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80s4life · 3 years

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The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning.

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!”

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted.

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you.

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part.

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later.

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white.

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated.

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly.

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?”

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on.

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?”

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...”

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot.

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!”

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance.

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

#biff tannen x reader #bttf #back to the future #biff tannen imagine #bttf imagine #back to the future imagine #thomas f. wilson #crispin glover #george mcfly #christopher lloyd #dr. emmett brown #doc brown #doc #michael j. fox #marty mcfly #lea thompson #lorraine baines

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chendersonfic · 3 years

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Inhospitable Place, Chapter 1

“I’m looking at you. But you don’t see me. That’s okay.

By the time you notice me watching you, it will be too late.”

The October rain gently tapping on the window and the roof was finally slowing to a drizzle. The rain in Connecticut was different than Pennsylvania rain—it was colder…harsher somehow. That was one of many things on my list of grievances against Hartford, and by default against Hunter, who came up with the idea to move here. It’s not that it was his fault. He thought he was doing the right thing by getting me away from everything that was familiar. He probably imagined he was giving me—us—a brand new start. But no matter how hard I tried, the bile of resentment would creep up my throat, willing me to remind him every now and then that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

I didn’t have a personal vendetta against the city. Had I come here under different circumstances, I probably would have appreciated the historic buildings, and bored my family and friends to death with anecdotes about Bushnell park being the oldest park in the country, and how I visited Mark Twain’s House. Instead, I came to Hartford numbed by Xanax, Prozac, and a bottle of wine. Nothing could have impressed me. Everything was a cruel reminder that the world didn’t come to a grinding halt when my mother died. It just kept going. And now I was supposed to keep going with it.

A part of me felt sorry for Hunter. He met me two months before my mother suddenly passed away from a massive brain aneurysm. The person he met, the person he fell in love with, that person no longer existed. I was a professional ballroom dancer and a choreographer for a popular TV show. I had a life, I had friends, and a bustling career. I had a body that was sculpted by long hours of dancing and a fridge that contained celery juice and oat milk. I was full of energy and couldn't wait to see what every day had to bring. That all changed overnight. A career doesn't wait for you; there's an appropriate grieving window and then it's back to business as usual. But I couldn't bear it. As hard as I would try, I just couldn't find my footing without her.

After a while I had no job, and my friends had given up on me. All I had left was my sister, Francesca, my dad, Randy, and my boyfriend, Hunter, who somehow stuck around through it all. When he first suggested the move to Hartford, I was opposed to it. After all, why would I move away from the only close family I had left? But everything at home was a constant reminder of what I no longer had. Her books, her comforter, her perfume—it was unbearable. So after a week of debating, I said yes and—despite the protests from my sister and father—we packed up our stuff and left for Connecticut.

The drive to our new home took 7 1/2 hours from Pittsburgh. Since I no longer had a job it was down to Hunter to find us a place to live on his loan officer salary. We moved into a 2-bedroom loft—exposed brick industrial design. One bedroom was ours, the other was my designated new studio where I was supposed to recapture my love for dancing. I told Hunter I was practicing daily. That was a lie. Nothing changed for me; nothing except my surroundings.

I stood in the empty studio looking out of the window and watching the rain. I turned my head back when I heard Bruno waddling over. My only source of joy these days. He was a fluffy overweight Corgi whose owners had given him up to the local high kill animal shelter when they moved. One day, while I was struggling to stay sober and fighting dark thoughts of ending it once and for all, I decided to go on a walk. It was another rainy day, just like today. I almost passed by the shelter, but the howling from the inside made me suddenly stop. Something had beckoned me to go inside that day. A gut feeling. I walked from cage to cage, shivering under my wet jacket. The sad looking furry faces staring back at me shivered as well. The place was freezing, and the smell of ammonia and fear wafted through the air.

“Can I help you?” a middle age curly haired woman asked, popping her head out from behind an office door. Her name tag read Tatiana.

“I’m just looking around,” I replied. She sighed, obviously displeased at my window-shopping approach to animals in need. I felt embarrassed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but the three at the end are getting euthanized this Friday. In case you feel like saving a life,” she said in a harsh, condescending tone, then disappeared behind the door once again.

