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littlemisslomax · 10 months ago

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if (Crush), return NEO;

college!pre-matrix!Neo x fem!Reader ch. 1 - choking on words inspo: @discoscoob 's College Neo Bot!

1993

It was a cool and breezy fall day at MIT; the sun shone, birds chirped, and students were all around the populated campus, getting to class or just meandering about.

Well... All students except for one: Thomas Anderson. A junior at this prestigious school, working towards his bachelor's degree in Computer Sciences and Engineering with a concentration in C++. He sounds very studious, doesn't he? Yeah, you'd think he would be, but here he is, in his campus apartment, fallen asleep at his computer. The chunky keys of the Macintosh II keyboard were imprinted into his face, and the drool dribbled out of his slightly agape mouth dripped down his cheek and all over the spacebar. It's 11:30 a.m. Thomas has a class in 15 minutes that he absolutely can't miss: Central Functions and Application of C++ with Dr. Brazhnikov. Will he wake up? God only knows... he's snoring like a freight train and is out. for. the. COUNT.

Thomas' dreamland is full of hot chicks, sexy all-black futuristic outfits, and being a total badass. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He is sleeping peacefully and soundly, that is, until one of his roommates, Chris, bursts through his door. "Thomas!!" He said frantically, running over and shaking Thomas awake. "Ugh-- Five more minutes..." Thomas whimpered and whined, not even opening his eyes, the keyboard clicking underneath his face as he moved. "Thomas, we'll be late for Dr. B's class!! Get the hell up!" Chris kept shaking him. It took him a minute, but once those words wafted into his foggy and sleepy brain, Thomas shot up from lying over his computer and quickly went into panic mode. He ran over to the dresser and threw on a plain white tee, a pair of black joggers, and some sneakers before Nerd and Nerdier ran out of the apartment to get to their class on the opposite side of campus.

11:43 a.m. -- Thomas and Chris are doing more physical activity in this moment than they've done in years. Sprinting across the quad, passing student organization tables, groups of friends socializing, and even a couple campus tours. Poor Tommy's heart is beating against his ribcage like a washboard. Sure, he was slim and lean, but he was by no means a runner; but that's not all that has him this way. What's mostly on his mind right now is you. That girl in his class that-- somehow by the grace of God himself-- was assigned by Dr. B to sit next to Neo. She always gave him the jitters, and he never could find the words he wanted to say to her. He wondered if she was in class already, they obviously can't just barge in and make fools of themselves. With a minute to spare, the boys caught their breath outside of the lecture hall and quietly entered to find their respective seats. A frown immediately donned Thomas' face when he realized that his crush... wasn't there today. Although there was a bit of relief that he didn't have to be nervous around her, he was disappointed that he wasn't going to get to look at her beautiful hair, smell her jasmine vanilla perfume, or see her curves in those hot outfits she wears... Anyways, the clock strikes 11:45 and Dr. Brazhnikov goes to close the door. Just as he grabs the knob to shut it, the sound of platformed Dr. Martens boots can be heard thudding against the tiled floor of the corridor. The older man paused upon hearing the sound and looked out the door. "WAIT! Dr. B, please wait!!" You called out desperately. Suddenly, Thomas' ears perked up at the silky sound of your voice, the once-disappointed butterflies now gaining a second wind as he looked attentively at the entrance of the lecture hall. He sat there, his big brown eyes watching as you entered, looking at you like a lost puppy looks at his owner. God, he was so smitten with you. Too bad he's just... kind of a loser. "You're late.." Dr. Brazhnikov said, crossing his arms and looking you up and down. Your only response was to just chuckle and rub the back of your neck as you headed to your seat. "Sorry, Dr. B, it won't happen again..." As you sit down to fling your backpack off your shoulder, your arm grazes Thomas' and he genuinely shivered a bit. His ears turned pink and he quickly looked away, covering the side of his face with his hand. But you paid him no mind; after all, he was just a nerdy guy in a sea of nerdy guys. You were one of maybe five girls in the entirety of the CompSci C++ concentration, and maybe 13 in the whole major, so all the guys just kinda blend into one big amalgam of nerd and geek after a while. Dr. B started class as usual before discussing the midterm project that was due next week: everyone was to turn in a roster of information of their choosing along with a floppy disk drive of a data management system that they were to code on their own using the units they've learned so far. Blah, Blah, Blah... Thomas zoned out as the older Russian man at the front of the class kept droning on and on. That was until he felt paper scrape against his arm.

His big, puppy dog eyes darted down at his arm, a bit startled as he was pulled out of his spacey daze. Shockingly, it wasn't just your notebook scraping up against him. It was a folded-up index card. Thomas looked at you with dazed eyes, but you didn't look back. God, it felt like he was vibrating, his hand trembled as he grabbed the paper. He hesitated to open it, afraid of what you could've written. What if it was something mean?? What if the note wasn't meant for him? The worst-case scenarios were enough to make poor Tommy sick to his stomach. He opened it, and there it was: the most beautiful handwriting he'd ever seen-- definitely prettier than his chicken scratch. Etched on the flash card in green ink:

"Do you have a spare floppy disk I could borrow? I'll wipe it and return it to you once Dr. B grades it."

Oh, you might as well have proposed to him right then and there. You were actually talking to him. Well-- maybe not talking per se... but it is more interaction than he normally gets with the opposite sex, which is little to none. He wasn't sure how to respond on paper, but he was swallowing back acid just at the thought of tapping you and actually speaking. He was such a ball of nerves, stuck at the fork in the road of this (usually mundane) situation. Thomas rifled through his backpack for a disk he knew he'd been carrying around. Hopefully, he didn't take it out... Where is it, where is it??? AH! There it is! Along with the disk, he pulled out a pen from his backpack and wrote in his less-than-legible handwriting:

Yes. Here you go. 💾

Unable to do so much as to touch you, Thomas cleared his throat and passed the disk towards you, leaving the note on top. Upon receiving the note and disc, you turn to this lanky, nerdy guy and flash him the sweetest smile you possibly can. "Thank you so, so, so much!" You whisper to him. "Uhh... N-No." Thomas choked out, his face bright red and his eyes involuntarily locked on yours. What the hell kinda response is that? 'NO??? YOU FUCKING IDIOT?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO???' Thomas thought to himself. "No...?" You can't help but laugh at the guy's response. "I-I mean... N-No, thank you... I-I mean No Problem... Y-Yeah... no problem..." Thomas stammered out and you couldn't help but laugh again. "Ohhh, okay..." You giggle and turn your attention back to the front.

He scratched the back of his neck and turned his attention to the lecture hall floor, the same floor which he had wished more than anything would split open and swallow him whole.

Suddenly, another note is passed to him.

Mind if we chat after class?

oh fuck... He checked his watch, lo and behold, 5 minutes left of class.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this. it's gonna be a verrrryyyy slow burn. (neo just doesn't get it, pls be patient with him. he'd just a silly little guy)

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse #keanu #keanu characters #pre matrix neo #neo #thomas anderson #thomas a anderson #keanu fanfic #neo anderson #the matrix #matrix

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sl-newsie · 9 months ago

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American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 38: Revive

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

All night I keep watch. All night I wait. Wait for his breathing to cease, wait for him to open his eyes. My own exhaustion tempts my eyelids to droop but the threat of Death keeps me awake. The Reaper might swoop in any minute to claim Thomas.

I don’t know how long it’s been when a hint of sunlight starts creeping in through the window. Thomas stirs in the bed covers and his breathing pattern quickens.

“Fuck…”

He spoke! He tries to move his head but the brace keeps him trapped. Thomas slowly shifts over and sees me watching him. The sight makes me want to praise God a million times. He’s alive! Still weakened, but alive!

“I think I died. I saw me dad…” He groans. “And then I thought I saw an angel.”

I stand up on numb legs and reach for his hand. “You have no idea how good it sounds to hear you, Thomas. We thought you were gone.”

His tired face tries to smirk. “Miss me, eh?”

A mix between a laugh and a hiccup escapes me. “Not funny.”

Thomas’ attempt at dark humor slides off when he sees how serious I am. Those unblinking blue eyes scan my face and he realizes how worried for him I am.

“C’mere.”

He reaches for me and in a state of weakness I softly rest my head on his chest. It’s not a hug of any romantic interest, no. It’s the same kind of embrace I gave him when he woke from night terrors. One might look at this and say I’m just as scatterbrained as any other woman who takes interest in Thomas; but the feeling of comfort we give to each other is something no one can physically see. No mention of love. This is healing.

Sadly it has to end but when I lift my head Thomas doesn’t let me go far. “Meeting you in a hospital has to stop being a common event.”

He’s still staring at me. “You’ve been crying.”

“Can you blame me? Unlike you I don’t think emotions should be embarrassing. Please promise you’ll never scare me like this again!”

The touch of his calloused hand on my face almost makes me freeze. “You-”

“Tommy?”

We both flinch at the intrusion and look up to see Michael. He looks confused and no one can blame him. It’s not often that Thomas acts vulnerable and I already see him rebuilding the walls.

“Hello Michael.”

The boy clears his throat. “Verena, could you…?”

He needs to speak with him alone.

I nod before he can fully answer. “I’ll stand guard outside. Yell if you need anything.”

I give Thomas’ hand an extra squeeze and leave the men to their privacy. Something about Michael’s face tells me it’s personal. I go to the nearest phone and dial Ada.

