#i need a pair of black combat jumpers so fucking bad.

[dollc0llector]

steps on your fingers just to hear them snap

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 26

Title: Preparations

Warning:  it’s filler.  I figured we needed some cute daddy Tyler. lol

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @miss-smutty​, @tragiclyhip​

“When you met mumma, you guys were working together, right?”

Addie poses the question as she sits atop the kitchen island; legs swinging back and forth as they dangle over the edge, the heels of silver and gold glitter infused jelly sandals lightly thumping against the wood. She insisted on bringing one of her favourite pairs of shoes from home; arguing that she didn’t care that they were ‘out of season’ and that she would wear what she wants, when she wants, and no one could tell her otherwise. In the end they’d gone perfectly with the new ‘Christmas’ dress she’d picked out Bloomingdales; a vibrant yellow concoction with capped sleeves embellished with strips of lace, a sash around the waist that ties in an enormous bow at the back, and an elaborate tulle skirt several layers thick that shimmers in the light. Forgoing all the burgundy, emerald green, and red dresses that had lined the regular priced racks in favour of an outfit from the leftover and highly discounted summer section. It was a hill Esme hadn't been willing to die on; preferring that Addie showcase both her independence in choosing her own outfit, and being proud of her personal style and preferences. And it suits her; as bright and adorable as her personality with just enough ‘no fucks given’ sprinkled on for good measure.

While tiny and seemingly fragile, she can be extremely assertive and adverse to any form of compromise; tenacious to a fault and digging her heels in and sticking to her guns when she feels she’s one hundred right about her stance. Even if there’s mountains of proof to show that she is, in fact, completely wrong. Someone so stubborn and feisty lingering inside that cute, wee package; able to hold her own while out playing with her older siblings and not afraid to get a bloody nose or a fat lip or a black eye. And not deterred in the slightest when she DOES get injured; right back to what she was doing only hours after getting stitches or a cast removed. Not shying away from climbing trees or splashing in mud puddles or helping muck out the goats stalls while wearing clunky rubber boots paired with a Disney princess dress. Very much like her older sister had been at that age; enjoying being physical and active and playing sports and rough housing one minute, then showcasing her more ‘girly side’ the next. Loving trips to the salon with mummy for manis and pedis; enjoying picking her own shade of polish and then getting to sip orange juice from a champagne glass while getting a facial and her hair trimmed. Collecting dolls along with various rocks and shells and beach glass. Superhero figures taking up residence on her bedroom shelves right alongside stuffies of her favourite animals -koalas, sloths, and kangaroos currently at the top of the list- and snow globes from different parts of the world. Her closet filled with not only frilly dresses and sparkly leggings and colourful sweaters emblazoned with unicorns and french bulldogs and flamingos, but old hand me downs from her brothers; ripped and faded jeans and tattered t-shirts and board shorts.

“Right,” Tyler confirms, as he tends to running a brush through her waist length hair; damp from misting it down with a spray bottle in order to easier part it into sections.

It’s a far cry from his old life; his beaten and busted up hands with their multitude of scars and calluses once used to being soaked in blood and caked with dirt. Large and weathered with misshapen knuckles, they’d long ago gotten accustomed to hard, manual labour and the brutality that he’d had to inflict on others; fists that pummelled bodies and faces and fingers that pulled triggers and wrapped around throats and choked the life out of combatants. And while they still get caked in mud from working around the house and they’re still entrusted to load magazines and are capable of taking a gun apart in thirteen seconds flat, they’ve morphed into other uses. Beginning with diapering babies and tending to the impossibly tiny snaps on jumpers, buttons on little sweaters, and zippers on sleepers. Moving on to tying kid sized shoe laces and cleaning and patching up skinned knees and elbows. Advancing to far more difficult hair styling techniques than the simple ponytails he’d began affixing on Millie when she was a toddler; various styles of braids adorned with ribbons, and snapping barrettes and clamping clips into place.

Being a girl dad is unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The six short years -despite the little time he’d actually been home- he’d spent with Austin had prepared him for raising boys. His son, when healthy, had been extremely active and fearless and full of curiosity and energy; getting as messy and as dirty as possible and loving every second of it. Obsessed with superheroes and sports and always clad in clothing that displayed his favourites; football jerseys and baseball caps and sweats emblazoned with Superman or Batman logos. He had been terrified twelve years ago when the news had come in that Millie was in fact going to be a girl; not only envisioning frilly dresses and a closet full of pink and those ridiculous headbands parents insist on putting on their infants, but thinking back to his own treatment of women. The days when he’d used them for nothing more than sex; random strangers picked up in bars or that he’d meet on the street in whatever city a job sent him to. A failed marriage; putting more of a priority on the military than he did on treating his wife properly. And all he could think about was how having a daughter was somehow a punishment for the bad shit he’d done. A little girl that he’d have to protect from guys like him.

It was hard to get used to; big fingers having to master putting in tiny earrings and tending to impossibly small zippers and buttons , getting comfortable with the amount of pink and purple in their rooms and closets. Eventually graduating into attending tea parties and playing with Barbies and helping make crafts; getting used to paint on his palms and between his fingers and glitter stuck under his nails and in his hair and beard. Determined to be a hands-on father even if its activities are way outside of his comfort zone; gymnastic meets and dance recitals as opposed to lacrosse matches and football games. Being a girl dad isn’t for the weak; having to worry about your little girls’ hearts being broken and if the guys they pick will treat them right and if they themselves will make smart and responsible choices as teenagers. And the hormones; the up and down emotions and the drastic switch from bitchy to overly sensitive. Having a wife go through it once a month is enough. never mind the thought of three other girls. The worry of how he’ll handle not only the emergence of puberty, but if all four female ‘clocks’ decide to sync up. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle THAT; all the women in his life going through the cramps and the moodiness and the demands to be coddled and babied one minute and left the fuck alone the next.

“Does that mean mummy beat up and killed bad guys too?”

“No. She never did any of that stuff. That was my job, not hers.”

“What did she do?”

“She tracked down the bad guys. And where they were doing mean things to good people. Then she told me...or guys like me...where they were so we could go and take care of things.”

“So you could go and kill them?”

“You don’t always have to kill people. Sometimes it’s enough to just rough them up a bit.”

“And other times they fight back and try to hurt you and you have to hurt them first?”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you killed a lot of people?”

“Not that many," he lies. It's actually a staggering amount; the death toll -from his hand alone- in Dhaka putting the count well over three hundred.

“How many is ‘not that many'?’”

“I don’t know, Peanut. I’ve never kept track.”

“But you’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. That’s what mummy said when I asked if it was true. If Tyler was lying when he told me you kill people for a living.”

“That’s a while ago. That you asked mummy that.”

“I was three. That’s a whole two years ago. But sometimes I think about it. Especially when you go away. I think about you having to kill people.”

“And what do you think WHEN you think about that? About what I sometimes have to do?”

“I dunno know,” Addie shrugs, and then lifts the spray bottle clutched in both hands and holds it towards her face; giggling when she pulls the trigger and catches some of the mist in her mouth.

“Does it bother you? When you think about it? That I’ve killed people? That sometimes I still have to?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Kind of a hard thing to hear, don’t you think? That daddy has to do stuff like that?”

“It’s your job. It’s what you do. You have to hurt people to save other people. And sometimes, if they try and hurt you first, you have to kill them. Because if you didn’t, they might kill you and then you never come home and we never get to see you again. It’s not THAT hard to hear. I’d rather you kill someone and come home than never see you again.”

“You know,” he plucks the spray bottle from her hands and dampens a section of hair. “You’re pretty smart for only five.”

“Smart like mummy.”

He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Cute like her too.”

“Are you going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Who would I get in trouble with?”

“God. Isn’t that one of the things we’re not supposed to do? Kill people?”

“How do you know about that? We don’t talk about that stuff at home.”

“I hear things. At school. Some of the older kids talking. Are you? Going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Probably,” he admits. “I’m sure I’ll face some kind of judgement for it. When my time comes.”

“But wouldn’t it be okay ‘cause you only kill bad people? That were hurting good people? Wouldn’t that be allowed? And if you had to kill someone so you could come home to us, wouldn’t that be okay too?”

“I don’t know,” he snags a yellow cloth ribbon off the island and begins braiding a section of hair around it. “I’ve never thought that far ahead about things.”

“It would suck if you got in trouble for helping people. That wouldn’t be fair at all. If you got sent to hell for doing stuff like that. I mean, you were doing something GOOD. You weren’t doing something bad. You HAD to kill evil people to help good people. And to make sure you come home to mummy and us kids. I can’t see you getting in trouble for something like THAT.”

“Doesn’t make much sense to me either. But not a lot does anymore.”

“I’ll be really mad if you get in trouble and sent somewhere different than me. I don’t want us to be in two separate places. I want us to be together. All of us. You and mummy and all us kids. I don’t want us to all be separated. Well, maybe Millie could be. Because she’s mean to me. All the time.”

“Millie is going through some stuff. She’s going to be a teenager soon. A lot of drama leading up to THAT.”

“She says I’m annoying. That she used to really like me when I was a baby and couldn’t do anything. But now I can do lots of stuff and I can talk and she says that pisses her off. That I’m a bratty little sister.”

“You are NOT bratty.”

“Right? That’s what I said. She’s bratty if anything. Am I annoying, daddy? Don’t lie. You can tell me the truth.”

“You are not annoying. If anyone is annoying, it’s Millie.”

“I said THAT too! But she’s mean. She even threatened to cut my hair off. Shave it. Because I couldn’t find my brush and I borrowed hers and she didn’t like that. So you know what I did? While you were gone?”

“What did you do?”

“I took the tops off two Oreo cookies and I ate the middle and then I put in mayonnaise and I put the tops back on and gave them to Millie. I told her I was being a good little sister and bringing her a snack. And she put a whole one in her mouth! She almost puked!”

He can’t help but chuckle. “You actually did that?”

“Yup. It was awesome. I laughed so hard, I almost peed! But then she started chasing me around the house threatening to kill me. Mummy was screaming at her to lighten up, that it was just a joke. And then she told mummy to shut up and Tyler got mad. REALLY mad. He tackled Millie and grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face into the carpet. Then he put her in a figure four leg lock and made her cry.”

“Millie told your mom to shut up?”

“Oooops…” Addie tilts her head back to look at him, a sheepish smile curving her lips. “....I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

“Who told you not to tell me? Millie?”

The five year old shakes her head.

“TJ?”

Another shake, followed by a tiny “No.”

“Addie…”

“It was mummy! She said not to tell you because you’d get pissed off and you didn’t need to. Because she took care of it right when it happened. Well, Tyler did. He was really, really, REALLY mad. She learned her lesson. I’m sure of it. He made her cry. Lots.”

