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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

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Nightshade

Chapter 18 | Chapter 20

Chapter 19: Shutter Speed

TW: Howard 🙄, Simone 🙄🙄, revenge on a naughty Russian, teasing, girl talk, as always language, mentions of drinking, smoking and sex/sex toys, a bit of errand running, some minor mentions of Jake's bender from chapter 8, some adorable cat content 🐈, slightly drunk/tipsy Lena, some pretty deep conversation/confessions, insecurities, very minor mentions (maybe even more like allusions) of past abuse, and finally the shit y'all are waiting for, sexy photoshoot, lingerie, use of sex toy, a bit of dirty talk, praise kink who? vaginal fingering, some edging, pretty girls cry during sex, some begging, oral (male receiving), mutual masturbation, mentions of cum, aftercare, and last but not least a bit of tooth rotting fluff between our idiots to send y'all off.

Time moved quickly after Halloween. At least, that’s how it felt to Jake. One minute he was with Lena in the alley and the next, he was back at work acting like nothing had even happened. Well, not entirely acting like nothing had happened. He and Lena flirted and played their usual games, but it felt different now that they’d been so close to actually taking the leap. Now, it was almost as if they were enticing one another, trying to shirk the responsibility of making the next move off to the other person… trying to tiptoe on the line between the feeling they both had buried.

Work was the same as it always was, too loud and filled with the ever-chattering gossip of their friends as they spread the information of his and Lena’s almost sexual experience to everyone with ears. Howard looked visibly angry whenever he’d look at Jake, and while the bartender thought his anger was hilarious, he wasn’t thrilled with the turn his attitude had taken.

The very next day, Howard started interviewing for a new hostess. The sudden influx of interested applications and the manager's willingness to hire someone new didn’t go unnoticed. Jake polished the glasses for the third time, eyes glued to the table where Howard and his newest interviewee sat, making small talk. Something about it all made him feel nervous… like this was part of some larger scheme that Howard had kept up his sleeve, but no one else seemed to think anything of it.

"My love,” Simone’s voice was soft as she slid behind the bar and offered him a gentle touch to his cheek. “Relax, or you’ll start getting worry lines.”

“I think I’ll be alright,” he answered, brushing her concern off to glare at Howard again.

“It’s about time he started interviewing people,” she noted carefully. “Especially with all the scheduling mix-ups that have been going on.”

Turning his head to glance at her, Jake finally asked, “Have you found anything… off with him?”

Simone simply shook her head. “Not yet. I think he’s trying to be more… discreet than last time. But don’t worry. You’ll be the first to know if there’s anything to know.”

He was grateful to have Simone. She was always so much better at everything than he was. When she’d heard the gossip about him and Lena, Jake was worried she’d be angry, but she simply smiled and offered him a general tip not to be caught with his pants down so often. No fight, no worry, nothing but the love she always bore him. And while he kept his eyes on her, he hoped that this was a sign that the two of them were finally back to how they used to be. Together. No matter what.

Lena hurried through the front door, greeting him and Simone with a quick smile as she made her way up to the locker room. Simone watched him watch her with a knowing grin and a simple gesture for him to hurry after her. His hand brushed against hers, a silent thank you, as he slid past. In the locker room, Sasha was, once again, going on his prideful tangent about Halloween. Heather groaned. "Come on, not this AGAIN!"

"Oh, so I can't be proud of my accomplishments now?" Sasha challenged.

Ari huffed and asked, “What’d you buy with my money?”

Holding the stylish jacket up from his locker Sasha smiled. “I bought myself a new jacket, of course! Shoes too! Tonight I’ll be irresistible to the pretty boys in the club!” He paused and sent a wink to Jake, "Well, almost all of the pretty boys."

Jake waited until everyone else was gone, and Lena had changed into the black dress Howard had set aside for her tonight to speak. “You’re late today.”

“I overslept,” she answered, voice sounding somewhat strained.

He wanted to press it. Wanted to broach the topic she’d seemingly been avoiding for months now, that fearful and pained thing she never dared to speak of - not knowingly at least. But instead, he turned his gaze to Sasha’s locker. “Well, I hope you’re feeling rested. I was going to suggest a bit of payback.”

“Payback?” Her eyes lit up as she turned and looked at him. “I’m listening.”

“Sasha’s been off the rails bragging about Halloween.”

Lena rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fucking Russian.”

Nodding to the locker, he raised a brow. “Figured between the two of us, we could come up with something to get him back.”

She caught his meaning instantly, and Jake fucking adored it. The two of them hardly needed to speak to understand one another so perfectly. With a grin, she pulled her phone out and sent a quick message to Quinn, he assumed, before glancing behind him to the empty doorway. “Keep him busy for ten minutes, and I’ll get his shit packed.”

Jake turned to do as she said when a little box caught his eyes. The lost and found. Glancing back at her, he kicked it. “Pick some statement pieces out for him?”

“I mean, he does like to stand out,” she replied as she opened his locker.

“Exactly.”

Their plan went off without a hitch as Sasha was mostly distracted by the late family meal, where he bragged once again about his victory. Jake and Lena were unbothered this time, giving each other a smile over the table before going about their night as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Service that night was average. Rich assholes spending rich money on asshole food. Nothing new until the servers scurried off to the locker room while Nicky, Jake, and Lena stood behind the bar cleaning up. Nicky was oblivious to the way Jake and Lena looked at one another, quietly counting down the seconds. “Three…”

“Two…”

Jake smirked. “One.”

"What in the fuck?!" The Russians' loud voice carried through hallways straight to the bar, where Jake watched in absolute delight as Lena burst out into an adorable fit of laughter. It was his favorite kind… the kind that made her nose scrunch up, and her smile practically glow.

The stampede of footsteps hurrying down the stairs and the giggling of the other servers made him turn to look. Will shook his head, taking a seat in front of them. “I hope you two know what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

“I’ve never seen him get that red before!” Heather laughed.

The last set of footsteps echoed, and then Sasha emerged from the kitchen door with a deep-set scowl. Lena had picked out the best clothes he could have imagined for this moment. A neon orange tank top with a tiny jean jacket, a short - too short - leopard print skirt, and the ugliest green rain boots he’d ever seen. Jake couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, turning to Lena and asking, “Was all that in the lost and found?”

“The jacket was. I had Quinn bring me stuff from the strip clubs lost and found.”

“God, you’re a genius!” He praised, happily watching the blush creep up her neck to stain her cheeks pink.

Sasha was less than impressed as he waltzed over to them and spread his arms out wide with a sneering smile. “Yes, yes, everyone laughs at the mismatched Russian! You and your grumpy have had your fun, Tiger. Now give me my clothes.”

Lena leaned on the bartop and shook her head. “Can’t.”

“What do you mean?” The Russian demanded.

“You’re gonna have to win 'em back.”

Sasha looked over at Jake, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Where are my clothes?”

Lena glanced up at the clock and smiled even wider. “Right now? Hanging behind the bar at Ozzy’s.”

“You red-haired little tiger bitch!” Sasha grumbled. He looked down at his outfit and scoffed. “You’re going to make me walk around like this?”

Jake served a few drinks, offering Sasha a glass of Vodka, the Russian’s least favorite drink. “This is what ya get for being a dick. It coulda been worse. Trust me.”

He cursed them in Russian as he took hold of the glass and downed the vodka with a grimace. “This is cruel.”

Lena, who’d walked around the bar, threw an arm around his back and pinched his cheek. “Aww, lighten up, Sasha! It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Cruel,” he repeated, moving to leave. “Both of you.”

The group slowly made their way toward the door, but Jake caught Howard’s lingering glare. Lena tapped on the bar to get his attention. “Coming?”

Flashing the manager a smirk, he nodded. “Yeah.”

That night walking with the loud and unhinged crowd of friends and coworkers made Jake feel almost childlike. Sasha, still bitter about his clothes, made a fuss whenever anyone looked at him funny - which was often in that outfit. Ari, Heather, and Scott all laughed and cheered him on, calling him a brave boy for making the trek to Ozzy’s "without" whining.

It occurred to him then that Jake had always felt so separate from them before. He’d show up late to their dinners. He’d skip their shows and put off any personal requests they’d asked him for until they told him just to forget it. Before, he didn’t feel like they were his friends… instead, they were just a means to an end. A show to entertain him when he felt like it.

His brows furrowed, suddenly hit with how horrible of a friend he’d been. Lena’s hand tapping his arm pulled him from the guilt. “You’re it.”

It’d been a while since they’d played tag. So long that he’d forgotten how much he’d started to enjoy it. Lena didn’t run off, instead choosing to walk calmly beside him as he reached out and touched her. “You’re it.”

That beaming smile made him fight one of his own. “You’re it.”

“You're it. No tag backs,” he replied, earning a surprised look. He nodded, looking back at the path ahead. “That’s right, Patrick taught me no tag backs.”

“Damn him!”

Jake laughed, happily listening to her grumble about how rude it was of her brother to ruin her fun. As the group neared the bar, Jake decided he liked this better. And as the night sped onward, filled with drinks and laughter and Sasha’s shitty karaoke performance to win his clothes back, Jake decided he liked the changes in his life. He liked having friends.

I wrapped the food Nana put in front of me, keeping my head down and trying - though failing - to keep my mind distracted from what day it was. It happened every year, and while some had been worse than others, I was determined to make this one not as bad as it should be. So, I kept my hands and my head busy. I worked beside Nana, packing to-go orders and helping the customers as Patrick fiddled with the leaky pipes in the bathroom.

"I'm almost finished up in here," Patrick said as he tightened the last screw. "Then Pete and I will head out. You riding with us, sis?"

I shook my head, handing someone their takeout box. "I've got some stuff to do before, but I'll be there before it gets too dark."

Pat nodded. "Sounds good. You and Ozzy could probably ride together."

"I'll ask him when he's getting off tonight."

Quinn leaned against the counter, not helping but not in the way enough for either Nana or me to get mad at her. My phone sat on the counter in front of her, buzzing intently. She glanced at the number and smirked, answering it before I could even say a word. “Hey, handsome, looking for some fun?”

I rolled my eyes as she batted her lashes. “He’s not gonna think you’re me.”

“Course he isn’t,” she purred. “He’d recognize your sexy voice anywhere.”

Wiping my hands, I took my phone and flipped her off. “Hey.”

Jake chuckled. “There you are. I was worried Quinn was gonna start hitting on me for a second.”

“Nah, you’re not her type.”

“Yeah, my ass isn’t nearly as big as Ari’s.”

I giggled, ignoring everyone’s watchful and teasing eyes. “What’s up?”

“Just calling to see what time you’re wanting to come over.”

“Come over?”

“Forget already, princess?” He mocked. “I believe I’m owed a photo shoot.”

My hand slapped my forehead as I cursed myself. “Fuck.”

He chuckled. “We can always reschedule if you’re busy.”

“No,” I insisted, looking at the clock. “I’ve got time.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “What time do you wanna meet up?”

Ignoring Quinn’s quiet questions, I replied, “Well, what are you doing now?”

Jake sounded a bit surprised but answered simply, “Nothing. I do have a few errands to run, though.”

“Ooohhh,” I cooed. “Sounds fun.”

“So thrilling,” he replied. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“I can meet you at Ozzy’s in fifteen minutes.”

“Thirty,” he countered. “I have some smaller things to do first.”

“Thirty minutes then,” I said. “See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

The second I hung up the phone, Quinn was in my ear. “What was all that about?”

Patrick emerged from the bathroom, wiggling his eyebrows. “Sounded like a date to me!”

I shook my head at them while I gathered my stuff. “It’s not a date. I’m just paying a debt.”

“A sexy debt.” I didn’t deny it, essentially confirming Quinn’s words and making her face light up with glee. “Oh my god! Spill it! Tell me what you freaky little sluts are gonna get up to!”

“Oh my god, you’re the worst!” I pointed at Patrick. “I’ll meet you guys there.”

He waved me off. “Go have fun with your boyfriend. I’ll make sure everyone gets where they need to be.”

“Love you!”

“I expect to hear all the details about your dirty hook-up tomorrow!”

“Fuck off, Quinn!” I shouted while laughing.

My apartment, still cluttered with my old paintings and art supplies, was peaceful as I showered and changed into something a bit more… errand worthy. Long pants and a simple top that would keep me warm enough while Jake and I ran around doing whatever it was he needed to. After I’d managed to brush through my hair, my phone buzzed again.

I apologize for having to ask this on your day off, but we’ve hired a new hostess, and I’d appreciate it if you’d come in and give her a quick tour as well as a short rundown of her duties. Howard.

Sure, I answered, checking the clock. I’ve got some time. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

The restaurant wasn’t too far, and foot traffic wasn’t particularly bad yet, so getting there was quick and hassle-free. Nicky greeted me with a smile the second I walked in. "Mornin', Red. Come to laugh at the lowly serfs?"

"I would never!" I insisted. "I'm showing the new girl around real quick."

He nodded. "I think she's in the office with Howard."

"Thanks," I answered.

Sure enough, the brunette was there, sitting across from Howard as he went over a few finalizing papers with her. Once he saw me standing in the door, he smiled, shifting slightly to close one of his desk drawers before he stood. "Katrina, this is Lena Harrow."

The girl stood and shook my hand. She was cute, with a big smile and soft-looking eyes. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Lena is well acquainted with this place, so she'll give you a quick tour now before you officially start on Monday." He handed me a piece of paper with the locker number and combination on it, his fingers lingering on my palm for a hair longer as he said, "Thank you again for coming in on such short notice."

"It's no problem," I reassured him. "Follow me."

Katrina had decent experience in the restaurant field, so it was fairly some showing her around. She found her locker with ease and tested the combination a few times before we headed downstairs. I showed her the dining room first, then introduced her to Nicky and gave her a quick crash course on the bar before we settled at the hostess station. Amanda was working tonight, and had just finished changing in time to greet the new girl with me. While I found it slightly odd that Howard needed me while Amanda was here, I shrugged it off and focused on showing her how to go over the guest list. We both gave her tips on greeting people before Amanda got pulled aside.

"It's pretty simple," I told her, trying to help ease her nerves.

She smiled. "Everyone seems really nice."

I laughed and shrugged. "They all have their redeeming qualities."

"Lena," Simone's voice cut through the conversation as she exited the kitchen. "I didn't think you were working tonight."

“I’m not,” I answered. “Just showing Katrina around and helping her get the idea of what her job will look like.”

The blonde shifted, looking at the woman with calculating eyes that I could tell made Katrina feel more uncomfortable than she’d expected. “Howard’s finally hired someone, then?”

Katrina just smiled awkwardly. “Yeah. I hope I fit in around here.”

“I’m sure you will,” she answered, holding her hand out. “I’m Simone. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, looking away from Katrina as she busied herself with the books to me. "You look adorable. Try not to be nervous, Jake is rather good with this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" I questioned with narrow eyes.

"Oh, don't worry,” she whispered, pulling herself in closer to fix my unruly hair. “I can keep your little date between the three of us." She bared her teeth in a tight smile, one that looked more like a warning than anything else. "Have fun."

I watched her walk away, a tension taking the excitement that had been safely growing within me since Jake's call and twisting it into something completely opposite. Others had insinuated that this was a date but when she did it I suddenly felt… Nervous. Is this a date? I wondered. Does Jake think it is? From then on, I tried to shift my focus to helping the new girl get a hang of the reservations book, but the feeling didn't go away.

As soon as we’d finished and Amanda had taken over for the night, I waved goodbye to everyone and caught Simone’s predatory, smug gaze as I slid out the front door. I walked to Ozzy’s, trying to forget about the whole interaction while also trying to forget about this whole day entirely and failing miserably at both. I need a drink, I told myself as I hurried down the stairs and into the space. Maybe six.

Quickly moving behind the bar, I grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. Ian watched me down two, almost three shots before he cursed under his breath. "Holy shit. You good, Lena?"

Carefully breathing out a hot breath, I nodded, giving him a simple thumbs up while I lifted a fourth shot and focused on the alcohol burn inside me. Ozzy's heavy steps echoed from behind, where he placed a careful hand on my shoulder. "It's a bit early to be taking shots, dear. Is everything alright?"

"I'm good, Oz. Just need a little liquid courage." I smiled at him and helped clean up my mess. "You're getting off early tonight, right?"

"Course," Ozzy's smile was slightly more tense than usual, but given the circumstances, I understood. "I'd never be late to this."

"Wanna ride up together?" I asked.

"Actually," he sighed. "I'd like to ride by myself… if that's alright with you."

I squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Course it is."

The alcohol made my head swim slightly as I sat at the bar and waited for Jake, focusing instead on Ian’s poor storytelling skills as he recounted his weekend in Las Vegas for a friend's bachelor party. It was nice to hear him talk with such enthusiasm, a thing that I knew today, of all days, would be lacking. Ian had a nice voice, so while he stumbled over his words sometimes or got lost on some long tangent, it didn’t bother me too much. A hand settled on my shoulder, and I lifted my head from off the bartop to find Jake standing next to me.

He glanced at the glasses in front of me and could no doubt smell the alcohol on my breath, but he didn't say anything about it. “Having a bad day?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I hope you don’t start having one because of me,” he replied with a chuckle. “Like I said, we can reschedule.”

For a moment, all I could picture was Simone’s smug grin and her mocking eyes. For a moment, all I could focus on was the weight of this damn day. But, with a quick and determined shake of my head, I stood up, stumbling slightly. “No, let’s go. It’ll be fun.”

He watched me closely for a second but ultimately nodded. Jake walked close beside me, opting to stay on the side of the sidewalk that faced the street to, in his words, keep me from falling on my ass in the gutter. I wasn’t wasted. He knew that. I wasn’t even drunk enough to be numb or to say stupid shit. It was almost the perfect amount of buzz to get me through the day, hopefully.

We walked a few more blocks before a very familiar and obvious store window came into view. Surely not, I told myself. He wouldn’t… Jake’s steps never faltered as he walked forward, straight toward the sex shop with a shit-eating grin. God damn it. I paused, shooting him a look. Jake only pretended not to understand with a little tilt of his head. “Problem?”

"Seriously, a sex shop?" I asked, sending him a glare. "This is what you do on your days off?"

"Not often," he answered with a smirk. "But today's not a normal day off, is it princess?"

I rolled my eyes. "Riiigghhttt, your silly photo shoot.”

Jake bit his bottom lip. "You're welcome to wait out here if you're embarrassed."

God damn him. I scoffed, brushed past him, and entered the shop with my head high. I'd been in plenty of sex stores, and one of my best friends was a stripper. This was no different from when I’d gone with Quinn or Prue. Not different at all…

He held one of the lingerie sets up in front of me. “What are you doing?”

“I gotta make sure the color looks good,” he replied with the widest grin. “Plus, I have to imagine what it’ll look like when I get you in it. For photo purposes.”

“Photo purposes, sure.” I shook my head at him, pretending to look at something on a random nearby shelf. “And what makes you so confident I’ll even entertain your lingerie picks?”

Jake leaned forward a bit, ever so slightly brushing the soft silk of the red piece he held against my skin. “Because I’m asking so nicely.”

My jaw clenched slightly as I shrugged my shoulder and turned my head away from him to look at the shelf again, not to avoid getting lured in by his lips or those pretty eyes. “Whatever. It’s your money.”

“Cheer up, princess,” he chuckled, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “I’ll pick something good, I promise.”

A shiver ran down my spine as I watched him return to his shameless browsing. This is no different, I tried to remind myself. But, if it was so “not different,” why was my heart racing? Why did my cheeks burn when he’d pause to glance at me or hold a flimsy piece of lingerie up to test the color against my skin tone? Why did I feel this… nervous? I decided not to focus on what Jake was doing, instead just aimlessly looking around the store until he finally nodded toward the exit, holding his bag of purchased goods like a trophy.

As we headed toward the next location, I tried to peek in the bag. “Well, what did you get?”

He pulled it away. “I’m not gonna let you ruin the surprise!”

“Oh, come on!”

“Sorry, princess. Maybe you should pay more attention.”

“Asshole.”