“Well no wonder you have to euthanize dogs, who’d want to get one from you,” I muttered to myself. I thought about leaving, but it felt disrespectful to not even take a look at the three death row mutts. They deserved my attention, at least. I walked down the dim lit hallway to the end of the chain link fence enclosures. The first one was a Pitbull that launched at the fence with the speed of light, making me stagger back. “I’m DANGEROUS, do not put hands near the fence!” the description tag on his door read.

“Sorry buddy,” I said in the midst of his barking, “Hope it's better in the next life for you.” I moved to the next cage, where a big Husky mix snarled upon seeing me. His name was “Diamond”.

“Don't worry, you'll be someone's gem in dog heaven,” I told him, then slowly moved onto the last cage. “Bruno,” the name tag read, along with, “I’m feisty, don’t put hands near the fence!”

Bruno was the fattest Corgi I've ever seen. He laid there on the concrete slab, behind the chain link fence, looking completely devoid of life. He didn't even bother to bark at me.

“Bruno,” I said, trying to find the right last words. His eyes slowly moved to meet mine, then he looked back down and gently put his head on his paws. He had given up. Like he knew what was coming next. For a brief moment I wondered if that's what I looked like to people as well. A man who had given up on life.

After I left the shelter, I cried all the way home. Life seemed so cruel and unfair. A healthy woman with two children drops dead in the middle of the day, out of nowhere and without any warning. A dog who loves snacks gets left at a strange place and locked in a small wet cage where he now awaits his death.

Hunter was waiting for me at home.

“Where have you been?” he asked. It must have been curious to him, since I almost never left our place anymore.

“I went on a walk,” I replied, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. I was soaked.

“Do we not have an umbrella?” he asked, turning the heater on.

“We do, I just wasn’t thinking,” I replied. Poor Hunter, he had to constantly worry about me.

“Did you see anything good on your walk?” I sighed, then told him my shelter story.

“Do you think they give them like…a last meal? Like maybe his favorite snack?” I asked concerned, and he raised his eyebrow.

“Uhh, they’re dogs, not death row inmates. I doubt they get a steak for their last meal,” he replied truthfully. “But I’m sure it’s quick and painless. Better than spending the rest of their lives in a small cage. Imagine the horror of that,” he added, his face suddenly stone serious.

“What day is it today?” I asked.

“Wednesday,” he replied, shaking himself out of his dark thoughts. “Don’t even think about it. Our building has a no-pet policy,” he said, then added, “I’ll probably be home late tomorrow, just so you know. I’m behind on a few things.”

“No worries. And I wasn’t thinking about it,” I lied, thinking of the big Corgi and how he only had one more day to live. I wondered how he’d spend it. Probably cooped up in that cold, wet cage. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

The next morning I woke up with the sun, which was rare for me. Sleeping until the afternoon was more the norm nowadays. Hunter had already left, and I was feeling restless. I cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the bathroom, washed the dishes. Finally, I grabbed a load of dirty clothes and went downstairs to the building’s laundry room.

“Hello,” the warm voice from behind me said as I was pouring my detergent into the washer. I looked back and recognized my next-door neighbor. “I’m Derek,” he said, as if we never met. I suppose he had forgotten me, I rarely ever went out.

“I know, I remember you. I’m Louis,” I replied. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a fitting blue tee. If I wasn’t in a relationship, and on the brink of suicide, I probably would have felt quite giddy to be speaking to him.

“That’s right,” he said, putting his laundry basket down. “You guys are from out of state, right?”

“Right, Pennsylvania.”

“How are you liking Hartford?” he asked, taking over the other machine.

“Well, it’s nice. Lots of rain,” I replied, not knowing what to say. I haven’t really stepped foot out of the apartment since we moved. I didn't have much to say about Hartford.

“Right, right. I don't mean to sound strange, but your face is so familiar…” he trailed off.

“I was a choreographer for a TV show,” I explained, and everything clicked into place for him.

“Yes, that’s it!” he said snapping his fingers excitedly. And I laughed for the first time in months. “What happened man? You were so great at that.”

“My mother passed away,” I replied bluntly. His brown eyes looked at me with sad warmth.

“That is tough. How are you doing?” he asked.

“Doing alright,” I lied. “Or I was. But then I saw these dogs at the shelter yesterday, and now I’m all messed up about it. It’s dumb but, there was a Corgi and they’re putting him down tomorrow. And it’s just sad,” I rambled on, then stopped, embarrassed. He raised an eyebrow.

