feels like marble, and Crowley’s eyes - those snake-like eyes with pupils razor blade thin - watching unblinkingly as Aziraphale comes apart beneath him.

Trapped beneath Crowley’s body on the bed with Crowley’s fingertips rubbing circles against his skin, Aziraphale watches this fantasy in awe - open-mouthed and without an inch of fear. He shudders when he sees himself coming, the memory of similar sensations igniting every nerve in his body, turning fantasy into reality. Crowley absorbs every tremor, the way Aziraphale thrums beneath him, his hips bucking up in search of friction. Crowley smiles, reaches between them to start unbuttoning his own uncomfortable trousers.

And let the feasting begin.

“Oh yes,” he whispers, nose nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck, following the pounding rhythm of his heart for a place to tuck in. “I could become very addicted to you, Aziraphale Fell. Very addicted.”

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

Like blood on a patch of fresh snow.

I'm not sure of where this fic went, but... oh well. I don't want to look at it for much longer, so here y'all go, 1.9K words of whatever this is. I really wanted to write more NaomiLG because I love them, but I realize I'm really not their best writer, so I need to hone my skills. Take this weird-ass oneshot with a very specific and picturesque prompt as an attempt to nail them. It was fun to imagine all of the red-on-white imagery, at least. Title comes from a Rammstein song because it played while I was writing this and I figured, y'know, it means "red rose", so why not make it the title? It at least sounds epic to someone like me who knows shit about German. No correlation to the lyrics, though, far from it lmao.

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Rosenrot

Summary: Naomi's past catches up to her in a street as someone else's blood spills for her.

Fandom: Trauma Team (spoilers for TC:SO and TT) Ship: Naomi/Little Guy

Wordcount: 1.9K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

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Like a widow who had lost her spouse, Naomi started wearing black after losing her ability to save lives. Back then, she didn’t really know why, probably to remind her of the sins she still had to expiate. It felt weird to her to wear white again, since it kept reminding her of the life she had to leave behind, that of a lifesaver whom people trusted with literally all they had left.

Even now, even as her life has gone back on track (she has a stable job, a daughter and friends who hold her in great esteem – things she thought she’d never have until a year ago), she continues wearing black because it feels more comfortable to be able to fade back into the shadows would she ever need to slip back into the night. She can’t ever live in the broad daylight, not anymore she knows this; but, as long as Alyssa doesn’t mind, then she doesn’t have a reason to complain. The cold and silence have their perks.

 Wearing black, at first, was to hide stains when she was working with Delphi. God knows there was little hygiene there, so blood could easily show on clothing when they weren’t careful. Wearing black robes (or whatever outfit they had given her that looked very little like a robe) allowed them to conceal the dark reds and rusts more easily without having to think about it too much. Out of sight, out of mind, she supposed.

On the other hand, blood is too visible on white. Of course, it is the point of wearing it for surgical procedures, since it’s easier to disinfect – it’s still too visible for people like Delphi or, in a way, her. Even to this day, seeing reddish stains on white fabric makes her uneasy, reminding her of things she’d much rather never think about again. She’s like the black-clad widow staring at the radiant bride with a wine stain on her dress: she knows what she lost and has the feeling of seeing a bad omen.

 There is this one thing about Delphi she has stopped minding, and it’s Little Guy, or whatever his real identity was supposed to be. If he reminded her of their dark past not too long ago, he now represents what they could become: atoners, working for “the right side” for once, working in the shadows to help the living move on like they’ve had to. Unlike her, he didn’t let himself dwell on the past, preferring to get moving.

The moment she understood it the most when he started to wear white more than black, renouncing to the colour she was always used to see him dress. It felt weird, at first, but he knew how to pull it off, and she got used to the new habits. Never dwell on the past, let herself get swiped away by the changing winds. Moreover, Alyssa really liked it whenever he’d drop by the house after driving her home after work or getting Alyssa from school when she couldn’t.

 But now, the past has caught back to them. Ex-Delphi members have found them again, motivated by the recent rise (and fall, but they forgot about that second time) of Adam’s nephew trying to bring the virus back right as PGS cases flare up across the USA. They’re not running away, this time: she did that enough when going to seek amnesty in Europe, so now, she better prepare herself to strike. Little Guy already cocks his FBI-licenced gun out, intending to strike judging by the little tremors in his fingers.

It goes in a flash: a couple bangs, blood spilling on the ground, dirt and smoke and iron fill the air of an urban cul-de-sac. The commotion is such that it’s difficult to follow anything until the stench of violence lifts up and so does the smog it created. For a moment, she believes they may have both gotten killed, and that she’s already passing into the afterlife, in denial of everything, not ready to face death nor discover if there is, indeed, something on the “other side” that isn’t roaming around this world and calling the “voodoo hotline”.

 One thing quickly becomes clear: she is still alive. In fact, everyone is somehow still alive, because she sees their three assailants with their weapons on the floor and wounds in their legs: they were only harmed to disarm them. She pats her own clothes and body to check if she hasn’t been injured, remembering reflexes she had thought long gone coming back to her in a moment’s notice. To her fortune, she seems okay, as she only feels dirt, dry clothing and skin under her fingers’ touch.

 Seeing the men lie on the ground in pain, she already grabs her phone and calls for help, going into not too many details for everyone’s safety and privacy.

“Little Guy,” she starts calling to her partner so they can get away from this place before being brought into this, her finger about to swipe the call off, “let’s go.”

His response is delayed.

“Sure… Sure thing.”

His voice sounds strangled and hesitant, drier than her clothes, and it prompts her to turn around. As soon as she does, however, her own breath gets caught in her throat as her entire body tenses up. Her mind, which was until now fixated on running as far as possible from the scene before they were going to be questioned about the bullets in their pursuers’ limbs, immediately switches to the same sort of panic she felt in Caduceus Europe all those years ago when she witnessed a fellow surgeon collapse in pain.

Little Guy!

 He’s sitting on the ground, back against the wall that cornered them until now, a hand loosely holding onto his gun, the other barely holding onto a striking red stain on his clear, monochrome attire. It’s expanding moment after moment, replacing the immaculate white of his shirt and suit jacket with a much darker colour. If it was only the bloodstained clothes, it’d have been fine, no matter how much this man frets over such things – but it’s not what is scaring her so much about this.

“Little Guy, what happened?!”

As he struggles to get an answer out, she takes his pulse: there, obviously, since he’s breathing, but weakening. His breathing is quick but shuddering, as if fragile like glass.

“One… one of them was armed,” he replies, swallowing every few words. “One bullet hit… my flank, I think?”

Not caring for the nail polish Alyssa put on her fingers last night, Naomi digs under the bloodstained jacket and where the incriminated wound must be. There, she confirms Navel’s suspicions: it’s indeed in his flank.

“If my assumption is correct, it shouldn’t have hurt an organ,” she says, a little bit of relief pulsing through her. “We need to get you into a hospital asap, though, you’re bleeding profusely.”

 She grabs back her phone, which she previously slipped into her pocket, and adds the information on a fourth wounded. She gives more information on their location and the circumstances, merely forgetting to mention this is all because of Delphi’s doings and their smothered shady pasts, and stays on the line, putting the phone in speaker mode so she doesn’t miss crucial information.

“You should go, Dr Kimishima,” Navel whispers, eyes getting glassy and unfocused, the speed at which this happens prompting her to check the wound again. The blood has spread even further, making the fabric stick to the wound. “Don’t… let them catch up to you.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m leaving you for dead. Plus, I’d rather have to search for amnesty again than get pursued for not helping someone in critical need.”

It’s the pragmatic way to say she’d never handle having his blood on her hands and his death on her conscience. He, however, doesn’t reply, letting uncomfortable silence install itself as they wait for assistance to arrive.

 When they do, the sirens’ shrills muffle Navel’s breathing, lights almost covering the blood stains on his suit and her fingers, slipping under her nails, drying out already.

It could, however, never erase the image from her mind.

  -----------------------

Naomi waits in this bedroom, all alone and in silence, for a little while. She doesn’t know how long exactly (probably around half an hour, although it feels like more than that), all she knows is that the chair she’s sitting on isn’t very comfortable and that she needs to remember when to pick Alyssa from school; two things that, for the moment being, don’t matter much.

The weather is beautiful, today. Even earlier, when they were outside, there was a gentle breeze blowing through their hair. She merely forgot about it due to thinking about literally anything else under the sun, mostly her colleague whom she found out wasn’t just randomly hit during the kerfuffle. To be fair, she should’ve guessed that was what had happened when she suddenly found herself on the ground rather than standing, but…

 She suddenly hears Little Guy stirring and, finally, opening an eye. His injuries were fortunately not as grievous as she was afraid they’d be, even if he’s clearly landed himself for at least a week in the hospital. What an idiot.

“Doc… Doctor Kimishima…?”

“Go back to sleep, Little Guy, you still sound like you’ve pulled a week-long all-nighter.”

As if obeying her (but most likely because losing this much blood tends to leave you weak, and his corpulence isn’t exactly one that’d take kindly to blood loss), his eyelids flutter; but he doesn’t go back to sleep. At least, not yet.

 “Are you okay…?” He asks, voice recovering some clarity, even if it’s unlike his usual swagger.

“I’m pretty sure I should be the one asking you that, you know; but I’m okay. Better off than you, that’s for sure.”

He chuckles once before groaning in pain.

“Urgh, I forgot how sore post-surgery was…”

“You’ll get used to it. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m sure you do, Dr Kimishima.”

 She drops the playful banter for something else altogether.

“Oh, and, Little Guy?”

“Yes…?”

“Never do that again. I don’t want to see you covered in your own blood again.”

His face, which is slowly regaining more colour, distorts a little.

“Even if…”

“Even if it means saving my life.”

He looks aside, in silence. She guesses he’s unable to honestly give her the answer she wants to hear, so he instead prefers not to say anything. Well, that’s something she expected would happen: people have told her he was wrapped around her little finger. Too bad that this man got infatuated with someone like her whom death and misfortune follow her every step. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, considering the number of close calls he found himself in when he was by her side. You sometimes have to wonder what other people even think…

“I’ll… I’ll try,” he eventually replies.

 Naomi can’t stay upset about it forever, especially when she sees how dishevelled and vulnerable he looks with his hair askew, dark rings under his eyes and hospital gown, so far from the sharply-dressed bachelor she’s come to appreciate.

“Good. Just be careful and we’ll be clear.”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

As long as he doesn’t mind being so close to death, she’ll make sure he doesn’t meet it.

[honeycobie]

Nostalgia

Hyunjae x reader, angst

requested by: anon

a/n: i don’t have much to say, but i hope you have the best week ever (you deserve it 🥰💖). i recommend listening to goodbye for now by kyuhyun or ending scene by iu (i tried to pick songs that have lyrics that relate to this fic!)

Nostalgia. A word with a bittersweet interpretation. It stirs up feelings of yearning and wistfulness, leaving you at ease, yet regretful. 

It all started four years ago.

That was when you first met a boy, whose mere actions and words could light up your world. He was everything to you, he was your world and he rivaled the stars and the moon, outshining their beauty. 

You had fallen for him, and as you learned of his habits, his dislikes and likes and every little detail, you fell even harder, if it was even possible. 

Your friends constantly teased you and him, always asking when you two would date. Although the both of you were not an official couple and it was purely platonic, there were moments where your heart would race and you would wonder ‘does he like me too’?

And maybe, just maybe you would’ve confessed, if you had not gone abroad to pursue your dreams. 

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

You had invited him over to tell him that you were leaving in a month. Your eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying, and you were lying if you said that it wasn’t about him at all. So many fond and carefree memories were created, ones that you would cherish forever. 

A knock on the door breaks through your reverie, and you get up to unlock the door for him. 

As he steps into the living room and situates himself comfortably on the couch, you blurt, “I have something to tell you.” but what surprises you is when he says the same thing at the exact same time. 

Laughing softly, he gestures for you to go first. You can’t help the faint smile that graces your features when his eyes sparkle with amusement. 

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt. “I’m leaving next month.” 

The mirth disappears from his face as he digests the information. “That’s great! You’ve always wanted to go abroad to study and pursue your dream job.” 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” you whisper, your voice cracking as your eyes fill with tears.

Closing the distance, he pulls you into a comforting embrace. “It’ll be okay. You’ll achieve everything you’ve dreamed of.” he soothes, caressing your hair. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “What if I never come back?” you breathe, your voice hushed. 

“That won’t happen.” he assures.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-«« 

“Right, what were you going to tell me?” you query.

“I forgot.” he answers remotely, his head propped on his hand as he stares out the window, gazing out at the trees swaying in the wind.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

A month later, you stand at the gate, gripping your suitcase firmly with both hands.

Both your family and friends are there to bid farewell. Scanning through the crowd, your heart skips a beat when you notice him weaving through people to get to you. 

Raising your hand, you wave and he notices, flashing a bright smile as he waves back. Just as he stops next to you, an annoucement is made, informing that your flight was to be boarded in five minutes. 

You say your goodbyes to your family and friends, promising your parents that you will take care. 

Blinking back tears, you turn to him. He hugs you, and you laugh shakily when he mutters “I’ll miss you, dummy.”, his breath tickling your ear. 

Pulling back, you look up at him with , your eyes glossy with unshed tears. 

“I’ll wait for you, okay?” he smiles, his eyes also watering. You nod, putting out your hand for a pinky promise. Chuckling, he interlocks his pinky with yours.

As you’re about to pass through to board your flight, you look back, biting back a smile when you see him waving crazily while mouthing ‘take care’.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

It’s been almost three years now.

After successfully achieving your dream and securing a career that you were geniunely interested in, you return to your hometown after hearing of a job opportunity there. 

Over the years, you’ve gradually lost contact with a few friends, including him. Although it hurts, maybe it was fate’s intent. Call it idiotic or cliche, you strongly believed that fate and destiny played an important role in life.

Strolling through the familiar neighbourhoods, you smile wistfully, tilting your head to admire the azure sky and the wispy clouds that remind you of cotton candy. 

You had already dropped your luggage off at home but since you had been feeling exhausted and you had some extra time, you opted to go to a nearby cafe to energize yourself with caffeine.

After ordering at the counter, you sit at a table to wait for your beverage, scrolling through social media idly. Placing your phone down, you twist around in your seat to stare through the large window, as you get lost in your thoughts, abruptly overcome by an acute nostalgia for the days before you went abroad, feeling regretful as you’ve lost contact with so many close friends. 

Briefly, you allow your mind to drift to him, someone you considered as your first serious love and even though you had never confessed, he still held a special place in your heart. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear someone calling your name until a hand lands on your shoulder. Jolting in surprise, you turn, eyes widening when you see him. As silly as it seems, he makes you feel like a middle schooler having their first crush, every small action making your heart flutter. 

Slipping into the seat across from you, he smiles gently, hands cupped around his coffee. “It’s been really long since I’ve last seen you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing well. How about you?” you grimace at how awkward you sound. Oh god, it’s like we’re complete strangers.

“I’ve landed a secure career that’s similar to what I enjoy doing so it’s been good.” he says easily, and you envy how he engages in a conversation so effortlessly.

An awkward silence settles on the both of you and you look away, sipping your drink. After a while, the silence becomes suffocating, prompting you to break it. Just as you open your mouth to speak, his phone rings and he smiles apologetically before getting up to answer the call. 

You sigh and slump in your seat, checking the time. Noticing his figure approaching you, you quickly straighten your posture. 

“I have to go, sorry. My girlfriend was wondering where I was and she wants me to go buy something.” he chuckles,  tucking his phone into his pocket.

You freeze, the word girlfriend piercing your heart like an arrow. “Y-you have a g-girlfriend?” you stutter, still unable to comprehend. The sentence repeats in your mind, playing like a broken record, over and over again. You felt like you wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, we met a year ago. What’s wrong? You look ill.” he utters, looking troubled as he notices the strange look on your face. 

You shake your head,  unable to look him in the eye, choking out, “I’m fine.” 

“You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” you muttered, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly. 