Jake had no idea what he was doing anymore. At first, the vision of what he’d wanted tonight to be like was so clear. After Halloween, it seemed so simple. He wanted Lena, and Lena wanted him. Yet, now that they were both here, it all seemed more complicated. He’d caught on fairly quickly that Lena wasn’t acting like her usual self. She seemed more distracted, and she’d clearly taken a shot or two before he’d showed up at the bar.

Whatever it was that made her feel so different, Jake felt determined to make sure she knew he cared. The last thing he wanted was for her to go through with whatever their day together held and regret it later. The mere thought made his stomach twist in knots.

The sex shop had been a fun tease but had also provided him with a tiny opening to getting her out of this shell of tension she’d wrapped herself in, as well as to pick up a few tricks for later, obviously. And while she still held onto some tension as they walked to the camera shop down the street, Jake could tell it had helped a little.

He held the door open for her and followed her inside, watching as she took in the space with quiet appreciation. Jake watched Lena weave through the shelves, bright eyes sparkling at the sight of antique cameras and equipment. She didn't even know what any of it was or what it did, but her genuine curiosity was obvious.

In truth, he appreciated her genuine curiosity more than she would ever know. The only other person that had entertained his hobby was Simone, and even then, she only entertained him just long enough for him to get his picture of her on the beach in the mermaid costume, and then she’d pleaded with him to never bore her with it again.

He walked straight to the counter, greeting the old man with a respectful nod. "Good to see you, Steve."

The man grumbled. "Here for your film?"

"Yeah," he replied, glancing over his shoulder at Lena. She kept her hands at her sides, but Jake could see the way she wanted to pick up each new thing and examine it. She'd once said he was observant and curious but, in his mind at least, she was the one that wanted to look at everything new until she understood it.

Behind his glasses, Steve watched him. "She with you or somethin’?"

"Or something," he replied.

Shaking his head, Steve dug around in a box. "She's outta your league."

Jake nodded. “Don’t I know it?”

“Least you ain’t as stupid as you look.” The old man set the film down in front of him and held his hand out. “Fifty.”

“You said it was only gonna be thirty on the phone.”

“Yeah, well, I lied. It’s fifty.”

He fished the money out of his pocket and set it in Steve’s hand. “Go to hell.”

The old man laughed. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Lena followed him out, asking questions about the various cameras she’d seen inside and the equipment that went with them. Jake took the time to explain it to her, promising to teach her a few things during their photoshoot, something that seemed to excite and terrify her. “So,” she asked carefully. “Where next?”

“Home bar.”

She made a face. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

With a groan, she followed along. “Alright, fine.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s got some… fond memories, but it’s still not Ozzy’s.”

"It's definitely not Ozzy's," Jake said with a chuckle. "Ozzy's has the best memories."

The bar was oddly crowded for three o’clock, but the types of people that hung around bars that early were the type that would usually stay as long as you let them. Jake greeted the bartender with a passive smile. “Hey, Viv.”

“Ah, shoulda known that bottle in the back was yours.” The woman gestured for him to go around and grab what he needed. “Don’t fuck anything up.”

Jake made a face, shrugging his shoulders. “I dunno if I can help myself.”

Whipping him with the bar towel, she shooed him away and turned her gaze toward me. "So you're her, huh? Lena?" The woman asked with a wide grin. "The famous redhead."

I tilted my head curiously. "Have we met?"

She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "No, but last time I saw Jake, he was pretty smashed and just kept talking about his redhead. His Lena.

My heart practically stopped beating as I stared, dumbfounded. "I… We… What?"

"It was cute," she insisted, looking over her shoulder at him. "I haven't seen him like that in, well, ever. It looks good on him."

Looking over at Jake as he found the bottle he’d been looking for, I admired his smile and the way his face looked so gentle when he wasn’t in the restaurant, trying to keep up his charming and uncaring persona. “Yeah… It does.”

She slid two shots across the bar with a kind smile. “On the house.”

“Thanks.” I downed the drinks quickly as Jake came back, and it was time to hop along to the next errand he had to run.

Bags in hand, Jake and I continued walking, making small talk. It reminded me of the first time we’d done this… spent time just running errands and enjoying the simplicity of each other's company. No expectations, no stress, just us. Suddenly Jake stopped and pointed to a pet store. “I gotta run in here real quick.”

“Do you have a pet?” I asked, face scrunching up in confusion.

“Oh, right, guess I didn’t tell you. I… uh… Took Hemingway home a few weeks ago.”

I faked a gasp. "You stole one of my brother's feral street cats?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "I didn't steal him. He followed me."

"Likely story, thief."

"You coming with or not?"

Nodding my head furiously, I followed him inside. Jake got the best cat food he could find, picking up a few toys along the way while I grabbed a small pack of cat nip and four of the most adorable sweaters I could find. I held them all up to Jake first, sticking my lower lip out. “Imagine how cute he’ll look in these!”

Jake gave me an endearing look and nodded along. “He’ll look great IF he’ll let you get anywhere near him with those.”

“He loves me,” I assured him. “Plus, I’m very persuasive.”

“Sure you are, princess.”

After paying and going on our way, Jake seemed to get quiet. “You okay?”

He sighed. “Last chance to reschedule. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

I smiled at him, finding his constant need to reassure me that I was the one in control of this whole situation more adorable than I should have. “I don’t want to reschedule.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

From there, I could feel the tension between us lessen, and Jake seemed to get actually excited to show me his apartment. When he opened the front door, I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but then I saw it, and it just made sense for him. The apartment was small, nestled above some Chinese palace and what looked like an old laundry mat. The exposed brick felt warm and inviting, while the walls of shelves that housed every book and all the pictures and knick-knacks he’d deemed important enough to display made the space feel genuine.

Some apartments felt staged and sterile, free of any and all personality, but not his. The tiny kitchen with a small island was off to the right, two stools were the only dining table I could see, and behind it was clearly the door to the bathroom. The left side was where all his shelves were, as well as a small coffee table for him to set things on. Straight ahead was his bed and an old, clearly worn leather chair with more shelves and an old guitar behind it, carving out a bedroom within the one-roomed space. Old hardwood floors were accentuated with patterned rugs and a few stacks of books that Jake was currently invested in.

He set his bags down and awkwardly gestured to the space. “Well, here it is.”

My eyes instantly started scanning the shelves, admiring the pictures that he’d taken over the years and gently running my fingers along the spines of his books and the small shells. “It’s very… you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” I replied, giving him a smile over my shoulder. “It’s all so unique and personal. Kinda feels like I’m walking through your head right now.”

Jake made a face. “I think I’d be a lot dirtier if we were in my head.”

“Shocking.”

A light pressure pushed into my ankles, and a loud purr echoed in the apartment as Whisky came out from his hiding place and began rubbing his head on me. “Hey, little guy. I was wondering where you’d run off to.” I leaned down and began scratching at his little head. “I’m surprised you let the big grump take you home.”

Still unpacking some of the bags, Jake scoffed. “Hemingway likes me.”

“Whisky,” I corrected. “Likes a lot of people.”

“He likes me best, though.”

I rolled my eyes and reached around Jake to grab one of the sweaters. “Wanna try on one of your outfits?”

Whisky hissed.

Getting it on wasn’t difficult, but as I held the floppy cat in my arms, trying to convince him to stand up, I realized the stubborn nature of the animal was going to be the hard part. "Oh, come on," I laughed as the cat rolled out of my arms and tossed himself to the ground without warning. "You look cute!"

Whisky hissed, claws digging into the knitted material, trying to tug it off him on his own. Jake glanced over his shoulder with a grin at the sight of the cat. "Told ya he'd hate it."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't hate it. He's just not used to it. So, we'll keep the sweater on for a little longer and ease him into it."

He hissed again, glaring at me. From the kitchen, Jake chuckled. "I don't think he likes that idea."

Whisky flipped again, swatting the air and grunting wildly as he scooted across the rug, trying to find traction. Still giggling, I reached out for him. "Okay, okay! Hold still, I'll take it off."

Once his little body was free of the cursed material, he hissed again and scampered into the kitchen, leaping onto the counter and taking refuge behind Jake. I could see his ears and the tops of his eyes as he poked his head out to glare at me."Seriously?" I asked. "He bought it, you know!"

"Wow, torture and lying? That's a new low,” Jake teased as the cat's eyes narrowed and looked between the two of us, seemingly weighing his options. "Don't listen to her, Hem. She's just trying to trick you into liking me less."

"I don't need to lie," I insisted. "He likes me better than you anyway."

"Sure, princess," he replied with a shake of his head as he started making drinks for us.

I put the sweater back in the bag and pushed it as far from me as I could. "There. No more clothes." Whisky still didn't move. "Fine, guess you don't want any of this." I shook the little pouch of catnip.

Like a moth to a flame, Whisky came running. He rubbed his nose all over the pouch, peeing at it impatiently. Jake laughed. "You really gonna use drugs to make my cat like you better?"

Dumping a small amount out onto Jake's carpet, I watched Whisky sniff in it and roll around. "He was technically my cat first, you know. I helped feed him."

"And yet I'm the one he lives with."

"Because you snatched him!"

Jake just rolled his eyes at me and finished mixing the drinks. He turned, walking toward the cat and me, holding the glass out to me. "Cherry bourbon."

"Thank you." I took a generous sip, catching the quick look of worry in Jake's eyes before he moved his attention to the cat. Whisky was a good middle ground to distract us both from what was on our minds. "Sorry for making you play bartender on your day off."

"I don't mind," he said, nursing his own drink. "But I might have to cut you off after that one."

"Oh?"

"Oz told me you'd had a few drinks before I showed up. That plus the two shots you had at Home Bar and this… I'd say you're feeling pretty tipsy right about now."

I shrugged, trying to seem casual about everything. I didn't want to dive into the mess right now. "It's been kind of a day for me. Sorry."

"I know I’ve said it like a hundred times today, but we don't have to..." He sighed, scratching the cat's back. "You don't have to do anything. We could just watch a movie or play with the dumb cat. The photo shoot was just... Impulsive. I didn't even think-"

"I want to do it," I corrected, finally finding the courage to look at him. "That's not... I... I'm just… a little bit… camera shy."

Jake's grin made my cheeks burn. "You? Lena, goddamn Harrow, are camera shy?"

"It's not funny!" I hissed, kicking him.

His laughter eased the nervousness slightly. "It's kinda funny. I mean, I've seen you punch bikers and threaten gang assholes, but you're scared of a few pictures?"

I rolled my eyes, resuming the attention I paid Whisky. "I'm not scared of pictures! I just…" The playfulness was gone now. Old wounds now laid bare and unavoidable. With a deep sigh, I finally committed. "I don't want anyone to see me like that. Exposed and vulnerable. Posed like some trophy… Some thing to be used… Like I'm not me."

Jake was quiet for a moment, eyes carefully fixed on the cat that lounged between us. "I wouldn't do that to you. Whatever pictures I take… They're not for anyone but us. Hell, I won't even look at them if you don't want me to." Gently lifting my chin with his finger, our eyes locked. Bright blue eyes shimmered back at me, sincerity wrapped up like a present and held before me. "As for the posing, I think it'd be a waste to try and erase the you from anything. The whole point of taking any pictures is to capture you. Your tattoos, your smile, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh."

As if it were some reflex I couldn't suppress, I felt my nose scrunch as an embarrassingly loud laugh forced its way from me. Jake's smile widened. I shook my head and regained control of myself. "Sorry, that was kinda loud."

"It's okay," he answered. "My neighbors hate me anyway."

"I'm guessing it's from the noise you and all those pretty girls you bring back here make." The teasing helped shift the focus from me and helped me gain some tiny sense of control.

Jake shrugged. "Probably, but fuck 'em. They're just jealous."

Rolling my eyes, I scratched beneath Whisky's chin. "There's that complex of yours."

With a chuckle, he set his camera on the chair. "What are you thinking?"

I debated making another teasing remark to deflect his question, but Jake would see through that. Whether or not he'd press it didn't matter. He'd know. And I'd know that he knew. So, I kept my eyes glued to the cat and just opened my mouth. "I'm thinking that you have a vision in mind for tonight, and… I… I don't want to disappoint you."

"I'm not your mom." His voice was steady, calm. It didn't hold any expectations or signs of annoyance at my pitiful, slightly drunk, stalling. "This isn't a performance, Lena. And, just for the record, you could never disappoint me."

"What if they turn out bad?" I asked, holding the sting of tears back.

"Again, I don't think that's possible. But, in the very unlikely chance they suck, it'll still have been a good time."

I sighed, pressing my hands to my face with an embarrassed groan. "God, I must look like such a mess."

"You're beautiful, Lena."

Beautiful. The word was soft, warm, and safe. Unlike all the other times I'd been called that - by my mother or Tony or even Francois and Sam - this one felt real, and I suddenly felt so… Seen. How do you do that? I wanted to ask him. How do you see me without knowing all I've done? How do you see me the way no one else does?

My hands fell away from my face; embarrassment lulled to sleep by the sight of Jake's sparkling eyes. Waves of crashing emotion stared back at me, sharing every feeling he felt and every thought he didn't say. His eyes repeated the same sentence, the same feeling as if it were some simple rule… Some law of the universe. You're beautiful.

I cleared my throat and clumsily stood, taking the cat with me. My head spun, the alcohol filling me with a dizzying sense of numbness. Blinking the tears away, I set Whisky down on the chair next to Jake's camera and asked, "So, uh, what do we do first?"

He stood, quietly reaching out to steady me with one hand while the other grabbed the sex shop bag. "You go get changed. I'll clean up and get my stuff ready."

"Which one do you want me in?" I asked, digging through the bag. "Holy shit Jake, how many did you buy?!"

With a modest shrug and a wide grin, he gathered up our glasses. "I imagined you'd look good in all of them, so I just grabbed the ones I liked most."

My mouth hung open slightly as I stumbled over my words. "There's like five in here. Lingerie isn't cheap!"

"What was it you said?" He hummed. "Right, it's my money."

"Let me at least pay for half," I offered, hazily searching for my bag.

Jake scoffed, setting a hand on my lower back when I nearly tripped over his rug. "Cool it, princess, before you hurt yourself."

I huffed in his face. "Seriously, let me pay."

"What kind of bartender would I be if I let a pretty girl like you pay?" He teased with a chuckle.

"Jake-"

"Lena," he interrupted. "Don't worry about it. Now come on, go get changed, or we'll lose the good light."

I huffed again and carefully made my way toward his bathroom. "I'm gonna slip the cash in your pocket or something before I leave."

"I'll just give it back to you at work."

Quickly flipping him off, I closed the bathroom door behind me, settling into the quiet space with a shaky sigh. "You can do this," I muttered to myself, looking around his bathroom for a minute - a poor attempt to try and calm my nerves.

I would have expected Jake's bathroom to be like most city bachelors were. Dirty and cluttered and very obviously not well maintained. But, it was shockingly not what I'd expected. The floor was swept and looked freshly mopped. The sink was free of hair and toothpaste, the white contrasting against the red brick and dark tiled floors. Dirty clothes were in a hamper, and all of Jake's things looked organized.

Once the initial surprise wore off, I dove right into the bag Jake had given me and forced myself to push past the nervous pit in my stomach. Jake had bought five separate pairs of lingerie, each a different color and design. Two of them I put back in the bag immediately. They were both very beautiful but had no room for error. If I made one sudden move, my tits and bits would be fully out on display, and while it wasn’t anything Jake hadn’t already basically seen before, I still decided to spare myself the heart attack.

After a minute of consideration, I narrowed it down to two pieces. One a modest dark red with frills of black lace and structured boning that would accentuate all the right places. The other a silky green with a low-cut neckline and a more floral design. My eyes felt more drawn to the red, the design reminding me of the dress I’d worn to the club, and in the very back of my mind, I heard Jake’s multiple previous comments about how much he enjoyed the color red on me. Still, I held it up to my body and looked at it in the mirror for a minute longer.

Red it was.

I put the rest back in the bag and set it down on the tiny sink counter, changing into the soft material with ease. It was flattering and fit well. The bottoms were like shorts, but the kind that was far more like a pair of underwear that really showed off your ass, and the top was like a crop top but a lot more… durable. With a deep breath, I looked at myself in the mirror, toying with the fabric and my hair before just deciding to commit. “You can do this.”

When I opened the bathroom door, I half expected Jake to break his neck trying to peek at what I’d chosen, but he just kept his eyes trained on the task he was doing. He lifted the camera up to his eye for a quick glimpse before he lowered it and messed with the small machine for another minute. The floorboards creaked as I took a few tentative steps out into the main room, drawing his attention to me.

If looks could kill, then I would’ve died right there. He looked me up and down, mouth falling open slightly as he nearly dropped his camera. Jake looked at me like I was a piece of art… a sculpture of polished marble… something so perfect he couldn’t believe it was real.

With a burning hot face, I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with my hair, so I just… left it.”

My voice seemed to shake him out of the daze as he nodded, licking his lips. “You’re perfect - your hair… you…” He scratched his head. “You look perfect.”

“Okay,” I chuckled nervously. “Now what?”

“Now…” he lifted his camera up one last time with a tiny smile. “We take some pictures.”

I took a few steps forward, looking at the camera closely. "You gonna teach me some stuff?"

Jake looked distracted, eyes darting between my face and my body, but he nodded. "It's pretty easy with newer cameras. You just point, make an adjustment or two and push the button. The shuttered clicks, and boom, a picture."

Holding my hand out, I smiled, feeling a small surge of something that made my nervousness slowly start to fade. "Can I try?"

"Course," he said, setting the camera in my hand and showing me how to hold it.

I lifted the camera to my eye, looking at him through the lens and mimicking his movement before snapping the picture. "You're pretty even on camera."

He laughed. "Was there any doubt?"

"Course not," I replied, brushing my fingers against his skin as I returned his camera. "Well, master photographer, where do you want me?"

Jake considered his options for a minute, his pretty blue eyes sparkling in the setting sunlight. He traced the light and pulled his chair over slightly to get the perfect angle. "Right here."

A chair. Simple enough. I moved to sit when he held up a smaller bag. I recognized the sex shop's logo and looked at him quizzically. "What's this?"

"Another one of my impulsive moments."

I opened the bag, staring down at a small vibrator and remote. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I think it'd be fun."

"Why's that?"

"It'd give me a chance to capture that face you make when you're right there on the edge." His eyes focused on my lips.

Tilting my head to return his attention to my eyes, I smirked. "And that's an expression you like?"

Jake chuckled. "One of many."

I grabbed the toy and remote, setting the bag off to the side before holding the remote out to him. "I'm assuming you'll want that."

"Absolutely." He watched as I moved to the chair, getting in a position that would make getting the toy in the right spot a bit easier. I half expected him to look away, to give me a moment of privacy like he had earlier, but instead Jake watched, eyes dark and hungry. "Need a hand?"

"I know my way around sex toys, Jake," I replied, easily getting it situated without breaking eye contact with him. "Now what?"

He hummed, thumb stroking over the remote for the toy, pressing one of the buttons experimentally. The damn thing pulsed to life between my thighs, pressing perfectly against my clit. I gasped, and Jake smiled, turning the toy off again. "Just making sure it works."

"Sure."

Then he stepped forward and carefully examined the area, mind working to come up with determination. He reached out and slid his hand along my leg, moving it to cross over my other one. "Leg there." He urged me to shift, leaning on my legs just enough for my hair to fall over my shoulder and my chest to pop out. "Right there."

"Try to get my face in the picture," I teased as he stepped back, lifting the camera to his eye and making some adjustments.

The sunlight nearly blinded me entirely as it continued falling, ricocheting off the glass buildings. "Alright, look to the left. Keep your features as still but relaxed as possible."

I smirked. Click. "That's pretty vague."

"Just relax. Be yourself."

Just before I could open my mouth again with another tease, I heard another soft click and felt the toy start again. My eyes shifted, looking right at Jake as I pulled my lower lip between my teeth.

Click.

God damn him. "Starting already?"

He looked down at his camera screen with a pleased smile. "Yep. Next pose."

Time felt like it moved faster as Jake casually worked through a few poses. The toy steadily hummed between my thighs, slowly building my body up. My nervousness was entirely replaced by the pleasure of the toy and the soft praises Jake whispered after every shot. As I lay across the arm of the chair, legs dangling over the opposite side, my body bathed in the low reddish orange sunlight, all that building pleasure started coming to a head.

