#glow sign board near me

[happybouquetinfluencer]

Illuminate Your Business with a Captivating Glow Sign Board

In today's competitive business landscape, it's crucial to find innovative ways to stand out and attract customers. One highly effective method is by utilizing the power of glow sign boards. These captivating advertising tools not only enhance visibility but also leave a lasting impression on passersby. If you're in search of a glow sign board maker near you, this article will explore the benefits, options, and approximate prices associated with these luminous marketing marvels.

A glow sign board, also referred to as a glowshine board, is a type of signage that incorporates fluorescent lights to create a vibrant and attention-grabbing display. These boards are typically crafted from acrylic or flex material and are available in a wide array of sizes, designs, and colors. Businesses, retail stores, restaurants, and other establishments commonly utilize them to promote their brand, products, or services.

When seeking a glow sign board maker in your vicinity, it's essential to find a reputable and experienced company that understands your specific requirements. Local sign board shops often offer customization options, allowing you to tailor the design, size, and lighting effects to match your brand identity and marketing objectives. Collaborating with professionals in your area ensures that your glow sign board aligns with your vision and effectively communicates your message to your target audience.

Now, let's delve into the advantages of integrating a glow sign board into your marketing strategy. Firstly, these boards possess exceptional visibility, even from a distance or in low-light conditions. The luminous display creates a captivating effect that grabs attention and entices people to take notice. Whether it's day or night, your glow sign board will continue to promote your business, acting as a beacon for potential customers.

Furthermore, glow sign boards are durable and weather-resistant, making them suitable for both indoor and outdoor use. They can withstand harsh weather conditions, including rain, wind, and sunlight, without fading or losing their vibrancy. This longevity ensures that your investment in a glow sign board will yield long-term benefits, enhancing your brand visibility and recognition for years to come.

As for pricing, glow sign board costs can vary depending on several factors, such as size, material, complexity of design, and additional features like animation or neon effects. On average, a basic glow sign board can start from around $200, but prices can increase for larger and more intricate designs. It's advisable to consult with a local glow sign board shop to obtain an accurate quote based on your specific requirements and preferences.

When it comes to design options, the possibilities are endless. Glow sign boards can be customized to reflect your brand's aesthetics and personality. Whether you prefer bold and colorful designs or sleek and minimalist styles, the choice is yours. The key lies in creating a visually appealing display that effectively communicates your message and captures the essence of your brand.

To maximize the impact of your glow sign board, strategic placement is crucial. Whether you choose to install it near your storefront, on a bustling street, or at a prominent location within a shopping mall, ensure it's easily visible to your target audience. By carefully selecting the location, you can optimize the reach and effectiveness of your glow sign board, driving foot traffic and increasing brand awareness.

In conclusion, incorporating a glow sign board into your marketing strategy can be a game-changer for your business. Its captivating and vibrant display will attract attention, leaving a memorable impression on potential customers. By collaborating with a reputable glow sign board maker near you, you can create a customized and visually appealing board that aligns with your brand identity and marketing goals.

[signved]

Why Night Glow Exit Signage Are Commonly Used At Various Streets.

The night glow exit signage is designed for emergencies they produce light at night and absorb light during the day. They increase visibility and shine. They are created on both ACP and sunboard. The exit signs also come with LED exit signs. These signages are made by Star Lite. You can get them in bulk. Our products are quality-driven and at the best price. The night glows are made in bulk. They are printed and then pasted on the sheet. The exit signs are very important for safe exits in case of dangerous hazards. Exit signage is very popular because they are used everywhere where there is a need to ensure safety for people.

The Importance of Using These Night Glow Exit Signage.

The night glow exit is lightweight.

They are durable and weather-resistant.

They are used for emergency purposes. 

The night glow exits are used for safe exits.

The night glow exits increase visibility at night.

They can easily absorb light during the day.

The nightglow signage is pasted on walls.

They are suitable for any surface.

These night glow signage come in both ACP and sunboard.

The night glow exits are for visibility from a very far distance.

The night glow exit signage is mostly sold by our company Star Lite. They are the manufacturers of night glow signage. We are the wholesaler and manufacturer of many signages including led exit signage. You can buy various signage products. The night glow exit signage is designed on software, printed on a quality machine, and then pasted on an ACP sheet and sun board, respectively. They are all sold all across India.

Benefits of Night Glow Exit Signage.

They are night glow exit signage and glow at night.

They provide visibility in the dark.

These are easily be seen from a very far distance.

The night glows are used to highlight important information.

They protect you from dangerous hazards.

The night glow exit signage is reasonable and affordable.

The night glow signage is printable.

They can be pasted very easily with double tape

These night glow signage are sold in bulk.

The night glow signage is exported all over India.

Where Can You Buy Night Glow Exit Signage In India?

The night glow exit signage is manufactured by a very well-known company Star Lite. They are wholesalers and suppliers of signage. Our company is also known as signved. As our website is signved you can get various products on our website related to signages. We provide you with products all over India. The night glow exit signage is made by our skilled workers. We provide you with premium quality products. The price of our signage is very reasonable and affordable.

[nahoney22]

I have a request! Works been rough lately, can I get a fem reader/Crosshair with “let me distract you” when he visits her during a tough shift? Love your work, thank you!

-dumfanting

The Perfect Distraction*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X Female!Reader

word count: 2.6k

Prompts:

• “Let me distract you.”

Plot: When work is non-stop, you feel yourself overwhelmed and in need of a break. Luckily for you, your other half came at the right time.

Authors note: sorry that work has been tough lately @dumfanting 🩵 hopefully things have gotten better. If not, here’s some soft Crosshair to make your day better. (Sorry for the wait)

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content and Language. Female Reader, Work Stress, Light Angst, Established Relationship, Massage, Soft Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Aftercare, Comfort, Kissing, Neck Kissing and Sucking.

A neon sign by the door flickers, glowing with a dim "OPEN" that buzzes faintly in the background. It’s barely holding on, much like you are at this point.

Your shop that you owned for a few years is - to be blunt - a mess. A current maze of half-disassembled speeders and crates of mismatched parts, with wires and hydro spanners scattered across every available surface. The usual hum of machinery sounded through the space, barely masking your own frustrated grunts as you try to wrangle yet another malfunctioning power converter back into shape. But no matter how hard you work, it feels like the pile of jobs only grows larger, while your supply of critical parts dwindles.

Then, you hear the familiar irritating buzz of the door, followed by heavy footsteps. You grit your teeth, already bracing yourself for what’s coming.

A burly customer storms in, his face flushed with anger. “This is ridiculous!” he snaps. “You said my speeder would be ready days ago! What kind of operation are you running here? I’ve been waiting long enough!” He throws his arms up in frustration, knocking over a pile of circuit boards in the process.

You open your mouth to respond, trying to keep your tone steady despite the stress bubbling under the surface. “Look, I’ve got a shortage of parts. I’m doing everything I can—”

He cuts you off, voice rising. “I don’t want excuses! You’re supposed to be a mechanic, not some scrap peddler! If you can’t get it done, I’ll take it somewhere that can.”

Before you can get another word in, a cold, measured voice slices through the tension. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The customer whips around to see Crosshair leaning against the wall, twirling a familiar toothpick between his lips. But there’s nothing casual about the deadly look in his eyes. He straightens up, moving to stand between you and the customer, his hand resting near his blaster as if daring the guy to push his luck. ���Back off and leave the lady alone,” he snarls, tone voice dipped with venom as he flicks the pick at the customer's chest.

Their bravado is quick to vanish. He stammers, trying to recover some of his bluster, but it’s clear he’s rattled. “I—I just want my speeder fixed…” He takes a step back, bumping into a tool cart and nearly knocking it over in his haste to retreat.

“Then take it somewhere else,” Crosshair replies coolly, his eyes never leaving the man. The customer mutters something under his breath and stumbles out of the shop.

For a moment, all you can do is exhale, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. You shoot Crosshair a look—half-irritation, half-gratitude. “Well, there goes another job. Not that I’m upset about it,” you mutter, rubbing your temple. “But still, I don’t need to be losing more credits.”

Crosshair simply shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “Credits won’t matter much if you’re burnt out.”

You huff, feeling the exhaustion catch up to you. “Burnt out is putting it lightly. It’s been one thing after another all day. Parts shortages, broken motivators, customers demanding miracles. I’m running myself crazy, and no one seems to care that I can’t fix what I don’t have.” Your voice wavers slightly as the frustration spills over. “I’m one person, Crosshair. I can’t keep this up.”

He listens quietly, his sharp gaze softening as he takes in the stress etched on your face. Without a word, he steps over to the door and flips the neon “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED.”

When he turns back to you, he’s closer now, his tone gentler. “What can I do?”

You look up at him, feeling a lump in your throat at the kindness in his voice. Before you can answer, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a secure embrace. You really needed this.

The warmth of him, combined with the rare tenderness in the way he holds you, makes your chest tighten with relief. You let yourself sink into him, closing your eyes as you take in the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, the clutter of the shop and the never-ending to-do list fades into the background.

“Just this,” you whisper, feeling the weight of the day lift ever so slightly. “This is enough.”

Crosshair’s hand moves in slow circles on your back, offering a silent comfort that says more than words could. His eyes then move toward your cluttered office tucked in the back of the shop. “Why don’t we head to your office? You could use a break.”

You nod, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over you. The office is far from tidy—tools, spare parts, and datapads are scattered all over—but there’s a worn couch in the corner that’s always offered a bit of comfort when you need a breather. Crosshair leads the way, and you follow.

You sigh heavily as you begin pacing in your cluttered office, not being able to help but continue venting your frustrations. “It’s like everything’s falling apart at once. Staff keep canceling their shifts, leaving me to pick up the slack. I’m drowning in work with no one to help, and my orders for parts are delayed again! I can’t catch a break, and I’m starting to think I’ll never dig myself out of this mess.”

Crosshair moves towards the couch, slouching back in his usual relaxed manner and his sharp eyes follow your every move. He doesn’t interrupt, just lets you get it all out. When you finally pause to catch your breath, he speaks, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

You look at him, still frazzled, but the calm assurance in his tone pulls you toward him. You sit beside him, and he wastes no time, guiding you against his chest as he wraps his arm around you. You lean your head back against his shoulder, trying to let go of the day’s weight.

Crosshair’s fingers trail lightly along your arm, his presence grounding you. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “Let me distract you.”

You hum softly in response, your lips curling into a faint smile at the suggestion. “You think you can really take my mind off all this?” you ask. Oh you definitely know he can.

Instead of answering, he starts massaging your shoulders, his touch firm and soothing. His skilled hands work out the tension, moving slowly, melting away the stress you’ve been carrying. As his fingers glide over your muscles, your body begins to relax, the tension easing with every pass. His thumbs press into the knots with just the right amount of pressure, and you let out a quiet, contented sigh.

“See?” he murmurs against your neck, “You’re already feeling better.”

His hands continue their path down your back, trailing lower before slipping back up along your sides. His touch is tender, coaxing you into a calm state that contrasts with his usual intensity. Crosshair is rarely gentle, but right now, it’s exactly what you need.

The atmosphere shifts, the tension turning into something else entirely. He pauses, and you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Is this how you wanted to be distracted?”

The teasing lilt in his voice makes you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. “Maybe… but I think you know what I really need,” you reply, your voice breathy as your desire begins to build.

Crosshair chuckles, clearly pleased with your response. His hands drift lower, sliding over your hips and down your thighs before slipping back up. You feel his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down just enough to grant him access. Your breath hitches as his hand dips beneath the fabric of your dampened panties, his fingers brushing against your already slick folds.

“Is this what you had in mind?” he asks, his voice a low rumble against your ear as he begins to tease you, his touch feather-light and maddeningly slow.

A quiet whimper escapes you as his fingers trace gentle circles over your clit, his touch skilled and precise. “Crosshair…” you breathe, a plea hidden in your tone.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the way you’re beginning to unravel in his arms. “I thought you needed a distraction,” he murmurs, sliding a finger inside you, teasingly slow. He works you with agonising precision, each movement calculated to draw out your need.

You arch against him, gasping softly as his fingers press deeper, his thumb maintaining a steady rhythm against your clit. “This what you wanted?” he taunts, slowly adding a finger inside you, curling them just right and hitting that perfect spot.

Your body answers for you, a shuddering moan escaping your lips as you grip his arm, your hips moving in time with his touch. The stress, the tension, everything melts away under his skilled hands, leaving only the building pleasure that threatens to tip you over the edge.

Crosshair’s free hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he continues to work you with an almost unbearable precision. “Let it go,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice velvet and commanding all at once.

And you do, falling apart in his arms. The pleasure crashes over you in waves as his fingers carry you through your release. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, spent and breathless against him.

For a moment, the world narrows down to just the sound of your breathing and the warmth of his arms around you. Eventually, Crosshair withdraws his hand, holding you close as you come down from the high, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice smug but laced with genuine concern.

You manage a tired, satisfied smile, still basking in the afterglow. “A little, yeah,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his embrace.

“Only a little?” He asks with a raised brow. He shifts positions, taking your waist and gently lifting and then laying you flat across the couch, crawling over the top of you. “That’s not good enough, is it?” His breath is warm against your skin, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

You find yourself grinning, completely obsessed with your boyfriend. “I suppose it isn’t,” you gasp the second the words leave your lips, his mouth on yours with a tender, slow and sensual kiss.

“Let’s fix that,” Crosshair’s lips press a final kiss to your neck before he slides lower, his gaze never leaving yours as he settles between your legs. You’re already breathless, anticipation tingling through your veins. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as if savoring the effect he has on you.

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, pulling them aside with a casual ease that sends a shiver up your spine. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the affection in his gaze.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he leans in closer. The word is both a command and a promise. Then, without breaking eye contact, he dips his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh before his mouth finds exactly where you need him.

His touch is slow, precise, completely different from his usual rough and demanding approach. The contrast sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but melt into the couch, your body responding eagerly to his attention. He takes his time, his tongue moving in smooth, deliberate strokes that drive you wild while keeping you tethered.

You gasp softly, arching into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to work you with a patience that’s almost agonising. “So, beautiful.” He moans into your clit.

He seems completely focused on drawing out every bit of tension, coaxing your pleasure higher and higher with each careful movement. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue is calculated, designed to make you feel like you’re the center of his world.

Unable to resist the pull, you reach for the hem of your top and tug it off, tossing it aside. Crosshair doesn’t miss a beat—his hands are quick to slide up your torso, fingers grazing your sensitive skin as he cups your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending electric sparks of pleasure through you as his mouth continues its unhurried rhythm below.

You moan his name, your voice laced with both need and admiration. He hums against you in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that has you clutching the couch cushions, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

After what feels like an eternity of bliss, he finally shifts, moving back up your body with slow, languid kisses, each one lingering as if he’s savoring your taste. He presses his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he whispers against your mouth, “I told you, I’m not done yet.”

Your breath hitches as he pulls back just enough to reach down and free himself. He takes his time, positioning himself between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you steady as he aligns himself with you. But before he moves, he locks eyes with you, his gaze filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“I’m going to take all that tension away,” he promises, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness there too—a genuine care that makes you feel cherished, not just desired. “Just let me take care of you.”

As he slowly enters you, every inch deliberate and controlled, you feel the world narrow down to just this moment—the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he fills you completely. His movements are slow but powerful, every thrust purposeful, designed to make you feel every bit of him. It’s intimate, soothing, and completely overwhelming in the best way.

He keeps whispering soft praises, his voice a rough murmur in your ear. “That’s it… just like that… you’re doing so good for me.” His hands roam your body, caressing your skin as if he’s grounding you in the here and now, making sure you stay connected and completely focused on him.

His pace is steady, as if he has all the time in the galaxy to show you exactly how much he cares. The dirty talk flows naturally, his words laced with affection. “You’re perfect like this… so beautiful when you let go.”

The way he moves, the way he speaks—it’s all meant to draw you further into this shared moment, making you forget about the stress and exhaustion from earlier. The tension in your muscles, the weight on your mind, all dissolve under the weight of his attention.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel yourself falling apart in the best way, and he’s right there with you, guiding you through it with whispered reassurances and gentle touches. When you finally reach your peak, he’s watching you with a look that’s both possessive and full of awe, like he’s proud of how you’ve given yourself over to him completely.

“C—Crosshair…mmm, I’m goin’ to cum.” You rasp, your back arching into him as stars begin to blur your vision.

He doesn’t stop until you do. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his cock until you’re fully sated. He reaches his own high, panting your name softly before he pulls out and spurts his velvet white seed all over your stomach and breasts.

As your body relaxes and becomes loose in his embrace, he leans over you and places a tender kiss to your lips as he holds you close, letting you bask in the aftermath.

When you finally catch your breath, he gives you that familiar smirk, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. “Now… how’s that for taking the tension away?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, feeling lighter than you have in days. “More than enough,” you whisper, still wrapped in his arms, grateful for the way he always knows exactly how to care for you.

That is the distraction you definitely needed today.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @lulalovez

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[hd-junglebook]

The Lucky Bachelor

Part 1 - Luke Hughes X Reader

Masterlist Link

a:n When you guys' finish let me know if you want a part 2. I'm a little conflicted because I feel like I can't write as good for Luke as I do Jack. Idk why when I'm literally gonna marry this man but whatever. Enjoy!!

Summary: This is their second chance at love, it had been three years since that night in Michigan, three years since they officially split for the better. With some unwanted help Luke knows he will find a way to make her love him again.

Word Count 6401

Y/n’s POV

Y/N inhaled deeply, the distinct aroma of stale coffee and the acrid scent of cleaning products assaulting her senses as she stepped into the bustling airport terminal.

The rhythmic whirring of the wheels on her carry-on luggage provided a muffled counterpoint to the cacophony of voices echoing off the high ceilings and the distant hum of aircraft engines.

As she pushed through the throng of hurried travelers, her eyes darted from sign to screen, searching for the gate information for her flight. Suddenly, the overhead intercom crackled to life, a tinny, robotic voice cutting through the din.

"Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to Rome. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time." The announcement was punctuated by a sharp, piercing ding that drew the attention of those waiting nearby.

