#flash/burn

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_55 : "Sedative"

CW: blood, physical altercations, guns, cops, weird forced vaguely sexual tension designed to make you uncomfortable

previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

/ / / / / | ---

We’re getting him down a floor with the emergency stairwell and then you all will use the elevator so we don’t alert this new cop, Harlow started, shrouding more of the rooftop penthouse in flame, wrapping a coat around them. I’ll give our EK a reason not to join you downstairs.

A bigger problem, Liam affirmed.

Rowan mentally huffed as he started to lead the way to the emergency stairwell in his destroyed penthouse. So what’s the plan here? Holding a gun to my head?

If you’d be so kind, Galena added.

Minus well sell the act now that we have it. I’ll hold Josey. Shane traded the rifle to his back for the handgun at his waist. Galena, if anyone moves, work with geokinesis.

And how’re the two blonde ones getting out of here? Rowan mustered, palming for the stairwell door’s handle and yanking it open.

Everyone paused.

Liam looked at Harlow. I’m not teleporting in this state, kid.

He stared down at Liam’s leg. He didn’t have forever. Liam would either bleed out by the time there was an opening to leave or hinder everyone else’s ability downstairs—and that was if he didn’t decide to teleport with open wounds and potentially make it worse.

Doc’s used to injured patient transport, Shane grabbed onto Rowan. If we can get to a phone, I know the tower’s number. He’s probably our safest bet.

He’s gonna kill me, Liam said.

Would you rather be killed Doc’s way—Rowan sneered at the barrel leveled to his head, mockingly—or the way of the guys down below?

Harlow smirked to that the same way Liam’s gaze tightened with respect.

Fair, Liam groaned, especially on the landing of the next floor down where Harlow set him down against the wall. Galena, hit them hard. Make your own tunnel if you have to. Shane, don’t get trigger happy—that includes with your kinetic. It’s getting tired and you might need it later. Josey, try to act more afraid than pissed off.

And kid, Liam began when Harlow put a foot back up the stairwell. Stall until Galena and Shane have left. The moment you see another cop up there, I expect that EK unconscious and us to ditch.

Harlow nodded, though Galena stopped him from moving up again. Why not just knock him out ASAP? Why wait?

This isn’t a highly trained militant battle, Liam said.

It’s a turf war with a really clever and really lucky pyrokinetic, Shane finished.

In that moment, Rowan looked deep into Harlow. Harlow stared back and saw a rich man, the kind he knew well. Someone with a deep hunger to control the situation around them as much as they could. In there he saw a friend. The insatiable hunger.

Another moment, and he saw the gray hair and dishevelment of someone who had control and abused it.

He ascended the emergency stairwell back to the penthouse. They’d already spent too much time leaving the EK to ponder and communicate with the force down below. They were probably considering a sweep of the city in case their perpetrators had already teleported themselves to safety.

Harlow’s feet hit the floor panels. His hand itched where it kept his lighter open, thumb rubbing against the metal case. He stalked through his orange sea, circling behind the shouting EK and a wall before swiping away the fire toward the area behind an L-couch.

The lighter snapped shut. Harlow took a deep breath at the sudden absence.

Everything about the plan was suddenly very stupid.

A grumble. Harlow popped the lighter up again and swerved the flame, resulting in a shout instead from both the officer and then himself, ducking to the side of a shock.

Oh hell.

Carpet skidding. Thumping helicopter blades.

Fuck.

The helicopters.

What’s up, kid? Liam asked.

I somehow forgot about the eyes in the sky. Still circling for content. His focus was quickly split between the two, dashing and rolling from the next electrokinetic trail, hand dancing past him. He could probably tank a few hits easily, but it still hurt like hell to. He cringed, lucky he at least had the mask on.

We need to talk.

The statement took Harlow back so far he paused the reach he made toward the officer and hopped backwards. They spun on him, forcing the lighter to pop open in his hand into a wall.

Later. I’m in the middle of my job.

So am I, Liam huffed. I told you to stay put.

That’s not what you want to talk about.

He pulled his hand out of the way of the officer’s static line just before a strike was sent down, offering instead an easily-kickable remnant of the battle that had occurred prior to his involvement.