I could feel my legs starting to tremble and my chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as I tried to refrain from moaning.

"You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," I whispered, not even an answer to his question, more a breathy plea.

I heard the mechanical click of his camera's shutter, but the sound only made the pleasure of the vibrations feel more powerful. Another click echoed, and within seconds the toy moved quicker against my clit. With a raggedy breath, I dropped the pose Jake had put me in, back arching off his chair as my nails dug into the coarse leather that felt too good against my skin.

Click.

"We should have done this months ago," he said quietly, reaching out to pull me into another position. His touch felt too good. Soft and lingering while at the same time firm as he positioned me again, fingers ghosting over my nipple and dragging across my skin to tilt my head toward him. “Look at me, princess.” My eyes couldn’t have closed even if I wanted them to, staring into the soft glow of Jake’s camera lens. “Good girl.”

My legs pressed together, something Jake noticed judging by the smirk he hid behind the camera and the instant press of the button again to make the toy stop between my thighs. “Fuck!”

Jake chuckled. "You didn't really think I was gonna make it that easy, did you?"

"I was hoping," I admitted with a sigh, bringing my arm to rest behind my head. Click. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Scoffing at the smug tone of his voice, I carefully slid back into a normal sitting position. "Well, why don't you let me take a few pictures while you figure out what you want."

His smirk was wide and beautiful as he chuckled. "You wanna play photographer?"

"Maybe." I held my hand out and puffed my lower lip out to pout at him. Click. "I promise I won't break it."

Switching places, Jake got comfortable in his chair, leaning back to watch me as I curiously did my best to figure out the camera. Each photo I took seemed blurrier than the last, but Jake made for an excellent model. He took the initiative, changing his position after each click of the shutter. He kept it quite minimal, and maybe it was the alcohol, but I thought he looked good in every pose.

Too good.

I found myself gravitating toward him, mindlessly snapping pictures that I wasn't even sure he was in the frame of. With that dumb smirk, his hands slid up the backs of my thighs, tugging me down into his lap. "You seem distracted."

God I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to do so much more than that. "I'm not-"

A soft click echoed in the room, and the faint buzzing of the toy resumed. My eyes closed tightly, a sharp gasp escaping my throat as my fingers curled into Jake's camera. "What was that?"

"You're the worst," I bit out, holding in a moan.

Jake was insufferable as he nodded, his free hand setting the camera off to the side before caressing my cheek as he upped the intensity and listened as I finally lost control. "You want me to stop then?"

"No!"

His thumb pulled on my lower lip. Dark eyes focused on them entirely. "Say please, then."

I ground my teeth together, holding onto that last sliver of defiance. Jake's brow arched, and he moved his finger to the off button. My hand reached out and covered his. "Don't!" The pleasure was building quickly now. Just a little more, and I'd come.

Jake wasn't relenting. "Don't what?"

"Please," I finally whispered, my hips gently bucking against his body, searching for something to keep the vibrations focused where I needed them. "Please don't turn it off again."

"Mmm," he groaned, hands moving to grab my hips and help me find the spot I was looking for. "That's my girl."

It wasn't a promise not to turn the toy off, but my slightly intoxicated and pleasure-filled brain didn't register that at first. So, I moaned and moved my hips, ready to give into the wave of pleasure that was just right there.

Click.

The vibration stopped, and no matter how frustratedly I ground my hips down, the movement alone wasn't enough. With a soft whine and a frustrated breath, I shook my head. "You asshole."

"Sorry, princess," he murmured against my neck. "I just couldn't help myself."

Fuck this! I lowered my head and pressed my lips to his. Both of us surrendered to each other - to the blissful feeling of having our lips on one another - and sank fully into the moment. His fingers tangled into my hair, tugging just enough for the slight sting to feel good. My hands clumsily reached between us, trying to undo his pants.

"I think you're a bit too drunk for that," Jake breathed, moving his hands to stop me.

A pathetic whine bubbled up out of my throat as hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I tossed my head back. "Please!" God, I sounded fucking insane. "Jake, please!"

He groaned against my throat, forcing deep breaths in and out of his lungs as he held my hands firmly in his. "Fuck, you're making this harder than it needs to be."

I tilted my head back down, drunkenly bold enough to press my lips to his in a deep, drawn-out kiss. He could no doubt taste the alcohol on my tongue, which didn't exactly help me. Panting, I pulled away, pressing my lips anywhere I could get them, still fighting back tears. "I want you," I whispered against his skin. "Please."

Finally releasing my hands to cup my cheeks, Jake had the nerve to chuckle at the sight of my tearful eyes. Suppressing a grin, he wiped the corners of them with his thumbs. "Oh, don't cry, princess! I can think of other ways to relieve some of that tension."

Other ways? Other ways? I didn't want his fingers or his mouth. I wanted him to stretch me open with the generous amount of dick he'd been blessed with at birth. I wanted to feel every inch of him pulsing inside me. I wanted him to fuck me so hard it hurt. I wanted him. Hazy from the alcohol and the multiple almost orgasms, I couldn't think of the words to vocalize this burning need in my lungs, so I just dumbly repeated myself. "I want you."

"You have me," he said, hands gliding across my skin and fisting in the thin material of the lingerie. His head tucked beneath my chin, teeth grazing my peaked nipple as he pulled me forward, grinding me down on the bulge I wanted to impale myself on so badly. "God dammit, do you have me."

My body slid down his, pressing sloppy kisses down his neck and across his still-covered chest until my knees hit the floor. Our eyes locked, both of us breathing heavily as I once again started undoing his pants. "Then let me have you."

All he could do was nod his head as I palmed him through his pants, taking my time to free his soft and achingly hard dick from his pants. It felt like the first time we did this. It felt better than the first time.

Jake's fingers dug into the arms of his chair as I slowly licked him from base to tip. My tongue curled around the head of him, dragging against it almost torturously slowly. I could hear his blunt nails scrapping the leather. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

As soon as I took him into my mouth, Jake's hands were in my hair. He clutched me desperately as those pretty sounds echoed around us. I'd forgotten how unashamed he was about making noise. Each one of them went straight to my already-soaked cunt. There was a soft click, and the toy vibrated, albeit lowly, against my pussy.

I moved to pull back, eyes pinching shut and a moan stuck in my throat, but Jake's hands held my head in place as he rocked his hips forward, urging me to take all of him. My eyes watered. Pleasure coiled in my gut like a snake as Jake looked down with a half-lidded gaze. "That's it." I made a low sound. "You can take it."

God! I could feel him start to pulse, and I wanted nothing more than to swallow every drop he had to give me, just like I had the first time. But Jake had other plans. With a hiss, he pulled me off him, saliva pulling like strings between me and him. He pulled me up, seating me on his lap and pressing the buttons on the toy again, making the vibration stronger and faster.

I collapsed into him, my hand reaching between us to stroke his still-wet cock as he pulled my pants to the side and carefully maneuvered around the toy to shove his fingers inside me. "Jake," I gasped. "I… won't last… long."

"Me neither," he groaned. "God, you're so fucking beautiful."

My heart pulsed, a new kind of tear stinging my eyes. "Say it again."

His blue eyes held my gaze as he happily, stupidly said again, "You're beautiful."

It was embarrassing how quickly I came, head thrown back and my hand gently squeezing him. Jake turned the toy off, holding tightly onto me as my legs shook around him. Once I'd come down from the high, I started moving my hand again, more determined to feel him paint me with his cum.

"God," Jake said as his head hit the back of the chair. "Lena!"

I carefully leaned into his chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his throat. "Come on, pretty boy." My teeth latched onto his earring, sucking gently and listening to that absolutely perfect whine. "I want it." My lips hovered over his, eyes drinking in the sight of him so wrecked below me. "I want you."

With a loud groan, he pulled my head the rest of the way down, kissing me like his life depended on it. His hips stuttered below mine, and hot strings of his pearly white cum exploded between us, coating us both in the sticky release. My hand carefully worked him through the orgasm until he shuddered beneath me and went limp against the leather chair.

For a minute, all we could do was lay there, heavy breaths fanning across each other's faces, exchanging fucked out looks. For a minute, I could ignore the tiny sting of disappointment that we hadn't actually fucked each other because of me. But Jake didn't seem to care as he smiled up at me. His hands gently kneaded my still, slightly shaking legs, silently appreciating me in the now almost completely faded light. He reached over, grabbed the camera, and breathlessly looked through the pictures we'd taken.

"If you show anyone those photos, I'll kick your ass." It sounded confident and badass, but there was a softer, far more vulnerable tone that hid beneath it all. One Jake saw in an instant.

His smile was smug and prideful, but I could see that gleam of reassurance in his eyes as he said, "Don't worry, princess. Those are our eyes only."

"Our?" I asked.

Jake nodded, still visibly catching his breath beneath me. "You got a few good shots. They're blurry as hell but in an… artistic way."

I slapped the side of his chest, laughing breathlessly as my legs slowly began to stop shaking. "Asshole!"

"Artistic is good!" He insisted, setting the camera back down. "It suits you."

"Uh-huh."

The two of us just sat there for a minute, watching each other in that soft sort of way that made me feel tingly. Then, Jake tapped my hip, and his smile turned smug. "Think you can stand?"

Of course, I can! I wanted to say, but the numb tingle - a result of the overstimulated orgasm - made my legs feel like jello. "I…" Jake's brow twitched upward. "No… I don't think I can."

His chest swelled with pride as he wrapped his arms around me and slowly rose from his chair. "Hold on."

I clung to him as he maneuvered around the shit on the floor and walked us to his bathroom. He set me on my feet, holding me tightly as I adjusted to the blood rushing through them again, and quietly urged me to lean against the wall. Once he was sure I wasn't going to tip over, he started the shower, adjusting the temperature a few times before he was satisfied and turned his attention back to me.

Maybe I should have felt awkward about Jake peeling the sticky lingerie off me… Maybe I should have felt embarrassed by the fact that I was now naked in his bathroom, but I didn't. He tossed the fabric in one of his hampers and stripped himself beside me. Leaning against the wall beside his shower, I watched him, shameless in my admiration of his lean build and lovely tattoos. The alcohol made it easier to say the words I'd been thinking. "You're pretty."

Jake glanced up at me with a surprised chuckle. "And you're shameless. What happened to no peeking?"

"I was always gonna peek," I replied, giggling so hard I practically snorted.

Shaking his head at me, he tossed his clothes in the hamper and carefully helped me step into his tub, gentle hands lingering on my elbows as he guided me into the spray of hot water. I shivered as his hands stroked my skin. "Is it too cold?"

"No," I answered, relaxing into his soft body. "It's perfect."

"Good," he answered with a surprisingly gentle kiss on my shoulder.

Jake lathered soap on his hands, carefully scrubbing the residual stickiness off my body. He scrubbed himself as well, not once complaining that I was hogging the steady stream of hot water. Once I felt slightly more confident in my footing, I turned, letting the water douse my unruly hair as Jake massaged shampoo into his own.

I watched his muscles flex with his movements, mesmerized by how goddamn pretty he was. When he suddenly reached out and pulled me close, I jumped, slightly startled. Jake only smiled at me with a mumbled apology as he twisted, changing our positions in a second. He tipped his head back into the warm water, rinsing the suds from his hair and letting the hot water relax the knots in his back.

Without thinking, I reached out and traced his Adam's apple, admiring the little bruises already beginning to form in the shape of my teeth. I curled into his slick body, pressing my lips to each mark. I'd blame the alcohol later.

His hands danced along my spine and squeezed my hips gently. "Your turn."

All I could do was hum as he carefully turned me and squirted the shampoo into his palms. The sensation of his steady, strong hands lathering my hair and gently massaging my scalp was enough to make me moan. "God, you've got good fingers."

Jake chuckled, lips moving against the shell of my ear as his blunt nails continued to massage the soap into my scalp. "Told you I was good with my hands."

"Don't be so smug," I replied with another content moan.

His breath sent a chill up my spine as he chuckled against my neck. "Careful with those pretty noises, princess. Or you might just get yourself in trouble."

I smirked, leaning back against his chest fully. "I like trouble."

"I'm sure you do," he teased.

The concept of time was meaningless with Jake. I had no idea how long we spent in his shower, and I didn't care. His touch, soft and constant, was all that mattered to me. When we finally got out, he helped dry me off before disappearing into the main room for a minute and returning with a simple t-shirt that he helped me put on. From there, he wordlessly picked me up and took me to his bed.

It was just as soft as I'd imagined. Warm with that lingering hint of his cologne embedded in the fabric. I settled with my head on his pillow, eyes heavy as I watched him pull on a pair of sweatpants and continue with his nightly traditions unhindered by my presence.

Jake picked up the abandoned camera equipment, putting it all back where they belonged among his shelves of things. Then he set the glasses in the sink and put the alcohol back on his counter. He locked the door, a sound that made my heart tick slightly - old wounds and all - before turning the lights off.

The lights from the city outside cast an array of gorgeous colors through his windows. Shapes of light played across his ceiling. I sat up and watched them for a moment as the bed dipped, and he settled in beside me. "I like your apartment," I admitted softly.

"Yeah?" He asked, the tiredness finally beginning to sink into his voice.

"It's peaceful."

I could feel the warmth of him through his shirt on my back as he reached for me. Palms settled against my lower back, fingers tapping some unknown tune before he nudged me, a silent urging for me to lay down and settle, one I followed without hesitation. I curled into his side, resting my head against his chest as he pulled the covers over us. Hem- Whisky jumped onto the bed, curling into Jake's free side, stretching his little legs out to make tiny air biscuits for a minute before settling fully.

My fingers traced Jake's tattoos, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and the way the lights danced through his apartment. If this were anywhere else, I would have been afraid to look out into the dark - afraid that I'd see old faces or nameless bodies. This wasn't anywhere else, though. This was Jake's safe haven. It was where he kept the things that mattered to him. It was his books and his camera. His old chair and vintage guitar. His alcohol and his cigarettes.

It was a place I felt I belonged in. Playing with the cat he'd "stolen", looking through his books and admiring his photos, sitting in his chair, showering with him, curling up in his bed… I belonged here. I belonged here with him. My fingers stilled against his skin as the feeling settled inside me. The thought, the feeling, was finally accepted instead of being denied once again.

"Jake," I mumbled into his skin, tired but unable to sleep until I knew he felt it too.

"Yeah?"

Do you feel that? My tongue felt unnatural in my mouth. Do you think I belong here too? My mouth was too dry. Do you want me to stay? The words tumbled out, hardly intelligible, "I didn't learn a damn thing about photography."

He laughed, a sound that made my silly little heart soar, smoothing a hand over my head and turning his head to smile down at me. "That's alright. I'm always willing to give you more lessons." Yeah, princess, I want you to stay.

"I look forward to it," I said, and with a tired smile, I tilted my chin up, pressing my lips to his in a soft kiss that he returned instantly. Good. Because there's nowhere else I wanna be.

Outside, the city kept moving. Time kept moving. But there, wrapped in warm blankets, pulled to sleep by a soft embrace - there in Jake's apartment, time stood still.

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ao3feed-rhaenicent · 1 month

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#ao3feed #fanfic #rhaenicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd

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throped · 1 year

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Never Glory - Chapter 1

Tom riddle x reader

TW : blood, death gore and all that stuff

My breath quickened and my heartbeat rose as I suddenly jolted awake, feeling not in the slightest mood to get up. You see, I've been having these nightmares? One would call it nightmares but I consider them as visions. They somehow predict the future and tell me what is going to happen next. The weird part is that I haven't had visions like this since the year 1900 when Grindelwald rose to power. Quite infuriating really, I couldn't help anyone from death because my stupid self didn't know whether they were reliable or not.

If I went into graphic detail as to what series of events exactly occurred in my 'visions', one would be horrified. The scene of blood, gore and death appeared right in the back of my mind and it was hard to believe that this was my life.

I swear on the gods that Salazar Slytherin had something to do with this. That pathetic excuse of a wizard cursed me for eternity in hell just because I didn't follow a few of his rules. Slytherin should of died before he ever even laid eyes on muggleborns.

Oh well, I can't really do much about it now, especially since it's been centuries since he died. I'm alive and well but it just seems as though I'm here for a reason, not just because Slytherin cursed me.

I got up as the bed creaked underneath me. Mental note to myself about getting a new bed. The fact that I had a dream about someone killing a boy with a scar on his head. I wouldn't necessarily say 'someone' though.... He was more of a monster with only his body shape making him look the slightest bit human. I looked beside me to see the newspaper, 'Hogwarts: School for young witches and wizards'.

I had been to Hogwarts once and it wasn't the best experience but definitely not the worst either, I just didn't feel the need to re-make new stories about how my parents died and how I was born and where I was born. I couldn't risk being revealed to be immortal. They would throw me into Azkaban and make me rot there.

If I however did go there, I would get amazing grades and top the class, considering me being centuries years old but still looking young. It would be quite the win-win situation if you really thought about it.

I may even be able to make a future for myself, not being stuck as an auror for the rest of my life.

I felt as if I needed to go back to Hogwarts. It may even be different for me, I might be able to find someone to love me if I failed at the prevention of that monster I saw in my dreams. Oh! And not to mention my changing of identity tomorrow! Happens ever 40 years, I reset to the age of 15, looking like a child but having the knowledge of a wise wizard.

"Alrighty, so it's set. Y/N, your heading straight to Hogwarts!" I said to myself. I must admit, I didn't have many to talk to so it was quite the habit of mine to talk to myself at times. I grabbed some papers and started filling out my new identity for tomorrow's change.

"Hmm, Daena is a nice name. And L/N sounds promising...." I said to myself, "that's it then,

Daena L/N."

Quite a pureblood name in fact. I indeed am a pureblood, born to my mother and father which of whom I never knew the names of. Saddening really. You're probably thinking about how I'm going to get into Hogwarts. Well, you know Dumbledore, that professor at Hogwarts? Well, he knows about my existence and knows how I've been hexed by Slytherin as I had trouble lying to him at a time we met at Three Broomsticks. He agreed to put a good word about my application and let me join the school whenever I wanted. I'm not exactly quite sure why he would help me out but I guess I might be saving him in the future or something.

Who am I kidding though? No seriously. That old man knows quite a lot and just maybe I might play part to whatever he's planning.

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

Thanks for reading so far, I have pretty inconsistent posting times so I post whenever I can lol. Oh and also, that monster you dreamed of? Yeah, that's Voldemort if you didn't get the references!

#voldemort #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #fem reader #lily potter #lily evans #harry potter #james potter

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the-eevee-experiment · 2 years

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9-37 (the final page of the chapter)

Well. I’ve thought about this a lot over the past day or so. But long story short, I am going to be ending this comic. It breaks my heart to do so, but the facts of the matter are...

1) My motivation and time set aside for this has plummeted. I tried to push through, and could keep up for a while, but the full truth is it was feeling a bit like a chore, week to week. This page above has been sitting unfinished for months, just a sad sketch with a frame. The story I have planned would have taken much longer. Which leads to my second fact.

2) things are just changing and coming out too much. While I still love a lot of the individuals at AH/RT, this comic was sort of a celebration of... everything that goes into it. So with many people leaving and reporting horrible experiences, it’s become almost shameful to continue this little celebration, since it includes a lot of the company... Yeah. Anyway.

For those who are interested, I am including my notes for this comic, so you can kind of see where it was heading. The notes don’t necessarily go that far ahead (there were things I was going to plan when I got closer to it, e.g.) and some old art and notes that aren’t necessarily applicable anymore. But I’d hate to leave you guys with an unsatisfactory Nothing! I had twists planned and I am bummed i couldn’t make them come to life and see all of your reactions.

In the end, I love you guys so so much. You have all been so good to me, even when I stopped producing as much, and your support has meant SO much to me over the past few years. Please never stop being kind and supportive of each other. I’ll still be in the community, at least for the time being (as i said, I still love a lot of the individuals). But I can’t monetarily support them anymore, and this comic feels wrong to continue.