Amidst the sea of harried bodies, a familiar figure suddenly caught Y/N's eye. Clarke, the bride-to-be and her best friend since childhood, stood near the crowded check-in counter.

Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, the airport's harsh lighting lending an almost ethereal glow to the strands. Clarke was practically bouncing on her toes, her smile radiant with pure joy as she waved enthusiastically, beckoning Y/N over.

"Over here!" Clarke squealed, her voice carrying above the din of the busy airport. She cupped her hands around her mouth, ensuring that her words reached Y/N's ears.

For a moment, the nervousness that had been coiling in Y/N's stomach dissipated, replaced by a warm sense of affection. The nerves that had been twisting in her stomach moments ago melted away, replaced by a comforting warmth that spread through her chest.

She quickened her pace, dodging luggage and weaving through the crowd with newfound energy until she reached the circle of familiar faces.

"Sorry, excuse me," Y/N muttered apologetically as she squeezed past a family of tourists, their curious glances following her as she made her way towards her friends.

The moment Y/N stepped into the group, Clarke's eyes lit up, her face splitting into an ecstatic grin. "Y/N! You made it!" she squealed, her voice rising an octave in excitement. Without hesitation, Clarke flung her arms around Y/N, enveloping her in a tight hug that smelled earthy and green.

Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling up from her chest as she returned the embrace, squeezing Clarke tightly. The two friends held each other for a moment, the chaos of the airport fading into the background as they savored the reunion.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Y/N declared, her voice filled with sincerity as she pulled back to look her best friend in the eye. "You and Damien deserve the best celebration."

At the mention of her fiancé's name, Clarke's cheeks flushed with a delicate hue, a blend of happiness and bashfulness coloring her features. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, her eyes glistening with gratitude. "It means the world to me that you're here."

Clarke took a deep breath, composing herself before turning to the rest of the group with a radiant smile. "Come say hi to everyone else," she urged, tugging Y/N's hand and leading her towards the other bridesmaids.

As Y/N greeted each of the girls with warm, enthusiastic hugs, the chatter among the group grew louder. But as her gaze swept across the familiar faces, it landed on a newcomer, a girl she had never seen before.

The stranger stood slightly apart from the rest, her fiery red hair cascading down her back in vivid, rebellious curls.

Her piercing green eyes seemed to hold a glint of something mysterious, an undercurrent of intensity that made Y/N pause for a moment, her heart skipping a beat.

Brushing off the strange, unsettling feeling that crept up her spine, Y/N approached the girl with a friendly smile etched onto her features. "Hi there," she said, extending her hand in greeting. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Y/N, Clarke's childhood friend."

The redhead's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a guarded expression that immediately put Y/N on edge. "Anastasia," she replied, her voice smooth and measured as she grasped Y/N's outstretched hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Despite the polite exchange, Y/N couldn't shake the odd, prickling sensation that settled in the pit of her stomach. There was something about Anastasia, something indescribable, that felt off - a subtle tension that hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating.

But before Y/N could dwell on it further, Clarke appeared by their side, her face lit up with excitement, effectively shattering the moment.

"Y/N, I see you've met Anastasia," Clarke beamed, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, forming a bridge between the two women. "She's a close work friend from my new job. I've been dying for you two to meet!"

Y/N forced a smile, the muscles in her face straining with the effort as she tried to push down the unease that threatened to surface. "That's great," she replied, her voice sounding a bit too chipper even to her own ears. "I'm always happy to meet Clarke's friends. As you can tell we're all thick as thieves now."

Anastasia's piercing gaze flickered between Y/N and Clarke, a flash of something indecipherable crossing her features before it was quickly replaced by a warm, almost saccharine smile.

"Clarke has told me so much about you, Y/N," she said, her tone honey-sweet and dripping with false sincerity. "I feel like I already know you."

Y/N let out a strained laugh, the sound grating against her own ears. "All good things, I hope," she joked, trying in vain to lighten the suddenly palpable tension.

Clarke giggled, her hand giving Y/N's shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of unease swirling between the two women.

…

All too quickly, the girls began navigating through the bustling airport, checking in their luggage and making their way through the winding security checkpoints, Y/N found herself easily falling back into step with their giddy chatter.

Taylor, one of Clarke's college friends, let out a giggle as she recounted her latest romantic escapade.

"Me and Travis aren't together anymore. He was too clingy," she said with a dramatic sigh, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe I'll steal up one of the best men, huh, Clarke?"

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Taylor was always like this, falling in love too quickly and falling out of it just as fast. Her romantic aspirations were as fleeting as the summer breeze, but her infectious laughter and carefree spirit made her an essential part of their tight-knit group.

The conversation shifted to the upcoming bachelorette party as they made their way to the boarding gate. Clarke's eyes sparkled as she described the home they'd be staying at, her hands gesturing animatedly as she painted a vivid picture of pristine white sand and crystal-clear waters.

"I found it a couple of months ago," she explained, her voice brimming with excitement. "It's a little expensive, but I feel like this week will be worth it."

Y/N listened intently, absorbing every word as Clarke waxed poetic about the luxurious amenities and breathtaking views. She could almost feel the warm sand beneath her feet, the salty breeze caressing her skin, and the laughter of her friends echoing through the night.

The intercom crackled to life, a pleasant voice filling the air. "Attention passengers, this is the final boarding call for Flight 227 to Bali. Please make your way to Gate 12. Thank you."

The announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the group, signaling for them to gather their belongings.

The girls fell into a single file line, stepping onto the plane and entering the luxurious first-class cabin that welcomed them with plush seats and gleaming surfaces.

Just as Y/N was settling into her seat, a familiar name caught her attention, causing her heart to skip a beat. "I can't wait to see Luke," one of the girls gushed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.

It was Anastasia.

"He's such a dreamboat, Emilia, don't you think? Have you seen his arms?" she giggled.

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, her grip tightening on the handle of her carry-on. She glanced up, only to find Clarke’s eyes already fixed on her, a mixture of guilt and concern etched across her face before she forced a toothy smile. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She'd known this moment would come, the day she’d see Luke again. But hearing his name spoken so casually, as if he were just another guest and not the boy who had once held her heart in his hands, made it all too real.

It was Clarke who broke the eye contact first, her smile faltering. She cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "We should probably find our seats," she suggested, her voice strained.

Y/N nodded, grateful for the escape. She followed the group onto the plane, her mind reeling with thoughts of Luke and the memories they'd shared.

Once they settled into their seats, Clarke turned to Y/N, her face contorted with guilt. "I was gonna tell you," she screeched, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Please don't be mad, Damien and Luke have gotten so close it would be rude not to invite him."

Y/N sighed, leaning back against the headrest. She couldn't blame Clarke for inviting Luke. After all, he was part of their shared history, a friend to both the bride and groom.

But the knowledge that he would be there, that she'd have to face him after all this time, sent a wave of anxiety crashing over her.

"I'm not mad, I promise," she said, the tightness in her jaw betraying her calm tone as she forced a smile. "It's just... complicated. I haven't seen him in a long time, so maybe this can be a good thing."

Clarke reached over, tentatively squeezing Y/N's hand. "I know," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern.

"You guys are older now and have most of life figured out. Maybe you guys can be friends again? Get some closure."

Y/N nodded stiffly, her gaze trained straight ahead. The past had a way of clinging to her, of resurfacing when she least expected it. And with Luke, there was so much left unsaid, so many questions left unanswered that made her chest tighten.

Anastasia plopped down into the open seat next to her, a twist of fate that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. The redhead offered her a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Looks like we'll be getting to know each other quite well on this trip," Anastasia remarked, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N swallowed hard, the muscles in her neck tensing as she nodded in agreement. Little did she know, Anastasia's words held a weight that would soon become all too clear.

…

Luke’s POV

Luke stepped off the plane, the warm island breeze caressing his face and tousling his chestnut hair. The salty scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint aroma of sunscreen and tropical flowers.

He paused for a moment, taking it all in, the exotic smells washing over him and easing the tension in his shoulders.

Adjusting the strap of his backpack, Luke scanned the crowded airport, his eyes searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of tourists and locals.

A flash of recognition caught his attention, and he spotted his friends gathered near the baggage claim, their laughter and animated conversations rising above the din of the busy terminal.

A grin spread across his face as he made his way towards them, a mixture of excitement and a touch of nerves fluttering in his chest. "Hey, guys!" he called out, his voice carrying a hint of his trademark dorky charm.

Luke was excited to see his old friends again. His friends turned to greet him, their faces lit up with genuine smiles and enthusiastic handshakes.

They fell into an easy banter, discussing the itinerary for the joint bachelor party and good-naturedly teasing the groom-to-be about his upcoming nuptials.

Luke joined in the lively conversation, laughing and joking along with the others. But even as he participated, he couldn't quite shake the twinge of apprehension that gnawed at the back of his mind.

Y/N would be here, on this very island, and the thought of seeing her again after all this time sent a shiver down his spine.

"Hey, Luke, you planning on sweeping any of the local ladies off their feet this weekend?" one of his friends, Jared, elbowed him playfully.

Luke chuckled, trying to mask the underlying tension. "Nah, man, I'm here to support the groom, not to cause any trouble."

Another friend, Ethan, piped up. "Yeah, right. Like we don't all remember how you used to be the ultimate ladies' man back in the day."

"That was a lifetime ago," Luke shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. In truth, his mind was elsewhere, still consumed by the thought of reuniting with Y/N.

He could still vividly remember the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the softness of her skin under his fingertips, and the soothing way her voice could calm his worries.

Their fairy tale romance had been cut short by the demands of his burgeoning NHL career, the distance and the pressure ultimately proving too much for their relationship to withstand.

The breakup had been painful, a raw wound that had never fully healed. In the aftermath, they had lost touch, each of them focusing on their own lives and careers, trying to move forward without the other.

Now, as Luke prepared to see Y/N again, he found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Would she still be the same girl he had fallen for all those years ago? Would the connection between them still be there, simmering beneath the surface? The uncertainty only served to heighten the nervous anxiety bubbling in his chest.

…

After three hours of painful silence on the plane, they finally made It back to the ground. y/n felt like she could finally breathe again as the fresh air hit her face. She was almost too grateful to be more than a few feet away from Anastasia.

Clarke led the way to the car rental counter, all seemed well until Anastasia suddenly let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, it looks like there's been some kind of mix-up with our reservation," she groaned, her brow furrowed in frustration.

Clarke's eyes went wide. "What do you mean? I double-checked everything before we left!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with worry.

Anastasia shot Y/N a pointed look. "Well, maybe if someone hadn't been so distracted, we wouldn't be in this mess," she huffed, her tone dripping with condescension.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and confusion. "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything," she protested, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

The redhead rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. Don't play innocent with me. I saw the way you were eyeing the baggage carousel, completely oblivious to everything else around you."

"Woah relax!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. "I was just looking around, making sure I didn't miss our luggage. There's no need to make this into a big deal, I mean what exactly is this mess-up you’re talking about."

Anastasia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, it is a big deal when your carelessness jeopardizes our entire trip. Now we're going to have to waste time sorting this out instead of enjoying ourselves."

Clarke stepped in, placing a hand on Anastasia's shoulder in an attempt to defuse the situation. "Let's all just take a deep breath, okay? I'm sure we can figure this out," she said in a soothing tone, casting an apologetic glance in Y/N's direction.

Y/N felt her heart racing, she wanted nothing more than to escape the confrontation, to retreat to a quiet corner and gather her thoughts. But Anastasia's accusatory gaze kept her rooted to the spot, her pride and sense of fairness refusing to back down.

"I'm not the one who caused this problem, Anastasia," Y/N insisted, her voice laced with a hint of steel. "If you'd just calm down and let the rental agent handle it, I'm sure we can get this sorted out."

The redhead's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Y/N could have sworn she saw a spark of genuine malice in their depths. "Oh, I'm perfectly calm," Anastasia purred, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "I'm just not going to let anyone ruin this trip for me. Especially not you."

After several tense minutes of negotiating with the rental agent, Clarke finally emerged with a set of keys, a strained smile on her face.

"Okay, everyone," she called out, waving the group over. "We got it all sorted out. Let's head to the car and get this show on the road!"

The girls filed towards the waiting vehicle, each one casting wary glances at Anastasia, who seemed to be in an especially foul mood. As Y/N reached for the handle of the front passenger door, the redhead suddenly pulled it open and slid into the seat, an triumphant smirk on her face.

Y/N froze, unsure if Anastasia was being serious. For a moment, she considered putting up a fight, asserting her rightful place in the front. But the odds already felt stacked against her, and she didn't want to risk escalating the situation further.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Y/N settled into the backseat, squeezing in next to Taylor. The brunette shot her an apologetic look, mouthing a silent "I don’t know what her deal is" as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's arm.

…

The car pulled up to the beachfront property, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. The house was stunning, a perfect blend of modern architecture and tropical charm, nestled on a secluded stretch of pristine white sand.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled her ears, a soothing melody that did little to calm the butterflies fluttering restlessly in her stomach.

Y/N hung back, taking a moment to gather her composure while the girls tumbled out of the car. She watched as her friends eagerly grabbed their bags from the trunk, their faces aglow with the glow of the setting sun.

The last time she had been in this paradise-like setting, she had been with Luke, their young love blossoming amidst the sun-drenched days and moonlit nights. Now, the prospect of seeing him again after all these years sent a shiver of both trepidation and longing through her.

Emilia turned and noticed Y/N lingering behind. "Y/N! Are you coming inside?" she called out, her voice brimming with excitement.

Y/N mustered a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," she replied, her voice betraying a hint of the turmoil she felt. "I just... need a moment."

Emilia returned the smile and nodded in understanding before disappearing through the doorway, leaving Y/N to collect her thoughts. Steeling herself, Y/N reached for her suitcase and followed the group inside.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Y/N pushed open the car door and stepped out, embracing the warm, salty breeze that swept across the secluded beachfront property.

She was the last one to leave the vehicle, her luggage trailing behind her as she crossed the threshold, the car door clicking shut softly behind her - a subtle finality that seemed to seal her fate.

The walk to the kitchen felt like an eternity, each step a battle against the nerves that she couldn’t seem to shake off. Her heart pounded in her ears, a deafening rhythm that drowned out the chatter and laughter of her friends. She forced a smile onto her face, waving to Damien and his groomsmen as she entered the room, her eyes scanning the space almost involuntarily.

And then, as if by some magnetic force, her gaze landed on Luke.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as their eyes met, their gazes locking in a moment that was both thrilling and terrifying. This was it, the moment she had both anticipated and dreaded, the chance to confront the past she had spent years trying to outrun.

He was leaning against the kitchen island, his tall frame exuding an air of effortless confidence. The years had been kind to him, sculpting his features into a breathtaking work of art. His chestnut hair was tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it, and his eyes, those deep pools of brown that had once held her captive, sparkled with mirth as he laughed at something one of the guys had said.

He looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine shoot, a perfect specimen of masculine beauty. Y/N felt her breath hitch, her heart skipping a beat as she drank in the sight of him. It was as if no time had passed at all, as if they were still those love-struck teenagers, stealing glances at each other across a crowded classroom.

Luke's expression shifted from surprise to a tentative smile, and Y/N felt her heart flutter, the familiar pull of their connection tugging at her very soul. She took a step forward, compelled by an invisible thread that bound them together, but the sound of Anastasia's voice piercing the charged silence shattered the moment, yanking Y/N back to reality.

"Y/N! There you are," the redhead chirped, her tone sugary sweet as she sidled up to Y/N, a possessive hand resting on her arm. "We were just about to start mixing cocktails. Care to join us?" Y/N tore her gaze away.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'd love to help," Y/N managed, her voice betraying a hint of her nerves. She moved to the counter, her fingers fumbling as she tried to focus on the task at hand.

She could feel Luke's presence, even without looking at him, a palpable energy that crackled and sizzled in the space between them. It was going to be a long week, a test of her resolve and her ability to keep her heart in check.

With one last glance in Luke's direction, Y/N turned away.

…

Y/N plastered on a smile, pushing down the turmoil raging within as she joined the girls in the kitchen, their lively chatter and laughter a sharp contrast to the palpable tension coursing through her veins.

"Ah, there's our girl!" Anastasia crooned, draping a possessive arm around Y/N's shoulders and guiding her to the makeshift bar. "We were just about to start mixing some cocktails."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering towards the living room, where the groomsmen - including Luke - had gathered. She could feel his eyes on her, a pull so powerful it was as if he were a planet and she, a helpless moon in his gravitational field.

"Hey, Luke, looks like your old flame is getting her flirt on," Jared teased, elbowing the other man playfully.

Luke felt a flash of something akin to jealousy surge through him, but he quickly tamped it down, offering a casual shrug. "It's been a long time. I'm sure she's just being friendly."

Ethan chuckled, a devious grin spreading across his face. "Friendly, huh? Well, in that case, maybe one of us should go over there and help her out. You know, show her a real good time."

The group erupted in a chorus of laughter, their eyes trained on the girls as they moved around the kitchen, their movements graceful and flirtatious. She could feel the weight of their gazes, and she fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny.

Anastasia, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the attention, her hips swaying in a way that Y/N couldn't help but find a bit over-the-top.

Y/N felt a subtle unease creep up her spine as Anastasia's flirtatious behavior escalated, the redhead's touches and innuendos growing increasingly blatant. Trying to divert Anastasia's attention, Y/N turned to the other girls, forcing a smile onto her face.

"So ladies, how are you two planning to spend tonight?" she asked, silently pleading for backup.

Taylor grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “I plan to spend it drunk, maybe some skinny dipping on the beach.” she winked.

Clarke, ever the diplomatic peacekeeper, stepped in, placing a hand on Anastasia's arm. "Alright, ladies, let's not hog all the fun. I'm sure the boys are getting thirsty over there." She flashed them a playful wink, her gaze shifting to Y/N, a silent message of reassurance passing between them.

"Oh, don't worry, Clarke. I'm sure the boys can entertain themselves for a while." She cast a pointed glance towards the living room, her lips curving into a coy smile. "After all, we girls need to have a little fun of our own, don't we, Y/N?" Anastasia's smooth, saccharine voice cut through the chatter.

