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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

Text

Seasons to Cycles / 4

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 10,760

Rating: M (Some language, mentions of sex and drug use)

Summary: Logan’s got an invitation for you - but is it what it seems? Is it real, or is he looking for something in particular? Later, both halves of his life come together in an unexpected - but not entirely unwanted - way.

Author’s Note: Here’s where things start to get very interesting. I hope this chapter answers some questions for you ... but it’s also going to raise new ones. Song lyrics come into play in this one, too, which is what I’ve been waiting for.

Enjoy. (Thank you for the feedback!)

ALSO.

A couple people have asked about Logan’s apartment and Juliet’s house, so here are the listings I’m using as reference: Logan’s High Rise

Juliet’s House

I had one for reader’s studio apartment, too, but apparently it’s not for rent anymore, so it’s not showing. Sorry!

From the 46th story of Two California Plaza, Logan looked out over the city. It always took him a day or two to get used to being back in the office after trips to the parks, and the abrupt end to the most recent trip had made it worse than usual. But I’m happy to be home. He leaned back in his chair, one arm bent and behind his head, and smiled. At least the weather’s good. He’d been surprised to return to his room at the Mesa and find multiple messages waiting from Ariella, one of them apologizing for the way that she’d acted before she’d left his place - but even more surprised to see a rambling message from you, sent in the middle of the week. She’s curious about the parks and the Hosts.

He’d called his fiancée back, for once ahead of her in time zones, and while the conversation had been fast, the woman on her way to meet with her parents, it hadn’t been unpleasant. But that’s probably because I haven’t looked into what she got up to in Amsterdam yet. Logan hadn’t called you back, though, and he hadn’t returned your text, either. But why?

Standing, he pushed away from his desk and began pacing in front of his window, one hand in his pocket and the fingers of the other running through his hair. I wanted to. He had. In fact, he’d thought of you a lot while in the park, his usual distractions occupying less and less of his mind as the days passed. He’d sought out Clementine, not having to look far once they’d arrived in Sweetwater, and spent the night with her before setting out with his business partners the following day. Logan had timed the arrival so that just as they were leaving, Hector and his bandits were arriving, and though that had given him something else to focus on, by the time the four of them had reached Las Mudas as a stopover on their way to Pariah, you were on Logan’s mind again, remaining there for the entirety of the remainder of the ride out to the hidden city.

The men and women in Pariah were more than willing to accommodate his requests, and the time they spent there was pleasant. Logan let loose and drank heavily, the sweet-smelling air perfumed by the spices sold by the street vendors wafting in through his open windows and keeping him awake long after his chosen partners had drifted off. Hasn’t always been that way. The first time, it was … I wore myself out.

Pariah was Logan’s favorite area in the park, because the overall tone suited him, but each time he returned to Westworld, he also remembered what it felt like to be appointed as one of the leaders of the Confederados, the men listening to him without question, following his orders even though they made little sense. Because it’s like it is out there. Just less...real. Even that train of thought led him back to you, though it didn’t happen until he’d read your message and was already back on his way to Los Angeles. Why am I thinkin’ about this?

He stopped moving, pulling his hand from his pocket and settling both on his hips, elbows bent. “You’re the boss, Logan. Act like it.” But he lowered his head, hair moving out of place and falling over one eye. “Shit.” He straightened up, eyes narrowed. Get it together. You have a meeting in an hour, and the rest of your week is … But instead of sitting back down at his desk to read through notes, a few minutes later, Logan was sitting beneath one of the permanent umbrellas on California Plaza, his phone in hand, and your number on the screen. He only hesitated for a few seconds before he called, wondering if he’d catch you on a break again, or you’d push him through to voicemail. After two rings, he got his answer.

“Logan, hi!” Your tone excited, you greeted him, and he felt a smile spreading over his lips and lifting his cheeks before he could stop it. “Did you have a good trip?” She sounds happy to hear from me.

“I did.” He leaned back in that chair, eyes on the fountains in front of him. “Got your text.”

“Oh, Logan, I shouldn’t have -” Embarrassed? No reason to be.

“Are you at work now, I hope I’m not -” You assured him that it was fine, and that you were taking a long lunch. “The only way to answer that would be to let you meet Hosts, you know?” He licked his lips, thinking. “An’ it’s different for everyone, so I don’t know how you’d… what you’d think of them.” That was the truth, and though it wasn’t difficult for Logan and Juliet to tell the difference, he knew - all too well - that it wasn’t the case for everyone. “If you were in one of the parks -”

“You and your sister, Logan. Both of you keep trying to get me into those damn parks when I …” You were laughing. “I’m not the type of person you need to impress, I’m just curious.”

“Jules wants you to go to the park?” It was his turn to laugh. Doesn’t surprise me. “Well then you know it must be -”

“Maybe in another lifetime, Logan.” You took a deep breath and he pictured the way your shoulders would settle, the subtle tilt of your head. “What did you call for, though? That didn’t answer my …” Maybe she doesn’t need to be in the parks to… He leaned forward, thinking. It would be easy, I can ask…

“I’m gonna work late tomorrow.” He stood, heading back for the entrance. “Get some extra shit done, but if you want to stop by the office after you’re out of work, I can answer your question in person?” It was unnecessary, but the seed was planted. “We’ve got a restaurant on-site, so we can get somethin’ to eat, and have a working dinner.” I want to see you, want to see how you…

“If you’re working late, it must mean you’re busy, and I don’t want to keep you from…” He heard the doubt creeping into your voice again, and Logan cut it off quickly, already in the elevator back up to his office.

“I’m the boss. It’s fine. Promise.” The doors opened to his floor, and Logan stepped in front of his office, leaning down to let the small camera scan his eye, the door unlocking almost immediately. “I’ll text you a visitor’s parking pass, and if you let me know when you get here, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sounds good. Is it alright if I get there around…” You thought for a second. “Five? It should only take me about twenty five minutes, so …”

“Perfect.” He was sitting at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard and he sent you the pass, and again after, as he opened up a blank email. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” He could tell you were smiling, and Logan smiled again, too. “I’ll be there.” There wasn’t much else to say, and so you hung up shortly after, Logan’s lips still curved upward. This is either going to go really well, or it’s going to backfire on me.

---

He met you in the lobby the following afternoon, standing back a few feet while you spoke with Cal, one of the receptionists. One. Your interaction with the man was pleasant but nothing special, and Logan watched you grin at him, reaching out to take the visitor’s badge in one hand. He called out your name, striding over to where you were standing, using one hand to clip the piece of plastic to the strap of your bag. “Logan this place is amazing.” It is.

“Didn’t always look like this.” He touched your elbow, guiding you through the lobby. “My father wasn’t a fan of the open plan, wanted everything to feel… intimidating, so when Juliet and I took over, we made some changes. She did, first. Then I… “You’re right though, this is much better.” He eyed you as you took in the tall ceilings and artwork, the sculptures and the fountains; the clear liquid splashing onto the marble tile of the floor and dripping into the recessed drains. “You look tired.” He finally took a good look at you when you stepped into the elevator, Logan typing in his code for access to the lower floors. “Long day at work?” You closed your eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I work in admissions, like I said, so we’re in kind of a … slow spot right now, but the entire system went down this morning, and so I spent my entire shift doing data entry, and I …” You rubbed your eyes with both hands. “My eyes hurt.” He grinned at that, but didn’t say anything. “Thanks, though, for pointing out that -”

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you don’t look…” He paused. “Alright, yeah, that does make me sound like a dick.” That got you to laugh, and by the time the two of you stepped out into the entryway, Logan was laughing with you. “We’re not goin’ into my office yet. Follow me.” You looked confused, but Logan was eager to show you the first part of the reason he’d invited you to Delos. “This is somethin’ most people don’t ever get to see.” He pressed his hand against a panel next to a set of glass doors, a green light illuminating and the panes separating. “An’ it’s not …” Should I be doing this? “You’ll see.”

“Logan, what …” You were right next to him, and though the hall was well lit, the rooms you were passing weren’t, most of them completely dark. “I feel like we’re in a …” But you stopped speaking as you reached the end of the hallway, where the room was well lit. Here we go. “Logan…” He heard it in your voice - the moment you realized where you were and what you were doing, and only a second later, felt your fingers closing around his wrist. “Are those …”

“They are.” Only glass separated you from the man and woman in the room, the two of them dancing in a slow circle. “We’re workin’ on a new … project. It’s not a park, and it’s not on the island, so …” He looked over, expecting you to be focused on the window, but instead you were staring up at him, eyes full of shock. She’s lookin’ at me instead of… “So they’re here. Some of ‘em. We’re trying to…”

“Logan, they look so much like people, how …” You finally tore your eyes away from him and took a half step closer to the glass, fingers still circling his wrist. “This is …” He remembered what it had been like to see the Hosts for the first time, to speak to them, to touch them - feeling the way that they filled the room at the penthouse bar, Logan only realizing what was happening as Angela giggled and lifted her finger. It was incredible. And it still is. “She’s beautiful, Logan.” You had one hand on the glass and you finally let go of him with the other, reaching up to press your fingertips to your cheek, slowly moving them up and down.

“She is. When they design the hosts, they model ‘em off a composite of actual people.” He leaned closer to you, not wanting to raise his voice. “So some of them? You’ll look at them, and it’s close enough that you might think ‘oh, he’s got Timberlake’s eyes, or Skarsgard’s lips… or she’s got Keira Knightly’s…”

“Did you just give me a list of the people you find attractive, Logan?” You nudged him with your elbow. “Or are you telling me that I could go into the park and find someone as -” Always listening to what’s between the …

“We make ‘em so that they appeal to people.” He set his shoulders, eyes back on the couple, the man and woman still dancing, but laughing at the same time, one of his hands combing through her long, wavy hair. “So yeah, sometimes they pull features from real people, just to… make things more lifelike.” Logan took a breath. “We gotta get permission from them, of course, and even then, the techs change things like eye color or birthmarks, or …” He shrugged. “A lot of the Hosts are entirely new, but we’ve got hundreds of them in each park, and with this project, we need to …”

“You need to keep things familiar, because this…” You pulled your hand away from the glass, taking a deep breath. “Logan, I’ll be honest with you right now, I’m just looking at them, and it’s hard to believe that they’re real, that this … exists. Any of it. It’s overwhelming. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in one of the parks, surrounded by …”

“It’s a fuckin’ trip.” You turned to face him, though he watched your eyes dart back to the left before they focused on him. “Every time, even though I know none of it is real.” He watched your lips tremble slightly, and Logan contemplated his next words. How much do I … “It only gets as real as you let it, and the parks are designed so that the Hosts can’t really hurt you, but if you forget that - and it’s easy to, sometimes - it can get… pretty goddamn wild.”

“I bet.” You swallowed and turned your head back toward the window, not saying anything else, and Logan watched you, eyes roaming over your profile. You weren’t reacting the way that he’d thought you would. He hadn’t expected you to flip out, or talk his ear off, but he wasn’t expecting the almost stoic silence, either. Is she not impressed? Is she … “Why are you showing this to me, Logan?” You took a deep breath. “There aren’t supposed to be Hosts in the United States, Delos signed a -” She’s lookin’ into us?

“We did. And technically, these Hosts aren’t in the United States, because they’re confined to this building, to specific floors, and if they leave? They cross the barriers?” He reached out cautiously, knowing that you could see the movement, and when you didn’t stop him, he laid one fingertip at the base of your neck, pressing gently. “They’ve got implants, and… boom.” He felt you shiver, watching your eyes close. Is that causea the… “They keep a close eye on ‘em, too, and the only people that know they’re here are the ones we trust.”

“So why am I here?” You turned your entire body to face him, and because the movement shocked him, Logan’s hand moved along the side of your throat and over your shoulder before he could pull it back. Fuck. The contact stunned him, leaving him speechless for the span of two breaths. Oh, fuck, that’s not … He watched the look in your eyes change, realizing that you hadn’t meant for it to happen either, his touch visibly affecting you, and then Logan spoke again, the tiniest wavering of his voice audible.

“Because you asked how real they were, an’ the only way to explain it is to show you.” He drew his hand back, sliding it smoothly into his pocket and gesturing with the other toward the glass. “And this is nothing. It’s different when you’re talkin’ to them, or you’re in bed with them, or you shoot one of them, an’ watch them fall, or when they…” He stopped himself. “But.” Logan sucked air through his teeth before letting out his breath. “At least you’ve seen ‘em now, yeah?” You nodded. “An’ I know you won’t say anything about this, because ...” Because I trust you already, and that’s… “Because I think you wanna be my friend, and you know that …”

“Who would I tell, Logan?” Your eyes were shining. “I never thought I’d…” You looked back, the male Host dipping the female backwards, one of his hands rising to the side of her face, thumb skating over the fullest part of her cheek. “Jesus.” It was impressive - he had to admit it. The Hosts had come a long way in the years since his first private demonstration, and Logan was glad for it. They’re gonna be the only thing that gets me through… He shook his head briefly. Not now. “I won’t say a word, Logan, I promise.” You reached toward him, squeezing his hand and Logan let you, eyes flicking down so that he could watch as you gripped his fingers briefly, not even giving him a chance to squeeze back before you let go. “Thank you for showing me.”

That shocked him - not that you’d thanked him, because he’d figured you would, but that you accepted the short viewing of the Hosts as the extent of what he was offering, and hadn’t pushed further. I guess I kind of expected that, too. And it means that I was … “You’re welcome.” Logan’s mind was racing, the man trying to keep up with his thoughts. “D’you wanna go back upstairs now? I meant what I said about havin’ dinner. You can ask questions, or …”

“I don’t even know what I’d ask, Logan. I wasn’t expecting … this, and now I …” But you haven’t even … “But yes. Let’s go back up.” We should. “You said there’s a cafeteria? I didn’t actually get to eat lunch today, so -”

“Come on, then. Let’s get you some food.” And get to the second part of this.

---

The cafeteria - like the rest of Delos - was sleek and modern, wide open, with windows that overlooked the city, and you felt yourself smile as you looked around, more than a few other people still in the space. I’m surprised there’s…

But the more you thought about it, the more you weren’t that shocked. Delos was a 24/7 company, employees working around the clock in different departments. And based on what I just saw, it makes perfect sense. Logan showing you the two Hosts had been a total surprise, and you’d been in awe at how lifelike they were - barely a few feet away from you, focused on each other like a couple in love, their mannerisms - from what you could tell - no different than your own would have been. “You’re not even listenin’.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts and focused back on Logan, the man leaning across the table and toward you. “And I thought I was interesting.” Oh, you are, Logan. I just …

“Did you have a good trip? Juliet told me one of your guests got sick, so you came back early.”

“I did. It was niceta get back into the park, and …” He grinned, winking and taking a long drink. “Have some fun.” Can I ask? Should I ask? You wanted to, wanted to know Logan’s take on things, and with a deep inhale, you decided to do just that. “Logan.” You bit your lip, blinking. “When you say fun, do you mean -”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “That’s exactly what I mean. Along with some shooting and fighting and …” Ok, so he answered that. But will he…

“So when you go into the park, you …” You raised an eyebrow. “Sleep with the -”

“Not doin’ much sleeping, usually.” He winked at you, but you didn’t let it deter you. You’re not gonna get me that easily, Logan.

“Ok, so that’s my next question.” You took a drink from the cup in front of you. “So you don’t consider that cheating then? Since you’ve got a fiancée, and yet you still…”

“No.” There was no shame in the reply, Logan’s eyes locked onto your face. “It’s not cheating if they’re not real. And they’re not real, no matter how real they look or feel or act, so…” He ran a hand through his hair. “The Hosts are one of the only habits I haven’t broken yet, an’ between you and me?” He leaned in, tone serious. “Out of all of ‘em, it’s the safest.” You’re right. You widened your eyes as he spoke, but tried to hide it. He… Sex with the Hosts presented very few risks to Logan - or his reputation. The parks weren’t traceable, and there was no chance of getting any of them pregnant - or catching anything from them in return. They can’t hurt him, they can’t start any rumors, and there’s no … there’s no permanence. “Any other questions?”

He was resting an elbow on the table, chin atop his hand. So many. But before you could speak, you heard someone say his name, turning your head to watch a man heading toward your table. Oh, this will be awkward, he’ll have to introduce me. “Logan! Good to see you, I didn’t realize you were back.” Logan straightened up, grinning. “Who’s this?”

“Hey, Gideon.” Logan nodded once. “This is my friend.” He introduced you, and there wasn’t even time for you to say anything before the man was holding his hand out to you, saying hello. “She had a couple questions about the parks, and I figured it was easier to talk in person.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit with us?” You were focused on the second man, though, eyes on his face and on the warmth you saw in his eyes; green tinged with blue and gold. He’s… The man was attentive, repeating your name even as he removed his hand from yours and dropped into the chair next to you. “What have you been up to?”

You watched the two of them speak, both animated as they continued their conversation, turning toward you every now and then to include you. They must be friends, this is … Taking their conversation as an opportunity to observe, you eyed Gideon, smiling as the man reached up to scratch his chin, never looking away from Logan. He’s handsome. You realized it after only a few moments, letting yourself eye the man without restraint. Really handsome, I wonder if all of the employees are … But your thoughts were interrupted by Logan asking you a question, and you pulled your attention away from Gideon, focusing back on the other man. “What? No. I’ve only been to Juliet’s that one time, aside from when you and I went.” I was paying attention, Logan. I might have been watching Gideon, but… “She invited me back out to use the pool again, but so far, no.”

“You’ve never invited me out to swim at your sister’s Logan.” Gideon was laughing, and though he spoke to Logan, he was eyeing you. “And you’ve already gotten a callback?” He winked at you, grin widening. “You’ve got to tell me your secrets, about how you won Juliet over so fast.” Logan remained quiet, but as you glanced at him, you saw that he was watching the two of you, barely concealing the smile on his face. But if he’s friends with Logan, wouldn’t…

“No secrets, Gideon.” You shrugged, taking a bite out of your burger. “But it is a nice pool.” The man laughed loudly, eyes closing as he nodded.

“Fair enough.” He rested his forearm on the table, leaning slightly closer. “Logan said you have some questions about the parks?” You said yes, once again glancing at Logan. I’m almost positive this guy is hitting on me, but … “Maybe I can answer. Logan’s got the money and the power, but I work in Asset Development, so I’m much more … hands on, if you know what I mean.” His boldness took you by surprise, but as you thought about his words, you realized that if he was hitting on you, he was doing it without worry. Logan’s engaged, of course he wouldn’t care that someone was …

But even as you continued the conversation with the two men, Gideon supplying answers when Logan couldn’t, the man asking you questions and inviting you to visit him in his office sometime to talk more, you were slightly distracted. But Logan said … when we were in the apartment, that he liked me … he tried to … You looked back and forth between both of them, trying to keep a neutral expression, and then focused on Gideon’s face. Logan’s too calm. There’s no way that he would … Gideon scratched his chin again and you sucked in a breath, trying to keep it quiet. Not only me, he was basically hitting on Juliet, too, and Logan wouldn’t… there’s no way that … Not if it was real. “Logan.” You whispered the single word, locking your eyes on the man’s, finding that he was staring at you. “Logan.”

“That’s enough, Gideon.” The second man stopped speaking, and Logan continued. “All that we need is too close to be seen.” Without another word, Gideon stood and turned away from the table, heading back in the direction that he’d come from. What the fuck. “You figured it out.” Logan leaned closer, a note of pride in his voice. “How?”

“He was a…” Logan nodded. “I thought I was …” But Logan didn’t speak, only watching you quietly. “It was mostly you, Logan. He didn’t do anything, not really, but you … your reaction to him hitting on Juliet and... The way you just sat back and watched? You said it’s never real, and I think that if he’d really been doing that, in front of you? And including me? You wouldn’t have been so calm.” Maybe. He looked surprised at your words, but nodded.

“So I gave it away?” You did, but … “Gideon’s one of our newest. We use him as a test subject. He does work in Asset Management, but he’s going to be something else down the line.” So he let me meet a … he introduced me to … “Are you alright?” Logan’s hand moved as if he wanted to touch yours, but he stopped short. “I shouldn’t have …”

“No, I’m....” You shook your head, lowering it. “I just wasn’t expecting to…” Bringing your gaze back up, you met Logan’s eyes once more. “He scratched his chin a few times, Logan, I caught that. And his eyes were … I’ve never seen eyes like that, especially on someone that seemed like -” But you stopped, not wanting to finish your sentence. I don’t need him to think I’m reading more into this.

“Seemed what?” But it wasn’t going to be that easy, Logan still talking quietly. “You gotta tell me.”

“I’ve never been hit on by a guy that looks like that.” You gestured in the direction that the man had gone. “But it felt real, so I… went with it.”

“Yeah you have.” He gave you a quick smile. “Because I’m pretty sure that I’ve -”

“You don’t count, Logan. You’re practically married, so… you flirting might be honest, but it’s not going to …” It’s not going to lead anywhere. I don’t know what’s worse - the robot blatantly doing it that could have led to … or Logan, who can’t … “Wait, you were hitting on me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood. “You must be losing your touch, because I -”

“Oh, shut up. You know I was.” It was Logan’s turn to take a drink, watching you from over the rim of his glass. “So what did you think? Cal an’ the two in the basement, and Gideon?” Cal? You mean the receptionist? “Yeah, he’s a Host, too. Like I said, we’re rotating the new Hosts through different positions, just to make sure that they can integrate into real situations, when it comes time.” He’s telling me their future plans like I… “So you’ve talked to two of ‘em, touched two of them.” I did, they were … they felt like … “And?”

“And … what?” You were confused, overstimulated, still in disbelief that because of a chance encounter, you’d gotten an opportunity to - in person - see and feel the Delos Hosts. “I had no idea at first, Logan. Is that how it is in the parks? Are -”

“No, they’re dialed back here. They have to be. The parks are meant to be … real, but still over the top. I can’t explain it. They’re tryin’ to get your attention from the second you step offa the train. It’s all a come-on, and everyone’s got a part to play. But here? They gotta fit in, blend in. There, you know that you’re interacting with them a lot of times, but here, you can’t know.

“Well they fooled me, Logan. Both of them, I -”

“Not entirely, though.” He looked slightly worried. “You said you noticed Gideon scratching -”

“Only because I was already focused on the way you were acting, Logan. Without you right here, I probably wouldn’t have …” Stop talking. The more you say, the more he’s… Logan wasn’t an idiot, and you knew that you’d likely already said too much. The look in his eyes confirmed your suspicions, and the next words he said solidified them.

“So you could tell I wasn’t… acting like myself?” You thought about lying to him - for a split second - making up an excuse that wouldn’t make it seem as if you were trying to read into his behavior - and then you didn’t.

“I could. Especially with Juliet. I don’t think any man would have the balls to talk about her like that in front of you.” You took a breath. “And I guess, Logan, that I don’t really think you’d just casually try to pawn me off on someone that I don’t -”

“You’re right.” He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. “On both counts, actually. The last person that … disrespected Juliet in front of me? He got what he deserved. Eventually.” You watched Logan’s eyes go cold, lip curling slightly. That’s a sore subject. “And you? You’re damn right that I wouldn’t just sit back and... “ He stopped himself and you felt your heart thud, though you knew it was pointless. He’s just being a good friend. “But a Host?” Logan let out a long breath, closing his eyes and smirking for a few seconds. “They’re built to be fuckin’ irresistable, so…” One eyebrow raised, Logan finished his sentence. “It’s not a problem.”