“Did that happen a lot? Millie getting mouthy with your mom?”

“Not really.”

He stares pointedly down at her.

“A few times,” she reluctantly admits. “She said some things that were really mean. To mummy. And she said the F word once, too. Mixed with the B word.”

“She said that ? To your mom?”

Addie chews nervously on her bottom lip. “Yeah, she called her an f-ing B word.”

“What did mummy do?”

“She didn’t get a chance to do anything. Desi freaked out. And he’s really big and he can be really scary when he wants. Like you. Desi told her that she should never, ever talk to her mum like that. And that you’d be really mad if you found out. And that she’d rather deal with him than you. Which is true. Desi might be bigger than you, but you’re definitely tougher. I mean, he doesn’t kill people for a living. You do.”

“Things were pretty bad, huh? While I was gone.”

“A little. Millie went off the reservation. Big time. She’s lucky she’s even breathing. ‘Cause Tyler was ready to kill her. And I don’t blame him. You’re mad, aren’t you. Are you mad, daddy?”

“A bit.”

“You know how I can tell? That you’re mad? Your neck moves. Right here,” she reaches up to press to fingertips against the side of his throat. “Where the bad guy shot you a long time ago.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Mummy told me. I asked her how you got that scar. She said that a long time ago, her and Ovi were in trouble and you had to get them out of a really bad place. And then you made sure they were safe and sound, but a bad guy shot you. In the neck. And that’s why you have the scar there.”

“Did that scare you? Hearing that?”

“A little, I guess. I mean, you could have died, right?”

“I could have, yeah.”

“And then you and mummy never would have gotten married. And had kids. Millie would be the only one to exist. None of us would. So yeah, that part scared me a bit; that the bad guy could have killed and none of us ever would have been born. Did you kill him?”

“Eventually.”

“Mummy said she stayed with you. After it happened. And that she went back to Australia with you and that’s how she ended up there. It’s where you guys got married. And had Millie and me and Kota and Brookie. That we were the ones born there. So we’re REAL Australians, like you. Everyone else is American.”

“Everyone else WAS American. You’re all Australian now.”

“How does that work?”

“A lot of papers you have to fill out. To become a citizen. But you all are. Mummy and I made sure of it.”

“Is mummy an Australian too?”

“By marriage, yeah.”

“It’s a good thing she married you. You’re a lucky guy, daddy. That someone like mummy fell in love with you.”

“I am,” he confirms. “Very lucky. She’s a pretty good mummy, huh?”

“She’s the best mummy EVER. If we could pick our mummies, I’d pick her. Because she’s nice and she gives good cuddles and kisses and she tells the best silly jokes. And she’s super smart and really cute too. And little! Like me!”

“That’s where you get from. Being so cute and wee. You’re just like your mumma.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles broadly up at him; the corners and the bridge of her nose crinkle. “And that’s a good thing, yeah?”

“A very good thing,” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers; smiling at the way she throws her head back and giggles.

He’s seen her mother do that exact movement and expression a number of times; excitement while on the rides at Disney World with the kids, when she’s had one too many glasses of wine and even his terrible ‘dad jokes’ are suddenly hilarious, when they’ve been on one of their ‘mommy and daddy’ vacations and she’s gotten up the guts to try something new and exciting; emboldened by his encouragement and forever feeling safe and secure as long as he’s by her side. So much of Esme in the tiny little girl in front of him; tenacious and ferociously intelligent and loving deeply and fearlessly. Knowing the darkness and the horrors that exist in the world but not allowing herself to be tarnished by it; always finding ways to smile and laugh and find the beauty in every day.

“What do you think mummy would have done if she didn’t do the job she did?” Addie inquires, when she finally drops her head back down and he’s able to return to tending her hair.

“I don’t know. Teach? Be a nurse? Maybe a doctor?”

“How would you have met her? If she didn’t do her old job?”

“Maybe I would have met her on the beach. In Australia. Maybe she would have come there on a vacation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would have gone to where she used to live. In Chicago.”

“She used to live in Colorado. That’s where she was born and where she grew up. Chicago is a totally different place.”

“She used to live by the mountains. When I was in her tummy, you guys lived on a hobby farm. And you had goats and chickens. Mummy says we still own that house.”

“Yup, we do. We rent it out.”

“Can we go there one day? I’d like to see it. I’d like to see where you guys were living when I was in mummy’s belly. Is that where I was made?”

“We’re pretty sure that’s where it happened. Not many other places it could have been.”

“Maybe we can go and visit. And I can see where I was made. That would be fun. I want to see the mountains.”

“Maybe one day.” He finishes up the first braided pigtail, securing it with an impossibly small elastic before turning his attention to the other section of hair.

“If you met mummy a different way, would you have still liked her? Would you have still fallen in love with her?”

“Yup. Why wouldn’t have I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person. Still would have been the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Do you think she still would have fallen in love with you?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Would sure suck if she didn’t. Your mumma is pretty special, Peanut. She’s the love of my life. Took me until I was thirty five to meet her.”

“You were married before, though. To Austin's mom. You didn’t love her?”

“I did. But not in the way I love your mum. Your mum? That’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Grow really, really, REALLY old with. It’s a whole other kind of love. And you know what? It’s not easy to explain. You just know what you feel.”

“Imagine if things were opposite? If you went to Colorado and met mummy instead of her meeting you in Australia and working with you? And then you would have stayed there; where the snow and the mountains are instead of the beach and the ocean. How come you moved? Why didn’t you guys stay? Where the mountains are?”

“Things changed. We weren’t happy there anymore. We needed to get away. Go back to the place where we were the happiest.”

“In Australia?”

“Yup.”

“That’s where I’m happiest too. I love it there. I love how warm it is; the sun and the sand and the water. I like the sound it makes; listening to it when I’m trying to fall asleep. And I like how the beach feels; between my toes and when I let it run through my fingers. And I love my room and my toys and my school and my friends and all the goats and our pigs and our chickens. And Charlie. I love him the most. I love making him peanut butter sandwiches. I’d miss him the most. If we had to leave. We won’t have to leave will we, daddy?”

“I don’t see why we would have to.”

“I don’t ever want to leave Australia. It’s perfect there. It’s where I was born. And where you were born too. We have that in common. We were BOTH born there.”

“Yeah…” he grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “...we were.”

“I mean, we have other stuff in common too. Because you’re my dad and that means you helped make me so that means half of me is half of you. The other half is from mummy. And we both love surfing. And animals. And Vegemite. I LOVE Vegemite. It’s sooooo good.”

“Speaking of Vegemite, was it you that left the Vegemite and Nutella sandwich for Santa?”

Addie giggles. “Maybe…”

“Why would you ever put the two of those together?”

“Tyler made it for his school lunch once and he let me try a bit and it was really good! So I thought Santa might like to try it. Part American, part Australian.”

“You know, that’s pretty genius. And it worked. I tried a bit and it wasn’t bad.”

“Right?! You wouldn’t think it would work, but it does. Somehow. Kind of like you and mummy.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“You and mummy are so different. You’re really tall and big and she’s really short and small. Like, you know how mummy is a morning person? She’s always really cheerful and smiley? And you’re not? You’re moody and miserable. A total grump face! And you don’t like to talk until you’ve had your first coffee. With three shots of espresso in it.”

“You notice all that stuff?”

“I notice everything. Mummy says I’m very observant. And that I have really good instincts. Like you. She says ‘cause my tummy tells me if something is right or wrong. And yours does too. You know how else you and mummy are different?”

“How?”

“Mummy talks to everyone! She’s very talky talky. A chatterbox.”

“Geez,” Tyler grins, and tugs playfully at the completed pigtail. “I wonder who ELSE is a chatterbox?”

“She’s a social butterfly. She makes friends everywhere she goes. People like her. Because she’s so bubbly and cute and she makes peoples hearts feel warm because she’s so nice to them. You’re more serious. You don’t talk a lot. At least not to people you don’t know. People are scared of you sometimes. Because how big you are and because you got all the drawings on you and the scars and stuff. They think you’re mean. ‘Cause of all that.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think you’re just daddy. I KNOW you’re not mean. I KNOW you’re a nice guy. I KNOW you give awesome hugs; your arms are big but they feel nice and they wrap all the way around me! If people really paid attention, they’d see that you’re nice. You have soft eyes. They’re blue and they’re pretty and they’re kind. Especially when you smile and they go all crinkly. If people really gave you a chance, they’d see you’re not scary at all. You’re only like that if you HAVE to be. If bad people are near mummy or us kids.”

“Are you ever scared of me?” It’s a recurring thought; if his children ever pick up on the worry and the tension and the fear that comes with his issues. It’s a feat some days; forcing himself out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other. Wanting nothing more than to stay under the covers and surrender to the exhaustion that comes with doing battle with his own mind every day. But his family is his number one priority, whether it’s a good day or a horrible one. And he’ll ‘fake it until he makes it’ as long as his children and his wife know that they’re loved; provided and cared for and made to feel safe and protected.

“Why would I be? Why would I be scared of my daddy?”

“Well, you know what I do for a living. You know what I’ve had to do to people. Does that scare you?”

“Nope. Because that’s just your job. It’s not who you are. When you come home, you’re just daddy. You take us bike riding and hiking and swimming and surfing. And you help us find rocks and shells and you let me sit on your shoulders when we walk on the beach or go into town. And we take naps. On the hammock. I love our naps on the hammock.”

He smiles. “So do I.”

“Sometimes I get a little worried. When you get upset. Or you and mummy argue. I don’t like when you guys argue. I always worry that you’ll hate each other. That you’ll get a divorce. And then you won’t live with us. It makes me sad when I think about that.”

“You don’t need to be sad, Peanut. That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to go and live somewhere else. I’m going to stay right where I am; with you guys and your mumma. And just because we argue? That doesn’t mean we’re going to hate each other. I could NEVER hate your mum. And I’m pretty sure she’d say the same thing about me. We love each other. Very much. Divorce is NOT something you need to think about. But do I ever scare you? Have I ever?”

“I don’t have a reason to be scared of you. Because you love me. You’d never hurt me. I never worry about that. Not even when you yell and your voice gets REALLY loud. I know you’d never do anything mean to me. Just to bad people. And I’m not a person. I’m a GOOD person.”

“You definitely are. You’re a VERY good person. An amazing little person.”

She smiles. “Like mummy.”

“Just like her. More than even I ever realized.”

******

“Addie…” TJ singsongs as he saunters into the kitchen, both hands tucked behind his back. “...what are you doing?”