Y/N felt her stomach twist with discomfort, the charged undercurrent in Anastasia's words raising all sorts of warning bells in her mind. Mustering a tight-lipped smile, she nodded, her eyes silently pleading with the other girls to steer the conversation in a different direction.

…

The initial excitement of the group's arrival had settled down, and the friends naturally split off into smaller clusters, catching up and exploring the luxurious beach house.

Luke stayed in the kitchen fighting with himself on what he should do. ‘Do I go to her?’ He thought to himself. ‘Can I mend three years of silence in a week?’

Caught up in the moment, Luke found himself gravitating towards the living room without another thought, muttering a 'fuck it' as his feet moved of their own accord.

It was as if he were being drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. He paused just a few feet away, clearing his throat tentatively. She was so lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean, that she didn't hear his approaching footsteps until his voice broke through her reverie.

"It's good to see you again," he said, his voice low and warm.

Y/N turned, her heart leaping into her throat as she came face to face with Luke. Up close, he was even more striking, his features sharper and more defined than she remembered.

"Luke," she breathed, his name feeling both foreign and familiar on her tongue. "Yeah, it is good to see you. It's been a while."

He smiled, a lopsided grin that sent a flutter of excitement through her chest. "Two years, give or take," he said softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "You look... amazing by the way."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck, a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical climate. "Thanks," she managed to choke out. "You look better, happier..."

There was a beat of silence as they drank in each other's presence, the weight of the years that had passed palpable between them.

Y/N's mind raced, desperately searching for the right words, the perfect way to bridge the gap that had grown. There was so much she wanted to say, so many questions she longed to ask, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, trapped behind the turbulent surge of emotions.

Luke, too, seemed to be grappling with his own thoughts, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied her face, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

"I saw you play the other week, I'm happy things are working out for you," Y/N began, looking between his face and their friends running on the beach.

"You saw the game?" Luke questioned, his expression shifting to one of shock.

"I was there in person," she admitted, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Wait, what...How come you didn't say hi?" he pressed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. "I saw you with some girls, didn't want to interrupt," she confessed, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

Luke let out a soft chuckle, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "So you were stalking me, huh?" he teased.

The familiar banter brought a smile to Y/N's face, the tension easing ever so slightly. "I was just watching, sugar," she murmured, the endearment slipping out before she could stop herself.

The moment the words left her lips, Y/N felt a wave of mortification wash over her. She hadn't used that name in three years, and one casual encounter with Luke had her mind instantly reverting to the intimacy of their past. Biting her lip, she averted her gaze, silently willing the ground to open up and swallow her.

Luke, however, seemed to revel in the familiar moniker, his expression softening as a hint of nostalgia flickered across his features.

"It's good to hear you say that again," he admitted quietly, his hand reaching out to gently brush against hers, a spark of electricity crackling between them at the fleeting touch.

The spell was broken by the arrival of Damien, the groom-to-be, who drunkenly stumbled onto Luke, clapping him on the back and pulled him into a boisterous conversation with the group outside.

…

Fat raindrops pelted against the windows as a rumbling clap of thunder rolled overhead. Y/N stood under the covered porch, watching in amusement as the rest of the group made a mad dash from the beach toward the houses front door.

Taylor was bringing up the rear, squealing as the downpour quickly soaked through her thin t-shirt. She reached the porch last, bangs plastered to her forehead and mascara smudged under her eyes. Shivering, she flung open the door and stumbled inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.

Y/N chuckled and followed Taylor into the cozy entryway. The others were already shaking out their damp hair and peeling off soaked outer layers.

Taylor pouted as a few stray droplets rolled down her neck, then broke into a impish grin. She extended her arms out to her sides, approaching Y/N.

"Don't you dare!" Y/N warned with a laugh, backing away. Her heel caught on a throw rug and she pitched backward, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation of the hard floor.

Instead, a pair of strong arms encircled her waist, catching her against a firm chest. Y/N's eyes fluttered open to find Luke's concerned gaze inches from her own.

His rain-drenched curls were flattened against his forehead and rivulets of water trailed down his chiseled jawline. His chest heaved as he caught his breath from running inside to escape the downpour.

"Whoa there, you okay?" His warm breath fanned across her cheeks. Up close, Y/N caught the scent of his cologne mingling with the fresh, earthy smells of the rainstorm.

Taylor failed to smother a giggle, shaking out her wet hair like a dog. "I think someone could use a towel."

Luke kept his arm looped protectively around Y/N's waist as he shot Taylor a playful glare. "Yeah, if someone hadn't tried drenching her with a bear hug."

Y/N felt her cheeks growing warm as Luke kept his arm looped around her waist, holding her body flush against his. His taut abdomen pressed into her back, and she was hyper-aware of his warm breath fanning across her neck. Y/N forced a laugh. "Exactly, it's all your fault."

"What's with all the racket?" Damien emerged from one of the doorways, tousling his wild, disheveled hair. He smirked at the intimate way Luke was embracing Y/N. "Oh brother, would you two just screw already and get it over with!"

Y/N's eyes went wide at Damien's crude joke, but Luke just chuckled lowly. His thumb stroked an absent-minded circle into her hipbone, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You staying up for a bit?" Luke asked in a low rumble, realizing he still had Y/N enveloped in his arms. "Not tired, Lukey?" She teased back, relaxing against his solid frame.

Luke's chocolate eyes danced with amusement. "I was tired until I saw you again. I think we have some catching up to do." He flashed her a bright, lopsided smile that made her knees go weak.

…

Taking her hand, Luke led Y/N away from the others down a hallway, throwing a roguish wink over his shoulder at Damien before disappearing around the corner. She held her breath while Luke led her into the sunroom.

It was the epitome of cozy comfort - golden lamps bathed the space in a warm glow, and the large spare bed was piled high with plush blankets and pillows.

Luke started moving towards the inviting bed, but Y/N quickly arched one leg out to block his path. "Ah ah, your shirt is still drenched. You can't get on the bed like that."

He flashed her a roguish grin before grasping the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it smoothly up and over his head in one fluid motion.

Y/N's eyes widened as his toned torso and chiseled abs were revealed. He tossed the soaked shirt aside carelessly and settled onto the bed, leaving a respectable distance between them.

Y/N instantly regretted speaking up. She couldn't believe the casual, unhesitating way he had stripped off his shirt right in front of her, as if they were still intimately involved.

A flush crept up her neck as memories flooded back of when they were dating - she had been an awestruck teenager, hungrily drinking in every newly exposed inch of his body as they learned each other.

Now she was the flustered one, feeling like that bashful girl again as she took in the sight of his muscular build, the breadth of his shoulders tapering down to those abs she used to love tracing with her fingertips...

Y/N swallowed hard as Luke reclined back on the plush bed, muscles rippling underneath tanned skin. He propped himself up on one elbow, giving her an unobstructed view of his chiseled torso and abs.

"See something you like?" Luke's voice was a deep rumble, vibrating straight through Y/N. He arched one brow cockily, the corner of his lips curling into that trademark.

Heat bloomed across Y/N's cheeks as memories of their past intimacies flooded her mind. She averted her gaze, trying to regain her composure. "Don't flatter yourself."

Luke tsked, shaking his head slowly. "Now, now. No need to be shy, gorgeous." He patted the space next to him invitingly. "Why don't you come join me? We have years of catching up to do."

Y/N's pulse fluttered wildly as she wavered, torn between the warmth pooling in her belly and her lingering hurt over how things had ended with Luke. Throwing caution to the wind, she settled gingerly on the edge of the bed, back ramrod straight.

"Relax." Luke's fingertips ghosted along her arm, raising goosebumps. "You're so tense. Come here. Let me help you with that..."

His hands found her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there with strong strokes. Y/N stifled a moan, hating how easily he could still unravel her with his touch alone. She felt him shift closer until his bare chest was a hair's breadth away, the heat radiating off him in waves.

"There, that's better," Luke purred in her ear, his mouth so close she could feel the whisper of his lips against her skin. "Now, why don't you tell me everything I've missed?"

Y/N shivered at the feel of Luke's breath fanning warmly against her neck. She forced herself to remain still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how flustered he made her.

"So," she began, proud that her voice came out stronger than she felt. "Where should we start?”

Y/N stifled a moan as Luke's strong hands kneaded the tense muscles of her shoulders and upper back. She cursed the traitorous shiver that rippled through her at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against her arm.

She had to gather her wits, made difficult by the intoxicating combination of his heated touch and masculine musk surrounding her. "Well, I finally moved out of that cramped apartment into an actual house back in Michigan."

"A home all to yourself?" Luke's hands stilled momentarily, drawing her gaze to the admiring look smoldering in his eyes. "I'm impressed”

His fingertips trailed scorching paths down her arms as he resettled behind her, the solid wall of his chest pressing against her back once more. Y/N bit her lip against the fresh wave of arousal cresting through her.

She pressed on, “anyway the job has been great. Challenging but great. Though I did have a boyfriend for a while in the midst of everything..."

The words had an immediate effect on Luke. His jaw tightened perceptibly and his eyes flashed dangerously, like a wolf catching the scent of a threat. "A boyfriend, huh?" His voice was low and controlled, but Y/N could hear the undercurrent of primal possessiveness.

She nodded, holding his intense gaze. "Yeah, we dated for several months after you...left."

Luke seemed to wrestle with reining in his reaction. When he spoke again, his tone was carefully measured. "I see. And what became of this...boyfriend?"

Y/N shrugged one shoulder casually, though her pulse was thundering in her ears. "It didn't work out. The passion wasn't really there, at least not on my end."

Luke tsked again, making that infuriatingly sexy sound. At that, some of the tension drained from Luke's frame and a faint smirk played across his lips. "No passion, huh? Can't relate."

His fingers trailed up the side of her neck, sending sparks ricocheting across her sensitized skin. In one smooth motion, he reached out and cupped her jawline, thumb brushing her parted lips. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he murmured, "I missed you every single day, you know."

"I want you back. However, I can have you." His calloused thumb stroked her lower lip as he inched closer, arousal darkening his eyes to a deep black. "Let me make up for lost time..."

…

Lmk what you think please! Part 2?

[originalfatfiction]

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals. 

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer. 

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression. 

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be. 

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity. 

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations. 

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing. 

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life. 

George—Kyle Donnelly 

Candy—Hallie James 

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio 

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston 

Slim—Raul Mota 

Crooks—Richard Smith 

Carlson—John Waterson 

The Boss—Ken Ortega 

Whit—Holden Sanders 

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD 

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).  

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical. 

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray. 

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip. 

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”) 

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history? 

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping. 

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.  

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?” 

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win. 

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extracurricular activities, why shouldn’t he? 

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.” 

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?  

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”  

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.” 

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him. 

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.  

I was getting ahead of myself. 

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.” 

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago. 

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.” 

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business. 

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful. 

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs. 

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.  

Softball—I sucked.  

Badminton—I sucked.  

Basketball—I sucked.  

Volleyball—I sucked. 

Kickball—I sucked. 

Floor Hockey—I sucked. 

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.  

I was screwed, that was all I had.  

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing. 

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.  

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked. 

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly. 

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his. 

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.  

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.  

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.” 

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym. 

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.  

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.  

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger. 

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered. 

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering. 

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage. 

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?” 

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.” 

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite. 

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly. 

I wrote a simple message. It read: 

Hey Greg, 

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.  

I signed it with just my first name, Holden. 

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. 

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me. 

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo. 

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return. 

He ate the Twix during class. 

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.  

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday. 

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.” 

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was. 

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him. 

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club. 

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection. 

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.” 

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”. 

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.” 

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face. 

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”  

“Very funny, Gregory.” 

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?” 

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” 

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven. 

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.  

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth. 

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him. 

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements. 

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.” 

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most. 

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year. 

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat. 

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family. 

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.” 

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva. 

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.  

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone,” he barked. 

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me. 

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.  

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.  

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.  

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily. 

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.  

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose. 

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.  

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.  

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.  

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.” 

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches. 

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.” 

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly. 

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.” 

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly. 

“One, The Princess and the Frog.” 

“The Disney movie?” 

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.” 

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.” 

“Never.” 

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?” 

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.” 

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning. 

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.” 

“Sorry Holden.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness. 

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.” 

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?” 

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.” 

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.” 

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever. 

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?” 

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said. 

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed. 

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak. 

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.” 

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang. 

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable. 

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week. 

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing. 

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.” 

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?” 

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.” 

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?” 

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches. 

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck. 

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked. 

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.” 

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.” 

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean. 

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.” 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” 

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.” 

“I wish we could trade.” 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.” 

“What’s a Tony?” 

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house. 

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.  

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs. 

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?” 

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”  

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.” 

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life. 

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. 

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides. 

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.  

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy. 

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.  

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.  

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.” 

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.” 

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.” 

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.” 

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth. 

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session. 

“Greg must not like him very much.” 

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.” 

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile. 

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic. 

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing. 

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.” 

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.” 

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.” 

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.” 

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.” 

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt. 

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension. 

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.” 

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable. 

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show. 

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner. 

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. 

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him. 

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.  

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit. 

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger. 

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.  

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened. 

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything. 

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again. 

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me. 

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true. 

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.  

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know. 

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.” 

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down. 

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating. 

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.” 

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men. 

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.” 

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.” 

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.” 

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all. 

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny. 

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there. 

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.  

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.” 

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage. 

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity. 

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!” 

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked. 

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.” 

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten. 

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said. 

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!” 

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.” 

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well. 

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men. 

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.  

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on. 

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted. 

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques. 

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.  

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating. 

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks. 

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”  

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.” 

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.” 

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move. 

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction. 

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement. 

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed. 

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him. 

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.” 

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass. 

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.  

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.” 

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.” 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.” 

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile. 

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction. 

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction. 

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.  

“All good,” I said. 

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard. 

“My secret fort,” I replied. 

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing. 

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit. 

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.” 

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person. 

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another. 

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me. 

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.” 

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now. 

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head. 

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.” 

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was. 

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten. 

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.  

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!” 

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!” 

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck. 

“Text me when you get home,” I said. 

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy. 

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then. 

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite. 

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it. 

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George. 

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle. 

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.  

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself. 

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said. 

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before. 

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it. 

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked. 

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked. 

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.  

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.  

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment. 

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy. 

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm. 

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.” 

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more. 

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.  

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.  

“We most definitely do.”  

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night. 

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle. 

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together. 

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him. 

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star. 

The End!

[ofstarsandflames]

Hello all! Thank you for joining me for my first ever RobStar week! And thank you even more so for giving my fic a chance!!!

I plan to participate every day this week, but if I am unable to for some reason I'll be sure to let you know!

Sorry for the rambling! I'll let you go ahead and jump right in!

[Heads up! A little of the dialogue in this story is courtesy of a prompt by @welcometothewoes!]

RobStar Week 2024, Day 1

Friends to Lovers 

“Well, what do you guys think?” 

The others looked ahead to the sign where Robin was pointing, displaying a variety of mixed reactions. 

Cyborg and Beast Boy had lit up at the reveal, no doubt eager to partake in a series of competitions that would supposedly prove who was superior between the two. Raven rolled her eyes, no doubt dreading the thought of being dragged into Cyborg and Beast Boy’s antics

Starfire’s reaction, strangely enough, was the most passive of the group. She looked up, reading the words displayed on the giant glowing sign.

“Jump City Beach Boardwalk?” Star tilted her head, confused more than anything else. “Please, what is the purpose of these “walking boards”? I was under the impression wood was not sentient.” 

“Boardwalk, Star.” Robin gently corrected. “It’s an amusement park near a beach where people can go to have fun.” 

“A park for amusement, you say.” Starfire noted. “Fascinating. Please, what is it you do in these kinds of parks?” 

“Lots of things Star!” Beast Boy chimed in. “There’s a bunch of themed junk food you can eat, games you can win cool prizes in, and a bunch of rides you can go on ‘til you get sick!” 

“How ‘bout a little game of friendly competition, Grass Stain?” Cyborg chimed in, a mischievous glint in his human eye. “Whoever wins the most prizes gets to plan next week’s dinner menu?”

“You're on, Gears for Brains!” Beast Boy exclaimed.

Cyborg ran through the gates first, eager for his 7-day barbecue dream to come true. Beast Boy followed suit, but not before grabbing Raven’s hand.

“C’mon, Rae! You can keep score!” 

“Joy.”

Raven’s sarcasm, whether unnoticed or ignored, did little to deter the green teen. Together, they passed through the boardwalk’s gates. 

And with that, only two remained. 

Robin gestured to the boardwalk’s entrance.

“Shall we?” 

Though Starfire was still unsure of the appeal of such a place, she decided to trust Robin’s judgment.

Standing side by side, the duo made their way through the gates. 

~~~

“Remember guys, only 5 prizes per person. We don’t want a repeat of last year…” 

Though Robin phrased it as a general statement, they all knew who it was meant for. Cyborg and Beast Boy laughed nervously, no doubt trying to hide their guilty expressions. Raven rolled her eyes and Starfire let out a small giggle. 

“Only 5, got it!” Cyborg reaffirmed. 

Now that he no longer felt guilty about last year’s prize incident, the cybernetic teen led his shapeshifting and dark-clad friends away. He shot a teasing look at their leader. 

“Let’s go leave Robby for his date~” He said this in a sing-songy tone. 

Robin glared, but he knew there was no ill intent. Cyborg laughed, all while Beast Boy grabbed Raven’s hand to excitedly show her how his favorite games and rides changed from last year. 

Soon, all three were out of sight. 

Robin let out a sigh of relief, happy to finally have some much needed alone time with his brand new girlfriend. 

Turning to check on her, Robin could tell by Starfire’s beaming grin that she was in good spirits. In fact, she’d been wearing this expression since they first left the tower. 

“Someone’s happy.” He playfully teased. 

"Oh! Sorry, it's just..." Starfire perked up, the shining, uncontrollable smile still not leaving her features. "It's been awhile since I've been this... giddy."

Robin returned the smile twice fold, though his eyebrows shot up in the air.

"Really? We come to the boardwalk every year."

"Yes, but..." Star shyly held Robin's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Never like this."

Ah, so that’s what it was.

Robin could feel his cheeks warming up. Hoping it wasn’t too noticeable, he gave their intertwined hands a gentle squeeze for reassurance. 

In a more than chivalrous mood, Robin gestured to the entrance with a little extra flair. 

“After you, m’lady.” 

Starfire giggled, returning the chivalry in kind.

“Thank you, kind sir.” 

Together, one’s hand fitting so naturally with the other’s, the couple made their way through the amusement park’s entrance. 