“The local shelter?” I nodded my head. “What's preventing you from getting him?” he asked, starting his load while I was still putting my clothes in.

“Well for one, this place doesn't allow pets,” I said.

“You know what my mother always says?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” he replied. He grabbed his bin and gave me a smile, then disappeared just as fast as he came.

Strange. I thought about our encounter for the rest of the day. But how could I take care of a dog, when I couldn’t even look after myself anymore. It was months since I ate a vegetable. I went for days without showering. Dogs needed consistency, routine, rules. Plus, Hunter wouldn’t be happy, even if we could somehow convince the landlord to let us have a dog in the first place.

At 10:00 o'clock I popped a Xanax, followed it up with some wine, and went to sleep. I dreamt of Bruno, alone in his kennel. Cold and hungry.

When I woke up, Hunter was already gone. I looked at the clock. 11:45. Today was his last day. What would they feed him? Would he be scared? Would he yelp in pain when the needle pierced his skin? I felt anger rise up in me. He was a perfectly healthy dog, why should he have to die in that place? Just because someone deemed him “feisty”. Why should he be nice to people when this is what they’ve done to him? The expectation was ridiculous. He had every right to be angry. Disenchanted. “Feisty”. I put on a hoodie, grabbed a bag of leftover rotisserie chicken and ran out the door. Maybe I could at least be there for him. Maybe he liked rotisserie chicken.

I finally made it to the shelter and almost ran Tatiana into the ground.

“What in the hell!” she grimaced, pushing me back with her bony hands. I tried to catch my breath and realized I was completely out of shape.

“Have the…have the dogs been… been euthanized yet?” I asked. She stared at me in confusion. “The three dogs,” I tried to make her understand.

“Oh, yes, at 11:00 this morning,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at the bag of chicken in my hand.

“How…how did it happen?” I asked. She sighed.

“Well, first we took them out of the kennel on a leash. They thought they were going for a walk. They started wagging their tails. But as soon as we got close to the euthanasia room, they knew something was up. They must have sensed the smell of death in the air. So, they put up a fight,” she said, matter-of-factly, then continued. “They had to be restrained until the vet injected a lethal dose that put them out. Then, they were put into black plastic bags, and placed in the freezer, where they now wait to be picked up, like trash.” I imagined Bruno through every step of that journey, and the tears started involuntarily pouring down.

“Can I…can I maybe take him with me and bury him?” I asked. It’s not like I even had a yard to bury him in, but the thought of leaving him behind destroyed me. She sighed again.

“You’re talking about Bruno, right, the chunky Corgi?” she asked. I nodded my head and wiped my tears. She pointed to the office door. “He said you’d come, but I didn’t believe it,” she said more to herself than to me. “Guess I owe him that $50.”

“What?” I asked, confused. She pointed to the door again, more impatiently this time. As if I was supposed to understand what she was talking about.

“Go, he wants to talk to you,” she said, then walked off towards the kennels, leaving me behind. I approached the door with the name plate that read, “Dr. Derek Robinson, Veterinarian.” I knocked, then opened it before getting a reply. I needed to find out what was going on.

He was on the phone, but flashed me a bright smile upon seeing me, then raised a finger to indicate he’d be with me in a minute. I waited by the door, confused by whatever was going on.

“Hello neighbor,” he said, finally getting off the phone. He looked different in his work clothes, and I was pretty speechless. He checked out the bag of chicken I was holding with a confused face.

“Lunch?”

“I uhh, I thought I could give it to Bruno before…you know, but I’m too late. Wait, you work here?” I asked, trying to make sense of it all. He laughed from behind his desk.

“Yes. And that’s sweet, but dogs don’t eat before euthanasia. Makes them nauseous,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. “So, did you have to do it?” I asked.

“Yes, an unfortunate part of my job,” he stated, and got up. He walked past me and opened the door. “Thankfully, only two dogs had to be put down today.” He started walking towards the kennels, and I followed him.

“Really? That’s…that’s great! How did that happen?” I tried to keep up with his long and quick strides.

“Well, I can’t in good conscience put down a dog that has a home waiting for him,” he replied as we got to the end of the kennels. He smiled at me. I looked at him, then at the chain-link fence, and realized we were standing in front of Bruno’s kennel. My heartbeat picked up and I quickly looked inside. He was laying on the concrete slab, miserable as ever, but still very much alive. I felt relief spread through me as I looked back at Derek.