“Tyler!” She cheerfully greets, and excitedly waves to him with both hands. Her entire face lighting up at the sight of her second favourite male in the house

She’s become extremely close to her oldest brother during her five years on earth; idolizing him and turning to him for help and comfort when daddy is either caught up with one of the other kids, tending to work related matters, or out of the house -and sometimes even the country- all together. And TJ dotes on her in return. Spoiling her and babying her ever since she was an infant and he was always more than willing to help change her diapers and give her feedings. In awe of how tiny she was and how she’d look up at him with so much adoration. He’s the quintessential older brother; patient and loving and ready to kick anyone’s ass that dares messes with her.

“Look at my dress! It’s the one I picked out when I went shopping for mommy. That I kept a secret. Isn’t it awesome?”

“Awesome just like you. It’s really pretty, Ads. Your favourite colour too!”

“Yup! Mummy bought it for me. She said it’s perfect for me. For my personality. It reminds me of Belle’s dress. From Beauty and the Beast.”

“Looks a little like it, I guess. But you know what? It’s even prettier. And you’re more beautiful than Belle. WAY more beautiful.”

“Really?” she gasps, and a noticeable blush creeps into her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You really think so?”

“I REALLY think so. Belle has nothing on you. You’re the prettiest princess EVER. Way prettier than ANY of them.”

“Oh goodness!” She clamps both hands over her mouth in embarrassment, then giggles into them. “Like mumma? Just as pretty as her? Mumma is the prettiest EVER.”

“Just a smaller version of her.” TJ leans in close and presses the tip of his nose against hers. “Guess what I have? What you forgot in my room?”

“Adeline!” she cries, when he reveals the item he’d been keeping behind his back. And she snags the doll from him and showers its head and face with kisses as she clutches it tightly to her chest. “Adeline! I’m sorry I forgot you! I didn’t mean to!”

“I kept her safe for you,” TJ says. “So Declan wouldn’t grab her. You know how he likes to get a hold of dolls and torture them. I didn’t want him getting her. She’s way too pretty and I know how much you love her.”

“He’s mean to my dolls! He’s always taking their heads off and putting their arms where their legs should be and crazy shit like that.”

“Hey,” Tyler frowns, and tugs on the half braided pigtail. “What did I say?”

“No bad language. Especially on Christmas Day. I can’t help it though; sometimes it just slips out. If you didn’t swear so much around us kids…”

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus.”

“You swear A LOT, daddy. Especially in the car. When other people don’t drive fast enough or use their blinkers. If mummy knew exactly how much you DO swear around us, she’d be mad. REALLY mad.”

“Your mum has a worse mouth than I do.”

“As if!” Addie scoffs, and he can’t help but smile; easily hearing Esme’s voice and picturing the expression on her face; the corner up her mouth and her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes slightly narrowed. “Thank you, Tyler!” She curls an arm around her brother’s neck, squeezing as tight as she can. “You’re the best! Thank you for keeping her safe from the Ginger. You’re the best brother EVER! I only trust you with her. And daddy. That’s it. You guys are big and strong and will keep her safe no matter what.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” He addresses his son as the latter moves to the fridge, pausing in the braiding of Addie’s hair to survey TJ’s wardrobe a pair of ill fitting and impossibly baggy jeans, an enormous untucked dress shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a loose pink, purple, and grey striped tie.

“Your pants. And one of your shirts.” TJ reaches into the fridge and grabs a carton of chocolate milk and a jug of white. Closing the door with his hip and carrying them to the counter by the sink; pouring a mix of both into a plastic tumblr retrieved from the dish rack and then snagging two straws from the cupboard. “Mum told me to. She said none of my clothes were good enough for Christmas dinner. All my jeans have holes in them and all t-shirts have to do with surfing. We’ve never had to dress up for Christmas dinner before. Why do we have to start now?”

“Your mum’s trying to make things perfect. To avoid drama. With your grandmother.”

“Too late. Grandma brings drama with her. And drops it on everyone else.” He drags a bar stool across the floor and places it in front of his little sister. “Here Ads,” he holds the cup in front of her. “A yellow straw just for you. So you don’t have to share my germs. Let me hold it; so you don’t spill anything on your dress.”

Giving a delighted squeal and a smile of appreciation, she takes a pull from the straw. “I think you look handsome, Tyler. You’re growing up. You’re going to be as big as daddy soon.”

“It’s going to be a while before I’m THAT big. But I’m going to work on it. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m going to lift heavy too and put on ALL kinds of muscle.”

“Then you can go after bad people too. And beat them up and kill them when you have to.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Something tells me mummy might have an issue with that.”

“Why doesn’t mum just tell grandma to get lost?” TJ inquires. “It’s not like they like each other. They never have. They’ve always fought. I remember how they’d get into it at Christmas. When we were still living in Colorado. Grandma would get drunk and she’d pick fights with mum and mum would fight back and cry and then you’d go off on grandma. Is that going to happen this year? ‘Cause it’s been nice and quiet at Christmas. Do we HAVE to listen to grandma's shit?”

“What did I just tell your sister? About the language?”

“She’s five, but she’s right. It IS hard to stop and it does just come out. But do we, dad? Do we really have to put up with her?”

“It’s one night. I think you can manage. If I can grin and bear it, so can you. Suck it up.”

“If she starts in on mum about ANYTHING, I’m going to lose it. That’s my mum. No one talks to my mum like that. I almost taught Jacobi a lesson. For calling mum cute and wanting to ask her out. I’ll teach grandma a lesson too. I’m not afraid of her.”

“If anyone is going to teach her a lesson, it’s going to be me. You stay out of it. Your mum wouldn’t want you getting into it with her. You’re TEN.”

“Doesn’t matter how old I am. That’s MY mum. And no one is going to treat her bad. We’re supposed to protect her, remember? You and I.”

“You’re supposed to be a kid and stay that way as long as you can. I’M supposed to protect your mom. And I think I’ve been pretty damn good at it for the last twelve and a half years. And if your grandma starts? I’ll stop it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why does she hate you so much anyway? Is it still the same crap? How she’s pissed because you stole mum away from her family and moved her all the way to Australia? ‘Cause you got her pregnant before you married her?”

Addie scowls. “Who cares? Lots of people have babies and they aren’t married. And so what if mummy didn’t go back home and she stayed with daddy? She’s an adult. She can do what she wants. And she wanted to be with daddy. None of grandma’s business. I’mma tell her that too. If she starts saying mean things about daddy or mummy. I’mma tell her what for.”

“You’re not going to do a thing,” Tyler informs her. “You’re going to leave all the telling off to me, got it?”

“I don’t like her,” Addie says. “She’s not a nice person. She has a mean smile. And her eyes are empty. They don’t sparkle or anything like that. Are you sure that’s mummy’s mummy? Because when mummy smiles, her eyes sparkle. She LOOKS happy. Grandma? She just looks mean.”

“No one likes her,” TJ grumbles. “Best thing we ever did was get away from her. But IS that why, dad? Is that really why she doesn’t like you? Because she still thinks you stole mum and took her all the way to Australia?”

“It’s a few things.”

“I bet it’s the job too. I bet she really has a problem with THAT.”

“Again…” Addie huffs dramatically. “...who cares? So what if daddy kills people? They’re BAD. They deserve it. He helps good people and sometimes when he’s helping them, he has to kill the bad guys. I don’t see a problem with that. If they try and hurt him or kill him, he HAS to kill them first. So he can come home. To us. And mummy. It only makes sense.”

“If Ads can get it, ANYONE can,” TJ says. “She’s only five. What’s grandma? A hundred? If a five year old can get it…”

“Daddy makes the world a better place because he gets rid of the bad people,” Addie continues, as she takes another sip of the drink her brother offers her. “If we had less bad people, everything would be great. There’d be less wars and less people getting hurt and everyone would love one another and be happy. Daddy’s doing a good thing. By sticking up for people. Like you do. At school. You beat up the bullies when you have to. Remember the older kid that tripped me and shoved my face in the mud? Remember him? He’s in grade eight AND you kicked the crap out of me. Because he picked on me.”

“You’re my sister. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And remember that other guy? On the playground by mummy’s store? The one that pulled my hair and told me I was adopted because I’m small and I don’t look like any of you guys. You freaked out on him and made him apologize and scared him away. He’ll cross the street now if he sees you coming.”

“You can’t let bad people get away with doing bad things,” TJ reasons. “If you don’t stop them, they’ll just keep doing bad stuff.”

“Exactly! So it’s a good thing that daddy goes after the bad guys. Grandma needs to learn. And she needs to learn TODAY. You should tell her, Tyler. You should tell her off. You’re not scared of anyone.”

“Not being scared of anyone or anything is not always a good thing,” Tyler informs her. “If you’re not scared, you don’t take a situation or people seriously. That’s when you get hurt. And you know what? No matter how big of a bad ass you think you are? There’s always a bigger one out there somewhere. Believe me. I’ve learned THAT lesson the hard way.”

“The guy who shot you just got a lucky one in,” TJ reasons. “You were already hurt. You weren’t one hundred percent. Some guy had already shot you, hadn’t he? A sniper?”

“What’s a sniper?” Addie inquires. “Is it like Swipper on Dora? Something like him?”

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Tyler says. “You don’t need to know that stuff. Not until you’re older. WAY older.”

“A sniper’s a guy that hides somewhere and shoots you,” TJ replies. “Somewhere where no one sees him. It’s why they’re so dangerous. You don’t even know where they are. They just shoot you. And they kill you before you even know what happened.”

“But daddy didn’t get killed. If a sniper shot daddy, shouldn’t he be dead?”

Combing his hand through her bangs, Tyler tips his daughter’s head back. “What did I just say? About you not needing to know about this stuff?”

“I’m curious now. Tyler said they hide and shoot people and kill them. How come you didn’t die? If a sniper shot you?”

“I guess he didn’t manage to get a good shot in.”

“It was the other guy that almost killed him,” TJ says, and takes a sip of the concoction in his hand. “The one that got him in the neck. That’s when he almost died. Mum saved him.”

“How? How did mummy save daddy? Daddy…” she swivels around in her stool to face him. “...how did mummy save you? Did she shoot the bad guy back?”

“Mum stuck her fingers in his neck,” TJ says. “To stop the bleeding. Or he would have bled to death.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “She DID?”

“When you’re older, MAYBE I’ll tell you more more about it. But for now…” Tyler places his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back around. “...you don’t need to know this stuff. And you…” he stares pointedly at his son. “...don’t talk about this around her. She doesn’t need to know about this. She’s a baby still.”

“I’m not a baby!” Addie objects. “I’m five! I can almost ride my bike without training wheels. Babies can’t do that.”