“So wait a second.” You took another bite, needing a few seconds. “Does that mean that if Ariella were to go to the parks, you wouldn’t bat an eye at seeing -”

“Nope.” He lifted a forkful of pasta salad to his lips, and when he’d swallowed, he spoke. “And I know that a lot of people think that’s bullshit, but as long as you know it’s not real? It makes it a hell of a lot easier to let your guard down, to look at it objectively.”

“What do you mean?” I get it, I think, but … “You could just watch her go off with one of them, knowing that -”

“I could. I have.” He took another long swallow of his drink. “And not just Hosts, either.” That’s… wait, what? “Everyone’s got a history, right? With people, you never know what the fuck the other person’s doing; where they’ve been or who they’ve been with. With the parks? Every Host gets taken offline and cleaned up between Guest encounters, so it doesn’t matter. We’ve gotta protect the people in the parks, and we’ve gotta do what’s right. There’s no risk. No diseases, no pregnancies, no attachments.” His words echoed your earlier thoughts, but Logan continued. “I could take you right now, to where Gideon is, and bring him back online completely. He’d start the conversation with you where it left off. You guys could do whatever, and then go your separate ways… but the next time he met you? He might not remember it, depending on what we’ve had him doing between. To him, it’s like nothin’ happened, when we reset him, even though it did.”

“Logan, that -”

“It’s safe. It’s smart. It’s efficient. Think about how many relationships could be saved if people went and fucked Hosts instead of real people? Think about how many fewer problems there’d be, people blowin’ off steam by goin’ to bed with -” He swore, cutting himself off, muttering under his breath. “D’you wanna do that? Go find Gideon, or maybe even Cal? Have some… we’ve got private rooms here, in the building, you could -” Why is he… why does he think I…

“No, Logan.” You narrowed your eyes. “Gideon was good looking, but that doesn’t mean that I … it doesn’t matter that he’s a Host, I’ve spoken to him for fifteen minutes, and I -” You paused. “That would have been like you and I fucking in the Whole Foods parking lot with that damn ice cream melting in your trunk.” He snorted at that, giving you a look that you couldn’t quite read. I don’t know what’s going on right now, but this isn’t the same… he’s thinking about something different, something … “It would be different if I was in a park, Logan, and we’d known each other for a couple minutes, because that’s … that’s what it’s supposed to be like. But out here? This is real life. I can’t just get back on a train and leave, it…” You’re explaining this really poorly.

“Aren’t you curious? You’ve seen ‘em. Felt them, talked with them. Don’t you want to -”

“Of course I’m curious, Logan, but that doesn’t mean … this is a lot to think about. I -”

“What do you think?” His tone changed again, Logan’s eyes once again filled with warmth. “You asked me if I thought it was cheating, fucking the Hosts in the park, but what do you -”

“It’s not.” You wet your lips. “It would probably be hard the first time, to know that someone I cared about was probably in bed with someo… something else, to see it happen, even just watching y… them walk away with the Host, but it… yeah, for the duration, it’s real, but… fuck, Logan, if I’m paying $40,000 a day? If they are paying $40,000 a day? Fuck all the robots you want and get your money’s worth.” That got a laugh from Logan, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned.

“I’m offerin’ you, right now, the chance. No forty grand, no park, no … strings. You and onea those two, in a -”

“No. Thank you, Logan, but no.” This is… are we really having this conversation? “If I’m going to sleep with one of the Hosts, I want it to be… the real circumstances, not just one basically hand delivered to me by the fucking CEO of the company that’s designing them.” And I don’t really want a Host, either, I… “What does that say about me, hmm?” You tilted your head to one side. “Need someone to play matchmaker for me, and the match isn’t even a real…”

“You don’t need me.” Logan interrupted. “I’m just in a position to offer you somethin’ you can’t refuse for a hell of a lot less than the going rate.” The playful tone was back in Logan’s voice, but you still heard some hesitation. What is … why? “Except you’re refusing it. Are you sure? Gideon’s a hell of a -”

“I’m sure.” Though you were surprised to hear yourself reply so quickly, you were certain of your answer. “I appreciate it, but I…” You shrugged. “He might be designed to be perfect, but I’ll be honest and tell you he’s not what I usually go for.” You saw that Logan was surprised, but the man kept quiet, raising one hand and lifting his shoulder in a shrug. Not even close.

---

The following weeks kept Logan busy with finalizing contracts, the man flying between LA and Boston for work multiple times. Though he kept in touch with you via text, you didn’t see each other again, and Logan thought that it was likely for the best. Because the last time she .. she gave me a lot to think about.

You’d picked up on his behavior both in front of the Host room and in the cafeteria, though you didn’t know him well. You’d paid more attention to him than to the Hosts that you’d been confronted with, even while Logan had seen you eyeing Gideon, almost in disbelief. And that was before she knew. It had been wrong of him to surprise you with so much information in so little time, but Logan had wanted to see your genuine reaction to the Hosts, and if he’d clued you in, it would have ruined everything. And she … she didn’t …

The disbelief he’d understood. Seeing and meeting them for the first time was special, even if their true potential wasn’t on display. But what he hadn’t understood was how quick you were to turn down the opportunity to get closer to either of the two men, though it was apparent that you understood the true stakes of the offer itself. She didn’t care. It wasn’t just about … the experience. You didn’t think that you’d ever make it to one of the parks, and were still willing to turn down the chance to take a Host to bed, no strings attached. Wish my fiancée was the same.

Your questions and comments about cheating, about the safety of being with Hosts had gotten to Logan, and though he knew that you had no idea about his relationship’s parameters, he’d been unable to stop thinking about what you’d said - and how you’d said it. She meant it. Really didn’t think I was honestly flirting with her, was surprised at me saying that I’ve watched Ariella… I’m sure she saw the way I reacted to talking about all those relationships. He swore under his breath, propping his feet up on the railing of the balcony. And then I tried to fucking get her to go off with …

The look in your eyes as he’d suggested you sleeping with one of the Hosts had surprised him the most. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you’d take the opportunity if presented with it under normal circumstances, but he’d put you on the spot, and he knew it. But she… Instead of agreeing out of shock and excitement, you’d turned his offer down repeatedly, providing him with legitimate explanations for your refusal. There was something she didn’t say, though. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, taking a long drink as the LA skyline twinkled in front of him. Something she was thinking. If Gideon - or Cal - weren’t your type, then what was? There’s gotta be…

He’d told William once that the park managed to seduce everyone at some point, and while he’d been trying to make the man understand what he was in store for, Logan believed the words himself. The park, the Hosts, the stakes … it’s a lot. But she … she’s still...

The more he got to know you, the more he wanted to understand. She’s not like … Logan’s mind drifted to his fiancée, and at the realization that she’d be back in Los Angeles within sixteen hours, Logan winced. Ariella woulda fucked them both, no questions asked. The woman had very few boundaries, and despite the fact that she was wearing a diamond he’d given her on her finger, that deficiency extended to the bedroom - and to her partners. She’s here for my dad’s party, and then we’ll have some meetings on Sunday with vendors, and then she’ll be gone again, and I … He rubbed a hand over his entire face, letting out a sigh. “Same fuckin’ thing.”

Staring up at the slowly darkening sky, Logan watched as the clouds moved across it, his mind racing. He truly didn’t care about the Host interactions, because that was what the parks were for. But each week that passed, each time he checked the woman’s private accounts, or his lawyers had to race to keep stories from leaking about her indiscretions, the amount that he cared about their future decreased, too. Might not be a traditional relationship, but goddamn, she could at least … He knew he was a catch - educated, wealthy, good looking - but Logan’s self esteem dropped each time he saw his fiancée, the woman barely lukewarm toward him, unless she knew the cameras were on. I was in bed with her more when we weren’t anything serious. Who would have …

Logan finished his drink and stood, striding back through the living room and into his kitchen, opening the drawer where Ariella had stashed the small container of drugs. I can’t believe this is … Setting the bottle down on the counter, he picked up the tin, turning it over in his fingers, a frown on his face. He felt the faint pull, deep in his chest, thinking about the days when he wouldn’t have thought twice about opening it and seeing what she’d left for him; carrying it into the master bathroom and dumping out a small mound of the white powder onto the back of his hand, covering one knuckle. It’d be easy. His fingers curled, the container solid in his hand. She might not even remember it’s here, so she wouldn’t know it’s gone. He lowered his head. Or maybe when she gets here, we can say fuck Jim’s party, and…

But before that thought could continue, Juliet’s face - and then Emily’s flashed through his mind. Juliet’s features were schooled into the same mixture of sadness and fear that he’d seen when he woke up in the hospital after Westworld, Emily’s eyes filled with disappointment. I can’t do that. Not to them, not again. Not to myself. His eyes opened and he glanced down, head shaking back and forth before he set the container back down and slid the drawer shut. She’s not worth it. He knew it to be true - knew that every moment following the agreement that they made, every second of their relationship was worse than the last, but Logan was hesitant to let himself focus on it. I can’t. It’ll ruin everything, but no one … no one notices, no one sees…

At that thought, Logan also thought of you, the way you’d noticed his actions, noticed the subtle changes in his demeanor after only spending a few hours with him. He thought of the way you spoke to him - unafraid to question him, and even less afraid to tell him the truth, even when it differed from what he said or thought. She would notice. He knew that it was the truth - knew that the moment you saw him and Ariella together, you’d know something wasn’t right. Maybe that would be … He sighed, moving down the hallway and into his bedroom, laying down atop the blankets and folding one arm back beneath his head. But then I’d need to explain, and she wouldn’t … it’d be like I was lying to her, and I’m not. I just can’t … “Fuck.” He closed his eyes. “God fucking dammit.”

He’d never done so much as touch you anywhere but the arm or the back of your neck; hadn’t even come close to kissing you or holding you, but Logan couldn’t deny that he was interested in you. And it’s not … not even physical, it’s… everything. He wouldn’t act on it - even with the arrangement he had in place with Ariella - because Logan knew that you deserved more. And I think it’s … I don’t think it would be as easy as … He rubbed his eyes with one hand but didn’t reopen them. And if she knew, it would mean that I’d either have to refuse to say anything else, or … or tell her about Billy, and what started this whole thing.

The extent of the William Incident was something that very few people knew. Juliet knew all of it; his therapist knew everything, too. Ariella knew that he’d had a bad experience, but he hadn’t ever found the will to explain to her - preferring to only blame his drug use and excessively destructive lifestyle to nearly dying in the desert, without detailing it. And fucking Jim still doesn’t believe me, otherwise he wouldn’t have … Logan swore again, letting out a long breath. He’d never truly wanted to tell anyone, because the more Logan thought about it, the more he blamed himself - for taking William, for pushing him, for not seeing the signs until it was too late. Do I want to tell someone?

There were days he believed that it would have been easier if he’d died in the desert - all of his shares in the company and his fortune rolling over into a trust meant for any future children of Juliet’s when they turned 18, the only stipulation that they not be touched by William in any way, shape or form. Fucking him out of that would have been something that he didn’t expect, and it would have… ruined him. That got a small smile from Logan, eyes cracking open as he turned his head toward the window. “But I didn’t.” He repeated the words, sitting up. “I’m still here, and still at Delos, and he isn’t.”

Logan pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet flat on the floor. If it came down to it - and you ever met Ariella - Logan knew that you’d have tons of questions for him. But would I answer? He frowned, lower lip jutting out. Do I want her to ask? He sighed, standing. And what would Ariella … would she say anything? Would she see the way… “The way what, Delos? She’s your friend, and …” But if I wasn’t engaged, I think it would be… “Different.”

---

“Ari, come on.” He was sitting on the couch, one arm stretched out over the back of it. “We’re gonna be late, we’ve gotta stop over and pick up Jules on the way.” His eyes were on the TV, a movie playing on low volume. “You -”

“I’m ready, Logan.” He turned his head at the sound of her voice, Logan’s eyes landing on the redhead. “I don’t know why we’re not taking a car, it makes -”

“Because I need to be able to leave whenever I want to.” He stood, swallowing. “”You look great, Ari. That’s a -” His hand landed on her hip, and the woman’s hands moved to his chest, palms flat. “That’s a good color on you.” He wasn’t lying - the woman did look great, the navy blue cocktail dress hugging all of her curves, her long hair swept over one shoulder and held in place by a jeweled clip. “You look like you got some sun, too, you -”

“You never know who’s going to be at these things, Logan.” She rose onto her toes, kissing his cheek. “Have to make a good impression, right?” No, you don’t, because you’re going to be my wife. No one will … But he didn’t say anything in response, pulling away from the woman and grabbing his jacket from where it was hanging over the back of a chair, folding it over his arm. “Who made the guest list this time, Logan? Anyone I’d know on it?” Probably.

They rode the elevator down, Logan reciting some of the people’s names that would likely be there, Ariella rifling through her purse as she half listened. You asked, and now you … He rolled his eyes as the two of them exited into the garage, the woman waiting until Logan had opened the door for her to lower herself into the seat. As he slid into his side, buckling his seatbelt, Logan turned the car on and backed out of his spot, hearing the woman let out a breath. “What?”

“Can we turn the air on, Logan? It’s disgusting here, it’s so sticky out -” Oh, you better not have … He swung his head to look at her, eyes landing on the woman’s nose before they moved up. But Ariella’s eyes were clear and there was no powder beneath either nostril. So she’s just complaining. Got it. But he flipped the dial, and within only a few seconds, the interior had cooled off. “So why are we picking up Juliet? I thought she’d drive herself, maybe bring -”

“She didn’t want to drive herself, and as far as I know, she didn’t ask anyone to go with her.” Logan turned onto 10, shaking his head. “So I offered to drive her, because I figured it’d be easier.” And because she’ll have to head home earlier because of Emily. “Besides, it’ll give the two of you more time to talk, since you haven’t seen each other in a while.” Logan knew that Juliet wasn’t the biggest fan of Ariella, and that she felt somewhat responsible for Logan’s situation. But she doesn’t need to. It’s my own … He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, merging onto 110. “Ari, I set up a couple appointments for tomorrow. A wedding planner and a -”

“Yeah, about that.” She reached over, letting her hand rest on his knee. “Logan, I don’t … Do we have to meet with them? Can’t we just pick one, and then put them into contact with…” Logan groaned, feeling more disappointed than he thought he would. She doesn’t even … “I’ve already narrowed down the dresses, and I think that I’ve found a way to sell the first look at …”

“We have nothing planned, and you’re already worrying about who you can sell a story to?” Logan switched lanes, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Doesn’t that seem -”

“We’ve set a date, Logan. Everything else will fall into place.” She squeezed his knee and then pulled her hand away. “I can have my publicist get ahold of yours so that we can coordinate, but honestly? I don’t… Logan, it’s not like this is …” Yeah. I know. “We might as well make the most of it, right? Get as much out of the whole thing as possible? We don’t need to plan it, we just need to show up.” That’s not what I… But he again fell silent as they continued to drive, Logan unsure of what to say to the woman. So she’s taking it less seriously than I am. I should have known, but … He let out a breath, glancing over at the woman and was unsurprised to see that she’d pulled her phone out, her full attention on the device. I could ask her what she’s been… but I don’t want to fight. I just want to… “Look, right on time.”

She finally spoke again as they pulled around a dark blue SUV and into Juliet’s driveway, the gate open. We are. Actually, we’re a few minutes early. “Do you want to come in and see Em? It’s been -”

“I guess.” The woman shrugged. “I haven’t really ever spent much time with her, so I don’t know how …” For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ariella looked truly uncomfortable, a small frown on her face. “Does she know who I am?” She does, but …

“Yeah, Ari. Of course she does.” He grinned, running one hand through his hair and sliding his keys into his pocket. “Come on.” They walked across the driveway and up to the front door, Logan knocking once before pushing down on the handle and opening it. “Jules? We’re here.” They stepped into the entryway, Logan glancing around the corner. “Em?” He heard the little girl before he saw her; an excited shriek of his name followed by the sound of her footsteps as she ran toward them. Probably in her playroom. The little girl rounded the corner, her arms held out to Logan, who crouched over and reached for her, the grin never leaving his face. At least someone’s happy to see me. He hugged the girl to his chest, turning his head toward Ariella, who was watching with the same uncomfortable smile on her face, but what Logan wasn’t expecting was a second set of footsteps following the little girl’s, abruptly stopping along with the movement that he saw out of the corner of his eye. What … Squeezing Emily one more time, he set her down, still staring. There’s… why? In disbelief, Logan stood up again, lips parted slightly as he said your name, confused. “What are you -”

“Juliet’s babysitter canceled last minute.” You shrugged, taking a step into the room and toward Logan and Ariella, even as Emily returned to your side, one arm going around your bare leg and your fingers barely brushing the top of her head. “And I was supposed to come over tomorrow anyway, so I …” You shrugged. “I just said I’d watch Em, so Juliet didn’t have to miss the party, and …” He heard it - the slight waver of your voice as you looked between him and Ariella, your eyes never lingering on either of them. “So, while you guys are eating all of that fancy food and drinking that alcohol, and schmoozing... Emily and I are going to swim, and roast marshmallows, and …” He heard his niece giggle, watching as you looked back down. “Have fun, right?”

The little girl nodded and Logan felt himself smiling as he watched the two of you interact, you barely paying attention to Logan and Ariella. Where are you, Jules? Why didn’t you … Logan’s heart was thumping in his chest, and he felt closer to panic than he had in months, but he wasn’t quite sure why. “How do you two know each other?” Ariella finally spoke, stepping forward, her heels clicking against the floor. “Are you a friend of -”

“Logan and I met in a Whole Foods like … six weeks ago?” You tilted your head to one side. “He was buying a card for his housekeeper’s kid, and we talked for a few minutes.” You took a breath, clearing your throat. “Emily, go ahead back into the playroom. I’ll be there in a little while.” But before she did as you asked, the little girl let go of you and sprinted back toward Logan, her arms held out for another hug, which he gave her without pause, telling her to be good for you. As she disappeared through the doorway, you stepped closer to Logan and Ariella, blinking. “And after that, he introduced me to Juliet, because I live kind of close, and …” You shrugged. “It worked out, because…” Logan glanced at Ariella, watching as she assessed you, her eyes slightly narrowed, but still curious. What is… she’s never … “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, Ariella, from both Logan and J-”

“I haven’t heard anything about you.” Her tone bored, Ariella stepped away from Logan, reaching up with her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. Why is she… “Are you sleeping with Logan? You should.” He sucked in a breath at the woman’s question, Logan’s eyes going back to you and seeing yours widen, head jerking back in surprise. “You’re not really his type, but it wouldn’t…”

“Ari.” He finally spoke. “Stop, there’s -” But you scoffed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

“What kind of a question is that? He’s engaged. He’s been very upfront about that since the second I met him and realized who he was. So no, Ariella, I’m not fucking your fiance.” You didn’t flinch as you spoke, which impressed Logan, the man focused entirely on the way that you were holding your ground, arms loosely by your sides. “Besides, even if I wanted to, Logan’s not the kind of person to cheat on -”

“You didn’t tell her?” Ariella laughed, looking away from you and back at Logan. “Really?” No, because it’s part of the fucking … “Oh, you...” Ariella laughed again, refocusing on you. “He’s engaged, but it isn’t a real…” Stop it, Ari.

“Hello, Ariella.” The three of you looked up, seeing that Juliet was standing on the stairs, arms crossed over her chest. “So good to see you.” Logan caught the ice in his sister’s tone. “Thank you for coming to get me, Logan. I’m almost ready, I just need to say goodbye to Emily, and then we can go.” He nodded, still feeling slightly numb. I need to … But he wasn’t sure what he needed to do, and though he’d thought that he wanted you to meet Ariella, the fact that it was actually happening had unsettled him.

“Juliet, it’s great to see you.” Ariella smiled brightly. “While you go and say goodbye to Emily, I’m going to go and use your bathroom. It’s so hot out, I want to check my makeup.” Juliet waved a hand vaguely at the stairs as she crossed the hallway toward where you stood, and without even acknowledging Logan, his fiancee stepped past him, taking the stairs quickly. I should follow Juliet, spend a few more minutes with Emily.

“You look great, Logan.” He heard you speaking, finally finding it in himself to meet your gaze. “It’s been a couple weeks, your hair got long.” It did. You hadn’t moved, still standing in the doorway, but you’d crossed your arms, a small frown on your face. “I didn’t realize …”

“Thank you.” Logan watched you, unsure of what to say. “I need to get it cut, but I don’t…”

“Nah, it makes you look younger.” You finally cracked a smile, but he saw the confusion in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Logan. I don’t know why she assumed that -” No. Don’t you dare apologize.

“She assumed it because that’s what she thinks of me.” He shrugged, deciding to say as much as he could without saying anything. “I’m used to it, and I should be, because of my past, but …” He wet his lips, frowning. “She had… no right.”

“She should know that. Maybe not about me, because she doesn’t know me, but she’s marrying you, Logan, she should …” You looked up, sighing. “It’s not my business. And neither is …” Swallowing hard, you looked at him again, and instinctively, Logan knew what was coming. “What did she mean, Logan? That you’re engaged, but it’s not … not a real what?” He expected it from you - the direct questioning - but still didn’t know how to answer. He paused, searching your face for a few seconds, but before he could reply, Juliet spoke again from behind you.

“That might be a conversation for another day, hmm?” He watched as the woman squeezed your arm. “We’ve got to leave, and if you guys get into that, it’ll…” She grinned, but Logan could tell that she was unsettled, too. “Em’s playing with her dollhouse, she knows that she has to listen to you, and I think she’ll be good.”

“She will.” Logan spoke, pushing his fingers through his hair again as Juliet stepped past you and next to him. “You won’t have any problems. And if you do?” He widened his smile. “Tell her Uncle Logan’s going to -”

“Uncle Logan’s going to what?” Everyone’s attention went back to the stairs, Ariella descending quickly, one hand on the railing. “Usually that threat comes before he takes his clothes -” Stop it. Logan’s eyes were on the woman’s face, and it only took him a few seconds to see that she was once again out of it, pupils wide and the smile on her face artificial. You couldn’t even wait until we … He heard Juliet hiss from next to him and Logan fought back a wince, his eyes going to you for a brief second. She looks disappointed. “He’s good at making threats… promises… you name it.” He felt Ariella’s hand on his arm, her fingers curling around the space just beneath his elbow. “He’s good at a lot of things. You sure you haven’t -”

“How’d he propose to you, Ariella?” You cut her off, and Logan watched the forced smile on your face, the expression not reaching your eyes. That’s the question she asks? “I saw the pictures in some of the magazines and online, but I’ve been really curious about how he …” What is she doing? Why does she… But Logan realized that you were trying to redirect the woman, reminding her that you knew he was off limits - and Logan didn’t think he’d ever appreciated something more. “I bet it’s a really good story.”