“But…me?” I asked.

“Who else came in here to give an overweight death row Corgi a bag of chicken?” he asked, and I could sense a note of amusement in his tone.

“But I can’t, you know our building has a no-pet policy,” I replied.

“Good thing my brother is the owner. I already spoke to him. I’m paying a monthly pet fee on your behalf. Now say hi to your new friend,” he said. “Give him some of that through the fence first,” he pointed to my chicken bag, “he’s less snappy when he isn’t hungry.”

An hour later, I was frantically searching for a pet store to get Bruno a bed, food dishes, and snacks. Back home, he was wary of me at first. Only coming by when he wanted to eat. But over three months he acclimated. And with Derek’s help and guidance, we got him on a healthier diet and he was starting to look trimmer already. And while he still wasn’t a lap dog, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with Hunter, he now slept in his dog bed next to my side of the bed and woke me up by bumping his wet nose into my hand to take him on a morning walk. Bruno had become the biggest reason for my continued existence.

I looked at him now, as his eyes impatiently darted from my face to the door and back—a signal that it was time for an evening treat.

“We can’t keep eating like this,” I said, smacking my ever-growing belly. I walked over to the kitchen and he followed me. I reached for the dog treats, and he perked up. I slowly handed over the fragrant pepperoni stick. “Don’t tell Derek,” I said, and he grabbed it with precision, then made his way to the bedroom to enjoy it. I didn’t blame him, it’s not like I wanted to be in my own company either.

I poured myself a disproportionately large glass of wine and checked my phone. Three missed voicemails from my sister, Francesca. I'd have to get back to her eventually. She was the persistent type.

I made my way to the living room and turned on the TV. I glanced at the morning’s copy of the Hartford Times, splayed open on our living room table. It announced that the body of yet another young man had been found. That would make it 6 in total. One for every two months that we've lived here. It was now very clear: there was a serial killer on the loose.

#inhospitableplace #thriller #mystery #serialkiller #serial #killer #lgbt #gay #gaylove #lgbtlove #fiction

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benbarnesescape · 7 years

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The Wager - Part 4

Warnings: Sweet, awkward Logan

A/N: You guys Ben is killing me portraying Billy Russo (as seen above). I am debating updating Blood, Sex and Whiskey because I just feel bloody Punisher is going to drop this Friday and then I’ll be wrong about everything so until then the Wager Part 4 until I can figure out my ovaries and mental sanity

Need to Catch up. Check out the Previous Part Here

He was different. You had come out to model each outfit, like he had asked, and each time you had been awarded with his half hooded eyes, his body molded into the soft cushions of the creme couch that housed him. He had stopped responding after the third outfit, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully. The girl’s who helped you dressed had shifted their mood along with his – now they watched you dangerously. Apparently, all of them had been with Logan at one point or another. Apparently, they had all tried to get him to pursue more than a quick romp in the sack. Apparently, he had declined them all, not paying them any attention to them afterwards.

But then there was you.

They didn’t know what to make of the woman who had become Logan’s friend. The woman who had garnered his attention and was now having him drool over her while he bought her nice clothing.

They definitely didn’t believe you were both just friends.

By the time you had finished trying on the wardrobe of new outfits, Rachel had joined Logan on the couch, talking easily to him as she propped her head on her hand, elbow propped on the couch. He was relaxed now, his easy smile returning on his face as he chuckled lowly, his eyes flashing to you the moment you left the dressing room.

You had returned to your original outfit, the mishmash of a fall non brand look that you were sure cost a total of $50. Didn’t matter to Logan, however. His eyes still drank you eagerly as you walked to him slowly, that same dark look flashing across his face despite present company.

You weren’t sure what to make of this changed behavior.

“Y/N you simply have to come back and model for me. Do you know how many women bought outfits that you’re getting just because of how you looked in them? You’re a walking advertisement.” Rachel’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you laugh, shaking your head as you shale your hair out of the ponytail it was in.

“I don’t know about that,” you manage, ruffling your tendrils. “But it was fun to model in your clothing. Didn’t realize all the cheap shit I was buying until just now. I mean, I’ll still wear the cheap stuff but I have a new found appreciation for cashmere.”

Rachel laughs, standing up and placing her hand softly on your right shoulder.