“Alright...it was nice seeing you again. We should hang out sometime.” he states, oblivious. 

You force a smile on your face as you bid goodbye, your smile faltering before dropping when you watch his figure leave the cafe. 

Scoffing, you tilt your head back,  your throat tightening as you feel a familiar stinging sensation in your eyes. 

That was when you knew, you still loved him.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

Standing in front of his door, you steel yourself before raising your hand to knock on his door. After waiting momentarily, he opens the door, inviting you in. When he offers you a drink, you politely decline. 

“I’m just here to clear some things up, for the sake of me and you.” you begin, hesitating as you try to find the correct words to fit together an explanation. 

He stares at you, perplexed. “What do you mean?” 

“Four years ago, when we first met, I started liking you. I harboured feelings for you and I was going to eventually confess to you but I ended up going abroad for more than two years. I wanted to tell the truth earlier so things won’t be awkward between us when you find out later.” you say quickly, gaze dropping to your lap. 

When you receive no response, you continue, “and don’t worry, I don’t love you in that way anymore.” you lie, your voice wavering. 

It’s silent for a while until he speaks up. “I liked you too, you know. The day you told me that you were leaving, I was planning on confessing but since you were leaving, I just...gave up. That’s what I wanted to say to you that day.” 

Stunned, you look up, to see if he’s joking, only to see the solemn expression on his face. You clench your hands into fists, pushing your tongue against your cheek.

The chance had always been there, just within your grasp, but you had never taken it.

You regretted everything, wishing that you could turn back time.

Standing up abruptly, you make up an excuse. “I need to leave, I forgot that I needed to buy groceries.” you state, your voice coming out cold and stoic.

Just as you place your hand on the doorknob, he grips your wrist to stop you from leaving. “We’re still friends, right?” he pleads, desperation in his eyes.

You soften. “Of course.”

Leaving his apartment, you take the elevator, closing your eyes as you sigh. Although you had intended to tell him to feel better, your heart still felt incredibly heavy. 

You attempt to resist the urge to cry,  but your eyes fill with tears anyway, running down your cheeks as you bury your face into your hands, chest heaving.

You laugh mockingly at yourself for being so foolish, the sound echoing off the metal walls.

Frustrated, you force yourself to stop crying, roughly wiping away your tears. 

After all, you had told yourself that you would never cry over a boy, even if it was someone like Hyunjae.

[devilatmydoor]

love is fatal I part 9

a/n; i hope you are all having a great week! stay safe and well- body, mind and soul. let me know what you think in the tags, my dms & ask! 

message me if you want to be part of my taglist for future parts!! 

previous parts - 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 

word count; 4.4k+

warning; puuure fluff 

Pitch black skies surrounded them as she parked her car looking at Calum. She took her seatbelt off and stared at him in awe, he went above and beyond sticking up for her. She’d never met someone who willingly got in a fight about her. He spent the entire evening by her side, dancing with her and telling her how beautiful she was. It was something to get used to his affection and an evident soft spot for her.

They both got out of the car followed by her locking it as he waited for her, grabbing her hand as they walked to the front door. He unlocked the door and opened it letting her in first. He closed the door behind her as she took off her shoes and looked at him before she could ask what Calum wanted he said softly,

“Can you stay here tonight?”

“Of course, you want to change clothes?” She smiled as she grabbed his hand.

“Oh absolutely.” He smiled as they walked towards his room. They got to the doorway when they both giggled at Duke laying on Calum’s bed.

“Someone missed you.” She smiled as she let go of his hand and started unbuttoning his shirt, she felt his eyes on her as her hands rested on his exposed chest. “On the drive back I realized I didn’t thank you for coming with me tonight and sticking up for me as you did.”

“I thought you were scared of me because you were so quiet.”

“You make me feel safe.” She breathed as she looked in his eyes, she wasn’t sure if he was crying but his eyes were glossy.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She pecked his lips and kissed his nose, “I know you won’t.”

She finished helping him change out of his clothes as he put a tank top and stayed in his boxers. He grabbed a shirt for her and kissed her forehead, “I’m gonna get some water.”

She smiled as she kissed his cheek before he left her in the room, she quickly changed into his shirt and walked down the hallway. She pulled her phone out of her purse before setting it on the couch, she opened Spotify and played the song her and Calum danced to earlier. He turned around and smiled at her.

“Dance with me.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder as her arms hugged his waist. They swayed back and forth slowly as she could feel his hot breath on her skin. She held him tight as she softly sang along to the lyrics as he held on to her tightly. Once the song finished, Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine started and he slowly stood up straight while his hands held her waist.

“I like this song.”

She smiled before pecking his lips softly wrapping her arms around his neck, “It’s one of my favorites.”

He smiled as he pressed his forehead against hers as they swayed back and forth, she softly yawned as the next song played followed by Calum giggling.

“Are you tired, angel?” She nodded and he kissed her forehead, “Let’s cuddle in my bed hmm?”

She smiled as he led them to his bedroom, their fingers intertwined as they walked. He slowly let go of her hand as she climbed into his bed so he could turn off the light, he climbed in and laid his head down on her lap. She gently massaged his scalp while running her fingers through his curls. She continued to softly massage his scalp as he softly snored, she smiled as she leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. Minutes that felt like hours passed as he slept in her lap, she sat still to make sure he got the rest he desperately needed.

“Veronica!” His voice scared and he slowly looked up and sat up to look in her eyes.

“I’m right here, what happened?” She asked as her hand rested on his cheek.

“I had a dream you left me for Jaiden.” He muttered and she couldn’t believe the words that were falling out of his mouth.

“Oh Calum,” She mused as she caressed his cheek. “Where did this come from?”

“He said you’d come crawling back to him, among other things.” He admitted as he looked down.

She lifted his chin gently so his eyes would meet her, “He’s delusional. There’s no way I’d leave you for him. What else did he say?”

“He said that something happened between you and Grayson.” He said as his eyes widened.

“Something did happen between me and Grayson but we were 16. We were tired of everyone telling us to date so we tried to kiss and it was so weird.” She explained, “I now see why you punched him.”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“I know.” She smiled before holding his face in her hands before kissing his lips softly repeatedly between giggles and soft whispers.

__

The aroma of coffee alarmed her as her eyes slowly opened, the sunshine peeking through the blinds as she slowly turned around to see him sleeping. She slowly got out of his bed and grabbed the first sweater she could find and threw it on before tiptoeing out of his room and down the hallway.

She walked to the cupboard and grabbed a mug for Calum and set it under the Keurig that was brewing fresh coffee. She opened the fridge to find eggs and milk, she set it on the counter top before closing the fridge.

“Baby? Have you seen my-” She heard Calum yell as he walked down the hallway, “Never mind, you’re wearing it.”

She giggled as he walked into the kitchen, “It’s so comfy.”

“I know! That’s why I was looking for it.” He smiled as he kissed her cheek, “Looks better on you anyway.”

She blushed as her eyes met his, “I was gonna make you breakfast in bed but you woke up.”

“You left,” He pouted, she softly kissed his pout before giggling, “One more.”

She kissed his lips and he grabbed her hips and kissed her slowly and sweetly as she rested her hands on his warm chest. They stood there and kissed until she remembered she had to go home to work the night shift.

* * * * * 

He sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in an hour to see if Veronica texted him; he hadn’t seen her in almost 4 days and he was missing her. He finished organizing his desk as he sat up straight in his chair before stepping out of his office. Micheal and Tucker were at the front desk as he smiled walking up to them.

“There’s lover boy.” Tucker teased as he giggled cuing Michael to laugh as Calum rolled his eyes playfully. 

“You guys are jealous I have someone to go to Palm Springs with.” 

“We are, a timeshare in palm springs sounds amazing. I got your request for next month in the books.” Micheal chimed in. 

“Thank you, I can’t wait.” 

“We hadn’t noticed.” Tucker quipped as he set the iPad down. Michael walked away from the front desk. Tucker leaned in and looked in Calum's eyes before whispering. “Hope you don’t mind, I fucked Eleanor when she came looking for you before your crazy girlfriend scared her off.” 

“Fuck off Tucker, you can have my sloppy seconds.” He huffed before he heard the front door open. “Welcome to Gotham City Tattoos, what can I help you with?”

The girl standing in front of him looked confused before asking, “Are you Calum?”

His eyes widened as he crossed his arms, “Depends on who’s asking.” 

The girl sighed before taking off her sunglasses, “I’m Harley, I'm your 4 clock appointment.” 

“Of course, I printed out a stencil to see if I got the sizing right. You wanted it on your forearm right?” 

She nodded, “Yes, I think I’m gonna just get the outline done today and come back for the coloring.”

“Good idea, this should be under 2 hours.” He smiled as he led her to the spot where he had all of the supplies. He showed her the stencil and she agreed on the size before she ran to the bathroom. The shop door swung open and he wasn’t sure if he was seeing a mirage. “Veronica?” 

She smiled at him as she ran up to him wrapping her arms around him before kissing his lips softly, “Surprise.” 

His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, “What are you doing here? Not that I don’t love you visiting me.” 

“Harley is my friend, I told her to get ahold of you so you could tattoo her so I could see you.” She blushed as he let go of him as her friend came back. 

“This is the best.” He beamed as he sat down and started to prep the area before he put the stencil on her skin and grabbed his tattoo gun and dipped it in black ink so he could start the process. The buzzing of the gun and Veronica’s laughter was the best combination as she sat next to her friend as he tattooed her skin. Halfway through she took a break. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much.” 

“I haven’t seen you in a while, I missed you.” He pouted as she kissed his pout before kissing his cheeks. 

“I know, I’ve been working nights when you are working days.” 

Her friend came back and sat down so he could finish her tattoo. With every stroke of ink he dipped the tattoo gun in the black. Staying focused, his eyes narrowed at the small lines and curves to the tattoo as his eyebrows furrowed. He wiped down her tattoo before apply Vaseline and wrapping it. 

“Calum this looks perfect thank you!” 

“Of course, I’m gonna clean my area before I meet you at the desk.” 

She nodded and got off the chair and walked to the front. Veronica stood up as she stretched saying ‘oof’ softly as his eyes met hers. “What are you doing after this?” 

She smiled as she walked up next to him and kissed his cheek, “What do you have in mind?” 

“Stay tuned.” He winked as he kissed her forehead before making sure her friend was checked out and knew everything she needed for aftercare. Luke helped her check out as he slowly walked over to Veronica who was standing in the opposite direction. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his body against her, “Ready to go pretty girl?”

“Of course, do you need to stop at your office?”

He chuckled before kissing her cheek, “Thank you for reminding me, I almost forgot.”

He walked with her to his office grabbing his keys, leather jacket and they stepped out of his office. She waved to Luke as they left hand in hand outside, her fingers laced with his as she looked in his eyes. “Where are you taking me Hood?” 

“You and surprises’ Braden.” He chuckled as he walked her to his car. He grabbed his keys as he unlocked the doors slowly opening the passenger door or her. 

“Are you forgetting our first date?” 

He shook his head kissing her forehead, “Oh I remember.” He smirked as he helped her get in his car before closing her door. He ran to his side of the car 

His hand rested on her thigh as he drove to his favorite spot in Los Angeles, she played music softly as she looked around to see where he was taking her. He hadn’t planned on seeing her today but there was no way he wasn’t going to spend time with her while he had the chance. 

He parked the car as his eyes met hers. “Welcome to my favorite place.”

“The beach? I love the ocean.” 

Waves crashed as the sun began to set, pink and orange hues painted the sky, their hands intertwining as the smell of ocean air surrounded them. His arm snaked around her waist pulling her closer to him as hers hung on his back. Her free hand resting on his chest as they stopped to watch the sunset, “Thank you for taking me here, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks for coming angel, I thought you’d like it.” He hummed as he pulled her against him holding her waist. 

“I love it.” She breathed as she pressed against him, her soft lips brushing his before their lips connected in a passionate kiss. 

_ 

He unlocked the front door stepping inside, Duke’s paws clicking on the floor as he ran up to him. He set his jacket on the chair as he picked up Duke closing the door behind him. He grabbed the remote as he sat on the couch flipping through the channel. He hadn’t realized how quiet his house was until he turned down the t.v before going into the kitchen to cook. His phone vibrated on the counter, he grabbed it to see if it was Veronica.

Without hesitation he grabbed his keys and drove to the nearest Target. He filled a basket with tampons, chocolate, ice cream and chips, he checked out and drove to Veronica’s house.  He parked in front of her house and got out of his car to walk to her door. She opened the door and smiled at him, “Hi handsome.”

“Hi beautiful, you ready?”

“Did you pack your heating pad?” He asked as he grabbed her bag from her hands.

She nodded, “Mhm, even though you're my personal heater.”

He chuckled as he walked with her towards his car, he opened the door for her and kissed her forehead before helping her in his car. He put her bag in the back seat and got in the driver's seat. He rested his hand on her thigh as he drove to his place as music softly played in the background.

Every stop light he leaned over and kissed Veronica’s lips as she giggled as him, her hand rested on top of his before they reached his house. “I’m gonna grab your bag, stay put baby.”

She playfully shook her head as she waited for him to grab her overnight bag and his target bag. He walked to the passenger side and opened the door for her and helped her out of his car. She pointed to the other bag and giggled, “What’s this babe?”

He blushed as he kissed her forehead, “I wanted to make sure we had everything you needed while you're here.”

“You are the sweetest boyfriend ever.” She mused as she kissed his cheek before they got into his house. He closed the door behind her and set the bag on the counter as she grabbed her overnight bag. “I’m gonna change into some sweats, want me to come back out here or stay in your room?”

“Wherever you will be most comfortable.” He smiled as he put the ice cream tubs away. He brought the rest of the snacks into his room.

When he got into his room Veronica was sprawled out on his bed in a hoodie and just her underwear. She motioned him to get closer as he climbed on the bed and he wrapped his arm around her waist before she pulled herself on top of him, “This okay babe?”

He kissed her forehead before hugging her waist, “Of course.”

He held her as close as he could as she dozed off on top of him, he attempted to sleep until she woke up wanting food. They made dinner and ate in the living room as she sat in his lap, his hands finding a home on her hips.

* * * * * 

Three days at Calum’s house eating snacks, cuddling and kissing every chance they could came to an end when Veronica had to work 3 days in a row. Her throat was sore, her nose was running and she couldn’t stop coughing on top of her finishing her period. Her last 3 day work period ended, when she got home she completely changed into sweats and she could barely hold any of her dinner down as she tried to eat.

Hershey barked followed by a knock at the front door and she walked towards the door. She was confused trying to figure out who was at her house since Grayson was staying with a friend so he wouldn’t get her cold. She opened the door and sighed in relief when it was Calum, “Hi angel, how are you feeling?”

She shrugged as she looked to see he had a fuzzy blanket, a bag from Target in his hand,“Awful, what are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” He said with a smile as his cheeks turned pink.

“Calum, I don’t want you sick.”

“I could care less if I’m sick, my girl is sick and I’m gonna take care of her.” He mused as he stepped closer to her, she moved as he tried to kiss her on the lips and he chuckled.

She reluctantly let him inside as he set the blanket down on the couch before Hershey jumped on the couch to claim it as her own, “You’re never gonna see that blanket again.”

He chuckled before setting the target bag down and pulling out a separate Noodles and Company bag. “I got you chicken noodle soup with saltines and apple juice.”

“You really don’t have to do all of this.”

He shh’d her before grabbing 2 cans of soup, a box of saltines and Canada dry out of the bag followed by wellness tea an immunity shots, “My girl can’t be alone when she's sick.”

“Calum.”

“I’ll be right back, I need to get my clothes I left in my car.” He winked before leaving her kitchen and walking outside. She sat down at the island and grabbed the chicken noodle soup and apple juice he bought from Noodles. She ripped the plastic wrapping off of the cutlery and took off the lid of her soup to let it cool down.

Calum came back inside with a small duffel bag and closed the door behind him before walking into the kitchen, “I also brought your favorite hoodie of mine to borrow since you’re always cold.”

