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vmficrecs · 4 years

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Every school has an obligatory psychotic jackass. He’s ours.

It has been one year since The Incident. In celebration of this beautiful, snarky, dynamic, passionate, beloved, smug, asshole, essential, etc., etc., character I have complied a lengthy (but by no means exhaustive) collection of some of my personal favorite fics focusing on Logan, or on his relationships, or fics that i just think do something neat in terms of Logan/his journey/his character. ❤️

Previously on vmficrecs:

dark_roast, “Fish Out of Water,” Mature, Post Season 1 AU

Logan opts to leave Neptune, and spend summer vacation with his grandparents.

Notes: This AU is essential reading if you love Logan. His characterization is nearly perfect, and the premise of the fic is endlessly engaging and smart.

wily_one24, “Sleep, Perchance...,” Mature, Pre-series AU

Logan thaws towards Veronica and sets out to save her.

Notes: I want to eat this fic. If you’ve never read it, read it-- it will linger endlessly inside of your brain in the best way possible. So many of the things Logan does or says in this fic exist in a very tangible and palpable manner for me, it’s that good. I think about it constantly.

ghostcat, “What We Have in Common,” Teen, Post Season 3 AU

Weevil Navarro, his incredibly poor choice of a research paper prepping locale and the close talking, finger waving jackass that interrupts and effectively hijacks his night. Set in 2010, three years after The Bitch is Back.

ghostcat, “A Trace of Meaning,” Teen, Pre-series

13 year-old Logan Echolls and 14 year-old Veronica Mars wait at the Kane Estate for their held-up sleepover hosts to show up.

theohara, “Rich Dirt,” Mature, Pre-series AU

And Logan wouldn’t let you have anything. He’d danced over to you and smirked in your face and twirled your plastic cup right out of your hand and cooed that just because your Daddy wasn’t sheriff anymore didn’t give you license to break the law, and he’d acted all shocked with his hand over his mouth and he’d laughed like breaking glass and nanced off with your drink.

anjou, “Into the Blue,” Mature, Post Season 1

It’s almost summer, and Logan is sinking into the blue.

flyingcarpet, “Mexicali Blues,” Mature, Post Season 3 AU

When he reaches the water he doesn’t hesitate, just keeps walking until he can duck his head under and start to swim away from shore, letting the salt and the waves wash away the residue that Neptune’s left on his skin.

absolutelyiris, “Truth for a Dream,” Teen, Future Fic (Pre-movie)

Fleet Week 2012. A reformed bad boy turned sailor and a former party girl turned career woman meet in a bar…

Notes: A LOGAN AND PARKER FRIENDSHIP FIC!!! pure fucking delight

absolutelyiris, “Come Around,” Mature, Future AU

A woman travels the world over in search of what she needs and returns home to find it.

Notes: I will talk about this fic until the day that I day, and then I will still talk about it. One of my absolute favorites. Pure gold Logan/Keith dynamic. I would 10/10 die for Razia. and, of course, the l/v is so damn good

TheLastGoodGolfish, “The Phenomenal Pixie, #1,” Teen, AU

Veronica is a masked avenger who stalks the streets of Neptune. Logan is the intrepid reporter who’s on the story.

Notes: PERFECT. PERFECT PERFECT PERFECT. also-- “That’s ridiculous. My favorite person is a sorority girl.” in my head, rent free, and i am forever indebted.

bryrosea, “Waste of Breath / A Quartz Contentment,” Mature, Post Season 2 to TDTL

Part one: Logan Echolls, the nine years, and the Navy. Part two: Veronica Mars, the nine years, and a new normal.

Notes: I am recommending specifically “Waste of Breath” for my boy, although Veronica’s piece is excellent as well.

always_winter, “Written Out,” Teen, Season 2 AU

Duncan has some residual guilt and Logan wants to be left out of the story.

always_winter, “White Combs and Sweet Honey,” Mature, Season 1

Even when Aaron is trying to be a good father, there’s still a lot he’s doing wrong.

Notes: This fic is so tender to me!!! A beautiful Logan and Aaron piece.

sadiekate, “Grand Canyon,” PG-13, Season 1 to Future AU

Three friends reminisce several years in the future, snarkily and pointlessly.

sinaddict, “Necrosis,” Explicit, Season 2 AU

Death in bits and pieces, denial as a religion… Or ‘normal’ in Neptune.

sowell, “Surviving the Wreck,” Explicit, Season 3 AU

Nothing’s ever simple with Veronica Mars. Weevil’s day at sea gets a little complicated.

Notes: THIS FUCKING FIC!!!! i love everything about it and especially at this moment in time, the part where logan gives weevil a blow job but weevil notes that somehow, in spite of this, logan retains the upper hand. this fic is world class and i am grateful everyday for it

theohara, “Broken Toys,” NC-17, Pre series AU

One glance across a street saves Lilly Kane’s life. It changes everything; it changes nothing.

Notes: This is the most heartbreaking Veronica Mars’ fanfic ever. I have such a deep love for it. It takes Lilly’s character and Logan/Veronica’s relationship to places I don’t ever think they would go and yet it works in this and it works so damn well. a truly devastating and beautiful au

fluffernutter8, “The Ninety Nine Percent,” Teen, Post Season 3 AU

Junior year of college, Logan gets some news that proves that no matter how hard he tries, life is just going to keep throwing him curve-balls. Post season 3, non movie canon compliant.

youcallitwinter, “gravity is gonna keep you tied down to this city,” Teen, Post Season 3 to TDTL

[your life in extended parenthesis] the lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean, and the fire that was starting to spark. From the love to the lightning and the lack of it.

Notes: please don't fall out of love with me, okay? don’t you dare give up on me. I DIE EVERY FUCKING TIME youcallitwinter is a force with all of her writings, but this one.......my god every single bit about it is fucking flawless

petpluto, “Of Scars & Consequences,” Teen, Post-series AU

Almost a decade in the future, Logan's still a little messed up. And Veronica's still a little closed off. They make it work.

julietbravo, “one brutal thing after another,” Teen, Pre-series to Season 1

These rich boys think they can get away with anything, don’t they.

querulousgawks, “there should be stars for great wars like ours,” Teen, AU

It’s gotta be some Alliance mind game, a holdover, the Operative’s last trick: Logan’s old secrets manifesting everywhere around them. Where are you, how are you doing this, he wants to scream, but he doesn’t know which ghost he’d be railing at.

SilverLining2k6, “Sometimes (You Can’t Make It On Your Own),” Teen, Season 1 AU

Silly Duncan stopped taking his meds. Now, one dead Fitzpatrick later, Logan and Veronica need to get him out of town. Too bad they hate each other.

SilverLining2k6, “Control,” Teen, Pre-series AU

Don’t you mess with a little girl’s dreams. ‘Cause she’s liable to grow up mean. Pre-series. Oneshot. - A twisted little tale of hate and revenge.

Notes: CONTROL!!!!! I love Control so much, it’s one of the first fics I ever read for the fandom and one of the finest. The Logan that exists in this is sooo good and his relationship with Veronica is deeply flawed & wonderful. M is in the process of writing a remix to Control (more in-depth emotion) and I for one am foaming at the fucking mouth every day about it.

nevertothethird, “Reunions,” Teen, Post Series AU

Sometimes it just takes a little longer to get things right. Two high school reunions and a birthday party should do the trick.

youcallitwinter, “you give love a bad name,” Teen, Season 2 AU

“Hey, did you guys know there was a sensitive poet-type hiding behind this hard exoskeleton of expensive alcohol and bitter cynicism?” In which Logan Echolls is, well, Logan Echolls.

scandalpants, “Something to Remember,” Mature, Post Series AU

Facing a separation, Logan and Veronica spend their last night together exchanging gifts.

Notes: I am always in a goddamn state about this fic. Logan jacking off in front of Veronica at her request? Yes, thank you please. thank you so much

leurocrystal, “Take Your Time,” Teen, Post Season 2

Keith doesn’t know how to look at or touch his daughter for the first time in his life.

petpluto, “We Are Nowhere, And It’s Now,” Mature, Series AU

“You know there is another way of looking at this, Logan. If you’d still been together, you might be dead too." Logan and Lilly both die on October 3rd. But for Veronica, it’s not like they’re gone. And she still works to solve their murders.

absolutelyiris, “Delay,” Teen, Post TTDL

Logan reflects on his first Christmas with Veronica after a ten year separation, as well as how his life has changed with her absence.

New to vmficrecs:

Christmas in Arkham Author: dark_roast Pairing: Logan Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort, A Really Good Hug Setting: Season 2 Spoilers: 2.09, “My Mother, the Fiend” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 10128 Status: Complete Summary: Sequel to Fish Out of Water. Logan spends christmas with his grandparents. Notes: This is, full stop, my favorite Veronica Mars fanfiction ever. I am so protective of this fic that part of me doesn’t even want to give it a formal place on the blog, which is ridiculous because I’m sure plenty of people have already read it and obviously it’s so good that I want people to read it but....this belongs to me, somehow, like I feel like it’s mine that’s how much I love it. ANYWAY possessiveness aside-- Every word, every sentence, every punctuation mark in this fic is perfect, devastating insight into Logan’s character. Absolutely beautiful and wonderful and every other good thing.

The Teeth by the Shoulder Author: ghostcat Pairing: Fab Four, Logan/Lilly, Veronica/Duncan Rating: Teen Genre: Friendship, Angst Setting: Pre-series Spoilers: 1.01, “Pilot” Chapters: 3 Word Count: 17273 Status: Complete Summary: Two couples, two friendships. The Fab Four in three Octobers. Notes: WE’VE NEVER FUCKING RECOMMENDED THE TEETH BY THE SHOULDER BEFORE?????? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE OH MY GOD jesus this is one of the greatest fanfictions ever written. three pre-series explorations into the fab four friendship and it is impossibly good. i am especially in love with the logan/lilly in this fic (the first chapter!!!!) and as always special care is given to exploring the logan + veronica dynamic. the third chapter will break your fucking heart so bad in the best way

Seven Times Logan Echolls Went to Jail Author: sowell Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Veronica/Piz Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, Romance, Logan Echolls is a Little Shit Setting: (Post) Season 3 AU Spoilers: 3.12, “There’s Got to Be a Morning After Pill” and 3.16, “Un-American Graffiti” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6701 Status: Complete Summary: Who thinks Logan behind bars is sexy? I do, I do! // Logan goes to jail and calls Veronica to bail him out. Again and again and again and again. Notes: WE HAVEN’T DONE THIS BEFORE EITHER???? oh my god!! I remember finding this one a few months before the movie came out and i would just lay in bed in the dark and re-read it endlessly. and then i left it alone for a few years and when i went back to it holy shit it undid me all over again. perfect logan and veronica relationship. p e r f e c t!!! i firmly believe this is exactly what shape their relationship would’ve taken if veronica hadn’t cut and run

Love is Just a Four-letter Word Author: bigboobedcanuck Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Keith, Weevil Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Setting: Future AU Spoilers: 1.12, “Clash of the Tritons” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1753 Status: Complete Summary: Set a few years down the road from high school. Logan hits rock bottom. Keith and Veronica help him back up. Notes: Lynn’s body turns up and it is fucking DEVASTATING. A short piece that’s told from Keith’s POV (anyone who knows me knows how much of a sucker I am for Keith + Logan interaction) and holy hell Logan is so good in it and I think about it all the fucking time

Serendipity Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Veronica/Piz, Carrie, Gia, Stu Cobbler, Ensemble Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Detective-ing Setting: Post Season 3 Spoilers: 3.20, “The Bitch is Back” and The Movie Chapters: 4 (out of a planned 6, fingers crossed!!!) Word Count: 59763 Status: Complete Summary: During her sophomore year at Hearst, Veronica takes on your run-of-the-mill blackmail case: the clients hate her, the evidence is impossible to destroy, and her ex turns out to be a bit of a distraction, but Veronica is a sucker for a damsel-in-distress. Even if the damsel is an intoxicated, pissed off Carrie Bishop. Notes: I AM HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING. Transplanting the movie plot to this timeframe works tremendously and TLGG’s execution is fucking perfect. Carrie is a powerhouse in this fic and god, Logan is such a honey it in which is why it is being recc’d for him. Him practically letting Carrie move in with him and doing his damnedest to protect Carrie and Gia (much to Veronica’s chagrin) is so, so important to me and I love him so much.

The Phenomenal Pixie - Interlude #1 - “Bugs” Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica, OC’s Genre: Humor, Fluff, Logan and Veronica Are Smarter Than You Setting: AU (Season 3) Spoilers: uhhh n/a Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5072 Status: Complete Summary: Dating a superhero poses a unique set of challenges. Notes: Tiny sequel to The Phenomenal Pixie which you absolutely must read first (and is recommended above) because it’s a fucking delight. Logan is incredible in this fic and I would die for him, like always. The part where Steve can sense Logan is thinking about punching him in the face-- a million chefs kisses.

The Medusa Jewel Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Established Relationship Bliss, Fluff Setting: MKAT Spoilers: MKAT Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5336 Status: Complete Summary: Logan and Veronica's new neighbor is a writer. Notes: is my TLGG obsession shining through? good because it fucking should be. The Logan/Veronica in this relationship is so sweet and perfect and is 100% my reality and i would like to bathe in this fic and live in it forever as is my right.

Drowning Together Author: bryrosea Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort Setting: Season 3 Spoilers: 3.07, “Of Vice and Men” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 897 Status: Complete Summary: AU of the confrontation scene from 3x07: Of Vice and Men (Logan and Veronica both need a hug) Notes: Absolute wonderful insight and even some reconciliation into a canonical season three fight. Logan calming down while Veronica falls apart as they hug is so important to me.

Interrupt Us Author: bryrosea Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Romance, Hijinks, They Want To Fuck So Bad Setting: Post TDTL Spoilers: through TDTL Chapters: 1 Word Count: 17223 Status: Complete Summary: Logan Echolls is home from deployment. Time to cue the sweeping movie montage, right? Notes: Logan and Veronica try to have sex everywhere and it is my life force. The car scene when they get pulled over and Logan instinctively hiding under Veronica’s desk....god i love everyone in this bar

Ready to Go Author: Amberina Pairing: Logan/Duncan; Veronica Genre: Friendship, Romance, Angst Setting: Post Season 1 Spoilers: not obvious but 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6346 Status: Complete Summary: "Let's leave. Let's go. What's left in Neptune for us anyway?" (AKA Duncan, Logan and Veronica have wacky adventures on the road! Also angst.) Notes: Logan getting hissy and storming off from the car while Duncan and Veronica just watch him and then calling a taxi once he’s out of their sight is PEAK logan. I love boyfriends, even if they’re angst-ing in this, and they big time are.

Nashville On My Mind Author: hjcallipygian Pairing: Logan, Veronica, Duncan Genre: Friendship, Hijinks Setting: Post Season 1 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1659 Status: Complete Summary: Every year, they take a road trip together. This year, it's to Nashville, Tennessee. Notes: i just spent forty minutes trying to find this fic to the point where i was genuinely concerned i had hallucinated it. it’s so fucking good. a sequel/prequel of sorts to grand canyon by sadiekate (recc’d in the previously section). logan is a mess and by god do i love him

Six Times Logan Echolls Got Wet Author: bryrosea, CarolineShea, ghostcat, kmd0107, marshmallowtasha, SilverLining2k6 Pairing: Logan/Veronica Rating: Teen Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hijinks Setting: Everywhere Spoilers: All series to MKAT Chapters: 6 Word Count: 11568 Status: Complete Summary: aka: The Wet Henley ChroniclesSix stories in which we probably give Logan Echolls pneumonia, inspired by the movie's infamous wet henley. Set variously across the series and post-MKAT. Notes: each chapter is written by a different author, they’re all good but bryrosea’s chapter and silvery’s chapter are my favorites. set during the summer between season 1 & 2 and post season three respectively they do such a great job dealing with the fractious and tumultuous nature of Logan/Veronica’s relationship at the time and i love it so much

A Little Dysfunctionality Goes A Long Way Author: fluffernutter8 Pairing: Logan/Veronica Rating: Teen Genre: ANGST with a side of fucking ANGST, happy ending but jesus Setting: Post Season 3 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 2878 Status: Complete Summary: Despite their history, Logan and Veronica might be somewhere on the brink of normal. A few years post season 3. Notes: i just read this for the first time 07/13/20 at 9:08pm because when i asked shelby for her favorite logan fics she included this one. i am fucking dead now and-- there’s nothing else to say about it. i’m just fucking dead. for YEARS i have said that nobody with the username fluffernutter8 should be able to write shit this goddamn emotional and yet, time and time again, i find myself here fuckign wrecked and furious about it

these are just ghosts that broke my heart before i met you Author: theviolonist Pairing: Logan, Veronica, Carrie, Dick Rating: Teen Genre: Introspection, Angst, I Love Logan Setting: Pre Movie & Movie Spoilers: Movie Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1326 Status: Complete Summary: In the army they say, don't think of the target as a person, otherwise you won't have the guts to pull the trigger. Notes: fuck, you guys. this one is so beautiful. an exploration into logan’s grief and him trying to move on and it cuts like a damn knife because he can never really do it but fuck he wants to so bad and [lucas scott voice] that’s gotta mean something, right? truly so so wonderful

Fugue Author: vaeran Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Logan/Lilly, Dick Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, hopeful ending Setting: Post Season 1 Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 4137 Status: Complete Summary: It's something he refuses to let go because it defines who he is and what he has become. Notes: deviates from the PCHer confrontation on the bridge, which means logan takes a little longer to come around to reconciliation with veronica. it’s perfect and i particularly love the logan/lilly in this, he’s hurt but still so impossibly and eternally in love with her

One Flew Over the Echolls Nest Author: Wynn Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Duncan Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, Friendship Setting: Post Season 1 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1507 Status: Complete Summary: Open wide and see what's inside. A bridge and a bed and Veronica. Logan finds himself in a mental institution after the events of "Leave it to Beaver." Veronica, Duncan, and Logan's psychiatrist attempt to help. Notes: so sad and so good!!! the part where Logan’s psychiatrist asks him when the last time he was happy was fucking wrecks me everytime!!

Free at last Author: querulousgawks Pairing: Logan, Weevil, Aaron Rating: Teen Genre: Frenemies, They Are Boyfriends Setting: Season 2 Spoilers: 2.09, “My Mother, the Fiend” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1242 Status: Complete Summary: Logan and Weevil and fire go a long way back. A flashback scene interrupts their Season 2 meeting in the Neptune Grand. Notes: I LOVE EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS SO GOD DAMN MUCH

The Right Shade of Red Author: ghostcat Pairing: Trina, Logan, Aaron Rating: Teen Genre: ANGST Setting: Pre-series Spoilers: 1.15, “Ruskie Business” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 883 Status: Complete Summary: Trina finds her jerky little brother hiding in her closet and does the unexpected thing. (Or, A time Logan trusted Trina) Notes: If you want 883 words to be able to make you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck this is the fic for you! I love the Echolls family dynamics so much, and this one is excellent.

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honeyjaez · 4 years

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A solo stan who is thinking about checking other groups out?

There is nothing wrong with being a solo stan (as in only liking 1 group) as long as you are kind and courteous to other groups.

Also this post might not be for you.

But if you are a solo stan (usually starting with BTS) or just in need of finding new groups and thinking about spreading your wings here are some suggestions. 🙂

When I first got into kpop way back in the 2010 years I had no clue what I had stumbled on and I only liked 2 groups max for the longest time because I didnt know about any other groups. Since then I’ve come to love so many groups that I wish I knew about sooner.

Now mind you. I am primarily a boy group stan so there are not a lot of girl groups on her so please forgive me. -*edit I’ve decided to do a part 2 of just girl groups so stay tuned

This is also under the impression you already know BTS and their brother group TXT.

also if your fav is not on this list I dearly apologize. I picked groups that might be a good intro to like multiple groups.