~~~

“Ready, you two?” Richard asked, a dramatic flair to his voice. 

“Yeah!” A little boy exclaimed loudly, hands thrown into the air with glee.

“You sure?” Kori questioned, savoring the moment.

“Super duper sure!” A little girl replied, unable to contain her excitement. 

Richard and Kori gave each other a knowing glance. At the same time, they removed the hands covering the eyes of the children they held. 

“Surprise!” They both yelled out. “Happy Birthday!” 

Jake and Mari, now an entire 7 years old, watched with wide eyes and slacked jaws at the birthday gift their parents presented them with. 

“Wow / Awesome!” Jake and Mari remarked at the same time.

Squirming out of their parent’s hold, the twins ran up to the gates of the place their parents had brought them to. Right there, in giant, bold letters, displayed the words: 

JUMP CITY BEACH BOARDWALK

Eager to begin exploring the beach and amusement park, the children ran back to their parents. Jake took hold of their father’s hand whilst Mari took hold of their mother’s. Together, all four walked hand-in-hand inside through the boardwalk’s gates.

[laracrofted]

we'd run inside out from the cold

synopsis: jake takes his girlfriend home for christmas. (or i realized jake seresin will never chop down a christmas tree for me and had to soothe the ache somehow.)

pairings: jake seresin x fem!reader (no y/n, a few uses of a call sign)

warnings: all fluff all the time, swearing, just kissing, smut is implied only but jake has some impure thoughts so... 18+, minors dni

note: inspired by this mood board i made. it was supposed to be short and sweet and instead, it's 2000+ words and suggestive. happy december, babes!

tagging a few people who might like this one @theharddeck @double-j @bioodforbiood @t-nd-rfoot @bradshawsbitch (who wrote a winter-themed bob fic that was so cute and cozy, it sent me into a downward spiral. read it here!)

You are nowhere to be found when Jake patters down the stairs, freshly changed from his stiff denim jeans into flannel pajama pants that’d probably fit him back in his Academy days. They’re a little too short now, exposing a stretch of bare ankle between the hem and his wool socks. 

He shivers in the cold stillness of the living room, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to cover his palms. 

You are the last ones up, and Jake hasn’t unplugged the tree yet, expecting you to stay up a little longer.

You want to put the Christmas cookies in the oven and watch Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman find love in While You Were Sleeping.

He just wants to wrap his arms around his girl and drift in and out of sleep with you pulled tight against his chest, warm and cozy under a pile of blankets. 

He wants to sneak some raw cookie dough, and when you inevitably scold him for it, lecturing him about salmonella and the like, Jake wants to shut you up with a kiss that tastes like gingerbread and molasses; wants to feel you melt into him like the sugary frosting on his tongue. 

In the soft multicolor glow of the Christmas lights, Jake looks for the familiar shape of you buried under the handmade quilt that Grandma Seresin gave him for Christmas last year. Never mind that Jake has enough quilts to carpet his apartment back in San Diego. Ma has to hold onto the others, keeping them folded upstairs in the closet of his childhood bedroom. 

Still, Jake accepts each new one with a dashing smile and a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

No one is hidden beneath the quilt.

He folds it over his arm, still warm with her body heat, and Christmas lights gleam off the black iPhone screen on the coffee table. He picks that up too, smiling at the case, clear and covered in little illustrated butterflies that match your call sign. Sets it back down and looks around the room. 

Not in here, Jake thinks. 

He was gone for all of the five minutes and definitely would’ve heard you come upstairs. Ma still hadn’t gotten anyone in to fix the creak in the third and second-to-last stairs. Sounds like a damn cat in heat.

Or… Jake remembers with a slight smirk, like the strangled sound Rooster had let out when Phoenix accidentally nailed him the balls during a round of football one time. They’d never known Rooster’s crows could reach that pitch. 

That reminds him… 

Jake owes Rooster a Christmas Eve text.

He’d gone to the mountains with Maverick for Christmas. Penny Benjamin rented some picturesque cabin in the woods, in an area that was known for good skiing and snowboarding, so Rooster was probably having the time of his life. Still, Jake wants to check in, just in case joining the Mitchell and Benjamin family unit hadn’t gone well. 

He punches out the text. 

A casual, non-invasive How’s it going with Mav? that Rooster immediately responds to with a string of emojis that’d be unintelligible to anyone who doesn’t spend 40+ hours a week with the dude. He seems to be having a good enough time, so Jake slides his phone back into his pocket, looks down at the abandoned phone again.

“Now,” Jake says out loud. “Where did you sneak off to, sweetheart?” 

His voice is almost too loud in the near silent room, and Jake cocks his head to listen more closely for any signs of his girl. He is met with the low buzz of the baseboard heaters and the occasional whoosh of the wind blowing snow against the windows. 

He shivers again, and Jake has an epiphany. 

It shouldn’t be so cold in here with the heat on, which means…

He pokes his head into the kitchen and sees the back door is open. Not enough to let the weather in, just a precaution someone might take to keep themselves from getting locked out. Someone smart, like Jake’s girlfriend. 

He grabs his snow boots, pulls them on over his socks, and quilt in hand, slips out into the bitter night. 

Snow crunches softly under his boots, and Jake will need to sweep the snow from the deck in the morning. He already did it this afternoon, after getting back from the Christmas Tree Farm, but Texas is facing a historically cold winter with record snowfall this week.

Snow paints a pretty picture for a white Christmas, making everything glitter and gleam in the pale moonlight. 

Nothing could ever paint as pretty a picture as the one Jake finds outside.

You’re bundled in one of his old coats, a nice one with a fur-lined hood, and a familiar knit hat. Ma made that one, and after you forgot your beanie in your suitcase, Jake made a big show of setting it on your head during their search for the perfect Christmas tree this afternoon.

He purposely pulled it down too far, covering your eyes too. You scrunched your nose at him and acted all annoyed, but Jake could see the pleased glow to your cheeks, already flushed from the cold. 

It made him feel the same way that Jake feels right now, like your visible happiness is a hot lance through his heart. You’re seated on the brick stairs that lead down to the yard and the stables, but Jake holds back and watches his girl for a moment, unobserved. 

How in the world did Jake Seresin become to the luckiest man alive?

He was always the insensitive one, always the asshole, always second-best even after giving every part of himself over to the pursuit of ice-cold perfection. Him. 

He presses his hand to the soft material of his woolen sweater, right over that aching spot in his chest, and lets out a deep breath. 

“There you are,” Jake says, calling your name. You half-turn.

Snowflakes catch in the hair that escapes from the hat, shining in the dim light from the kitchen windows, and Jake brushes it from the jacket, dropping onto the step beside his girl. He can feel the wet snow seeping into the flannel pants, making them damp. He doesn’t mind much.

You smile at him, bright as the Christmas lights on the tree inside, glittering as the fresh snow on the ground in the blue beams of moonlight. Lean your head on his shoulder.

He wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you against the line of his side, wanting you as close as possible. Not even an inch of space between you. 

He always wants you there. 

Ma was the first of his family members to notice, though Jake’s sisters didn’t take long to catch on too. Damn Seresin women…

“She’s not gonna disappear while I’ve got you washing the salad forks,” Ma joked, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with a plaid hand towel. 

He probably deserved that, missing her prompt to pass the pile of utensils yet again because Jake was too busy looking over his shoulder, tracking you from across the room. 

He whipped his head back around, face warm. 

Ma didn’t miss that either.

“Look at that…” Ma commented, taking the bundle of spoons that Jake handed her and dunking them into the soapy water. “You two gonna okay sleeping in separate rooms? Wouldn’t want you to come down with separation anxiety.” 

“Give it a rest, Ma,” Jake grumbled, embarrassed. He blamed the heat of the still-warm over for the blush that crept down his neck. He waited until Ma was preoccupied looking down at the sink before Jake cast another quick look over his shoulder. 

You might not be sharing a room, but Jake sneaks across the hall into the guest bedroom every night to slip beneath the comforter for a few blissful hours, one arm underneath the pillow, the other wrapped around your torso, cradling you against him. Legs so intertwined that when Jake has to untangle himself to lean over and kiss you in the early morning, slithering his hand across your collarbone, coaxing your head back with a gentle press of his fingers. 

It is hard to leave you there, softly moaning into his mouth in the pre-dawn blue, but Jake has to be back in his own bed before Ma gets up to feed the horses. He’s starting to get dark circles under his eyes from doing it every morning. It’s well worth it. 

“Didn’t meant to disappear, babe. Just wanted to see the snow at night.” Your words are barely louder than a whisper, brushing against the side of Jake’s neck, as if you’re matching the muffled tone of the snowfall. “So quiet out here.” 

“It is,” Jake agrees. “Far cry from San Diego.” 

He notices your knee bouncing and unfolds the quilt over your legs, cocooning you both in a pocket of warmth. It’s cold enough out to fog the windows and cover them in a thin sheet of frost, and Jake can see the puff of your breaths. 

You are warm against his side. 

Soft again, quiet as snow. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

He swings his gaze to look at you, pitching your chin up with two fingers and looking into your sparkling eyes. It hits him again. Adoration pierces through him, right through the heart, and Jake strokes the side of your face with the pad of his thumb.

You sneak your hand from under the blanket, reaching up to cup the side of his face in turn. Run your palm across the prickled scruff that’s grown on his jaw over the past few days. 

He leans into your hold, closing his eyes for a hushed moment.  

And then Jake pulls back, catching your hand in his and kissing the center of your palm, then interlacing your fingers. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me, Butterfly,” Jake murmurs, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your cheek. You happen to turn at the same time, eyes bright, and Jake catches your mouth. 

Your lips are cold, but Jake makes quick work of warming them, coaxing them open, licking into your mouth. You taste honey sweet. Like the white wine from dinner and peaches from the after-dinner cobbler, and Jake drinks in every bit of sweetness, every soft sigh that spills from your lips. 

Hands itching to pull apart the buttons of the coat, to tug the loose sweater away from your neck and press open-mouthed kisses all the way down the line of your throat… 

Jake breaks the kiss. 

Leans his forehead against yours to catch his breath, calming the heart that’s threatening to beat out of his chest, racing like a wild horse.  

“You okay there?” 

He can hear the amusement in your voice. 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Just… Give me a second while I hold back the urge to lay you down in the snow and…” He lets the sentence die. All in the name of holding back the urge. 

You laugh. It echoes like the jingle of bells around the snowy woods.

Wind whooshes through the frosted trees, carrying your laugh back to you, and Jake notices more and more snowflakes gathering on their sleeves, frosting your delicate eyelashes. It’s starting to come down harder. 

“We should head inside,” Jake says, pushing up to his feet. He shakes the snow from the quilt, making a mental note to hang it over the staircase railing to dry overnight. 

You look up at him, and Jake holds out a hand. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief. “Head inside to watch the movie and make cookies, right?” 

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I’ve got to get out of these wet pants before I get hypothermia. Thanks to you.” 

Hand slipping into his, Jake watches your mouth drop open, biting down on his lip. He tugs you to your feet, fast enough to send you crashing into his chest, just to hear that familiar surprised exhale shoot from your parted lips.

You look at him with narrowed eyes. “Watch it, Lieutenant. I’m cold too.” 

“Really?” He walks you back under the shelter of the doorway, shield you from the snow with his torso. Icicles glean from the edge of the roof. “Don’t want you getting hypothermia either then, darling. Think I might need to run a midnight shower for the both of us. How’s that sound?” 

Home makes his accent thicker, and Jake plays it up even more, watching the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks. He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. 

“What about the cookie dough?” is the only protest that falls from your lips. 

“Put ‘em back in the fridge,” Jake instructs, leading you back inside and closing the door behind you both.

 “And don’t you worry, sweetheart…” He presses the next words into the hollow right below your ear, planting a wet kiss there, skating his tongue out to lick the delicate skin. “I’ll go easy on you. You’ve got to be able to get on a horse tomorrow.” 

A wonderful gasp graces his ears, and Jake can’t help his grin. 

You scowl at him, but Jake feels you shiver against him. His grin widens, sharp and intent. He heads back into the living room to unplug the Christmas lights.

Ma sees you headed back from the horseback ride early on Christmas morning before the rest of the Seresin clan will come around to exchange well wishes and open presents.

Frowning slightly, Ma pulls him aside and asks, “Where’d you take that girl this morning?” 

Brows furrowed, Jake recounts the route, taking you around a local trail that ran the length of a frozen stream and gave you a good view of the stables, dusted in white like a gingerbread house. You’d been giddy at the picturesque view, wearing an old film camera around your neck to snap a few shots. You’d pressed your gratitude against the line of his neck, and Jake probably needed a cold shower before changing into his Christmas attire.

“It was an easy one,” Jake asks, confused. “Why?” 

“Wasn’t a rough ride with the snow, was it? She’s limpin’ a little bit.” 

And Jake buries his grin behind a cough. 

end note: butterfly comes from me listening to phoebe bridgers's so much wine cover on repeat while writing this. hope you liked it, but i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings!

part two with the shower smut, lmk? now posted here!

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

An Angel and Some Hair Gel (Aziraphale x Female Reader)

Summary: After getting a bad haircut, you turn to your angel friend Aziraphale for a miracle and he’s got something up his sleeve just for that

A/N-Yay my first Aziraphale/Good Omens fanfic *happy dance*. I had too much fun writing this. Stayed up just to get this finished. I apologize for not posting much, since I got busy with work and personal life. I’m currently working on multiple fanfics at the same time and hopefully get them done before the year is out. Requests are still open through either comments or my DM board…

Warnings: Some mild language, slight nervous breakdown, and tons and tons of fluff 

Citrus Scale:🍎

W.C+:2.5K

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You quickly walked down the street at a fast pace with your head hung low, through the crowd of people. The hood of your jacket covered your entire head, with the edge hanging above your eyes. Hands in your pockets as you continued to walk quickly past the other pedestrians.

A stream of hot tears ran down your face and dripped off your jaw. They dropped down onto your jacket and soaked up into the cotton fabric.

Why me, you muttered in your strained thoughts. Why did this happen to me of all things? The same question kept on repeating over and over again inside of your mind. 

You felt your feet dragging along the sidewalk in Soho. Making them feel like weights as you walk with each step.

There was only one place to go to in all of Soho that you were always welcomed to. Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Aziraphale has been your best friend since you were a little girl. You’ve always stopped by his shop after school to help him out or read one of his book collections to pass the time. But not today. Today you needed his help. Just a few more blocks until you arrive at his bookshop.

You felt your hands trembling inside your pockets. Balling them into fists as more tears fell down your face. Nails digging into the flesh of your palm. Emotions of sadness and anger mixed all over your mind.

As you turned the last corner on the street, you cleared your mind when you lifted your head up high to see better. There at the corner of Soho was the bookshop. The two story red building glowed within the afternoon sunlight. Hopefully Aziraphale was still there.

Once you’ve got closer to the double doors, your heart flutters a bit. Relief washed over you when you looked inside through the small panes of glass to see Aziraphale sitting there at his desk near the window.

His short and curly golden white hair glowed within the afternoon sun pouring through the windows. He was at his desk either reading a book or writing down in his journal. Aziraphale always looks so peaceful in the sunlight. Hopefully, he’ll help you out with your situation.

The sign that hung in the window said ‘CLOSED’ with a note taped underneath it, but you knew he always left it unlocked for you or for his friend Crowley to come in and spend some quality time inside the bookshop.

You grabbed a hold of the door latch and pushed the door in. The bell that hung above the door frame rang, alerting the angel to look up to see who it was. 

“Sorry. We’re closed-. Oh (Y/N) it’s you. You’re here a bit early today.” He said, as he turned around in his chair.

Once you were inside the shop, you closed the door behind you and then locked it. “(Y/N), what’s wrong? Are you alright,” Aziraphale asked as he walked up slowly to you. There was a hint of worry in his usually sweet voice.

A lump formed in your throat and felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. Slowly, you turned to look at Aziraphale. A gasp escaped from his lips when his eyes saw your tear stained face.

“Oh my dear (Y/N), what happened? Has somebody hurt you,” his sweet blue eyes turned sad, seeing his beloved friend cry like this. Your heart felt more heavier now. You’ve got your angel friend in such a tizzy, you couldn’t hold it in longer.

“Well, I went to get my hair done at the Salon today and needed a trim. My stylist wasn’t there when I came in. I told the person who was covering for her ‘Just a trim please’. While she was trimming, I guess she got distracted while she was talking to the others in the Salon. Then this happened.” You pulled both your hands from the jacket pockets, lifting them to the hood, and pulled it back from your head. Another gasp came from Aziraphale’s lips as he saw what you were talking about.

“Oh dear Lord,” the angel said in great shock as he placed a hand over his mouth. Your usual shoulder length hair was now a jagged mess. Several locks were cut unevenly, while others were left alone or cut shorter. Your hair also looked messy and stuck out in several places on your head.

His face turned pale white and his blue eyes nearly popped out of his head, upon seeing your mangled hair. “Oh, you poor thing,” were the first words to pop out of his shocked mouth. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” you whimpered as another stream of tears went down your face. “She was just talking and cutting away, while I was sitting in the chair. When she was talking, she got distracted and wasn’t paying any attention. She kept on cutting and cutting with the scissors, until she looked back and saw what she was doing.” Another sob came out of your quivering lips.

Aziraphale stepped closer to you and placed a hand upon your shoulder. Rubbing it in circles to help keep you calm. “What happened afterwards?” He asked in a soft tone. “I just left,” you said quietly, “I was so upset and just exited through the door. They offered to fix it, but I was so embarrassed and on the brink of crying. So I just came over here,” your voice cracked, as you wiped away tears with the edge of your jacket sleeve.