“Ada? It’s Verena. Thomas is awake and doing well. Michael’s meeting with him.”

On the other end I hear her sigh. “Thank God! Do you plan on staying with him or should we hire a nurse?”

Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. There’s no question that I say yes in a heartbeat if Thomas asks, but I can’t force that on him.

“That’s for him to decide.”

Days go by and Thomas slowly starts to recuperate. The whole time I keep commuting between the hospital and Arrow House. The instant Thomas gets the discharge papers from the doctor he immediately arranges for a car to take him home. He’s right. I’d rather recover in a dustbin rather than this creepy place. He does arrange for a nurse but still insists that I stay at Arrow House until he's recovered. On the ride back Thomas drifts in and out of sleep, muttering nonsense. When we head up the driveway I see little Charlie waving from the front porch.

“Daddy!” He squeals when Thomas steps out.

A smile spreads on my face. “He’s been waiting for you. Mary says he’s been crying at night since you’ve been gone.”

Thomas kneels down and scoops the child into a hug. “Thank you. For watching him.”

“He’s a gem. I didn’t think I’d be good with kids but he and Karl have become partners in crime with me.” I point a finger at him. “Now it’s time for you, mister, to rest. I will not be taking you back to the hospital if you force your stitches open.”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright.” He walks inside to settle into his desk chair, bouncing Charlie on his lap.

“Is Daddy sick?”

I set the medicine kit on the table. “Yes Charlie, and I’m going to do everything I can to help him get better.”

This makes Thomas get a cheeky grin. “Oh really?”

“Oh shut up!” I swat his shoulder.

Three months later

God smiles on us again. Thomas makes a smooth recovery and does well to not become addicted to his medication. According to Mary he made quite a statement about it. His hair grows back, as well as his redivivus spirit. If only he wasn’t so keen on ending his recovery so soon. Today’s the day he calls his brothers over and chaos is already forming.

“Absolutely preposterous!” I hiss and stiffly set the tea tray down on Thomas’ desk.

“Well now, who is this young lady?” A deep voice asks. “Shalom!”

A new man is standing a few feet away. A man with a face that talks business and eyes that speak philosophy. He's wearing a trench coat, tallit, and a unique black hat. A Jewish man. His laid-back manner tells me Thomas trusts him. Another one of his connections.

“Verena, meet Alfie Solomons.” Thomas gestures to each of us. “Mr. Solomons, meet Ms. Verena Steenstra.”

The bearded man looks me up and down with friendly regards. “Steensta, Steenstra… I know your uncle. Very Christian, very tough. You tell him I will meet him for a drink sometime.”

I offer a hand and we shake. “Pleased to meet you. I’m assuming you are here to assist Mr. Shelby? You’re against the Russians too?”

Mr. Solomons is surprised by my wit to guess. “Yeah. ‘Cause of what they did to me mother.” He looks at Thomas. “Keep her, Tommy. She’s a live one.”

My eyes widen a fraction and a blush threatens to turn my face red. “Anyways. You will not guess what I just heard the boys talking about.”

Thomas lazily sips his whiskey. “Go on.”

“It was Micheal talking about Charlotte. He knocked her up. Do you Shelby men ever keep it in your pants?”

The door bursts open. John and Michael stroll in but Arthur cautiously keeps by the door.

“What’s that?” John asks brightly, ignoring my annoyed tone.

I put my hands on my hips. “Let me rephrase: can you ever stop fucking?!”

Solomons outright laughs and Thomas takes another drink. Michael looks as scarlet as the rug and John simply shrugs.

“It’s nature, love. Can’t help it. I’m surprised you haven’t found a good man yourself.”

Arthur decides to step in. “Get off it, John. Verena’s much more level-headed than you’ll ever be.”

John scoffs. “Yeah but you weren’t 21 when you lost your virginity.”

Arthur gawks at me. “Steenstra? You’re 21? You’re closer to Finn than I thought. When’s your birthday?”

Okay, when did this discussion venture to the topic of my birthday? I personally don’t feel like talking about it in front of a stranger either.

“October 1903.”

Arthur gets an ‘a-ha’ expression. “I forgot women mature faster. I thought you were at least 25.”

“Hello, Arthur,” Mr. Solomons greets the oldest Shelby. “Shalom.”

Arthur’s displeased by his presence. If this is going to be another meeting full of cocky men then I want no part of it. I weave through the group but Thomas stops me just before I reach the door.

“Take some time for yourself, eh? We’ve got everything covered.”

My eyes narrow. “You said you’ve been taking a break.”

He tilts his head. “I’ve formed a plan.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. And right now it’s for us to handle. Please-”

“I know, I know.” I hold my hands up in defeat and exit the office.

Ring! Ring!

“Ms. Steenstra! Telephone!”

Well how about that?

I reach the phone and I already know it’s Ada from Karl’s laughter in the background.

“Verena? How are the boys?”

The building stress from the past month presses on my shoulders. “Making another mess. Seems that men are the only ones I can get along with. You’re the one who’s not pushing me away, Ada. Polly won’t talk. Esme’s too busy being pregnant. Linda and Lizzie hate me.”

It sounds harsh but after all these weeks of helping at Arrow House one would think someone else would call or stop by. But no. Only a few letters and select calls from Polly. Nothing too extreme. Maybe her ‘project�� is keeping her busy.

“Come over to my place for dinner. Karl would love to see you.”

Ada’s offer sounds like a breath of fresh air. “You mean it?”

“Of course. Get over here, we’re having a girls night!”

Well it’s about bloody time.

@meadows5

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess #cillian murphy #alfie solomons #tom hardy #michael gray #may charelton

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lefaystrent · 11 months ago

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Me, Myself, and These Guys Who Kinda Look Like Me Ch.2

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Thomas/The Sides

Summary: It starts with dreams. Then Thomas starts seeing the dream people in the waking world.

Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point.

AKA, Thomas has to acknowledge the six colorful characters in the room, much to their long-awaited delight.

AO3 Link: click here

Chapter 1

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Over the rhythm of water beating down his head, Thomas cannot hear anything past it.

On his list of top ten favorite showers, it's pretty on up there in terms of refreshing. He washes his body carefully, using the shower wall to maintain balance. His legs wobble, and he regrets not having the foresight to bring a chair in here with him, but he perseveres. He doesn't have the energy truthfully to go through his full hair routine. The thought of the grime caking his scalp is enough incentive to at least use shampoo. He wants to feel like a normal human being again.

Normal human beings don't meet the people of their dreams. Literal dreams, not figurative. Normal people don't wake up to a bedroom full of strangers. Normal people freak out at the thought of strangers having power over them while sick.

But normal people would think this is a prank, or that these guys crawled in through his window, or broke into his house some other way. And to what end? To…take care of him while he laid there ill?

Thomas doesn't consider for a second that these men broke into his home. It just...isn't the conclusion his mind believes. These are dream people made real, and even they seem surprised by it all.

They kept asking if he could see them. They knew his name.

They took care of him.

Vague and fever-sick as the memory is, Thomas remembers hands tucking him into bed.

He shudders in the shower and holds his face in his hands. He doesn't have an advice book on this particular scenario. Because his life just wasn't complicated enough.

He feels like crying again, but he's spent. He lets the water rinse out the shampoo from his hair as he rests his weight against the wall. He shoves down the little helpless feeling in the back of his brain, shoves it down in a cellar and chains the doors up tight.

He's got to go back out there. He can't panic now. He's got to-

Why does he need to do anything?

He groans quietly and remains in the shower longer than he needs.

At length, he starts feeling too cold and sensitive to continue. He shuts off the valve. In the water's absence, his skin feels tingly and raw.

He wonders if his fever is starting to seep back in.

Thomas dries himself off in no rush. He takes his time and ignores the voices that reverberate through the door. Once or twice, they get loud, but they are quickly shushed.

A part of him wants to put his ear to the door and try to glean new information. There's so many questions, and the curiosity is definitely there, just...muted.

Maybe he's the chosen one and this is the beginning of his epic fantasy adventure.

He actually snorts at that. It's a self-deprecating noise, if nothing else. He dresses and brushes his teeth. He thinks about flossing or gurgling mouth wash, and then he doesn't. The towel is left half-hazard on the bathroom counter, clothes on the floor. There's no use brushing his hair or worrying about his appearance. He's clean at least. He holds onto that.

He's done enough and too much. He really needs to sit down soon.

Thomas leaves the bathroom and barely remembers to turn off the light. He walks into his bedroom.

You know that feeling you get when you know without a doubt that people have been talking about you? Because when you walk into the room, all conversation cuts off? Thomas never thought he would experience that so effectively.

"I can still see you by the way," Thomas comments, because he has to say something and they're all looking to him as if he has the answers.

Some of them glance at each other. Prince bounds forward, arms wide and smile wider.

"This is a momentous occasion!" he declares. His voice is…royal, for lack of a better term. It's confidant and almost sing-songy. "Sure you nearly died, but more importantly! You can finally meet your guardian angels in the flesh, Thomas! I always knew this day would come."

"You didn't know shit," Green Guy comments, and yes he is picking his nose.

"I knew in my heart of hearts!" Prince denies. He grabs Thomas's hand and holds it to his chest. Thomas can feel the silk of the red sash against his knuckles and the starched uniform underneath. It's a beautiful costume, something similar to many that Thomas has seen in past theater productions. It's something Thomas himself would wear.