She felt like she was in a dream; in the past 2 weeks her boyfriend had stood up for her, picked her up and spoiled her with snacks to take care of her during her period and now he was here to take care of her when she was sick. If she was dreaming she never wanted to wake.

“You know me so well.”

He smiled before sitting next to her and grabbing his food out of the bag as she slowly ate her soup. His hand rested on her thigh as they ate dinner, she’d kiss his cheek every chance she got causing him to giggle.

“Go lay down angel, I’ll put everything away.”

“I can help, I’m not that dizzy.” She smiled as she slowly got off of her chair and leaned against the island.

He playfully shook his head as he grabbed the Canada dry, immune shots and wellness tea in the fridge. She watched him as he turned around and took off his jacket, “Do you want to stay out here or go in your room?”

“My room, more room to cuddle with you.”

He smiled as he grabbed his bag and walked up to her intertwining their fingers. They walked towards her room and she opened the door and he chuckled when he saw the trash overflowing with tissues with the nightstand with nyquil.

She laid down on her bed as he set his bag on the floor, he sighed when he looked at her smiling at him. He climbed into her bed and he held her close to him as he draped her blanket over them, she turned on Hulu and played Brooklyn 99 in the background as her head rested on his shoulder. She sleepily laid on his chest as he held her tight, she looked up at him with a smile, “How did I get so lucky?”

“The same way I got lucky.” He leaned to kiss her and she nuzzled her head in his neck.

“No kisses, you can’t get sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, kiss me already.” He stated and she shook her head.

“Nope, you aren’t getting sick because of me.”

He chuckled before he gently grabbed her chin to face him, “Just let me kiss you.”

“But you are gonna get sick.” She pouted at him.

“And that will be my own fault, now let me kiss you.” He softly demanded as his soft lips pressed sweet kisses on hers as she rested her hand on his chest. She slowly moved to lay on top of him as he held her hips.

He continuously pecked her lips as they giggled in between them, her cheeks flushed as his body heat radiated off of him. Her hands wrapped around his neck as his plump lips left soft and sweet kisses causing her cheeks to turn red.

“I could kiss you for hours.” She breathed as she brushed her lips over his.

He kissed her lips softly before softly sucking on her bottom lip, “Don’t tempt me angel.” He said with a wink as he sat up and she straddled his hips.

* * * * *  

After 3 days taking care of Veronica as she ate light foods he slowly started to catch her cold, he knew he would catch it eventually since he couldn’t help but kiss her. He returned home so he could take medicine for it to slowly go away as Veronica’s cold vanished. They both had conflicting schedules the week following except for Sunday night so they planned to have a date at her house.

When he arrived at her place dressed in his swim trunks and tank top, she opened the door dressed in her pink bikini.

“Hi handsome,” She smiled as she kissed his lips softly welcoming him inside.

“Hi beautiful, are you going to show me the surprise?” He asked as he closed the door behind him.

“Of course, we really have Penelope to thank. She found it for me!” She gushed as she led him towards the back. She opened the sliding door and stepped outside showing him what she meant.

Inside the pool was a giant inflatable circular lounger with blankets and snacks, “Holy shit, she found this?”

“Yes! At Costco! Grayson helped me figure out this,” She giggled as she showed him the projector.

“Wow, this is amazing baby. What movie do you wanna watch?”

“Whatever you want to as long as it isn’t the Hobbit, unless you want me to fall asleep like last time.” She giggled as she toyed with the hem of his tank top.

“Luke and Ashton thought it was hilarious, you didn’t make it halfway.” He chuckled as he watched her reach her hands up his chest, her cool skin sending goosebumps all over his skin.

“I tried! I really did! I can’t stay awake for Lord of the Rings either so that won’t work. Harry Potter?”

“Sounds perfect, as long as I have you and snacks I am set.” He winked as she slowly took off his tank top before kissing his cheek.

“Have I told you  that you are the most handsome man on the planet?” She beamed as she kissed his jaw.

“Not recently.” He chuckled as she grabbed his hand before leading him to the inflatable lounger with pillows.

She set up her laptop and started to play the fourth Harry Potter before climbing into the lounger next to him kissing his cheek as the movie started. They snacked on popcorn as he held her close to him, his arm snaked around her waist as she laid her head on his chest. Once again she was more entertaining than the movie, she quoted each line and knew every scene by heart. He watched her quote the movie, she caught him staring and her cheeks turned pink each time.

They sat like that for a while as they watched the movie as the air around them continued to get colder, they wrapped up in blankets as the movie was coming to a close.  He let her go first as the credits rolled and he followed grabbing the leftover snacks and blankets. She grabbed the pillows and brought them inside as lightning lit up the dark sky, she brought her laptop and projector inside as the rain started to pour. Thunder clapped causing Hershey to shake uncontrollably as well as cry, “Looks like I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Why’s that angel?”

“Hershey is still a puppy and is terrified of storms, I slept on the couch last time forgetting about the air mattress in the garage.” She explained with a sigh.

“Would it help if I stayed?”

She looked at him a smile, “It would but you’ve done so much for me already the past two weeks. You should go home, doesn’t Duke get scared?”

He shook his head and walked up to her kissing her forehead, “He’s got Luke, plus I don’t want you sleeping out here alone.”

She kissed his nose and then his cheeks, “You truly are the best boyfriend on the planet.”

He smiled as he helped her move the coffee table close to the recliner as they inflate the air mattress. She grabbed the rest of her pillows and the blanket Calum left the last time he was here. He changed into just his boxers after she changed into a tank top and shorts.

She turned off all of the lights and set an alarm for the both of them in the morning before climbing into bed. He plugged his phone in and crawled into bed next to her and laid on his side facing her as her eyes met his.

“I meant what I said, you truly are the best boyfriend on the planet.”

“Only for the best girlfriend in the universe.” He winked as he kissed her forehead before wrapping his arms around her waist as she hugged his waist pressing her body against hers.

Her cheeks were hot pink as she nuzzled her head in his shoulder, “You are so cuddly.”

He chuckled as he rubbed her hips, “So I’ve been told.”

��By who?”

He giggled as he kissed her forehead, “By you, dork.”

She giggled as she turned bright red kissing his cheek, “That’s because you love your cuddles.”

“Not as much as I love your kisses.” He quipped as she winked and pressed soft kisses all over his neck to his cheeks.

If this was a glimpse of heaven, he never wanted it to end.

t a g l i s t -  @pxrxmoore  @sublimehood @talkfastromance4 @ghostoflrh @calumscalm @mellifluoushood @calumthomcs @twilightmomentswithyou @boytoynamedcalum @ohhmuke @calswildflower @highscal @sanrioluke @softlrh @flowers-on-the-graves @currentlyupcalsass @clemmings @tirednotflirting @highfivecalum @wastelandcth @himbocalum @feliznavidaddycal @icyicejuice @notinthesameguey​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @calumrose​

[adenei]

The Mixtape Mishap - Chapter 7

Countdowns & Reveals

Ron walked down the stairs first, with his shoulders hunched over in defeat. He stalked back over to the chair he’d been occupying before Harry and Ginny had forced him to go talk to Hermione and clear the air once and for all. He saw his best friend and sister give each other a look before Harry walked tentatively over to Ron.

“Er, everything alright, mate?” 

“Sure, yeah, everything’s just peachy!” Ron said sarcastically.

“Erm, alright, then…” Harry didn’t think now was a good time to ask for an explanation, but one look from Ginny told him he had to figure out what was going on. Why’d you have to go and fall for her anyways, you slick git. And she has no idea she’s got you wrapped around her finger. Or does she? Who the hell knows with girls. Harry abandoned his inner dialogue to appease Ginny, and to hopefully get himself out of this uncomfortable situation between best friend and crush.

“Were you able to talk to her?” Harry asked.

“Nope. She never came out of the bloody loo. I waited five minutes. Finally just slid the parchment I’d been working on earlier under the door for her. Had to borrow a quill from Ginny’s room to add that I’d wait fifteen minutes for her to come talk,” Ron explained.

“And I’m guessing she never took you up on that offer?” Harry finished.

“Nope. I even waited longer, you know, just in case. I don’t know what else to do,” Ron lamented.

“Sorry, mate. I’m, er, sure it’ll all work out? Let’s go try out more of those ‘shot shots’ the twins have. There’s only a little over an hour until midnight anyways.” Harry’s suggestion didn’t really inspire Ron to move, so he took the initiative to get some sweets and a couple of twin’s newest items to bring back to Ron. He caught Ginny’s eye on the way back to Ron and silently shook his head.

Hermione came down shortly after. She figured she’d give Ron a five minute head start before returning downstairs in an attempt to make their plan believable. After all, they only had just over an hour to keep up the awkward row guise before managing to position themselves close enough for the countdown, where they’d shock everyone with a midnight kiss. It can’t come soon enough, Hermione thought to herself. She was already missing the feel of his lips against hers. 

If she didn’t want to stick it to Ginny and Harry with their meddling, she would have forgotten everything and just gone to climb into Ron’s lap where she noticed he was sitting again. She steeled herself against the thought and walked over to the refreshment table, forcing her traitorous body to stick to the plan. She picked up a couple of the different ‘shot’ shots the twins had played up earlier, as if trying to decide which to use. 

“Trying to decide which flavor to indulge in?” Fred had sidled up next to her, watching her contemplation.

“Er, yes, I think so. I just don’t know which to use.” Hermione was holding a shot labeled ‘spiced mead’. 

“It all depends on what you’re in the mood for, or what you’re going to pair it with. For instance, the firewhiskey would pair well with the cinnamon cookies mum made, and the spiced mead you’ve got there would go with the vanilla custard. My personal favorite is the chocolate liqueur with the raspberry shortbreads.”

Hermione set down the mead and picked up the chocolate one instead. “That does sound really good.” She moved down the table to pick up a raspberry shortbread, and injected the liquid from the shot into the cookie. She bit into it, and the taste overwhelmed her mouth. It really was the perfect combination of raspberry and chocolate. “Wow. Thank you, Fred. You and George really are quite talented when it comes to all of these creations.”

“A compliment from the one and only Hermione Granger? Well, thank you! Just wait until you see what’s in store next!” Fred looked down at his watch. “Speaking of, it’s time for the next reveal!” he said as George wheeled in something that was covered by a sheet.

Fred turned down the wireless a touch as George called everyone over. “Gather round to see our next creation!” Once he had everyone’s attention, he continued. “This is a party roulette wheel! There’s an enchanted notepad on the back where you can put the names of all the attendants and their names will magically appear on the wheel.”

“The wheel has many uses, and the notepads can be replenished when they're out so it’s not like you need to buy a brand new wheel each time. You can use it to pick partners, or to determine who answers a question, or really whatever you want it for!” Fred chimed in.

“It doesn’t have to be just names either. Could be anything! But for us, on this wonderful evening, we’re going to play Dance Partner Roullette!” George pulled the sheet off the object, revealing a brightly lit wheel with everyone’s names already included and ready to go. “At exactly 11:00, we are going to celebrate one hour to the new year as Lee plays a slow song over the wireless, and the wheel will pick your partner!”

“...but there’s an odd number of us,” remarked Tonks.

As if on cue, the back door opened, and Verity, the twin’s assistant at the shop, came in. “Not anymore!” said Fred. “Verity here has agreed to spend New Year’s with us, making an even ten,” he explained as George added her name to the notepad. The board shimmered as it updated to show her triangle now.

“Hi everyone! It was really very kind of the twins to invite me, as my family’s on holiday. I’m excited to see the new products in action,” Verity said with a big smile.

“Should we get started? We’ve only got five minutes until Lee plays the song.” George brought everyone back on task.

“How will it know once someone’s already been picked?” asked Hermione.

“Excellent question! Want to spin first and find out?” Fred smirked at her, clearly anticipating her question.

“Oh, I-” Hermione stuttered as Ginny pushed her towards the wheel.

“Come on, Hermione, spin the wheel!” Ginny encouraged.

With no other choice, Hermione grabbed hold of one of the pegs and pulled down on the wheel watching it spin round and round. No one noticed George adding something to the notepad as the wheel was spinning. The wheel slowed and came to a stop on none other than Ron’s name. She looked at the wheel in disbelief and then back at Fred and George.

“Excellent!” said Fred. “The wheel has spoken. Fleur, you next!”

Fleur walked up to the wheel as George crossed Hermione and Ron’s names off on the notepad, allowing them to dim on the board. “See? Now that your names are dim on the wheel, it won’t land on you again!” Fleur spun the wheel as George once again manipulated the outcome. He placed a star next to Bill’s name. He didn’t want to chance it, considering he knew what song Lee was going to play. Fleur smiled and walked effortlessly back over to Bill when it landed on his name. George crossed both their names off as Fred asked Tonks to come spin.

Tonks spun the wheel incredibly hard, and the onlookers were a bit worried it was going to break until it finally slowed down. Tonks gave a sheepish smile and made a retort about not knowing her own strength when the dial landed on George. Everyone laughed good-naturedly as Verity made her spin next. Ginny was pouting because she was last, and wouldn’t even get to spin due to the process of elimination.

“Guests should always be invited to spin first, little sis,” Fred reminded as he waved her off.

Verity’s spin landed on Fred, which left Harry and Ginny as partners. Ginny grinned at Harry, and made a comment about being glad she didn’t have to dance with any of her brothers as Fred turned the wireless back up. Ron was still on the outskirts of the circle by the chair, and Hermione was awkwardly standing next to Harry and Ginny.

“Don’t you dare think about running back upstairs to get out of this,” hissed Ginny into Hermione’s ear. 

The music started to play and Ginny pushed her towards Ron. Hermione stopped as awkwardly as she could in front of him. Despite having been in his embrace not longer than half an hour ago, Hermione still wasn’t sure what to do next. They were trying to continue the ruse, so she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She hadn’t anticipated this.

Just then, Ron held out his hand to her, and she took it as her other hand found his shoulder. Neither of them looked at the other, as Ron whispered, “Might as well play along. I reckon they’ll take more mickey out of us if we fight it.” Hermione felt his hand wrap tightly around her waist as she nodded in agreement.

They did a spectacular job at managing to not make eye contact, but still muttered comments to each other throughout the duration of the song.

“Oh, I love this song. It’s on the album I have upstairs.” Hermione said.

“Interesting song choice by Lee. ‘Specially considering the lyrics.” Ron added.

“It’s on the muggle wireless all the time. Ed Sheeran’s all the rage right now. The song’s called Thinking out Loud, and it’s one of the most popular on the weekly countdowns.”

“Maybe not as peculiar then. Wish they’d all stop staring,” Ron muttered. 

“Just ignore it,” Hermione said, trying to make her voice sound annoyed, though she was thoroughly enjoying this time in his arms.

Eventually, the song ended and they broke apart. Hermione was once again missing the warmth of his body. She quickly forgot though, as Ginny squealed when Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down Swingin’ came back on the wireless. The group fell into more dancing for the better part of the hour when all of a sudden it was already five minutes to midnight.

George was popping champagne and pouring it into the glasses on the table as Fred picked up the cylindrical objects to pass out to everyone. As Hermione took hers, she examined it. She noticed that there was a small button towards the large circular end.

“Don’t press the buttons, yet everyone! Not until midnight!” Fred said just in time, as Tonks was about to see what the button did.

“And make sure you point them at the ceiling, and not at anyone else!” George added. “These are only prototypes so we didn’t get the warnings etched on them, yet. Everyone come get a glass! It’s almost time!”

Just as Ginny was about to say ‘one minute,’ everyone’s attention was turned to the balloon wall. There was a soft pop and one of the balloons had turned into confetti raining towards the ground. No sooner did one pop, than another one start.

“Is that a countdown?!” asked Ginny eagerly.

“You guessed it! One balloon turns into confetti each second, leaving only the NYE 1997 balloons at the end,” Fred said triumphantly.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry were all gathered close together, and Hermione made sure she was by Ron’s side. Ron was trying really hard not to grin at her because it was almost time. They set their champagne glasses on the side table in the midst of the countdown craziness.