Once again, I’m sorry I couldn’t see this all through. This has been such a wonderful experience and a great learning opportunity for art/comic making, and I will remember it fondly.

If you have any questions for me, about my notes, or about anything related to the story, the side blog’s ask box will remain open. Thank you for reading. 💜💜 💜

-The Author

My OneNote (the bulk of my notes. Very messy!!! some parts very old! TW for JRH)

My Google Doc (TW for brief mention of JRH, and mentions of Mad King)

#chapter nine #the eevee experiment

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doesthisbookhavespice · 1 month

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“does this book have spice?” — the introduction

hello! welcome to ‘does this book have spice’. this is a small page run by one admin, dedicated to informing readers about books and whether or not they contain ‘spice’.

faq:

what is ‘spice’?

spice, in my own words, is a synonym for smut, or explicit romantic (not always) scenes within literature. ‘spice’ became a popular buzzword within the booktok community — typically if someone says a book has ‘spice’, it means there are smutty scenes.

why is it important to know whether books have ‘spice’?

for me there are primarily two reasons:

1. some people either like, are indifferent to, or don’t like spicy scenes. from a personal standpoint, i am demisexual - meaning i need an often-platonic connection to someone before exploring a sexual connection. because of this, i find ‘one night stand’ scenes uncomfortable to read. while on the whole i am fairly indifferent towards spice aside from that, i know that for others it can be triggering.

2. the current trend in spicy, romance books are covers that one might think appeal to teenagers. think ‘icebreaker’. i’m an adult, but i’ve seen literal twelve year olds reading that book. i work with children, so feel passionate about ensuring that they don’t consume inappropriate content.

i’m sure there are other reasons, but these two stick out to me.

so why have you set up this page?

my goal is to inform, both if a book has spice and where the spice is within that book. this will inform both my own reading and hopefully yours too! if you’re here because you love spice, welcome! if you’re here because you want to avoid it, welcome! if you’re here simply to grab recommendations, welcome! this is a safe space for all, where my opinions will be minimal and i will focus primarily on providing information about the books i post.

how will you structure the information?

i will follow a simple structure: book title; spice (yes or no); the chapters containing spice; any trigger warnings to keep in mind.

within the tags, i will post the book title, author, and, if applicable, series.

an example of this structure looks like:

book title: a court of thorns and roses

spice: yes

chapters: 21, 27, 42, 46

tw: sexual assault, drugging.

the tags would then contain: a court of thorns and roses; sarah j mass; acotar

please note that the trigger warnings only include the spicy scenes and not the book as a whole. if you want to look those up i’d highly recommend the storygraph as those are user-inputted.

will these be limited to books you’ve read?

in all honesty i don’t read quickly enough to say yes! plus, i want my asks to be open for requests at (unless it’s bombarded) all times. please keep in mind that i am a lone, simple admin who is in her mid-twenties and trying their best. so if i make any errors, or if you have read the book and feel i should include something, please let me know! :)

how should we refer to you?

again, don’t want this to be personal - but my name is laur, and i use they/she pronouns.

if you’ve read this far, i applaud you from my little book cave, and i hope this page is of use to you!

#does this book have spice #faq

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happypopcornprincess · 3 years

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The One That Got Away - Chapter Six

Summary: After assisting the new Captain America and Sargent Barnes to defeat the Flag Smashers, Joaquin Torres is on leave, visiting Sam’s family in Louisiana. He expected to make some new memories with the Wilsons and his new friend Bucky Barnes. What he did not expect, was a face from the past he was trying so desperately to forget.

But this small vacation will not be a peaceful one. New enemies are lurking in the background, and they know one thing - the only way to hit hard, is to hit home.

Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Warning: TW! MINORS DNI! Implied domestic violence, child abuse, some language

Word Count: 3.2K (approx.)

Note: In this chapter, we find out about Y/N's past. The SHIELD headquarters mentioned is based on my imagination and it is not canon. This is a work of fiction. It is not my intention to hurt anyone.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Tuscany, 2017

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Joaquin said as he stopped his pick-up in front of your apartment building. “Not if I see you first” You kissed him and got out of the car. You waved at him and walked inside as he left. You had a good day at school. Your counselor was more than happy to refer you to the colleges you chose for your application. Prom was nearby. You were doing good in school, 91% on your mock test today. You spent the rest of your afternoon studying with Joaquin in the library for the finals and then had a coffee date.

You were smiling to yourself as you entered your home. You finally dared to get out in the world and live your life by your own rules-

The cigarette smell hit you before she said anything. "What took you so long?" Your mother asked standing in the kitchen. A familiar shiver ran down your spine. You closed your eyes, trying to gather yourself. You turn to look at her in the kitchen, cigarette between her fingers as she put yesterday’s leftover mac and cheese in the microwave. She just woke up.

“Just stayed back to study for finals at the library.” You reply. “With?” she asked, turning towards you. “Some classmates.” You speak. That got her attention. She let go of the mac and cheese bowl on the counter and walked towards you, which made you cower. You step back on your own accord as she stood a few feet away in front of you. “How did you come back here?” she asked.

“Torres had some work at the hardware store, so I asked him to drop me.” You say without blinking. It was half true. You never had to ask him to drop you. He always picked you up and left you at your house. Because you never told the truth about your relationship with Joaquin to her, you knew what would be the result.

“Y/N, do you remember what happened the last time you lied to me?” she says with a straight face. It sent shivers down your spine. Of course, you did. You had to wear full-sleeved shirts for a week even in the scorching heat. “Where. Were. You.” She asked again, taking a step closer with each word. Stepping backward, you reply to her, "I was studying for the finals... in the school library." With some of my classmates.” You say, your voice quivering a bit.

“And was your boyfriend there?”

No, this can’t be happening!

You were careful, never slipping anything, always storing your photos with him in a hidden folder. You tried to calm yourself but couldn’t stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

You keep looking her in the eyes, you’re not letting her win this time, “I don’t have a boyfriend mom” you somehow manage to blurt out without pausing. And it worked.

Or so you thought.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him Y/N,” she says with a smirk. She twirls her cigarette between her fingers, without losing eye contact. “He seems like a nice lad. He will get hurt though”, she says, “Because he chose YOU!” she screams out.

You were used to the screaming part, but it always managed to catch you off guard. You close your eyes and flinch back, your entire life flashing before your eyes. The burning sensation on your skin after your mother has thrashed you around the house every time she hits you.

You stand there, unmoving, ready for the pain. But it never does. You slowly open your eyes to see her standing in front of you. Smiling.

“Now, I’m hungry, the Mac and Cheese won’t heat itself.” She turns to enter the kitchen, “Your father will be home soon, time to change out of that hideous outfit and wear something decent.” She pointed at your jeans and floral top. She sets the timer on the microwave and takes a long drag of the cigarette.

You stumble into your room, shutting the door. There was no lock, your parents took it out when you moved here. You still didn’t understand why they hated you. Your mother, more than your father. They were nothing like the ‘Picture-Perfect’ family they pretended to be. You did everything in your power to make them like you. Top in the class, participating in every fucking competition one could think of at school, and even learning how to play the flute on your own. Although you stopped doing so because they refused to buy you a new one after ‘accidentally’ leaving it at your old house. No matter what you did, they managed to single out one wrong thing about it and scold you mercilessly

You couldn’t leave the house without informing them, your curfew was at six, and they would look through your phone at any given time about anything. Gallery, Apps, social media, everything.

Zoe thought you were kidding when you told her you weren’t on Instagram back in sophomore year. You were paranoid about installing the app on your phone, so you used Joaquin's phone or your school computer.

Oh, Joaquin. You couldn’t imagine him getting hurt. He was so kind, so gentle with you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him what your parents did to you, or what they were capable of doing once they found out you were dating. You knew he suspected something was off but never asked you about it. Unlike them, he never cut you off when you would talk. He never forced you to do better, clearly knowing the fact you were doing your best, and he somehow always knew if you were uncomfortable or scared. Unlike your time with your parents, you felt happy with him, you felt safe. You felt... loved.

You've wanted to say that for a long time. Although it’s been almost a year since you started dating, you never said the L-word to each other. You wanted to tell him that, you wanted to tell him everything about you. But, can you?

Sharon’s Safe House, Alaska

Joaquin was bored. It has been a day and a half since they entered the safe house and he was running out of ideas to pass the time.

After calling Sam informing him about them reaching safely, he tried to watch a movie on the large TV in the living area but closed it halfway. Partly because it was a horror movie, and partly because he’s seen it already. Then he poked around the fireplace but soon got bored.

“I’m bored” he groaned out. They left all of their electrical devices with Sam, including his phone which contained his playlist. He was currently lying on the couch looking at the ceiling, which he realized was the same shade of grey as an F-15 Eagle.

“Should have bought a book,” she replied. That’s when he realized she was sitting on the sofa perpendicular to his, still not finished with your book. “Can’t you let me read one of yours?” he lifts his head, looking at her. “Of course. "I have Dune." She glanced up from her book and smirked. “Ugh.” He slumps back on the sofa. Despite his love for fantasy and sci-fi novels, he just couldn’t read Dune. Gave up as soon as the ‘Space Witches’ were introduced. He was sure they were called something else but he couldn’t remember. Despite knowing that, she still bought it. “Can’t you give me Wuthering Heights?” He whined, still looking at the ceiling. “I’m not finished yet,” she replies, without looking away from her book. “Okay, how many times would you read the same book? This is your, what? 18th time reading it?” “20th, read it all the time when I moved to Delacroix,” she said.

He got up and walked towards her, standing next to her sofa. She was wearing another pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her feet bare. “Care to wear some socks? Believe me, you don’t want to catch a cold in this weather" he said. She closed her book and looked at him. "I'm not cold," she says looking just below his eyes. He huffs out a breath. There was no point in telling you that again because he knew how stubborn she could be. But then, he saw her visibly shiver. “You didn’t bring socks, did you?” he asked again.

She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t. “For god’s sake Y/N!” he muttered under his breath as he headed to the closet and bought her a fresh pair of woolen socks from his bag. “Take it.” He hands her the socks. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off. “No, I saw you shivering. Wear them. You’ll catch a fever.” She put them on. “Happy?” she huffs out. He gives her a sarcastic smile, which she returned.

Joaquin’s heart skips a beat. Her nose scrunches a bit, the left side of her lips rises higher than her right side. He’s seen it up close, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her body every time she smiled after kissing him. He pushed those thoughts away, “Let’s do something.” He blurts out. “Like what?” she asks in a puzzled tone. “How about exploring this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of living in a safe house loaded with stark tech?" he spread his arms around to point around him. “You’re literally an Avenger. And you sound like a camp counselor” She deadpanned. “Yeah, and you are not. Aren’t you a bit curious about this place? you were the one who asked me about the cloaking tech.” he asked, trying not to take her bait into a dissing match. “Come on!” he says again after she doesn’t reply. “Okay, fine!” she slams her book on the coffee table and gets up. “Great! Let’s start with the kitchen” he said while walking towards it. She followed.

She told him about the shit ton of coffee stocked in one of them while making coffee in the morning. And they found rations stocked up in the kitchen, enough for them to survive for at least three months.

He convinced her that the house had a secret basement or something. So, they spent the rest of the day searching the nooks and crooks for a secret button or a lever, but that was just wishful thinking.

Instead, he found some things way cooler.

The countertop was actually a storage unit, filled with weapons and ammunition. You had to press a button on the side to open it. He put it back and didn’t tell her where the button was, just in case she ended up murdering him here.

The four stairs inside the house that led to the bedroom, were drawers. She opened them to see them filled with records, cassettes, and a Walkman. Was it Sharon’s or Tony’s collection? Guess he’d never know?

But he soon found out. In those drawers, he found an old photograph inside an AC/DC album cover. It was of a young boy holding hands with a woman. They had the same hair color. His head was a mess as he was grinning widely at the camera, and the woman was pointing at it with a slender smile. Realization hit him that it was Tony Stark with his mother, and the photograph was old, folded, and worn around the edges. He smiled. Because there was a similar picture of him with his mother, with the same creases and folds, tucked in his wallet since the day she passed. He folded the old photo as it was and kept it inside the album. She sat next to him watching the events unfold. But didn’t say anything. He then looked out the window to see it was getting dark. The digital clock on the control panel showed the time - 6:30.

His stomach growled in hunger, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the coffee with her. You stacked the contents back in the drawers, except the Walkman. At least listening to 90s songs would be better than doing nothing.

He headed to the kitchen and asked, "Are you hungry?" "Yes!" she shouts out from the other side of the room. She walked in a second later, tying her hair up. “What are we making?” she asked, leaning back on the countertop. Joaquin looked around the rations and his eyes landed on a big bag of kidney beans. And he got an idea. “Rice and Kidney beans gravy.” He spoke. “Cool!” she opened the rice bag and started pouring it into a bowl. “No! You have to measure it first.” He moved quickly to hold the bag before she could pour more. “Sorry” she replied. He smiles and hands her a glass from nearby, "Two measures of water with one glass of rice." He says and hands her the glass. She takes it and measures the correct amount of rice and pours it into the container.

---------

It took both of your combined efforts to make a simple kidney beans gravy. Firstly, you didn’t have fresh vegetables, so you had to rely on spices and water. And secondly, neither of you was good at cooking. After an hour of arguing about what to put first and then, you were ready with your dinner. The rice was a bit overcooked, and you completely forgot to put salt in the gravy, but it was delicious.

“What about Kelly Rivers?” You asked him as you scooped up a spoon of gravy from your plate. “You would be shocked to know; she got into Hawaii University, English Honours.” He said while sitting in front of you. “What?” you gasped. Joaquin laughed in response. “She hated English.” Your voice rose an octave. “No, she just hates Shakespeare. She loves Austen. I don't understand how that works but I'm glad for her” He said as he drank some water from his glass. “How do you know that?” “We chat sometimes, we were friends you know before she lived through her ‘Regina George’ phase.” He air quoted the name like that wasn’t obvious. “Well, I’m glad she found her path.” Saying so you scooped up another spoonful of gravy.

Your mind drifted off to a memory you often looked back on, three people sitting around an old wooden table. The woman, overjoyed, telling you about her grandson climbing on a tree while being chased by a cat. And him, hiding his face in your shoulder as you laughed along with her. The kindest lady you ever met, who insisted on you calling her Abuela. Simpler times, happier days.

“How’s Abuela?” you ask. Not having the courage to look at him while doing so. When you left Tuscany, He wasn’t the only one who got hurt. “She’s doing well, still thinks I don’t eat enough.” He let out a laugh, “She’s living alone, but Delilah and the others look after her.”

Delilah was your school nurse and Joaquin’s neighbor. She lived with her husband and son right next to his house. Her husband got blipped and the last you heard she was ready to leave town.

“Delilah still lives there?” you ask him. You finally glance at him. He wasn’t looking at you, burying his face in his food. “Yeah, she wanted to leave but eventually stayed. She’s been looking after Abuela since I left. Haven’t visited in a while.” He stood up and took his plate to the sink. You tried to eat a bit faster, having only a bit left on your plate. “You know, her husband came back.” He says after a while. He looked over his shoulder at you as you stilled. He came back, Half of the world came back, everyone came back, everyone except-

“I’ll do the dishes.” You suddenly got up. You picked up your plate and walked to the sink to get to the dishwashing liquid. "It's alright, I'll do it." he stepped in and your hand brushed against his. You both stopped and looked at each other. His hand lingered against yours for a second as he retreated. "Go to bed y/n, I got this," he says.

You go to bed, sliding into the covers and shifting to a corner. He came back after a few minutes and walked to the metal fireplace in your room. The room was filled with a warm yellow light as you felt your mattress shift. He let out an exhale and the room fell into silence. It was easy to drift to sleep with the noise of crackling firewood.

S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, Washington DC

“It was someone from the inside,” Bucky said as he slapped yet another file on the table. They were at the brand-new S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters built on the outskirts of the city. After the discovery of HYDRA infiltration of their organization came out, and the destruction of their old base in 2014, the government refused to have their headquarters anywhere in the city. So, they made it just outside, 70% of it underground.

Bucky and Sam had arrived shortly after Y/N and Joaquin left for Alaska. They needed to find the Flag Smashers, and headquarters had the resources to do so.

“I don’t understand, why her?” said Sharon, rising from her chair. She had joined their case as soon as she knew there were Flag Smashers involved. All three of them have been hunched over a table since the last hour, with files and documents spread on it, trying to figure out what they want. “I mean, the only reason she got involved was because of her relationship with Joaquin.” Sam said, “who, by the way, had minimal involvement with their downfall after he got attacked in Germany. Nobody knew about it except me, the guy who punched him thought he was just another cop. Why target them?" “I’m telling you it was someone on the inside, who gave her location,” Bucky said opening her file. “I think she wasn’t their initial target,” Sharon said. “What do you mean?” Sam asked her.

Sharon walked to the board filled with maps and photos related to the case. In a corner, was a section with all the information about Y/N. “She has no criminal history. Top of her class graduated from Michigan Nursing School and is the best nurse in their hospital. No accidents or complaints in two years of her job. This isn’t personal.” She turned back to them, “You told me all three of them just came into her building. If this had been planned, they wouldn't have entered inside together. There would have been a lookout. This wasn’t intended." “Of course, it wasn’t planned. They are all idiots,” Bucky remarked. Sam gave him a look and continued, “The men said they were given a location and time and were told to bring her to another location which would be given to them after they caught her.” “Someone else is involved, and we haven’t caught them yet,” Sharon said as she picked up a pen and started clicking it. “So, if their initial target wasn’t Joaquin or Y/N, who was it?” Bucky asked again.

“Wilson and his family.”

All three of them turned towards the door. Leaning on the doorframe looking serious for, maybe the first time in his life, stood John Walker. “Good grief” Bucky muttered under his breath. “What?” Sam walked towards him. “What do you mean?" “It’s you they want Wilson, the new Captain America who killed Karli Morgenthau, their savior.” He said the last words in a sing-song voice. “He didn’t kill her; I did." Sharon approached him. "Hate to break it to you, Miss Carter, they believe otherwise,” he said. “They have the same agenda that they had before, kill Captain America to prove a point.” “But the bill didn’t pass, their voice was heard.” Said Bucky. “I know, but some people don’t want peace, they want power”

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End of Chapter Six. Chapter Seven

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Tag List:

@tuiccim @wkemeup @samwilson-mylove @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @hoennsficrecs @obrienswife @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho

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luhvrchan · 2 years

Text

Seo Changbin:Hot Math Teacher

Chapter 2

TW:!strong language!

You went back to your class after having lunch. You and Hyunjin were the first one to enter the class and saw your math teacher.

Wait... Isn't it P.E? Why is he here?

Y/N:Um Mr. Seo?

Changbin:Yes Y/N?

Y/N:It's P.E right-

Changbin:Yeah I know. I borrowed this from your P.E teacher to complete my portions for your math exam.

Just our luck... great

Everybody rushed to the class after you announced that your math teacher came to take math class.

Changbin:Today we will be learning about trigonometry. Does anybody know any formulas that you may have studied in the previous years?

So many people raised their hands but he noticed that your body was trembling and realised that you were hesitant to answer.

Changbin:Y/N sweetie, can you tell any formula you remember?

Y/N:sin/cos=tan

Changbin:Very good!

He wrote it on the board using his chalk pen and smiled at you.

Changbin:This *encircles the formula* is very important. You will get many questions related to this formula. After we recap this chapter, we will start applications where you have to draw the triangle and apply the correct theta value. I will dictate notes now, please start writing and I need speed.

He began dictating notes and you began writing. Hyunjin was surprised at how fast you were writing while Mr. Seo was dictating.

Hyunjin:Psst dude, show me-

Changbin:Hyunjin if you have to say something then you may share it with us *fake smile*

Hyunjin:Nothing Mr. Seo it's just I didn't get the last part you said *nervous*

Changbin:Anybody else who didn't get the last part? I will repeat it again.

Ryujin:I missed-

Y/N:Shut the fuck up for once Ryujin! Stop troubling the teachers just because they are good looking. Literally everybody knows that your motive is just to sleep with them nothing else. Stop fucking trying your luck and you've made many teachers uncomfortable that they left because of you.