“Well the clothes are on me. I made double my sale quota and I have a feeling you’re the reason for it.”

“Rachel I can’t possibly-“

She holds up her hand, shaking her head.

“Don’t you dare deny me this. Consider it a gift, if not from me than from Logan. And besides, you got him to stay completely silent for an hour without taking your clothes off in front him. I think that might be a record - it’s the quietest I’ve ever seen him in front of a beautiful woman.”

You both glance at Logan, who had been watching the interaction in curiosity and was now trying to cover the bright blush gracing his face. He chuckles, placing his hands on his knees and standing up slowly.

“I think we’ve outlived our welcome here, Rachel. I’ll let Juliet know that you said hi.”

He places his hand on the small of your back, drawing you closer to him.

“We got plans for this evening so if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal my dear friend back.”

There it was again. That specific term used to define your relationship. You knew that Logan cared about you – you just didn’t realize how much. He had never let on.

Rachel catches the small endearment too and quirks an eyebrow before replying,

“Didn’t realize that she was such a dear friend. Makes me feel like I’m just chopped liver.”

Logan rolls his eyes, though a smile still plays against his lips as he begins to usher you out of the store.

“You’re basically like another sister Rachel so take that for what it is.” He throws over his shoulders and your left with her laugh before you’re entering the cool autumn air of New York. His town car is parked patiently in front of the store as pedestrians bustle past you and Logan. He’s looking down at his phone, his fingers quickly texting something before he glances up at you, a devious smile on his lips.

“So you have two options at this point.”

You raise an eyebrow as he finishes.

“With the bet. You have two options. We can try to make this four o’clock showing of A Tinder Affair,” you snort at the way he strains through the title, “Or you could choose any older rom com movie of your choice and we can watch it at my place. Note that if you watch it at my place there’d be dinner, all the booze you can drink and if you get too tipsy a guest bed you can sleep in.”

He watches your carefully as you raise your eyebrows, debating between the two options.

“….this isn’t a ploy to get into my pants?” you finally ask curtly and he laughs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets as he shakes his head.

“God no. I told you – this day was all about you. Besides,” he inches closer to you, bending down so he’s closer to your face. “If I wanted to get in your pants didn’t matter what we did next or where we were at. Surely Rachel’s little helpers let you know that.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and you give a light laugh, but half of you is hurt. Why was it that he’d make moves on young, naïve idiots but he couldn’t gather the courage to even kiss you? Were you reading all of his singles incorrectly and projecting your own desires onto the situation?

Perhaps this was just a wager and he wanted to stay friends? You know you need to respond some way by the unsure way he’s looking at you so you finally mutter out,

“Okay, okay. Then let’s do dinner and a movie at your place.”

He gives you a knowing smile, before he throws his arm over your shoulder and begins shuffling you toward the town car.

“Perfect. Andres will take you back to your loft in Brooklyn. I’m gonna take a cab home – need to stop off someplace first. See you at, let’s call it 7?”

“You’re dumping me?” you respond and he chuckles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Just need to make some last minute arrangements. I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

His lips linger on your forehead and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, inhaling his scent. There was something about being wrapped in him that made you feel safe. Made you feel like you had a home.

It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in a while and it always came up when you were around him.

The gesture takes him off guard and he stiffens, causing you to instantly pull away afraid that you’ve over crossed your bounds.

“Sorry, I just wanted to thank you for such a great time today…I’ll head off…” you turn on your heels, mumbling your apology, trying to cover the embarrassment sweeping over your body.

He doesn’t let you.

His hand shoots out to grab your arm, snagging your attention as your eyes shoot back to his. His chocolate irises are watching you, that same intensity from earlier in the kitchen flashing against something else. Then someone bumps into him and you’re both drawn back to the present as he clears his throat.

“You never have to apologize for hugging me Y/N. You can have me however you like…” he frowns, shaking his head before releasing your arm and taking a step back.

“I have to go – text me when you’re on the way.”

Then he turns on his heels, losing himself in the crowd.

“What the fuck is going on…” you mumble to yourself, before shaking your head and getting into the car.

The bowl falling snaps him from his thoughts. He mutters to himself, picking up the round metal before placing it back on the counter. He had been intent on finishing the meal before you showed up, though thanks to a lot of delays he knew that wasn’t going to happen. The lady at the deli took too long to give him his rack of lamb, he had to return the two wine bottles he ordered because they were the wrong year and the cab driver he had taken home had intentionally kept him in traffic for a better fare.

