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kodzukyan · 3 years ago

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better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

#baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokrev x reader #baji fluff #baji angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #i... i just really miss baji :(#come home you stinky head </3 #i'm sorry if he's ooc :(( in my head he's just really dorky and soft w his s/o HAHA #rissa told me to make it angst so i made it angst 👍#sometimes i write things

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rigelmejo · 2 years ago

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Random things.

1. I read an article about a guy who learned 2000 Chinese words from memrise then dove into reading with Pleco to help and it took him not very long like 1-2 years. I pretty much attempted to do what he did (but I read less graded readers, pushed into webnovels faster, read a quick explanation of the radicals and hanzi construction that took a couple hours to digest, and did one Tuttle Learn Chinese Characters 800 hanzi book and read a grammar guide, I did the Ben Whatley memrise decks like him but otherwise did my own study books/websites plan). And the thing was? It worked. He took 30 ish hours and I took Maybe 20 hours to read the Tuttle book slowly, 4 hours to read a grammar guide, and a combined probably 30 hours like him (2 weeks for the first 1000 then over a month period for the 2nd thousand). So maybe 54 hours for me to prepare for reading and recognizing 2000 words and a decent number of hanzi, which was enough to push into webnovel reading with tools like Pleco.

I learned from the experience: learning is easier than people like to make it out to be (people sometimes love to paint chinese and Japanese as Incredibly Difficult and like you won't be reading novels for 4-5 years if even then, unless you study 6 hours a day.... for reference I studied generally 1-2 hours a day on average and only got to around HSK 3-4 when I started reading at 5 months in, and Japanese I am only like N4-N3 level and beginning to read and I only studied 15-30 minutes a day on average so a very doable 1-2 hours a day would make someone reach reading faster than my 5 year point lol). And also if I challenge myself to do what someone else did. Sometimes it works out

2. There's a LOT of free reading app tools for chinese. Don't feel you have to buy a paid one like LingQ or Readibu (though if you like the paid ones and they suit you please enjoy them). Pleco is phenomenal (and added Google translate for sentences so it officially handles both words ans sentences like Readibus paid version, also can read words and text aloud and has a built in srs flashcard and wordlisr system if you want it), Idiom is free (and has youtube videos with click dictionaries too, does read aloud, word translation, webpage reading, but not ideal translations - same quality translation as LingQ), Mandarinspot.com (for computer and phone/tablet web browser, does good translations and pinyin - good for people who would like pinyin), Zhongwen extension (for computer only but quite good, similar to MandarinspReading. Also depending on your phone, if you have Google translate app you can highlight any word/sentence etc when reading and get a definition - its Google translate so not perfect quality but as good as Readibu or LingQ but free. Again, with Google translate on your phone, these click translations should work in reader apps like Moonreader+ too. In addition some reader apps have built in dictionaries (I had Kybook reader for ios before and it was excellent, Kindle app has built in dictionaries which is nice, Moonreader+ can import dictionaries I think). Then paid options like LingQ, Readibu. So you don't have to wait until you're a strong reader to start. Click dictionary tools make it easier to look up words quickly as you read.

3. Not an ideal tip for everyone but. Pleco and Google Translate have hanzi writing recognition for lookup. I find Google translate tends to struggle less to identify hanzi even if you write them in the wrong stroke order (though the closer your stroke order is to correct the easier these apps recognize the hanzi you mean). When watching a show, handwriting lookup in apps is convenient when you don't know the pinyin. Google translate has a camera feature for word lookup for print books, or a paused screen with chinese subs. These are quick options to see if you roughly got the gist. When reading manhua, the handwriting lookup option helps if you don't have a guess of the pinyin. And as your pronunciation gets better, speaking word lookup works great for fast lookups (but beware if a novel writer or show says a really bizarre phrase then Google translate tends to assume you meant something less uncommon, in which case sometimes hanzi by hanzi input either writing, speaking, typing etc is easier).

#rant #article #chinese reference #reading

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

The sequel y’all were waiting for! (@hoppe-ideas)

Day 11: ‘Choose your own adventure’ day! I chose to continue from Day 9, since I couldn’t very well leave it there.

Content warning: allusions to abuse, Remus being Remus (need I elaborate?), implied past panic attack, mention of bipolar disorder, and of course, Janus’ crippling insecurities. Angst with a happy ending.

Word count: 4k

*READ DAY 9 FIRST*

Blue: What time are you available?

Green: What is this, a doctor’s office? I’m free after lunch

Blue: I was merely tr

Green: I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. It’s endearing, my little mocking-nerd. Bring your textbook, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. It’s octopus learning time!

Blue: I will never understand you.

Green: Good

He drew a crude rendering of the devil emoji, then a heart, and the conversation ended as quickly as it began.

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

Green: What would happen if you injected coca cola into your bloodstream

Blue: No.

Green: It’s just a question!

Blue: I’m assuming you would die.

Green: Damn. Can we try anyways?

Blue: No!

Green: C’mon, for science?

Blue: NO! Why did this question even arise?!

Janus hid a small chuckle, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. Even if the writing was as much on his arm as it was theirs, it still felt wrong to read it. Felt wrong to admit that he was starting to enjoy their shenanigans.

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

Green: Hey

Blue: Hello, my dear. What is so important that you couldn’t text me?

Green: my mom broke my phone and I’m having an attack

Janus sat straight up, his calligraphy pen clattering to the floor, effectively ruining the large swooping letters he was working on with a splattered gold streak. This was the first message the two had shared that wasn’t either Blue’s notes about homework or Green’s odd creative ideas, or cheesy conversations between the two that Janus tended not to read. It felt like intruding on someone’s life. He hadn’t learned their names yet, and while they always stuck to the same color scheme, he knew at this point he’d be able to distinguish their handwriting with no hesitation. It was his version of hearing their voices, and he’d started growing attached to them. He turned his full attention to the conversation on the back of his arm, feeling a surge of worry.

Blue: I’m on my way, be at the curb in ten minutes?

Green: thanks

Blue: Remember those breathing exercises. Try to stay calm.

Green: please hurry

Blue: I’m driving as fast as I can, love.

The messages ended there, and Janus didn’t sleep that night.

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

Blue: Happy birthday, Remus. I hope you have an amazing day.

Remus: Are we still good to go for tonight?

Blue: Of course. I had Roman and Patton help plan most of the date, so I hope you enjoy it.

Remus: Logan, if it’s with you, I will~

Logan: You’re a sap.

Remus: And you love it

Logan: Guilty.

Never had Janus felt so alone. It was one thing to have anonymous messages scribbled on your arm, little doodles and good luck wishes, but to know their names? That brought on a whole new round of tears that he hated himself for. Remus and Logan. The names of his so-called soulmates, the labels he could finally put to the personalities. As much as he hated to admit it, waking up had become a whole lot easier since they’d started appearing on his skin. It was something little to look forward to.

It also hurt, just a little bit more. Before he was eighteen, he’d been able to imagine his situation like his parent’s, with a soulmate who would end up hating and hurting him, and it was easy to decide to never communicate when the time arrived. And even if they seemed like genuinely good people, every time he lifted a pen to respond, to announce his presence, he stopped himself, as his father’s words rang through his head.

Why would anyone want you, Janus?

You’re a mistake, and they’ll see that instantly.

Honestly, what good do you even have to offer a soulmate?

He didn’t want them to be true, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever told him differently. His mother avoided his eyes and was silent, his peers treated him like a disease, so those words were the ones he started to believe. So he capped the pen, pulled his sleeve down, and ignored the small feather light tickles as they spread across his arms.

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

Of course, it wasn’t avoidable forever.

It was writing on skin, did he think that was something he would never do accidentally? Was he really that stupid? They were going to be so pissed when they found out how long he’d been snooping on their conversations. They’d hate him. They’d never be open to the idea that he was somehow meant to be in their lives. He was done. He was such an idiot.

These were the thoughts raging through his mind as he looked down over himself in shock, spilled amber ink shimmering on his skin. It was an accident; an opening of an ink pod combined with over enthusiastic dancing to the Chicago soundtrack, leading to a faltering concentration and skin covered in staining gold. He’d been sitting cross legged on his chair when the cartridge exploded, and he’d bounded to his bathroom to try and wash it off, but it had only been partially successful. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see it. It had covered a good majority of today’s messages on his arms, smeared across his shins from hurriedly trying to wipe it away, and speckled across his face like the world’s most unfortunate freckles.

He dropped back into his chair, his music now turned off, and laid his head on the cool wood of his desk. The ticking on his clock was the only sound in the room and he counted each one, mentally marking the minutes as they passed by. Waiting. Five minutes of silent fear had passed before a new anxiety began to rise in him. What if they were his soulmates, but he wasn’t theirs? He’d heard of it happening, ever so rarely, that soulmarks weren’t reciprocated. If that was true for him, and he was starting to become sure it was, they wouldn’t see the ink. They never would. He would be forced to live the rest of his life on the outside, reading their life on his skin but never able to take part. Somehow that seemed a lot worse now that it wasn’t his choice.

Just as he was starting to spiral, a familiar tickle on his arm snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, hair falling into his heterochromatic eyes as he followed the dark blue script, starting just under the largest golden spill.

Hello?

And how should he respond to that? He couldn’t think of a fun one liner, a sassy quip, to introduce himself. For the first time in his life, lying wasn’t an option, and he hated that. He grabbed the first pen he could grab, a black ballpoint, with shaking fingers.

Hi. Well, that was lame.

You’re our soulmate. It was less of a question, more of a statement. Janus took a deep breath, bringing the pen down again.

Yes.

I’m sorry. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But it felt right. Apologizing was simply second nature to him.

Whatever for?

He didn’t know how to answer that time, so he did what he always did best, and watched. Waited again, hoping that Blue (Logan, he remembered vaguely), would just drop the subject. This was the most conversation he’d had with someone in a while.

My name’s Remus. The other dork is Logan.

The green ink appeared under the blue, and Janus’ heart dropped painfully in his chest. As if he didn’t already know their names. It’s not as if he could say that, though.

You seem kinda shy. It’s cute

Let them speak, Remus.

Both of them went silent, offering time to allow Janus to write. But he didn’t know what to say, how to explain…

So he didn’t. He yanked down the sleeves of his pajama top, pulling the edges over his hands to hide the now dried golden ink, and collapsed onto his bed, dooming himself to another night of restless sleep.

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

If Janus had the choice, he wouldn’t have gone to school the next day. He would have laid curled up under his blanket, struggling to tune out the sound of his parents arguing, letting the world pass him by like an old camera reel. Janus didn’t have the choice though, not when he remembered it was nearing the end of the year and exam season was drawing closer, and then the bickering downstairs became motivation. Good grades would equal an out-of-state college, which would mean getting away from thrown dishes and slamming doors.

Even so, that didn’t mean that Janus didn’t regret the entire day of school. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when the lunch bell rang and the students shuffled out of the class in a lump, leaving just him and Mr. Sanders behind, as per usual. Just as he reached down to pull his lunch out of his bag (just a handful of cold scrambled eggs he had set aside from his already meager breakfast), the teacher spoke.

“I actually have a meeting today, Jay. You’re gonna have to find a different place to have lunch.”

“What?” Janus recoiled as he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He hadn’t meant to talk back, half expecting a lecture, and was surprised when the teacher’s expression morphed into one of sympathy.

“Sorry, bud. It’s a staff meeting, and I couldn’t find a TA to watch the room over the break. It’s only for today. Cafeteria is open though, I’m sure you can find an empty table there. Or better yet,” He smiled softly, lifting his laptop bag onto his shoulder, “Sit with someone. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Janus picked up his bag as well, rushing from the room without a second glance. He didn’t feel like explaining that the reason he sat alone wasn’t his choice, and he couldn’t help it. He was just tired of being pushed away, so why not make the first move himself.

The path to the cafeteria was hardly trodden by him, and he tried to take in the pictures of past grad classes on the wall for as long as possible before his time was up. The security guard marching the halls gave him a pointed look, reminding him that he couldn’t stay in the hallways during lunch, so he hunched his shoulders and walked into the lunch room. He cursed the weather under his breath for being so damn hot today; he would melt in his hoodie and gloves to cover the ink. Luckily the splatters on his face blended in enough with the skin tone to be unnoticeable.

The first thing he noticed is that it was loud. People shouted, trays clattered, and Janus wanted nothing more than to curl up in his hoodie. Social interaction. Gross. The second was that Mr. Sanders had been right, there was a line of empty tables at the back that people seemed to avoid in favor of grouping together in the center. The third and final thing was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that flooded Janus as soon as he walked in. Sitting alone in an empty room was one thing, choosing to sit alone in a crowded room was another.

For a split second, the teacher’s words ran through his mind, and he wondered briefly if he should join a group, only for his anxiety to immediately shut the idea down with a shriek of are you crazy?!

He chose the closest table to the door that was untouched and sat hesitantly, appetite lost. All he had to do was get through an hour of this, he thought painfully. If he paid close enough attention, he could tune into other people’s conversations, and if he closed his eyes and drifted far enough, he might actually imagine that he was a part of them.

“Hi!”

Janus’ eyes shot open and he shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. Standing in front of him was a guy he recognized from his math class, bouncing on his heels enough to make his blonde curls fall into his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear, gleaming teeth matching the white collar that stood out from under his blue sweater.

“Do you want to sit with us?”

His critical glare didn’t deter the overly joyful guy as he gestured over Janus’ shoulder, encouraging him to look. He did, albeit reluctantly. Four people were sitting at the table behind him, three caught up in a spirited conversation. The last one was staring back at him owlishly through thick square glasses, and surprisingly, Janus wasn’t unsettled by the look.

“Come sit with us!” The happy guy said again, looking like he was refraining himself from just grabbing Janus and pulling him over. His round glasses had started edging down his nose as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Please?” He drew out the word for several seconds. Janus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, nodding mutely and gathering his backpack. His anxiety started again, pelting him with ‘they’re going to hate you’s and ‘this changes nothing’s, but he pushed them down resolutely. It was just the one meal. Tomorrow would be back to normal, eating lunch by himself in Mr. Sanders’ room. And he really couldn’t say no to that hopeful face.

“Yay! Okay,” He led Janus to the table, dropping into one of the two empty seats and pointing to the one next to him. He took a deep breath before gushing on, “Sit! Okay, okay, okay, so I’m Patton, purple-hair is Virgil but they hate the name so you can just call them V. We all call them V. That’s Logan, and the twins are Roman and Remus. Remus has the white streak, but it’s actually really easy to tell them apart once you get to know them.”

Janus’ blood froze in the middle of Patton’s gleeful rant. Those names… those were all the names that kept popping up over the five months of secret soulmate snooping. That wasn’t a coincidence, right? Most of those names weren’t exactly common.

His eyes shifted to the two Patton had introduced as Remus and Logan, sitting shoulder to shoulder across from him. Remus had halted whatever he was talking so animatedly about in favor of greeting the newcomer, but Janus couldn’t get himself to wave back. Instead he dropped his gaze to their loosely intertwined hands on the table, feeling somewhat lightheaded at the identical golden stains covering both of them.

So... he ran. He wasn’t proud of it, and he was somewhat certain that he’d made a scene, but he couldn’t do it. His own self doubt was crippling, all his fears rushing him full forced and reminding him just how little he mattered, how messed up his life had made him, how he would only ruin any possible relationship. This was all too real now. They fit so well to the picture he had unintentionally made of them in his mind; navy blue button up tops and slicked back hair, green bomber jackets and mussed up shoulder length curls. Eyes that glinted with barely concealed mirth, a dimpled grin revealing almost razor sharp canines. Two polar opposites, so perfectly built for each other, soulmates. He would just come along and ruin it.

Screw the sun, he thought, as he sat on the scalding hot bleachers by the football field. To his extreme annoyance, tears had started drifting down his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away from sheer habit. His dad didn’t like tears almost as much as he didn’t like Janus. It wasn’t like they would know it was him, right? All they knew was a stranger had been invited to their table and had booked it before they even got his name. So he could stay a mystery, a fly on the wall, for the rest of his days.

The all too familiar feeling on his arm was more of a curse now than it ever had been. Resigned to his fate, he rolled the sleeve up to read whatever the two were no doubt talking about.

Hi.

He looked around frantically despite his better judgment, his eyes landing on a figure standing at the end of the bench, uncapped pen in one hand and one blue sleeve rolled up. Logan regarded him with a careful look, locked in a staring contest that neither wanted to look away from. The other broke first, turning his focus to his steps across the rickety surface as he approached Janus. He took a seat, mumbling something about how hot it was, before scribbling something else onto his arm and capping the pen. Janus tried to fight the urge to look down at his own still-bare arm, but he couldn’t resist a quick peak.

I found him. Bleachers in the north field.

“Why don’t you take off the gloves, at least. It’s almost ninety degrees out.”

Welp. Apparently this was happening. “How did you know?” He whispered, not touching his gloves.

“Remus and I both felt naturally drawn to you as soon as you walked into the cafeteria. We could not and still can not explain it. When Patton followed our gaze, he was more than eager to invite you over. Not that he needed the prompting, I am certain he would have invited you over regardless of Remus’ and my feelings the moment you sat alone,” Logan stopped briefly, taking note of the new green smiley face under his last message, “Your reaction to our names and hands in rapid succession was enough to solidify our previous suspicions. That-” He pointed to the shared messages on their skin, “-was the final proof I needed.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Janus at a complete loss for words, until a loud clang to their right grabbed both of their attentions. Remus was clinging to the railing like a vine, having climbed all the way from the bottom, he realized with a start. The older man crawled over the top and landed solidly, rattling the seats, before bouncing over to them.

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!” He plopped onto the bench in front of Janus, sitting backwards to face them. Consequently, he was slightly lower than the other two, and could see Janus’ usually ducked face for the first time. “Oooh, I like your birthmark! Is it a birthmark? Or a burn? Either way, I don’t care. I like it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Janus snarked before he could stop himself, his self protective tendency rising to the surface. Remus only giggled in response, manspreading a tad more and leaning forward on his elbows.

“I like him, Logan. He’s feisty.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval.” He was on guard now, he couldn’t help it.

“Remus, stop pestering him. He just met us.”

Remus grumbled under his breath but held his tongue. Logan could silence him, he’d have to remember that for the future. If they had a future. He couldn’t help the sliver of hope since they had actually come to find him… but maybe it was to let him down easy. No clue.

“When did you turn eighteen?” The question shouldn’t have shocked him the way it did; it was a valid thought.

“Five months ago.”

And he waited, expecting the worst at the sharp intakes of breath from both of them. Expected them to stand up and leave. Expected them to call him a creep. Expected them to… anything, really.

Well, anything except take his hands. Which they both did.

It was like they could speak telepathically, the way they seemed to be so in sync. Maybe that was a soulmate thing. Remus reached forward and weaved their fingers together at the same time that Logan placed his hand over Janus’ left one, squeezing it gently. They were both calming gestures in their own ways, and admittedly the most contact Janus had felt in maybe years. If that wasn’t enough to bring back his tears, Logan’s next words certainly were.

“Why didn’t you write right away?”

“That’s so much missed time we could have spent together,” Remus chipped in, eyes surprisingly soft.

“I…” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Better let them see how messed up he is now so they can walk away before he gets attached. More attached. “My parents are soulmates and they ended up hating each other. He’s a jerk, he hurts her and me and I didn’t want that to happen to me and my soulmate. Soulmates, I guess. Then the first thing I saw was you guys talking, and I realized, there’s two of you,” He laughed humorlessly, shrugging nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t be missing out if I never made myself known, and what kind of asshole would I be if I intruded on your relationship anyways? It’s not like I can add anything worthwhile. I’m not… that great of a person. I never have been. I have too much baggage and I’m pretty boring and I only scare people away so if I were you I’d get out while I had the chance.” His cracking voice gave away how he actually felt, and he despised himself for it. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to be held and loved and wanted. He’d never had that before in his life, was it a crime to not want to be pushed aside forever?

To his utter confusion, neither of them pulled away. He’d just vented to two strangers, and they were still as attentive as before.

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Remus hummed in a decent impression of John Mulaney, letting his thumb glide over Janus’.

“So if I’m correct,” Logan stated in a tone that implied he usually was correct, “You didn’t contact us because you didn’t want to burden us, or get yourself hurt.”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I’m going to kill your dad,” Remus chirped all too brightly, “For hurting you. And for ever making you think that we would hurt you.”

“Remus!”

“It’s true!”

Logan sighed heavily, “Remus is a little extreme, sometimes, but he is harmless. Look, I can assure you that your presumptions are entirely false. We would never harm you, and anything you’ve gone through in your past, what you call baggage, is not a deterrent to us in the slightest.”

“I have bipolar disorder, and a whole wacky past that we’ll get into another time,” Remus added, waving away Logan’s ‘shut up’ face, “And in the fifteen years I’ve known this nerd, he’s always stood by me.”