“You know, I don’t…” Ariella laughed. “I don’t even remember where we were when he asked.” Logan couldn’t stop the recoil at her words, his mouth dropping open. I didn’t … really? “Oh, come on, Logan. It’s not that big of a deal. We’d been drinking a lot, and it was mostly for show anyway, because we knew that the press was expecting it, so I guess…” She turned her head toward him, smirking. “He probably remembers, though. Logan remembers everything.”

“It’s time to go.”Juliet spoke again, her voice even frostier than it had been. “Logan, are you ready?” I’ve been ready. “If you need me, call. I can be back here in half an hour.” Logan watched you collect yourself and then nod at the woman, keeping your eyes averted. She must have so many …

“We’ll be fine, Juliet. I promise.” Your voice didn’t waver, but Logan heard something in it, a thinly veiled concern, maybe. I … she… “Hope you guys have a good time.” We won’t. You didn’t say anything else, instead turning away and beginning to step out of the room, but Ariella said your name, telling you to stop. What is …

“I meant it.” You looked back over your shoulder at them, and Logan again froze, waiting. “You really should see what he’s like in bed before we get married and he’s not allowed anymore.” The woman laughed and Logan couldn’t stop himself from pulling his arm away from her, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “He might not have told you what the deal is, but I’m here - right here - telling you that I don’t care what he does.” She raised an eyebrow at Logan, lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Everything stops when we get married, but not a second before, right darling?” He felt rage, the emotion coursing through his blood stronger than it ever had before; moreso than when William had left him in the desert, stronger than when Juliet and his father hadn’t believed him, sharper than when he’d been disappointed in himself for making such destructive and dangerous choices about his health. Because this isn’t just about me. This is … “Then again,” Ariella drawled out the words, her accent all but disappearing. “Someone like you might not be able to stop when it’s time, since I’m positive you’ve never had anyone like Logan before.”

You blinked twice and Logan saw that you were close to tears. Unacceptable. “Enough. It’s time to go.” He reached for her arm, gripping it with his long fingers and pulling her back toward the door. “You’re being a real asshole, Ari.” She only laughed, wrenching herself out of his grip and turning toward the door, her back to you without another word. Juliet moved too, following the other woman, but Logan focused on you, his mouth opening and closing a few times, though he didn’t speak. What do I even… Rather than saying anything, you closed your eyes, shaking your head back and forth before opening them again, gaze locked on Logan’s face. You mouthed the word “go”, reaching up to swipe beneath your eye with a knuckle, biting down on one corner of your lip, and while it was the last thing he wanted to do, Logan felt his shoulders slumping as he did what you asked. I hope she … hope she lets me explain, lets me apologize…

But Logan had the sinking feeling in his stomach that the friendship that the two of you had built up over the previous weeks had been damaged beyond repair due to Ariella’s interference - and the information he’d kept from you, despite the necessity of doing so.

---

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parkeraul · 5 years ago

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→ boyfriend • 1 | t.h. & s.m.

prologue | part 1

author’s note — hello, girlfriends. first of all, i really wanna apologise for the lack of writings lately & for this shitty moodboard. plus, i wanna give the hugest shoutout to @itrocksmysocks who’s been sending me pictures and stuff to help me get inspiration to write this series [thank u so much, latina neighbour!]. for now, i’m gonna update this series once in a week, then the next i’m gonna reserve the next one to write, then update on the following week and it’ll go on and on. enjoy!

pairing: tom holland x shawn mendes x reader college!tom | college!shawn

masterlist ┊add yourself to my taglists ┊give me feedbacks.

words — 3,4k; warnings — flirting, cursing, mentions of alcoholic drinks.

“People on the very back: Listen!” Mrs. Edwards shouts, banging against the board twice with her pen. “This graphic is very simple, okay? If you keep on talking and talking, it’ll become your worst nightmare and there will be no help during the final test.”

The white board had been completely taken over by lists of informations, numbers, theories and graphics in at least 3 different colours. It’s been an hour or almost two since she started crossing the entire board with red, green, blue & black and Tom feels amazed by how well she manages to understand the entire system she’s been writing for so many time. As a class he signed for just to have some more complementary hours, he can straight tell you he’s not exactly caring about it that much. It’s way too fast and too mathematic for his mind.

All the people sitting around him in the classroom are already letting the tiredness consume them. Some are sighing and dropping their pencils; some are rubbing their faces repeatedly; some others are actually paying attention and probably trying hard not to freak out. Considering the white walls with white tables and chairs, if no one said that this is a math class, people would probably walk in and think it’s a sanatorium. All faces exhausted and it’s clear to see that at least 90% of the class can’t wait for the summer break to rescue them all — the 10% left is filled with the boys that have been sleeping for the past 30 minutes.

“Next class we’ll get back to the basic analysis to freshen up a bit, I recommend you to bring one or two books to do some research as well—“

“Hey, dude,” Jacob whispers close to Tom, sitting on the chair in front of him as he turns his head — far enough to see Tom leaning in through his peripheral, but not far enough to lose sight of Mrs. Edwards giving further endorsements. “Match tomorrow at 5?” “Sure,” Tom agrees, keeping his ‘attentive’ on the teacher in front of the class. “Have you guys picked the entire team already?” He says nonchalantly. It’s typical: In Fridays, after everyone’s last class, friendly football match with the boys from the athletic team of the Empshire University.

“Ian, Ryan, Heather and Matthew: You guys cannot miss the next class at all. You guys have been bailing for a long time and one more skip it’s deadline for the four of you—“

“Same thing,” Jacob says and Tom starts to close his books, pulling his backpack up to tuck them inside of it haphazardly. “But we’ll add John Mayer to it because Kevin’s not coming.” “You don’t have to say John Mayer, his gang’s not here,” They both look around the classroom, failing at being discreet as they search for any friends of… Well… ’John Mayer’. Tom zips his bag close and Jacob turns around to do the same while everyone else’s already prompting themselves up to leave. “And you better put him in the defenders, far away from the frontline.” “I knew you’d say this!” They laugh under their breaths, also getting up to finally inspire some fresh air outside.

“See you next Thursday.” Mrs. Edwards says almost quietly, arranging her stuff while the room starts to get empty.

The corridor had never felt this comfy before. It’s crowded and a little bit loud but a lot better than Classroom number 9. As students from all courses starts talking to each other, Tom takes a look across the wall and spots new posters.

This wall is known as The Great Wall of Empshire —or Wall–E for the intimates. The Wall–E is a large blue wall that stands out from the regular white & grey ones of the building. Also, is where students pin folders and posters to warn the whole college about whatever seems to be relevant. It mostly holds notices of people looking for roommates, lost & found stuff, a special space painted in red for teacher’s announcements and messages from the secretariat of the university. As the results of the finals and classes stuff starts to fade away, the posters to summer parties slowly take over the big blue rectangle in the exact middle of the corridor to one of the two buildings that build the Empshire University.

Coming closer, Tom watches Missy climbing tiny–trembling stairs to glue a folder about Musical Theatre auditions. She’s sure struggling and, although he feels bad, he laughs in anyways as low as he can. Obviously, he doesn’t come out as subtle as he planned and gets a very–stressed Missy Langford slicing his entire being in two with the mad look in her blue eyes.

“You’re being very helpful by laughing,” She huffs, tapping the big poster repetitively to make sure it won’t fall for the next week. “Asshole.” “Oh, Miss, come on,” He teases, smirking like the asshole she just called him. “I thought we were over that part. Asshole! – Idiot! – Douche! Get outta here! You know? Last summer’s business, love,” Tom brings up a memory they both shared some time ago, knowing how pissed she’d get with the dialogue all over Tom’s charming accent in a playful tone, which sure has nothing to do with the atmosphere of the moment itself. “I swear to God that if this thing was any stronger, I’d jump onto your face right now.” After rolling her eyes, Missy spits at Tom and sees his smile widening stupidly. “Anyways,” Crossing arms, Tom steps closer to the Wall–E and leans against a blank space. “What’s that?” “We’re doing Hairspray,” She answers flatly. “Not that you’re allowed to subscribe, of course.” “Who said?” Tom frowns and squeaks way louder than usual. What now? Is she going to forbid him to audition to an open–invitation? “Jesus.” Tom’s jaw falls dramatically, “Oh! Swearing to God… Talking to Jesus, apparently,” He quirks an eyebrow, faking surprise. “Didn’t know you had friends outside college.” “Will you shut the fuck up and help me get down?” Missy gives the poster one last strong tap — probably thinking about slapping Tom’s face instead — and stretches an arm towards him. “Not that you deserve it, but–“

Tom goes silent at the moment he gets his back off the wall to help Missy, noticing Jacob coming closer suddenly with someone else.

“Is it here?” The person with Jacob asks, holding a big orange poster. “Yep,” He confirms. “We call it Wall–E!” The answer to his information is just a laughter that makes Tom immediately forget about giving Missy a hand, bringing him to step closer to the conversation. “Hey man, where were you?” At the moment Tom asks, Jacob instantly gets what he’s trying to do. Not that Tom wasn’t kinda nosy sometimes, but they’ve been hanging out enough for his moves to look predictable. Way too predictable. Jacob says nothing, only squints his eyes and the silence suiting the four of them is slightly uncomfortable. “Uhm… I asked him for help as he was waiting for people to open some space so we… Could… Walk until here.” The voice is hesitant and sweet, although, while Missy eyes the person — The person looks at Tom, then looks down — Tom looks back & Jacob watches Tom prepare a whole scene inside his mind. “There’s some tape upon that tiny cabinet that you can use,” Jacob points to the front, past Tom and Missy Langford, “And if you can put it wherever you want as long as it’s in the blue area.” “Thank you so much! I’ll help myself with anything, don’t wanna take more of your time.” “No worries,” Giving a smile, Jacob walks to the side and then to Tom, offering his hand to a high–five. “I think you’ll be okay.”

As he feels the deep gaze of his friend as he passes by, Tom understands the second intentions of the phrase as if Jacob had just said “very smooth, my friend, shoot your shot” and left. It’s not that Tom Holland is a complete womanizer — the term Prince Charming fits him better, he says —but everyone who knows him decently is aware of the fact that he has no time for bullshit. No ceremony, no playing around. If Tom Holland likes someone, he’ll sure let this person know and try a move. If it goes right then awesome! And if it goes wrong he won’t go bitter about it longer than two or three seconds. He’ll eventually forget even though he doesn’t want to.

The british boy watches another struggle. Tiptoeing, the other person lifts the poster to see if it’ll fit in the only larger space left on The Great Wall as Missy climbs down the stairs by herself, analyzing the entire scene with squinted eyes.

“Here, luv,” Tom gently moves closer and takes the poster in his hands. He tiptoes as well and reaches the blank spot easier. “I think it’ll fit, don’t ya?” “It sure will!” The answer comes out in a chuckle. “I don’t believe we met, actually,” With feet back on the floor, he holds the banner while he looks directly to the owner. There’s this stupid beautiful smile adorning his face kind of shyly, but surely threatening to widen more as his fingers run through his brown hair. “I’m sorry. I’m Y/N,” She says, smiling back at him and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and Tom notices the delicate pair of earrings shining through the locks. “Beautiful! Beautiful name,” His brows frown quickly, listening to her voice like his favourite band’s singing his favourite song of all time. His mouth wants to say ‘beautiful face too’ with ‘beautiful lips’ and a ‘beautiful eyes’, but his brain works harder to keep his dignity safe somehow. “And your name is?” Suddenly, his throat goes dry. He tries to clear it, eyes blinking rapidly and he stretches an arm to find support on the wall. The jeans on his legs goes tighter, the white t-shirt for summer weather feels hotter than a thousand coats and the backpack on his shoulder heavens like he’s carrying a bag filled with rocks. What the heck? “My name?” “No, idiot,” Missy says behind Tom. “My name.” Rolling eyes, Tom slightly turns around and clenches his jaw, looking at Missy Langford’s sarcastic face with everything but appreciation. “Will you shut the fuck up?” He mumbles through gritted teeth. “I’m tryna get lucky in here,” And this time who rolls eyes is Missy, fixing her yellow shirt and putting it back inside her blue jeans. “I’m Thomas, darlin’. You can call me Tom.”

Or future ex–boyfriend, Missy thinks to herself feeling a tiny bit of heartache annoying her chest. It’s been around four months since she argued with Tom, which led to their break–up. Well, Missy calls it a break–up. For Tom, nothing’s been broken up because what they had was just a thing, a sudden meeting of feverish hormones boiling through their bodies. No one ever kneeled down and asked gently, no one ever posted pictures online or introduced the other to their parents. He notices the way she’s still bitter about it, but after a thousand conversations and discussions, Tom had just decided to let her be until the ache goes away eventually, since his words were apparently not helping at all.

“Tom,” Y/N confirms, nodding along and looking at him. He reacts with a smile, coffee eyes drinking her in. “Thank you, Tom! I should probably go find that cabinet where the tape might be at—“ “I’ll show you!” Tom interrupts, prompting up his body and fixing his shirt. “By the way, what are you announcing? Do you need a place to stay or share?” “Oh, no! Not at all,” Y/N warns as soon as she drinks in the way Tom’s tone of voice fell worried. The boy looks down at the poster, trying to find the main information of the paper. “It’s just a party. You’re both invited, actually! It’s gonna be at my place… Tomorrow afternoon.”

Tom says nothing, just removes his eyes from the folder to look at Y/N’s charming smile. He didn’t need any more reasons to say something rather than yes — the other words slipping out of her mouth were soundless to him, his eyes were too hypnotized by the way her lips were moving; hypnotized in a way his ears stopped working for a moment but his head managed to nod along to whatever she proposed. Yes, yes and yes. A thousand times yes to whatever she just proposed.

“Well, I’ll find the tape to hang it on,” She comments, eyeing the couple as her feet start to plan their way to the middle of the corridor. “I hope you can make it.”

Her sweet smile makes it hard for Tom to think twice — not that he even considered doing this, but it’s new to him how the entire surrounding seems to slow down the pace and noise when Y/N simply breathes and smiles sweetly. This is not right, not one bit, he thinks. His heart never raced this fast before; his mouth never craved other lips as it’s doing at the moment but one thing is certain: this party’s going to ease down his thirst one way or another. Tom only realizes that Y/N went away when the frame in front of him becomes Missy. She’s got a smirk on her face and two of her fingers travel across his collarbone, right next to where his white shirt ends. She feels the warmth of his chest increasing underneath the pad of her index and middle fingers, eyes traveling across his softened expression.

“Pick me up at 2 o’clock tomorrow?” She asks rhetorically, melting slightly when he takes her hand to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

By the hand, he drags her body closer so he can murmur next to her ear the same word he’s been saying repeatedly for these past months.

“No.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were going to ditch us for that party tomorrow, you bitch!”

Shawn rolls his eyes, smiling widely as he manages to carry his backpack, water bottle and guitar case towards his car. Brian, on the other hand, doesn’t feel like smiling back.

“Answer me!”

“Dude?!” Shawn stops, putting down his case to grab the keys inside his pocket. “It’s just a football match, we do this every fucking week.”

“Exactly! We do this every fucking week—“

“Man, Y/N’s gonna be there,” He smiles again, pressing the button to unlock the doors. “You know how much I’ve been waiting for this day to come over.”

“Wasn’t she in London?” The redhead asks, walking beside his best friend as he bends down to get the guitar case once again.

Things are heavy in Shawn’s hands and back, but the thought of finally seeing Y/N again after a semester of torture shots a wave of numbness through his nerves. The blue shirt feels hotter and the black jeans are surely tighter, but the way his heart floats around his chest makes him feel light like a feather.

He misses her.

Misses her smile, her eyes, the sound of her voice and her laugh when he first talked about his feelings for her. Shawn noticed that she didn’t believe him at all, but that impression didn’t last long in his mind — the way Y/N got close to his lips to mumble sweet nothings had sent him to cloud 9. Then his trip flew down to hell just as quickly when she pulled away to walk past the door, leaving Shawn’s pout kissing the air and the side of his bed empty. Next thing he knew, Y/N was on a plane ready to spend half of the year exploring the british airs of South West London. The song he wrote about her ended up staying inside of his second drawer, but the long-sleeved jersey of his favourite Hockey team went away with her — making Shawn’s hand itch to find home on that body, taking back what’s his and what he wants to be his.

“Exactly,” He imitates Brian’s words. “Was.”

Brian says nothing, feeling defeated. His brows only lift while his eyes close, knowing that he can’t fight Shawn when he’s like this. Obsessed.

“You should come too,” He invites, putting the tip of his bottle inside his mouth to hold it while he pushes the door open. “Heard–Djulia–iths–gonha–be–ther’.”

His guitar case flies to the backseat along with his backpack, Shawn stepping to the side so Brian can tuck his stuff into the car too.

“I have no fucking idea of what you just said,” Brian tosses his bag while pointing one finger to Shawn. “But I’m not leaving my mates behind because of some girl.”

This time, the one to lift eyebrows is Shawn. His gaze narrows Brian as he hangs the driver’s door open.

“First, you know she’s not some girl,” He corrects. “Second, Julia is gonna be there. It’s a pool party, dumbass.”

While Brian walks to the passenger’s door, it’s like magic. Julia is out there, walking–dancing outside the campus with her friends around her, singing whatever song that was. His blue eyes can’t drift away from her until she’s disappearing behind the cars parked.

“Pool party?” He asks distractedly. “See, that’s the part I hadn’t understood before. I mean, I love football but you know I never say no to a party.”

Message from +44 20…: Hi!! You left before I could even ask for your number…

Y/N gets out of the shower to immediately find her phone buzzing and ringing. The screen doesn’t show the entire text, but she doesn’t need to think that much to figure it out. Opening the app, she finds a second message popping up right after.

+44 20…: I got it from the party poster, I hope you don’t mind

Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth, a stupid smiling drawing her face as the profile photo loads. There he is. Messy damp curls atop of a babyface, glasses in front of those chocolate eyes and bare chest. Whew. Typing, feeling like a teenager as her stomach gets butterflies, she can notice the way her breathing goes unpatterned.

You: hey, london boy. there’s no problem! i’m glad you did 😇

It’s fun to Y/N how the text got instantly seen, the ‘typing…’ showing up below the new saved contact’s name in seconds.

Tom (Empshire): 👀👀👀 Hahaha That’s good to know. I’m really looking forward to your party tomorrow

You: you’re gonna make it? that’s perfect 💓

Tom (Empshire): Of course I am! Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling

Unconsciously, Y/N’s legs clench together just to the imagination of his accent speaking these words loud and clear to her. Even with the dripping hair and body wrapped by just a towel, she jumps on her bed before she falls to the floor.

Tom (Empshire): Do I need to bring something?? Like beers and stuff

You: not really. unless u wanna drink something specific but as long as you’re here… just don’t forget your suit, darling 😛

If she only knew that Tom was exactly how she was picturing… Bare chest, wearing glasses, damp hair and thrown onto the sofa with a boyish grin. Tom honestly couldn’t think about smooth ways to flirt with her, he felt too intimidated — almost like Tom wasn’t Tom. Who would’ve guessed that Tom Holland could watch his moves to talk with a girl?

Tom (Empshire): I won’t haha

Then he couldn’t resist.

Tom (Empshire): Anyways, can’t wait to see you again… It was lovely to meet you earlier today. Good night, pretty one!

With burning cheeks and racing heart, Y/N twists in bed as she holds her phone for dear life. Coming back to the Empshire University fell flat at first, but with the taste of London still stuck in her life somehow, this looks as interesting as being in the United Kingdom itself — with a summertime way more catching than the winter. Her limbs couldn’t stop pulsing and the anticipation ran along her most sensitive spots mercilessly, making her thighs tighten even harder with a big smile tilting up the corners of her swollen lips from all the biting.

You: good night, t. can’t way to see you too. it’ll be awesome.

taglist of girlfriends: @lostinspidey – @goldenmndes – @shawnsunflower – @jawnjendes – @itrocksmysocks – @emilyxkate – @tell-me-when-ur-ready – @particularnervous – @grayxzabdixfer – @shawnssongs – @arypesanchez – @shawnmendes-s – @shawnsheaven – @mylifeisafxingmess – @perfectywrong – @whysparker – @blairscott

tagging mutuals [if you wanna be untagged, please sorry in advance & let me know]: @mcuspidey – @devilmendes – @snowflakeparker – @strangertingle – @honeyrosemuffins.

#tom holland #shawn mendes #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfics #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #mine #ficsofmine #series

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kikcalum-blog · 6 years ago

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runaway

prompt: it’s your wedding day, but the man you actually want will be sitting in the crowd.

words: 2.3k

category: angst, fluff

a/n: i did not copy this from another user because i am that other user. thank ya:)

The curls peeking from the side of the door were the first things you noticed. Shawn never was very good at sneaking.

And as he watched you and your bridesmaids getting ready for the big event that would be starting in all but 20 minutes, he couldn’t control the stream of different emotions flowing through him.

You were wearing a long, flowing, diamond-studded dress like the star you were. This dress was you; the embodiment of class, elegance, beauty. You were gleaming, your makeup absolutely perfect, hair styled pristinely.

The glow emanating from your face was ethereal. You looked happy.

But not happy because of him.

Shawn’s mind went blank for a while, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, and he only came to when he noticed you kindly waving your bridesmaids out of the room.

At this, Shawn stood up straight and cleared his throat, pretending to check the time or fix his hair or adjust his tie; anything to not make himself look suspicious as the girls passed him, going to fulfill their duties somewhere else.

The room he had been listening in on was now silent, and the war inside his mind was only growing. Should I go in and say hi?, he asked himself, or should I just leave?

The long, strange silence was broken when your voice spoke out, catching him off guard.

“You can come in, Shawn.”

Shawn’s eyes went wide at the realization that he’d been caught, but he stood up from the wall and nervously took a few steps into the room, feeling blessed to even breathe the same air as you again.

You look different than you did just a minute ago. Your glow had dimmed, eyelids suddenly heavier, and your smile- if that’s even what you could call it anymore- had turned timid and shy.

Was this the effect he had on you now, when not too long ago, he was the only source of your happiness?

“H-Hi.” Shawn breathed out, nose stinging with the promise of tears that would inevitably fall at some point that night. “Long time no see.”

You only nodded at this, lipstick-stained lips pressing together.

“Uh, you look great.” Shawn complimented, eyes brightening the slightest bit. “Really great. I see you got the dress you always told me you’d wanna be married in.”

“Yep. I love it.” You muttered blandly as looked down to your lap for a second, your left hand beginning to instinctively play with the engagement ring on your right hand. This had become a nervous habit of yours ever since the ring was given to you 9 months ago.

“That’s a big rock,” He chuckled, and you could tell at that point that he was just trying to keep some conversation going, dancing around what he actually wanted to say. “Must’ve cost a fortune, so I’m guessing this guy is loaded. Who is he, anyway?”

“His name is Michael.” You hummed, nodding your head. “He’s a doctor, so yeah, he’s pretty well off. That doesn’t matter, though.”

Shawn bit the inside of his cheek and contemplated his next words carefully. His ex’s wedding day surely wasn’t the best day to confess his feelings, but it’d been eating him alive for 2 years now. 2 years of crying himself to sleep, 2 years of writing songs about you, 2 years of misery. And god, he wants you to know how miserable he really is, but that wouldn’t be fair to you.

“How’s your love life going?” You suddenly asked, eyebrows raised. The question confused him but he knew you were only trying to make banter as well.