“Guess we’re doing the hard way…” the officer mumbled amid radio chatter, slipping slightly where they ended up.

Harlow narrowed his eyes.

No. I specifically told you to stay out of it. You were supposed to be the getaway.

Another arc of fire. Tumbling behind an interior wall, breathing.

Liam, Harlow struggled to output the right words coherently, J.E. Rowan is one of the richest men in the world. Streets are blocked for miles. Our van wouldn’t have done us shit. Not in this crowded mess of a city, not in the next.

Still.

Harlow scooped up the largest shard of glass he could find, careful to clear his palm from its edges and dragging fire along to melt it smoother.

I get it. You’re worried about me.

Liam made some strangled noise that screwed with one of Harlow’s motions again, forcing him back from his own efforts to push advantage. He cut through one of the officer’s traces, watching it fly static and random through the air around him, hair on end.

It’s not that. It’s like… Liam winced. Like you’re walking into a bar and they already know your order.

Liam.

Shut up and listen. Liam, somehow, finds a way to mentally grit his teeth. You’ve been on front-page news. You can’t keep appearing. Pulling off stunts. It’s dangerous for Cinder.

Then let me get this helicopter out of the air before they get more to work with.

I mean it.

I know. It was risky enough pulling a cop-in-training into the mess, but Amaterasu still chose to. Amaterasu would’ve chosen this, too, had she been given the chance. Maybe it would’ve never come this far at all.

Would he even be doing this right now, or would Raiden be doing it instead?

Hey, kid...

His hand stopped, inches from the electrokinetic, pulling back. It clenched as the officer pivoted and locked eyes with him again, wide-eyed at what he saw as another close call. With the way he disappeared for several seconds before once again spurting by, Harlow knew he needed to get out faster than he would’ve liked.

He threw up a wall of fire, gauging. How much would it take a helicopter to go down, or to call it quits?

This all felt wrong.

The fire snapped, and the officer halted in preparation for it to appear in front of him again. Instead, it shot up toward the camera, and the yelp was loud enough to be heard over the blades as the newscaster scrambled back. Harlow tightened the fire around the lens.

Electrokinesis shot at him and tackled him down, ripping a violent jerk that ended up smacking the officer upside the head and off.

Harlow rolled to the side and whined, shielding himself in a full shroud of fire. It hurt. Christ, did it hurt. Amplified the shreds of pain that adrenaline had forced him to forget.

You jumped onto a roof by explosion you fucking idiot, Harlow thought, one breath after another.

The officer hadn’t tried him again. He blinked, staring through the veil of flame thick enough to be white. They were staring.

Harlow looked up and found the newscaster retreating with the rest of the helicopter. Must not have brought a backup lens. Or didn’t want to chance more equipment.

He looked back at the cop.

Oh, Harlow realized. The elevator doors popped open to two more officers. Galena and Shane must have gotten away safe. Liam?

No answer.

Then he bolted at the EK officer, hand swathed in fire, bathing their bloodstream unconscious. Jumped behind the nearest cover, hearing bullets spray into the wall and click out. Harlow picked himself up and sprinted to the fire escape, grabbing the previously discarded duffel bag on the way, snapping the lighter shut, and focusing on not tripping.

“Liam!” he said, shaking the body leaning limply against the wall. “Shit.”

He heard the emergency door crank open above him and slung Liam over his shoulder, heaving and cracking the lighter open again to melt the heavy melt shut behind him. He heard the officers swear before sprinting as fast as he could with a man strung over him to the elevator and calling it.

Then decided against it. It would be obvious he went in there.

Fuck.

Rat in a trap.

He’s going to die if you don’t get him out.

What would Raiden do right now? Hide. Wait for backup. Supply aid.

Harlow darted into a random hotel room by melting through its deadbolt, positioning the door to a shut position before laying Liam down on the bed and splitting open the duffel bag. He set his lighter inside and grappled with the bandages to undress and redress the hole through Liam’s leg. Then he made sure his gun was full on ammo.

The door slammed open and Harlow swung his handgun in its direction. “Police! Put your hands in the air!”

