#thank you darren for convincing me not to quit the run | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katgreeves · 4 years ago

Text

a case of the biggest cards (a tua holiday fic)

Cards, muffins on the way, and a slightly tired (tipsy) family that have competitive and snarky written in their bones and running in their veins. A sure fire way for total absolute mayhem on earth. Oh this is gonna be fun. Klaus can't wait."

Or: The Hargreeves make the best of their royal fucking up of the timeline and spend Christmas Eve together at last.

heyyyyyyy @a-fucking-velociraptor it’s me your secret santa for @secret-santa-klaus!! wanted to do a little sibling bonding fic for you and then I went overboard LMAOOO I hope you like it anyways and happy holidays!!! I hope you’re having the best times this season!!

it’s also on ao3 to read for your reading pleasure!! (if you have an ao3 acc by all means lemme know so I can gift it to you on there!)

Fine hands move quickly to practiced motions. Long, nimble fingers sent cards flying as they shuffled around in the deck.

The five of them were all sitting on the floor, wrapped around a worn coffee table and leaning against the sofa and armchairs around them. Assorted pillows strewn about to comfort them, they were slowly going through the 3 bottles of whatever shitty drink they had trusted Diego with getting for the night. One of them was already empty.

Since the whole Dooms-didn’t/Apoca-nope-lypse/The Sparrow Academy timeline fuckery to the highest of degrees, they were all pretty much left in the dust. After a not so great first encounter with the “Sparrows” (none of them had even begun to comprehend the big emo looking elephant in the room, let alone address it to each other) they were promptly kicked our of the Hargreeves mansion. It took a while after that, but eventually they found a flat somewhere in the city for cheap to hide out in. The place wasn’t really cozy, totally not big enough for all of them together, but it was a roof over their heads to keep them safe enough till they could figure how to bring back their own timeline and finally have this behind them once and for all.

If that even existed anymore.

Klaus leered tiredly at the movements. Had it been himself dealing with the deck, he’s sure it would not be nearly as graceful, instead the cards would probably move clumsily with his fidgety hands and scrawny fingers, spewing all over the place. Then again, it might just be the signature “Rumor Charm.” Alli made everything look elegant, it was one of her best skills, one she gained with no powers, no rumors, that she did without even trying. It was just her.

“Allison. Darling sister of mine. While this in no means to rush you at all, I just want you to know that I’ve murdered entire Commision boards in shorter amounts of time that you’re taking right now.”

That, the source of the uncannily on cue quip, was Five. The grouch wasn’t letting up his smartass act up for one bit, even for the goddamn holidays. How predictable.

“First, you’ve only killed one commision board. Second, this is a Christmas Eve party, aka fun night party, aka we are not having discussions of our more colorful histories for one night party, please-”

“Can we actually start the game? I hear Santa hates it when he's’ trying to do his job and sneak like a ninja or whatever only to see six idiots in a small dingy, dark as shit living room bickering over cards and oh wait- they've been at this since when?”

All eyes focused on whom that voice belonged to, which was Diego. While he was working at defrosting himself of his bitter and snarky facade, it didn’t really help that he was both tired and annoyed as shit at the wait right now.

“Quite a bold accusation that Santa wants to see any of us after all the shit we’ve pulled Di.”

“Even if he did, does he even know how to find us now? You know, technically not existing anymore and all-”

“What did Allison just say guys-”

“Hey Vanny, we’re just-”

“Okay, I think it’s time we get this show on the road shall we?” Allison pointedly interrupted with, brandishing the now shuffled deck of cards to veer the group to their original intentions (She does that a lot nowadays).

“Thank goodness. At the rate that we’re going it’s only a matter of time before we become itty bitty old grannies sitting on porches in rocking chairs.” Vanya crooned, scrunching up her face at the end to emphasize her point.

“Five’s essentially a grandparent already Vanya-”

“Well, he’ll just become a jurassic fossil I gue-”

PWACK

“Five!”

“That-” he gestured to the pen in Vanya’s hand he has just whacked her in the face with (Klaus had admittedly, bursted out a sharp spark of laughter at the sight) “is what happens when you are the only one I tolerate slightly more than average and you use this weakness to lead me to a complete and utter betrayal.”

“Betrayal?”

“You know, we actually promised Luther we’d let him bake in peace this time.”

Indeed, as Allison had oh so clearly reminded them, while the others were engaging in whatever was going on right now, Luther was trying baking some red velvet muffins (“No, don’t look at me like that, this is a totally normal amount of food coloring to put in the batter. They have to be the brightest red guys! Come on, it’s Christmas!”) in the kitchen close by. He was in there a lot nowadays, essentially becoming their new Grace in terms of their meals. He claimed it was a cathartic process for him, and in return they all just enjoyed the free meals.

“Jokes on Luther if he’s dumb enough to actually belive that.”

The last comment earned an eruption of laughs all around the table, a scandalized “Vanny!” here and there. Such was expected from their Vanya, the now youngest of the group (and isn’t that wild? Their entire lives were dictated by nothing else but the fact they were quite the peculiar, unlucky septulets and time travel and fucking Dallas took even that away from them). A complete contrast from the Vanya that was so long ago, sarcasm and laughter were her now weapons of choice as she’d talk and tease non stop about anything with a grin. Honestly, good for her.

With cards now flying across the table, it was time for the real shit. The game was one that Klaus had actually taught them. It was one of the many “souvenirs” that he had brought back from Vietnam. He had learnt it, along with the rest of his squadron from one Private Darren Teow. “T” for short, although the boys called him “Croc” after an embarrassing incident where he was the main star of a disaster march across a riverbank (oh boy was that a wild day).

His parents had come to the United States back in the early 40’s for a chance of something new, and for their son, a chance of something better, a life of his own that could be so grand.

“And what a real great life this is, isn’t it?” He had said one night, a one in a kind night where the jungles were silent of the noises that shook them all for once and instead was filled with the laughter and cheering of the squadron as days old beer was being passed around like candy. Raising his can in the air, the bitter cynicism in his voice rang clear. “Trying to save my head from blowing up to bits everyday on the floor these fucking jungles. A goddamn blast if I’ve ever seen one. Three cheers for the Land of the Fucking Free-”

It wasn’t played as much as a usual game of poker, but whenever there was a fleeting moment here and there, or nobody had any cigs left to bet after Katz snatched them all (Rule Number 15 of the 173rd: Do not let that All-American face and charm fool you. That man will have your rations in his godly chiseled arms and the palms of his hands before you can even put down a card).

Sometimes, when he and Dave were cooped up in some motel room in Saigon during leave, trying to avoid another Sky Soldier who would try and drag them along for a night on the town, they’d decide to play it together, just the two of them. And by that it meant Dave would offer to play a round of poker, and Klaus would beg to play this instead for a “fun change of pace, you know?”

“You mean, when you don’t want to eat utter shit at the hands of your awfully gifted beloved and can’t face the fact that you can’t keep a straight face for shit?”

“Be thankful you have a god gifted jawline from Adonis himself, or else I would have busted out of this motel aeons ago.”

“What can I say if I learnt it from the best?”

“Fuck you Kitty Katz.”

“I love you too, starlight.”

“That’s it, you are disqualified for hitting me with that sappy shit. I love you too.”

He smiled, chuckling softly at the memory as his hands reached for the familiar chain of cold steel around his neck, the motion second nature at this point. God, Klaus missed that dork so much.

Teow had called the game Big Two. At the very core of it, spades’ the best, then hearts, then clubs, and last and very least: diamonds. The bigger the better. Except for two. That little fucker gets you far. Put down as many as you can at rapidfire speed. First one to finish their cards in hand is winner winner chicken dinner!

He wishes Ben were here. God knows how much that little shit would be enjoying this right now.

The cards were swiftly dealt. He inspected his hand, as the others were talking about theirs. On top were the first two cards, two threes.

The game carried on as a normal one, duets of cards spilling on the table. And then, a lull as yet again his siblings had started another feud. This time, Diego was convinced Five was cheating somehow. Hell, knowing the little menace, he probably was.

Klaus must have dozed off somewhere, because it was only when a hand slammed into his shoulder that his head whipped back to the table, about to mutter a quick apology to what he expected were a circle of tired faces. Instead, he saw a cacophony of grim expressions. Something was going awry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Klaus-”

“You know, the last time I checked, I was the Seance around here-”

“Klaus-”

Klaus mocked a gasp, dramatically placing a hand on his chest as he feigned a look of shock on his face. “No! Don’t tell me you all are putting a Lila on me-”

“Five’s on his last card!” they all exclaimed, exasperated by Klaus’ usual antics.

Oh. Well, that's where the problem quickly emerged. Shit.

“Put something! Anything! Don’t let him win!” Allison shrieked.

“How can she? He’s got some damn strong cards there!” Diego added.

They had to be pulling his leg. Already? Things had just started getting good around here. Or you know, Klaus assumes it was before he was lost in wherever the fuck his mind went. But alas, a hesitant glance at the table and indeed, on the stack of cards, were two aces. Goddamn aces. Scouring through his hand, a sigh came over the medium. Those were some goddamn miracle cards.

Again, if only Benjamin was here. Sure, after their last poker fiasco, the little shit would probably decide to just screw him over again cause he had such a fun ride the last time around. But still, it was at least better than nothi-

Wait. Eyes perked up as Klaus saw a lifeline of a card in his hand.

Aces may have been big.

But they weren’t the biggest.

And with that a couple of two’s were places on the table, and Klaus, with a calm, low tone uttered-

“Last card.”

An array of sounds could be heard. Gasps, exasperated groans and sighs echoed across the table as cards were chucked in the middle in a show of surrender. Five glared daggers, as one would at the person who caused their defeat. It didn’t really matter to the medium anymore because-

“Victory is mine, bitches.”

A scoff, then an eyeroll before Five uttered “Beginner’s luck.”

“I’m the one who told you how to play you little shit.”

“Well, then it’s just a stroke of luck then. The game’s all chance anyways.”

“You goddamn pri-”

“Could it kill you all to be a bit quieter?” Luther asks, cutting the action as he finally stepped into the room.

“Lutherino!”

“Big guy finally decided to show up huh?”

“My apologies Razor Boy, didn’t want to give you guys burnt shit now, didn’t I?” he says, placing a pile of whatever he had made on the table, which was met with an applause all around. Oh damn they looked good.

“You guys only love me for cooking, don’t you?”

“Well, now that you’ve said it-”

“Five!” With a whack on his shoulder, Allison chided the former assassin while scooting a bit into Diego, patting the empty space she’d just created for Luther to plop into.

“Think you could come in with a cute little apron, you know, really sell into the chef role you’ve set for yourself here? One with an abundance of frills, preferably.”

“No, absolutely not Klaus. Now pass me the goddamn cards to shuffle before you guys start some shit again.”

“Wow, our Numero Uno now joins in on the gambling fun? Whatever happened to our ever so righteous bro bro?

“Klaus, I worked with Jack Ruby for a year. You don’t wanna know half the things I’ve witnessed.”

And that was it. That was their breaking point. It wasn’t long before the whole room erupted into laughter and wow this is so good.

It isn’t perfect. They all struggled to fit, it was way too chilly for comfort even under assorted layers of tight knit sweaters. Their hearts still panged for what they had already lost and what they were afraid they could still lose.

But, they were all together, and they haven’t been able to say that for so long. So, they could set all those worries and lingering annoyances aside for a bit to just be. Right here, right now, enjoying the warmth and joy of each other’s presence in a way they never thought they’d be so lucky to feel.

Later that night, Klaus resolves that if ever found Teow again, he’d have to thank him.

#tua #tua secret santa #tua secret santa 2020 #The Umbrella Academy #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #Dave katz #klave #look man they're all just bastards and I just think they're neat #tv: the umbrella academy #mine: writing #damn this is the first fic I've published HELP AJSKLDJAS

21 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 5 years ago

Text

why are you here? ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1658

request?: yes!

@taijaio “Can you do an imagine for Mgk but based on his song why are your here please”

description: in which colson and his ex have another run in despite their constant desire to call it quits permanently

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of smut, cheating, angst

based on this song

masterlist

i’m using sommer ray as colson’s girlfriend in the imagine even tho i don’t think they’ve confirmed if they’re together or not

She said she wasn’t going to be here. She said she was going to spend the night home. She said she wasn’t seeing anyone.

And yet there she was, in the arms of a guy, wearing a skin tight dress that showed off her every curve that I loved. She was pressed up against him in a way that made me feel so angry, even though I had a girl pressed up against me in the same way.

“Hey, it’s (Y/N)!” Sommer exclaimed with excitement. I cringed, hoping she wouldn’t have noticed. “Let's go say hi!”

I would rather chop my dick off, but how was I supposed to tell her that? Sommer didn’t know the extent of mine and (Y/N)’s true relationship.

She took hold of my hand and led me through the crowded bar to (Y/N) and her date. The closer we got, the more I dreaded having to interact with her. Tonight cannot play out like the other nights. I have something good with Sommer, (Y/N) is with someone else. We can’t do this again.

Sommer exclaimed excitedly when she saw (Y/N), and (Y/N) returned the excitement. She hugged Sommer tightly, but I noticed her looking at me with the same fear over Sommer’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you!” (Y/N) said with a fake smile on her face. “I didn’t know you guys would be here!”

“We’re celebrating Colson’s new album being finished!” Sommer responded.

“I didn’t know you'd be here either,” I said, an equally as fake smile on my face.

“It took a lot of convincing to get her out,” her date said, wrapping an arm around (Y/N) and holding her close. He looked at her so fondly, the way she deserved to be looked at. The way I looked at her when we were in private. “But she’s been cooped up for so long, going only to work and then back home. I thought it was time to get her out for some fun for the night.”

“This is Darren, by the way,” (Y/N) said. “We've been dating for about a month now. He’s really looking out for me and my mental health.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Sommer said with a smile. She turned to me to add, “I’m gonna grab us another drink, do you want anything?”

“I’m good, baby, thank you.”

She leaned up to kiss me. I caught the look of jealousy on (Y/N)’s face as she did so.

“I’ll grab us a refill, too,” Darren said, taking (Y/N)’s empty glass and walking towards the bar as well, ignoring (Y/N)’s protests.

We were left alone then. She refused to look at me, opting to stare at a spot on the ground. Which was fine by me, I didn’t exactly want to be in this situation either. If only I could tell my boys the truth about the two of us, maybe they’d stop considering her a part of our friend group for my sake. But I knew I couldn’t do that. If they knew the truth, if anyone but us knew, it wouldn’t be good.

“You said you weren’t going to be here,” I finally said, drawing her attention to me. I had to be closer to her than I wanted to in order for her to hear me over the music without having to yell. “You said you were staying home.”

“That was my plan,” she responded. “Like Darren said, he convinced me to come out. I didn’t think he’d pick this bar, and then what was I supposed to do? Tell him we couldn’t go to this one cause the guy I’ve been fucking in secret for years was going to be here? Besides, why do yo even text me to ask anymore? If you are so happy with Sommer you shouldn’t have to worry about anything happening between us.”

“I’m happy with Sommer, but it always seems like we can’t stay away from each other no matter who we’re with. That’s why I try to avoid you at all costs.”

She looked a little hurt by my comment, and I guess I couldn’t blame her. It was a little harsh, but it was the truth. We broke up a little over a year ago, and yet whenever we ended up in the same place things ended the same way; we hooked up, regretted it, said it would never happen again, process repeats. We were both in relationships now. It wasn’t going to happen again.

“In that case, I’ll tell Darren I want to go home, or to a different bar. I’ll stay out of your way. Have a good life, Colson. I hope you’re happy with Sommer.”

She turned to walk away. I felt that tug in my heart that I always felt when it seemed as though I was losing her permanently. We had been broken up for so long, we should’ve been long over one another. But it was hard to get over someone when one look alone dragged you right back in.

I took hold of her hand, stopping her from walking away. She turned back to look at me, that look in her eyes that I had seen so many times before.

Before I knew it, I was pulling back on my clothes as (Y/N) readjusted her dress to make it look as though nothing had happened. I wondered what excuse we’d use this time for disappearing for so long and coming back at the same time. I wondered if Sommer and Darren would actually buy it this time.

"So much for that being the last time,” (Y/N) muttered as she started reapplying her lipstick. “And thank god for waterproof mascara.”

“We have to stop this eventually,” I told her. “We can’t keep doing this to ourselves or to our partners. It’s not fair to anyone in this situation.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” (Y/N) asked. “The guys think we’re just friends, that we’re okay with being just friends. We can’t suddenly tell them we don’t want to hang out with each other over a year after we broke up. They won’t buy that it’s because we’re both in relationships because we’ve been in relationships before this.”

“The guys love you, too, they’d be so sad if we didn’t hang out anymore,” I sighed.

We really were at an impasse. We couldn’t stop hanging out without our friends, and our partners, getting suspicious. We couldn’t be friends without fucking again.

“Why don’t we try this again between us?” I asked before I could stop myself. (Y/N) looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m serious, maybe there’s a reason we can’t keep away from one another like this. Maybe it’s because we should still be together.”

(Y/N) looked like she was considering it before she shook her head. “We didn’t work, Colson. We’d never work. The only thing that works is the sex.”

“There must be a reason for that, though,” I insisted. “Come on, (Y/N), think about it. If we were both so done with one another, we wouldn’t have to worry about this happening again. We wouldn’t be trying to avoid one another, we wouldn’t be texting each other to make sure there won’t be any run ins. We wouldn’t be having sex like this. Don’t you think we could give this a second chance.”

(Y/N) looked up at me through the mirror. She turned around to face me. She wet her finger and wiped at my nose and cheeks. “You had my lipstick on you.”

“Thank you.”

“We wouldn’t work together,” she told me again. “We tried once and it ended horribly. We constantly fought, we barely spent time together. The only reason we kept being friends was because we were in the same friend group. Darren makes me happy. I mean what I said when I said he helps me with my mental health. I’m happy with him, I don’t want to give that up for a relationship that I know won’t work.”

“You can’t be that happy if you’re willing to let me fuck you in the bathroom while he gets you drinks.”

She glared at me. It was a harsh blow, but it was the honest truth.

“I could say the same about you with Sommer.”

Okay, even harsher blow.

“Whatever, Colson,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m done. See you around, maybe.”

She left the bathroom, leaving me alone with that ending to our conflict. She would see, I knew it. She’d realize there was a reason for our constant hook ups. She’d realize that we were meant to be together, she just needed time.

I looked at myself in the mirror. God, I looked like a mess. Sommer would know something was up. I fixed myself up before having to go face my girlfriend.

She was standing by the car, taking a sip of her drink. I expected her to glare at me when I walked up to her, question me immediately as to where I had been and why I had been gone for so long. Instead, she smiled when she saw me, immediately putting an arm around me and holding me close.

“Where did (Y/N) and Darren go?” I asked, noticing that they weren’t around.

“(Y/N) said something about not feeling well, so Darren took her home,” Sommer responded. “He seems really nice. I’m happy for her.”

He did seem nice, and Sommer was definitely nice. She had a heart of gold, cared for everyone, including my ex-girlfriend. Why did I do this to her then? Why did (Y/N) do this to Darren? Why did we constantly do this to anyone we were with.

“Yeah,” I sighed, my faithful girlfriend cuddling into my chest. “I’m happy for her, too.”

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #imagine #request #one shot #song #song imagine #song prompt #why are you here #tickets to my downfall #estxx #everyone stands together #mgk

267 notes · View notes

wroteasongabouther · 6 years ago

Photo

>> Darling << part 4 ➭ harry tequila always wins

fic page // talk to me about it!

warnings: smut, alcohol, cursing, and maybe some second-hand embarrassment

authors note: if you started reading this fic over a year ago and are here for by far the latest update ever thank you deserve a gold star. lets hope the next update wont take me so long. buckle up boys and girls, it’s a long one.. hope u like it xx

—

December 3rd, 2021

To be a great business woman meant you also needed to be a great sociallite.

Parties were being held nearly every weekend here in New York by the wealthy business men and woman. And with it becoming a younger crowd year by year, the parties got bigger and better. Tonight’s theme was a white out party. You suppose it worked out well as the first snowfall of the year hits the city the very same night.

It’s no surprise that your stylist outdid herself. You wore a bralette styled top, high waisted white pants, white heels, and of course a flare of your extra self with a white faux fur jacket. With your freshly highlighted hair blown out by the cold winter wind and a dark red lip, you knew you were the hottest one to walk into the party. The long stares from both men and woman told you so too.

Upon your arrival, you waste no time give your very expensive jacket to coat check before making your way to the bar. The alluring feel to be all wide eyed and enjoy these parties were long over for you. No, instead you needed nice buzz to actually make it through any of these events.

“You look amazing tonight,” a fellow business woman from Westbrook Atlantic grins as you approach an awaiting group.

“Thank you,” you smile, “crazy how it’s snowing today, right?”

The handful of people you had the attention of all nod and give you the usual fake-interested look you were getting used to now. But then suddenly their gaze all fall to the new addiction to the group. Looking to your left, you see you won’t be avoiding Harry tonight.

He had spotted you and made his choice of socializing tonight it seems. You roll your eyes as everyone asks Harry about his newest deal. Stupid deal may you say, he was going to lose a shit ton of money in the end result.

“You’ve made better choices,” you state with a tight smile before bringing your drink to your lips.

“Oh really?” He challenges you, raising a brow.

“Yeah, I met with Vanessa just last month actually. Sure she’s got the assets but does she really have the brain to carry out such a deal she proposed?” You say.

Harry catches onto your play of words immediately, the others around maybe not so much. While they have questions, Harry simply gives you the slightest glare. If he really expected you to be the same girl who shut up and agreed with him while around business talks, he was sadly mistaken.

You didn’t see the harm in poking some fun at him. This Vanessa girl probably dressed as she did when you had her come to your office too. You didn’t think her boobs could be pushed any higher and her butt screamed fake. Something you’re sure Harry liked about her proposal. It wouldn’t surprise you if he signed with her and then fucked her right afterwards.

Anything to get his dick wet, you knew his damn ways.

“I’m not sure that’s a way for a woman in your position to be speaking of other woman in the business,” Harry says, his lips just twitching to curl up into his well known smirk. “Are you insinuating that Vanessa couldn’t hold up a good deal, because she’s a woman,” he’s playing one of his stupid games, and earning spectators around you two.

“That’s not at all-”

“You’d think that you’d be jumping at the opportunity to help woman in this business, not to try and tear them down,”

“I’d say the same thing if it was a lousy man giving me the same proposal that she did,” you state through gritted teeth.

How could he start such a conversation? He knew damn well that the people around the two of you would start rumours off any little lie he made up. He also knew that you once scolded him for the very same thing. Back when you worked for him. You always knew a part of him didn’t think a woman could handle any serious CEO business - but you also proved him wrong each and every day.

“Quite the statements you’ve made tonight, miss,” Harry smirks, “I should go speak with Mr Griffen, please, excuse me.”

And then he’s wondering off. Not before turning to look over his shoulder at you with that same devious smirk on his face. He knew what he had done, planned it rather quickly on the spot too.

You didn’t get a chance to talk to Harry again the whole night. No, instead you were playing damage control to the mess that Harry started at the beginning of the night. Woman were coming up to you, bickering your ear off about how disrespectful you could be for saying a woman didn’t have the brains for this business. Then you’d have to repeat over and over again your apology for the misunderstanding Harry had of your words. And as you did this, Harry always stood a fair distance away that he could catch your gaze every few moments.

And now here you were at the end of what had to have been the least fun you’ve ever had at an event before.

You’re tipping your head back and feeling the burn of liquor drain down your throat. It was unlike you to do a ton of shots though, in fact you’ve only gotten truly wasted three whole times in your life. And that’s what you were planning on doing, getting so freaking wasted that you’d forget about the horror of a night tonight turned into. You think back on the other times you’ve gotten wasted in your short life time.

The first time was at the fresh age of 16, Peter McDonald had stole a bottle of some brown substance and brought it over to some party - letting you grip the neck of it for most of the night. Thing was, it was your first party you ever attended. You didn’t know when to put the bottle down.

Plus, Peter was just trying to get into your pants.

Too bad you puked all over them before the night was over and ended up being yelled at by your parents for days on end over the whole ordeal.

The other 2 times were because of the very reason you knew you were downing your fifth shot in the past ten minutes. His green eyes taunting you from across the bar. Why hadn’t he left yet? You think as you glare at him. A shiver runs across your skin as another shot of tequila burns down your throat.

“Give me another, Darren,” you order the bartender the moment you shot glasses hits the bar top.

Flashbacks to the first time you had legally gotten black out drunk came flooding back as the familiar middle aged bartender poured you another shot of tequila.

—

December 14th, 2018

“I need this,” you say. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself as you stared at the reflection staring back at you.

“Babe, you like so need this,” your best friend, and roommate, Samantha states from where the bathroom she’s currently made a mess up while getting ready.

You really freaking needed this night out on the town with your girls. Breanne and Chelsea were meeting you two at the club, the three of them had this master plan of begging you to come but after the first month of working for Harry had passed by - you needed this. So you did yourself up, curling your hair and putting on maybe a bit too much highlighter. Samantha let you borrow her newest black lace bodysuit - clearly meant to be a piece of sexy lingerie.

You wondered if Harry liked lingerie.

Shaking your head slightly, you focus back on your reflection as you touch up your lipstick. Before sliding it into the front pocket of your leather material pants. On second thought, you take out the lipstick seeing as the pants were too tight for anything to really fit in the pockets. So you open your closet and find the small white purse you kept hidden away for nights like this.

“Okay, Bre and Chels are like hailing a cab down now so we should leave soon too in order to meet up in line together,” Samantha explains, eyes cast down on her phone before looking up. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you all dressed up. “Or maybe we can skip the line all together if you just like pout those pretty lips at security,” she smiles.

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes and walk to where your phone was charging to unplug it and slip it into your purse. “Should I wear the boots or the open toe heels?”

“Heels, you’re already going to be cold in that top so might as well freeze your perfect little toes too,”

“My toes aren’t perfect,”

“Oh yes they are,” Samantha huffs while sipping up her thigh high boots. She went for a mini skirt and crop top look tonight, obviously looking hot as hell. Didn’t take much effort from her though.

“Ok you perv,” you chuckle.

Samantha laughs along with you and within minutes you’re both downstairs making minimal effort in hailing down a cab. Of course Samantha makes another comment about how your “hotness” got them a cab right away on this busy Friday evening in New York. But it was New York, there was cabs everywhere you looked.

You’re flipping your hair out of your face while looking down the line at the club when someone from behind the ropes steps up to you. He’s wearing a navy suit with a white button up under - the top two buttons undone, a gold chain barely visible around his neck.

“Hey,” he says, a grin upon his face. And it’s a nice face. He must be Lebanese if you had to guess. Perfectly Styles black hair, with perfectly trimmed facial hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi,” you reply.

“How many are in your party, beautiful?” He slides the compliment in smoothly. You can’t help the blush that creeps to your cheeks. At this point you notice the ear piece and thin wire that is tucked nearly behind his ear before disappearing under his shirt.

“Four,” you answer with a smile.

“Perfect, I’d love to escort you in,”

“Okay,” you nod.

Samantha doesn’t waste any time grabbing onto Breanna and Chelsea and pulling them from the line, all three of them picking up their pace in order to cut in line with you. The gorgeous man smiles at you all before unhooking the rope and letting you through.

“Told you so,” Samantha is singing in your ear as you all stick close together in the buzzing club.

You quickly figure out the man that let you in is one of the managers of the establishment. He orders a round of tequila shots, then a few drinks too. At first he’s friendly to the four of you, but then he’s turned his back to your friends and is asking you questions.

“So what do you do for work?” He asks. It’s a regular old question, but one that causes your stomach to turn and heart to pick up its pace.

“Um, I’m an assistant for a pretty big businessman I guess,” you answer with a shrug before bringing your drink to your lips and taking a generous sip.

“Oh nice,” he smiles, “do you like it?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you stumble on your answer, eyes drifting over his shoulder to where your three friends were now taking shots with some other girls.

“Suppose work isn’t a great talking subject for you, huh?” The man teases. “Did you want another shot?”

You nod, giving him a tight smile before he waves over the bartender again. Just as your tipping your head back, the manager seems to be called away as he presses a few fingers to his left ear in order to hear what’s being said into the earpiece in his right ear. Next thing you know he’s telling the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, brushing back your hair off your shoulder gently to whisper into your ear.

“Enjoy your night off, hopefully you’ll stick around long enough for me to escort you out,” he says, leaning back to give you a wink before he’s slipping away from you at the bar and into the crowd.

“Did you get his number?” Breanna asks as the three of your friends walk up to you.

“No,” you shrug and slowly let the corner of your lips curl upwards, “but I got our drinks covered for the night,”

“Oh my god!” Chelsea shouts, her mouth wide open in shock.

“That’s it, you’re coming out with us all the time now, you hot bitch,” Breanna exclaims before pushing her chest into the bar, her breasts nearly spilling right out of the top she’s wearing, as she waves down a bartender. “We’ll get eight tequila shots, please,” she shouts out with a grin.

“Oh, we’re so getting wasted tonight,” Chelsea smiles, pulling up her phone to take a video of the bartender pouring the shots - of course turning the camera to you after, causing you to giggle and hide your face.

“You need this, Y/N,” Samantha repeats her words from earlier in the night, “you’ve been working like a damn dog, now let’s let loose and enjoy this night,”

After downing the two tequila shots each, Chelsea is leading the way to the dance floor. The thumping of the bass, with the crazy light show and within seconds you can feel all those shots you just took. You’re jumping up and down, grabbing onto Samantha’s shoulder to shout out the lyrics of the song playing around you. And for almost two hours, you never once think of Harry.

That is until you’re sitting alone in a booth, pulling your phone out for the first time tonight to see a ton of messages from your boss - and your potential booty call? No, you tell yourself as you read the texts.

Harry: I need you to change my schedule for next weekend, clear all meetings. I will still take phone calls.

Harry: I also need my dry cleaning picked up before noon tomorrow.

Harry: Coffee and breakfast by 7.

Harry: And don’t wear any underwear.

Harry: Hello?

Harry: Y/N look at your damn phone.

Harry: Call me right when you get these messages.

You sigh before typing away at your screen.

Y/N: I don’t think I’m fit to call you at this moment, Mr Styles..

Harry: What do you mean by that? And why are ignoring my texts?

Y/N: I mean that I am currently unable to talk on the phone. Not in the best state of mind for a quick chat with my boss.

Harry: What the hell do you mean?

Harry: Are you drunk?

You rolls your eyes at your screen. Before you can even type out your response, Harry has sent another message.

Harry: Where are you?

Y/N: it’s none of your business actually

Harry: Actually it is completely my business, if you value your damn job I suggest you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.

Y/N: I’m just living my life Harry. Let me live.