This paired with showering and clearing up the area, making sure that your favorite flowers were delivered had him incredibly behind.

Now he was scrambling around his kitchen, his dark burgundy button up pulled up to his sleeves as he tried to prepare the elaborate dish that earlier had made so much sense in his head.

Perhaps it was a bit too much. The leg of lamb, the poached potatoes, the rich souffle. But he wanted you to have the best.

You deserved the best.

He knew he was in trouble after watching you model outfit after outfit, the same happy smile dancing on your lips as you twirled in each outfit. Knew he was in trouble when you wrapped your arms around him outside Rachel’s shop, the smell of your shampoo and perfume intermingling – intoxicating him. Knew he was in trouble when you tried to pull away and he wanted nothing more than to bring you back to him and kiss you until you were weak in the knees.

Rachel had been right.

“You could tell her how you feel.” She said while the both of them waited for you to change. He had leaned back in the cushions, his head thrown back as he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.

“I’m broken Rachel.” He finally says moments later and Rachel places her hand on his shoulder, shaking her head.

“We’re all broken Logan. We’re all broken until someone finds us and shows us that for all of our brokenness we’re worth it. I see the way you both look at each other. It’s that special spark. She see’s past all those walls that you’ve built up and sees you,” she pokes at his chest and he huffs, rolling his head to her. “You have to believe that if she see’s something in you, maybe it’s not to be ignored.”

“I already told you. I’m not good enough for her.”

Rachel rolls her eyes.

“You’re right. You’re not. But sometimes that doesn’t matter. Sometimes the universe is kind to you and places someone right in front of you whether you deserve it or not. It’s up to you on whether or not you should make a move.”

Logan nods, before shaking his head.

“I just don’t want to ever disappoint her.”

Rachel gives a soft smile.

“And because of that you never will.”

It had been rolling in the back of his mind since he had left Rachel, wondering if she had been right. Should he risk your friendship for something more? Or should he do what he had always chosen to do and play it safe?

All of his instincts said the latter because he always fucked up things when it came to his emotions. But another small part of him, the part that so desperately wanted to make you happy and to be the reason for that happiness, believed otherwise.

The rhythmic knock on the door that could only distinctly be you broke him of his thoughts as he finished checking the meat and he sighed, untying his apron and pulling it over his head. He checked himself in the mirror one more time, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans before taking one last breath and opening the door.

You were looking down on your phone, smiling to yourself wearing the sundress he had requested you wear, left on your bed after you had tried it on earlier that day. You had pulled your hair back, wisps of hair coming astray in light curls and he felt his chest implode with something.

Not lust. Something else more tender. Something else he refused to acknowledge.

“I see that you got my gift.” He smiles at you and your head snaps up, that smile still planted on it.

“My, my, don’t you clean up nice.” You smile and despite his best effort, he can’t help but blush. He covers it up by rubbing the back of his neck, shaking his head and standing aside.

“Come in. Please.”

You nod, moving past him and he catches the faint linger of perfume, soft vanilla and tries to bite back the internal groan. He wants to get lost in you.

“Logan…” you breathe out taking in the setting. He had set the lighting low, candles strewn about. The dinner table set with the most lighting, your favorite flowers adorning the full set table. A chilled bottle of wine sat aside, the faint music of Sabrina Claudio drifting in the air.

He had asked his sister Juliet how he should impress you and though she giggled and teased she didn’t prod as she talked her older brother through a romantic evening. She was curious but figured it would come up in time. This whole day had turned him into someone even he didn’t recognize and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Would you like a glass of wine? Its you’re favorite, a rich Malbec from Argentina.” he asks, watching your reaction with intention and you give a soft nod as he brushes past you, grabbing the bottle and starts to twist it open. The cork smoothly slides out of the glass container with a single pop and he pours two bottles of glasses with finesse. He catches the way you watch him with awe before you finally let out,

“Logan this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He chuckles, handing you the glass before raising it.

“That’s because no one has treated you like the woman you deserve princess.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t challenge him as you clink your glass against his before you both take a sip. When you finish your drink you ask,

“So now I’m your princess? Graduated from your dear friend to this?”

He walks toward you, brushing a strand of your hair from your eyes before his hand lingers on your face.