Tonks started the ten second countdown and everyone chimed in, “10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone cried as they pushed the buttons on the cylinders, which exploded more silver and gold confetti, and the balloons that had been outfitting the ceiling also turned into confetti that rained down on them. Bill and Fleur embraced in a kiss as Harry and Ginny hugged. Hermione looked up at Ron who cocked his eyebrow at her, and she nodded. In one swift movement, he pulled her in and kissed her again, this time for everyone to see. He didn’t break apart immediately, instead deepening the kiss slightly in an effort to show Hermione how much he cared. Too soon, though, they did pull apart, both grinning from ear to ear.

“What the fu-” Their moment was interrupted by Ginny who was watching them with widened eyes. Harry stood next to her, his mouth wide open and also shocked. The rest of the crowd either showed knowing smirks or mildly surprised faces.

“What?” asked Ron nonchalantly.

“But- you said- I’m missing something here,” Harry tried, but couldn’t formulate a full sentence.

Ron and Hermione laughed. “Gotcha!” Ron said. 

“So you’re sorted then?” Harry asked as they both nodded.

“Finally!” Ginny shouted as Fred and George held up their champagne glasses.

“To the new year!” they cried as everyone echoed in kind to the toast. 

“And hopefully the best year yet,” Ron whispered in Hermione’s ear as he kissed her cheek. She smiled as she nuzzled into his neck. The year may not be free of danger, what with being Harry Potter’s best friend, but she could worry about that later. For now, they’d celebrate the new year and their new relationship.

[melbee]

Electric Love

CHAPTER 5

David Lee Roth Fanfiction

Oh see, don't ever set me free

I only wanna be by your side

Girl, you really got me now

You got me so I can't sleep at night

- you really got me

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Saying goodbye to Holly must’ve been one of the most hardest things I had to do in my life. I knew that we would see each other soon, as we promised to meet up whenever we both were available, but I realized that she wouldn’t be here for everything, and somehow I would have to survive by myself.

Well not totally by myself...but you get the point. Tears were shed, hugs, a few knocks on the head and final waves as I stood near the window that overlooked the front parking lot of the apartment, as the red Ford drove away into the sun which had begun its descent.

“You know I have these beautiful bay windows over on the other side, since the sun sets over to the west. It’s much prettier.” I heard Lewis voice out as I turned around to look at him smiling, motioning with his hands toward the other room.

I smiled, “Sure, I would love to see it.” I walked over to the windows and peaked at the sun that was steadily falling with every passing second, and realized Lewis was right. It was beautiful. I imagined those right off the beach in Malibu had the joy of watching it in full every evening, and sighed in contentment.

“It’s nice isn’t it? The light beginning to fade.” Lewis said as I felt his presence as he too made his way over to the windows and leaned in a daze.

“Yes, it reminds me of Arizona, those sunsets weren’t so bad..” I said laughing as I envisioned the many times as kids me and Holly would drive out into the desert during the weekends.

“Yes, but doesn’t it get dreadfully cold when it’s finally dark out?” Lewis asked facing me.

I shrugged as I looked over at him, “Well yes, doesn’t it get cold in California?”

Lewis plastered a sinful grin as he giggled, “Honey, quite the opposite..”

I smiled and laughed, as I stood from my position making my way over to the couch. “Oh?”

Lewis got up as well as he stood walking over and begun looking at nearby fabrics left forgotten on the counter, “Well perhaps in Bel air or some shit, but here? In Hollywood? Baby it gets hot.”

A confused looked etched my face, “What do you mean?”

Lewis rolled his eyes and sighed, “Chica, you’ll figure it out one day..”

I gave him a weird smile as I shrugged. While I had no clue what he meant by hot, I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t talking about the weather. It was something else. I felt a chill run down my back at the thought.

“That’s besides the point... I was hoping we could go over some things, projects and sorts. I’ve got quite a few but a recent one I just picked up. I’ve been looking at designs, it’s hard to tell which would look good.” Lewis said as he sighed. I made my way over to him as I fingered the skills and the velvets, and even the.. spandex?

“Spandex?” I said as I grabbed the piece of black and tight fabric, as I heard a giggle come from my left.

“Yes, that was a bit of a client’s request. Rockstars these days...” he said as he looked at it thoughtfully.

“Oh rockstars? I heard you dealt with musicians. Who are you working with now?” I said.

His eyes bugged as his jaw dropped before slapping his face, “LORD! I completely forgot to tell you that over the phone didn’t I? Gosh I’m so stupid!”

I laughed as I shook my head.

He sprung to life suddenly, as he walked out of the room, much to my confusion. I was close to following him until he came back with stacks of what looked like paper cutouts from magazines and posters.

I grazed my hand over the first one. A beautiful tall man, with leggings that hugged every inch of his curves, a plethora of chest hair and a Jean cutout jacket that seemed to sparkle even from the picture. He had fluffy blond hair, and a look that I’m sure would make any girl drop to their knees.

It suddenly dawned on me who this was. “Are you working for..”

“Van Halen? Yes! Isn’t it wonderful. Trust me I was shocked when I got a call they wanted me to make some clothes. I mean.. come on..” Lewis gasped as he started flipping over the different pictures of the guys.

I laughed as we stared at all the different members of the band, Eddie, His Brother and what I assumed was the bass player stood in many pictures. Every time we passed by ones with the blonde haired guy, I couldn’t help but get confused at who that was.

I know I wasn’t exactly the most literate music fan, I couldn’t help my tastes were a bit old fashioned.

“So the blond guy...he’s..” I started to say as Lewis gave me a wild look.

“David Lee Roth? Do you not know who he is?” Lewis gasped standing back in horror.

I looked sheepish as I scratched my arm, “I know a few songs by them.. I haven’t really gotten a chance to listen to them fully.”

“Oh god.. that’s it! Impromptu music sesh’.” Lewis said as he made his way over to a cabinet bringing out an old record player, and opened a cabinet adjacent which was stocked with vinyls of all types. He looked through, as I made my way over to him, before he gasped and grabbed the first album to come out.

“Van Halen 1. No bullshit just straight up rock n roll.” Lewis said as he put the track on as a familiar song came on that I’m sure I heard on the radio at some point.

He beckoned me to sit down on the couch as he grabbed the pile of pictures of Van Halen, nodding his head back and forth to the music. I smiled finally getting to understand the meaning behind the meolodies. Some of the songs were quiet sad, Jamie’s Cryin? It irked me they could play such powerful and rocking music, and the lyrics were much deeper then what they appeared to be.

When Eruption started playing I couldn’t help but gasp, at the sounds that were emitted from the record player. The guitar wailed with power and sophistication. “Wow!” I said to Lewis, who just smiled at my reaction.

“You should here him play it in concert. Holy fuck, Eddie is the cutest little thing with that impish grin, he just plays that shit like he’s washing his car.” He said as he sighed looking at the pictures once more.

“Oh I’m sure..” I said imagining myself at the concert. “Do they play to big crowds?”

Lewis gave me a dumbfounded look before nodding his head vigorously, “Huge! Every single one of them are controlled by those guys, I’m telling you..”

“So what outfits are you making for them?” I asked as Lewis set the pictures down, as he got up.

“All for their shows mostly, specifically for the one coming-“ He paused with dramatic horror as his eyes bugged. “Chica!!! Their show is coming up!”

I gasped realizing he was right, remembering the billboard I had drove past on our way here. I feared the worst at his reaction. Did he not have all the outfits ready?

“Oh don’t worry. I’ve got most of them finished, I’m just finishing the bedazzled sequins on David’s chaps, and Michael’s cowboy pants.” He said as he grabbed my hand pulling me off the couch and into a separate room, that reminded me of a seamstresses room.

“Do you know hand stitching? Or bejewelling by chance?” Lewis asked as he unzipped a hanging bag and grabbed a pair of pants that by my astonishing surprise, were assless.

I smiled and laughed, nodding my head yes. As I rubbed a finger down the material “Yes, I love bejewelling! I always got As in that class in college.”

He grinned grabbing a container of crystals, and some sort of machine that imprinted them into the material. “Well great this bottom half still needs finishing. Also bear in mind that these are swarovski crystals, and I’d love if none of them get lost somewhere.”

My eyes widened as I nodded my head. He quickly showed me how to use the machine, before he made his way over to a pair of cowboy pants, and grabbed slashes of leather. “I’ve got to finish these up. Don’t worry we’ll have it all done quickly. I’ve got my friend Mari from the front desk she used to help me out, but she’s going to be help us on Saturday to load everything up to the venue.”

“Oh I met her at the front desk. She’s very nice!” I said laughing as I begun placing the crystals on the pant carefully.

“Oh she’s wonderful, poor thing won’t go to the venues anymore though...” Lewis said sighing.

“Oh really, why?” I asked. Curious if it had any thing to do with her bold words when she warned me about rockstars earlier.

“Poor thing, her heart got broken.” He said clicking his tongue, as I heard the sound of snips and tears as he worked.

“Oh.. By who?” I said.

He suddenly stopped as he gave me a look, “David.. He.. well I guess you could say they had a falling out. He wasn’t really interested in her, but she was completely in love.. I think he kissed her and well..”

“Dissed her?” I said as I frowned going back to my work.

“Yes, something like that. He played with her emotions a lot and well, she’s never been able to see him again.” Lewis said as he sighed.

“Is that why she was so stand offish about your clientele?” I asked

I looked over to see Lewis nodding, “She wanted to quit helping me out, but I told her she needed to find a way to balance her life again and so this is the only solution. That’s why I needed a new assistant. I can’t just pay someone to walk the outfits to the car and leave.”

I nodded in understanding, but what confused me, is why Mari would be so heartbroken she couldn’t even do her job properly. What exactly did that guy do to her? I hadn’t even met him yet, and he already sounded like an asshole.

“David’s very.. peculiar. He’s very eccentric, and sometimes that makes him a little insensitive at times. However, I think he means well for the most part. It’s understandable, ever since his claim to fame he would be more egotistical.” Lewis said as he continue to cut through the pieces of leather and sowed them onto the jeans.

I nodded my head in understanding, but I still didn’t believe that was a good enough excuse. Was he that clueless enough to not be careful with manipulating someone’s emotions? Something didn’t sit right with me, but I chose to ignore it until I got a better judgment.

“So what are the other guys like?” I asked Lewis, slightly humming to myself as I felt an onslaught of exhaustion hit my face as I realized that the road trip had definitely taken a toll on my body.

“Oh they’re lovely..wild... crazy as ever for sure..but a lot of them have different personalities.” Lewis said as I turned to him.

“Oh yeah?” I smiled.

Lewis laughed, “Yes, well Michael Anthony—he’s the bass player by the way— he’s a lot more calmer then the rest and very sweet, but so funny. He’s got a great smile.”

“Both the Van Halen brothers while they might be similar, they are polar opposites in a lot of ways. Eddie’s a bit more quieter, but is so cute and charming. Al is a bit wild, but he’s funny, and has a good time.” Lewis said.

“So you know them on a personal level?” I asked, realizing how familiar Lewis spoke when referring to Van Halen, and I had a hinting suspicion he was closer to them then what he put on.

Lewis laughed nodding his head, before shrugging. “I got the call almost a year ago that they wanted costumes, and I guess they liked my work so I continued. I’ve been to lots of there shows over the year, and their parties.”

I gasped, wondering how fun hanging out with celebrities would be. “Did you get to travel?”

Lewis smiled and nodded. “The best part was probably getting to go to Japan for a couple days, and a night in Sweden. I’m telling you they must ditch all the ugly people to Norway, because EVERYBODY was so attractive.”

I laughed, trying my best to picture the scene in my head.

We continued on for hours until I was just about finished, and my eyes were starting to fall from exhaustion.

Lewis noticed my tiredness and smacked his arm much to my humor. “Jeez, I’m a totally idiot! I totally got sidetracked! You must be dead tired right now.” He had finished his pants and was now cleaning up. he stood up and walked over to me signaling for me to get up.

I stood up smiling and laughing, “Are you sure I can’t help finish this last bit? I’m almost done.” I said holding my hand to my mouth as a yawn passed my lips.

Lewis frowned making a tsking sound, before grabbing my hand and leading me to my room. He turned on the light, and pointed to an adjacent door. “There is a bathroom in there, and a closet to the left side of the wall. Help yourself with a shower if you want, just don’t be in there too long. The neighbors upstairs run an indoor ‘kiddie’ pool, or some shit..”

I smiled suddenly getting the urge to hug him, so I did. Patting his back thoughtfully, before pulling away. “Thank you Lewis, truly.”

Lewis smiled, before grabbing my cheeks and squeezing them. “That’s what friends are for.”

I smiled, as he walked away before standing at the doorway giving me a happy smile. “I’m so glad you’re here, Rosie.”

I laughed, “I am too.”

“I want you to know that no matter what happens or where you go in life, I have full belief that you will excel in life. I see the passion for designing in you. It’s a wonderful thing.”

I blushed tucking my hand over my ears. Lewis beamed tapping the door softly with his hand, his rings making a solid thumping sound. “Goodnight. We will be up early tomorrow, I’ve got some of Van Halen’s tour designers coming to get the clothes ready for fitting, before the show. Mari will be here on the following Saturday.”

I nodded my head sighing loudly. “Sounds exciting. Goodnight.” With that Lewis closed the door silently, leaving me to breathlessly plop my body onto the bed, a slight creaking noise resonating through the quiet atmosphere.

I held my head in my hands, before looking up in exasperation. “Well I guess I’m fucking doing this thing.”

With that I prepared myself for the day ahead, that I had no doubt would be as eventful as they come.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

When morning came, I was ill-prepared from what would meet me through the front door.

Sure, I assumed that Lewis had a few designers he worked with and maybe they would bring in a rack of clothes, possibly some bags to help transfer them, but I had no idea the size of what the operation really was going to be.

So when a flank of men and women combined dressed in suits, and skirts came in with clothing racks of various styles of pants, shirts, and even scarfs I knew I had not prepared myself enough.

Lewis smiled brightly as the people came in, as I watched as a smaller figured girl holding a box of fabrics, with pretty brown hair struggle to keep up with the pace. I sprinted over to her, grabbing onto the other side to help her pick it up.

“Here I let me help you.” I said with a huff as I picked it up, much more effortlessly then I anticipated.

“Ooh!” I heard a cry come from the other side as we walked backwards over to a table and set the box down. I walked backwards to see the girl raise her eyebrows questioningly at me.

I smiled as I wipe my slightly sweaty palms on the side of my jeans as I raised an arm for her to shake. I could see hesitance in her eyes before she gave me a small smile and shook it.

“Hi, I’m Rose.” I said laughing as I stood back awkwardly. I couldn’t tell if she liked me or not from the odd look on her face as she stared.

She suddenly gulped as she nodded her head quietly. “I’m Annie.”

I smiled nodding my head. “Nice to meet you Annie. So, I assume you work with all these people?”

She shrugged shoving her hands into her pockets, “Yes well, it’s a way to meet ends. I love fashion.”

I laughed and smiled, but couldn’t help but turn at her odd comment. If she loved it so well, why did she say it as if she would rather be doing something else?

Her eyes glazed over, as I sucked in my cheeks at the awkward silence.

“Oh there you are!” Lewis said as she grabbed my shoulder, and looked over at Annie.

As if she was a brand new person, Annie suddenly smiled so brightly. “Hey Lewis!”

He laughed grabbing her into a hug, as she giggled wrapping her arms around him. I couldn’t help but frown slightly at her sudden bold and excited nature around him. Did she not like me? Why was she so cold and hesitant, but suddenly a new person around Lewis?

They pulled away from the hug as Lewis noticed my odd look, but decided not to comment on it. “Well it seems you guys met.”

I smiled looking over at Annie who had quieted down to only a small smile. The original glint in her eyes slightly coming back as she set her gaze back on me.

I laughed trying to cheer up the awkwardness, “Yes we have. Wow! I didn’t know this was all going to be as formal as it was!” I said trying to change the subject.