And with that, you slide your phone back into your purse. Your hearts racing as you stare across the booth. A hiccup passes your lips. Then all of a sudden you don’t feel so good. Slipping out from the booth you push your way past the people in VIP to get to the bathrooms. Once the door of the stall is shut behind you, you’re leaning over the toilet and taking deep breathes. Nothing comes up, thank god, but it was a close call.

Maybe that feeling in your stomach wasn’t the threat of tequila coming back up. Maybe it was because you just told off your freaking boss.

You groan and lean your head back against the cool metal of the stall. Tequila made you do some dumb shit.

You don’t remember how long you stood in the stall before someone knocking and asking if you’re alright. Then you’re back in the VIP section and unable to find any of your friends. Pulling out your cell phone, you go to unlock it and call up Samantha but instead you’re bombarded by incoming calls from Mr Harry Styles.

“And somehow you look just as stunning with a frown on your face,” you turn at the voice of the bar manager. “What’s got you frowning?” He asks, stepping up in front of you now.

“I-I don’t know where my friends are and my stupid boss is bugging me,” you explain, not even realizing that you’re pouting afterwards.

“I could check the cameras for your friends, if you wanted to come to the back with me?” He’s peering at you through his lashes. Something that maybe a couple hours ago you’d find sexy, and maybe you would go to the back with him for a quick fuck. But now all you could picture was Harry’s stupid green eyes and stupid stupid face.

“I think I’m going to go home,” and with that statement you turn on your heels to head out of this place. Only you seem to have forgotten in your foggy drunken state just how unstable you are, falling forward straight onto the floor.

“Shit,” the manager cursed as he kneels down beside you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble while brushing your hands on your thighs, leaning back on your feet as you sat on the dirty bar floor. Suppose these pants were trash now, you think while looking at the scuffed material at your knees.

“Here, let me help you find a cab,”

“I need another shot,” you order while taking his hands and getting back to your feet.

“I think you’ve had enough-“

“No,” you snap, “I need another damn shot now,”

“Okay,” he nods and leads you to the bar instead.

Maybe it’s the powerful tone you used. Or maybe it’s cause he still wants to fuck you. But the bar manager nods and leads you to the bar once again. One shot turns into two as you try to blur out the thoughts of Harry. God where did Samantha go? You think while glancing around the club.

“I’ve got to go back to work,” the bar manager tries again. You sigh and close your eyes, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as your elbow rests on the sticky bar top. “Keep an eye on her,” he says to the bartender.

It doesn’t take long before another guy is slide up next to you. He’s cute, got that typical ‘I’ll fuck you then never talk to you again’ hair cut that’s shaved at the sides and long at the top. Clean shaved and sporting a coy smile.

“Dance with me,” he say.

You’re about to grab ahold of his hand and let him lead the way when you suddenly recognize Breanna and Chelsea walking towards you. A grin spreads across your face at the sight of your friends.

“Hey!” You shout while wrapping them both in for a hug.

The fuckboy seems to get the clue you’ve lost interest in him and walks off without you. It’s probably for the best, you’d look like an outright fool trying to dance all sexy out there. Tequila made for some sloppy dancing from you.

“We’re about to head out,” Breanna states, rubbing your back which brings a soft smile from you.

“Have you seen Samantha?” You ask.

“Not since she started making out with that guy back on the dance floor,” Breanna says.

“Pretty sure she left with him,” Chelsea adds.

“Nice,” you smirk and lean your head on Breanna’s shoulder. “Well, I for one had a ton of fun with you girls tonight,” you’re shouting out the words with maybe a bit too much excitement. Breanna and Chelsea laugh, hugging you once more before asking if you were ok by yourself.

You had hope a certain gorgeous bar manager would be making his way back to the VIP section.

After your friends have left, you’re walking back to the bar and leaning over it slightly as you go on your tip toes in order to get the bartenders attention. He’s watching you in between pouring a few shots for some other customers. Then as your pushing your cleavage together he’s resting both hands on either side of where you were leaning towards him, head tilting up with a smirk.

“You’re trouble,” he states, voice much lower than you expected. He’s hot. Like slightly older guy kinda hot. He’s got a nice moustache, a few lines around his grey eyes. Hell, he’s like really hot for his age - you think while biting down on your bottom lip.

“Maybe,” you counter back. “I’d like another shot of tequila, please,” you order with a smile while slowly leaning back from the bar.

The bartender doesn’t move at first, instead his eyes are drinking you in. Suppose this bodysuit - or lingerie or whatever - was really working for you. Then all of a sudden his grey eyes flicker over your shoulder. He stiffen immediately, then stands up straight and tall. What in the world-

“Actually she won’t be having any more tequila,” you could recognize that voice anywhere. Harry was here. Like right here, stepping up beside you in the same suit he was wearing earlier today. The same suit you had your hands wrapped around as he fucked you in the janitors closet. “Seems you’ve given her enough tonight Darren,” Harry adds with a dark look to the bartender.

“Um, no,” you pipe up, leaning back over the bar quickly to grasp the bartender - Darren’s attention. “Tequila, now,” you demand this time.

Darren looks from you, back to Harry, then back to you again to give you a small smile. And then he’s walking away. What the hell, you think.

“What are you doing here?” You question, turning a bit too quickly to face Harry as you sway a little bit. Harry reacts by grabbing your arm to settle your drunken movements. You shrug from his grasp right away. Seems Harry doesn’t like it, eyes narrowing in at you before his hand is back by his side.

“I’m here to take you home, think you’ve had enough fun tonight,” he says the word fun with more of an angry tone.

“No,”

“No?” Harry raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, no,” you say while lifting your chin up.

“Not making a lot of sense, darling,” he mutters. You notice how his jaw is clenched, eyes hard before they wander around the VIP section.

He seems to find who or whatever he’s looking for as he takes a few steps behind you. This is your chance, you think with a smile as you turn back to the bartender and flip your hair from your face. He’s standing back in front of you as you give him a wave.

“Tequila, please,” you sing.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“Look, Denis,” you pause as your eyes narrow into small slits. “If you don’t pour me another double shot of tequila so I can continue on with my night, I will make your life a living hell,”

“Put the claws away, Y/N,” Harry’s back standing behind you. “No more to drink, you’re leaving now,”

“No!” You shout at him as you turn to face him maybe a bit too quickly. Your stomach sloshing at the movements. “You’re not the boss of me,” you add.

“Actually, I am,” he smirks. Bastard, you think as you glare at him. “Put her tab on my card, Darren,” Harry says, his eyes not leaving yours as he places his credit card on the bar.

“The manager was covering my tab tonight,” you state, lips curling up into a smirk to match his.

“Actually, I fired him,”

“Fired? What do you think you just own this whole damn city?” You question, crossing your arms at your chest.

“Well, I do own this club,” Harry says, “so, yes, he’s fired,”

“Bullshit,” you roll your eyes as the anger seems to be rolling off you now. Your drunk was no more happy all thanks to your crazy boss.

“Thank you,” Harry says to Darren as he takes back his card, eyes skimming the receipt briefly. “Jesus, were you trying to drink yourself to bloody stupidity?” he asks before shoving the receipt into his pocket.

“Well my friends were with me, so like they had some drinks too obviously,” you shrug and lean back against the bar.

“Where are your friends now?”

You shrug again and find yourself watching him through your blurring vision. Didn’t matter how many men here tried to make a move. Harry Styles was by far the hottest most sexy of them all. Maybe it was a good call to not have another shot of tequila so you could fuck the-

Your thoughts are cut short as you feel sick suddenly. Running past Harry, you push open the bathroom door, locking the first open stall in sight before clasping to your knees and throwing up into the toilet bowl. Your ears are ringing as you barely make out the sounds in the bathroom around you. Some girl is shouting, then your heads in the toilet again as you gag out more contents of your stomach.

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice is soft from the other side of the stall. You close your eyes and lean against the side of the stall, the metal was cool like it was earlier too. “Are you okay?” Harry asks.

“I’m fine, Harry,” you answer in a sarcastic tone, smiling as you look over to see his favourite YSL boots on the other side of the door.

“Unlock the door,” he orders.

You roll your eyes and stand on your wobbly heels. Placing both hands on the door, you let out a deep breath before whipping the door open and pushing passed Harry. You needed to rinse your mouth, you think while stepping up to the sink. After doing so you look up into the mirror. Your eyes find Harry in the reflection right away. He has his back to you for a few moments, shoulders rise up before falling slowly back down to his composed posture he always has. When he turns around to face you, taking the step steps towards you, you can see the anger in his eyes.

You fucked up.

“Don’t yell at me,” the words slip past your lips before you can stop them. Then suddenly you’re pouting at him too.

Damn tequila.

“I want to do a lot more than yell at you, pet,” Harry says through clenched teeth.

It’s the first time you’re alone with him now. Glancing around you notice that Harry had kicked everyone out of the bathroom. You brush your hands against your hips, the lace rough before you touch the cool leather of your pants. Harry looks at you through the reflection in the mirror, he’s towering over your figure - so close you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Like what?” You question, your tone once again taken over from the tequila in your system - what were you doing teasing your boss after you just threw up only moments ago?

Harry doesn’t answer - verbally. Instead he grips your hips with both his hands, his touch rough and firm, pulling your body into his. You react with a quick gasp, then he’s lifting one hand up to your throat. Harry gently squeezes, while you widen your eyes and stare at him in the mirror once again. There’s no denying how your core is pulsing between your legs. There’s also no missing the hardness pressed against your lower back. A glimpse of desire crosses Harry’s face. Lips spread into a wicked smile, his eyes hooded as they gaze back at you through the reflection.

“I want to fuck the recklessness out of you,” he speaks as though he’s craving the mere idea of it.

Harry tights his grip at your throat as his other hand snakes around to the front of your pants. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would do exactly what he just stated he wanted. Harry Styles made it pretty clear over this past month that he always got what he wanted.

“I want you to know who’s the boss of you,” he continues, “I want you to stutter over my name as I show you exactly who’s the boss of you,”

A whimper gets caught in your throat as you ache to be touched. You had learnt over time that Harry had a way with his words - and he knew it too. The way he’d just simply reword something to sound more seductive in the office, it always got to you.

“I want it,” you utter the three words Harry loved the most.

He pops the button of your pants undone, sliding down the zipper before running his fingertip over the lace that was apart of your bodysuit situation. The motion causes you to quiver under his touch, you moving only results in Harry’s grip tightening - both at you throat and your hip.

You don’t even realize that you had closed your eyes as they flutter open once more and catch Harry’s dark greens in the mirror. His chest is rising and falling at a faster pace than normal. In that moment it’s almost as though you read his mind.

“Please,” you say just above a whisper.

Harry has your pants to your knees in only two swift movements, and that’s impressive considering just how tight the leather material was. He rips the material of the bodysuit just as quick, the veins in his hands pulsing as he does so, and you barely have a second to think of how upset Samantha is going to be you ripped her lingerie. Your bare bum is lifted up to the damp counter top, your hands falling back to grip on of the sinks while your head smacks back into the mirror. Harry’s hands are at his own body now, but only for a few moments as he slips his hard cock out of his pants.

Your stomach feels like giants are stomping inside, while you can hear your own pulse in your ears loud and clear. There’s no sound coming from your mouth but it’s open, maybe in shock or maybe in anticipation - you were too drunk to really know.

Harry only brushes the tip of him between your soaking slits once before he’s pushing himself into you - hard. You gasp, a burning feeling overcoming you between your legs. But then he’s moving, fast, pounding into you in quick hard meaningful thrusts. With each thrust a gasp escapes your lips. Harry moves a hand back to your throat, which you react by leaning back more in order to give his hand more room to choke you. The warm feeling in the pit of your stomach grows quick as Harry fucks you hard on the bathroom sink.

You lose it when he rubs your clit, not soft in any way, no he wants to get your release out of the way almost. And when your body is pulsing under his touch, waves of your orgasm rippling through your entire body, he slips out of you completely and flips your body so your stomach is flat against the counter. Harry positions himself between your legs again before entering your warm wet cunt. You moan at the sensitive feeling as he fucks you some more.

Lifting your head, you meet your own glassy eyes first. Glassy from the drinks you’ve downed tonight, and from the pleasure you’re feeling right in this moment now. Just has Harry’s thrusts begin to slow, you raise your gaze to look at him instead. What a sight, you think as his eyes are closed and his mouth is open. Within seconds you feel him finish inside of you. Warm and oozing between your thighs as he slips out slowly.

You shut your eyes for a moment as you focus on your breathing. This was by far the quickest fuck you and Harry have had. Maybe even the roughest. And it was definitely hot. God, just thinking about how his hand felt around your throat made you want to pull him in for another round.

“Pull up your pants,” Harry demands.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s serious eyes. Standing on wobbling feet, you reach for your pants and pull them up to your hips again. You have to tuck in the ends of the bodysuit, while you could still feel the wetness between your thighs. Suppose Harry didn’t feel like helping you clean up today.

“Where are your keys?” Harry’s questions causes you to turn and look at where he stood now. He was by the stall, going through your purse.

“My roommate has them,” you answer.

“And she is where?”

“I, I don’t know,” you reply sheepishly. Eyes cast down to the floor as you realize you’ve made yourself look like even a biggest fool in front of Harry.

“Suppose you can stay at mine,” Harry mutters.

You nod while brushing your hands through your hair. There was this feeling at the pit of your stomach. Tonight was gone to absolute shit. Harry was going to fire you. Let you sleep at his house, and then fire you tomorrow morning. There was no way in hell any of your behaviour was acceptable tonight. How you told him off, ignored his messages, and then somehow managed to fuck him in the public washroom. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour as Harry leads the way from the bathroom to where he had a car waiting for the two of you outside the club.

Harry doesn’t speak in the car. So neither do you. In fact the cool feeling of the window against your cheek causes you to close your eyes and nearly doze off to sleep. But you’re still aware of the situation you’re currently in, so you force yourself to stay awake till you got into whatever sleeping arrangement Harry had for you.

You steal one glance at Harry during the car ride. The lights from the city night casting into the car and lighting up his high feature of his face. He’s got his knuckles pressed against his lips, something he did while in deep thought quite often, you had taken note of it over the past while now. His eyes are focused forward, but you know he’s zoned out in whatever thoughts are clouding his head. Maybe it was how he was going to fire you tomorrow. You open your mouth for only a second, thinking of slipping out a quick apology, but instead you press them tightly closed once more and look back out the window beside you. Right now you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and get rid of this foggy feeling all that tequila gave you.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, first door on the left down that way.” Harry states, pointing to the hallway at your left as the private elevator for his penthouse opens up.

Harry walks out into the open concept quick. Obviously over the wow factor his home held. It was stunning. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one big room. Floor to high ceiling windows across from the wall with the elevator gave him and his guests the best view of the city you could ever imagine. It was decorated with minimalist taste, only greys and blacks - absolutely no colour besides the deep chestnut wood of the floors beneath your feet. You especially liked the dark cabinets and granite that complimented his kitchen beautifully. Harry’s standing at the biggest stainless steel fridge you’ve ever seen.

He closes it and has one bottle of water and one bottle of blue Gatorade in his hand. You begin walking to where he is now, impressed by the appliances in the kitchen. He had a freaking high quality espresso machine that you’ve seen in a Starbucks.

“Drink this when you wake up,” Harry says. He meets your eyes for the first time since leaving the club. “There should be Advil in the cupboard of the en suite too. And drink some of this before you go to sleep,” he orders while placing the Gatorade down first and then the water bottle.

“I know how to help a hangover, Harry,” you state, “I was once in university, you know,”

“I do know,” he nods, “was just thinking you spend that time and all those student loans on your education, not partying,”

“I didn’t always party,” you mutter under your breath. Harry stares at you across the island that you stood on the other side of it. “I just, I needed to let loose and have some fun tonight. I’m sorry that I got you involved in my personal bullcrap of a night,” you finally say half of whats heavy on your chest.

Harry nods once. Then his eyes fall to where a clock was in the kitchen. You follow his gaze and catch sight of the time too. It was nearing 2 in the morning now. A yawn escapes your lips.

“Have a good sleep, darling,” Harry says softly before he’s walking out of the open room and down one of the two hallways.

Sadly he walks down the other hallway, opposite to the one he directed you to where the bed you’d be sleeping in was. You imagine sharing a bed with Harry again like you had the one time back at the hotel, the first time you two had had sex. Since that night you hadn’t fallen asleep beside him since. He fucked you at the office, in the back of cars, and even in the bathroom of a club now.

You ignore these thoughts and grab the two bottles that Harry had gotten for you before finding the bedroom you’d be sleeping in. There was nothing more you wanted right now than to get under the blanket and sleep. Well, maybe you wanted this night to have never happened - then you would be able to sleep peacefully knowing your job wasn’t about to be done for.

The next morning you woke up to the sun shining in your eyes. The first thing that you notice as you sit up are how your clothes that you had left on the floor are now gone. Then your head begins to pound, letting out a deep breath you reach for the Gatorade. But sitting beside it is a note.

‘come into the office whenever you start feeling better- Harry’

You throw up in the shower. It’s not by any means your best moment, but it happens, and after getting nice and clean - in one of the greatest showers ever - you walk back out to the bedroom. Harry’s guest bedroom. Your bosses guest freaking bedroom. You shake your head at yourself and turn to see another note tapped to the closet door.

‘got you a few things to chose from - Harry’

He was buying you clothes after last night? You sigh and open the door to reveal the decent sized walk in, you couldn’t imagine what the master bedroom was like if this was only a guest bedroom. Inside you see a few items hung in the otherwise empty closet, as well as a pair of shoes sitting on the floor neatly.

There’s two dresses and a blouse and skirt hung up. All tags say Gucci on them, which honestly makes your head spin just thinking of how much they are worth but it could also be the killer hangover you were nursing while sipping on the Gatorade Harry had gotten for you last night. With little to no want to even be standing right now, you grab for the first hanger and put the simple cream colour dress with green and red stripes on. It zips completely up the front, from bottom to top. Suppose Harry would like the easy access of this dress, you think. Too bad he would no longer be your boss after the crap you put him through last night.

There’s no underwear, that should be noted, but you’re not really that surprised that Harry hadn’t gotten you any sort of under garments at all. He wasn’t a fan of underwear at all really. You decide to throw your hair up as it’s still a bit damp, then you find your purse and walk to the bedroom door. The heels click against the hardwood flooring while you walk to the large open concept living space of Harry’s home.

He’s not home, obviously, hence the first note you had read this morning. Going into the office so early on a Saturday only meant that things were just as busy as ever - business didn’t even stop for the holidays. You take another generous sip of the Gatorade and check your phone for the time.

Suppose it’s better to get this over with, you think. It was only 8 in the morning, only an hour later than when you’d typically head into work. You ignore the text messages from your friends, only making sure there wasn’t any new ones from Harry. There isn’t. You let out another sigh and head towards the elevator that’s inside Harry’s house. Because who doesn’t have a private elevator right? You take in the view one last time with a longing look - you wanted this view. You wanted this life. And yet you managed to fuck up your only passage into this lifestyle by drinking far too much tequila and fucking your boss. Your professors would be so proud.

“Miss,” you recognize Harry’s driver as you enter the lobby. He’s waiting for you it seems, standing from one of the couches as you walk towards him. “Mr Styles has told me to take you into work this morning,” he states.

“Well,” you pause, swallowing back the threat of vomiting for the third time this morning. “Let’s get going then,” you say with a tight smile.

You nearly fall asleep on the short ride to the Styles Enterprises building. Harry’s driver opens the door for you, which you simply give him a smile and short thank you in return. Maybe he’d like to give you a ride home to your crap apartment after, stop by a few cafes on the way home to find a new job too. You let out a sigh and ignore the rest of the people around the building that do recognize you.

This was by far one of the worst hangovers of your life, you think while finishing the rest of the Gatorade and tossing the bottle in the bin under your desk. Harry’s office door is closed. As it always is. Checking the calendar on your desk, you make sure he’s not in a meeting or on an important call. There’s nothing written down, so you drop your purse off and walk to the large doors.

“Come in,” Harry calls from inside after you knock.

He’s sitting at his desk, his back straight as a board as he types away whatever business stuff he had to attend to at this hour. God you were too hungover for this. You stop only a foot in front of his desk and wait for him to look up. It takes only a few breaths before Harry’s gaze falls to you. He lets his eyes draw up the length of you, from the black heels to the mess of hair upon your head. He probably notices the few small bruises at your knees from whatever you did last night. Or maybe he notices the small red marks at your neck. You remember what those are from, 100-percent, you’d never forget it.

“Did you not read my note?” Harry questions.

“Yeah, I did,” you nod, pausing to lick your lips, “just thought I’d get this whole losing my job thing over with,”

“Losing your job?” He raises a brow, pushing his chair back a bit from the desk. You raise your eyebrows as well, tilting your head at him.

“You really expect me to believe you’re not going to fire me after what happened last night?”

“You were enjoying a night out with friends, I admit I was being pushy with my text messages,” Harry says as he stands from his desk. You stay silent at his words. You rarely hear Harry ever admit he’s wrong. In fact you can’t think of a time, work related or not. It may also be because your brain’s working a bit slower this morning.

“You’re being serious?” You ask, “I’m not fired?”

You watch Harry’s every step as he makes his way around his desk and towards you. There’s not missing how your heart rate picks up again. Damn him, you think. He looked so good today in his grey suit and baby blue shirt. The top two buttons were undone which makes you think he must really be having a tough morning. You wonder how you can help.

“Miss, if you could get me another coffee, and make sure my next weekend is freed up,” Harry says.

“Of course,” you nod.

Harry reaches forward, the backs of his fingers gently touching the marks at your neck. You hold your breath. He blinks slowly, eyes still on them as he probably recalls last night in the bathroom. Then he’s reaching up to your hair, tugging at the elastic that was keeping it up. You reach up to help, letting your hair down.

“Maybe it’s best to keep your hair down, darling,” he says, a sly smile curling at his mouth.

“Right,” you breathe out.

Harry’s so close. So close that you can’t help but look down at his lips.

“Coffee, please,” he smiles.

You nod again and turn to walk out of his office. And maybe stop by the woman’s washroom to empty out your stomach yet again this morning. The mere thought of vomiting makes you feel even more sick.

“Y/N,” Harry calls. You turn back around, lifting your brows as you fear opening your mouth would resulting in vomit ending up on the floor of Harry’s office. “Make sure your calendar is clear for next weekend too, you’ll be joining me” he exclaims.

“Sorry?”

“Is there an issue?” Harry questions, his eyes barely raise from where they were looking down at some papers in his hands.

“It’s nothing, just had some plans-”

“Another night with tequila?”

“No-”

“Good, then cancel your plans. Or I’ll think about that whole you losing your job thing again,” Harry says. You can only nod before you turn away and walk out of his office.

These past 24 hours have been the wildest of your entire life, you’re sure of it. You try to forget about it all as you sit at your desk and begin to clear Harry’s schedule for the upcoming weekend. What for? Well that was the burning question now, seeing as you were to join him. You hoped it was to travel somewhere nice - you could enjoy Hawaii in December.

—

December 3rd 2021

You catch sight of Harry in the thinning crowd of the night. Though you hadn’t done much socializing after trying to cover yourself from the load of crap Harry started earlier in the night. While Harry had been buttering up anyone and everyone. You especially didn’t like the attention he was giving that blonde, her hair looked fake for Godsake.

“Lovely coat,” Harry says as he steps up in front of you.

“Oh shut it, before I kick you out of my club,” you spit back. All these drinks in your system meant you didn’t have the time to put up with him right now. Truthfully you just wanted Michael to get here and bring you home.

“Such a petty move, by the way, buying this bar,” he states, eyes wandering around the room.

“Thought that bar manager deserved his job back after your jealousy got him fired after all,” you ramble back at him, tightening your coat at your chest as the front doors open a few feet away from you. “Besides, you put it on the market, I just saw a good business opportunity,” you add.

“Questionable statements, all of them,” Harry says.

You don’t have a response. So instead you press your lips together tightly, eyeing Harry for the millionth time tonight. God you wanted nothing more than to hit him. Maybe you’d hire someone to do it. A few ideas came to mind as big bold letters reading ‘PAYBACK’ flashed through your head. You pull your mouth up to a smirk, crossing your arms at your chest now.

“I didn’t realize we were going to be playing these games so soon, Styles,” you say.

“Thought you knew the business by now, darling,” Harry’s smirk matches yours. It was like fighting fire with fire. And you loved it.

“Oh you taught me plenty about this side of the business, don’t you worry,” you say, taking one stop forward and bringing your fingers up to the collar of his white dress shirt. You smooth your fingers slowly over the material a few times. “I’ll play dirty,” you pause and lean towards him till your lips brush against his ear, “if that’s what you want,” you say.

You think for only a second that you’d stunned him to silence. But you never had the upper hand. A gasp pushes passed your lips as he places a hand at your lower back and presses you flesh against his front. Turning your head, you meet his gleaming eyes and devious smile.

“You’ve always know exactly how dirty I like it, darling,” he says.

He’s only close for a few seconds. As you’re too tipsy to push away immediately - or maybe too turned on. Either way, you give him a quick look before bringing your hands to his shoulders and pushing away from his hold. There’s no more words to be exchanged, you think as you walk to the front doors and find Michael standing there with the door open waiting for you. You don’t miss the questioning look in his eyes.

“Take me home, Michael,” you hiss at him.

Of course, you’re not angry at him. Oh no, it’s the mischievous green eyed bastard of a man that has managed to weasel his way back into your life - even after all the damage he’s done to you.

#wow #who else is shocked i actually posted this???#cause i sure am #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry x you #harry styles smut #harry styles one s #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #ceo!harry

183 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 6 years ago

Text

Bitter Pill

(from ‘Couple in Flat 102’)

…in which Y/N’s brother is in the hospital, and Harry just thinks too much.

wattpad link

Y/N hadn't seen Jack since the talk about her wedding dress on Sunday. He took Monday off due to a business trip, and only replied to her thank you text message with a simple 'you're welcome', and that's it. So she expected to see her boss at work the next day in order to thank him in person, and pay him the money back for the gown, which he had insisted on her taking as a gift, but he was still her boss and therefore accepting it would be wrong.

Unfortunately, when Y/N arrived at work on Tuesday morning, once again, she found his desk empty.

"Kate, do you know where Ja—Mr. Coleman is?"

The vice president's assistant dropped the beam on her face as she looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then Kate leaned closer to whisper into Y/N's ear, telling her not to tell anyone about that, "he won't be in the office this week. His mother's in the hospital."

It was obvious that Jack wasn't the kind of man who liked to share about his personal life, the only time he'd mentioned his mother to Y/N was during their conversation in the café. But from the way he talked, Y/N could feel the great love he had for that woman, and so she thought right now he must be devastated. Jack would never abandon work for whatever reason, even if it was the weekend, or a holiday, or, as her co-workers used to joke, if the whole building was on fire. Y/N didn't know exactly how ill his mother was. Kate had only said that she'd passed out last night, and despite having regained consciousness, the hospital still refused to let her go home so soon. Nevertheless, the fact that Jack wouldn't be here this whole week already made it obvious that his mother's condition had taken quite a toll on him.

"Poor man, should we send his mother flowers?" Y/N asked Harry while petting their cat with one hand, and his hair with the other. They were watching an action movie on Netflix and she just couldn't concentrate; not only because the movie sucked but it was Harry's turn to pick one so she couldn't really complain, but also because she couldn't stop thinking about her brother as well as Jack's mother. Harry, on the other hand, was unable to take his eyes off the screen, not even for a second.

"She's gonna be fine, love." He sighed, snuggling his head into her bare shoulder. "But I think it's nice if you want to send flowers."

"Jack was very nice to us after all."

That short sentence immediately drew Harry's attention away from the on-going movie. He didn't need a reminder of how nice her boss was, because he already knew, and he hated to admit that it was bothering him more than it should. Even if Y/N refused to believe it, Harry was convinced that Jack had feelings for her, not just ordinary feelings, deep ones.

When Harry used to have a crush on Y/N, he would go out of his way to make sure she was happy and got what she wanted, even if he wasn't always gonna be a part of that joy. And that was exactly what Jack's doing now. Though he probably knew it wasa bad idea to fall for an engaged woman, he just couldn't help it and still did everything in his power to guarantee her happiness, even if it was with Harry and not him. Jack had never made a move on Y/N and seemed respectable, and just like Harry, he also wanted nothing but the best for her. So Harry really had no other reason to hate him besides the fact that they would do anything for the same woman. So now that Y/N started talking about that man again, Harry felt so uneasy that he couldn't continue watching the movie anymore. They never got to finish it though.

As soon as Y/N decided to pay attention to the screen again, she received a call from an unknown caller ID.

It was from a hospital.

The Hill Crest community hospital was one hour drive from where she lived, and it was already past midnight then, but she couldn't sit and wait until morning after they'd said her brother had been found in a car crash, and unconscious when they brought him in. Y/N's mind was empty, her heart was pounding like a drum. The girl was literally going insane as she threw on some clothes, wanting to go see her brother right away. She insisted on going there alone, but Harry didn't let that happen. He ended up giving her a ride, because after what had happened to her brother he needed to make sure she got there safely.

It was around two in the morning when they arrived. Y/N was already on the verge of tears as she rushed into the lobby like a mad woman, and asked the lady at the front desk about her brother's condition. In the car she had thought of the worst scenarios while praying for the best. So as soon as she heard from the nurse that Darren is still alive, and just regained consciousness, she couldn't help but dissolve in happy tears. Y/N asked if she was allowed to see him, and they say she was, but they need to talk to her about his general condition first.

The young couple followed a female doctor into a room where she showed them Darren's x-rays, and explained the severity of his injury, as well as how long it would take for him to recover. Then the woman talked about how the accident had happened. The more she said, the less Y/N believed. Maybe the girl was just in denial, thinking she knew her brother better than the people there. Maybe she didn't want to think she didn't really know him that well. Or maybe, she just didn't know how to feel about what she'd just found out. It hurt her enough to be here, now that she knew the reason why there'd been an accident, she was half angry, half perplexed.

Sighing, Y/N flopped down on the armchair by her brother's hospital bed, with Harry holding her shoulders to keep her calm. "I just talked to the doctor. You'll be lying here for months, Darren!"

"I know, kid. I'm also a doctor." Darren flashed her a broken smile because the stitches on his face made it hard for even such small movements.

"And an idiot," his sister replied, squeezing her own forehead. "Do you want me to call Emily?"

"No." Darren's reaction when Y/N brought up his wife made the young couple very confused as they exchange questioning looks.

"Well, she's gonna know eventually."

The long pause which followed what Harry had said told Y/N something was definitely wrong. She'd felt it since she received the hospital call about Darren's accident, only to find out later that he had been drunk driving. There was a reason he was her parents' favorite, he was the most responsible man she'd known. So him doing something so thoughtless and putting his life in danger was what she would never have expected.