Janus knew it was supposed to feel better, but learning that the two have known each other since long before they knew they were soulmates suddenly made Janus feel that much more like he was intruding. Remus must have noticed his expression, because he quickly kept going.

“All I mean is that we have our fair share of baggage, my multicolored friend-”

“Remus!”

“Both of us do. So you won’t be hurting us in any way, shape, or form. And we won’t hurt you either.”

Janus’ own doubts were still raging inside him, but each word they said was adding splashes of water, slowly dousing the flames, much to his dismay. Even Remus’ attempts at humor were delighting him in ways he wasn’t used to.

“For some reason, the universe wants us together somehow. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Aw gross, that sounds like something Roman would-”

“Trusting us will be a slow process, and we understand that,” Logan interrupted smoothly, “You don’t need to believe our words, because we’ll prove it to you. Alright?”

It took a second until Janus nodded, but he did. He could hardly understand it himself.

“Can you start by telling us your name?”

“Janus.” It was a near whisper, a confession of the name he’d disliked since he was old enough to get bullied by his peers.

“The two faced Roman god of decisions, doorways, and new beginnings,” Logan spouted as if on instinct.

“Janus,” Remus repeated slowly, before a huge grin stretched across his face, “I love it.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #intruloceit #janus sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au

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hystericalweenie · 5 years ago

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Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part One: The Beginning

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!!

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I flattened my skirt with nervous hands in which had already clammed up with excitement. The day had finally come where I’d start my new job as print journalist at Essence, a small but ever-growing lifestyle magazine company. My heels clacked against the wood floor as I quietly greeted the receptionist before making my way into the elevator. Pressing the button with my knuckle and waiting for the doors to open, I found myself playing with the ruffled sleeves of my blouse, seeking something to pass the inevitable time in which my impatience could not handle. Once the doors had opened, I quickly slid inside—pressing the third floor button almost immediately—before taking this intermission as a chance to double-check my appearance.

I used the front camera on my phone as a mirror, as I played with my hair, making sure it fell in the same loose waves I had styled before I left my apartment that morning. I also made sure the subtle lip stain that tinted my lips was still in tact as well, making me smile in content at my reflection before putting my phone away in my purse as the elevator doors opened again, revealing my arrival to my destination. I took a left, approaching Lauren Sawyer’s office, the CEO of the company, just like I’d done for my interview. Although the rollercoaster-falling feeling in my stomach was similar to the feeling I’d had during the interview, this was a different kind of excitement; now, I actually had the job. With three knocks to her wooden door and a few seconds of the somehow-intimidating door staring back at me, she swung the door opened and smiled in realization of my presence.

“Y/n, welcome to the office!” she greeted me proudly, holding her hand out to shake.

“Officially this time,” I added with a toothy smile, grabbing her hand to reciprocate her firm shake.

“I cannot wait to show you your new desk and give you an official tour of the building!” She gushed, exiting her office and heading straight down the minute hallway to the right of the elevator, which then opened up to a wide room with multiple rows of desks.

The left wall had exposed brick with huge windows lining the whole thing, looking out to the busy streets of New York. The entire room was filled with the sounds of people typing on their keyboards, but it was the perfect welcoming for my writer’s soul.

“I want you to meet a few people before we get started,” she informed me, leading me up past rows and rows of people, taking turns staring at their computer screens and keyboards back and forth with focus written on their facial features.

She walked in between rows of people working and typing away, some looking up from their screens and glancing at the new presence. The rows consisted of tables large enough to fit about three people on each side, facing towards each other with their computers dividing them. She finally came to a stop to a woman in a floral dress and short ginger hair. She had big, black headphones sitting on her head as she stared at the screen in front of her while she typed quickly. As she finally noticed Lauren and I, she quickly grasped the headphones and tore them off of her head, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you guys,” she apologized with a soft voice.

“No need to apologize for being focused,” Lauren gleamed at her. She gestured her arm out to me. “This is Y/n, she’s a new print journalist.”

I stuck my hand out, which the girl gladly took into her own with a gentle shake. She looked young, looking about my age, maybe even younger.

“I’m Faith,” she introduced, before returning her delicate hand to her lap.

“Faith is another one of our print journalists. She’s been working here for about two years now, so if you have any questions, she’ll be able to answer them for you. I think you two will get along lovely,” Lauren informed me.

After introducing me to Faith, she introduced me to the other print journalists for the company, some of which I could tell took their job more seriously than others. Then, she introduced me to the editors. She walked over to a desk where a brunette male sat, seeming to be multitasking by sipping at a coffee and typing at the same time.

“This is Dean, he’s one of our sub-editors. His job is to make sure our print journalists, like you, compose work that’s grammatically and factually correct. He works closely with the art team as well, to make sure the images and words compliment each other perfectly,” she explained.

“Don’t make me sound too perfect, you know I’m always screwin’ around with George,” he joked, making Lauren roll her eyes. With this, he revealed a thick British accent, startling me.

“Sometimes I wish that sub-editors didn’t have to work so closely with the art team,” she sighed, laughing. “If you find yourself working with him, you’ll no doubt find yourself meeting George, too; I can’t seem to separate the pair, it’s like trying to separate two best friends from working on a school project together.”

“Hey, we accomplish loads together! We’re a great team, George and I,” he defended.

“He’s right,” she said in defeat, looking at me. “But I won’t admit that to him.” She winked.

After leaving the brunette to his work, she gave me a tour of the whole building before finally showing me to my desk. It sat next to the window, and there was enough individual space that I could decorate with a few things. It wasn’t ideal for my mild claustrophobia, but it was manageable. I was at least thankful I wasn’t sat in the middle of the row, with people on both sides of me.

I also ended up being sat across from Dean, the brunette sub-editor. I didn’t mind, I thought she’d actually given me an advantage, being physically close to someone I’d have to work closely with. Lauren had also informed me that there would be a meeting with the journalists and editors in an hour from then about new content ideas, which would be a good experience for me to listen to and take mental notes. About ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, Dean stood up and offered me to join him for the meeting, as he figured I may have trouble remembering where the specific conference room was; I hadn’t been able to memorize the complicated large building yet, anyway. I accepted his invitation, and followed him through a hallway.

“Lauren’s kind of shit at training new people,” he confessed, leading me through the twists and turns of the building.

“I’m not even sure where to get started,” I admitted, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I’m sure one of the other writers can help you with that,” he elaborated. “I can help you with the process of sending the writing to the sub-editors, but I don’t have much knowledge about the actual writing aspect.”

He stopped in front of a door, opening it for me, revealing others I’d previously met, all sat at a long table. The table faced a whiteboard with messy handwriting already scribbled onto it. He pulled a seat out for me, making me blush and seat myself before he took a seat next to me. The head editor I’d been introduced to earlier strolled into the room alongside her PA, her assistant, who scurried over to an empty seat with a laptop. The head editor, who I’d forgotten and was reminded of her name Connie, cleared her throat before starting the meeting.

She began by explaining that they were in need of article ideas for the following weeks. She started with the beauty and fashion editors, as we all listened to them pitch ideas. It was interesting, hearing the pop culture references they were coming up with, as this had been new territory compared to my last job. Once they had come up with ideas and deadlines, she focused on the article ideas for the journalists.

Faith, the ginger-fellow-journalist, cleared her throat before speaking. “I was actually able to get in contact with one of the producers of The Bachelor, and I was thinking of conducting a Skype interview.”

“That’s wonderful! Get that interview scheduled as soon as possible and let’s talk about deadlines later,” Connie ordered, in awe of Faith’s plan.

Other journalists began speaking up, all trying to impress Connie just as much as Faith had. With the pressure and the new environment, I wasn’t able to come up with anything myself. My silence caught Connie’s attention, dragging her emerald eyes toward my shy y/e/c ones.

“I don’t expect you to come up with anything just yet, Y/n; after all, it is your first day,” she reassured me. “However, make sure you use this week to your advantage by taking notes. And, I expect a pitch from you next week.”

I nodded sharply at her instructions, before listening in on the rest of the pitches and deadline dates. She called the meeting to an end soon enough, everyone exiting the room at once in attempt to get to their keyboards as quickly as possible. I followed behind Dean quietly, mind filled with endless thoughts concluding my first meeting at Essence. Dean could sense this, as he spoke up once we’d gotten back to our desks.

“Connie can be a bit intense.” His thick British accent seeping through.

I laughed dryly. “You think?”

I began looking and reading through articles on the Essence website, taking notes. I’d made a separate document page for these specific notes, leaving specific quotations that inspired me and that I felt were important for me to remember. After reading for hours and ignoring the strain in my eyes, I was interrupted by the grumbling of my stomach. I frowned, looking at the small clock in the corner of my computer screen. It read 1:03 pm, meaning I’d missed lunch. I got up from my seat and walked over to the cafeteria, relying on my memory as navigation. The small “cafeteria” held a snack bar, a cabinet set filled with snacks and food, and other kitchen supplies like a fridge, sink, and a microwave.

I decided to make myself a salad from the snack bar and adding a side of cashews to keep me full until dinner. I brought the plate back to my desk and went on my phone, replying back to the texts my roommate had sent me throughout the morning.

“Y/n, what’s your email?”

I looked up from my phone screen and to the brunette across from me, swallowing the bits of lettuce that I’d been chewing for longer than usual.

“Just for the future,” he added to normalize his question. I nodded quickly and looked around for something to write on.

“Right, um...” I grabbed a sticky-note from my purse and scribbled my email address onto it before reaching over and handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he stuck the sticky-note onto the table next to his keyboard and resumed typing.

I turned my attention back onto my salad and my phone screen, continuing to digitally converse with my roommate. My phone buzzed with an email notification, as my head spun to my computer screen. I opened up a new tab, signing into my email in curiosity. I clicked on the new email from the email address “deanchapman7″. Opening up the email, there was a meme image with nothing else attached. I laughed out loud, bringing my hand to my mouth at the sudden reaction. I leaned over to look at him, biting back giggles, as he looked at me innocently.

“What's so funny?” he smirked.

I shook my head before searching through the memes on my phone, sending myself one of my favorites, before sending it to him. As soon as I heard his mouse click, he snorted and leaned over to look at me from his computer. I copied his previous innocent composure.

“What’s so funny?” I chewed on my lip. He rolled his eyes, before returning his blue irises back to his screen.

I brought my eyes back to my phone screen, immediately telling my roommate that I’d made a new friend already. With a finished lunch and some more note-taking, the day came to an end as I watched the sun set on the city through the window beside me; that was something I could get used to.

The next day, I had a full day of note-taking ahead of me that I couldn’t say I was looking forward to. I greeted the brunette across from me, as he sipped at his coffee and waved back at me silently, acknowledging my presence but was too caught up in his work to carry a conversation at that moment. I opened my document and pulled up some more articles and began my venture into more endless note-taking. I’d also taken a break to order a pair of Bluetooth headphones from Amazon, since most of my coworkers seemed to have them on their head while working. I wondered if they were listening to music or a podcast while working, and if so, then maybe that helped them focus.

I watched over as Dean aggressively typed across from me before groaning and covering his face with his palms. He rubbed his eyes, standing up and exiting the office, heading down one of the hallways. I bit my lip in curiosity at this sudden outburst, but returned to my work.

“Excuse me?”

I looked up across from me to see a tall man leaning against Dean’s desk, looking at me. He had dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in frustration.

I cleared my throat. “Uhm, yes?”

“Have you seen Dean anywhere? I need to talk to him about something, but he hasn’t been answering my emails,” he surprised me with his British accent, matching Dean’s. Do a lot of people have British accents here?

“Uh,” I stuttered, trying to come up with words as his facial features distracted me. His hair was styled upwards, strands forming soft waves. “He just left not too long ago.” I blurted, pointing towards the hallway in which Dean had exited to.

The man sighed, running his hand through his hair and flaring his nostrils.

“When he comes back, can you tell him that George was here looking for him?”

“Yes, of course,” my voice hitting a pitch slightly higher than my normal tone. I watched as he stomped away, before stopping in his tracks and turning on his heel, facing me once again. I felt a lump in my throat as his irises scanned my face.

“Are you new here?” he asked, his previous frustration washed away as his tone sounded more innocent this time.

I nodded, trying my best not to blush under his stare.

“I started here yesterday, I’m a new print journalist,” I stated, trying to sound as professional as I could with his attention on me.

“I’m George, I’m Dean’s mate; I’m the art director here.” He leant forward onto Dean’s desk again, sticking out his hand for me to shake it.

So that’s George. I grabbed his hand and gave it a delicate shake, watching as he maintained eye contact for a moment before letting go.

“Judging where he left, I’m thinking he went to go find me,” George laughed, running another hand through his hair and resting the other on his hip. I stared at his navy blue button up, which fit him just right, and his slacks. My eyes traveled to his belt before quickly looking away and mentally cursing myself for looking at him so intimately.

“He seemed upset when he left,” I admitted, recalling his groan and the way he’d put his face in his hands.

“Ah,” George clicked his tongue. “That would be my fault. Well, not my fault, but the contents in my email regarding one of the picture editors. Long story short, someone fucked up and it interferes with his deadline. Poor bastard.”

“Jesus, that doesn't sound good,” I chewed on my lip, not quite sure what to say, but wanting to carry on the conversation.

He laughed, flashing a smile I wish I hadn’t seen, because it made him even more attractive. I was practically jelly in my chair at his point.

“Yeah, we’ll get it sorted out; we always do,” he confessed with a closed-lip smile. “Well, it was nice seeing you...”

“Y/n,” I introduced with a sheepish smile.

“Y/n,” he corrected himself. “Tell Dean I was lookin’ for him?”

I nodded. “Will do, as long as he’s not still pissed off; that was kind of scary.”

He laughed again, crinkles by his eyes appearing.

“Dean? Scary? Bloke’s a teddy bear!” he exclaimed. “Dean wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just gets overwhelmed sometimes, but what sub-editor doesn’t?”

I smiled at his comparison between Dean and a teddy bear. George was right, the brunette seemed extremely kind. I thought back to the day before, when he’d asked me for my email address to send me a meme. Suddenly, Dean appeared from the hallway he'd disappeared into earlier, widening his eyes at George.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, mate!”

“As have I,” George responded, a lot more calmly. “I met your new desk mate too, by the way, she's lovely.”

I could feel my cheeks turning scarlet at that point due to his compliment. His accent extended the weight of his words, and I knew there was no way I didn’t look like a tomato. Dean looked over to me and sent me a smile.

“Sorry about this idiot,” he glared at his friend, who rolled his eyes playfully.

“Let’s go to my office,” George suggested.

And with that, the boys took off toward the elevator. I watched as they walked together, backs turned towards me, before George turned his head to me for a moment, looking at me one last time before they disappeared. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath before I was practically gasping for air. My hands went to my cheeks, which to my expectations, were on fire. I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated with my cheeks habitually turning red every time I was in the least bit embarrassed.

I looked across from me at Dean’s empty desk, where George had been leaning against, looking at me, just minutes ago. I chewed on my bottom lip, remembering the way his hair looked, the way his hand felt, the way his eyes bore into mine. I had to pinch myself to discontinue the thoughts, remembering that I was at my job. He’s probably slept with every woman in this office, I thought to myself. That thought made me sick, sick enough to quiet my thoughts about him and resume my work. It wasn’t possible for a man that handsome to be such a gentlemen, there had to be something nasty about him. With the effect he had on me, I wondered if he used his charm on other girls in order to get them to sleep with him. That had to be it, right? I hoped that I wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, not sure what I’d do and what thoughts I’d have again. But a small part of me, deep down, begged to see him again.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #dean charles chapman #1917 #fanfic

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study-like-you-mean-it · 5 years ago

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things I wish I had known when starting a studyblr - study-like-you-mean-it

It’s been a looong time since I made this studyblr; I started it in Easter 2016, which means it’s over 3 years old now (which doesn’t seem like a lot but going from GCSEs to having finished the first year of university is a long journey). I thought I’d share a couple of things I’ve learned along the way, through trial and error (mostly error), and hopefully this will help some of you out! :)

Experiment with your look: It’s great if you settle into an aesthetic straight away and want to stick with it for the whole time you have your blog, and if that works for you, that’s great! If like me you want to keep trying out different styles, go with that (I still haven’t settled on an aesthetic and that’s chill)- most of the time, people will see your posts in isolation anyway so don’t put too much pressure on finding aesthetic cohesiveness

Don’t think you have to buy all the stationery: You’ll see a bunch of brand names popping up over and over again in people’s posts, and whilst brands like MUJI and mildliners may work for some, you absolutely do not need to buy all of these things in order to keep up a certain ideal aesthetic. I, for one, have strayed from mildliners and use stabilo pastel highlighters now, as they are cheaper and last longer. My go-to writing pen when I work is a BIC biro, which I bought in bulk so it costs 24p per pen. I do have MUJI pens for working on my bullet journal and the B4 notebooks for taking to lectures, but it’s really not necessary to cash out on all the kit in order to be a “legit” studyblr. All you need is a phone camera, a pen, and a piece of paper.

You don’t need the “studyblr” handwriting: Scrolling through the myriad of studyblr posts, it’s easy to become convinced that you need this stereotypical ultra-neat “studyblr” handwriting, and whilst it does look nice, it’s not the only handwriting that looks nice. I used to take ages to try and write my study notes out so that they conformed to this aesthetic, and it ended up slowing down my studying to the point that I never finished the notes or the material I wanted to cover in a given day. I also ended up making notes for the sake of studyblr posts that ended up not being an effective way for me to study (I learned this the hard way). I’m quite lucky in that my regular handwriting is quite consistent, but to be honest, the overall aesthetic of a post is more important, and sometimes this studyblr handwriting fits into the aesthetic, but I can guarantee it’s not a necessity and you don’t need to spend your time on it if your handwriting doesn’t look like that.

Composition and lighting are most important: Long story short, you can’t take a good photo of your notes if the composition and lighting aren’t there. Take a look through the most popular photo posts and you’ll see what I mean: it doesn’t matter what the actual content of the photo is, just that it looks nice overall. Again, this is a case of what kind of a look you’re going for: some posts will have this super clean, neat look with no shadows, and other will tactfully play with the shadows for a different kind of image. However, if the shadows in the picture don’t match the aesthetic you’re going for, or you try and edit them out after taking the photos, I can guarantee this is a recipe for disaster.

Edit, but don’t overedit: Everyone with a studyblr edits their photos. I personally use a combination of VCSO and Snapseed, and have been doing this for a while, but even then I often make errors in judgement about filter strength and editing, and sometimes my photos end up looking overprocessed and frankly unattractive. I have 11.5k followers, and even now I get posts with 0 reblogs because my photo editing has been so bad. It happens (and the posts get deleted once I realise), and that’s just something you just gotta keep trying at.

Be inspired by others: See something that you like that someone else is doing? There’s no harm in trying to recreate something similar yourself, as long as you’re not plagiarising or downright stealing.

Regularity is important, but you are more important: Obviously, uploading and/or reblogging content regularly is important to your blog. However, it’s a studyblr, and if you find that it’s getting in the way of doing actual work, there’s no harm in taking a break. I rarely upload during term time, or even in the holidays, because I’m so busy trying to get my actual life sorted and enjoying my university experience. For me, I worked the most on my studyblr last summer after I finished my A-Levels, and that’s when I experienced the most growth through very regular uploads (and since everyone else was also on their summer break, they had more time to spend on tumblr and see my content). From there, it’s just been growing by itself, and it’s almost 10x as big as it was in January of 2018. Don’t feel pressured to dedicate loads of time to producing content if you simply don’t have the time. If you’re a studyblr who reblogs rather than produces content, it’s always possible to just queue up stuff so it’s released regularly whilst you are working.

Stick at it: It took me over two years to experience any real growth, and by that time I’d poured many hours of work into it. Growth doesn’t come overnight, and no matter how hard you work, you’ve gotta keep working. My first text posts got 10k notes and that did almost nothing to my follower count. Keep going and it will happen, and when this happens, you’ll be able to reach out to more people, directly and indirectly, and it becomes an even more rewarding experience.

I hope this helps some of you, and as always, you can access my Redbubble store here, and if you think what I’m doing is kind of cool (and want to request content that becomes top of my priority list/support what I do), you can find my ko-fi link here (it’s like patreon but they don’t take commission).

#studyspo #studyblr #studylikeyoumeanit #text post #long post #advice #gcses #a levels #university #cambridge university #bullet journal #stationery #summer #work #studyblr tips #photo tips #photo editing

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crue-sixx · 5 years ago

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Kill The Bride

Title: Kill the Bride

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: You and Tommy have been married for a year, and you just found out some big news-you were pregnant. It is also Tommy's birthday and you set up a very special dinner. But when the door opens, it's not Tommy who comes calling.

Note: A sequel to Kiss the Bride

Warnings: Swearing, violence

"Oh my god" you were holding the positive pregnancy test in your hands. You had suspected as much, your breasts were tender and you had gotten sick most mornings for the past week. But to hold confirmation of the new life growing inside you made you tremble in anticipation. You couldn't wait to tell your husband Tommy, he wouldn't shut the fuck up about having kids since you two had gotten married. "Oh my god!" you squealed in delight as you rushed to the phone to dial the studio.