Roman's grip is strong and he's gazing at Thomas in a way that makes nervous butterflies flutter in his stomach. When was the last time someone held his hand? "No matter the test of time, tried and true, we've come to you. You! You, dear light of our lives! Oh, this is so exciting! From this day forth, we shall-"

"Roman, knock it off," Virgil hisses. He's looking frantically between the two of them, and Thomas gets the distinct impression that he's waiting for some reaction from Thomas. "Don't scare him."

"How on earth would I scare him? I'm his guardian angel!"

Blue Tie clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "I have said it before and I will inevitably be forced to say it again: we are not angels of any sort." His words are crisp, complexion flawless, and nose sharp. He is handsome in a clean-cut effortless way that is admittedly a little jealousy inducing, and also reminds him of...someone he can't place. Regardless, Thomas has never looked that put together in his life. "There is no evidence to support the theory or any theory of what we are."

"Aren't we though?" Cardigan says hesitantly. He crawls to the edge of the bed and seeks Thomas's attention. He's...holding Benjamin, Thomas's stuffed bear. That shouldn't be so precious. It should be bizarre. This whole thing is bizarre. "I know this must seem like a lot to drop on you, kiddo, but we're only here to help."

Virgil groans, "He doesn't know that. For all he thinks, we broke into his house to kill him."

"Thank God we treated his fever before we murdered him," Bowler Hat sasses. "Also Roman, there's this thing called personal space. Thomas would probably like his."

"I-" Roman, the prince, starts but cuts himself off. He looks wide-eyed at Thomas, and Thomas doesn't know exactly what he sees, what he's searching for. Can he see how Thomas's brain is disconnected from his feet? Whatever Roman gleans, he painstakingly releases Thomas's hand and takes a step back. He grasps at his own hands behind his back. "Right, apologies, Thomas. I may have gotten carried away. Just a tad."

"Are you gonna puke?" Green Guy asks suddenly. He's stopped picking his nose at least.

"I don't think so," Thomas answers and somehow believes it. Mostly. His brows wrinkle together. "Can we… can I sit down?"

There's a flurry of movement, Cardigan trying to make room on the bed. Virgil elbows past Blue Tie. Roman's touching him again already, a light grasp at his arm to make sure he doesn't fall over presumably. Thomas shakes his head, reeling.

"Um, not here," he says. It's way too cramped. Too intimidating with them all looming so close. Plus, he's spent far too long confined to his bed already. He wants to be able to breathe.

"How about we all reconvene in the living room, hm?" Bowler Hat suggests in a placating way that makes Thomas think that he's used to having more of the brain cells between the group. He's making like he's looking boredly out the window, but there's curtains in the way. The half of his face that Thomas can see is also, well, handsome.

Wow Thomas, the dream guys are dreamy, who woulda thunk.

Bowler Hat continues with a purse of his lips and narrowed eye, "I'm sure we could scrounge up some food while we're at it."

"You are right, it has been awhile since you've eaten anything, Thomas," Blue Tie says, perking up with this new objective. He waves towards the door. "You must have questions, and those can be answered in time to the best of our abilities, but you have not fully recovered and must not push yourself too hard. We will try not to cause you any more undue stress. Would that be alright?"

Thomas doesn't answer at first. He takes in how they're all looking at him, and Roman has snatched his hand away again as if scalded. Or maybe just scolded. He manages to look contrite to the effect of a puppy who was told not to play with a ball but really wanted to play with the ball. Underneath it all, Thomas feels everyone's anxiety. Well, maybe not Bowler Hat. He looks cool and confident. And Green Guy looks like he's just along for the ride.

"Okay, cool," Thomas yields and leaves first. He hears them all shuffling down the stairs behind him. He wonders if he should worry about turning his back on them. More so than be concerned that any of them would pull a weapon on him, he's afraid that they'll disappear.

If they vanished now, he'd never get any answers. He'd have to resign himself to believing he'd gone off the deep end.

Thomas sits on the far end of his couch. It's a large piece of furniture shaped in an L and takes up most of the living room's space. It's not as comfy as it used to be, but it's more than functional. He tucks his legs underneath himself and hunkers down by the wall where the window is. It's tactical, placing himself with his back to the corner so that he can see what everyone else is up to.

They filter down the stairs. For a moment, Thomas is reminded of that first dream. He wonders if they ever stood in those spots when he couldn't see them before, if they'll stand there now. But Blue Tie sits beside him on the couch. Not very close by. There's a respectable distance between them. Thomas gets the feeling that he sat there first to prevent any of the others from encroaching on his boundaries.

Roman huffs and elegantly collapses down on the floor in front of Thomas. He props an elbow on the coffee table's glass top.

Cardigan stands in front of the TV wringing his hands. "Thomas, do you think you could eat? We can make you something, anything you want. If you feel comfortable with that?"

It's surreal, to see this person acting so concerned on his behalf. The attention is more than a little heavy.

He nods sluggishly. "Sure."

"What should-" Cardigan begins, but Bowler Ha breezes by.

"Don't worry, I'll find him something suitable. Virgil, I could use a sous-chef."

Virgil had just been about to sit on the other end of the couch and now falters. He watches Bowler Hat confusedly, and that's all the chance Green Guy needs before he's bouncing over the couch arm and landing face first on the cushions. Virgil edges away from the group to follow Bowler Hat into the kitchen. Thomas knows that they are certainly whispering to each other in there about something. Him. The something is him.

Should he tell them where his food stuff is? Or do they just, know? How long have they been around? For Thomas, it's been weeks, months at this point perhaps. But for them, how long have they been there?

Have they always been there?

Oh gosh, shouldn't he be the one offering them food or refreshments? He's the host. Unwilling or not, his parents raised him with southern hospitality. He blurts out as much, but Blue Tie holds up a hand.

"That will not be necessary. We do not need to eat. Besides, you are the priority."

"But if we could, I'd have some tempura," Green Guy says.

"Oddly tame choice," Roman muses, to which Green Guys shrugs.

"I'm a simple guy with simple needs. You chuckle-fucks are the ones always overcomplicating things."

"At any rate, to begin, introductions are in order." Blue Tie gestures towards himself. "My name is Logan. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Thomas. And this is-"

"I'm Patton!" Cardigan cheers, unable to hold himself back. "Which is what Logan was already saying. Whoops, sorry Logan."

Logan sighs, "It is alright, if to be expected."

"My name's Patton," Patton says again, then smiles large and proud with dimples. "But my kids call me Dad!"

"You have no children to speak of."

"Don't talk down about yourself, young man."

"Young man, there's no need to feel down~" Roman sings to himself.

"And that's Roman," Logan treads onwards.

Hands slap onto the coffee table. "Excuse you! I was about to introduce myself! I can introduce myself, thank you very much!"

"If you weren't so busy with musical interludes, maybe you would have done so first."

And they bicker and almost forget Thomas is there. He watches dumbly. There's a lot of personality between them all, and he gets the feeling that this is a common thing between them. He hopes its a common thing in that way that people aren't genuinely angry at each other and bicker more for the fun of it. Thomas has never really handled people being angry around him. He is a soft bean at heart who runs away from conflict.

Thomas lets it roll over him more than processes. He looks to Green Guy who lays there with his head propped, elbow bent. He's watching Thomas right back unblinking, so Thomas waves.

Green Guy surges up. He thrusts his arms in the air. "And I'm your worst nightmare!"

Roman leans towards Thomas in a conspiratorial whisper. "He's what you get if you say Beetlejuice three times. But like an off-brand Beetlejuice. Michael Keaton's understudy, if you will."

"Or you can call me by my name. Remus." And Green Guy flutters his eye lashes towards Thomas. "No seriously, call my name, right now. I need validation that my brain hasn't been deep fried. Like tempura."

Mind-boggled, Thomas repeats, "Remus?"

There's a moment of serious contemplation from Remus. His lips twitch and wiggle his mustache a bit. Then he relents in a nasally tone, "Ehhh, could have said my name a little sexier, but we'll work on it."

Patton tries to grin, cringes more-so. "Sorry. Remus is very…spirited."

"Digging six-feet deeper with the Beetlejuice reference, I like it Patton," Roman crows.

"Please try not to derail the conversation further, we've important matters to discuss," Logan says.

And it is important. It's sobering, and the others sit up a little bit. Not Remus though. He lounges back now with his arms crossed behind his head. He looks content to watch the proceedings. Past him, further in the kitchen, Thomas can see the other two managing over the bar. Virgil has pulled a bowl away from Bowler Hat's hands and places it firmly on the counter. Whatever he's whispering fervently at Bowler Hat, the body language seems aggressive.

Thomas shuts his eyes tightly for a minute. Is this all really happening? Is he sitting here on his couch with these people in his house?

"Thomas?"

He could open his eyes, but chooses not to. He rests his cheek on his hand and leans into the arm of the couch. "I'm really stupid right now. Please just tell me who you guys are."

"We just went over our names. I am Logan, as I said."

"Not literally, Nerdy Wolverine. He means like- well, Thomas what do you mean like?"

"Like what we represent?" Patton asks.

"Yeah, that one." Thomas points his finger in Patton's general direction. "Like are you guys part of a dream sorority or secret government agency sent here to spy on me?"

"That would be cool, but if we were spies, we're not very good ones. Most of us don't even wear hats."

Because hats were necessary for official spy business.