"Emily and I..." Darren spoke at last. Neither Harry nor Y/N could tell the pain in his voice was physical or emotional, or it could be a terrible mixture of both kinds. "She's been sleeping with another man."

"What?" Y/N sat up straight and Harry's grip on her shoulders tightened to keep her in place. "How...did you find out?"

"She fucking admitted herself. Can you believe it?" Darren struggled to release a laugh, more like he was laughing at himself for being stupid enough to end up in this situation. But Y/N knew it wasn't his fault that Emily was unfaithful, he truly loved that woman.

Harry insisted on going so Y/N could chat with her brother, even after Darren had said it would be okay if he stayed. Harry just thought it would be easier for Darren to talk about what happened when it was just him and Y/N. He told them he's go buy some snacks and be right back, then kissed her once, and left the room.

It wasn't a very busy night in the hospital so Harry didn't expect to run into a friend or even an acquaintance here. However, as soon as he stepped into the lift, a familiar figure dashed inside right before the door was closed. At first, Harry didn't remember having met the man before, it wasn't his fault because it had been only one time, and they hadn't said a word to each other then.

Harry politely stepped aside so this guy could press a button. But the moment they made eye-contact, it only took one second for them to recognize each other. Both were equally surprised.

"Hey, you're—"

"Jack. I work with Y/N. We've met before." This time, unlike the last, Jack gave Harry an amiable smile as he shook his hand.

Harry'd had weirder encounters than this. He recalled that time, back in university, he had been partnered up with a girl he'd hooked up with who'd loathed him deeply. And so he ended up doing all the work for that class because she'd refused to help or even communicate. He thought it was already the most awkward moment ever in his life. But this definitely topped it all. He looked at the digital signage above the door, waiting for the number to jump to '1' while silently cursing the lift for moving so slowly.

Suddenly, Jack spoke up, "why are you here? Is...is Y/N okay?"

"She's fine." Harry cleared his throat, not very surprised when Jack's icebreaker question was about his fiancé. This guy cannot be anymore obvious, can he? "Her brother was in a car crash."

"Jesus! Is he okay?"

"He's gonna be here for months but he's better now...How's your mother?"

At first Jack was taken aback by Harry's question, then he soon realized how Harry got that information and let out a small laugh along with a sigh. "I told my assistant not to tell anyone but she still did." He paused a bit, pulling his eyebrows together. "The doctor said she was doing better so I hope she's gonna be alright. Thanks for asking by the way."

Harry cracked a friendly smile, then says he wished that for her as well. The conversation stopped there. Just like that. Neither of them made an attempt to prolong the dialogue, which seemed to be facing a dead end anyway. Between two men who were in love with the same woman, there was obviously a lot to discuss, but at the same time, nothing at all.

Harry didn't need a long heart-to-heart conversation with Jack to believe everything he already knew is true. As soon as Jack opened his mouth and asked if Y/N was okay, Harry could see it in his eyes that he genuinely cared about her and would be truly hurt had the answer been 'no'. Even though he trusted his fiancé with his entire life, when another man had such strong feelings for your woman, no matter how decent he was, you couldn't help but feel troubled by his affection for her.

The lift stopped on the second floor, and Jack exited after having said goodbye. Not until then did Harry suddenly remember the wedding dress thing. He took the last opportunity to quickly thank Jack for it, but never received a reply, just one last cordial grin, before the door shut between them two.

Jack showed up at work the next day, unexpectedly, even when nobody had informed him about the emergency meeting beforehand.

The clients had disapproved their entire content plan for March, the deadline was near, and everyone was freaking out. Normally Jack would be the one to solve most of the company's problems, but since he had made it clear that he didn't want to be bothered during this week, no one dared to mention a word about this to him. That was why seeing the man enter the conference room was a huge shock for every single person here.

The young vice president calmly laid down his laptop on the table, and asked Kate to briefly summarize what had been requested in the email from their clients. He acted like nothing was wrong, which successfully had everyone in this room fooled, everyone but Kate and Y/N, who knew the truth.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried not to think too much about Jack being back at work and acting so out of character. Sure he still acted like a self-centered know-it-all during the meeting, Y/N didn't know how to describe it, but she just knew that wasn't like him. Every time she glanced into his office, she either saw him on the phone talking to someone, while looking like the world's coming to an end, or him sitting quietly at his desk, with his head in his hands, like the world had already ended. He wasn't as composed as he wanted other people to think.

"Come in."

Y/N slowly opened the door to the VP's office, feeling nervous as she stepped in and found Jack still typing something on his laptop, not giving at least one look at her. His hair was unkempt and his tie was loose, she thought after consuming that much coffee during the day he would look more energetic than the way he looked now, 'a literal mess' she would say.

"Everyone's gone home. Why are you still here?" she asked quietly, marching closer to his desk, still receiving not a single eye-contact from the man.

"Because none of you could get the job done, that's why."

Y/N was actually appalled by the attitude she received, because she had expected the same Jack who'd comforted her and sent her a wedding dress, not this insensible man he'd pretended to be.

"This morning before you showed up, we'd got everything under c—"

"If you'd got everything under control..." He pointed a finger at her and finally lifted his face up "...then the clients wouldn't have directly called me."

"Bu—"

"Just...Just go home alright? I can handle this." He waved his hand to the door in annoyance. But instead of following his order like an employee should, Y/N pulled out a chair to sit down in front of Jack by his desk, leaving him startled.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Stop asking questions, work's not gonna finish itself!" Ignoring the look on her boss' face, Y/N took one of his pens and turned his laptop screen a bit towards her so she could read the document on it. She heard him chuckle and say something about her acting more like a boss than he was.

"Okay then." The dark-haired man sighed in content as he relaxed his shoulders and checked the time on his watch. "Let's get this done so you can leave me alone."

Harry got off work early and drove to the hospital to see Darren. The doctors wanted to do some tests for him and they required at least one family member to be in presence. And since Y/N was stuck at work, because the clients couldn't stop nagging about new deadlines, as well as old ones, Harry told her not to worry, that he would be here for her brother, and pick her up from work afterwards.

Now that everything was almost finished, one of the nurses told Harry to wait here with Darren and when she returned he'd be free to go. As the woman left the room, Harry sat down in the armchair by Darren's bed, and told the older man it was not big of a deal when he kept thanking him for everything.

"She's so lucky to have you." Darren tried to put on a smile. "That kid's been through a lot. She always gives, and most people just don't appreciate her."

"It's me who's lucky to have her," Harry disagreed, telling Darren that there'd been a tremendous change in his life ever since they first met, and he honestly couldn't wait to start a new chapter with the love of his life as an official married couple.

"So have you two decided the wedding date yet?"

Harry didn't even hesitate when he answered that question, saying, "yes, we're getting married in June."

"June?!" Although Darren was unable to move most of the muscles on his face due to the pain it might cause, Harry still saw how shocked he was, which was not really surprising, because Niall and Layla had reacted the same way when he broke the news to them. "That's three months from now! It normally takes at least ten months to a year to plan a wedding, kid! It's not a birthday party!"

"We're not gonna do it the traditional way," Harry replied while beaming. "It's just gonna be a small ceremony and dinner party with a few guests, close friends and family only."

Darren appeared more relaxed now that he'd got the answer, but he still seemed a bit puzzled. "That doesn't sound like Y/N, she's obsessed with wedding planning."

"Tell me about it!" Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "I was surprised when she suggested that we have a small wedding. But it does take away a lot of stress, you know, with all the big decisions you'd have to make, the theme, the music and everything."

Darren chuckled slightly as he heard that. "When I was getting married, she kept begging me to let her plan my wedding. Obviously I said no because I didn't want her to neglect school and take in too much responsibility." When it got to this part, the atmosphere in the room, as well as Darren's cheerfulness, died down at once. Harry felt like it was his fault, maybe he shouldn't have ranted about his happy soon-to-be-married life with Y/N when her brother's marriage was falling apart and he was lying there, in the hospital.

So he apologized for it, however, Darren told him he shouldn't be sorry. "You're marrying my little sister, Harry. We're a family now, we can freely talk about this kind of stuff." There was a long indecisive pause before the man went on, "I feel so bad for telling Y/N about Emily, the kid really adored her."

"You don't have to feel bad about anything, Darren. None of it was your fault."

"But it was..." Darren shook his head. "Actually, everything, from start to finish, was half my fault."

Harry wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he'd done everything he could have and it was Emily's choice to betray his loyalty. However, he felt like the man'd got a lot more to say. So instead of speaking his mind, he stayed quiet and allowed Darren to begin..

"We got together at a very bad time in her life," he remembered. "Her long-term boyfriend had just left her, she was a single mother. She hadn't met anyone who treated her better, so she assumed I was the one that she should spend the rest of her life with." The shivering in his voice was almost heart-wrenching. And Harry thought Darren's happiness might've just ended with those three sentences.

"But I'm not her soulmate like we both thought I was, I've never been the one true love of her life. So when her real love came..." The man paused to exhale "...she was already my wife. Emily soon realized she made a mistake by marrying me, and it was too late. It hurt me so much when she told me the truth, but that was when I knew she didn't love me anymore. I had to let her go. It's so sad because she's my everything and I'm not that for her anymore. But if she's happier with the other guy, who am I to keep her by my side?"

Harry knew it was Darren's story, it had nothing to do with him nor it would ever affect his own life, yet for some reasons he couldn't explain, he was afraid.

Before al this, Y/N couldn't stop talking about how much she admired her brother's marriage, she had also made Harry believe Darren and Emily were meant to be together, the definition of true love. But the bitter pill to swallow was, loving someone with all your heart and soul and having them love you back wouldn't guarantee that they'd forever feel the same. Even though it was just one brief thought that came and left his mind like a breeze, Harry was worried that someday, like Emily, Y/N might meet someone else and realize Harry was not her soulmate, then she might regret marrying him so soon.

And the possibility of her leaving him one day was unbearable to think of.

Jack couldn't remember the last time he felt this way. He was never the kind of person who thought highly of himself (not all the time at least), but he rarely got nervous around girls no matter how gorgeous they were. The fact that all of his past relationships had been with women who were either older than him or at the same age, and now he was getting sweaty palms being alone with a girl three years younger than him, gave him a headache, which he might blame on stress and caffein. But he knew it was all her.

Y/N didn't notice his stare, she kept her eyes on her laptop screen, trying to figure out why the costs for online ads had got so big. Jack hated to admit this, but he thought she was adorable when she touched her nose way too often, and furrowed her eyebrows as she concentrated too hard. Then he started smiling subconsciously, only to stopped himself when he remembered that she was already engaged, and her fiancé was actually a nice person.

Speaking of which...

"Isn't Harry coming to pick you up?" he asked, pulling her back to reality as she blinked at him a few times, making him smile.

"He's a bit busy so he's gonna be here late." She didn't tell him exactly why Harry was busy. Knowing Jack's mother was also in the hospital, she didn't want to mention her brother right now. Ironically, Jack ended up being the one to bring that up.

"How's your brother by the way?" He seemed concerned, then quick to add, "Also, I ran into Harry last night, great lad."

"Yeah, he told me." She chuckled slightly. "My brother is fine, thanks for asking. As for Harry, he said he didn't have a chance to properly thank you for the dress."

"No, he did thank me." Jack shook his head. "But there's really no need since you insisted on paying me back the money."

"It's wrong to accept such an expensive gift from anyone, not just your boss." She raised an eyebrow at Jack, flashing him a smile. "But honestly, I cannot thank you enough for getting me the same dress that I lost to someone else. How did you—"

All of a sudden, Y/N's question got interrupted by the sound of Jack's ringtone. He put one finger up, telling her to wait as he took this call, which seemed to be important because of how he reacted after seeing the caller ID. Y/N couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the line says to him, but she held his eye-contact the entire time. She hadn't seen this kind of look since the day Harry got the news his stepfather had passed away. Jack didn't need to say a single word to let Y/N knew what was happening. When he hung up, without saying one word to the caller, he almost forgot how to breathe.

"Hey..." Y/N slightly touched his arm. "Are you...okay?"

The man rose from his seat, causing the girl to do the same. He stood with his back facing her and demanded her to leave him alone. He sounded so serious, yet at the same time, broken. He expected her to already be at the door when he took a deep breath and repeated the same sentence for the second time, only louder. But she was still there. Why is she still there?

"Y/N, just...leave. Go home."

Y/N knew she should listen, but at the same time, she could imagine what it was like to be in his shoes. When she rushed into the hospital demanding to see her brother, she thought he wouldn't make it, and she wouldn't have made it either had Harry not been by her side. If she was Jack now, the last thing she would want was to be left alone. So despite everything he had just said, she took a deep breath, and reached out to touch his shoulder. Suddenly, he turned around, swiftly locking his fingers around her wrist, and she was in utter shock. Her eyes opened wide, staring right into his, which were already filled with tears. When they first met, she never would've though one day she would get to see her boss sad, let alone cry, never would've expected it to be in a situation like this.

Without saying a word, he dropped his head down onto her shoulder and burst into quiet sobs, arms came to wrap around her waist. And so she hugger him back and keeps telling him it was gonna be alright, even if she knew those words were meaningless to him now. She just didn't have the heart to stay quiet and let the heartbreaking sounds he made take over.

While Y/N was comforting her boss, who'd just lost the biggest love of his life, Harry was waiting right outside in his car for her. He kept checking his watch and wondering what was taking her so long because he wasn't that early. But as soon as he saw her walk out of the building with Jack, and they stopped to share a long hug before saying goodbye, there was a strange feeling of sadness that he couldn't describe in words.

"Is everything alright, love?" He asked her after she had got into the car and kissed him on the lips. She looked so sad, still gazing at the man who was watching them from the outside.

"Jack's mother passed away..." Y/N gave her fiancé a frown as she buckled her seatbelt. "He was crying so I stayed to comfort him."

The rest of the drive back was weighed down by silence. Harry tried to keep his eyes on the road, but every once in a little while he took a quick glance at her, trying to read what was on her mind. Her hand remained resting on his knee but she was looking outside from the window on her left, preoccupied with something else. Harry was literally on the edge of his seat on the entire way home.

His biggest fear almost came to life when they arrived at the flat, he walked into the living room but she lingered at the front door. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough to break his heart.

"I think we should postpone the wedding."

He was paralysed for almost two seconds before finding the courage to ask her why in a trembling voice. That was when she knew he was afraid she might be doubting her decision to marry him, so she released a faint laugh and approached him so she could hold him tight.

"This has nothing to do with you and me, love," she reassured him, placing her hands at the back of his neck to pull back a little bit so they look at each other in the eye. "My brother's recovery is gonna take more than three months, and...not to mention the thing with Emily...I don't want to invite him to our wedding when he's got divorce papers to sign."

Harry nodded understandingly, then took a deep breath and laid his hands on her sides. "It's okay, if that's what you want."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not. I want the best for you and for your brother too," he replied and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. When he pulled away, Harry was startled to see her burst out crying. His first reaction was to cup her cheeks and repeatedly asked her if he had said something wrong.

"No, no...I...You didn't..." She sobbed, shaking her head as he wiped away her tears. "I just love you so much."

Harry didn't expect that at all. As much as he hated to see her in tears, he found that moment adorable and amusing still, so he tossed his head back, laughing, then pulled her close. "Shhh, stop it, princess. You're gonna make me cry."

"We're still getting married okay?" She mumbled into his chest, smiling through the tears. She'd been thinking about this decision on the drive back home, second guessing what his reaction would be. She had expected him to be upset since her brother and his wife had been the reason she didn't want to get married in three months like they'd planned. She had expected something else, not this, not him telling her he could wait without even knowing how long it was gonna take for this whole thing to be settled.

"It doesn't matter how long." He kissed her forehead. "I can wait."

Those three words caused her to once again withdraw from the grip of his arms so that she could see and caress his beautiful face. "Thank you for everything," she whispered to him. "For helping my brother, for being here, for loving me. I don't think anyone's gonna love me as much as you do."

"But..." Harry knew he should shut up before he said something stupid, but he ended up saying the stupid thing anyway, "if...there's someone else...better than me, and loves you just as much, will you still want me then?"

Y/N lifted an eyebrow, giving him a funny look as she asked inbetween soft giggles, "are you insane? What are you talking about? Did Darren say something to you?"

"No," he lied. "Never mind, it's just a dumb question."

"It is! Don't you ever doubt me again!" She playfully stroked the top of his head, then remembered something important. "Wait! Where's the cat?!"

"Relax, she's with Nam."

"Nam wasn't there when we came in."

"He's probably gossiping with the dog lady on the second floor again. 'Working'." Harry's air-quotes made Y/N laugh as he kissed her on the cheek, saying he'd come downstairs to get their kitten. But before he made it to the hallway, she stopped him in his tracks.

"Husband."

"Hmm?" He turned around, eyebrows raised, lips pressed together.

"Nothing." She bit back a smile, shaking her head. "I just wanted to call you that."

The sound of that word from her lips never failed to leave Harry grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he exhaled and rolled his eyes in response. "Wife," he said, emphasizing the sweet title with a firm nod, then didn't forget to send her a wink before walking out.

#i got lazy so please ignore any mistakes in this chapter 😂#flatmate!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagines

416 notes · View notes

saltpepperbeard · 6 years ago

Note

Okay I’m officially back on my Joshifer bullshit thanks to you lmao. What are your thoughts on all the drama surrounding JH and CT? Do you think she’s the reason Joshifer never came out and admitted they were dating? Or was it because of JL and NH? I figure it’s been long enough that you can talk about it freely without starting the Discourse™️. Feel free to ignore this though if you think otherwise, I don’t want you to get any hate lol.

I feel like my blog should come with a disclaimer honestly. Like, CAUTION: CHANCE TO GET BACK ON YOUR JOSHIFER BULLSHIT UPON VISITING lol. But oooh goodness we’re spilling tea of THAT caliber, huh anon? I don’t mind talking about it at all these days though. Because yeah, I believe we’re definitely out of the shipping war/Discourse™️ days, and I’ve also reached the level of Fandom Veteran where I just…No longer Give A Care lmao. TOO TIRED TO CARE.

But BECAUSE I have a tendency to get ramble-y, let’s go beneath the cut~

Okay so first off, I’ll start out with my honest thoughts on Joshifer, and what I think they had and/or what happened between them. The thing I lean towards the most is that they messed around at Hawaii. I think it’s the most likely thing, given that they were both young, pretty newly single, and alone on that island together. And looking at all the BTS footage, plus every promo that followed? Come on now. And maybe it wasn’t sex necessarily. But at LEAST making out/heavy petting or SOMETHING, my dude. I WANT TO BELIEVE lol.

So, what I LIKE to think happened is that Jen and Josh messed around/had sex/attempted to get into a relationship during the filming of Catching Fire filming somewhere. But in the midst of that, Jen got a little too scared with the whole idea, and ended up breaking things off to eventually go back to Nick. Which, in turn, hurt Josh enough to attempt to mend his wounds by starting a new relationship with Claudia that following summer.

And then that’s where things get…ROCKY lol. Because back in the day, I definitely used to think that Joshifer’s story didn’t end there. I thought that, somewhere down the line, they had to start messing around again or dating in secret, because there were some pretty eyebrow-raising events that took place.

The two ones that instantly jump to my mind are of course, Cannes and the MJ1 Promo. And hell, even MJ2 promo honestly. Cannes because of Jen giving Josh a LAPDANCE and the two of them leaving the party BY THEMSELVES, TOGETHER, “INTO THE NIGHT.” Mockingjay Part One because of them both contracting strep throat, but no one else in the cast/crew seemed to get it. And Mockingjay Part Two because of all those random kisses/bouts of physical affection.

Bruh, I was just CONVINCED that they were going to come out as a couple following the wrap of Mockingjay Part 2. I really really was. But then…they never did. They both seemed to go quite separate ways for that matter. So that’s left my mind to kind of shift a bit and to start questioning things.

Because, almost all throughout the Mockingjay Promos, both Josh and Jen were linked to relationships. Jen with Nick for a bit, and then Chris Martin for a bit, and Josh with Claudia (See I’m to the point where I don’t mind dropping names lol FIGHT ME). So like…BACK IN THE DAY X2 lol, I thought that they were just “cover up” relationships. Or PR relationships, if you will. I kind of hopped aboard that bandwagon because of how CONVINCING Joshifer seemed.

That, and Josh’s relationship with Claudia and Jen’s relationship with Chris just seemed…weird lmao. They didn’t seem anything like what I was seeing during promo with Josh and Jen. So that made me even more convinced that I was on the right track.

But then Jen broke it off with Chris only to move on to Darren, and then to Cooke, and Josh remained with Claudia. The ship I was nearly certain was going to take off never did. So it left me reevaluating tbh.

It made me think that Josh and Claudia had to be an actual relationship. Because, come on lol, there’s no way. Why the hell would he stay with her for six years now, for anything other than…a relationship? Because Paradise Lost lmao; who is she? We don’t know her. It never even made waves in the states at all. And that was FOREVER ago. Josh was never even that big of an actor to really properly “stunt” in my opinion anyway. That seems to be reserved more for the actors who are really on the media’s current radar. The talk of the town lmao.

BUT, that doesn’t mean I’m 100% a fan of them. Because I’m not. Never have been lol. And nor do I really like how they’ve presented their relationship. I’ve definitely seen enough sketchy stuff to make me wrinkle my nose. Which is the drama you were referring to I imagine lol. Claudia using Josh for her career’s benefit, their friends using him for their benefit, yada yada. Idk, once I kind of realized Joshifer wasn’t going to be an immediate thing, and once I kind of stepped away from Josh (which is a whole DIFFERENT story in itself lol), I just…really never jumped into that drama/cared about it at all.

AND, despite talking to a few different people about it, I feel like I never really gathered enough information to really formulate proper opinions on it. AND X2, I kind of realized that hey, these are actual people and we really don’t know what’s going on behind the surface level stuff we’re seeing. We could be 100% right, but we COULD be 100% wrong. So I just kind of stayed out of it, sighed whenever Josh was in Spain or she in the States, and just kind of moved on.

Same thing goes for Jen and Nick. Saying his name makes me shudder, but I think that’s only a self-inflicted gunshot wound lmao; THANKS, TWAAL. I had a lot of issues with him, but I think they were mostly…fandom driven? Like, it was one of those “I don’t like you because you’re interfering with my OTP and because your fandom hates mine” kind of dealios. I really didn’t have any VALID reasons to dislike him at all lmao.

People will say otherwise. I know a lot of Veteran Joshifer Shippers think that relationship was ENTIRELY fake/PR driven too. I can’t say I entirely agree? But again, it’s practically the same thing as my thoughts with Josh and Claudia. I didn’t dive that deep into things regarding that relationship, so I really know nothing, and so I REALLY can’t form a proper opinion.

*Wheeze* SO lol. Where does that leave me now. Well, since things did not go the way I and probably a lot of other people anticipated, I’ve just been…confused? Like yeah, there were things that I DEFINITELY thought were indicative of a possible fling/relationship. But Josh and Jen were with other people…? It seemed so so SO real, but then they moved tf on?

So yeah, I really don’t know what happened at all. I can’t prove anything. Josh and Jen genuinely could have been just friends all throughout promo, hence why they have nothing to tell. Or, they could have genuinely fucked all through promo, and their relationships WERE just indeed PR cover ups at the time. It’s literally impossible to say for certain.

I think if anything did happen though, it’s probably way too soon to tell. Especially with Jen in a rather new and very serious relationship now, and Josh still in the relationship that he was in all throughout promo. I feel like if something did happen, they’d probably open up about it like, a decade or maybe even more down the line. Or who knows, maybe it’ll be their little secret, and our little speculation.

Like, the both of them definitely don’t need anything “cheating scandals” or anything like that running rampant with their current situations. So yeah, if there was something, we likely won’t hear of it for a while, if…ever.

Which Goddddd gets my GOAT lmao. Still bitter to this day. And still can’t fathom what happened between those two. Because I was rooting for them so very hard, anon. I think everyone was at a point. There was just so much RIDICULOUS shipping fuel between them.

And I think for that reason, I’m always going to be rooting for them in one way or another. They’re the equivalency of a “first love” for me lol. Like, I’ll always always remember what I saw between them/have a soft spot for them regardless. And I’ll definitely ALWAYS have fingers crossed for ANY tidbits.

#Answered #Anons #Joshifer #Tea Time #TL;DR my mindset towards them has shifted towards a giant 'WTF EVEN HAPPENED' lol #Godddd I just #I LONG FOR ANYTHING THAT'D TELL US WE WERE ONTO SOMETHING #ANY #THING

33 notes · View notes

bored-fan-bs-thoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Final Chapter: Fluff and Holiday Cheer

Sorry this took so long, but I lost momentum and started planning out another chaptered fic. I hope this is a sufficient end. Enjoy!

Find Previous Chapters Here!

After about a month and a half of dating, T.J. and Cyrus finally convinced Cyrus’s parents to allow them to have sleepovers again. The deal is that they were required to stay in the open, so they decide to sleep on the couch. Well, decide is a little generous. Cyrus actually falls asleep on T.J.’s shoulder and T.J. doesn’t want to wake him up. They have the morning to themselves because Amber and T.J.’s dad were both at work, as per usual.

It takes about an hour to get off the couch and into the kitchen. Cyrus just wants to stay cuddled in T.J.’s arms where he feels safe and warm, but T.J. is determined to get the day started so they’ll have time to enjoy the morning with just the two of them before the rest of his family gets home.

When he finally frees himself from being Cyrus’s pillow, he helps the other boy stand up. He’s a bit shaky on his feet at first, but T.J.’s firm grasp and steady balance allow him to rise from the warm couch. Cyrus makes a pouty face, but T.J. places soft kisses to his forehead, nose, and cheeks thus erasing any sadness from his expression and causing him blush.

T.J. wraps his arms around the sleepy boy’s waist causing Cyrus to burrow his head into T.J.’s soft hoodie as if preparing to go back to sleep.

“No, you’re not allowed to sleep,” T.J. says fondly. He effortlessly lifts Cyrus up and carries him into the kitchen eliciting a squeal from Cyrus. He places the boy down in a kitchen chair and smooths his messy hair.

“Am I pretty now?” Cyrus jokes, batting his eyes flirtatiously.

“You’re always pretty,” T.J. responds dreamily.

“You are quite the charmer, Kippen,” Cyrus says.

“Only for you,” T.J. responds. He kisses the boy on his forehead, and turns to begin pulling out dishes and ingredients for breakfast. Cyrus is left admiring the boy as he begins to measure out the flour.

“Are pancakes okay, babe?” T.J. asks, tossing his head over his shoulder to get another glimpse of Cyrus. He feels as if he has check if Cyrus is there to make sure this is all still real. He still can’t help feeling like any minute Cyrus is going to say it’s all a joke, but he knows that will never happen. Cyrus nods, rising from his seat and rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

“What can I help you with?”

As T.J. and Cyrus cook, they steal glances at each other. In such close proximity, their hands brush frequently causing them both to blush. Eventually, Cyrus grabs T.J.’s hand and interlocks their fingers earning a small gasp from the boy. Cyrus shakes his head affectionately and moves in for a kiss. Despite their two months of dating, he’s still somewhat timid, but that doesn’t stop him from bringing his free arm up to wrap around the taller boy’s neck. He loves the feeling of being in T.J.’s arms. He feels safe and comfortable. And kissing him is definitely a perk.

The entire morning feels so domestic. The boys cook together, hold hands, and kiss. They can definitely get used to this.

—————

After they clean, they find themselves cuddled up on the couch together. Cyrus has his thighs draped over T.J.’s lap whose arm is wrapped around Cyrus’s shoulders as his other hand absentmindedly plays with the Jewish boy’s dainty fingers. They are both perfectly content to sit quietly and wordlessly, and Cyrus can feel himself drifting off to sleep again as T.J. presses the occasional kiss to the boy’s forehead or fingertips. T.J. shamelessly gazes down at the boy in his arms knowing he is so far gone for him.

“So…I was thinking, and I think I might be ready to go public?” Cyrus asks, his voice is soft and laden with exhaustion.

“Hell, yeah,” T.J. says, then coughing he adds, “Only if you’re truly ready, of course.”

Cyrus nods up at T.J. “I want people to know about us,” Cyrus says. “I want to be able to kiss you and hold your hand in public.”

T.J. kisses him on the cheek. “Me too,” T.J. says.

—————

The next day, T.J. and his teammates are preparing for their big game in the locker room. Feeling his phone buzz against his thigh, he takes it out of his pocket to see the usual good luck text from Cyrus. He can’t help but smile as he reads it, catching the attention of his teammates.

“Aw, Kippen’s all smiley today,” Chris teases, “Have you see your boy recently?”

“You can tell by the glow on his face,” Darren says as he exits the locker room. “And the absurd amount of blush.”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m not denying the ‘your boy’ comment,” T.J. responds as he begins to tie his sneakers.

Chris smiles at this. “What happened?” he asks.

“I can’t say,” T.J. says laughing, “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“Since when are you a gentleman?”

T.J. pushes Chris nearly off the bench he’s sitting on causing the boy to laugh and fight back.

“Damn bro,” Chris says. “Is he coming to the game?”

“Always,” T.J. nods. “We gotta get out there before coach gets mad.”

Chris slings a sweat towel over his shoulder, and stands up from the bench.

—————

After the game, Cyrus freely runs into T.J.’s arms, engulfing his sweaty boyfriend in a congratulatory hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cyrus says as he pulls away.

“I want to kiss you so badly right now,” T.J. says.

“Do it.”

Without hesitation, T.J. crashes his lips against Cyrus’s in an aggressive but tender kiss. T.J. blocks out the crowd around them, but he knows he’s going to be hearing a lot about this from his teammates later on. After a few invigorating moments, they pull away for air. T.J. rests his forehead on against Cyrus’s.

“You smell like sweat,” Cyrus says, trying to pull away from him. He is held tighter by his boyfriend’s arms around his waist.

“I’m not letting you get away,” T.J. says. Cyrus giggles and leans up to his T.J.’s sweaty cheek.

“Wow, you guys really took the ‘going public’ seriously,” Buffy teases, breaking them out of their haze. She and Marty stand close to them holding hands.

“You played well, man,” Marty says, patting T.J. on the back. “And I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Thanks bro!” T.J. responds. “Are we all heading to The Spoon?”

“YES!” Cyrus exclaims, “I need some baby taters.”

T.J. smiles as Buffy and Marty nod in response. Cyrus finally detaches from his boyfriend and attempts to push him towards the locker room.

“Please go shower, you sweaty boy,” Cyrus says.

T.J. blows a kiss in Cyrus’s direction before turning around and heading to the showers. Cyrus is left a blushing, blubbering mess. T.J. still has a crazy effect on him, despite how comfortable he feels around him.

—————

At The Spoon, T.J. and Cyrus sit in a booth across from Buffy and Marty. Andi sits at the end of the table witnessing both couples and feeling single as ever.