“Just don’t, alright?” He addresses TJ. “Don’t talk about this stuff around her. Because she’s going to repeat all of this and she’s going to repeat it to your mum and that won’t end well. For you OR me.”

“It happened though. I mean, it’s part of how you guys met and got together and ended up getting married and stuff. It’s your history. I don’t see why…”

“I said ENOUGH. No more. Not around her. Got it?” He’s on edge; the mere mention of Dhaka and the incidents on the bridge playing straight into the anxiety and the panic he’d felt the night before; when he’d woken up from the nightmare and been on the verge of losing control and had turned to the fentanyl for relief. And it scares him; how easy it had been to not only access the powerful med, but actually take it. He’d encountered no resistance or hesitation; remorse and guilt not setting in until the following morning when he’d woken up and it had been the first thing on his mind. It’s alarming how quick things can return; an addict’s mind and behaviour.

Nodding, TJ holds his hands up in surrender.

“You’re both going to be nice tonight,” he says, and finishes Addie’s final braid. “To grandma. Because your mum is already stressed out enough and we don’t need to make it worse for her. So if the best you can do is smile and nod, just do that. I’m not asking you to kiss her ass. I’m just asking you to be civil. Can you handle that?”

TJ nods.

“You?” He tugs on one of Addie’s pigtails. “Can you do that? Be civil?”

“Do I have to be near her? Or sit on her lap? ‘Cause I draw the line there.”

“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just don’t be a little asshole, alright?”

“Me? I’m Mary Freaking Sunshine, remember? That’s what Grandpa Koen calls me.”

“Well then live up to it and be nice to your grandmother. Smile until your face hurts, got it?”

“What do I get out of it?”

He smirks.

“Mummy says to always negotiate. Never settle for the first offer. Can I sleep in the big bed tonight? For being nice to grandma?”

“No.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifts her off the stool; pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground.

She turns to face him. Head cocked to the side and one hand clutching her doll, the other planted firmly on her hip. “Can I have ice cream for my bedtime snack?”

"Maybe."

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“You ARE just like your mom, aren’t you.”

“I’ll be nice if I can have ice cream for my bedtime snack and you snuggle with me and draw on my back for half an hour. And that’s after FOUR stories.”

“You're bossy, you know that? Two stories.”

“Three. That’s as low as I’ll go.”

“I will give you two stories, ice cream for your snack, and forty five minutes of snuggling and drawing on your back. Instead of half an hour. We got a deal?”

Her eyes narrow as she considers it; nibbling on her bottom lip and swishing her hips back and forth. “You’re good at this.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Peanut. I’ve dealt with tougher than you. What do you say?” He offers a hand. “Deal?”

“Deal!” she agrees, his hand easily swallowing hers as they shake on it.

Grinning, he runs a hand over the top of her head and then drops a kiss on her hair. “You really DO have a lot of your mum in you.”

“Great things come in small packages,” Addie reasons, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down and pecks her lips. “Thank you, daddy!” she chirps. “My hair looks beautiful. You always do it perfect.”

“Pretty hard not to when my subject is so cute. Good thing I married your mum, huh? So I could have a kid as cute as you?”

“You really are a lucky man!” she declares and then cheerfully skips out of the room.

“I hope grandma is on her best behaviour,” TJ says, as he finishes the drink in his hand and then slides off the stool and returns it to its place at the island. “Because if she DOES start on mum, it’s going to be a wild night. I really hope she watches her step.”

“My too, kiddo,” Tyler sighs, and reaches out to tousle his son’s hair. “Me too.”

[remywrites5]

Omgosh all those fake exes prompts are amazing, will you do one for us? I like wolfstar but you can choose the pairing and scenario if you’re feeling inspired!

Remus hated himself, and sure, that was mostly par for the course, but this time he really hated himself. It was the only explanation for being in a relationship with an absolute prick like Gilderoy Lockhart.  This went beyond the beating Remus usually gave himself over his anxiety and depression. This was just…cruel to do to himself.

           Gilderoy was just absolutely the worst person Remus had ever met and he wasn’t sure how they had ended up in a relationship. He supposed Gilderoy was attractive when he stopped talking, which was hardly ever. To add to his already sparkling personality, Gilderoy hardly ever breached beyond a subject that wasn’t himself and his many, many accomplishments, most of which Remus believed to be bollocks. Climbed Mount Everest, my pasty white arse.

           As he sat across from Gilderoy at the café that had somehow become “their spot” Remus thought that he must be some kind of masochist. How else could he rationalize being with such a wanker? A glutton for punishment, that’s what Remus was. He watched Gilderoy do yet another soliloquy about how wonderful he was – not really listening to the words spewing out of Gilderoy’s gob – all Remus could think was “Christ I wish I’d never had this guy’s cock in my mouth.” Remus took a sip of his coffee to wash down the unpleasant taste the memory caused.

           The most maddening thing of all was that Remus had tried to end things with Gilderoy three times already. The idiot just apparently wasn’t used to rejection and didn’t recognize it when Remus said, “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other any more,” or “I don’t think this is working out.” Gilderoy had just laughed and changed the subject as if Remus hadn’t spoken. It made Remus want to punch him in the face.

           He let his eyes wander away from Gilderoy, still not listening to his incessant chatter, and they landed on a guy with dark hair over at another table. He was sitting with two other people, one a guy with messy brown hair and glasses, and the other Remus recognized as Lily Evans from his English Literature class. He figured the guy with the glasses must be James Potter, Lily’s boyfriend that she’d mentioned during a group project they’d done together. But the dark-haired guy in the leather jacket was a mystery.

           As if sensing that someone was looking at him, Mr. I know I’m Sexy That’s Why I’m Wearing a Leather Jacket And a Ripped T-shirt That Shows Off My Incredible Body glanced up. His eyes met Remus’ and he smirked knowingly as if he could tell exactly what was going through Remus’ mind. He was eating what looked to be a raspberry Danish and he dipped his fingers into the jam, bringing it up to his lips with Remus watching, his mouth suddenly having gone dry, and licking it off slowly, sinfully. And then if that weren’t enough, he finished the whole display with a wink!

           “Excuse me,” Remus said, getting out of his chair in a hurry. “Toilets.”

           “Hurry back!” Gilderoy said, waving Remus away as if he were the Queen of England greeting her subjects. Remus knew that Gilderoy didn’t actually need him there because Remus’ half of the conversation was non-existent. One time they had gone to the famers’ market before and Remus had done a little experiment. He had walked away from Gilderoy – mid-conversation to look at some apples – and walked back a few moments later. Gilderoy never even paused or noticed Remus’ absence.

           Remus went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t do to be getting turned on by beautiful strangers when he was in the middle of trying to break up with his boyfriend for the fourth bloody time!He pressed his wet hand to the back of his neck in an effort to calm down. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the problem at hand but the door to the toilets opened and the secondary problem walked in.

           “Hi,” the dark-haired guy said, sliding over to Remus, resting casually against the sink next to him.

           Remus’ eyes snapped open and he stared in disbelief. Whoever this was looked even better up close and Remus filed that away under more things that were just not fair. He had a long pale neck that Remus just wanted kiss and bite and lick and… he splashed some more cold water on his face.

           “Hi,” he said when he felt like he could say it evenly enough to not give away his current mental state.

           “Are you okay?”

           Remus had to bite his lip from not dissolving into a fit of hysterical laughter at the question. He was so absolutely far from okay. “I must look amazing,” he joked, wiping his hands with a paper towel.

           “We’ll you’re definitely cute,” the stranger said, turning his head to the side and appraising Remus. Remus felt himself blush under the scrutiny. “But I saw you sitting with Gilderoy Lockhart and I figured that was enough of a cry for help that I should come check on you.”

           Remus raised an eyebrow in surprise. “It gets worse – I’m actually dating him.”

           “No!”

           Remus nodded and winced. “Yeah.”

           “You poor thing,” the stranger said, rubbing Remus’ arm consolingly.

           Remus laughed uncomfortably. “Most people just call me Remus, actually,” he managed to joke and not have a compete meltdown that such an attractive bloke was touching him. “Remus Lupin.”

           The man laughed, his face breaking out into a huge smile, and oh wasn’t that just lovely. “Sirius Black.”

           “Nice to meet you,” Remus said, shuffling his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to attempt to break up with my boyfriend yet again only to have him ignore me, the git.”

           Remus went to pull away but Sirius kept a hold on his jumper. “What if I help you?” Sirius asked after a moment.

           “How?” Remus asked, looking Sirius over, his eyes searching for some sort of answer to his problem. All he found were more problems because fuck Sirius was gorgeous and distracting.

           “What if I pretend to be your ex?” Sirius offered, his eyes lighting up as he formulated a plan. “Just be a real bastard and scare him off, eh?”

           Remus furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why would you do that for me?”

           Sirius met Remus’ gaze and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “I have my reasons.”

           Normally, Remus would object to letting a complete stranger help him dump his boyfriend, but Remus was really at his wits end. Where Gilderoy was concerned, he’d take all the help he could get.

           “Okay,” he said, nodding in agreement. “Just please don’t make a scene.”

           Sirius’ grin grew wicked. “Me? A scene? Never!”

           As he left the toilets, Remus had a very bad feeling about this. He went and sat down across from Gilderoy and wondered if it was too late to just go with the whole punching him in the face idea.

           “Ah, Remus,” Gilderoy said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “I was beginning to worry about you!”

           Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted Gilderoy had even noticed his absence. “Gilderoy, I – “

           “Remus?” Sirius called out before walking over. “What did I tell you about coming in here?”

           So much for not making a scene. The entire café was either looking at them or trying really hard to pretend they weren’t. “Sirius, wait – “ Remus stood up and held up his hands as if to keep Sirius back.

           “No!” Sirius said, stomping over, his combat boots making it quite the entrance. “This was our place and you have the nerve to bring another guy here?”

           “Sirius, calm down,” Remus said, playing his part but also wanting Sirius to tone it down before Remus died of embarrassment. Despite Gilderoy, Remus did actually really like this café.

           “You want me to calm down?” Sirius said, walking over to Gilderoy and hauling him up by his collar. “Remus, who is this?”

           “Please, I don’t want any trouble!” Gilderoy said, immediately starting to sweat.

           “Sirius! We’re not together anymore!” Remus said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the look of terror on Gilderoy’s face. He really shouldn’t have been taking such pleasure in it, but he couldn’t help it.

           “You’ll always be mine!” Sirius said, glancing at Remus with a grin and quickly schooling his face back into his persona. He turned his attention back to Gilderoy, tugging on his collar and making Gilderoy choke slightly. “Did you touch my Remus?” Sirius growled and Remus had to pretend that hearing it didn’t do things to him. Between the embarrassment and the arousal, Remus was sure he was never going to recover.