Shawn opened his mouth but nothing came out as he awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“I’ve tried speed dating and dating apps and those sorts of things,” He finally spoke up, but his next words were barely audible, you’re not even sure if you heard him correctly. “It never works, though.. Because it’s not you.”

You bit your lip and he could see your eyes get even heavier at the shift of mood in the room. Shawn felt awkward and stupid, but he continued talking, probably making things worse for himself.

“I miss you so much, Y/N. I miss coming home to you after long days in the studio and spooning with you. I miss those talks about what our wedding day would be like and what dog we’d get and what our kids would be like. I miss the way your face would light up with excitement every time you see me. Now, we’re acting like strangers and it’s killing me.” Shawn took a deep, shaky breath when he finishes his words, trying to keep his tears at bay. He shut his eyes and licked over his cracked lips, “But I also love seeing you happy. So if this is what makes you happy, you have my full support.”

He didn’t open his eyes in fear of what you might do or say. He felt embarrassed that he had just laid all of that on you when he told himself it was wrong; that it wouldn’t be fair. But he did it anyway, and he could already feel regret seeping into his bones.

“What if I’m not?”

Your voice was shy, just a whimper on the tip of your tongue, but it was enough for him to whip his head up.

His eyes went wide and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What if you’re not what?”

“Happy.” She sniffed, and now he could see the tears in her eyes as well.

His jaw dropped and he’s gaping at her, mind spinning. “Y/N, no, no, no- what do you mean? You have to be happy, right? You’re marrying this guy, you have to be sure!”

“God,” You chuckled bitterly, a look of disbelief on your face. “You sound like everyone else in my life. I can’t do this!”

That’s when you started really bawling, and in that moment, Shawn had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He was standing in front of the bride who’s hands were covering her face, completely ruining her makeup, and if someone were to walk by right then, this would not look good.

Shawn ran to shut the door and then back over to you, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your hands in his. The familiar touch is what you’d missed for so long. It was strong and comforting, just like all of him.

“Y/N.” Shawn said sternly, forcing your eyes up to his. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“He’s not a good person!” Y/N immediately screamed, tears streaming down her face even faster now. “All he cares about is money and his job, all I am to him is a trophy! But I have to marry him, I can’t deny him because everyone in my life only wants me to marry a rich man. They don’t even care about how I feel, and now I feel like I’m in hell every time I wake up in the morning and you’re not next to me. I hate this, I hate him, I hate myself!”

You’re pounding at Shawn’s chest with every last word as you completely broke down, heaving and hiccuping wildly, and Shawn swore he’d never seen you so angry before.

Shawn caught your hands in his again to get you to stop and his grip was much stronger that time, making sure you don’t escape him. He didn’t know what to say or do and his mind was just trying to comprehend what he was hearing when you add the icing on top, your watered eyes looking straight into his.

“I miss you, Shawn, I miss you so fucking much.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words leave your lips for 2 years now, but now that he was hearing them, he felt awful. He wanted to hear them, but not like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” He whispered, a single tear straying down his cheek, “I’m not gonna let you go through with this if you don’t actually want it.”

“I only have 10 minutes, Shawn,” You continued to cry, burying your face in his chest, getting makeup all over his suit. “It’s too late.”

Shawn bit his lip and shook his head, refusing to let you marry a man you despised. He glanced at the clock and got to work, quickly beginning to unzip your dress, being careful not to rip or ruin it. You merely stood there and tried to stifle your cries, allowing him to execute whatever plan he’d conjured up.

When the dress was off he was folding it as carefully as he could given the time, and you were standing there in your bra and underwear, suddenly self-conscious again. He noticed your body cowering under his gaze and he wanted so badly to tell you how beautiful you were and not to hide from him but there’s no room for that. He grabbed random clothes from somewhere in the room; probably one of the bridesmaid’s clothes.

Shawn helped you slip into them and his hands then went to your hair, undoing some of the many pins and messing it up a bit. He stepped back and looked at you, sighing heavily. It was a terrible disguise, but for now, it would have to work.

Everything was going so fast you couldn’t even comprehend what was happening anymore. He found a bag somewhere in the room and stuffed the wedding dress in and then he was grabbing your purse and your hand, rushing you out of the room.

The banquet hall was rowdy, people all around talking and hoping to get a glimpse of the bride and groom before the ceremony began.

Shawn’s jaw clenched and he leaned down to your ear, whispering, “Keep your head down, we’re gonna go out to my car.”

You did as he said and stared at the ground as he guided you through the sea of people, praying that nobody recognized you. The walk to the back door seemed like it took hours before you’re finally hit with the crisp, fresh air, signaling that you’d made it out.

Shawn’s rushing didn’t stop there, however. He was running with you to his car and telling you to get into the passenger seat as he ran around to the other side, throwing the dress in the back seat and handing your purse to you.

“Text someone and tell them what’s going on,” Shawn ordered you, wasting no time in backing out of the driveway and hitting the long road back to the apartment. “Then turn your phone off. Please.”

You did as he said, texting one of your bridesmaids, then you were shutting it off and taking a deep breath, looking over to him. “I can’t believe I actually just did that. Fuck, what did I just do?!”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Shawn insisted, glancing at you for a second. You looked as if you could drop at any second now, completely drained of any energy. “Y/N, it’s a long drive home. You can fall asleep if you want, I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

That one fateful word slipped off his tongue before he could stop it, but instead of you wincing at the word, you smiled gently at it, taking it in wholly. You nodded at his promise and reached your left hand out, putting all of your trust in him. He got the hint and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his.

Shawn gave your hand a small squeeze and then you were drifting off to the sound of his low singing and the hum of the engine.

And when you woke up, you’re eternally grateful that none of it was a dream.

Shawn gently tapped your cheeks, trying to get you to wake up as he whispered, “Y/N, we’re here. Wake up, sweetheart.”

You didn’t know if you were surprised or not when you opened your eyes and notice you were back at the apartment that you and Shawn used to own together. He helped you out of the truck and kept your hands connected as he guided you inside the familiar, cozy building, heading straight for the elevator.

“You still live here?” You muttered, looking up to him.

He nodded, rocking back and forth on his feet. “It has a special place in my heart. Lotta memories here, you know. I couldn’t let you go completely.”

Those memories immediately came flooding back to you when he opened the door and you’re hit with a wave of sadness.

Your pictures were still hung up on the wall, serving as constant reminders of you every time he’d pass one. The apartment was exactly the same as you’d left it 2 years ago when you broke up with him, complaining that he was never home because of his music. Now it seemed like all his time was spent in these rooms, moping around and feeling miserable.

But not anymore- Not as long as he had you by his side.

The rest of that night, Shawn helped you get ready for bed, taking your makeup off, putting your hair up into a bun, giving you a bath, and dressing you in some of his way-too-big clothes to sleep in.

You were laying on your side in the bed that you used to spend hours in. It felt familiar yet cold without Shawn’s body next to you. You didn’t know what to do while you waited for him so you stared at your phone on the nightstand, tempted to turn it on; to see all of the slander, all of the angry and concerned messages. However, Shawn walked in, catching you staring at it, and he sighed heavily.

“Babe, please don’t think about it. You need to rest.” He muttered, climbing into the bed beside you. He pulled you into him and your body reacted to him like this was normal; like Shawn was never gone. Your back was to his chest and your legs tangled together naturally as he nestled his face into your neck, pressing a light kiss there.

“I’m so glad you came back to me. This bed never felt the same after that night.” He whispered and you swore you feel a tear drop onto your skin, making you frown. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Shawn.” You sniffed, a small smile replacing your frown. “I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

#my writing #masterlist #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes smut

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agentunwin · 6 years ago

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RUNAWAY [SHAWN X READER]

A/N: God this is honestly so bad because I just wrote it really quick just to have something to upload, so I’m sorry in advance jdks

Prompt: It’s your wedding day, but the man you actually want to marry will be sitting in the crowd.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff (why is that a warning?)

Words: 2,381

Masterlist

The curls peeking from the side of the door are the first thing you notice. Shawn never was very good at sneaking.

And as he watches you and your bridesmaids getting ready for the big event that was starting in all but 20 minutes, he couldn’t control the stream of different emotions flowing through him.

You’re wearing a long, flowing, diamond-studded dress like the star you are. This dress was you; the embodiment of class, elegance, beauty. You were gleaming, your makeup absolutely perfect, hair styled pristinely.

The glow emanating from your face was ethereal. You looked happy.

But not happy because of him.

Shawn's mind goes blank for a while, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, and he only comes to when he notices you kindly waving your bridesmaids out of the room.

At this, Shawn stands up straight and clears his throat, pretending to check his time or fix his hair or adjust his tie; anything to not make himself look suspicious as the girls passed him, going to fulfill their duties somewhere else.

The room he had been listening in on was now silent, and the war inside his mind was only growing. Should I go in and say hi?, he'd ask himself, or should I just leave?

The long, strange silence is broken when your voice speaks out, catching him off guard.

"You can come in, Shawn."

Shawn's eyes go wide at the realization that he's been caught, but he stands up from the wall and nervously takes a few steps into the room, feeling blessed to even breathe the same air as you again.

You look different than you did just a minute ago. Your glow has dimmed, eyelids suddenly heavier, and your smile- if that's even what you could call it anymore- has turned timid and shy.

Was this the effect he had on you now, when not so long ago, he was the only source of your happiness?

"H-Hi." Shawn breathes out, nose stinging with warning of his tears that would inevitably fall at some point tonight. "Long time no see."

You only nod at this, lipstick-stained lips pressing together.

"Uh, you look great." Shawn compliments, eyes brightening the slightest bit. "Really great. I see you got the dress you always told me you'd wanna be married in."

"Yep. I love it." You mutter blandly as look down to your lap for a second, your left hand beginning to instinctively play with the engagement ring on your right hand. This has become a nervous habit of yours ever since the ring was given to you 9 months ago.

"That's a big rock," He chuckles, and you can tell at this point he's just trying to keep some conversation going, dancing around what he actually wants to say. "Must've cost a fortune, so I'm guessing this guy is loaded. Who is he, anyway?"

"His name is Michael." You hum, nodding your head. "He's a doctor, so yeah, he's pretty well off. That doesn't matter though."

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek and contemplates his next words. His ex's wedding day surely isn't the best day to confess his feelings, but it's been eating him alive for 2 years now. 2 years of crying himself to sleep, 2 years of writing songs about you, 2 years of misery. And god, he wants her to know how miserable he really is, but that wouldn't be fair to her.

"How's your love life going?" You suddenly ask, eyebrows raised. The question confuses him but he knows you're only trying to make banter as well.

Shawn opens his mouth but nothing comes out as he awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"I've tried speed dating and dating apps and those sorts of things," He finally speaks up, but his next words are barely audible, you're not even sure if you hear him correctly. "It never works, though.. Because it's not you."

You bite your lip and he can see your eyes get even heavier at the shift of mood in the room. Shawn feels awkward and he feels stupid, but he continues talking, probably making things worse for himself.

"I miss you so much, Y/N. I miss coming home to you after long days in the studio and spooning with you. I miss those talks about what our wedding day would be like and what dog we'd get and what our kids would be like. I miss the way your face would light up with excitement every time you see me. Now, we're acting like strangers and it's killing me." Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath when he's finishing his words, trying to keep his tears at bay. He shuts his eyes and licks over his cracked lips, "But I also love seeing you happy. So if this is what makes you happy, you have my full support."

He doesn't open his eyes in fear of what you might do or say. He feels embarrassed that he just laid all of that on you when he told himself it was wrong- that it wouldn't be fair. But he did it anyway, and he could already feel regret seeping into his bones.

"What if I'm not?"

Your voice is shy, just a whimper on the tip of your tongue, but it's enough for him to whip his head up.

His eyes go wide and he furrows his eyebrows, "What if you're not what?"

"Happy." She sniffs, and now he can see the tears in her eyes as well.

His jaw drops and he's gaping at her, mind spinning. "Y/N, no, no, no, what do you mean? You have to be happy, right? You're marrying this guy, you have to be sure!"

"God," You chuckle bitterly, a look of disbelief on your face. "You sound like everyone else in my life. I can't do this."

That's when you start really bawling, and now, Shawn has absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He's standing in front of the bride who's hands are covering her face, completely ruining her makeup, and if someone were to walk by right now, this would not look good.

Shawn runs to shut the door and then he runs back over to you, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your hands in his. This familiar touch is what you'd missed for so long. It was strong and comforting, just like all of him.

"Y/N." Shawn says sternly, forcing your eyes up to his. "Tell me what's going on."

"He's not a good person!" Y/N immediately screams, tears streaming down her face even faster now. "All he cares about is money and his job, all I am to him is a trophy! But I have to marry him, I can't deny him because everyone in my life only wants me to marry a rich man. They don't even care about how I feel, and now I feel like I'm in hell every time I wake up in the morning and you're not next to me. I hate this, I hate him, I hate myself!"

You're pounding at Shawn's chest with every last word as you completely break down, heaving and hiccuping wildly, and Shawn swears he's never seen you so angry before.

Shawn catches your hands in his again to get you to stop and his grip is much stronger this time, making sure you don't escape him. He doesn’t know what to say or do and his mind is just trying to when you add the icing on top, your watered eyes looking straight into his.

“I miss you, Shawn, I miss you so fucking much.”

He’s been waiting to hear those words leave your lips for 2 years now, but now that he’s hearing them, he feels awful. He wanted to hear them, but not like this.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” He whispers, a single tear straying down his cheek, “I’m not gonna let you go through with this if you don’t actually want it.”

“I only have 10 minutes, Shawn,” You continue to cry, burying your face in his chest, getting makeup all over his suit. “It’s too late.”

Shawn bites his lip and shakes his head, refusing to let you marry a man you despised. He glanced at the clock and got to work, quickly beginning to unzip your dress, being careful not to rip or ruin it. You only stand there and try to stifle your cries, allowing him to execute whatever plan he’d conjured up.

When the dress is off he’s folding it as carefully as he can given the time, and you’re standing there in your bra and underwear, suddenly self-conscious again. He notices your body cowering under his gaze and he wants to tell you how beautiful you are and not to hide from him but there’s no room for that right now. He grabs random clothes from somewhere in the room, probably one of the bridesmaid’s clothes.

He helps you slip into it and his hands go to your hair, undoing some of the many pins and messing it up a bit.

He steps back and looks at you, sighing heavily. It was a terrible disguise, but for now, it would have to work.

Everything is going so fast you can’t even comprehend what’s happening anymore. He finds a bag somewhere in the room and stuffs the wedding dress in and then he’s grabbing your purse and your hand, rushing you out of the room.

The banquet hall is rowdy, people all around talking and hoping to get a glimpse of the bride and groom before the ceremony begins.

Shawn’s jaw clenches and he leans down to your ear, whispering, “Keep your head down, we’re gonna go out to my car.”

You do as he says and stare at the ground as he guides you through a sea of people, praying that nobody recognized you. The walk to the back door seems like it takes hours before you’re finally hit with the crisp, fresh air, signaling that you’d made it out.

Shawn’s rushing doesn’t stop there, however. He’s running with you to his car and telling you to get into the passenger seat as he runs around to the other side, throwing the dress in the back seat and handing your purse to you.

“Text someone and tell them what’s going on,” Shawn orders you, wasting no time in backing out of the driveway and hitting the long road back to the apartment. “Then turn off your phone. Please.”

You do as he says, texting one of your bridesmaids, then you’re shutting it off and taking a deep breath, looking over to him. “I can’t believe I actually just did that. Fuck, what did I just do?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Shawn insists, glancing at you for a second. You look like you could drop at any second now, completely drained of any energy. “Y/N, it’s a long drive home. You can fall asleep if you want, I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

That one fateful word slips off his tongue before he can stop himself, but instead of you wincing at the word, you smile gently at it, taking it in wholly. You nod at his promise and reach your left hand out, putting your trust in him. He gets the hint and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers in his.

Shawn gives your hand a small squeeze and then you’re drifting off to the sound of his low singing and the hum of the engine.

A when you wake up, you’re eternally grateful that none of it was a dream.

Shawn’s gently tapping your cheeks, trying to get you to wake up as he whispers, “Y/N, we’re here, wake up, sweetheart.”

You don’t know if you’re surprised or not when you open your eyes and notice you’re back at the apartment that you and Shawn used to own together. He helps you out of the truck and keeps your hands connected as he guides you inside the familiar, cozy building, heading straight for the elevator.

“You still live here?” You mutter, looking up to him.

He nods, rocking back and forth on his feet. “It has a special place in my heart. Lotta memories here, you know. I couldn’t let you go completely.”

Those memories immediately come flooding back to you when he opens the door and you’re hit with a wave of sadness.

Your pictures are still hung up on the wall, serving as constant reminders of you every time he’d pass one. The apartment was exactly the same as you’d left it 2 years ago when you broke up with him, complaining that he was never home because of his music. Now it seemed like all his time was spent in these rooms, moping around and feeling miserable.

But not anymore- Not as long as he had you by his side.

The rest of that night, Shawn helps you get ready for bed, taking your makeup off, putting your hair up into a bun, giving you a bath, and dressing you in some of his way-too-big clothes to sleep in.

You’re laying on your side in the bed that you used to spend hours in. It feels familiar yet cold without Shawn’s body next to you. You don’t know what to do while you wait for him and you’re staring at your phone on the nightstand, tempted to turn it on- to see all of the slander, all of the angry and concerned messages. However, Shawn walks in, catching you staring at it, and he sighs heavily.

“Babe, please don’t think about it. You need to rest.” He mutters, climbing into the bed beside you. He pulls you into him and your body reacts to him like this is normal, like Shawn never left you. Your back is to his chest and your legs tangle together naturally as he nestles his face into your neck, pressing a light kiss there.

“I’m so glad you came back to me. This bed never felt the same after that night.” He whispers and you swear you feel a tear drop onto your skin, making you frown. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Shawn.” You sniff, a small smile replacing your frown. “I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

A/N: god this is so bad sjdksj sorry

#Shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes imagines #sm #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #masterlist #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes request #shawn fic

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fanficimagery · 7 years ago

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Imagine being able to see ghosts and none other Henrik Mikaelson urges you to visit his family to let them know that witches tapping into their family power has summoned his spirit from the Other side.

Gen Fic X Reader

Staring up at the abattoir smack dab in the middle of the French Quarter, you can't help but gulp. Just knowing who and what live beyond the doors is enough to have your heart racing.

"Just knock and tell them. They're creatures of the night- it won't be the weirdest thing they've heard."

"Easy for you to say," you mumble, keeping your gaze forward and not on the spirit of a boy standing next to you. "You're already dead. You don't have to worry about your throat being ripped out for bringing up a dead relative to a bunch over old ass supernatural creatures."

The boy laughs. "If it looks like it's going to go bad, I'll tell you some things that only my family would know. They'll have to believe you then."

"I guess we'll see."

Chickening out for the moment, you decide to walk around the Quarter to calm your nerves. The spirit who've you come to know who goes by the name Henrik mocks you for not having enough courage, but you ignore him as best as you can while visiting a few shops. Eventually, however, you end up right where you started- in front of the abattoir which the Mikaelson family resides in.

"Excuse me," a man dressed in a rather impeccable suit says, "but can I help you?"

Your gaze darts from the abattoir to the man and you only have a moment to appreciate his styled dark locks and his chiseled jawline before Henrik gasps, then chuckling. "Elijah's short hair suits him better than it did when it was long."

Aw crap. "Uh, yes?" You utter. "You're Elijah Mikaelson, yes?"

The man subtely tenses before you, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Yes."

"Then yes, you can help me. Or rather, I can help you."

"I'm afraid I'm not following."

You sigh and glance at Henrik who seems to be circling his brother with an amused grin. "I kind of.. have this gift where I can maybe see dead people?" The statement comes off as a question and you see Elijah slowly grin.

"You see dead people?"

"Don't look so amused," you huff. "I'm sure me seeing dead people is a lot more believable to a stranger than vampires existing." His amusement quickly fades. "Yeah. I know about that too." He still seems skeptical and you groan aloud. "Listen, I don't mean you or your family any harm. Someone did, however, which resulted in this particular spirit crossing over from the Other side. It's not urgent I speak to your family, but he-" you gesture to the empty space to Elijah's right, "wanted to let you know he wasn't at peace anymore and figured I could help."

Elijah hums. "And what is this spirit's name, if you don't mind me asking."

"He said it was Henrik."

The vampire's composure falters and you see his eyes widen. He glances to his left and then his right. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. Kid's kind of a brat with terrible choices in fashion."

"Hey!"

"You need to come with me. Immediately," Elijah says. He watches as you stare off into a seemingly blank spot next to him, grinning at whatever it is he can't see. He has to clear his throat to regain your attention.

"Oh, uh, yeah," you stammer. "Of course."

Even though every fiber of your being is yelling at you to flee, you walk side-by-side the ancient vampire and roll your eyes at the giddy spirit that's practically skipping in front of you.

Elijah leads you towards and into the abattoir, and you can't help the awed gasp at what looks like an enclosed courtyard. Many people are milling about or just congregated into smaller groups and talking among themselves, but with a snap of his fingers everyone is up and then filing out at the look on Elijah's face.

There's a few people left and you have trouble meeting their gazes as Henrik lists them off as Niklaus, Rebekah and someone he's figured out from other spirits that is his eldest sister Freya.

"'Lijah, what's the meaning of this?" Rebekah asks.

You nervously shift from foot to foot and take a step closer to Elijah on instinct when everyone's gaze keeps darting to you.

"I believe I'll let our guest take the floor and answer that for you."

You glance at him, glaring but he merely nudges you forward. Heart beating as if it's trying to break through your rib cage, you clear your throat and explain. "My n-name's Y/N and I- I see ghosts."

Niklaus scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Is that all? We know many people who can contact the dead. What makes you so special?"

"Niklaus," Elijah warns.

"Well this particular ghost- he, uh, he was adamant I get in contact with you. His name is Henrik."

You see the siblings tense which makes you tense in return. Freya and Rebekah seem shocked, but Niklaus looks angry.

"That's impossible," Freya says.

"Is it really him?" Rebekah asks Elijah.

"It's why I brought her here," he says. "To see if Freya can do a spell to see if she’s being truthful."

"What?!" You whirl around on the Original. "You didn't mention that before you led me here!"

"Well what did you expect? You come here to our home, taunting us with the ghost of our dead baby brother," Niklaus sneers.

"No! I'm not- I didn't mean-"

"Make them believe you," Henrik says in a panic. "Nik's quick to anger and then act out."

"What am I supposed to say?" You asks, gaze pleading to the pacing spirit.

Freya and Rebekah follow your gaze to nothing but air, but Niklaus is fed up.

"Enough!" There's a blur of movement and then a hand's gripping your throat, pinning you to the closest wall. Your eyes widen as Niklaus lowers his face to yours, seething. "Enough. What did you think would happen when you came into our home spouting all this nonsense?"

"There's this song my mother used to sing," Henrik says from Nik's left side. "A lullby."

"I'm not.. singing.. a damn song," you manage to spit out.

"Sing it or he'll kill you."