You thought differently about it though-today was Tommy's birthday and you promised to make him his favorite dinner. It was almost time for him to come home, he'd promised he'd be on time today. You had cooked the meal and set out the butter dish on the table, but under the lid was the positive test. You could just imagine the tears of joy running down his face as he let reality sink in that he was going to be a father.

The doorbell rang, which should have been your first indication something was wrong but in your elated state of bliss you ignored your gut and opened the door. You were met with a man in black pressing a cloth to your nose and mouth, in only a millisecond, you were out cold in a drug induced sleep. Chloroform worked like that.

Lucas was in financial ruin, his own slip of the tongue had cost him a fortune. If only he'd kept his mouth shut he could be enjoying his wife and mistresses by the dozen. He was so pissed that drummer had married you instead, gotten all that cash your father left you and was now living in the lap of luxury. He stood outside the home you shared with Tommy, watched from the window at the scene. He was even more pissed off when he saw you place a pregnancy test in the butter dish and cover it with the lid. He quickly scrawled a short note and stowed it in his pocket. He readied the chloroform soaked rag and as soon as you answered the door pressed it firmly to your face.

You went slack right away, and he pulled you to his waiting car on the street. He quickly went back inside and placed his little note on the lid of the butter dish and walked to the car, making the drive to the airport where preparations were made in advance for you to be flown to London, England and placed in your family's mausoleum, where the bones of four generations of your family were kept, including your father's.

Before he went back to the car however, he looked right into the security camera, smiled widely and waved as if he were greeting an old friend. He wanted to be found, that would be the only part of his little game he'd make easy.

When Tommy got home half an hour later, he knew something was up. The front door was wide open-something you'd never do. You both had a key to let yourselves in. You always kept the door locked when you were home alone. He entered calling out "Y/N? You home babe?" On the table was the fresh dinner you'd made him-his birthday dinner. On the butter dish, he saw a note that was not in your handwriting on the lid "LOOK INSIDE". He took off the lid and saw the positive pregnancy test. His heart skipped a beat in joy for only a moment, then realized that you'd never leave food out like this.

He called the police, and when they got there they looked at the security tapes. You were happily setting up the table for dinner when the doorbell rang. You went to to get it and a man in black pressed something to your face and you went limp. The man dragged you to a car and placed the note Tommy found on the butter dish. The man in black then turned to the camera, smiled and waved. "Do you know this man, Mr. Lee?"ell

Tommy clenched his fist, eventually having to let off some steam and putting a hole in the wall. "Yeah...Lucas Carvaggio. My wife's ex-fiancee..."

"We'll run a background check for his last known whereabouts" the detective said "Time is of the essence even more than usual since she's expecting"

"WE'RE expecting" Tommy corrected, trying not to glare at the detective "That kid's mine...I'm the only one who's been fucking my wife..."

The detective took some consideration in his words "Sorry, Mr. Lee. You and your wife are expecting" he cleared his throat and radioed headquarters to put out an all points bulletin and a be on the lookout orders for Lucas Carvaggio. He wasn't hard to find- he was at his last known address, a shitty apartment on the outskirts of Hollywood, where he wasn't paying any rent because the place wasn't in his name. He was currently living with a prostitute named Candi. He was found in less than two hours.

When Tommy looked at him through the double sided glass of the interrogation room, Lucas looked worse for wear-he was dirty, smelly and allowed his body hair to grow so long he looked like a fucking Bigfoot. But it was still Lucas Carvaggio, those arrogant eyes of his still the same. "Let me in there with him..." Tommy demanded of the detective.

Nikki stepped in with "You know he can't let you do that, T-Bone" he said in a soft voice. Tommy only called Nikki, him being his best friend and confidante. He was trying to be as patient as he could with Tommy, you being like a sister to the rest of the band. Tommy begged him not to tell Vince or Mick, having them here would just make too much trouble with their arrest records combined with their fame nothing would ever get done if fans swarmed the station.

"I'll let you in as a last resort" the detective said "you can stay and watch from here..." he walked into the room, introduced himself and began the line of questioning "Where is Y/N Lee?"

"I only answer to Tommy, her husband" Lucas spat out, a note of fire in his voice.

"If he comes in here and beats your ass, I'll say it was in self defense" the detective warned "Is that what you want?"

"I. Want. Tommy" he reiterated.

"Alright" the detective got up and opened the door to the viewing room. "He wants you, Mr. Lee".

Tommy took a deep breath and said "Fine...if it'll get my wife back..." he needed to control his anger. He never lifted an unkind hand to you, but this asshole was about to get the business if he didn't cooperate. When he walked in, he didn't offer a hello or anything but glared at Lucas like a dragon "Where's my wife?"

"You mean MY wife?" he mocked Tommy, causing veins to bulge on the drummer's neck and forehead. "The wife you stole from me?"

"Hey, dickhead you practically told her you wanted her father's money, not her" Tommy calmed down a little.

"Speaking of which..." he leaned in closer to Tommy "Where is the money?"

"Are you still on about that?" Tommy laughed and continued "There is no money from her dad. He liquidated all his assets and donated it all to charity! Even his company's gone!"

Lucas considered this a moment "You're lying. The old man wouldn't do such a foolish thing like that. What about his daughter? Surely he wouldn't let her live in squalor."

"The band makes more than enough money" Tommy snarled "The house we live in, the cars we drive...I pay for all of that, but we live together".

"How well do you know your wife, Tommy?" he asked seriously. "Where is her family originally from?"

Tommy was stumped at this, you never wanting to talk about your family, besides your father. They were from well off English stock, Dukes and Earls and all that jazz. The money your father had was family money, forged on the backs of others and never given back to the people who toiled to make it for them. Your father was the black sheep, wanting to help the less fortunate anyway he could. So he started up an oil business and struck paydirt early on. With the profits, he funded schools and was there helping build them with what Lucas would call "commoners". You had met a few of them at a party at your father's house, where he was chastised by his siblings for letting you play with common children and get dirty. He responded by throwing them out of the house and telling them that if they were dissatisfied with how you were being raised, then they could sue him for custody. You never heard from them again.

Lucas chuckled at Tommy's ignorance, to which your husband popped him in the face. Blood spurt out of his mouth, a few of his teeth broken. "We don't have time for your games,, jackass! There is no money, there is no company! What the fuck did you do to my wife, asshole?!"

"She's across the ocean" he told Tommy.

"That doesn't help me" Tommy growled "Which ocean?!" Lucas then began to laugh at Tommy's pain, to this Tommy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shook him. "WHERE ARE MY WIFE AND CHILD?!"

"Don't get too mad, Tommy boy" Lucas sneered "I'm not entirely cruel. I DID bury her with family!"

Tommy paled and slowly released Lucas. "You're insane..." he sat down in a chair, at a loss for words.

Nikki burst in the room, telling Tommy to call Mr. Potts, his lawyer that he hired after your father had passed away. He'd have all the records of your dad's final wishes as to where he was buried. He then gave Lucas a stare that could freeze lava. "When this is over, no matter what the outcome, I will beat you within an inch of your life. I never had much of a family before I met these dumb asses, and I'll be damned if I let that kid grow up without a father..I am not afraid to go back to jail..."

At that, Lucas shuddered in fear. Tommy did just that and got the needed information, and when he found out that the family mausoleum was in London, England he made a phone call to a certain British drummer to call in a favor.

You woke up in a narrow room, only able to move your head freely. This place stank of death, but you could also smell fresh air. You didn't know where you were so you looked around for some light. A shaft illuminated from the corner, and you were so scared that you didn't even make a sound. You were centimeters away from your father's still rotting corpse. The surface was still juicy, the natural bacteria that formed when the body dies doing it's job. You then vomited, your stomach contents getting caught in your hair and all over your face. You knew exactly where you were and it was only a matter of time when you were rescued. You put a hand on your womb, making a silent promise that you'd protect them.

It was five in the morning when Razzle got a call from L.A. from a frantic Tommy Lee. "Tommy? You alright mate? What's gotten you in a tizzy?"

"Y/N's been kidnapped and we think she's in Holy Cross Cemetery in her family's mausoleum" he blurted out. Razzle was fully awake now, Tommy had his full attention.

"Slow down, mate! I need an explanation!"

"No time" the American drummer's voice was shaking. Razzle was fond of you, having met you a few times before you and Tommy tied the knot. Tommy Lee was not one to ask for favors lightly, so this particular time he accepted the task, no questions asked. Interpol was en route to the cemetery already with the needed equipment, he just wanted you to see a familiar face when they got you out.

Razzle met them at the site, taking a giant mallet in hand and swinging it at the wall. The surface cracked but wouldn't budge. A few more hard hits and the thing crumbled. He helped the men pull the casket out of the wall and pried open the lid with his bare hands. You were happy to see Razzle, someone who you were fond of like a brother. He picked you up and carried you to the waiting ambulance. "Where's Tommy?" you looked up at him, tired from your ordeal.

"He's on his way, darlin'" he brushed your hair from your face "He's probably on the plane now..."

"Thank you, Raz" you hugged into his chest, his odd attire nowhere in site. He was still in his pajamas from what you could tell.

"Name ya kid after me and we'll call it even" he smiled down at you while riding to the hospital. It was only a few hours later that Tommy rushed to you, kissing your lips and face.

"Are you still..." he trailed off, knowing his family's curse with the women being unable to stay pregnant.

"As far as I know, yes" you kissed his hand and he breathed a sigh of relief. "They didn't find any blood on me and I didn't have any pain..."

A nurse popped in and said "Mrs. Lee, it's time for your ultrasound!" in a cheery voice. "This must be Mr. Lee!"

"This is!" Razzle answered, him getting out of the room so the happy couple could share this intimate moment alone. "See ya later, mates!" he winked and buggered off.

The nurse applied the jelly to your stomach and moved the wand around. She smiled when she found something and turned the monitor around so you and Tommy could see. "See those things that look like beans?" she pointed to two figures that looked like lima beans. "You're having twins! About six weeks along I'd say!"

Both you and Tommy were sobbing with joy. You had tried for kids ever since your honeymoon and now you were going to have them. You knew the possible complications with having twins, and you took every precaution. Took all your vitamins, stayed away from anything that could be dangerous. When the ninth month came, you had made the appointment to get a cesarean section. Birthing twins vaginally was damn near impossible without you bleeding out and dying.

Tommy was with you holding your hand, as the first baby was removed, It was a little boy. The second one was a girl, both of whom had quite the set of lungs on them. When they were cleaned up, the nurses gave each you and Tommy a baby. "What do you want to name them, Tommy?"

"The boy will the Randal Nicholas" the Nicholas being Razzle's real name.

"And the girl will be Emma Rose" you looked at your little family with only love. The next day, you got an influx of visitors and well wishers including the band and Tommy's family. After Tommy had told you it was Lucas that took you, you held your children closer to you.

"Where is he now?" you asked afraid.

"Prison" Tommy answered "He'd like to apologize but his jaw is wired shut from being broken" he chuckled, as if he didn't have anything to do with it.

"Our little ones are hungry" you said, lowering the top of your gown to allow to breast feed your kids. The gentle sucking felt good, you being relieved of the milk that was being produced.

"I think I'm getting hungry too, babe" he wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed.

"When the kids go to sleep, dear" he grinned at that, being that goofy drummer boy you married.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #tommy lee #nikki sixx #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #tommy lee imagine #motley crue fanfiction #mötley crüe fanfiction #tommy lee fanfiction #submitted #not mine #submission

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forever--darling · 5 years ago

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not too far away - s.m.

a/n: where one voicemail brings up the past and a boy who’s now living a completely different life

prologue

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon, you were jogging across the crosswalk of a busy street in the city. The lights of the cars bounced off the puddles that pressed along the pavement. You could feel the water seeping further into the soles of your shoes and into your socks as you dashed through a large rain puddle on the end of the crosswalk to get onto the sidewalk. The combination of the rain and the wind had created a bitter cold to nip at your legs. They were becoming numb and your fingers were a shade of bright red as you approached your apartment building and fished out your keys from the pocket of your jacket. Shoving the key into the lock, you opened the door and bounded up the stairs towards the fourth floor, too impatient to wait for the elevator. You were leaving a trail of water behind you but couldn’t care as you desperately craved for the warmth of your small apartment.

As the white door appeared from the end of the hallway, you felt a sense of relief fall from your shoulders. Small uneven breaths were coming from your mouth as you unlocked your door that had a golden brass forty-six on it. You opened it and walked in only sparing a second to collect the mail left outside your door. Giving the door a small push, it closed shut behind you as you threw the mail onto the marble kitchen counter. You let your purse drop to the floor and peeled the jean jacket from around you revealing your white t-shirt that was sticking to your body. You had only just left your lecture hall, after a lecture that had gone longer than expected, when it started to rain. You were drenched from head to toe, your hair dripping small water droplets down your back as goosebumps ran across your arms. Teeth chattering and hands shaking, you went straight towards the heater and cranked it up high before walking over towards your window. You looked up to be met with a dark grey clouded sky that didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Letting out a small sigh, you could feel the warmth beginning to move back into your body. Moving back towards the kitchen counter, you went through the small stack of envelopes, most being all from the same place. You skipped over them and put them into the back of the pile leaving a bright postcard to adorn the top of the stack. Smiling, you took it in your hands and gazed over the front which read Venice, Italy and was a picture of a gondola traveling through the narrow riverways. You flipped it over instantly being met with your brother's messy handwriting. It read,

‘hey bug, have had the best time in Venice and though I’ve loved every second of it, I can’t wait to come back home to you and tell you all about it. I missed you loads little sister and hope everything is going well with school. I’ll see you at moms and dads in a few days. -your loving older brother James.’

You chuckled at the simple words he wrote, so happy that he would be returning home after being gone for a whole year. Knowing that you would be seeing him, made you less anxious about returning home to be with your worrisome parents who could barely leave you alone.

Placing the postcard back onto the countertop, you pulled your phone out from your wet bag that had been left abandoned on the floor. You had one missed called from an unknown number and voicemail from the time you were on your way home. Clicking onto the voicemail, you put it on speaker and left your phone on the counter about to grab a sweatshirt from your room as it played but stopped dead in your tracks at the voice that came through the speakers. A voice you hadn’t heard in some time and instantly made your eyes shift towards the picture frame on the small table in your living room. If that wasn’t all, the words sent chills down your back.

“Y/N, hi. This is Karen. Karen Mendes. I haven’t seen or talked to you in what feels like forever but I guess you’re so busy with being all grown up now. Hun, I understand that you are very focused on your studies and I don’t want to be a bother but it would just be so nice to see you again. Shawn is coming home for a few weeks. We are going to throw a party for him on Sunday when he gets home and I know that it would mean so much to him if you were there. You two haven’t seen each other in so long and he misses you greatly, my dear. And I know it will be fun. There will be plenty of food and games. Your parents are even going to attend and one more Y/L/N will surely liven up the party even more just like the good old days. Anyways, hope to hear back from you soon, hun. We all miss you. Talk to you soon.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shaking. Hesitantly, you walked over towards the picture that your eyes had been fixed on throughout the whole time the voicemail was playing. It was framed in a grey frame and was a few years old now. You were sixteen when it was taken and it was the beginning of summer. Your families were having a barbecue and you and Shawn were dancing around the backyard as music played through the stereo. Everyone cheered you on and you had been completely embarrassed about the whole situation but did it anyway because he asked you too. You were barefoot and your feet were sinking into the soft grass as he twirled you around causing the skirt of your dress to follow. Just as the song was ending, his mom had approached from the patio with a camera in her hand wanting to get a picture.

Within the few seconds she had asked, he had pulled you up and onto his back and his arms hooked through your legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you smiled over his shoulder, laughter falling from your lips. He turned to look at you from the corner of his eye, a smile forming on his face at your sweet laugh. His cheeks were rosy and his hair tickled your cheek and the smell of mint filled your nose. You both were looking at each other for so long smiling like complete idiots that you didn’t even know the picture had been taken. It’s now forever one of your favorite moments to look back on because back then he was just Shawn not Shawn Mendes and you were just you before he had left and before the four shittiest years of your life happened and changed everything.

next part

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #my writing #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

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lovemecharlie · 6 years ago

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Secret Admirer

Hennessy × Erik. Happy Valentine's Day.

"Someoneee has a secretttt admirerrrr," Raven sang grinning mischievously as she carried a handful of flowers into the greenhouse where Hennessy sat at her desk, jotting down notes. Hennessy looked up noticing her assistant and her eyes dropped to the colorful bunch. She sat up in her seat as Raven sat the bouquet of yellow, purple, and pink flowers mixed with baby's breath onto the desk.

"Whose are these, are they mine?" She stared at the flowers confused. They were nice, but Erik had done way better in the past. Raven's fingers began to drum curiously on Hennessy's desk, edging toward the small card attached. As Hennessy's assistant, she was naturally nosey and interested in anything involving Dr. Chiron.

"To the The Beautiful Hennessy.. Happy Valentine's Day," she read aloud, "There's no other name attached, only the words 'From a nigga who be watching.' Oooh," she grinned, "I wonder who it is that's been watching and do they know you're a married doctor? I smell drama."

"Oh there's no drama. Anyone who knows me knows I'm married and my man is crazy about me and in general. It's probably why they chose to keep their identity a secret," Hennessy flipped her hair before feeling the petals of a pink flower. Her eyes cut at Raven, dismissing her. In Hennessy's mind, they weren't that close for the young woman to be in her business like that. Besides, didn't she have work to do? Taking the hint, Raven sighed and returned to the store front.

Alone, Hennessy's radiant smile couldn't be tamed as she took pictures of her Valentine's Day flowers, making sure to get every single detail including the card. She was pressed and all kinds of gassed, rereading the card over and over and looking at the sloppy handwriting. Erik's handwriting was nice for the most part, so this definitely wasn't his work. Who was bold enough to attempt to woo her, knowing Erik was not the one to play? She had no clue. Trigga Trey was dead, who else was there?! Excited energy bubbled through her and she giggled, her feet dancing. She could imagine Erik's response to the flowers. If he were to find out she really had a secret admirer.. One this bold.. She shivered. It made her feel sneaky.

With her tongue out, she decided to be messy. She put the pictures up on her Instagram and even posed holding the flowers with a peace sign and a sweet grin. She had butterflies, feeling giddy.. Erik would be perturbed! All there was to do now was wait.

And wait.

She was bored, her feet on her desk as she smoked a joint with no side effects, one of her favorite and most lucrative creations. Why wasn't Erik blowing her up right now?! Did he not see it? She checked the post again. She'd posted four pictures that she swiped through. 132 likes and not one of them Erik. Comments from Charlie, Bastion, Aly'Sha, and Angel highlighted, but none from Erik. His was the only response she cared about at the moment. She was so annoyed. She'd even posted a short live in her impatience, dancing with the flowers in her grasp and blowing kisses to her secret admirer, whoever it was. When the footage ended, she sat the phone down, returning to her pouting, her arms crossed over her chest. Checking her phone again, he'd clicked on it! No DM. No text. No nothing!

"Ughhhh!" She kicked at the air under her chair before dropping her head on her desk with an irritated whine.

"Dr. Chiron?" Raven spoke and Hennessy straightened herself immediately, smoothing her clothes and putting her professional shield back up. "You have another delivery.. this one's pretty big. Should I let them bring it in here?"

Hennessy stared, confused and interested, nodding her head. Raven waved to someone unseen and when they appeared, there was a large arrangement of white long stem roses. It looked like four dozen combined. Hennessy's jaw dropped as she rose from her seat reaching out to take them from the delivery man. "Toss them weak ass flowers," she read aloud, her chest contracting with a silent laugh. This one was from her husband, there was no question. As her face split in a grin, another three men appeared with equally large displays. One all red, one all pink. "These are almost bigger than mee," Hennessy squealed, bouncing with glee, her cheeks heating and turning rosy. She had the bouquets set up on her desk and they swallowed the flowers from her secret admirer. Those pathetic flowers were no longer visible, an afterthought. Three more mega bouquets came and she thought she'd drown in roses. They smelled fragrant and fresh and they were everywhere!

"Last bunch," Raven waved the men in and the last one stood in place, not moving to lay down the roses. Hennessy waited, wondering if he needed a minute before saying fuck his minute. She wanted her damn flowers! Walking to him, she pulled them from his hand with attitude.

"UM. THANK YOU, SIR- AHHHH!!!" She dropped the roses jumping into his arms excitedly, her lips pressing into his over and over as her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Yeahhh," his eyebrow raised smugly, "You was.. in here.. going crazy.. wasn't you.. I know," Erik mused between kisses as Hennessy attacked his mouth. "Nigga had to make a trip. Don't nobody outdo daddy." Hennessy snickered between her barrage of kisses and Erik gripped her ass tighter, squeezing it. "Why is your assistant in our faces right now," he whispered loudly, his eyes darting to Raven. "Get," he whispered and she flinched as if electrocuted, taking off. Hennessy and Erik were finally alone. "Who's this secret admirer," he murmured facing her, eyes low. Her lips were still attacking him.