           “I-I-I mean y-yes b-b-but-“

           Sirius grabbed a few sugar packets off the table, ripped them open with his teeth savagely and dumped the contents over Gilderoy’s head. Gilderoy sputtered in shock.

           “I won’t touch him ever again!” Gilderoy promised, glancing over at Remus and then back at Sirius. “He’s all yours.”

           “Gilderoy!” Remus said with false indignation. “You can’t mean that.”

           “I’m sorry, Remus,” Gilderoy said, whimpering like a coward. “I-I-I think we’d better call it a day.”

           “Yes, I think that’s best,” Sirius said, releasing Gilderoy and giving him a shove towards the door. “And I’d better not catch you in here again…or else!”

           Gilderoy grabbed his things and scurried towards the door, bumping into it in his haste to get it open and leave. As soon as the door shut, Lily and James broke out into applause and Sirius took a little bow.

           “That was hilarious,” James said, bursting out into laughter. “I wonder if he wet himself. I think you made him wet himself.”

           Sirius went over to his friends, bouncing like an excited puppy. “It was really hard keeping a straight face.”

           “You have a hard time keeping anything straight,” Lily teased, chucking a bit of croissant at him. “What was that all about, anyway?”

           Remus glanced at the three of them and felt immediately envious. Although he and Lily were friendly, Remus didn’t exactly have friends.Now that he and Gilderoy were over, Remus quite suddenly realized he didn’t have anybody. He gathered up his things and thought about going over to thank Sirius for his help, but Sirius was in the middle of an animated conversation with James and Lily. Remus downed the last of his coffee and quietly made an exit from the café. He just hoped he’d be allowed back in.

           He was about halfway down the block when he heard fast footsteps behind him. He turned to find Sirius racing after him. “Hey, Remus!” he said breathlessly, running to catch up with him. “What the hell? Why did you just disappear like that?”

           “Oh,” Remus said, biting his bottom lip nervously. “Well, you were busy with your friends and I didn’t want to intrude.”

           Sirius grinned up at him. “Are you always so polite?” he teased, booping Remus on the nose. “No wonder Gilderoy didn’t take the hint.”

           Remus shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “We can’t all be as subtle as you.”

           Sirius laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, it’s never really been my strong suit. That’s why I’m going to tell you that I like you and I want to date you and at the moment all I can think about is kissing you.”

           Remus felt his jaw drop at Sirius’ confession. It took him a moment to close it, snapping it shut. “Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “Sirius, people don’t just say things like that.”

           Sirius took a step towards Remus, crowding into his personal space. Remus had a feeling it was something Sirius did often. “I do,” Sirius said, tilting his face up towards Remus. “So how about it?” Sirius raised his eyebrows in the so very obvious challenge that it was.

           It took all of the courage Remus had to lift his hand and cup Sirius’ cheek. His thumb grazed of Sirius’ impossibly high cheekbones. “You don’t even know me,” he whispered, forgetting that they were on a busy London street as his world narrowed down to that small point of contact.

           “So?” Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d like to. Get you know you, that is.”

           Remus smiled – a real, genuine smile for what felt like the first time in ages. “I’d like that,” he said, his world growing even smaller as he guided Sirius forward for their lips to meet. If Gilderoy Lockhart had been a slowly poisoning Remus over the past two months of their relationship, Sirius was absolutely the antidote. Remus drank him in like a man in need of salvation. “That’s the second time you’ve saved me today,” Remus murmured, breaking the kiss but not going far, their breath still mingling in the brisk Autumn air. “Thank you.”

           Sirius chuckled softly. “You’re welcome, Remus” he said, pressing in close to Remus. “Happy to do it, any time.”

           “I might just hold you to that,” Remus informed him quietly, nuzzling his cold nose against Sirius’ warm cheek. Already he could feel intimacy and affection growing between the two of them. He felt noticed for the first time in a long time and it was a relief but also a miracle that someone like Sirius would notice someone like him.

           “You’d better,” Sirius breathed out. “I’m not going to be scared off quite as easy as the last guy.”

           Remus scoffed. “You think that was easy?”

           Sirius laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth. “What I meant was that I’m going to stick around,” he clarified, staring up into Remus’ eyes. “You’re worth fighting for, Remus.”

           Remus blushed and pretended it was just from the cold. “You still hardly know me, a few kisses doesn’t really change that,” Remus rationalized, trying to keep himself from falling head first into whatever this was with Sirius. It was a little late in his life to start being an optimist.

           “I know I’m going to fall in love with you.”

           Remus laughed incredulously. “And how do you know that?”

            “Because I’ve never wanted to help someone become single so bad in my entire life,” Sirius informed him with a knowing smirk. “And as fun as it was to play to part of your jealous ex, I’d much rather play the part of your doting and only slightly jealous boyfriend.”

           Remus searched Sirius’ stormy grey eyes for any hint that he might be joking. All he found was a frank sincerity that honestly knocked Remus a bit sideways. “Well, congratulations,” he said, his face breaking out into another genuine smile. Sirius kept causing those. “You got the part.”

           Sirius celebrated by pulling Remus down into another kiss.

[child-of-thedarknight]

His Dirty Little Secret

I woke up and rolled out of my bed, slowly shuffling to the bathroom in my dorm as I went for my shower. I turned on the water as I got in, letting the hot water relax my muscles as I attempted to wake myself up for the day. I quickly washed, shaved and dried myself off, putting moisturiser on my legs to make them smoother. I then blow dried my hair before getting dressed. I put on my tights, skirt, shirt, tie and my school shoes that had a little bit of a heel on them. I made sure my skirt was higher than the school rules allowed, then I curled my half black, half red hair. I then grabbed my school books and bag, and went downstairs for breakfast.

I walked in and saw my brothers all sitting at our house table. I went and sat with them grabbing a green apple and pouring myself some pumpkin juice for breakfast. "Why do you always only eat green apples Emma?" My brother, Jackson asked. "Because red apples taste funny. That's why." I replied, pulling out my potions homework that was due today. Snape would kill me if I didn't have it done. As I was about three quarters of the way through, my bestfriend Ashleigh walked over and said she needed to talk to me. I got up, grabbed my book bag, and followed her out. We went back to her common rooms and sat down on her bed. "Help. Dilemma. Make up crisis. Sebastian wants to take me to Hogsmeade as we have a day off and I am useless when it comes to makeup. Please help." She pleaded. I sighed and went through her make up, thinking of what would work, trying to match it up with her outfit. I eventually decided on a smoky cut crease for the eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, a light foundation and blush, and a dark pink lipstick. I did her eyebrows, helped her change out her nose stud for a nose ring, and then she was ready to go. I also quickly put on a deep purple lipstick and did a smoky eye for me. "Thank you so much Emma. What would I do without you?" She asked. "Probably die." I replied as we laughed. I heard the bell toll, signaling my first class of the day, Herbology. I quickly hugged Ashleigh, wished her well on her date, and rushed to the greenhouses.

"Greenhouse Three today guys." We heard Professor Sprout yell out from behind us. We had Herbology with the Ravenclaws, so I paired up with my bestfriend from Ravenclaw, Amy. "Girl you are gonna get in so much trouble with Snape for your skirt today." She informed me as we sat down. "Incase you haven't noticed babes, I really don't care." I replied as we completed our task. We then parted ways as I headed off to Transfiguration and she went to Ancient Runes. I successfully turned my turtle into a teapot, and got ten points awarded to my house. As soon as the bell rang for lunch, we were up and out of there so quickly. I rushed to the Great Hall, wanting to get a seat with my brothers. As I sat down next to Freddie, I noticed a certain blond Slytherin staring at me from across the hall. "He is staring at you again little sis. Can I deal with him?" asked Freddie. "Nahh. I can handle him." I said as we ate our lunch and talked about Quidditch and the team trials that were coming up. I finally agreed to try out for the team beater and then headed off early to my last class of the day, Potions.

As I was waiting outside for Professor Snape, Malfoy and his gang came and stood next to me. He clicked his fingers and they all went and did something else. "Sit next to me in Potions today. We need to talk about certain things." He demanded and walked off before I could reply. I sighed and went in as Snape walked in. I took my seat at the back of the classroom and Draco came and sat next to me. We received odd looks from others, but between his cold stare and my resting bitch face, they all looked away. "Today, we will be doing theory work with who you are sitting with. By the end of the lesson, you will be able to tell me the uses of Wolfsbane, Draught of Living Death, and Veritaserum. Understood?" Snape drawled in his monotone voice. We all nodded and got to work. "Want to explain to me what the hell you are doing wearing your skirt that short?" Draco hissed at me as I started writing down the uses of Wolfsbane. "I wear it like this everyday, Malfoy. You know this." I said as I rolled my eyes. Draco let out a sigh of anger as he started writing down what we needed as well. "How about why you were with Zabini last night, past curfew? I know you weren't studying." he queried. "How do you know I was with Zabini? Also, what I do with my life is none of your concern. If I wanted to have fun with Zabini, I could. You don't control my life Draco!" I whisper yelled as I got up, handed my finished essay and my homework in, and left to go to my dorm. I was so frustrated with Draco at the moment. Honestly, who does he think he is? Thinking he can control my life and what I do. I got out of my school uniform and changed into my black ripped skinny jeans, my Machine Gun Kelly shirt, Rap Devil hoodie and my combat boots. I put my hair into two braids, and put on my EST 19XX bandana. I grabbed my firebolt and my wand, going out into the corridors before mounting my broom and flying out of the window.

I flew around the castle, over the trees of the forbidden forest, and then to the Quidditch grounds, where I lazily floated in the air, casting random spells and practicing for our charms quiz later this week. After about half an hour of flying around, another person joined me. I looked over to see the ever so annoying Draco Malfoy flying next to me. I rolled my eyes, not ready for another argument with him, and slowly started flying away. It started to drizzle as I was flying around so I decided to just take it slow. Malfoy was still following me, which was making me even more pissed off. "And what in the world could you possibly want now Malfoy? Haven't you got Pansy to go and be with?" I asked him, letting my anger seep through my words. He looked shocked, but quickly recovered as he replied with a witty comment. "I really don't want to be around that clingy bitch. I would rather annoy you to the point of breaking." I sighed and flew down to the ground, heading off towards the castle. "We aren't done with our talk yet little miss." He yelled as he sent our brooms to their respective places, picked me up, and apparated to his dorm. "What the bloody hell are you doing you numpty?" I questioned as he cast the Muffliato charm on his dorm. I rolled my eyes at the fact that of course the Prince of Slytherin got his own dorm, and went and sat on the couch. He walked over to his bed, took off his shoes, socks and his jumper, loosening his tie before lying down and motioning for me to join him. "I'd rather not thanks." I said icily as I turned back to the fire and continued to stare into it. I heard him sigh loudly in annoyance before he went quiet. After an hour of nothing being said between us, I sighed and finally joined him on the bed after taking my shoes and socks off.