Groups down below ˅˅˅˅

SEVENTEEN:

-13 Member group under Pledis Entertainment.

- Debuted May 26, 2015

-Popular in Korea and slowly gaining popularity internationally.

-AMAZING dancers.

-Like the synchronization is unreal for 13 people.

- Divided into 3 sub-units; Performance Unit, Hip-Hop Unit, and Vocal Unit

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Don’t Wanna Cry. Hit, Clap

iKON:

-Currently a 6 Member group under YG Entertainment

-Debuted September 15th, 2015

-Addicting Chorus’s and bad ass rapping

-Their Leader B.I recently left the group early this year, but fans are hopeful for a reunion. But that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate OT7 right now.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Bling Bling, Love Scenario, B-Day

ONEUS:

-6 Member group under RBW Entertainment

-Debuted January 9th, 2019.

-They are a crazy good for a rookie group and have a lot of bangers.

-Their choreography is no joke

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Valkyrie (Debut song), Twilight, Lit

(Seriously they have no bad songs)

NCT 127:

(NCT is actually a massive group divided up into sub-units)

-10 Member group under SM Entertainment.

-Debuted July 10th, 2016

-Crazy Powerful dance moves.

-Look mean, but are actually sweethearts.

-Gaining popularity in the west.

-Some songs to introduce you to them:Cherry Bomb, Touch, Highway to Heaven

NCT Dream:

-Currently a 6 member group under SM Entertainment

-Debuted August 24th, 2016

-Cute Charm and Powerful stage presence.

-NCT Dream is as this moment not a fixed unit and based on idols age.

-When they get old enough the members “graduate” and join other NCT sub-units

-Mark of NCT 127 was once the leader but he reached the age limit and “Graduated” and thus no longer apart of the group.

-Many fans detest this concept and wish SM to make them a fixed unit but that doens’t mean you can’t love OT6 or OT7 at the moment.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Boom, We Go Up, Go

Stray Kids:

-8 member group under JYP Entertainment

-Debuted March 25th, 2018

-Gained a lot of popularity through their survival show of the same name

-Strong and Meaningful songs that deal a lot with self struggle and depression.

-All songs are produced by members Bang Chan, Changbin and Han who make up the sub-unit 3racha.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Hellavator Levanter, Voices, My Pace, Double Knot, God’s Menu, Back Door (I mean this list can go on and on)

GOT7:

-7 Member group under JYP Entertainment

-Debuted January 16th, 2014

-Another amazing dancing group

-Strong Charisma on stage.

-Variety Kings

-Goofballs

-Some songs to introduce you to them:Hard Carry, Eclipse, You Are

VAV:

-7 Member group under A Team Entertainment

-Debuted October 31st, 2015.

-Severely underrated

-Has lost some members and gains some as well.

-They work super hard year round with hardly and rest.

-Please stan VAV.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: She’s Mine, Poison, Spotlight.

ASTRO:

-6 Member group under Fantagio Entertainment

-Debuted February 23rd, 2016.

-Cute, Charming group.

-The boys are actual angels.

-The group is a breath of fresh air.

-Super Talented.

-Addicting songs that just make you smile

-Can have the same concept as literally any other group but still make it their own.

-Vocals are beyond this world.

-Also just overall very pretty.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: All Night, Blue Flame, Baby, Always You.

The Boyz:

-11 Member group under Cre.Ker Entertainment

-Debuted December 6th, 2017

-A really fun and charming group.

-Their song’s are very addicting

-Dance like songs

-Sweet sweet boys who deserve love.

-Member Hwall left in October of 2019 due to health reasons

-Some songs to introduce you to them: D.D.D, No Air, Giddy Up

Day6:

-5 Member group under JYP Entertainment

-Debuted September 7th, 2015

-An actual band so they don’t dance on stage

-but crazy talented

-Their songs are known to make people feel happier.

-I don’t think it is possible to have a bad Day6 song.

-Jae’s twitter is quite possible my favorite place on this earth.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: I smile. Time of our lives. Colors, I need Somebody. Dance Dance. Literally any of them.

PENTAGON:

-Currently a 9 Member group under Cube Entertainment.

-Debuted October 10th, 2016.

-Also Underrated.

-Such amazing discography.

-UNIQUE VOICES

-Strong vocals and major crackheads

-Went through their survival show “Pentagon Maker” and debuted as 10 members.

-Former Member E’Dawn was basically kicked out of Cube and Pentagon after revealing he was dating label mate HyunA. Fans are still hopeful for an OT10 reunion.

-But we can support OT9 now.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Sha La La, Shine, Like This, Cosmo (Japanese song).

SF9:

-9 Member group under FNC Entertainment

-Debuted October 5th, 2016

-FNC’s first dance boy group.

-SEVERELY UNDERRATED.

-If you want any songs to put on your workout playlist, or just get you hyped then their are your boys.

-AMAZING Dancers.

-They are almost all actors as well. If you watch K-Drama’s you might recognize Chani (their maknae) from widely popular Sky Castle and Rowoon from new K-Drama “Extraordinary You”

-Stan SF9. Stream RPM

-Some songs to introduce you to them: O Sole Mio, RPM, Now or Never, Easy Love

Monsta X

-A SEVEN Member group under Starship Entertainment

-Literally the definition of hard-working.

-Powerful Choreography, crazy stage presence, intense charisma...must I go on.

-Literally deserve the world.

-Were formed through the survival program No Mercy and have not stopped since.

-Their songs are so addicting and on top of that are actual sweethearts.

-Only want to make people smile and feel loved through their music.

-Would possibly die for their fans.

-Okay I’m talking too much.

-Gaining popularity in the Western regions.

-In October of 2019, member Wonho (the orange hair in the gif) left the group due to rumors and lies being spread about him. He didn’t want to hurt Monsta X’s reputation so he left the group but fans have strongly opposed this, fighting for starship to help clear his name and have him return. The protest continues on even after almost a month.

(Trust me, if you knew this group and Wonho, you would understand why fans are opposing this.)

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Follow, Shoot Out, Beautiful, Dramarama, All In, Alligator.

NU’EST:

-5 Member group under Pledis Entertainment

-Debuted March 15th, 2012

-Very unique style and concept with their albums. Sticks to their own specific style.

-Addicting chorus.

-Honey Sweet vocals.

-Had a sub-united called NU’EST W while Minhyun was promoting as a member of Wanna One. (The W stood for ‘Waiting’ which should tell you the type of guys they are).

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Bet Bet, Love Me, Face (Debut Song), Help Me (Nu’est W song).

BTOB:

-7 Member group under Cube Entertainment

-Debuted March 21st, 2012.

-Ballads anyone?

-Are primarily a vocal focus group

-But understandably because BTOB has one of the strongest vocals in Kpop.

-But can also dance.

-Honest to good crack heads

-Variety Kings #2

-Currently 3 members are serving their military service but you can still support them in their quiet time.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: I’ll be your man, Only one for me, Beautiful Pain, Missing You.

ATEEZ:

-8 Member group under KQ Entertainment

-Debuted October 24th, 2018.

-ROOKIE KINGS.

-In their one year so far since debut they have shown the world that they are not a group to underestimate.

-Strong Dancers, powerful choreography.

-Their stage presence is no joke.

-Songs are super addicting and go hard so if you need a workout playlist Ateez is your group.

THE DUALITY OF EACH MEMBER.

-San is Satan in disguise.

-Prepared for debut for a really REALLY long time.

-Already signed up with a US record label.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Wonderland, Pirate King, Treasure, Say My name, Wave. literally any of them.

EXO:

-9 Member group under SM Entertainment

-Debuted April 8th, 2012.

-If you know BTS, you probably know about them.

-But EXO are worth all the hype.

-Korea’s chosen representative (Whether you agree with it or not, it’s true)

-Deadly Stage Presence and Charisma

-Their songs are always iconic.

-Leader Suho just might be god I haven’t figured it out yet.

-As of November 2019, 3 of their members are not promoting with the group. Lay is off promoting solo stuff and stuff in china and america (because SM doesn’t want EXOLS happy) and the other 2 members, Xiumin and D.O are currently serving in the military.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Monster, Love Shot, Lotto, Tempo.

Golden Child

-10 Member group under Woollim Entertainment.

-Debuted August 28th, 2017.

-Underrated group x 10.

-Dancing is on point.

-Stage presence on point

-Hardworking

-cute songs

-They are just charming boys who smile more than the sun i swear.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Wannabe, DamDaDi, Genie, Let Me

A.C.E:

-5 Member group under Beat Interactive

-Debuted May 23rd, 2017

-I literally don’t understand why they are so underrated.

-They have created their own unique style in kpop with a rock vibe that is hardly used in the community.

-POWERFUL dancers.

-Rude as fuck but thats besides the point.

-Another great group if you need workout songs.

-Some songs to introduce you to them: Undercover, Savage, Callin, Take Me Higher.

Other groups that I did not talk about but I think should be mentioned:

-AB6IX

-CIX

-VICTON

-VIXX

-Great Guys

-Infinite

-JBJ95

-Kim Donghan(solo)

N.Flying!

-Noir!!!!!

-Spectrum

407 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Burton Guster Gets Salty

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 15 - “run, don’t look back"

Summary: “Run! Don’t look back!” That’s what Shawn says to Gus as they run for their lives from a killer with a gun. But Gus does look back – just in time to see his best friend go down with the crack of the pistol.

Characters: Shawn, Gus, Henry

Words: 3,860

TW: None

Note: Takes place in October, about 10 months after “The Polarizing Express.” The timeline isn’t super important here, but there is a reference to that episode, as well as to “Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Burton Guster should have learned from his childhood of Sunday school – when someone says, “Don’t look back,” listen. Keep your eyes locked on the path ahead, don’t stop, don’t turn around, just run.

Lot’s wife looked back after expressly being told not to by God himself. She got herself turned into table salt for her troubles.

Of course, it wasn’t God’s voice who ordered Gus to run and not look back. It was Shawn’s, and Gus rarely listened to his best friend, mostly because nine times out of ten nothing Shawn said made any sense.

Oh, what Gus would give to get turned into a pillar of salt right now. It would be so much more bearable than what had actually happened when he’d ignored Shawn’s frantic orders and skidded around to check on his friend’s progress.

Lot’s wife got off easy, Gus thought grimly. She was so busy turning into something that made mashed potatoes into clouds of bliss that she didn’t have time to see the destruction in her wake.

She didn’t have to watch her best friend get shot.

The thing was, it wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous case. They’d actually done everything by the book this time – a rare occasion for Shawn, who was really trying to prove himself after the Czarsky fiasco last year. Gus was proud of him. Shawn was still, well, Shawn, annoying and juvenile as ever, with an endless supply of embarrassing nicknames, but in more subtle – and more important – ways, over the past year he’d started making strides to grow up a little.

And then this happened. They found their covers blown, and they were cut off from the SBPD because their wires had been discovered. A Shawn-sized distraction later, and they were bolting out of the lake house where the bad guys had been running their counterfeiting and cocaine operation (they were quite ambitious in their criminal activities, with their fingers in more than one illegal pie), out in the middle of the woods, running for their lives from at least four angry killers with guns.

Shawn was lagging behind a bit – he’d been picked on by the goons, roughed up a little before their escape, and he was hurting, slower than usual. Being knocked to the ground with a powerful right hook and then given a few hearty kicks in the ribs would slow anyone down. Gus stopped to let him catch up, and nearly took a bullet to the face. He’d ducked just in time.

That’s when Shawn, clutching his abdomen with one arm, waved him on with the other. “I’m coming, buddy!” he called, barely dodging a bullet himself. “Don’t be that one Stormtrooper who can actually hit his target!” When Gus hesitated, Shawn ordered, his voice firmer and more authoritative than Gus had ever heard it. “Run! Don’t look back!”

And so Gus did what he was told. Shawn was catching up anyway. And they seemed to be gaining ground as they hopped over roots and skidded through puddles of red and golden leaves. Any other time Gus would have enjoyed hearing the autumnal crunch beneath his loafers. Now, he hated the sound, because it might give away their position. Still, though, that bobbing and weaving technique that Shawn’s dad had drilled into them on camping trips really came in handy. It had helped Shawn get away from a shooter in the woods once before, and it seemed to be doing the same now.

They raced through the trees, and the sound of their pursuers slowed. It helped that dusk was turning to night in earnest, and the full moon was mostly blocked by the canopy of trees overhead. The light that snuck through the cracks dappled the forest floor with just enough luminescence that they could see where they were placing their feet. It would be hard for their pursuers to see them in the dim light, let alone hit their targets.

After what could have been no more than ten minutes but felt like hours – his chest burned, his breath came in bursts, there was a nasty stitch in his side, and his heart thudded so fast and hard that he feared he would develop a blood clot or have a heart attack or something equally as dismal. He forced himself to keep moving, before he realized belatedly that he hadn’t heard the sound of his best friend moving behind him for a bit.

Gus couldn’t help it. He stopped and turned, squinting into the deepening dark to see that Shawn was about twenty feet back, hunched over, arms wrapped around his bruised midsection, trying to catch his breath. He saw Gus, stood up and lifted his arm to motion him forward.

That’s when the sound of a pistol cracked through the air and Shawn went down.

***

The next twenty minutes were a blur. Gus managed to make it back to Shawn without getting shot himself and tugged his friend, already struggling to his feet, up, unthinkingly slinging Shawn’s right arm around his shoulder. Shawn yowled in pain.

Fueled by guilt and panic, Gus muttered hasty apologies, switched sides, and then somehow, miraculously, steered a clumsy, weak Shawn back into motion, dodging and weaving, staggering around roots. The trees were thinning, and the crackle of the leaves became less frequent under their feet. Ahead, Gus could see twin beams of headlights winding their way down the curving highway. Somehow, miraculously, they’d made it back to the road.

And he wasn’t sure if they were being chased anymore. Beside him, Shawn gasped in his ear, “Ditch… up ahead. There’s an overhang of ground. We can… hide there.”

Gus squinted toward where his buddy was pointing a shaky finger. Gus found himself once again staggered by Shawn’s insane eye for detail. He wasn’t sure if Shawn had just spotted the hiding place in the dark, or if he had noticed it earlier and recalled exactly where it was later on. Either way, it was impressive – not that he would ever admit that to Shawn. Even in the daylight, Gus wouldn’t have been able to tell it was there, but he dragged Shawn along with him, and there it was, a divet in the earth partially shielded by an overhang of grass and dirt, not forty feet from the road. He helped lower Shawn to the ground and winced in sympathy as a pained grunt forced itself from his friend’s lips as they wedged themselves into the pseudo-cave.

And just in time. Voices from overhead, the swing of flashlight beams darting on the ground in front of them, just missing their hiding spot.

“I can’t believe we lost them!” one man growled. His footsteps crunched on the dirt just above their heads.

“I told you they didn’t go this way – only complete idiots would head for the road, where it’s open!”

“Did you hear those guys in there, bickering like an old married couple about whether Milk Duds or Whoppers are better while we were threatening to kill them? They are idiots!”

Gus was offended. Also, on a side note, he’d totally won that argument. Whoppers were the clear winner.

“I’m telling you,” said another voice, this one female. This was the chick who’d knocked Shawn flat on his ass. And then dug her steel-toed boots into his sides. Gus felt Shawn tense beside him. Neither of them breathed. “I heard them come this way. The leaves make it hard to hide your trail.”

“There were so many people crashing through them that the sound was coming from everywhere,” growled a fourth voice. Another sweep of a high-powered flashlight. The beam barely missed Gus’s toes, and he resisted the urge to tuck his knees tighter to his chest. Even the smallest of movements could give them away. “Well, come on. Let’s check deeper in. And I know I got at least one shot on that loudmouth psychic. If they get themselves turned around in these trees, he’ll probably bleed out before they can get help, anyway.”

The voices moved farther away. “What about his friend?”

A sharp, biting laugh. “That guy will probably just die of fear as soon as he’s alone. Did you see him cry when we started whaling on the psychic? What a wuss.”

Although Gus could really not care less for what a group of criminals thought about him, the words still stung – probably because he’d dealt with such doubts about himself many times before. Shawn and Gus remained uncharacteristically quiet until the sound of the boots on dry leaves completely disappeared into the distance.

Shawn, unsurprisingly, spoke first. “Dude, we’re like Froyo in Lord of the Rings.” His voice was strained, and Gus could just make out the shape of Shawn clutching at his right arm in the dark. It wasn’t bright enough to tell if there was any blood, but he knew there would be.

“It’s Frodo, and you know it Shawn. I just made you watch the extended editions of all three films last weekend.” Shawn had complained loudly and often that it was the longest 18 hours of his life. But Gus had seen him scoot to the edge of the couch during the battle at Helm’s Deep.

For once, Shawn didn’t try to claim he’d heard it both ways, which worried Gus almost as much as the gunshot wound itself. “Yeah, I know.” A pause, then – “But I could really go for some Yogurtland frozen yogurt right now.”

Gus relaxed a little knowing Shawn’s good humor wasn’t all gone. “Tell you what, once we get out of here and get you to a hospital, we’ll get some Froyo. I’ll even buy.” He said it like it was something special, but with Shawn, Gus always paid. Then he got serious. “How’s your arm?”

The extended silence, broken only by a shuffling sound as Shawn tried to get a better look at the wound in the dark, set Gus’s nerves on edge. At last, Shawn answered, “Not too bad.”

“Shawn…”

“I’m serious, dude. It hurts like hell, but it went through the outer part of my tricycle.” In an overexaggerated British accent, he added, “‘Tis but a flesh wound!”

“Tricep, Shawn,” Gus said wearily.

“I’ve heard it both ways.” Shawn’s voice was strained and weary, but Gus couldn’t help but crack a tiny grin.

“Yeah, well,” he changed the subject abruptly, knowing that they were pushing their luck staying here if they wanted a chance to escape before those searching for them gave up on the woods and came circling back. “Come on, can you stand up? We’ve got to find a phone.” Their captors had taken theirs.

“There’s a diner about a couple of miles down that road,” Shawn managed, hissing in pain, as Gus helped him crawl out of their hiding spot and pulled him gently to his feet. Both of them remained hunched, trying to make themselves as small as possible, just in case. “It can’t be later than eight now. It should still be open.” His tone was wary, and Gus knew that he was vividly recalling the last time he’d been shot and had tried to call someone for help. He’d ended up in a worse situation than he’d already been in.

Gus patted Shawn gently on the back. “We’ve got two sets of eyes now. You’re not on your own this time. We’ll see it from a mile away if anything’s wrong. But first, we need to try to stop the bleeding.”

He sensed rather than saw Shawn bob his head in a curt nod. Exhaustion rolled off him in waves. Gus quickly removed his own jacket – at least it wasn’t his nicest one – and ripped the sleeve off. On TV shows, tearing apart a piece of clothing looked easy. Gus was sweating by the time he’d separated the garment into two pieces, and his hands had cramped up. He had to rely on the light of the moon – brighter now that they were out of the woods and not huddled in a ditch – to quickly but carefully wrap the sleeve around Shawn’s upper arm. He tied it, pulling tightly. Shawn barely managed to temper a cry of pain.

“Sorry, Shawn,” Gus breathed, eyes prickling at the sound of his friend’s agony, and the knowledge that he had caused it. He gave Shawn a couple of precious seconds to recover, but the bad guys could be back any moment. They needed to move. “You okay, buddy?”

Shawn managed another nod. Gus supported him as they made their crouching, tiptoed way to the road and walked along the side, hidden just within the treeline.