“Wow, I love being a fifth wheel,” Andi says. She means for it to sound like a joke, but her real annoyance shines through.

“Well, Amber’s here right now,” Buffy says, “You could change that.”

“Guys, she probably doesn’t feel the same,” Andi says.

“Amber?” T.J. says. “Are you kidding me? She couldn’t be more obvious.”

“Hey guys,” Amber says. Seemingly appearing out of thin air, she greets the group before turning her head to Andi specifically, “Hey Andi.”

“Hey, Amber,” Andi says. She can’t hide the blush on her cheeks.

“I’m kind of taking my break right now,” Amber explains looking solely at Andi, “Can I talk to you a bit…in private?”

“Oh,” Andi says turning to look back at her friends who are giving her excited nods, “Yeah, sure!”

Andi stands up nervously and follows Amber out of the diner. T.J. can’t keep his laughter under control. Cyrus simply looks at him like he’s a crazy person.

“I’m sorry,” T.J. says through his giggling, “It’s just, I’m so happy she’s finally telling her. It’s taken so long.”

“I think you’re just a lovesick fool,” Buffy says causing T.J. to stick his tongue out at her.

“Does this mean that we’re the only straight members of this group?” Marty says, looking towards his girlfriend.

“Actually,” Buffy says, “I think you may be the only one…I think I’m bi.”

Everyone at the table gasps. “Oh my God!” Cyrus says. “We can finally be the Gay Hair Crew.”

“Yeah, ain’t gonna happen,” Buffy says.

“How’d you know?” Cyrus asks. “I want to know everything.”

Buffy shrugs with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I guess I kind of used to have a crush on Andi.”

“Called it!” T.J. says, giving himself a high five. Buffy gives him a questioning look.

“He actually did,” Cyrus says. “He asked if you two were a thing many months ago. I’m proud of you babe.”

“Thanks babe,” T.J. says, giving his boyfriend an adoring peck on the forehead.

“Ugh, stop being so disgustingly cute,” Marty says. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“What are your Valentine’s Day plans?” Cyrus asks.

“I’m probably going to kick Marty’s ass in a game of one-on-one,” Buffy jokes.

“Actually,” Marty says, giving an adoring look to his girlfriend, “We are going out to dinner. Maybe we will be competing a bit.”

“Everything between you two is a competition,” Cyrus says with a smile. “We’re just going to watch some trashy rom-coms and do some baking. We have the house to ourselves because my dad and step-mom are going out to dinner.”

“Correction, we are watching cinematic masterpieces,” T.J. says feigning offense, “But go off, I guess.”

“Let me guess,” Marty says, “T.J. picked the movies.”

“It was a mutual decision,” T.J. defends, but he’s given away by Cyrus shaking his head.

“T.J. is just really in love with Ryan Gosling, but honestly who isn’t?” Cyrus says. This earns him a laugh from the group. “Which leads to an interesting conversation. You all know my first crush was on Jonah, and I deserve to know yours.”

“Well, mine was kind of a mix between Andi and Marty,” Buffy says, “Which is probably obvious.”

“I think mine was Buffy,” Marty says, “At least, that’s the only one that matters.”

Buffy blushes as T.J. makes a fake wretch sound. It quickly turns into a yelp as the girl kicks his shin under the table.

“T.J.,” Marty says, giving a glance towards the boy, “Who was yours?”

T.J. looks down. He knew the question was coming, but he wasn’t ready to answer. When he looks up all pairs of eyes are on him.

“Um, my first crush,” T.J. begins nervously, “Was on Marty. But don’t hate me Buffy. I’m totally over it now.”

Buffy laughs. “We can all tell,” She says, looking between Cyrus and T.J.

Cyrus leans into T.J.’s side, and T.J. throws an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. He feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Suddenly, the bell rings signaling Andi and Amber’s reentrance. They are holding hands as the approach the table and Andi sits down in her seat.

“I have to go back to work, Bambi,” Amber says, leaning down and planting a kiss on her new girlfriend’s cheek.

“That was a quick way of becoming not-single,” Buffy comments as soon as Amber walks away (she nearly runs into a nearby table as she does so).

The entire table bursts into laughter as Andi’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

—————

Cyrus opens the door to find a smiling T.J. holding a large bouquet of roses.

“Here are some roses,” T.J. says, his voice slightly raspy from his wide smile, “For my rose”

“God, you’re such a dork,” Cyrus says, but there is a strong, deep blush on his cheeks. He takes the flowers from his boyfriend, gives him a quick kiss, and leads T.J. into his kitchen. He places the bouquet down on the counter. As he turns to grab a vase, hands wrap around his waist and spin him around to come face-to-face with his boyfriend.

“Hi,” T.J. says in a bashful and affectionate tone.

“Hi,” Cyrus says, giggling. He leans in to kiss T.J. It’s slow, soft, and meaningful, and it makes Cyrus’s heart flutter.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Cy,” T.J. says, leaning his forehead against Cyrus’s. His arms are still wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Happy Valentine’s day, babe,” Cyrus says back, “Now lets do some baking!”

Cyrus pulls away, sad to leave the comfort and warmth of T.J.’s embrace. It’s been almost two months, but his heart still flutters when he thinks about his relationship. He can only hope this feeling will last forever.

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

Tag List: @hithatsmyname @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia @samlynnsblog

#andi mack #tyrus #muffy #ambi

13 notes · View notes

riacannafon-writer · 6 years ago

Text

F.E.A.R.

Chapter Three

I stood in a lounge or study of sorts. High walls, two of which stacked with full bookshelves, a large, roaring fire in the middle of a third. Luxurious sofas made on fine red velvet, comfy armchairs of leather all arranged in a semi-circle shape around the fireplace. I took a step towards the ceiling-high window, but stopped when I noticed myself wearing my assassination gear, the hood of my cloak casting an eerie shadow over my face.

I recognised this room. I knew it, but couldn't think of how I did.

I kept going towards the window. The sky outside was dark in night. Something was off. I stared up, squinting this way and that, just trying to get an indication of what made me uneasy about the sky. Dark clouds sat ominously above, never moving, blending so perfectly it was as if they weren't there at all.

Because they're not there...

It's wasn't clouds at which I gazed. Instead, I found myself lost in the deep abyss that was the sky, devoid of any starlight or even one of the moons.

I blinked, and it all came at once. The stars and two moons flickered into existence like bulbs. They all stared down into my eyes, and their light whispered harsh words in my mind.

Murderer...

You did it.

You...killed them!

In blood of ice... It was you...

I slammed my hands over my ears to shut the voices out, but they only screamed louder and louder and louder. Voices. Wouldn't stop. I couldn't make them stop. Louder. In my head.

"Shut up!" I shrieked. "Shut up! I'm not a murderer!"

You are marked.

The mark tells all. The birthmarks going down my back burned, but I couldn't feel it.

I shrank back, desperately needing to hide from the light. I sensed someone behind me. I didn't think. I couldn't think. I spun around, whipped out my dagger and drove it deep into their neck. Hot blood splattered over my hands and face. They let out a piercing, strangled cry and slumped to the floor. They gripped helplessly at the dagger. All I could do was stand there, listening, watching. Their body convulsed, and a gurgling sound emanated from their throat as blood pooled around them.

Murderer.

You only hurt.

You made them all...suffer.

You killed him.

You. Killed. Athen.

"No...No! I didn't...!" The shock had passed, and now the tears came flooding. I twisted back to stare out the window, where the night sky glared at me through its pale light. "I never -"

Something grabbed my ankle and yanked it back, hard. I toppled onto the carpet floor, shock and fear once again filling my blood. Athen's sea-green eyes focused on me. Then at my dagger in his hand.

"Athen!" I begged. "Athen, please! I swear, I didn't mean - !"

He plunged the dagger deep into my stomach. Everything went numb, and the wound ached worse and worse until it was all I could feel. I screamed, but Athen lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my throat. He squeezed. His face hovered over mine. Clotted blood dripped from his mouth.

"Ple...ase..." I couldn't breathe. I clawed at his hands, trying to get loose. "S...top."

He gripped tighter. My neck was going to break; I could feel it.

My vision blurred and my hearing muted. Blood vessels in my neck popped. My lungs were on fire. Something snapped in my neck. Blood dripped out of my nose. I lost all feeling, everywhere. Everything slowly turned black.

I lurched bolt upright, drenched in sweat. My breathing came in shallow rasps. A sharp pain in my gut bent me double, clutching at my sides.

"Cramps," I whispered to nobody. "Just cramps."

A faint tap, tap, tap brought my attention to my window. A grey dove perched on the windowsill pecked at the glass.

I shakily got up and went over to open the window. The dove flew in and landed on my bed, staring at me with large, orange eyes. I noticed a small piece of paper tied to its leg. Slowly, I crept towards the dove. Conscious of the creaking floorboards, I make sure to my steps light and quiet.

Carefully, I untied the paper from its leg. The moment it was off, the dove flew away, back out the window and into the starry night sky.

Stars, I thought. I think I've had enough of stars for a while.

I turned my attention back to the paper in hand. Hands still shaking, I unfolded the (surprisingly large) page. The paper held a note; the handwriting and stamp in the corner meant it was signed clearly by a noble. I scanned the note. My blood ran cold. I sucked in a huge breath and read it again and again, trying to convince myself it was part of some dream.

Dear "Crow",

I'm sure it comes of little surprise to you to receive a request for assassination. I, along with many others of many classes, have heard the tales of your daring missions. How it is said that you could sever a man's limb with such speed he'd never know you were there. How you can dissappear without a trace.

Perhaps I should offer a brief description of myself. I am the Grand Duke of the Georte Republic, in Risilia. I have come to you to ask one thing: does your king truly care for your nation? He rarely attends Peace Meetings, always with some excuse or another; surely this must show how little responsibility he feels regarding Novula's peaceful relationships. So, I offer you a mission with a hefty reward, and asylum withing Risilia should you choose to complete it.

Assassinate King Edwin Castillo. Do this, and your nation will be better off.

My heart hammered in my chest. Assassinate the king?! He can't be serious!

The Duke was smart, no doubt. There was no way I'd be able to expose him without exposing myself. Mind running circles, I re-folded the note and stuffed it under my pillow, for now. I needed to clear my head.

I left my room and made my way slowly down the hallway. I could hear Darren and Oliver's muffled discussion in the lounge downstairs. I stopped when I reached Athen's door, but I couldn't quite make myself grab the handle. The image of Athen's pale and bloodied face flashed across my vision.

I have to, I told myself. I need to see that it was only a dream.

I shakily grasped the handle and hesitantly eased open the door. I peered inside. A sigh of relief escaped me as I saw Athen sprawled clumsily on his bed, snoring slightly. Silently, I closed the door with a soft click.

I took a deep breath, then another. I crept over to the stairs and started down them. Oliver laughed at some story Darren was telling him. I paused halfway down, wondering if I really wanted to go downstairs. The last thing I wanted right now was unwarranted social interactions.

"Oh, hello, Arietta," Darren greeted.

"Hello," I simply replied.

"Everything alright? You look pale." Oliver stood up and stepped round the sofa towards me.

"I'm alright, thank you. I just haven't slept much," I muttered, politely waving off Oliver's attempted fussing.

"Why?" Oliver pressed. "Is the cut on your cheek hurting? Or your arm? I mean, you did hit the tree with quite a lot of force." He tried to lightly guide me to sit down, but I moved away, massaging my temples.

"No, not that. It's just... I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Such as..?" Darren inquired.

"I... I'm just stressed. These last few years have been pretty rough. For both me and Athen."

"Hey." Darren sat up straighter and his expression got softer. "Why don't you sit down? You look like you want to talk."

"It's not really anything I want to talk about." I gave Darren an apologetic, but still somewhat awkward, smile.

"Just because you don't want to talk about something -" Darren gestured with one hand to nothing in particular. "That doesn't mean you don't need to." He gestured again with his other hand.

"Don't tell me you want me to spill my entire life story," I retorted.

"I'm just sayin', it's not healthy to keep things bottled up all the time."

"Alright," I sighed. I shuffled over to the bookshelf in the corner, scanning for my favourite.

I picked it out, flicking through the pages to where I left off as I wandered back. I plopped myself down on one of the armchairs, revisiting the candlelit world within the words. I let myself become submerged in the battle scene: watching, hearing, feeling it play out around me.

"What're you reading?" I jumped out of my skin as Oliver peeked over my shoulder. I twisted round to face him, almost falling off the chair as I went.

"I - sorry?" I panted.

"What book are you reading?" He repeated. He kindly took hold of my arm, helping me set myself upright again.

"Oh, right," I muttered sheepishly. "It... it's called Ashes of a Sun. It's basically about this universe where almost any structure is made out of metals or even plastics! Everything is run by electricity, there's carriages with no horse or ocard or anything like that to pull it. There's this group of people working against the government's immoral plans, and there's so many plot twists!" I stopped as I caught myself rambling.

"Sounds interesting," Darren piped up. "I think my cousin read that book. I remember her mentioning it when we were kids."

"Could you read us some?" Oliver asked.

"What," I joked. "You want me to read you a bedtime story?"

Darren yawned. "Sounds like a plan. That is, if you're willing." He added.

"Okay," I murmured. "Get comfy, you two."

"Yes, ma'am." Oliver sat himself down on the floor, legs crossed and leaning back against he sofa. His face bright with excitement, he picked a cushion from behind, holding it like a stuffed toy. Darren sat with one leg crossed over the other, tucked into the sofa corner, huddled in amongst more cushions.

I took note of my page and skipped back to the beginning. I cleared my throat, and started in my 'trademark' melodramatic reading voice:

"He longed to clear away the city, to no longer see the towering buildings, to no longer hear the rumbling of engines passing below..."

I'd made it to chapter seven uninterrupted (aside from the occasional question from Darren and Oliver) until the pale glow of sunlight glided in through the window. The first birds began their morning harmonies, and the misty trail of a caligo faded from view.

I looked up to see Darren asleep, Oliver - also out cold - leaning against his knee, still cuddling that cushion. I stopped reading and gently closed the book, leaving it the arm of the chair.

I wonder how long they've been sleeping.

I stood up and stretched my stiff limbs, earning a few pops and clicks and cracks from my joints. Yawning, rubbing my tired eyes, I quietly dragged myself up the stairs to my room. I immediately flopped on my bed, contemplating whether or not I could be bothered to get changed. I decided I will be bothered, whether I liked it or not.

Today was a gardening day, so I switched into my grubby working clothes. I ran a brush through my hair, and tied it back with a strip of fabric as I went to the water bowl in the corner to wash my face.

My routine's a little out of order today, I thought. Who cares? It's just today.

I shuffled down the hallway, back to Athen's room. I rapped my knuckles against the wood; no reply. I rolled my eyes and swung open the door. Athen lay as he was last night: sprawled. I strode over to his bed, snatched the pillow from under his head and dropped it back on him.

"Oi, dipshit." I nudged him to try and get him to move. "Get up."

"I'm not a dipshit," he mumbled from under his pillow.

"Yes, you are. Now get up, I'm making breakfast."

"Fine," Athen complained. "I'm getting up."

I hummed a short tune, walking out of his room and back down the stairs. I entered the lounge, where Oliver must have just woken up.

"Sleep well?" I smiled.

"Yes, thank you," he replied as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He chuckled lightly.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," he said shyly. "Thanks for the bedtime story. Haven't had a night's sleep that good since the last time someone read me a story before bed, when I was - what - nine?"

"You're welcome." I giggled.

An awkward silence descended upon the room. I tried to avoid direct eye contact with Oliver, so I picked up Ashes of a Sun, checked again what page I originally left off on, and placed it back into its spot on the bookshelf.

"Arietta?" Oliver sounded...nervous.

"Yes?" I turned to face him.

"Do you think that...mabye..." He trailed off, averting his eyes.

My heart pounded a little harder; I stood stil. "That mabye what?"

"Mabye... we could do something like this again?" A faint tinge of pink spread over his face.

"Of course!"

"Really?" His face lit up and he sat more forward, more upright.

"Yeah, I'll glady have you and Darren over again!"

Oliver's shoulders slumped slightly, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Oh, okay."

I felt like something wasn't right with him. Like I said something wrong.

"What's up?" I asked.

"What d'you mean?"

"You suddenly went all glum."

"Oh." He looked away from me, focusing instead on the softwood floor. "I guess I kind of hoped it would be, you know, just you and me."

"Sure." I flashed him a sweet smile, then turned and walked to the kitchen. "I'm making breakfast; you want some?"

"Yes, please. Want me to wake Darren, see of he wants anything?" Oliver got to his feet, patting the cushion back into its place.

"If you want," I replied.

Oliver nodded and nudged Darren in the arm. "Hey. Wake up."

Darren shot up, eyes wide. "Shit! I'm late for training, aren't I?!"

"Darren," Oliver said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're thrity-two."

Darren pondered this for a moment, before his face reverted back to panic.

"Oh gods, I'm an instructor!" He rushed to get up, but Oliver gently held him down.

"Mate, it's Spring. You're not teaching the new trainees until Autumn."

"Oh." He relaxed. "Thank goodness."

"We wanted to check if you wanted anything for breakfast," I stated.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. My daughter, Ffion - she'll be wondering where I am." Darren beamed at the mention of his daughter, and continued on. "I left her with a babysitter last night and I promised to take her on a picnic today, so I best get going. Thank you again for having us over for the night, Arietta."

"It's been a pleasure," I replied. Darren stiffly got up from the sofa, and let himself out the front door. He paused suddenly in the doorway.

"One more thing: if you find or hear of anything else regarding the Crow, please let us know."

"Will do. Be careful going back up that trail, okay?" I raised an eyebrow to let him know I meant it. Darren waved and shut the door behind him. I headed back for the kitchen. "I'll start breakfast, then. Omlettes alright?"

"Sure," Oliver responded, following behind me. "Can I felt at all?"

"Why, do you want to?"

"Seems appropriate," he shrugged. "I mean, you've shown me wonderful hospitality. Shouldn't I return the favour?"

"You're a guest." I picked out a small basket from the pantry floor. "It's not mandatory for you to help out."

"But I want to. I'll feel bad about it, otherwise."

"Alright, then; follow me."

A single, loud thud came from the lounge, followed by a less-than-subtle sting of curses. Oliver and I rushed in to see Athen laying on the floor on his back, one boot on, the other loosely held in his hand.

"You okay?" I grasped his upper arm, pulling him back up to his feet. "What happened?"

"I lost my balance trying to get my boot on, that's all."

"As long as you're not hurt." I kept hold of his shoulder as he pulled on his other boot.

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"Alright, alright," I sighed. "I'm just gonna get some eggs from the chicken coop. We're having omlettes."

Athen nodded, watching as I left for the back door with Oliver in tow.

"So -" Athen trotted after us with a smug grin on his face. "- are you two dating?"

"*What?!*" Oliver and I both jumped back, faces beet red.

"Well? Are you?"

"No -"

"Why would you even -"

"We're not dating!"

"Yeah, of course," Athen smirked.

"Why don't you go skip out Hydrane's pen, huh?" I retorted, annoyed.

"Okay, fine." Athen winked and jogged away. "I'll leave you two alone together."

"How old did you say he is?" Oliver whispered in my ear.

"First of all: I didn't say." I turned and headed for the coop. "Secondly: he's fourteen."

"Fourteen," Oliver scoffed. "Forgive me for being rude, but I was annoying at fourteen, but not that bad."

"That's probably down to me," I admitted.

"Please, do explain."

"For the last five or so years of his life, he was basically raised by an angsty teenager - me."

"What about your parents?"

"Let's see." I stooped down do open the coop hatch, setting it in place with a metal rod as I picked out some eggs. "Dad left to work abroad when I was twelve, haven't heard much from him lately. Mum ran off with some well-earning bloke she met in a tavern a little while later; that was when I was about fourteen or fifteen."

"Woah, your mother sounds like quite the deadbeat."

"She wasn't too bad. She had a part-time that brought in enough to get us by, and I started selling herbal remedies she taught me."

"Then why'd she run off?" Oliver asked.

"Didn't really care enough to ask," I answered, shaking my head. "I think she mentioned something about 'being able to finally live comfortably'. She offered to bring me and Athen with her, but we didn't want to know - still don't."

"Still?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. She sends letters now and again, asking if we've changed our minds."

Oliver nodded and went to pick up an egg just as I did. Our fingers brushed and we both flinched away slightly; my cheeks started to get warm and Oliver coughed awkwardly.

Come off it, Arietta, I scolded myself. There's no way you like him in that way. You met him yesterday!

I decided that eight eggs should be enough for three omlettes, and so I made a beeline for the tomatoes. I added two perfectly ripe ones to the basket, as well as a little bit if rosemary.

I glanced up at the sky. It was painted grey, almost as one shade on a canvas. I shuddered, thinking again of the starless sky of my dream. I half expected the sun, or even the moons, to burst through he haze and blind me once more with wild, blaming whispers.

Today's gonna be a long day.

#writers on tumblr #writer #writeblr #writers #writing #chapter three #fantasy #fiction #original story #original

2 notes · View notes

sebfiction · 7 years ago

Text

Hey Doc!

Chapter 9

You ate breakfast together, and then said you’d see each other at the bar later that night. As you got in your car and drove back to the apartment you realized you felt ridiculously excited to see him again later. But first, you had to shower, write and try to convince Darren to not kick you out of the band for good. Though it wasn’t at all serious, having a hobby like that kept you grounded in a way, so you wouldn’t get eaten up by work like you’d been before.

“Hey, Andy!” You shouted as you dropped your keys in the jar by the door.

“Hey (Y/N)!” She shouted back, which was followed by the sound of something falling and the sound of Andy yelling “Ow!”. You shook your head and smiled at the familiar sound. Andy always said she was lucky to live with a doctor considering how often she hurt herself.

“You ok?” You shouted from the hallway.

“Yeah I’m fine, just dropped a book on my toe” she answered. “How come you’re coming home at 9 am?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you from the door to the living room.

“Oh shut it. It was a work thing!” You promptly answered.

“Oh really? A work thing? What kinda work thing has you blushing like that?” She pressed on. You gasped in shock.

“I am not blushing!” You yelled and smacked her with your jacket. She just jumped away and winked, before running away laughing. You sighed, before going to the bathroom. After taking a shower, you sat down in your room with every intention to write on your doctoral dissertation. But no matter how hard you tried your min kept slipping away from you. You sat there for nearly two hours until you decided to just take a nap instead. After all, you didn’t exactly get a full nights sleep.

—

As usual, your sleep was filled with dreams. But they weren’t the usual dreams you had. Usually, you would either dream of Yemen or your parents, sometimes work. This time however you had a nice dream. It was vague and you couldn’t remember the details when you woke, but one element was clear as day. Sebastian. He was there, saying something you forgot as soon as you regained consciousness, but his smile and his soft eyes wouldn’t fade from your mind.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Andy said from your bedroom door. “I’m making pasta for dinner, you want some?” She asked, her always kind eyes gleaming towards you.

“Oh pasta would be great” you admitted. No more than 30 minutes later the two of you were sitting in the living room chatting like usual. You’d only known each other for about two months, but Andy was one of the people who genuinely cared about everyone she met. And when she met you she basically took you in like a lost kitten and had been an amazing friend ever since.

“So all jokes aside, who is this person who has you blushing like that?” She asked, swirling a noodle around her fork.

“It’s... well it’s a coworker. Actually, he’s technically a patient, so me being blushy because of him is a problem!” You told her after a long sigh.

“Oh ok! So this is that kinda secret in the shadow romance then!” He laughed.

“Noo!” You exclaimed. “It’s not a romance! I just have a little crush, it’s not like it can ever become something!” You said strictly.

“Why can’t anything happen?” She asked.

“One: he’s technically my patient. Two: he’s a big star ok, he probably only dates other stars” you said as you shoveled spaghetti in your mouth.

“Wait he’s one of the stars? Why didn’t you lead with that!?” She nearly shouted. “You have to tell me who it is, immediately!”. You swallowed hard.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to NEVER tell anyone!” You said sternly. She nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s Sebastian Stan,” you said in defeat. Andy immediately squealed and jumped so violently you almost dropped your pasta.

“Jesus Andy, I nearly spilled my past..” you muttered but was interrupted by Andy yelling “The Sebastian Stan?” directly at your face. You winced backward from her.

“Yes... the Sebastian Stan” you answered after wiping some of her spit away from your face. “But like I said, it’s not like anything can or will happen! I just have a stupid crush” you insisted again.

“So when do you see him again?” She continued questioning you.

“I mean a few of the cast and crew are going to a bar tonight, so I suppose I’ll see him then” you answered.

“Omg please help me pick out an outfit for you!” She squealed. Andy loves dressing you up, so every time you couldn’t be bothered finding an outfit she did it for you.

“Sure, but not something to dressed up! Or too sexy! Just something casual” you demanded. She smiled and nodded.

A few hours ready you were all dolled up according to Andy’s wishes. You studied your reflection in the body length mirror in your hallway. You were wearing distressed black jeans, with a blue shirt with a Japanese flower pattern. It was the perfect outfit for the occasion. You had your hair brushed and loose, and Andy had stepped up your makeup game a notch.

“You are nearly finished young padawan,” Andy said in a funny voice as she held out your old and trusty leather jacket. You chuckled as you grabbed it out of her hand and put it on. “You are complete, my student,” she said as she bowed dramatically.

“You’re a massive dork, have I told you that?” You joked.

“I believe that’s the first time today missus” she replied. You thanked her for the help before you heard a car honk outside.

“That would be my ride,” you said, before bidding your goodbyes and bouncing out the door. Amanda was sticking her head out the window ginning wife as you approached the car.

“You’re looking awfully cheerful” you noted as you got into the passenger seat.

“Oh, I’m just excited about tonight. I’ll get to talk to Chris some more, and you’ll get to spend some more time with Sebastian” she winked at you. “Speaking of, how was last night?”. You sighed.

“Last night was... nice! And uneventful” you said, giving her a look signaling her to not ask more. You spent the rest of the drive chatting as usual. Amanda managed to steer every topic over to Chris, but you didn’t mind. When you got to the pub, which was the one you’d recommended, you saw that quite a few from the cast and crew had already arrived. They waved from their table enthusiastically. And though it might just have been wishful thinking, you could swear Sebastian waved more enthusiastically than the others. You found your seats and greeted everyone. You sat next to Arik, and Amanda sat next to you again, with Chris on her other side. You could almost feel her heart beating next to you. Anthony ordered a round of beers for the table, and before you knew the conversation was flowing. You and Arik were excitedly signing a conversation about one of his more recent flings.

“If he’s not going to go all in, I’m gonna leave. I can’t be way more invested in this than he is” Arik signed with a determined look on his face.

“I agree” you signed back. “You want another beer?” You asked. He nodded and you grabbed your two empty glasses and headed to the bar. Ali, the bartender, was someone you’d gotten to know quite well lately because your band sometimes played at this bar and he seemed to always be working.

“Hey, lovely girl! How are you?” He greeted you when you approached the bar.

“I’m great, sweet gentleman, how are you?” You replied as he started to refill your beers.

“You know, the usual” he shrugged. As he started tapping the second glass the phone rang, so he left to go answer it.

“Hey there Doc” a familiar voice that made your pulse peak spoke next to you. You turned around to be face to face with a smiling Sebastian.

“Hey Sebastian” you replied. “How’s my favorite patient doing?” You joked.

“Aaw I bet you say that to all your patients” he replied. “And I’m doing great, the Tylenol you gave me is keeping the pain at bay and my head feels great!”.

“I know I already said this this morning, but be careful with alcohol when you’re on Tylenol. Doesn’t always mix well” you warned.

“Meh, I can hold my alcohol” he shrugged. You looked at him with a doubtful look.

“Someone saying that before a night out has never ended well Sebastian” you warned him.

“Is that a challenge” he teased. You noticed he was in a good mood, practically overflowing with energy.

“That is definitely not a challenge! And I do seriously, as your doctor, advice you to not drink alcohol while on Tylenol” you pressed.

“I can’t tell you how many ER patients I’ve had that mixed alcohol and painkillers and didn’t realize how bad of an idea that was”. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“How about this; a pool match. If I win you put down the mantle of doctor for the night and just have fun, and if you win you have complete control over my drinking. Does that sound good?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, that sounds great. But be warned, just because you hurt your shoulder doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you” you mocked. Sebastian laughed heartily, a sound which made the term “butterflies in my stomach” come to your mind.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebstanedit #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #hey doc fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

1989dreamer · 7 years ago

Text

Pennies and Dimes for a Kiss

Big thanks to annasakai for bidding on me (and letting me run with this idea) and thanks to @fandomcares for running this auction.

On AO3

Title and inspiration comes from Carly Rae Jepson’s Call Me Maybe.

Summary: Laura, lead singer of a garage band, sees her new next door neighbor mowing the lawn one day. Derek begs her not to make it weird.

~ * ~

Laura was tuning Babe, her fourth-hand electric guitar, when she saw him.

He was her neighbor, recently moved in next door, and currently he was taking off his t-shirt to mop at his sweaty face.

He was pale in the way that it was early summer and the temps had finally climbed high enough for tank tops and shorts. Moles speckled his skin, stars painted across the canvas of his body. Her fingers itched to write the lyrics of him.

“Derek!” she yelled. Her brother sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. He straightened from where he’d been tinkering with Dad’s bike and strolled to where she was sitting on an overturned cooler. He deliberately wiped his hands on a grease-covered rag before deigning to ask, waspishly, “What?”

“Go get my lyric book,” she ordered him.

He glared at her. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he only glared harder. Ever since he’d shot up about a foot and a half and started weightlifting, she hadn’t been able to boss him around as much.

It was frustrating.

Well, bossing might not work now, but Derek was not immune to her begging.

“Please?” she whined. “I need to finish this,” she stroked Babe’s frets, “for the gig tonight, but inspiration.”

Derek rolled his eyes again but loped off amiably. He returned shortly, her lyric book in one hand, a twelve pack of Mountain Dew in the other, and their younger sister Cora trailing him.

“Thank you,” Laura said, grabbing the book. She scowled at him when she noticed the large, oil-stained prints all over the cover. “Derek!”

He snickered, setting the pack of soda down. “Hey, you got your book,” he pointed out. Laura glared harder, imbuing her gaze with as much hatred as she could. Sometimes he could be such an asshole.

“Your book and no pen!” Cora crowed. Laura stuck her tongue out at her. Cora may have only just turned twelve, but apparently she wasn’t too grown up to not retaliate by blowing a raspberry in Laura’s direction.

“Why aren’t you ever as rude to Derek?” she lamented.

Cora shrugged. “He lets me do what I want.” To emphasize her point, she grabbed a can of soda and Derek didn’t stop her.

Laura sulked, useless lyric book balanced on her thigh while she fiddled with the tuning keys.