His mask itched again, suddenly.

“You’re out of fire,” they started, then gestured at Liam. “Make it easy for yourself and for them. They need medical attention.”

His hand itched on the trigger. He’d probably get shot reaching for his lighter in the bag, so whatever this gun could produce would just have to make do. Harlow slowly aimed to their shoulder and fired, blasting enough heat to knock them out on contact with a spray of crimson along the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Harlow winced. Then he grabbed his bandages back and wrapped their shoulder, picking up all of his stuff again and moving.

“Come out with your hands up, we have the place surrounded!”

Miscellaneous gunfire. Harlow cursed and ducked behind the nearest wall, stretching out his arm with the lighter and flicking fire blindly down the hallway to shouting.

Hiding was not going to work.

Then, water.

Harlow struggled back a yelp, shutting the lighter before the hydrokinetic officer found that too. He pulled himself and Liam’s mess of skin and bone down the hallway and once again barged into a hotel room. He set Liam down and barricaded like all hell, melting furniture to the walls and the door with one panicky breath after another.

He tuned out the words and demands of the police, intent on the sound of shredding, of kinetics trying to break it all down.

“Could really use that evac, Doc...” he mumbled to himself at a loss.

There was nothing here.

Nowhere to go except for outside—but he couldn’t risk jumping out with Liam. Not without the ability to know if something went wrong.

I don’t care how bad this looks, okay? Raiden’s words came back to him.

“Okay,” Harlow said out loud.

We’re going to get out of this.

“Last time, I came out pretty mangled. We met your aunt, remember? That was weird. Whenever she threatened anyone, the floor started melting. That freaked me out, a little. She called my dad an asshole. You asked me if he always had a stick that far up his ass.” Harlow paused, some crack of a laughing cry escaping him. “There’s still so much you don’t know, Rai.”

The floor started melting.

Could he...?

The lighter clicked in his hand while the other opened the bathroom door. He settled the fire on the floor there and built it up, then took just a little and began to carve through the window along the outer wall slowly, steadily, until he could settle each pane in a pile beside him.

His makeshift thermite had done the job behind him by the time he was done and he shoved two of the pillows on the bed inside of the duffel bag to then drop inside the hole.

Next was Liam, who he dragged over to the hole and slowly lowered as far as he could before letting go. Luckily his head hit straight on the pillows. Harlow then shut the door and brought himself down carefully, cursing softly and landing first on the sink counter before climbing down to the floor.

Harlow pulled Liam off the duffel bag, took out the pillows, and slung it around himself once more so he could then haul Liam up again.

Then he started moving. First through the empty hotel room that looked abandoned in a scramble and then through the empty hallway to the fire escape. Each step down felt like an assault flooding through him until he heard muffled talking behind the door on one landing.

“Stay vigilant, we’ve got an armed pyrokinetic on our hands. Appears class-D, but apparently they were able to melt through one of the floors. Could be anywhere, continue to sweep the building.”

Some shred of radio chatter.

“Get Michaels and Packard out of here and to the paramedics, we don’t know what our guy did yet and we shouldn’t assume.”

How many people were at the bottom?

Fuck—how was Wayne supposed to find him?

Harlow set down Liam, cracked his lighter, fueled, and sprung open the door. His fist, half-open, struck the officer off-guard and instantly, allowing Harlow to catch him and set him against the wall. Harlow lifted the radio off and took a few deep breaths.

His head hurt and he gave himself time to lean against the wall and breathe, slowly in and out.

He lolled his head at the unconscious officer and sighed out a quiet “sorry.”

When he picked up and moved into some random room some number of floors down, he began to feel the soreness spread in each muscle as though each got its own center of pain. Harlow laid Liam out on the bed in the room and took to the nearest chair to groan.

If they could’ve been good, if that portrayal of their team had been an option, he would not be trapped here with Liam.

Harlow huffed out a laugh.

This was entirely avoidable. But it happened, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

He cleared his throat and looked at Liam. His chest was still rising and falling, which was all things considered a good sign. He changed Liam’s soaked bandage again and knocked on the incoming migraine.

Was moving again an option?