Tears fill your own eyes as you realize just how dangerous of a situation you really are in. Your hands are wrapped around Niklaus' wrist as if you have any hope of removing his grip, but he doesn't budge. Not even when your fingernails dig into his flesh.

"Sing!"

"If only, if only-" you start, tears falling as you keep your gaze on Henrik who's singing the song to you to sing to his family, "the woodpecker sighs-"

"What?"

"The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies."

"Are you singing?" Niklaus huffs.

"While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely; crying to the moo-oo-oon, if only, if only."

"If only, if only, the moon speaks no reply," Rebekah picks up, tears now in her own eyes. "Reflecting the sun and all that's gone by."

Niklaus finally releases you, almost as if he's been burned, his expression rather haunted before turning his back on you to stare at his sister. "Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly. Fly high, my baby bird, my angel, my only." Rebekah sniffles as she finishes the lullaby. "Where did you learn that song?"

"Henrik," you sigh and then gesture to where he's standing. "I wouldn't lie about something like this."

"There's only one way to be sure." Freya stalks up to you and before you can scramble out of the way, her hands are held a few inches from either side of your head. She bows her head and starts chanting, and you have no idea what's going on until a searing pain in your head causes you to cry out. One of her hands then moves to grip one of yours and she moves to stand side-by-side with you. "As long as I'm touching your skin, I can now see what you see."

"A little warning would have been nice," you mumble.

"Well when it comes to my family my manners seem to vanish. Now show me, where is-"

"Hello, sister."

Freya's eyes widen as she takes in the spirit from head to toe. The boy has dark messy hair cut to his shoulders, a mint green long sleeve tunic and dark brown pants tucked into boots made out of some type of animal skin that stop just below his knees. "He looks like a very young version of Elijah," Freya says in awe. "I'm not- I can't be for certain since I wasn't around then."

"Let me see," Rebekah says first.

And not wanting to piss off the family, you hold out your other hand towards the blonde vampire. She latches on and she chokes on a sob when she sees her long dead baby brother. "Henrik? Is it really you?"

"Yes, Rebekah. It really is me."

Rebekah is freely crying now, but she's sporting a smile that's stretched from ear to ear. "Nik, 'lijah, you need to see this."

Both sisters reluctantly let your hands go and each brother step towards you. Niklaus, however, hesitates and you smile sadly at him.

"Tell him I don't blame him. I never did," Henrik says. "He'll know what I mean."

"He says he doesn't blame you," you tell Niklaus. "He never did."

Elijah's hand clasps your own and you don't bother staring at him when you hear his own gasp. Niklaus stares you down, but after another moment he takes your hand with a pleasant grip instead of one meant to intimidate. And then when he sets his eyes on Henrik for the first time since the boy had passed, you can't help but get emotional when he does.

"How are you here?" Elijah asks.

"He's here because a couple of amateur witches experimented tapping into energies in Mystic Falls. Unfortunately, they found some mystical energy that tapped into your family’s power and it somehow pulled your little brother from the Other side. But don't worry," you're quick to assure them, "it's all been taken care of. Some powerful witch that resides in Mystic Falls looked into things when I was discovered and then suspiciously interrogated when somebody found out I was looking into the Mikaelson family and their connection to the town."

Elijah sighs. "I take it the Bennett witch is the one you speak of?"

"Bingo," you grin. "She and her friend Caroline pulled me aside to make sure I wasn't trying to start drama. But after explaining my situation, they understood and weren't quite happy that these two new witches pulled out a spirit that was at peace."

"Don't let her fool you," Henrik muses. "It wasn't all niceties. Some prat with really crazy eyes voted on killing her because he didn't want that lunatic hybrid back in his home."

Despite his better judgement, Niklaus chuckles. "Damon Salvatore, I presume."

"You presume correctly," you mutter. "Luckily for me, the two women were more about understanding things first to determine whether or not I was a threat to their peaceful lives."

"How can you be sure they're not tapping into our family power anymore?" It's Freya who asks, the eldest sister who also looks more disturbed about the information than her siblings do.

"Because Henrik said that after Bonnie spoke to the other witches, he didn't feel the weird pull on his life force like he had before."

Freya frowns. "I'd still like to look into this on my own. I don't trust a witch who once had it in her to kill my family."

You shrug and fight off a smile as you watch Henrik stare up at his sister with such adoration. "Be my guest. I'm not even from Mystic Falls so it's not like I'd have to see those people again."

"But if you're not from Mystic Falls," Elijah wonders, "then how did you happen upon Henrik?"

Chuckling, you explain. "Believe it or not, my gift is still brand new to me. I was always told that the women in my family were gifted with the Sight, but that only one woman could possess the gift at a time."

"My grandmother apparently had it, but I just thought she was crazy. Then a couple of months ago, my friend heard about a dress shop in Mystic Falls and wanted me to go with her. I did and while she was getting some adjustments made to a dress she had found there, I took a walk in the park. Apparently my grandmother had passed at the time and Henrik was the first ghost I ever saw, so the slight transparent features didn't stick out to me until he kept asking me if I could see and hear him."

"Bloody good shock that was," Henrik laughs. "The other spirits around Mystic Falls are downright mean. Y/N was the first friendly person I spoke with since being pulled from the Other side."

"But how are you here?" Niklaus then asks. "From what I know, spirits can't travel that far from their final resting place."

"Ah. That would be because of this." Digging into your pocket, you pull free a small wooden knight figurine. "Spirits can latch themselves to personal belongings. When Henrik wanted to come see you after figuring out where you ended up, he had me dig up this token he'd remembered burying so long ago."

Niklaus snatches it from your hand, clearly in disbelief, and you roll your eyes as he runs his fingers over the little knight without so much as a kind word to you.

"That's just Nik," Henrik chuckles when he sees your displeased expression directed at his favorite sibling. "Don't take it personally."

"M'not," you grumble.

"Look on the bright side, friend. At least one of my siblings like you."

"Excuse me?" Even though your attention is on Henrik, you still feel Elijah tense next to you.

"Elijah looks extremely at ease holding your hand."

Your eyes widen and Henrik cackles. "You're a little shit, Mikaelson."

Rebekah, Freya and Niklaus now all stare at you, their expressions one of amusement as they see you glaring at empty space.

"Say what you want, but you're still holding his hand."

"Henrik, that is enough," Elijah says even as his lips twitch. Slowly letting go of your hand, Elijah turns to face you. "We understand if you wish to leave now that your job is done, but my family and I would appreciate it if you stayed just a while longer while Freya tries to figure something out so we can see our brother without stepping into your personal space."

"Oh, uh.."

"Elijah definitely likes you."

"Shut it, you," you mockingly glare at the spirit. Then turning back to Elijah, you hesitantly smile. "Uh, yeah. I can stick around for a bit."

Author's Note: Kudos to those who knows where the Mikaelson lullaby is from XD I was watching the movie the other day as I started writing this and thought I'd ought to put it in.

#to gen fic x reader #the originals imagine #imagine #klaus mikaelson #freya mikaelson #henrik mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #fanficimagery

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yaelaswritingspace · 6 years ago

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Sixty Four

Angsty DaiSuga, because why not. Inspired by a combination of reading fractalbright’s beautiful fic distortedly, yours and the song ‘When I’m Sixty Four’ by the Beatles running in my head ‘cuz we’re practicing it for choir. I recommend you listen to it before reading!

“When I get older, losing my hair . . .”

Daichi blinks awake, sleep receding in a gentle wave. The curtain are pulled apart just so, letting warm sunlight stream over the bed, and the familiar tune washes over him, transporting him back to years ago in a matter of seconds.

“Many years from now . . .”

A quiet thump as something is set down on the dresser, the rattle of ceramic cups and small, silvered spoons. Daichi mouths the next words almost unconsciously, blank eyes on the muted orange curtains.

(‘They’ll make it look warm and homey, Daichi - especially since you decided our room would be fine with just plain white walls. Honestly, the sheer lack of taste you have is unbelievable.’)

“Will you still be sending me a valentine . . .”

He squeezes his eyes shut against the memories - a pink tongue sticking out teasingly, brown eyes sparkling, that half smile that blossomed into a delighted grin so easily - and begins to get up, groaning softly when his back twinges in protest.

The song stops immediately, and warm hands are on his shoulders, easing him up.

“Good morning, Daichi. How are you feeling today?”

He looks up into dark eyes and pale skin, a beauty spot and a sweep of silver hair across the forehead, and swallows the quiet pain easily. It’s become second nature, now.

“Well enough, Koushi. Could you help me to the bathroom? And the kitchen, after I’m done with the hot chocolate.”

“Of course, Daichi.”

It’s maybe half an hour later that Daichi is sitting at the dining table, his hands curled around a cup of steaming coffee. Koushi had handed it to him almost absently, two spoons of sugar and a dash of milk mixed in perfectly. Effortlessly.

(‘Sacrilege, that’s what it is. The only coffee worth drinking is pure black - don’t you make that face at me!’)

Suga would have said that. Suga would have protested, teased him mercilessly, refused to add any sugar at all until Daichi caught him by the waist, pressed him against the counter, kissed him until he melted - and then again until the coffee was abandoned without a second thought. They’d come back later to find it stone cold and undrinkable, and of course Suga would blame him for that, pouting like a five year old while his eyes danced.

“ . . . would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty four?”

Daichi sips the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. Yet it doesn’t quite counteract the small, cold pit in his stomach, and he contemplates telling Koushi to stop singing - or at least to pick a different song. Chances are, though, if he did, Koushi would pick something silly, like Crazy in Love - he’s had an unaccountable liking for that song, of late, and if he sang that -

Daichi knows his cheeks are going red, he can feel it, and he hurriedly sips again, firmly pushing away the memory of what he and Suga were doing the first time he heard that song.

(‘You have to admit it does kind of suit the mood.’

“Oh, my g- Suga, it most certainly does not!’

‘I’ll have to go and thank you neighbours for it later.’

‘ . . . devil.’

A cheeky look, pink cheeks, still panting above him, chest rising and falling like an ocean Daichi can drown in - does drown in - over and over and over again.

‘Angel.’

And again.)

The pan sizzles as Koushi slips a spatula under the egg, sliding it off, being careful not to break the yolk. Two slices of bread, a knife and cheese, and then he’s waiting politely by Daichi’s chair, calm as a mountain lake.

“Will you be needing anything else, Daichi?”

“No, I don’t think so. Start with the garden before you sweep, will you?”

“Of course.”

Koushi slips on bright red gardening gloves - Suga’s beloved gardening gloves - and heads outside, clippers in one hand, trowel in the other. Daichi watches him go, hears the song start again, hears it float in through the open window.

“Doing the garden, digging the weeds . . .”

And he can’t resist it any longer. He’s swept back to his twentieth birthday, his twenty-third, his thirty-fifth, his thirty-ninth -

(‘Mine forevermore,’ Suga sings, a soft murmur against his lips. All Daichi can taste is cake cream, sugary and oversweet; all he can smell is sputtering candles, melting wax, Suga’s cologne -

‘Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?’

- and all he can see is Suga, still beautiful with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and fading hair.

‘Of course,’ he breathes, resting his forehead against Suga’s. ‘Always.’

And Suga smiles back, eyes deep and dark and overflowing with love.)

Daichi blinks, wiping away a lone tear that’s trickled down his cheek.

“Will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a - will you still be sending me a -”

He sighs, gets up slowly, sticks his head out of the window. “Koushi,” he calls. “Come in, please.”

Koushi walks in abashed, head hanging. He hates it more than anything when he fails in a function, any function at all - even if it’s something as minor as singing a song he knows Daichi likes.

“It’s okay. Just stand in your charging port for a bit, will you? That usually helps.”

He doesn’t even vocalize an affirmative, just nods and walks away, steps dragging. Daichi sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before he reaches out and touches the first number on speed dial on the videophone.

The screen springs to life, hologram projecting solid light into the air. The voxels shimmer, blur, and then compose themselves into Kuroo Tetsurou’s yawning form.

“Mornin’, Daichi,” he says sleepily. “Wasn’t expecting a call, something wrong?”

“Hey.” Daichi swallows, making sure his voice doesn’t wobble. “No, it’s just that Koushi needs a checkup.”

“Yeah? What’s the problem?”

“He’s been forgetting more often that usual, vocal function getting stuck, random loss of motor control - the usual.”

“Mhm. He’s, what, at least twenty years old?”

“Twenty four.”

“RIght. Well, it’s probably the usual, like you say. Bring him in whenever you like, I’ll let Futakuchi know.”

“Thanks, I’ll send him in by tomorrow. Were you working the whole night, by the way?”

“Yep. We’re on the verge of a breakthrough with constructing the first accurate, viable empathy program - or so Matsukawa says. He’s been driving us like dogs.”

“Retire already, why don’t you? Leave the revolutions to the younger generation. Besides, you can’t pull that hairstyle off with white hair. I mean, it’s not like you could with black either, but -”

“Oh, lay off,” Kuroo says lazily. “Like you have a strand of black hair left. Besides, I’m only sixty three, you know. Nobuhiko is still active, and she’s seventy five.”

“The mother of the robotics revolution gets a free pass, Tetsu. You don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll retire when I’m seventy, Sawamura, and not a moment before.”

Daichi shakes his head. “At least get some sleep.”

“I’m going, I’m going. God, you’re worse than Kenma. Okay, so send Koushi in, I’ll make sure I’m there myself, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Cool. Oh, Daichi -” Tetsurou hesitates, pauses in the motion of breaking the contact. “Happy birthday.”

Daichi swallows again, harder than before, pushing it all down. “Thanks.”

He can see a glimmer of sorrowful understanding in Tetsurou’s eyes, even through the hologram, just before it fizzles out. He stays still, staring at the place where the image had been projected, clenching his fists desperately.

But he can’t, he never can withstand it. It breaks over him, a flood of sorrow and nostalgia and I miss you I miss you I miss you resounding through his heart, pounding into his aching body with pain that hardly seems to diminish, year after year.

At least no one but Koushi will ever know how he spent the morning sobbing quietly into the table. But he gets up, eventually, wipes his tears, washes the dishes, opens the curtains, smiles at Koushi when he’s done charging, reassures him, and . . . gets on with his day.

It’s what Suga would have wanted, after all.

And this will happen again next year, he knows, every year from now, it’ll happen even when he can’t remember Suga’s voice or the colour of his hair or how they both clung to Asahi, sobbing, after Nationals. But he takes solace in the fact that even if he ends up unable to remember anything about Suga at all, there will come a time when he will lie under the earth as well, cold and quiet, and when that time comes, when his mind and heart and soul end up somewhere brighter and bigger than this world -

- Suga will be the first one to greet him, smiling like they’ve never been parted.

#yaelashaikyuuwriting #angst #hurt/comfort #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #oneshot #sorry for the feels uh #this kind of hit me and wouldn't let go #not very happy with it and I don't think it's been edited all that well #but eh #comments are always welcome <3 #hope you liked!

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rainbowserenity · 7 years ago

Text

I’ve decided to attempt to do 50k words of random fics for NaNoWriMo this year, so here’s 7912/50000 of self-indulgent vampire fic to start off~

Centuries.

For centuries, she had waited for this moment. She'd listened to the tug of her heart, anticipating when his existence would torture hers again. A few times, she'd missed the mark and there hadn't been any space to put plans into motion.

But now, it was finally time.

Lightning glanced at the locket down in her hands. It was open to show the miniature portrait inside. Quite honestly, it was an impressive piece of work, something that people these days would claim had been edited or was fake.

Though it'd been so long, she could still recall every tiny brushstroke, the look in his eyes as he dared to catch her glance, the little smirk...

She made an unimpressed sound and snapped the locket shut. That was in the past. Now, finally, she would get her revenge.

Finally, she would destroy the man that had ruined her life.

–

Hope Estheim ran a hand through his hair, his brows scrunched at the formula in front of him. Normally he was a whiz at this sort of thing, but today, he felt weirdly distracted. Usually number-crunching was a good way to keep his focus, but right now he felt detached from it.

“Hey, Hope. You okay?”

With a startled noise, he glanced up to see his friend Noel, who had on an easy smile of concern. It was a face Hope couldn't help but return.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's just hard to concentrate today, I guess.”

“I bet. I mean, hell, look at this weather.” Noel gestured towards the nearby windows of the library. The sun was shining, but the trees rustled in a soundless breeze that Hope knew was crisp and cool. “It's basically perfect out. So how come you're stuck in here?”

“I just wanted to get some work done.” At least that was partially the truth.

“Pfft, it's the weekend. Leave it for later.” Noel gave Hope's arm a little tug. “Yeul got invited to a Halloween party someone's having and we're coming along.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because nobody's going to party on a Tuesday, so all the parties are happening tonight.” Noel paused and gave Hope a careful look. “...You have no idea what day it is, do you?”

“Not a clue,” Hope admitted sheepishly.

Noel stared up at the ceiling for a second, like asking for help from some deity, then stared at Hope. “You're gonna get home and find some kind of costume, and then Yeul and I will come get you so we can go to this party. Got it?”

“Uh, yeah.” A pause. “Wait, a costume?”

“It's a Halloween party.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Somehow, Noel managed to swipe all the books and papers scattered across the table into Hope's bag in one swoop. “Does that help?”

It appeared he had no say in the matter. Hell, it wasn't like he was going to get any work done anyway. He sighed and grabbed his bag.

“It helps immensely.”

–

Somehow, Hope hadn't really thought about the social aspect of this party until he trailed into the house behind Noel and Yeul. It wasn't some wild blowout, but there was already music thumping despite the late hour and he spotted a keg off to the side.

He sighed under his breath. He'd never been a big drinker, nor was he party person. Sure, he could be social at times, but that was because people tended to flock to him for some reason and not because he sought them out.

Noel seemed to notice Hope's sour expression and arch a brow. “You okay?” he asked loudly to be heard over the music.

Hope nodded. “It's just...not my thing.”

“I figured that.” Noel grinned and readjusted the horns on his head. He and Yeul were dressed as a devil and angel, respectively. It was sickeningly adorable. “Hey, at least you look great.”

“I do?” Since he'd been given such little notice about this shindig, Hope had been forced to ruffle through his closet for something acceptable. In the end, he'd thrown on an old suit and a masquerade mask an old friend had left at his place from her brief stint in theater. He could barely see out of the thing, but at least it camouflaged how awkward his expression must have been.

“Yep.” Noel waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe you'll find someone to...hang out with.”

“Noel.” Yeul, who'd just been quietly listening, gently nudged her boyfriend's side as Hope's face turned red under the mask. “Don't embarrass him, okay? Let's get a drink.”

“As my angel commands.” Noel grinned, then glanced at Hope. “You wanna come with, or hang out by yourself?”

“I...”

Find me.

Hope blinked a couple of times and scratched behind his ear. Had that been a part of the song? Whatever, it didn't matter. All he knew was that he had some sort of weird impulse to actually mingle. “I'll catch up with you guys later.”

If Noel found this strange, he didn't comment. “Okay. We'll see you.”

“Yeah.” He watched Noel and Yeul wander off into the crowd of people hand-in-hand. A weird thought occurred to him just then – whose party was this? Whose house, for that matter? He tried to think if Noel had mentioned it, but was coming up blank.

Come and find me.

Hope's feet seemed to move for him as he wandered through the crowds. His peripheral vision was somewhat obscured by the mask, but he somehow managed not to step on any toes. If anything, people seemed to automatically move aside for him without even acknowledging him. He couldn't understand why until he came to a large area that'd been turned into a dance floor. The music was pumping far more loudly here than elsewhere, but it all hushed to silence the moment he looked across the crowd and spotted her.

A thousand emotions hit him so hard it nearly gave him whiplash. He couldn't explain it any easier than he could count all the stars in the sky, but the sight of that rose-haired woman both settled and unsettled him with familiarity that made absolutely no sense at all. There was fear and despair, but excitement and intensity all at once, just from meeting her eyes across the room.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to get control of his suddenly pounding heart. There was a part of him screaming to run, but a much more intense one telling him to...

Come closer.

Hope obeyed.

The rose-haired woman didn't look at all surprised when he was suddenly in front of her. In fact, it almost felt like she'd expected it. There was no hesitance in the way her hands rested on his arms. His automatically rested on her waist, like a motion he'd practiced thousands of times.

“You're here,” she said, voice practically a purr.

“I'm here,” Hope agreed, though he had no idea. He'd never seen this woman before in his life.

Right?

“I knew you wouldn't resist my call.” She smirked, sliding her hands to his shoulders in a motion that should really not have been as sensual as it was. “You never could.”

Though he still felt a little hazy, the fog cleared somewhat at those words and he blinked a couple of times, his hold on her waist loosening somewhat, though he didn't let go completely. “I-I'm sorry,” he stammered, “but have we met?”

“We have,” she replied in the same low voice. “Though I don't suppose you'd remember.”

A flash of something that felt like a memory pulse through his head, but it was gone before Hope could even comprehend what it meant. “Um...”

“Dance with me?”

She was already dragging him out in the crowd of people, so Hope felt like it would've been rude to refuse. He went along with a dazed nod, feeling drunk as their bodies pulsed to the music even though he'd yet to take a sip of anything tonight.

“Hey,” he murmured close to her ear – mostly to be heard over the music, but also because some part of him just wanted to be close to her. It was a bold move, but she didn't seem to mind at all, and in fact smirked again like she'd been expecting it. “What's your name?”

There was a weird pause before she answered, but she turned to murmur her reply. “Lightning.” He felt rather than saw her smirk, which sent a shiver down his spine. “Call me Light.”

“Light...” The name felt familiar and wrong all at once. “What are you doing here?” It wasn't what he'd intended to ask at all – it was like his words were being spoken for him.

“I told you,” Light said in that same low tone. Her hips were moving against his in a way that should've been illegal. “I just knew you couldn't resist my call.”

“But I don't even know you.”

He stilled when her lips suddenly skimmed the side of his neck, his breaths trembling against her ear. Again, he felt her smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

Even though he was quite sure that he would've remembered meeting someone like Lightning – unless he'd been drunk or something, and he actually hadn't had any alcohol in months – the answer came from him immediately. “You're right. I've been waiting for you, haven't I?”

I have...?

“Yes,” she said. The music seemed very far away when compared to her voice in his ear. “You've been waiting a very long time.” One of her hands cupped the back of his neck, fingers threading in his hair in a tantalizingly pleasurable fashion. She tugged a bit and he went with it, his eyes fluttering closed as he exposed his neck to her.

“I have,” he murmured in agreement. “I've been waiting.”

A shiver went down his spine as Lightning kissed his neck. “And so have I.”

Hope's eyes shot open at those words, wondering at the stab of fear that accompanied them, but there was a sudden flash of pain on his neck and everything went black.

–

“Mr. Estheim, you really must hold still or this will be hardly be identifiable.”

“It's a bit difficult.” He smirked, but resumed his original pose of looking to the side to show off his profile...and what a delightful profile it was, Lightning mused. She stopped painting for a moment and simply stared, the way he had been just now.

“Difficult how?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.

He chuckled, daring to dart his eyes to her again. “Must you ask?”

She smirked back. “I'm afraid I indeed must.”

“You bring me great embarrassment to admit such a thing out loud.” Despite this, he seemed amused.

Lightning rolled her eyes. “We are the only ones here, last I looked.”