"No, we are not spies," Logan says. Thomas opens his eyes to look at him. He's evaluating. And somewhat... apologetic? "However, I can see how you can draw such a conclusion, outlandish though it is. This must feel like an extreme invasion of your privacy. That is not our intention, simply a side effect of our existence."

"So what are you?" Thomas asks. He feels like he's hanging on a precipice that he can't come back from.

Diving off the deep end indeed.

Logan takes a steadying breath. Thomas questions if he really needs to breathe, if any of them do. "I cannot tell you definitively. What I can tell you are the facts thus far. A number of years ago, we all appeared individually. Coming into awareness was difficult, and our memories are inadequate of the beginning. The first sign of clarity was you Thomas. Then we became aware of ourselves, and then each other."

"It was pretty confusing," Patton says with a little smile. "At first, it was like we couldn't even talk, just watch and listen."

That wasn't creepy at all. If Thomas tells himself that enough, he will believe it.

"How long?" He asks. "How long have you guys been there?"

"College?" Roman questions, glancing around to the others. Some shrug. "Some of us remember those bits, but others don't so much, so about there."

"Eventually we managed to get a handle on our situation, as they say." Logan elaborates. "There were initial theories that we had lived previous lives and had died, that our souls were bound to you. And while some supernatural myths concur, and our incorporeal state of being lends credence to this idea, none of us have memories of a past life or knowledge of our supposed deaths."

"But I can visualize how I died, so it's kinda the same thing."

Logan shows an impressive amount of restraint and ignores Remus. "Furthermore, all of us have the connection with you to consider. We were not members of your family or friends or anyone you knew in life. Why would we be attached to you in death? There is simply not enough evidence to support this theory. And no, Roman, this doesn't mean we're guardian angels either."

"I didn't say it," Roman mutters. "But you still can't disprove it either."

"Just, back up a second," Thomas says. "If you guys have been here for years, then why now?"

"I don't follow," Logan says, head tilted.

"He means why can he see us now," Patton supplies helpfully.

"Ah, yes, I see now. Tell me Thomas, you mentioned seeing us before in your dreams? How long have you been dreaming of us?"

Thomas bites at his lip. "About... a couple months? I think? It's been awhile. I just thought they were really lucid dreams but then..."

"Then?"

"Yes Thomas, don't leave us in suspense!"

He started seeing them outside the dreams. And it's something he fought so hard to rationalize and bury away. Something that he told himself that he couldn't tell anyone about without being called crazy.

It startles him, how relieved he is to finally say it out loud, even to the dream people themselves. They listen, and they hang onto his words. Remus too looks like he's zeroed in. Virgil and Bowler Hat (he'll learn his name eventually) are still taking too long in the kitchen. Are they listening as well?

Thomas let's it all out in a rush. He feels validated when Remus says, "Yeah, I was in your closet the other day."

"Can you be any less creepy?" Roman demands.

"Creepy is subjective. It's someone's kink somewhere."

"To think, we were starting to break through," Patton sniffles. There are tears in his eyes. If Ghost-Angel-Dream people don't eat or drink anything, how can they cry? "Or maybe that was all you, bud! Maybe you managed it all on your own! I'm so proud of you!"

"But what does it mean?" Thomas asks. He's trying to connect with Patton, to feel like the accomplishment is earned. But he doesn't know why any of this matters. "Why are you guys here? Why me?"

Patton fiddles with his fingers. He rocks back on his feet. "Well, we don't have all the answers, kiddo. I'm sorry, I know it's not what you wanted to hear. We're still figuring this out ourselves. We never thought that you'd... but that doesn't matter. What matters is you."

"Me?"

"Yeah you, buckaroo. You matter a whole lot to us."

And Thomas loses all drive. He sinks into the couch cushions. He feels cold. His arms hug around himself to little effect. He's exposed in his own home with nowhere to hide.

He's shutting down, feels the energy dying with his curiosity.

Roman goes to speak but Thomas holds up his hand much like Logan did with him earlier.

"Maybe– maybe later," he says numbly. "This is a lot."

Worry hangs over them. Thomas should feel guilty for making them worry. What did he do to deserve their worry?

These people were bound to him, trapped. They never had a choice.

Why would they be so kind?

In the midst of his pity party, Patton catches on to his state. He fetches a blanket and drapes it over him, slowly so not to startle him. Virgil reemerges from the kitchen, bowl in hand. He's noticeably alone.

"Hope you like oatmeal," he mumbles. He shuffles forward, face lowered so not to meet Thomas's gaze, and he carefully sits the steaming bowl on the coffee table next to a glass of orange juice.

"I have oatmeal?"

"Don't worry, I checked the expedition date."

It's awkward, five men sitting and standing around waiting for you to eat in front of them.

Roman's eyes squint at Virgil. "Where's the bananaconda?"

Virgil shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket and shrugs. "Stepped out."

Nothing more is said about this. They all accept that Bowler Hat isn't there, though Virgil's mood is tense. He stands there hunched, head ducked away and bangs falling over his eyes. His pose practically screams, "Don't look at me".

Thomas doesn't ask what 'stepped out' entails or about the weird nickname. He starts sluggishly on his oatmeal. Peaches and cream.

The TV flickers on. Everyone glances over to Patton holding the remote. He smiles to cover up a wince.

"Thought we could watch some 'toons. Plus, it's just so nice that we can do this now."

They hold their collective breaths, but when Thomas says nothing to object, everyone goes along with it. There's an unsaid agreement to give Thomas some space, so they don't pester him with more questions or details. They turn their attention to the screen. It's not cartoons at all. It's 'The Office' bloopers reel.

Virgil switches off the main light. Then he shoves Remus's legs around until he fits. Patton squeezes in between Logan and Remus.

On the floor, Roman has turned around to face the TV. He can't help to inch backwards, bit by bit, until he's resting with his back against the couch. His shoulder blade presses against Thomas's knee. Thomas is highly aware of the little peeks he keeps stealing over his shoulder. They're all doing it though.

Thomas stomachs half of the oatmeal and a bit of juice. When Thomas has been staring for far too long at the bowl's contents rather than eating it, Logan takes the bowl gently from him and sits it on the table.

He's seen these bloopers a thousand times. He curls deeper in the throw blanket, pulls the warmth up to his chin, and closes his eyes.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan #logan sanders #patton #patton sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #janus #janus sanders #remus #remus sanders #roman #roman sanders #writing #fanfiction #me myself and these guys who kinda look like me #trying desperately to dust off the ole writing chops #i hope you guys like it

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scarabsinthestardust · 9 months ago

Text

Better in the Morning // Ch. 11

MASTERLIST

Well, here we are. Time to meet the parents.

Word count: 7300+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; talks of depression, suicide, and anxiety; strained parental relationship; talks of crime, murder, drugs/drug cartel, running from the law, and minor talk of sex trafficking (nothing too graphic); mentions of death of a parent; injuries sustained from a shooting, blood, removal of a bullet, stitches (I'm not a medical professional and have zero medical training. I'm making it up as I go.); some probably really bad and vulgar Spanish retrieved per Google and Google translate (and I can't for the life of me figure out how to do the accents so we're just going to ignore that for now); I also might be tiptoeing real close to 'No Country for Old Men' fanfiction 😅

Two and a half years. Two and a half years, countless ups and downs, and I was finally taking the love of my life to see an important part of me, a part of what made me who I am. He was going to get to see where I grew up.

I don’t know what made me want to go back, but when I proposed the idea to Jake, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity. Soon enough, we were packed and on the road to Thomas, West Virginia.

It was about a nine-hour drive from Nashville. Jake tried to convince me to just fly, but I felt like I was due for a good road trip. We could travel at our own pace, and besides, Jake was good company for the drive. Richie had reached out to Vivian, an old family friend, arranging for us to stay with her instead of one of the shitty, middle-of-nowhere hotels (which were few and far between).

Vivian technically lived in Coketon, a coal-mining town just outside of Thomas that was almost abandoned. Mining activity flourished in the early 1900s, and the 15 coal mines in Coketon shipped out a million tons of coal annually. But by the mid to late 1950s, pretty much all underground mining had ceased. Most of the residents left shortly after that, only a few deciding to remain. Vivian’s family was one, not far from where Finn’s family had put down roots.

I spent a good chunk of my childhood at Vivian’s house. It was one of the “safe houses” my dad would drop us off at, Vivian being one of the few people he trusted. It was where I met my best friend, and where I lost my brother. There were a lot of bad memories associated with the place, but enough good to lure me back occasionally. Vivian could be… tough, a little abrasive, but she took care of us when our dad was gone and taught me most of everything I know. I mostly missed the horses. Jake expressed his unease at being that close to a 1,000-pound animal, more so at the idea of trying to ride one.

I smirked. “I will definitely get you on a horse before we come home.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

It was almost sundown by the time we turned down the dirt road that would take us to Vivian’s house. The trees on either side of the road loomed darkly, appearing much taller and thicker than the last time I was here. It had been almost five years, after all. Everything still felt so familiar, though, as if I was only here yesterday. The house came into view as we rounded the corner. It hadn’t changed a bit. The two-story brick house with its worn white molding and wrap-around porch had seen a lot, witnessed me and Finn grow up, and Luca not quite make it out.

��It’s a little creepy out here. Quiet.” Jake eyed the thick woods wearily. He had gotten so used to city life in Nashville. This was such a big jump from that.

“At least I’m not freezing my ass off,” I huffed.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” he joked. I narrowed my eyes and poked at his side, causing him to squirm away.