"I don't know, they're secret," she replied not letting up. She sucked his neck as he carried her to her desk that was so full of roses, he couldn't sit her down. That was fine by her.

"What you do with that weak excuse for flowers?" He looked around. They weren't in the trashcan.

"Y'all buried them under all of my roses," she chuckled watching him burrow under hundreds of roses for the frail, in comparison, flowers.

"Hold onto me," he said letting go briefly to aggressively rip the multicolored flowers apart. Her snicker stuttered on his neck as he dropped the peices into the trash can before gripping her again to steady her. He picked up her phone handing it to her. "Put THAT on ya Instagram," he pointed to the trash and she did, also photographing the ridiculous amount of roses crowding her desk. Another quick live on IG showed her grinning, still flushed with joy in Erik's arms. "Send my wife flowers again and that's gone be ya ass," he grinned threateningly to the camera, his platinum fangs glinting beautifully. Hennessy kissed him on his cheek ending the video. "I don't like niggas sending you shit," he pouted.

"Awww, fathead," she pinched his cheek and he leaned into her hand, throwing her over the roses. "Geez," she wheezed, giggling as he kissed down her neck, pushing up her dress and pulling her panties to the side. She was in heaven, his tongue rolling and licking, doing tricks. His locks were braided back neatly so she gripped his shoulders and then the back of his head in ecstasy. "That feels good daddy, don't stop," she moaned watching his head move, the sounds of his tongue flicking loud in the air. She spread her legs further and Erik settled in between, diving with his tongue before sucking on her inner thighs and returning to suck her clit. He wanted her to cum and she gave him what he wanted.

By the time he left, she was on cloud nine. She sighed, her face still flushed with the dopiest grin that she could not control. It was totally worth sending herself those tacky cheap flowers.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @trevantesbrat

Based on this post:

*I didn't use a fruit arrangement so someone else can write it with one!

#the kompound #fics #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens

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itsallabigmess · 6 years ago

Text

Of Charms and Threads

A/N: Listen up, beautiful people: Jackson Wang! This amazing human being is my ult bias. I fully blame him for my high expectation in men - and in relationships in general.

If you read any of my other fics or visited my blog you are very aware that I’m a slut for fluff and corny stuff. So all the cuteness is elevated to a 100 in this scenario. You’ve been warned.

I had the idea for this fic after contemplating how much I need a vacation (from life). It’s a mixture of AUs and I had to do some light research, which was fun. So was writing this story.

Once again, it’s poorly revised -- I’m really bad at revising my stuff -- so I apologize for the many absurd mistakes you’ll find.

A massive thanks to everyone who have been reading my stuff, liking, reblogging...

And oh, if you want to read any of my other scenarios, I have a masterlist link on my blog. A.

It took you a few seconds to realize that the buzz you were hearing was not the alarm on your phone, but the bell from your front door. You stumbled from the bed, your legs stuck in the sheets almost making you fall. There was a package for you, the delivery man said, giving you something to sign before handling you the small box he was holding. You tried to be polite, smiling and wishing him a good day but only after checking yourself in the mirror you understood the funny expression the guy had on his face.

You took your time on the shower, preparing yourself for the things you had to do that day. You finally saved enough money to give yourself a nice trip. And after months or researching you finally chose your destination: Greece. The place that seemed to have the perfect combination of everything your mind was craving good food, beautiful beaches, a lot of history, and maybe a bit of magic. Even though you were poorly trying to convince yourself the last part had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was late in the afternoon when you came back home, dropping the shopping bags by the door, glad that you could find everything that was on your checklist. And after you prepared yourself some nice dinner, you finally gave attention to the package you received. You knew exactly what it was and who sent you before opening it. But still, there it was, a small card with your mother’s handwriting.

Hope this will ease your heart’s torments. But don’t forget, love always comes from one’s inside first.

“Yeah, mom. Thanks,” you mumble rolling your eyes, throwing the card over the coffee table.

Inside the box, there was a small book of spells, one you remembered from your childhood, your mother never let you get close to it when you were a kid, even though she used it constantly. The book was passed from generations in your family and now, apparently, it was your time to have it.

It smelled as old as it looked, his pages yellowed with time. Somehow, all the different writings and drawings were completely visible. It was filled with charms, incantations, and recipes, written by the women of your family.

You always ran away from it. Magic. It was much more visceral. More real than the books and movies you grew up with. There wasn’t wands and flying brooms. No magical creatures or making things disappear in thin air. Which was maybe why from a very young age you didn’t see the fun of it. And yes, you used it every now and again when you were filling sick or wanted to make your hair grow faster. But witchcraft, even though was in your blood, never really made part of your life.

A few weeks back, you visit your mother in your hometown, and after a few too many glasses of wine, you confessed how lonely you were feeling. You were in your mid-twenties and had never fallen in love before. You had relationships, but they didn’t last long, you never being able to fully correspond to the other person emotions. It never bothered you before. Your mind was always focusing on your studies and then work. But now, you just felt empty. Like a part of you was missing. And seeing all your friends being happy with their significant others, getting married, wasn’t really helping. At first, you decided to take this vacation to convince yourself that maybe that was all that you really needed: some time off from routine. But even though you were thrilled with the trip, something in you kept telling you that it was not enough.

So, your mother decided to send you the book. “Take it with you on your trip and use it wisely,” she texted you as soon she delivered it the post office. Now that it was in your hands, you chuckled alone, feeling incredibly goofy.

You skimmed the pages until you found the one that had the spell you were looking for. A spell to attract your soulmate.

With the word soulmate shining at you, you remembered this story you heard in one of your first classes when you started college. A Greek myth about how humans used to be almost perfect beings, man and woman together in the same body. Zeus, angry at those humans for wanting to be equal to the gods, cut them in half so they would walk on earth with the curse of always missing the part that was taken from them.

You bit your lip, putting the book over the coffee table. Feeling a strange tingle on your body, you held your legs over the couch. Was your destination choice for the trip, not a coincidence?

If you were going to do this, might as well do it with purpose. You spent your first day in Athens, visiting museums and archaeological sites, heading to the Aphrodite temple last. Maybe doing your chant in the house of the goddess of love would help to speed things up. The sun was almost completely down and only a few people remained at the place. You tried to find a spot outside the temple where no one could see you and started to remove from your backpack all the things you have stored the night before. In a small bowl, you put some water, a few drops of your favorite perfume, a string of your hair you just removed, and some petals of miniature rose. Simple enough, you thought, wrapping the bowl in a red scarf. You read the lines of the book again, just to make sure you memorized it.

You waited until it was five minutes before the visitations would end to come back inside the temple. Crouching in what appeared to be the exact middle of the temple, you placed your backpack in your front so it may look like you were searching for something inside of it, and unwrapped the bowl, putting the scarf around your neck. You looked around, but nobody seemed to notice you, the remaining few people too occupied looking for the best angle for their selfies. You dipped your fingers in the bowl, bringing them to your forehead, chest, wrists, and ankles, while you recited the words, asking the winds to show you the way to the part that was missing from you.

You repeated the action a few times before someone else’s voice distracted you. A look over your shoulder and you saw a guard coming in your direction. You closed your backpack and put it your back, and held the bowl close to your body, not having much else to do with it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Greek,” you told the guard as he stopped in front of you.

He gave a good look at you and the bowl in your hands, before giving you a likable smile. “You’re not the first to come to ask Aphrodite to bring you love,” he said with a strong accent. “Visitations are over. You need to leave.”

You looked down, feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you passed by him, mumbling your apologies for the disturbance.

You were in the tub, back in your hotel room, water covered with the rose petals you still had with you and lavender, plants usually used to bring love and sense of peace. You wondered if you should, would feel any different. If it worked, shouldn’t you have a new sensation in your body, feel the heaviness of your heart dissipate?

Or maybe it didn’t work. Because it was stupid after all.

It was illogical, you thought, wanting to find your soulmate at such a young age. Especially if you weren’t even sure if soulmates really existed.

Lying in bed, you tried to brush away those thoughts, deciding you should continue to focus on yourself, and in having fun and enjoying your next days of vacation. You did spend a lot of money on it after all.

Instead of making reservations in a hotel, you decided to rent a small studio in your next destination, Santorini island. The owner of the place, a woman in her forties called Maria, was kind enough to pick you up at the airport, giving a few tips on where to go and what to do on the way to the place where you were staying, even giving you cards of people who could give you tours for a decent price.

Maria gave you the keys of the studio, and wished you a nice stay, leaving you behind mesmerized by the amazing view from the balcony, the sensation you could see almost all of Santorini and the sea surrounding it from there.

You took a quick shower, changed clothes and decided to walk around to get familiarized with your surroundings, takings photos every few steps, already in love with the island. When the night came, you sat in a small restaurant on your way to the studio, accepting the recommendation the waiter gave to you.

There was traditional music playing somewhere in the nearby square, and you followed the sound after you finished your dinner. A few older men were sitting and playing while people surrounded them, some singing and clapping, some dancing along. You were taking a few pictures when you felt someone bumping into you, cold liquid sliding down your body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” the man who had just give you a beer bath started to apologize, sounding embarrassed at the mess he made.

It took you a second to get out of your surprise state, barely looking at him, more preoccupied with your camera. “It’s fine,” you finally said, putting the camera inside your backpack.

“I swear it was an accident,” he insisted.

“It’s okay,” you looked at him, trying to not sound mad “It happens. No harm was done.”

You started walking away, trying to wipe off the drops of beer you could still feel in your arms when you heard him call for you again. A look over your shoulder and you could see him doing a small run catch up with you “Wait! Maybe you should take this,” he offered the button shirt he was wearing, making you frown at him, confused. “Ahm… your shirt is a bit transparent.”

You looked down only to see that your lace bra was completely visible through the white wet shirt. “Shit!” Your hands flew to cover your breast, as you looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Gladly, you still had your red scarf with you, and you soon wrapped it around yourself.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again.

“You already said that,” you snapped back, walking again, faster this time, feeling completely annoyed.

“Still. I’m Jackson, by the way” he said, still following you, but keeping his distance. You didn’t say a thing, holding the straps of your backpack as it would help you to walk faster somehow, looking straight away. “My friends don’t know how to drink without making fool of themselves. Or a fool of me, apparently.”

“Look,” you said, turning abruptly to him. He seemed surprised for a second. “I said it was fine. I would really appreciate if you stopped following me now.”

“I’m not following you. Just keeping you company.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine by myself,” you gave your back to him again, feet moving quickly.

“Are you sure? You do seem a bit lost,” he stayed in his place, hands shoved in the front pockets of his pants.

“I’m not lost,” you mumbled to yourself, waiting to turn the corner to check the directions on your phone. He didn’t seem to continue to follow you, which was a relief. Not that he seemed dangerous. Somehow, he really sounded concerned if you were okay. But still, you didn’t know him, or anyone in the country for that matter, and really didn’t want to have a strange man knowing where you were staying alone. Maybe you should have looked for a protection spell instead of a love one. It would probably be way more useful.

“Have a good night, stranger,” you heard him shout far way back, a prickle in your ankles as you turned around the corner.

Hiking seemed like a good idea for your first day in Santorini. You left early, with the sun still rising, wanting to avoid dealing with the summer heat, even though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice. The hike could be made in a total of 3 hours, as you learned by researching about it, but you were in no rush, wanting to do as much sightseeing and take as many pictures as possible.

You didn’t hire a guide, knowing that if you started the path in the right place, all you needed to do was follow the signs. In any case, you just might as well ask for directions, surely you wouldn’t be the only one in the trail.

An hour later you finally stopped in a villa to drink some water, glad that it wasn’t as hot as you expected. You sat by the white wall that gave you the view of the ocean, taking a few minutes to catch your breath and take some pics of the sea of white walls that made formed most of the houses of the island. Your feet started moving again back on the trail, the sun giving all his attention to the back of your neck, as you heard some steps behind you.

“Hello, stranger,” Jackson smiled when you turned your face in his direction.

“You again,” you said blankly looking at him up and down. He looked casual, wearing shorts, a black tee, and snickers, traces that he didn’t have enough sleep still on his face, his cap a reminder that you still needed to buy one for yourself. “Where the hell did you came from?”

“I’m staying at that hotel back there,” he pointed over his left shoulder. You didn’t follow his gaze “Saw you passing and decided to say hi.”

“Hi,” you said with a little wave of your hand after noticing that his eyes were fixed on you, which was a little worrisome since you both were walking up an uneven trail. He seemed satisfied, eyes now down.

“I felt bad for leaving you to walk alone last night,”

“Why?” you raised a brow at him “You don’t know me.”

“Oh right, you didn’t give me your name last night,” he snapped his fingers, throwing his head back as if he had just remembered something.

“So, you think that just by being aware of a person’s name you already know them...”

“No, but it’s a good start,” he gave you his easy smile, the one that apparently was constantly in his face. “So…?”

After a long heavy sigh, you finally stopped walking and gave him your name, he extending his hand to shake yours and repeating his own, as if he was meeting you in a formal situation that didn’t fit neither you or the place, the seconds of silence that followed starting to make you feel embarrassed.

“I should keep going,” you said apologetic, adjusting the straps of your backpack. You started to walk again, distracted with a new thought in your mind when you felt Jackson walking by your side again.

“You really need to stop following me,” you sounded way less angry than you did the night before.

“Not following. Keeping you company, remember? You are making the hike to Oia, right? Why not do it together?”

“You, making the hike?” you sounded skeptical. “Shouldn’t you at least have some water with you?”

“I can buy some on the way,” he shrugged.

“Aren’t your friends going to miss you? It’s a long walk.”

“Doubt it, they are all passed out because of last night. Besides, I spend way too much time with them already.”

There was no excuse you could find to give him not to keep you company, no matter how hard you tried. You were also certain that nothing you could say to him would make him go away, so you just kept walking, avoiding looking at him, knowing he wasn’t doing the same.

But Jackson stayed quiet most of the trail, which was nice, mostly because you were too busy focusing on keeping breath steady during the ups and downs, even though you were walking in a slow pace – you shouldn’t have skipped the gym. But also, Jackson was cute. Really cute. There was something pleasant about the way he smiled, the way he talked. You didn’t figure out what was it yet and wasn’t sure if you wanted to.

He didn’t mind to stopping every now and again when you wanted to take photos, even offering to take yours. And as the hours passed, even though you didn’t share enough words that weren’t about the view, you felt used, comfortable even, with his presence.

You both dropped in your chairs after finally arriving at the end of the trail many hours later, resting by the shadows of a lounge place that allowed any visitor to use the pool if they bought some drinks and food. You both decided to have lunch there, your stomach growling as you looked at the menu.

The pool was tempting you, feeling almost desperate to have it’s the cold water on your warm skin. Gladly, you had prepared yourself – as always - and were wearing a one-piece swimsuit under your clothes.

“I’m going for a dip,” you told Jackson, as you get rid of your sneakers. “Wanna come?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Mind keeping an eye on my things then?” you asked, smiling at him when he told you to not worry about it.

Jackson watched you carefully as you walked to the pool, eyes resting on the vivid red lines contouring your ankles. When you told you were going for a dip, he imagined you would just jump in the pool. But curiously for him, you entered the pool slowly descending by its stairs, keeping yourself close to the borders until you got to the other side, diving and then resting your arms over the edge where you could look to the ocean in front of you.

He took a photo of you with his phone, mesmerized by how nicely you fitted the view., how distant your mind seemed to be.

The lazy hours you both shared after lunch were spent by getting to know each other, you feeling a bit guilty for sharing so much time with someone and only being aware of his name. Jackson was more than willing to know you better, asking about your life, where you lived, what you did. It was oddly easy talking to him. Like you were old friends that were catching up on all the time lost, sharing every detail that came in mind, you could swear you even knew each other’s mothers birthday as the night arrived.

You shared a cab after giving up on hiking back. Jackson tried to convince you to go for dinner with him later, but all you had in mind was the comfy bed that waited for you. He complained – a lot – when the cab stopped first at his hotel but calmed down when you exchanged phone numbers and you promised to text him as soon as you got to your place.

The red lines in your ankles didn’t stop to tingle since you came back, and as you took your shower, you wondered if they were consequences of the spell. As if it had bounced back, the marks being a punishment for dwelling with magic when you were not used to doing so.

Jackson texted you back when you were already in bed, saying how much he has enjoyed your company, and how he was expecting to see you again. You smiled at the message, biting your lip when you realized that, for some reason, you felt the same.

With heavy eyes and tiredness washing over your body, the last thing on your sight before everything turned to black was the spellbook resting on top of your suitcase.

Running as fast as you could, your legs still tired from the day before, you arrived late at the marina. You still lost a few more minutes trying to find the right boat that would take you on a tour around the island. After the guide showed you where you could keep your bag, you approached the front of the boat where the other passengers were, amazingly not surprised by the fact that Jackson was there too, his infections laugh easily finding its way to your ears.

“Well, who’s following who now,” he teased, getting up and walking towards you as soon as he noticed you.

“And here I was thinking it was called keeping company,” you winked at him, blushing after he gave you a quick kiss on your cheek.

Jackson introduced you to his friends, you already feeling familiarized with how much he talked about them the day before, they all very welcoming, offering some of their beers and asking you to sit with them. Jackson made sure to sit by your side as the boat started moving, a whisper in your ear to tell you how glad he was that you were there.

The boat was taking you on a tour around the most beautiful beaches of Santorini, as it was announced, and twenty minutes later you arrived at the first stop. Not necessarily a beach, since there was no sand, only rocks, but it was a place where people could do some diving and snorkeling. With your camera in hands, you watched amused as people started to jump from the boat, Jackson’s friends screaming at each other as if they were in some form of competition.

After escaping from of his friend’s grip, Jackson looked around trying to find you, only to realize that you were still sitting at the same place, your chin resting in one of your knees, eyes focusing in something that was not there.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked, now standing by your side without you realizing, water dripping from his body.

“Uhm… no, I’m good,” you smiled weakly, a hand above your eyes so you could see him properly. You obviously still needed to buy a cap.

“Why not?

You thought for a second before answering. “The water must be cold,” the excuse sounding too weak for anyone to believe.

“Well, as someone who was just in there, I can assure you it’s not,” Jackson sat in front of you, eyes squinting “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

“How do you…?” you started to ask, eyes wide open, not remembering including this information in your previous conversation.

“Yesterday at the pool, you stayed close to the edge all the time.”

You had to remember yourself to close your mouth, biting your lips for a second “Very perceptive of you,” you said looking down, your cheeks burning.

“Are you blushing?” he asked in a chuckle as he sat a bit closer to you.

“No?” you tried to brush it off without much success. “I do just fine at pools or even in the beach, as long as the water doesn’t go above my chest.”

“Ah, I see. Why don’t you come with me? Pretty sure I can handle both of us.”

“What? No, Jackson. Go on. I’m fine here, seriously.”

“Are you really going to spend the entire tour sitting on this boat?

“That’s the plan. I can take nice pictures from here.”

Jackson glared at you, his expression hard to read. “I’m gonna stay here with you then,” he said, making himself comfortable by your side.

“Jackson don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. I was planning on working on my tan, to be honest. I’ve been very pale lately,” he said looking down at his own body, you feeling incapable to not look – again – at his athletic shape.

“Jackson...”

“Besides, I would feel very bad for leaving you alone here in this sad, lonely boat, as I swim through the most beautiful beaches of Santorini,” he shook his head while overemphasizing every single word.

“Are you really trying to make me guilty?”

“Maybe” he smirked, “Is it working?”

“A little bit…”

Jackson got up in a jump, hands brushing his own hair back before he offered his palms to you. “Come, let’s have some fun,” he smiled that big smile of his to you, making your heart flutter. “Just trust me, okay?”

He jumped first but waited for you by the mobile stairs at the side of the boar. You bit your lip, eyes moving from him to the water, then to the stairs, and your surroundings, as if you were trying to find someone to hold you back, regretting coming to a tour that didn’t fit you. Jackson waited patiently, giving you an encouraging look. “Don’t worry. I got you,” he said, his hand moving away from the wet hair that kept falling on his eyes.

You took a deep breath, finally stepping down the stairs, arms wrapping around his neck as soon as your body was in the water, he hugging you back, making sure you locked your legs around his waist. “Better than the boat, hum?” he asked in a tease.

“Can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” you mumble, body shaking as you got used to being this close to him.

“Me neither!” the funny expression on his face making you laugh.

You loosened your grip around his neck as you felt more comfortable, but Jackson didn’t let you go, as he promised. He stayed close to the boat though, maybe to show you that you were not only safe but could go up again at any time.

It was easier on the third stop, the boat stopping close enough to an island for you to jump in the water and still be able to walk until you got to the land. That didn’t stop him to be by your side, you two ignoring his friends to explore the place, finding nice spots to enjoy a bit of conversation under the trees shades before going back to the water.