He made a show of looking around. “So we are.” A dramatic sigh. “In that case...” Now he was staring directly at her. “It's difficult to think that you're still creating art based on me, when you are the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes upon. I can hardly bear to look away even for a moment.”

“Don't be foolish.” Despite her words, there was a pleasant smile on her face.

“Oh? You would dare to argue?”

“Hmm...” Lightning set her brush down and crossed the room to where he sat, her the layers of her dress swooshing around her legs with every step. When she got close enough, she merely leaned in, taking his profile – the slightly upturned nose, his strong jawline, those sea-green eyes – and cocked her head in contemplation. “I could say the same of you, Mr. Estheim.”

Though he'd held still at her inspection, at those words, he finally turned to look at her, arching an eyebrow. “Is that why you insisted on my portrait for your own?”

“I feel as though I'm the only one who could paint you the way you deserve.” She smiled and cupped his face, tracing his perfect skin with the pad of her thumb. “And it's why I insist. I'd rather hold you close to my heart when you're away.” Lightning tapped her collarbone with her free hand as she said this, indicating where the finished portraits would go – stowed inside a locket that would appear as a mere brooch, never to show the lovers pictured inside.

He hummed under her touch, slowly meeting her eyes. “Perhaps you can capture my elegance, but...who could dare to capture yours?”

She smirked. “Maybe you could try and paint my portrait as I am with yours.”

“I wouldn't dare insult you like that.”

“It would hardly be an insult if it came from your hands.”

He covered her hand with his own, the other one lightly grasping her waist with a wicked smirk. “You know, Miss Farron...I could think of a thousand better uses for my hands.”

“Is that so?” She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed...not that it would have deterred them any.

He stretched his ridiculously long legs out on the lounge chair as he pulled her onto his lap, that smirk still on his face. “Let me prove it to you once again.”

–

Hope sucked in a ragged gasp as his eyes flew open. His head felt foggy and clear all at once with...dreams? Memories? Honestly, he didn't know what to think at this point.

Wait. Step one. Where was he?

He slowly sat up, feeling oddly drained like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and glanced around. This wasn't his room, but it was familiar, at least. He'd stayed in Noel's guest room many times.

Okay, step one down. Step two – how the hell had he gotten here?

And...what the hell had happened last night?

Luckily, he got one answer when there was a knock at the door, though it opened before Hope could say anything.

“Oh hey, you're up,” Noel greeted, flicking his eyes over Hope. “You look like shit. Aspirin?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hope managed to croak out, surprised that his throat felt so raw and dry, like he was thirsty, though he honestly didn't feel particularly hungover. Not that he knew what that felt like. Noel produced two aspirin and a glass of water, which Hope gladly knocked back. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And here I thought I wouldn't have to worry about watching out for you.”

Hope stared at the glass of water in his hands. Though he rarely drank alcohol, during the few times he had in his life, he'd never had enough to warrant a hangover. This was honestly all new to him, which was why he was so hesitant when he finally asked, “...What happened last night?”

Noel raised his eyebrows. “You don't remember?”

“I wouldn't ask if I did.”

“Got me there.” Noel plopped down beside Hope. “I wish I knew what you drank, because you were kinda funny.” He laughed. “You were talking in an accent and saying weird stuff, like you were a completely different person.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. And you kept going around asking for someone named Claire.”

Nausea, fear, and need slammed into Hope so abruptly that it felt like someone had physically whacked him with something. He doubled over, hand covering his mouth as his eyes went wide.

Noel scooted aside. “Don't tell me I need to get you a bucket.”

Weirdly enough, that calmed him down some. Hope slowly let his hand fall and sat up. “N-No. I'm fine. I just...” He looked at Noel. “Are you sure?”

“Sure about what? That you're not going to puke all over me?”

“That I was asking for a...” He had to brace himself. “...A Claire?”

“Yeah.” Noel relaxed a bit when it became clear that Hope wasn't gonna get sick all over him. “Ask Yeul if you don't believe me. You were relentless about it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I'm guessing you met someone last night?”

Instantly, the rose-haired woman popped into his head. Lightning.

“I did, but...” They'd been dancing and then...what? He had absolutely no idea. The only clear parts of last night involved her, but even those thoughts were hazy. “Noel, where'd you find me?”

“Outside, actually. It looked like you were yelling at the sky. Probably screaming out equations or something, I dunno.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Nerd.” Noel chuckled again. “But you were so out of it that you didn't even recognize me and Yeul. You kept asking who we were. So we just said we were gonna take you home and...” He gestured to the room. “We did. You're lucky we found you, dude.”

“Yeah.” And truly, he knew that he was extremely lucky to have friends that looked out for him, despite how weird he must have been acting. The excuse that he couldn't recall having any alcohol at all wouldn't go over very well here, so he decided to let that go. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” Noel patted Hope's shoulder and stood up. “I'm gonna go help Yeul make breakfast. Come on out when you're ready, okay?”

“Sure.”

After Noel left the room, Hope finally had it in his head to gather his thoughts somewhat...not that there was much to gather. He was still in his dress shirt and pants from last night, though either Noel or Yeul had taken off his shoes and suit jacket. And the mask...

The mask had been tossed on the bedside table. Hope picked it up and stared, like it was going to give him answers. Maybe the stupid thing had obscured his vision so much that he's somehow just...conjured her.

Lightning...

If last night had actually happened, why had he told Noel in his apparent drunken state that he was looking for someone named Claire? He was pretty sure he didn't even know anyone by that name. Maybe he'd heard wrong or it was part of a song or something...

Come and find me.

With a sigh, he tossed the mask onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever the hell was going on, maybe it could wait until after breakfast.

–

Over the next few weeks, the party gradually slipped from his mind in lieu of all the work he had to do, but Lightning remained. Everywhere he went, he kept his eyes peeled for a shock of rose-colored hair, but always came up empty.

However, he got a shock of a different sort one day.

“Oi, you!”

Hope blinked and looked around. He'd been so lost in though that he'd barely realized that so much time had gone by – he'd spent nearly half the day in the library, and already, the sun was beginning to set. He sighed and started packing up his stuff.

“Hey! I'm talking to you.”

“Huh?” Hope looked up in surprise, only to come practically face-to-face with a beautiful woman with dark, wild hair. She cocked her head and smirked at his confusion, seemingly finding it amusing.

“Silver hair and no right to be so damn handsome,” the woman murmured. “Yep, gotta be you.”

Hope's face erupted into a blush. “E-Excuse me?!”

“You're Estheim, right?”

“Huh?” Hope was at least eighty percent sure that he'd never seen this woman in his life. “Well, I mean – that's my last name, yeah, but...”

“Good enough for me.” She hoisted him to his feet with an unreal feat of strength. “Follow me. I've got someone who's dyin' to see you.”

“Wait a second!” Despite his protests, Hope had already gathered his bag and was following the woman out of the library. “I don't even know your name!”

She barked out a laugh and, weirdly enough, put on some gloves and covered her head with a hood before they stepped outside. It was chilly outside, yes, but the sun was still beating down brilliantly despite the incoming sunset, at least for this time of year. “Name's Fang.” She was still chuckling at this, as though at some private joke.

“Oh.” Hope followed her down the block, through some twisty side streets, and finally to a cluster of homes that looked to be in dire need of TLC. The area seemed weirdly familiar. “Wait, is this...?”

Fang ignored him – as she had the whole time they'd been walking – and walked into one of the houses, calling into it, “Hey! You up yet, sunshine?”

Hope stood in the doorway, shell-shocked.

This was the house from the Halloween party – empty from all the guests and oddly quiet without the music pulsing, but unmistakably the same place.

Before he could even hope to process this, he heard footsteps come from another room, recognition slamming into him like a physical being.

“Light...?”

“Hmmm.” Lightning tilted her head with a little smirk, keeping her eyes on him as she walked up to the doorway. “Thanks for finding him, Fang.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm goin' back to bed for a couple hours.”

Hope didn't question why Fang was supposed to find him or why she was going to bed before sunset. All he could see was Lightning.

She smiled – though it didn't quite reach her eyes – and tugged him inside. “Are you surprised?”

“Extremely,” he managed to croak out. “How...? What's going on?” Answers. That was what he needed. “What happened after the party?”

“Why does that matter?” Lightning continued tugging on his hands, threading their fingers together in a way that seemed totally instinctual. “You're here now, aren't you?”

“I...”

“I've been waiting for this.” The smirk reappeared on her face as she pulled him onto the couch. Somehow, he knew exactly how to hold her in the perfect way before even acknowledging what he was doing. “You have no idea just how...long I've been waiting...”

He let out a trembling breath as she leaned in to kiss his neck. His thoughts immediately went back to the party. Hadn't something like this happened then? She'd been kissing his neck like this and then...

Miss Farron...I could think of a thousand better uses for my hands.

“Farron…?” he mumbled in a daze, but then something sharp and soft and painful and pleasurable stung his neck and darkness overcame him.

–

“Mr. Estheim, may I have the pleasure of introducing my sister, Serah?”

“Pleasure's all mine.”

Lightning couldn't blame the little smile that formed on Serah's face. “Oh no, it's certainly mine.” Too late, she curtsied, but it was a bit clumsy. Luckily, no one seemed to mind. “It's an honor to meet the man who has my sister so flustered.”

“Serah - !”

There was a low chuckle. “No need for such an outburst. In fact...” His eyes met hers over Serah's head. “I'm honored that I continuously garner such a reaction from you.”

Lightning narrowed her eyes, sure that he was teasing her, but he only smirked in that annoyingly smug and handsome way of his. “An honor, sir? I'm not sure I would call it that.”

“I would,” Serah interrupted with a smile. “Claire speaks of you quite highly...especially when she's certain I'm not listening.” Before her sister could interrupt, Serah continued as she curtsied again, “And I do apologize, but I promised a friend I would meet with them today. I believe my escort is here.”

Lightning tried not to be annoyed at the twinkle in Serah's eye. “Would you like me to walk you?”

“I'm certain I could find the way,” she teased, though her tone was slightly more neutral as she addressed him again. “Very lovely to finally meet you, sir.”

He bowed his head. “You as well, Serah.”

Lightning could have sworn that Serah winked as she passed, but left the room too quickly for any comment. After the last rustle of her gown had completely vanished, Lightning turned back around to face the man who was smirking at her.

“Pay her no mind. She's still young.”

“The young have a way seeing things a way others don't.” He slid his hands onto her waist, while she was helpless but to touch him back, her hands resting on his arms. Improper conduct, yes, but...certainly not the first time. “Perhaps she knows you better than you believe.”

“I might agree.” Lightning slid her hands to his shoulders, then wound her arms around his neck. “Serah is...” She looked over her shoulder. “She's everything to me. There's little I wouldn't do for her.” A pause. “...Little that I haven't done for her.”

And, she didn't add, little that she wouldn't do over and over again, given the opportunity.

“It makes me wish I had sibling.” He pulled her a bit closer. “To have someone so devoted to you without question.”

She looked back up at him, a little smile quirking the corners of her lips as her fingers thread into the silver hair at the nape of his neck. “You don't need a sibling to experience such devotion, sir.”

He smiled like a cat that had captured the canary. “Exactly what I was hoping to hear, Miss Farron,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a frenzy of passion that made her grateful that Serah had already left.

–

When Hope woke up this time, he had no idea where he was. The room was bright – too bright – but it wasn't because of the sun beating through windows. The entire room, including the walls, the bedspread, the furniture, everything, was completely white.

Which only made the spots of blood on the blanket and his pillow all the more noticeable.

He sucked in a breath, remembering the last thing that'd apparently happened before he'd blacked out – Lightning kissing his neck.

Had she only kissed it...?

He scrambled out of the bed, his clothing such stark contrast to the whiteness of the room that it honestly made him dizzy for a second. Still, he stood up on shaky legs, trying to look for a mirror so he could see and make sure...

When he didn't find a mirror in the room, Hope stumbled to the door instead and yanked it open...only to be met with Lightning's gaze.

She didn't look at all surprised to see him upright. Instead, she seemed almost angry about it, though how he knew this, Hope had no idea, especially since she wasn't saying anything. The look in her eyes, thought...that storm of betrayal...

“I've seen that look before,” he gasped out before he could stop himself, even though the words made absolutely no sense. Every time he'd seen Lightning until now, she'd been nothing but a shadow of mystery. He had no idea who she was.

Did he?

“I would think so,” she replied, and there was a noticeable accent in her voice he'd never heard before. “The question is, do you remember why?!”

She gripped the back of his neck and yanked him towards her, forcibly tilting his head. He gasped, instinctively grabbing onto her arms.

The last thing he felt before everything went dark again was a sharp pain that felt suspiciously like fangs.

–

She hummed in contentment as his fingers traced her bottom lip, smiling lazily as his journey continued down over her jaw and neck. Her eyes fluttered opened when they traced her collarbone, if only because Lightning knew she could allow him to go no further.

“I didn't think you to be awake,” he teased as she took his hand, moving it to her naked waist instead. It was safer that way.

“How could I sleep, knowing you were right next to me?” She slid her palm over his chest, moving her hand upwards until she was able to run her fingers through his hair.

“A fair point.” He seemed oddly pleased with himself...but then again, he usually was when she spent the night with him. Lightning had to attribute it to the typical male ego. Perhaps...in time she would see a change.

No, no. Best not to think about that. She'd did what had to be done. The only thing that would make it perfect would be...

“I have a question,” she said, adjusting herself a bit more comfortably under the covers.

“Yes?”

Lightning hesitated. She had to preface this the right way. “It's just a bit of my mind wandering, but...have you ever imagined what it might be like to live for an eternity?”

She'd expected him to laugh off such a notion and answer her question in a teasing manner, perhaps list off the things he'd do with an eternal life, but to her shock, he instead stiffened and sat up a bit, looking down at her in a way that he'd never done around her.

Wary. Suspicion.

She instinctively pulled the covers around herself a bit more. “I...don't mind me. It was just a silly question.”

“Hmm.” To her further surprise, he suddenly slid out of bed and started putting his clothes back on. “Silly indeed.”

“What are you doing?” Lightning sat up, holding the covers to her chest. “I thought you were free from engagements today.”

“I just remembered one I need to take care of.” She watched him dress, looking as impeccable as always, even without the aid of a servant. “Don't worry. I'll come back for you.”

“All right.”

He swiftly left the room after he was dressed without kissing her goodbye...nor had he looked her in the eye.

–

Lightning pulled away for a second, and Hope knew he wasn't imagining things when he saw the blood dribbling out the side of her mouth. His blood.

“I...will make you...remember,” she hissed, and he didn't have the strength to push her away as her fangs sank into his neck again.

–

She was numb.

As her sister's only family, she should have been the one making arrangements, visiting with friends, and seeing that everything was running smoothly. It was her job, after all.

But she couldn't move.

For nearly a week now, she'd felt as though she were paralyzed with sadness. No, sadness wasn't even the correct word for it – she felt distraught, hollow, empty.

Serah was dead.

This wasn't supposed to have happened for decades. Serah was the one who was supposed to live for the both of them, to wed and have generations of children and grow old as anyone should have.

But the other reason Lightning felt completely wrung out was because of how Serah had been found.

With a stake in her heart.

Which meant that someone knew...only they'd gotten the wrong sister.

She wasn't just numb from sadness – she was also paralyzed with fear. Had she been smarter than this, she would have left right after the burial and fled town. What else was here for her any longer?

There was a gentle knock at the door, a familiar sound that made Lightning glance up when the door opened a bit.

He was the reason she hadn't ran.

The moment she saw him, Lightning forgot all decorum and got to her feet, the layers of her black gown rustling as she rushed to him and fell into his arms. He hugged her back tentatively, as though she were made of glass.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Not in the least,” she admitted, not ashamed to do such a thing in front of him. Her voice was a bit muffled by her mourning veil, so she raised her head a bit so he could hear her properly. “I just don't...I don't understand. What could have driven anyone to do such a thing...?”

He sighed, stroking her hair a bit, though she barely noticed that the motions were halfhearted. “Perhaps someone got suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Suspicious over what?!” Now she pushed away from him and started to pace. “Serah has never hurt a soul, nor would she ever. What could she have possibly done that would give cause for someone to wonder if she were a...a...” Lightning shook her head, unable to bring herself to say the word that was her reality...not Serah's.

“I wonder,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made Lightning look up at him curiously. For a blessed moment, she was distracted by Serah's death in favor of wondering what was going through his mind.

“What do you mean?”

“I've been hearing some strange things lately,” he said, not quite looking at her. “Rumors from those who dare to leave their homes at night.” He fiddled with something in his pocket. “There have been traces of death in town, followed by blood.”

A knot formed in her stomach, but she managed to remain calm. “Really?”

“I didn't think to believe it, but the rumors have been growing – talk of a phantom that led those who would not be missed to their deaths.” Only now did he finally look her in the eyes, and the knot in Lightning's stomach erupted into fear. “A rose-haired phantom.”

Though she'd been warned that humans would figure out what she was at some point, hearing the one person she'd ever loved at a level comparable to Serah all but confirm it shattered her heart into a thousand pieces.

“I can explain - ”

“I'd rather not hear it.” He was smirking again, that same face he always wore when his ego was getting the better of him. “How long before this...monster stops with the ones that don't matter and goes to the ones that do? How many will she kill?”

“I don't - ”

He slammed his hand down on a glass goblet. The shards pricked his skin into a bloody mess and he held it up, fear and satisfaction on face when the scent lured her to bare her fangs at him with a hiss.

“At least there's only one of you now!”

Everything froze.

Though she had a potential eternity in front of her, Lightning knew that nothing would ever compare to that moment of clarity when realization dawned. It was as though everything was suspended in time just for a second as she struggled to believe it.

But the truth was as clear as anything.

“You did it,” she whispered, eyes wide. She still couldn't move. “You killed my sister.”

He let out a laugh unlike anything she'd ever heard before – it was the sound you would hear coming from an asylum late at night; a noise that sent chills down your spine. “I had to, Claire! I couldn't very well let vampires kill us all! Were you going to get me next?! Drink all my blood after I sold my company and steal my riches?!”

“No,” she replied, still unable to do more than whisper. “Of course not. I lo-”

“Don't say it!” he screeched, finally bringing out what he'd been fiddling with in his pocket – a wooden stake.

Had she been in control of her emotions, Lightning would have laughed. As it was, all she could do was tell him the truth and hope that, somehow, he would snap out of it.

“The stakes are a myth,” she said. “You cannot kill a va – a vamp...”

“You're lying!”

“I'm not.” She wrapped her arms around herself, inwardly kicking herself when tears started to fill her eyes. “Serah was human. She was human and you killed her.”

He paused. Lightning knew she should have run or knocked him out – maybe even killed him. Something. But her love for him kept her feet planted firmly on the floor, hoping against hope that he would understand.

For what, though? He had murdered her sister. For that, there was no redemption.

Not even for him.

This thought came to her mind a second too late. While everything moments ago had felt like it was suspended in time, now the world spun too quickly as he dropped the stake and his hands closed around her neck.

“Then I'll do better with you!” he hissed, and she was too shocked and full of despair and love to fight back.

–

“Hey! You – damn, what's your name? Ah, forget it. Just wake up, damnit.”

Everything was dark.

How could he see this? He was no longer a part of her life, convinced he had done the world a favor and disposed of a monster. Though she'd only passed out at his hands, it'd given him enough time to bury her alive, sure that she would never escape the coffin he'd fashioned just for her.

When he thought of it as a good deed to the world, it was easy to forget their love, and easier still to forget how the look in her eyes had cursed him before she'd passed out.

He was better than a vampire. He would survive – no, thrive in all of his lives after this one, always learning more and bettering himself. Never would a vampire best him. Not even her.

Not even -

“Claire!”

Someone's hands flew off of him into an 'I surrender' position. “Well, damn. Never know how you humans are gonna wake up half the time, I swear.”

Hope gasped for breath, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon. He saw the woman who'd introduced herself as Fang to the side of his bed, her expression annoyingly amused, though she seemed a bit concerned as well.

Luckily, he was out of that white room and in a much more normal-looking one, which helped stabilize his breathing somewhat. Once he'd finally calmed down, he ran a hand through his hair, surprised that it was damp with sweat.

“Claire,” he said breathlessly. “I mean – Lightning. Light. Wha – where is she?”

“Off somewhere pouting.” Fang quirked a brow. “You're actually concerned about her?”

“Yes. I – I mean, I saw - ”

“Finally remember, eh?” If she noticed his confusion, Fang didn't care. “Never thought she'd actually pull it off. At this rate, I was pretty sure she was gonna kill you, even though we're tryin' to avoid that this time around.”

Hope stared at her, his head still spinning. When he was finally able to speak, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “How do you and Cla – Light know each other?”

Fang arched a brow again, like she couldn't believe he was asking that. “We go way back.” She chuckled. “Way back, really.”

“How...?”

“I did her a favor, she decided to stick around.”

“You mean you're the one who...”

Fang held up a hand. “Ain't my story to tell. If she's done pouting, get her to tell ya herself.”

“I'm pretty sure she wants to kill me.” Literally.

“Well, yeah,” Fang replied, as if it was no big deal. “But she won't. Not right away, anyway.”

If that was supposed to scare him, it didn't work. Hope just had the strange urge to...apologize, of all the crazy things. Nothing made sense anymore. “Where is she?”

“Second door on the right. Careful, she's in a mood.”

–

The first thing Lightning did when he finally managed to get to his feet and find her was bare her fangs at him with a hiss. It was eerily reminiscent of the...dream? Memory? ...that had just plagued his mind earlier.

He held his hands up. “I'm not here to hurt you. I promise.”

“A likely story.” She waltzed up to him with venom in her eyes, and even though he probably should've run, he remained where he was. “That's what you said back then!”

“That wasn't me, Light.”

She hissed again. “I thought that this generation was supposed to be more open-minded. You've never thought of the possibility of reincarnation?”

“No,” he admitted. “How do you know?”

“I would recognize his soul anywhere.” Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes flashing with pain again. “And if for some strange reason you didn't believe me at my words, the fact that you saw his memories when I drank your blood is proof enough.”

Hope immediately touched his neck. Until now, he somehow hadn't quite connected 'vampire' with 'drinking his blood' and suppressed a shudder as he dropped his hand. “That wasn't me, though,” he insisted. “Maybe I am this guy's...reincarnation or whatever, but I'm also me.” As he said this, he was sure that it was the rawest, most vulnerable he'd ever been in front of another person. “And I would never hurt you.”

Her eyes flicked over him in disbelief, though something in her expression softened somewhat. “Why do I have the feeling that you're one of those disgustingly honest people who are so diplomatic that everyone can't help but love?”

“Was he like that?”

Lightning flinched. “...It's probably why I was drawn to him.” She pulled a chain up from over her head and opened the antique locket that'd been hanging from it. “That's how I saw him.”

Hope looked at the portrait, impressed at the level of detail and uneasy at how similar the painted profile was to his own. They looked remarkably alike, right down to their hair part, although there was something in the portrait that was...sharper and more dangerous. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“You painted this, right?”

Lightning put the locket back on. “Yes.”

“That's really impressive. I don't have an artistic bone in my body.”

“It was one of the more 'acceptable' pastimes for ladies.”