***

The hospital didn’t keep Shawn overnight, but they might as well have. It was nearly five in the morning by the time they trudged into Shawn’s dad’s house – Henry had insisted that Shawn stay with him; Shawn on painkillers was an unpredictable disaster waiting to happen if he were left alone. Shawn had been too strung out on the drugs and exhausted from all that had happened to him to do much protesting. He’d tried to argue but fallen asleep halfway through his third point (“I have leftover tacos in my fridge, and I know you sure as hell don’t. Home is where the tacos are.”).

It had been a rough nine hours. The trek to the diner had been slow and arduous, especially for Shawn, whose injury, despite being a flesh wound, bled through the bandage – it had taken all of Gus’s resolve not to puke at the metallic tang of blood in the air. This, in turn, made Shawn lethargic. Thankfully, the diner was still open, and nobody there was working with the criminals down the way. They’d thought they were renting the lake house for a family reunion or something. Shawn and Gus had made quite the spectacle staggering in, dirty, panting, Shawn’s right sleeve stained with blood. A couple paying for their meal gave Gus a cell phone, and they called Lassie and Jules. They didn’t make it to the hospital before Shawn was released, as they were taking care of the mess at the lake house. Around three-thirty, Gus got the call that all of the perps had been rounded up and that they were en route to the station for interrogation.

At least they didn’t have to wait in the waiting room. Gunshot wounds trumped most illnesses and injuries on the urgency factor. Gus had called Henry while Shawn was taken back to a curtained room, and they’d both joined Shawn as the doctor had just begun to stitch up the entrance and exit wounds.

They’d given him a blood transfusion and a hefty morphine shot, and kept an eye on him for the next several hours. Then, when they felt he was doing well enough, they’d packed him a goody bag filled with prescriptions, instructional packets on cleaning and caring for GSWs, pamphlets on recognizing infections, and a metric ton of gauze and bandages. A still-drugged Shawn raised his good hand and whooped on the wheelchair ride to the car like he was on a roller coaster (though Gus had a feeling Shawn would have done the same thing had he been completely sober). Between Gus, the amused nurse steering the hospital-themed ride, and Henry, Shawn had been bundled into Henry’s truck, and then Gus squeezed himself in from the driver’s side, and soon found himself wedged uncomfortably between his best friend and his best friend’s father.

Shawn had fallen asleep with his head on Gus’s shoulder before they got out of the parking lot.

And now they were at Henry’s, Shawn in a pile on the couch, nestled under a protective hedge of blankets and snoring softly. His right arm was bandaged and in a sling, strapped tightly to his chest. He’d be in the sling for a week, at least. It didn’t look comfortable, but with the painkillers, Shawn probably could have slept on a bed of cacti and been just as content.

Henry had insisted Gus stay the night since the Blueberry had been left at the lake house (if only they could have found the keys that had been taken from them before they’d made a run for it; none of this might have happened at all!). Gus graciously didn’t point out that the night was basically over at this point anyway. He wanted to stay with Shawn for a while and knew Henry needed to sleep. And he was holding out hope that Shawn’s dad might make pancakes when everyone was awake.

After double checking that his son was sleeping soundly and safe on the couch, Henry offered Gus a weary “‘Night,” and stumbled up the stairs to get a few more hours of rest. He’d been up all night, as had Gus. Shawn was the only one who’d gotten any sleep at all.

Even though Henry had offered to let Gus sleep in Shawn’s old bed, Gus stayed in the recliner, burrowing into the comfy cushions and pulling a throw over his weary body. He didn’t think he would be able to sleep, with the events of the past night swirling in his head. And then there lingering guilt, that question of if, in looking back, he had distracted Shawn, made him a target.

But he fell asleep almost at once.

***

He awoke to the smell of pancakes.

The Super Sniffer caught hold of the scent before his mind had even woken up, and he was sniffing hungrily at the air before he cracked his eyes open.

A laugh sounded from the couch, a bit weak, but instantly recognizable as Shawn’s. “You’re like that old hound dog from Lady and the Tramp,” he commented. Gus struggled to a sitting position, as the chair had made a valiant effort to absorb him while he was sleeping, and then glared at his friend.

“Pancakes, Shawn,” was all he said in rebuttal. He studied his best friend, who was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, a brazen move considering Henry was just in the kitchen and could pop in at any time. His face was still pale from blood loss and the remnants of pain the medicine couldn’t completely squash. His eyes had a glazed quality to them, and his arm was still strapped to his torso. But overall, he looked better than he had last night.

Gus extracted himself from the recliner and sat down next to Shawn on the couch, who had turned back to the TV. It was mid-October, so ABC had been playing reruns of the Harry Potter movies for the past few days. The Chamber of Secrets played out before them, and they watched it in companionable silence for a bit, with the occasional sound of clattering from the kitchen mingling with the sounds of the film. Gus felt the tension rising within him, though, as his mind wandered from Lockhart’s class on Cornish pixies to the way things had transpired the night before.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he muted the TV right as Neville was flown up toward the ceiling by his ears. Shawn glanced over questioningly. Closer up, he looked much more subdued and drained, and Gus could see the lingering discomfort in the tightness at the corners of his mouth and in the way he didn’t complain about Gus’s interrupting the movie.

“Shawn… listen. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting his friend to say, it apparently hadn’t been that. Shawn’s brows furrowed over hazel eyes. “Why?” A beat. “Are you going back on your promise of Froyo?”

Gus gave a half-hearted chuckle. “No, but… I didn’t listen to you. I stopped and turned back. And then you got shot. And I’m sorry.”

Now Shawn’s entire face contorted in befuddlement. “You think that I got shot because you… turned around?”

“You were right – I needed to run, to keep moving. You’d made yourself a small target while you rested, and you were doing a good job of catching up. If I hadn’t stopped and distracted you, if you hadn’t reached our arm out to wave at me…” He trailed off, guiltily.

For the second time in the ten minutes since Gus had woken up, Shawn laughed at him. “Dude, what is it you’re always saying about casualties not meaning coronations? You know, when I accuse someone without any evidence and you get all pissy about it?”

Gus rolled his eyes. “It’s causation does not equal correlation. It means that just because two things happen around the same time, one didn’t necessarily cause the other.” He was so used to correcting Shawn automatically that it took a moment for his own words to sink in, for him to realize what exactly it was that Shawn had done.

Shawn grinned, and though it was a bit muted, it was also infectious. “See?” he prompted. “You said it yourself. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d kept running or not. I was in the line of fire either way.”

Gus felt some of the weight lift from his chest, but he couldn't get the scene out of his mind – Shawn yelling, Run, don’t look back! Gus stopping, turning around. The report of a gun. Shawn dropping to the ground. In that moment, Gus hadn’t known where Shawn had been hit. For all he’d known, his best friend could have been dead. And he couldn’t shake the instant replay.

Shawn nudged his leg against Gus’s, dragging his attention away from his glum thoughts. “Seriously, Gus,” he said, his voice even and lucid, despite the prescriptions he was currently on. “It’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you at all. In fact, you’re the reason I made it out alive at all.”

The fist around Gus’s heart loosened its hold a bit more. He breathed in deeply. “Really?”

A troubled look flickered for just a moment in Shawn’s eyes. “I’ve been shot and on the run before, man.” Gus knew this, of course, and Shawn knew full well that he knew. But Gus stayed quiet and let him speak his mind. “And I gotta tell you – being alone is terrifying.”

“It was still terrifying with the two of us,” Gus argued blandly.

“Yeah, but,” Shawn said, studying the fingernails of his left hand like they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen. “I wasn’t alone, so.” He left off awkwardly, but Gus felt as if new life had been breathed into him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Shawn,” he said.

“Thanks, man.”

From the kitchen, Henry’s voice called out, “You two are adorable. Now get your asses in here before the pancakes get cold.”

Shawn and Gus grinned at each other, and Gus gently helped a woozy Shawn to his feet. On the way to the kitchen, he let Shawn lean on him, like he always did.

The pancakes were the best Gus had ever tasted. They tasted of chocolate chips, and maple syrup, and the sweet, sweet nectar of friendship.

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in-my-head-i-do-everything-right · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Basically the entirety of “I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys but more specifically “secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours

secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. maybe I just wanna be yours

In October, while she’s still riding the high of absolutely demolishing Greg Dewey in mock trial, she finds out that the hot guy who’s always standing outside the library after her 3 PM post mock trial coffee break was the one who said that shitty thing about her sister two years ago while walking out of a debate competition—a competition Allie is ninety percent sure he won, by the way. And sure, he looks hot as fuck leaning against that exposed brick in his Tom Ford coat. Which, arguably is his right. To look hot. But, still.

He said the shitty thing about her sister. Allie’s still a little pissed about that. Which is her right.

“You’re Harry Bingham, right?” she asks, just to make sure. God, his name is so… Waspy. Pure Wasp. Bingham. She’s bets his family came over on the Mayflower. She bets they’re proud of that.

He smirks down at her. Smirks. He literally smirks. “Who’s asking?”

She can’t get over the smirk. Like, is it hot? Yes. Is she incredibly annoyed at him already? Big yes. “Who do you think is asking?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. It’s a really nice navy. Allie’s honestly a big fan of the coat. “If you’re asking…”

“It’s a yes or no question,” she snaps, her arms flailing a little, her coffee sloshing around in her cup. She paid five dollars for it from the student run coffee shop and she doubts it was at all worth it. But she made a promise, okay? A promise to her sister that she’d support small businesses. Which has pretty much only meant stopping with the daily Starbucks, but Cassandra doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I’m Harry Bingham. Why?” How was that smooth? No, Allie would seriously like to know. How did he make that sound smooth? How is that possible?

“Did you do debate in high school?”

His brow scrunches. His head tilts. He still looks hot. “Why—”

“Another yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where this conversation is going in real time, “I did debate in high school.”

She smiles. It’s not a proper smile, more of a half-smile. A smug smile? Doesn’t matter. “Great. Do you remember Cassandra Pressman?”

Harry’s face lights up briefly, probably with recognition. “Yeah, I remember Cassandra. She’s hard to forget. Very… intense.”

“Well,” Allie says, stretching out the word. God, she hates men. “I’m her sister, and from what I can remember, you said some pretty shitty stuff about her, and were, just in general, a complete and total asshole.”

“Excuse—”

“A misogynistic asshole, actually. And you know what, this coffee is shit anyway so—” In one fluid movement, an honestly graceful movement, a movement that Allie is—no matter how disappointed she knows her parents will be in her—proud of, she dumps her shitty five dollar coffee all over the front of his Tom Ford coat.

He lets out this pained sounding gasp that half resembles a mess of curses, and she walks away victorious and mostly guilt free.

Two hours later, he follows her on Instagram. She does not follow him back (even though she thinks about it because… hot dude), and that feels really good too.

With a start like that, they shouldn’t make it anywhere. Still…

In November, she runs into him in line at the student run coffee shop. Which just furthers the point that she needs to stop going there.

“Allie Pressman,” he says, and if he wasn’t so hot, so might be a little creeped out. But, also, she does know his name. So maybe they’re even?

“Hi,” she says, semi-awkwardly. About as awkward as can be expected when you run into the guy you dumped a whole coffee on. Also, turns out setting was not what was making him so attractive. No surprises there, but still something to take note of.

“Thought you said the coffee here was shitty.”

She purses her lips. “Well, I have Pfeiffer this semester, so while the coffee here is,” she lowers her voice just a little. God, she loves being dramatic, “incredibly shitty, I definitely need the caffeine.”

“Oh,” he visibly winces, “sorry about Pfeiffer’s class.” And, then, just before they reach the front of the line, “Let me buy you a coffee? To make up for the fact that you will be getting very little sleep this semester?”

She tilts her head to the side. Who the fuck is this boy, and how much is he willing to spend on coffee? “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee. Because… well, you know.”

It’s a half-grin half-smirk this time. And it is, arguably, much more disarming. “My friends and I have taken to calling it The Incident,” he supplies, and oh he’s funny too. Fuck.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” She is not, in fact, at all sorry about The Incident. However, Hot Guy (he does have a name, and she does know said name, but… well) is about to buy her a coffee, and judging by the Rolex on his wrist, price does not matter.

He shrugs. “I had it coming. And I’m sorry about the shit I said about Cassandra.” Allie’s mouth doesn’t necessarily fall open, but it almost falls open, and that counts for something. White boy admits he made a mistake. This is first page news. “I was stupid and upset and probably a little high. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He levels her this easy grin. This content grin. This… I am one step ahead of you grin. “I messaged your sister on Facebook a very lengthy and somewhat heartfelt apology a year ago.”

They are officially at the front of the line. Allie does not care. “Cassandra hasn’t checked her Facebook since 2018.”

“That sounds like a her problem.”

Allie ignores that. “Hi,” she says to the cashier. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso please.”

Harry looks equal parts disgusted and appreciative. And a little bit concerned. Which is valid. “Small black coffee for me.”

“And can I also get one of those brownies, and two of those turkey shaped sugar cookies,” she turns to him. Spending someone else’s money on food is fun. “Don’t they just look so cute?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding amused and looking way too endeared. “They look very cute. You plan on sharing with me?”

She should not be playing along with this. “Maybe.”

He follows her outside, catching the door and holding it open for her. It’s raining, which sorta sucks, but she has no plans on actually sitting down with this boy. That feels like a step too far.

Only, then—“My place is just around the corner,” he says, so fucking casually. And, God, how is she supposed to respond to that? “I’ll trade you one of those cookies for my notes from Pfeiffer’s course.”

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This is not good. “You paid for the cookies.”

“I know.”

Fuck.

“Okay, let’s go to your place.”

They have sex five times over the course of a week before her conscious tells her to stop. Then, she tries avoiding him for the rest of November but gives up two days after Thanksgiving. Because she’s not immune to anybody who calls to offere her left over pumpkin pie, okay. Fucking sue her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says right off the bat, and he lets out this laugh that involves him throwing his head back. And that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and she should not be feeling this warm inside because it is literally snowing right now.

“Where should you be, Pressman?”

“Studying for my polisci midterm.”

He continues looking at her way too fondly. Her cheeks flush a pale pink. She blames the change in temperature. “You have Craven?”

“Yeah.”

He does this little waving motion that is much hotter than it should be. One day she will find a thing he looks unattractive doing. Today is not the day. “Don’t even worry about it. Easiest test I ever took.”

“I should still probably be studying for it.”

He shakes his head, and that makes her laugh even though she very much does not want to. “You seem pretty smart. Don’t worry about it.”

That was… comforting.

“You know, I kinda like what we have going,” he says, and nope her heart should not be beating anywhere near as hard as it is. Is she having a heart attack? Oh, God, is she about to die? Is she about to die in Harry Bingham’s apartment? Cassandra is going to be so disappointed.

“And what exactly is this that we have going?” she manages to get out. Yeah, Allie can practically taste Cassandra’s disappointment.

“Eating baked goods and having sex. Obviously.”

She chokes on her bite of pumpkin pie.

“So if you wanna get dinner sometime…” he continues, as though she is not choking right in front of him.

She manages to dislodge the piece of pumpkin pie in her throat. If that shit wasn’t so fucking delicious, she would be swearing it off right now. “Would you be paying?”

He looks surprised. That counts as a victory. “Yes?”

“Then no, I’m good.”

“Why?” he asks, just a little too quickly, and, yeah, his composure is entirely gone, and they are once more on an equal playing field. Arguably, she might have the upper hand right now. Which is nice.

“Because that sounds a lot like a date, and I do not want to date you.”

To his credit, he only looks sort of hurt. She takes another bite of that pumpkin pie. Who cares if it might kill her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister’s high school debate rival, and that just feels a little too it’s a small world for me.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it’s a valid one, isn’t it?”

“No, not really.” Well. At least he’s being honest.

“Look, Harry.” First name and everything. This is called progress. “You’re nice and all—really great baked goods—but Cassandra would give me that disappointed face if it ever came out that I’m… associated with you. And, honestly, I can’t handle that right now. Mentally—nope. Not happening.” She sounds flustered. She feels flustered.

“Okay?” She is taking that answer as a win.

“Great!” Too bright. “Hopefully we can stay friends? Or at least the type of acquaintances who buy the other fun shaped sugar cookies and give them the notes to classes so they have a chance to not fail.”

He stares at her, a bit like he doesn’t think she’s real, like he’s marveling at everything that she is. That or she has pumpkin pie crumbs all over her face. And, then: “Actually,” he starts, and oh God, this is not going to go her way is it?

“What?” she says very slowly.

“You know what?”

“What?” She repeats.This is already getting annoying.

“You know what’s hot?”

“What?” (But with additional fear this time.)

“Secret relationships.”

Oh. Oh Fuck.

She doesn’t have an argument for that.

Honestly, that’s probably the moment that it all starts.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

#lol i doubt this is what you wanted #so i'm sorry abt that #this also Does Not address the prompt #i kept telling myself that it would #nope #never happened #this is more the start to a very long and somewhat angsty fic about them in a not-a-relationship relationship #but then i got bored #maybe i'll finish it one day #(also. to the person who just sent all those folklore lyrics. i see you. and i cannot wait to write angst.)#hallie #the society #drabble

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nicolewrites · 5 years

Text

someone to carry me home

Stranger Things 3. What a ride. So here's to hijacked motivation and my eternal sadness at how my favourite ST couple were treated this season.

Rating: T Genre: Friendship and Romance Characters: [Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair], Dustin, Eleven, Mike, Will Words: 7,342

"Max Mayfield likes a very specific list of things: rockstars, skateboards, old fashioned arcades, California, and sarcasm. Notably, people do not rank high on her list of positive things. Neither does Indiana and yet here she is." Lucas and Max and a memorable first year.

AO3 | FFN

Max Mayfield likes a very specific list of things: rockstars, skateboards, old fashioned arcades, California, and sarcasm. Notably, people do not rank high on her list of positive things. Neither does Indiana and yet here she is.

Purdue is a good school. Purdue is, really, a great school, and she should be pleased to be here, but as she drags her suitcase behind her into the elevator, all she can think of is the acceptance letter to UCLA that she had pinned above her desk. Max sighs and jams the button for the ninth floor.

UCLA would have been great, but Max couldn’t stay in California. She had had to leave the city, leave the state, and get as far away as possible to somewhere that her mother and her stepfather and Billy would never even consider visiting. So she picked Purdue and now she is here in Indiana for god knows why.

Thankfully her room isn’t too far from the elevator, and she manages to lug all her stuff in after only two trips. There is a little cloud with her name scribbled in it on her door and she quickly rips it down. She glances up and down the hallway, but no one seems to be out of their room, so she slips into her room and closes the door.

She doesn’t have a roommate–thank god–and her dorm room is small and pretty old, but it’s better than the pictures she had seen. She drops her suitcase to the ground with a heavy thud and dumps her backpack on the bare mattress of the bed. She sits on the mattress and exhales slowly.

It took entirely too long for her eighteenth birthday to come so that her mother was comfortable with letting her leave, but she was out. She was away from her stepdad and away from Billy and she, if it could be helped, was never going back. She had moved to Indiana for school so she figured she would throw herself into school for four years, get a job, and move out of Indiana, even further away from California.

There is a loud thud from the room to her right which is followed by a loud, feminine giggle. Max flops back on her bed and sighs. She’s pretty sure the people who room on that side of her are boys, so that means at least one of them probably has a girlfriend. The walls in dorms are notoriously thin and now she can look forward to sex noises on top of everything else.

This is why Max doesn’t like people.

It’s a week and a half into classes before Max finally meets one of her neighbours. Surprisingly, the room has been pretty quiet, other than the occasional chatter, but she has heard a girl’s voice here and there. She’s just stepping into the elevator to head back to her room after a particularly exhausting chemistry lecture when a guy darts forward and holds the elevator door open so he can slip inside. He smiles at her and reaches to press a button, but freezes when he sees that she’s already pushed the one for the ninth floor.

“You’re on nine, too?” he asks.

She glances at him and takes in his appearance. He’s dark-skinned with sharp eyes and a whip-crack smile and Max almost lets herself think that he’s cute before she nods to answer his question.