Lewis shrugged as he surveyed the busy room. “Believe me it wasn’t always like this, but we’ve all built up ourselves a lot over the past year. We’re closer then ever.”

I smiled, as he motioned for me to follow him into the room we were in last night working on the outfits. “So as you know this is my work room. We do most of the making here, and we also organize the clothing for before and after the fittings.”

I nodded my heads as the people from before stop there chattering as they all looked at me with curious expressions.

Lewis laughed, “Okay guys don’t bite. This is Rosie, my new assistant. She’ll be helping with all our preparations.”

The room immeasurably lifted as they all came walking over, a few girls laughing as they pulled me into a hug. Complimenting my hair and whispering how pretty I was.

One of the guys with a bright smile walked over embracing me tightly. “Lewis, you’ve got yourself a keeper.” He winked.

Lewis rolled his eyes trapping me in a playful arm lock, “Channing, she isn’t up for sale.”

His eyebrows quirked, “Really? So my man finally likes the front hol-“

Lewis turned tomato red, as he slipped his hand over Channing’s mouth. He laughed putting his hands up in mock surrender, as Lewis still recovering from his blush as he shook his head.

I giggled in understanding. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but many men in the fashion world tended to be, a bit blatant in their...preferences? I had a slinking suspicion that Lewis was the same way.

They all backed away, as I saw Annie who had been behind us quietly make her way over to the girls as they all began surveying the work.

“Wow! These chaps look great!” One woman said as she grazed her finger down the side of the seams.

Lewis winked at me, grabbing my hand and brought me over to the table where the clothes lay. “Well I happened to know a girl.”

The woman smiled, and looked at me in surprise. “The cross-stiching at the ends are impeccable! The crystals are placed wonderfully.”

I laughed as I shrugged, “It isn’t too complicated.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, “You’ve got in you girl. Id love to see some full ensembles.”

The other girl with red pigtails that reminded me of Holly giggled, “Yes, those outfits would for sure sell some more tickets to the concert.”

They all giggled in response except for Annie who only smiled, as her eyes glazed over in a thoughtful look.

“David’s going to love them. I just know it.” The woman said as she grabbed a hanger and clips from the rack as they all begun ensembling the outfits into bags and secured them.

“Oh he’s going to just love her, Molls” The One with red hair, said as she winked at me. “Have you met the boys yet?” Her eyes glinting with curiosity.

I simply shook my head, crossing my hand over my chest. “No, I haven’t gotten the chance. However, I’ve heard a few of the stories.”

“Yeah well, trust me they aren’t as available as you think they are.” I heard the quiet voice of Annie ring out as she stepped away from the rack.

Oh. I had wondered what her hesitancy was. Did she see me as some threat? I didn’t have the slightest idea as to why, though. I had no intention of even getting to know them, rather then actually..

Molly sighed sympathetically patting Annie’s back. “Babe, I just don’t think-“

“I don’t really want to talk about my personal life. I’ll bring some of the stuff down to the car.” Annie said with a tight lipped smile as she walked away.

The red head, noticed the tension and smiled, “Rockstars will surely be the end of all of us.”She walked over to me grabbing my shoulders. “I’m Liz by the way.”

I nodded, “Nice to meet you, Liz.” I looked over to the woman who had a small frown over her face. “You too Molly.”

She snapped out of her haze and gave me a wide smile. “Anytime, girl. We’ll be seeing each other soon.”

We heard thundering footsteps come into the room, as I looked over recognizing that it was Lewis, who must’ve slipped out the back while we are all talking. This time his signature smile was gone, as a deep perturbed looked etched his face.

“What’s wrong?” Molly said as she gave Lewis a concerned look.

“I just got off the phone with Noel. They’re all hungover as hell, right now. Apparently they all pissed somebody off at some bar.”

Liz snorted, “okay, that’s their regular Tuesday. What about it?”

Lewis sighed as he shook his head, “No, it was someone important I guess in the industry. Anyways, they’re kind of off the rails a bit still, at least David is. They had to put him in a..” Lewis then seemed to be battling his smile, as he bit a lip.

Molly gave him a humorous glance. “What?”

Lewis began laughing, “They had to put David in a straight jacket.”

I couldn’t help but smile along with the rest of group as we all snorted and giggled, at the idea of a rockstar being put in a straight jacket for being so off the walls.

I hadn’t even met David, and he already seemed like quite a character. What irked me even more is that I felt as if I did know him. I acted as if I was battling whether he was a weird guy, or just a gigantic asshole. I didn’t know what I would do when I met him. However, I knew it wouldn’t be a boring conversation.

I pictured the man in the magazine articles, his hair wild, like a mane of a lion. He had such a lustful look in many of his doctored, professional looks. However, I couldn’t help but admire the ones with him performing. That wild look, the giant smile, something told me deep down that, that was the real David. Under all the glitz and glamour, there was just a man going after one big dream.

I finally looked back at the people to realize only Channing, Liz, and Lewis had stayed in the room. I watched them all converse animatedly as Channing brought out a notebook and was hastily writing things down. They all seemed to be conversing about the outfits, as they all waved their hands widely with deep expressions.

I smiled realizing I had finally found my people. True artists. I walked over to them, as they wrapped up their conversation.

Channing smiled embracing me in a hug, “It was nice meeting you, Rose. I’m already counting the days till our next partnership.” He said as I kissed my hand, with a suave look in his eyes.

“Okay Romeo, back off.” Liz said as she laughed grabbing me in a hug. “We’ll be seeing each other in a couple days.”

“Really?” I said as I looked over at Lewis. He smiled nodding his head.

Lewis gave me a knowing look as he winked. “Chica, we’re seeing Van Halen. And I’ve got backstage passes.”

They all began to laugh as the day seemed to close with that single thought.

I was going to meet Van Halen.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[elenamcwrites]

folklore - a reading

If you’re a swiftie (officially not capitalized now), like me, you’ve probably been experiencing the mystical reverb and spiritual reckoning that is folklore. You’ve also probably been reading plenty of reviews and analysis articles--there are some stellar articles out there already.

Listening to the album is like lying in a meadow over the course of a summer day, afternoon thunderstorm, and the harsh sunset that comes afterwards, spiraling through memories and contemplation. It’s the best of the worst feelings you’ll ever have, and you can’t stop.

So, compulsively, I had to share my own interpretations and thoughts as I listen to the album again for the 7th time.

the 1 - Starting out with just piano, and then turning into what feels like a casual bop, the attitude of this song starts out very ‘I Forgot That You Existed’. And we hold onto that cavalier, ‘oh well’ attitude until... UNTIL. “If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.” That line starts the slow ache that builds through the end of the track and makes this song much more more layered and complex than the first song of Lover. Perhaps this is a more honest version of the same feeling. Swift digs deep into that nostalgic feeling, letting us vibe to the wistful wishing at the same time. And of course, there is foreshadowing in the lyrics--film, graves, rose, chosen-family, painting. All of these reappear later on in various songs on the album, and some have been themes from earlier albums, too (especially graves).

Highlight lyric: “In my defense I have none // for digging up the grave another time.”

cardigan - We start with a beat that sounds reminiscent of “high heels on cobblestones,” and it emphasizes this early imagery. Being young is one of the major themes of this song, even though it’s also part of the triptych of songs about a love triangle. The nostalgia feels more specific to young love generally than to the specific lover, asking us to wonder why we judge the young perspective so harshly. The song is an anthem to how much she knew about love, including the pain of it, despite what people say. Swift has shown a special appreciation for the wisdom and raw experience of youth, and this song is another classic defense of the teenage experience. The metaphors in this song are classic Swift, and the structure of this song is reminiscent of ‘All Too Well’--the chorus lyrics change just a bit each time, and we get a powerful, gut-punch verse at the end.

Highlight lyric: “I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs // the smoke would hang around this long // cause I knew everything when I was young.”

the last great american dynasty - ‘The Man’ was probably Swift’s first real feminist anthem, directly stating how sexism affects her career and the perception people have of her. But this song gets at feminism from another perspective. First of all, she’s telling the story of Rebekah Harkness, who was the heiress that lived in her Rhode Island mansion before her. She was a trouble-maker in her town, blamed for her husband’s death and for ruining the calm status quo of the old money neighborhood. It’s completely apparent that Swift relates to this experience, and she likely knew some of this story before she purchased her home. In telling the story of a powerful, interesting woman, Taylor is rebelling against the patriarchy in a slightly subtler way than her previous songs--though she still makes her point pretty clear. Swift cares about the herstory of her home, and she’s made this story iconic by including it on her album. It’s like she took the idea of ‘Starlight,’ but instead of retelling a happy love story, she used her powers for an even more important tale. Now, there are also two potential connections to note: Rebekah also went by Betty, and her maiden name was West. Just remember that. And of course, the theme of the mad woman returns later as well.

Highlight lyric: “who knows if I never showed up what would have been // there goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen // she had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

exile - I like to imagine this song as the follow up to ‘The Last Time,’ from Red. Both are duets, and they both have relatively simple, but strong chords as the primary musical backdrop. Where ‘The Last Time’ depicts a relationship at the cusp, moments before their final conversation, ‘exile’ is post break-up. She’s out with someone new, and we understand this is an unspoken conversation across a room. And the vibe of the songs fit with this progression perfectly. ‘The Last Time’ feels like anxious desperation, but exile feels heavy and depressingly final. We revisit the film motif, and there’s some potential connection to the archived ‘If This Was A Movie’. Now, is that intentional, or does Swift just really like movie imagery? Does it matter? The build in this song is arguably the best on the album, which I think is partly due to the style of the musicality, and partly because it’s helpful to have a lower voice to mix it up. This song sounds the least ‘Swift-esque’ to me--reminds me of Damien Rice most of all--but it still fits beautifully into the album. Also, lots of callbacks in here--town and crown are used a LOT in her prior albums. A few examples: “You traded your baseball cap for a crown” in ‘Long Live’, “They took the crown but it's alright” in ‘Call it What You Want,’ “Staring out the window like I’m not your favorite town” in ‘False God.’ Now, again, these could just be words that she loves to use (they also rhyme with a lot), or there could be some deeper connections. I’m guessing it’s somewhere in the middle.

highlight lyric: “second, third, and hundredth chances // balancin' on breaking branches // those eyes add insult to injury”

my tears ricochet - I’ll admit this song had to grow on me a little bit. Why? Well, I don’t love revenge-ballads. But, this is much more complex than LWYMMD, and like the rest of the album, it centers the more vulnerable side of her anger. This song is 100% about Big Machine Records and Scooter Braun. The funeral is for her--or the version of herself that died just before Reputation--and she is back as a ghost (or another version of herself) to haunt those who caused her death. It’s slow, moody, haunted... Everything you want from a bitter funeral march. The best part of this song is that she doesn’t solely pass blame. She shows off her self-awareness, which has become more common in all her music since 1989, but still very clearly places responsibility on Scooter for her ‘stolen lullabies’ (i.e. her masters). Swift claims this song is about young love gone wrong--but, death is a pretty intense metaphor, and given that she blatantly used it (for the first, and maybe only time?) to talk about her career, I don’t think anyone is buying it.

highlight lyric: “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace // and you’re the hero flying around saving face”

mirrorball - Maybe I’m just a biased toward romantic and nostalgic songs, because I don’t love this one either. (I’m sorry!) But, here’s what I’ll say: this song is still exquisite. It reminds me of the reverb-radio-vibe of the late 80s songs, but with the astral, saccharine flavor of the rest of the album. If you condensed the Miss Americana documentary into a song, this would be it. A reflection (get it?) of fame and her desire to be everything to everyone--to be well liked, to be the center of attention. The coolest thing about ‘mirrorball,’ to me, is that she hasn’t written a song quite like this before. It’s sort of a manic-pixie-dream-girl version of herself. Swift is telling us that she knows who she is, and that comes with seeing the less ‘pretty’ side.

highlight lyric: “I’m still a believer, but I don’t know why // I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try try.”

seven - Can you say haunting innocence? This is a great song for half-attentive listening in the sun, and it could almost be a lullaby. In Swift-lore, the theme of childhood shows up every so often, like in ‘Mary’s Song,’ ‘The Best Day,’ ‘It’s Nice to Have a Friend,’ and ‘Christmas Tree Farm.’ This one is definitely the most dreamy, and it is also tinged with that darkness that consistently underlies all the tracks on this album--“Are there still beautiful things?” Imagine a sepia filter, and that’s kind of what this song embodies. Some fans have wondered about this song as a possible hint to bisexuality and/or relationships with women in general. (See Kaylor fan theories if you want to dive deep.) I can see this--the childhood friend has braids, which could imply she’s a little girl, and they ‘hide in the closet’. However, it seems more likely to me that this is coincidence. Lots of kids play in their closets, and if the song is about the friend’s father being angry all the time (and maybe abusive?) hiding in the closet also makes literal sense. I think the imagery in this song is some of my favorite on this album. 

Another interesting point that I haven’t seen discussed so far is that Swift names this song ‘seven’ spelled out, yet uses the number ‘1′ in the first track title. The only other track she uses numbers in the name is ‘22′, which is about being 22. So, she could be trying to push past the idea that ‘seven’ is just about being 7 years old--though I do think it’s about that, too. She could also be intentionally connecting ‘the 1′ to ‘22′ in some way. They are both a similar vibe, and perhaps they even refer to the same time period in her life. If we go with that theory, who was T dating at 22? The most likely candidate for that timeframe is Conor Kennedy, which was sort of short-lived, and didn’t seem to end with as much fire as many of her break-ups. So, it’s possible that it’s about him. Or, maybe she just wanted to make sure we knew that ‘the 1′ was a concept she doesn’t really believe in anyway, and didn’t want to grant it the full word ‘one’. Will we ever know?

highlight lyric: “Before I learned civility // I used to scream // Ferociously // Any time I wanted”

august - It seems clear to me that this is the second song in the love-triangle narrative. I’ve heard people claim this is ‘illicit affairs’, but those people obviously haven’t looked at the lyrics. The narrator says ‘James, get in the car,’ which is directly connected to the lyrics in ‘betty.’ But, even without that obvious link, the style of august fits in with the stylistic choices of ‘cardigan’ and ‘betty’. All three have strong instrumental tracks complementing the vocals, soft harmonies, and lots of wistful lyrics. ‘illicit affairs’ cuts much sharper and deeper, but more on that later. Combining the dreamy vibes of ‘seven’ with the slight bop of ‘the 1′, this track is sticky--easy to get stuck in your head. The only thing I wonder about this song is how old this narrator is meant to be. They’re drinking wine, and she references going ‘back to school,’ which sort of feels like a reference to the college experience. But, the betty and james characters make numerous references that feel like high school. So, maybe this affair took place in another city with a college girl? I have to wonder if this is Swift referencing some of the age-gap relationships she’s been in. Again, with Conor Kennedy, she was 22, and he was 18. She also supposedly crashed his sister’s wedding in August, and that was the start of the end of their short romance. I’m just saying...

highlight lyric: “Wanting was enough, for me it was enough // to live for the hope of it all.”

this is me trying - If ‘The Archer’ was Swift confessing to her bad habits after a couple early relationship fights, ‘this is me trying’ is a desperate reminder a few months into the relationship. The two songs are sonically very similar, and I didn’t love the vibe (sorry, again!) the first time. But, I do love the artistic continuation. ‘this is me trying’ slows us down even more than ‘The Archer’ did, with a drum line that is almost like a heart beat, and it feels much less hopeful as a result. The lyrics are also some of the darkest I’ve heard from Swift--”I got wasted like all my potential” and “could’ve followed my fears all the way down.” My heart almost can’t handle this song, to be honest. She also references films again, but my favorite imagery connection is her standing over the lookout, which calls back to Rebekah looking out over the sea in LGAD.