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore Emma? We used to talk everyday before the holidays, and now you are just ignoring me and swanning around with other guys that aren't me. What's going on?" He asked me as he put my hood of my jumper down. I looked at him and saw that he truly was hurt, but I honestly did not feel sorry for him at this moment. "You know what you did Malfoy. You know why I'm not talking to you. You don't control my life, and if I choose to go around enjoying myself with other men, then I can. And you can't stop me Malfoy. It was YOU who made the decision to join in with your stupid friends when they gang bashed Jason. It was YOU who had no intention of stopping them. It was YOU who I thought would have the common sense to realise what you were doing. But you didn't. You fucked up. You just can't accept that. So no, I will not stop messing around with Zabini or anyone else I want to." I finished my rant and wiped away the tears that I wasn't even aware were falling down my face. I went to go get off the bed and leave when I felt Draco's hand wrap around my wrist and pull me into a hug. "I am so sorry for what I did Emma. I know I can't fix it. I know that what I did was irreversible and I can't take it back. If I could have done anything to help, you know I would have. I am so sorry for what I did and I want you to forgive me so bad. I know that you hate me right now and I shouldn't be trying to control who or what you do. I just want us back. I want you to be mine the way we were before I fucked up. Please Emma. Please give me one more chance." he started trembling as he spoke and I knew the tears were going to start soon. I pulled back from the hug and wiped his tears. I noticed he had rolled up his sleeves, and when I looked down I recoiled from his touch as if it had suddenly become acid and was melting my skin. He noticed and then realised why I had.

"HOW COULD YOU DRACO?! YOU PROMISED ME YOU NEVER WOULD. YOU SAID YOU WOULD RATHER DIE THAN GET THAT DONE!" I yelled as I got up an went to leave. "NO! DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME EMMA! I HAD NO FUCKING CHOICE! HE WAS GOING TO KILL ME IF I DIDNT. I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU, BUT YOU JUST WOULDNT FUCKING TALK TO ME. IT'S BAD ENOUGH BOTH OF OUR FATHERS ARE WITH HIM. IT'S EVEN WORSE THAT NOW WE BOTH HAVE OUR MARKS!" He yelled as he grabbed my arm and pushed up the sleeve of my hoodie. I ripped my arm away and glared at him. "DON'T YOU DARE BRING MY FATHER INTO THIS! I SWORE WHEN I TOOK THE MARK THAT NO ONE WOULD KNOW. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR ME AND MY BROTHERS TO HIDE IT FROM PEOPLE? YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE IN THE SCHOOL THAT KNOWS DRACO! SO DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO TURN THIS ON ME!" I retorted. His face was red with rage as he tried to think of a reply. I was so prepared for him to yell at me, so when he kissed me, I was shocked. This wasn't the slow, gentle kind of kiss either. This was the rage filled, passionate, demanding type of kiss that sent shivers down my spine. He picked me up and threw me on the bed, climbing back on top of me as I threaded my hands through his hair. He bit my bottom lip and I moaned into the kiss. He took this opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth as his hands slowly trailed down my body, sending electric shocks through my body wherever he touched me. He pulled my hoodie off and discarded it somewhere in the room, along with my shirt. I loosened his tie enough that I could pull it off, before ripping off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. He smirked at me before dipping his head down between my breasts, leaving kisses all over my chest as he unclasped my bra and threw it somewhere in his room.

He took one of my nipples in his mouth and started sucking on it whilst playing with the other. I moaned when he bit my nipple as it sent a pleasurable pain through my body. His hands trailed down as he came back up to kiss me, undoing my belt in the process. He took of my jeans and my panties before I flipped us over and took control. I took off his belt, jeans and boxers, and threw them somewhere in his room, not really caring right now. I looked up into his lust filled eyes as I slowly made my way down to his cock, leaving love bites all over his hips as I went. I licked and sucked on the tip, keeping eye contact the whole time. Draco moaned out in pleasure, and I was glad he had cast that spell. I slowly started taking him in, inch by inch, until I had all of him in my mouth. I bobbed my head up and down as Draco laid back, moaning in pleasure beneath me. I pulled off and slowly licked him from base to tip, tasting his precum before going back down. I went faster and faster as I started pumping him as well, trying to get him to his climax. "Ahh. Shit. Emma! I'm g- gonna --" He emptied his load into my mouth before he could finish his sentence. I swallowed it all and licked him clean before showing him. "Holy fuck." He whispered as I moved on top of him. I smirked and then giggled as he rolled us over so he was on top.

He slowly started kissing down my neck, sucking on a few spots to mark his territory. I moaned as he found my sweet spot and I felt him smirk against my skin. He continued sucking on that spot, leaving a dark purple hickey on my pale skin. He then continued his journey down to my core. He kissed my inner thighs, and made his way up to his destination. He licked a long strip up my heat as I let out a long, loud moan. He put my leg over his shoulder and then put his tongue inside my heat. I was in heaven. He slowly started working his fingers in as well as his tongue and it felt so good. I was moaning and biting my lip, trying not to scream out from the pleasure that I was receiving from him. I threaded my hands through his hair and was tugging so hard, I was surprised I didn't rip his hair from his scalp. Draco started to rub his thumb against my clit and within a few seconds, I reached my climax, moaning out Draco's name as I came down from my high. I pulled him up and kissed him long and hard. I then put his fingers in my mouth and licked them clean. Draco groaned at the sight, and his eyes darkened even more. "Fuck me Draco. Now." I demanded as I laid down on his bed, stretching out on his silk sheets. That was all Draco needed to lose all control. He slammed into me, hitting my spot right on the first time. I screamed out as he thrusted hard and fast, continuing to hit my spot dead on. Our kisses were filled with passion as our tongues danced and our bodies collided. I was reaching my climax. I could tell that Draco was as well. I tightened my walls around him and he started get sloppy with his thrusts. I screamed out his name as I reached my climax and he did the same as he reached his. We rode out our highs before he pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to me. I tried to catch my breath as he pulled me into his arms, putting the sheet over us. 

"Well, if that's a way to get rid of our anger, I suggest we do it more often." Draco spoke, panting as he also tried to catch his breath. I looked up at him and grinned, nodding my head in agreeance with him. He kissed the top of my head, wrapped his arms around me, and held me as we fell asleep. We would deal with the hell that was to come for the both of us in the morning. But for now. Sleep.

This is so bad. I’m sorry

[mint-green-minter]

Note Cards - A MiniStar Fanfic

•Simon's POV• I didn't notice he was looking at me until Tobi pointed him out. We were sitting in advanced English, waiting for the teacher to quit lecturing us on our lack of proper grammar, when Tobi poked me and whispered in my ear. "Flower boy is looking at you," he pointed. When I followed his finger, I found that it pointed to a small boy across the room, who indeed was staring at me. When I looked over, he glanced away quickly, pretending not to be watching. He wore a baby blue jumper, and a pastel blue and white flower crown to match. Upon his nose, a wide-rimmed pair of glasses was perched, magnifying his dark eyes by a hundred times. I could just see a pair of light pink Vans under the table where he sat. His smooth cinnamon cheeks were flushed red when he was caught. At our school, labels were a big thing, and he was the dictionary definition of what I'd call "gay". At the same time, I shouldn't have been talking, seeing as I was pretty gay myself. After he looked away, I decided to save him some embarrassment and turned my attention back onto the professor, who had moved on to an essay due next week. Throughout the whole lesson, I continued to steal glances back at the boy. He was never looking when I checked, but every so often I felt eyes rest on my back. ••• When the class was over, myself and Tobi met up with JJ, Josh, Ethan, and Harry near our lockers. Unfortunately, our lockers were near the bathroom where the "cool kids" liked to hang out. Nobody except the cheerleaders, basketball players, and football players used that bathroom, (minus the occasional new student) and for good reason too. I'd had some unsavory encounters there in my time at the school, that I was not willing to repeat. We belonged in none of those three categories, but we each fit into a label perfectly. Josh was a punk, there was no denying it. You could tell by this snakebites and his dyed red fringe. You could tell by his black combat boots and the motorbike he rode to school everyday. Even the tattoos on his arms proved that this boy was a punk. Ethan, on the other hand, was a hipster, or at least a hipster wannabe. Because the beanies didn't give it away. He could pretend all he wanted that he liked things "before they were cool," but drinking black coffee every morning and droning on about the inevitable end of the universe didn't make him as special as he may have liked. JJ and Tobi were very much alike in some ways, other ways...not so much. Both were very smart, much smarter than they'd let on, and they both got good grades effortlessly. However, the ways they used their abilities were quite different. Tobi had used his good grades and gotten into the National Honor Society, in which he volunteered to do community work. Just last year, he'd traveled to South America with a group to help build a school. JJ used his extra time to play games, and he was beginning to get into this thing called "YouTube" that Josh discovered a while back. I guess you could call Tobi a do-gooder. Maybe you'd call JJ a nerd, though he'd probably kill you if you did. I called him a gamer. Harry was a geek to say the least. He had chooson to do theater at the beginning of Freshman year as a joke, but got really into it as he went on. He built scenes with his theater buddies and worked the special effects booth, instructing kids on how to work lights and curtains and sandbags. Harry was the one you went to if you needed an extracurricular to keep your grades up. He knew everyone in the band, the art club, the chess club, and the photography club. If you called him, you'd be part of the foreign language club in an instant, whether you could speak French or not. And then there was me. As much as I hate to admit it, if you asked me what I was, I'd immediately say slacker. There wasn't an assignment that hadn't been done last minute. Then you could ask anyone else, who'd happily call me the druggie. The alcoholic. The disappointment. The emo. I wasn't punk like Josh, but I wore all black, so they called me emo. And who said JJ hadn't caught me doing a line once or twice with Cal, the blonde kid who stored crack in his locker? At least I didn't try to start a growhouse in my locker. I didn't even know where he got weed. As we approached the lockers where our books were kept, I could already hear the overplayed American pop music. Getting closer, I realized that the music was only there to drown out the lustful moanings of "Mitch" and "Dani" coming from the bathroom. I could only assume that Mitch was the spiky haired jock in my Home Economics class, and Dani was that plastic girl who showed off her tits whenever she spoke to me. Assigning faces to those names only made me cringe even harder while listening. Where was the principal now? I spun open my lock, grabbed my geometry book, and shoved a different pile of reading material into my locker. Everything would just go on top of the other assignments that were due Friday. I honestly didn't know how I was still in advanced clssses. JJ and Ethan were arguing, but Harry kept trying to break it up. It clearly wasn't working, and you could see Harry slowly giving up. Josh just watched, trying to stifle a laugh, and Tobi had already begun to walk away to his next class. I followed him, seeing as I had nothing to do back at my locker. I kept pace with him and we attempted small talk, even though neither of us were very good at it. As we passed Mr. Aceti's history class, Tobi broke off with a small goodbye, entering the room. I kept walking towards my math class. Just because I could speak English, didn't mean I was good at all subjects. Specifically math and geography. There were seven different math classes, the first being the kids like Tobi and seventh being kids at an 8th grade level. I was in the fourth class, which I suppose wasn't that bad. Halfway to Mrs. Sugg's math class, I stopped to retie my Converse. A pair of light pink Vans approached me as I straightened back up, and I was met with the nervous face of Flower Boy. In his hands, on top of his stacked books, he held a collection of flashcards. Hands quivering, he looked down at them. Reading something off the card, he said "H-hi. I'm Vikk. I just wanted to ask, a-are you an angel? Because i-it looked—Wait. That's not r-right...." As he shuffled the cards, possibly searching for a specific one, he dropped a couple. Vikk leaned over to pick them up, but the rest fell out of his hands and onto the floor. He dropped to his knees, struggling to pick everything up. "Jesus fuck that's adorable!" I laughed as he looked up at me, his eyes gleaming as if he was about to cry. I pulled him up into a kiss. "If you're asking me out, that's a yes, because that's adorable." Vikk stood silent, stunned, and surprised for a few moments. Then he burst out stuttering. "I-I don't h-have a card for this." I pulled him into another kiss, longer this time. My mind buzzed and the world sharpened, as if a bolt of electricity has shot through me and turned everything into HD. I pulled away. "Woah."