He shuffles his feet and his smile wavers with his nerves for a second. “Cool, what room are you?”

“982,” she answers because she might as well humour him, if at least for the elevator ride.

His brow rises. “I’m in 984, so we must be right next to each other.”

Max immediately quashes any thoughts of his good looks because if this is her neighbour, it’s definitely his girlfriend that she’s heard through the wall. “Yeah,” she replies idly. She glances at the elevator display as the number six shifts into a seven. Still two floors to go.

“I don’t think I ever saw your nameplate,” he continues and Max exhales because she really just wants this stupid cute neighbour to shut up. “What’s your name?”

“Max,” she replies shortly. She doesn’t bother asking for his name, because then she has a name to match a face, which is something she really doesn’t want.

Of course, because he’s that type of guy, he gives one anyways. “I’m Lucas. Engineering student,” he says. He holds out a hand and Max knows that it would be the ultimate asshole move not to shake it, so she does.

“Chemistry,” she offers in return.

Lucas grins. “Wicked, chem’s a tough one.”

Max shrugs. “As long as I’m not writing essays.”

“Ha, yeah you’re talking to an engineer there, so I agree.”

His wit makes her crack a smile right as the elevator dings and the doors open onto their floor. Max steps out and Lucas follows her, keeping pace as they walk towards their rooms. Max stops in front of her room and digs in her pocket for her room key. Lucas hovers, a little awkwardly, just to her right in front of his own door.

“My roommate, some friends from high school and I are going out for dinner tonight, if you were interested in joining us at all.”

Max bites her lip. “I would, but I’ve got a lab in two days that I really need to prepare for. Thanks anyways though.”

Lucas shrugs and slides a hand into one of his pockets. “I didn’t think there was any harm in asking.”

Max turns the key in her lock and opens her door. She steals one last look at the cute neighbour. “No, not really.” He gives her a lop-sided smile as she slips inside her room.

She drops her bag to the floor and sighs deeply. She’s here for school, not to get distracted by cute boys, even if they live next door. Besides, he’s attractive enough that the girlfriend next door must be his so it doesn’t matter anyway.

Because, of course, it turns out that Max and her cute neighbour run the same schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They both get back from class or dinner or the library at 7:30 sharp and take the elevator to the ninth floor together.

Max tries really hard not to care, but Lucas is cute and funny and genuinely interesting to talk to. Plus, when she calls him ‘Stalker’ his smile gets a little lopsided and her heart does flips when he calls her ‘Mad Max’, so frankly, they fall into an easy routine of teasing and what might be–though Max isn’t hopeful–flirting.

Whoever arrives in the lobby of the residence building pushes the elevator button first, but they always get on together. Lucas asks her about class and labs and she asks him about Indiana and if there is anything interesting out in the middle of nowhere both at school and where he’s from.

Max doesn’t make many other friends, a few from her classes, but it’s nice to be able to say that she and Lucas are definitely beyond acquaintances now. Plus, he’s still cute, so she can’t really complain. She’s a little confused as to why she and Lucas appear to be meeting up so often when she still hasn’t met his roommate or the girlfriend.

It’s mid-October and the first Midwestern winter chills are blowing in on the day that she meets the girlfriend. Max jerks her jean jacket tightly around her as she scurries into the building lobby, huffing out cold air. It’s a Wednesday, which means no Lucas, so she heads right for the elevators.

There’s another girl waiting for the elevators, her hands behind her back as she rocks onto her toes. Max avoids eye contact as she normally does with all people, but she can’t help but notice that the girl doesn’t look familiar at all, something unusual considering Max recognizes most people who live in the building now. Not to mention that with curly, shoulder-length brown hair and a delicate face, the girl is really, really pretty.

The elevators ding and Max slips inside first, quickly punching the button for her floor. The girl follows, and hesitates, exactly like Lucas had done back in September.

A needle of doubt pricks in Max’s stomach and the selfish part of her brain chants, Don’t be his girlfriend, don’t be his girlfriend.

The girl snaps suddenly, pointing at Max. “Oh! You’re Max! Lucas mentioned you!”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m Max.”

The girl smiled. “Jane Hopper, but everyone just calls me El.” She stuck a hand out and Max awkwardly shook it.

Any hopes she had been harbouring of the pretty girl not being Lucas’s girlfriend shrivel and die. Max forces a smile and adjusts her backpack. She glances at the elevator monitor: four floors left.

“You’re the girlfriend then?”

El laughs. “Wow, I’m already getting that name. I guess I am.”

Max smirks a little. “I’m glad the walls are thicker than the residence reviews said they would be.”

Her quip finally triggers a response in the girl as her cheeks flare red instantly as she giggles nervously. Max waves her off.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she adds as an afterthought.

El smiles. For a blissful moment, there is silence before it is broken again. “Hey, I know Lucas has tried to invite you out with our friends before, but we’re going out tonight again and it would be super cool if you joined us.”

Max blinks in surprise. Lucas inviting her out was one thing because they were neighbours and sort of friends, but his girlfriend doing the same? Max casts her a look, suddenly feeling shy. She isn’t used to having female friends so the eagerness in El’s voice is new.

El smiles brightly again and Max finds herself nodding before she can really think. “Ok, sure,” she replied.

“Cool! Why don’t you drop your stuff and get whatever you need from your room and then just knock on the boys' door when you’re ready?”

The doors slide open on the ninth floor and Max’s time to backpedal evaporates. “Sounds good,” she forces out.

El smiles and the two girls walk side by side to the neighbouring rooms. El pauses to glance at Max’s door before turning and knocking on Lucas’s. “See you shortly!”

Max quickly slips inside her room so she doesn’t have to see Lucas greet his girlfriend. She tosses her school bag onto her dresser and falls face-first onto her bed, groaning. At the very least this event would force her to meet more people, she thinks despondently. She pushes herself up and glances at her mirror.

She’s wearing a vintage t-shirt emblazoned with The Eagles logo paired with ripped black jeans and her trusty jean jacket. It’s a look she is proud of and she sees no reason to change. She grabs her purse and keys, runs her fingers through her curly red hair and slides out the door.

It takes her two full seconds of standing in the hallway to gather the courage to knock, but she finally does, rapping her knuckles against the wood three times.

The door swings open almost immediately and Max comes face to face with a grinning Lucas. He’s wearing a plain blue t-shirt and grey jeans, but he makes it look effortlessly attractive and Max quashes down the internal girliness which was scoping him out.

“Max, hey! El said you were going to join us tonight!” Lucas’s smile is easy-going and familiar and Max relaxes just a little. “Come on in,” he says, opening the door wider.

She steps in and takes in the room. It’s bigger than her room, with two desks, two closets, and two beds. Both sides are covered with various geek memorabilia. As she steps in, her gaze is drawn to El and the boy next to her that she presumes to be Lucas’s roommate.

El and the roommate are sitting on the bed that she presumes to be not-Lucas’s and the guy has an arm slung around El’s shoulders as they chat easily. El’s eyes are bright and happy as she looks up at him. It only takes a second for everything to click in Max’s mind.

El isn’t Lucas’s girlfriend. She is Lucas’s roommate’s girlfriend. The petty, jealous part of her instantly disappears and Max is relieved to suddenly be able to breathe again.

“Max, this is El, as you know, and my roommate, Mike, her boyfriend,” Lucas introduces as he walks up behind her suddenly.

Mike grins at her. He was cute too, but certainly not her type. He’s all lank with a messy mop of dark hair and a light spattering of freckles. “Nice to finally meet you, neighbour. I’ve heard all about you from Lucas, but it’s funny we’ve never met.”

Max laughs, her chest suddenly lighter. “Nice to meet you too, Mike.”

There’s a short, almost awkward pause, before there’s another knock at the door. Lucas spins and heads to open it. Max glances back and sees him embrace whoever is at the door. Lucas steps aside and a guy with the wildest, curliest hair Max has ever seen steps in, grinning broadly.

“You must be Max! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the new guy says. He steps forward and sticks out a hand.

Max shakes it and takes in his appearance. He’s wearing jeans and a rumpled Back to the Future shirt with a green and yellow baseball cap. “Max Mayfield, the, apparently,” she pauses, giving Lucas a sly look, “infamous neighbour.”

Lucas just gives her a smile that makes her stomach flip. The new guy sizes her up.

“I’m Dustin, and I’m definitely the coolest out of any of these guys, so don’t worry about a thing around me.”

Lucas, Mike, and El all laugh at this statement and Max feels a genuine smile lift her lips too. “Good to know,” she replies teasingly. Friends, her brain thinks giddily, I think these people want to actually be my friends.

As it turns out, Dustin is the craziest and everyone in the party loves to argue. After Dustin’s arrival, the group had set out for a retro diner nearby where they met up with Will and Joe. Will was apparently a part of the original friend group from small-town Indiana, while Joe, Will’s boyfriend, is a new addition that attends the high-scale Arts Institution that Will studies at in Lafayette.

They had crammed together into one of those oddly circular booths with El and Mike and Will and Joe smushing together. Max slides in next to El and Lucas follows her in, while Dustin sits on Joe’s other side. The group is incredibly welcoming, telling funny stories and light-hearted jokes while catching up on school and social lives and stories from home.

They eat greasy burgers and fries and Max laughs so hard her stomach hurts. Joe’s arm tucks around Will and Mike’s does the same around El. Dustin doesn’t bat an eye at any of it and neither does Lucas, so Max just assumes that the behaviour is absolutely normal for the group. At some point through the meal, Lucas’s arm drapes along the top of the booth behind Max and she almost desperately wishes for it to drop down against her shoulder.

Still, she feels optimistic about things and ribs Lucas in time with the other friends and joins him in teasing Dustin or Mike about one thing or another. Joe and Will are the first to head out since they have to head across town back to their campus and El and Mike leave next, heading, apparently to El’s dorm. Dustin shrugs bids Max and Lucas goodbye, heading back to his own place.

Lucas and her walk back together, a companionable silence settling between them.

“Your friends are cool,” Max admits as they finally reach the entrance to their building.

Lucas grins. “I’ll add you to our group chat. I think everyone really likes you and you should definitely hang out with us again. Plus, I think El will love not being the only girl around.”

Max smiles faintly as she reaches out to punch the elevator button. Her hand gets there a split second before Lucas’s and his finger jabs onto hers and she recoils sharply. Lucas blinks in surprise and they make awkward eye contact before they both burst out laughing.

“Wow, that was stupid,” he chuckles.

Max grins. “Yes, it was, Stalker.”

The elevator doors open and they step in together. Lucas pushes the button for nine and the doors slide shut. There’s an awkward pause before he looks at her.

“Hey, do you want to come over and watch a movie? I have a whole collection of stupid retro films I think you’d like.”

Max finds herself smiling stupidly. “Only if we get to watch in my room. I’m almost 100 percent certain my bed will be more comfortable.”

Lucas laughs and Max’s stomach flips again. “Whatever helps you sleep better.”

She jabs her elbow against his ribs, smirking. “Literally.”

He snorts. “That one was bad, Mad Max.”

She shrugs. “You set me up for it.”

The one thing Max had not expected from befriending the Party, as they called themselves, was the sheer amount of nerdiness that came with them. Sure, she is studying Chemistry, but nothing prepared her for Engineer-Lucas, Biochemist-Dustin, Physicist-Mike, and Art Major-Will in full on geek mode. Sure, seeing Lucas and Mike’s room might have warned her, but when someone knocks on her door at 7pm on a random Friday night, she isn’t expecting El and Joe to ask her to save them.

Apparently, Friday nights are exclusively reserved for the Party’s D&D sessions. Max has no issues with the game itself, just the fact that it routinely means shouting from next door as she tries to study. It does mean, however, that she gets to hang out with El and Joe a lot and make fun of their boyfriends and friends.

The one night she had dared sit in on a session out of morbid curiosity had been hilarious and actually almost interesting enough to sit in on a second, but the instant she had been asked by Lucas what she had thought, El had shaken her head frantically, telling Max that it was a terrible idea.

So Friday’s become El-Max-Joe nights while the party plays D&D next door, and Saturday nights become Lucas-Max nights as they watch stupid 80s and 90s movies or really terrible horror movies. Dustin joins them occasionally, but it’s mostly just Lucas and Max. Max loves Saturdays, but some part of her wedged deep inside refuses to let her ask Lucas if he thinks that their movie nights are kind of like date nights.

The party makes plans to go home for Thanksgiving and Max ignores the calls from her mother insisting that she come home and she prepares to stay at school and be lonely. She isn’t expecting Lucas to stare at her like she’s lost her head when she says she isn’t going home. She also definitely isn’t expecting him to invite her back to small-town Hawkins to celebrate with his family. Not sure what else to do, she accepts, and the grin he gives her makes it worth it.

The drive back to Hawkins is three hours and her, Dustin, and Lucas all take turns DJing and singing along terribly to loud music. The three of them carpool in Lucas’s car and he drives the whole way since Lucas mentions something about Dustin being a terrible driver. Max just laughs and calls shotgun, delegating Dustin to the backseat.

Hawkins is a criminally small town, but from the stories she has heard from the Party, it looks exactly like she expects. Lucas points out the Sheriff’s office where El’s dad works and the general store where Will’s mom works and the tiny post office where Mike’s sister and Will’s brother both work part-time.

They drop Dustin off first, and all the nervousness that Max had been suppressing returns full-force as she realizes she is about to spend an entire weekend with Lucas and his family. Lucas doesn’t pick up on it until he pulls up outside a quaint two-story house and he looks over at her.

“Jesus, Max, you’re white as a sheet. Are you okay?” His hand finds hers where it sits limply on the console.

The touch is reassuring and gentle and Max exhales slowly. “Yeah, I guess I’m just grateful to be here. You really didn’t have to do this.”

Lucas shakes his head. “Hey, my family is legendary for Thanksgiving celebrations. I want you to be here, and I know my family will love you.”

His confidence bolsters her own and she nods finally. “Okay, yeah, let’s do this.”

Lucas’s mom is incredibly nice. His dad’s a little rougher, but still warm and welcoming and Max understands where Lucas’s kindness has come from. His family home is cozy and generous and a little loud, but it feels like a home. Lucas and his sister Erica bicker relentlessly, but the smiles that play on the faces of both parents let Max realize that this is exceedingly normal.

Compared to the brother-sister relationship she knows, and the relationship she has seen between her mother and step-father, everything that she sees at the Sinclair’s is a huge breath of fresh air. Their adoration and love for each other shine through even in the barbed insults that get traded by the siblings. Still, Max loves Erica and her sass and Lucas’s parents for being so incredibly kind to her.

They set her up in the guest bedroom and she sinks onto the mattress slowly, exhaling. It’s almost overwhelming, the amount of love that is in this house. And it hurts to know that this is the kind of thing she missed out on back in California. She doesn’t realize how long she just sits there numbly until Lucas is knocking on the doorframe.

He looks a bit concerned at her expression and he wanders in and sits next to her. “Earth to Max? Are you okay?”

Max shakes herself. “Yeah, yeah I’m great, actually. It’s just nice to be in a place where Thanksgiving is a happy thing.” She bites her tongue after she speaks and expects a prying question in response, but as always, Lucas tactfully avoids making her uncomfortable.

“My mom likes you already. Be careful, or you might find yourself invited back for Christmas and Easter.” He says it like it’s something terrible and Max laughs weakly. Spending the holidays with people who are pleasant and don’t throw fists and scalding words at every opportunity has been her dream since her mother married Neil.

Max leans her head against Lucas’s shoulder. He tenses for a moment before he relaxes, resting his head atop hers. “Thanks, Lucas,” she mumbles softly.

Thanksgiving is a respite, a light in her darkness, and she feeds off of the feeling of family that it left her long past November and into December as Lucas drops her off at the airport to fly home to California for Christmas. They’re wearing matching grey sweaters with ‘Purdue’ on them in gold and Max gives him a last smile before she slips out of his car.

She’s grabbing her suitcase from his trunk when he walks up beside her. He places it on the ground and pulls her into a sudden hug. She squeezes him back and has to force back tears as he pulls away. She’s going to miss him and the whole party over the break, but it’s only just two weeks. A part of her wants to just jump back into the car and go to his place with him where his mother’s smile and cooking and his father’s jokes and stories and Erica’s stubborn sass will have her laughing till her sides hurt, but she has to go home eventually.

Christmas sucks. Dinner is burnt and dry and tense and by the time Max gets on a flight back to school in the beginning of January, her Purdue sweater is hiding several bruises and a healing cigarette burn on her shoulders and arms. She was decidedly not coming home for summer, and not everyone in the house had been pleased with that news.

Mike and El pick her up from the airport because Lucas isn’t back from Hawkins yet, but Max is still incredibly glad to see the couple. They chat on and on about their break and how much fun they had and how they got the whole group together except her and how obviously she was missed. Max smiles and sinks into the seat, relishing the fact that she was back in Indiana and that Billy and Neil were in California and it would be a long while before she would see them again.

In early March, the whole party finds themselves at a house party halfway between Will and Joe’s art school, and El’s dorm on the east end of campus. The party is loud. Some popular rap song is blaring through the house, physically shaking it, but Max is buzzed enough that she’s still having a good time. She and El had just finished destroying Mike and Dustin in a game of pong and now she was standing with Lucas and Dustin to one side of the room after Mike and El had disappeared to dance.

Dustin drains the last of his drink and looks in both Lucas and Max’s cups. They’re both nearly done too so Dustin taps the bottoms of them to encourage them to finish. Max tips hers back, swallowing the last of the cheap beer and passes it to Dustin with a sly grin. Lucas follows her lead.

“I shall return fair maiden and sir,” Dustin says jokingly as he takes all three cups and vanishes to the back of the house, leaving Max and Lucas alone.

Lucas opens his mouth to say something, but as he does, the rap song abruptly changes to an AC/DC song that Max doesn’t completely hate and she grins.

“Wanna dance, Stalker?”

Lucas gives her a lopsided smile. “Sure thing, Mad Max.”

She grabs his hand and tugs him to the edge of the dance floor. Her hands land on his shoulders as she shimmies to the pounding beat, singing along with the rest of the party. Lucas’s hands find her waist and they move together. He doesn’t sing, but Max notices his eyes don’t leave her face at all and he looks happy. The dance makes her deliriously happy: she’s drunk and dancing with her friend/neighbour/definitely crush and it’s a good night.

Everything is going great right up until the moment she feels a pair of firm hands fall deliberately onto her ass. Max wheels around, hands flying up to shove the guy molesting her, but they meet a solid chest and the guy doesn’t budge.

“What the hell?” she demands angrily. “Keep your hands to yourself, asshole.”

The guy smirks and looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the deep scoop of her shirt. “Hey, an ass like this should be dancing with a guy who actually knows how to please a girl,” he drawls casually. His hands mimic an hourglass shape in front of him and Max is barely able to restrain from punching him right then and there.

She can feel Lucas go rigid with fury behind her and his voice is like glass when he speaks. “Back off, Troy.”

Troy, the douche, smirks and eyes Lucas. “What, Sinclair, scared she’s gonna slip out with a real man?”

Max scoffs loudly. “Unlikely.”

Troy’s smug look flickers. “Come on, babe, let me give you a real ride.” He reaches for her as if to grab her hips, and Lucas steps up quickly, snagging Troy’s hand at the wrist.

“Touch her again,” he says coldly. Troy’s eyebrow lifts. “What are you gonna do about it, Sinclair?” His other hand drifts forward and Max steps back instinctively.

Just as she steps back, Lucas steps around her and decks Troy clean in the face. The douche recoils sharply, swearing. Lucas is rigid in front of her and Troy manages to get a clean swing back at him, catching the side of his face. Lucas jerks away from the punch and Troy goes for his stomach. His defensive body positioning saves him from the brunt of the blow, but Max can still hear the sick thus it makes against his stomach. She winces and Lucas crumples back from the hit. She reaches to steady him, and his hands grip onto her arms tightly as he swears darkly.