highlight lyric: “and maybe I don't quite know what to say // but I'm here in your doorway”

illicit affairs - This song has that ‘All Too Well’ ache with a hint of ‘Death by A Thousand Cuts’ energy, and personally, I love it. You’ve got the busy instrumental strings underneath a simple, yet haunting melody line, and it’s that light, anxious tension that fits beautifully with the theme of the song. The lyrics depict the simple, small heartbreaking things that remind you of the pain you’re putting yourself through, which is reflected in the slightly surprising, soaring note at the end of the line in the verses. Whether you’ve actually been involved in an affair, these feelings show up in plenty of toxic relationships, and that universality is part of what makes the song powerful. The lyrics aren’t about pretty images, but that’s sort of the point. It’s prime Swift conversational lyricism, and you could pick out any number of lines that make a painful short poem all by themselves. 

highlight lyric: “and you wanna scream // don’t call me “kid,” don’t call me “baby” // look at this godforsaken mess that you made me // you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else”

invisible string - The primary love song on the album, this feels like a follow up to ‘Lover,’ maybe something she’d sing after being married a year or two. It’s sort of like ‘Mine,’ but much more mature, partly indicated by the pace of the song, which is steady and sure of itself. It’s also lovely to me that she’s returned to a bit of her country vibes--I ask you, would it feel like true end-game love for Swift if she couldn’t write a country love song about it? Back when she wrote country, all her happy ending songs were merely aspirational, and now they feel true. This is also 100% about Joe Alwyn, and to me, this is proof they have not broken up like some early reviews speculated. We also need to acknowledge that she’s past the Joe Jonas break up (um, good, that was ages ago) and is sending him and Sophie presents for their baby. I read a review that basically said this song seems a little too ‘all tied up’ for Swift, and that it doesn’t feel as genuine as a result. I sort of agree, but if we can take a sad song and accept that it isn’t how she feels 100% of the time, can’t we also do that with happy songs? Plus, she technically does say that it would be ‘pretty to think,’ which sort of implies it’s more a thought experiment than an actual belief. So, there’s that little twinge of sadness we needed to appease the folklore goddess. Oh, and of course, there’s a reference to Lover’s color scheme, saying time “gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies.” Which, many Kaylor hopefuls read as a reference to the Bi pride flag. To that, I just say... Maybe?

highlight lyric: “time, mystical time // cutting me open, then healing me fine”

Mad woman - My favorite thing about this song is the piano melody that happens in the background the whole song, working in concert with the main melody, but also completely independent (and haunting). It reminds me of one concept of madness--having multiple voices or thoughts going on simultaneously. But of course, it’s artfully and perfectly put together, which is the whole point. What could be perceived as madness is, in this case, what makes her able to create a masterful work of art. Now, this is also certainly a song about her masters, Scooter Braun, and Scott Borchetta. But it is also another feminist anthem. Women are taught not to be angry, not to yell, not to react with any emotionality otherwise we are discredited entirely. Swift directly calls this to attention by explaining that we’re angry for a reason--often antagonized intentionally until ‘you find something to wrap your noose around.’ She also makes the important point that women can also ‘hunt witches,’ and can be complicit in treating one another poorly. This is a reference to Scooter Braun’s wife defending him publicly against Taylor. Probably the most savage line is about the ‘master of spin’ having affairs, which she implies his wife knows about and seems to passively accept. But Swift doesn’t go too hard on her, reminding us that ‘no one likes a mad woman’, and that pressure is real. Could this ‘master of spin’ also be Scooter? I think probably. But I did read that some people are connecting this song to Hillary Clinton (she’s a scorpio, and the song references a scorpion sting), and that maybe Trump is the adulterer here... I feel like that’s a stretch, but I appreciate the interpretation.

highlight lyric: “What a shame she went mad // You made her like that”

epiphany - I suspect this song is directly related to how Swift is processing the current state of the pandemic. The atmospheric vibe with slow, clock-ticking beat in the background really feels momentous and poignant. Yes, she starts with images conjured from her grandfather’s stories of World War II, but she quickly seems to compare this awful battle to the doctors fighting COVID-19 on the frontlines in hospitals. The lyrics are simple, repetitive, and powerful. With so many ill literally struggling to breathe, the lines about breathing out really do hit especially hard these days. I can’t believe that wasn’t a thoughtful choice. The chorus is just barely hopeful, reminiscent of the numbness we all have to use as a coping mechanism to get through traumatic experiences. But it’s that little sliver of hope that makes the song even sadder--is that possible?

highlight lyric: “only twenty minutes to sleep // but you dream of some epiphany // just one single glimpse of relief // to make some sense of what you've seen”

betty - Give me all that Tim McGraw, Love Story, early Taylor pop-country. This song is definitely enhanced in part because of its connections to ‘cardigan’ and ‘august,’ but it stands strong on its own. It’s old news at this point, but James and Inez are based on the names of Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds’s daughters, so it’s all-but-confirmed that their third daughter was named Betty. Written from the perspective of James, there is massive speculation out there about whether the narrator is meant to be a boy or a girl. There are reasonable clues on both sides, so I’ll just say this: I love Taylor, but she’s always been a little late to the party when it comes to socialized ideas of male/female. Because of that, I don’t think she’d have a female narrator riding a skateboard. I also feel from the style of narration--“I don’t know anything;” “just a summer thing;” “would you tell me to go fuck myself”--it does sound more like stereotypical teenage boy language than what we know as swiftie teenage girl language. What I do like about this song, though, is that because it’s written from James’s perspective, it does sort of leave a wider opening for personal interpretation than some of her other love-story-like songs. The reason I personally love this song is that it’s mostly about redemption and forgiveness. Everyone has wished someone who broke their heart would write this song about them, and so it offers catharsis. Plus, it’s the only song on the album that truly feels happy at the end--thanks, key change! It’s refreshing and heartening, and it’s good timing, too. After the heaviest song on the album, we needed it. (Oh, and there’s a callback to the broken cobblestones from ‘cardigan’. And then he literally mentions her cardigan. So.)

highlight lyric: “if you kiss me // will it be just like I dreamed it? // will it patch your broken wings?”

peace - The vibe of this song is like laying on your couch in the summer with light coming in through the blinds and the ceiling fan is going around just fast enough to keep the warm air circulating, but not really cool you off. This song has a hint of ‘False God’ style, a little jazzy, but otherwise, it’s a pretty fresh feel for Swift. The message fits this thoughtful, lightly antsy feeling. She’s basically saying she wants to start a family with Joe (no, I don’t think she is literally pregnant yet) and settle down, but there is no real ‘settling down’ with her level of fame. I also think that Swift truly enjoys making music, performing, and engaging with her fans, and she doesn’t want to leave that life behind any time soon. So, she’s asking him if he can make that work. It’s, again, a mature vision of what a long-term relationship can actually look and feel like. Not all of us can truly relate to the burdens of fame, but there are other ways we can be unable to ‘give you peace’. No relationship is idyllic forever in the way romantic love often makes it out to be, and this song gives us a more realistic, consistent example. And just in case we thought this was just a nice song, the whole ‘clowns to the West’ is another potential Easter egg. In the lyric video, east is not capitalized, but West is. Most likely, this is a dig at Kanye. If we want to believe Taylor wasn’t being vengeful, it could potentially be a reference to Rebekah (West was her maiden name). I lean toward theory one, although it’s kind of amazing that it works out such that it connects to both.

highlight lyric: “but I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm // if your cascade ocean wave blues come”

hoax - (Phew last one--I don’t have access to ‘the lakes’ yet) Swift can’t end the album without bringing us all back to the raw emotional space she opened up within us. This song brings back similar piano lines from ‘mad woman’ and the image of screaming on the cliffside. Chronologically, ‘hoax’ feels like it takes place after or during the death of her reputation, i.e. the feud with Kim and Kanye, when she was still very vulnerable. Based on timeline, this seems likely to be either Calvin Harris or Tom Hiddleston. It could really be some combination of the two, since many songs aren’t really about just one person. My gut tells me it’s primarily about Calvin, since she’s referenced that they didn’t have a very faithful relationship--”your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in.” Both relationships travelled a lot--“I left a part of me in new york.” I’m guessing she’s referencing the feud with Harris over her writing credit on ‘This is What You Came For.’ She takes attacks on her career as seriously as hurtful relationships, and since she’s referencing being torn apart by the media when she says that “what you did was just as dark,” I think it’s likely that this also has something to do with hurting her reputation. It’s another hauntingly beautiful song, and you can totally imagine yourself out on that cliff looking at the midnight sea as the piano line ends.

highlight lyric: “you knew the password, so I let you in the door // you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score?”

---------------------------------------------

Overall, the album is my favorite of Taylor’s so far for two reasons: 1) the continuity in both theme and sound is stellar, and 2) there aren’t any songs that I don’t like. Usually, there are 1-3 songs on Taylor’s albums that are either forgettable or too on-the-nose for my taste. I’m sure that is a product, in part, of having to craft songs for radio-play and for her amazing, cinematic live shows. Having given herself the freedom to make whatever music she wanted without thinking (so much) about whether they’d top the charts or be good for a stadium concert, she made an album without a single ‘pop just because’ track.

Now the real question is... What will she do with the remaining 6 months of quarantine???

[ramblingsofamaddancer]

Dancing for Myself

I watched a video of myself dancing earlier. I don’t really do that, ever. Don’t tell my dance teacher, she’d go mental. “How are you ever supposed to learn the piece if you don’t watch it back? You think we film for fun? Watch, practise, learn!” I’d get a pointe shoe lobbed at my head. 

We’ve only just started online classes. I think we all (naively) thought this would be over sooner, so we’ve done odd bits here and there, done other people’s online classes, practised alone, tried to learn ballet syllabuses in our bedrooms. I didn’t realise quite how much I missed her and her choreo until our first zoom class and it made me so happy that I realised quite how unhappy I’d been. You don’t realise you feel numb until you feel something and realise that a whole piece of yourself has been missing and you never even noticed. After that happiness wore off, I’ve been numb again, but this time I know it. I think I preferred the ignorance. 

When I watch videos of myself dancing, I only watch the ones where I’m not alone, so that I don’t really have to watch myself, I can watch the others. I don’t know why. I couldn’t bare to see myself, in case I made a mistake or did something wrong. To me, I will never be good enough, and seeing myself potentially mess up would hurt more than it reasonably should. It shouldn’t hurt at all. I’m a student, I’m learning, I’m human. When someone else makes a mistake, I don’t berate her in my head. I notice it, ignore it, and think about how beautifully she dances. I wish I could do that for myself.

But when we did our lyrical class, I loved it, it was some of my favourite choreography that we’ve been given in ages, and I wished I could dance it in our studio, but if I could only do it in the kitchen, then that was okay too. I would dance it anywhere I could, if it just meant I could dance it. I set my phone up next to the laptop on the kitchen counter and set it to film so that I could watch back afterwards and make sure I didn’t lose a single step in my messy mind. 

I’ve known dance was important to me for a long time. It quite literally saved my life, and that’s not an exaggeration; had I not had a safe space in the studio when the world felt like it was collapsing around me, if I hadn’t had the catharsis of dancing until my mind went blank and I could forget, if I hadn’t had the support of my dance family and my teacher’s shoulder to cry on when I couldn’t pretend I was fine, I would be dead. That is a fact. People that watch me have told me that you can see in my face everything I feel while I dance. I didn’t really know what they meant until I watched myself after lyrical in the kitchen.

I saw the energy spreading through my body during warm up. Not hyperactive ADHD buzzing, more like seeing the colour coming into the leaves after winter. It was like you didn’t know the leaves had dried up and fallen off until you saw them again, and once you saw them again, you couldn’t possibly imagine how the tree had survived this long without them. But you didn’t even know they were gone until they came back. I saw myself smile when my teacher played the start of one of my favourite songs, which was of course sung by the same person whose song we used for my other favourite lyrical piece a long time ago. I really can’t decide if I love that one more than this new one. They are both beautiful, emotive, and I felt them more than I’ve felt anything else. 

I saw the way my shoulders rolled upwards as I lifted my head on the first counts, and it was like my lungs were filling with air after holding a breathe for so long that I forgot I was holding it, but letting it go was the greatest relief imaginable.

And what I saw, that I’d never seen before, that I’d never seen because I’d never looked, was that, for the majority of the piece, my eyes were closed. I hadn’t known I was doing it, I’ve never noticed myself doing it, so I couldn’t tell you if this is something I do often. I wouldn’t imagine so, as with the mirrors in the studio, and the other bodies around you, you have to stay aware of what’s around you. And you’re performing: you can’t go a whole performance with your eyes shut, you have to show with your eyes and your smile and every part of yourself what it is that you are trying to portray to your audience. But in that moment, I didn’t have an audience. I was dancing for myself, no one else. 

I’m not feeling brilliantly at the moment, and the brief moment of feeling good, feeling something, has made me realise that maybe I haven’t been feeling brilliantly for longer than I’d thought. It’s hard to recognise something when you’ve gotten used to it. 

My teacher had to take a moment after we’d finished because she couldn’t help but cry seeing us dance. There are a lot of people not feeling brilliantly at the moment. You are not alone. Find something that reminds you that it won’t always feel like this, and it will change your entire outlook. It’s hard now, but it will get easier. 

I have to believe this, because if I don’t, I think I may fall apart completely and irreparably. This is me, promising myself, that I’ll hold myself together and in one piece for as long as I possibly can.  

[grandtheftstarship]

Way Out There (Leonard McCoy x Reader) [Songfic]

A/n: So this started off really small for the song and then it ended up going nearly 1000 words on after the song ends... oops. You don’t really need to listen, the lyrics just relate to the idea of the fic and are written in, but Lord Huron is a bop and I really recommend it :) If you want to play the song, start the music at the bolded sentence. 

Summary: [y/n] finds out that the Enterprise crashed on Altimid and rushes to save Leonard, her boyfriend.

Word Count: 2226 Warnings: none :) Posted: Tumblr, Wattpad Requested: no

Link to Way out there by Lord Huron.

U.S.S Enterprise Missing.

The headline mocked you, grinning evilly from the page. Your eyes brimmed with tears, one person on your mind.

Leonard.

He was on the damn ship, and if you weren't recovering from Andorian Fever you would be too. Your chest tightened with grief at first, then loneliness then anger.

You readjusted your heading, now walking briskly towards Starfleet headquarters instead of the local Starfleet medical center. You knew Commodore Paris personally, she was a family friend, so hopefully, you could get in quickly and easily.

"Lieutenant {y/f/n] to see Commodore Paris," you told the receptionist, rapping your fingernails on the marble countertop.

"She's in a briefing, but they will be on break in a few minutes," she nodded at you, returning to her computer.

You thanked her and paced lightly in the adjacent waiting room. Five agonizing minutes later, the Commodore and several other Starfleet officials left the room, heading for the small cafe across the street. You rushed to her side, greeting her quickly.

"Do you have any information regarding the Enterprise?" you asked hastily. "Do you know who attacked them?"

"Nothing yet," she replied. "Do you have someone out there?"

You sighed looking down. "Yes. My boyfriend, Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"I see," she patted your shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you returned, fire burning in your eyes. "Commodore, I'm requesting a ship to go after them."

"Are you crazy?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I'm not letting anyone out there until we can confirm a safe way through the nebula."

"But Ma'am-"

"No, [y/n]," she said firmly. "Your request is denied. It's not safe."

The commanding officers returning to the briefing room caught her attention.

"I have to go now," sympathy softened her face. "I'm sorry."

She removed her hand and walked back towards the open door. You looked on after her, the heavy feeling of defeat settling in your chest.

Then a crazy idea hit you. An idea so insane, it fell into Jim Kirk crazy. And it could 100% get you fired.

I'm a long way from the land that I left

I've been running through life and cruising toward death  

If you think that I'm scared you've got me wrong

If you don't know my name, you'll know it now

I belong bodily to the earth

I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first

There are many more flames when mine is gone

They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Upon leaving the now empty waiting room, you made your way hastily towards the shipyard. You knew that there were a few small scout ships that were manned by one pilot. Filled with a newfound determination, you knew you would do anything to save your boyfriend. You swiped your keycard at the entrance. It was late and you didn't have much time before officers working there noticed a stray engineer attempting a case of "Grand Theft Starship". You tiptoed on board one of the survey vessels, shutting the door and getting straight to it.