[georgiabread]

falling for you ; phan | chapter thirty two

Full summary ; Dan Howell is dead. Well, sort of. He’s a guardian angel, forced to protect only one human, and that human is Cat. But when he accompanies Cat to school, he can’t help but be intrigued by the broken boy with the black hair who sits by the window in class and disappears at lunch times. Dan realises this boy needs more protection than Cat will ever need, so he takes on human form to save him. But soon he finds himself falling in love, which is something he definitely can’t do. Dan Howell is an angel, and he’s falling for Phil.

Tags ; highschool!phan, teenage!phan, plantboy!phil, spaceboy!dan, angel!dan, phan, phan au, phan fluff, phan angst, chaptered

TWs ; bullying, violence, mentions of self-harm, mentions of death/suicide, depression, panic attacks, physical and verbal abuse, homophobia, foul language and supernatural themes.

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"This separation, time and space between us for some revelation you didn't care to discuss. I'd rather be black and blue than accept that you withdrew—"

phil ;

To: dan tha man 🔥

it's been 3 days and you still haven't answered my calls [delivered - 12.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

do you really expect us to stop talking? [delivered - 13.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

cause i really don't want us to stop [delivered - 13.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

we can't keep going like this. what if i go to uni and you still haven't decided to fucking text me back? [delivered - 14.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

i'm sorry for yelling at you and bringing up bad memories, i'm so sorry. but i'm not apologising for getting assaulted if you're still salty about that cause i never WANTED it to happen [delivered - 14.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

i hope you know i bloody love you (a LOT) and i don't want us to end like this [delivered - 14.11.16]

To: dan tha man 🔥

look we're both idiots but you're turning into the bigger one. please call or text me back, i love you bear [delivered - 15.11.16]

*

If a colour could describe Phil's emotions in this moment, he would choose grey. Grey like flimsy clouds on an overcast day, suspended in the sky as if by tattered threads. Grey like his mother's eyes on the days they seemed to hang from her eye sockets, emotionless and dead. Grey like his bedroom wall, which was blue in actuality, but had turned dreary and dull in the low afternoon light.

Phil's eyelids blinked softly at the bare wall, head pushed into a pillow and legs folded up near his chest. He should've felt warm – a wooly jumper encased his torso, two black socks covered his feet and the house's heater had been switched on to combat winter. But instead his bones sat frigid under his skin and he felt colder than what any icy weather could make him feel.

He'd lost the ability to cry two days ago. Either he'd simply run out of tears, or the coldness had frozen them behind his eyes. His phone was clutched tightly in one palm, dead. Phil hadn't bothered to plug in the charger when it fell flat an hour ago. What was the point? He would only use it for one reason now, but that was a lost cause. It always had been.

If he was really honest, Phil didn't blame Dan for not contacting him. The night at the party had been the knife in their relationship, and the way Phil saw it, he was the one to blame. He had his mouth all over someone else, he shouldn't have shouted at Dan on the street, he was too clingy, too annoying, he wasn't enough. Dan was right to avoid him.

Phil's eyes fluttered shut and a memory flashed behind his eyelids. The day he had first taken Dan to his hideaway in the forest – a small smile crept onto his face when he remembered the wand fight, laughing until their sides hurt. But then he recalled something Dan had said, a promise Phil had been so daft to believe.

"My sorry ass is going to stick with you until you can tell me honestly that you are okay."

Typical of Dan, he knew. But Phil wasn't okay. And Dan hadn't stuck with him. Phil drew a deep breath which came out shaky, and he turned to press his face into his pillow. You idiot, you fucking idiot, he swore at himself. Dan was never going to stay with you.

Why had he let himself believe for one second that he was worth being loved?

His messages and calls to Dan had been pointless. Phil knew by now he would never get a reply. He didn't deserve one, not after all he'd done to ruin their relationship. He deserved nothing, not even his friends and family.

For years, Phil had seen himself as a dead weight. Unnecessary, disposable, a burden that would gladly be thrown away. For years it seemed as though everyone wanted to abandon him. But now one thing had changed – he wanted to get rid of himself.

It seemed all too easy. Now that Dan was gone, what else was he living for?

Phil huffed and flopped onto his back, roughly dragging his hands over his face. He barely noticed the hole in his stomach, left empty with no proper food for two days. The bedroom was dark, the blinds drawn, coaxing shadows out of their corners. He usually loved his room to be clean and clear of any mess, but dirty clothes were strewn across the carpet, his bed was unmade and half of his belongings had probably gone missing by now. It wasn't like Phil to throw himself into such a mess, but maybe if he hadn't allowed himself to get attached he'd never be in it in the first place.

Thoughts and discussions about the future had been abandoned. Pitying messages from friends had been ignored. "Moving on" was a phrase Phil found very difficult to even think about. Because despite everything, his optimistic side managed to grasp that sliver of hope that maybe things would work out in the end.

Phil missed Dan. That was why he tried so hard to believe in a happy ending. Phil missed Dan so dreadfully it seemed impossible to do anything else. He missed the feeling of Dan's warm fingers entwined with his own or threading gently through his hair; he missed the way Dan's caramel eyes would shine when he grinned and gave that obnoxiously loud laugh of his; he missed how easy it was to make him blush, and the way he'd find any excuse for them to touch – whether it be legs squished together, a hand on his arm or resting his head upon his shoulder. Phil missed simply having Dan around, as his presence was enough to make him feel at ease. He missed having someone to confide in, someone to lean on, someone whose hugs were really all Phil needed to feel better. He missed –

A soft knock on the bedroom door tore him from his thoughts. Phil blinked and reluctantly pushed himself up on the bed, running his fingers through his fringe to neaten it. "Um...who is it?" he asked, wincing when his voice came out cracked and croaky.

"Daisy," a small voice replied. "Can I come in?"

Phil relaxed a bit and allowed his sister to enter. He watched the door slowly swing open to reveal a pair of wide blue eyes and fingers picking timidly at the hem of a top. Daisy took one look at Phil before hurrying over and clambering up into his lap. Phil frowned sadly, helping her up and hugging two arms around her small waist. "What's up, Daze?" he asked, leaning round to look at her.

The child sighed and rested her cheek against Phil's chest. "When is Dan gonna visit again?"

Phil bit down on his bottom lip, heart breaking at the sadness in her tone. It looked like she missed him as well. "Daisy..." he started helplessly. "I don't...m-maybe someday."

"What even happened to him? Did you guys break up?"

Phil hadn't really told Daisy anything about their split or break or whatever it was. He hesitated in replying, furiously blinking back tears he didn't know he still had. To have someone else even mention it made it all seem much more real. "Well, it's a little hard to explain," he said quietly.

Curling her fists around his jumper, Daisy let out a small whine and squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want you guys to break up," she whimpered.

"Oh Daisy, no, we're not – we're not breaking up," Phil rushed to comfort her, holding her tighter. "It's okay, everything's going to be fine. Dan and I are okay. Please don't be upset." He ran his hands up and down her arms to calm her down, wishing he could swipe away her unhappiness as well.

"I want Dan to come back so – so he can play dolls with me again," she murmured, pouting. "He was really good at making funny voices."

Phil couldn't help but chuckle quietly, remembering the few times when Dan had come over and Daisy had begged for them to play with her. It wasn't as bad as it sounded. They always had a fun time creating some absurd narrative with Daisy's dolls – and Dan's silly voices always made Daisy laugh. Phil often gave him fond looks in those moments, seeing how good Dan was with kids. "His voice for Mr Hubert was the best, don't you think?" he said, thinking of Daisy's stuffed duck.

"Yeah, that was really funny," Daisy giggled. "What about–?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a second knock on the door. Phil straightened up and hastily wiped his eyes just before Mrs Lester stepped into the room. She took one look at the pair cuddling on Phil's bed, and her face fell. "There you two are," she said softly, moving closer. "How are you feeling, Phil?"

Phil shrugged. "I haven't improved," he mumbled.

"Oh, honey." His mother brushed her fingers over his fringe and cupped his cheek, staring down at him sadly while Phil refused to meet her eyes. She hesitated, opening her mouth to speak but apparently thinking better of it. Then she said, "You know, it's not good for your health to be holed up in your room all day. At least come into the lounge, have a snack?"

Phil felt his stomach clench at the words. "I-I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry, Phil," his mum sighed, and straightened up. Phil flinched at her sudden patronizing tone. "Please get out of your bedroom. I can't stand seeing you like this. Daisy, you too, come and eat something."

Phil let his sister slide off his lap, staring down numbly at the dusty carpet. Through his peripherals, he watched his mother follow Daisy out of the room, not moving himself. He wished all these emotions would just dispel from his mind and heart, that someone would take them all away. Ironic how Dan would usually be that someone, when he'd also caused them in the first place. No, not him. It was you, he told himself bitterly.