Max fixes Troy with a wicked glare and is glad to see that Lucas’s shot got his nose which is bleeding and looks a little crooked. Just as it looks like the douche is about to go after Lucas again, his arm is caught by Dustin on the backswing. Max has never been so glad to see the rest of their friends in her entire life. Dustin and Mike are at the front, twin images of anger and El, Will, and Joe stand just behind them.

“What going on?” Mike asks, his voice sharp as he glares at Troy. “Don’t you have high schoolers to prey on or something?”

Dustin’s drops Troy’s arm and the bully jerks away, quickly noticing he’s outnumbered. He gives Max and Lucas one last dark look. “Crazy bitch isn’t even worth my time,” Troy growls before he disappears into the crowd.

Max tenses at the insult, but she can feel Lucas’s body go rigid with offence and she squeezes his arms to ground him. “He’s a dick, Lucas, it’s fine.”

Lucas stands up straight, glaring after where he disappeared to. “It’s not fine. Troy’s been harassing us since we were kids and he probably wouldn’t have even gone after you if he hadn’t seen us together.”

El shakes her head. “It’s not your fault Lucas, we all know what Troy is like.” Lucas scowls and turns his head slightly away from Max.

Will frowns suddenly. “Jesus, Lucas, how hard did he hit you?”

Max’s head snaps in Will’s direction and she sees that he and the rest of the party are admiring the split skin and developing mark on the top part of Lucas’s cheekbone. She frowns. “Anyone know where we can get some ice for that?”

Joe clears his throat. “Will and I were actually gonna head back to my suite and I know we have some in our freezer. You guys are welcome to crash there if you’d like.” Max nods. She doesn’t much feel like crossing campus in the dark at night since Joe’s apartment-style suite is much closer.

“You’re okay with this many people?”

“Mike and I can go to my dorm. It’s close by,” El says quickly.

“And I already promised Suzie I’d walk her home, so I’ll crash there,” Dustin adds.

Will shrugs. “We can figure out a makeshift mattress for one of you and the other can take the couch.”

Lucas eyes Max. “You good with that?”

Max shrugs, giving him a small smirk. “No problems here, Stalker. We do need to get some ice on that though.”

With plans set and the party winding down, Max follows Joe and Will out of the house, Lucas on her heels. The couple leads the way, Joe’s arm dropped over Will’s shoulders as they chat quietly, leaving Max with Lucas who has barely spoken to her since decking Troy.

The walk back to Joe’s is only a few minutes. Joe’s actual roommate, he informs them, barely lived in the suite, hence why there would be no issues. Will almost immediately disappears to Joe’s bedroom, looking like he was going to collapse. Joe points out the freezer and then follows his boyfriend, also looking drained.

Max and Lucas are left standing in the kitchen alone. The light down the hall clicks off, confirming that there was going to be no funny business from the boys because they were tired. Max then immediately turns to the freezer, looking for an ice pack.

Contrary to Joe’s statement, there is actually no ice the freezer; however, there is a bag of frozen peas which she passes to Lucas. Lucas accepts it and moves to sit on the couch in the suite. He stares blankly at the coffee table as he holds the peas to his face and Max frowns.

“Thank you, Lucas, for sticking up for me. You really didn’t need to punch him though,” she says after a long, awkward moment.

Lucas’s warm eyes flick to her. He shrugs, keeping the frozen veggie’s attaches to his cheekbone. “I kind of did. I’ve wanted to punch Troy since like third grade and the guy is a total asshole to girls.”

Max chuckles darkly and walks out of the kitchen. “No argument from me there.”

Lucas lets out a deep sigh. “I hate guys like that. Those who take advantage of girls or look down on people because they’re girls or they’re gay or–“ he cuts himself off suddenly, his gaze dark.

Max licks her lips. “Black?” she offers quietly. Lucas nods.

He sighs again. “Hey, it’s better than it used to be.”

She drops onto the couch next to him. “And thank god for that.” She pauses. “I’m sorry people still treat you like that.”

“As long as you never do, then you have nothing to apologize for.” Billy’s face and her stepfather’s face flare across her memory and the rage they’d displayed when they’d met Angela, Max’s only person of colour friend in California. She swallows and looks at Lucas again. She gets an eye full of frozen veggies covering dark skin and a curious look in return.

“Let me see it,” she says, reaching up to pull the peas away. As she does she sees the raised edges of where the skin split and the slightly puffy, shiny skin where he was hit. His dark complexion is helpful in hiding the bruising, but the purple shading is already filling in, so the shiner is going to be good and obvious anyway.

Max laughs wryly. “God, if you were at least white like the rest of us losers I could help you cover that, but I don’t think ivory shade foundation is going to be much of a help. Not even my neutralizes will help you.”

Lucas blinks slowly at her, confusion muddling his expression. “Max, why do you know so much about covering bruises?”

She tenses. “Skateboarding,” she replies instinctively, but the look on Lucas’s face tells her that he doesn’t buy it for a minute.

“Does this,” he pauses, his tone even and cautious, “have anything to do with why you didn’t go home for Thanksgiving and why you don’t talk about Christmas break?”

Max doesn’t reply, dropping her gaze to the floor. She doesn’t want his pity and shame floods through her hotly. She doesn’t want him to look at her like some wounded animal. Lucas sighs when she doesn’t reply and she feels his arm drape over her shoulders as he pulls her into a sideways hug.

“Jesus Christ, Max, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just don’t say anything then,” she says shortly. She leans into him, letting her head rest against his collarbone. “Don’t say anything.”

He adjusts his arms around her, but says nothing.

Max wakes up warm in the morning and her left arm is completely numb. She jerks it, trying to get feeling back before she blinks harshly and realizes her nose is pressed into the red-checked pattern of the shirt Lucas had been wearing the night prior. She realizes they’re awkwardly positioned on the too-small couch, wrapped together with their legs entangled and that’s why she can’t feel her arm.

She elbows him. “Lucas,” she hisses. “Wake up, Stalker.”

He stirs beneath her and blinks half-asleep eyes at her when he comes to. “Hey Mad Max, what’s up?”

She squirms against him and slides her arm free, but the action nearly sends her toppling off the couch, and Lucas squeezes her against his chest to steady her. She blushes at the close proximity and intentionally draws away. She slides off the couch and stretches her arms above her head. She hears him yawn and sit up behind her.

It’s not like they haven’t fallen asleep together on Saturdays during their movie nights, but they’ve never woken up quite as entangled as that before. It felt personal and incredibly domestic, and as much as she tries to deny it, it felt comforting and nice.

She reaches out to check her phone and her heart sinks when she sees that Billy has sent her several texts.

Remember what I said over the break.

No unsavoury types or I swear they’ll never know what hit them.

Billy’s threats are so thinly veiled they might as well as punched her in the face. He’s stalked her on Facebook before and he’s clearly seen the pictures of Lucas and her grinning and laughing at the arcade. Panic seizes Max’s chest and she almost forgets how to breathe. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that Billy is across the entire country because all she can see is Troy the douche decking Lucas in the face for having the audacity to defend Max.

She must look like she’s been tased or something because Lucas coughs lightly. “Max, are you alright?”

“Fine,” she says shortly. Her voice is flat and unconvincing, but her heart is racing and fear holds her tightly. “I’ve got somewhere to be though, so I have to run. Thank Will and Joe for me, okay?” She doesn’t turn to face him–she can’t–as she heads for the door and jerks on her shoes and coat.

“Hey! Max, wait!” Lucas calls after her, stumbling tiredly off the couch.

She doesn’t pause, just turns and bolts out the door.

Max is only back in her room for fifteen minutes before someone’s knocking on it. She hopes it’s El or Dustin or Mike or even the stupid floor RA, but the knocking persists when she ignores it and her stomach sinks.

“Max!” Lucas calls. “Come on, open the door!”

He keeps up the incessant knocking for five whole minutes before Max loses her patience. She swings the door open suddenly and Lucas has to physically stop himself before he smacks her in the face trying to knock. He seems taken aback that she actually opened the door.

He’s still wearing the same rumpled clothes from the night before and the gleaming bruise on his face is painfully obvious in the cheap lighting of the hallway. Concern is written all over his expression and Max has to stop herself from slamming the door in his face.

“Hey, can we talk about what the hell that was at Joe’s?” he asks once he seems certain that she’s not going to slam the door.

Max exhales slowly. “I had a call to make,” she lies through her teeth.

Lucas frowns. “I didn’t push you last night Max, so don’t lie to me.”

She exhales slowly, closing her eyes. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” she says shortly.

Lucas blows his breath out through his nose, looking confused and a little annoyed. “What the hell, Max? We’ve been friends for seven months and you just want to cut me off?” She must hesitate long enough that Lucas knows something is really wrong because he doesn’t let her reply. “This is obviously not coming from you, so if I did something last night or this morning that was out of line, tell me because I don’t have a clue! I thought everything was going great and last night I might have actually freaking kissed you before the whole Troy thing happened, but apparently, I read that situation all wrong too!” He sounds more frustrated than angry and when she looks at him, the emotions are written all over his face.

She loves Lucas. She loves how he wears his heart on his sleeve. She loves his quirky jokes and biting sarcasm that matches her own. She loves his dedication to his friends and his no-shit-taken personality. He’s funny and clever and a whole lot better than someone as fucked up as she is deserves.

“No,” she says weakly. “You don’t get to say that,” she insists.

Lucas glares at her, but there’s no malice behind it. “And why not? Because it’s true? Why are you so afraid to admit that we’ve had something for long enough that everyone seems to know it except us?”

Max’s heart breaks. “Because you can’t like me! Because I’m all kinds of fucked up! Because I’ll never be able to bring you over to my house to visit or to meet my family because they’d beat the shit out of both of us because they’re horrible people! Because your family showed me more kindness in one weekend than I can remember in my entire childhood and your friends have made this place more home to me than the state I lived my entire goddamn life. Because I don’t know how to protect you when people attack you for being who you are or how to thank someone for sticking up for me like you did. Because I don’t know how to love you without hurting you because everyone who ever fucking loves me gets hurt!”

The words are sharp and biting and feel unfamiliar on her tongue, but they’re undeniably the truth and the confession is written there, plain for him to see. Lucas is silent, eyes blown wide, and clearly taken aback. Max counts to ten silently in her head and when he doesn’t move, she turns to close the door.

It’s almost all the way closed when his hand shoots out to grab it. He forces it back open and steps into her room. Instead of pity and fear like she had expected, his gaze is warm and affectionate. His hands grip her upper arms and she forces herself to meet his gaze.

“Mad Max, I don’t care about any of that. Your family sounds like a bunch of assholes that I don’t ever need to concern myself with. I’m not afraid to be with you because you think you’re broken because I look at you and I just see this girl who’s witty and smart and beautiful and I think, ‘Damn she’s something else’, because I like you, Max. The Party loves you, my family loved you, and you’re not just some passing thing in my life. I would take a million punches from Troy for you and I would spend a million lifetimes trying to show you how loved you are. Because you are, Max, because I love you.”

Lucas’s confession is honest and open and something in Max’s chest breaks and everything comes to a stop. She rocks forwards and kisses him hard. His hands slide up to cup her face as he kisses her back fiercely. Billy and Neil and Troy and every other stupid, racist, sexist, asshole she’s ever met leave her brain as she wraps her arms around Lucas and kisses him until she can’t breathe because he is real and he loves her.

She pulls back, gasping, but Lucas keeps their bodies in the same space, breathing hard. Max presses her forehead to his. Her heart pounds and she swears that she can hear his beating too.

It’s not perfect and it’s not easy, but she loves him. She loves him more than rockstars, and skateboards, and old fashioned arcades, and California, and sarcasm. She loves their friends and Indiana and every stupid movie he’s ever played for her.

And he loves her. And it’s enough.

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jtrahan · 5 years

Text

I’ve always known I was going to be eaten by a witch on my thirteenth birthday.

It wasn’t a secret or anything. In the morning my brothers and sisters would get on the school bus to go to kindergarten and my mother would drive me to daycare with all the other Witch Kids. That was what they called us; we had little name tags with “Witch Kids” in curly writing at the top and little drawing of black cats or steaming cauldrons at the bottom. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, being a Witch Kid. Our teachers stressed this over and over again. Some kids would grow up to be teachers or lawyers or police officers, and some kids would be eaten by the witch to ensure the town’s continued prosperity. Both were equally important. We had a little picture book featuring a story to this effect, in which a whole bunch of smiling cartoon children in various career-themed outfits waved cheerful goodbyes to the beaming Witch Kids ascending the stairs to the witch’s house. When we got older, we were expected to read this book to the younger children. There was a new one in the class every year. They needed to be taught these things. They didn’t always understand what an honor it was to be eaten by the witch.

---

“What if I didn’t, though,” I said desperately.

My mother paused, the dinner tray halfway through the slot at the bottom of my door. From my position on the floor I could just see the bottom half of her face as she crouched down to insert the tray. Her mouth was smiling.

“Sweetie,” she said. “We talked about this. What do we do when there are things that make us nervous? We get them over with, quickly, like a band-aid. And they’re never really as bad as we worried they’d be.”

“I think this one might be pretty bad,” I said. There was a calendar on the back of my door, all the blank white days of October obscured by red Xs. All but one.

“I googled how to hotwire a car,” I said. “And how to drive a car. And what different road signs mean. You wouldn’t have to help me or anything. Just let me sneak out to the garage. You can say it was an accident. They’ll believe you.”

“I though I raised you better than this,” said my mother disapprovingly. Her mouth trembled for a moment, but maintained its smile. “I know it’s unpleasant, but there are a lot of people counting on you. I’m counting on you. You don’t want to let me down, do you?”

“Could I let you down just this once, maybe,” I said. My cheek was pressed against the carpet, and I could feel my tears soaking into it. “Please, mom. Please. I’m begging you. Please let me go. I’ll do anything.”

Two teardrops rolled down the sides of my mother’s face and dripped into my mashed potatoes. Her mouth was a rictus, sickly and fixed.

“We all have to do our part,” she said. “Eat up. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

---

They came with torches and pitchforks. Just a precaution, they explained. They sounded half apologetic, and continued apologizing as they dragged me down the stairs, my fingernails leaving gashes in the wallpaper. Just making sure everything is done properly, that’s all. Just going by the book.

On main street a parade had assembled, schoolkids blowing tunelessly on their instruments or practicing baton spins, cub scouts treading absentmindedly on the banner they were supposed to be carrying, old men at the back of the line perched on the seats of polished tractors. There was a float in the middle, hitched to a black pickup truck, and in its center was a chair, with manacles on each arm, and clasps on the legs at ankle height. Just a precaution, m’dear, the mayor assured me, as he gave me his arm so I could climb onto the float, pitchforks pricking my back. Just in case. Perhaps we could only chain one arm, do you think? It does look much better if you wave to the people as you go by. Here, we have a bowl of candy you can throw to the kids. Make sure you’re getting the ones at the back! The mayor patted my shoulder kindly. Don’t be nervous, dear. You look very nice. Remember to wave slowly. It’s all in the wrist.

It was unseasonably warm for the end of October. Sweat dripped down the mayor’s face. He stepped down from the float and said something to the driver, and the parade started off, crawling slowly past the gas station and the pharmacy and the tents of the farmers market. Somebody clattered a pitchfork near my feet, and I raised my hand, slowly turning it back and forth, back and forth. Families lined the sidewalks. “Please,” I said, waving, sobbing, nose running and dripping onto my dress. “Please help me.” The parents stood and watched me. The kids at the edge of the road shrieked for candy. Everybody clapped.

---

At the witch’s house the parade paused, and there was some consternation because the mayor had dropped the key to my chains somewhere, or left them in his other coat, or something. God damn it, I heard him hissing at the town treasurer, I don’t know where it is, just get her out of there somehow. The mayor kept checking his watch. The sun had gone behind a cloud, but he was still sweating, stains blossoming on his shirt. “We’re almost of time,” he whispered, glancing furtively up the path to the witch’s house. “Somebody get a crowbar or something. She’ll be expecting us. We have to get this done.”

In the end they pried the manacles loose with a hammer, and I stepped down onto the pavement with chains dangling from my writs, nails still sticking out of the metal plate at the end.

The witch’s house glowered over us, three stories of shattered windows and paint worn colorless, a tower of broken boards and cobwebs and rot. I looked up at it and I looked back and the crowd pressed in close and there was no help there, no way out, nothing. I had half made up my mind to die right there on the end of a pitchfork, but my body wouldn’t quite let me.

Up the steps, boards creaking. Through the doorway, a shower of dust falling down onto my hair. Into the darkness. Into the house.

---

The inside of the witch’s house was almost incomprehensibly destroyed, as though some monstrous arm had smashed everything it could reach, and kept on smashing until it died of exhaustion. A staircase to the second floor had collapsed into ruin. Splintered objects at the edges of the room might once have been furniture. There was a chandelier in the middle of the floor, shattered and covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust. The darkness was suffocating. I could feel my breath quickening with panic, out of my control, and I tried to push backwards out of the door, but it was stuck fast. My own gasping filled my ears, and I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t--

From the space between my body and the door, where no one could possibly have been standing, a hand pressed into my back.

Well, said the house, in the language of creaking boards, Let’s have a look at you.

Slowly, inexorably, the hand at my back began to push me forward, my shoes sliding through the dust and splinters, towards a hallway at the back of the room. The hallway was moving. The hallway breathed like a lung.

---

At the end of the hallway there was a light.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no, no, no, no--”

The ghostly hand gave a sudden shove, and I stumbled forward, into the light.

I was in a kitchen, tiled all in white. The refrigerator was white. The stove was white. The pristine countertops where white. The plates and cups on the table were mostly white, with a pattern of cherries around the edges. I blinked. The light was almost blinding.

The witch was sitting at the table, doing the crossword puzzle in the New York Times. She looked up as I entered. Her robe and hat were black and her face was grey and and more ancient than humanly possibly. She looked like a dead thing that had been bleaching on the side of the road after a week spent being knocked back and forth by passing motorists. She was chewing on the end of her pencil, and her teeth were jagged and rotten and black. As I entered, she looked up at me, milky eyes flickering in their sockets.

“Oh,” she said. “They sent another one, did they?”

My breath came back in a rush. I felt I was having what I imagined a heart attack would feel like. I felt like I was about to throw up on her floor.

The witch reached up to her mouth, and her rotten teeth slid forward into her hand. She placed the dentures on a little cherry patterned plate on the table. Something brushed past my legs, into the room: a small black cat, mewing impatiently. The witch stroked it with a long-nailed hand. She opened her mouth. She kept opening her mouth. She continued to open her mouth for a very long time. Empty gums stretched wide and wider, a doorway, a cave, tongue lolling forward like a stairway, leading down into the glistening dark.

“Well,” said the witch, somehow. “Come on, then. You better get in.”

---

There are many other children in here.

There is arcane knowledge glowing on the walls.

There is a thing with the head of a goat that speaks to us sometimes, in whispers, in a language we never knew we knew. This was never the plan, it tells us. The witch has been kind of bemused by this whole thing, to be honest. But no matter. If the fear is too much for them, if they’re still going to keep sending children, that’s fine. The witch has a place for us. She knows what to do with children.

In darkness we study the runes on the walls. In darkness the power of hell flows through us. In the darkness the voice whispers, its breath hot against our ears, calling us its children, its warriors, its army that will cover the world.

It’s almost time to go home.

#spilled ink #flash fiction #creative writing #Halloween

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b-bail · 4 years

Text

Hunting The Shield Part 1//First Day Jitters

Dean Ambrose×OC

The Undertakers daughter joins the main roster of Monday Night Raw. Does she get in way over her head when she gets involved with the shield? Let's find out!!