Stabs of numb pain floated through his fingers and he clenched his hand, awkwardly.

Hopefully the few doors he’d opened along the way were enough to stall for time. Enough time. They’d surround him next time they came. Every room, sides, below, above, maybe outside too. At least Raiden would have known the police codes—more than Harlow remembered anyway.

Click. “Uh, we’ve got another person in here. Just had a table thrown from halfway down the hall.”

Harlow grabbed the radio and leaned forward despite protests from his back.

“What was that?”

“Possibility of a hostile TK. Status on our PY?”

“Nothing.”

Harlow’s hand itched. That wasn’t enough.

“SWAT TE line just went down,” an angrier voice said suddenly. “What floors haven’t been checked yet?”

Harlow trained his handgun at the door of the room, narrowing his eyes to a point and focusing his snapped lighter to the bullet in the chamber. Maybe a minute passed before an officer cracked the door open and paused.

“Raise that gun, your hands, or any kind of kinetic, and this bullet’s in your shoulder like the last guy,” Harlow offered, low and spent. “Drop the gun. Kick it over.”

They obliged. He willed himself to stay in focus, getting up from the chair and putting a foot on top of the gun, trained on target.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Harlow inched closer, motioning for the officer to kneel while firing up a wall of fire to block sight of anything useful, who did. “I’m a merc, you get that? Boss took a bad job. I’m stuck with the consequences. But I will do what I have to do. Badge and ID.”

The radio crackled. Harlow heard a few footsteps from above pound out toward the stairwell.

Harlow took the officer’s hand and knocked them out, in the same motion taking the credentials and guiding them slowly to the ground. A-class aerokinetic. Not exactly the most useful against pyrokinetics anyway.

He breathed a sigh of relief and held a gun to the officer’s head, dragging them back further into the room and blinking a few times by the time the rest of their brigade arrived. Harlow was drained, and they could all probably see it.

“Let’s think about this,” one said after a few moments.

He bowed his head, slightly, in affirmation. His lighter flame winked, and he held it gentle, broken, divided, each finger on the gun moving and static in slights.

“This can be easy.”

“No,” Harlow said quietly. “No it can’t.”

You have never made it easy.

None of you.

Only one.

“Apologies for the intrusion, friends,” Wayne’s voice popped in behind him, with shifting and movement and some version of a swear word. “But I’ll wrap this up quick for you.”

Let the officer go when you answer, Wayne told Harlow only.

“Have a great rest of your lives, men. Hard to find decent mercenary-types these days. I’ll be taking these two back to deal with Rowan. Won’t I?” Wayne cupped Harlow’s face, delicately, in act. He could feel the weight of Liam and the duffel bag looming behind him.

Harlow glared forward, and he shoved the officer’s limp body forward with a soft right.

The first reaction he had was to throw his head to the side and rip off the mask in preparation for the throw-up that came immediately after. His handgun and lighter clattered to the floor along with it.

“If that had been Amaterasu’s decision,” Wayne snapped, “she would’ve had you all bite the bullet and book it together.”

Shane huffed audibly. Harlow threw up again, a hand going to his back.

“Just because Liam’s unconscious doesn’t mean you can shit on his decision making,” Galena said. “She left him in charge, and we needed a teleporter as an emergency evacuation protocol, as per any mission involving Storm. No one else was available.”

“He should’ve gotten Ainsley.” Harlow struggled the hand away from him.

“Ainsley would’ve pissed Josey off.”

“I’m right here,” Rowan called. “Frankly all of you have pissed me off. I’d like some semblance of an explanation as to why I was kidnapped and dragged to some hole after a battle at my back door.”

Shane sighed. “ ‘Cause you’re a fucked up man, Josey, we’ve been over this.”

“That doesn’t explain fuck-all!” Rowan cried out. “Get me out of here.”

“A little someone wanted to make an example out of you, Joselyn,” Wayne said, suddenly very calm amidst some slight clinking. “If Amaterasu doesn’t hit any bells for you, does Nacht?”