Derek watched her for a few moments before digging a pencil out of his toolbox. Laura took it without acknowledgement, setting Babe down reverently. She flipped to a fresh page and began scribbling. Derek went back to Dad’s bike, and Cora sat next to him.

Next Door Hottie was back to mowing. He hadn’t replaced his t-shirt, and Laura spent a couple of minutes watching his muscles bunch under his skin. He was lean and wiry without being narrow or small. He appeared to be about Derek’s height, with legs up to the sky and strength bunched in his forearms as he pushed the mower back and forth.

She managed to write six truly terrible lines before NDH finished mowing, guzzling water straight from the hose in his backyard.

Laura fanned herself at the display, wishing she were the water he was chugging.

Immediately she wrote: “Baby, you look like you need a drink, and honey, I’m your flavor.”

Derek’s wrench clattered by her feet, and she yelled at him about almost hitting Babe.

He rolled his eyes. “She’s on the other side of you,” he said. “You’re making it weird. Quit staring or I’ll tell him.”

“You wouldn’t,” Laura gasped, clutching dramatically at her bosom.

“Don’t pretend to be insulted.” He rolled his eyes again. At this rate, he was going to strain something. “Just. Please don’t be weird to our neighbor. You’re not the one he’ll beat up if he doesn’t like you.”

“He’s not going to be another Jackson Whittemore,” Laura said, but she winced at the reminder of their previous next door neighbor who used to beat Derek up whenever Laura did something he didn’t like—and Laura had lived to antagonize him.

It hadn’t helped Derek any that he’d been crushing on Jackson’s best friend, Danny Mahealani. In order to protect Danny from the uncool, Jackson had jumped Derek and kicked his teeth in.

Two lawsuits and the Whittemores paying for Derek’s dental work later, the Whittemores moved away.

The house next door had been empty for almost two years. Now there was a gorgeous guy mowing the overgrown yard and making Laura’s nether regions quiver in anticipation.

She was going through a dry spell since Mom caught her with the older Lahey boy last year at one of her “study” sessions. All because Cam was already eighteen and Laura had just turned seventeen.

NDH looked like he was nicely under eighteen but still mature enough to know his way around a pussy.

“No one can be another Jackson Whittemore,” Derek broke into her thoughts. He still didn’t look happy, so Laura put down her lyric book and stood up to hug him. She stole a can of soda on her way back down.

“I’ve almost got the song,” she said. “I just need—”

“Less cheese?” Cora interrupted looking pleased with herself. Laura sneered at her.

If Derek was standing up to her now and being insufferable, Cora was ten times worse.

Derek was Cora’s favorite, so to have the carefully cultivated older-sister fear dispelled so rudely, it meant that her little sister was a little shit.

“My lyrics are fine. They’re just not as fine as him.”

Derek collected his wrench, taking time to grab Laura’s can and drain it in one long swallow. “You’re being creepy again,” he told her, handing the can back to her. “Besides, don’t you have a gig tonight? Shouldn’t you be over at Jordan’s to practice?”

Laura checked her watch, swearing because he was right. “Bye, assholes,” she called as she stuffed Babe into her case and grabbed another can for the road. Parrish lived on the next street over, the back of his yard butted up to theirs. She hopped the fence, jogging to make up time.

~ * ~

“No,” Stiles said flatly. He ignored the sad, pleading look Scott shot at him. Stiles sighed. “Do you see this?” he demanded, pointing around them. “The yard still looks like shit.”

In the not too distant neighborhood, someone began banging on drums. Stiles clenched his teeth.

He hated it here. He would have preferred to stay in his own neighborhood in Hill Valley with Scott and Harley, but with his dad’s election to Sheriff came a bigger paycheck. Dad had sold their modest two bedroom house and moved them 12.5 miles away.

Seriously, who did that?

At least since they were still in the same school district, he’d get to see his two best friends during the school year. It just sucked that since his dad had grounded him from his Jeep—something about a party with underage drinking and sex, neither of which Stiles was participating in—he hadn’t been able to visit his friends, relying instead on their texts and nightly messenger calls.

Since neither of them had vehicles or licenses, they hadn’t been able to visit either.

Scott had finally convinced his mom to drive him to Stiles’ new house for a sleepover, and now he wanted to go see some stupid cover band.

“Stiles,” Scott implored. “Please? They’re, like, the coolest. They go to our school.”

Stiles shook his head. “That just means they’re losers like us.”

“No,” Scott insisted, “they’re really cool. I mean, they’re all seniors and we’re going to be juniors.”

“Juniors are cool,” Stiles said. He wasn’t looking forward to school. If Jackson Whittemore was back from London, as the rumors were saying, then his life was over.

Jackson aka Jackass had been such a dick that he’d knocked some dumb Devenford Prep kid’s face in and had been sent to boarding school. In Europe!

And now Stiles was living in Jackass’s old house. There was no way this would end well for Stiles.

At least he could console himself with the fact that he hadn’t yet embarrassed himself in front of his hot next door neighbor.

Technically, Stiles had forty neighbors, fifteen of them to either side.

There were the Laheys on the left and the Hales on the right. Four Laheys. Eleven Hales. And only one had caught Stiles’ eye.

The middle child, Darren or Eric or something like that, was outside when Stiles and his dad came to scope out the place before his dad bought it.

Darren-Eric had been working on a motorcycle with his bulging arms on display. Stiles had walked into the clothesline post, and his dad had spent the rest of the tour alternatively laughing at him and trying to see what distracted him enough that he gave himself a black eye.

Since they’d officially moved in, Darren-Eric had worked on the bike damn near every day. And Stiles walked into the post so many times that Dad hired the boys next door—the immature Lahey brothers—to remove it.

It was a combination of his dad and Scott that inspired him to try getting Darren-Eric’s attention. His dad kept complaining about the state of the lawn—a tad bit overgrown—and Scott kept texting him stories about all the muscles he was getting by mowing his mom’s and Harley’s dad’s properties.

A neat yard and muscles. Sounded great. So Stiles spent all his time outside, pushing around a dinky mower he thought would die on him with every grunt, and trying to both catch the eye of and impress his hot neighbor.

So far, he hadn’t succeeded in anything except tanning (and making a few new muscles). Darren-Eric kept working on his bike and ignoring Stiles.

He complained once to Scott about it, and all Scott said was “Oh that sucks. Say, Mom said I could visit.”

Now they were here and Scott was still trying to get him to agree to go to the stupid band thing.

“Fine,” Scott said exasperated, “the neighbor you like? His sister is in the band. He’ll probably be there.”

“Wait,” Stiles said, gaze immediately going to the Hales’ garage. None of the kids, only three of them, two girls and the hot boy, were there. It was just the adults sitting on camp chairs, drinking beer, and shooting the shit.

“Seriously?” He’d seen the oldest girl with her guitar of course. He just hadn’t thought she’d been in the cacophonous racket emanating from the property flanking the Hales’.

Scott smiled knowingly, handing Stiles his plaid over shirt.

“I hate you,” Stiles told him.

“Uh huh, let’s go.”

They jumped the fence and cut through the empty lot behind Stiles’ yard to join the growing crowd in front of an open garage.

The guitar-girl saw them and faltered. Stiles nudged Scott and he nudged back.

Behind her, helping to run cables from the instruments to the amps was Darren-Eric. Stiles shamelessly watched him. He wanted those arms and that face. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Stiles hadn’t even kissed anyone yet. Scott followed his gaze and nudged him pretty hard. Stiles knocked him back, and when he looking again Darren-Eric was nowhere in sight.

He swallowed down his disappointment. Mostly because the band was starting to play and the crowd around them started yelling.

Up close, the band was just as awful, disorganized, and ear-bleedingly bad, but in kind of a good way? Guitar-girl was also the lead singer, and she had a good voice.

Halfway through the set, the band paused for water. Then, guitar-girl grabbed her mic.

“This next song is for all the younger siblings out there—especially you, Derek.” She pointed at Darren-Eric, who was hiding behind a shapely shrub.

Derek, Stiles thought. It was a good name for him.

“Scott, give me some paper.”

“No.” Scott carried a journal everywhere. He never actually wrote in it, but he said liked to be prepared.

“Please?”

Scott relented, handing over the notebook with its severely masticated pen. Stiles tore out a page and printed his number. Below it, he added a simple, “CALL ME” and folded it up. Then he gave Scott back his journal and settled in to listen to the rest of the set.

~ * ~

The gig had gone perfectly. Even with NDH showing up—and that was a nice ego boost, to have him staring at her during setup—and making her a little nervous.

Jordan’s cousin who usually helped them sort cables was sick, so Derek had helped. Normally, he stayed home listening to their aunts and uncles bitch about their jobs. He stuck around the whole set, glaring at her dedication of “You All Suck.” Afterward, he helped them tear down, rolling cables with a practiced ease she knew was from his theater nerd side. He wanted to be a mechanic or an actor. She wanted to be a singer. Their mother was disappointed in them both.

“Just you wait,” Jordan told Derek. “We’ll make a roadie out of you yet.” He accompanied it with a lecherous wink.

Derek pretended to laugh, sidling away from the drummer and the only one who’s mom would let him host a band out of his garage. Jordan made him uncomfortable, but Derek refused to confront him about it. Laura hadn’t figured out why yet. It drove her to frustration that he wouldn’t let her do it either.

Almost everyone in the crowd was gone when Laura looked up. Only NDH and his friend were still standing there.

Derek tapped her shoulder. “Need me?”

Laura shook her head. “Where’s my lyric book?”

Derek pulled it off a shelf and shoved it at her. He glanced at NDH and leaned in close. “Don’t be weird,” he said.

“I won’t.” All Laura was going to do was give NDH her number.

“Hey, so,” NDH said behind her, and she whipped around, paper held out defensively. He was behind her yes, but he’d grabbed Derek’s arm. “I just was curious—I mean, would you…?” he faltered, trailing off and blushing under Derek’s heavy gaze. Derek flicked his eyes to Laura and then deliberately opened a folded piece of paper in his hand. Laura saw a number and some words, looked down at her paper where all she’d written was “Call me?” She wrote down a number and slipped it into NDH’s pocket.

“Going home or not, Derek?” she knocked him with her shoulder. Derek’s face scrunched and he looked to NDH.

NDH stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Stiles. I just moved in next door.”

“Hi, Stiles,” Laura said. She looked from her brother to Stiles. They wore identical blushes, and she wasn’t dumb. She knew what it meant. It meant that she could write all the songs about Stiles’ attributes that she wanted but her drought would persist.

“Don’t stay out too late,” she called, shouldering Babe’s case. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Derek groaned, covering his face.

“What would you do?” Stiles asked, innocently.

Derek groaned again. “Don’t,” he warned Laura. “Please don’t.”

Laura blew him a kiss and strolled to the fence to hop it. Her heart felt funny, like it was missing beats, but when she looked back and her brother was smiling, eyes shining at Stiles, their stances relaxed, the same blush burning both of their ears, she decided it didn’t matter. Besides, together, they made a pretty good pair.

Stiles definitely wasn’t another Jackson Whittemore, hallelujah. She couldn’t wait to tease her brother.

Maybe she would write them a song.

Maybe.

Maybe Call Me.

~ Fin ~

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Laura Hale #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Fandom Cares #Auction Piece #My Story/My Writing

8 notes · View notes

maxattack-powell · 7 years ago

Text

Truth, Truth or Dare (Part II)

Truth, Truth or Dare (2-4c) - Part II -

***This is an original fic that fits in between Book 2/Chapter 4 (split in half) - labeled as 2-4c in my masterlist***

Masterlist - go here for other chapters and related original fics

Disclaimer: The following are fics (adaptations from actual game chapters AND original works) to Choices: The Freshman and The Sophomore stories. It is a fictional adaptation. I do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Nicole or any other IN GAME character. All of the ORIGINAL characters, storylines and events were developed by me, for my adaptation of The Freshman story.

Comments: I enjoyed playing Choices The Freshman… But I wanted more. Basically, I’ve included certain things that aren't really full fic size, adding more substance to the story. I ALSO have quite a few full size fic moments. I wanted to see MC and Chris through their freshman year… with more angst, fluff, sweetness, real life and overall detail.

NSFW moments in future chapters - Mature Readers Only Please

Paring: MC x Chris

POV: ~MC~ or ~Chris~

~Chris~

The pair arrive back at the dorm just after dark. When they enter, they find the suite in a swirl of activity. Everyone is finished with classes by this time, making Wednesdays their new group hangout day. Usually there is some type of game involved. They group had previously agreed that it was a great stress relief last quarter when it occasionally occurred, so it was intentionally incorporated into their weekly rituals this quarter.

Zack spots Chris and MC, immediately running over with his arms stretched wide as he collides with MC, pushing her back into Chris, before he wraps his arms around them both. “MC! There you are! Guess what I managed to do today?!”

He's so excited that he can’t stand still, almost vibrating in front of MC who’s grinning from ear to ear. She quickly grabs both of his upper arms to steady him as her back remains pressed into Chris. “I don't even want to guess. Just hurry up and tell me already.”

“I convinced Kaitlyn to let us play Truth or Dare.” His face lights up as he flashes her the biggest smile.

She laughs. “You mean Truth or Truth?” Chris lays his free hand on MC’s shoulder.

Zack shakes his head almost violently, his large brown curls bouncing around as if they share his excitement. “NO. Truth or DARE.” He pulls her into a hug and almost throws her back into Chris just as quickly before spinning and taking off into the living room.

“Someone is going to get NAKED tonight!” He yells through the suite.

James clears his throat, suddenly making both MC and Chris aware of his presence. “Just to be clear, I will NOT be doing that for a Dare.”

Chris chuckles at their exuberant friend as well as their more stoic one. He slips past MC, his hand running across her back as he passes. When she looks at him he winks, seeing her blush slightly before he turns and places their bags on one of the dining room chairs. He spins back to face the living room and steps next to MC. She is shaking her head and laughing at Zack who is still clearly excited about the game of choice tonight.

Kaitlyn walks into the room and snorts as if she has been defeated. “Ugh, whatever Zack. Truth or Truth is a much better game.”

Zack jokingly sticks his tongue out at her for a moment before Brandon manages to grab him, pulling him into his chest. The taller man somewhat blocks Zack’s view as he wraps his arms around the short brunette’s head and shoulders.

Brandon chuckles when Zack attempts to free himself by biting his chest. “I’ve got this. Crisis averted.”

Chris laughs and looks towards MC. He watches her for a moment, enjoying the smile on her face as it is such a contrast to the expression she held throughout most of the morning. He takes a deep breath and looks around the suite. James is talking to Tyler in the living room. Abbie is in the kitchen setting out cups and other items for everyone to take into the living room and Kaitlyn walks over to grab a stack of cups and a bottle of wine, immediately filling her hands.

He walks over and grabs the small cooler of drinks and nods at her, implying he will assist with the setup. They move everything to the living room and count out seats, realizing they are a few short. Two of the dining table chairs were still on the roof from the night before, so the pair go up to grab them. Once they make it onto the roof they give each other a friendly smile. Chris and Kaitlyn step over to the railing and look out over the dark sparkling campus as they chat for a few minutes. After a while they both fall into a comfortable silence as they appreciate the scenery.

Chris decides it is a good time to clear the air with Kaitlyn about MC. He turns and looks at her with a small smile. “So uh, I just wanted to make sure we were cool...”

“Yeah why wouldn't we be?” She tilts her head at him curiously.

He clears his throat. “Kait, I know… how you feel... about MC.” He says softly and slowly, his breath fogging in the crisp night air.

Chris doesn't want to hurt her feelings or make her uncomfortable, but he has to get it out there. He assumes awkward moments will occur between them as it is inevitable with them all living under the same roof, but he wants to make sure Kaitlyn knows they both care about her.

She swallows and forces out a smile. “Well, yeah. I mean doesn't everyone? We’re best friends.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, Kaitlyn… I--”

She cuts him off, throwing her hand up between them to stop him. “Chris. Wait.”

He gives her a small, almost sad smile. His voice is almost a whisper as if others are on the roof with them. “I know, Kaitlyn.”

She looks at him for a moment, her eyes flicking back and forth between his as she thinks. Only a few seconds pass before she sighs and looks down at her hands. “So she told you.”

He shakes his head when she glances back up. “No. I just know.”

Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet now as she speaks in a breath of air. “How…”

“Ayuh... ‘cause I know what it feels like.” He says, his words laced with a melancholy tone as he remembers his first quarter at Hartfeld.

Her shoulders slump and he continues. “And I’ve seen the way you look at her sometimes…” She closes her eyes. “I saw the kiss… at the club, on your birthday.”

She turns away from him and crosses her arms before she leans on the railing. “Well, this is… great.” She says sarcastically.

Chris frowns and slides closer to her, speaking without looking in her direction. Both of their eyes stay focused forward and he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She tilts her head curiously at him once again. “MC made her choice… And she chose you, Chris.” Her gaze falls forward once again and her voice lowers slightly. “You shouldn't be sorry for that.”

He relaxes a little as he takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Kaitlyn. I just… I know she really cares about you. And I do too… I don't want things to be weird.”

“It won’t be… people get over crushes. I’ll be fine.” She smiles and shoulder checks him a little. “As long as you don't try to take my best friend away from me, that is.” She cocks an eyebrow at him, clearly in a threatening manner.

A huge smile splits his face as he lets out a deep chuckle. “I would never dream of it.”

“That’s wise.” She smirks at him.

He stretches his long arms out, silently asking to hug it out.

She accepts and crushes her face into his chest, mumbling. “Take care of her, or I’ll make you pay, Powell.”

He laughs and they break apart. “Oh, I know. You and Zack both. You two terrify me.”

She grins and points two fingers at her eyes, then swivels her wrist to point them at him.

He nods and laughs even harder, patting her on the back before he reaches over and grabs one of the chairs. “Come on. Let’s get back inside.”

When they find their way back downstairs, it's easy to notice who else has arrived. Logan’s loud, boisterous voice bellows from the kitchen, the sound often mingling with the bell-like charm that can only belong to Madison. Chris glances up and sees them both, as well as Edgar and Tyler, apparently deep in conversation over what he can only assume is ridiculous from the expressions he sees across their faces.

He chuckles and looks around the suite. Darren is chatting up Kaitlyn and James, his standard grin in place. He turns to see Brandon still cradling Zack against his chest as they sway back and forth to a song only the two of them can hear. Abbie walks out of the hallway then, joining the group in the kitchen as she leans on the bar top and grins when her eyes catch Tyler’s.

Chris smiles, agreeing with Zack and MC on the Tyler/Abbie ship. He frowns slightly when he doesn't see the one person he is truly searching for. He instantly decides to search her out, quickly setting his chair down next to the one Kaitlyn just sat down. Crossing the room, Chris slips down the dark hallway only to find a thin line of light slipping from her bedroom.

As he approaches, Chris tries to be as quiet as possible, peeking through the thin gap. He sees her sitting on her bed, running her fingers through her hair. She appears to be deep in thought. He hopes that it has nothing to do with this morning, but he knows better. Deciding he doesn't want to snoop on her any longer than he already has, he gently knocks. Her eyes snap up as he slowly pushes the door open a few inches so she can see him. “MC?”

She gives him a warm smile and gestures for him to join her. Without hesitation, he steps in and pushes the door shut before he takes the few long strides to join her.

“You okay, baby?” He says gently as he rubs soothing circles on her back the moment he sits down.

She gives him an even smile. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just been a long day.”

He nods, knowing he is responsible for a lot of her exhaustion. “Want to skip suite night?”

She grins wider and shakes her head. “Not a chance. You’re going down Powell.”

He smirks, his chest swelling with pride as she rises to the occasion. “Didn't think so.”

~MC~

They make their way back to the group just in time to grab one of the last remaining seats. Chris runs his hand down her arm before squeezing her wrist. She looks at the chair and then nods for him to sit, making him give her a small smile before he obeys. Luckily for them, it’s one of the larger chairs in the suite which allows her enough space to sit on his lap and drape her legs over the high sides and still remain comfortable for both.

Zack is almost unable to contain himself as he grins at Kaitlyn. She playfully rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, instantly regretting it as he reaches over to attempt grabbing it. “Zack!”

“Don’t Dare me then, Kait.” He grins wildly, his eyes flashing with excitement.

“Ugh, not that again. Don’t ever call me that.” She makes a gagging face.

The game gets underway after everyone has a drink of some type in hand and the snacks are distributed. MC grins at her friend as it becomes clear very quickly that Zack has one motive in mind for the night. He is determined to get someone naked with a Dare, or so help him, someone is going to pay. A trend starts to build quickly as the group as a whole realizes this. An unspoken tactic is activated whenever it’s Zack’s turn to ask, no matter who it is, they chose Truth. Never a Dare.

He becomes more agitated as the night goes on, but everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. Possibly a little at his expense. Kaitlyn's turn comes up and she looks around the group, eyeing them with great interest as she spins the bottle on the table.

The bottle had to be introduced after Tyler balked at a few questions earlier in the night. Now it is random, and no one can complain. The group grows quiet as the bottle slows.

The raven haired girl pouts when it lands on Logan, knowing he will probably chose a Dare. He does not disappoint, immediately jumping up with a hoot before he looks at her expectantly while yelling ‘Dare’ loud enough for the windows to rattle in the suite.

Kaitlyn thinks hard for a minute, trying to come up with something good. Darren starts laughing and leans over slightly from his spot next to her and whispers into her ear. Her face lights up instantly as her eyes shoot up to Logan's.

“Alright, Logan… I’ve got a Dare for you Hot Shot.” She smirks at him hard, making Chris laugh out loud from his seat when Logan poses like Superman.

MC leans back into his chest as she shifts both legs higher on the arm of the chair. Her eyes are focused on the loud man standing across from them, eager to hear his sentence so she doesn't immediately notice when Chris reaches up and runs his hand down her thigh methodically while they wait. The moment his warm hand touches her thigh, she glances at him without drawing his attention, watching him smile as Kaitlyn and Logan square off. After a moment, he notices and side-eyes her just in time to see a smile. MC tucks a bit of hair behind her ear to get a better view of his joyous expression, causing the corner of his lips curl slightly higher.

“Bring it!” The tall student fist pumps into the air, clearly excited and ready to rock and roll, disrupting the focus of the two sitting close together in the large chair.

“Logan, I Dare you to go to our RA’s suite…” She pauses as he nods. “...and plead with him to give you some condoms, at least one, for a hot date.”

His mouth shuts quickly as he thinks. He glances around the group and sniffs in defiance. “Alright. Yeah, bro. I’ve got this. Watch me wreck this Dare.”

The group scrambles to get up and follow him as he moves to leave the suite in pursuit of an RA. They discuss which floor RA he should attempt his Dare with, eventually deciding that the first floor option is probably the smartest. Just in case it blows up in his face and he has to make a run for it, he's right by the door.

Everyone shoots down the stairs like a herd of elephants until they get to the last section for the first floor. Logan stands straight and puffs out his chest as he pushes through the group huddled on the wide stairs. They all find a place to peek out and watch as he approaches the centrally located RA suite for the first floor.

He knocks on the door and glances back at the group for a moment before quickly turning his attention back to the door as it opens. When it opens Logan laughs out loud, bending slightly at the waste as if he has heard a seriously funny joke.

“Hey Mike… What's up man?” He reaches out a pats the tall thin senior that steps out into the hall.

MC frowns and looks at Chris, hoping he has an idea who this Mike is, but he is no help as he shrugs back at her before glancing towards Darren.

The ex-quarterback shakes his head and tries his best not to laugh as he whispers. “He thinks he has this in the bag, but he is so screwed.”

They all listen as Logan begins his Dare. “So, hey man. I need you to do me a solid. I have this chick upstairs who is ready... if you know what I mean.” He tilts his head towards the thin blonde in front of him.

When he doesn't budge Logan’s brow creases slightly. “Hey, dude… seriously. This chick is locked and loaded. I just need a condom and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Mike just shakes his head at Logan as he crosses his arms. “What the hell are you up to Logan? You don't even stay in the dorms.”

“Riiiight, but my chick does… so hook me up man.” When he doesn't budge again, Logan begins to get frustrated. “Mike. I need a Love Glove like, yesterday!”

Mike the RA just glares at him for a moment, increasing Logan’s frustration. “I. Need. To. Hurry. MAN.”

The group all look at each other, trying not to make a sound as they wait. The thin man sighs and disappears into his room, only to come back out toss a condom at Logan while he glares.

“Here. I’m only doing this so you will one, leave. And two, because you thumped Tony Mitchell for me back in Freshman year. Fucking prick.” He sneers at the memory.

Logan’s grin widens as Mike the RA continues. “Now please, get the hell out of here and don't cause me any damn trouble tonight…” He sighs.

Logan starts laughing and shoots him a finger gun while he winks. “You got it bro.”

Mike shakes his head and closes his door as Logan turns. The tall dark haired senior struts over to the stairs and just grins while he tosses the condom at Kaitlyn. “Dare complete.”

Darren crosses his arms and shakes his head in astonishment while Kaitlyn throws her arms up in the air. “You knew the guy?! That is so unfair…” She lets out a huff of air.

Logan shrugs. “Hey, I didn’t know he was the RA here. We were project partners in lit our freshman year. This dick wouldnt stop messing with him because he was small and quiet back then, so I took care of it for him.”

MC and Zack both start to laugh, looking at Logan’s smug face. She shakes her head and grins at Logan. “Very serendipitous.”

He turns to her with a confused look. “Seren-what?”

Chris smirks and steps past MC to grasp Logan on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s get back upstairs.”

Logan grins and nods before an idea crosses his mind. He quickly reaches over to Kaitlyn and snatches the small metallic package out of her hand. “On second thought…”

The group chats all the way back to the suite. Once upstairs, everyone finally gets settled to continue the game. Tyler spins the bottle and it lands on Darren.

The tall senior sits back confidently in his chair and smiles. “Truth.”

“Alright, of all the people here, who do you want to trade lives with?” Tyler smiles and takes a drink from his cup.

Darren grins widely and slowly looks around the circle of friends. “Oh that is interesting. Let’s see…”

Everyone starts looking around the circle as well, like they are also thinking who they would choose if it was their question. Darren’s eyes roll over each one slowly, falling on James first. “Hmm, smart and rich. I mean, that's not a bad life. Even if I had to wear sweaters like that all the time…”

He smirks as James’s expression deadpans before he looks down at his clothes and tugs on the knit fabric, inspecting his fashion choice.

MC giggles and reaches over to pull his hand away. “It’s a nice sweater James.”

James glances up at her and slowly grins and laughs. “Sure it is.”

Darren’s eyes continue to sweep around the circle. He pauses to wink at Madison. “I could trade with Mads and be the most adorable sweet cute girl in the world.”

Her face explodes with joy. “Darren!”

Logan shoots his friend a serious glare and Darren just laughs at him hard. “Something wrong Logan?”

The dark haired senior grumbles and crosses his arms as he leans back next to Madison. “No.”

Darren glances at Edgar and laughs. “I wouldn't know what to do with all those brains.”

Edgar beams as Tyler laughs and pats him on the back.

Darren’s eyes roll across Abbie. “Or all that artistic skill…”

She blushes and grins at Tyler who pulls her into a side hug and kisses her on the temple.

He shoulder bumps Kaitlyn. “I might enjoy trading with you though, spark plug.”

She laughs and shoulder bumps him back.

Darren looks between Logan and Chris. “I love football. So the logical trade is one of you two meatheads. But, Logan’s college career is about over.” Logan groans at him and pouts, making Madison give him a hug, instantly making him smile again.

He turns to Chris. “And yours is just beginning.” He glances at MC briefly, a small smirk slowly sliding across his face. “And I have a feeling it's going to be a good one…”

Darren arches an eyebrow and MC notices as her face heats up. Almost immediately she feels the warm arm behind her snake around her waist, tightening to pulling her even closer. She glances sideways at Chris, finding him already shooting Darren a glare. It’s clearly playful, but it also has a serious coating to it that only she and Darren pick up.

Darren starts to laugh. “Yeah, I’m trading with Chris. His ankle is still good, he’s probably going to be the next Pro All Star QB… and....” He laughs harder as Chris’s nostrils flare. “Yeah. Trading with Chris.”

MC see’s Zack giving her wide eyes as he forcefully pinches his lips shut, making her realize that he too has caught on. He glances around the group and when he thinks its safe, mouths ‘OH MY GOD’ at her before he starts laughing awkwardly. She narrows her eyes at him, demanding him to shut up immediately.

“I’m not agreeing to this trade.” Chris laughs

He scoots both himself and MC forward to grab the bottle for his turn as he holds her in place on his lap. Shooting Darren one more glare with a smirk for good measure, he starts the spin. Once it’s moving well, Chris slides back and gently tugs hips MC until she shifts back against him again. She sees a small smile creep across his face when her back is flush against his chest.

Everyone holds their breath as they wait to see whos next. It slows, and slows, and stops. It has rolled back around to him, or rather MC, who’s sitting across his lap. She slowly turns and looks in his eyes, knowing she's in trouble.

The corners of his lips start to curl higher and higher as he looks at her. “Payback is a bitch, MC.”

She sighs, having a good idea what she's about to be paying for. She raises her chin defiantly and looks around the group, seeing many entertained expressions as they wait.

MC turns back and looks at him, narrowing her eyes slightly as her voice lowers. “I choose Dare… Rogers.”

He immediately laughs, his expression a mixture of amusement and shock at her determination. “Yep. That would be it.”

Logan pops off. “Who the hell is Rogers?”

Madison tilts her head and looks at him curiously. “Like… Mr. Rogers?” She hums lovingly. “I loved that show.”

Chris starts shaking his head as different strings of chatter cut across the circle with theories about the nickname ‘Rogers’ and he just stares into her eyes.

“Funny girl, that MC…” He says again, just like the night before, causing her cheeks to warm slightly.

This time though, his tone is lower, almost mischievous as he impishly grins at her. She swallows, suddenly not sure about her choice of Dare.

“Shit.” She says under her breath as she holds his gaze.

He hears it though, and slowly nods as his grin grows more evil. “Alright.” He raises his voice. “My Dare for MC…”

She sucks in a breath and everyone grows quiet.

“Is to call up Coach Cohen.” He tilts his chin up and raises an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs and looks around the group. “Okay, and… do what, prank call? Your refrigerator is running, better go catch it?”

He flashes her a huge smile, teeth and all as he starts laughing. “Sure, you can call it a prank call, no refrigerators though.”

Her brow furrows and he continues. “You're going to tell him what a big fan you are. Tell him how much you appreciate him, you know… like when you ogle him?” Her eyes narrow and he almost laughs again. “See if he bites.”

She glares at the long bodied man under her. “You're a jerk.” She hisses. “You're just doing this because I grinned at him earlier to get a rise out of you, aren't you?” She scoffs at him.