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

Ana-Lucia Calaway, born October 31st 1990 started training at the young age of 13. 5 years later she was in NXT fighting alongside some of the best new talent the industry has. Having gotten training from Jeff Hardy she was known for a high flying risk taking style which separated her from the rest of the women. She didn't have many friends in NXT mainly for the fact that a lot of them seemed fake and she hated drama.

Ana stood at 5 foot with light skin, long black hair and pale green eyes. She is the true definition of an underdog. The constant judgement of in ring ability based on her height only caused her to fight harder and train longer. One of her more popular moves which people don't see often is the bait and switch. All it is, is when she is knocked onto the mat or fakes taking a long time to get up and the opponent puts space between them to taunt or set up another move she quickly gets up catching them with a super kick.

Only certain situations she can pull it off making it a rare move but when she does pull it off she does it quickly. Her other finisher is a moonsault off the top turnbuckle. One thing her father and Jeff had taught her was to constantly alter your moveset. Learn new things to catch your opponent off guard but never forget your origins. Ana’s ring name is Ana Hunt and the catchphrase the fans gave her is ‘When the Hunter Becomes the Hunted.’ And ‘Don't Hunt What You Can’t Kill.’

——

Ana had just finished a match against Baylee who in her mind is one of her more tougher opponents. Drenched in sweat and a few bruises here and there she made her way to the Gm’s office having gotten word that they needed to speak with her. Honestly it worried her because she was never called into the office so she hoped she wasn't getting in trouble.

Once she reached the office she knocked hearing a ‘come in’ she quietly opened the door freezing when she saw who was present. “Uncle Hunter? What are you doing here?”

There stood Triple H and Stephanie McMahon. They were rarely seen down in NXT unless they were scouting during practices. Pulling her into a hug he chuckled. “What? I can't visit my favorite niece?”

Hugging back she laughed. “You only visit when you need something.” Scoffing at her answer he playfully shoved her away.

“Fine I’ll just take my offer and leave.” That confused her. What offer did he have and how did it concern her?

Curiosity was getting the best of her. “What's the offer?”

Stephanie stepped forward with some papers in her hand. “This is a contract for you. We would like you to join Monday night raw.”

There was no way they were serious? They wanted Ana to join the main roster? She knew her uncle there was a catch involved.

“What's the catch?” They explained to her that she would be in a storyline maybe a rivalry that will make the fans go insane. Most of it would be improvised and to make things more realistic the other person will start it. Agreeing with the terms Ana eagerly signed the contract. She had some packing and arranging to do then she would head to New York for Raw.

—-skip to Monday night raw—-

Walking into the arena with her duffel bag over her shoulder Ana looked around happily considering she’s here as a wrestler and not a guest of her fathers. Sadly all the years away made her forget where everything is. Not really paying attention to where she was walking she accidentally bumped into someone.

Ana recognized the women as Eve Torres. “I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention.”

Scoffing she rolled her eyes. “Yeah you should have been. Wannabes should know their place.”

Who was she calling a wannabe? Ana never really bragged about it but she is a 2nd generation wrestler. A little respect would be nice. Or at least common decency to not be a bitch. Not wanting to deal with her attitude Ana walked away in hopes to find catering because she was starving.

Walking into catering Ana smiled seeing some familiar faces. She was pulled out of her trance by John Cena yelling her name.

“Is that little miss Calaway i see?” Smiling he brought her into a hug.

“John I love you but your muscles are suffocating me.” He chuckled then let go. He was a little confused as to why she was here but happy nonetheless that she was.

“What are you doing here kiddo?” She glared at him for calling her kiddo. Knowing he says it cause of how short she is.

“Well i debut tonight.” This surprised John. Very very few people knew she was debuting. Wrapping an arm around her John led her to catering to introduce her to some new faces and surprise older ones.

She met tons of new faces and from what she could tell they liked her. John’s little tour was brought to an end when Ana was pulled away by the Bellas.

“Oh my god Ana we’ve missed you so much!” They squealed as they hugged her tight. At this rate she wasn't gonna make it to the end of the show because she was gonna suffocate. But she didn't have the heart to tell them to let go. They watched out for her back in the day and were practically her sisters.

“I've missed you girls too!” She said hugging them back before John pulled them away.

They all grabbed some food before sitting down to catch up. They had some time to kill since the show didn’t start for another hour.

“Can i get your advice on something?” Ana asked out of the blue. To be honest she was a little nervous with this storyline. Not knowing who it was with gave her anxiety. At first she thought it was a rivalry storyline with Eve but she just hates everyone from what she heard.

“I'm in this storyline possible rivalry but i don't know who its with and i won't know until they start it. And its all improv.”

The trio could tell why this worried the girl. Getting called up is an exciting and emotional moment. Add an improv storyline into that and that can cause emotional overload. Plus if its improv they could build up an alliance just to make it a betrayal.

“Well kiddo the best thing you can do is take a deep breath. Relax. And take it day by day. Stressing won't help you. This is your first day here. Take some time to get familiar with the arena, the superstars, and the crowd.”

The advice made her feel a little better. Nikki perked up like she always does when she has an idea.

“John you have an improv promo tonight at the start of the show. Why not take Ana out with you? Get the good vibes from the crowd. It might help with the nerves.”

Ana actually quiet liked that idea. It would help get her mind off of everything and she would get used to how many fans are here.

“Sounds good. Why don't you girls show her the locker room and help her get used to backstage?”

Agreeing with the plan the girls took Ana away from catering. First they stopped at the locker room so she could get ready and drop her stuff off, then they showed her were hair and makeup was, gorilla, trainers office, boss mans office, and knowing Ana, a nice quiet hallway to get away and prep for matches.

By the end of the tour it was almost time for the show to start so the girls handed her off to John before walking away to get ready themselves.

“You ready to do this kiddo?” He looked down at the nervous girl.

She had no idea if she was. Honestly she was freaking out. But she smiled and nodded anyway because she was excited as well. Listening to Raws theme and the fireworks they waited patiently for Johns music. He instructed her to wait until he called her out. There was a brief pause between Raws them and Johns so the commentators could recap important events to hype tonight.

Johns music was met with a mixture of boos and cheers just how he liked it. The crowd got more vocal as he ran out on stage. Ana watched on the tv next to the curtain with a smile on her face. Once he entered the ring John requested a microphone. He waited for the crowd to die down before talking.

“St. Louis is a lively town tonight I tell ya!” He paused letting them cheer.

“Now i know you all are expecting me to sit out here for the first half hour of the show making jokes about people backstage or somehow manage to get myself in trouble or address the attack from the shield. I was but things change. Tonight has been flipped upside down because of one person.” The crowd replied with ‘what?’

“They are surprised me enough i had to come out here and address it. This person has had a very special place in my heart for a long time. They are constantly breaking boundaries you wouldn’t believe they could without seeing it in person. So please let me introduce to you. The Hunter. Ana Hunt!”

‘I'm taking back the crown

I'm all dressed up and naked

I see what's mine and take it (Finders keepers, losers weepers)

Oh yeah

The crown

So close I can taste it!’

Ana’s theme blasted throughout the arena causing the crowd to go crazy. Which was a normal reaction for an NXT call up. But when Ana left NXT she was fave so it looks like that was carrying over to Raw. Ana walked out on stage doing her normal gimmick. (Her entrance is like paige's) waving at fans as she walked down the ramp, John held the ropes open for her causing her go roll her eyes. Walking to the corner she grabbed a mic, waving at Jerry in the process.

“Hey St. Louis!” The crowd cheered causing her to smile. Once the crowd calmed down John went to speak but was interrupted by music.

‘I hear voices in my head

They council me

They understand

They talk to me.’

The pair looked to the stage. Ana was slightly worried that Randy was the one she was doing a storyline with. Walking at a slightly faster pace than normal the crowd watched in anticipation as Randy got into the ring and in a blink of an eye engulfed Ana in a hug. This caused the crowd to go wild because its slightly out of character for Randy.

“I've missed you so much bug.” He whispered in her ear. And it was true he missed her more than anything.

“I missed you too Randall.” That caused Randy to groan he hated when she called him that. Letting go of each other. John stepped forward with a serious look on his face.

“I'm only gonna say this once so everyone in the back listen close. This girl right here is like our sister. She is family. You come after her you have me to deal with.”

That was the same little speech he gave everyone down in NXT which he found ridiculous. She can handle herself but she knew he was worried because WWE has been more like the attitude era these days which the company has slowly been trying to lean towards lately.

Once again music blasted through the arena but this time boos mixed with it causing Ana’s blood to run cold.

‘Sierra

Hotel

India

Echo

Lima

Delta

Shield

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

This is my first post on Tumblr I hope everyone enjoys it and hopefully my posts will get better with time. I hope y'all enjoy

#wwe the shield #dean ambrose #jon moxley #monday night raw

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mizu-writes-kumo · 6 years

Text

@myinvisibleescape I wrote more for your Shance Soccer AU, because its cute, grown on me, and I am pumped for the World Cup final. I hope you enjoy.

Here is Part 1 of this AU for anyone who hasn’t read it yet.

----

Lance’s ankle was badly sprained.

Sure he was told to keep weight off it for a month or so while it healed. And he’s got crutches to get around for that time, before he’s given a boot to walk around in. And he’s got to keep his ankle elevated whenever it swells, and ice it when it hurts.

But it’s no big deal.

Hardly even the worst injury he’s ever gotten from playing.

He can more than handle himself.

But to his mother, it was like he was bedridden for the rest of eternity, with no one to properly care for him. Or like he’s leg is just going to fall off randomly. And she couldn’t have that. Like one let bit, for any of her children, but especially her baby, Lance, in a whole other country so far away. She just has to be there to take care of him while he recovers.

Which is a bit much.

But Lance is not stupid enough to tell her to go away.

He does not need a lecture, about how he can’t take care of himself when he is hurt. Or he’ll fall over and die trying to prove that he can, because, well...he currently isn’t seeing anyone. He keeps his mouth shut about it and let’s his mother fuse over him.

That and he gets like a whole month of homemade meals made by his mom.

Lance might be independent, but his mother’s cooking beats everything else he cooks. He’ll take it any day over anything else.

Naturally, his mother has to tag along with him everywhere.

Including practices.

Which Lance technically doesn’t need to attend because he’s out on injury. But he always goes anyway.

It’s good for moral and team building. He can still give little tips and pointers here and there to some of his teammates even if he can’t kick a ball at the moment. Pidge is always a joy to have bother, when she doesn’t have some idea’s on how to improve Lance’s playing. And sometimes fans get passes in, and Lance is a popular player on the team (the Lions have no one star player, or anything like that) and he likes meeting them.

And besides, the team loves his mom.

So they don’t care.

Lance watched as his mother tasted something from a container Hunk gave her. He knows it’s probably like one of Hunk’s twenty-thousand attempts at recreating one of her recipes. Lance just wasn’t sure what it was.

It was something Hunk did after eating some of her cooking. Partly because he wanted to. And partly because Lance melted at the idea of having something that tasted like home more often than when his mom was there. So Hunk was always trying to recreated it perfectly, going of recipe he found online and general memory of flavors. And he was always eager for Lance’s mother’s opinion when ever she visits.

Judging by the slight shake of Lance’s mother’s head, it’s still a little off. Hunk frowns for a second behind his water bottle. But that doesn’t really seem to deter him too much. Because two seconds later he was smiling again.

“How’s the ankle?” A voice suddenly asked behind Lance.

Lance squeaks in his seat where his foot his elevated on some equipment no one was using at the moment. He turned sharply in surprise, to find Shiro standing a few steps away from him. Peering at Lance curiously.

And Lance by some miracle doesn’t have a heart attack.

Because the Takashi Shirogane is talking to him...again.

“Oh, hey Shiro,” Lance beamed with a breath of relief. Before awkwardly laughing. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” He said with a wave of his hand. “My ankles...better, thanks to you.” A faint dusting of pink spray’s across Shiro’s cheeks at the words, but Lance is sure it’s just the heat or something. “I mean, it still hurts sometimes but the swelling doesn’t get as bad anymore. I’ve been following doctor’s orders to a T.”

A small smile grew on Shiro’s lips. “I’m glad to hear that.” He said simply. “If you keep at, you might be able to get back to playing by the end of August.”

“God, I wish. Coran probably won’t clear me till like early October, if I’m lucky.” Lance rolled his eyes with a pout.

“That sounds like your being dramatic.” Shiro stated.

“I’m really not.” Lance said with a laugh. “Keith dislocated his shoulder once, and Coran didn’t clear him to play until five games after. All they had to do was pop the shoulder back in.”

Shiro fell quiet for a moment, and look of ‘oh yeah’ kind of fell over his face. His gaze flickering over to where Keith was running drills with another player, then moved back to Lance.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Shiro said easily. “Keith was really annoyed by that.”

Lance nodded in agreement.

Even though the statement was really putting how Keith felt lightly. Like to an extreme level. That was just how Keith was. But it was nice for Lance to dominate their scoring competition for those five games.

“Oh, um...hello,” Shiro suddenly said with a small kind smile, looking just past Lance. Clearly at someone who’s approached them in their conversation.

Lance turned to find...

His mother standing there, holding a container of some pastry looking things, looking like her brain just stopped working. To the point where Lance can almost hear the sound of like dial up internet trying to connect. Her gaze fixed on Shiro with wide eyes.

And oh no...

She recognized Shiro.

Lance knows she only gets like this with player she recognizes. As Lance played plenty of friendly matches with a handful of national teams. Only to have his mother short circuit out when a name player so much approaches them to talk to Lance after. Usually just to complement on a game well played more than anything else.

But this is a little different. Because she knows who Shiro is, and what he means to Lance. How his general existence in the world of soccer pushed Lance into the life he was in.

Shit!

“Oh, Ma, there you are!” Lance declared breezily, despite his internal panic. His voice pulled her attention away from Shiro just enough. Lance gave her the widest look of ‘please don’t say anything’ he could manage. “What’s Hunk make this time?”

“Guava pastries,” She stated simply, before her eyes flickered back to Shiro, then back to Lance. “Mi hijito--”

“Oh, Ma, this is Shiro!” Lance declared loudly, as he gestured to Shiro on the other side of him. He had a feeling he knew what his mother was going to say, and until he was sure of Shiro’s Spanish levels, he’s rather she not say anything around him at all. “He’s a new full time medic for the team. He was the one that treated my ankle.” Lance turned to Shiro, who was blinking down at Lance slightly. “Shiro, this is my mom, she’s my...mom and she’s kind of the reason my ankle exists in the first place.”

Oh that was really smooth.

Just go with it McClain.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Shiro stated, holding out his hand for his mother.

Lance’s mother peered at Shiro’s hand for a second, then Lance, and back to Shiro’s hand. Lance was doing his best to give of as strong ‘please don’t say anything to embarrass me’ vibes as he could managed without Shiro knowing.

“Same too you,” His mother smiled out easily. “Thank you for helping in taking care of my son’s injury.”

“It’s nothing.” Shiro waved her off sheepishly. “It’s part of my job.” Then someone on the other side of the field, motioning him to hurry over when he turned to the sound. “Sorry, I need to go. Nice meeting you Mrs. McClain, and Lance, I’ll see you around. Keep off that ankle.” Shiro called as he turned to hurriedly jog across the field.

Lance watched him go in an effortless jog only soccer players and skilled runners could pull off. Bounding across the field in what seemed like twelve steps. Before seeming to start talking with a small group of other staff members.

Suddenly something hit his shoulder.

Lance turns to see his mother staring at him with wide eyes. The familiar look she got before ranting off was an underlying layer of her face. But Lance still felt like he had little warning for the rapid fire Spanish rant that came out of her mouth the moment he made eye contact. A small blessing was she was hissing it more than screaming it all.

It’s a whole jumble of words, Lance and maybe like three other players of the Lions could coherently understand. Nothing more that a mix of motherly insults, and complaints. All of which basically translated to ‘why didn’t you tell me you worked with your idol?’

“Ma...I know.” Lance stated simply when his mother gave him room to. “I get it. Honestly thought I died when I first saw him tending to this.” He lifted his ankle to prove a point. “I know...and I’m sorry I forgot to mention it. But to be fair where exactly was I suppose to fit that in.”

“I don’t know, while we were having dinner.” His mother shrugged, as she moved to seat down next to Lance. “Or while I was cooking breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, yes, perfect time, when I am all groggy, just go ‘Oh by the way, the Takashi Shirogane is on the medical staff for the Lions, we might see him today, oh look bacon’.” Lance said dramatically before crossing his arms and look at his mother. “Yeah, I doubt you would have believed me.”

His mother mutter something under her breath.

“You’re forgiven,” Lance beamed with a wave of his hand. Before he lunged slightly for the container in his mother’s lap, that she institutionally moved out of his reach. “Now, give me the container, I don’t care if they’re not completely right, anything Hunk makes is good. I want one.” He added making grabbed hands at the container.

“Mi hijito, you’re diet!” His mother reasoned weakly.

“Went out the window the day you arrived.” Lance countered, leaning his head on his mother’s shoulder. “Please, I am injured.”

His mother just shook her head at his antics. But she opened the container anyway for him. Holding it up for him to select which treat one he wanted. Naturally he went for the biggest sliced on he could find in the little container, ignoring the way his mother shook her head at him.

And Lance happily munched away at team run practice drills.

Once Lance was healed enough, his mother went back home to Cuba. But not without stocking up Lance’s freezer with a collection of home cooked meals for him to just reheat whenever. And a promise to visit again soon when Veronica and the kids came up for vacation.

And also, she apparently also made sure to make Shiro like a whole container of cookies. Present them when she thanked him thoroughly for all he had done for Lance.

Something Lance only found out when Shiro told him to thank his mom for the cookies she gave him. As they were delicious and very thoughtful, and he’s always little short bread cookies.

And Lance is very sure he’s soul left his body for the whole ten minutes the conversation happened.

Thanks mom.

----

AN: I don’t really know. I was thinking up headcanon ideas for this, cause it was stuck in my head at the time. And I had the idea of Lance’s mom finding Shiro and dragging him over to Lance like “Look who I found” while Lance was like “OMG Mom put him back!” and dying of embarrassment.

And Shiro may or may not have eaten seven of the cookies he was made in one seating. And he totally was not territorial of them at all because it was Lance’s mom that gave them to him, and made them just for him, so stop trying to eat one Keith.

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maevefiction · 6 years

Text

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 11

More than a week had elapsed since my last yoga session, and I was pleasantly surprised at my lack of stiffness. My iPod sat silent in the grass next to my mat…the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks proved to be the only music I required. Especially at six in the morning. The sun had just begun to rise behind us, its warmth exacerbating the flush my workout normally provided.

Simon’s skill level was far, far above mine, and some of the poses he worked through made me stop dead in my tracks as I admired the way his body seemed to defy the very laws of physics. He volunteered to work with me whenever we had the time, and I gratefully accepted, though I fully understood that a grace such as his was something that couldn’t be taught.

We chatted while cooling down, learning that our birthdays were only a day apart, his on October 30th, mine on October 31st. He found my being a Halloween baby hilarious, and I was tickled that we shared the same astrological sign. Fellow Scorpios - no wonder he’d liked my tank top. I tried to get him to reveal his birth year, but he adamantly refused until I offered mine up first. The look of delight on his face as he screeched out ‘me too!’ was adorable, and when he high-fived me and christened me his sister from another mister I embraced him and kissed his cheek, grinning at the lovely blush it caused.

I took a seat at the patio table and opened my laptop with the intention of starting work on Tom’s website design. Simon sat next to me, both of us facing the ocean, and he began typing away on his phone. He harrumphed and gave me some wicked side eye.

My brow furrowed. “For fuck’s sake, what NOW?”