He ended up trailing behind his mum down the hall, thudding down the staircase and coming to a halt in the kitchen doorway. His eyes scanned over the fruit bowl bearing apples, bananas and grapes of assorted colours; a bread loaf wrapped in plastic sitting on the bench; and the array of foods sitting snug in the fridge when Mrs Lester opened it. After two days of eating nothing substantial, the endless food churned his stomach like butter. Before his mother could say anything, he left, slumping into a seat at the dining table. Daisy soon joined him.

Moments later there came the sound of keys rattling against the metal handle of the front door. Phil's heart jumped in fear when the door swung open and crashed shut, and heavy footsteps bored holes in the floorboards. He knew exactly who it was.

Stephen passed the open dining room and went straight into the lounge; this time he reeked of rage rather than alcohol.

"You're home early from work," Mrs Lester called out, stepping out of the kitchen.

Phil chanced a glance over his shoulder, watching as his stepdad collapsed into an armchair and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Got fired," Stephen snapped in reply.

Mrs Lester stilled, as did Phil and Daisy. The mood in the house was tense, as if it could be sliced in half with a knife. Stephen let out a low sigh.

"Well...you'll have to start looking for–" Mrs Lester began slowly, but was cut short by her husband.

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Stephen barked, shoving off the chair. "You know, why don't you get a job, Annabel? I'm the only one fucking doing things around here–"

"I do have a job, Stephen," Phil's mum replied calmly.

"And that one pays terrifically, doesn't it? Maybe if you and everyone else under this roof worked a little harder we might have a better roof." Stephen rounded the chair and strode towards Mrs Lester. Phil held his breath as his stepdad backed his mother against the wall and glared daggers at her.

"St-Stephen, please, you were just fired. How about–?"

Stephen jabbed a finger into Mrs Lester's chest. "Don't fucking remind me. You listen. I'm sick of being treated like the villain here. Who's the one paying for the food and electricity that comes into the house? Who's supporting this shitty family? Who's – who's paying their fucking education!"

Phil blanched as Stephen turned and thrust his finger at him and Daisy, glowering down at them. And then suddenly the man's mood shifted as his eyes focused upon Phil, and a smirk twisted his rough features. "Well. I see the faggot has rejoined the family," he said viciously. "Are you finished being depressed, you useless idiot?"

"Don't talk to him like that, Stephen," Mrs Lester growled, but it was of no help. Stephen's words were already drilling holes in Phil's heart, swirling like storm clouds in his brain.

Phil's eyes dropped to the floor as he mulled over the words. Finished being depressed. Shut up, shut up, it doesn't work like that.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Phil," Stephen said in a suddenly calm tone. He crossed into the dining room and came to stop behind Phil's chair.

Phil swallowed heavily and lifted his eyes to meet his stepfather's. Immediately Stephen threw out his hand and seized Phil by the chin with calloused fingers, yanking his gaze upwards. Terror stirred in the pit of Phil's stomach.

"What's up with you anyway?" Stephen snarled. "Can't you be grateful for everything you already have? There's nothing to be sad about, you piece of shit. You've got a privileged life with food and water – appreciate it."

The urge to correct him became stuck in Phil's throat, but Mrs Lester stepped forward. "Stephen, don't do this. Please just–"

"Depression isn't that bad, faggot. Get over it," Stephen continued. "But I've heard of a cure. You know, killing yourself."

"Stephen!" Mrs Lester shouted as Phil sunk back into his seat, tears springing up unanticipated.

"Annabel, please, I'm just kidding. Calm down," Stephen cried, whirling around to face his wife.

The rest of their argument drained away as Phil focused on the table centrepiece, a vase of wilted roses. The roses Dan had gifted him for formal. The outside petals were browning and shriveled; a few littered the surface of the table, nothing but shrunken curls of burgundy by now. Phil sniffed, staring sadly at the drooping stems and withered leaves until his vision blurred. That phrase repeated over and over in his mind. Kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself.

Would he even have the courage to do so?

Stephen was right, in a way, Phil realized. Suicide wasn't necessarily a cure for depression, but it did end it. Phil had no idea what would come after death, but surely it would be better than the life he lived now?

He watched the dead roses tremble when Stephen took a heavy step. It seemed cruel to let them remain on the dining table, when they had grown limp and faded. They were decaying within the glass vase, and weren't doing anyone any good. They ought to be thrown out. Phil dragged his hands over his eyes, wiping away any moisture, before reaching forward and wrapping his fingers around the stems. Then he stood, shoving back his chair. Daisy had disappeared and the shouting spat from his parents' mouths were muffled as Phil made his way numbly towards the front door. The green waste bin was outside somewhere – the roses were better off in there, he thought. That way no one would be disgusted when they looked upon them.

Before he reached the front door, however, he slipped into the first floor bathroom and glanced down at the cupboards below the basin. His heart gained speed, skipping beats as it thumped wildly against his chest. Phil crouched and pulled open the doors, eyes scanning desperately over the forest of various soaps and medication. There had to be something...

Phil zeroed in on a small bottle of Advil, pressed against the left wall. He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared at the blue label. Just in case, he told himself, grabbing the bottle and stuffing it into his jean pocket. Just in case.

No one noticed when he walked out, shutting the door softly on his way out. Phil passed the waste bin and dumped the roses inside, shivering as a spiteful breeze buffeted his jumper. He paused, releasing a small sigh and glancing around the empty street. He never wanted to go back inside.

"But I've heard of a cure. You know, killing yourself."

Where would he go? Somewhere no one would find him. Phil frowned before remembering his hideaway again. It was perfect. The only other person who knew about it was Dan, and Dan obviously wasn't going to visit any time soon. Phil sniffled and shoved his hands in his pockets, taking off down the path.

The street was deathly silent, save for a single car that sped past. But Phil's heart thudded so fast he swore it bounced off the buildings and echoed in his ears. Would he ever come back? Was there a need?

Maybe he would, but instead of returning himself someone might be carrying his limp, lifeless body. No, he thought suddenly. You're better than that. Don't think about it don't think about it.

But it was hard when the bottle of Advil sat in his pocket like a dismal weight.

It didn't take very long to make it into town. From there it was only another five minutes to reach the school. What day was it again? Phil went to dig out his phone, but found his back pocket empty. Shit. He'd left it at home with no charge. He had the feeling it was a Saturday anyway, meaning the school would be hopefully completely empty.

No one spared him a second glance as Phil weaved through passers-by, although he knew he looked like a train wreck. He glanced in the reflective windows of a store, and sure enough there hung the black bags, sunken cheeks and unchanging frown. Not to mention the shadowy shades of his clothes. Phil almost couldn't recognize himself.

"Depression isn't that bad, fag. Get over it."

He needed to get to his hideaway. It was one of the few places where he felt calm. Then he could rest and think and – and...Phil shook his head and kept walking, running his fingers through his fringe. Stress clawed at his insides like a rabid animal, creeping up his throat, making his fingers twitch. His lungs felt constricted – someone had wrapped rope around them and pulled hard. All Phil could think about was what Stephen had said, what Dan had said, what everyone had done to him. All he could see were the black spots dropping like paint splatters in the corners of his vision, all he could feel was the Advil in his pocket.

His stomach thundered and suddenly his knees felt weak. He wanted to pass out. He should've eaten something.

Phil rounded a corner, using the wall of a building to keep himself upright. He trailed his fingers along the brickwork, walking past the local newsagent. Two people were having a conversation under the awning; Phil hurried past them, eyes cast to the concrete. But for a moment they flitted up, catching on a name that was all too familiar. Dan Howell.

Phil's eyebrows creased as he studied the first newspaper in its pile on a rack. His eyes scanned the headline, and suddenly he wanted to throw up despite the emptiness in his stomach.

INVESTIGATIONS INTO DAN HOWELL'S DEATH REOPENED

His legs buckled. Phil grasped the newspaper rack desperately and reached for the first paper. His hands quivered, his heart was skipping beats every second, he couldn't distinguish any of the thoughts in his mind.

It didn't make sense, it didn't make sense. How could Dan be dead?

Phil read the first paragraph on the front page, eyes slowly starting to blur, merging the words together.

Dan Howell, aged 18, was found crushed to death by his car in a ditch off Durham Way several months ago. After originally being labelled as a fatal accident, police have now discovered new evidence suggesting possible suicide. At this point things are still uncertain. "All I want is closure," his mother stated recently. "I want to be able to move on from this." There is little reason yet known as to why Howell would commit suicide, however...

Phil slammed the newspaper face-down in the rack, blinking back tears. He sucked in a shaky breath. Crushed to death by his car...But – Phil had seen him a few days ago. No, he'd spoken to him, laughed with him, loved him for months. It was impossible for him to be dead. This had to be someone else, it couldn't be anything but a big coincidence. There was no way Dan had died, not when Phil had kissed him and held his hand and taken him to formal. Not when he'd seen him grin, listened to his breathing.

Phil couldn't understand. He shoved away from the rack and stumbled down the sidewalk. He couldn't breathe. The rope had tightened around his lungs. Feet carrying him somewhere he didn't know, men and women passing him by without so much as a glance, wind pushing back his hair and chilling the tears on his cheeks.

He couldn't think. He didn't want to think anymore. All he wanted silence, relief, an ending to this confusing story of his. He remembered the Advil in his pocket. Would 10 be enough? Was it painful? He didn't care. He had to reach his hideout.

But then someone came into view up ahead – no, a group of people – and Phil's world seemed to collapse.

It was Finn, surrounded by his friends. Before Phil could even register them properly the boy's eyes had landed upon him and the group was moving towards him. Menacing smiles twisted their faces and Phil couldn't move. No, not now, why now?

He tried to run, but it was too late. Alfie and Joe had vice-like grips on his arms and they were dragging him forward into a thin alleyway between two buildings. Finn and the rest of them followed. Phil struggled against their hold, trying to regain control over his broken breaths. No, no, no, they couldn't be here, this couldn't still be happening...

The two boys shoved him violently against the cold ground and pain bored into his back like daggers, making Phil cry out. He tried to push himself up with trembling hands but someone pushed him down again.

"There, we found him," a voice snapped. "Go on then, Finn. Show us you aren't a dirty faggot like this one."

Reluctantly Phil raised his head and his eyes met Finn's as the boy loomed above him, casting a shadow over him. For a split second remorse seemed to flash across Finn's eyes but suddenly it was gone. All that remained was cold, hard malevolence and Phil couldn't register a thought before a boot buried deep into his ribs and pain blossomed fresh and sharp.

And if anyone heard his cries, they didn't come to his aid.