“At least you took advantage of it, I guess.” Hope paused, knowing his next question was treading on dangerous ground. “...Was Serah also an artist?”

Lightning made a sound that was almost like a growl, baring her fangs again before backing down. Was she realizing that he and her past were not one in the same? “...Not so much. She wanted to be a nurse.”

This time, it was Hope's turn to flinch. Nursing had always be a position to be proud of...and yet Serah had been robbed of that. “Why?”

That question was met with a glare, but something inside of Lightning seemed to finally break. Despite the numerous places to sit in the room, she leaned against the wall and slowly sank down to the floor, visibly swallowing. After a pause, Hope gingerly sat down next to her, wondering if he would get an answer.

Eventually, Lightning spoke. “When she was younger, Serah contracted a disease I now know is tuberculosis.” Hope's eyes widened. “Back then, there was of course no treatment, no cure. Our mother had died giving birth to Serah, so she was the only family I had left. I couldn't let her die from it as most did.”

Even though he was starting to put the pieces together, he needed more. “What happened?”

“I took Serah to every doctor I could reach. I exhausted what little money we had to try and save her, but she came closer to death every day. I was at the end of my rope.” She stared at her hands. “One day, someone I didn't know came to visit her. I thought she was a nurse, or at the very least, a woman of the cloth who'd come to bless Serah. She was so close to death that it was that obvious. But she told me there was a way. If I wanted, I could save Serah.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Lightning clenched her hands again, then released them. “She told me that vampire blood could cure anything, and it would only work if I was one to do it since we were family. I could become one and give my blood to Serah to save her life.”

Hope was stunned. He'd read stories before suggesting a thing, but of course, he never once in a zillion years thought that vampires were real. “And...I assume it worked?”

“Of course. Don't be an idiot.” She huffed. “The woman who'd found me was actually Fang's girlfriend. They lived together in secret, for obvious reasons.” She sighed. “Fang turned me into what I am, and I was able to save Serah...at the price of my mortality.”

They fell into silence. Hope was honestly impressed – even though he was sure that a lot of people would jump at the chance to be immortal, there was the actual practice of it. Even though she'd saved Serah's life, eventually Lightning would have had to move away or watch Serah grow old and die anyway. Had she stayed with him, she would have been forced with the same situation...over and over again, for all eternity.

“That's why you asked him about immortality,” Hope said as comprehension dawned. “You wanted to turn him into one, too.”

Lightning nodded slowly. “He ran a very large and profitable company that bought and sold various good overseas. It was easy for him since he was so charismatic. Initially, he commissioned a portrait from me that would hang in his office, but...” She trailed off, obviously recalling old memories. “It became far more than that. I just didn't know he thought of himself of the unofficial protector of the town, who kept phantoms at bay.”

Though there were people in his life that he didn't really care for, nobody had ever deliberately hurt him or anything. Even his father, who he usually didn't get along with, was okay at times. Hope couldn't believe feeling something for someone so deeply and then the sting of their betrayal.

“Before I woke up a little bit ago,” he said carefully, “I had another...dream, I guess. He...” He shifted around. There was no comfortable way to say this. “...He buried you alive, didn't he?”

She was silent for a full minute before speaking. “I had to drink my own blood to survive. It nearly drove me insane. It was fifty years before I was able to break free.”

“Didn't Fang and her girlfriend look for you?”

“They tried, but there were already enough whispers around town. They couldn't risk themselves more than necessary. I wouldn't have wanted them to, anyway.”

Hope nodded a bit, understanding that. It still blew his mind that all of this was...real, and that he wasn't back in some crazy dream or memory or whatever, not to mention that he was apparently the reincarnation of someone so awful. “Are you going to kill me?”

Lightning went quiet again. Whatever murderous rage she'd had when he'd first come to her door seemed to have vanished. “Do you want me to?”

“Not particularly.”

“I've been waiting centuries for you.” Finally, she looked at him, hundreds of years of pain and regret and patience in her gaze. “I thought it would be so easy once I finally had you where I wanted – that I wouldn't hesitate to kill you once I made you remember what you'd done to me. I wanted you to suffer with the agony of your choices the way that I have for so long.”

“I can understand that.” Truly, he did. It was easier now that he'd seen those memories. “But it's like I told you, Light – I'm not him.”

She continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression and he didn't move the whole time, only letting out a breathe when she murmured, “No. You're not.” She paused. “He wouldn't have come to find me like you did just now.”

Something compelled him to reach out and rest his hand on hers. Though she tensed up at the touch, she quickly relaxed into it, now looking at him curiously as everything stilled again.

“Maybe you could get to know me as me,” he said. “I only knew you as Claire back then. Maybe now I can know you as Lightning.”

There was a long pause, but the world finally flowed into motion again when she smiled. “What'd I tell you? Call me Light.”

He smiled back and squeezed her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Light. I'm Hope.”

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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

Text

In flight chapter 3

He pulled me against him suddenly. I stiffened, but he just pushed my cheek into his chest. “You’re an infuriating woman,” he said into my hair. I tried to shove away from him for that comment, but I couldn’t seem to budge him. “I would be happy to walk you back to your room, but I’m not leaving you here when you’re acting like this.”

“You don’t know anything about me. I may act this way all the time,” I said, but the words were muffled into his shirt.

He was wearing the softest T-shirt I’d ever felt. I was suddenly nuzzling against it. I realized that I hadn’t even seen what he was wearing. It wasn’t a suit, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to check him out.

I pulled back, looking with fascination at his casual attire. His shirt was a navy V-neck T-shirt with a small pocket over the left side of his chest. Right over his nipple, I thought. It was fitted, showing off his sleek muscles. And it was sooo soft.

I started running my hands over it, and he didn’t stop me. He wore casual gray slacks with navy running shoes. He looked positively edible.

“Someday soon I’m going to tie you up and tease you just the way you’re teasing me right now, with no hope for release for at least a night.” His voice was soft and earnest. His words stilled my hands immediately. Apparently I wasn’t doing a great job of scaring him off. Yet.

I snapped my fingers at him as I got an idea. I was steadier on my feet as I pulled completely out of his arms. Just a few minutes without imbibing was improving my balance.

“I have a surprise for you,” I told him ominously, and stalked toward the Karaoke DJ.

I whispered my request in the strange man’s ear, and he nodded, shooting a look at Justin.

I put a finger over my lips. “Shhh. It’s a surprise for Mr. Beautiful.”

Justin watched me stoically as I climbed onto the tiny stage. Surprisingly, there was no one in line, so I got to go immediately. Before I’d gone to the bathroom there had been a line nearly out the door of people waiting to perform. Now the place was just getting emptier by the second.

That was fine with me. This hot mess of a show was all for Justin Cavendish.

I couldn’t help it. I started to giggle as the first notes of S&M came on and I saw his eyes widen. I got myself under control enough to start singing to it when the words came on the screen, shooting him sassy looks and even throwing in a little bit of wiggling to the beat. I even bent down to flip my hair at a small pause in the song. Oh, lord, that almost knocked me off the stage.

He moved closer at my reckless action, as though to catch me if I really did fall off.

I got a little off track when Melissa strutted over and started talking to him. Did she really have to stand so close to him? Apparently, she did. She even pressed against him as she spoke into his ear.

He didn’t seem to mind either, talking to her now more than he was watching me. It seemed to be a very serious conversation for two people who had just met. Or did they know each other?

That’s it, I decided. I was going to find out.

The music hadn’t even stopped when I stomped off the stage.

Justin gave me a small smile as I approached. Melissa wasn’t touching him anymore, but she was still standing way too close to him.

“Thank you for the surprise, Selena. I won’t forget that for as long as I live.” His voice was warm and full of good humor. Dammit. That had not been what I was going for.

“Do you two know each other?” I asked abruptly.

Justin looked a little surprised. “We just met. She works with you, right?”

“So what were you talking about?” I asked pointedly.

“She said she was a good friend of yours. I was asking her about you.”

I looked at Melissa. She looked a little miffed, but hardly deterred. If she had any clue how much Justin was worth, she’d really be all over him.

I toyed with the idea of telling her. That might solve the whole situation right there. For reasons I didn’t want to analyze, I decided against it almost immediately.

She studied me briefly, and her expression brightened. She grabbed my hand suddenly, all bubbly girl again. “Come on, chicky,” she said to me fondly, leading me back to the Dj.

CHAPTER SIX

Mr. Perverse

I didn’t have to wonder what she was up to for long. She had us duet-ing a version of ‘Back that thing Up’ in no time.

I mostly tried to rap to the vaguely obscene lyrics while watching her in fascination. She quickly had her ass to the audience, doing some pretty impressive booty dancing.

I was more stacked than her in the chest department, and mine were very much natural, but she had waaay more junk in the trunk. And I had to admit it was very nice junk. And she very much knew it.

She threw smiles over her shoulder at the crowd as she crouched nearly to the floor. Yep, she was backing that thing up.

I was rapping, “Call me big daddy when you back that thang up,” when Stephan caught my gaze from the crowd. He’d left his spot at the bar, where he’d been in close conversation with Melvin since we’d come out of the bathroom.

Ah, damn. I had interrupted them with my antics. He had finally gotten a chance to make his move, and I had distracted him. I felt instantly guilty.

He was giving me wide eyes. I could tell he was about ready to carry me home. He would not approve of operation ‘hot mess’, I knew for sure. He’d been acting as my protective older brother for too long to just idly stand by while I drunkenly embarrassed myself.

I was relieved when he didn’t immediately come and carry me from the stage. But my relief was short-lived as I saw him speaking earnestly to Justin. Justin was listening intently, nodding in agreement.

I got distracted by the lyrics screen as the the beat got faster for a moment. I substituted any words I couldn’t say that started with N with the word chicky. I thought it fit rather well into the song, and was mentally patting myself on the back when the song ended.

Melissa laughingly hugged me when we finished. She was breathless from all that shaking. Did she suddenly like me? Or was this some kind of a show for Justin’s benefit? With what I knew of Melissa, I suspected the latter, but I didn’t really care just then.

I approached the two tall men who looked to be having a serious conversation that I was positive was all about me.

Justin sent me a wide-eyed look. He looked shocked about something.

I stalked up to Stephan and bumped his shoulder with my own. “What are you telling him?” I asked him, my voice angry. “Go sit back down at the bar, Stephan. I am just fine.”

Stephan leaned down to me. He seemed visibly upset, and I was on alert at once. What the hell was going on with these two?

He hugged me, speaking into my ear. “Please don’t be mad at me. I know it’s not my place to butt in, but I just had to see what kind of a guy he is. I think he’ll treat you well. And if he doesn’t, I told him I’d kick his billionaire ass.”

I scrunched my nose up at him. “That’s why you thought I’d be mad at you?”

He didn’t look any less upset, so I knew that wasn’t it. He couldn’t look me in the eye, and he was trembling a little. He hated it when I was mad at him. He had serious issues with people being upset with him, and especially with me being mad. Issues that stemmed from some truly horrible things that had happened to him when he was a kid. I’d been his only family for years, so he feared my anger. He had this irrational fear that if he ever made me really angry with him, I would desert him, like his family had. I’d told him many times that it would never happen, but he still didn’t know how to cope with any kind of conflict.

He was shaking his head, and I could see a certain panic in his eyes that I dreaded. It did a great deal towards sobering me up. “What is it?” I asked him.

“I told him that you were a virgin,” he whispered in my ear. I stiffened. “I just didn’t want him to hurt you. Or to…have the wrong impression of you with the way you were acting. Please don’t be mad.”

I couldn’t seem to help it. I was instantly mad. I pushed him back, pointing at him. “Go. Back. To. Your. Seat.”

He obeyed, doing a pretty good impression of a ‘Charley Brown walk’ back over to Melvin. I had probably just ruined his whole night, but he had no right to share personal information about me. Especially not with Mr. Beautiful.

I turned back to Justin, glaring. “So, are you done yet? You can see now that this is not going to happen. My V-card should be more than enough of a reason to make someone like you run screaming in the other direction.” Maybe Stephan had found me a better final solution to this strange problem, I realized, even as I spoke.

The shock was long gone from his face. Now his face was carefully blank. The blankness didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. They were as intense as ever. “Come here,” he told me.

A few feet separated us. I closed the distance before I thought to defy him. He fisted a hand very, very carefully into my hair, pulling my head back slightly. He leaned down to my ear. “I’m going to ruin you,” he breathed. “I’ll be your first, and I’ll f**k you so thoroughly that I’ll be your last, too. You won’t want any other man after I’ve gotten my hands on you. Every last inch of you.” A shudder ran through my entire body at his roughly whispered words.

My brow furrowed. Had he somehow sensed I was a virgin even before Stephan told him? Is that why he was pursuing me? Did he have some weird fetish? “So you prefer virgins?” I whispered the question back at him.

His brows shot up in surprise. “I’ve never been with one, so no. But I can’t say I’m displeased with the notion. In fact, I love it that I’ll be your first.”

I didn’t even bother to tell him that he was assuming a whole lot right there. I was suddenly very tired. Tired enough to pass out. And we had to be up at five a.m to get ready for the morning flight. “I’m ready to go,” I told him. His face brightened instantly.

“Good. Let’s go tell Stephan.”

Stephan wouldn’t even look at me as we approached.

“Selena is calling it a night,” Justin told Stephan. “I’ll see her to her room. What time should I set her alarm for?” I rolled my eyes. There he went, talking about me in front of me again.

“Five,” Stephan and I answered at the same time. The men nodded at each other cordially, Stephan never looking at me.

I knew it would bother him all night if I didn’t tell him he was forgiven. I stepped forward, kissing him softly on the forehead.

“I’m not mad at you,” I told him, and was surprised that it was true. He’d had no right to do it, but I knew he was only trying to protect me. It had been his job for years now, and it was a job he took very seriously.

He sniffed a little, and I was shocked when I saw one tear slip down his cheek as he looked at his lap.

“Thank you,” he said, and I heard the relief in his voice. He was so relieved that he was crying, when he never cried. That was how strongly my anger affected him.

“Please don’t,” I told him. It broke my heart to see him like that.

He lifted his head, and he looked better. “I’m good. Really. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He smiled and waved me off. I smiled back, and we left.

Justin held my arm on our short walk back to the hotel. He had a firm grip on the back of my arm, just above my elbow. He seemed to like that spot. “Stephan and I spoke at length. He knows I would never take advantage of you when you’re impaired.” Justin seemed to feel the need to explain this to me. “If I didn’t know otherwise, I would think he was your older brother,” he continued. “How long have you two been close?” he asked.

I sent him a sideways glance. He was fishing for information about me, I could tell. I didn’t play that game. Especially when I knew next to nothing about him.

“A long time,” I answered vaguely. That’s the best he would get. I had already sobered up considerably, so he’d missed the boat on any carelessly thrown information. Especially since I was planning to never drink again. I was already mortified by some of my antics that night, and I wasn’t even completely sober yet.

“You need to get on the pill.” He abruptly changed the subject, his voice authoritative.

I sent him another sideways glance. This glance was on it’s way to a glare. “My body, my business,” I told him stiffly.

“When we’re hav**g s*x, it will be my business as well. And you need to get started. It can take weeks to months before it becomes effective.”

My glance became a glare. “For your information, I’m already on the pill. I have bad periods, and it helps make them milder. I’ve actually been on them since I was a teenager… for personal reasons.” Reasons I would never tell him. Like the fact that Stephan and I had lived in an abandoned building with a bunch of other homeless people and I’d been terrified of being raped and getting pregnant. I hadn’t been able to sleep for the fear. A trip to the free clinic had given me a great deal of peace of mind. About the pregnancy aspect, at least. “But you are outrageous, you know that? I’ve never agreed to have sex with you.”

“What personal reasons?” he asked. Of course he would zero in on the thing I was the least willing to talk about.

“I prefer to keep those reasons personal.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

His hand squeezed my arm in a warning. “You are exasperating.”

“Let me bombard you with a bunch of personal questions and see how you like it,” I shot back.

“Give it a try. I think the tradeoff might just be worthwhile for me.”

I fell silent at that.

We made our way into the hotel without a word. I nodded at the girl working the front desk as we walked by. Her name was Sarah, and she knew Stephan and I. We’d even gone out with her a few times. She gave me wide eyes. She probably thought Stephan and I were a couple, as so many people did.

“Hey, Sarah,” I called out, without stopping.

“Hey, Selena,” she called back.

“The security here is deplorable,” Justin said as the elevator doors closed on us. He was shaking his head in dismay.

I giggled. “What did you expect? It’s a crew hotel in downtown manhattan. The security isn’t deplorable. It’s non-existant.” I giggled harder. Rich people could be funny.

He gave me a disgruntled look. “It’s terrifying. Anyone could come in here.”

I just kept giggling. “That’s what locks and police are for. If you think this is bad, you should see some of the places Stephan and I have stayed.” Oh shit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

His intent eyes searched my face. “Where? What do you mean? Do you still stay in those places?”

I shrugged, trying to blow past the whole thing. “Um, not really. I guess this is our least secure crew hotel at the moment.” The thought made me start giggling again.

He held a hand out for my key card, and I gave it to him without a word.

“I would prefer if you stay at a more secure place when you visit the city. I’ll arrange it,” he said, shocking me.

I shook my head. “No. No. No,” I told him clearly. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but you are not going to take control of my life. You can just rule out that scenario right now.”

His mouth set in a hard line. “We’ll talk about it when you’re sober.”

He was crazy, I decided. “You can talk all you want. That is not happening.”

He noticed the open connecting door as we entered my room. He gave me a questioning look, going through the door, as though he had the right to search the place.

“Stephan’s room?” he asked from Stephan’s room.

“Yes,” I answered.

He came back in, closing and locking the door without asking. I just went to the bed and lay down, closing my eyes.

“I need to set my alarm,” I told myself out loud, reaching for my little bag. I had dropped it on the floor somewhere between the door and my bed.

“I’ve got it,” Justin told me, and I heard him moving around.

I heard the little sound that meant my phone had been plugged into a charger.

“Thank you,” I murmured, eyes still closed. “You can go now. I’ll wake up on time. I’ve never been late to work. I’m not gonna start the habit tomorrow. As soon as my head stops this spinning, I’ll be falling asleep.”

He didn’t respond, and I heard him moving around my room. He went into the bathroom, coming out just a moment later. The bed dipped as he sat beside me on the bed. I felt and smelled a cool, makeup removing wipe on my face.

I tensed up in surprise. What’s he doing? He gently wiped my entire face, even wiping my eyelashes carefully to remove my mascara.

“You hardly wear any makeup,” he said absently. “You have a lovely complexion.” That was such a sweet thing to say that I had to snort.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Beautiful,” I said.

“Perhaps I’ll just call you Mrs. Beautiful,” he said to me, leaning down to kiss just the tip of my nose.

I felt him get up again, returning after just a moment. When I felt his fingers on the button of the waistband of my shorts, my eyes shot open, my hands moving to block him. The only light in the room came from the bathroom, but I could still make him out.

“What are you doing?” I asked slowly.

He brushed my hands away, unbuttoning my shorts and sweeping them down my legs in a quick, smooth motion.

“Taking care of you,” he said mildly. “I told you and Stephan that I would. I’m getting you ready for bed right now. And if you start throwing up all of that poison you drank tonight, I’ll take you to the bathroom and hold your hair out of your face for you. Hold still. I’ll have you changed faster if you don’t fidget so much.”

Strangely, I obeyed him, and he had me out of my clothes and into the thin cotton shift I had packed as a nightgown.

He removed my bra like a pro, never touching a thing beyond my back and shoulders. He barely jostled me as he did it. It was rather impressive. He even folded my shorts carefully, and hung my blouse up, as though he did this everyday. He tucked me in carefully.

What a strange billionaire, I thought to myself.

When he finished, he came to stand over me. He looked down at me, hands in his pockets, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do next. It was a strange look for him.

“You can sleep here,” I told him. “If you can handle the lack of security.” I couldn’t help but tease him about that.

He sucked in a breath. “Do you mind if I just sleep in my boxers? It’s much more comfortable, and I swear I won’t try a thing. Tonight.”

Did I mind? I was dying to see his body. I just had to know if he was that tan everywhere.

“Okay,” I said in a breathless voice.

He didn’t hesitate after that, stripping off his shoes, socks, shirt and slacks in short order. I wished fervently that the lights were on, never taking my eyes off of him. He slid onto the other side of the bed from me, lying on his back on top of the covers.

“Go to sleep,” he told me.

“Are you tan like that everywhere?” I asked him, just on the edge of sleep. If he answered me, I never heard him as I drifted off.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mr. Moody

The sound of my alarm woke me from a deep sleep. I never slept that hard, and coming out of it was something I was unaccustomed to. I knew instantly that it was gonna be a rough morning by the pounding in my temples.

The clock showed five a.m, but my body still thought it was two a.m. A twenty-four hour layover was never enough time to adjust to the time difference.

I wasn’t surprised to find that Justin had left, though I was strangely disappointed.

Since there were no longer any lingering effects of alcohol buzzing through my system, I knew I had a problem. I was starting to like that kinky rich bastard.

I went directly into the shower, pinning my hair up and keeping it carefully dry. There was no way I’d have time to dry it if I washed it.

I threw my shift back on my slightly damp skin, planning to wear it until it was time to change into work clothes. I was so used to sharing adjoining rooms with Stephan that it was just second nature for me to stay at least partially decent while I got ready.

My bathroom door was slightly ajar, so when my hotel room door clicked open and then closed, I froze in alarm. I peaked out of the door, both surprised and relieved to see that it was Justin.

He joined me in the bathroom without asking. Even Stephan wasn’t so familiar with me, so it caught me off guard that he would join me so casually in the bathroom right after I’d showered.

He handed me a cup of coffee and two white tablets. He set two bottles of water on the counter.

“The pills are for the hangover,” he told me. “And the water will help. You’re dehydrated.”

I took the pills, downing most of the first bottle in the process. A long drink of the coffee and I felt nearly human again.

I saw that he had changed his clothes. He was back in a suit, looking fresh and well rested.

“You went back to your place?” I knew little about him, but I did know that he lived primarily in New York. My eyes were on his impeccable suit. It was a soft gray, his shirt and tie blue today. I’d never gotten a chance to get a good look at him without his clothes on. Dammit.

As I looked at him, my eyes moved up to his in the mirror. We were both facing it, and his lovely turquoise eyes were glued to my body with an intensity that made my eyes follow his.

My thin shift, combined with my slightly damp skin, had, not surprisingly, made my nightgown transparent. I might as well be nak*d, I thought, a little stunned.

And he was drinking in the sight of me hungrily, as though he’d never seen anything so appetizing in his life. It was an intoxicating feeling, to put that look in his eyes.

He stepped in directly behind me, his eyes steadily on my chest. My br**sts felt heavy and I wanted him to touch them so badly.

I unconsciously arched my back a little, my shoulders going back, my chest forward, my n**ples clearly visible as they rubbed against the thin fabric of my shift. They were pebbled to hardness, and tightened even more as I watched them.

“I don’t want to make you late for work,” he murmured. “But I need to do something.”

He pressed up against my back, his arousal hard and heavy against my tailbone. His hands covered my br**sts, finally, and I moaned, arching back. He kneaded them firmly and my eyes fell closed.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and I obeyed automatically, meeting his intense eyes in the mirror.