You had lunch with his friends when the boat took you to a different harbor, the boys looking too red as if none of them were used with being under the sun for long. You laughed between bites as they teased each other, especially Jackson, for abandoning them for you. Not that it wasn’t understandable – their words, not yours.

The last stop of the tour boat was near a cliff, where people could watch the sunset a privileged view only a few people had the chance to witness. You didn’t notice when it happened, but there you were, body leaned against Jackson’s, his arm over your back, his fingertips going up and down on your shoulder, as you watch the blue sky turn to shades of orange and yellow.

Is that how it feels like? To fall in love…Shouldn’t be harder, take longer? The lines on your ankles haven’t prickled the entire day, but you felt your entire body static every time he touched or looked at you.

“Am I bothering you?” he murmured close to your ear.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Well, something must be, you are doing that thing again.”

“What thing…?” you frowned.

“You do this thing where your eyes become foggy and your mind seems elsewhere.”

You sat straight up, staring at him with mouth open. “Jackson, you weren’t even looking at me!”

“It was just a feeling,” he shrugged. “I saw you doing it earlier today and yesterday when you were in the pool, so I just figure you were doing it again.”

You looked at him incredulously, eyes wide open. It was odd, in an amusing way, realizing how Jackson was picking up on details of you most people really don’t care. You shook your head, laughing with yourself, and resting against him again, his inquisitive eye on you. “I’m not bothered, Jackson. I’m just… glad. It was a nice day.”

“I was a nice day,” he repeated, smiling. “It deserves a picture” he shuffled a bit to take his phone out of his back pockets, taking some photos of the sunset, then turning the camera to selfie mode so he could take a picture of you two. Smooth, you thought as you inclined your head to rest on his shoulder, he tilting his own head closer to yours. He hid the phone again, dropping a small kiss on the top of your head as you continued to watch the sun disappearing in the horizon, feeling your heart beat a little too fast as he pulled you closer. It was nice to feel that his own heart was at the same pace.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Jackson asked when you stopped by the stairs that led to your place. This time you’ve allowed him to walk with you, your fingers intertwined, he not being able to keep his touch away from you. "Probably, but what do you have in mind?" “I heard about this wine tour,” he gave you an uncertain look “and I thought maybe we could go together.” You tilted your head to the side, smiling foolishly. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" "I could never!" He put a hand on his chest, looking at you as if you had just offended him you the worst possible, only relax his face a second after "But that could be a side effect on the both of us." You giggled at his overreaction, this scenic side of him not failing to amuse you every time you had a chance to witness it – and you had a lot to see through the day. You didn’t even have to think before agreeing, anxious to spend another day with him. "Can I meet you here at nine?" he asked, playing with your fingers in the hand he was still attached to. "Isn’t that too early to start drinking?” "We’re on vacation, it’s never too early to start drinking,” he stated, “But I was thinking we could go for breakfast before." "I’ll be ready at nine, then,” you nodded, eyes drifting to your connected hands, the sensation that all heat of the day was now burning inside your chest. "You're gorgeous. You know that, don't you?" He said, getting you off guard, probably noticing your flushing. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you said, biting your lower lip, an appropriate compliment failing to fall from your lips as if no words were enough to describe how striking he was. "See you tomorrow," he inclined to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek, sliding over to kiss you again, closer to your lips, staying there a second too long before his free hand cupped your face, your lips meeting his. It was soft, salty, as you could still taste the ocean in him.

Kisses shouldn’t feel like this, you thought. Like nothing mattered before. Like you knew your life would depend on it from now on. "I'm sorry," he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours, recovering the air that left his lungs. "I shouldn't have... I mean I wanted to, but..." "Jackson, it's okay,” You said softly, your hand moving up to touch his face too. “I... I wanted it too." "You did?" a breath of relief coming through his mouth. "Yes. I mean, I think that after the day we had I would feel quite offended if you didn't even try to kiss me." He chuckled, moving his face back so he could look you in the eyes "I've been wanting to do it since the first time I saw you." "Oh you mean the night you spilled beer all over me and stared at my breast?" "When you say it like that it makes me sound so unromantic," he rolled his eyes, making you chortle. Jackson caressed your cheek with his thumb, his big doe eyes saving every detail of your face "Can I kiss you again?" You nodded quickly, yearning to taste him again.

Most of your night was spent thinking of Jackson, your fingertips lightly touching your lips as if it could bring back the sensation. But you figured Jackson wasn't your soulmate. He couldn’t be. That's why those damn red lines appeared on your ankles. The spell hadn’t bounced back. In fact, it was giving exactly what you asked to. To show the way to the missing part of you. And the tingling you felt every time you spent time with him was a sign that you were with the wrong person. No matter how hard you wanted it to be otherwise. Because you liked him. Like you never liked anyone else. Nobody ever made you feel like your entire body was about to combust just by looking at you. Nobody ever made your heart skip a beat every time you were touched.

He noticed, during your walks through the vineyards, that your mind was elsewhere, your expressions giving you away. He asked you more than once what was happening. You always brush it off, glad that after a while you could use the wine as an excuse. Jackson was a summer fling and so you should treat it like it. Have fun, enjoy his company while it lasted. Cause, in the end, it was all you could do. Maybe you should’ve just ended it. Whatever it is that you were doing. God, it’s been only a couple of days. And still… still, you were not ready to say good-bye.

So that’s what you were going to do. Be completely egoistic. Enjoy every second you still had. Finding your soulmate seemed so irrelevant when you had Jackson looking at you.

"I have a question for you," he said, you two walking around town, holding hands, as you did for the past week. Your vacation was almost over and you decided to do some shopping around the island. "Apparently there's this beach where people usually go swimming at night when there's a full moon, which happens tonight."We don't need to go too far into the water” he rushed when you raised a brow at him “and I'll be holding you all the time." He stayed a few moments in silence, waiting for an answer, as you looked at the miniature boats aligned in the shelf of the gift shop. "Or maybe we could just sit by the sand and laugh at people making fun of themselves."

"We could do that,” you said, turning to him, embracing him by his neck and giving him a quick peck, “or we could buy some wine, some food, go back to my place, and watch the sunset from the balcony,” another peck as he holds you by the waist “Have I ever mentioned that I have a Jacuzzi?” you gave him an innocent look.

There was still an hour until the sundown when you two arrived at the studio, Jackson being even more surprised to see the jacuzzi was actually located in the balcony. You never used it before, not being able to turn the damn thing on. Jackson figured it out in a minute. You went inside to change your clothes and came back wearing only one of your sets of black lacy underwear.

You were gonna going to miss that. The way Jackson looked at you. Like you were the most amazing thing he had laid his eyes on. He was already inside the jacuzzi when his expression going from surprised to hunger in a split. But he kept his eyes on your face, reading you as you got closer, getting up and offering his hand to help you enter.

Sex had always been something trivial for you. Never associated with passion, only to lust. It was just an itch you needed to scratch, your past partners understanding that and never asking more – at least not of sex itself. And now, even that was different. You felt nervous, walking towards him, a new kind of desire building in you.

“You’re oddly quiet,” you noted, entering the tub, trying to distract yourself from your own jitters.

“And you’re stunning,” he uttered, his hands bringing you closer to him, his lips finding yours like magnets. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, with his arms doing the best they could to keep your bodies glued.

You parted the kiss and moved away from him slightly, Jackson looking at you confused. You smirked, pushing him back with both of your hands on his chest, making him sit, so you could position yourself on his lap.

“You had all this planned out, didn’t you?” he asked in a smile, his hands squeezing your hips.

“It was more like wishful thinking,” you giggle, as you caressed the hair on the back of his head. “I want you, Jackson,” you said matter of factly, starting to lose yourself in his round eyes.

“You already have me,” he whispered, pulling you for another passionate kiss.

You didn't want to talk tonight. You did enough talking already. You wanted to feel him, touch him. Discover every inch of his body. Your hands slid to his shoulders, then chest, abdomen, until you found his bulge. You started to caress him, a groan coming out of Jackson's mouth when your hand touched him under the thin clothes that were still between you. "You need to take this off" you uttered, getting on your knees to give him some space to remove his shorts, going back on your action as soon as he threw it to the ground. He let go of your hips to remove your top, spreading sloppy kisses all over your collarbone and chest until he reached your nipple, filling his mouth with your breast.

A loud moan came from his mouth when you slid him inside of you, moving your hips fast, you sure we would leave a mark on your ass considering how strongly he was squeezing it.

"I can’t handle any more" he growled, lifting you both up, your legs attached to his hips. He took you inside, pressing you against the wall, kissing you messily before dropping to the bed a few seconds later, lifting one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, his lips, tongue finding you clit with no trouble as your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling his face against your core.

He stayed there even after your climax, giving small kisses to your inner ties, the lower part of your belly as if he was giving you time to recover. Jackson crawled over you, his warm body covering yours, getting rid of your shivers. One of his hands brushed away the wet hair that was glued to your face, the tip of his fingers sliding through your lips.

"I'm so glad I finally found you" he whispered before his mouth was on yours, as he started to move slowly inside of you.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the cold breeze coming from the window giving you chills. You got up to put some panties and a large shirt and went to the kitchen to drink some water. You stopped at the doorway, glass in hand, looking at Jackson and smiling at the image of him, chest going up and down in a slow steady rhythm, his naked body being illuminated by the moon.

To hell with soulmates, you thought. Jackson was the only one you ever wanted.

That when you saw it. The red lines around his ankles, same as yours.

Blinking once, twice, imagining you were seeing things, you got a bit closer to have a better look. But there they were. His lines, not only matching the ones you had but going from his ankles to yours, connecting you two. You started to feel your heart race, dizziness taking over you. You did this to him. He was the one that came to your call. And now he was attached to you.

You sat outside in the balcony, eyes burning as the tears started to form. How could you be so stupid? You shouldn’t be messing with magic, even if it was part of you. You never fully embrace it, and now was dealing with the consequences, your charms becoming the curse to another. You heard Jackson calling your name inside, his voice horsed with sleep, he soon found you sitting by the small table, shaking as the tears ran down your face.

"Hey, what are you doing here? It's cold!" He approached you, wrapped around a blanket. He must have felt how tremulous you were. Just like he always seemed to know when your mind was somewhere else. Because you caused this to him. You bonded him to you.

"What's wrong?" You didn't want to look in his eyes, turning away when he tried to touch your face.

“Please, tell me,” he begged, crouching in front of you, both of his hands on your knees. “Was it something a did?”

“No,” your voice trembled, a knot on your throat. You had to tell him. He deserved to know. “I did something...” You tried to look at him, only to sob even harder.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me,” he tried to assure you, squeezing lightly your knees. “It couldn't have been something that bad.” "I don't know where to start," your voice trembled. "Well, let’s go inside first, and then you can start from the beginning." You told him, because what else could you do? It took you some time for the sobbing to stop and your voice became steady enough. Jackson waited and waited, sat with you in bed, holding your hands and playing with your fingers gently.

You did start from the beginning. From your childhood, from your mother telling you had magic in your blood. You figured it was the only way he would maybe, maybe, believe in you. Your tears came back when you told him about the spell, about your visit to Aphrodite’s temple. You felt him squeezing your hand a bit tight when you told how lonely you were feeling, how much you felt like a part of you were missing. And when you finished, there was only silence.

“How do you know?” he asked after a while, voice sounding calm. “How do you know that it worked?”

“Because of the lines” you lifted one of your legs to the bed, a hold on your ankles as if you wanna hide the red marks. “You can’t see it, but there are this red lines going from my ankles to yours.”

“Threads.”

“What?” you looked confused.

“The right term is threads. I can see them too,” he gave you a lopsided smile. “You know, my mom always told me this story... that after she met my father, she started to have these dreams where they were connected by red threads. After they got married she told it to him and my father confessed to her he used to have the same dreams…”

When he saw how puzzled you looked, not making sense of his words, Jackson couldn’t contain a chuckle. He brought his free hand to your face, sweeping away the tears that remained in your cheeks. “They are called red threads of fate,” he explained, “According to legend, the gods tie the ankles of those who are destined to be together with an invisible red cord.” "Jackson…"

“I knew I there was something about you…”He interrupted, looking at you lovingly” That silly night. Before I actually spoke to you... I’ve seen you a bit earlier and I just couldn’t keep my eyes away. I wish the first time we talked didn’t involve me spilling beer all over you, but you know my idiotic friends, “He giggled “I only saw your threads the day after… at the pool.”

You were trying to digest what Jackson told you, repeating his words on your mind. Could it be, that Jackson and you were really meant to be? That you didn’t curse him like you were so certain you did? “Where’s the book?” he asked you, seeing how you still were lost in your own thoughts. “The one with the spell?” You pointed to your luggage on the room’s corner. Jackson asked if he could get it and after you nodded, he gave your hand another soft squeeze.

He sat in front of you again, book in hands, asking you to show him the spell. “Read it again,” he asked you softly, turning the pages to you. “Out loud.”

You did, looking at him right after as if you were expecting him to explain it to you.

“You really aren’t good at being a witch, are you?!” he joked, “The spell says to show you the way to your soulmate…I know nothing about magic but wouldn’t you need something from me to make me fall in love with you?”

“I… guess…?” you stammered, surprised by his question.

“And did you do any spells after meeting me?”

“No. But Jackson...”

“When was the first time you saw the threads on yourself?”

“The morning after the spell,” you recalled your second day of the trip, still in your hotel in Athens, seeing the red marks on your ankles when you were showering, not making a big fuss out of it.

“Which from what I remember, was the same day I got here. That’s when I first saw mine.”

“Jackson, I...”

“Can you stop being so stubborn?” he cupped your face, giving you a peck to shut you up. “You didn’t curse me or whatever awful thing you thought you did. You just helped us to find each other.”

“Then why didn’t I see the threads before like you did?”

He thought for a second before speaking again.“Maybe because tonight was the first time you completely accepted your feelings for me.”

You were silent again, eyes shifting from the open spell book at your side in the bed, to your hands open in your lap, Jackson caressing one of your palms. Your head was a mess, and you couldn’t understand why was that way. Why it was so much easier to believe that you had damned Jackson than it was to believe in this story he told you. Why can’t you believe in his mother’s story when he didn’t seem to care about you telling him you were a witch. Why couldn’t you believe that you were destined to be together? You wanted so much to find love, to find your soulmate, that now that it, him, was in front of you, touching you, it was so hard to accept it.

“Why are you dealing with this so well?” your thoughts came out in a whisper, eyes down, somewhat afraid to look at Jackson.

“Because you’re not the only one who felt that a part of you was missing. I can be very insecure by the things in my life... but I look at you and everything makes sense.”

Jackson closed the book and put it back in your luggage, the smell of its old pages flying in your direction. Coming back to you, crouching down so you could look at him without lifting your face, he held both of your hands, a long sigh coming out of his mouth.

“I understand if this is too much for you,” he said, voice low and soothing, you certain he could feel the disarray that was your thoughts and feelings. “And I will give you all the space and time you need to think about it. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“That’s the thing, Jackson. I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you exasperated, the memories of all the times your threads tingled every time you left his presence coming clear now. Not a sign of a curse, but a proof of that you should be together, “I’m just scared,” you could feel the tears starting to form again. “I never felt like this before. I didn’t even know I was capable to feel this much.”

“I know,” he stroked your face, a sweet smile towards you “I feel the same.”

You inclined towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could. Jackson got up, carrying you with him, strong arms around your middle, to sit in bed with you on his lap. You stood like that for minutes – hours? – silently comforting each other. It was always easy to be around Jackson. Now you were finally understanding why.

“What are we gonna do?” you asked, your face still buried in his chest as he ran his fingers in your hair “I'll be leaving in a couple of days.”

“Good thing we live in the same country. We can make it work. We’re soulmates after all.”

You lifted your face to look at him, “You promise?”

“Should we find a spell to make sure?” he asked jokingly, pleased to see that you were finally able to smile again.

“I think a kiss is enough.”

267 notes · View notes

enniewritesathing · 6 years ago

Text

Part 8

(Beginning)

(Three months have passed since the incident in Granite Falls. Those who were present during the surprise blizzard, it was dubbed a mystery. It didn’t matter to either John or Brian, but they both knew they needed to find information before the impending supermoon.)

(Leads were few and far in between. Noelle had salvaged what she could, offering a singular brown box full of files. The files themselves were full of redactions, but Brian’s keen eye and stubbornness noted small mistakes. Names. Places. Dates.)

(The name of the hospital that John was held. The research team in itself -- the occult specialists. Brian dug around for names, leads. Most of them resided in Forgotten Hollow with the vampires, but there has been a small migration to San Myshuno and Newcrest. It’s an easy way to blend in, open up speciality practices.)

(Those places always had a vibe to them. One that Brian couldn’t comprehend, but John understood, even as a human. A question has lingered in the back of Brian’s mind ever since he saw John transform in front of him, but he remembered that his other side made some clarifications -- is there really separation between the two?)

(He knows that John has been relatively quiet since then, as if he doesn’t remember at all. Or doesn’t want to. Brian hasn’t pushed him for anything that may bring up bad memories -- and if that does happen, John cuts him off.)

(It’s... been a frustrating three months. Information wise. Behavior wise. He wants answers as well. Piece together this new-found situation and adapt to it as much as they can.)

(Even if he has to take drastic measures.)

(Brian makes his way to a part of the hospital that is woefully underused.)

(He enters the small lab room and locks it behind him.)

(Brian has spent weeks scouting this place out, in lulls of his shift. Night time was the better time, given time to file paperwork and work on research, but his absence is noted; during the day time, when things are hectic it was easy to slip away, but staff is already on the short side as it is. Especially since there’s a Llama Flu epidemic.)

(He better make this quick.)

(Brian looks up.)

(Hmm, the sign’s changed. Could also be a security camera, but it would be useless from how it’s angled. And he didn’t need to worry about the door or windows -- the door in particular that it’s frosted from the outside. He can have more time to react.)

(What luck that this computer isn’t connected to the hospital network. He can work with piece of mind.)

(Brian turns on the burner phone and activates the VPN service, along with bringing up the addresses and specific directions.)

Brian: “Okay... this better work.”

(His fingers work the keyboard. Three different addresses. A string of numbers, letters, and symbols. Gibberish to most people’s eyes.)

*click!*

(Several windows pop up, but the window with the red bar catches his interest. A download bar. It’s slow but, it’s going.)

(His phone pings.)

(Brian smiles. It’s John. He’s at home.)

(Hopefully, he won’t tear through the streets with the Jeep, but given that he’s said he wanted to try out the new snow tires, well... he better not see him come through the ER doors.)

(Come on, come on... Brian wiggles the mouse back and forth to make the bar load faster, even if he knows that that never works.)

Computer: *chime*

Brian: “Oh shit, that actually worked?”

(Okay, next step... drop them into the cloud account he set aside. The previous data he gotten was at least ten gigabytes worth, and most online services offered free accounts half or even a quarter of the size.)

“Oof, twenty-six gigs? Must not know how to compress things...”

(As he moves the files into the cloud, he notes some of the name files and extensions. There’s footage, too? But... why...?)

(He’s about to click on a file.)

*beep-beep! beep-beep!*

(Shit. A page.)

(It’ll have to wait until he gets home. Four more hours. There’s a nagging feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Maybe should have brought something to eat here too...)

(Brian exits out of everything, and makes a final sweep of the room. Everything’s back the way he’s found it.)

(Time to go back to work.)

(After a delay caused by a combination of the weather kicking up more snow than forecasted and John forgetting the slip itself, the highly anticipated files from Strangerville were finally in their hands.)

(The packages even included a laptop. It’s old and a little wanting as a whole, but at least it was functional.)

(Most of the boxes contained thin books organized neatly into volumes. This was only the first set of records. Might as well ease himself into this information. There’s no telling what’s in all of this, even if it’s about him.)

(John grabs his reading glasses and settles in for the long haul.)

(The pages are thin. It’s even handwritten. At least it’s neat and understandable -- segmented and dated entries. But what he doesn’t understand, why go through the trouble of handwriting it when there’s computerized entries too? Some of them were just one line, and others were multiple paragraphs and pages, signed off with various letters but no real names.)

(Some entries contain his name -- formal name -- and others simply as ‘Subject’. That’s odd... he scrutinises further. The language with his formal name is casual, but the ones with Subject contained words that he recognized to be medical in nature.)

“1.9.0X -- Conduction of tests on Subject and Subject’s mother. Confirmed affliction of Lycanism, also known as Lycanthropy, slang term Werewolf via heredity. Subject’s mother is a confirmed Grade 1 out of Grade 4. Subject is confirmed Grade 2 out of Grade 4. Posthumous confirmation of Subject’s twin is confirmed Grade 2 out of Grade 4. We could not confirm Subject’s father’s Grade, but we can conclude his father was of Lycan nature. This means that Subject is youngest confirmed Lycan in seventy-five years. - C.”

John: “Holy shit...”