He showed me his screen, scrolling through his inbox. “Seven more since last night. You’ve made an awful lot of extra work for me, woman.” I rolled my eyes. He turned on his chair to face me. “I’m curious, though…I thought you just lectured to and consulted with PR firms, which would mean their actual clients wouldn’t know much about you at all. So, it’s kinda surprising that an artist would be willing to jump ship and leave their current rep in the dust to wind up where you are, wouldn’t you say?”

I sighed and finished editing my open layer in Photoshop before replying. “I started out working directly with clients. My first was Anne Rice. She’s is a family friend and was willing to give me a cha…”

He put a hand on my shoulder and shoved. “GET. OUT. I’m assuming this means you’re from or lived in New Orleans at some point? But it mustn’t have been for long, because you have zero accent.”

“Your assumption is correct. Born there, raised there, relocated to New York City in 1998.”

He nodded emphatically. “So you dumped the accent. Understandable.”

It was my turn for side eye. “I didn’t dump it. It just…faded.”

He snorted. “Whatever you say, Maude.”

I pinched his arm, reveling in the resulting squeal he emitted. “Faded. I’m like a chameleon with accents. Soon I’ll be picking up your dialect and sounding like a pretentious asshat, too. In which case, you have my permission to kill me.”

“You can call me anything you like as long as you solemnly swear to take me to Mardi Gras next year.”

I rolled my eyes and held up my hand, palm towards him. “Simon. Please. I don’t think you’re ready for that sort of thing. But, if you start training now, we might be able to pull it off.”

He tilted his head like an oversized puppy. “Training for what? Drinking heavily? I’ve been training for that for years.”

“No. Throwing beads into the crowd. And doing the princess wave.” I demonstrated both. “Because if we go, you must ride on a parade float. It can be arranged. I know people.” I frowned. “At least, I used to know people. Anyway, what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted was that she was my first client, and it gave me a lot of clout. For which I am eternally grateful. I moved on after three years or so with her and began working directly with clients, most of whom were too small to have a decent PR firm behind them. I did everything, created websites, set up Facebook accounts, provided instructions on how to post, when to post, what to post, yada yada. Lots of hand holding and cajoling. Word spread, and bigger names took notice, which led to PR firms hiring me to work one-on-one with their clients for a specified duration. Most of them already had websites in place, so my focus shifted entirely to social media. In early 2010, I was invited to speak for two hours at a PR conference in San Diego…they wanted me to lecture on enhancing client reputation through social media. It was winter in New York, and they were willing to pay for my travel expenses so I thought, California? Fuck it, why not?”

Simon’s legs were crossed, his upper body leaning in towards me as he listened attentively. I had paused, and he motioned for me to continue.

“So, I spoke for two hours and they handed me a check for three thousand dollars. That was more than I normally made in an entire week and it blew my tiny little mind. It seemed to be vastly less stressful than dealing with super huge egos and non-tech savvy artists and damn, the money. I adjusted my entire business model, and within a month I was turning down engagements because my calendar was full. PR firms were still asking me for assistance, so I set up a consulting procedure wherein I’d outline a plan for them to implement, collected my fee and was on my way. It was all so…easy.”

He laughed loudly. “And you decided to work for Prosper why?”

“Because my ‘easy’ job and the cash it generated had taken over my entire life. I was the job and the job was me. Much to my surprise, lecturing and consulting long term turned out to be a soul sucking bore…and it transformed me into a miserable drudge. I am, at heart, a creative individual and I missed doing graphic and website design, photography, and learning new things. Terribly. Working for Prosper allows me to do all that again, and then some. That’s why.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin with one hand. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the exquisite creature sleeping soundly in your bed right now.”

“No, it doesn’t. He was actually the reason why I seriously considered declining Luke’s offer.” Simon looked puzzled, but I didn’t elaborate. “So. Why did you leave such a prestigious position at the Dorchester to become a PA? Just for Luke? Or is there more to the story?”

He grinned. “Damn, turned it right around on me, didn’t you? Touché, my friend. I went to university for business management and administrative assistance, and worked in the field until 2005. Cooking had always been my passion, and I had some sort of spiritual awakening wherein I decided I absolutely needed to become a professional chef or else I would shrivel up and die. So I did. I moved from place to place, learning, working, partying my ass off, and finally landed the sous chef spot at the Dorchester in 2009. It was dandy at first, but as the years passed I felt like I’d grown stagnant, doing the same thing night after night, having little input on menu changes and so on. Like you, I was bored. I was averaging 70 hours a week in that kitchen, cut off from the world, and it hit me that all I had gotten out of it was a nicely padded bank account…and that there was no one to share it with. I’d always loved being around lots of people, and there I was seeing nothing but the same damn faces day in and day out. In 2013 I happened across Luke’s ad, reworked my resume, and the rest is history. Unlike you, though, I don’t think I would have taken the job if it wasn’t for him, because the salary was abysmal. As soon as I saw him, I knew. He was it. The one. Love at first sight. I thank my lucky stars every single day that he felt the same way.”

After wiping the tears from his eyes, he took hold of my hand. “Maude, I don’t know if he’s mentioned it or not, but Tom’s had a rough time of it lately, and I’m so, so happy that you’ve found each other.”

“Me too, Simon.” I smiled, letting go of his hand. “Now, please, for the love of all things holy, shut your cake hole so I can get some work done, okay?”

“God, you are such a bitch.”

“I am. And you’re still talking. Cease.”

We worked quietly, side by side, until Luke poked his head out the doors to inquire as to when Simon planned on getting his butt in the kitchen and making some breakfast. As he got up from his chair, he peered over my shoulder at my laptop screen. I had a basic layout set and was in the process of choosing a color combination that would contrast perfectly.

“Wow, that’s a right brilliant color palette you have there, Maude. Is that for Tom’s site?”

I nodded. “Does it look…familiar?”

He stared. “Yes…maybe…should it?”

I opened the tab that contained the HD photo of Tom’s eye that I’d drawn all my color options from. “Tada.”

Simon poked my shoulder and called for Luke to come see. He padded out onto the lanai, looked over my shoulder, nodded, then put his hands on his hips.

“So, when are you going to use your magic to revamp the Prosper site?”

I closed my laptop and put my head in my hands, then pushed my chair back and went to wait in the kitchen, muttering to myself about peace and solitude and how I couldn’t find any even though I was in paradise.

Tom bounded our of our bedroom just as Simon was plating our pancakes and bacon, freshly showered, wearing a pair of faded, loose fitting jeans and a tight, light blue V-neck tee. I leaned back on my bar stool and around the counter to look at his feet. Scuffed, well-worn boots. When my eyes finally made their way up to his face I was greeted with a dazzling, toothy smile. I groaned.

Simon pinched his cheeks. “Lovely of you to join us, Thomas.”

Tom lowered himself elegantly onto the stool to my right, resting his hand on my spandex-clad thigh as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Good morning, Maude. How was yoga?”

“Spectacular, actually. Simon and I had a lovely chat and I even managed to get some work done in spite of it.” He laughed and began slowly sliding his hand up my leg, edging ever closer to the apex of my thighs. Simon set our plates in front of us, raising a brow as he spied what Tom was up to.

“Um, excuse me. This is a fine dining establishment, people. No foreplay is permitted.” I glanced up from my plate and saw Luke directly behind him, hand cupping Simon’s ass.

“Whatever, asshole.” I pointed at my short stack. “Do you have syrup for these?”

He pulled a pot off the stove and spooned some of its contents onto them. “Made with fresh pineapples. Especially for you.”

All eyes were on me as they waited for a reaction. I broke off a hunk of pancake with my fork and shoved it in my mouth. “Mmm, yummy. Thank you.” Luke looked at Tom, who shrugged. I took another bite of breakfast. “Yeah, nice try, losers. I happen to like pineapples. Just not on pizza.”

Tom put his arm around my waist, pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head. “I had nothing to do with this. I swear it.”

I said nothing, ripping off a piece of bacon with my teeth instead. He tapped his fork on his plate.

“So, Maude, I was thinking…maybe we could take a ride out to Talk Story today? I called to see if Alani would be in, and she is.” I spun the stool around in his direction, dumbfounded. He smiled. “I did say I’d go back to meet her, did I not?”

“Yes. Yes you did.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “What an amazingly generous thing to do. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. You’re going to be the one in charge of crowd control.” He stole a strip of bacon from my plate and swallowed it down before I could even muster a protest.

“I’d rather corral a group of a hundred people than have to sit next to you while I’m trying to eat a fucking meal, bacon stealer. And everything else stealer.”

He snickered, and I wolfed down the rest of my food, rinsed my dishes, put them in the dishwasher and headed for the bedroom, finally noticing that Luke and Simon had disappeared. I wrote a giant ‘thanks for breakfast’ on the chalkboard in the kitchen and drew a smiley face to go with it, figuring we wouldn’t be seeing them again before we left.

*************************************** After my much needed shower, I wound up standing in my underwear, staring into yet another wardrobe wondering what the hell to wear. Tom looked too damn good for me to get away with shorts and a T-shirt, and my black tank dress just didn’t scream ‘please behave and listen to the nice lady’. Tom was waiting patiently for me, sitting at the desk answering emails and returning calls. I looked at his boots, then back and my limited selection of dresses. The brown chiffon galaxy print sleeveless wasn’t an exact match, but pretty damn close. I pulled it off its hanger and laid it on the bed so I could unzip the back without it winding up on the floor, chastising myself for giving in to my everything-must-coordinate OCD once again. I slipped it over my head, put my arms through the proper holes and managed to zip it up on my own, then went into the bathroom to figure out a hair strategy.

I’d just wrestled it into a braid when I overheard Tom talking in the bedroom.

“How’s Los Angeles? Elsa? Kids? Good to hear. Oh, she’s unbelievable, Chris. Here, I’ll take you in and you can meet her.” He came around the corner carrying his open laptop.

“Chris Hemsworth, Maude Gallagher.” He turned the screen toward me, and there he was, Thor, God of Thunder. In my bathroom. He held up a hand in greeting.

“Hello, Maude. Nice to meet you. See you? Skype you?” He face palmed. “I have no idea what the correct terminology is.” I heard a woman yell in the background that meet was fine and for him to bring the tablet over to her so she could see me. He got up and walked into another room, and a beautiful blonde woman came into view alongside Chris. She waved madly.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous. A natural beauty. And that dress…I am in love with it. You must tell me where you found it.” Her accent was a delight. She grinned. “I’m Elsa, by the way. Tom has told us so much about you I feel like I know you already.”

I waved at them. “Hi there. Lovely to meet you both. I’d like to say Tom has told me so much about you, but that would be a big fat lie, so suffice to say I’m sure he will tell me so much about you when we aren’t quite so…so…shit, what’s the word I’m looking for here?”

Tom moved to stand next to me, shifting the laptop so we were both visible, smirking. “Preoccupied. The word you’re looking for is preoccupied.”

They laughed, and Chris grabbed at Elsa. “Remember when we were always preoccupied?”

She slapped his hand. “Oh yes. I do. And that’s why now we’re preoccupied with three little ones, my darling Christopher.” I heard children crying in the background. Elsa said a quick goodbye and ran off, and Chris followed suit so he could assist.

Tom put the laptop on the counter and pulled me to him, hands on my ass as he pressed me up against his crotch and rammed his tongue in my mouth, then backed away quickly, leaving me panting. “Well, I guess we should get going.”

I shot him a scathing look. “We should. But I have to pee first.” He walked out into the bedroom. As I sat on the toilet, I weighed my options for getting even. I mentally high fived myself as I pulled my underwear off over my feet and left them on the bathroom floor.

*************************************** We parked a block down from Talk Story, and I scouted ahead and left Tom in the Jeep. My gladiator sandals clicked on the sidewalk as I half-jogged to my destination, anxious to see if Alani was at the desk. She was, and I texted him to come on down. He ran to meet me, and I stopped him from holding the door for me and letting me go in first.

“Nope, you should be the first thing she sees.” I had my phone all ready to go in order to capture the moment, planning on sending her a copy as a keepsake. He walked through, and she looked up as the bell dinged to announce that someone had entered the store and the look on her face was one I knew I’d remember forever. He approached her, hand extended, and I was right behind him.

“Hello, Alani. I’m Tom.” She remained motionless. He turned to me. “This is Maude. We were here on Monday, and she told me that you’re a fan of my work and would perhaps enjoy meeting me.” She nodded, gingerly lifting her arm up but unable to make herself grab his hand. He took the initiative, holding it to his lips and kissing it demurely. She squealed, so high pitched I thought my ears might bleed. Four other girls came running out of the stacks, took one look at him, and began jumping up and down, screaming, phones in hand. I stopped filming so I could set the boundaries before any issues arose, stepping between them and Tom.

“Hi, ladies. I’m Maude, Tom’s social media manager. Let’s go over some ground rules, okay?” They lowered their phones and nodded. “Tom wants to be able to take pictures, sign for and chat with all of you, but in order for him to be able to do so you need to make sure you don’t post anything to social media until after we leave the premises. No texting or calling, either. If a crowd turns up, we’ll have to cut things short, and where’s the fun in that?”

A husky, bearded, bespectacled man came out from the stacks, wearing a white and green palm leaf print Hawaiian shirt and khaki hiking shorts. “Girls, what the heck is going on up here? Why all the screaming? You know people prefer quiet when they…” He stopped short when he saw Tom, his mouth dropping open, then quickly closing as he grew closer, hand proffered. I figured he was the owner, so I let him pass.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston. I’m Roger Marshal, and Talk Story is my baby. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your stopping by again…the girls were so bummed when they learned they’d missed you on Monday.”

Tom shook his hand vigorously. “Thank you for having me. Your establishment is outstanding…I’m a bit of a bibliophile, and if I had my druthers I’d be perusing the shelves here for days on end. My apologies for dashing off so quickly when I was in last, but I had a prior obligation and thought it better to come back when I had more time to spend.” He turned to me. “This is Maude Gallagher, my social media manager.”

I offered my hand and he clasped it gently with one of his, then placed the other on top. “Maude, nice to meet you. Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you both?”

“Actually, would you happen to have a room available that’s a bit more private?”

He nodded, then turned his attention to the desk. “Sure thing. Alani, why don’t you show our guests to the staff lunch room?” Her eyes lit up, and the faces of the rest of the staff fell. “Girls, you go too. I’ll cover the desk.” They thanked him in unison between excited giggles.

I tried to hang back behind Tom, but he slowed and fell into step with me and slipped his arm around me, hand on my lower back, whispering in my ear. “The way you jumped in and took charge did…things…to me, Maude.” His let his hand glide lower and lower, halting when he reached the spot where the waistband of my underwear should be. He felt around with his fingers, over my hip, diving quickly down into the crease of my left buttock then back up to my waist, gripping me just a smidge too hard.

I met his gaze, noting his narrowed eyes and the way his tongue darted out over and over to lick his lips. I smirked and whispered back. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that I’m not wearing any panties. They sorta fell off back at the house and are lying on the bathroom floor, all alone and unloved.” The hand on my waist began to shake as we reached the staff room and he began breathing deeply as he attempted to keep his shit together. And round two of Friday’s Titillation Tease goes to…me.

Tom spent nearly two hours taking selfies, videos, signing anything the girls could get their hands on, and answering their seemingly unlimited supply of questions. The giant cup of tea I’d had on the ride over had finally hit my bladder, and I excused myself and went off in search of the bathrooms. There was only a one, unisex, located all the way on the other side of the store, tucked into an alcove deep in the stacks. Nice and roomy, too. I envisioned Tom fucking me up against the wall, then scolded myself for my blatant lack of restraint as I texted him precisely what I’d been thinking while I walked back to the staff room.

Roger had come back to check on them, which Tom took as an indicator that it was time to wrap things up. He was hugging each of the girls goodbye in turn as they left the room, saving Alaini for last. She rested her head on his chest, facing me, and mouthed ‘he smells like a FOREST’ while hugging him tightly. Up until that moment, I hadn’t been sure whether she recognized me or not. She stepped back and looked at both of us.

“This has been, like, the best day of my life. I can never thank you enough.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Would it be okay if I took a picture of you guys together?”

I smiled. “Of course. But I think it would be better if you were in it, too.” We posed, and Tom held out her phone to get the shot. I was entering my Prosper email address into her phone so she could send me a copy and she was putting hers in mine so I could send her the video from earlier when she cleared her throat.

She looked up shyly. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude or get in your business or anything, but I was just, you know, wondering…” She swallowed. “Are you guys, like, a couple?”

Tom grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

Her brow furrowed. “Well, you know, I saw what you posted on Twitter yesterday and I was like, hmm, and I know you guys work together and now seeing you in person…yeah. It’s pretty obvious, I guess.”

Tom took my hand. “Yes, Alani. Maude isn’t just my social media manager…she’s my girlfriend as well. And can I let you in on a little secret?” She nodded, awestruck. “When you saw us here on Monday, that was the very first time we met. So you played a rather important role in what turned out to be the best day of my life so far.”

I kissed his cheek. “Mine too, Alani.”

Alani flopped onto the nearest chair, clutching her hands to her chest. “That. Is. So. Romantic.” She leapt back up and hugged me. “We all want him for ourselves, but if he has to be with someone else, I’m really glad it’s you.”

I patted her on the back. “Thank you. Hearing you say that means so much…honestly, I don’t have the words to express properly how it made me feel.” We let go of each other, and she made her way back to the desk.

I turned to Tom. “I need to hit the bathroom again before we head out.” He nodded and followed my lead. He didn’t mention my text, and I assumed he hadn’t read it yet. We didn’t see another soul on the way there, and the stacks outside the alcove were deserted as well. I recalled my vision of Tom fucking me against the bathroom wall and decided this was going to be my shining moment of public indecency. I opened the door, stepped in, then turned around to face him, left eyebrow raised.

“Want to join me?” I licked my lips. He barged past me into the bathroom, fingers already working to unbuckle his belt.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I locked the door, then did a 180. He held his fully engorged cock in his right hand, stroking it, catching any drips with his left. “I do believe I need to put this somewhere immediately so I don’t make a terrible mess on the floor.”

I bit my bottom lip as I tilted my head to the side. “I think I’ve got just the place for it.”

He ceased his stroking in order to back me up against the wall, growling in my ear. “Oh yes. You most certainly do.” He bent his knees as he lifted the front of my dress up to my waist, and I wrapped my leg around his, grinding my dripping pussy against him while I rubbed my clit. He groaned, and I slipped my glistening finger into his mouth. He sucked on it, and I felt the head of his cock at my entrance and his hands cupping my ass, his full weight on me, pressing me firmly against the cool tile.

He was panting. “Put your other leg around me and your arms around my neck.” I did the latter, but scoffed at the former.

“Um, there is no way in hell you’re going to be able to hold me up.”

He leaned forward to stare into my eyes, and his expression made me whimper. “Leg. Up. Now. Please.” As I complied he sheathed himself fully. I tried to bite back a ridiculously loud moan but was only partially successful. His mouth met mine, tongues dancing around each other. He pulled back.

“Maude, my apologies, but once I start moving I fear I’m going to last all of thirty seconds. If I’m fortunate.”

I clamped down on him. He began thrusting wildly, and I focused all my energy on not coming before he did. I was doing well until he started whispering in my ear using his Loki voice.

“Give in, mortal. Come for me. I know you’ve dreamed of this, me fucking into you for all I’m worth, you pinned against the wall, unable to sway those mesmerizing hips and have your way with me as you ride my cock to find your own selfish pleasure.”

He pounded into me, almost savagely, and as he felt my walls begin to flutter he put his hand over my mouth.

“Not. A. Sound.” I came, my scream trapped beneath his hand, the wet sounds of him moving in and out of me echoing eerily off the bathroom walls. “That’s it. Look at you, coming and coming all over my cock. So, so beautiful.”