I'm a long way from the one that I love

I've been tending old flames, lamenting what was

Drifting in a land time forgot

If you think that I've changed, you know me not

I belong bodily to the earth

I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first

I been unraveling since my birth

Gonna wander out there and see what I'm worth

Find me way out there

There's no road that will lead us back

When you follow the strange trails

They will take you who knows where

If I found a way to stay with you tonight

It would only make me late, for a date I can't escape

The vessel hummed to life, panic spiking through your core. You worked quickly, getting systems online like there was no tomorrow. As you engaged the thrusters, you began hearing the confused shouts of Starfleet officers trying to get you to land. Once you finally left the atmosphere, you cursed Bones and his stupid job. Rescuing his ass was so going to get you fired, and when you found him you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You were able to reprogram the maneuvering capabilities of the small vessel so you could get through the nebula unscathed. At warp three, you carried on.

Navigating through the nebula was one of the hardest things you had ever done. You managed to get through with only small damage to the hull, but your victory was short-lived. You eased the craft out of the cloud, jaw hitting the floor.

Find me way out there

There's no road that will lead us back

When you follow the strange trails

They will take you who knows where

If I found a way to stay with you tonight

It would only make me late, for a date I can't escape

Two nessels were floating aimlessly in front of you, the destroyed body of the ship not far from them. Tears brimmed your eyes as the saucer was nowhere to be found. You were distracted from your astonishment by the small beep of your sensor.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your scan of the planet below showed you three groups of life forms. One was large, seventy-five to one-hundred or so life signs, while the other two were much smaller. You decided on landing near the group of four, praying the small dots on the screen were your friends and crewmembers.

"Keptin!" Chekov shouted, scrambling over the rocks towards Jim, Scotty, and Jaylah. "There's a scout ship heading straight for us."

He slowed down to catch his breath, having caught the captain's attention. "It's federation, sir."

"Are you sure?" he asked, moving towards Chekov and his tricorder.

"Yes sir," he replied, pointing to the small figure on his tricorder. "I am picking up Starfleet frequencies."

The low hum of your thrusters and the low crackle of you entering the atmosphere drew the group's attention from the small device. You maneuvered the stout vessel to a bare plot of land not far from them, landing softly on the patch of rock. Jim led his miniature crew towards your stolen ship, all anxiously waiting for the metal hatch to open and reveal who was behind the sudden change in dynamics.

The door thudded open whilst you finished shutting down the power to save the small amount of fuel you had left in case you needed it. You nearly threw yourself out of your chair when you finished, anxious to see who was outside.

"[y/f/n]?" Chekov gasped, rushing to the front of the small pack. "Боже мой, это действительно ты!" (Oh my god, it's really you!)

He rushed forward, nearly tripping on loose stones, and tackled you in a hug. Pavel was your best friend, besides Bones of course.

"How are you doing? How did you get here? Are you okay- are you still sick? You should be recovering-"

"Slow down!" you laughed, nudging his shoulder slightly. "I'll explain everything, but you have some things to tell me too, mister."

"Okay, so here's what went down," he began, already waving his arms around enthusiastically. "Basically, I was expertly navigating through this nebula when these teeny little ships caught my attention-"

You smiled at the captain, waving slightly as Pavel babbled on about the attack while leading you across the jagged terrain.

"That would explain the torn up ship floating about up there," you nodded towards the sky. "Thank god this planet is class M. I can't even think about how horribly worse this could have gone if you had crashed on a planet full of toxic gas or something."

"It is already quite a terrible situation," he followed your eyes up into the wispy clouds. They reminded you of those on Earth. "I mean, the attackers took all the crew members that managed to get into their Kelvin Pods. If I had used mine any earlier, I would have been taken as well."

You shuddered at the thought.

"Who are you?" an unknown voice spat from behind you, the hostility dripping from the spoken words catching you off guard.

"This right here is [y/f/n] [y/l/n]," Scotty clapped you on the shoulder. "The best assistant chief engineer one could ask for."

"Aw, shucks," you punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I try."

"[y/n], this is Jaylah," Scotty gestured to the white-faced alien, looking a little ruffled. You waved.

"Is this another one of your mates?" she asked, a little less harshly. Scotty nodded.

"You betcha."

By now, your little group had reached Jaylah's house. They explained to you how it got there, how Jaylah found it, and why nobody else had stumbled across it.

You brushed your fingers over the ancient technology. "Wow."

"There's not even a sickbay?"

Jim shook his head. "Nope. Bones would be pissed."

You giggled. "Speaking of, where is he?"

You knew instantly something was wrong.

"Jim," panic rose in your chest. "Where is he?"

He avoided your eyes.

"H-He's fine, right?"

"We don't know where Bones or Spock are," Jim said finally. "They were in the turbolift when the saucer was separated."

"We will find him, [y/n/n]," Chekov patted you on the shoulder. "Somehow, one way or another, we will find him."

You, Chekov, and Scotty worked for the next several hours to reprogram the transporter modules to allow a person to be beamed aboard.

"Done!" you called from underneath the transporter pad, a low hum of electricity proving your statement.

"Ура!"(Hooray!) Pavel cheered.

"Well done, lass," Scotty congratulated you as he helped pull you out.

"It was nothing," you replied, brushing yourself off. "I mean, you guys helped too."

Pavel interjected before Scotty could respond. "Hold on, I'm reading some... life signs?"

You and Scotty hurried to the panel he was looking at, and sure enough, two life signs blinked back at you.

"Beam them," Scotty muttered.

You turned to him. "What?"

"We can beam them here!"

"But what if they're hostile?" Chekov asked, fear flashing through his eyes.

"Then we'll... beam them back?"

"Wait, there are more coming!" you pointed back to the screen.

"What if they're crew members?"

"That wouldn't make sense, lad!"

When the two of them started arguing, more signs of life began appearing.

"What the hell," you murmured, locking on to one of the signals. The transport sounded a bit more static-y than you were used to but as you and the boys turned towards the pad, a familiar face greeted you.

"Lieutenant [y/l/n]?"

"Spock?"

Before you could hug him (even if he protested), he hobbled off the pad as urgently as he could.

"You must beam the doctor out of there."

Without missing a beat, you thrust yourself back at the panel and locked on.

Once the strange noise faded, you felt your stomach drop in relief.

"It feels like my innards have been to a barn dance," Leonard said, looking a bit green.

"These old transporters were mainly used for cargo, but a bit of maintenance did the trick," Scotty explained, slapping him on the shoulder. "Sorry, we had to beam you one at a time, to avoid being... misplaced."

"I couldn't imagine a worse scenario," Bones looked around the room before letting his eyes fall on your worried-slash-relieved complexion.

Your legs moved on their own accord, propelling you into Leonard's waiting arms. He held you so tight you weren't sure how much longer you could breathe.

Suddenly, he pushed you out of his arms, brows furrowed in a grimace.

"What the hell, [y/n], you're supposed to be recovering!"

His face melted back into worry and he pulled you back into his embrace.

"I'm so happy to see you, love."

You giggled. "I'm so happy you're safe."

He then, more gently this time, released you from the hug and grabbed your hands.

"I'm still mad at you for trekking all the way to this goddamn planet," he scolded, wearing worried and frustrated expressions simultaneously. "Thank god you weren't on the ship or I'm pretty sure I would have died from a damn heart attack."

"I'm fine, you big silly," you reassured him. "But, I'm pretty sure Spock isn't."

His face paled. "Shit."

He placed a quick, chaste kiss on your lips before rushing off to treat his patient.

You smiled sweetly as he rushed off, simply ecstatic he was alive and well.

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 6

Sometimes Curly wishes the world would just slow down around him.

It’s been a year and a half since he moved away and he feels like he’s been far far away from home forever but like he’s been in his new home for no time at all. He measures time by his highs and his come-downs and (occasionally, when he opens his curtains or leaves his room in the daytime) the way the world looks outside.

It’s not intentional, and he checks back in when he remembers to, but it’s just a nasty habit he’s formed -- one of many nasty habits.

He doesn’t know how he’s still paying his bills but he is (just about) and he doesn’t know how he keeps managing to pull himself together before he sees his mum again but he does. Just about. He doesn’t really even know how he’s awake or even alive honestly, because he only seems to eat when he’s high and only sleeps when he’s facedown on the carpet or on someone’s lawn or in his own sick that one time (two times).

Some days he wakes up missing money he doesn’t remember spending, and others he wakes up and finds notes he doesn’t remember making. He goes to parties and is rarely sure that he leaves the same house he’d entered, or if he’s lost time again - stepped into a house, got wasted, closed his eyes, signed out, then signed back in again in a whole other location. Hours and sometimes days slip away from him.

The days get so bloody blurry and he only has a few fond memories (and some not so fond) to show for the last couple of months. He just feels a bit like he’s paralysed, trying his best to come to grips with what’s happening around him before it races right past, all blurred lights and high pitches.

Then it’s March. March is a new beginning.

“I know you.”

That solar eclipse comes to mind, the one he saw from Cornwall in ’99. The man reminds him of freckles, laugh lines and off-coloured roots. That kind of expression that, in the way it rests, could be a smile or a scowl simultaneously.

He can’t see any of that from his spot on the kitchen floor though, sat with Jules under the table, but he sees the back of the distressed denim jacket drowning the man’s short frame -- sees the words ‘HOAX’ printed on the back, and it brings him back to a party that is otherwise quite forgettable.

The man can’t hear him, not from down here, but something in his gut swears that his acknowledgment will pull some invisible tether in the stranger’s chest and have his body turning, his eyes meeting Curly’s across the room, dragging him over like some kind of Donnie Darko space-time continuum shit.

That doesn’t happen.

What happens is Curly winces when a needle slides beneath his skin, as another boy presses his mouth to Freckles’ ear, smiling about whatever it is he’s whispering.

A swarm of leather, denim and tattoo-clad arms engulf Freckles and his boy then. Soon there’s not an inch of Freckles left in Curly’s view, now blocked by chanting and cheering men. He’s sure he hears a litter of "happy birthday!”s as he waits restlessly for them to slowly break away, allowing the man to come up for air, grin and all.

He sees Jeff ruffle Freckle’s hair before he’s shoved away playfully, further than Freckles looks like he has the strength to push, met shortly after with the blond’s middle finger.

“‘Kay Curls, you’re good,” Jules says with a nudge.

He’s warm all over; that good kind of ache that comes right before a shiver. He hums as he falls back onto the ground, thick, tight curls not quite cushioning his fall as effectively as he’d expected. He blames the Christmas haircut, not even close to grown out yet.

He knows it isn’t the time or place to be doing this.

He listens to Jules talk for a while, to him and to other people whose voices Curls doesn’t recognise. Time flies as he stares up at the underside of the kitchen table, breathing steady as Jules make deals beside him between conversations. It’s not until around an hour later, when his high is finally easing that he stops drawing shapes with his fingers on the wood above his head and crawls out from beneath the table.

Jules has disappeared. The kitchen is busy, the noise suddenly apparent now that he’s emerged from his hiding spot.

He loves all of the songs at this party and whispers the lyrics to himself as he bobs about the house, weaving through the crowds contently. Nobody really talks to him tonight because anyone that would usually buy from him has already brought from Jules. He’s not really sticking to any one place for long enough for anybody to spark up a conversation anyway.

He watches his mucky white trainers shuffle between boots and shoes, careful not to step or trip over anyone as he keeps himself busy exploring. He gets locked onto an ornament of a hippopotamus in the lounge for a while, before he drags himself away, forces himself to move on. Curls promises himself that he’ll be allowed to inspect the intricate details of the wooden carving later on, when he’s not seeing doubles and blurs.

Jules is probably elsewhere by now and Curly is bored and alone, stood in the corner of the kitchen with scissors in-hand. He’s busy watching a pair of black Dr Martens shuffling about a few feet away.

The scissors prod his belly as he snips at the front of the shirt he forgot he was trimming - remembers thinking about it but doesn’t remember starting. “Woops,” he whispers.

He only blinks and then black boots are right beside his trainers and suddenly there’s a hand covering his own.

“Hey- Hey!” Fingers wrap around Curly’s, tattooed knuckles stilling him as a voice asks, “what’re you doing, champ?”

He looks up and Freckles -oh, it’s Freckles- is frowning, even when Curly explains, “crop tops are back in. Just cuttin’ it.”

Freckles jacket’s gone now. He’s wearing a plain white shirt but it’s ripped on the shoulder and near the bottom and he’s got tattoos peeking out from the sleeves but they’re nothing like Curly’s; they’re large, flowing pieces that interlink as opposed to his own sticker-book skin.

Freckles huffs with a nod, humouring him and snapping him out of his daze in the process as he pries the scissors from his hands.

He suggests, “alright, well how about I do it for you, hm?”

Curly grins. “Well, how about that?”

Freckles chuckles a little, at him rather than with him, but it looks so nice on his face, like he’s been saving it for a special occasion.

Freckles says, “I’ve seen you drink more than you’ve breathed tonight, and weren’t you smoking with Dean before you set up shop under the table?” Oh yeah, he forgot about all that. He wants to defy the man’s judgement, say that skin popping is really nothing, and that they shared the hit under the table so he’s at no risk really, but Freckles has more to say. “You’re definitely not in the right state to be tailoring your own shirts, Curly.”

“I’m Curly.” He watches Freckles cut nice, straight lines through the grey fabric of his shirt. “I mean— How did you know that?”

“Jeff told me about your X? I saw you at—“

“I remember. You were there and then you weren’t.”

Freckles looks like he’s trying to de-riddle this. “Glad to know one of us was there,” he says, but Curly forgets to react because he doesn’t get it. “… Cool. So, yeah. And Dean was just telling me how you’re a pro at blackjack. Says I absolutely should not agree to play against you.”

He laughs and Freckles stops trimming the shirt until Curly’s belly is still again. When he continues, the man mumbles, “I’m Jordan, anyway.”

“Jordan,” he echoes and hopes he doesn’t sound as wasted as he is.

Curly’s always been bad with names, either too quick to forget or too unsure to dare call anyone by their name for a long while. He’s not sure he’ll forget Jordan’s though, because everybody seems to know who he is, patting his shoulder as they pass and telling him happy— “Oh,” Curly pipes up again. “Your birthday.”

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow. Twenty-two,” Jordan supplies with a nod, and he’s opening the drawer now and putting the scissors back. “Looks good. A little wonky at the sides, but it kinda adds character.”

“I’m shit at cutting. M’left handed,” Curly explains, waving his hand as if it proves the fact.

The man nods again, pulling loose thread from the new raw edge of Curly’s shirt. “Take it the new hair cut wasn’t your own doing, then,” he says as he steps back, assessing the man’s hair. He’s just reaching out to touch. “I like—“

“Jordan!” A man that Curly doesn’t know throws his entire body weight onto the blond, sending him stumbling half-way across the room as he says “man, you look ancient.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Jordan grumbles as they half hug, half wrestle across the room.

Curly manages to push himself up onto the counter, leaning back against the cupboard behind his head as he watches them muck about, knocking beer and kicking stools. He’s left feeling smug as he scratches his head because Freckles was absolutely about to say he likes his barnet.

“You wouldn’t believe he’s twenty-two, would you?” A soft voice steals his attention, and he turns his head to his side where a young man rolls blue-grey eyes before he smiles up at him. “Such a kid.”

He recognises him from earlier, whispering something to Jordan that made them both smile. He wonders what it was. He wonders if Jordan felt the man’s lip ring when it was pressed to his ear.

“He’s funny,” he replies simply, not sure what the stranger is looking for. He doesn’t really know much more about Jordan than that, and he’s pretty sure the guy’s not actually tried to be funny yet.

This new pretty boy with golden hair has warm skin that glows under the bulb hanging from the ceiling of the kitchen. His face is all soft angles and smooth skin and Curly wonders how the fuck someone his age (presuming this bloke is around his own age) manages that, because his own skin is covered in small scars from old nicks and break-outs and fuck knows what else.