“1.10.0X -- I can’t believe it. A lycan this young. And survived early transformation. We informed his mother. She’s... in shock. Lycans are extremely rare now. She didn’t know that about herself, let alone her son or deceased son. Wish the other one survived, but, he turned far too early. With this, we can study and get better information about lycans! However, we did have to answer for why we put him in a coma... for safety reason. It was because he attacked T. Mangled his ankle pretty good. - F.”

(”Mangled?”)

“1.13.0X -- Johnathan wakes from induced coma. He is mostly confused, but otherwise fine. Doesn’t quite understand what happened. The last thing he remembers is feeling hot and then passing out. Confirmed with mother that his fever was getting worse with time. Not a coincidence that it was in time with the moon. I asked Johnathan if he remembers anything else before passing out. He replies with, “just a wolf staring at me, wanting me to ‘turn’.” I ended the interview to let Johnathan and his mother rest. - K.”

“1.15.0X -- Subject is alert. Very alert and combative. He calls for his mother. It takes us a full hour to calm him down. We tried to inform him why he is here, but he is borderline belligerent. It’s best that we contact his mother. - C.”

“1.15.0X -- Okay... that didn’t go as well as we’d hope but what do you expect, he’s like twelve years old! You tell a child his age that he’s an occult! C’s bedside manner sucks. It broke my heart to see little Johnathan’s reaction to the news that he’s a lycan. He thinks he’s a monster... - R.”

“1.16.0X -- The moon as waned enough that John’s not capable of turning, so we’re discharging him today. I gave some contact information to his mom to keep in touch, and instruct her to come straight to us the first sign of turning -- and I instructed John to keep a journal. Daily if he can. We can’t let the public know about this. There’s still occult hunters around. Vampires have strength in numbers so it’s not big of a deal to them; they know their shit. Lycans are so few and far in between, they’re critically endangered. Not only that, they’re elusive. It’s our job to protect this boy and his mother. But it’s also our job to learn who and what they are. - O.”

(John sighs. Not the information he’s quite looking for... but he is curious about these people’s perspective and conceptions of him. It seems like they’re looking out for him at the time. He wonders what happened for them to completely stop all of this. He’s also interested in finding the journals he was asked to make... he doesn’t remember doing that at all. Maybe it’s with the stuff Mom has.)

(A few hours into reading the sixth notebook, John’s eyes grew unfocused and he decided to rest them. That ‘rest’ turned into a two hour nap with him snoring away on the couch.)

(Spaghetti looks on and meows.)

John: (in sleepy voice) “What, honey?”

(She meows again. That tone.)

John: “Alright, alright... don’t eat too much this time, okay?”

(After he feeds the cat, he decides to stretch a little bit with some light boxing drills. As much as he wants to read more, vegging out on the couch isn’t something he can do for long.)

(Something bugs him though. He doesn’t remember any of the times he’s spent in the hospital. Just passing out and waking up in them. Not even turning.)

(What the hell happened?)

(Brian scrolls through another entry, but he doesn’t bother with the attached video. The majority of them were simple observations, going over vitals and John’s condition. Nothing out of the ordinary... yet.)

(Then...)

“9.25.1X -- Going over this data, these tests... they’re not enough. We have to start taking measures. After all this time, we don’t know his exact triggers aside from the moon. They’re all over the place. Once it was caused by moonlight contacting exposed skin, another by looking at it for more than 15 seconds... here’s the odd part of this, it’s only on supermoons, every 3-4 months. We’ve compared it to Grade 3 and 4 Lycans and... well, John’s different. He’s in his were-state for much longer. Last time, it was a week and a half. Grades 3 and 4 only lasts 1 night, 2 at the most. We’ll try something else. I’ll suggest to monitor his vitals before and after letting him turn. That is, if he doesn’t resist. - I.”

“9.26.1X -- Subject has been brought in. He is close to turning, but is resistive and combative. He refuses, stating that ‘it’ will kill someone, maybe more. In the past, Subject has been instructed to resist ‘it’, but it’s starting to put strain on his body. We locked Subject down and let him turn. As suggested, we monitored his vitals and made observations and baseline measurements for the next time. See attatchment. - A.”

(Brian is about to click on the link, but John enters the kitchen. He eyes him from beneath his brow as John rummages through the refridgerator, whistling a tune. Something tells him he better not look at it right now.)

John: “Found anything yet?”

Brian: “Hmm, nothing that’s really... how to I put this. Nothing that we don’t know about yet. I’ve taken notes these past few days based on what you know, what I know, and what your mom’s told me. And there’s still a lot from the stuff we got from Strangerville that we need to go through... what about you?”

John: “I found some things back when I was a kid. Back when it first started.”

Brian: “Really? That’s great!”

John: “I wouldn’t call it great... it’s interesting for sure. Weird too. These people were taking notes on me like some kind of animal...”

(Brian clears his throat.)

John: “I’ve read some entries and... most of them seemed they weren’t creepy. Except this person, ‘C’. They don’t even call me by my name. To them, I’m ‘Subject’.

Brian: “I just read something refering you as Subject, but this person went by ‘A’...”

John: “When you have to study someone, what do you refer to them as?”

Brian: “Usually by ‘patient’ and non identifying markers for privacy reasons. Something like, Mr. H, Mrs. Y, Ms. W, Mx. B... ‘Subject’? I’m not too keen on. Too cold. It’s likely that they’re older.”

John: “Hmm... that can explain it. I still don’t know who’s the lead researcher. Or why it was stopped. I know my mom said she ended it, but there’s got to be more to it than that. And, I don’t remember most of this happening.”

Brian: “Oh? What are your thoughts on that?”

(John chews on his food thoughtfully. His mouth is becoming more sensitive by the day.)

“I think... maybe they were drugging me.”

Brian: “What?”

John: “Think about it. How else were they able to do all of this? I’ve read that I had to be put into a coma. For ‘safety’; I attacked someone and messed up their ankle. Mangled.” (He pauses.) Someone else said, while it was their job to protect me, they also needed to know who and what I am. But I don’t remember anything. Do you think--”

Brian: “--Let’s not think about that right now, John. We still have a lot to go through all of these things. What we have, and go from there. I know that may be a possibility, but I like to think that these people were ethical in their methods.”

(John hoped Brian didn’t hear the spike of frustration in his sigh. Something isn’t adding up at all.)

(John finishes his dinner in silence. Brian knows exactly what he’s implying and he hope that isn’t the case. That’s going too far. ...Maybe he was right to tell off his contact.)

(Brian watches the video. It’s in black and white and medium quality. A ceiling camera is focused on John. He’s on the exam bed with electrodes on his chest, oxygen mask on his face. Wrists and ankles in restraints. His eyes covered. He’s still, but he’s breathing fast. There are two other people with him, on each side, watching. They’re wearing all white scrubs and other things he doesn’t quite recogize, but they are not identifiable in the slightest. In the bottom corner of the video, a monitor displays his vitals.

One grabs his arm. Injects something. They both stand back. His vital spikes into dangerous levels as they watch. They watch him turn before their very eyes. John’s fighting those restraints, but they don’t give. He’s screaming and then goes limp. His vitals crash. The video cuts out after that.)

(Brian... doesn’t know what to do. No, they didn’t. No, they did.)

“9.16.1X -- Baseline obtained. Subject locked down after turning. He nearly crashed on us, but I surmise that survival instinct kicked in. His or the lycan’s side, not sure yet. He’s young, so he’ll be able to take what we can dish out. We don’t have much data on Grade 2 Lycans, so if there is a time to push for it, it’s here. This may be our only opportunity, so, let’s make the best of it. (see attachment) - C.”

(Brian scrolls down. The files with attachments have a common name -- “Test”. A particular set was labeled HF. A close up of John’s arm, restrained. A scalpel in someone’s hand. A timer in the lower right hand of the video. Scalpel meets skin and cuts down his arm. It takes two minutes for the cut to heal. No mark left behind.

That’s how John’s other side knew he can heal. But... John himself doesn’t. He’s scared to think what else they did to him.

12.14.1X -- C’s been made the lead. Ambitious fucker. We’re all being put through the wringer, but with so little information on this type of occult... I feel sorry for John. I really do. But, as C says, emotions have no place here. They don’t have a heart at all. John’s just a kid, y’know? -- F.)

(Brian closes the laptop and heads for the bookshelf. Where is it, where is it...)

(He remembers taking notes on healing factors, but they were vague at the time. With this evidence, he can piece together information. Baseline vitals...)

(It’s simple really.)

(They were occult specialists. That much is true, otherwise, there’s no telling what would have happened to John.)

(It’s an awful truth. It confirms his suscipion. But, does he want John to find out for himself, or should he tell him? Or even tell him at all? It’s his turn to protect him and that’s a silent promise he made to himself. But he also needs to know.

This sucks.)

(The next few nights, snow fell as much as it did when they stayed in Granite Falls. Only this time, they were in a familar place. They weren’t snowed in, and while both were on-call, they considered it a mini-vacation of sorts.)

(Brian is snuggled between thick blankets and the fireplace, fast asleep.)

(John is careful going up the stairs. They creak under his weight. The last thing he needs is to interrupt Brian’s sleep -- he needs it far more than he does. And while snuggling with him when there’s a snowstorm out is about the most perfect he can do in this situation, he can’t. Not right now. He wants answers.)

(John’s been sneaking up to the office these few nights. Papers, files, notebooks...)

(...boxes, packages, X-Rays, CT scans, EKG and EEG papers. Tapes, memory cards...)

(...strewn all over the floor.)

(In the back of his mind, he knows that Brian would give a stern talking to about the mess he’s made. This isn’t much different when he did it back in college, how he would stay up studying until the sun rises and then some.)

(John stares at the mess he’s created. What’s bad about all of this, he still doesn’t feel he’s gotten any answers. Not even when he read through the journals -- all five of them he was asked to keep -- made sense.)

(He picks a book that had some interest to him when he last picked it up. From what he can tell, this was closer before everything stopped.

“2.19.1X -- John’s checked in. He’s showing signs of pre-shifting. Fever at 105.3. Pale. Agitated. A little combative. Complaints of body aches and headaches. Mouthache too. Fangs are coming in. I interviewed him, asking if he’s had any wolf related dreams. He answers, “Yes.” We have given the informal name of “wolf dreams”. They reach their peak around each supermoon. It wants him to turn, but he is still resistive. The result of the resistance is severe flu-like symptoms... and nightmares. Heart rate is elevated at 130, tachypnea present. When he got him settled, heart rate spiked to 160. John reached 180 (The Point of No Return) fifteen minutes later. His control has been slipping lately. Perhaps, he knows he’s safe here and allows himself to give in. Or, it could be something else...? I’ll take it up with C. - F.”

“2.20.1X - I think... he can hear us. John reacted to V’s voice. She was about to check eye function when he opened them and looked at her. Stared at her like she was prey. Scared her, dropped her clipboard. He followed that too. But only for a moment. There was nothing behind those eyes. Freaky shit. - P.”

“2.20.1X -- John’s... spouse? Boyfriend? Whatever relationship he has with him, they’re obviously pretty close. Name’s Brian. Cute. Anyway, he came by for questions. We told him what we could, what we were allowed. I don’t think John’s told him. I have mixed feelings on that, but that’s not my place. Did some sleuthing, he’s a recent nursing graduate from San Myshuno University. Honors. Smart. He was asking some pretty indepth questions. We did a soft observation and John reacted to Brian’s voice. Didn’t open his eyes like he did with V, but we saw movement in his fingers when he left. Hoo boy. I don’t think locking him down will be a viable option for us much longer. We still have tests to conduct. Some we’ve put off for years. - F.”

“2.21.1X -- Based on anedoctic evident, the individual who visted Subject was his significant other. F and D noted a peculiar response Subject made in his presence, or rather as he was leaving. It’s also noticed that there’s a mark on his neck... confirming that he is his bondmate. V and P had an incident yesterday that Subject opened his eyes and focused on them, showing he can hear who is present with him or even outside the room. Is Subject beginning to build resistance to our methods? I’ll have to push up those trials. He’s strong enough to withstand them. - C.”

(John raises his eyebrow. Trials? There’s a note.

“2.22.1X -- We still need to test the full extent of John’s HF. We’ve only done surface tests. No visible marks or scarring on skin, no matter how deep the cut is. Muscle function is fine. The million dollar question is how will his organs fare...? - P.”

“2.22.1X -- I’m looking forward to the reversal trial. Stop that pretty heart of his and see what happens. - E.”

“2.24.1X -- We’ve prepped Subject for the HF trials and the reverse trial. The HF trials will probably not take that long. The reverse trial however... I must admit I am apprehensive about this. Subject may die, and with that, our chances of studying lycans. I did perform a pre-check via ultrasound. It is my understanding that when Subject resists turning, it puts a strain on his body, mostly his heart. It is confirmed that transformation starts around that ‘point’. To surpress it also means supressing the heart. He has done this several times, with a 80% success rate. The reason he’s doing this is because of social pressure -- if one is to find out Subject is an occult, and being a lycan, hell would break loose.

Heart structure is enlarged, but otherwise normal for a lycan in human state. No signs of strain or structure problems. Valves normal. Blood flow normal.

The reversal trial is to see if we can reverse Subject’s lycan state once he has turned without risk of death. The ways, methods, that are known are via silver bullets -- one to the head and one to the heart, decapitation, severe blood loss... Lycans can heal mortal wounds while in their state of wereness. I would like to think of this as... testing and developing a tranquilizer, some sort of medicine for Subject if he wishes to remain in society.

We’ll start tomorrow. - C.”

(What the fuck? Reversal trial?)

(A feeling of dread creeps up on John. He stares at the page. He... he doesn’t want to read anymore. But he has to, for him and his sanity. What is he? What happened?)

(He shakes his head. I need to find out.)

(John sighs as he steels himself to read the next page. He hears... footsteps. His name called. A frustrated noise, and footsteps. The stair steps creak under weight.)

(He looks up.)

Brian: “John! What are you doing up here?”

John: “What does it look like? I’m reading this stuff. I think I’m about to make a breakthrough here. Relax, it’s only eleven o’clock.”

Brian: “It’s one in the morning. Almost two.”

John: “Hm.”

Brian: “John... I’m getting worried about you. You’re getting obsessed and... I’m not sure if this is a good idea anymore.”

John: “Since when did you have a change of heart? You know I need answers and I am not backing off until I get them. You said that we both need to know everything, to be better prepared when I turn again. And I believe ‘again’ is coming in a few weeks. Right? You want me to turn.”

Brian: “Yes, I do, but John, I’ve done some reading myself and trust me... I don’t think you wanna know. Hell. I... I think it’s just better to drop and let it happen.”

John: “Drop it and let-- are you kidding me?”

“I just read a passage about starting trials. Trials! I’ve heard that word before. They did something to me! These papers, these... files and books are all on me alone. I read another that I have a point of no return and it has to do with my heart rate. I didn’t know that before! Or the dreams I have before it’s time to turn.”

(He jabs at the page.) “Someone mentioned a ‘reversal’ trial and apparently it involved stopping my heart.”

“I want to find out!”

(Brian groans. It’s never a good thing that John gets stubborn. He’s not gonna let this go.) “John... listen to me.”

“I... I don’t want you to get hurt from all of this. This? All of these files and information? It’s a lot. It’s a fucking lot! Like I said, I’ve read some of it and... there are some things that you should never read.”

“I know you want to understand what happened. I want to also. But, I’m afraid of what will happen to the both us. We know more about lycans as a whole more than ninety-eight percent of people. One percent are specialists, the other are hunters. We’re approaching dangerous territory here, John.”

John: “Then what should I do, Brian? I’m lost. I don’t remember any of this. I need to know.”

“I need to know... I’m not dangerous. I may be a lycan, probably the last one, but I need to know at least that much. That I can control this on my own without any problems. When I turned, I was scared what I was going to do. That I’d harm you or worst.”

“According to these notes, I already done that a few times to other people, accident or not. They didn’t take it personally, thank god, but the fact that I lashed out doesn’t sit right with me. I... I have a feeling that I may have done something really bad.”

Brian: “You mean... killed someone?”

John: “Yeah.”

Brian: “John... what would you do if you did that? What if you killed one of the researchers? Or more?”

(John doesn’t answer. He has no answer.)

(Brian... mulls on the silence.)

Brian: “I... should probably tell you how I got all of these files. The ones not redacted to hell and back. Including your scans and xrays. I’ll preface that I’m not proud of what I did or said.”

(Brian kneels and John looks at him expectantly. He can’t hold anything back. It’s time to rip the bandaid off.)

Brian: “After we got the files saved from your mom, I went through everything for any clues that we can use. Mostly names. The hospital you were at doesn’t exist anymore, or rather, it never did. Not to the public eye. The notes, as you guessed, doesn’t contain any other name except yours. I’m impressed by the consistancy, but then again, they may not be the same people with the letter they signed with.”

“But... I found a name. And a number on the back of it. I looked it up on the ‘net, and sure enough, it’s them. They’re still working in the occult field. Looks like they’ve been promoted.”

John: “What did you do?”

Brian: “It took me a few days to get the courage to actually speak to them. I did it through professional means. I frame it in a way to pique interest -- a patient with a lot of anomalies. I gave them all the classic symptoms. I told them that, while farfetched, I had a lycan on my hands.”

John: “You set them up.”

Brian: “Yeah. And they asked if it was you by first name.”

John: “And?”

Brian: “I told them everything that they needed to hear for them to loosen up. They were so excited to hear that you were still alive. Hell, they even offered to pick up the research back up, that I’ll be made lead.”

John: “What?!”

John: “Brian, don’t tell me--”

Brian: “Let me finish. The offer was made solely based on the fact that I am close to you. It would be easy to gather data and make observations and you’d be none the wiser.”

(John shakes his head.) “Did... did you tell them I turned?”

Brian: “Yes. And no. I told them that you turned and then disappeared for a few days; when I found you again, you were back to normal but unconscious. I said nothing of being in Granite Falls, that was mere coincidence.”

“They begged me for information. Where we lived, our status. They became belligerent. Told me I was missing out on all the riches and fame of chronicling a lycan’s life.”

“And you know what I said?”

John: “Brian, please tell me you didn’t.”

“Tell me... you didn’t.”

Brian: “I’ll tell you what I told them.”

“I told them they can fuck off; if they ask that of me again, if they even think about harming you again for the sake of science, I will find them them, and I will kill them and anyone you send after us.”

(John gulps. He’s serious. He’s very serious.)

Brian: “I’ll never forsake you. You know that. Hell, I wanted to go after them right then and there. When they asked where we lived, that gave me a thought -- it appears that they didn’t put any tracking implant in you. And trust me, I would have figured that a long time ago.”

“John...” (Brian sighs.) “I want to protect you, but I know you want answers. The things I’ve read, the videos I’ve seen... if you read them, if you watch them, you’ll become vindictive. Angry. Wrathful, maybe. I don’t want that to happen. But, I’ll tell you anyway. You need the truth.”

“You were tortured under the guise of research. The reason you don’t remember any of this, because you were placed in comas the whole time. The medicine that kept you under had an amnesia effect. Your nightmares... are the products of what happened to you during those times.”

“John... I’m sorry.”

(Brian stands up.) “You’re not a monster. You never were.”

“They are.”

“And if you decide to go after them...”

“...I know where to start. Good night, John.”

(John watches Brian leave.)

(The dread is still there.)

(Should I stop?)

(John turns the page with a trembling hand.)

“2.25.1X--”

(A week later.)

(John works the heavy punching bag. He keeps errant thoughts away as he concentrates on his strikes.)

(He ends a combo with a slashing elbow. The bag nearly comes off the wall from the force.)

(That was a bit too much, and he decides it’s time to stop. He’ll have to adjust the mount later.)

(Even with a window cracked to let the winter air in, John’s feeling hot. He’s been like this for two days. He knows that his body is giving him a heads up, but he wishes it wasn’t a fever that gets worse in time, the sort that just sticks to his bones.)

(He hears a soft, rising meow.)

Spaghetti: “Poppi?”

John: “Huh? Wh--”

Spaghetti: “Poppi! Toppi told me to get you!”

John: “Oh, did he now? Do you know what he wants?”

Spaghetti: “Nah~”

(John reaches down and gives Spaghetti some scritches. This is the only enjoyable side effect of slowly turning.)

(John crosses the house, expecting Brian to be in the kitchen. No, he’s in the bedroom with a smile on his face. There’s something’s up.)

Brian: “There you are. I got something for you. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

John: “Christmas is in like, what four days. Can it wait?”

(Brian lifts a finger) “I know, I know, but I think this is something that will benefit the both of us.”

John: “And you’re not gonna tell me what it is, huh?”

Brian: “Nope, but I will say that you’re already dressed for it. Hang on a second, I’ll be right back.”

(John stares into the mirror.)

(This... was something he did not expect.)

(Brian hears the low noise that John makes when he’s worried.) “John, there’s nothing to worry about.”

(Some gift this is.)

“What’s on your mind, big guy?”