Aziraphale then wrapped his arms around you in a soft embrace, as you quietly sobbed into his shoulder. Moving his hand in around circles on the small of your back. “I’m so sorry this happened to you my dear. Is there any way I could help you with this misfortune?” Asking you softly.

You lifted your head up to look into his blue eyes, “I don’t know. Is there any way you could miracle this away, Aziraphale?” Aziraphale’s expression changed when you asked him that.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that for something small. They’ll know about it.” He said with a disapproved tone. That’s right. Aziraphale can’t make things go away with a miracle, because Heaven will know about it. He didn’t want either of you to get into trouble with the ‘higher ups’ as he puts it.

“Oh Aziraphale. How am I going to fix this mess,” you asked as you covered your face with your hands and continued to cry into your jacket sleeves. Aziraphale continued to comfort you, until the mood changed all of a sudden.

You heard Aziraphale snap his fingers and looked up at him. He had a big smile on his lips and eyes shining brightly in the afternoon sunlight. 

“I’ve got an idea my dear. Why don’t I fix your hair for you,” a great relief washed over you when he asked you that. “Really? You would do that for me?” He nodded his head with a big twinkle in his blue eyes. “Well of course. What are friends for?”

You couldn’t help yourself, but smile and happily cry for your friend’s help and hug him in return. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you so much Aziraphale.” You squealed with pure happiness. 

“Now my dear, go upstairs and wait in the bathroom for a bit. I need to finish up.” He said, pointing over towards the spiral staircase near the corner of the shop. You nodded a bit and then skipped over to the stairs.

As you ascended up the flight of stairs, you felt your heart pitter patter inside your chest. Like butterflies flying all around your ribcage. After coming up the last few steps, you went straight to the bathroom and pushed the door open.

Turning the switch on, light flooded every inch of it. The painted blood orange walls made you feel warm and safe whenever you came to the bookshop. The bathroom was a simple design. Checkered tile flooring, elegant sink with a matching mirror, and a clawfoot bathtub. Aziraphale loves having simple things.

A wooden cushioned stool sat in the corner by the sink. As you were going to grab it, you caught your reflection in the mirror. There you stared straight at yourself and saw what was the mangled remains of your hair. The (H/C) locks were a-skewed, sticking up in different directions, and half were chopped off. 

You were on the verge of crying again, until you heard the angel’s footsteps coming up the spiral staircase. Quickly you wiped your eyes and dragged the stool over to the center of the bathroom. Once it was in place, Aziraphale stepped through the doorway with some items in hand. A comb, a small spray bottle with water, hairdresser scissors, some hair clips, and a big jar that looks to be hair gel.

As he placed the items on the sink, he turned and looked over his shoulder towards you, “my dear, would you please take off your jacket for the moment?” Politely asking you in a soft tone.

You nodded your head. Slowly you unzipped the jacket and took it off. You neatly folded it up and then hung it off the shower curtain rod above the tub. 

You then sat on top of the stool, resting both feet on the wooden bars. As you were sitting comfortably now, you looked down to see a towel being wrapped around your neck and shoulders. A makeshift cape to catch any loose strands of hair. Aziraphale was using the hair clips to tie the towel back.

Everything was ready now. You could hear your heart pounding faster in your chest. You felt somewhat nervous, but grateful that Aziraphale was helping out with your situation.

“Alrighty then, let’s get you fixed up,” he finally said, clapping his hands together. 

He grabbed the bottle first and started to spray water around your head. Damping your hair enough to comb through the mangled mess. After he was done spraying, he placed the bottle back onto the sink and grabbed the long toothed comb next to it. Slowly, he combed top to bottom through the mangled strands. He made sure to carefully comb through the knots that were left over.

“So Aziraphale. How do you know how to cut hair?” You asked with a curious tone. Aziraphale chuckled to himself a bit. “Crowley.” Crowley? You were quite shocked by that answer. “Crowley? You cut Crowley’s hair,” asking the angel.

“Used to actually. Crowley always asked me to cut his hair for him. I loved to style his hair as well. I just wish he kept his long hair.” That made your heart break a bit for him. You never knew that Crowley used to have long hair. 

While still combing your hair out, Aziraphale reached over to the sink and grabbed the scissors now. He opened and closed them. It made that metallic snipping sound. 

“Okay. Now sit still my dear. I’ve got everything under control.” The moment he said that, the scissors snipped and cut the first strands off. Falling down from your shoulders and onto the floor.

Snip snip snip snip was all you heard as he combed and cut your hair in small sections. As he cut away at the chopped off sections, the two of you talked to pass the time. Catching up on what was going in your lives and other things going on at the moment. You cleared your mind away from what happened to you and focused on talking with Aziraphale.

 After several minutes went by, Aziraphale cut the remaining mangled strands off and was finished. You felt the nape of your neck feeling lighter now. Putting both the comb and scissors inside the sink, Aziraphale grabbed the jar of hair gel. Unscrewing the cap, he used two fingers to scoop out some of the clear white gel. He rubbed it on both of his palms and then ran his fingers through your freshly cut locks. Lathering each of the strands with the vanilla scent. 

The moment he finished running his fingers through the strands, he took off the towel/cap and brushed off any loose strands. 

“Okay close your eyes my dear and hold out your hands. No peeking,” he said with excitement in his tone. You closed and held out your hands like he said. You felt something placed in the palms of both hands. It almost felt like a hand held mirror. 

“Okay. Open them!” Saying with a squeal of joy, you opened your eyes and your jaw dropped open. 

You were in complete shock at what you were seeing just now. What was a long, mangled mess of hair was now short and curly. You couldn’t believe your own eyes. Running a hand through your new hairstyle, you couldn’t help but smile widely at your reflection.

It felt so soft and the curls wrapped around your fingers. Your heart skipped a beat, just looking at it. “So what do you think (Y/N)?” He asked, looking at you. You looked at him, with tears falling down your face. They were tears of joy and happiness. 

“I love it,” you said with a soft sob, “thank you so much Aziraphale. Thank you for fixing it.” You said, leaping from the stool and wrapped your arms around the angel.

“I knew you would, my dear. I’m happy to help out a friend in dire need,” he said softly, placing a kissing on your forehead.

(Bonus ending with Crowley’s reaction ;D)

“Hey Aziraphale! Where do you want this stack of books at,” you called out from behind the stack of books you had in your hands. “Over in the corner near the bookcase by the side window.” Aziraphale called back from behind a bookcase.

As you walked over to the table top, the bell above the front doors rang followed by the sound of familiar footsteps. “Aziraphale? (Y/N)? You two in here,” he asked in a high note in his voice. “Over here Crowley,” you said over your shoulders. Placing the stack of books onto the table, you turned back to see Crowley.

“Afternoon Crowley,” you said in a sweet tone. “Good afternoon to you (Y/N).” Crowley nodded towards you and strode by with his signature strut walk. But he stopped in his tracks and turned back towards you.

He took off his sunglasses and his yellow snake eyes looked at you with a curious and confused look. “(Y/N),” he said, “did you do something new with your hair?” Looking at you with a surprised look on his face.

“Yes I did. Do you like it,” you asked, cupping your hands around your face. He giggled like a little kid and strode over to you. “I do very much. It’s very beautiful glowing in the afternoon sunlight.” He said as he ran his slender fingers through the soft curls.

“Well let’s just say I had some help with a certain angel and some hair gel.” You said, looking over at Aziraphale.         

[pechaberriesandsoju]

Don't You Dare

This is a re-upload of the original Don't You Dare lyric fic I wrote back when I originally did my self shipping on a side blog. I finally decided to edit it up some more and put it here. I only finally decided to say fuck it and finish it up recently cause I got a bit stumped on my newest lyric fic and I thought this would help. And it kinda did. Also, for those who remember this from my old blog?? HIIII READY TO BE SAD AGAIN?????

Anyways, just like before, this is before Echo changed her name to Echo. Before she became an nsr artist. But it does take place after the main events of the game. And yes, there is a slight crossover mention here because your girl is addicted to crossovers, and it's incurable.

Pink italics are lyrics like before. The song used is Don't You Dare(Make Me Fall In Love With You) by Kaden MacKay.

Anyways, tw: Self Depreciation, blood and injury mentions, lots of angst, character a not noticing and acknowledging the signs that character b genuinely likes them. And possible grammar errors because grammar was never my strong suit.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Pro.ship and com.ship and what not, do not interact. Respect my boundaries.

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Kore knew better. Or she should know better. He's an NSR artist for crying out loud - she's just an assistant.

Her job is to work on security drones and new tech with her father. His job is to sing and dance and make people swoon. He was literally programmed for it, after all. Maybe that's what this was - he was being kind due to his programming. These gestures of kindness are nothing but actions from his "perfect boyfriend" programming. Nothing more, nothing less.

Don't you dare enchant me with those eyes

Yet here she was, still enchanted by those eyes. Those damn glowing green android eyes. Curse Neon J for making them so expressive. She had to give him credit, though. They almost gave her a sense that there was genuine care and curiosity in his eyes. But that could just be her mind tricking her. She shouldn't be getting close anyway.

If I fell through your skies,

There's no way you would catch me

She stopped in her tracks when a hand gently pulled her back, eyes glancing back over her shoulder in time to make eye contact with bright glowing green ones framed by green curls. Shit was all she thought, as he carefully reached for a box she was carrying, a warm smile on his face. "Here, let me help. You looked like you were about to fall." His robotic voice still made her heart soar - she hated it. Kore didn't respond. She kept a straight face and nodded before continuing on, maybe even speeding up a little. She wanted to avoid small talk as much as possible.

There's a tear in my heart,

But your patch wouldn't match me.

She wished he didn't fret over her like this. She wasn't fragile. Yes he was an android and she was...human. Yeah, human. Another reason why they couldn't be together. They're too different. It could lead to issues in the future. Besides there are better humans he could fall for. Ones that weren't as short as her, not as scarred and battered as her. Physically and mentally. Eloni deserves better than her after all.

Being near you still adds to the size of my sighs,

Kore didn't get why he insisted on being near her when they visited. The other 1010 units would stick near by but not as close him. For the fifth time that day she let out a heavy sigh as she moved her line of sight back to the circuit board before her. She couldn't focus with him being so close to her. It made her mind wander to what ifs and maybes- things that wouldn't be possible. Not with him anyways. Not him with her to be exact.

There's still seismic events at hellos and goodbyes,

She hated how her heart ached seeing him have to leave. She hated how her mind tricked her into thinking he genuinely looked disappointed that he was leaving her behind. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real and she needed to get it through her mind that it wasn't real. They wouldn't match anyways.

She especially hated how her heart leapt when he entered the room. The way it raced when he gave her that damn smile and waved at her like he was genuinely excited to see her. He was just being nice- it's all his programming she reasoned. It's not real.

And I still need reminders of why it's unwise

To stare

Kore cursed to herself when she realized she was staring at him. She only caught herself cause they made eye contact and he immediately smiled and winked at her. She had to pull herself together- this wasn't professional of her. She had to remind herself that it wasn't wise to be falling for him. To not fall for his damn programming. Not read into it. He was just being nice. She needed to pull it together.

So don't you dare

         ⋅⋆∘✯∘⋆⋅

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare do something so cliché

"Oh stay still." She froze as he reached up to her face, heart racing as he gently pushed back some of her hair out of her face, fingers barely grazing her skin as he pulled away, a warm smile on his face. "There we go, wouldn't want that to get in the way as you work." He teased lightly, her chest growing warm from the action.

How long had these feelings been chewing away at her? They definitely got worse over time. She hated how it got harder to fight off. When he would make silly faces across the room to try and make her smile. She hated when it actually worked. And she hated how it made her heart race when he gave her that smile every time they saw each other. She hated how he genuinely brought a smile to her face and made her laugh. She hated how it made her fall for him more. It wasn't fair.

Just get out of my daydreams,

You're an unwelcome guest

Kore jolted with a start as she realized she was spacing out again. Her thoughts had turned into daydreams of what ifs again. Another dangerous habit she's developed ever since these feelings showed up. She couldn't let them distract her this much. It was bad for her work. Gold eyes glanced down to her sketchbook in front of her, widening at the sight of a small faint beginnings of a sketch of Eloni on the corner of her work. She muttered a curse under her breath as she quickly erased it. Her cheeks warm as she got rid of the evidence of her feelings.

And stop making me miss you

'Cause you leaving's for the best

She hated how she missed him. How she longed for him to walk through the door during those long weeks. How she wished he was there to make silly faces, and send absurd memes and videos to her during meetings, anything to make her break into silent giggles or snickers. She hated how her heart ached for him during these periods of time. It lead to more distractions. Distractions lead to more errors and more errors lead to more work.

'Cause I just couldn't stand having you as my crutch

The idea of blaming him for her errors felt unfair. But the emotions he was putting her through made it feel like it was justified. But Kore kept fighting it. She kept fighting the feelings. She should know better. She knows better. She'd hold him back. He didn't deserve to be held back.

You're a simmering stovetop, I was tempted to touch

But god, did she hate how she felt how relaxed she felt when he showed up the next day. She wouldn't admit how her heart almost leaped out of her chest when he sat next to her during the meeting. She wouldn't admit how she struggled to pay attention to Tatiana, Neon J, and Tony talking over the next upgrades and blueprints. She would definitely refuse to admit how her heart stuttered for a second when she felt his hand brush against hers under the table. How she fought back the blush the grew on her face when she saw his smile grow in the corner of her eye. How part of her wanted to reach for his hand, and just hold it, but then it came rushing back. She shouldn't. She couldn't. It wasn't real. It's the programming, Kore, she reminded herself. She would never admit how her chest ached when she pulled her hand away, and how she swore she saw his smile falter when she pulled away. It was more than likely a trick of the light. Why would he be disappointed about it? It's not like he actually really cared about her. It's more than likely a game to him anyway.

If you ever return, it'll burn me too much

To bear

Another distraction was another mistake - she hissed when she pulled her hand back, tools going scattering to the table as she stood up abruptly. Her hand stung from the hot metal. Even if it was touching her for a second, it burned. As she quickly made her way to a sink in the warehouse, it reminded her of why it wouldn't work between them. She was too accident prone, more these days now that he occupied her thoughts. It would be disastrous for him to be with someone who got injured as much as her. No one would want to be stuck with someone like her. She ignored how her chest and eyes burned at the thought as she ran her hand under cold water. It was a fact, after all. And you can't argue with facts.

So don't you dare

      ⋅⋆∘✯∘⋆⋅

And I know it's all so shallow, but a shallow cut still stings

Watching 1010 performances and interviews made her chest hurt. Alot. It was selfish of her to feel a type of jealousy when others held his attention. She knew it was selfish of her because he didn't return the feelings. She knew this by now. He just wanted to be friends. And she had been a shallow, selfish person for falling for him and that programming of his that made him this nice. For reading into it too much. She hated it, but it stung her heart so much. And she hated how it stung.

And before my heart becomes Amelia's heir, I need to clip its wings

"Fuck fuck fuck.."She cursed to herself as she stared at the page,  filled with sketches of him. This was getting out of hand. She couldn't be in love with him, she shouldn't be in love with him. He didn't even feel the same way towards her.  She swallowed her heart for once and ripped the page out of the sketchbook. She ignored how her heart started to ache as she crumpled the page and tossed it out. She ignored the tears that filled up her eyes as she slammed the sketchbook shut and stormed out of the warehouse. She ignored the ache all the way back home. She ignored it as long as she could. She had to after all.

So don't you dare keep mocking me with those

Thousand little things that I adore

Eloni made it hard to ignore these feelings every time he and his brothers visited. He'd always try to stick by her side when he wasn't rough housing with his brother or talking to the other NSR artists or B2J. He'd be sitting nearby as she sat on the ground, elbow deep in a bouncer drone, immediately handing her a tool she was reaching for when she didn't ask for it. Always helping without prompting. He kept talking to her about his day or about something that reminded him of her or showing her memes and videos that he thought would make her laugh. And it always brought a smile to her face no matter how much she tried to fight it. He made it difficult when he always helped her up from the ground when she didn't need it. Everything he did....she adored it. And she hated it. It made it harder to distance herself from him. From her feelings for him.

Let me ignore you, don't let me care

She tried to ignore him. Tried to distance herself as much as possible. She ignored how it it hurt her. How it made her feel awful doing this to him. But she had to stop this somehow. It was a difficult task but she had to if she wanted to spare him from her one sided attraction. She was almost successful for the day. Until the turrent drone they were testing started to malfunction. Mostly everyone got out of the way in time- except for him. She knew he could be easily repaired but she couldn't stand by and watch.

She acted before she could think. She didn't even realize she shouted his name as she tackled him out of the way. It only sunk in what she had done when she opened her eyes too look down at him, almost in the same position they were in when they first met. This time was different. She was the one above him this time, bright green eyes staring up at her in shock. Her heart stopped for a second when she saw a red droplet fall on his face, but then she remembered. Androids don't bleed. But she does.

The adrenaline started to fade, the stinging in the back of her neck came rushing in, the feeling of warm blood dripping down her neck registered not too long after. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared down at him with a straight face, ignoring how her body shook as she started to push herself backwards to sit on her legs, hand reaching to cover the shallow cut on the back of her neck, fingers brushing past what was left of her hair to try to stop the bleeding.

"Guess we're even now." She stated, ignoring the pain in her neck as the blood seeped through her fingers down her back, and how the ache in her chest came back. How guilt consumed her, dread of what would come next slowly creeping in.

    ⋅⋆∘✯∘⋆⋅

And don't you dare leave me still in love with you

It had been a week or so since the incident. Her neck had healed a few days after it had happened, but Tony insisted she rest longer. It was probably him worrying over her as her father, but more than likely, it was to keep the others from worrying and wondering about such a fast recovery. She was grateful for the time away, though. Yet it was also hell. The aching feeling came back when she realized she missed him. Kore tried to distract herself from how much she missed him as much as possible. It worked until he started texting her. Then it got harder. He'd check up on her, send her updates on what his brothers and his day were like, and wish her a speedy recovery. It warmed her heart yet made the ache so much worse. She hated it. She hated how she was still in love with him.