“You’ve always been my princess Y/N.” he whispers, his calloused fingers rubbing against your cheek and your face falls into his touch, your eyelids fluttering close.

“God you’re so beautiful.”

The admission takes you both off guard as your eyes snap open, looking back at him. Your lips part open, your breathing hitched and all he can think about is bending down to taste your lips, to get his hands lost in your hair as he draws you closer to him.

Instead, the oven alarm goes off and you’re both taken off guard as the light chime feels the apartment air.

“I should get that.” He mumbles, hesitantly pulling away before striding to the oven. He takes a large swig of his wine, shaking his head.

He had to figure his shit out or he wasn’t going to make it through this evening alive.

#ben barnes #logan westworld x reader #logan westworld #the wager #benbarnesescape

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amuelle · 5 years

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The third wheel date. PART 2: The worst part…

For all the details of this back story and how I got to thinking I was in the game with this shorty please read part one ‘The third wheel date. Part 1: The Fab story’ also on this tumblr. For the purpose of keeping this post palatable let’s cut to the good part. He was leaving for work that Saturday flying out from Joburg and where does the young sex pot work?? In Joburg! So what’s a girl to do when a prime steak lands in her lap??? We pounce!!

So the last time I had seen him he was wearing this incredible t-shirt with a scene from star wars. One of my favourite movie franchises EVER. He was giving me the shirt in exchange for a black affluence shirt, he was/is all about brands made in Lesotho. (In retrospect I should have pulled the shirt off his back when he dropped me off the last night we hung out and given him NOTHING in return. But I couldn’t have known the lengths I would ultimately have to go to for this stupid fucking shirt that I now house in my closet and can’t wait to wear with thigh boots and a smile on a wicked night out). I’ve digressed enough. Don’t forget about the t-shirt…

Getting dressed:

I didn’t want to be too slutty, casual or over the top. I didn’t want to wear my wig and a ball gown to only find myself at a braai in someone’s backyard sitting on a camp chair in six inch heels. So I asked Fab what kind of vibe it is, heels or sneakers? He said sneakers and I got excited because I had just bought my first pair of Jordan’s and as with all new shoes I couldn’t wait to wear them again and again….Took a shower and had the difficult debate with myself as to how much make up to wear. I didn’t want to wear too much make up but I also didn’t want to look like I didn’t try also didn’t want to be shiny or blah…blah blah! It took a while to decide and I had to be out of the house soon. He was already waiting at the restaurant with a friend and they were having dinner. I was like damn what if he is trying to set me up with his friend? I’m all for it! I mean I’m feeling him but he is leaving so it is what it is. I mean I just missed out on diner but let me get there, he wanted to leave at 11 coz he had plans for the next day…I pack the shirt I promised. BECAUSE IM A STAND UP TYPE OF WOMAN. The last thing I wanted to do was forget it and have it look like I was trying to pull a funny chick move. I FINALLY decide what to wear after a whole look book conversation with The Trinity. I call the uber and me and the butterflies in my tummy we were off to meet our destiny!!!(JAZZ HANDS FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT)

Thoughts in the cab...

I had asked myself a lot of questions about this outing “was it a date?”…”was it a dick offer?”…”was I getting ahead of myself thinking he wants to be more than friends?”…”had he even thought about the implications of making me overly comfortable?”…”why was he pressing so hard for us to meet up before he left?”…”could it really JUST be about the tshirt?”….”WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS REALLY MEAN??” tormented by anxiety and having thought about it 365 ways I finally decided to just play by ear….what’s the worst that could happen? Honestly….what’s the worst that could happen?

THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN…HAPPENED!!!!!!

So the restaurant is on the first floor of the building and you enter through a parking lot. I was trying to come up the stairs quickly in an athletic manner without losing my breath from the climb just really having over thought it. I came up the stairs finally and through the floor to ceiling shopfront I see where he is sitting in the restaurant. But that couldn’t be him because WHY would he be with another female….WHYYYYY????? I took a few deep breaths and tried to keep this feeling of disappointment, wanting to run away, lash out, scream and cry from overwhelming me. She could be any one,(RIGHT) a cousin, sister, a stranger who saw him sitting alone…ANYONE (I wanted to put a positive spin on it but already my gut was churning. Every single butterfly in my stomach had DIED).