John: “I’m not a fan of this...”

Brian: “What, is it too tight? Too bulky? I can loosen it up just a little, but then accuracy goes down...”

John: “That’s not what I mean.”

“What are you doing anyway?”

Brian: “I’m syncing that monitor on you and this watch on me to my phone.”

“Honestly, I forgot that I bought it for running... and you know how long ago that was? Look at us now, we have a legit use for it.”

John: “Oh... so you’re going to track me?”

Brian: “Mmm, sounds bad when you say it like that.” (The phone and watch beep.) “There should be a icon flashing; press it, okay?”

(John makes another worried noise.)

Brian: “Listen... I know you have questions.”

John: “Well, yeah. You can’t just strap this on me and not expect any.”

“What made you do this anyway?”

Brian: “Well, I’ve been thinking. I’ve taken some notes and there’s a behavior and physical pattern that lycans seem to follow. In retrospect, I should have known something was up with you every supermoon, but that’s here nor there. Anyway, about a week or two before turning, you show signs. Fevers that get worse with time. Right?”

John: “Right.”

Brian: “I would track that instead, but I couldn’t find any hard numbers or any range. That and you have a tendency to hide your sickness in general.”

John: “That’s because I know how you get sometimes...”

Brian: “Well, I’m taking an alternative approach to my care plan. Something a little less intrusive.”

(Brian holds up his wrist.) “I got to thinking what else I can track and that’s your heart rate and that fact is consistent. Your ‘limit’ is 180bpm. Once you reach that point, you have about fifteen seconds before you start to turn -- the Point of No Return.”

John: “Fifteen? That’s not much of a warning.”

Brian: “No, it’s not. It seems that this doesn’t apply to any other point in time, which is great.”

“But with this, I can get an idea of when you’re gonna turn, and that way, we can be prepared this time. I’ve already scouted out a few places where no one’s gonna see, and you’ll be safe. You’ll have space too.”

John: “That’s good and all, but that means I can’t really train or be stressed out. And not trying to be stressed out about all of this is... stressful.”

Brian: “This is the best I can do, for now. I’ve set two alarms with different vibration settings so it can wake me up when I’m sleeping. This is gonna be a process... bit of trial and error and a lot of cooperation. Don’t want any more surprises--”

(The watch beeps.) “What-- John, why is your heart rate so high?”

John: “What? What did you set it at?”

Brian: “The first one’s at 120.”

John: “That’s because I’m still recovering, and I’m really nervous and, I dunno, stressed out that this thing is on me. It feels like I can just go at any moment just by accident and who knows what’ll happen then!”

“It’s making me self-conscious.”

(Brian looks up from the watch.) “Hm...”

(He reaches out and touches John’s shoulder.)

John: “Sorry... it’s just...”

Brian: “...I know.”

John: “I’m not sure if I can go through turning. I’m... still scared from last time. I’m getting bad dreams again and...”

Brian: “John?”

John: “Yes?”

Brian: “The only thing we can do is to be patient and wait. Like I said before, we’re going to be prepared this time.”

“In the meantime...”

“Why don’t we just... relax instead of worrying? Do something mindless for a change? We’ve been tense for the last three months.”

(...he’s right. He didn’t even think that that much time has passed just thinking about all of this. This... was something that needed to be taken one day at a time.)

(John gives Brian a small smile.) “Have I told you that I love you and you have the best ideas?”

Brian: “Oh, please.”

“Save the sugar for later.”

(After that, John set his mind on being calm as possible. Be normal. Yeah, he can do that.)

(A nice, homecooked meal will do a body and soul good...)

(...as well as much needed laughter.)

(John hasn’t laughed this hard in a while. Tears rolled down his cheeks.)

(It was decided that movies were in good order. Didn’t matter what genre -- though John made a soft ban on horror.)

(John busied himself trying to catch popcorn thrown in the air while Brian quoted the scene from memory.)

(Good thing it was a movie they saw about twenty times.)

(Being snowed in naturally made them a little stir crazy and well, a little frisky. Brian’s hand drifted down to grab John’s ass.)

John: “Mm-- wait, wait...”

Brian: “What?”

John: (slightly out of breath) “You think... you sure this is a good idea?”

Brian: “I don’t see why not... are you okay?”

John: “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I think?”

Brian: “Mm. How ‘bout we play it by ear?”

(After some adjustments and some test movements, Brian deemed John well enough for some much needed fun activities.)

(Later that night.)

(John sits on the edge of the bed. His body is shaking.)

(The tears... they don’t stop.)

(They can’t stop. They won’t stop. No, not after what happened. He... wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t breathe. That lingering feeling that he’s going to snap and all hell will break loose. He needs to get away. Right now. But something’s... something’s making him stay.)

(No, no, he has to go. Now. Or else--)

(The watch goes off.)

(Brian stirs awake.) “The hell is that nois--”

(The alarm!)

(Brian looks at the watch. 164bpm.) “Oh, shit.”

Brian: “John--”

(John takes a shuddering breath.) “I’m fine.”

“I’m not... turning. Or anything like that. I...”

Brian: “You don’t sound too good--”

(He hesitates.) “I had a nightmare.”

Brian: “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to tell me everything.”

John: (sniffs) “No. Not really. But I have to. You should know too.” (He sniffs again.) “I should have never read the rest of that file.”

“I remember... laying there. I was conscious, but I couldn’t move. My eyes weren’t open but I saw the ceiling lights. I heard others around me. Voices, but I don’t know what they’re saying. I can’t see their faces, except their eyes. They’re wearing surgery clothes and masks.”

“Then, I’m at a room with a door. Nothing else. On the other side... is my other self. He’s... angry. He kept saying that if I didn’t open it, we were both going to die. I was always told to never open it under any circumstances, but this time... he was desperate. He told me all the things that the specialists did to him -- to us.”

Brian: “What did you do?”

John: “I... I didn’t believe him. A-at first. Then, he told me to listen. I didn’t understand... I was back in the room. There’s other noises besides voices. I felt my arms and ankles being strapped down. Why would they do that...? I kept hearing ‘reverse trial.’”

“My chest started to hurt and I couldn’t breathe. I felt... my heart stop. I blacked out. I... died.”

(John pauses to collect himself.) “Then... I’m alive again. Everything’s quiet, except something beeping.”

“I’m weak. It’s like... recovering from getting knocked out. I see faces, the masks over me. Checking. I hear someone say the reversal failed and someone else told them to go ahead again.”

“It happens again. And again. And again.”

“I hear my other side. He’s desperate. The fourth time... he’s gotten out. Busted the door down. Shaking me awake. We’re both weak. He doesn’t know if we can take another hit. We have to make them stop. I asked him how the hell are we going to pull that off.”

“He told me that he’d have to take over. He knows exactly what he needed to do, but we had only one shot, and that shot... required me dead so he’d have full control. I told him... I told them that I just want them to stop. I may have said it outloud, who knows.”

“By now, the specialists have figured out we’re getting weaker. They started bickering. I started to move my fingers. Not enough for anyone to notice.”

“My eyes were open. I was looking at some of the monitors. But I don’t remember blinking at all, just stared. That’s just want my other side needed.”

(Brian doesn’t say it, but he’s in awe of this plan. No wonder they had him locked down...)

John: “After the sixth time, the specialists called the whole trial a failure. Then, I hear someone... disagree. That there wasn’t enough time in between resets to truly try and reverse it; they even said they’d have to cut me open if this fails.The seventh time...”

(John shakes. Everything -- his breath, his hands, his body.) “I saw myself flatline. And that noise. Everything started to fade and time stretched. The voices panicked that it was taking too long to bring me back. One of them got near me. They noticed that my eyes were opened. And look at them. Dead. I heard them call a time. Started taking things off. The oxygen mask. The straps, ankles, then hands.

That’s when he took over. The very second those straps were loose...”

(He turns to Brian. Renewed tears fall down his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to say it.) “Brian, he killed them. We killed them.”

Brian: “Oh... John...”

John: “When I came to... I was standing over someone. The lead specialist. My hands were covered in his blood. I tasted some in my mouth and... his throat was torn out. By me. By us. The room was... destroyed. The others... were bleeding out and crying.”

“This is the first time I’ve had this dream in full. It was always in pieces, but ends with blood on my hands. Sometimes... it’s yours. That’s why... that’s why I don’t turn. I’m dangerous. I’m scared that I’ll kill you. And you wanna know the worst part of it? It felt good. But...” (He falls silent.)

(Brian doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he even has the words.) “John... I’m so sorry this happened. It’s... not your fault.”

John: “Don’t start with that.”

Brian: “I mean it. You and your other side protected yourself.. You would have died if they kept going. You... had no choice. That’s that.”

“John, I never told you what happened between me and your other side. The lycan... never harmed me. He’s not that different from you at all. He protected me. From a grizzly bear, of all animals. He told me everything he’s experienced while the both of you were locked in those comas. He... he doesn’t want separation anymore.”

“John?”

(John shakes his head. Brian sighs.) “John... please listen.”

“If you’re scared of turning... This may sound wild, but you should talk things out with your other side. In fact, he told me to tell you that. He wants to and honestly, I think he deserves being... ‘out’.”

“Was that time the only time you actually talked to him?”

(John nods.)

“Two years. That’s a long time not to be talkin’ to anybody.”

John: “I don’t... I don’t really trust him.”

Brian: “Why?”

(John shakes his head.)

Brian: “If it helps... I trust him. And you know me. That doesn’t come easy. Hell, I can easily say I trust him with my life, just as I trust you with mine.”

(John wipes away what tears are left.)

Brian: “John...”

(Brian reaches for John’s hand.)

“...it’ll be okay. It’ll take time, but I promise you’ll heal, and you’ll never have to go through anything like that ever again.”

“I promise.”

“Talk to him. For me. Okay?”

John: “Okay.”

“I will.”

“...I promise.”

(After that night, things calmed down. John got it in his head that he’ll talk to his other side. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to do it, but he assumes that he’ll present himself when the time comes. For now...)

Brian: “Ooh! John, is this what I think it is?”

John: “Hey, babe.”

Brian: “Hm?”

(John dangles the mistletoe with a shy smile.)

(... but that lingering feeling, those tendrils of change...)

(They stand beside each other....)

(...and they realized, time’s almost up.)

(John stands at the door.)

(He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there; he just knows that he should be here.)

(He hears footsteps from the other side. Prowling.)

(John takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.)

“Okay. Here goes.”

(He stops turning the knob, and the prowling stops. He feels the presence on the other side shift.)

(Can’t let him know you’re scared, John tells himself. As long as he has control of the door, he’s fine.)

(He tries again.)

(The door creaks opens as he pushes it.)

(John sees nothing but darkness. Hell, even the light stops at the doorway.)

(This is a bad idea...)

(...but he stands his ground. Better to be patient and let him approach.)

(A clawed hand grips the door.)

(It stays there for a moment before sliding away.)

(The Werewolf stares back at him from the darkness. His expression is surprisingly neutral.)

(John stares back.)

John: “...we need to talk.”

(The Werewolf snorts.) “Just like that, huh? No ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you doing?’. How rude.”

“I know why you’re here. I heard everything.”

John: “Then you know.”

“I want... to turn.”

The Werewolf: “After all these years... you want to turn. Just by asking nicely? Aren’t you worried about what will happen?”

“Twice you lost control. You don’t know how to control me. It’s risky.”

(The Werewolf growls.) “It’s d͙̥̖̠̲ͅͅa̬̙̕ng̙er̥̱͚̝͝o̙͎͍͜ṷ̶̪͖͇s̢̪̗̠. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen, right?”

John: “No...”

(The Werewolf laughs low and dark.) “You’re worried. You’re scared like a little child. Ha, don’t worry about our mate. He talked to me, healed me... no harm will ever come to him.”

John: “Mate?”

The Werewolf: (laughs) “Oh, he must have glossed over that part. Him and I? Bonded. Let me put it this way... you better find a ring.”

John: “The hell does that mean?”

The Werewolf: “You know damn well what it means.”

(John looks to the floor.)

(The Werewolf steps out and leans against the doorframe.) “You’re that worried? Are you sure you want to turn?”

John: “Yes.”

The Werewolf: “You don’t look sure. You’re still afraid. Why?”

John: “I don’t know... I thought...”

The Werewolf: “Hmph. I feel like I should apologize for putting you through so much shit all these years. I also feel like you should apologize for suppressing me for so long. In your terms, that cancels out. So for now, we’re even. Got that?”

John: “Yeah.”

The Werewolf: “That said... may I ask why all of a sudden you want to let me out? Aside from Brian convincing you.”

John: “Well... that is a reason. He told me... to talk to you. Maybe get some answers. He told me that you weren’t dangerous. That you protected him.”

The Werewolf: “Uh-huh.”

John: “And because... I’m tired of fighting you. I’m tired of running. I don’t know how much I can take. I’m tired of... feeling like I need to hide. I read... things about you, about us, about who and what we are. We’re rare. Maybe the last of our kind.”

The Werewolf: “Everything, huh?”

John: “Except turning. There... wasn’t too much that I found. And the ones I did didn’t exactly apply to us.”

The Werewolf: “Well... you’ve come to the right place.”

The Werewolf: “I’ll teach you, but under one condition.”

“Do not resist me. When I want out, you better let me out, got that?”

John: “Go it.”

“What do I need to know?”

The Werewolf: “It is a process, and you are correct that we do not need to fight each other anymore; we must live in harmony and balance. Is that not a philosophy you have learned and practiced?”

(John nods.)

“Not only the body changes, but the mind does too. You don’t have either of that down. It’s easy to panic and that causes more pain.”

“What you have to do is breathe.”

(The Werewolf demonstrates.) “It will be chaos to you, but as long as you remember to breathe, you’ll be fine.”

John: “And what do I think about?”

The Werewolf: “Whatever you deem appropriate. I’ve heard of things that ‘flow’ helps. Something simple. You can imagine yourself changing. You can even imagine the energy spreading out from your heart and through your limbs. The choice is yours.”

John: “How long will this take? The transformation.”

The Werewolf: “It was quick last time because I simply took over when I had the chance. I can’t say the same for this time because you’re going to be conscious of the whole thing.”

“All I can say is ‘don’t think about it’. The pain is only temporary.”

John: “Temporary...”

The Werewolf: “We have to stop fighting. For our mate’s sake. He trusts you... but he trusts me as well. To him, we are no different from one another.”

“My question to you is: do you trust me? Will you trust me?”

“In time, we will be one, and this is the start.”

“I’ll ask you again: will you trust me?”

(John’s made up his mind. There’s no turning back.)

(John looks up.)

John: “Yeah. Let’s go.”

(The Werewolf laughs again and flashes his teeth.)

“Excellent. G̤e҉t̵͍͍̰͙ ̤̖̬͠r̞e͉ad͓̰̻̳͟y̩̪̻̯̤ͅ!̶̣̬̠̯̬”

(Bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-beep!)

(Bee-bee-beep!)

John: (breathing heavily) “Br... Brian.”

“Wake...”

(Brian stirs.)

(Bee-bee-beep!)

John: “Brian...”

“W̧a̮̞̘̦̦ke͔̬̜.̖ ͓̬̦͖̠̜ͅT͓̰̥h̖̺̙̥̦̀ḙ̰͕͇̤͔̠ ̡͚f͍͈̜̹u̶͉̪̫c̠̦̙̮͎k.̟ ̣̹͉̹̳̺̝U̳͓̘̖͇p͔̠̤.̦́ Now.”

(Brian makes a sharp gasp.) “Uh?”

“Oh shit!” (He checks the measurement and notes the rising spike.) “161. Is it time?”

John: “Yes. We don’t... have much time.”

Brian: “Do you think you can hold him off?”

(John shakes his head.)

“Maybe. He didn’t... give me a time frame. Just told me...”

“...to get ready.”

Brian: “Okay. That eliminates three places--”

(John growls.)

“Just... keep it brief.”

Brian: “The Bluffs.”

John: “Fuck, really? I’ll turn before we get there!”

Brian: “Don’t worry. I already have the car packed. And I have a boat stowed away and ready to go.”

(John growls again.)

John: “Fine.”

(Brian assists John getting out of bed. He feels the sheer heat off of him before touching bare skin and wonders what his actual temperature is. It’s definitely something a person can’t survive let alone still be conscious.)

(Guess clothes would be out of the question... but the weather...)

John: “I’ll... I’ll be fine. I... just need pants. No shoes.”

Brian: “What?”

John: “I heard... your thoughts. Trust me... I just need pants. I don’t... wanna tear anything up.”

Brian: “Since when... you were able to do that? Can you read minds?”

(John laughs.) “No. It’s... my senses kicking in. I can’t read minds but I can hear them. You think way too hard, mahal. Since we were kids.”

Brian: “Oh. Oh. So you mean--”

John: “Yep.”

John: “I know... everything’s happening at once. My senses... my body’s changing... I... talked to him. Wasn’t anything heartfelt... he was mad at me but... he mentioned something. He said, you’re bonded. To us. I’d better get a ring.”

“What does that mean? Is... that what I think it means?”

Brian: “Yes. It does.”

John: “Get outta here.”

Brian: “That’s what I said too. I’ll tell you later.”

“But we do have to get out of here.”

(It’s 2 in the morning. The journey to The Bluffs was quick thanks to no traffic and the route Brian planned out days prior. The hardest stretch was getting the boat to work; he didn’t count on the motor to seize up or John showing signs of being boatsick.)

(Snow blankets the ruins of this remote island. It’s quiet and peaceful.)

Brian: “We’re almost there.”

(John nods. He’s concentrating on breathing and nothing else. His body is on fire and the winter air isn’t giving him the relief he needs.)

(He’s not feeling too much of anything at all. It’s hot...)

(Brian leads them to the open spot and steadies John.) “Right here. Okay?”

John: “Brian? I’m... I’m...”

(He can’t bring himself to say it.)

Brian: “Are you starting now?”

John: “No. Not yet.”

(He pauses. Just say it, he tells himself.)

“You better get this thing off.”

Brian: “Right...”

(Brian fumbles with the strap.)

John: “What’s... the number?”

Brian: “175. You’re close. Hell, I can feel it.”

John: “It’s... not a great feeling. Feels like... I’m gonna faint.”

Brian: “You were going to tell me something. It sounded important. You better say it now.”

(That tone. Brian’s used it before. He’s... preparing himself. For the unknown. He’s going through his feelings. Fear.)

Brian: “John?”

John: “Brian...”

“I’m...”

“I’m scared.”

Brian: “Me too.”

John: “I’m not ready... but... I have to let this happen.”

(Brian kisses John’s forehead.) “I know.”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

(No matter how many times he’s said it, those words bring him relief. His words are true. He’s not alone. Brian’s here. That’s all he needs.)

(John smiles and laughs softly.)

“Brian... thank you.”

Brian: “You’re welcome, John.”

“You ready?”

(John nods.)

Brian: “I’ll give you space. Take all the time you need. Remember, I love you, okay?”

(Brian turns to go, his hand slipping away. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye, or even a ‘see you later’; ‘just a moment’ is more fitting.)

(Yeah, that’s it. He’ll be right back. Slightly different, but he’ll be the same. Maybe... this won’t be so bad after all.)

(John directs his attention to the sea and himself..)

(It’s time.)

(John closes his eyes...)

(....and breathes.)

(Something... stirs.)

(Just keep breathing.)

(It’s barely started...)

(You can do this.)

(Get it under control.)

(Stirring again. It’s stronger.)

(He falls to his knees.)

(No. I can’t--)

(John bares his teeth. There’s a growing pain in his chest.)

(He wants to fight it.)

(That’s what he was asked to do for all these years.)

(He can’t just let it happen.)

(He pitches over. No, it’s coming. It’s coming.)

(Something’s happening.)

(It feels like he’s tearing apart...)

(Just...)

(No. No no no.)

(G͓̼̲e͎͈̹̪̗͕̟t̮͕ ͖̟̦͟a̕ ̰̦h̸̺̝̦͎͎o̬̞̖l̨͇̙͇͔͉̪d̖̯̮̼̪ o̲͔f̵̱̭ ̣͇̝̦͇y̠̫̘͖̲̹̝o̪͚͙͍̜̟ͅu̙͚̱͎̗ͅr̦̖̤̬̖s҉̫͈èl͉̼̥̫͖̜f͎͔!͏̲)

(John’s hands shakes.)

(He can hear bone. They want to...)

(Claws erupt his fingertips.)

(Oh no.)

(There’s no going back.)

(John reaches out, grasping at thin air.)

(Each breath grows panicked. He can’t take it anymore.)

(He’s dying.)

(He can’t do anything about it.)

(What are you doing?)

(The stir knocks him down.)

(A strangled cry escapes his lips.)

(I can’t do this...)

(Y̛̩͕̤̙̗̭̲è͖̟̩̪s̠̤̯̲̙,̳̙̯̗̖ͅ ̹͖͢y͎͚̰̬̪̲͇o̪u̜͕͝ ̺̙͙͙͍̞̮̀c͖̩̱̕aṉ̭͕͍̼͠.̝̫͓̖)

(I’m sorry...)