He laughs. “Ayuh, and the ‘Rogers’… don't forget that part.”

Tyler rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Is it like… Stev--”

Chris snaps his eyes towards him. “Tyler!”

Tyler's eyes go wide and he shuts his mouth immediately. MC watches as Logan and Darren both look at Tyler, then each other, clearly making plans to get it out of him as soon as possible. Abbie watches them looking at Tyler and frowns before leaning close and whispering into his ear. He glances at Chris and MC briefly before whispering back to her. She turns and looks at Chris, and almost immediately starts giggling into her hand. Kaitlyn studies them all for a few seconds before something clicks and she spins to face Chris with a huge grin.

Chris grinds his teeth and bites back a laugh while also shaking his head at MC. “You’ve earned this woman.”

She shrugs. “I dont have his number… he's probably not in his office by now either.”

Chris keeps his eyes and his smirk plastered to MC as he speaks to Tyler, not missing a beat. “Hey Tyler. Do me a favor and find Coach Tim Cohen’s personal cell phone number.”

Their friend perks up and nods once. “Alright… one second.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing away.

In less than a minute he looks up, thoroughly pleased with himself. “I had to dig through a few different databases, but I found it. It’s recent so yeah… this should be it.”

He texts it to MC and she frowns and looks at Chris. His smirk only grows and something snaps inside of her. This is another game, and he’s trying to box her in.

Her expression turns deadly serious as she studies his joyful one. “You will regret this Christopher.”

She hits dial on the number and starts to lift the phone to her ear, but he stops her, placing his hand on her wrist and lowering it. “No ma’am. Speakerphone.” He turns to everyone as he hits the button and hisses for them all to be quiet.

~Chris~

MC clenches her jaw as the phone rings, her eyes fixed on Chris’s. The phone clicks. ‘This is Tim Cohen.’

She takes a breath and licks her lips, her eyes still locked on his. He feels his body heating under her gaze. It’s assumed she’s going to make him pay for it later, he just has no idea how yet.

“Hey there Coach. What are you doing tonight, baby…” MC starts, her eyes unmoving.

Chris immediately stiffens when he hears her call someone else baby. Not just someone, his unusually young head football coach, who so many already fawn over from his glory days as a legendary QB for Texas A&M. MC hasn’t really used the word with him much, but Chris still feels like it it should be reserved for him alone. No one else.

‘Ma’am? I’m sorry, I think you may have the wrong number--’

She quickly cuts him off. “No, Coach Tim Cohen. I know exactly who I’m calling. I’ve watched you all season… Coach. And it’s been a great year…”

She lowers her voice, using her most sultry tone as she holds Chris’s gaze. “You really know how to work those boys. Maybe you could show me some ...drills. You seem like you're good at that. Yanno, drilling?”

Chris almost chokes on his drink as he takes a sip. He feels his heartbeat speed up as she keeps her eyes on his, now with a very promising smirk. Logan and Darren’s mouths fall open as they stare at MC. The others all have a range of emotions on their faces such as shock, respect, and the occasional lust.

There is a pause on the other side and they hear him clear his throat. ‘Okay, who is this?’

The group tries hard to remain quiet but a few laughs and snickers make it out.

‘Ah, yes… LOGAN. I heard you. No one else has that damn laugh. Who all is there?’

The group suddenly goes silent, knowing the jig is up.

‘When I find out who’s in on this… you better believe there will be some drilling.’ He says in a serious tone, but they can hear the hint of humor in his voice. ‘Shouldn't you guys be studying? Don't make me get campus security in on this you jackasses.’

The group erupts into a storm of loud laughter and Chris quickly kills the call on MC’s phone. He grins at her triumphantly. “I guess I can’t list you as an emergency contact now that he knows your number…”

He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink, looking at her over the rim of the cup. She purposefully shifts, making sure to grind her rear into his lap. He freezes and lets out a low breath of air, not quite a groan, as his eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment. She smirks and turns back to the group still recovering from her Dare.

Kaitlyn whistles loudly. “Alright MC, nice work. It’s your spin.”

MC stands proudly and bends at the hip to reach down and spin the empty bottle on the table. Chris shifts uncomfortably in his chair as he realizes the optimal view she has given him of her lower body in tight jeans. On either side of her he sees Darren and Logan lean over, each with their own shit eating grin as they look around her to him, knowing what he sees from his point of view. Chris’s eyes narrow at them both as he shakes his head mildly, looking away from the set of legs in front of him to control the flame that has just been lit in his body.

She moves to sit back down as the bottle slows its spinning. Chris shifts again just before she sits onto his lap, trying his best to hide how she unknowingly affected him. Thankfully for him, she doesn't seem to notice as her eyes are glued to the bottle. He can’t see where it lands, but everyone begins to laugh and cheer so he leans to look around her, finding that it’s pointed directly at him. He sighs and leans back, waiting for her to turn and look at him. When she does, he sees the biggest cocky grin that he has ever seen on her face.

He wants to wipe it right off, but instead he just laughs and curses under his breath. “Hells…”

She tilts her head and gives him the sweetest, most patient look. “What will it be, Rogers?”

His eyes snap up to hers as he chews his tongue, stopping himself from snatching her up to run to his room with her over his shoulder, locking her in while he shows her the error of her ways. This game with friends now has a double meaning for the two of them. This is war.

He refuses to be outdone and lifts his chin to her with a wide smirk. “Dare.”

Her smile shifts to a very impish grin before she turns her head across the circle. “Tyler, do me a favor… find Ms. Twombly’s cell?”

The circle erupts with laughter, gasps and cheers at her obvious direction. Abbie bites her lip to stop from laughing as Edgar nods on the other side of Tyler. “That is… well, yes that is pretty bad.”

Zack claps feverishly as he folds over with laughter. Brandon pulls him back and shakes his head in disbelief of MC’s Dare. “Wow.”

MC spins at the waist to look Chris in the eyes once again. “I think Ms. Twombly would loooove to hear from one of Hartfeld’s favorite students… Don't you Christopher?”

He sniffs definitely at her as he chews on nothing. “Uh huh. So, what’s the Dare?”

“Lather, Rinse, Repeat…” She leans down close and almost gasps into his ear. “...Captain.”

He growls at her, low enough so no one else can hear. She doesn't take his threat seriously though as she sits back up and winks before turning to Tyler. “You got it?”

Tyler starts laughing. “Yeah. This one will be good. Who’s phone?”

Edgar holds up his hand. “Mine would probably be ideal, as I have never nor will I ever have an association with said counselor. Also, this is a new number and the university does not have any record of it.”

Everyone goes silent during his monologue, but as soon as he finishes the all laugh loudly again. He looks around the group curiously. “It really is the best solution.”

Tyler pats him on the shoulder and grabs his phone to enter the number before tossing it to Chris.

He easily catches it and hovers his thumb over the call button as he looks at MC. “You really want to see this? Sure you can handle it?”

MC shrugs. “From what I’ve seen so far… I think I’ll be fine.”

Logan wraps his arms around Madison, making her giggle as he yells out energetically. “Oooohhh sick buuuurn!”

MC looks around the group and Zack holds up his hand. She does the same and they long distance high five before falling into a fit of giggles.

Kaitlyn humorously grimaces. “Ouch.”

Chris takes a deep breath and shakes his head at them all. “Screw you guys.” He chuckles and hits the call button, once again telling everyone to hush.

‘Hello!’ A overly cheery voice slips out of the phone.

Chris’s jaw clenches as he locks on to MC’s eyes and clears his throat, slightly changing his voice for the call. “Yes, I need to speak to Helen immediately… it’s important.”

‘Oh dear, this is she. Is there something wrong?’

Edgar and Tyler start laughing, causing Abbie swats at them until they stop. “Shhh!”

Chris collects himself and continues, still holding MC’s gaze. “Yes, actually… I need your help.”

‘Sure, just tell me what is going on and who this is… and I would be glad to.’

“I don't know I can do that. See, Helen… I’ve watched you every morning as you walk into your office building. We’ve known each other for a while, but I’ve never been able to say this to you in person… I can't stop thinking about you. I want you…” His eyes narrow slightly as he gives MC a lustful look. “...Helen.”

‘Oh… oh my.’ There is a long pause on the line and Chris looks at the screen to make sure the call is still connected.

He jumps and almost drops the phone when she speaks again. ‘Who is this? I must know.’

Chris panics and they all look around to each other as they scramble for a response. They begin whispering harshly across the circle as suggestions are tossed around.

~MC~

MC is about to mouth a name for Chris to use when she hears it. ‘Is this you Enrique…’

Everyone freezes.

‘Professor Vasquez?’ The soft voice continues.

MC’s eyes widen an she snatches the phone from Chris’s hand immediately. “Wrong number!” She yells and hastily ends the call.

Kaitlyn falls out of her seat and onto the rug, crying with laughter. Tyler and Edgar start chuckling as MC tosses the phone back to them. Abbie shakes her head and covers her mouth and looks around the group as everyone laughs. MC looks at James and he stares right back with huge eyes, his face frozen in shock as his eyebrows raise more with each second.

Madison looks at Darren and Logan as they fold over. “I didn't know Professor Vasquez loved Ms. Twombly. That's so cute!”

Zack busts out laughing. “Madison…” He gasps, trying to speak but failing.

Brandon snickers under him and looks at Madison. “Um, Professor Vasquez was not on that call…”

“But, I thought…” She looks around the group with confusion. “I don’t get it.”

MC turns to face Chris again, her expression making him chuckle. The startled fear on her features refuses to leave no matter how many times she shakes her head. “Oh my god… I need to wash my eyes, no wait… my ears. Wait, what?! Someone tell me we there’s a way to delete memories?”

He pulls her down to lay on his chest and laughs. “Guess that one backfired on you, huh baby?” He whispers into her ear.

She shudders and curls up into a ball on his lap, tucking her head into his neck. “Mistake. I have made a grave miscalculation.”

Eventually the group settles down and it’s Kaitlyn's turn to spin for the next victim. As it slows it lands on Brandon and Zack. They look at each other and decide it is for Zack, since Brandon went the last time.

He perks up and looks towards his friend. She grins and asks him, but he’s so excited that he doesnt think about his answer until it's far too late. “Dare! Oh, no… wait!”

Kaitlyn starts to cackle. “No sir! You can't go back… Dare it is!”

Zack curses under his breath, knowing what's about to happen. “Ben-zona.”

“Zachary Zilberg! I DARE you to run through the quad… NAKED!” She yells out for the world to hear. Everyone looks at him with great joy, as if the whole point of the game was for this very moment.

The thin brunette stands and looks off into some invisible distance as he adjust his popped shirt collar. “Excuse me.”

He walks towards the hall and disappears as everyone watches. Murmurs cut across the living room as they start to wonder if he’s coming back. Just as Brandon stands to go find their curly haired friend, Zack steps back into the living space. The silence is deafening as they all turn to look at him, now wearing a long colorful robe with running shoes at the end of his bare legs.

MC spins on Chris’s lap to fully take in her friend. “You own actual track shoes?” Her eyes look up to his in disbelief.

He scoffs and crosses his arms as he taps his foot. “My mom made me bring them. She seems to think I’ll have a reason to wear such things.”

Chris chuckles under MC, making her move slightly as he laughs. “Looks like they are about to come in real handy.”

Everyone laughs again and Zack shoots them all a glare. “Okay! Let’s do this or I’m going to sleep and you will all have to dream of my bare ass instead of seeing it!” He turns with a huff and starts down towards the door.

The gagle scramble to get to their feet and run after him. Once outside and on the edge of the quad by the dorms, negotiations begin. Everyone throws out a possible path for Zack to streak across and he shakes his head at every one. Finally, Brandon suggests a somewhat small circle from the dorms, to the coffee shop, by the administration buildings and then back to the dorms.

Zack sighs and agrees, stepping away from the group and untying his robe belt. He stands there for a moment, clutching his robe shut while he contemplates. MC watches him as each breath fogs in front of him. She suddenly feels bad for her friend, knowing this is going to suck.

Brandon walks up and lays his arm across Zack’s slight shoulders before leaning down and kissing him on the temple. “You really don't have to--”

Zack cuts him off with a flick of his hand. “No. I’m a man of my word.”

Kaitlyn smirks and takes a few steps to stand next to Zack on his other size. “Regrets?”

He tilts his chin up and licks his lips. “Never. Okay Brandon, I’m ready.”

The taller man can’t help but grin as he grabs the shoulders of Zack’s robe. He slides his arms out and sucks in a quick breath before he takes off at a full sprint. He cups both hands over his more private parts as he runs along the predetermined path. The group starts laughing as they hear other students, and probably some faculty, as they scream, laugh and cheer when he passes by.

The group of friends catcall, whistle and yell at the top of their lungs as their friend speeds up around the last turn. His eyes are wide as the moon and his skin looks flushed from the frigid air as he gets closer. “Shit-balls it is COLD!”

Brandon can’t stop himself from laughing as he holds Zack’s robe open. He quickly wraps it around him when the smaller man slams into his chest. Holding Zack as he spins, the short man pushes his hands into the arms of the robe and quickly ties his belt. Zack spins back to face his boyfriend, tucking against him as tight as possible while Brandon laughs and rubs his arms and back in an attempt to warm him. Zack pops his head out only once to look at the others as they all laugh. He sees some falling over onto the sidewalk while others lean against each other as they gasp for air.

“Ha, ha, HA! Enjoy this moment! I will get you all back one of these days!” Zack threatens before smashing his face back into Brandon’s vibrating chest.

~Chris~

MC tries her best to swallow her laughter, crushing her lips together as she grabs Chris’s arm. “Oh my god.” She gasps.

Chris stands up straight and pulls her to him as her laughter dissipates, his own chest rumbling against her. “Ah yes, gotta love a full circle game of Truth or Dare.”

Zack quickly tells them all goodbye, that his junk is frozen and he's going inside. Brandon leaves with him and they quickly disappear around the corner. Everyone else stands around for a few minutes to say their goodbyes before they split off in different directions. Kaitlyn, Tyler and Abbie remain with Chris and MC for a moment longer while they rehash Zack’s streaking adventure.

After a few minutes they head towards the dorm and everyone becomes quiet, reflecting on their respective days. MC begins to slow her walk, causing Chris to hesitate to match her. He feels the same dread from this morning creep in as he glances sideways at her stoic face.

Kaitlyn turns as she opens the door. “You guys coming?”

Chris shakes his head and gives her a small smile. “We’re going to take a quick walk, but we will be right up.”

She nods at them both and turns to join Tyler and Abbie by the elevator without a second thought. When Chris turns to face MC he finds her staring off into the dimly lit quad.

“Hey?” He asks softly.

MC turns to look at him, her face somber as she forces a small smile. “Hey.”

He sighs and steps closer, pulling her to his chest. Chris feels his anxiety drop when she doesn't resist, instead tucking her head under his chin and slipping her arms around his waist. He leans down slightly and kisses the top of her head.

“Let’s walk…” He mumbles into her hair.

She nods and they both turn onto the path leading towards the quad as Chris laces his fingers through hers, giving her hand a meaningful squeeze.

They walk in silence for a bit as they naturally make their way to their statue, the one that started it all. When they approach it, Chris turns to face MC. He finds her eyes unfocused while she's deep in thought. He stands there for a while longer, holding both of her hands in his before he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“Hey, beautiful...” He tugs at her hands gently, hoping to gain another smile, a look, anything.

She looks up into his eyes and his breath catches. Her normally bright hazel eyes are glossy with pink, almost red rims. Her lips turn down slightly on both end as she sighs. He matches her sigh and his shoulders fall as he struggles to hold her hands firmly in his, feeling defeated.

Chris feels his heart shift in his chest as it tries to escape the pain wrapping around it with a death grip. “MC, what are you thinking about? Please tell me.”

She swallows and looks away as she begins to speak. “I just… our talk from this morning…”

He closes his eyes and waits, wondering if the entire day has just been one long, crazy dream. That this, this moment right now, will awaken his true reality.

MC licks her lips. “I feel like…” She lets out a long breath. “Well, my heart hurts...”

Chris visibly cringes.

“...for you.” She finishes and his eyes snap open, instantly searching for hers.

“Wh-what?” He looks at her with confusion, his stomach in knots as she meets his eyes with her own.

“I can’t imagine what you must have felt through all of that. All of you... really.” She chews on her bottom lip, making him want to reach up and stop her instantly. Instead he locks up, watching her eyes as they turn down to focus on their joined hands. “And… and I can't stop thinking of being in that position. Of being in her position...”

Chris frowns. “MC... baby. It’s not the same. None of it is the same.” His voice goes thick as he tries not to let the emotions swirling inside slip out.

She nods quickly. “I know. But after everything from last quarter, and learning more about this… this train wreck of misunderstandings…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I‘m worried this is all going too fast. That maybe I’m getting caught up in something I’m not ready for, just like she did.”

Chris suddenly feels nauseous as he swallows hard and crushes his eyes closed.

“Please don't say that.” He lets out in a hushed whisper, feeling his chest constrict sharply as he knows everything is about to end.

He jumps as he feels her smaller, cool hand cupping his face. His eyes snap open instantly, finding her hazel ones already looking deep into his. “It doesn't feel like it is though.”

He gives her a small smile and encases her with his large arms, instantly picking her up and walking over to a bench nearby. She similarly wraps her arms and legs around him before he sits down on the edge, giving her legs just enough room behind him. Chris buries his nose into her neck, and she does the same to him. They stay like this for a while, just holding each other and warming each others skin with their slowing breaths.

After a few minutes of controlled breathing, Chris finally feels relaxed again. He takes another deep breath, smelling her skin, shampoo, perfume and laundry detergent all at the same time. The individual smells blend perfectly together, creating a smell that is uniquely MC.

‘Screw freshly baked blueberry muffins. This is my favorite smell.’ He thinks to himself as he nuzzels her soft skin.

“I didn't know what I was thinking then, MC. I was a mess, and I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. But I know exactly how I feel now, and it’s nothing like a year ago. Or even before that, when I thought that banshee of a woman was the one for me.”

MC laughs lightly into his neck at the random evil nickname he gives his ex, Nicole. He smiles against her skin, feeling his body relax even more as he begins to accept that she’s not going anywhere. They both turn silent again for a while. She gently plays with the hair at the base of his neck while he runs one of his hands up and down her back under her Hartfeld hoodie.

~MC~

She's not sure who, but one of them shifts slightly, making them both sit up straight. She keeps her arms looped around his neck while he keeps his locked around her waist. They give each other small, exhausted smiles before Chris reaches up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

“Do you trust me…” He whispers as his piercing blue eyes shift from her hair to her eyes.

She unconsciously pulls her bottom lip in and bites at it slightly as she thinks. He reaches up and grasps her chin softly, lifting his thumb to free her lip with such tenderness that she almost doesn't feel the contact at all. His eyes stay on her lip for a moment longer before sliding back up to hold her gaze. MC studies his face, her eyes moving across all of his features. She notices the dark circles under his eyes for the first time, realizing that he didn't get much sleep last night.

She takes a deep breath and gives him an honest smile. “I do.”

MC watches as a blissful grin cracks across his weary face. “Thank you, MC.”

Only seconds later Chris tightens his grip on her and stands suddenly. She quickly tightens her arms and legs around him as she lets out a startled sound. “Chris?”

He kisses the side of her neck while he slides his hands under her thighs as he begins walking back. “Let’s go get some sleep.”

She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes slipping shut as she relaxes in his arms, her mind drifting as she breathes in his skin, shampoo, cologne and laundry detergent. She grins as the individual smells blend perfectly together, creating a smell that is uniquely Christopher Powell.

‘Forget freshly baked blueberry muffins. This is my favorite smell.’ She thinks to herself as she kisses his warm neck.

#TheFreshmanChronicles #Chris Powell #Christopher Powell #chris x mc #The Freshman #the sophomore #choices fanfiction #choicestoriesyouplay #choices stories you play #choices #thefreshman #thesophomore

95 notes · View notes

oveliagirlhaditright · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Three of My Dark Angel Story “Saving the Siblings”

Summary: What if around the time of C.R.E.A.M–before Max and Logan were that close–they agreed to have a more sibling-esque relationship, since that was what Max was used to? How would the story have played out differently from there? But Lomax will still be endgame, I swear.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821767/chapters/52075546

Chapter Three

Despite Max’s promise to herself, that she was going to try to keep Logan out of her affairs here—to try and have their relationship platonic—she found she had nowhere else to go, with some of the questions Vada had brought to light.

So, when morning came, Max found herself powering up her Ninja and driving over to Fogle Towers before Logan and Bling were even fully awake, probably.

When Max broke into the apartment—…she really probably should have done something about doing this all the time, but this was her and Logan’s tradition at this point, and who was she to break tradition?—she noticed that Logan and Bling were doing sets.

Logan was trying with all his might to push his legs up into Bling’s hands, and was working up quite the sweat, but it was still to no avail.

And if Max had ever hated herself before, it was nothing like how she felt now. But she made sure not to show it, of course.

“Logan, that’s enough,” Bling was telling Logan, as Bling tried to push his torso away from him and get him to stop for the day.

But Logan kept a grip on Bling’s shirt and kept himself near him, working. “No, Bling. Five more. I swear I can do it.”

“Logan, no. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice, slow and steady wins the race.”

“Bling-” Logan said sharply now; and there was the pissy quality to his voice, that Max knew so well. She almost smiled.

And deciding to save Bling, when she herself often wasn’t saved when it came from this attitude from Logan, Max decided to finally let it be known that she was there.

“Knock-knock,” she said with a smirk on her face, while she knocked on the wall behind Logan’s computer, that he nailed all his important documents onto.

Max honestly had no idea why she could be this happy in seeing these two, when just a night ago, she’d realized Vada had been a plant, Manticore had Jondy, and Zack had left her,

Max didn’t know, but that was why she had to be careful with Logan, didn’t she? It didn’t pay to get too close to anyone. Max knew that all too well from how she got burnt with Darren. She tried to lie to herself now, that it was mostly Bling she was thrilled to see, but she knew that that wasn’t true.

“Max!” Logan exclaimed, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Max!” Bling said excitedly. “Good to see you! Are you here to see Logan? Do you want me to clear out?”

Originally, Max had been thinking that. But since Bling knew everything about her that Logan did, and was pretty sharp, she figured that she could use his advice, as well.

Plus, if he was here, hopefully it would keep her and Logan from making goo-goo eyes at each other, like she didn’t want them to.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, Max,” Logan spoke softly to Max now, with something in his eyes, as he seemed to wake up enough now, to better remember their conversations from yesterday.

And Max knew now, that in some other life… she easily would have let herself fall for Logan Cale. But she had long ago stopped letting herself be soft. And that was some of the issue here.

“I found Vada,” Max told the two men now, sitting on the couch in Logan’s living room. And she didn’t want to look at either of them, and have them see her face, when she had to tell them that she’d fallen into a trap. But since Max was a strong little soldier girl, she showed no weakness and looked them both in the eye as she explained her failings. “And she was a mole, essentially. She was going to have Lydecker and his men close ranks on us and take Zack and I both to Manticore.

“I convinced her not to do this, for the daughter she has on the outside. But… Vada told me that Lydecker recently got Jondy. And Logan, Bling, I want to go in and get her, before they brainwash her. Before it’s too late.”

And maybe… maybe it would be okay if she and Logan never became anything, Max thought. Because the way that he and Bling were sharing a look, she wanted to believe that maybe they could find something—if it came down to it—and Logan could be happy that way.

“That’s rough, Max,” Bling spoke up, after only a minute… which was a god sent, really, because Max thought that she was drowning in her feelings here. “And I may be a physical therapist… but I also know the importance of emotional therapy. And I understand from your upbringing why you were taught to keep things in. But if you need anything, know that Logan and I are here for you. Okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Bling.” And Max acted like she was going to hug Bling… but she really didn’t mean this. She also didn’t feel any of the things that she said there. She was too fucked up to. But she knew that Bling would call her out on it, if she didn’t at least act like she was giving it all some thought. So, she had acted.

Thankfully, Logan cut off Max’s humiliation by clearing his throat. And she held herself back mid-motion.

“Max… if you really want to try a jailbreak, I can try to get some Eyes Only informants down for it. We’re few and far between, but I know they would hate the idea of Manticore, if I blow them out of the water. And it would be better than you, Zack, and Vada, maybe, trying to go it alone.”

And here, Max had to smile… and lean in and kiss Logan on the cheek, despite how much she’d been holding herself back before.

And Max thought she might have seen a certain look on Bling’s face then, but fortunately, he didn’t say anything.

“Max, what-” Logan started, the moment she’d pulled away from him.

But Max was already interrupting him. “I appreciate the thought, Logan. And you and yours helping me would for sure be better than just the three of us doing things, they could probably help even against the genetically engineered killing machines, for a time... but I still think we’d still all die. And Lydecker taught me to think of better odds than that. So, I’m not acting until I do”

And finally knowing the truth of how she felt, that Logan had unearthed from her, Max blurred away, and hated herself every moment that she was running.

…

Thankfully, Max had gotten up in enough time, where she didn’t have to go to work yet, and could swing by her crib for some poor coffee imitation with Kendra and Vada—and check in and make sure Vada hadn’t bounced, or killed Kendra, or called Lydecker on her ass—before she had to sell her soul to Normal for most of the day.

And when Max spilled back in, the last thing she expected to see was Kendra and her sister making out in the kitchen, but that was exactly what her eyes were met with.

For a second, she thought about trying to sneak back outside to try and give the girls their privacy—because they clearly needed it, as they crashed into every nearby item on the counter trying to get to Kendra’s room; where, oh where, had Vada’s feline grace gone?—but in thinking that this may have been a ploy on Vada’s part to try and get information out of Kendra about Max, Max decided she had to break up the little love fest.

First her and Logan’s, and now Kendra’s and Vada’s. Wherever Cupid was right now, Max had no doubt he must have hated her ass.

“Kendra?” asked, going back out the door and coming back in, to give the impression that she was just now seeing all of this. “Oh. Sorry, guys! My bad. Here I was, coming to see if maybe you’d prefer if I got Vada to stay at OC’s, Kendra, but clearly that isn’t the case!” And as she said the last, Max very sweetly and awkwardly got into a thing of cherry icing that was on their little table (one of the only commodities she’d been able to find during the Pulse), and it was delicious. Though Max sort of hated having to get into it now, to try and sell this all, but she would take it.

And damn, if she wasn’t a good actress. She clearly had Kendra eating out of the palm of her hand, as she now pulled away from Vada, blushing.

Vada, however, didn’t seem as convinced. And she looked at Max with a raised eyebrow. Max couldn’t really blame her for it, she supposed. They had been taught the same things, when it came to “besting the enemy.”

Later, Max would actually have to ask Vada if it was possible for the female X series to be bi or lesbian. She’d thought not, since their damn hormones made them want to mate with a male—especially when they were in heat—but maybe it was a thing. And perhaps Vada had found the way. That would certainly be nice to tell Max’s sisters, if she ever got to see more of them again…

“Max… I’m sorry that you had to walk in on that!” Kendra exploded now, speaking a mile a minute, with her hands flying every which way. “But damn if your sister here isn’t swoon worthy. I was just telling her about some bastard said I’m too fat to be wearing crop tops. And then Vada wisely pointed out how wrong that is—one, because I’m beautiful—and secondly, because guys are always shirtless, when they don’t even have the best bodies. And then she started telling me how the standard of beauty people have to live up to is too high, anyway, which is all too true. And then she started reading me poetry, to ease my wounded heart… and here we are.”

Max laughed at that, easily being able to understand how Kendra might fall for Vada in that situation, then. She’d always thought that Kendra was straighter than a ruler. But, hey. If she’d been wrong about that, then clearly, she was the one at fault.

The only thing worrying Max here, was that she feared that Vada was being less than sincere. She wanted to believe her sister had told her the truth of it all last night… but Max wouldn’t be alive today if she trusted anyone.

“I think that’s a lovely story,” Max rued, making sure to nod at each one of her girls now.

Though she wondered if Vada noticed that she’d used the word “story”, as if that it could have been a fabrication. Knowing her, probably. They wouldn’t have been the top of the X5 class, if she didn’t. And her violet eyes definitely seemed far-away, in thought.

“I can definitely get why you two would fall for each other. I wish you guys the best. And if you both want this to be your love nest for a while, I can clear out, actually. I’m sure OC wouldn’t mind me rooming with her for a little bit.”

“Can you, Max?” Kendra piped up then, grinning. And the lovely blonde looked so in love, that it was hard to say no to her. This kind of person deserved the world, and could actually have it, and Max wished that fate would actually be kind to her, unlike it was to Max. “I don’t want to be a bad roomie here… but you know what? I’m starting to think that OC had the right of it. Maybe the problem for me was men all along. And this would be the key time for me to find that out.”

Max patted Kendra on the shoulder once, before getting into her cherry icing once more—God, she loved cherry flavored things—and she had to resist the urge to purr like the cat that had gotten the cream. “If you want time to figure out your sexuality, Ken. I can more than oblige by leaving… But I also know my sister can be a little intense,” Max whispered the last into Kendra’s ear now, being careful not to look Vada’s way, so she might now hear her. But she was sure that Vada heard all of this, anyway, with their super hearing. “If she does anything to break your heart, let me know and I’ll kick her ass for you.”

“Will do, Max! You’re the best!” Kendra sang. And Max was just about to make it out of her apartment door then (the icing in hand), when Kendra stopped her with, “Oh! And be sure to tell Logan that, since I’m on vacation, I’ll let him tutor my Japanese class a few times, like he wanted to!”

“…I’ll do that, Ken!” Max promised her. Even though that was the last thing Max wanted to do, because she was trying to stay away from all things Logan right now.

And Max was nearly out the door again, when Vada gently grabbed her arm. “So, have you decided what we’re doing about Jondy?”

And all of the wind left Max’s sails like a snap of fingers. And if she’d been a lesser woman, she would have been crying right now. Because she hated the idea that she was leaving her little sister to Psy-Ops and Lydecker right now.

“We have to get more soldiers, then we’ll come up with a battle plan,” Max assured Vada.

“…Do you think waiting is wise, Max?” Vada challenged, moving a long piece of hair behind her ear as she did, and looking so lovely while doing so.

…Manticore didn’t let you have long hair, of course, at least not while training. Eventually, when they sent you out into the world, they would, if you wanted it. And even though Vada had nearly been overcome, she had still kept her desire for long hair and that part of herself.

Since Jondy had always favored short hair… could that be a sign that she would be more easily overcome? Or was this just a stupid thought that Max was having right now, that had nothing to do with anything?

“You know that Lydecker almost had me. So, if we wait too long with Jondy, do you think her mind-”

“We’ll do as I say, Vada, because I have rank over you, and that’s that!”

What Max didn’t say, of course, was that really, she was a stinking coward and trying to protect her own freedom.

She left for work without another word.

