fortheglare  asked:

hey stell i have failed to disembark from the angst train & i have another jason's death headcanon to share with you if you're feelin it, but this one involves like blood and stuff? so idk if you're comfortable w that?

I’m good! And now everyone knows that there shall be blooooood in the upcoming headcanon, so shoot! ^.^

189: dead

Blooooood. The ghastly spectre writhed in the darkness, its mouth a void, the edges of its smoke-like form roiling and churning. Its voice was deep but echoless, bypassing mundane concepts like mouths and ears to arrive directly in Iriel’s head. Shared blood and spilled. Clan blood cries out for blood.

“Yes.” Ire rubbed his brow; this was melodramatic and needlessly invasive. “You said. But I can’t spare any, so if you’ve quite finished moaning at me, I need to get past.” He moved towards the rock opening behind the ghost, but it whipped into his path, sending a shock of cold through his chest where it touched him.

Keep reading

For @dakt37 in the medical AU. Warning for lotsa blooooood. 

They come screaming in at 11pm on Halloween, when the ER is already so busy that Rex is close to tearing out what little hair he has and cursing every frat boy who decided to run with scissors while wearing a cape. He’s been so busy dealing with drunks who need their stomachs pumped and the inevitable outcomes of fistfights that he’s missed the call-in; what he doesn’t miss is the pinched combination of worry and excitement on Tup’s face as he looks up to the sound and sight of the approaching siren, and Cody turning up, too, taking one look at the callsheet and immediately going to a phone to call Skywalker and say that he needs to scrub up.

It comes, finally, as Rex is pulling fresh gloves onto his hands - Jesse bangs the door open with his backside, and then they’re rushing in, Echo helping to keep the gurney steady while Fives, still flushed and manic-looking from what was no doubt as dangerous and fast a ride as he could drive, pumping the oxygen bag. It’s Kix, though, who draws the attention of everyone in the room (who makes the drunks’ putrid mouths fall open and the assorted witches and wizards wince and turn away with a curse) because he’s up to his elbows in blood, sitting on top of the patient with one hand buried in the man’s stomach and the other clutching at the side of the stretcher to make sure he doesn’t go flying.

“Hi,” he says, grinning, as the squad continues to charge down the hallway to the nearest OR and Rex jogs to keep up alongside. “9mm entry wound, lacerated celiac artery. I got it plugged.”

“Tell Skywalker to hurry up,” Rex yells over his shoulder, to where he knows Cody is following.

“What’s the rush?” says the surgeon in question, and despite the fact that Rex, as usual, wants to hit him it’s a relief to see Anakin fully scrubbed and with that evil little light in his eyes that says he’s going to do his best, because this one is interesting - primarily, Rex is pretty sure, because for Skywalker it’s amusing to see his best paramedic doing a fucking fantastic job.

“Out,” Rex orders, and Jesse, Echo and Fives immediately back off, tumbling back into the scrubbing area in their dark blue coveralls while Cody’s nurses take over in their gowns and Kix gets further up on his knees, getting ready to do the most difficult part of all. Arms are reaching around him, widening the entry wound, packing it off with sponges and pointing every light they can at the incision.

“What does it feel like?” Anakin is saying, as Ahsoka, wide-eyed and greedy, hovers next to him with a clamp in her hand.

“Clean laceration. Half the width of my finger, about an inch from the trunk. Can’t tell which branch.”

“Good enough for me. Clamp,” Anakin says, and readies the instrument in his hand. “Mr. Kix - your services are no longer required.”

“Yes sir,” Kix says, and in an instant he pulls out his hand and shoves himself backwards off the table; Anakin is in just as quickly, barking for more clamps and suction, but Rex doesn’t care. He just cares about getting Kix by the arm, about getting him out of the room - shoving him into one of the sinks, getting the water hot enough that it could scald and making sure Kix stays there until it’s all gone, slick latex and sodden gauze falling away from his fingers.

“You okay?”

The look Kix gives him over his shoulder is more knowing than bewildered. “Should I not be?”

“Screw you,” Rex says, snickering despite himself. “Make sure you come to me next week for your bloodwork. I’m not letting you get hep from doing your job.”

“Pretty sure that’s not up to you,” Kix says, and he’s said it before, and every time he does - getting in Rex’s face, proving himself right, being so fucking fierce with what he’s good at - it’s all the proof Rex needs that he is, in fact, going to be very much alright. And that - especially on nights like tonight - means a whole lot.

maccready headcanons from the garbage bin

- he flinches pretty easily, and is hyper-aware of everything (and since the ss likes to kiss him unexpectedly, he’s trying to get that part of him under control, for them)


- after meeting the ss he became really self-conscious about his teeth and had a phase where he tried to talk with his mouth as small as possible. ofc the ss noticed and got kinda pissed at him for it, so they tickled him until he started smiling and said “there, thats what i like to see” & kissed him on the cheek

- sometimes he wakes up from a dream and has a panic attack, but he doesn’t like to tell even the ss what they’re about

- however, its the ss who helps him during his panic attacks, and they make sure to stay with him for however long he needs to cope

- in return for the toy soldier, the ss gave maccready their wedding ring

- when hes walking around with the ss in the commonwealth, he has a habit of tugging them into alleyways and just, holding them

- one time he tugged them into an alleyway and kissed their neck, getting the ss really into it before whispering “i vant to suck your blooooood”

- he loves the manta man comic series SO MUCH

- pretends that the things the ss does are just ‘cool’ but secretly adores and looks up to them so much

- occasionally calls people “mungo”s under his breath and the ss is just like “mangos??? what??”