(L̖̺̘I͓̻͖͍̳͘ͅS̷̛͈͇̖͈̤̕T̷̴̪̠̤̙E̯̮̺͢N͢͏̖̩̫!̧̺̪̲͎͎̥̦͢)

(John doesn’t want to.)

(But he has to. He screams.)

(There’s something in the recesses of his mind. A voice. No. A feeling. Like... a ghost of a hand touching his shoulder. It’s... kind.

“Breathe. It’ll be okay.”)

(John’s in pain. He wants it to stop. He’s screaming himself hoarse. Torn apart...)

(No. No, he’s not being torn apart.)

(G̨̗̠͔̫͍̘͕̲̣Ę͇̩̘͙͕̪͎͎͜T͙̻̙̲̺̥͍̯ ̡͝͏̫̻U͇͔̬͓̰̦̯̭͘͝P̴̢͎̦̗̻̮̯̖̕ͅ!̨̢͈̳̗̝͍̺͚͞)

(He struggles to get up. His breaths are wild and fast. But he’s listening. John’s listening.)

(Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.)

(Breathe.)

(John’s teeth shifts. He tastes blood in his mouth.)

(That doesn’t matter.)

(Power... courses through him. His veins. His body. Everything.)

(He wants it. It’s there. It’s right there.)

(It’s his.)

(And all he has to do...)

(...is...)

(...let go.)

(John roars at the moon.)

(John feels the snow beneath his fingers.)

(He opens his eyes and allows them to focus under the moonlight.)

(Snow, huh?)

(Has it been that long?)

(He sits up and takes the view before him in.)

(Water... far off mountains. He hears the waves breaking the shore below him. This is far different from last time.)

(The cool air is wonderful on his skin.)

(John looks up at the moon.)

(There it is. It’s as beautiful as he remembered.)

(As much as he wants to stare at it all night, there’s something to be done.)

(He stands up. John feels his body winding down from the change as he breathes deep and slow.)

(There’s something missing...)

(...but what?)

(He’s not sure if he should approach.)

(John hears footsteps fall behind him.)

Brian: “John?”

“Are... are you okay?”

John: “...”

Brian: “John, it’s me. Brian.”

(...his mind is still cloudy, but, he is familiar. He sounds familiar, he looks familiar.)

(...but his scent?)

(It snaps him out of his daze.)

John: “Brian? Is that you?”

Brian: “Yes.”

(John runs his fingers -- carefully -- through Brian’s hair.)

(He’s real.)

John: “Am I ...back?”

Brian: “Yes, John, you are.”

“Welcome back.”

(They bow each other’s head, just to take each other in.)

(It’s nice to breathe again.)

Brian: “How are you feeling?”

John: “Hungry. Tired. Mouth hurts. Thirsty. A little cold. Not bad.”

(Brian chuckles.) “You’re in luck. We’re about to go back home. Eat. Get some sleep. Peace and quiet.”

John: “I’d like that.”

Previous //

#ts4 simblr #ts4 story #ts4 #sims 4 story #the sims 4 #ts4 story telling #sims 4 #oc: john #oc: brian #oc pair: healing hands #werewolf!au #story tag: the werewolf

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scullyy · 6 years ago

Text

Two Sides Of The Same Street / Chapter Four

Title: Two Sides Of The Same Street Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 3754 (damn this is a long one)

Summary: Louis helps comfort Clem during a blackout.

A/N: This is quickly becoming one of my favourite stories to write! I hope you’re all enjoying it :)

“Seriously dude, go home. I can clean up just fine by myself.” Louis passed Marlon his third tissue, wincing at his violent sneeze. His third sneeze of that nature within the last ten minutes.

Marlon quickly grabbed the tissue, emptying the contents of his nose into it. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine-d.”

“When you put a ‘D’ at the end of fine you’re not fine,” Louis teased, yet there was some merit to it. This idiot Marlon was showing telltale signs of illness; pale face, a blushed nose and non-stop sneezing. “We’re closed now anyway, so technically you can leave.”

Marlon threw the tissue into the bin, straightening out his shirt. “I guess,” He poked Louis’s chest sharply. “Don’t do anything stupid.” His face screamed ‘I am sick with the plague’ but his eyes said ‘I will kill you in your sleep if you try anything’.

Louis feigned a laugh as he passed Marlon his jacket. “You’ll be seeing it on the security cameras if I do. You still going to Brody’s?” Marlon graciously took his winter coat, shrugging it over his shoulders.

“Not in this weather and not when I’m like this. I’ll give her a call when I get home. Catch you later Lou.” He gave Louis a classic finger gun as he trudged out onto the thick layer of snow outside. He quickly hobbled through, trying desperately to not fall on his ass.

Louis grabbed the wooden broom from the far corner of the store, sweeping away a combination of dust and crumbs into a neat pile by the bin. “Cinderella has nothing on me.”

Suddenly the centre light above his head began to flicker like crazy. Louis had seen enough horror movies to know where this was going, but before he could reach the door for his getaway every light in the store went out.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Blackouts were common during snow storms, Louis had a small backpack hidden away in the storeroom for emergencies. It was originally his apocalypse survival bag, but that’s just crazy! He dug around the backpack for one of the flashlights Mitch had given him after the store experienced their first blackout.

“Always be ready for anything dude.”

Louis made a mental note to kiss Mitch next time he saw him.

He fiercely pulled out the flashlight from it’s hiding spot, his bright smile could threaten it. Louis pressed the small power button once, then twice...three, four, five times.

“I guess they’re not kidding me,” He huffed. It had been a while since he replaced the batteries. “Maybe Clem might have something I can borrow. A fancy candle or something.” Louis glanced at the antique store from across the street, there didn’t appear to be any lights on either. Also, an excuse to see Clementine was valid in every sense.

Louis waddled through the snow like a baby penguin, some of it seeped into his shoes through the holes by his ankles. “Kiss Mitch, buy new shoes.” He gently tapped his knuckles against the front door, trying to peek in through the frosted windows. It was eerily pitch black and Clementine wasn’t answering the door.

Louis slowly opened the door, flinching when it creaked. “Clemster, it’s Louis. I’m coming in, please don’t attack me.” He called out into the desolate space. Never had it been so quiet or so cold. Louis closed the door behind him before treading lightly around the store, if he broke any of these artefacts he’d be making an early call with Death. His arms were waving around in front of him, trying to piece together where he was. “If I were in Bird Box I’d be fucking dead.”

There was a very faint light emerging from the gap beneath her storeroom door. It was soft but noticeable. Louis knocked on the door, hearing a soft gasp coming from inside. “Clementine? It’s Louis, you in there?

He heard very faint cries from inside, the light was trembling slightly. Louis immediately opened the door, stopping in his tracks when he saw Clementine cowering in the corner. Her head was buried in the crevices of her elbows, her body rocking back and forth. The flashlight was being grasped in her hand, squeezing the life out of it.

“Woah now,” Louis immediately slid in the gap beside her, her cries becoming more audible. “What happened?”

“It’s...it’s the lights, the blackout.” She murmured. Louis wrapped his arm around her, allowing Clem to fall into his body. She clutched at his shirt with a tight grip, her tears staining it.

“Where’s Lee?”

Clementine sniffled. “He went to an auction earlier today to pick up some more antiques for the store, he won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” It was just her and her little brother in the house, but of all the days Lee had to go trapesing off after some artefact, it’s the day there is a blackout.

Louis didn’t like this, not one bit. “Okay, do you want to tell me what has you so upset?” She always seemed so strong, so level-headed. The flashlight in her hand began to flicker, sending the two into brief darkness. Clementine buried her face further onto Louis, squishing her nose.

An ironic lightbulb went off inside Louis. “You’re scared of the dark, aren’t you?” He gently squeezed her shoulder. “That’s why you don’t like walking home alone at night.”

Clementine wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “Even with a light on, I still hate it,” There were things that hid in the darkness; childhood monsters, recurring nightmares and haunting faces. They crept into her head, only disappearing at morning light. Lee was strong enough to help fight them, but without him...”Why are you here Lou?”

“My lights went out too and my flashlight wasn’t working, I thought you might have a spare I could borrow. I think you need it more than I do.” His goal had also changed too; get Clementine to laugh.

“You could have just used your phone flashlight.”

Oh, yeah. “Well, I also wanted to come and see you,” He grinned. “Tell you what, I have a secret snack pile back at my store, you want to come over and we can have a spontaneous picnic?”

Clementine had composed herself to the point where there were no more tears. “You have a secret snack pile at work?”

“Who doesn’t?” Louis completed his goal. It was rough and broken, but she laughed. “Is that a yes?”

She nodded. “Yeah, you better have good snacks.”

Louis quickly stood before her and let out his hand. “Only the best,” Clementine embraced his hand, squealing at how easily he lifted her from the ground. “There’s Skittles, Sour Worms, basically anything that has preservatives.”

“Well you certainly have a sweet tooth,” Clementine reached for the spare flashlight on the top shelf. Before she could even touch it Louis reached over her head and took it down for her, casually juggling it between his hands. “Show off.” She mumbled.

“Don’t blame me, blame my genetics,” Together they made their way through the store, with Louis by her side Clementine was a little less afraid of what the dark had to offer. He helped her make her way through the snow, the blanket that covered the entire street somehow seemed thicker. “You’ll find the snacks in a little red box on the top shelf in the storeroom, it’s the best place to hide it from my boss and don’t worry, it isn’t that high.” Louis flipped through the keys before finding the one for the front door.

Clementine slid her way through the darkness carefully and into the cramped storeroom, ignoring Louis’s jab at her height. She turned the flashlight to the shelf and pulled out said red box, barely needing to stand on her tiptoes. Grabbing the box by its handle, Clem pulled it towards her and accidentally took down with it a black satchel. Everything inside it split by her feet, it seemed to be random junk; a couple of pens, a notebook, a pack of gum, headphones and a loose piece of paper.

Clementine scooped up the mess swiftly, her curious eyes glancing at the exposed piece of crumpled paper. She slowly unwrapped the paper, trying to make sense of the rushed handwriting. “Lou, what’s this?”

And like a cheetah bouncing after its prey, Louis leapt through the open door and snatched the paper from Clem’s hand. “Nothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She pointed to the obvious ball of paper glued to his hand. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Louis sighed, preparing himself for the ridiculing he was about to face. “Sometimes whenever I’m bored I write poems.” He felt his body retreat back into itself, everyone always made fun of his poetry-

“Really? That’s pretty cool,” Clementine leaned against the wall, opposing Louis. “Can I hear it?”

She somehow magically played the strings to his heart, did she really want to hear? He saw the curiosity burning in her eyes. “I can’t say no to a face like that,” Louis took in a deep breath, bracing himself for the hard impact. “With all that remains, dare I say, she takes me back to my best days.”

The softest smile graced Clem’s face. “That’s really sweet Louis. Do you have a favourite poem?”

“I do! It’s by Shel Silverstein, it’s about this girl who is blue and she’s going around trying to find someone else who is blue but she is wearing a mask and the other blue person is also wearing a mask so the two just walk right by each other. They never knew that there was another blue person out there because they weren’t being their true self, it ties in with my life motto. You just need to be the best you possible and all of the good people will come out of the woodworks,” Louis smirked. It wasn’t life advice he had always followed, especially when he was living under his parents' law. “Do you have a favourite poem by any chance?”

Clementine tried to remember all the poems she had to study for her English class in high school. “To This Day by Shane Koyczan. It’s about bullying and since I was bullied in high school it just resonates with me.”

Louis’s shoulders fell. “You were bullied? What for?”

“Some kids in my school found out I was adopted and felt the need to make it their business. It stopped after I socked a kid in his dick.” She giggled, making Louis just a tiny bit afraid.

He pulled at the collar of his work shirt, trying to suppress the lump in his throat. "What uh, happened to your birth parents? If you don't mind me asking."

Clementine crossed her arms and looked at the cracks in the floor. "They went on vacation when I was eight and never came back. I was put into the adoption system after that, luckily Lee found me and took care of me not long after." It was the best day of her life. She was sitting in the playroom of the adoption centre when Lee leaned down to her height and asked about her drawings.

"Oh, I'm sorry Clem," Louis gently kicked his own ankle as punishment for prying. "I can tell you about my family, to make it even."

Clementine pulled up a chair. "I was hoping to know more about you than random small talk, considering that we're now...y'know, dating."

"So we are dating? I like that very much," He grabbed another chair and sat directly across from her, her pretty face dangerously close to his own. "So like I told you, there's my mom, dad and my little brother. His name is Edward but I call him Teddy, he's turning twelve next month and I haven't seen him since I moved out. He's a good kid though, he sticks his tongue out when he colours. I could listen to his stories all day." Louis found himself falling into the past, a dangerous pathway for him to traipse down.

Clementine waved her hand in front of his face. "Louis?"

He shook his head from such daydreams. "Sorry, I just miss him. My parents kinda...forced me to move out before I was ready. I was relying on their money to help me find a place but then they cut me off after I told my dad I wouldn't be following the family business, telling me that I could either be happy or rich, not both. I chose happiness."

She reached for his hand and held it softly, her thumb grazing his knuckles. "They kicked you out?"

"I mean, I had been wanting to move out but I just hadn't found an apartment yet. Marlon let me stay with him until we found a place together," Louis tried his best to smile past the painful memories. "So, you have a little brother don't you?"

Clem knew what he was trying to do. "Yeah, he's only ten," And she played along. "He isn't my brother biologically. Lee was close friends with his parents, they were good people. His dad was gunned down during a robbery and his mom died during childbirth not long after. Since Lee was mentioned in their will as his next form of custody, he was given AJ.”

"AJ?"

"Alvin Junior. His dad's name was Alvin. His mom mentioned to Lee once how she wanted to honour her husband by naming their son after him," Clementine sniffled once more, surprised at how she still had tears to shed. "I was eleven when it all happened, I've watched him grow up."

Louis swung her hand back and forth. "I'll have to meet him someday."

"Bring him some sweets and he'll be your best friend," Clementine reached into the bag of Skittles and threw a purple one into her mouth. "I should probably go home soon, make sure he's okay."

Louis glared at her. "You think you're going to be able to drive in this weather?" He gestured to the front door where snow was falling quickly to the ground. "The roads are covered in snow, you wouldn't get anywhere."

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?"

"You could..." His foot tapped against the wooden floor on instinct, he stopped when an idea came to him. "You could stay at my place tonight."

Louis couldn't tell if Clem wanted to slap or kiss him. She tried her best not to cough back up the Skittle she just had. "Seriously?"

"The bus is going to be late cause of the weather, so I was going to walk home anyway. I don't live too far. You can call your brother, sleep on my couch and I'll walk you home in the morning."

Clementine tried to figure out his plan. "Don't you live close to me? I mean, you got off at the same stop as me on the bus."

"Well, about that," Yeah he was going to get slapped. "I may have gotten off at an earlier stop so I could spend some more time with you..."

"Louis," Clementine leaned in closer and pecked his nose. "You're so weird."

He giggled, trying to burn into his memory how soft her lips were. "Yet you're the one who kissed me first, admit it, we're both weird."

Clementine rolled her eyes as she got up from her chair. "Did you wanna go now?" She was gently pulling at his arm like a bored child.

"Seems as though I don't have a choice,” He allowed himself to be controlled by her strength, quickly grabbing his coat from the hook on the wall. “It’ll be nice to have a companion to talk to again. I miss my bus buddy.”

“Why doesn’t Marlon catch the bus with you?” She inquired.

Louis opened the door for her gracefully. “He always visits his girlfriend after work and catches a later bus home. Usually, I don’t mind being alone, I get to listen to my music and talk to Wilson. But now that I’ve been spoiled by your company I can’t imagine anything less.” It was true, the rides home were longer and the empty spot next to him was more noticeable.

“I hope I’m not intruding, would he be okay with this?” Clementine rubbed her shoulders ferociously. Of course, she left her damn jacket back at home.

Louis had one arm in his jacket when he noticed her shivering. “You cold?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine-”

There was no point in arguing with Louis, his jacket had been whipped off of his body and onto her shoulders within two seconds. The trench coat cascaded down her body, hovering slightly above the snow.

“Here, I hope this helps.” Louis dusted off the snow that had already settled atop her hat. His coat was a blanket on her.

Don’t combust from cuteness, don’t combust from cuteness.

Clementine settled into the warm inner fur lining. “Thank you, Lou.”

He grabbed her hand once more and began to pull her along through the winter wonderland. “And don’t worry about Marlon, he’s a good guy. If by some chance he isn’t okay with it he better be ready to catch these hands.” Louis karate-chopped the air, feeling like a master of the air when he heard the ‘whoosh’.

Together they admired the few Christmas lights store-owners had begun to set up, some were extravagant whilst others kept it simple. “I need to put up my Christmas tree tomorrow.” Clementine felt a rush of excitement, the tree decorating aspect was frustrating but AJ always got super keen about the bright lights, so it was all worth it.

“Marlon and I have a cactus in the kitchen we use as a Christmas tree. Her name is Carrie cause of her small red flower.” Kiss Mitch, buy new shoes and get a new friend for Carrie.

Louis pointed to a tall building around the corner. “That’s me!”

“You do live close, seriously why do you catch the bus?”

“Cause Wilson, duh,” He thought it was obvious. Louis skipped up the stairs leading to the ground floor of his apartment building. “Welcome to castle Louis, mi casa es su casa.” He beat Clementine to the door, opening it for her again.

She eyed him down as she entered the building. The walls were bathed in old artworks, Clementine was instantly drawn to an original Hans Heysen watercolour by the mailboxes. “If this painting ever goes on sale or gets thrown away let me know.”

“Sure thing my little historian,” Clementine followed him up the stairs, wincing at how loud the neighbours were. “You learn to ignore them.”

Louis slowly turned the doorknob and stuck his head through the gap. Marlon was laying on the couch with a bottle of Pepsi in one hand and his phone in the other, his finger carefully typing away.

“Hey dude,” Louis entered the quiet space, chucking his bag onto the small coffee table. “I brought home my girlfriend-friend.” He stuttered over the term, was Clem his girlfriend now?

Marlon almost spat out his drink. “So you’re the girl he keeps spending his lunch breaks with,” He set the drink down onto the table and rubbed his hands on his knees. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Marlon.”

Clementine waved. “Nice to meet you too, I’m Clementine.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Louis here hasn’t shut up about the pretty girl across the street.”

Louis stared Marlon dead in the eye and ran his finger along his throat slowly. “I will kill you.” He mouthed.

Marlon took his friends warning to heart. “What brings you here Clem?”

“It’s not safe to drive in this weather and my home is a bit of a walk, so Louis is letting me stay the night if that’s okay with you?” It was a lovely apartment. The walls were a faded green with pictures of Louis, Marlon and the rest of their friend group scattered around. They were smiling in every single one, doing various poses and funny faces.

“I don’t mind, I’ll make sure to not disturb you two.” Marlon wiggled his eyebrows at Louis before grabbing his drink and sauntering to his bedroom.

“She’s sleeping on the couch, you animal!” Louis kicked his shoes off and gestured for Clem to do the same. “Sorry about him, he is a fun guy to be around I swear.”

Clementine sat herself down on the lounge and pulled her phone out from her backpack. “I’m gonna call AJ, make sure he’s okay.”

“And while you do that I’ll grab some blankets and pillows.” Louis headed down the small hall, clasping his hands together before opening the linen closet. The blue blanket and black pillow that had been hiding in the back corner of the closet for who knows how long called out to him, finally they had a purpose. Louis slid them both beneath his arm, hearing Clementine’s soft-spoken voice made him smile, she was in his apartment!

Clementine shoved the phone back into her bag. “AJ’s okay, he still has power which is good. I told him to not answer the door until Lee gets home.” She took the pillow from Louis and set it down along the side of the couch.

Louis set the blanket down by the pillow. “Good advice. I hope the blanket is warm, our heater is broken at the moment.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good, you’ve already done enough,” She played with the sleeve of the coat, suddenly remembering that it wasn’t hers. “Oh, here’s your trench coat back. Thanks for letting me borrow it.” Clementine slid it off and handed it back to Louis.

“Anytime Clemster. You need anything else?” Already he was wishing she would put it back on. Somehow it looked so much better on her.

Clementine set her backpack onto the floor and threw the blanket over her body. “I’m alright Louis, thanks again for this.”

Louis leaned down and plucked her hat off, chucking it onto the coffee table. “Don’t mention it. Goodnight Clem.” He saluted.

“Sweet dreams Lou.”

Louis slowly turned on his heels and marched to his small bedroom. His soft bed sheets called his name as he fell face first onto his pillow. Sleep came fairly quickly for him, his dreams were blessed with visions of a beautiful girl laying in bed beside him, arms wrapped around his own.

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdgs4 #clementine twdg #the walking dead game season four #louis twdg #louisentine #clouis #fanfiction #xscullyx

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