Nothing's fair when love is war

She responded to the texts at first, but it made her hurt more. So she gradually started to keep quiet. It made her feel guilty. It made her feel sick. Not as sick as the thoughts of how this was more than likely him being kind out of pity. It must have been. Or this was some sort of sick game. Some bet he lost or something. It didn't feel fair though.

And I just can't endure any more of the fight

It felt like a losing battle the longer she went on. The aching pain in her chest wouldn't leave, the doubt that he ever cared dug it's claws deep in her and refused to let go.They both made it hard to sleep. Hard to focus on anything. Made it easier for her to space out and think of those damn what ifs. They got cruel over time, reminding her of how they were never meant to be, should never be and could never be. She was exhausted from it all.

When the casualties rise with my heart rate each night

Then the gift came in. It made her heart sink and race all at once. Especially when Tony confirmed it was from Eloni. Part of her didn't want to open it. The other part was consumed with curiosity and was touched by this. Yet she was hesitant to open it as it sat on her bedroom desk. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest as she carefully opened it. Gently removing the soft grey and green tissue paper, her eyes widened at the sight of a plush bunny. It looked familiar to her. Then she remembered. Eloni was with her when she was looking at the listing for it. They talked about it for a while - she never got it in the end. Kore claimed it probably wasn't a good idea anyway, so why give into another childish desire.

Her eyes began to water, she acted quick and blinked them away as she gingerly took the plush out of the box, as if it would fall apart if she wasn't careful, like it was an illusion somehow. It was bigger than she thought, much softer too. Her fingers ran over the grey fur, gliding over the transition to pink fur on the left side of its face. She let out a sigh as she moved to sit on her bed, thoughts of doubt starting to speedily sneak up on her again. They sunk in faster than she expected, tears filling her vision as her mind raced with the thoughts and shame for even believing something like this would mean anything more.

Though I know I'm to blame for the glances I'd steal,

For the time I kept spending pretending it's real

She knew it was her fault as the tears streamed down her face, dripping down her chin. Her grip on the plush tightened as she brought it closer to her chest, body shaking as she let out a strangled sob. This was all her fault, for believing any of her hopes of being with him could be real. That there was a chance that he truly loved her the same way she loved him. The "perfect boyfriend" programming he had did its job- it made her fall for him no matter how hard she tried to convince herself she wasn't in love. She had fallen for an fantasy and now she was paying for it.

And now that it's ending, I still have more feelings to spare

The sobs slowly started to become to much for her, she fell backwards onto her bed, hold on the bunny plush still tight as she laid there staring at the ceiling with blurry vision. Kore mentally cursed at herself for falling for him, wishing she only saw him as a friend like he saw her. She wished it didn't hurt as much as it did. That her heart didn't ache so much over him. And she dreaded how the ache would haunt her when she goes back to work, and would double every time she saw him. She wished it had been easier to ignore him, to just not care. Maybe then her heart wouldn't be broken if she had just kept her walls up.

The wishing turned into hoping as she hoped she would be able to keep this under wraps. She didn't want to ruin what they had. Even if part of her was tempted to ruin it, just for a chance to admit how she truly feels about him. She didn't want to risk it. It wouldn't be fair. But it already wasn't fair, he had made her fall for him inadvertently just by being kind to her. It was too late now.It wasn't fair for him. It wasn't fair for either of them.

But don't you dare

How dare he, no- how dare she fall for him like this. How dare she fall for someone as perfect as him when she knew the risks.

Don't you dare

[em-ira]

@lilmcttens

The Human Realm Adventures of the Blight Twins AU

This story starts on The Day Of Unity.

The Owl House Season 2, Episode 20,

"Clouds On The Horizon".

It follows the events of the episode, but from the point of view of Emira Blight.

This story veers away from the Canon when Emira and Edric discover something that their father, Alador, had been working on in his work room....

The story starts here...

It was a total accident, me getting here. Wherever 'here' is?

Our attempts to steal Kikimora's Airship while the crew were arranging to load the next shipment of Abomatons to take to the arena were dashed when Mom set two of them to catch me and Ed.

Dang! I should have realized that she was using her Oracle powers to watch what we were doing!

As we were carried up to The Manor, we could see that the others were also caught.

A depressing sight.

The Abomatons delivered us to our rooms, standing guard outside.

More guards were outside, so trying to escape by the window was out!

Luckily, the connecting door between the rooms still worked, so we could sit together, and talk about what might happen next.

Suddenly, there was a series of explosions coming from the factory.

At first, we thought that maybe Mittens and the others had succeeded in getting free.

Then, as we watched, something big crashed out through the roof of one of the buildings, and flew off towards The Head.

A short while later, Ed pointed at the Abomatons outside the Manor. They had stopped moving, and looked like they were shutting down.

Cautiously, we tried the door.

The Abomaton outside the door had shut down!

Sensing that this was our chance, me and Ed made a break for it, and ran downstairs, out the front door, heading down to the Factory.

We were nearing the Factory, when the Airship took off, rapidly disappearing in the direction of The Head.

We ran to see what had happened to Mittens and the others, but there was no sign of life.

We went looking for Dad, and the others.

But he wasn't in his work room.

We searched the entire Factory, it took ages, but there was no sign of anyone.

We came to the conclusion that they must have all been on board that Airship!

Then the eclipse went into totality.

We stood there, unable to take our eyes away from the weirdly Glowing moon.

The light was strange too. Like dusk in the middle of the day!

Without warning, a beam of light emerged from the area of the Arena, and seemed to surround the Moon.

It was hypnotizing.

Then something totally weird happened!

It looked like the moon suddenly jumped sideways!

We hid our eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun.

Then there was a distant rumble in the air, and, looking towards The Head, parts of it seemed to be exploding!

We ran back to Dad's workshop. Looking for anything to give us a clue to what had happened.

Nothing but empty snack bags, and part empty Abomination Casks. Bits and pieces everywhere.

There was this sheet, covering something big against the wall.

We uncovered it, and it was a door.

I joked with Ed, as to where this doorway went to and opened the door, I was only going to look, but I ended up going through it.

There was a bright light, and I fell forward, landing on an old wooden floor, in a building.

The door slammed shut as soon as I was through.

I got up, and tried opening the door.

It opened to reveal a dark, wooded area, and it was raining!

So, I closed the door, I wasn't going out in the Boiling Rains!

I sat down on a chair, and tried to calm myself down.

Where the Titan was this place, and how could I get back home?

Then, I heard footsteps approaching the door, from outside!

I looked around, for somewhere to hide.

No time to be picky, I just had to hide behind that chair!

So~now I'm waiting for whoever, or whatever, is coming to come through the door.

[strayfoxxchan]

Team [Crush] Tactics

Pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, Major League Gaming AU lmfao

Content Warning: Some cussing, awkward flirting

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: There's lots of gaming stuff in here, sorry! But I try to explain TFT in noob terms for those of you who haven't played.

Tag List: @minnysproutgriffinteddy (It wont let me tag you!)

The crowd was going wild. Thousands had crammed into the arena, their faces glowing with pink and blue lights from above. 

The stage felt too high, and the monitors over your head seemed too massive to comprehend. Your palms were clammy, slipping off the mouse in front of you. You shake them a few times, hoping to dry the sweat and clear the knot building in your throat. 

“Hey, cowboy up,” Cameron, your teammate, punches you in the shoulder. “We’ve got this, and these guys ain’t shit.” He looks across to the opposite end of the stage and sneers. 

“Stop sneering,” you grumble at him, rubbing the spot he’d hit with more force than he’d likely meant to. “You’re embarrassing me.” You feel yourself shrinking into the uncomfortable gaming chair. Ergonomic, my ass. 

A lot of Team Fight Tactics is strategic: building into character types to gain bonuses for your team, understanding where to place each character on the board, and leveling them up to acquire more health and hitting power. If you play your cards right, so to speak, you can wipe the board in a matter of seconds. But much of it also comes down to lucky RNG and quick thinking. 

You know the only way you’ll win this is to calm down and keep your head straight. You have no time for intimidation when the timer is running. Although you play on a team of yourself and three men, Team Fight Tactics is primarily a solo endeavor. Ultimately, you’re also playing against your teammates to win. 

The announcers are chatting amongst themselves over the incredibly loud speakers, preparing the audience for the battle ahead. Before you know it, they’re announcing the teams. As each member of your team called, they stand, wave, and dance, grinning cockily. When the announcer shouts your name, you simply stand, give a nervous smile, and throw a peace sign at the crowd, earning you an eruption of cheers and whistles. As quickly as you had stood, you are back to sinking into the chair. 

You stare at the opposite team as their names are called. 

This is the first time you’ve heard about this team, and you’re positive they’re never heard of you either. It was your first MLG tournament, after all, and it seems to be theirs as well. They look triumphant, proud of themselves for having made it to this point. Their names float through your ears as if in a dream.

But, the last name is called, and instead of pumping up the audience as his other teammates had, he stands, looking directly at you, and winks before sitting back down. Bang Chan, they had said. The name sticks in your mind. 

Before you realize it, the match has started. The carousel is turning, and your eyes dart across the screen, looking for Brawlers. You spot her instantly: Vi walks the carousel haughtily. As the barrier drops, you run. Score. 

Each time the shop pops, you pull as many Brawlers as you can, throwing in whatever Laser Corps champions you can get your hands on. The timer, in the beginning, gives you some time to sort out items, and the auto battles allow you to survey the other team for a moment or two. Around round 3, you look up during the battle, and Bang Chan looks up at the same time. He grins at you and winks again, the overhead lights glow on his dimples. Your heart skips for a moment before your eyes dart back down to the screen. 

“Is he trying to intimidate me?” You say to yourself. 

“Who?” Cameron glances at you, raising a brow. 

“What?” You could have sworn you used your inside voice. 

You continue building your team to the best of your ability. You manage, with some lucky RNG, to grab Mordekaiser, building into him as much as you can. It’s a near unbeatable combination, and your confidence begins to grow. 

Bang Chan’s name shows up on your screen. It’s time to knock that wink right out of him. The battle ends quickly with you on top. Your killing streak hits 9. As it ends, you look up at him and wink. His frown slowly grows into a smile full of fire, eyes narrowed as if to say “You’ll pay for that one.” 

Your teammates are dropping like flies. Their overconfidence has done nothing to benefit the team. The opposing team still stands fairly strong. You’ve been stuck at 90 health for almost 11 rounds. You manage to hold your own for a few more rounds before things begin to go wrong.

It’s 2 against 1. Bang Chan and his teammate, Felix, are still standing. You are all that’s left to defeat them. 

You can do this, you know you can. You manage to pull one over on Felix, knocking him down to -5 health, and you can’t help but to jump up and let out a roar unbecoming of the tiny woman you are, but the crowd erupts. 

It was at that moment, however, that you knew this match couldn’t be won. Felix had knocked enough health out of you that you were down to only 19 hit points, while Bang Chan managed to keep around 55.

As the final battle commences, your heart drops. He’d been building into Jax. There was no way. You bite your lip as you look up at him, not willing to watch your team get murdered.

He meets your gaze, eyes darting from your bitten lip to your worried brow. His eyes soften, a devilish smile playing on his lips. 

You lose the battle in 2nd place. 

The stadium is split nearly in half, some groaning, some cheering, but all spirited and screaming. The host appears on stage, pulling the two of you into the middle by the wrists, raising Bang Chan’s hand high into the air, and leaving yours to the side. As the announcer's words fade into the background noise, Bang Chan moves to stand beside you.

“Hey,” he says simply.

“Hey.” You cross your arms. “Good game.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “What are you doing after this?”

“What?”

“What?” he repeats after you. 

“I-I’m not d-doing anything after this,” you answer his question belatedly, taking a few moments to process. 

“Oh, yeah, good… Cool.” He nods. 

“...Why?” You pause, glancing at him. 

“I was just thinking… maybe we could talk strats after this?”

“S-strats?” You turn to him. “W-what?” You take in his features: his dark hair and eyes, shy smile and full lips, his handsomely carved nose. For a gamer, he looked strong, like he could throw you over his shoulder and run a mile with no effort.  

“Over dinner?” He clears his throat, shaking you out of your reverie. “Do you want to go to dinner after this, I mean?” He tries this again with a little more confidence. For a man who spent the near hour the match had taken winking at and slaughtering you, he was really bad at this game.

“How can you be so smooth yet so awkward at the same time?” You attempt to stifle a laugh, but you blush instead, confident the color of the lighting would hide this. “Is dinner on you?”

“I mean, I did just a really big check,” he motions at the giant piece of printed cardboard leaning on his side. You had been in such a daze, you hadn’t even noticed the announcer handing it to him. 

“Are you just doing this because I’m a girl and I almost beat you?” You crinkle your nose at him, just slightly uneasy.

“I’m not that shallow, but I can’t deny, you’re pretty sexy in a ‘she could definitely take me in a fight’ kind of way.” He shrugs. “I would like to get to know you before I decide to make a move, though.” The confidence sticks this time, making your heart race. “Looks aren’t everything.”

You consider this. “Only if you reveal all your secrets to me. That Jax kicked my ass.” You grin and wink, earning a wink back. 

“Deal.”

[shopsignbd]

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[sparkly-key]

When my presence brings you pain

Aziraphale has always been a very tactile person, little touches as common as greetings and goodbyes. But when his best friend flinches at his touch, he restrains himself. Other works in this series: "The ebb and flow of a flatlining heart" (on AO3 here) || WaneMoose's "(Not) Fine" (Here on AO3) || The monster in the mirror (Here on AO3)

Written for Whumptober 2023 Day 17 - Day 17 – “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest” | Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

Content warning: Aftermath of torture

Aziraphale’s hands itched whenever he was near Crowley.

It wasn’t like the way they burned when he drew too near the demon’s bandaged neck, the violent brand hidden but still very visible in his mind as it glowed red hot and angry.

No, this was the tingling sensation that accompanied a plate of sweets left on the coffee table.

He wanted to touch – to soothe, to aid, to reassure himself that Crowley was there, in the weeks since the disastrous heist. Except he couldn’t stand the way the demon tensed at the sudden contact, the quiet hiss of pain when Aziraphale got too close to one of the many scarring wounds.

So he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and told himself it was getting better.

At least Crowley no longer flinched whenever he unexpectedly saw the angel.

“’M fine,” the demon snapped, holding up his hand to stop Aziraphale from coming any closer. “Just … give me a minute.”

Aziraphale stepped back, wringing his hands, as he waited.

“This how it felt whenever I just popped up throughout the years, like in the Bastille?” Crowley said with forced levity, trying to hide the way his bandaged hands shook. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d have put a bell on me.”

The angel smiled wanly. “My dear, that would have ruined the mystery. And I do enjoy a nice surprise.”

Neither of them pointed out that this was far from nice.

The angel did his best to tread heavier now, or do more to telegraph his location.

Anathema noticed and said nothing.

Crowley on the other hand.

“Would you stop stomping about?” The demon asked from where he sprawled on the sofa. His jaw was taut, the most visible sign of his pain. “Making my head hurt.”

Aziraphale bit back the urge to suggest Crowley lie down in his room, thinking about the way the demon had stormed out of there a day or two ago, snarling about feeling trapped – the sentiment causing the angel to flinch. There had been a flicker of regret on his face before he’d fled to another room, where there was a bigger gap in the boarded-up windows that faced the gardens being left to grow wild.

“Sorry, my dear,” Aziraphale apologized, tucking his book under his arm. “Can I bring you anything?”

“Nah,” the demon mumbled. He nodded toward the book. “You could read here, that way I don’t have to hear you making a ruckus.”

The blond hesitated.

Crowley shifted, drawing his knees up so there was more space at the end of the couch. “I won’t bite.”

Aziraphale recoiled, a sharp pain stinging his side as he warred against the memory of teeth tearing at his flesh. He pressed the book tighter against himself, as though the tome would protect “I – I shouldn’t.”

“Shit,” Crowley cursed, sitting up slightly. “Look, jus’ – sit down, ‘kay? ‘Could use the company.”

The angel shuffled over and gingerly perched at the edge of the cushion, watching the demon out of the corner of his eye for any sign that he was causing more pain. He could feel Crowley’s gaze on him, golden eyes hidden by his glasses, as he opened his book and tried to read.

The words didn’t sink in. He was too preoccupied by his determination to not hurt Crowley that he read and reread graphs between what he thought were discreet glances at the demon.

“For Satan’s sake,” Crowley hissed after the angel hadn’t finished the page after 10 minutes. His jaw clenched as he pushed himself off the couch.

“Crowley, wait –“ Aziraphale started, silenced by a frustrated wave of dismissal before the demon stalked out of the room. His lip quivered as he closed the tome, staring at the faded cover. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

[littlenightheories6]

My Little Nightmares: Stories of the Little Ones - Chapter 1: The Girl in the Gray Sweater.

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

The glistening night descends as the wind howls through the silence of the town. There doesn’t seem to be anyone, or rather, anything inhabiting the ruined and pale streets. It was all silent…

But since when can silence be considered a sign of security…?

She couldn't have thought of that when she had to compact herself between the interior of the walls like a mouse peeking from the holes and scampering from the inside.

She was sweating from exhaustion and was panting from fear. She remained in a crouched position on the wooden floor as she breathed in a high effort, almost getting dust in her mouth as she inhaled. The space between the walls from the inside is very dark but not so cramped, but for anyone who has claustrophobia, it would be a strong sense of agitation that no one would want to bear.

not even Lu…

She could hear the vague ambiance of the inner walls. It made her feel anxious but not so much as fearful. It was so dark that she could not even see herself. She felt hopeless but still determined.

"I'm going to be alright. I need to believe in myself…. While I still can." But when it comes to determination, there is also desperation. Bravery can never be generated without the sensitivity of fear. Lu couldn’t deny that her experience in this world had already been terrifying enough, and she couldn't ask for it to tone it down. That's just physically impossible. But the one detail she can't renounce is her bravery and determination.