“I like this nightgown,” he said almost absently, as he continued to touch me. “Spread your legs more,” he told me, and they just shifted apart, as though my body and his mouth had some sort of agreement that I wasn’t yet privy to.

One hand stayed kneading my breast, and plucking at my nipple just perfectly while the other ran along my ribs, down my abdomen, and straight between my legs.

They started to shut instinctively against the invasion.

“Open wider,” he ordered, and they just did. “I want to pleasure every inch of you, but for the moment, I’m just going to make you come. I just need to touch you. Lay your head back against my shoulder.”

He quickly found and rubbed my clitoris with his thumb while his index and middle finger played at my entrance almost teasingly.

He sucked in a breath as he felt me. “God, a f**king wet virgin. You are too much, Selena.”

He pushed one finger into me slowly, and groaned. The fit was excruciatingly tight. I masturbated sometimes with my own fingers, but his were just so much bigger and rougher, and more talented. He knew how to touch me with far more skill than I knew how to touch myself. The thought was a little daunting, but my mind quickly wandered back to the sensations at hand.

He worked his finger all the way in and began to stroke, his finger seeking out just the right spot inside of me. His thumb never stopped circling my clit, and his other hand still kneaded my tender breast with consummate skill. He was a hell of a multi-tasker.

As he stroked, his arousal brushed against my back with increasing pressure. He slipped a second finger in and I felt impossibly full. I cried out, grinding against him.

He stopped suddenly. “Ask me for it,” he ordered, and I didn’t mistake his meaning.

“Please.” I didn’t hesitate.

“Say, please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come.”

“Please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come.”

He pinched my nipple hard as he stroked that perfect spot harder. I came in seconds, before I even really knew it was happening.

I hadn’t realized that an orgasm could be like that, erupting so swiftly. Or so powerfully. I felt like I may have lost myself for a moment.

We were both panting heavily as I came back to myself. He caught my gaze in the mirror as he shifted his fingers out of me. I watched, absolutely mesmerized, as he raised them to his mouth and licked them clean.

When he finished, he grabbed my chin and turned my head to his for a deep kiss. “You are the most perfect f**king thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmured against my mouth.

I tried to reach for his still heavy arousal. He caught my hand, knowing where it was headed. “There’s no time. Get dressed.” He sounded almost angry now.

He was apparently frustrated and moody about it.

I got dressed in record time, in my little dress suit that was designed to look like a mock man’s suit, little tie and all.

Justin watched me the entire time, not giving me a second of privacy. I was in too much of a hurry to worry about it.

“That is the hottest f**king flight attendant uniform I’ve ever seen. That thing should be illegal. I’m going to do some illegal things to you with that little tease of a tie,” he said, his tone serious. I just laughed.

“I can do my hair and makeup in the van. Stephan will help me.” I licked my lower lip and waved a hand at his still obviously heavy arousal. “I still have ten minutes to spare. There has to be something I can do for you. I don’t like feeling like I’ve left you unsatisfied.”

He smiled at me, and it was pained. “You are too perfect. But it’s not happening this morning. I’m not coming again until I can be buried inside of you. Preferably for days.”

I took a step closer to him, licking my lips again. Impulsively, I knelt in front of him.

“You could bury yourself somewhere else,” I said, my voice turning breathy.

My face hovered just inches from his groin, but I checked the urge to touch him, just looking up at him instead.

He gripped my hair a little roughly. “Have you done that before?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

I shook my head, licking my lips again. “Like I’ve told you, I don’t date. I don’t do any of this stuff. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but you should take me up on the offer before I change my mind.”

He had his slacks unbuttoned and his arousal out so fast that I blinked at the sight of him. He was..spectacular. And right in my face.

It was no hardship at all to take him into my mouth and start sucking on him hungrily. Just the opposite. I’d never wanted something so much in my life. Though I couldn’t fit much more than the tip past my teeth.

“Use your hands at the base,” he told me. He used his hands to show me. He used the moisture that my mouth had spread on the tip and the shaft to lubricate my hands. He coached them into a twisting motion at the base.

“Harder,” he ordered. “Pull your lips over your teeth and suck harder,” he gasped. “Yes, that’s perfect, Selena.”

“I’m coming,” he warned me several intoxicating moments later. Both of his hands were gripped in my hair tightly. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you should pull back now.” His voice was absolutely raw with his need, and I loved it. I could get addicted to this feeling. To this act.

Instead of pulling back, I sucked harder, swallowing instinctively when the warm essence of him shot against the back of my throat.

He pulled me up and kissed me. His hands were rough in my hair, almost to the point of pain, but, caught up in the moment, I loved it.

He finally set me down, glancing at the clock. “You’re late. We’ll talk later. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ve seen how important your work ethic is to you.”

I just nodded, in full rush mode.

I grabbed my bags and my half-empty cup of coffee on the way out, not saying goodbye. Frankly, I just didn’t know what to say. I’d never done such intimate things in my entire life, and I’d never even agreed to give Mr. Beautiful my phone number.

It was like I wasn’t myself anymore, once I got into his orbit. He just took over. And so far, I was batting zero at resisting him. When he touched me, I lost all control, and he took all of it, and it just felt so good to let go. In fact, it felt more than good. It felt so perfect to me that I didn’t even know how to resist.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mr. Stalker

I felt a huge wave of relief as I noted, coming down into the lobby five minutes late, that Stephan and I were the only crew members that had shown up so far.

I’d never been late before, not even five minutes late, but it wouldn’t count against me this time. If we got a crew delay today, it would be whoever showed up last that caused it, and not me, since I had shown up second.

Stephan gave me a tentative smile when he saw me. “Good morning, Buttercup.”

“Morning. How was the rest of your night?” I asked, hoping it had ended well for him.

He grinned. “It was great. We went back to Melvin’s place and talked for hours. We’re taking it slow, but we understand each other now.”

I grinned back. “That’s awesome. Guess we’ll be sticking to New York for awhile, huh?”

He sighed. “I hope so. So how did it go with Mr. Beautiful?” he asked me with a smile. “You are looking much more chipper this morning than I had thought possible, considering the condition you were in when you left the bar. I assume he kept his promise to be a perfect gentleman last night?” He made the last into a question.

I nodded carefully. “Yes, he was a perfect gentleman last night. He was very sweet, actually. He even washed off my makeup. And he brought me coffee and aspirin this morning.”

Something caught his eye behind me, and I turned, expecting one of the tardy crew members. I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Justin. I had left him behind in my room. He had to pass through the lobby in order to leave. But it was still a little shock to see him so soon after what we’d just done.

My eyes traveled unbidden down to the area of his body that I’d just given special attention to. I licked my lower lip. His blue eyes were positively vivid as he stared back at me, striding straight up to me.

He nodded politely to Stephan. They both murmured a good morning. Justin’s warm hand landed possessively on the nape of my neck. My eyes wandered back down south. His fingers bit harder into my nape, and my eyes shot back up to his.

“Our Buttercup is a handful, Stephan,” he said idly to the other man.

Stephan laughed. “She is that.”

“A f**king perfect handful,” Justin murmured to me.

Stephan heard him, and laughed harder. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly know about that, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Walk me to the door, please?” Justin asked me politely.

I did. He lowered his hand from my neck when we reached the door.

“I’m going to tie you to my bed and take your hymen. I can’t seem to think about anything else,” he told me quietly. “Tell me when I can see you again.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure. I have a twelve hour day tomorrow. We’re doing a turn to DC.”

“What about today?”

I just blinked at him. “I’m flying back to Las Vegas.”

He just nodded as though that was helpful, and left.

The other flight attendants came down in short order, starting with Brenda. She was a solid ten minutes late from our showtime. Melissa and Jake came down a few minutes after that.

We waited another ten minutes before Stephan had to phone headquarters.

“Yes, I’m just making sure that we are sharing an airport shuttle with our pilots this morning,” he murmured into his phone. “Okay, thank you.”

The disheveled looking pilots showed just as he was hanging up his phone. We had already loaded up our bags, so we piled in while the pilots got theirs loaded up.

We rushed through the airport, the entire crew hustling to avoid a delay.

Stephan had braided my hair into one sleek braid in the van, while I applied a minimal amount of makeup at red lights. There was no way I could have done it while the maniac driver was swerving around. Even after years of New York layovers, I had yet to get used to the crazy thing New Yorkers called ‘driving.’

We made it to the gate in record time, and an exasperated gate agent let us onto the jetway. She was plump, middle-aged, and harried looking.

“You guys are borderline late,” she scolded us. “If this flight is delayed, I’m putting down the flight crew as the cause.”

Stephan gave her his most charming smile. “Sweetheart, let’s not be delayed then. Send them down anytime you like. We have the A team working today. We don’t need any prep time at all.”

0 notes

betweenthescarletmoon · 7 years ago

Text

Harassed

Aagghh, honestly I’m so flattered there were ppl who still liked and reblogged what I wrote. Here’s a better version of the fanfiction.

@pastel-virgil @archon-they-them @analogicalisreal @trotty-smithy-hornby @runningwithscissorsandstuff

In the Mindscape, Roman and Virgil were on the couch in the common room. The former was sprawled over it and taking most of the space, listening to Evanescence on his headphones, while the latter sat at the other end, looking into his hand mirror and frowning, and fixing his hair every ten seconds. It was relatively quiet and, if you didn’t know better, peaceful. Well, at least it was, until—

“Ugh, today was /horrifying/!” cried Roman with a nasal voice.

Virgil was startled out of his dismal reverie, somehow the shriek louder than his blaring music. He took his headphones off with a huff. “Do you mind?”

Roman scoffed and glared, but the actions lost their effects when he sniffed. Not like it mattered. Virgil hadn’t even glanced at him. “Not really. Though I /am/ very grateful that you hadn’t voiced your despondent thoughts, I’m not sure why /you/ hadn’t as well.”

Virgil deadpanned, then looked away to his phone. “I’m not into screaming into the universe about my feelings. So you’re sick. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re just going to dismiss what /else/ happened today?!”

Virgil finally maintained eye contact with Roman. He was baring his teeth at him. Virgil sighed. “Yeah, the guy was an asshole,” he admitted. He raked his hand through his hair, then shoved it back into his pocket. “You know, I have an idea. Why don’t you just watch a Disney movie and leave me alone?” he added sarcastically.

“Well, they can be distracting,” the other mumbled. He was probably speaking to himself. He kept quiet, and Virgil grabbed his headphones when he resumed speaking.

“Patton hasn’t made a sound… Is that worrying?”

Virgil mentally damned Roman. He was /this close/ to forgetting and ignoring about the invading thoughts. “I think so… Yep. It is.” He rubbed his face with both of his hands, then sat up.

“Do you think his emotions were wounded?”

Virgil deadpanned once again and Roman raised his arms in defeat. “We were all… offended by what that asshole said to us. You think Patton would just ignore what he said?”

Roman huffed. “I’m not the clever one. You know who is.” He paused. “It is normal for Logan to isolate himself, isn’t it?”

What was it with Roman worrying? Virgil shoved his thoughts— He wasn’t hurt from that, right?— down, knowing that he wasn’t nearly as fragile as the other. “Yeah. He’s probably just doing a psychological evaluation about why people are jerks in there.” He thought for a while, until he decided to ask Roman.

“You think we should check on Pat, or leave him alone?”

Roman looked to the ceiling. “We all know how easily desolate he becomes. I believe the former.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He just realized they were both actually having a civilized conversation, and smirked slightly. But it immediately fell when the harsh words came back. He shook his head to snap out of it. “We should go to Thomas, I think.”

Roman stood, not as theatrically, but his body lilted somewhat to some mental song that seemed to be playing in his mind non-stop. “Well, we mustn’t haste. Let us hunt for Thomas!” He swung his arm to the distance, which was the wall.

Virgil cringed. “You make it sound like we’re gonna slaughter him.”

Roman groaned, his arm lowering. “Just when I was feeling more like myself, Chester Brennington.”

Virgil was on his feet in an instant. “Have some respect,” he hissed.

Roman cleared his throat, stepping away. He lowered his gaze. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn right.” His nostrils flared as he forced himself to breathe. “Let’s go before I punch you.”

“Agreed.” XxX They popped up on their host, who was watching The Office, sprawled in exactly the same position Virgil was earlier. He picked in the remote and paused the episode. “Yeah…?” he drawled. Yes, definitely there was something up with Patton. Thomas was not acting like himself. “We believe that not only Stressed and Depressed,” he swung his arm over to Virgil for emphasis, “is the cause for you suffering, but Daddy Dearest as well.” Thomas frowned. “Really?” They nodded, and he sat up, turning off the TV. “Patton?” he called. No answer. Thomas sighed. “I think you’re right,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice again. “Logan?” Said aspect appeared on cue, a laptop on his arms. He glanced at the others, who stared back at him, and then he shifted his attention back at the console screen. “Is there anything you need, Thomas?” Virgil cut to the chase. “We think it hurt Patton’s feelings. He’s not showing up.” Logan didn’t need anymore explanation. He shut the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. “Ah… Right.” “What were you doing there?” asked Roman, hands on his hips. “Is it any of your business?” Virgil’s eyes widened at the same time the overdramatic gasp resounded. “Woah, okay,” interrupted a scowling Thomas before it became a full on argument and/or rap battle. “I am not ready for /three/ sassy sides of myself, so calm down, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Alright. So Patton isn’t here. Is he in his room?” Logan sighed. “We’re going to his room,” he stated dully. “That’s what this is about.” “Oh, hush,” snapped Roman, obviously still angry at the other for that… surprising comment. “I could live if you two could express a bit of sunshine, even if it’s only in his demesne.” Virgil scrunched up his face in utter confusion. “What?” “He means ”territory”. Demesne defines into territory,” Logan clarified. “Back to the point at hand; ”sunshine”,” he wagged his fingers like apostrophes, “means unbiased information. Can I leave you to it?” He directed that last question to Thomas with a fake smile, which really was as much pleading as he could muster. “Nope,” said Virgil, smirking a little. “We’re all going. Patton would want us all there.” Logan tisked. “Fair point.” “So, we all good, right? ‘Cause I’m taking us all there,” warned Thomas. The aspects answered with varying degrees of “yes”. Then they all sank together. XxX Immediately, Virgil noticed that Patton’s room was too bright, and he squinted, wincing. Even with the blinds shut and the lights noticeably dimmed, it was too much for him. As soon as his eyes could adjust, the first thing he noticed was the walls. They were painted blue but sometimes covered with colors of the sunset, interrupted by clouds. In a corner of the living-room-looking chamber was the sun. The ceiling was sprinkled with stars that would glow in the night. He wondered how Patton could sleep with such blinding illumination. Despite how… beautiful the walls looked, there was a whole wall covered with artwork: there were childish creations (Patton’s obviously), and there were slightly talented ones, and then there were those, almost professional-looking. It was all about Thomas and themselves. Virgil hadn’t known how much there was dedicated to him. He lowered his gaze to the coffee table, where there were various frames with pictures of them all. Most of them were ruined by Virgil’s evasion and hiding when it came to pictures, Roman’s extra pose, and Logan’s stiff muscles and blank expression while Patton hugged him. Yet they were still there, on display. But there was one, that was absolutely /perfect/. It was the day they won the Shorty Award for Best YouTube Comedian. He felt so valued that day, and Roman was /fanboying/, and Patton kept gushing about how proud he was of all of them, and Logan admitted he would probably never feel more accomplished with all their work. As soon as they entered the apartment, exhausted by all the euphoria, Patton demanded a picture. They all sat on the couch, with Thomas at the middle, and Patton made the /worst/ dad joke that made Roman (who was already suffering from the ”laughter attack”, as Logan decided to call it), cackle. This caused Thomas to follow suit. At the left of the couch, Virgil saw himself smirking at the camera. Roman spread his arms over Virgil and Thomas’ shoulders, looking happier than Virgil had ever seen him (not even when Thomas was a guest star at a Disney show was Roman as overjoyed). Thomas had shut his eyes, and if Virgil focused, he could see tear tracks caused by the laughter on his cheeks. Patton had done the same as Roman did, radiant. And Logan’s posture was no longer perfect nor rigid at the touch on his shoulders, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but his eyes sparkled with pride. Virgil suddenly realized he had picked up the frame and looked into it as if it had the answers of the world, and immediately put it down, but gently. There was a mysterious clogging of his throat. It wasn’t caused by anxiety. He wasn’t sure what it was. He looked over his shoulder, and Logan stood two feet away, still staring at the picture now at the coffee table. “I had forgotten that day,” he admitted noncommittally. “I’m not sure how I could.” Virgil noticed something was wrong about him, but he wasn’t sure what. He decided to ignore it and chalked it up to paranoia. He glanced at the others, who still appeared to be marveling over the artwork and the walls. “Okay,” he started. “Where's—” “Hey, guys!” Right on cue. Everyone jumped at Patton’s sudden greeting, then stared at him. He grinned at them, oblivious to their worries. “Patton, where were you?” asked Thomas, when he realized the others had quieted. “I summoned you, but you didn’t come.” “I guess I fell asleep when you called,” Patton said, shrugging. There was something about Patton that was off, too. It frustrated him to no end to not know what it was. “Friend,” called Roman, which was strange. He never called anyone ”friend” unless he benefitted from it. “Are you well?” “Yeah!” But his smile strained. “Why do you ask?” “After what transpired today,” Logan tried to explain. “We thought you were not… all right.” His smile brightened a small amount, but then dimmed. “I appreciate it guys, but I’m fine, really.” “I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t believe you,” said Virgil, then covered his mouth, not sure why that came out without his usual warring thoughts on wether to say it or not. Patton stared at him, then smiled again, as bright as before. “Why? Where did this come from?” But now, when he compared it to the gorgeous picture, Virgil could see the forgery, the perfect façade in that one smile. He’d seen it for years. His stomach dropped. How could he had believed that that was his real smile? Roman must have noticed too. He had tilted his head, frowning, his eyes… odd. He placed his hand on his chest, but not as dramatically as he usually did. “Are you certain you don’t know what we’re saying?” “Nope!” Logan had the same bizarre glint in his eyes. “We were all… affected by what that man said, Patton.” “Yeah, but I got over it,” he kept grinning. Fake, fake, /fake/. Thomas apparently had enough of his crap. “Talk.” “Is it so hard to believe that?” his voice broke at the last words, and that made Virgil’s heart twist in his chest. “/Talk/.” The grin was now a grimace, until it /crashed/. Shoulders sagged. Brows furrowed and eyes dimmed. /That/ was it. The emotion he saw on the other two’s eyes. “It’s really n-no big deal,” Patton stuttered, stubborn. Virgil had never seen this side of him, and he never wanted to again. “I’m not alright,” he spoke suddenly, but smiled wobbly /again/. “I’m half left.” The dad joke caused everyone (but Thomas), even /Logan/, to giggle, but their eyes were betrayed otherwise. Logan immediately covered his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing further. Virgil felt his heartbeat quicken. His face heated up. “Could you stop? For once?” Patton blinked rapidly in response. Virgil’s chest tightened. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Morality.” Patton looked to Thomas, the others following suit. It is rare for him to call Patton that. “I said, talk.” Patton’s face twisted, and he placed his palms against his face. Roman stepped forward instantly, his arms stretched towards him, his hands opening and closing erratically. He was the only one who dared move from his spot. He took Patton’s hands in his and lowered them, showing the tears treading his cheeks. “Why would you hide from us…? Do you not… trust us?” The last words were almost whispered, Roman’s voice cracking slightly. Virgil saw how his moves were gentle instead of harsh, trembling instead of strong. Was he that hurt from that? Patton looked away, sniffing. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it, then tried again. “He c-called us f-faggot and b-b—” “We realize—” Logan cleared his throat when his voice broke. “We realize that.” “No.” Virgil shrunk in his hoodie, loathing everything about this. “Let him.” “I thought he would stop,” continued Patton, his voice shaking as much as Roman’s shoulders. “I thought we could just walk away. F-forgive him or something.” He choked on a sob. “I couldn’t. I /can’t/.” Another sob, and then another, until they racked his body, and Roman and Thomas embraced him at once. Roman started sobbing as well. Logan turned away, took his glasses off, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His shoulders hunched over. Virgil sat (or collapsed) to the floor, the weight increasing and becoming too much. He remembered every single detail of everything he had done wrong. Every sign that the others could be hurting that he completely ignored. He had failed. He bit his fist, trying to block out the pathetic whimper that came out, but there was Roman, spreading his arm toward him. Reaching for him. Through the brimming tears, his cheeks widened into a smile, and he took it. Roman immediately pulled him to them. And for the first time, he melted into the many limbs that held him, sighing. Too many feelings to count swirled through his mind, but the only thing that made sense was the embrace. He decided to focus on that. Until he couldn’t. Thoughts invaded, and they weren’t the anxious, paranoid ones. Those he could handle. No. These were everything that made him simultaneously smile and sob, and that’s what he did. A headache formed and bile rose up in his throat. He pulled away, Patton and Thomas asking for him, but then he heard a bloodcurdling scream. He opened his eyes, only now realizing he had closed them. Roman gripped his hair, not caring for his appearance. Sweat brimmed on his brow. And out tumbled words Virgil never even /dreamed/ he’d say. “I’m so sorry.” He hiccuped, moaned. “I’ve done disgusting things to all of you. I’ve been cruel and /evil/—” “Stop,” pleaded Logan. Manic laughter suddenly escaped his lips, but they just as quickly turned to sobs. “Just stop.” Patton cradled himself, looking even more lost and guilty than before, and Virgil shuddered severely. If he saw any more pain in any of the others, he might as well pick up the knife and slit a vein. “I’m getting you the hell out of here!” yelled Thomas, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. They sank out in a flash. XxX They literally collapsed on the floor of the living room once they came. Virgil didn’t feel as desperate to… do /that/, but he still trembled, tears slipping out. He crawled away and curled on the floor, breathing heavily, trying to calm with the warmth provided by the hoodie. He heard a distant voice. “… not working!” The voice was freaking out. He didn’t remember why.

Patton’s own eyes watered at that one sentence, and he curled besides him. “I can’t believe you guys think I’m worth all that.”

“You are,” insisted Thomas, who rubbed Roman’s back. Now that the tears subsided a little, and Virgil could see clearly, he saw how disheveled Roman really was; his hair askew, his attire crumpled, and his face flushed. He clutched his chest as if his heart would fail from all the pain. Virgil could relate.

He looked over to Logan, who sat with his knees against his torso, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes empty.

Virgil sat up lethargically. “You okay?”

His eyes slipped to Virgil, but he didn’t answer. His lips formed another lifeless grin.

Virgil looked away. Seeing Logan like this was horrifying.

“Come here, guys.” Thomas smiled feebly, spreading his arms.

Patton complied immediately; even though Roman was two inches away from Thomas, he was second to embrace him. Virgil stumbled over and hugged them without the shame from before.

And finally, Logan came, his posture a little more controlled than before, and he sat with them, leaning his head on Roman’s back.

They stayed like this for what seemed like forever.

But it was nice. Peaceful. If a jerk was the cause of something that warmed Virgil’s heart, then he supposed he should feel a bit grateful.

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