Changbin was shocked to hear that from your mouth. You realised what you had said and apologised.

Y/N:Sorry for my language but it had to be done.

Ryujin was so embarrassed that she left the class crying. You just laughed at her stupid behaviour and gave your notes to Hyunjin so that he can complete them.

Changbin:Detention for Y/N after school for 2 hours.

I knew it...

After the math class ended he left the class and Hyunjin turned to you.

Hyunjin:You got detention for no reason.

Y/N:I swear bro. But I can't do anything about it, rules are rules.

Hyunjin:Good luck with detention.

Time Skip:At Detention

You entered the detention room with your bag on your right shoulder and saw Mr. Seo. Your eyes fell on his clothes, he was wearing a white flannel shirt where two of the buttons were unbuttoned and black skinny leather pants and was wearing glasses.

lOrD hAvE meRCy, wE muST sTaY fOcuSeD. wE mUsT stAY fOCusED!

He noticed you through his glasses and gave you a warm smile.

Changbin:Hello Y/N. Please sit in front of me, we need to talk about what you told Ryujin in the class.

Shit... am I gonna get scolded?

Changbin:Not a need to panic sweetheart, what I want to know is, is that true?

Y/N:What's true?

Changbin:What you said about Ryujin.

Y/N:Yes it's true. I've seen it with my own eyes. Thankfully our English teacher Felix is still here and hasn't left. His husband Bang Chan was here, but he left because Ryujin tried to sleep with him even when he clearly showed his ring to her and mentioned that he is married to Felix.

Changbin:Wow...

Y/N:It's better for you to ignore her instead of answering to her stupid behaviour, she will try her luck with you. Don't pay any attention to her please

Changbin:Alright, got it.

You were staring at his exposed chest that you were almost drooling over him having fantasies about him. He noticed that you got zoned out staring at his chest and smirked.

Changbin:Y/N?

Y/N:Huh- sorry... I got zoned out

Changbin:*unbuttons two more buttons* It's really hot in here don't you think? *fans himself* turn on the AC please

Y/N:Y-yeah s-sure

You went near the AC remote but slipped and you fell on your face. Your skirt/shorts rode up and Mr. Seo noticed your lace panties, it made him flustered. When you got up he placed his jacket around your waist, you felt your cheeks heat up when he did that. You began shifting around.

Changbin:Stay still sweetie. I need to tie this in front of your waist.

You gave him a soft nod and he tied it in front of your waist. He then smiled at you.

Changbin:I told you to-

Y/N:I know. I asked the school for a longer one in the morning and they said that it is out of stock. They will get it next week.

When you said that it made him furious.

Next week?! This kiddo is suffering because perverts are looking under their skirt/shorts!

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids ff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids stay #seo changbin #seo changbin scenarios #seo changbin x reader #changbin #changbin imagines #stray kids x reader #skz series #skz suggestive #stray kids changbin

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trulymadlysydney · 4 years

Text

Somewhere In Time: Ten

“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo. "So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

March 10th, 1990, 11:54am

Seventeen year-old Oliver Ward sighs, glancing mindlessly out the window of the old retirement home and fighting a yawn.

It isn’t that he doesn’t love his Saturday mornings spent with his ninety one year-old companion, because he does. In fact, most Saturdays he forgets that this is even an extra credit assignment at all. He knows, of course, how terrific this is going to look on his college applications-- but he doesn’t think of it like that. Over the past month or so, he’s befriended the older gentleman he’s been assigned by his AP psychology teacher, and the old man has taken a liking to him as well. Most Saturdays, Oliver loses track of the time because he finds himself lost in some story the old man is sharing with him.

This Saturday, however, Oliver doesn’t much feel like socializing.

It isn’t anyone’s fault but his own. Not really, at least. The previous night had been spent tossing and turning in bed, with a total of two non-consecutive hours of sleep. He’s exhausted, he’s bummed, and he’s pretty sure he’s lost the girl of his dreams.

“Awful talkative today, aren’t you?” The older gentleman speaks in his thick accent from his spot on his recliner, drawing Oliver from his thoughts and startling him.

Oliver turns, softening when he sees the man’s understanding smile. He chuckles sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Styles. Got a lot on my mind I guess.”

The gentleman— Mr. Styles— nods knowingly. “Well, I figured as much,” he says. “And I know how that goes. Do you want to talk about it?”

Oliver sighs again, moving closer to Mr. Styles. “I’m afraid it’ll bore you, sir. And I’m not sure you’d understand.”

Mr. Styles grins a dimpled grin, with a twinkle in his eye. “Try me.”

That’s something that Oliver loves about Mr. Styles. He’s never judged Oliver, no matter how silly he thinks he sounds, and honestly he gives better advice than anyone Oliver has ever known. He seems to have an air of mystery about him-- he always has-- and Oliver is sure that Mr. Styles knows at least two secrets of the universe that he’s keeping to himself.

So he shrugs, taking a seat on the bed beside the old man. “Okay. So. There’s…. a girl.”

Mr. Styles nods understandingly. “Always is, isn’t there?”

“She’s the grade below me. She’s my best friend, but lately it’s been…. I don’t know, kinda more than that? I think?”

“Mutually?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Oliver fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out and stuff. Even kissed a few times.”

Mr. Styles wiggles his eyebrows. “Oooh, I see.”

“But lately I feel like…” Olivier sighs. “I don’t know. Like she’s getting bored with me.”

Mr. Styles sits back further in his seat, reminiscent of a therapist in his comfy chair. “What makes you say that?”

“I think she wants me to like… commit.”

“Ah.” The old man chuckles. “I see.”

Oliver eyes the older gentleman, curious as to how Mr. Styles could possibly understand any of this. As far as Oliver knows, Mr. Styles has never been married. A few times, he’s mentioned a girl from his youth, but never anyone after that. All Oliver knew about the girl is that she up and left, leaving poor Mr. Styles alone and heartbroken. And truth be told, Oliver had always found it silly how Mr. Styles had never moved on from that.

Oliver shrugs. “Anyway… I dunno. She’s been playing hard to get recently, like maybe she’s bored with me? Like, she flirts and stuff, but then when it doesn’t go further I feel like she gets annoyed. And...I want to commit, but what if I’m getting mixed signals, you know? I mean like, what if that’s not actually what she wants? You feel me? What if I ruin what we have going by trying to label it? And besides,” he sighs, “I find out soon if I got into Syracuse. And if I did get in, I would start there in the fall. What if she doesn’t want to do the long distance thing?”

Mr. Styles chuckles wittingly, but not in a condescending way. “Well first of all, son, I think you’re completely overthinking this.”

This brings a smile to Oliver’s face. “I have been known to do that.”

“That being said, you seem to really like this girl. And from the sound of things, she likes you as well. Am I wrong?”

“Well, that’s the thing. We’ve kissed and stuff, but like, what if I’m reading it wrong?”

“How can you possibly read a kiss wrong?” Mr. Styles grins.

Oliver sighs. “You’re right. I know. Feelings are just… really hard.”

“Who is the lucky lady anyway?” Mr. Styles settles further into his seat. “Can’t say I recall you ever mentioning having a girl.”

“Her name is Roni,” Oliver says. “Well, Veronica. She goes to my school. I think I may have mentioned that.”

Oliver has launched deeply into the backstory of how he and this girl met, completely unaware of the way that Mr. Styles’ face has gone entirely ghostly white. The old man is frozen in his chair, unblinking, and hardly listening to a word Oliver has said.

He doesn’t even realize he’s cutting Oliver off when he speaks. “I’m sorry… what did you say her name was?”

“Roni?”

“Last name?” Mr. Styles presses.

“Uhh… Elliot?”

If Mr. Styles didn’t look ill before, he certainly does now. Oliver takes notice of this, rising to his feet. “Mr. Styles, are you alright?”

Mr. Styles blinks a few times, his breath heavy as shakes his head. For whatever reason, he won’t look at Oliver now. He looks at the wall, out the window, at the floor-- literally anywhere but at his young companion. Oliver begins to grow worried, and he steps towards Mr. Styles, putting a concerned hand on his back.

“Should I call the nurse?”

It’s when Oliver asks this that Mr. Styles seems to regain some sense of consciousness back. He blinks up at Oliver, almost like a curious little child, and shakes his head-- as if reminding himself to be present. “No,” he says quietly. “No, don’t call the nurse.”

“You’re scaring me,” Oliver admits. “Where did you just go?”

Mr. Styles swallows thickly, eyes growing misty. “You said… Veronica Elliot?”

Oliver nods. “That’s right.”

The way that Mr. Styles scans Oliver’s face makes him grow anxious, and it becomes apparent that Oliver wants to let go and perhaps take a step back. He’s a good kid though-- one who genuinely cares for Mr. Styles-- so he stays put. “Sir?”

Mr. Styles lets out a shaky breath, obviously still processing everything that’s going on, before looking back up at Oliver “I just--” He trails off, noting for the first time the worry in the young boy’s eyes. He softens just a bit.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Oliver says. “I can call the nurse, it’s not a big deal! I just--”

“No,” Mr. Styles says, suddenly seeming more like himself than before. “No, there will be no need for that, son.”

Oliver hesitantly relaxes, still keeping his eyes trained on Mr. Styles’ face. “What just happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Mr. Styles says, the slightest bit of color slowly returning to his face. “I just… knew her mum. That’s all.”

“Oh!” Oliver seems to take this as an acceptable answer, obviously relaxing again. “Yeah. Her mom died like, five years ago actually. It was super sad. Car accident.”

“Five years ago,” Mr. Styles repeats, more to himself than to Oliver. “God.”

“Yeah,” Oliver says, nodding. “She’s okay! Lives with her grandparents. They’re super cool.” He smiles suddenly, as if remembering something. “They like me a lot.”

Mr. Styles smiles absently. “I’ll bet they do,” he says gently.

“Anyway,” Oliver sighs, “I don’t know. Do you think I should go for it?”

Mr. Styles takes his time with his answer, still trying to process everything he’s hearing. Oliver seems preoccupied with his own thoughts, which is good because he doesn’t notice the dampness of Mr. Style’s eyes.

What Oliver doesn’t know is that Mr. Styles is reliving every memory he has with the same girl Oliver is fretting over. Mr. Styles is suddenly twenty-five years old again, in 1925, dancing in his living room with the girl from the future, and he’s young and head over heels in love with her. He’s remembering everything that the young girl had told him about her timeline, about the boy named Oliver who was waiting in the future for her-- who befriended her shortly after her mother passed and asked her to be his girlfriend just before he graduated.

This all checks out, and it makes Mr. Styles’ heart feel something it hasn’t felt in ages. He blinks a few times, trying to clear out the moisture in his eyes.

“Well,” Mr. Styles says, after a long pause. “I think that… life is too short to let something so good pass you by. Do you really like her?”

“So much, Mr. Styles.” Oliver nods eagerly. “And I think she likes me too, I’m just scared.”

Mr. Styles shakes his head, doing his best to cover up the shakiness in his own voice. “Don’t be. You need to make this girl your own. You never know what tomorrow holds. You don’t want to lose her, and spend the rest of your days wishing you still had the chances that you have now.”

Oliver can tell that Mr. Styles is deep in his own head now, and he debates even speaking at all. Mr. Styles continues on. “Can’t even begin to tell you how much I wish I could go back and change some things. Make some better decisions.”

“I know what you mean,” Oliver says, even though he really doesn’t. How could he?

“And,” Mr. Styles says, making an effort to sound less philosophical--less introspective-- and more human, “from the sounds of things, she really likes you, too, son.”

Oliver smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mr. Styles swallows a lump in his throat. “Take my advice, and don’t mess this up with her. She sounds like a once in a lifetime kind of girl.”

“But what if--”

“No more ‘what if!’” Mr. Styles sounds more stern than Oliver has ever heard him, and it takes Oliver aback. “Get her. Love her. Love her now. You don’t realize how important she is, Oliver. These feelings are real. These feelings make life worth living. You can’t pass them up because you’re too scared.”

“And if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“She does.” Mr. Styles softens as soon as he speaks, as if realizing he’s being far too blunt. “Oliver, she does. Trust me on this one.”

Oliver opens his mouth, then closes it. Mr. Styles somehow seems to read his mind, and he continues speaking. “Make her your girl.”

“You really think I should?” Oliver asks quietly.

“I know you should.”

After a brief pause in which the two stand seemingly at a hold, Mr. Styles clears his throat gently.

“Don’t let her pass you by,” he says, for emphasis.

Oliver smiles, nodding his head in finality. “Alright,” he says. “You’re right, Mr. Styles. I can’t let her pass me by, can I? I really like her, and--”

“And I know she likes you, too.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna call her.”

Oliver moves like he’s going to leave the room, stopping abruptly as if realizing that he’s here because of school. The two seem to have the thought at the same time-- that Oliver is getting college credit just for spending a few hours a weekend with Mr. Styles, and they laugh awkwardly together.

“Sorry,” Oliver says. “I didn’t mean to--”

“You know what you can do for me, son?” There’s a smile on Mr. Styles’ face, but there is a serious edge to his tone of voice. “Genuinely?”

“Anything,” Oliver says. “Anything you need.”

“Bring her in.” Mr. Styles smiles, contrasting Oliver’s confused expression. “Bring her in, and let me meet her. Hm? Would love to meet her.”

“Yeah?”

Mr. Styles nods. “Yeah,” he says, somewhat absently, but with a smile for Oliver nonetheless. “Would love to see the young lady that’s done such a number on you.”

Oliver laughs, and even Mr. Styles lets out a personable chuckle-- as if he’s in on some joke that Oliver didn’t know he was keeping.

“I suppose I could bring her in,” Oliver says, “but again, I don’t want it to be weird--”

“It won’t be,” Mr. Styles says. The playful gleam still lingers in his eyes. “What, am I not interesting enough for her?”

Oliver laughs. “No, no! She’ll love you!”

The words hit the old gentleman’s heart in a way that Oliver doesn’t notice.

She did love him. She does. She just isn’t aware of that yet.

“I hope you’re right,” Oliver adds. “About all of this, I mean. I hope she does like me and I’m not just… I dunno, reading too far into it?”

“I can assure you that you aren’t, Oliver.”

There is no trace of doubt on Mr. Styles face, and it makes Oliver both nervous and reassured. He smiles. “Alright then,” he says. “I’ll talk to her.”

Mr. Styles relaxes into his chair, nodding his head in finality. “Alright then,” he echoes. “Good man.”

Oliver returns once again for his weekly visit the following Saturday, only this time, he’s hand in hand with his new girlfriend of four whole days. He’d taken Mr. Styles’ advice and asked her to be his after confessing everything he was feeling for her. She, of course, felt the same way, and though it didn’t come as a surprise to Oliver it did come as a great relief.

Roni hadn’t seemed as thrilled to go share the news with Mr. Styles, however, once Oliver brought it up.

“Why did we have to come so early though?” Sixteen year-old Roni whines, as she and her new boyfriend Oliver make their way into the Senior Citizen’s home. “Like, couldn’t we have come in the afternoon? I’m sure Mr. Style wouldn’t even know the difference.”

Oliver chuckles. “It’s Mr. Styles,” he corrects, “With an S. And he seemed really excited about this! This is the time he gave me, so this is the time we’re here.”

“Why was he so excited anyway?” Roni asks, picking at a hangnail on her thumb. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“No,” Oliver says, “but he knows me. And he helped me out a lot! Gave me a lot of advice about you. Least I can do is introduce him, you know?”

“I guess,” Roni mumbles to herself as Oliver checks in at the front desk.

Everyone here seems to brighten at Oliver’s presence. All the little old ladies know him by name, and he’s quite the charmer. It’s one of the reasons Roni likes him so much, really. He talks so fondly about his Saturday’s spent here, and Roni can’t think of a single person his age who would enjoy it as much as he does. It’s cute the way he gushes about Mr. Styles, and how he had mentioned him when he’d asked Roni to be his girlfriend-- officially-- four days ago.

Truly, Roni feels like she owes a lot to this Mr. Styles, and she really can understand why he would want to meet her. The least she can do is thank him for telling Oliver to man up and commit already.

Oliver clips his badge to the collar of his shirt and gives Roni a little visitor’s sticker on which he’s scribbled her name with a green sharpie. He’s dotted the “i” with a little heart, and it makes Roni’s cheeks grow hot when she notices. He smiles, nodding his head towards the receptionist and interlacing his fingers with Roni’s.

Roni follows her boyfriend down the long hallways, into the elevator (where she has a mini makeout session with him because, come on, who could resist him when he’s looking this cute?) and onto the third floor.

He leads her out into the hallway, trying his best to dismiss how flushed and messy he looks (honestly, Roni takes pride in her work) and giving Roni’s hand a subtle squeeze as they walk along.

Roni looks at the doors as they walk, subconsciously counting the numbers in her head 304, 305, 306… each room an entire home to these people. Each room a final resting place for all of them.

Oliver stops walking in front of door 310, and suddenly Roni grows nervous. Her stomach seems to do cartwheels as Oliver smiles down at her. “You’re gonna love him,” he says quietly, as if to reassure her. “He’s the coolest.”

Before Roni even has time to reply, Oliver is rapping his knuckles against the large wooden door. Two quick knocks, followed by one that seems out of rhythm with the other two.

After a few seconds, nothing happens. Roni shifts her weight to her other foot and waits, somewhat impatiently, wanting nothing more than to go home and make out with her boyfriend. Oliver seems to feel her energy, giving her side a few playful yet charged squeezes that make her giggle.

“No!” she squeaks, squirming out of his grasp. “Don’t do that here!”

The door opens as Roni is mid giggle, and she and Oliver are met with a little old man, hunched over and looking at them with a warm and expectant smile. He’s dressed nicer than Harry’s ever seen him dress, and on his head rests a little gray cap that’s probably as old as he is.

“Oliver,” the old man says by way of a greeting. And then he looks at Roni.

The reaction he has to Roni is strange to say the least. It doesn’t make Roni uncomfortable by any means, but something in his demeanor shifts, and he seems to grow a hundred times more serious. His stare is intense; so much so that it makes Roni shift her gaze. His eyes seem to grow strangely misty, and his jaw begins trembling-- as if he’s about to cry.

He looks at Roni like he’s known her all his life, and it’s strange. She almost feels bad that she doesn’t recognize him as well.

She clears her throat, trying to lighten up the now tense silence. ‘Hi!” she says, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and holding out her hand. “I’m Roni.”

Mr. Styles swallows audibly, his trembling jaw hardly calming as a smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “Roni,” he says. He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze, never once removing his eyes from hers. “How wonderful it is to finally meet you.”

Roni looks at Oliver, wondering if he feels the same intense vibes that she’s feeling as well. She laughs awkwardly, unsure of what else to do. “I’ve--uh-- heard a lot about you, Mr. Styles!”

Mr. Styles grins, an old hidden dimple flashing amongst the wrinkles of his cheeks. “All bad, I hope,” he says, and now Oliver laughs.

“Of course,” he says. “I had to let her know what a menace you were!”

Mr. Styles laughs, sounding suddenly young and full of life again. He moves slowly to the side. “Come in, please. Make yourselves comfortable!”

Roni and Oliver share a glance and a quick smile before they enter the room. It isn’t much, but it’s cozy. Roni is surprised when she’s met with a delicious vanilla smell emanating from a candle in the corner of the room. (Not that she’d been expecting the place to stink, of course, but she absolutely had expected it to smell like old people, which it did not.)

“Wow,” Oliver says, as if even he is surprised with the state of the room. “Mr. Styles, you cleaned this place up nice!”

Mr. Styles grins. “But of course,” he says. “You have to when you have a pretty girl coming over!” He looks at Roni. “Does this boy not clean up for you when you’re spending time together?”

Roni giggles. “He does. Although I have to say, the vanilla candle is an excellent touch. I don’t even think Oliver owns a candle!”

Mr. Styles shakes his head, a playful smile on his cheeks. “What a shame. Oliver, you best buy some candles for your lady!”

Oliver and Roni both laugh. “Vanilla is my favorite,” Roni comments.