She feels around her back pocket and takes out her flare. She pulls off the cap, using it to ignite a red flame from the stick, giving her visibility in the darkness. She has no clue why, but she always likes to see the glow of red as it feels like a wonderful color to embrace. It even felt so warm like a candle: But don’t touch it or you’ll burn yourself, of course.

But now is not the time to be thinking of it. She begins walking further where the interior of the walls leads. The sounds of her footsteps echo as her bare feet step and bonk on the dry floorboards. She pushes herself past through misaligned wooden beams to find her way out, carefully not getting the flame near the dry wood as Lu could risk setting a fire. Or that's what she thinks, considering that this is a dangerous tool she's wielding as her light source. Luckily, the young girl saw some light over a board that blocked her path within the space between two wooden beams. 

She extinguishes her flare by tapping the burning end on the floor and stepping on the mark to prevent a growing fire. The young girl then climbs over the board, pulling herself up. She found a large mouse hole, big enough for her to fit through. She stood right in front of the hole, with the outdoor blue light managing to illuminate the makeshift entryway, indicating there must be a window from this room or hallway. It's very unclear.

But before exiting straight through, she needs to ensure that the coast is free from enormous threats. Or, whatever he was. 

I'm a bit nervous, or more than a bit…. I… I don't know how I can even make it out…. But he'll get me if I stay here!

 She was hesitant to even poke her head out as she feared something would pop out of nowhere and give her a hair-raising jumpscare. But it mustn't be all that bad, right? She then inserts her stick in her back pocket, again, still wondering if it’s safe to come out.

"Just, one peak…And-"

Before Lu could even finish her sentence, a tiny mouse appeared out of nowhere and jumped right in front of the girl. 

She let out a fearful gasp as she was startled, falling back on her rear end. She held her chest where her beating heart was, as the tiny mouse crawled into the hole, and they both locked eyes for a moment. After a few seconds, the little critter looked to its right and then scampered away, leaving her still shaken slightly from the startle.

"Ugh, rats, or mice, I don't even know… I just want to get out of here!" 

She crawled a little further with her palms and knees on the floor, slowly poking her head out of the hole only slightly, and looked in both directions at a small hallway with a purple-colored carpet, potted plants, and a row of windows that showed the outside.

"Good, no one's here." She said,

 Lu carefully crawled out of the hole in the wall that had a dark red velvet color wallpaper with hexagon patterns that was partially torn. She brushed off any wooden dust that landed on her gray sweater with black sleeves and stepped into the middle of the hallway.

She can hear more audible ambiance of the hall and the muffled wind rustling from outside with the windows being struck by the breeze. It was undeciding for her to figure out which way to go. To the left? Right? She doesn't know. Puzzling. 

Hmm.. I can't go through the windows. It's too high. I don't think they even open or go anywhere outside…

 She scrunches her face slightly as she urges to figure out what to do. Without thinking, she decided to head to the left. Or what she thought was left anyway. She's a bit enigmatic when it comes to learning, which is left and which is right. She sped and walked forward until she stopped right before the end of the hall, seeing a vent at the end, at her level, and a large door on her left, with a mysterious painting hanging right next to it. It caught her eye due to how mysterious it was…

Huh… What is that black cloud thingy? It has a little red in it… weird!

Never mind that it's time to go now!

Feeling more determined, she tucks her hair inside the collar of her sweater and pulls up her hood over her head only revealing her hair at the front and her face in the small shadow of the hood. A little habit she has grown whenever she is out and ready to venture, but whenever it is time to rest, she pulls it down when needed. Strange, yet a comprehensive habit, especially for an eleven-year-old.

Lu grips on and leans back to pull off the grille. It creaks and breaks off with a clank on the floor after she falls back. She gets up and crawls through the ventilation shaft in a crouched posture as she walks through the shaft. Even though it was fairly noticeable already, the bloating thin metal sound of the vent that she was making did put her on edge since she was used to not creating any attractions. The vents did not do her any justice, especially how dimly lit it is, but she wanted to conserve the energy of her flare in case for absolute reasons. It didn't take her long until she fell downwards in a short leveled height, and after landing was another vent cover that was a few steps away.

She takes a deep breath. Inhale. Then exhale.

"Ok, I just need to find a door, or a window, or whatever can get me out of here." I don't know what else is here…

 She walks up to the cover and shoves it open with both of her hands. She falls face forward as the cover falls on the carpeted floor. It almost hurt, but she felt alright. She looks up as she gently brings herself onto her feet. A narrow space with a large boarded roof above her can only give her enough room to at least crouch slightly to still stand up. I think I'm under a table or desk. 

She adjusts her hood, pulling it forward and slowly walking towards and stopping before the ledge of the supposed table or desk. She could not make out anything as of now until she got closer: Only the red velvet carpeted floor, and what she believed, white boxes on the floor and other desks from an estimated single foot height.

 "Hey!" she whispered and smirked gently as she noticed the bottom of the door on her right-hand side. A little far away from where she was, but it was no problem. She can only suspect it was a door, considering it’s shaped like one from her limited perspective.

"Yes. Freedom!" 

Just when Lu was about to come out, she jolted straight back with a gasp as she landed on her bottom when a brown western boot stepped very close to where she was. “Ahh…." she whispered. What was that..?  She got very startled and had to cover her mouth to not make any more noise. The boot stayed in place for a moment until another boot stepped forward, and they both turned to face the girl's direction. She could hear grunting and low-pitched vocal noises like when an old man was groaning in irritation, and what sounded like paper and pencils skidding on the desktop above. 

It felt like someone knew where she was as if they were staring at her. And it felt like they were staring, with menacing glares, even though whoever it was didn’t know about the girl's presents yet, it gave the idea of it.

No, no, no, no, not now, please!!!  The girl felt hopeless now, and there went her chance to escape. She didn’t know what to do other than wait impatiently for what the boots would do next. Would they leave, step aside, or move to another spot? Who knows.

Why does it have to be now? Argh!..

Complaining is not a solution to the circumstance at the moment. Lu needs to find her way out, even if it's life-threatening. 

The pair of brown western boots then turned away as each footstep thumped on the floor with the golden buckles clinking after each step. She observed them closely before heading into action. The boots were then raised from the ground with a little click as a light was now turned on, along with a jumbling and static sound, and music started playing from a radio. Whoever it was must be now sitting on a chair in front of a desk and listening to horrible and distorted music to bear. The sound emitted some sort of buzzing, warping sound effect as if the frequency was struggling to comply with the radio.

"Mmm, what is that? It's hurting my ears!"

Lu tries her best to ignore the strange music and pokes out further to get a better view of the room. She sees the door on her right as she suspects, with a long countertop desk right in front of her and closes against the wall with the row of windows. It looks like an office because of the usual supplies and lamps on top. When she looked to her left, she saw him: The man she had been avoiding, sitting on his chair,  scribbling away on his desk that was adjacent to the room while listening to the radio. Three desks took up three walls, and only one side had windows revealing the outside, which was supposedly nighttime at this moment. There was an open grate way high above and right next to the door and almost aligned with the desk at the windows that was close enough to the grate. She could make her escape by getting on the desk and taking a leap through the grate. As simple as that. Or so it seems.

I think I only have one chance, I can’t screw it up…

She checks her surroundings once again. The man was still occupied on his desk with his radio. He was humming away with a tune that he enjoyed. Lu slowly emerges from under the desk and makes her way to the one that was at the windows, crouching while walking, and glancing at the man with dreadful fear as she tries not to make a sound. 

She gulps in discomfort and hears her heart throbbing in her ears.

I hate this, I hate this so much!

 Not once did she utter a single word as she walked. Only her thoughts could speak out loud. The radio may be taking up his attention, but who knows if he can hear even the littlest sounds that an ant would make. She could be exaggerating, but for good reason. She made it to the desk and very gently pulled out the bottom drawer to give her enough height to reach the ledge since the drawer handles were only knobs that she couldn't climb on. It only made slight scraping sounds, but it felt like she would get caught just by a soft cushion-like tug. She was that desperate. Lu then carefully stands on the massive stack of paperwork in the drawer, it creaks only slightly, but every noise puts her on edge.

Shut up! I don’t want to get caught! 

She was able to grab the ledge of the desk and with great effort, while still keeping silent, she pulled herself up and on the desktop. She looked to the side to check up on the man: he hadn't noticed anything as of now. Good. She turns back around and heads towards the grate, slowly walking and avoiding the scattered pencils and trinkets with paper files underneath. Her heart was still racing, and her palms became sweaty from the intense anxiety. But she suddenly stopped as something had caught her attention. A document that had someone’s name written on it. A name that she was far too familiar with and even made her fear vanish in a second. Her name…

Sisi… 

Was she here?  Was she in this place like me?.. Is she in this world?

More questions come, and things that are unknown. Could it be?

She suddenly then snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the man fiddling with the buttons and knobs of the radio, creating more static audio, as well as remembering that she needed to escape as soon as possible. Luckily for her, she could get close to the grate, and with a gentle running start, she leaped forward from the ledge and clutched onto the grate as she pulled herself in, escaping the dangerous scenario. Or so she thought. When Lu allows herself to fall over to the other side, she lands on top of an amplifier, causing it to fall from another amplifier that was sitting underneath it crashes down on a mini table where a computer monitor was, and it too crashed down, with the screen shattering into millions of pieces, and creating a loud sound. 

Lu falls at the front of the door after losing her balance on the amplifier, and seeing the destruction is the worst thing imaginable. So much for being stealthy.

"Oh no, what have I done?" The girl's facial expression turns pale and into shock and despair as she brings herself up from her knees and looks at the mess while clutching her hands on her head with her heart beating rapidly.

"No, um, urgh… I need to hide! I'm gonna get caught!"

Suddenly, a loud and deep groan can be heard from the other side of the door, with thumping and intimidating footsteps alongside. Lu looks back at the door, and with fear, she runs into hiding, desperately trying to find a hiding spot and sees a long red couch at the corner of the room and runs to hide under, performing a baseball slide and lying on her belly until she waits for the threat to be gone after this.

Just wait until he's gone! don't move, don't speak, just wait!

The door to the office is forcefully pushed open, and out comes a tall man as he slowly uncoils his long and humongous fingers from the palms of his hands. Fingers that were as long as a school ruler were longer than regular rulers, if not more. They were skinny with the bones of each finger looking noticeable, and the knuckles cracking and groaning which made the young girl terrified to the core as she quivered and covered her mouth as tears slowly streamed down onto her cheeks from the horrifying sight. 

It was too much for her to bear.

She couldn’t redirect her attention away from his disfigured and skinny face with his brown handlebar mustache and curly beard concealing his widely grinning mouth, along with his bloated and jiggling lower torso that felt like his skinny legs were his only support, as they quivered only slightly, even though it doesn’t even mean that the man is at all fearful. If anything, he enjoys feeding on fear. The man breathed heavily and made odd vocal noises in a low tone. He wriggled his fingers slightly as if he was hoping to catch anything that disrupted his occupation. The young girl could only watch in hopes that she wouldn’t be spotted by the giant being, feeling goosebumps crawling on her skin. She hated being here and wanted to get out now and never come back. The man noticed the shattered monitor and the fallen amplifier and bent down to put the amplifier back into place and examined the monitor carefully so as not to pick up a single glass shard.

Lu expected the man to find a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess. Still, he simply put the computer back on the mini table and headed towards the display stands of musical instruments, where he took a guitar in his hands and started playing a song, strumming the strings with his enormous fingers and not even minding the mess that Lu created, behaving like he doesn't care.

What? Why would he leave that there? I, uh… Don't understand this world.

Lu examines the room quickly to make out any escape route she could find. She sees it as a music room with a piano in the right-hand corner from her perspective, a row of guitars sitting on stands, drums either set or stacked on top of one another and violins that are hung up on the left-hand wall next to the door. There were also towers of boxes at the corners, piles of paperwork, and even some scattered around, and a few desk tables that were warped out of shape. It's really strange how no one seems too bothered by this chaotic clutter. What is this world?

"This man must be a musician. I think that's why there's lots of music stuff here…" The Musician.” Lu whispered. 

The Musician stopped playing his guitar for a moment and then, using his long and skinny fingers, he reached over to the right, placed a music stand in front of him, and took out a notebook from his guitar case right next to him. He opened it, skimming page by page until he stopped on a specific one and resumed playing his guitar. It must be a song that he wrote. Lu looks around for another exit option. There doesn't seem to be anything else other than the door, which the handle was too high for her to reach, and there’s also a keyhole below the handle, possibly requiring a key to open it.

She sighed silently from the overwhelming situation and clenched her hands behind her head. 

This is going to be harder than I thought! 

She looked up, feeling displeased, but then she jolted up slightly to focus on something. A small rolling stool that was close to the Musician's office door. "I can use that to get the door handle, but I don't know if I need a key. I'll figure it out."

Lu looked at the Musician to see he was still occupied by his guitar. He was also singing his song but without any lyrics and in a balance between a high and a low tone of vocals. She didn't want to get close to the horrific man, but she needed that stool to get out of there. It’s now or never. She gathers up the best strength of bravery she has, acquainted with fear of course, and slowly crawls herself out from under the red couch. She crouches down and gently walks towards the stool. The red carpeted floor muted her slow footsteps, but she still felt on edge. Her heart began to race, pounding through her ears. But she's able to reach the stool even before she knows it. The Musician is still occupied with his guitar playing, and it amazes her that he can go on for more than three minutes without his enormous fingers being stressed. But it's also unsurprising due to the size of his fingers.

Ok, you got this. Just slowly and carefully… Lu then clutched her hands on the bar of the stool, and using all her might, she slowly pulled it to the door. The wheels were a little bit squeaky, but the Musician couldn't have even noticed as his hearing was primarily focused on the sound of his guitar.

Lu was still pulling the stool and was halfway close to the door when the Musician all of a sudden stopped playing, the young girl noticed this and stopped pulling the stool. Her body felt a shock wave of chills flowing through her nerves. It was too late at the last moment. The Musician made an unsettling grunting noise as his neck cracked slowly when he looked to his right grinning. In grave fear, Lu hid behind the stool, away from the Musician's sight before he could spot her. She almost could have given her position away if she had rested on the stool, but instead, she crouched and covered her head as her heart raced even more, with eyes and mouth clenched shut. The bone-cracking sound of his neck was so disturbing for her to bear. It sounded like an old man's sore back that made a cracking noise, only more nerve-racking.

The Musician scans the entire room behind his gold-framed and blue-tinted round glasses. He even rested the tips of his enormous fingers from his left hand on the ground, tapping with each one as if he was expecting something to come out. But he finds nothing out of the ordinary, not even noticing his stool had been moved. He turned back to the music stand, skimmed through some pages, and found a new song to play before he resumed playing his guitar again. Lu, silently, lets out a sigh of relief.

"I need to be more careful… I'm almost there." 

She resumes pulling the stool, giving her last strength to get it close to the door. Finally, the stool is now in place. Well done!

Lu climbs on top of the stool and can reach the handle, but it doesn't move. It could only jiggle in place but not twist down.

Locked. I knew it… but where would the key be?

She looked back, and the slightly opened door of the office caught Lu's attention. 

Maybe the key is in the study, on one of the desks. 

She glances at the Musician, who is, once again, too occupied to notice what is going on from behind his back. Lu carefully climbed down from the stool and slowly walked her way to the office. She gently opened the door further just so she could fit through, and she would not have to worry about making too much noise as the man was in the other room, but she could not expect him to not enter here. She needed to act fast.

"Where's the key? Where would he put the key? Hmm…” 

The young girl decided to check the desk where the man was. She ran towards the large chair and managed to climb up on the seat and reach the ledge of the desk. She pulled herself to the desktop and saw there were music sheets, a tray of guitar picks, pencils, and erasers, a reading lamp, and the radio that he had been listening to for a while before. She suddenly gasped. 

“Hey, it’s here, I knew it would be here…”

She finds the key hung up shortly above the desk and on the wall where a nail is pinned. She walks up to it and jumps up to push the key off the nail. She picks it up and carries it in her arms right after it falls, clinking on the desk.

“Alright, you’re coming with me now!”

Lu then carefully fell off the desk and onto the seat of the chair. She then dropped the key down on the carpeted floor and clinked again in a muffled tone.

But then, trouble arose: Lu was placing herself in a little sitting position to carefully drop down to the floor when she stopped and heard loud footsteps from outside. She gasped and said, “Oh no!” She froze for a moment in shock but then quickly pushed herself down and landed on the floor, picking up the key with both arms and quickly sliding under the other desk from where she was hiding from the start, just in time, as the Musician had entered the office. Lu still has the key, held by her arm, as she lay on her stomach while watching the pair of brown western boots moving once again, step by step.

Oh, Jeezy, it's like he's following me everywhere I go.

The Musician moved around at the desks seemingly collecting some papers and supplies, since Lu could hear the sound of shuffling paper and the clattering of pens and pencils. He didn’t suspect anything at all… Well. not yet. The Musician is not in the room where the door to her escape was, even though it was another obstacle. It could also be a blessing in disguise unless she could get back to the door and leave before being spotted.

Maybe when he's not looking at the door, I can get out of here. When he's over there, I can go.

 The young girl's sight settled on the main desk where she got the key, hoping that the man would go over there and be stationed for a while to give her the chance to escape. Someone must’ve granted her wish as the Musician slowly walked over to his desk and stood in front of it, again, supposedly rearranging some stuff. Lu didn’t take her chance until she was certain that the man stayed in place. More than ten seconds have passed, which says a lot about it. Probably she’s feeling too paranoid to move. Gathering up her courage, she crawls out from under the desk, with the key in her arms, and slowly makes her way to the door. Luckily, the door was left open slightly, and it did not take her long for her to exit the office without being seen one bit. Her heart was still running a marathon due to how close she was to the man, the stiffness in his voice created a lot of anxiety for her.

She lets out a sigh of relief. "Yes. Freedom!"

The young girl ran towards the door, carrying the key, and the rolling stool was still there, thankfully. She pushed the key up on the stool and then climbed on top herself. She picked up the key, and the moment of truth came. She inserted the key in the keyhole and twisted it to the left. It clicked, and she then jumped up slightly to pull the handlebar down. It worked.

Yes, I can finally get out of here.

Only, her celebration was short-lived.