…

“You’re never gonna believe this, Boo,” Original Cindy told Max the moment she strolled into work, jumping to Max’s side, and linking their arms together. “Normal is thinkin’ about sellin’ the place to some Mr. Sivapathasundaram, or somethin’.”

Max choked on her saliva, as she nearly died laughing at that. And Cindy had to hold her up by her arm, as she began falling over, laughing hysterically.

Normal was not pleased by that, of course, as he’d seen the whole thing and was yelling at Max the moment she showed what a “delinquent she was.”

“I’ll have you know that that’s exactly why I’m selling this popsicle stand!” he told her, looking her dead in the eye. “You kids need a reality check! Mr. Sivapathasundaram is going to make Jam Pony run the way it should! He’ll make it a proper place of business! And then you’ll all see how lucky you are to work here, or how lucky you were to have me!” Normal barked.

“When Hell freezes over!” Sketchy coughed into his arm. And Max was about to say “bless you!” to him, but since she was clearly on thin ice with Normal, she figured she’d better not. Then again… maybe she still would. She was having that kind of day, where she thought she needed to do that kind of thing to make herself feel better.

And if the Blue Lady, God, Fate, or whatever had decided to hate her, then they could decide to hate someone else today, too, like Normal. She would happily rain on his parade.

“And, as always, you’re rolling into work late, I see! What’s the excuse this time, missy? Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know. Just get to work! Bip-bip-bip! These packages aren’t going to deliver themselves!”

Max rolled her eyes, and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Normal while he walked back to his desk. But she knew she really would be out of a job if she did that.

Max walked to her locker with Original Cindy, to put her lunch away, and also so she, Sketchy, and Herbal (who had just joined them. And it looked like Sky might have been coming out of the woodwork, too) could carry on their conversation about Mr. Sivapathasundaram in peace.

“So, what? Is this guy your typical Republican, Capitalist, nose to the grindstone kind of male?” Max asked, already having nightmares of Jam Pony turning out to be even more like Manticore, and not knowing what she would do if that turned out to be the case.

“Seems abou’ true, mah sista,” Herbal piped up, putting a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder, and she put a hand atop his, too, knowing that he needed to feel better right now, as well. “We must look to the Almighty in er houa a need. This wasa place wher’ anyone could geta job. What’ll we do if thay take that away?”

“We’re not gonna let them, Herbal, that’s what!” Sketchy chimed in now, coming in to put an arm around Herbal’s shoulders… which Max appreciated, because it seemed like the man really needed that. But what she didn’t appreciate, was that the idiot had brought his bike in with him, and was now nearly crushing her and Cindy’s legs as he moved closer to Herbal.

“Sketchy, watch it!” Max bellowed.

“Yeah, seriously fool,” Original Cindy agreed, pulling Max closer to her—where there was less of the bike—for her safety; bless the girl, Max thought. “I know you don’ have all the beauty that home girl and I got. But that don’t mean you gotta take us out ‘cause youse jealous.”

Finally waking up to the mess he was making, as if he was coming out of a fog, Sketchy got his bicycle out of the way with a quick, “Oh! Sorry, guys!”

“Thank you!” Max praised him then, slapping him on the back one good time.

And then Sky continued the conversation the men had been having. “But you guys are right. We gotta find a way to keep him out. We can’t have him ruining slackers here’s dreams everywhere!”

“Although… now that I think about it- I have a thought. If he is your typical Republican, Capitalist, nose to the grindstone male… I wonder if he might help me with something…” Max whispered, an insane thought coming into her head now. “Sketchy, do you have his phone number? I assume you guys were going to try and come up with some crazy prank to keep him away, or whatever?”

“Yeah, chica,” Sketchy acknowledged, handing Max the paper he’d clearly snatched while Normal wasn’t looking. Quite possibly when he’d been chewing out Max before. “Why? You got a better plan?”

“…I maybe do. But you’ll never hear it.”

“What’s that mean?” Sketchy asked, clearly baffled.

But Max had already ran away (at normal speed) to make a phone call on a burner cell. She’d picked it up when dreaming that if her siblings came back into her life, they would, of course, want her to contact them with a number that couldn’t be traced. She hadn’t thought that when she finally found some of them again, it would be like this… but she was glad now that she did have the phone.

The phone rang six times, and Max was starting to get impatient, when someone finally picked up on the other end. “Hello. This is Mr. Sivapathasundaram. Who is this?”

“…Someone who won’t tell you their name yet. Maybe not even ever. But if you really want to get on the ground floor of something… how about working with Eyes Only, and helping him taking down some serious baddies doing human experimentation?”

#dark angel #james cameron's dark angel #lomax #maxlogan #fanfiction #mine #my work #shanna writes #au #max guevara #i do really love this story #saving the siblings

0 notes

thereluctantinquisitor · 7 years ago

Note

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy” for Cyrus and Darren?? :o

Thank you for the prompt! This would probably occur in the early days of the Dawn Squad, when everyone was still a bit uncertain about one another. LET THERE BE BONDING.

Approx 750 words, most under the cut

It took a while for Cyrus to start to notice what really should have been obvious. Maybe to anyone else, it would have been, but then again, Cyrus was kind of renowned for spending his days in a low simmer, just waiting for an excuse to boil over. That took a lot of energy. It left little room for anything else. But eventually, even he began to catch on to something a little strange.

The kid was watching him. A lot.

At first, Cyrus just assumed it was for the same reason that a lot of people watched him. Wariness. They said he had a mad look in his eye; not of insanity, but of literal anger just waiting for a target. It warned people away as sure as a drawn blade, and thus far, it had served him well.

But that damn kid never seemed to take the hint.

Watching from a distance turned to awkward attempts at conversation. It turned to standing nearby, then close by, then practically shoulder-to-shoulder as they crowded into the courtyard to listen to Commander Cullen’s address, or clustered in the barracks awaiting inspection. Sometimes, Cyrus actually had to make a point of moving away, extracting Darren from his personal space.

This time, as he and Darren carried training gear back to the storeroom, Cyrus finally snapped. “What is your deal, kid?”

Darren jumped a little, then turned to look at him, his steps faltering as he walked, although to his credit, he didn’t drop the crate they shared. “W-What do you mean?”

“Following me around. Getting in my space. Volunteering to do shit like this with me. Just tell me what you fucking want already.”

They stopped walking, Cyrus suddenly dropping his side of the crate, watching as Darren stumbled, unable to hold it by himself, grunting as it thudded to the ground. The blond let out a slow, shaky breath, seeming a little scared as he let go and straightened. “I don’t want anything,” he said nervously, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s just…”

It took everything Cyrus had not to roll his eyes. “Just what?”

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

It took a moment for the words to fully register. But when they did, Cyrus just snorted, folding his arms and regarding the kid like he was the single dumbest thing on Thedas. “Right. And did you ever stop to think they might be right?”

“… No.”

Well, that wasn’t what Cyrus expected. He frowned, and Darren rushed to fill the silence before it became too much to bear.

“I-I mean, people here say a lot of stuff about us, right? And I get that you’re a bit… well, my ma called it prickly, but that doesn’t mean you’re bad. I just…” He sniffed, then shrugged, eyes fixed on the crate, avoiding Cyrus’ increasingly bemused stare. “They say mean things about me, too. And I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not fair. So I figured I should find out for myself, instead of just listening to everyone else.”

Cyrus couldn’t help it. He just stared at the kid, not quite sure what to do with this new information. Yeah, rumours among the other soldiers about all of them were pretty shitty, and they only got more damning when they got lumped together in the Dawn Squad, but Cyrus was used to his reputation overshadowing his actions. No matter what he did, he remained an asshole in their eyes. It was just… how it was. He’d given up trying to convince anyone otherwise.

But then there was Darren, who for some reason needed to be convinced that he wasn’t a good person. That was, strangely, a lot harder for Cyrus to deal with. Maybe because he wasn’t sure how to do it.

“You know, sometimes when a lot of people all say the same thing, it’s because it’s true,” Cyrus grumbled, leaning down to pick up his side of the crate again. Darren followed suit, taking his cue from the movement. “You’re not special, kid. I’m not going to treat you differently than anyone else just because you’re in my squad and won’t fuck off.”

To Cyrus’ surprise, Darren actually let out a small laugh. “Oh, that’s okay,” His voice strained a little as he heaved the crate back up, adjusting his grip. “That’s kind of what I like about you. You’re not like most people. You don’t treat me differently.”

“… Considering how I treat people, that’s not exactly a good thing.”

“It is to me.”

For a moment, Cyrus just regarded the kid, who was now staring intently at his hands, fingers curled tight around the handle of the crate. Then, he let out a soft huff, and nodded his head towards the storeroom. “Yeah, well… come on, then. Let’s put this shit away before Captain Hardass has us running laps for wasting time.”

Darren’s blue eyes finally flicked up, his expression losing some of its nervousness, warming as he smiled. “Good idea. I… kinda hate laps.”

Cyrus snorted, and together, they both started to walk. “Yeah. You and me both.”

#dragon age fanfiction #the dawn squad #cyrus #darren miller #Sir Prickly and Sir Sweetheart #they're such a mess #but they look out for each other #u_u #reluctant writes #reluctant replies #writing prompts #thank you dear <3 #carverly

26 notes · View notes

maximumsuckage · 7 years ago

Text

Dreamscape, pt 3

Link to Part 1: https://maximumsuckage.tumblr.com/post/167175722147/dreamscape

Description: Werewolf exploits continue. Sam and Dean get involved.

Words: 3693

a/n: lemme know if you wanna be tagged in this piece of trash. updates gon take a bit longer. end of semester projects, you know how it is #college

A solid week or so later

Sam had been tied up on a good many occasions. Not one of them were good, but this time was at least better than the time with Becky. He had a feeling that Gabriel would have a sexually themed quip for a moment like this, which wasn’t exactly a helpful thought, as it didn’t give him a real plan on how to get out of this. He had no doubt that he would get out of this, because they always did, and even if he died for real this time, he had a sneaking suspicion that he would wake up in his own bed a few days later. Also why was he thinking about Gabriel, because Gabriel was dead and no real help to this case. Even if the archangel were alive, he probably wouldn’t be a big help. So really, he should collect his thoughts, blast through the haze of the concussion that was caused by the throbbing lump on the back of his head, and bust his way out of these ropes.

Where were Jack and Dean? Sam blinked blearily at his surroundings as he tried to piece together what had happened. Black was flickering at the edge of his vision, threatening to send him back under, and his thoughts felt hazy and disjointed. He saw, through his spotty vision, someone else tied up across the clearing, but he didn’t think it was Dean. That man was stockier than Dean, shorter and wider. Not Dean.

Sam continued scanning the clearing. There was a bonfire in the center. Some of the warmth reached him. It was pleasant against the night chill and Sam strained towards it. The ropes creaked at the movement, but held, stinging against his wrists. Sam glanced down, irritated with the pain, and realized that they’d been rubbed raw under the ropes. He must have been struggling, but he couldn’t remember.

That was alarming. Concussion, spotty memory… Sam closed his eyes and slumped against the ropes, exhausted as he considered the circumstances. He needed to sleep, he decided. That would help him.

Somebody was chanting. Sam opened one eye and glared in the direction of the chanter. The words were harsh, more barks and snarls than actual words, and Sam wanted him to shut up so he could take a nap and clear his head. The warmth of the fire seemed to be responding to the words though, the chill of night falling away. It felt good for a moment, until Sam remembered why they were there. No. It was not good.

He yanked against the ropes, but the knots held fast. His fingers were wet- he realized with some worry that it was blood from his raw wrists, dripping down his palms. Yanking again only worsened the wounds, and he groaned and slumped, looking towards the fire, which was growing brighter and brighter.

Now there was a shadow in the center, a dark spot surrounded by white light. It grew bigger and bigger, as though coming closer from a great distance, and Sam shouted out a warning. Whatever was coming, it was not good, and the more he yanked at the ropes, the tighter they seemed to become. Sam shouted again, and this time somebody responded. A boy walked over, and hit him.

He slumped, oblivious.

A week and a few days earlier, aka, before the events of the second half of chapter 2

Three boys had abandoned the pack in favor of this new wolf. Their names were Charlie, Darren, and Brent. The three weren’t exactly beloved amidst the pack. They chaffed against rules, went too vicious against animals, desired free reign of the forest. Them being teenagers, their tendencies were generally ignored by the adults, who would turn a worried eye in their direction but generally hope that someday a nice girl would tame them.

Apparently, a nice girl had not gotten there in time, especially considering that there were only four eligible young women their age. Two were dating other wolves, one was dating a boy from Fairpoint. The other was Charlotte, who had already decided that she was gunning for Alpha, though she was not yet twenty. The issue with that was that it had long been a rule that Alpha, whether male or female, could not have a family, as they were supposed to treat the pack as their children- naturally, the rule had been broken multiple times (unbeknownst to anybody beside the midwife and Melissa herself, the aggressive little girl Harry had witnessed earlier was actually Melissa’s illegitimate daughter, though that has nothing to do with this particular case).

Nobody had recognized the strange wolf. It wasn’t an oddity to see strangers coming through town. As one of the few purely werewolf settlements that remained, Fairpoint’s werewolves saw a lot of visitors coming through on vacation, to live with them a few days, hunt the multitudes of deer in the woods, and feel like a real wolf for a bit before returning to their dull lives in the cities. So when he showed up, all dark hair and charismatic smile, nobody had said anything, and in fact, a few had invited him on a hunt.

He had taken an interest in Charlie, Darren, and Brent, more than anybody else. He convinced them to take him out hunting after dark (against the rules, though that didn’t stop them). Their parents didn’t take much of an interest, though Melissa had confronted them when they came back in the next morning. They had laughed, and then, when she pushed, promised not to do it again. She hadn’t yelled at the stranger. He was a visitor, not one of her pack.

Melissa hadn’t worried too much about it. She was used to the boys being troublemakers, and she fully expected them to grow out of it when they got older.

It was a teensy bit later that she became worried.

The stranger had come to her home, stormed into her office, and fallen to his knees in front of her while she looked on in surprise.

“Melissa, sweet alpha Melissa,” the man had said. He was halfway through the Change, bones cracking with every movement, and his ears were pressed back in a gesture of submission. “I have looked upon your town, and I have seen an image of paradise.”

This had never happened before, and Melissa had found herself momentarily floored. “Thank you,” she said with a smile, reaching down to pull him back to his feet. She wondered if he was drunk, though she didn’t smell any alcohol. It was odd. She could feel his bones shifting under his skin as she pulled him up. “I’m happy you like our little home. Feel free to stay as long as you want.” She paused. “We also have coupons for Water Safari tickets, if you’re interested in seeing more of the area.”

“Water Safari?” He gave her a confused look.

“It’s a water amusement park nearby- never mind. Are you okay? Do you need me to call somebody for you?”

“There is only one I need to call,” he said, ignoring the bit about the coupons. “You, alpha Melissa, must call upon the one true Alpha.”

She had been thrown off by the bowing, but now she was even more off balance. One true Alpha? All she could think of was the president, maybe, but she didn’t plan on calling any politicians and letting them know that there was a group of part-humans who weren’t paying taxes. “Maybe you want to head to bed, sir. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“No!” He put his hands on her shoulders. “This is the perfect place, don’t you see? We can make this his new stronghold. A utopia for the wolves, run by our god.”

“I’m agnostic,” Melissa said doubtfully. “I used to be Catholic, but after the aborted Apocalypse a few years ago…”

“Not God,” he said, throwing a hand upwards. “Our god. The original wolf! Fenrir himself!”

Melissa stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, closed it, and then set her chin on top of her fingers, slowly lowering them to point at him. “You make a valid point,” she said, not at all sure how to deal with a religious zealot worshipping a god who either didn’t exist, or hadn’t shown his face in a very long time. “But you might want to choose a different place for your utopia. We’re quite alright how we are here.”

“No. This is the chosen land.” He swept his hands out wide. Claws flashed on the ends of his twisted fingers. “I can feel it… it is holy here. Untouched by human hands. This is the land of the wolves.”

“Let me have someone escort you to your room,” Melissa said, wondering why he was spewing this to her instead of sleeping off whatever he’d been drinking.

“No!” He threw his arms wide and let out a howl that shook her to her very bones. His body twisted and cracked, and then there was a wolf standing before her, all fangs and claws and hateful yellow eyes. “This is the holy land,” he said, and his voice was the snarl of an animal warped into human speech. “I will show you the light. Fenrir will come, and you will either bow before him, or feel his holy teeth in your neck.”

And then he leapt from the room, letting out another bloodcurdling howl. It was answered, and Melissa realized with a chill deep in her bones that the answered howls were their three young men, filled with lust for a future of blood.

A week and a few days later, aka, the lead-up to Sam being bound and concussed at the beginning of this chapter

The Impala rolled into town as it had a thousand other little towns a thousand times before. Sam was antsy in the passenger seat- Dean had promised a hundred miles before that they would stop at the next gas station for a bathroom break, and then he seemed to take great glee in watching Sam squirm each time they passed a rest stop. The only thing that kept Sam from slugging Dean across the mouth was the fact that Dean’s smile at his misery was the first time Sam had seen Dean smile since Castiel, and, uncomfortable as he was, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Although, as they drove past the tourist shops of Fairpoint, he was starting to consider Dean’s slow mental recovery to be second to his more pressing return.

“The leaves here are beautiful,” Jack said, for the thousandth time since they’d entered the mountains. The back window was open, and he was leaning out like a dog, amazed by the height and color and density of the mountain forest after the open spaces of the Midwest. “Can we go into the forest? I want to see a bear. I read that there were bears here.”

“We’re not here for sightseeing,” Dean grumped back at him, and glanced at Sam. “Any of these hotels get good reviews?”

“I’m a little distracted to look right now, Dean.” Sam shot him a glare.

Dean shrugged. “Hey man, I told you not to get that iced mocha skim white girl pumpkin crap latte at our last stop.”

“I got a small cup of black coffee because it was free if you bought ten gallons of gas,” Sam said through his teeth. “Just pick a place, man.”

Dean chuckled at his pain again and pulled into the first parking lot they came to. Sam was out of the car before he’d even put it in park, vanishing into the office building. Jack watched him go, not quite sure what was funny about the situation, and looked at Dean again. “I was thinking… on a lot of these cases, you make me stay in the motel room for a lot of it. What if you give me a key so I can go out and walk on the path? I saw a sign for a path, and I want to see the bears.” He tilted his head hopefully, not wanting to upset Dean, but also, bears. “I’ll stay on the path. I promise.”

Dean glanced back at him, an eyebrow quirked up. “Kid, bears will eat you alive.” He fumbled around for his wallet and then got out of the car.

Jack was right there. Dean jumped, then rolled his eyes and started for the office, boots crunching on the gravel lot.

“What if I stay a far enough distance from them that I have enough time to run?” he asked, head still tilted. “I wouldn’t try to touch one. They are wild animals, and wild animals do not like people.” He glanced away as he said it, repeating something Sam had said, when Jack had gone running after a fox he’d seen rummaging around by the bunker.

The odd thing had been that the fox had not been afraid, Jack thought. In fact, the fox had trotted up and started coiling about his legs like a cat, and its tail wagged when Jack had delightedly reached down to pet it. It had only gotten angry when Sam walked outside, nipping Jack’s hand and bolting away. The bite had healed instantly, but it had still been enough to make Sam nervous.

“No bears,” Dean repeated, and pushed open the door to the office, where Sam was already waiting, looking more relaxed than he had before.

They booked a room with two beds and a pullout couch, and it was a few minutes later that Jack was left alone in the room with a coloring book, a box of crayons, and the TV guide while Sam and Dean went out to talk to the man who had called them.

Sheriff Baldwin may have had no idea what a ghost hunter was, but one of the younger cops on the force had an uncle who dabbled in ghost busting on the side. When he’d heard rumors of werewolves, he’d shot his uncle a text. The uncle couldn’t make it out, as he had a real job that he couldn’t take two weeks off of, but he’d given his nephew a list of names and phone numbers that may have been able to help. The first three hadn’t answered. A man had answered the fourth one, sobbing, to say that his wife had died taking out a wendigo, whatever that was. The fifth one had gotten a gruff answer of, “Winchester.”

The nephew had explained, feeling like a complete idiot (werewolves, seriously?) what had happened to the terrifying and stern silence on the other end of the line. Then he’d given an address and his name (Marty Grimes). The man on the line had grunted, and there was the sound of a pen scratching down the information, and then he said, “We’ll be there,” and hung up.

Now, Marty found himself feeling very skinny and small and pathetic as he looked up at the two men who were standing in the doorway of the police station, flashing fed badges and walking over to his desk. Which was a table. Marty was too new for a desk, but they had given him a card table to put his laptop on when he was there. He hoped those two badass looking strangers weren’t the ones he had called in, but, sure enough, they were making a beeline for his table.

“Officer Grimes?” The shorter of the two (who was still freaky tall and ruggedly handsome and probably jacked under that suit) eyeballed him, no doubt judging his stick arms. “We’re here for your case.”

“Yeah. Um, let’s talk out there.” He gestured for the hallway.

Marty had no idea that most of the force knew that there were wolves in the woods. He had graduated the academy barely six months before, and if one looked at him, one would assume he was still sixteen (he prayed every day that puberty would happen to him overnight). This town had been the first place to offer a job, so he’d moved from the hive of scum and villainy that was the tiny city he’d grown up in to the fresh air of the Adirondacks, excited to make a difference. He’d immediately regretted the move, as the only place more boring than his hometown was Fairpoint, but now he had to wait a few years before he tried to leave, so he’d have some professional experience under his belt. His outsider status, combined with being a rookie, meant that little plot points like a werewolf town were lost to him.

Sam and Dean towered over him, intimidating behemoths of men, muscled and rugged heroes that belonged in the distant past of myth and legend. He swallowed, mouth dry, and tried not to be incredibly attracted to both of them, because these two men were most definitely straight, probably screwing three scantily clad women a day each, although, he was skinny enough, that maybe they wouldn’t mind-

He shook his head, reminding himself that these two beautiful creatures were here about werewolves and not for him, though he had been the one to call.

“Okay… I know this sounds crazy,” he started, glancing towards the main area of the precinct to make sure nobody else was going to walk out and judge him. “But there was a kid who was found dead, and… I don’t know… his heart was ripped out, but not like an animal. More like…” He hesitated. It sounded so stupid when said out loud.

“Werewolf.” Sam finished the sentence for him, nodding. Dean may have been the one to answer the phone, but he’d filled Sam in quickly. “Good you called us. Do you have any clue who it might be?”

“…where the hell- Oh, Grimes, what’re you doing with the feds?” Harry stepped out into the hall, casting a suspicious look towards Sam and Dean. He’d just heard that the government got involved, because apparently nobody liked to tell him anything. If the FBI got wind of Melissa’s settlement, then there would be hell to pay from everybody, and the wolves would have to either fight or disperse, neither of which were viable options.

“Sheriff.” Sam stepped forward first, holding out his badge. “We’re here about the child’s murder.”

Harry eyeballed the badge, and then frowned. “You’re not feds.”

Marty, of course, already knew that, but Sam and Dean exchange a look quick as a blink before looking back at the sheriff. “What makes you say that?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, ready for a fight.

“They just updated their badges,” Harry said, looking between them. “A new stamp, or something like that. Makes them harder to forge.”

“Heh.” Dean elbowed Sam. “Guess they missed us, Agent Speight. Can’t believe they did it again.”

“Like I said when we came in, this is Agent Collins, and I’m Agent Speight,” Sam said, introducing themselves to the sheriff. “Our badges are on the way in the mail. Right now we’re here for-”

“On the way in the mail isn’t a thing,” Harry said, stepping towards them, a hand resting on his gun. He hoped he wasn’t wrong, but he’d applied to the FBI at one point in his life, and he’d done extensive research beforehand. Them turning him down had not been a high point of his life. “Now tell me who you are, or I’m calling dispatch to find out the truth.”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, that miniscule look representing a plan so that, if it came to a fight, they would move in sync. They were saved by Marty, who looked like he wanted to melt into a puddle. “I called them,” he said, kicking the floor. “The victim sounded like something my uncle saw once… heart ripped out. I just… I know it’s not real, but I wanted to be sure.”

Harry eyeballed the three of them, at a loss to where the conversation was headed. “What did your uncle see?”

“Werewolf.” Marty’s voice came out in a tiny, sad squeak.

There was silence in the hall for a moment, and then Harry gestured at the not-feds. “And you called them about the werewolf problem. And they’re not FBI, to be sure?”

There was silence, and then Marty nodded slowly, flinching at the sudden mental image of his boss screaming at him for being a total idiot and calling in unqualified strangers to deal with a murder. This was it. He’d be back home in his mom’s apartment, playing video games and hoping that someday his big break would come, as a writer or a Broadway singer or something unlikely like that. Who was he to think he could be a cop? He was just a scrawny kid who wanted a cute boyfriend and a cute home and a cute life. He wasn’t cut out for the hardened life of a mountain cop.

And yet, now Sheriff Baldwin was laughing? Was he laughing at the idea of firing Marty, because he couldn’t deal with that.

“Kid, there’s a lot you have to learn about this place,” he said, clapping a hand to Marty’s shoulder. Then he turned to Sam and Dean. “Whatever you guys are here to do, we don’t need it. This is an internal affair. The wolves haven’t killed any human in hundreds of years.”

“We’re here now.” Sam glanced at Dean, then looked at the sheriff again. “And the victim is a clear werewolf kill. Even if the ones you know are the good guys, it doesn’t mean one hasn’t gone rogue, or a new one hasn’t showed up.”

There was silence in the hall for a moment, and then Sheriff Baldwin narrowed his eyes. “You guys mean you’ve dealt with this crap before?”

At their twin nods, he sighed. Maybe the help would be good. If not, he could always bag them for impersonating FBI agents. “Fine. Step into my office, and I’ll tell you what I know so far.

@archangelgabriellives @scrollingkingfisher @hectatess

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #sabriel #destiel #eventually #the ships are slow cause half the lovers be ded #sam #dean #gabriel #jack #castiel #werewolves #spn fanfic #amwriting #nanowrimo #strumpets

18 notes · View notes

todaydreambelieversfic · 8 years ago

Text

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: Black John Lennon day 5

Day 5: looking forward!

Pick one or two of your fics. What would canon Klaine think if they read it?

For the fun of it, I choose What Happens in Vegas because it’s about them having a threesome with Sam. I think Blaine would be really embarrassed about it, but secretly into it. I think Kurt would roll his eyes at it, but find it funny.

What would season 1 Kurt think of Kurt at the end of your longest fic?

This question is tough because my longest (completed) fic is not really Klaine and is sort of Blam-y because it’s about Blaine and Sam pretending to be boyfriends to make Kurt jealous during season 4. So it’s jossed, but wasn’t when I wrote it. Kurt’s not in it much, but when he is, he’s angry and Blaine and jealous. And I think season 1 Kurt would be happy to know he’s surrounded by friends who are Team Kurt in the situation, even if he’s a little dismayed at having lost love to a straight boy. But i hope he’d be hopeful at the end because their relationship is far from over, just on hiatus.

What would young Blaine think of Blaine at the end of your longest fic?

Young Blaine would probably be a bit confused because why would he be broken up from someone he loves? Why would he need to pretend to date his friend. Young Blaine doesn’t quite know the depths he could fall to when things get really bad so he doesn’t know about how he could possibly have something and have it end and be so desperate to get it back that he’d go to such lengths. So he’d think it’s a bit ridiculous and probably be offended as hell.

Please give names for some Klaine children or pets.

Kurt and Blaine are gonna be those parents that give their kids hipster names that also sound a bit old fashioned at the same time like Alma or Winston. (editors note: I LOVE it) . Lol. But i could definitely see them naming a little boy after Finn or even Burt, even if it’s just a middle name. Pets on the other hand? Those get movie star names. Like a cat named Streep after Meryl Streep or a puppy named Brando. (editors note: I LOVE THIS TOO)

Where can you imagine your Klaine holidaying?

They love hosting the holidays, that’s for sure. Burt and Carol and Pam and sometimes Cooper in NY along with the entire Glee club, and they’re running around crazy and stressed but they fucking live for it.

Which of your fic universes would you like to live in?

Most of my fic universes are canon, but I’d love to live in the Best Buy verse because i used to work there, so maybe I worked with them.

What’s the most romantic thing your version of Kurt and Blaine have ever done?

It doesn’t get more romantic than making each other laugh and my Klaine really love to laugh together, Not at each other’s expense, but just laugh at their life and how crazy it can be.

Are you planning to write more Klaine fic? Do you have any currently in progress? Share a quote from an upcoming work!

Always. I’m trying to get the spoons to rewrite my Real World fic. So here’s a quote from that:

Once they’re done eating, Blaine heads to the sink and starts rinsing dishes to load into the dishwasher when Kurt comes over and takes a plate out of his hand.

“You shouldn’t have to do this, you made this amazing breakfast.” Kurt tells

“I don’t mind, I’ve already showered, and you have to get ready for work.”

“You already know we’re going to be late. How can we not. Eight people, trying to get ready, and be somewhere at a set time in a strange city, it’s set up for us to be late.”

Blaine smiles, “Damn, that was one cliche I was hoping to avoid. How about this, you help me, and we’ll get done faster and maybe I can catch a cat nap while you guys get ready.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan to me.”

They work together on the dishes and Blaine hums to himself some more.

“You have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you. You’re in school too, right?”

“Well, I was. I just graduated from NYADA.”

“Really? Wow. I’m impressed, that school is really hard to get into.”

“Oh trust me, I know. My best friend and I nearly drove ourselves crazy trying to get in.”

“Well you must be pretty impressive.” Kurt and Blaine lock eyes for a moment, both of them blushing, before going back to what they were doing. Blaine tries to stifle a yawn.

“What Tina and Sam did was so tacky.”

“I’m not mad at them for having sex, but some consideration would have been nice. We didn’t even get a chance to work out a system for things like that,” Blaine says.

“A system? Do you think you’ll need it? I mean, like to bring guys home?”

Do you have any other writing plans you’re willing to share?

My other writing plans are mostly Samcedes related, but my inbox is open if anyone has questions.

Give our readers a prompt for a Klaine fic you’d like to see!

I recently posted this one to Prompta Klaine fic, but it’s based on the livestream Darren and Lea did. Blaine and Rachel are starring together in a revival of Little Shop of Horrors on Broadway as Seymour and Audrey. They do pop up performances together and even a livestream from Kurt and Blaine’s townhouse. Fans are going a little crazy because a certain section of fandom is convinced that Blaine is straight and pretending to be gay and he’s really in love with Rachel and their publicists are keeping them apart. However, their publicist is Kitty and she is Not. Kitty gets on twitter and makes a statement that she’d rather kill herself than have Blaine and Rachel have sex or deal with a Klaine or St. Berry divorce so please get a life. Dramedy more than straight angst please and thank you.