“I’ll remember that.”

As we unloaded our bags from the trunk, I heard the front door creak open. “Glad to see you remember your way here.”

“I wouldn’t ever forget it, V.” I gave her a quick hug. Jake stepped up behind me and I introduced them to each other. Vivian eyed him distrustfully, as I expected, but Jake didn’t seem put off by it and maintained his polite demeanor.

Vivian led us into the house and directed us to the spare room upstairs we’d be staying in. The inside was just as I remembered. A collection of paintings, created by Vivian, decorated the walls over gaudy wallpaper. The ugly blue carpet was still in the bedrooms, and even uglier striped, red carpet covered the stairs, which creaked under our weight. The innards of the house were worn, and needed some serious upgrades in my opinion, but it had good bones. The double bed with the brass headboard had a fresh set of sheets and a yellow floral blanket that was probably older than me. And as outdated and musty as the house was, it was home to me.

After dropping our stuff off and heading back downstairs, Vivian gestured up the stairs with a tilt of her head. “I’ve got one right now, so keep your voices down.” She offered no other information and Jake looked at me quizzically.

“There’s someone else staying here. I’ll explain later.” I pretended I didn’t notice the way Vivian narrowed her eyes at me. She would have been livid if she knew I’d told Jake anything. It was her secret to keep, too. And she didn’t trust him, not yet.

She set the table for dinner and took a plate to whoever was upstairs before we all sat down to eat. We took the time to catch up, her inquiring about Nashville and Richie, and asked after Finn when I told her he’d come to town for a visit. She asked Jake about his career, not bothering to hide the judgement in her eyes when he told her was a musician. All these people I grew up with seemed to think if it didn’t involve physical, manual labor, it wasn’t a ‘real job.’

“Oh, your pa’s gonna love that,” she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, which earned me a scolding from her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.” I found it annoying that even as an adult, she still knew how to make me feel like a child that had done something wrong. Jake, on the other hand, was doing his best to hold back his laughter.

Exhausted from the drive, we decided to call it a night after dinner. I filled Jake in as we got ready for bed, keeping my voice down to a whisper. “Viv’s in the business of taking in girls, young women, that don’t have anywhere else to go, or got pulled out of some shitty situation. Chances are, they’re probably traumatized and terrified, a lot of times of men, if you get my drift.”

“Like, victims of sex trafficking?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

He exhaled a puff of air. “Your life just keeps getting more and more interesting.”

“Hah. This one is all Viv.”

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said as he got into bed.

I crawled in and snuggled up next to him. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like much of anyone until she gets to know them. She’ll warm up to you.”

“You don’t think your dad would warm up to me eventually?”

I snorted a laugh. “No, because he’s just an asshole. It’s a good thing you won’t have to be subjected to that. At least during this trip.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t know that yet. I had no idea how much Jake would learn while we were here, much less how much I would learn.

We spent most of the next day in town. There wasn’t much to do, but we checked out local shops, got lunch, and I took Jake to the Purple Fiddle Coffeehouse and Market, a staple in the town of Thomas. In the late afternoon, we took a walk around Vivian’s property, showing him all my little hangout spots and secret hideaways.

“That was Finn’s place,” I pointed out the small, now abandoned house. I’d never been inside and had no idea what happened to his parents. Perhaps that was for the best.

There were several pathways through the woods, some of them quite overgrown now. I can pretend I didn’t really know where we were headed, which path led to where, but that would be a lie. I grew up here, under the aspen canopy, weaving between these tree trunks like I was born for it. Maybe some sick part of me needed to see the place again, to remind myself that it was real.

Jake had been talking but he quieted when I stopped walking. “You okay?” He cocked his head.

I didn’t speak right away, worried that my voice might betray the peace of this place. The forest knew death. It had seen it many times over the course of thousands of years. I wonder if the trees remembered it, though, if they remembered his death, or if they heard my scream as it echoed through the leaves. My vision zeroed in on the spot. There wasn’t anything that stuck out, nothing that distinguished it from any other place in this vast expanse of wooded ground, but I knew it. I wouldn’t ever forget it.

“That’s where Luca died,” I whispered.

I heard a sharp inhale of breath from Jake. His hand gently rubbed my arm as he stepped closer to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Jake didn’t push. He guided me to a fallen log nearby and we sat, seemingly understanding what I needed without words. His hand didn’t leave mine. There we stayed, letting the leaves and the light wind do all the talking, us playing the role of mere witnesses, just bystanders.

As the sun sank lower over the horizon, casting deep shadows over us, Jake gently nudged me. “Do you know how to find your way back in the dark?”

It was a genuine question, but I laughed anyways. “Would you be scared if I didn’t?”

“I mean, we could camp out, but you might need to protect me from whatever cryptids live in these creepy ass woods.”

I nudged him back with my shoulder. “What do you think I was doing as a kid running around in the woods at night if not making friends with the cryptids?”

“I dunno, committing crime?”

“A little arson never hurt anyone.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, Josh.”

My hand came to my chest, and I feigned offense. “Well, I never,” I exclaimed with an exaggerated southern accent. Our laughter seemed to fill the empty air around us, drastically lifting my own spirits.

The porch light was on when we made it back to the house. I sighed contently. “She always left the light on for us.” I didn’t miss the scamper of footsteps running up the stairs when we came in the door. I didn’t get a good look at the girl before she closed herself back up in her bedroom, her safe space, I imagine. It was mine, too, on some nights.

“Oh, c’mon, he doesn’t bite.”

“That is a blatant lie, and you know it.”

I giggled, slightly menacingly, as Jake eyed the animal in front of him wearily. He reached out slowly to pet it but jumped back when the horse stomped and huffed at him. The stable hand holding onto the lead rope couldn’t hide his amusement. I shrugged and sighed from my spot in the saddle of another horse. “Guess I get to tell your brothers you were too scared to ride a horse with me.”

It was a low blow, taunting him like that, but it was the results that mattered to me. He glared at me. “You’re the worst,” he muttered, before moving to grasp the saddle horn and sticking his foot in the stirrup. He took a deep breath and held it, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over the other side. When he was confident the horse wasn’t going to bolt or immediately buck him off, he exhaled. “Happy now?”

“Yep!” I beamed at him, ignoring his grumbling. The stable hand adjusted Jake’s stirrups and gave us the okay to ride.

Jake was fidgety and white knuckling the reins, but he started to relax as the ride went on. I’ll go so far as to say he might have started enjoying himself a little bit. I even caught him talking to his horse once or twice, little admonitions of praise.

“So, what do you think, grumpy gills? Think I could talk you into doing this more often?”

“I could perhaps be persuaded,” he said as he winked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there’s lots of places around Nashville we could ride. Maybe we can make it a regular thing?”

“Sure. And with enough practice I’ll be riding circles around you in no time.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’d have to catch up to me first.” I spurred my horse to run ahead, wondering if he’d be brave enough to commence the chase. After a few moments, he finally did, and I heard the patter of his horse trotting up behind me.

We slowed to a stop at the edge of a creek, and I laughed at the grimace on Jake’s face. “That is… fuck, that hurts.” He fidgeted in the saddle, adjusting to get more comfortable.

“Oh, just wait until after. You won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled. At my smug look, he said, “Payback’s a bitch, babe.” I huffed in faux offense.

We took our time finishing up the trail, which looped around and led us back to the stables. I snickered as Jake attempted to walk, his legs and rear end sore from the saddle. I felt it, too, having gone so long without riding, but my stubbornness would never let me admit it to him. Before getting back in the car, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. “Thank you for making me come do this. I really did have a good time.”

I was woken up to the sound of a door slamming down the hallway. At the sound of cabinets being slammed downstairs I sat up, listening. Jake reached out for me and mumbled sleepily, “What’s goin’ on?”

I checked the time on my phone; it was a little after midnight. “I don’t…” I got out of bed and padded to the door to listen closer. I wasn’t hearing as much noise, but could hear Vivian’s voice, along with a man’s, a voice that was unfortunately all too familiar. “Shit.” I turned on the lamp and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Jake started to do the same and asked me again what was happening. I was suddenly very worried; I did not sign up for this. “I think my dad’s here. And if he’s here, then something’s wrong. Just… stay here.”

Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen gathering supplies. “Good, you’re up. You can help. My hands ain’t as steady as they used to be. Wash your hands.”

I didn’t argue or ask questions. I knew better than that. The living room light was on, and I silently prepared myself for what I might find.

My father sat in the light, shirt off, his arm awkwardly bent to hold a bloodied towel on a spot just below his left shoulder blade. His hair was longer, but he didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him. He also didn’t seem surprised to see me; Vivian probably already told him I was here. Whether or not she told him about Jake was still unclear.

“Mija.” He nodded at me. He never was one for heartfelt greetings or hugs.

I sighed, moving to his side and pulling away the towel to examine the wound. “Bullet?”

“Still there.” If he could take care of a wound himself, he would do it. But this was in a hard-to-reach place, so it made sense he would need help. The problem was that there weren’t a lot of people he trusted to help, so he would suffer as long of a drive as he needed until he reached one of his “safe spaces.”

“How long?”

“Four hours.”

That checked out. Infection was already starting to set in the edges of the injury, redness and inflammation spreading, but it wasn’t necrotic or life-threatening. Yet. Judging from the fact he drove all the way here (from wherever) and was still awake and alert, it was safe to say the bullet missed anything important. He was always lucky like that. I pulled out some of the supplies Vivian had already brought out and set to work removing the bullet. I’m sure the act of digging around with the forceps was painful, but he didn’t make a sound. He never did.