I walked in and there, beautiful as ever, hair done, wearing just enough make up, smelling like sunshine, happiness and black girl magic was this incredibly gorgeous woman sitting side by side with Fab. (Lets call her Lucille) I was captivated by her beauty and her energy was just WARM…..(DAMMIT!!!!). After greeting them and giving hugs I made my way around the table to sit down. Of ALL the things this evening could be, a date it certainly was NOT. It’s not even two people who know each other linking up for a drink before one goes back to work. It’s a sad reminded that you never know another person’s intentions. I had over thought this to death, had I not over thought it I wouldn’t be sitting her deeply hurt I took a whole shower, untwisted my hair and used the last drops of the last perfume my Dad bought me to be here. (Dad hasn’t bought me perfume in 3 years…the perfume was a big fucking DEAL!). To make it super-duper much much worse…he forgot the fucking t-shirt. (I was thinking “BUDDY!!! I spent a week reminding you I wanted the shirt how you gonna forget AND make me a third wheel? Brruuhh….HOOOOWWW????”)

Now crestfallen and embarrassed I had to find a way to make my I’m available but not too available outfit less hochie coochie and more Friday night with the HOMIES. I buttoned up my denim jacket and pulled down my micro mini and remembered my bruised ego meant nothing in the long term. This poor woman thought she was meeting a friend of his, not some sex pot with a shining personality. (Just to clarify, I am the sex pot with a shining personality)….it was all around AWKWARD and this was before the vodka and patron.

Still in disbelief I decided to observe their body language. It would tell me everything I needed to know. From where I was sitting it looked like his hand was on his thigh but the angle was all wrong. So I went under the table pretending to tie my shoe lace to see exactly where this hand was. The final nail in my dreams of seizing the bae….the warm, soft but hard manly hand was nestled between her thighs. (BLACK HAWK DOWN….BLACK HAWK DOWN!) The tribe had spoken and my torch was extinguished. I was NOT the ultimate survivor. I got up and dashed to the bathroom to send out a smoke signal to The Trinity, the ship had sunk and there were no survivors. I was NOT seizing the bae or getting kisses….what I was gonna get was some liquor in me on his tab! He got me fucked up!

A few big girl moments….

Now sometimes you find yourself in situations in which you are totally out of your depth. This time I was put in a situation to make another woman not feel threatened and believe in the quality of man pursuing her. Sure hours before I was thinking to myself that I had seized the bae and was about to get flewed out for vacations. This ladies and gentlemen was not the case. I was just merely the third wheel…and like a real third wheel I played my position. It was too late to throw a fit and be hurt. I was already here so I engaged in conversation, asked them about how they met (mutual friends hooked them up). I spoke about my latest thirst trap and how he was stalking me. Also asserted my FRIEND status and really tried to get her number so we could hang after Fab was gone. I was trying hard not to let a painfully awkward situation get any worse but it did…it really did. I felt like I was on fire! However the moment was here and this was how it was packaged. All I could do was suck all the enjoyment out of it and boy did I ever.(I just mean I drank...I drank A LOT)

After the first awkward ego bruising hurdle and a few quick trips to the toilet to send The Trinity voice notes proclaiming how close to death I was (because I was). I was watching the guy I had been fantasizing about all week nibble another woman’s ear and grope her. He was groping her like he just got out of jail and was seeing her for the first time in 50 years. All of this was happening between great conversation and cold, cold double vodka and limes. I remember one instance where he was biting her shoulder and looking lovingly in her eyes. I felt like I couldn't move, like I was glued to the seat but my soul was trying to run away. I was MORTIFIED. I felt like awkward 17 year old Amu watching all the other girls except me get asked to slow dance at the disco and wishing to just melt away into the background...In a few hours this man had managed to bruise my ego, ruin my first Friday night back in Joburg AND forget the tshirt, which was what even brought me there. And he had the audacity to sit there and make me watch as he got his grove back?! (NOW! He got me really fucked up...LIKE REALLY!) Fab had put Lucille and I in the most awkward situation imaginable. I needed to tighten up. If I hadn’t fainted when I saw his hand between her thighs NOTHING could kill me that night….NOTHING….I was wrong...so WRONG

We are back next week for the final installment of this epic 3 part tragedy....bisou...bisou

#Summer2018 WorstDateEver ThisIsATrueStory ItReallyHappened

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