#author spotlight #black-john-lennon #fic prompt

20 notes · View notes

nh935 · 5 years ago

Text

Creepy America Episode 8: The Red Eyed Man

Creepy America Episode 8 “The Red Eyed Man” Memphis, Tennessee

“What was the hardest part about making the show?” was a question I used to get a lot, usually by fans or interviewers curious about us and our filming process. I lied; it’s a hard habit to break once you start. Usually I said something about interviewing people and finding topics, or maybe even chasing down monsters with heavy equipment, but that wasn’t it. Were those things hard? Sure. But they paled in comparison to the frustration I felt when confronted with how much I didn’t know. Even today, with years of hindsight, research, knowledge, and experience, I feel like all I’ve done is scratch the surface of a very, very large iceberg. I know so much about the other side, what lies past the Veneer, and all the players and machinations hidden in the dark, and all it does is remind me how much I don’t comprehend and how much I probably never will.

Red Eyes lies firmly in that camp. He remains just as alien as the first time I saw him and that, more than anything else, makes me fear him. Sure, he was strong. Dangerous, even. But Thorn, Jones, heck, even most of the Little Bookers, I could understand them. I knew why they did what they did, and there’s comfort in that. However, I never saw anything recognizable in those bruning scarlet shapes. There was no trace of human logic or emotion in them.

Nothing except rage and fury, that is.

***

Originally, we had no intentions of going to Memphis. The itinerary had put us in Adams, Tennessee instead in order to get a look at “Bell Witch Cave.” Just for good measure, we did do a quick exploration of the space (after the whole Bunny Man incident, it was getting hard to tell what was fact and what was fiction), but we both agreed that there was nothing spookier than cramped, dark places lurking in there. Rather than pack up and head out to our next destination, though, we decided now was a good time to take a look at that itinerary and replot our course.

Part of that decision had to do with the fact that it was getting pretty close to Christmas and travel was becoming hard. A portion of that was because of the highways clogged with cars and the snow, but mostly it was just hard emotionally. I left on rocky terms with my parents, and it still hurt to only be able to talk with them over email and phone calls. I could see that it was hitting Zoey a whole lot harder. So taking a break and collecting ourselves seemed like a pretty good idea.

That was, until we got the email.

We were longing around the living area, me on my phone and Zoey on the laptop, when she suddenly called out “Liam, come look at this!”

I got up and moved behind her, looking at the text she had brought up. “Someone emailed us?” I asked. That was unheard of. Even though we had scattered official contact info for the show all over where we posted the videos, the only communication we had gotten were likes and the occasional odd comment. This was the first time we had been directly reached out to like this. The excitement immediately drew me out of my holiday doldrums.

“Yeah.” She squinted her eyes and began to read out loud:

“Dear Zoey and Liam,

“To be honest with you, I’m not quite sure if I should be writing this to you. You seem like filmmakers using clever tricks to make your fake stories seem believable. But I’m at the end of my rope here and I have nowhere else to turn, so all I can do is write to you and hope your videos are as factual as you claim.

“I work at St. Magdalene's Home for Children in Memphis, Tennessee. A couple weeks ago, one of the children began to complain about a ‘red-eyed man’ staring at her outside her window throughout the night. A few nights later, and the whole floor of children started to say the same thing. I shrugged it off as a vivid imagination spreading panic to her bunkmates, but a week ago, I saw the same thing: a silhouette of a man with red eyes standing off in the swamp filled with trees near our building. He didn’t move or make any threatening gestures, just stood there and stared, unblinking, until the sun began to rise, at which point he walked away and disappeared.

“I’ve seen him a few times since then, even recorded him on video camera. He doesn’t do anything except stare, then leave before morning. Even so, the thought of him watching fills me with dread. I’ve tried contacting the police, even giving them the footage, but for some reason, they won’t believe me. I’m scared. I’m worried that soon he’ll stop watching and do something, and I can’t bear the thought of what he could do to any of the children here.

“Please, please email me back. I need help. You’re my only hope.

“Sincerely,

“Ms. Shirley Jackson

“Administrator of St. Magdalene’s Home for Children

“Matthew 25:40”

Zoey stopped reading and sat back a bit, then looked up at me. “How far away is Memphis from here?”

I tapped in some information into my phone. “About three and a half hours. Closer to six with this traffic, probably.”

“Right. Who’s driving?”

I smiled. “Not even a question of if, huh?”

Her eyes sparkled for the first time since the start of our holiday break. “Hell no.”

***

As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, Ms. Jackson came out to greet us.

“Thank you so, so much for coming” she said as we exited the R.V. She was an older woman, with streaks of silver creeping into her hair and wrinkles set into the pale skin around her eyes and mouth. A black shawl was wrapped tightly around her, keeping her warm against the afternoon air dotted with the occasional snowflake. “Really, truly, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Zoey smiled. “It’s no problem. We were in the neighborhood anyway.” We weren’t; it had taken us the full six hours plus more. But we were too excited to care.

She guided us into St. Magdalene's, a huge lodge-like building made out of dark, old wood. Inside was warm and inviting, with large rooms filled with bookcases, comfortable furniture, rugs and more strewn about, punctuated by the occasional sight and sound of running, giggling children. It had the feel of a well-lived in home and then some.

“Welcome to St. Magdalene's,” Jackson began. “This is our entrance hall. Over there are the wings with…”

Zoey cleared her throat. “Not to be ungracious guests, but do you mind if we cut to the heart of the matter?”

Ms. Jackson’s expression dissolved into relief. “Of course. Here, follow me to my office.”

We did, moving past a large room filled with long tables and a variety of children and adults seated at them, engaging in an organized craft of some kind. Once we made our way to the back, she opened a glass door into a dark office with a large hardwood desk and two leather chairs seated across from a comfortable office chair.

Zoey nodded to me and I began setting up the camera equipment. “You don’t mind if we film this for the show, do you?”

Ms. Jackson looked up. “Hmm? No, of course not.” After I had gotten everything running, we all sat down.

“Right,” Zoey began. “Could you repeat your story for us, starting at the beginning?”

Ms. Jackson sighed. “It started three weeks ago. Millie Doe, one of our charges, began to complain about a red eyed man outside of her room, staring at her through the night. I simply brushed it off; Millie is well known to have an active imagination, so I simply thought that she had a nightmare of some kind. A few nights later, several of the other children on her floor began to complain about the same thing: a man with red eyes staring at them from outside their window. Believing that Millie was repeating her stories and influencing the others, I asked Susan Darrens to stay with them through the night to convince them there was no red-eyed man.

“Then Susan came back and said that the red eyed man was real.”

She stopped, opened up a desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle of water. She offered one to us as well and, after we declined, took a large drink from the bottle before continuing.

“I didn’t really know what to make of it, but it did convince me to stay up that night and wait outside of that window. Several of the male staff did so as well. We weren’t sure what it was, but if it was a threat, we wanted it gone as soon as possible.

“A few hours after the sun had gone down, we saw it. A silhouette of a large man, bulky, maybe six, six and a half feet tall. We couldn’t make out any of its features in the gloom, save for the large red eyes. They literally glowed, giving off light.

“For a long time, we were all paralyzed with fear. Then Thomas, one of the staff men with me, began to shout at it. Telling it to go away, and whatever prank it was trying to play, it wasn’t welcome. It didn’t move. Finally, he and two of the others took their rifles and headed out into the swamp to confront it. As they got closer, the eyes disappeared, and that seemed to give them enough courage to pick up their pace and run after it.

“Two of them stayed behind with me and we waited for several tense hours, listening to the sounds of sloshing bootsteps and cries of ‘he’s over here!’. Eventually, all three came back soaked and scratched. They said that they had chased it further into the swamp, but every time they got close to the glowing eyes, it seemed to disappear, only to reappear somewhere else, simply staring at them. Once the sun began to rise, the eyes disappeared for good and the men came back.

“Of course we called the police. Two officers came and I told them everything that happened. They stayed and recorded our statement, then told us they were going out to talk to their station over the radio. When they came back, both were pale and terrified looking. They told me not to call them with prank calls and gave me this card for ‘when you have an actual emergency’. Then they left so fast you would have thought they were being chased.”

Jackson handed over a plain paper business card. On it was the number for the police station but drawn in pen in the corner with a slightly shaky hand was a capital ‘A’ with some sloppy looking wings.

I pointed the drawing out to Zoey. She nodded silently.

“We’ve been on high alert since. I’ve tried getting the police back here. I even recorded the thing on video several times as proof. But every time I get the same response. We’ve taken to guarding the place on shifts, making sure that all he does is stare.” She gave a slightly bitter laugh. “Not like we can sleep much, anyway.”

“Has he ever done anything besides watch?” Zoey asked.

Jackson shook her head. “No. Nothing else. But… I’m so afraid.” She put her head into her hands and began to cry.

“Hey,” Zoey stood up and softly took one of her hands, “it’s okay. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, and once we do, we’re going to get rid of him, for good.”

Jackson looked up, sniffled, then nodded. “Yes, of course. I… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Zoey turned around, silently asking me what I thought the next step was.

“I think we need to see those videos you took,” I said. “And is there any way we can talk to this Millie Doe?”

***

Millie was seated out in the common area with the other children, engaging in the craft I could now tell was hand-made Christmas cards. She had long blonde hair and a long-sleeved flannel shirt, and was bent over a green piece of paper with a red crayon in hand, drawing with the seriousness and intensity only a nine year-old kid like herself could muster.

Zoey smiled and sat down next to her. “Hey,” she said, “are you Millie?”

The kid just shrugged and kept on drawing.

Zoey looked down to the paper. “Is that Santa?”

Millie didn’t respond.

A group of three girls ran in behind her, one noticing her sitting there and very purposefully bumping into her backside. Something fell out of her pocket and Millie gasped and reached for it, only for Zoey to catch it a split second before it hit the floor.

Zoey held it out for her: a small crystal, clear as glass and tinted slightly green. Millie gave a quiet “thank you” before taking it and putting it back in her pocket.

“Do you like pickles?” Zoey asked out of nowhere.

Millie looked at her like she was crazy. I’m sure I did, too.

“When I was your age, there was a group of kids who bullied me, and my dad told me the best way to get rid of them was to glare at them and think of something you really, really didn’t like. And I hated pickles. So every time they came around, I would look at them and think of pickles, and viola!” she parted her hands with a flourish. “They left me alone.”

Millie watched her, trying to keep a straight face, but a snort escaped her and she smiled. “I like you” she said.

“Of course you do. I’m awesome.” Zoey stuck out her hand. “Name’s Zoey.”

“Millie.” She shook it awkwardly, like she was afraid it was going to bite her.

“Nice to meet you Millie. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“I guess not.” She picked her crayon up again and continued drawing, but this time she looked up every so often to pay attention to us.

“We heard that you see something at night.”

“The Red Eyed Man,” she responded matter-of-factly.

Zoey arched an eyebrow. “The Red Eyed Man?”

“He stands outside my window and looks at me when he thinks I’m sleeping,” she explained. “He looks like a shadow with big, glowing red eyes, like stop lights.”

“What does he do?”

Millie shrugged. “Just stares.”

Zoey and I glanced at each other. “Just stares?” I asked. “Nothing else.”

Millie nodded, eyes glued to her paper.

I shrugged and turned to leave, but Zoey motioned for me to wait for a second. “Millie, do you mind telling me what that crystal is?”

She looked up at Zoey. “It’s a wishing rock. My mom gave it to me.”

“A wishing rock?” Zoey asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. It keeps your wishes safe until they come true. But you can’t let it break, or else they’ll never happen.”

“How do you know that?” I questioned.

“Timbo told me.”

“Timbo?”

“Yeah. He lives out in the swamp. He’s a big blue elephant who walks on two legs, and he eats cotton candy and maple syrup.”

Zoey smirked. “Imaginary friend?”

Millie looked up with pride. “The best one ever.”

With nothing else to ask, we said our goodbyes and left, the bizarre image of a sweet-addicted swamp elephant still in my head.

***

“So what do you think?”

I was watching the video Jackson had recorded. In it, a large, human shadow loomed in the darkness between two trees. Large red eyes, bright enough to actually shed light on the nearby branches, was leering at the camera. It didn’t move, or blink, or do anything but watch in the black night air.

I gestured to the screen with my palm. “I mean it’s something, obviously. But as for what, I couldn’t tell you.”

Zoey moved behind me so that she could see the screen as well. “Do you think it’s a pagan god like the Bunny Man was, trying to drum up some belief?”

“I don’t think so. Leshy made it sound like he had to use the form of something already made up. And he was a bit more… aggressive, in his techniques. No, this is something else.”

“Like, ‘thing-in-the-pit’ something else?”

“More like ‘creepy-alone-thing’ something else.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Then again, that’s a complete guess on my part.”

The red eyes on the screen turned from watching the camera and began to stare in a different direction, towards the building itself.

“It looks like he’s looking for something,” Zoey noted.

“Yeah, or someone,” I agreed.

“Maybe he’s looking for Timbo the elephant.”

I snorted. “Good luck with that one, buddy.”

The eyes scanned up and down a bit more before the figure turned around and vanished, leaving the woods empty as the sun began to light up the landscape.

“Do you think there’s a chance that all he’ll do is stare?” Zoey proposed in a soft voice.

I shook my head. “Only until he sees what he’s looking for.”

A few moments of silence passed between us.

“We need to learn more about it,” I stated.

Zoey looked at me. “Stakeout?”

I nodded. “Stakeout.”

***

Stakeouts are boring; I just want to say that. The movies make sitting for hours in a small space waiting for something to happen so you can watch it glamorous somehow, but the truth is that its mind numbing and dull.

However, we had the advantage of having cameras. Five of them, in fact, which was perfect; that gave us enough to put one at each corner of the building, covering the majority of the woods surrounding it, and one to keep just in case. Once the cameras were set up, we could simply watch the stream of the footage on the laptop in the relative comfort of the R.V., waiting for the red glow.

It didn’t disappoint. At close to eleven, the bright light of two shining orbs appeared on the third camera.

“Zoey!” I stood up and exclaimed. She bolted over to the laptop and looked to where I was pointing.

She looked at it in surprise for a few moments, before saying “c’mon”, grabbing our last camera and dashing outside to where that screen was showing, with me following close behind.

Sure enough, there it was, just… standing there, making no attempt to hide itself. Again, the silhouette was human-shaped: a head, two arms, two legs, but the outline of it seemed off. It was a bit too angular, with a few too many perfectly straight lines and a few too few curves. But the most noticeable feature was, of course, the eyes: fiery crimson, with a bright red that bordered on orange, like flames escaping the confines of a furnace, bright enough to cast a solid glow on the otherwise black frames of the looming trees and dark earth.

I picked up the camera sitting nearby, the same one that had alerted us to its presence earlier, and pointed it at the creature. For a few tense moments, nobody moved, us simply recording it in stunned awe and it simply staring back.

After a minute or so of this, it turned away in order to glance up at the building’s many windows.

“What do you want?” Zoey shouted at it.

It ignored her, continuing to scan the area.

“Hey! Answer me!”

It turned back to Zoey and cocked its head. The motion reminded me of the way my old dog Sparky would move and watch you when you were talking to it with words it didn’t understand.

“Yeah! Tell us what you’re doing here!”

It turned back to gaze at the windows.

“Fine, have it your way!” Zoey took off running towards it. The creature immediately saw the motion and began to walk away, further into the trees and the swamp.

“Zoey wait!” I shouted, sprinting after her. The area immediately became confusing and hard to see. I felt my foot slip into water and I looked down in frustration and disgust, only to raise my head and realize that none of the surrounding trunks and puddles looked familiar.

“Over there!” I heard Zoey shout. I glimpsed Zoey’s form to my right, then followed her finger into a deeper section of swamp. There, sixty to seventy feet away, were the eyes again.

I ran after them, no longer caring about the sensation of cold, murky water sliding into my shoes. My vision of the eyes shook as I moved up over fallen branches and down into divots.

I tripped over a submerged log, stumbling a few feet forward to avoid falling face first into who knows what. When my head rose again, the red orbs were gone. Spinning around, I found them almost a hundred feet away, dead behind me.

“Zoey!” I yelled and pointed. She immediately saw it and changed course. We must have cleared that distance in less than a minute, but by the time we crashed into the spot it was, it was gone again.

We jerked our heads around, looking for the eyes, but this time, there was only darkness.

I looked down at my clothes, now thoroughly soaked and caked in mud. “C’mon, let’s go. We’re not going to catch him this way.”

She looked down to her own hoodie, gripped the bottom, and twisted, wrining swamp water out of it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She looked back around at the forest and started to trudge back towards the yellow lights of the building. I followed, and by the time we had made it back, the sun had just begun to rise.

I turned to look at the trees one more time. There, shrouded in the shade of two large pines, were the eyes again. They watched me for close to two minutes, then turned and disappeared.

***

One nap and several hot showers later (of which Ms. Jackson was kind enough to let us use the building’s facilities for, so we didn’t need to worry about draining the R.V. tank dry for once), we were in one of the common rooms of St. Magdalen's, watching the footage recorded from the other cameras last night. On the screen, the red eyes appeared in the camera, staying still for a few minutes, before turning and moving off screen. A minute later, the tiny, panting versions of us appeared, looking around wildly for them.

“Well,” I said, “it looks like it doesn’t just teleport. That makes it a physical entity… I think.” I put my head into my hands. “I feel so dumb right now.”

Zoey clapped a hand onto my back. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not like you got to take Monsterology 101 or anything.”

The sound of shouting interrupted my thoughts. Looking up, I saw Millie backing away from the three girls who had ran past her earlier. “It’s your fault it’s here, you freak!” the one in front shouted at her.

Millie seemed on the verge of crying. “Guys, I don’t know…”

The other girl interrupted her with a big shove, knocking Millie onto the ground. Her glass-like crystal fell out of her pocket and onto the floor, emitting a high-pitched TING sound, like a tuning fork being struck,

“Hey!” Zoey snapped. The other girls looked at her with panic and they bolted, leaving Millie alone on the ground holding her wishing rock.

“No…” she sobbed. “No no no no no no no no.”

Zoey walked over and knelt next to the girl, carefully taking the rock out and holding it up to the light. A long, hairline crack had formed in its side.

“It’s okay, see? It’s just a crack.” She gingerly put it in Millie’s hand and curled the girl’s fingers back around the crystal. “The wishes are still safe.”

Millie stopped crying and looked at Zoey. “You promise?”

“Promise.” Zoey turned back to where the other girls had ran to. “What were they talking about?”

Millie sniffed. “They think that it’s my fault that the Red Eyed Man is here. They want me to get rid of him. But I don’t know how!”

“Calm down. I believe you. That’s why we’re here, though. We hunt monsters.”

Her eyes went wide. “Really?”

Zoey smiled. “Yep. You go play. We’ll figure out how to get rid of him.”

She nodded and ran off.

“Bold promise to make, considering we still don’t know what it is,” I observed.

Zoey shrugged. “So? Same goes for everything else, and we’ve still always won.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and stayed quiet; I still hadn’t told Zoey about Sam’s late night visit.

“C’mon Mr. Monster Hunter!” She hopped up on the bench beside me. “What’s our next step?”

I sighed. “I think we’ve got to do another stake out.”

***

Checking our video against the other recordings had confirmed that Red Eyes (the name we had begun referring to the creature as) always appeared in the same spot in the woods every night at eleven o’clock. Knowing this, we came to the second stakeout better prepared, set up with the light-weight camcorders and in more appropriate attire to chase the thing through the muck. One more weapon joined our arsenal, though: a thermos of coffee. The snow has started coming down harder that night and that small container of hot liquid was pulling double duty, keeping us alert and shielding us from the bitter wind.

“He better not decide to be late today,” Zoey warned as she poured out another cup.

I nursed my own mug and looked out into the trees. “Somehow, I don’t think we need to worry about that.”

A flicker of light caught my attention as two flaming lights came into view.

“Zoey,” I whispered, “there.”

She dropped her cup and spun the camera around to face it. I did the same.

This time, something was different. The red lights were getting bigger, and it honestly took me a few seconds to realize what was going on simply because it had never happened before: it was walking towards us.

With one long stride it came out of the swamp, and for the first time, I could actually see it. It was tall. Six and a half feet was the minimum guess as to its height. And in clearer light, I could finally understand the silhouette I had been seeing. Human shaped, yes, but definitely not human. Instead, it seemed to be made out of obsidian, carved out of black, volcanic rock. Not smoothly, like a sculpture, but roughly, with the same hand and technique one would expect arrowheads and other stone tools to be made with. The resulting figure was all jagged edges with no organic curves, and I could actually hear the grinding of stone on stone with every movement it made. The only break in the mass were the two holes where the eyes should be, revealing an inside filled with intense, bright red light.

“Hey!” Zoey walked forward, bringing her right in front of it. “What do…”

The thing cut her off by taking one massive arm and sweeping it into Zoey, lifting her into the air and flinging her aside like a rag doll.

I ran past the creature to the ground where Zoey was sprawled. It didn’t seem to care.

“Zoey!” I fell beside her. “Zoey, are you okay?!”

“Air…” she wheezed. “Can’t…”

A sudden burst of heat hit me and I turned to the source. The thing had firmly planted its feet into the ground and was staring at the roof of St. Magdalen’s. Only staring’s not the right word, because that would imply he was just looking. No, massive, almost cartoonishly large red beams of light were spilling out of its eyes, traveling in a straight line right into the roof, blowing pieces of it apart where the literal laser beam collided into the structure. The pieces that weren’t flung into the air alighted into flame and in no time at all, the entire top of the wooden building was blazing.

I turned back to Zoey. “Are you alright?”

She nodded.

I pressed my cell phone into her hands. “Call 911. Get the fire department out here.” I got up and ran over to the building just in time to run into Ms. Jackson escorting a line of children. “Is this everyone?”

“Yes” she replied. “Liam, what happened?”

I turned back to gawk at Red Eyes. He studied me, before making a strange series of hand motions and head back into the woods. Stunned and in shock, all I could do was watch him leave.

***

The firefighters didn’t leave until dawn.

“You need to be more careful in the future,” one of them told me as the rest packed their gear back into the truck. “You’re very lucky that gas leak didn’t cause more damage.”

“Gas leak?” I asked in disbelief.

“I highly suggest you get this building checked out, make sure it’s all up to code.” He handed me a small plastic card, proclaiming the name and number of a property inspector. In the corner, hand drawn, was another ‘A’ with wings.

I glared at it as the man turned and left. “Of course. You, you…. Cowards!” I grabbed a rock and threw it at the engine, hearing it bounce off with a dull ‘thunk’.

Neither he nor any of his men made any attempt to defend themselves against that comment as he got into the truck and drove away.

***

The rest of the day was a blur of chaos. Ms. Jackson had ordered the staff to help her gather up and move the children away, and we whole-heartedly agreed. But even leaving behind everything that wasn’t essential, there was too much to move quickly. They were forced to carry away supplies and children alike in vehicle load after vehicle load, and the whole process was estimated to take two days, at least.

Which meant at least one more night being visited by Red Eyes.

Zoey and I agreed to stay behind. Our hope was to try to figure out a way to stall him, at least for one night, but it wasn’t looking great. I knew two things about Red Eyes at this point: one, he seemed to be unstoppable, and two, he seemed to be incomprehensible.

I was in the R.V., watching our footage of the thing and repeating the strange hand motions he had done to me over and over again in an attempt to find some logic to them, when Zoey walked in. “Or else what?” she asked.

“Hmm?” I looked up.

She gestured to my hands. “Your signing ‘or else’. Or else what?”

I blinked. “Signing, as in… American Sign Language?” I had known Zoey knew sign language, teaching it to herself to communicate with a deaf cousin of hers, but never in a million years did I expect that to be the thing Red Eyes was doing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Those are the motions Red Eyes made at me, before disappearing.”

She looked at me in surprise. “What?”

“Here, what does this say?” I stood up and began to go through the motions as best as I could remember them.

Zoey squinted. “Give it… to? me. Give it to me or else.”

An uneasy silence filled the room.

I sank back into my chair. “So it wants something. Great.”

“Yes, it is” Zoey insisted. “If it wants something, we can use that.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to know what that is?” I shot back. “We have no idea what this thing is, or why it’s doing this, or even why it changed behavior. And we certainly don’t know how to stop it.” I slouched even lower in my seat. “Might as well follow the example of those firefighters. It’ll all be the same in the end.”

Zoey got a few inches away from my face and stared directly into my eyes. “Do not give me that. Not right now. We’ve got a whole building full of kids back there, and we are the only thing standing between him and them. So wherever you put that Red-Like-Roses Liam, bring him out here, because I need him now.”

“Alright, alright.” I exhaled and ran my fingers through my hair. “He knows how to communicate. So he’s intelligent. And we can talk to him. Maybe… maybe we can reason with him. Convince him that working with us to get… whatever the hell he wants, is far better than expending energy getting around us.”

Zoey smiled. “There he is. C’mon, let’s do this.”

***

We spent the rest of the day planning and preparing, trying to come up with a backup plan in case our attempts of negotiation failed. In the end, all we could really think of was to stash fire extinguishers and water buckets everywhere and pray that we didn’t need a backup plan.

And so, come eleven, we were standing outside, waiting for Red Eyes show. And come eleven, down to the second, he appeared.

The large black form moved out of the treeline and then stopped. He glanced to me, then to Zoey, before making several hand motions.

“He wants to know if we have it,” Zoey translated.

“Ask him what that is,” I replied.

Zoey made some hand motions of her own.

He stood for a moment before beginning to march towards us.

“Tell him we’ll find it for him if we know what it is,” I pleaded in panic.

Zoey did so, but he only gave a few motions in return.

“He says ‘move or be moved,’” she replied in fear.

Not knowing what else to do, I stepped in front of him. He reeled back in surprise, or perhaps disgust, before the light from his eyes began to grow brighter, and brighter, and…

stop.

His head suddenly snapped towards a window at the top floor, and I could just barely hear the source of what got his attention over the sound of the howling wind:

A clear, high-pitched TING, like a tuning fork being struck.

Red Eyes immediately shifted his path, making his way towards the door closest to the sound.

Zoey turned to me in confusion. “Liam, what…”

“Millie!” I cried. Zoey’s eyes went wide with recognition and we both bolted, diving into the doorframe before he could reach it.

“Go find Millie!” I yelled. “Get that wishing rock from her!” Zoey nodded and ran up the stairs.

I moved back to face Red Eyes, the crimson from his sockets already growing brighter in preparation for another beam.

I grabbed a fire extinguisher next to me, pulled out the pin and aimed it at the creature, spraying white dust everywhere. It reeled back, the glowing lights disappearing in the chemical fog.

I ran, moving further into the building and onto the stairs. I heard heavy, shaking footsteps behind me in the hallway, turning just in time to see him stomping after me. I grabbed a metal pail full of water and swung it back. It tracked the flying object and fired off a blast as it flew towards its face, causing it to explode in a shower of steam and shrapnel and forcing him backwards a second time.

The familiar feeling of adrenaline began to flood me and I ran up the stairs two at a time, past the second floor, onto the third, just in time to see Zoey talking to Millie, a staff member and the rest of the kids crowded into a corner.

“But... the wishes!” Millie insisted.

“It’s the only way, Millie.” Zoey replied. “We need to use it against the monster.”

Millie’s expression became sad, but she reached into her pocket and removed the clear, slightly green crystal, now with two long cracks set into it, and held it out to Zoey.

Zoey took it and threw it to me. I caught it just as Red Eyes came into view, scanning the room before noticing me and the crystal.

“This is what you want, right?” I held it out. “Here. Take it. Take it and leave everyone here alone.”

“NO!” Millie cried. She darted forward, but Zoey grabbed onto her and held her back.

Red Eyes regarded the outstretched rock for a second before violently snatching it from me. I felt and heard a POP from my hand and immediately sunk to my knees in pain. It watched me fall with an expression that almost looked like amusement before turning and stomping its way down the stairs.

The room fell into a hush, punctuated only by the whispers of the other children, the quiet sobs of Millie, and my own groans of pain. But nothing more came.

It was over.

***

A few more hectic hours later, I was watching Millie in the far corner of the hospital waiting room as I held a cold pack over my newly-splinted finger. She held a small teddy bear by the hands, making him move and dance, but the movements were slow and a sadness that wasn’t there before emanated from her eyes.

The chair next to me issued some squeaks and groans. I turned to see Zoey sitting down next to me. “What’d you get?” she asked, gesturing to my hand.

I held the metal splint out. “Dislocated finger. You?”

She lifted her shirt just a bit to reveal a stomach wrapped in bandages. “Cracked ribs. Nothing I won’t live through.”

“It’s a good thing we’re still on our parents’ insurance,” I noted. “We should figure out what we’re going to replace that with when it runs out.”

“Try to get one with frequent flyer miles.”

I scoffed, then turned back to watch Millie.

“She said anything?” Zoey asked.

I shook my head. “Don’t think she will, either.” I stood up and together, we made our way out of the building, into the dark parking lot filling with snow, and began the walk back towards our R.V.

“What the hell was that, Liam?” Zoey asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “And what’s worse is that, whatever it is, it’s new. I mean, we were just getting used to these… other spaces, with the painting and the Hotel California and wherever that empty place is. Then these stupid winged ‘A’s show up, and just when I think we’ve got a handle on that, there’s this buisness with ‘the god of light’ and now… this.” I sighed. “I feel like a blind man locked in a mansion, forced to stumble around and try to find a way out. It’s enough to make me…”

“Scared?” Zoey offered.

“Angry.”

She looked at me with genuine shock.

“It’s not right,” I said. “These… things, they exist in the dark. Nobody knows that they’re there. And because of that, they get to do whatever they damn well please, grabbing people and things for who knows why. And meanwhile, it’s the little people that get screwed over, people like Greg and Sims and Ms. Jackson. People that have no want to be there, no business being in that world, and they get dragged in anyway because of crap luck.”

I withdrew the card from the firefighters. “And I have no idea who these guys are, but they’re the worst of all. Because these guys are the people letting them do this. They’re actively keeping these things secret. They’re practically feeding people to the shadows, and no one can stop it because no one knows it needs to be stopped.”

We continued to walk through the snowing, cold parking lot in silence for a while.

“Liam…” Zoey began, “what do we do when they spot us? These… A guys.”

“Well, we’re not stopping the show,” I replied.

“Of course we’re not stopping the show.” She sounded offended. “I agree with everything you’re saying. We need to expose these people.” Her tone softened. “But they’re going to find us. Soon. And we need to be prepared when they do.”

We grew quiet again.

“How long do you think we have?” Zoey asked me.

I looked up into the sky. “A month. Maybe two, if we’re lucky. But in three weeks’ time… we’ll need a plan.”

Of course, Archangel came for us much sooner than that. Much, much sooner.

#creepy_america #horror #short story #series #weird fiction

0 notes