I was so focused on the task in front of me that I didn’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone came down, and I didn’t hear Vivian’s voice as she addressed them. I know I told Jake to stay put, but he either didn’t hear me in his half-asleep state or chose to blatantly ignore me. I’m gunning for the latter. Dad tensed up, and it wasn’t because of pain from the bullet I finally found and was carefully removing. I followed his eyes as they focused on the man he didn’t recognize, hackles raised and on guard.

“Can I do anything?”

Bless him. Despite the whole situation probably being unsettling, Jake was still here with me, offering his help. He got plenty of brownie points for not freaking out. With the bullet out, all I had to do was clean and stitch up the wound. “No but thank you.” I offered him a soft smile. Everything was under control. Except for the fact that Dad was staring daggers at him, and that was just how he handled strangers. We hadn’t even crossed the ‘discussing my relationship’ threshold yet.

“Dad,” I started cautiously. “This is Jake.” Bite the bullet, no pun intended, get it over with. “He’s my boyfriend, and I trust him. Jake, this is my dad, Antonio.”

Jake kept his distance, but wanting to be polite, as he usually is, said, “Nice to finally meet you. Wish the circumstances were a little different.”

“Give me one good reason I don’t gut you like a fucking trout.”

I was suddenly feeling very protective. I pressed my thumb as hard as I could into the edge of the bullet hole I had begun to stitch up. He hissed at the unexpected feeling and turned to shoot me a glare. “Knock it the fuck off,” I growled through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to show up out of the blue after however many years and be an asshole. Especially not to him.”

Of course, my father was incapable of knowing when to move on or walk away from a fight. And God forbid he actually apologize for anything. “Se ve como un imbecil. Pelegatos.”

“Yeah, real classy,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You can’t even insult him to his face, in English.”

“Que te la pique un pollo,” he spat at Jake. I’m sure he could figure out it was an insult, even without understanding Spanish, but he didn’t shoot back any retorts, which I was grateful for. It only would have exacerbated the situation.

I jabbed another finger close to his wound, careful not to mess up my stitch job. “I said knock it off. Unless you want to stitch yourself up. I love him, whether you like it or not. So, get over it. The least you can do is be civil.”

He mumbled something else, no doubt another insult, but I stopped listening, and cut him off with a frustrated yell. I stomped my foot, much like a petulant child, and jammed the needle into the next appropriate spot, leaving it there. “Viv! I need you to finish this before I kill him!”

She quickly took my place, shaking her head. “You two…”

“He’s the one acting like a fucking child!” Everything felt too confined, too bright, too loud. The air felt thick, and my chest tightened with anxiety. I needed out. I rushed out the front door without another word. Jake followed. I paced back and forth, my fists balled up tightly as I tried to focus on the wood creaking beneath my bare feet. “He’s so insufferable! Can’t even pretend to act like an adult for two fucking seconds! He thinks he’s so tough ‘cause he can go out and get shot! It’s probably his own fucking fault, probably was being reckless because he thinks he’s invincible or something. Then he shows up out of the blue with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and has the fucking audacity to talk to you like that? What gives him the right? What is he gonna do the next time he gets hurt? His luck will run out eventually. You’d think he’d be a little more conscious of the fact that he faces death every single day, that any one of these days will be the last time we get to talk to each other, to see each other. But instead of just accepting that and just, I don’t know, being happy for me, for once in my life, that I found someone that makes me happy, he has to act like a fucking animal!”

Jake reached out and grabbed my arms, forcing me to stop my pacing and rambling. “Hey, hey, just breathe for a second, babe.” He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away tears I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to meet him ‘cause I knew he was gonna be like that.”

“Shh. You don’t need to apologize. He’s an ass, but I don’t think that’s what this is really about.”

“He just makes me so mad, and-“

“I think you’re afraid of losing him.”

Well, that was absurd. “What? That’s not… what are you talking about?” I stared at him, blinking away tears as I tried to process what he was saying.

“You’re mad at him for acting like a dick, I get that. But is it possible that you’re upset he got hurt? I mean, he got shot. That’s a big deal. I… maybe that’s nothing new for you. If I had to take a guess, you’ve probably seen it a hundred times. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be worried about him.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled.

“Am I wrong, though?”

He wasn’t. I always worried, it was just my nature. Every time Dad got hurt, I always worried if this would be it; each bullet, each stab wound, each broken bone threatened to be the one that would take him out. Life is never a guarantee, but death seemed to taunt him, dangling the thread of fate in front of his face as a warning. You’re next. Most children don’t think of death often, much less worry about it creeping up on them. We weren’t most children. I don’t remember losing my mom, but when it took Luca, I realized how close it was. Death rode our trail like the dust I kicked up on the dirt roads I ran down. Every time the phone rang, I imagined it was someone calling to tell Vivian “Antonio’s dead. He isn’t coming back for his daughter.” Realistically, there probably wouldn’t even be a phone call. He just wouldn’t come home, and we would know.

I fell forward, burying my face in Jake’s chest. “He used to be so good at it, whatever he did. And smart. Or maybe it was just dumb luck. But now it seems like every time I see him, he’s hurt again. And it scares me.” That last sentence I whispered. It made my heart clench. I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “And for once I would like to have a nice conversation, without him threatening my boyfriend’s life.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go talk to him. Say what you need to say. I’ll give you some space.”

I sighed. “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

He smirked. “But you love me anyways.”

“I do,” I grumbled as I wrapped my arms around him again. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not going to let him scare me off. Other than threatening to gut me like a fish, I don’t even know what he said.”

“And I absolutely won’t be repeating it.”

“Pft. I’ll get it out of you eventually. But for now, go talk to your dad. I’ll wait for you upstairs.” He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Thank you, Jake.”

I led him back inside and gave my hand one more reassuring squeeze before parting to walk back upstairs. I waited until I heard the door shut to approach my dad.

He was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, while he spoke quietly to Vivian. They both went silent when they saw me. Vivian didn’t speak; she didn’t have to. She shot me a look that said, “Figure it out,” and left us alone.

I crossed my arms and looked around at anything other than him. In a perfect world, I’d wait for an apology, and we’d make up, but as I mentioned before, my father never apologizes for anything. And maybe it’s my inherited stubbornness, but I certainly wasn’t going to apologize to him; I didn’t do anything wrong. So instead, I would just wait for him to say something that would inevitably piss me off all over again.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I don’t think he’s good for you, mija.”

“You don’t even know him. And how would you know what’s good for me, anyways? You haven’t been around enough to know I even had a boyfriend, and we’ve been together for over two years.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in over four years. Let that sink in.”

“It has to be like that, sometimes. You know that.”

“Still wouldn’t kill you to check in every once in a while, let me know you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Clearly someone does!” I gestured toward him and his freshly stitched up bullet wound.

“It isn’t your responsibility, it never was. I taught you to take care of yourself only. And that also means not relying on some bastardo."

“It’s not about relying on anyone. I found someone that makes me happy, happier than I’d been in a long time. I found somebody that I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, and I want that with Jake. He sees me for me, not just some weird, damaged girl with a fucked-up childhood and without an actual family. Shit, even his family made me feel loved. His mother texts me more than you do! So, you don’t get to decide if he’s ‘good’ for me. I love him, dad. I know you know what that’s like because you loved my mom at some point, right?”

His jaw tensed and he avoided my eyes. “Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what? Is it so wrong of me to want to talk about her? My entire life you’ve done nothing but shut down when I try.”

“Let it go, Kya.”

“No! Stop fucking shutting me out! I can’t talk about mom; I can’t talk about Luca.” His breath hitched when I said my brother’s name. “I’m not asking you to be some perfect, therapeutic, emotionally available well of information, because I know that isn’t you. I just… sometimes I just want my dad. I know it hurts to talk about her, just like it hurts me to talk about Luca, but it feels worse to keep everything bottled up like that.” I rubbed my upper arms nervously. “Jake’s the first person I’ve talked to about Luca, outside of Finn or Vivian.” The fact that it was technically Josh I told first was irrelevant to this conversation. There was no need to introduce more strangers to my dad right now.

“Cuanto sabe el?”

He wasn’t just talking about Luca. He wanted to know how much Jake knew about him and his career. “Not much. Not enough for it to be a problem.”

“I don’t-“

“Trust him, I know. But I do, so just maybe you can trust me for now.” For some reason, I felt the need to reiterate, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He stayed silent except for the deep breath he took in. He never was great at handling confrontation, at least when it came from me. In his line of work, he could typically deal with it via some kind of violence. He would choose to die before ever hurting me in that way, so that option was off the table. I don’t think he had ever even raised his voice at me. Instead, he’d struggle to find the words until he gave up, shut down, and walked away, leaving me back at square one. I don’t know why I expected anything different tonight.

His expression was unreadable when he looked at me. “You should go get some sleep.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, so you can disappear before I wake up to avoid talking about anything. I’d bet money you won’t even say goodbye.”

It was then that I noticed how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than I remembered, and the air of arrogance and confidence he normally carried with him almost seemed completely dissipated. I tried not to dwell on it too much, blaming it solely on the late hour, his injury, and the amount of time that had passed since I’d last seen him. He stepped forward, held my face between his palms, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing in the kitchen, alone and dumbfounded. Did he mean that, or was it just another empty promise that would be broken by morning?