Quiet. Harlow finally allowed himself to look up, taking a water as he stood. Rowan seemed to be doing everything in his power not to portray himself like a spoiled child. Galena had one hand on her hip, resting above a firearm, Shane was resting against a stack of matte black gun crates, and Liam was laid out on a table with Wayne hovering over him, focusing on Liam’s leg.

Rowan sputtered. “What makes you think I would know the names of everyone who thinks I’ve wronged them?”

“How about Mariah Wolford?”

J.E. Rowan’s mouth froze, half-open into another rant, before clamping shut.

“This group of kidnappers just saved you from the deadly wrath of one of her children, Joselyn. You’d do better to thank them than beg to go offer yourself to what you created.” Wayne laughed, briskly. “We’re lucky he didn’t show up himself. It would’ve been in character.”

That was right, wasn’t it?

Nacht could have left this to someone else. Typically that’s how things played out in an organization of the size he had—but from what little Harlow knew and had experienced, he liked to do things himself. Or, at least, someone he kept close to his chest.

He personally spent two hours making sure I was alone. His son went after me on a seemingly planned whim. Nacht had people make a show of it, both times. Rowan’s apparently directly related to him somehow, yet he wasn’t here?

“You’re thinking too far into it, Urban,” Wayne said. “He probably didn’t think anyone would be able to rat this plan to Cinder for temporary immunity. Probably thought Joselyn someone not even worth his time until he could send a message out of it.”

“Just what kind of message,” Rowan began with a terrified skepticism, “was ‘he’ trying to send?”

next chapter | masterlist

/ / / / / | --- missing a content warning? let me know

you all have no idea the harlow lore i've been cooking

taglist (ask to go on or off): @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up, @kadjakat

[userarmand]

There's the moment when you say "Akasha", and you look at [Armand] and he doesn't know what [that means]. All of those things, as an actor there's curiosity to play with here, but then also as a spectator knowing where we're going, I was thinking ahead to it coming out and going, "This is such a nice little sprinkling for the audience. This is gonna--This is, like, tingles." You delivered it very well, Sam.

Assad Zaman — SDCC ‘24 ✕ IWTV Panel

[redbelles]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 2.03 The Burning Mill

[suppernerd]

Billy may have the wisdom of Solomon but he’s also like 10 years old so he’s not very smart sometimes, feat magic poison and flash knocking Batman over like a bowling pin

Lil shitpost doodle JL comic based of that one meme

[wolfchans]

BANG CHAN ♡ SBS GAYO DAEJEON SUMMER

[neytui]

Child of the sun, doomed to burn so intense that he will consume himself to ashes

[pyritefes2]

Here’s an animation meme that was popular on the clock app a couple months ago featuring Anders.

[gr00vyvampiregrrrl]

Vogue Nights, Friday the 13th edition from back in October 2023

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_43 : "One of the Good Ones"

CW: none that i can think of previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

/ / / / / | ---

“You’re the best pyro I know, Alph,” Reggie mocked silently. “I’ve never seen anyone in my 34 years of life that wields fire better than you. Good control, Alph⸺”

Alph put a hand over Reggie’s mouth. The gym teacher made them want to vomit excessively all over the floor. With cat hair, stomach acid, and that mildly radioactive meal served on that blue hot-lunch tray. Reggie licked their palm and they pulled off.

“Just saying. He’s weird, dude. Like retired intel recruiter weird. Are you being scouted?”

“No?” As far as Alph knew, the government wouldn’t want a pyrokinetic in its special programs anyway. “I think he’s just a piece of shit.”

“Kineticist piece of shit,” Beth nodded, suddenly leaning on Alph’s shoulder. “This guy needs a new hobby. I think he just stalks all of the kids with kinetics. Doesn’t help he runs the yearly exam. So the government can have information on its citizens.”

Alph snorted impolitely, then laughed at the sound of it.

“The fuck was that?” Reggie snickered, lightly punching Alph.

The gym teacher whistled, yelled blue, and Reggie shrugged and walked back into dodgeball hell. Alph replaced him in line, then turned back to Beth. “What’d you purposefully get out to tell me?”