“Funny,” Goldie repeats as he flicks his hair out of his face - it falls in glossy waves, just brushing over his ears. He looks a bit like one of those fit modern-day vampires, Curls thinks, except instead of drinking blood, he probably drinks eight pints of mineral water and eats his five-a-day. “Is he?”

He squeezes his eyes shut ‘cause maybe he’s just seeing this guy through beer goggles, but nah. He’s pure beautiful. Pretty is a good word for it... Pretty bloody annoying. Especially when Curly’s sat in a DIY’d crop top with eyeliner smudged over his cheek and rum soaking into his jeans.

Curls forgets again to respond but the man laughs anyway and Curly wishes it was a nasty sort of laugh, just so he had a valid reason to dislike him - a reason that wasn’t jealousy.

“Anyway, this is my cue.”

He watches Jordan’s boy cross the room to pull the man from his friend, and Jordan ends the scuffle with a fond shove and a “see you later,” as he’s lead towards the door by Goldie. He manages to call out, “see you around, Curly,” as he’s lead out of the room.

It’s a shame really that Curly didn’t get to speak to Jordan until so late on in the night because that happens to be around the time things start to get hazy for him. If he did bump into him again, he can’t recall.

In the taxi home (because that’s all he can really attest for, memory wise, after Jordan slipped away) Jeff’s saying something to Dean along the lines off “shame Curly thinks he’s too good to come out with us properly,” and says Jordan’s name somewhere in the blur of words that follow.

Curly says “he’s my mate, he is,” turning in his own seat at the front to face his friends. He hugs the headrest as he smiles dopily into the back on the car.

Dean says “you only met him tonight, Curls.”

Jokes on him, Curly thinks, because they met before tonight, and that’s got to count for something.

He sleeps on their couch again that night, because they can’t be arsed with doing the maths for the split taxi fare. That and Curly thinks he might have dropped the key to the flat down the kitchen sink at the party.

[rkdoyoung]

✧ ✧ ✧  ━━━━━━━  & 헤어질 준비가 안됐어, WAIT A MINUTE                                               기다림은 너무 길은데 HAS NO LIMIT   —                                 TELL ME WHAT IS LOVE by D.O & YOO YOUNG JIN

note ! hover over song title for timestamp; click for outfit

he’s rooted in place after hearing his name, mind spinning, dizzying, making everything seem so surreal. he doesn’t even know how to react, nothing but a vague smile on his lips and the slow clapping of hands, and though he can’t see himself, he know he’s got an unmistakable look of disbelief on his face, but he can’t manage to shake it. there’s so much talent in the room, even from the fifty who have been eliminated, that he can’t believe he’s made it through.

but then it hits him. he’s heard his own name, hears hyojin’s, has heard every single name announced that’s moving on to the next stage, but the one name he wishes he’s heard, even above his own, is kim seungmin. eyes immediately dart to his side, only to find that seungmin has already made his way out. mindlessly, jooyoung follows after his little brother, guilt and panic and empathy all flow through his veins in a heavy concoction, clouding his mind as he reaches out and grabs his brother by the arms to stop him.

tears, he expected, perhaps anger, a deep frown, something, but what he gets is an inexplicably blank expression. jooyoung doesn’t know what to do. he’s never known what to do, and perhaps that’s one of his greatest flaws, and definitely one of his greatest regrets. he’s never known what to do with seungmin, how to fix this gap that’s only been growing over the years, how to make up for all the time he’d thrown out the window when he was living overseas and away from his family. he doesn’t know.

so he does what comes to mind first. he draws his brother into a hug, only holding onto him tighter when the younger struggles against him, and the crying starts and all jooyoung can do is continue to hold him in his arms and wait. wait as seungmin sobs and cries and lets out all his frustrations and anger and disappointment. there’s nothing he can say to help the situation at this very moment, so he remains silent, hoping he’s helping, even if just a little bit.

after it seems seungmin has calmed down a bit, jooyoung goes to find hyojin, and the three of them get into the car. it’s a quiet ride, and seungmin is still wordless even as he gets out of the car and into his apartment. to see his own little brother like that, to be so clueless as to how to help, how to make it easier or better, it breaks his heart.

if there were some way he could trade places right now, to give up his spot so that seungmin could move on, he would. he would give it up in a heartbeat.

but as cruel as it sounds, the show must go on, and he has a lot of work to do. he has to keep going, try even harder, make it as far as he can because seungmin couldn’t, because they had denied his little brother the opportunity he deserved, and yet here he was, so against living the idol lifestyle he wasn’t even sure if he’d take a contract. no one could ever be sure that if he hadn’t auditioned at all, it would mean seungmin would have gotten in, but it doesn’t matter. now he has has to continue on. he has to make it count.

he dedicates a whole night after work to going through his music library, letting it play on shuffle, writing down potential songs to sing for the next episode. he’s gone through several sheets of paper filled with lines and lines of songs, and he’s begun to think he’d have to spend another night doing just this, but then that song begins to play. a smile slowly curves on his lips and his body begins to sway to the smooth r&b tempo. it’s one hundred percent his style, but still palatable for the general public, and is a song that would be able to showcase his vocal talents more than the previous song’s mashup.

the rest of the week he spends practicing, using every chance he has to sing: at work, he’s working his vocal cords between clients and during meal breaks, at home, he’s belting during chores, cooking, and he swears he’s even begun singing in his sleep. for the first time in his life, he’s even started practicing in front of a mirror, watching his expressions, making sure he’s giving off exactly the impression he wishes.

the day before the recording he spends trying to relax, hoping it’ll help him with his nerves for the actual day of the episode filming. he calls off of work and sleeps in for most of the morning, then spends lunch at a dog cafe for a couple of hours before heading home to play some video games. before bed, he has a cup of herbal tea and even puts on a face mask, something he hadn’t done in months due to pure laziness about skin care.

the day of the recording, he manages to remain calm on the drive there, but as soon as he’s standing outside of the building, he’s hit with a wave of memories that brings back every nervous emotion he’d experienced on the first broadcast filming. the amount of contestants left is only half of what it had been, making the space seem bigger and him feel smaller.

the most notable difference, though, is that his little brother is still nowhere to be found. this ignites a newfound sense of invigoration within him, reminds him that he has someone to perform for, even if seungmin won’t be watching. with a sharp inhale, he walks inside and takes an empty seat.

while waiting for the show to begin, he sees a shadow come over him, and he stares upward to see none other than choi minho, the man whose man tiddiez he’d been blabbering about in the interviews last week (thank god they hadn’t aired any of that). immediately, an almost nervous smile blooms on his face as he bows in greeting.

“hey, do you have ig?”

the question posed to him throws him off for a split second, because it’s not what he expects at all. after a short recovery, he nods his head. “yeah, @iankim,” he responds. it’s not long until his phone chimes, and he fishes it out of pocket to see not only a friend request, but a dm notification as well.

can i slide into that seat next to you like i slid into ur dms

he bursts out into laughter at the message, nodding his head in confirmation as he sweeps his hand over the empty seat next to him. “it’s all yours, man,” he says rather than types back. he takes the next few moments to go through the man’s instagram before casually leaning over with a cheeky grin to say, “anyone ever tell you that you’re a thirst trap?”

he’s glad for the distraction that minho’s presence provides as they go through each other’s instagrams and make fun of each other’s posts because time goes by quickly, and before he knows it, the time for the performances to start has begun. he tries his best to keep his energy at a steady medium, but the closer it gets to his turn to perform, the more nervous he gets. he’s done auditions before, but it’s never been this bad, fists wound up tight in an effort to keep himself from falling apart.

hyojin goes up just before he does, and he gives just as much gusto cheering for his cousin as he did last week, perhaps even more now that he has one last person to cheer for and embarrass. he’s thankful that he has someone he knows going before him; it gives him a sense of home, as if they’re both just hanging out at a family gathering, singing without any of the pressure, enjoying themselves.

when it finally comes his turn to perform, he takes a deep breath and looks to his left side to see mason sitting there. for some reason, his fellow contestant’s presence helps calm him even more, the thought of their exchanges earlier pulling an amused smile onto his face. just as he’s about to make his way on stage, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he has half a mind to ignore it. there’s something tugging at his heartstrings, though, and he chooses to pull it out as he’s walking toward the stage. what he sees fills him with a renewed strength and confidence, and a wide grin blooms on his face as he texts his little brother back.

the first two times, he’d used his guitar as a crutch, using it for comfort and as a sort of buffer in case they decided his voice alone wasn’t good enough, but this time, he’s left both his instruments at home, and he hopes his decision to do so won’t come around to bite him in the ass. this time, it’s just him, the audience, the microphone, and his voice, and he hopes it’s enough.

“hey, what’s up? it’s me, ya boi. kim jooyoung.” he introduces himself again, apparently never tiring of making references to videos or movies he’s scene that may or may not go over the judges’ heads. “i intend to show a different side of me today. i hope you like this side, too.”

with a smile, he settles into place, and the music begins. the intro is filled with adlibs by the original singers, and he takes liberties with the section, deciding to completely forego the original and go with his own adlibs and vocal runs, putting his own flare and feeling into it, showcasing what he thinks is the best of his abilities while still keeping up with the natural tempo and feel of the song.

나를 사랑하지 않는 너를 잊은 채 as i forgot about you who doesn’t love me 하고 싶었던 모든걸 하고 살아도 i live doing everything that i wanted to do 머릿속에 넌 절대 지워지지가 않아 i can’t ever erase you from my head 도대체 why?

he’s never quite experienced the exact feelings the lyrics portray in the song, but he’s definitely felt that deep emotional rut before, of being unable to forget, of being haunted by memories he’d no longer be able to experience. he channels that instead, using his tumultuous ups and downs with his search for fame and fortune as the emotional basis for his performance. after all, that feeling of hitting rock bottom is the same for everyone, no matter the source.

대답 없는 널 자꾸 불러도 i keep calling for you but you’re answerless 메아리만 돌아와… and only echoes keep coming back to me…

he immerses himself in this universe, of being left in the dark by someone or something that he loves, the loneliness, the denial, the hatred and anger. his eyes close as he sings, his hands coming up to grasp at the microphone, seeming to caress it as he sings into it. his eyes open, gazing directly into the camera as he cups the microphone in one hand as the other goes down to grasp at the actual stand, holding onto it tightly as if he would never let go. it’s a stand in for what he sings and yearns for in the song, using the microphone as a prop to further engage the audience and himself.

내 눈을 보며 말했던 like you told me while gazing into my eyes 두 글자가 낙인처럼 아파 와 the two letters hurt like humiliation 내 맘이 그걸 알게 됐는데 my heart finally knows oh, tell me, what is love? tell me, what is love?

the chorus serves as a natural climax to his performance, emotions escalating as the push behind the lyrics does, his body swaying naturally to the rhythm. his inexperience with love helps here as he asks the question of what love is because he is certainly unsure, in all aspects, of what love is. 

tell me what is love

as the song comes to a close, he belts out one last adlib, holding the final note and letting it fall in an effortless decrescendo just as the music does. once both the music and the sound of his voice have completely disappeared, he allows his hands to slide off the microphone and drop to his sides, still in character, dejected and alone.

he stands there for a few moments, basking in it all, absorbing the moment to remember it forever, not knowing if this will be his final performance on this stage or not.

he may not know what he’d do if given the opportunity to sign with a company or not, but he’s certain of one thing: he doesn’t want this to end, and perhaps that’s a sign. perhaps it doesn’t matter how or with whom he signs.

perhaps, in the end, he’s happy as long as he’s performing. any stage is enough.

[ghostbukkae]

Spaceship (Oneshot)

I wrote something that wasn’t porn. I know, I was surprised as well.  Some fluff between Aether and a nameless sister. Spaceship and its lyrics belong to Kesha, the greatest human being to ever live.

I'm waiting for my spaceship to come back to me It's coming back for me I don't really care if you believe it's coming back for me

Aether saw her on the hill outside the woods almost every night. Then again, he didn’t look that direction every night, so she very well could have been standing on that hill staring at the sky every single night. This evening at dinner, the earlier curfew was implemented. It happened every year at this time, as the days grew shorter. However, this sister was just shy of a year of having joined, so when the ghoul spotted her in her same spot, he made his way over to her. The woods held all sorts of nasty things and all the human clergy really needed to be inside at nightfall.

As Aether approached, he cleared his throat, so not to startle her. The girl smiled at him before returning her gaze to the ever-darkening skies.

“The sun has started setting earlier, Sister,” the ghoul reminded. “Curfew is an hour earlier now.”

The girl turned around to look at the illuminated clock face on one of the looming towers of the monastery.

“I have a few more minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll run inside,” she assured.

Aether paused for a moment, but the girl made no move to leave. He decided to ask. They had talked quite a few times before, so it wouldn’t be terribly rude of him.

“Sister, maybe it’s none of my business, but I have to ask; why are you always up on this hill? I see you out here almost every night.”

“It’s a bit of a long story. I don’t normally tell anyone though, I don’t need anyone making fun of me for it.” She explained, not taking her eyes off the sky.

Aether snorted.

“When have I ever made fun of you?”

“Never, but I’ve also never told you this story,” she countered.

They stood in silence for a moment before the girl started.

“When I was around 11 or 12, I snuck out of my house after everyone else went to bed. I walked to the cliff about a mile south of us so I could jump off of it.”

She stopped speaking and regarded her companion cautiously, looking for a reaction to such personal information. The ghoul hadn’t moved, so she continued.

“I was crying, harder than I think I’d ever cried in my whole life. I looked up into the sky so I could see the stars one last time. I was so far away from any other lights. They looked so brilliant. I felt like if I could just walk up into them everything would be ok. But I knew I couldn’t do that, so I went to the very edge of the cliff, and right as I was about to jump, these four big lights came out of nowhere. They were way too big to be stars. I was scared for a second until I felt very warm, like I was being hugged. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so hopeless anymore. I stopped crying immediately. And then I heard a voice. It was in my head but it was someone else’s voice, if that makes sense.”

She stopped again to read Aether’s face, which had remained unchanged.

“It said ‘Wait. We’ll be back for you.’ And then they disappeared.”

She paused.

“I didn’t tell anyone about it, since I wasn’t supposed to leave the house so late. But, when I got older, I heard other people talking about aliens and UFOs and I knew that’s what I saw on that cliff that night. Does that sound stupid?” She asked anxiously, this time keeping her eyes on the sky.

“No. I can’t say I’ve heard anything like that before, but it doesn’t sound stupid.”

“So many people told me it was that I just stopped telling people,” she said softly, her eyes tracing treetops. “So, don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Of course not.”

Aether saw the girl visibly relax, letting go of tension she didn’t know she was holding.

“So, you wait for them here?” The ghoul asked.

She nodded.

“I don’t know why they need me to stay here, but they do. I’ll stay right here until I’ve finished what they need me to and then I’ll go home with them. Then, maybe, all the pain and loneliness and heartbreak will make sense and it will all have been for some bigger purpose greater than myself and I’ll never have to feel so small and alone ever again.”

The last remaining light of the sunset shone in the single tear trailing down the girl’s cheek. As it ran down her face into the ground, the sun followed suit.

As the first stars started to twinkle, the girl jumped. “Oh no! I missed curfew!” She panicked, looking around at the surrounding woods, which had grown dark and forbidding.

Aether wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Relax. I kept you out and I’ll make sure you get back inside in one piece.”

He started walking the both of them inside, thinking quietly about her story. It hadn’t been what he expected, to say the least. Halfway back to the stone sanctuary, the sister stopped and looked back behind them into the vast night sky.

“Do you think they forgot about me?”

Aether was quiet for a moment. Despite being so intimately involved with the void of the universe, he hadn’t even given aliens much thought. As far as he knew, they didn’t exist.

“No. There’s no way they could have. They didn’t save you all those years ago to forget you now.”

The girl hummed contently in response and leaned her head into his arm for the rest of the walk back.

“And, I know I’m not an alien, but I can keep you company until then.”

With that, the girl gave him the giggle he needed to hear. Aether looked up for a moment just in time to see a bright light streak by the corner of his eye.