“Somehow I had a hunch,” Mr. Styles replies with a playful wink.

With every passing minute that turns into an hour, the three grow more and more comfortable together. It isn’t weird, or forced, and Roni marvels at how easy it is to talk to Mr. Styles. He asks her questions about her life, oddly fascinated by every word that comes out of her mouth. The way he watches her with his undivided attention makes her feel important.

He plays music from a little tape recorder that sits in the window of his room. It takes him a moment to figure it out, and Oliver has to help him a bit, but he finally gets there. Roni doesn’t recognize any of the music playing (nor does she realize the way Mr. Styles watches her reaction to a few specific songs very closely), but she enjoys the tunes nonetheless.

He shares memories associated with each song; what specific stories each song calls to his mind. And Roni listens, fascinated with every single one of them, realizing that she could genuinely listen to this old man speak about his youth for days.

A stack of books on the nightstand near his bed draws Roni’s attention at some point, and she rises to her feet to go examine them further. Mr. Styles notes her movements and smiles, almost knowingly, to himself. She thumbs at the one on the top of the pile, a small menu from some pizza place marking his spot towards the back of the book. She cocks her head to the side to get a better view of the books title:

Alternate Realities: by Lawrence Leshawn

She blinks a few times, the concept of an alternate reality very new to her. Without thinking, she picks the book up and scans the back of it. She glances back at the pile, noting the various ones on time travel, meditation, and astral projection. Time travel being the only topic of the other three books that she’d ever considered before, this discovery of books feels like a landmine of information.

“Bit nerdy, innit?” Mr. Styles’ voice pulls Roni from her thoughts, and she turns to him, still holding the book in her hands. His eyes twinkle. “Is that what the kids are saying these days? ‘Nerdy?’”

Roni giggles. “It is. But this isn’t nerdy.”

“Ohh,” Mr. Styles says, playfully brushing away her words with his hand. “Come now. Yes it is.”

“You’ll never get Roni to agree with that,” Oliver speaks up. “Haven’t I told you before? She’s super into all that!”

Roni feels her cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but Mr. Styles’ only smiles at her. “No kidding!”

“I mean…” Roni trails off shyly, worried she’s about to make a fool of herself. “Yeah. Kinda. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Mr. Styles replies quickly, a hint of gravity to his words. “Never say that.”

Roni debates telling Mr. Styles everything; about how she’s trying to find her mother, about how she’s already tried (and been unsuccessful) multiple times, and about how he is the first person (other than Oliver) who hasn’t actually thought she was silly for this at all.

But she’s only just met Mr. Styles, and she doesn’t want to bombard him with her own personal life story just yet-- nor is she certain he would really care. So she only shrugs, a soft smile spreading across her cheeks.

“Yeah. I just… think it’s neat. That’s all.”

There’s a look on Mr. Styles’ face that seems to say that he’s interested, but he doesn’t want to push her. He waits patiently for her to continue, but when she doesn’t, he tries pressing just a tiny bit. “Any particular reason?”

Even Oliver is watching her now, waiting for her answer even though he’s already known for a while. He offers her an encouraging smile, and Roni hesitates briefly before speaking “I just want to go back and see my mom again. She passed like five years ago and I just…” She trails off, feeling silly despite the understanding looks on both Oliver and Mr. Styles’ faces.

“I understand.” Mr. Styles speaks up after a few moments of silence. Roni doesn’t notice the all knowing smile on his face, or the way his eyes have grown damp. She doesn’t catch the way he swallows down the lump in his throat. Or how he looks at her the same way she looks out the window: pensive and lost in thought.

“Anyway,” Roni sighs, halfway through a laugh. “I don’t know. Oliver is the only one who believes me and even then, I’m not sure he really does.”

“I do!” Oliver laughs, shrugging almost defensively. “I do. I just don’t know if they’ve like… I dunno, developed some way to time travel yet. I don’t know if technology has come that far, you know? What do you think, Mr. Styles?”

Both Roni and Mr. Styles seem to be deep in their own little worlds, but it’s lost on Oliver as he waits for a response from the older gentleman. Mr. Styles smiles to himself, chuckling gently. “I think it’s entirely possible,” he says, voice quiet. “And I hope miss Roni never gives it up.”

Roni smiles, turning to face the old man. “You really mean that?” she asks, stepping towards him. “Like, you really think it’s possible?”

“I can promise you it is,” he says. “I’m certain of it.”

Roni, realizing she’s still holding the Alternate Realities book, holds it up and gestures at it with her free hand. “What about this stuff? I’ve never really heard of it.”

Mr. Styles grins, obviously glad she’s asked. He shifts in his seat, speaking slowly. “Have either of you ever heard of a parallel universe?”

Roni and Oliver both shake their heads, and Mr. Styles raises his eyebrows. “No? Well. It’s a plane of existence, similar to the very one we’re living in right now now, that co-exists with our own. It is said that there are multiple.”

“Multiple… existences?” Roni questions.

“That’s right,” Mr. Styles continues. “Not much is known about them. Especially considering that it isn’t even known if they exist or not. But if they do, it is said that some are wildly different than your current existence now, while others are exactly the same with only a few minor differences.”

“Gnarly!” Oliver exclaims. “So like, somewhere out there, I exist but I’m a billionaire?”

Mr. Styles chuckles. “It’s possible.”

“Wait wait wait,” Roni says, significantly less convinced than her boyfriend. “So you mean that somewhere out there in the world, there’s another Roni? Who has no idea I exist?”

“We don’t know.” Mr. Styles shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe she knows all about you.”

Roni shakes her head, trying to wrap her mind around all this new information. “That’s nuts.”

“Not really,” Oliver offers. “Kinda makes sense if you think about it.”

“So wait” Roni says, setting the book on the dresser and walking to stand by Mr. Styles. “I told you why I’m into this. Why are you into this?”

The old man goes quiet, smiling a tight lipped smile and hesitating as if really giving thought to his answer. “I like to think that in another reality, somewhere in time, I’m with my honey.”

Roni softens. “Oh, I see. Did she--” She’s about to ask if Mr. Styles’ girl passed away as well, but she thinks better of it, unsure as to whether or not that’s an appropriate question.

Mr. Styles chuckles quietly, knowing exactly where Roni was going with her question. “I lost her,” he explains, because it isn’t technically a lie. “Many, many years ago.”

“Oh.” Roni frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” At this point, it’s impossible for him to hide the way his voice cracks. Roni looks at him, then averts her eyes, as if she feels guilty for hearing it. Oliver sighs, stepping forward.

“Mr. Styles--”

“You remind me of her,” Mr. Styles says, ignoring Oliver. The look on his face makes it seem like he’s got more on his mind.

“Yeah?” Roni steps towards Mr. Styles, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He sighs, reaching up to place his hand on top of hers. “Yeah,” he says. “More than you’d even believe.”

“Wish I could’ve met her.”

Mr. Styles grins up at her, swallowing thickly and patting her hand. “Yeah. She was my honey.”

He takes a deep breath, looking away from Roni and glancing out the window. There’s a charged silence. Oliver squirms uncomfortably, but Roni stays right where she is, waiting patiently for Mr. Styles to continue.

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Mr. Styles says. He smiles up at Roni. “Wherever she is.”

“Maybe she’s with my mom,” Roni offers.

Mr. Styles closes his mouth, blinks back a few of his tears, and nods his head. “Perhaps she is. Wouldn’t that be something.”

“I didn’t mean to like… make you sad or anything, Mr. Styles--”

“You didn’t, darling.” The old man shakes his head. “Don’t be silly.”

Somehow, Roni doesn’t believe him.

The subject is swiftly changed and the rest of their visit goes by relatively smoothly. Mr. Styles is back to his cheery self before Roni can even think twice about the interaction they’ve just shared, and soon the three are laughing and chatting away like best friends again.

All too quickly does their visit come to an end. They say their goodbyes, although it’s obvious that Mr. Styles doesn’t want their time together to be over. He looks almost emotional to be saying goodbye to Roni, something that neither of the two teenagers seem to understand.

After he gives her a warm embrace, careful not to hold her too long or, heaven forbid, make her feel uncomfortable, Mr. Styles pulls away, holding Roni at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Confused, Roni cocks her head to the side. “For?”

“You’ve made me feel young again. I cannot even begin to express how badly I needed this.”

Roni smiles. “Oh. You’re welcome then!” She giggles. “It was so nice meeting you, Mr. Styles.”

“The pleasure was all mine, honey.” His hands tremble as he lets go of her. He turns to Oliver. “You bring her back to visit sometime soon, alright?”

Oliver chuckles. “I will. But don’t go liking her more than you like me, now. I’ve been here way longer.”

Mr. Styles laughs. “Sure,” he says, “but she is prettier.”

Oliver slings his arm over Roni’s shoulder. “Well I can’t argue with that, can I?”

When they finally do go their separate ways, Roni and Oliver playfully chase each other out to Oliver’s car-- blissfully unaware of the way that Mr. Styles watches them from his bedroom window with tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. They don’t know that Mr. Styles doesn’t leave his bedroom for the entire rest of the day-- to the point that the caretakers at the home begin to worry about him.

They don’t know that Mr. Styles has just reunited with his honey, after nearly sixty-five years of looking for her, and that she has obviously no idea herself.

Oliver continues his weekly visits to Mr. Styles room for a few more weeks, noting that he is completely unlike himself, until mid April when Mr. Styles passes away.

Oliver attends his funeral. Roni, visiting a cousin out of town, does not.

Both Roni and Oliver eventually forget about the old man completely, moving on with their lives and living together in blissful ignorance of just how odd time can be.

It isn’t until ten years later, in April of 2000, that Roni seems to recall the little old man, realizing with immense sadness how significant he really was.

With a heart shattering sob, she hopes that he’s with his honey, somewhere in time, just like he said.

------

December 31st, 1999, 11:54pm

It is ridiculously bright when Roni tries to open her eyes.

She opens her eyes too quickly at first, immediately regretting it and squeezing them shut again. The act of closing them once more, however, pushes a hot tear that’s been waiting for release from the corner of one eye

And suddenly, it all comes flooding back to her.

Harry, 1925, Violet LaRue, the ocean, her mother…

She is so overwhelmed all at once with emotions that she grows sort of nauseous, and she sits up immediately to try and stop the spinning of the room around her.

The room --her and Oliver’s shared bedroom-- looks completely untouched, as if she’d never left. There is hip-hop music booming downstairs, lots of chattering, and a smell in the air that can only be described as drunk people. The silence in the room, however, contrasts the chaos that’s occurring downstairs, and it makes her head pound.

Roni looks around slowly, noticing the skimpy, revealing party dress she’s wearing that clings to her every curve. It looks untouched as well, albeit a bit disheveled, and she reaches a cautious hand down to smooth it over her lap.

She hears Oliver’s booming laugh downstairs, and the sound feels like a stab to the heart. He must be completely wasted. The clock on the wall reads 11:54pm, and she knows she has to get back down to the party before the clock strikes midnight.

Never in her entire life has Roni felt anything like the feeling she’s currently experiencing.

Surely she couldn’t have dreamt it all. It was real-- Harry was real, and seeing her mother was real. Besides, the fact that she’s even crying right now tells her that she had to have been experiencing something physical.

Which reminds her…

Roni rises to her feet and makes her way over to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. She pulls the neckline of her dress down, and feels her own breath catch in her throat when she finds what she’s looking for.

There, in the exact spot on her chest that she’d been anticipating it to be, is a bruise left by Harry. The last remaining physical reminder of his existence.

With a shaky hand, she gently brushes her thumb over the purpling skin. It stings, just a bit, but it’s real. It’s there. And it’s too much for Roni to handle.

Grateful for the cover of the commotion downstairs, Roni can’t help herself but to let out a pathetic sob as everything comes flooding over her. How could she have been with Harry not even five minutes ago? And her mother? How was her mother just there and now suddenly she’s gone again?

How can she be expected to go on in a world where neither of them exist, and she’s the only one with knowledge of what she’s just experienced?

She collapses to her knees, eyes closing and another choking sob echoing from her throat. She reaches up to wipe her damp eyelashes, mindful of the fact that sooner or later she’s going to have to go downstairs and face everybody again— which she can’t do with a face full of runny makeup.

But right now she doesn’t care. Right now, she’s overwhelmed, and upset, and deeply, deeply missing the love of her life.

It’s been ages since she’s cried this hard, and it feels somewhat therapeutic, although it doesn’t fix the terrible ache in her heart. Her throat hurts and her chest heaves. She reaches up to cover her own mouth to quiet her wails as her heart feels like it’s physically breaking.

She misses him. She misses him so much.

On top of that, having her mother so close to her after so long without her--only to have to leave her once more-- is more painful than she had ever anticipated it would be.

Roni remains like this for another minute or so, until she’s drawn by her thoughts when she hears her own name faintly downstairs. Someone asks where she is, and Oliver slurs out that she’s been gone for a while. When someone suggests that he go find her and he jubilantly agrees, Roni panics.

“Shit.” She reaches up and wipes at her snotty nose; stumbling awkwardly to her feet and making her way to the mirror once again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Roni scrambles to fix her hair and wipe away the splotchy mascara stains under her eye. She prays that Oliver is too drunk to even notice that she’s crying, and she swallows down the intense heartache still in her throat. When she’s at least somewhat satisfied with her appearance, she hears footsteps coming down the hallway— her cue to leave. With a deep breath, she opens the bedroom door just in time to eee Oliver approaching.

Oliver, with his sweet, drunken smile, immediately opens his arms. “Ronnaaaaaay!” He says, by way of greeting her. “There you are!” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, instead he just wraps her up in his arms and gives her a big, suffocating squeeze. He pulls away to press an obnoxious kiss to her forehead, and it breaks Roni’s heart even more.

On any other occasion, she would find this unbearably adorable. But now, the scent of the alcohol mixed with his cologne is making her even more nauseous than she already was.

After a few more wet pecks to her forehead, he squishes her cheeks in his hand and kisses his way down her face, pausing only once he reaches her mouth and realizes it’s wet and salty. He pulls away, not removing his hands from her cheeks, and furrows his eyebrows as he scans her face. “You been crying?”

Roni knows that if she opens her mouth, she’ll lose control again. So she only smiles, turning away and giggling softly as she nods.

Oliver doesn’t seem to find this as humorous as Roni does, and he tilts his head so that he’s once again in her line of vision. “Heyyy, hey,” he coos. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She sniffs, trying her hardest to keep her light smile on her face. “It’s nothing,” she says, throat raspy and voice hardly above a whisper. “I promise.”

“It’s not nothing,” he says, wiping at Roni’s damp face and gently guiding her back into their bedroom. He’s thoughtful like that-- he doesn’t want Roni to feel it necessary to squash her emotions should anyone walk by. He knows she wouldn’t want anyone else to see her crying like this. He doesn’t close the door fully, leaving only a crack, before turning to Roni.

She doesn’t say anything, but the way he’s being so ridiculously sweet to her is making her want to cry harder. This isn’t fair; not fair to her and definitely not to him. She crosses her arms over her torso, feeling ridiculously vulnerable under his gaze.

He gives her a sympathetic smile, and there’s a look in his eyes that comes across almost as if he knows what’s going on. She lets out a little half laugh/half sob, and she feels closer to him than she expected to in this moment. She speaks.

“Are you gonna say something?”

Oliver cuts her off, speaking only a half second after her. “You tried that time travel junk again, didn’t you?”

His words feel like a slap to the face, but they aren’t exactly wrong. She stays frozen, mouth agape, and then wilts.

“Yeah,” she whispers, because what else is there for her to say?

“Ohhh, babe.” Oliver steps towards her, wrapping her in his arms. I told you it wasn’t gonna work.”

Roni knows she should have expected that kind of response from him, but still. Ouch.

For a split second, she almost loses it. She almost tells him everything; about how it did work, about how she’s actually been gone for a little over a week now-- not just a few minutes--, and about how hard it was to find her way back. She wants to mention seeing her mom, and she wants to rub it in his face. “You were wrong! You were wrong about it all! I saw my mom! She hugged me!”

It’s when she considers telling him about Harry, however, that some sense is knocked back into her.

Just the mere, brief thought of Harry makes her want to break down again, and subconsciously the mark on her chest that Harry had left begins to sting. She chews the inside of her cheek so hard it hurts.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Oliver’s use of the pet name that Roni had grown so used to hearing from Harry’s mouth makes her nauseated. She tries to break free from Oliver’s grasp, but he holds her tighter. “I know how much you wanted it to work.”

“Stop,” she whispers.

He doesn’t hear her.

“I know you’ve tried for years, but haven’t you been through enough heartbreak?” Oliver sighs. “I really think it’s time you give it up, Ron. I don’t know why you won’t just listen to me about this stuff.”

“Stop it.” Roni finally does break out of Oliver’s embrace, and in his drunken state he blinks dumbly back at her.

“Did I say something?”

“Fuck’s sake,” she says, wiping the tears on her cheeks. “You’re right, okay? I’m an idiot. I’m done trying. I quit. Is that what you want to hear? Can we fucking stop?”

Oliver frowns, hesitantly taking a step towards Roni. “Babe, I didn’t mean--”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Roni says, harsher than intended. “Okay? Drop it. Please. I’m begging. I just want to go to bed.”

“But it’s almost midnight.” Oliver is pouting now, and although it should make Roni soften a bit, it only makes her angry.

Oliver takes a more definitive step in Roni’s direction. “I don’t want to start the new year fighting with you, babe. Can we just go back down to our party? We can talk about this tomorrow.” He shrugs. “Or not! We don’t have to ever talk about it again if you don’t want to. I just want to bring in the new year kissing you, surrounded by our friends. So can we just… please?”

Roni scans his face, feeling more and more on the verge of breakdown with every passing second. She closes her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here, and covers her face with her hands. “God,” she groans, before taking a big breath and opening her eyes again. “Fine. Sure. Let’s go.”

Oliver smiles softly, holding out his hand timidly for her to take. “Sure you’re not mad?”

It isn’t Oliver’s fault. Of course it isn’t. So how can Roni be angry with him?

She sighs, trying to bitterly laugh off a tear that’s threatening to roll down her cheek and ignoring his hand. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m sure.”

“Not sure I believe you,” Oliver chuckles, “But okay.” He steps in, closing the gap between him and Roni and puckering his lips. He speaks in a babyish voice that, in any other circumstances, would absolutely melt Roni. “Gimme kiss?”

It makes Roni even more upset than she already is, but who is she to deny Oliver? He is none the wiser as to what’s going on, and she can’t exactly drop this bomb on him right now. Not when he’s drunk. Not when there’s a party going on downstairs.

Not when they’ve been together for so many years with absolutely no problems before this.

Before Roni even has time to process what’s happening, Oliver is taking her wrist in his hand and pulling her impossibly closer to him. He kisses her, softly at first, and then a bit more passionate once their lips are fastened together.

It’s Oliver who is making all the effort then; tongue maneuvering it’s way into Roni’s mouth as seductively as he can manage. Roni would have no objections to this in any other situation. In fact, she would welcome this. The normal Roni would suggest she and Oliver skip out on the midnight countdown altogether, in fact, and elect to stay up here bringing in the new year whilst fucking like rabbits.

But not now. Of course not now. In fact, probably not ever again. How could she ever go back to Oliver now? After Harry? After everything she’d felt for Harry?

How could she have done this to Oliver?

She gently pushes Oliver off of her, hoping he doesn’t note the tears in her eyes. “Please,” she says quietly. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Oliver giggles, “Kiss your boyfriend? You scared our friends will catch on? Start thinking we might have crushes on each other? Assume you think I’m hot?”

Roni knows Oliver is playing around, but she genuinely is not in the mood for that right now, and she’s afraid that if he says much else she’ll snap. She groans, leaning in and pressing the most bland, unemotional kiss to his lips. “Lets go,” she says. “Please. We’re going to miss the countdown.”

She begins making her way out of the room with Oliver close behind her. “I expect a much better kiss than that when the ball drops!” Oliver says. “Much, much better!”

Roni’s heart is pounding in her ears so loudly she can hardly hear herself think. Her face grows hot while the inside of her body feels cold. She’s having a panic attack, no doubt about it, and for once she’s glad that everyone is going to be too drunk to acknowledge it.