I’m sure it wasn’t for lack of trying to stay up, but Jake had fallen asleep by the time I made it back upstairs. I managed to get back into bed without waking him. I laid there in the dark, listening to his steady breaths until my thoughts finally quieted enough for sleep to take me, too.

Jake wasn’t there when I woke up, and the sun pouring in through the curtains seemed exceptionally bright. I checked the time on my phone and groaned; it was almost noon. I forced myself out of bed, and after a quick shower made my way downstairs.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen, cleaning things up as she went. Jake was helping prepare lunch. He smiled sweetly and greeted me good morning.

“Sorry, guess I just really needed that beauty sleep. I… oh, hello.” I didn’t notice her at first, the unfamiliar face sitting at the table. She was quiet, and I imagine really good at making herself seem small. Dirty blonde curls hung messily in her face, nearly concealing her eyes. She couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15. She had significant bruising on her wrists and neck, giving me an idea of what she went through, and also letting me know she hadn’t been here very long. “I’m Kya.” I kept my voice low and movements slow as I introduced myself and sat at the table.

She didn’t panic and bolt up the stairs to safety, so that was a good sign, but she avoided my eyes. “Sara,” she whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sara.” In my experience and based on all the trauma this girl had obviously been through, it was better to let her come to me and call the shots. She would talk when she was ready, and nobody liked forced conversation and small talk. I glanced around the kitchen and into the living room, not sure what I was looking for or what to expect.

“He hasn’t left yet,” Vivian said. She never missed a beat. “He’s outside, I think. After you eat, you can go find him.” I wondered if dad had said anything to her about our conversation the night before.

Jake waited until we had a minute alone after lunch to ask how things went last night.

“About as good as I expected, I guess. In other words, I got absolutely nowhere.”

“Well, he didn’t threaten my life when I saw him this morning, so maybe you made some progress.”

“I’m shocked,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “He said we could talk more today, so I’m gonna go corner him and see if I can’t hold him to that. Before he disappears again.”

“You’ve got this, babe. And I’m sure Vivian will find something to keep me busy with.”

“She absolutely will,” I grinned, hugging him and stealing a kiss before venturing out to find my dad.

At the northernmost edge of the property, there was a trunk from an old oak tree laid across the ground. That tree had been there before any of us, like an ancient forest spirit watching over the land it casted shadows across. Then one night when I was eight, a storm rolled through. I remember being fascinated by the flashes of lightning and rolling thunder, harmonizing with the heavy pelting of rain against the windows. We lit a bunch of candles after the power went out. Most kids would have been afraid. Finn hated storms when we were kids; he would hide in the closet until it passed. But I thought it was beautiful. I liked to think the sky sent the rain to clean the earth up a little, and that it would wash away all the bad stuff that haunted us.

It was during that storm the oak tree decided it had enough, and it couldn’t fight to stay strong anymore. It shook the entire house when it fell, shook it so hard I thought there was an earthquake. The next morning, while we surveyed the damage, I studied the splintered wood and the torn roots sticking up from the soil, and I felt… sad. I remember putting my hand on the rough bark and apologizing like it was a person. “I’m sorry it got too hard.” I didn’t understand at the time how much I would relate that oak tree to Luca, and eventually my mother, too.

My dad was seated on the fallen trunk, like we did often as kids. Luca spent a lot of time there; I think the sounds of the woods quieted the noises in his mind. I took a seat next to my dad, waiting to see if it would quiet my mind, too.

“He has an accent.”

That was a weird way to start a line of questioning about Jake, but I’d play ball. “He’s from Michigan.”

“How did you find him?”

“He came into Richie’s shop.”

Dad let out an exasperated sign. “Don’t tell me he’s a musician.”

“He is, and he’s a very good one. He plays guitar for a band. They have three albums and play sold out shows all over the world.”

“That isn’t a real job. It isn’t stable-“

“And working for a drug cartel is?”

“Kya,” he started. “I only want you to be taken care of.”

“He takes plenty good care of me,” I huffed. My next words came out before I could stop them. “Did my mom know what you do, who you are? Or did you shut her out, too?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t expect an answer, much less any kind of explanation, but after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Yes, she knew everything. I never told you how we met, have I?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Who even are you right now? “No, you never told me much of anything.”

“She killed a man.” I’m sorry, what? “A preacher that was hurting children.” I didn’t need any clarification on what that meant. “I was in custody when they brought her in. She fought them every step of the way. She wasn’t afraid, and she was full of fire. I was intrigued, so when I left, I took her with me.”

“How’d you get her out?” I’m sure the details were nothing good. Richie once told me that when my dad was younger, he would let himself get arrested on purpose, just to see how long it would take for him to get out again. It was all a game to him. At least, it was before he became a father, and everything changed. When I first read ‘No Country for Old Men,’ I swore Cormac McCarthy wrote it about my father. Even the names were similar.

To answer my question, he said, “It was a different time in a small town, and much easier than it is now.” And he was good at running from the law.

“Did you… kidnap her?” I asked through narrowed eyes. I don’t know why I asked. I know he had done a lot of bad things, but I didn’t really think he would have done that. He was a criminal, a killer, but he had some morals.

He chuckled, an actual laugh. This was so surreal. Maybe these years apart changed him somehow. “No one could make your mother do anything she didn’t want to do. You’re a lot like her in that regard. She could have left whenever she wanted, but she chose to stay.” He sighed sadly. “She was a good mother, and she loved you.”

Now why did he have to go and say that? My eyes welled up with tears and I looked away to hide them. “What happened to her? I’ve only ever been told she got sick,” I whispered, barely audible. The quiet that followed made me wonder if he even heard me. I thought I’d cut my losses and be grateful for what he did give me, but then he surprised me once again.

“She did, and I couldn’t… she was sick, like Luca.”

I didn’t expect that, and I was suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. “How did she…?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

“Tell me.” I’m not sure why I needed to know so badly. Knowing the gory details wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back. But still I pushed him until he caved. This was the most progress I’d made with him my entire life; I didn’t want to give up yet. “Please, just tell me what happened to her.”

He took a deep breath and straightened his spine, steeling himself. “She drowned. Whitecap in Corpus Christi. She went out into the ocean and kept going, until she couldn’t get back. She let the waves take her.”

My head was spinning now, and I had more questions but couldn’t figure out how to ask them. As the quiet settled between us again, my mind started to wander down a darker path, one of anger. He knew. He knew mom was sick, he saw what it did to her, and yet he still abandoned Luca when he was in trouble. He let this happen, left me to deal with it alone.

“Did you see it happen?” I asked, not waiting for his response. “Because I saw Luca die. I saw it happen right in front of me and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t… why weren’t you here?”

“You’re strong, Kya. You always have been. You didn’t need me.”

“I was a kid for fuck’s sake! I was a kid who just watched her brother die, and who needed her dad! But you weren’t there.”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to say he was sorry or feed me some line of bullshit about wishing he could go back and do things differently. Every single choice he made in his life was thought-out and meticulous. It’s just that most of those decisions were made for him, not anyone else. I know he cared about me, on some level, in his own backwards way, but he made it so easy to be angry with him, to blame him for all the shitty, horrible things that happened to me.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I spared him one last glance, one more opportunity to say something, before standing to walk away. I’d only gotten a few steps when he called my name. I stopped but refused to turn around and face him again.

“I am proud of you, Kya, who you’ve grown up to be. She would be proud, too.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the onslaught of tears. It didn’t help, and his words did nothing to take the pain away. He didn’t try to stop me as I continued the trek back to the house.

By the time I made it back, I forced myself to stop crying but I’m sure I’d rubbed my eyes raw. Vivian was outside doing some work in her garden. She saw me as I walked by, but she didn’t say anything. She knew how conversations with my father usually ended; she was used to the tears.

I found Jake in the living room, seated on the floor by the coffee table, playing a board game with Sara. It surprised me to see her not only opting to sit in here with a man she didn’t know, but also letting herself have fun. It wasn’t lost on me that there was no way in hell Vivian would have left them alone if she didn’t trust Jake.

I watched them for a minute, how he seemed to connect with her so easily. She clearly felt some sense of safety with him, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. He made her laugh so effortlessly, like it came naturally to him. He’s going to make a good dad, someday.

When Jake realized I was there, he beamed at me. “Hey! Wanna join us for a game? We-“ His face fell once he got a good look at me and how red my eyes were. He pulled himself off the floor and came to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I offered a weak smile. Part of me just wanted to take a nap; I was emotionally exhausted. But I didn’t want to worry him, so I sucked it up and pulled myself together. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. For now, I’ll take you up on the offer. What are we playing?”

Things were bittersweet when the time came to make our departure. We were ready to get home, but I always missed West Virginia when I was gone. It was my first real home and would always have a special place in my heart, even when I was hundreds of miles away.

Vivian was never big on heartfelt goodbyes, so she made it short and sweet. “Drive safe. And don’t forget to come back one day, ya hear?” Even Sara waved her quiet goodbye from the safety of the porch.

My dad, of course, left sometime in the middle of the night. I tried to push down the hurt; he didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving. What a surprise. Our conversation was still fresh in my mind, creating newly opened wounds I would need to work through. But as always, I would push it down, and bottle it up, at least until I saw him again in a few years.

I gripped Jake’s hand as I said a silent farewell to the memories that filled this place.