Lu held on to the door handle as it slowly swung open and only dropped down a second after letting go and landing on a three-step stairway leading down. Suddenly… a bell chime can be heard as the door opens fully. It startled Lu for a moment, but then she started to feel dreadful as she heard the concerning grunting sound again, which made her crouch down in surprise and look back for a moment, hearing distanced rapid and thumping footsteps and aggressive moaning…

And she knows now that it’s time to - RUN!

She darted forward, running down the small stairs and straight forward down a cluttered hallway with walls crowded with boxes, crates, and amplifiers, along with musical instruments. The Musician ran towards the door and immediately saw Lu running for her life, and started giving chase. Lu passed through several shelves of items, dodging every tower of boxes and amplifiers, and ran up on guitars and pianos that formed a slant. Her heart was racing as she ran with all the strength and speed she had as the man, sprinting after her, shouted in his high but deep voice like a mad person knocking down the shelves of supplies and pushing over towers of amplifiers. He ran with his long and enormous fingers like a gorilla while creating chaos and then started crawling up on the top of the shelves and continued chasing from high above with his fingers lifting him high above for support. Every second, Lu felt as if the man was catching up and that soon she would get caught.

The Musician ended up getting himself caught with his hand getting stuck between a narrow shelf. He collapsed with another shelf of drums falling onto him with a loud crash of wood and metal. Not dead, but moreover stunned for now. The young girl kept sprinting as she breathed heavily still in a shock of dread, not even bothering to look back. She was too scared to even stop for a single moment, no matter how exhausted she was.

"Need to get out! I need to get out!"

She then took a right in the hallway when the central path was blocked by warped desks and cellos and then swiftly came to a halt. It was a dead end with a door in front, but it was all boarded up, and the fallen shelves of books reinforced it even more. There was nowhere else to go!

"Oh, no, no, no, now what?"

The Musician's echo can be heard. He's back on the move. She needs to hurry! Lu looked around, searching for an alternate route, until looking to her right, and saw a ventilation shaft close to the corner where the door was blocked. With so little time, she ran over to the vent and started pulling off the cover with all her might as The Musician's voice was becoming louder as he was coming fast, with anger in his behavior. Groaning, she tugged as best as she could, 

"C'mon, c'mon, please open up!"

 Falling back, Lu pulled off the cover and quickly got back up to crawl inside the vent right before the man could even catch her he spotted her and ran forward, barely even getting her in his clutches.

Lu fell straight down as soon as she made it through the shaft. She could hear the man grunting in irritation. Her heart was racing fast and was frozen in place as she laid back on the cold metal floor, breathing heavily, along pulling down the hood of her sweater. It was a nightmare she would never forget.

"That was too close. He was about to get me… I'm glad he didn't."

The young girl didn't want to move out of here since she was in the clear. But she had to for the sake of leaving this place. She yawned in exhaustion and couldn’t even move a muscle due to her being tired. “Maybe a few minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt, right? Just a few minutes and-” She yawned again before she could finish her sentence and gently laid herself down on her side, almost curling herself in a ball as she slowly drifted into slumber as she murmured to herself,

"Just a few minutes, And I’ll… I'll go."

…

A cloud of black mist emerges from nowhere, with a glow of red can be seen front and center, with parts of the cloud concealing it… Whispers ascend as the red glow grows closer, and a hair-raising sound of anxiety emerges as it rises too rough to bear and a large and irritating rumbling sound takes over… Until it all cuts to black…

She woke up with a jolt and gasped in shock, breathing heavily from what she had witnessed. She realized that she had overslept. Much longer than she was supposed to. But what was she dreaming about? What was that red glow?

She struggled to speak perfectly at first.

"Wha… What? I, uh… um… Uh… What was that?.. What?... What happened? Never mind, I need to go.”

She quickly got up pulled her hood back up over her head and crouched while walking to the rest of the ventilation shaft. She rubbed her eyes as she moved forward, readjusting her vision from the long slumber she had. She was groggy when she woke up, but after seeing she overslept, a jolt suddenly turned her energy to maximum level. It's very uncommon to see a child suddenly wake up and ready to start the day. Or what felt like a day.

"Ugh, how long was I asleep?"

Longer than expected, of course. Ever since the chaotic chase from the Musician, she had been exhausted, especially from the entire journey. But at least she has gotten some well-deserved rest. She stumbled upon a vent cover and peeked through it. She couldn’t distinguish what was on the other side, but her best assumption was that this could be another part of the building and that an exit door or window, or maybe something else to get her free could be around. There's only one way to find out. She pushed open the cover with minimal effort as it was on a hinge and fell into a box full of packing peanuts. Her landing was soft and squishy and even fidgeted with one of them just for a little joy.

"Hm, not real peanuts, but it's fun!"

She flung some packing peanuts up in the air for enjoyment and gave a little smile. Only once as there was no time to play, unfortunately. Lu then shoulder rams one side of the box, until on the fourth try, she manages to bring the box down on the floor as she tumbles out on the floor with packing peanuts scattered around. The young girl then stood back up and looked around to see the lobby of the building. Considering there were a lot of musical instruments, this entire building must be a music store. Although it’s mostly quiet. It took Lu this long to realize it. Well, better late than never. Lu was in an aisle that had a wall of amplifiers and shipment boxes, along with guitars, violins, record discs, and piles of music sheets around, with some instruments and discs strewed, withered, and broken into pieces.

Wow. I guess no one tries to keep things clean.

She stepped slowly in the middle, still viewing the entire room. Even noticed how instruments were hanging high up in the air hung by strong ropes. It was amusing to her, but she had seen more abnormal sightings. She directed her attention downwards until she found a small clarinet on the floor, almost in front of her. It fit her size and was merely lying there. She walked over to it and picked it up, mesmerized by the instrument.

“Wow. I haven’t played mine in a very long time.”

She cleared some dust away and inspected the instrument before adjusting her fingers properly on the keys. She then moistened the reed of the clarinet and started blowing into the mouthpiece of it. It had been such a long time since she had played one, so her skills may have worn off a bit, but her muscle memory still stayed. The young girl could only create the slightest of noise as she struggled with the instrument. She blew the best she could, and the clarinet played off-key sounds as she pressed different keys. It was only a minute after she stopped, knowing that she had a lot of regaining to do. “Well. Maybe if I practice some more, I could get better!”

Before she knew it, she heard a loud, muffled noise coming. She turned her head to the left to hear the noise coming closer from a boarded-up and blurred glass door from the nearby corner. Meaning trouble was on its way.

The man with long fingers!

She scurried to her right, and with quick thinking, she crouched and hid inside an open shipment container that had fallen on its side, waiting patiently. Suddenly, the Musician burst out from the door, crawling upside down from the ceiling and then standing back on the floor as he placed himself down. He was still concerned about looking for the young girl, planning to use her to join the ranks. Lu stayed quiet and tucked herself close from inside the box. Luckily, the man then climbed over the wall of amplifiers out of sight, but he didn’t go far away. He was only on the other side of the aisle, doing whatever commotion he was causing.

The young girl slowly crawled out after knowing she was in the clear for now. She looked around and saw that the way to the other side of the aisle was now blocked off with boxes in the way. The man must've knocked a wall of boxes down as he was climbing over them.

"Great! now I need to find another way around." The girl whispered in annoyance. She turned back to the way she was hiding, quietly as the man was still around, hoping to find another way. There was barely any opening around.

Hm… Maybe I can make my own way out!

The young girl notices a towering old man's clock resting against the huge pile of withered saxophones and calliopes that could get her to the other side, all she needs is something to climb over it since Lu is too small to reach the clock. She looked around to find anything useful, and there she found a large drum tucked away in a corner.

Oo, I can use that!

She walked over to the drum, only half an inch above her size, but it was still perfect for her to use. She slowly pulled the drum out of the corner, using the thin metal bars of it. It was merely light enough for her to drag easily, but she then felt the drum caught under a box that was sitting halfway on the edge of a cradle. She looked up to see it, along with a bucket on top.

Come on now!

With full force, she tugged the drum out from under the box, but it then turned into her biggest mistake. 

Lu stumbled back after getting the drum free, but the box scratched towards her only an inch. However, it caused the bucket to then fall on the floor, with wooden building blocks inside rattling and the bucket itself clanking on the floor. The huge growl of the Musician turned Lu into fearfulness.

“No, what have I done?”

She quickly returned to the empty shipment container, hiding again as the man returned to inspect the aisle. He clung onto the shelves with his enormous fingers, raising himself high in the air as if to give himself more visibility to see what caused the disturbance. He breathed heavily, and his neck cracked as he looked all around. Lu hated hearing those sounds. It made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Eventually, he left to go back to the other side, crawling over the walls of amplifiers again.

Oh, god… I need to be more careful!

Lu felt frustrated at herself for being careless, but she didn’t want to dwell so much on it for too long now. She inspects the area to find it clear and walks towards the drum to drag it to the clock. Before she could even do that, Lu then heard the sound of a piano playing a ditty from a distance. She stopped to listen, and it played a lovely tone that felt so mesmerizing that she couldn't even ignore the melody. She felt so amused hearing such a lovely tune and stood there listening as she embraced the song. She listened carefully to the melody and chorus, putting her in some sort of trance as she closed her eyes and smiled slightly. It felt familiar, but she couldn't remember where she heard it. If there is one aspect about the Musician, it's that he can play wonderful music with any instrument he's equipped with.

That is until… Hey… Hey… HEY!  She gasped as she heard someone yell “Hey” to her, snapping her back into reality. She looked around to see who spoke to her, but no one was there… Was it in her mind? It almost felt like it. She was so engrossed in the music that she forgot that she had her consciousness with her.

Woah… That felt different… What happened to me?  Something unexplainable did happen.

She shrugged off the thought, even though she won’t forget it. The young girl went back to the drum and resumed dragging it to the clock. She positioned the drum close enough to the clock and didn’t have to worry about making any loud noises as the man must have his ears concentrated on the melody of his piano. “Ok. we got this!” Lu climbed onto the drum and then the base of the old grandfather’s clock. It was not a steep slope and was simple to walk up to. It seemed intact enough for her to avoid any injuries if there were to be any broken glass shards. The clock even ticked every second or two and became more audible as the girl reached the top of the clock.

She dropped down and grunted softly as she landed on a pile of ragged and wrinkled clothing as if they had been used for too long.

"Ok, this is it. I’m almost out of here!" She whispered.

Lu was hidden behind a wooden wall with two slim window frames with no glass. It must be a prop for those musical plays or recitals. She peeked from the corner to see the man playing the piano with his long and enormous fingers. He has been occupied ever since the girl had heard him starting to play. How long can he go for?

Lu did not think much of it as she merely wanted to get out as soon as possible. She noticed straight ahead was an opening of a line of empty boxes that were completely hollow, forming a little passageway tunnel for her to crawl through, almost like crouching through the vents from before, but a bit more narrow. She's confident enough to commit to this task, but it still scares her because of the man.

Ok, Lu. Deep breaths. That always helps…

Lu inhales... Then exhales…

Ok… ready!

Lu slowly crouched and walked to the passageway, careful not to make a single sound with one foot gently passing the other as she kept watch over the man, ensuring he didn't look towards her as her heart beat loudly in her ear. The Musician was facing away from where she was at. She had noticed right now that little ragdolls were sitting in small chairs that partially circled the man as if they were his audience. 

But why do they look so real? As if they were real children… They don’t seem to be very alive… Lu didn’t like it one bit…

She’s almost there. The man hasn't seen her. That's good! The young girl went down on her palms and knees, crawling through the tunnel. Now that her chances of escaping were high, she was confident of going back to the outside again. She had a grin on her face indicating how gleeful she was to be close to escaping. She knows she shouldn’t think too closely of it, but it was irresistible not to. She was so close, but at the same time, she did not want to give her hopes up yet.

Once I make it outside, I want to find somewhere else to stay. Maybe a room with no doors so that no one could come in… I hope so, anyway!

She made it to the other side and stood back up on her bare feet on the carpeted floor. There was a door almost adjacent to the wall, but she didn’t think it would lead her out straight away, nor could she reach it higher than she could or make any noises in case the Musician somehow heard. Her best chance was through the small little grate that was a little bit far away from the door and had no grille. There might not be any more options now.

"I hope that way helps."

She ran for the grate, sprinting straight ahead. But just when she was running, the piano music suddenly stopped. It caught her attention, but was too late. Oh no. He's back!  The Musician, somehow, noticed Lu straight away running to the grate as he crawled over the heap of strewn instruments. Lu didn't stop running. She had to reach the grate to escape. The man, like before, ran towards the girl like a gorilla. But then, he picked up a guitar from the mountain of instruments, by the neck. Before he could even get her, Lu then slid through the grate, just barely missing the man's guitar slam as he smashed it on the ground, close to crushing her to death. The body broke into many splinters, and the strings picked and coiled. The man growled in irritation as the girl escaped from his grasp once again…

Lu had managed to avoid being smashed by a guitar and getting caught by the man as she panted out of pure shock from the near-death experience, as she lay on the floor, away from the grate entry and resting her back against the wall. The man pounded on the wall in anger, but he eventually stopped.

"That was way too close! He was going to kill me… I think this is my way out." She stood back up, unable to see anything. She took out her flare from her back pocket and swiped it on again to guide her way through the black void. Even after all this trouble, she still managed to keep her flare with her. At this moment. it should have fallen out of her pocket, but it's not a request when you need something to see in the darkness.

She heard rumors before of a young girl who had a twin sister long ago who was eaten by some sort of monster adult. And the other twin sister must’ve escaped. She didn't want to believe it, but considering her encounter with the Musician, it was very much inevitable.

The young girl can see, or what she's able to see, are various guitars and violins around, displayed on circular stands, and hung up on walls. There was also some studio equipment, the kinds you would need to film a podcast or film: a camera, a microphone, tripods, lights, and others. Before she was taken here, Lu thought of being an actor or actress since she liked to watch movies all the time at her real home and reenact certain scenes. It was a large area and it was crowded with these instruments but not by much. There were also record labels in boxes, one of them caught her attention. Something very familiar…

"Toh… Tobi.. Tobi-as. Lil-jah. Funny name!"

Lu continued walking through the area with her flare, illuminating the darkness. She didn't know where exactly to go and if she could find a way out. It feels like a ginormous maze that you have to navigate yourself out of, only in the dark, which makes it more challenging and somewhat disturbing. But it wasn't so new to Lu, only she couldn't simply not be scared due to a deranged music man trying to capture her and do what twisted acts he commits. She doesn't even believe that she was the first to enter this music store. 

She stumbled upon another wall of boxes, almost covering the wall up ahead. It wasn't complete enough to cover the entire wall, but it was large, and Lu felt a little uneasy, feeling as if the wall would suddenly collapse on top of her. She found a little opening with a hole through the wall at one spot for her to crawl through, right after putting out her flare again.

"I hope this is the way. It better be, and I… Woah!"

The young girl finds herself in another room with more guitars and violins hung on the walls and displayed on circular stands again, as well as more studio equipment, and the carpeted floor was torn and scratched, revealing the wooden floor that was under. 

This one is smaller and brighter due to the large windows leading to the outside. She felt the moonlight paying its attention to her, and she paid attention to the natural light. It felt nice to see such a beautiful light again. Hopefully, there will be stars to gaze at as well. At that moment, Lu didn't feel too scared anymore. She wanted to embrace the moonlight and pulled down her hood again, still in awe of the light, bringing back old memories.

She then climbed over a box and onto a display counter. She peers from the window and sees the rundown streets of the town. With no one in sight, everything was in ruins, as well as messy, from what she could describe. She took out and lit her flare again, wondering if there was any grate, vent, or anything in the wall for her to crawl through. She looked around, hoping to find one.

"Where’s the exit? Where can I go? I'm almost out of here!"

Her heart was racing as she knew that she was very close to escaping, and if that man caught her at the wrong moment, then it was all for nothing. Lu was frantically trying to find a way out until she stopped for a moment, freezing in place while still holding her flare that was still fuming… She could see something that's outside… or rather someone. Who is that? Is it alone? Lu squinted her eyes to look closer, adjusting her vision. It's there. It's hard to see, and it's black.

Black… That looks like another child… A child in a black jacket…  wait… It's a boy…! On the streets.

From where she was, it was almost difficult to distinguish his features, but she was able to see only a few of them. 

"It looks like he's wearing a gray toque, a black jacket, a red scarf, and brown pants. Oh, and no shoes, just like me!"

It was awe-striking to see someone close to her age present in such a distorted environment like this town. She couldn't take her eyes away from him. He felt intriguing to watch. She only felt surprised when she noticed the boy turned his head towards her direction, looking at her back. He must’ve spotted her because of her flare. They both locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. She doesn’t know if she should confront him to greet herself or to best not cross paths in fear of meeting with the wrong people. But this boy didn't feel so hostile… 

Who are you? What are you doing here?... What's your name?

Questions that are yet to be solved.

Lu was transfixed on the boy, until… 

A large hand swooped in and caught her by the back of her sweater, making her yelp in shock and dropping her flare as she realized the Musician had caught her by surprise, without her hearing him from behind. The man held the girl up at eye level, staring at her and holding her with two of his long fingers. 

She stared at the man's glasses as she squirmed and struggled in desperation and fear until she stopped knowing that there was no escape anymore and that she was trapped again. And for how long is unknown, until she sees what he will do with her now.

- - <0> - -

If you would like to read more of 'My Little Nightmares: Stories of the Little Ones,' be sure to visit Little Nightheories on www.youtube.com/@LittleNightheories6 for read aloud videos. Or, you can also read Chapter 1 and others on 

Our Own Archive (Little_Nightheories), Wattpad (@LittleNightheories6), or Tumblr (littlenightheories6) 

to personally read the story yourself and find multiple Little Nightmares fanfiction stories.

My Little Nightmares: Stories of the Little Ones is a 6ix part short story series where it involves 6ix little children from the creative mind of Little Nightheories, venturing through the world of Little Nightmares that is called the Nowhere. Their own individual stories reveal more secrets and environments that expand the world of our childhood fears. Up next: Chapter 2: The Boy in the Bandana Mask