“Ron?” Oliver asks as he and Roni begin descending the stairs. “Hey, Ron? Baby… will you stop a minute?”

“I don’t want to miss the ball drop,” Roni says, refusing to turn around and trying her hardest to sound like her breathing is under control.

Oliver stops her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart,” he says tenderly. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Roni insists, more urgently than intended. She sighs (the shakiness of her breath incredibly obvious to both of them) and softens as best she can.

“I’m not being weird,” she repeats. “Just tired.”

“You know if something is going on you can tell me, right?” Oliver sounds more sober than he has in hours, and the way he looks at Roni makes her insides shake with guilt.

She opens her mouth to speak, but has to forcibly stop herself when she almost says Harry’s name. She scans his face, so genuinely concerned and yet ridiculously kind, and she swallows down the vomit rising in her throat. “Yeah,” she says “I know.”

Oliver smiles. “Okay then.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze and follows her lead back into the living room.

Roni feels like she’s in a dream as she moves; like her body is here physically but her mind is elsewhere. In the strangest way possible, her brain feels small and disconnected entirely. She can see everyone cheering when she and Oliver walk in. She can feel her friend put a red solo cup filled with alcohol into her hand. She can hear her name being called, but she doesn’t register it. She doesn’t register anything that’s going on at the moment, actually.

Her attention is briefly caught when she hears people start counting down, signaling that the ball is about to drop. Their exuberant voices sound far away, however, as if she’s hearing them from the next room over. Her face feels cold and her hands feel sweaty, and she thinks maybe if everyone would scoot over a bit she’d be able to breathe better.

“18….17…. 16….”

Someone accidentally bumps into Roni, knocking into the cup in her hand and sloshing a bit of its contents onto her dress. No one reacts; in fact, no one else even notices. Oliver gives her hand a quick squeeze, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arm around her waist.

“...12… 11….”

Roni’s ears burn. She knows where she is, but she cannot, for the life of her, focus on a single thing. Her heart is hurting. This doesn’t feel right. She shouldn’t be here.

Slowly, the room around her begins spinning. Roni wobbles a bit on her feet and Oliver catches her, probably chalking her wooziness up to her being as drunk as he is. She almost wishes she was, because maybe that would make everything hurt less.

“...8… 7…6”

Roni’s throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, and her mind seems to be running far behind her actual body. She tries to blink herself into some clarity, glancing around the room. She’s looking--hoping-- for someone who she knows damn well isn’t there. Someone who couldn’t even try to be there. The only person she cares to see at this point.

“...3...2...1…”

The entire room erupts in cheers, which definitely doesn’t help the throbbing in Roni’s brain, and the song Auld Lang Syne blasts from the tv. There is nothing but chaos surrounding Roni, and she almost gags at the feeling of the lump in her throat. She opens her mouth to say something, but is promptly cut off when Oliver pulls her in by her hips, fastening his lips to hers in a kiss that feels a far too enthusiastic for Roni’s taste.

The way he’s holding her by her hips would be enough to make her swoon on any other occasion. But now it makes her feel suffocated, and she doesn’t even close her eyes as she gives Oliver a half-assed kiss back.

No one else in the room seems to be aware of what’s going on. They’re all too drunk, too busy making out with their respective partners/fuck buddies/love interests for the evening, to seem to care or even notice at all that Roni’s eyes are wide open. The guilt, the pain, the longing for Harry-- all of it wraps itself around Roni’s heart and squeezes like a python.

Oliver pulls away, a dopey smile on his face. “Happy New Year, baby!”

He looks so thrilled; so beyond naive to not only the fact that she’s hurt him in what she’s certain will be an unforgivable way, but also the fact that she is more concerned with missing Harry than feeling much else at all right now.

“Roni?”

A voice from off to the side catches her attention, and she turns in slow motion to see her and Oliver’s mutual friend, Zach, squinting at her. “Ron, you don’t look so good.”

“Wait, yeah,” comes Zach’s girlfriend, Skye. “Girl, are you okay?”

Roni hears their questions. She hears them, but she doesn’t process them. Zach and Skye aren’t the only people who seem to be concerned, as more and more people around them quickly catch on.

“Sweetheart?” comes Oliver’s voice, and Roni turns, almost drunkenly.

“Is she drunk?”

“Did she take something?”

“She looks green!”

“Baby?” It’s Oliver’s voice that breaks through the deafening noise the most, although Roni still can’t even really process what he’s saying. “Roni? Hun, can you hear me?”

“Everyone step back!”

“Let her breathe!”

“Can someone get her some water?”

“Ron?”

Her breathing is so shallow now that she can actually hear herself gasping for air. She feels like she’s choking. She hates this. She hates these people. She doesn’t want to be here.

Where she wants to be is with Harry. Alone with him, in his tiny apartment that isn’t even half the size of the room. The year 2000 nothing but a vague memory, something she knows is so far in the future that she’ll never have to worry about it. She should have stayed.

Goddammit, she should have stayed.

As she looks around the room at these people who she should love-- who she should be thrilled to be surrounded by-- she realizes that she’s never felt more alone. Not a single one of them would understand what’s going on. How is she supposed to continue on into the new year-- the new millennium-- feeling so isolated in her own feelings?

“I can’t breathe.”

She can feel herself saying the words, yet her own voice sounds so fuzzy and far away.

“She can’t breathe!” someone repeats. “Everyone back up!”

“Can we get her some water?”

“Ron?”

It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much.

Roni’s knees wobble a bit before she feels them buckle. The last thing she sees before hitting the ground is Oliver worriedly scrambling to catch her.

And then everything is dark.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles angst #Harry angst #One Direction angst #angst

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hakutaichou · 4 years

Text

[CN] Main Story: Chapter 33-3 (Gavin Route)

⚠️ SPOILER AHEAD ⚠️

🚨 Warning: This post contains REALLY BIG spoiler from main story which some of them have not been released in JP, TW, Global, nor ASEAN servers. 🚨

A/N: cuz the cn server using “Wuhui”, in english means “ball, dance party, and prom”, I’ll use “ball” like victor’s dance date?

- Part 0 -

It was getting late, and there was still about half an hour before the time agreed upon with Gavin.

Gavin seems to be very busy lately, and I don’t have much time to spare because of the show. During this period, we only made a hasty phone call in the village and agreed on a time for the ball.

Gavin and I were not too surprised by the fact that Commander Leto invited us to the ball.

I just don’t know what he is planning this time...

I thought about it, subconsciously looking at my wrist, the ginkgo bracelet shimmering in the light.

The complicated thoughts seemed to be sorted out in an instant, leaving only a clear thought in my mind.

MC: No matter what Commander Leto wants to do, I can’t hold back.

I must go forward, and retreat together with Gavin.

***

Gavin knocked on the door of the office, and walked in just after getting a response.

The middle-aged man at the desk a solemn and serious expression. He raised his head and looked around Gavin.

Middle-aged Man: How are you preparing for the ball?

Gavin: Everything is ready, except for one thing.

Middle-aged Man: What’s the matter?

Gavin: This, give it back to you.

It was something that looked like a communication controller. The moment Gavin put it on, the man’s face became very ugly.

He frowned. Although he couldn’t see the anger in his eyes, the air pressure in the office had already changed.

However, Gavin turned a blind eye to this and continued to speak in an official manner.

Gavin: In addition, I also removed all the automatic sniper devices that you arranged in advance.

The man at the desk snorted coldly, his expression wasn’t surprising.

Middle-aged Man: You still don’t understand.

Middle-aged Man: Animal are inevitable, and all useless kindness is to help or abuse.

Middle-aged Man: Commander Leto’s plan must fail. Once those people are used by him...

Gavin: Of course I know.

Gavin interrupted him, his voice wasn’t loud, but he was quite determined.

Gavin: But what you are willing to give up, I don’t want to.

Gavin: I will achieve my goals, in my own way.

The man smirked and leaned back on the seat, holding his hands on his chest, looking at Gavin.

Middle-aged Man: You’re still so idealistic. Do you think things are so easy to solve?

Gavin ignored his sarcasm, just continued to look at the man, his eyes burning.

Gavin: After this mission is over, I will apply to return to STF.

His tone was firm, not so much about making an application, as about notifying the opposite person.

Middle-aged Man: STF won’t accept traitors.

Gavin: You know I’m not.

Gavin: And after tonight, STF will need me.

Middle-aged Man: You did it because of her again.

Gavin: I do it for myself.

Gavin: For so many years of persistence, for the people who used to fight alongside me, and...the future of this world.

The middle-aged man fell silent, but his expression wasn’t too surprised, as if he had expected such a day a long time ago.

Gavin didn’t say anything any more, he took off the micro badge on his chest, paused, and even the black gloves were taken off and placed on the table together.

No need to state.

Just when Gavin turned and left, the man finally opened his mouth again.

Middle-aged Man: Wait.

He opened the drawer, took out an envelope and placed it next to his black gloves, and stopped talking.

There seemed to be invisible pressure colliding with each other in the silent air.

Gavin hesitated, then turned around, picked up the envelope, and opened it. The moment he saw the contents, his eyes widened in surprise.

This is a personal recommendation letter that has already been prepared.

The sunlight from the west slid into the room, and fell on the signer who was both familiar and unfamiliar.

Gavin put the envelope away, saluted the middle-aged man, and the left without looking back.

***

After the door closed, Gavin walked briskly and took out his mobile phone, dialing the very familiar number.

Gavin: Are you at home, how are you prepared?

The girl’s soft noise came from the other end of the phone, which made him follow the person who unconsciously lowered the voice.

Gavin: Mm, I will pick you up right away.

- Part 1 -

Men and women in various dresses gathered in the hall with wine glasses in groups.

Necklaces and leather shoes dazzled the night under the crystal chandelier.

Guest A: I heard that the people present today are all big figures in the business and political circles, and Victor, CEO of LFG will also come.

Guest B: It’s not just business and politics. Professor Lucien from Ultima Bioresearch Center was also invited, the one who developed the vaccine before...

Before the words were over, there was a tumult at the entrance of the venue, an extended Lincoln stopped in front of the door, and reporters swarmed up.

Kiro got out of the car, and walked slowly into the venue in countless flashing lights.

The dark clouds have blocked the moonlight at some time, and the sky in the distance is pitch black, it seems that it’s about to rain.

I walked into the hall holding Gavin’s hand, and cautiously looked around.

The ball was a lot more lively than I thought and I never saw Commander Leto’s shadow.

Gavin: Looking for Commander Leto?

MC: The ball has already started, but the organizer isn’t there, It’s so strange...

Gavin: Mm, but this isn’t an ordinary ball.

Obviously, this is a “Hongmen Banquet”

[Note: “Hongmen Banquet” is a idiom to describe a situation where it appears to be festive, celebratory, fun, an opportunity for pacification, but it is really a situation that is dire, dangerous, or even deadly.]

We walked to the corner of the venue, I took out a small piece of paper from my handbag and handed it to Gavin.

MC: By the way, I compiled the guest list this time.

Since receiving the invitation letter that day, I started to inquire about the relevant information about the dance.

The hard work paid off, and I finally got this list before coming to the scene.

In order to avoid being discovered by other people, I deliberately lowered my voice and explained it carefully to Gavin.

MC: Commander Leto’s reason is high-sounding, saying "Open the ball to all Evolver" and "Promote the relationship between ordinary people and Evolver"...

MC: But the people he invited were actually big figures in all walks of life.

MC: He must have some ulterior motive...

As Gavin heard about it, he browsed the list in hand.

He raised his hand to rest his chin, his eyes slightly narrowed, his expression focused and serious.

At this moment, there was a sudden commotion in the crowd, and Gavin and I looked towards the door.

Commander Leto walked in with a few special officers. The guests' expressions were brilliant. Some raised their glasses to him with a smile, while others turned their backs impatiently.

It seems that there are many of Commander Leto's cronies at the scene, but there are also people like us who had to come for some reason.

Thinking like this, Commander Leto walked straight in the direction where Gavin and I were.

He looked at Gavin, with a hypocritical smile on his lips.

Leto: Long time no see, Gavin. Welcome.

Gavin: No need.

Gavin's tone was cold, which made Commander Leto's expression a bit ugly. He cleared his throat and turned his head to look at me.

Leto: It's really surprising that Miss MC also came.

Gavin frowned slightly, but before he could speak, I took the conversation first.

MC: What is unexpected about this. Didn’t you invite me by yourself?

After hitting the wall twice in a row, Commander Leto sneered, and finally no longer vacillated.

Leto: I hope that this time you won’t escape in such a haste like last time.

Of course I knew that he was referring to the incident that had been pursued by STF before, and I felt annoyed.

MC: Isn’t there someone else who wants to escape?

I probably didn’t expect that I would say so directly, Commander Leto was taken aback for a moment, then frowned, and left without looking back.

Looking at Commander Leto, who was gradually disappearing into the crowd, I couldn’t help but “Hmph” triumphantly at his back.

Gavin: You are today...

MC: Hm?

I turned my head to look at Gavin, and found that he was looking at me intently, with a faint smile on his eyes.

Gavin: It feels a little different from before.

I was taken aback for a moment, and my cheeks were slightly hot.

MC: Am I being to aggressive just now...

Gavin: No, that’s great.

Hearing this, I couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The time passed by minute by minute, finally reached the time for the official opening of ball.

Commander Leto walked to the stage amidst the applause of the crowd, took the microphone and began to speak, but they were all clichés that have been told countless times in the news.

I was a little bored of hearing, and had to listen patiently. At this moment, Gavin’s voice suddenly got into my ears.

Gavin: MC.

Gavin: Your marksmanship isn’t still strange, right?

I looked at it suspiciously, and was stunned for a moment.

The amber eyes have completely eliminated and turned into another sharp look, with a war spirit engraved in the deepest part.

***

Quite contrary to the bustle of the dance floor, the parking lot was so quiet that nothing but me and Gavin footsteps were left.

There were no cars parked around, but there was a sudden noise not far away, and a group of young people in NW uniforms appeared in front of us.

And behind them, is the source of the noise--- the door of the carriage that opens slowly.

All kinds of unnamed guns and weapons piled up the entire carriage, and suddenly filled my sight, making me speechless in surprise.

Gavin: The situation in the field is as expected. Has the demolition person gone?

NW Team Member: Has successfully sneaked in.

Gavin’s voice brought me back to my senses. While he was talking to the people around him, he took a pistol from his waist and placed it in my palm.

Gavin: This is for you, just in case.

Those amber eyes reflected my appearance, and I nodded solemnly when I saw myself taking the pistol.

The body of cold gun seemed to still have his temperature, and the familiar touch evoked many memories.

This time, we have to fight together.

I clenched my pistol and made up my mind secretly. Suddenly, there was a faint sound of music in the direction of the ball.

Gavin’s body was slightly stagnant, and there was a little regret in his eyes looking at me.

Gavin: I can’t dance with you today.

I shook my head, but laughed instead.

MC: Didn’t you say that, this isn’t an ordinary ball.

MC: As for dancing, I’ll make it up next time.

As soon as my voice fell, an abrupt voice sounded behind me.

“Kacha” is the sound of a bullet.

I turned my head abruptly and pointed my gun at the uninvited guest in front of me.

It turned out to be Eli!

Behind him, stood a large group of people wearing uniforms specially exposed to STF. They all held guns in their hands, and they didn’t know when they were surrounded by us.

Eli’s eyes were so dark that he couldn’t get rid of it, he looked at us with a cold tone.

Eli: Sorry, I’m afraid there’s no “next time” for you.

- Part 2 - (Mission Stage)

- Part 3 -

Gavin didn’t seem to be surprised by Eli’s appearance. He raised his hand and pulled me behind him a little bit, facing the gunpoint of STF without fear.

Gavin: You really appeared again.

Eli: But today is different from before.

Eli: I’m here to solve your problems.

Eli’s expression and tone were extremely cold. With a wave of his hand, the team member behind him were immediately ready for battle.

Upon seeing this, NW teammates around him immediately entered a fighting state, and the air was filled with the smell of rattling.

The melodious music continued to come from the direction of the dance, but it couldn’t relieve me the tension on the scene.

One piece just ended, and the second piece began to play. The short and tactful beat was a bit ethereal, but it was a little weird.

Gavin immediately changed his face when he heard the music.

He quickly pulled me behind the pillar and put his hand on my ear.

MC: Gavin...

When I was about to ask a question, Gavin shook his head, and took out two miniature earphones from nowhere to put them on for me.

I just noticed that he was wearing such a headset, and there was a guess in mind.

MC: Is there any problem with this music?

Gavin: It can control Evolver.

Just now, the music is like a signal. At this moment, gunshots have sounded everywhere in the parking lot.

Gavin didn’t explain to much. After confirming that the surrounding teammates were all right, his eyes fell on me again.

Gavin: Be safe, I will be back soon.

MC: I’m going with you!

I subconsciously pulled his cuff, but touched something hard and cold.

I was taken aback for a moment, Gavin looked at me, pulled up his cuff, and a needle with cold light appeared in front of me.

MC: This is...

Gavin: Anesthetics.

Gavin: I can’t shoot Eli, but I can’t let him go.

MC: Are you going to pretend to be controlled by music and approach him...?

I quickly understood Gavin’s intentions, he nodded, his eyes sinking a little, but the determination in his eyes couldn’t hide.

Gavin: MC, cover me.

MC: I got it.

Hearing my answer, Gavin raised the corners of his mouth lightly, nodded at me firmly and confidently, turned and walked towards the fierce battle.

My eyes were chasing after me, the parking lot was already in chaos, and fighting was everywhere.

Gavin was walking towards Eli’s position, his steps were a bit stiff, like a puppet being manipulated.

Knowing that he wasn’t affected by the weird music, I was so nervous that I tightened my gun and tried to evoke my Evol.

Seeing Gavin approaching Eli’s expression step by step, there was no change.

He didn’t have the joy of the plan’s success, or did he face the emotions of his former comrades in arms. His eyes were always cold, even numb.

Finally, there was only a gun’s distance between the two of them, and Eli raised the muzzle to Gavin’s forehead.

My heart beats like a drum, silently gathering power at my fingertips, ready to attack at any time.

Then the moment I held my breath, things suddenly changed.

The pistol turned around in Eli’s hand, he put down his right hand, handed the gun to Gavin’s eyes.

Eli: Do it yourself.

MC: !

Is he testing whether Gavin is really controlled? Or is there another purpose?

The unexpected unfolding made me unable to help my mind, at at the same time, I didn’t dare to slow down, watching their every move closely.

Because Gavin’s back was facing me, I couldn’t see his expression clearly, only saw him slowly stretch out his hand, about to touch the gun on Eli---

At this time, the music that had been surrounding him suddenly stopped.

Eli and I were both taken aback. He quickly retracted his gun and moved towards the venue. I also looked quickly, but only saw the door that closed suddenly.

Then, the continuous gun replaced the gorgeous movement, and the heart-piercing screams made my heart tense.

MC: What happened...

The ominous feeling enveloped me. Before I had time to think, Eli’s voice sounded.

Eli: The plan failed, start the aftermath.

Eli: All Evolver, killed immediately!

Under the cold command, the members of STF reacted, and the attack became more violent.

Eli went straight to Gavin, his expression instantly changed.

He decisively raised his right hand, and the muzzle of the black hole aimed at Gavin again.

That’s too late!

Action before thinking, I quickly clapped the back of my hand, and a pure white light exploded in front of Eli’s eyes.

While he was drawing attention, I hurriedly stepped out of the cover of the open pillar, raised my gun and aimed at him.

However, Eli’s reaction was extremely fast. The moment he found me, the muzzle immediately turned its angle and aimed at where I was.

Then he pulled the trigger mercilessly.

Between the electric light and flint, Gavin stepped violently, firmly held Eli’s shoulder from his side and pressed hard, and then quickly withdrew the needle from the cuff...

Two gunshots.

I slumped on the ground, breathing quickly, and my brain fell into a short blank.

There was a bullet embedded in the wall beside him. It was the bullet that Eli shot at me.