He let his hand drop, and I could feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as I stared at him, his face red, jaw clenched, the veins on his neck standing out with his exertion. His head tipped back, fingers digging into the underside of my thighs, and his entire body shuddered as he orgasmed, come spurting hot inside me. I let my legs slide down one at a time, planting my feet as firmly as I possibly could despite the fact that they felt like they were made of Jell-O.

He rested his head on my shoulder, and I rubbed his back. “I guess this means you got my text after all.” I felt him nod. “Well, if this is what not wearing underwear gets me, I’m never putting on another fucking pair ever again.”

We both laughed, quickly cleaned ourselves up, and I peeked out the door to make sure the coast was clear. Still not a soul around, and we said a final goodbye to Alani on our way out and proceeded to walk back to the Jeep. We sat for a while, neither of us feeling quite capable of driving.

He leaned over to kiss me, hand on the back of my neck, grinning as he pulled away. “I’m famished. Want to grab something to eat before we head back?”

“You already know the answer to that.” I noticed the street getting a bit congested, a small pack of women heading in our direction and what appeared to be a local news crew up the road a bit…I pulled out my phone and checked Alani’s Twitter feed. She’d posted the photo of all of us.

Here’s me just a little while ago with Tom Hiddleston and his girlfriend, Maude. He smells like a pine forest, and she’s super nice. #bestdayever, #thankyoutomandmaude

I showed it to him. “I’m thinking maybe we should stop somewhere a little further down the road. You?”

He started the Jeep, put it in first and stalled it as he tried to pull away from the curb, and then again on his second try. He smiled at me sheepishly. “Perhaps you’d better drive.”

“Gee, ya think?” We got out and switched places. I shook my head. “What a newb.”

He crossed his arms. “I am not a newb. I’m just out of practice is all.”

I patted his thigh as we got to the highway. “Right. Rusty stick skills. I remember.”

He chortled. “Yours remain top notch though, my love.”

I smiled smugly. “They do, don’t they?”

He raised his index finger. “Although, technically, you didn’t actually make use of them this go round, did you?”

“I’ll make up for it next time.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Well I’d fucking hope you’d hold me to it. That’s the whole point.” I saw a McDonald’s sign in the distance. “Dude, I want some French fries in the WORST way. And a chocolate milkshake. You game?’

“I most certainly am.”

“If you behave I’ll let you have my cherry.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“How rude.”

“Perhaps. But true.”

“Not entirely true.”

“What do you mean, not entirely true?”

I turned off the highway and into the parking lot. The drive through line was mobbed, but the lot itself was relatively empty. “I mean that the fact that it’s a bit late for you to have my cherry is only partially correct.”

He stared at me as I engaged the parking brake, puzzled, then shook his head. “I’m not following.”

The left corner of my mouth scrunched up in mock irritation. “Really? Are you sure?” He shrugged, palms up. “Think about all we’ve…done.”

“Maude.”

“Good. Now think about what we haven’t done.” I gave him a few moments to review, watching his face closely so I’d see it dawn on him. 3…2…1…aaaannndd there it was. His jaw slackened, hips lifting almost imperceptibly. “That’s right. I’ve played around, sure, but as far as actually having a cock in my ass…nope. Which means, technically, my anal cherry is still intact.”

He covered his face with his hands, groaning, but said nothing.

I went in for the kill. “So, Thomas…tell me. Would you like my cherry?”

Shaking his head, face still hidden, he spoke in a low voice. “Maude.” He paused, remaining silent for quite some time, seemingly avoiding my question. I wondered if I’d overstepped some sort of boundary, pushing him too far.

My mind was racing, and I frowned. “Wow. I’m really sorry, Tom.”

He uncovered his face to take my hand, gazing at me with eyes full of concern. “Whatever for?”

“Because I put you on the spot there and just assumed it’s something you’d want to participate in. I didn’t stop to think that it’s something that might not be up everyone’s alley.” I rolled my eyes. “That didn’t come out…shit…DAMN. Anyway, that was incredibly presumptuous and I apologize for letting myself get so carried away. Please don’t feel like it’s something you have to…”

He leaned in to kiss me forcefully, covering my entire mouth with his, tongue darting over my lips, then pulled away before I could fully engage. “May I answer your question now?”

I shook my head. “Tom, you don’t need…”

“I know I don’t need to, but I WANT to. My answer is, with undeniable certainty, yes. Please accept my apology for not answering straight away. I’m afraid I was too busy thinking about how deliciously tight you’re going to feel around me and then I remembered that you aren’t wearing panties and it was all I could do to stop myself from dragging you onto my lap and fucking you right here in the McDonald’s parking lot.”

His eyes met mine, nostrils flaring, pupils blown wide open. Never before had I been able to do this to a man, make him want me so desperately using nothing but words. He squeezed my hand.

“That you’d trust me with something so intimate, bequeathing me such a precious gift, wishing to share something that you’ve not yet experienced with another, is…I’m honored, humbled, awestruck…so very many things.” He smiled timidly. “I’ve never been someone’s first anything before.”

My brows shot up, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Maude, there’s something I’d like to ask you, but…”

“Shoot.”

“All right. This may be terribly intrusive, and feel free to not answer it if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but…knowing what I do about you, sexually, I’m…surprised…that you…erm, never…anyway, I suppose I’m just wondering why.”

I sighed. Good job, Maude. This is what you get for trying to be a seductress.

“Long story short, you’re only the fourth person I’ve been intimate with. The first two were before I was twenty and not even remotely interested in such a thing. By the third I was very interested, but things fell apart before it happened.” I put my arms on the steering wheel and rested my forehead on them for a moment, then raised my head and turned to him. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.

“Okay, I’m not sure if that look means ‘I didn’t need to hear that’ or ‘wow, only three, what a loser’.”

He shook his head. “It’s neither. Well, maybe a bit of the first one, because the idea of you being with someone else is much more unpleasant than I would have imagined, but…it was mostly surprise that such an incredibly beautiful, intelligent, hilarious woman wouldn’t have men lining up to be with her.”

“Thomas. Stop being so fucking wonderful, won’t you? Christ. There was no line, believe me. I’ve always been at least a little chubby, but after I moved to New York I put on a huge amount of weight. There are reasons for that, but that’s another story for another time. By 2003 I was tipping the scales at two hundred and forty-seven pounds. I’ve always been a confident person, and I honestly never cared what anyone else thought about the way I looked, but…you know what I’m getting at here, I think. In late 2008 I started feeling like shit, and Anne, who’d nearly died due to undiagnosed diabetes in 2003, pushed me to see a doctor. Sure enough, that was the problem. It was early, and resolvable with lifestyle modifications. So, I kicked myself in the ass, and over the next year I lost more than eighty pounds, and that was when I…a woman in her sexual prime, in the best shape of her life…met number three. God bless him…I was on a mission, making up for lost time and he could barely keep up with me. One time I actually thought he was going to need an ambulance…sheese, why I am telling you this? Yikes. Sorry. Lord knows I don’t want to hear anything like it from you.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Let’s pretend this never happened and go get those milkshakes, m’kay?”

He grabbed my arm as I opened the door, and I turned to meet his gaze. “I…Maude…I just…you are…everything about you…” He shook his head. “I fall deeper in love with you with every passing moment.”

“Right back atcha, baby.” He laughed. “Yeah. No way I was going to try and out-eloquent you there. Waste of time and energy.”

We went inside, his arm around my shoulders, and ordered two Happy Meals when we saw the new toys were Minions. Neither of us could resist playing with them as we ate. Tom went back for a Big Mac and chicken nuggets, which I shared. He stuck his fingers in through the lid of my milkshake, deftly picking up the cherry and popping it in his mouth, a huge smile on his face.

We both used the bathroom, separately, and as we were walking back to the Jeep I heard the voice of a young boy.

“Mom, Mom! That man over there! That’s the man you’re always looking at on your computer!”

A woman replied to him. “Mason, what are you talking ab…?” And with that, I knew she’d seen Tom. I pulled at his shirt, and he looked down at me and nodded. We turned around and waved. The woman was about my age, maybe a little older, and she looked like she might die of embarrassment when she realized we’d overheard their conversation. Tom strode over, hand extended.

“Hi there. Tom Hiddleston. And you are?” She moved as if in a trance, hand out, and he grasped it gently and shook.

“I…uh…um…Sarah. I’m Sarah. And this is my son, Mason.”

Tom beamed and shook Mason’s hand as well. “Lovely to meet you both.”

Sarah reached into her purse, dug around and pulled out a Coriolanus program. She cleared her throat. “I heard that you’d be on the island and I’ve been carrying this with me, you know, just in case.”

He took it from her. “Were you in attendance?”

Mason piped up. “We flew all the way across two oceans so she could go see your show. I saw Big Ben. It was really cool.”

Sarah was bright red. “I saw it twice, actually, but didn’t have time to stay after.”

Tom pulled a sharpie out of his back pocket. “May I?”

She grinned. “Please do.” He signed his name, as well as a message. ‘Sorry to have missed you there, but better late than never. Glad to finally have met you. XO’”

As he handed it back to her he asked if she’d like a picture with him. He introduced us, and I volunteered to do the honors so Mason could squeeze in as well. I gave him my Minion to keep him occupied while I took some shots of just Sarah and Tom. He held it up to give it back to me when I handed Sarah back her phone.

“Nope, buddy, that’s yours now.” I held out my hand to Tom and he put his toy in it. “In fact, you can have Tom’s too. This way he gets to stay with his friend and won’t be lonely.” He thanked me so quietly I could barely hear him, eyes full of wonder at what to an adult was such a small gesture.

Tom hugged them both goodbye, and Sarah embraced me as well. She smiled at my surprise. “Thank you, both of you, so much.”

Tom put his arm around my waist as we walked the rest of the way back to the Jeep, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“It is my personal opinion that you’re a much kinder, gentler person than you’d like everyone to believe.”

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. And it’s all your fucking fault, too.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 11

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the-angelsong · 7 years

Text

The Jealous Butcher

Chapter six of my Sherlock Through the Ages story.

read the other chapters HERE

"I'm telling you, you have the wrong man!" Called Sherlock as the officers pulled him out of the police car and into the Scotland Yard headquarters.

They led him into a small interview room with a desk and some chairs and left him sitting on the small fold out chair. Minutes passed pushing him further and further to the edge of his patience. Finally, the door opened and an older man in a cheap suit and a young woman in uniform walked in. "You’re wasting time!" He shouted at them in exasperation.

The man and woman ignored him, sitting opposite him at the desk. The man nodded and the woman pressed record on the tape player in the room. "Interview of suspect Sherlock Holmes commencing at 11:45 PM on the 7th of October 1999. Lead Detective Inspector Harvey is present, as is Sergeant Daniels." Said the woman and nodded to the man.

"Mr Holmes, I need to verify that you have been told your rights, and that you are aware of your entitlement to a lawyer before we start. Can you please give me verbal confirmation?" Said Harvey.

"Yes, yes." Replied Sherlock with a wave of his hand. "I don't need one, I'm sure I could do a better job representing myself than any court appointed twat you bring in here."

Daniels raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

DI Harvey began to speak. "You have been pulled in here tonight under suspicion of murder-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course, I have, can't expect the bumbling idiots of Scotland Yard to do their jobs right."

"You were found at the scene with the victim's blood all over you-"

"It was a few drops on my coat." Cut in Sherlock. "Sorry, wouldn't want you to mess this up for the tape." He added sarcastically.

"Am I to take that as an admittance of guilt?" Asked Harvey.

"Only if you're an idiot."

"Mr Holmes." Said the older man sharply. "You are in serious trouble right now and you are not making things look any better for yourself with that attitude."

"Good." Replied Sherlock with a half-smile. "If I was the killer I'm sure I would be quivering in fear right about now."

Sergeant Daniels spoke up. "So, you're denying any involvement?"

"You were found standing over the body of Sarah Mitchells with blood on your hands and clothes, how do you explain that Mr Holmes?"

"Yes, I was. Two hours after she died. I was examining her, that's how the blood got on my coat. I don't suppose it will come out now," he said with a sad look. "I loved that coat. I'll have to buy a new one now, I hate coat shopping. It's the shoulders you see, very broad. It's hard to find a coat that fits me in the shoulders that I'm not swimming in everywhere else. I suppose I should really invest in multiples, alleviate this problem in the future."

"Mr Holmes!" Shouted DI Harvey.

"What? If you're going to waste my time I might as well waste yours."

"If you didn't kill her, why were you there? Why not phone the police when you found her?" Asked Sergeant Daniels.

"And leave it to you? God, you lot couldn't find a wet sock in a washing machine." He scoffed. "You found nothing the last time, and seeing that the killer has struck again, it was my civic duty to stop the culprit."

"The last time? What last time?" Asked Harvey.

Sherlock sighed, it was like teaching pre-schoolers. "Yes of course the last time, Ingrid Jenkins.... come on, I knew you were thick but you don't need to prove it."

"We caught Miss Jenkins killer."

"Nope." Said Sherlock. "Once again, you have an innocent man. Honestly, you'd have better luck picking people out of a crowd. Statistically at least one of the people will have been naughty."

"Oh yeah, and what makes you think these cases are linked?" Asked Harvey.

"If I'm going to do your job for you I should ask for pay and benefits. Obviously, the cases are linked. Ingrid; 5"4, blonde, blue eyes, throat slit with a large blade, probably a hunting knife, found in an alley in central London. Sarah; 5"3 blonde, blue eyes, throat cut with a large blade, found in an alley in central London. Are you seeing a pattern yet?"

"But Ingrid Jenkins fought with her boyfriend on the night that she died, a man with a history of violence and a bloody knife in his flat." Argued the Sergeant.

"Yes, and very little blood. There was however noted in the pathology report, a rather large cut on Ingrid's hand. She cut herself on the knife, that's why there was blood on the knife and hardly any in the flat."

"He could have killed her somewhere else, after all she was found in the alley. He could have killed her there." Said the detective.

"What? And then gone to the effort of bringing the knife home with him only to forget to wash it? Come on! And she wasn't killed in the alley either, not enough blood. Use your brains." Spat Sherlock.

"Alright then smart arse, where did this 'serial killer' top them?"

"It takes three victims to be considered a serial killer and I'd really rather another woman didn't die just to prove a point." Said Sherlock exasperatedly. "In his van, of course."

"Van?" Asked Daniels.

"Yes, his van, the alley where Sarah Mitchells was found has construction next door, there was mud in the alley, and therefore tyre tracks."

"They could have been left by a delivery driver earlier in the day." Suggested the Sergeant.

"Dear god, if you must open your mouth, hum. It will certainly have more validity than anything you contribute. There was heavy rain this afternoon, rain that would have washed away any tyre prints from the day. These were left tonight, when the killer was dumping Sarah's body."

"Alright!" Shouted Harvey before Daniels could start reacting to the young man's comments. "Okay, so, let me get this straight. You didn't kill her, you were investigating her death because she and Miss Jenkins had similarities. How did you know about the similarities? How did you know about the cut on her hand? You said you read it in the pathology report. That's not possible, you’re not allowed access to that."

"My curiosity was peaked at the trial of the first victim's boyfriend. The evidence seemed circumstantial at best. So, I looked into it more, it's not hard to gain access to pathology reports if you know he right people."

"What were you doing at the trial?" Asked the Sergeant.

"I was bored." Explained Sherlock. "After looking through the evidence I could see that the killer would strike again and worked out his likely dump site, when I arrived, I found Miss Mitchells."

"How could you possibly know he would pick that alley?" Scoffed the DI

"Obvious, the alley is a dead end in central London, large enough to drive a van in. It's adjacent a construction site, which would be empty at night, so no potential witnesses there. The businesses on the other side don't operate at late night hours so no onlookers there either. If someone did happen to look down the alley, they wouldn't notice a delivery van parked there. The only lighting comes from the Main Street that connects the alley, and with the van reversed in and parked it would completely hide the killer from view. It's far enough away from busy thoroughfares to avoid late night pedestrians and other types who would frequent London alleys, and the homeless population have been moved on by police recently. So, that's how I knew he would pick that alley."

There was a moment of silence as the police officers processed what the young man had said. Eventually, in a stuttering voice the DI asked. "What can you tell us about the killer?"

"The killer is a delivery driver for a local butcher, probably late thirties. Obviously unattractive. Poor social skills, and existing anger problems. He will have priors, probably assault and sexual assault. He may have gone to prison for them but that's unlikely, misdemeanors more likely. A frequent drinker who still lives with his mother and has never managed to maintain a relationship."

"You got all that from some tyre treads in the mud?" Asked the DI in amazement.

"Obviously." He replied smugly.

"How do we know that you’re not just making all this up? How could you possible know all that." Argued Daniels.

An eye roll wasn't sufficient enough in this case, so instead Sherlock let his whole head roll in exasperation. "He has a van, with balding tyres, it gets a lot of wear from his many deliveries. Therefore, delivery driver. How do I know it's for a butchery? He kills them in the van, so he must work in an industry where nobody would notice pints of blood all over the floor, butchery. And there's the throats, cleanly sliced with a large blade, so someone who knows about blades and how to slice meat. But the drinking has given him a tremor in his hand. The victim's wound was ragged at one end, as he cuts into them his hand shakes."

"What about living with his mum? How could you know that?" Asked the DI.

"Or that he's ugly?" Added the Sergeant.

"Because if he had any luck with women he wouldn't need to attack them would he." Explained Sherlock like a fed-up teacher. "He meets the victims at bars, Ingrid Jenkins had a fight with her boyfriend so she went out to blow off some steam, Sarah Mitchell's was dressed in club clothes. Single women, similar in appearance, out on their own.... exactly his type. He would have approached them at the pub, and grown enraged when they rejected him. So, he waited for them to leave and took them."

"But there was no sign of sexual assault on Jenkins, and you said the killer would have priors for sexual assault." Argued the Sergeant.

"Well no of course not, they rejected him, this is about revenge." He explained.

"So how do we catch him?" Asked the DI.

"He'll be on a high now, after just completing his second murder, and the night is still young. He'll be out celebrating. Somewhere near the alley. Not close enough to see it, but close enough to maintain the high. But he would have needed to clean up first, throat slitting is messy business, there's no way he would be able to hide it. He must keep a change of clothes in the van. And he'd want to hose out the van. He's a delivery driver so he would have keys to the butchery." Think Sherlock! He told himself, where would he be? "Oh, there’s a dingy pub on Cross street, two blocks from the alley. It's been," he checked his watch. "Three hours since the murder, plenty of time to get cleaned up and head back out, that's where he is!" He exclaimed.

"But how will we know who he is?" Asked the Sergeant.

"Boots! He's an alcoholic who lives with his mother, he probably only has one pair. There'll be bloodstains on his boots, blood from both victims."

"Right," said DI Harvey to Sergeant Daniels. "Call it in, have a couple plain clothes officers go for a look."

The Sergeant nodded and ran out of the room.

"So, am I free to go now?" Asked Sherlock.

"Hang on a minute, you still interfered with a crime scene, and we don't even know if what your saying is true. You can just settle in here till your story checks out." Said the detective.

Sherlock slumped in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "Fine, I'll take a cup of tea, white two sugars thanks."

The detective shook his head, but went to fetch the man his drink.

After the man left the room Sherlock stared into his reflection in the mirror on the wall. This had been.... exhilarating, it was always fun to play his deductions game, and he'd dabbled crime on both sides of the line. But never, had he gotten the police on his side before. The way he had commanded the room, his superiority. Proving he was right had always left a sour taste in people's mouth, but this? This was... incredible.

He wondered if he would get the chance to do this again, work with the police that is. It was so much more fun leading them along than solving the crimes in his head and calling to tip them off. Was this it? Had he found his calling?

#sherlock's a smart arse #deductions #chapter six #hope you like it

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