- makes more and more puns after noticing how much they make the ss crack up, to the point where he carries around a joke book he bought from a merchant just in case a good opportunity arises to make the ss laugh

- takes the ss out on walks at nighttime, hoping to just silently watch the sunset with the most beautiful person he knows

  • Fandoms: Gay. So, so gay.
My Actual Reactions To The New Video :S̺͍͉͔͉̞̪Ḁ̸̰̮͝Y̶̪ ̳͇̭͍̥̭͉ͅG̕҉̡̦̲O̤̫͖͎̗͜͞ͅÒ̴̬̠̺̪̥͉̳͉̥͝D̨̺̦̯͙͙͔̯͚͠B̸̬̻̝͉͍̻̀͝Y҉̫̝̖̹̝̠͠E̲̩͟͝ͅ

-Here we go bitches!! I’m scared!!!!  

-Aw Jack your so excited and happy oh no 

-He’s pretty. 

-Aw it’s so cute I’m still scared 

- Not the knife 


-omg put the knife down 

-Don’t slap the pumpkin 

-Glitch glitch glitch 





-Shadows fuck man I saw that

 -Twitchy eye

 -Gerald’s face is how I feel right now 


 -not the knife again Jack omg 


 -poor Gerald 



 -Gerald is honestly so cute 










-I’m going to watch that again now.

Fists & Knives - Chapter 14

Crowds.  I actually hate crowds.  I can handle being surrounded by boiling liquids and fires and sharp knives… but not humans.  At least not like this, anyways.  When Louis suggested we leave early to get to the fight, I didn’t understand why, but once we arrived at the arena and saw the loads of people already waiting for Harry’s fight outside, it was understandable.  We had saved seats, courtesy of Arnold, but our early arrival allowed us to get in without having to push through a mob.  Having only been to one other fight in my life, the one with Harry, I was expecting a relatively small arena like The Cave.  This arena was NOT small. 

I slunk down in my chair in the front row as more and more guys and girls flooded in from the top of the arena down the stairs and into the stands.  It appeared to be more of a first-come-first-serve system as the silver seats filled in closer to the front and gradually filled up to the top.  I wondered if all boxing arenas were shaped like a bowl.  I guess it made sense, so everyone could see the fight, but I almost hated sitting right in the front.  I felt like my view was being cut off by the way the floor of the ring was directly at my nose, but the audience members walking down the stairs eyed Louis, Maria, and myself with quite a bit of jealousy, so I assumed we had the best seats. 

As it came close to 9 o’clock, Arnold finally arrived and plopped down in the seat beside me.  He breathed heavily like he had rushed to get there and typed down an email to someone rapidly on his Blackberry.  I chuckled.  Who even has a Blackberry anymore?  Louis was facing the crowd and waving and talking to people who kept calling his name, people who knew him, I suppose.  Wouldn’t it be fun to have a famous best friend like that?  When I glanced at Maria on the other side of Louis, she looked completely out of place and almost disgusted with the dirty floors and grungy people around her.  She was wearing a pink, floral summer dress and stood out more than blood on snow.  At least I could dress like I MIGHT have belonged there.  I chose to keep my red bandana around my head with my brown waves up, threw on some black jeans and a tee with a very contemporary tiger design on it.  Louis insisted that I wear all-black Vans to match him. 

Niall came flying down the steps to us, skipping three stairs at a time.  His leather jacket, jeans, and white tee combination was plain, but he looked good.  He leaned down and pecked me on the cheek before asking us to scoot down.

“We saved a seat for you on the other side of Maria,” Louis told him, motioning toward the seat with his thumb and smirking.

Niall’s eyes widened. “Oh, hell no.  Scoot.”

Maria grumbled as Louis forced her over a seat and Niall squeezed his way between myself and Arnold.

Before the announcer came up into the ring with one of the scantily clad ring girls, I connected eyes with Zayn across the stands.  He was sitting by himself, but looked perfectly content doing so.  He waved at me and grinned.  I returned the gesture. 

“Are you ready to see some blooooood????” The announcer’s voice asked from the ceiling.  The stands erupted with enthusiastic cheers and everyone leapt up, including Niall and Louis.  Maria and I both groaned and stood slowly.  I chuckled in my head.  Maybe in another life, she and I would be friends… or not.

“Making his way up the ranks since he was 19 years old, give it up for Sammie Suasso!!!”

A short guy bounced up into the ring, tossing off his black silk robe and tossing into the corner of the ring.  He brought his blue gloves together in front of his body and flexed his small biceps for the crowd.  People cheered.  His blonde hair was secured back out of his face by small braids all around his head.  Louis and Harry’s words from the other day popped into my head:

You know he hates fighting you.