TAGLIST

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#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka

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chaosverse-mainblog · 25 days ago

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Ch.1- The Spring

This is an AU where Thomas ends up in the group B maze from the films (which is why it's the ice maze) instead of Rachel. There is a reason for it but it'll be in chapter two. You only get hints in chapter one. Also, the story line and a good chunk of the dialogue comes from The True Maze graphic novel.

#tmr thomas #tmr au #thomas tmr #icer thomas au #tmr harriet #tmr sonya #tmr alexandra #tmr ximena

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enm-enthusiast · 2 years ago

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The Exhibitionists Club Ch. 5 Part 1 - Thomas

Author’s Note: Time for a little doctor-themed story! Also, watch out for George, he’s bad news for Thomas…

Thomas

It was another lecture with my new Anatomy Professor, Ethan Rivers, and unfortunately for me I was doing poorly in his class ever since I failed to study hard enough for the first exam of the semester. It was my own fault, really, I had been out late the night before trying to find my clothes when Seb had them all scattered across my dorm building as his way of welcoming me on campus. Since then I’ve toned down my adventures and I threw myself into my studies to make up for it, and I’d made good progress so far but I’d be lucky to earn a B+ because the exams in this class counted for much of our grade. I was sitting there anxiously thinking of how I could possibly earn some sort of extra credit perhaps? I didn’t want to pass with a bad grade or worse fail one of my earliest college courses.

I turned my attention back to Professor Ethan, who by all accounts was regarded as one of the hottest on campus and…I agreed, he was still in his late 20’s and dressed very professionally in tight-fitting clothing that accentuated his well-endowed backside and displayed a prominent bulge as well, some of my classmates had a hard time concentrating because of that. Sometimes I did, too, especially because of the rumors…

I hated listening to gossip but a few rumors had spread around before they were silenced by the University administration that Professor Ethan was spotted one evening on campus, he had been fully naked and was being dragged along at night by two others. No one could prove any of it, yet nearly everyone had heard by this point but they kept quiet around the good professor since he was genuinely well-liked and was a fair teacher. Just then, as I brought myself out of my daydreaming I heard the professor say “and by the way, those of you interested in earning some extra credit, please stop by my office after class, but be warned it is an intensive study on human anatomy so don’t take it lightly” he said. I could hardly believe my luck! Of course, I had no idea what this ‘study’ was about and could be anything from exercise, muscle mass, or even…no, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to study that. Still didn’t stop a slight flush of my cheeks at the thought, but regardless I had to see if this was for real and if it could help raise my grade.

After that, the professor wrapped up his lecture with reminders of assigned reading and warnings about the upcoming midterm, which sent a shiver up my spine at the thought. I gathered up my notebooks and textbooks and packed them into my bag as the other students began to do the same and filed out of the classroom, one by one until only me and one other student remained, a rather short red-haired fellow named George, who seemed to eye the professor a lot but the professor barely paid any heed, at least on the surface. As soon as I began my approach towards Professor Ethan’s office George turned his gaze at me and I could feel his cold piercing eyes boring holes through my clothes, skin, my very being, it was really unsettling. Thankfully, his gaze didn’t last long and he quickly gathered his things up and got up to leave, but not before sparing one last glance at the professor. That guy’s a creep, something feels wrong about him I thought to myself.

I nearly lost my train of thought as Professor Ethan noticed my approach, and he eyed me up and down. For a split second I could have sworn I saw a glint in his eye, one that seemed…familiar somehow but he greeted me with a warm, professional smile. “Ah, Thomas. I thought you might stop by after class, I know you’ve been struggling ever since the first exam, don’t worry you weren’t the only one. In fact, you weren’t the worst either, it didn’t take much convincing to let the dean give me some extra credit otherwise half the class might fail” he said.

It made perfect sense, it did seem too good to be true in my case alone but if other students were struggling as well, all the better to take the opportunity. “Ah, yes ummm…yeah, I admit I could have done better on that test, and I’m trying my best but…this could really help sort things out” I said in response, my gaze refusing to lock onto his. I couldn’t deny that Professor Ethan was one of the hottest teachers I’d ever met, he was young enough to be a student still, and he had a medium but muscled build that made his light blue dress shirt cling to his torso, but his black dress pants did his magnificent backside justice, I admit….I got lost staring at it sometimes. Not to mention, he was standing at 6 '2 with cut short dark brown hair and green eyes, and had a square jawed face that made some of his students drool during class. It was hard to ignore my cock beginning to stir in my pants as I finished speaking.

“I thought as much, it's why I already prepared the forms with your name on them just in case, all you need to do is give it a quick read and sign it” he said, and he reached inside his black carryon bag and pulled out a short stack of papers which, lo and behold, had my name stamped right on the front. I eagerly took them from his hand and started to read through it but what I was reading made both my jaw drop and my face turn red a little.

“Ah yes, that, you see the study we are conducting is on the sexual drives of young adult males and females from on campus, wherein a number of volunteers will be monitored for the duration of the study, testing various stimuli to gather data on what constitutes as ‘turn-ons’ among the...subjects” he trailed off at the end and coughed a little. I blinked in surprise as I noticed a slight blush on his own face which made him seem absolutely adorable.

Sure enough, the forms said as much, and referred to instances like "studying the subject's full anatomy" and "subjecting the subject to invasive procedures to gauge sexual arousal response" among other things that turned my face completely red.

“Well…um, who is in charge of...studying us?” I asked, nervously.

“That would be me, actually, the dean insisted I participate since I pushed for this so badly, well…only the male subjects, my colleague Professor Whittle? she will be monitoring the female volunteers” he finished.

I turned my attention back to the document Professor Ethan gave me, most of it was the atypical agreements to ensure the University didn’t get sued in case of an accident, while others dictated that there were strict rules to be followed and if they were not…no extra credit points would be rewarded, thus it was all or nothing.

“Thomas? Are you okay?” I heard Professor Ethan say, bringing me out of my own thoughts. It was so easy for me to get distracted, Sebastian said he found it adorable when he had to pull me back to reality, that my “shocked” face made him want to kiss me more. My heart melted at the thought of Sebastian, things were going great between us since we graduated and moved on campus, though I heard Seb had had some trouble with some of his new Fraternity brothers but nothing my precious Seb said he couldn’t handle, and I trusted him. I felt more safe and loved with him than with anyone in my entire life. We haven’t said the words yet, even though we’ve been dating for almost a full year now, but each time he ravished me, made my body writhe in pleasure and screamed his name I wanted to utter those three words, but something was holding me back, and I wanted to be sure before I said them, otherwise….I didn’t want to think about that right now, so I pushed it off to the side.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…a little shocked to be honest” I said, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Well, good, just get those forms signed and I will see you later tonight at 7:30 pm in Building 5, Room 1-C, alright?” he said, flashing me a full smile which sent shivers up my spine because of how much more hot it made him look. My dick twitched in agreement.

“Y-yeah, I’ll umm…see you then” I replied.

Professor Ethan turned to walk away and I took one last glance at his magnificent bubble butt before walking away myself. As soon as I had opened the door to the lecture room I felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and another held a hand over my mouth and dragged me over to a darkened hallway nearby where the janitors kept their closets of cleaning supplies.

“Mmph!” came out when I tried to say ‘let me go’, and my heart pounded in my chest as I felt myself hauled against the wall and I stood face to face with those same cold, brown eyes of George from Professor Ethan’s class.

“Saw you getting cozy with hot teach Ethan, huh? What’s that he gave you?” he said and pointed to the short stack of papers still in my hand.

“Look, i-it’s nothing, alright it's just for the extra credit he talked about in class, now come on just let me down” I said.

George only held me tighter and pressed our bodies closer to one another, and the cold fury that edged the lines of his face genuinely scared me. I felt I was about to be beaten up for even looking in Professor Ethan’s direction.

“Extra credit, huh? You better not be lying, and you better stay as far away from teach as possible, but if I find out otherwise…”

He leaned his head towards my ear and whispered “I’ll make you my little bitch, too” he said and with that he let go of me and roughly caressed my face before walking off with a smile that chilled me to my bones. I checked to make sure I was alright and tried to calm myself down from the massive panic attack I almost had.

I managed to get my breathing under control when I felt my phone vibrating in my pants pocket, and I pulled it out to see it was Seb, and with shaking fingers I pressed the button for talk and hearing his voice sent waves of anxiety fading away in the background of my mind.

*Hey babe! You should be out of ol Ethan’s class by now, right?* he said.

“Uhm, yeah I uhm…I just left” I said in response, my hand rustling my tousled black hair which I had let grow out slightly so it dangled just above my eyebrows now.

*Hey, what’s wrong? You sound upset? Did someone do something???? Give me names, I’ll ship their heads in boxes back to their mothers!* he said in a tone that meant he was half-serious and half-joking.

The effort of it made me smile, and as much as I wanted to talk about what happened, I didn’t want to burden him with my own problems, as long as I stayed out of George’s way…I should be fine, right? I thought to myself.

“Don’t worry babe, everything’s fine just…stressed about this extra credit that Professor Ethan talked about…” I trailed off on explaining the study and that once I met up with him at my dorm room later tonight I’d explain it more. After we got off the phone, I decided to kill time by studying until around 7, and then…then it was time to sell my soul…or my body, I suppose? I only hoped George would see I wasn’t in his way.

I wish I knew then, just how horribly wrong I was.

End of Part 1.

#enm #gay #gay romance #embarassing

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