I looked forward and saw Gavin picking up the gun that had fallen from the ground, his eyes a little complicated.

And Eli was falling at his feet, losing consciousness.

- Part 4 -

The night was getting darker, but outside the ball hall was very lively.

The entire venue was surrounded by people from NW, and the door of the hall was cordoned off.

Gavin sent Eli, who was in a coma, to the car. At this moment, a team member hurriedly walked in front of us.

NW Team Member: Captain Gavin, the things have been removed.

He held a small instrument in his hand, which looked complicated and delicate.

MC: Is this the source of the music just now?

Gavin: Yes, Commander Leto wants to use this sonic filter to influence the brain waves of other people, thereby controlling them.

MC: The people in that venue...

Gavin: To him, the people inside are nothing but chess pieces.

Gavin: If there’s no way to control it, it’s better to destroy it directly.

I shuddered when I thought of cry and scream I had just heard.

Gavin briefly confessed to the team member again, then turned and walked to the front of the team.

He took off his suit jacket and put in on his arm, raised his hand and pulled on his tie but his expression didn’t relax.

Gavin: How long have we waited?

NW Team Member: It’s almost ten minutes.

Gavin: There has been no response inside?

The person being asked was stunned, and the answer was a little hesitant.

NW Team Member: ...Do I need to warn again?

Gavin looked at the closed door ahead, squinted his eyes slightly, and the night and neon were reflected in those popper-like eyes, adding a bit of depth to it.

Gavin: No need to talk nonsense with him.

He leaned on the door of the car with one hand, with the other hand in his pocket, and gently raised his finger to give orders.

Gavin: Go straight in.

With a bang, the door of the ball was completely destroyed.

The smoke was in the air, and I couldn’t help but cough quietly, and Gavin had already led the crowd into the smoke first.

MC: *cough

I was just about to follow when I suddenly heard another slight coughing around me.

I hurriedly turned my head to look at the car parked beside me, and Eli had already opened his eyes!

I was a little nervous, for fear that he pointed his gun at me again, and quickly touched Gavin’s gun from his pocket and held it tightly in his hand.

Eli: MC? How came I...

Eli held his head, his eyes looked a little confused, and he was different from the coldness before.

MC: ...Here is the ball held by Commander Leto, don’t you remember?

Eli: Ball? oh.....yes, ball...

As if finally remembering something, he straightened up abruptly.

Eli: Are you and Gavin okay? I remember that I seemed to...shot you?

MC: We’re all fine. But...have you fully recovered?

Eli: Recover?

Hearing my question, Eli’s expression became more confused. I hurriedly found the NW team member beside me, and got the sound wave filter for Eli.

MC: You were previously controlled by Commander Leto with this sonic filter.

While speaking, the dust scattered in the air gathered again, and the violent wind gushed out from the inside of the ball hall, and the momentum seemed to sweep the world.

MC: ...Gavin!

I was uneasy, and immediately ran to the venue with Eli.

***

My vision was blurred by the dust, but the gunshots in my ears were constant, and I vaguely caught a few sounds.

NW Team Member: Commander Leto was shot!

NW Team Member: Who hit it?! Arrest them all!

After one after another shouts and gunshots, there was an extremely clear voice.

Gavin: PUT DOWN ALL WEAPONS!

The scene suddenly became quiet, and the moment the dust cleared, I saw Gavin standing in the middle of the venue from behind.

He was surrounded by a group of STF members who holding guns, but they didn’t dare to approach him, unconsciously separated from him some distance.

Gavin was straight, he looked around and repeated it again.

Gavin: All, put down your weapons.

His voice formed an invisible air pressure, and in the next second, someone really shivered and put down the gun in his hand.

But there were also angrily holding the gun tighter and shouting.

Special Officer: You traitor to STF!

Special Officer: Why should we listen to you! You, you...

His volume became lower and lower, and in the end he couldn’t speak, only swallowing nervously.

Because Gavin has pulled out the gun, and ran it against his forehead.

Gavin: Every bullet of STF should be fired for justice. Now who is your gun aimed at?

The person being questioned was taken aback unable to speak.

Gavin didn’t continue to look at him, but maintained the motion of raising the gun, and looked around at the STF members again.

Gavin: The guests of this ball, are all innocent.

Gavin: I don’t know what Commander Leto used to deceive you, but now, you must listen to me.

Gavin: Put down the gun.

There was a low voice of discussion from the crowd, and many people put down their weapons, but more people were still hesitating.

The two sides were in a stalemate. At this time, Eli took a step forward.

The person who was pointed at with the gun by Gavin raised his eyes, unexpectedly Eli took the gun from behind his waist and placed it on the ground.

Special Officer: Captain Eli...

Seeing Eli’s actions, the man’s expression loosened a bit, and finally put down the gun in his hand.

Gavin also put down his gun, and Eli nodded at him and looked at the member of STF

Eli: Regarding to Commander...Leto, I have something to say to everyone.

He took out the instrument I gave him just now, and explained it loudly.

Eli: This is a sound wave filter, which can control human brain waves through music.

Eli: Commander Leto installed this filter in both the accelerated evolutionary energy and today’s ball.

The crowd was in an uproar. I hit the iron while it was hot.

MC: There’s also an over-evolution supervision office. Many Evolver in it haven’t over-evolved. They have all become experimental subjects in the accelerated evolution cabin.

MC: Both Gavin and Eli can prove this. If you still don’t want to believe it, I still have the test data of the Evolution Chamber as evidence.

Gavin took a step forward, took my word and continued.

Gavin: Commander Leto has already escaped, and NW will take over the next thing.

Gavin: STF won’t be held accountable for the ball, but if someone chooses to continue to be a tiger...

Gavin didn’t finish speaking, his eyes swept across the crowd, not angering himself.

The STF members on the scene fell silent, some were angry, some at a loss, and looked at each other.

I don’t know how long it took, there was a noise in the crowd, and someone put down their weapon.

Voices rang out one after another, and more people also put down their weapons. Finally, the atmosphere of tit-for-tat was completely weakened.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and subconsciously looked at Gavin beside me, and he was looking to me, with a faint smile on his mouth.

Eli: Next...

Gavin: You take the team back first, and I will take care of the rest.

Eli nodded, and he seemed to feel much more relaxed.

Eli: I got it.

Eli: I will pay attention to Commander Leto’s whereabouts and tell you as soon as I have news.

Under the leadership of Eli, the member of STF all left, and at this time, the ambulance finally came to the scene.

Many people were injured in the ball, but fortunately there was no sacrifice.

Seeing Gavin busy in the crowd, I couldn’t help but smile, ready to leave quietly, not to disturb him.

Unexpectedly, just turning around and walking out a few steps, a familiar voice sounded behind me.

Gavin: Going back?

MC: Mm, I think you are still busy, so I didn’t say hello to you.

Gavin: Wait for me.

Gavin turned around and called NW team member who was passing by, gave a few words, and then walked towards me.

The ends of his hair raised in the night looked high-spirited.

Gavin: Everything is arranged, I will take you back first.

Without a word, he took my hand and walked deeper into the night.

***

Gavin and I walked home through a park. The moon was hanging in the sky, and the starry sky was twinkling. People couldn't help but slow down.

In the flower bed in early spring, a lot of flowers bloomed, and the air was faintly fragrant.

It’s always been a long time since the two of us walked home together...

What happened just now is still vivid, and the tranquility now makes me feel a little dazed.

The street lamp casts a circle of light to envelop us, and the night breeze gently blows our hair.

I wish I could do this every day in the future.

Before we knew it, we had already walked downstairs to my apartment.

MC: Arrived

Although I feel reluctant, I opened Gavin's hand with ease.

My fingertips just left the warmth, but Gavin suddenly stretched out my hand, holding my hand tighter in the palm.

MC: Gavin?

I tilted my head suspiciously, but caught a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

Gavin: One more thing...

Before the words fell, Gavin pulled me into his arms and jumped up.

The wind quickly gathered under our feet, holding us upwards, until completely immersed in the night.

The lights of the city became far away in an instant, but the starry sky above his head was extremely clear.

I felt that something familiar had returned to Gavin's body, his scorching eyes were long-lost publicity and unruly.

Gavin's smiling voice rang in my ears, as close as, his body temperature.

Gavin: The dance that I missed, is now for you.

He took my hand tightly, led me to dance, in the wind, and under the night sky.

I also squeezed him back firmly, and looked deeply into those bright eyes.

A long night finally came to an end at this relaxed and tender moment.

Next: [F4, Assemble] Chapter 33-4

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc chapters #mlqc gavin #gavin's wolf stare aka deadly stare is so scary :(´◦ω◦｀):#professor lucien...good job-good job :) *tumbs up #GAVIN DANCING WITH MC IN MIDDLE OF STARRY SKY LIKE STARRY DATE!!!!#OH MY THERE'S LIL BIT ERROR IN DANCING UNDER NIGHTSKY SCENE LOL

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paulfwesley · 4 years

Text

A Split Second (Part 1) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2K.

Description: A split second. That’s all it takes to take a life. TW: guns, violence, blood.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: OKAY this is my first time EVER doing Bryce, and even though he technically does not show up in this part, he WILL be in the next part. I’m posting this fic in increments just to feel out the reaction first, if it’s something worth pursuing. I’ve added some trigger warnings just in case, they’re in the description! They’re applicable to the whole series, however many parts this ends up being, I don’t actually know yet. Okay, I’ve gone on too long. Let me know how I did! Also let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list!

Tagging: @n-wahz @anotherbeingsworld @graphitekayla @malxen @rookiefromedenbrook

Enjoy!

As a doctor, Claire King stared death in the face every day. It was her job to delay the inevitable, after all. Every chest compression, every dose of medication, and every correct diagnosis resulted in Claire’s tally against Death inching higher and higher. But of course, there were always a few cases where even Claire couldn’t beat the Grim Reaper. And she’d walk out of the room of the grieving family with a fire stewing in her belly that drove her to want to do better so that the next time she and death met in the arena, she’d knock him out cold.

Claire knew death. Claire understood death. She woke up every morning with a determination that she would stare death in the face and celebrate when she triumphed over it.

But she didn’t fully understand what it meant to stare death in the face until she stood with her hands in the air, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, and her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the end of a gun poised in her face.

30 minutes earlier…

Claire thought she would had it all figured out. Ethan ditched her to hang out in the Amazon for two months (though Sienna insisted that technically Ethan went to go help out with WHO, but Claire wasn’t in the mood to change her mind about her… ex? Her attending? The dude she slept with twice before he decided he didn’t like having to deal with feelings before buggering off?) so she was going to erase everything that had to do with Ethan Ramsey from her mind. That included only ever referring to him as “Doctor Ramsey”, whilst ignoring the way she missed the way his name tasted on her tongue when she was moaning it. It included putting a smile on her face and reassuring everyone who noticed her drop in mood in the days following when she showed up to work one day to find out that Ethan had left without so much as a goodbye, even though a bottle of pent up sorrow threatened to burst whenever she curled her lips up. And it included forcing herself out of the apartment when her friends wanted to go out while all she wanted to do was lay in bed and wallow in her own sadness.

It was actually Bryce who started it. He could tell something was off with her, but luckily Bryce didn’t pry. The only people who knew why Claire was acting heartsick were Sienna and Elijah, and even then, it was because they were there the morning she snuck Ethan out of the apartment. If it were up to her, nobody would know the mess she had gotten into by falling for her attending. Grey’s Anatomy gave her too much hope.

All Bryce wanted to know was what would make Claire happy. It started out simple; nights drinking at Donahue’s, roommate movie night, late night ice cream runs. Then it was Bryce attending plays with Claire, because none of their other friends would even humour her idea for live theatre. It was nice, even though most of the time, Bryce fell asleep shortly after the play began, only to wake up with intermission and then fall asleep again as soon as the house lights turned off. And then it was Claire attending a monster truck rally with Bryce because Elijah cancelled last minute, and even though she spent most of the evening thinking about the various dishes she could be cooking, it was worth it to watch Bryce freak out at the trucks crushing each other and then turning to her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. For his sake, she went as wild and crazy as he was. Standing there, staring up at Bryce and looking at the way the bright lights cast a shadow against his sharp, soft cheekbones, that was the first time she felt a turning in a stomach, a flutter that warmed her cold core. And when he turned and grinned at her, Claire felt like she had seen the sun for the first time.

Then, when the yearning to be touched and held and kissed became too much for Claire, it turned into stolen kisses, hand brushes, intimate nights. With every swipe of Bryce’s hand up and down her arm while her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, with every tear that rolled down her cheeks from the jokes he told her, with every moment spent just in Bryce’s presence, her heart hurt a little bit less. And less, and less, until she completely forgot that she was supposed to be hurting.

Then Ethan returned, unexpectedly, the night they were celebrating their last night as interns.

When Claire’s eyes met his across the bench outside Donahue’s, she expected her stomach to drop. She expected her throat to close up, her chest to tighten, her tears to threaten at the corner of her eyes. Instead, she offered him a polite smile and a small nod before returning to what Elijah was saying. That feeling was all she needed to know that she was officially over Ethan Ramsey. She could be happy with someone else. She even had a certain meat headed, smooth talking, scalpel jockey in mind.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Bryce staring at her and following her gaze. When he looked back at her, she could practically see the curtain drop over his eyes, and it remained there for days following. Whenever she tried to talk to him, she always got the brush off. And it was killing her. She had gotten used to the the way his laughter lit up her world, the way his eyes raking over sent a thrill through her stomach, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she turned a corner and hoped that he’d be on the other side. But nothing; these days he wouldn’t even look at her.

After finishing her own rounds, making sure Esme had her tasks, and ordering tests for another patient, Claire sighed as she trudged through the hospital. She cradled a heavy case file against her chest sent over from Manhattan Presbyterian that she planned to pore over during her lunch break. She felt a presence beside her, and she looked over to see Sienna falling into step next to her. Her hair was pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun and she looked utterly exhausted, but she offered Claire a bright smile anyways. “Are you on your way to lunch?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Cool! I’m starving,” Sienna replied. She nodded at the file in Claire’s arms. “Big, fancy, diagnostic team case?”

Claire laughed. “Yeah.” She glanced down at the papers. “I’m hoping that it’ll be something surgical. That way Bryce will have to talk to me.”

Sienna frowned. “Bryce isn’t talking to you?”

“You haven’t noticed the way he doesn’t look at me anymore?” Claire asked as they walked down the stairs, heading for the cafeteria. “I think it has to do with the fact that…” Claire looked around for prying ears but dropped her voice as a precaution anyways. “... Doctor Ramsey’s back.”

Sienna’s eyes widened. “You told him about Doctor Ramsey?”

“No!” Claire protested. “If it were up to me, that secret would die with Ramsey and me. But I think he can tell.” She raised a brow. “Could you tell? Before you caught me sneaking him out?”

Sienna bit her lip. “Do you want the truth?”

Claire stopped in her tracks. “You mean you knew? Before?”

“I suspected!” Sienna corrected quickly. She walked back over to where Claire had stopped. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but you did mention wanting something to happen between the two of you when you went to Miami. You didn’t tell me anything had happened so I assumed nothing did. But despite that, it was so obvious. The first name Doctor Ramsey ever learned was yours, he kept his mouth shut about what happened with Mrs. Martinez even though as an attending he probably had a legal obligation to tell Doctor Emery, and just the way you both never took your eyes off of each other whenever you shared a room.”

A blush brushed Claire’s cheeks. “Well, I don’t feel like that anymore.” She paused. “Well, I suppose I do, but now I feel like that whenever I see Bryce. And I want to tell him that, but the meathead runs away at the sight of me.”

They both resumed their walking. “I feel like straight up avoidance isn’t Bryce’s style though,” Sienna pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want, I can lock the two of you inside a supply closet until he gets his shit together.”

Claire chuckled. “That offer actually sounds tempting.”

All of a sudden, both of their pagers went off. Claire reached into her pocket and produced hers just as they reached the cafeteria. She frowned at the message that stared back at her before looking back up at Sienna. “Lockdown? Is this some kind of drill?”

“I think if it was, Doctor Banerjee would have said so,” Sienna replied casually. She was trying to pass it off like it was nothing, but Claire could see the worrying lines in her forehead. She reached out and grabbed Sienna’s arm. “How about we skip the cafeteria food and just grab something from the vending machine for now? We can hide out in a closet or something until this drill ends.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s a drill because?” Sienna asked, but she let Claire lead her away and down the hall.

“Because there’s no way we’re in a situation where Edenbrook has to go under lockdown,” she said. “I bet a baby went missing from the NICU or something.”

Sienna gawked. “That’s terrible!”

Claire stopped at a vending machine, turning her back to Sienna. “All the more reason to grab an unhealthy snack and wait this thing out.” She bent down and placed the file on the floor. As she stood back up, she reached into her pocket for her wallet. “What do you want? It’s on me.”

“Claire…” Sienna’s voice was a soft whisper.

“What?” Claire said, her eyes scanning the options. A Snickers bar? Nah. It wasn’t filling enough. A bag of chips? That was even worse. This was a hospital. They were doctors. They always went on about healthy eating yet never practiced what they preached.

“Claire!” Sienna said, louder this time, though the tremors in her voice betrayed the strength.

“What?” Claire’s tone dripped with annoyance as she turned to look at her friend, but the sight of Sienna’s face, drained of blood with her eyes wide and her lips parted with a slight tremble raised alarms. “Sienna? Sienna, what is it?”

Sienna didn’t say anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. But her eyes never wavered from the direction she was staring at over Claire’s shoulder.

Claire turned to see what Sienna was gaping at, and her stomach fell through the floor at the sight of the tall, middle-aged man standing six feet away from them. He wore a black blazer over a plain t-shirt flecked with bright red spots that Claire could only assume was fresh blood from the way it stained the pure white fabric. Blessed (or cursed, in her opinion) with an excellent memory, Claire never forgot a face once she had seen it. It was Walter Cameron, a patient she had treated weeks ago. He came in after he had been in a car accident that caused mild injuries, and Claire remembered joking easily with him as she pulled out glass from his body and stitching him up. Claire’s eyes traveled from his brown eyes, down his sweat soaked cheeks, down his leather clad arm, and landed on the pistol in his hand, aimed directly at Claire’s chest.

Her breath caught in her throat. The only sounds she could make out in the otherwise silent, empty hallway were Sienna’s faint whimpering behind her, Walter’s ragged breaths, and her own heart thumping against her chest.

She felt a shaky hand on her shoulder. “Claire, we need to get out of here!” Sienna whisper-shouted.

“No!” Walter boomed, taking a rather large step forward. He brandished the gun at them, waving it wildly as his finger rested on the trigger. Both girls let out an involuntary shrieks as they staggered backwards. “Doctor King isn’t going anywhere.” He turned the gun so the mouth was directed at Sienna. “You, on the other hand, will get out of here.” With a jerk of his thumb, he clicked the safety off. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Claire swallowed thickly. Despite the tremors in her throat, she said, “Sienna, go.”

She could feel Sienna’s eyes stare at her in bewilderment, but Claire never broke eye contact with Walter. “What? But Claire—!”

“Go!” Claire said again, stronger this time. She didn’t know Walter, not really, so she couldn’t guarantee whether or not he was crazy enough to take a shot at her or her friend, and Claire didn’t want to jeopardize anyone else’s life if there was a chance to save someone. Under her breath, her lips barely moving, she whispered, “Go find help.”

The echoing of a sneaker hitting linoleum reluctantly bounced against the walls. One, and then another, and then another, until the echoes got further and further as Sienna dashed down the hall in desperation.

Once she was out of sight, Claire returned her attention to Walter. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands so they were in his sight.

“Ahh, alone at last,” Walter sighed dreamily.

Claire sucked a worrying breath in. “Mr. Cameron—” she began.

“It’s Wally!” he cut her off angrily, but the heat in his eyes quickly disappeared in favour of turning soft as he gazed at Claire. “It’s Wally, remember, Doctor King? Like Wally West? Like you said?”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She gulped noisily, her eyes zeroing in on the weapon in his hands. “What are you doing with the gun, Wally?”

He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He smiled at her, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m going to kill you, Doctor King.”

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