“I did not purposefully get out,” Beth said loudly, then leaned in, “but Flash Fire’s getting an update. AJ was looking at his smartwatch for notifications on the ‘medic scooter’ waiting for someone to go down. Multiplayer and ranked battles. Something about secret maps for them?”

“Multiplayer?” Alph said louder than intended, glancing over at the gym teacher who stoically stood around doing nothing. “Like, online, anytime, no arcade multiplayer?”

Beth nodded. “They finally figured out how to code their AI models to fight more than one target at once reliably. Also some lag fixes and blah blah blah.”

“Urban.”

“Quit it with the fictitious boyfriend,” Beth understood which Urban Alph meant quick enough to be sarcastic. “We get it, you have to make excuses each time as for why he can’t come down to the arcade⸺”

“For your information he’s real and he’s cooler than you are. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Beth pretended to become offended, scoffing and rolling her eyes as Alph was whistled back into play. She whispered with her teeth as Alph walked away, “But you wish he was.”

She received a polite middle finger back.

The conversation didn’t resume until Alph was walking home, head buried in their phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve released map teasers and have beta testers testing out the AI right now. Apparently accounts in the top 5% of players can access the beta for early feedback. No online play though, only lobby codes and LAN play.” 

Alph chuckled at the statistic, pausing halfway through a text. Camdyn waved it off. “Yeah, so what exactly? Alph?”

“If we want to play at my apartment, I’m sure my dad wouldn’t care. As long as no one else has any obligations.” Alph hit sent and looked up. “What? Come on. It’d be cool.”

Reggie voiced a leading note before actually speaking at a crosswalk, “Nah. I agreed to take over a shift. I think I’m already gonna be late, so I’m gonna split.”

“Seeya,” Camdyn said. Then he turned to Alph, Reggie already halfway down the intersection. “You’re not actually top 5% are you? I distinctly remember beating you at an arcade before, and it was remarkably easy. And I’m not even top 20%.”

“Uh, 4 point.... whatever. I don’t remember.” The remark reminded Alph all too painfully of walking into Decked Games at twelve years just to find out their high score had been beaten—eight times. UR. Over the next few weeks, with a month lapse stuck in the middle, each and every arcade in the city that had Flash Fire as an available game was overrun by a new winner that Alph could never catch in the act.

It was Urban, obviously. It was rare when Alph beat him on console. UR was for Urban Reichler. The kind of thing most everyone knew now from a simple search query, but four years ago was a fact known by the handful of people who either read the comics or did 100% runs. “Skill curve gets insane beyond that point.”

“We’ll see the real number when we get to your apartment anyway,” Beth jostled.

Alph threw up a hand the second the blast inched their vision, skidding across the street suddenly filled with glass and swiveling around to Beth and Camdyn. Ringing filled their ears more than their own voice, “Are you two okay?”

Beth gave a silent thumbs-up and Camdyn groaned out a thanks.

When they turned back to look at the newly-exploded building, they expected fire, just not the screaming child. “Call the cops,” Alph managed to get out before pushing off the ground back across the street to the burning building. The decision was met with barely any hesitation, Alph’s hands grabbing hold of the fire and whisking it away from themselves as they went toward the kid.

Alph could hear Camdyn protesting outside over the roaring fire.

“Hey, kid! It’s gonna all be okay, I promise you!” Alph yelled into the newly awakened pyrokinetic flame. “We’re gonna walk through this together, alright?”

next chapter | masterlist

/ / / / / | --- missing a content warning? let me know

it's actually so jarring to see how short this is compared to the two latest chapters i've written

taglist (ask to go on or off): @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up

[piromina]

Oh, how far we've come...

[mobius-m-mobius]

#just a wizard gentleman and his butler 🪄🎩

[chleem]

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping, (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy/translate my work!

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter 1 | index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅��� ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

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

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

elevator | other | index | ch1

[emziess]

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly play’d in tune. As fair are thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.

@winterofbuddie Week 7: Floral Fiction - A Red, Red Rose - Robert Burns + Buddie

[gaveyouigaveyoui]

Every Taylor Swift Music Video -> Picture To Burn

[thequantumranger]

Sonic Boom (2014-2017)

[pinofdnp]

it's golden like daylight