Because he always loses.

Now looking at small-framed Sammie, he had a good reason to be scared.

The cheering died down after a minute and the announcer continued.  “He’s been M.I.A. for a few weeks so let’s hope he hasn’t lost those unnaturally powerful punches… give it up foooor…”

I was stunned when the crowd went silent.  Completely silent.  You couldn’t even get a church congregation to be as quiet at the crowd in the arena was.  I could hear Louis and Niall’s heartbeats on either side of me.  I nearly leapt out of my skin when someone behind me stomped once.  Then more people stomped together.  Then more.  And more.  The stomping became louder and faster, picking up speed and volume until there was no distinct pattern anymore.


The noise level from before multiplied by one thousand times.  I covered my ears and laughed loudly as Harry walked casually up into the ring and smirked at the crowd.  He slowly shrugged off his black silk robe and tossed it into the crowd where a group of girls were losing their minds.  He took a very casual-looking drink of water from his bottle but allowed a few drops to run down his already-glistening torso.  I could see him flexing his bicep a little as he held the bottle over his lips.  What a crowd-pleaser.  He reminded me of a show horse. 

As the roaring continued, I glanced at Niall and laughed with him.

“This is crazy!” I screamed to him.

“I KNOW!” He shouted back excitedly.

I thought the screaming might die down, but it didn’t as Harry and Sammie approached each other in the ring.  Harry beat his black gloves together and lowered his gaze as he stared at Sammie and waited for him to rush or swing.  Louis was already twitching beside me and I worried that he might try and jump up into the ring with Harry. “Get ‘em.  Get ‘em Harry.”

Sammie ran toward Harry and used all of his body weight to swing, but Harry stepped out of the way and strutted across the ring as Sammie fell on his face.  People in the crowd laughed and booed. 

“Aww, Sammie, whatcha do that for??” Niall shouted, clearly disapproving of Sammie’s poor form.  Sammie punched the ground and pushed himself back up onto his feet before stepping cautiously toward Harry again.  He swung, and Harry dodged the hit.  He swung again, and Harry leapt backwards.  When Sammie swung the third time, he carelessly used all of his weight again and ended up falling to the floor.  I could tell that he hadn’t been in the boxing world for very long.

“HARRY!” Arnold bellowed from beside Niall.  Harry glanced over to us.  I was surprised he could hear over all of the other screaming happening.  “THIS ISN’T A BALLET, STOP DANCING WITH HIM.  YOU DON’T MAKE MONEY WHEN YOU LET YOUR OPPONENT BEAT HIMSELF UP!”

Sammie ran at Harry and tried to tackle him, but Harry stayed on his feet and punched Sammie in the stomach once, sending him collapsing to the right.  Harry walked across the ring to us.  He was so casual and so slow that I was beginning to wonder if we were still watching a fight.  Niall and Louis were laughing at his apathetic nature.  Harry leaned over the rope and spoke to Arnold.  “If I let loose, it’s going to be a two-second fight.”  I could barely hear him over the shrieking girls a few rows above us.

“THEN MAKE IT A DAMN TWO-SECOND FIGHT.  AT LEAST EARN THE MONEY INSTEAD OF HAVING IT HANDED TO YOU,” Arnold fussed.  I giggled as Harry scowled and turned back around as Sammie crawled back up onto his feet.  He was sweating profusely.  Maybe if you didn’t swing with your whole body, I started to think, but stopped.  Who was I to give boxing advice to a boxer?

For the first time that night, Harry’s face hardened and he raised his gloves.  He bounced on his toes, gradually inching his way toward Sammie until he had Sammie in a corner.  Sammie threw a weak punch, hitting Harry in his gloves, and Harry punched back with a swift hit to the face.  Sammie immediately dropped to his knees and fell forward onto the floor of the ring.

“That a boy, Harry,” Arnold clapped.

“ONE!  TWO! THREE!” The crowd started counting.  Sammie rolled around.  A pool of blood was forming under his face and I couldn’t tell if it was coming from his mouth or his nose.


He got to his feet.  Honestly, I would have stayed down.  The crimson stain on his face made me cringe. “Yee-he-heah, get back up, noobie,” Louis urged Sammie from beside me.

“Get him Harry!” Niall shouted, clapping.

Sammie spit blood onto the floor to try and look tough.  A certain confidence flashed across his eyes but disappeared as Harry’s fist came at him again.  This time, Harry swung upward, knocking Sammie’s head back and causing him to collapse into the ropes along the ring.  He dangled with his arms over the ropes and allowed his head to hang on his chest. 


The counting started up again.  I silently prayed that Sammie wouldn’t get back up.  This wasn’t much of a fight at all.

“FIVE! Six…” 

The crowd’s counting became less and less enthusiastic as they approached seven and Sammie was still not on his feet.  It suddenly dawned on me that they counted for fun.  They didn’t count because they actually wanted Sammie to stay down.  I could see it in Harry’s face that this was not what he had planned for his first fight back.  He gritted his teeth and scanned the crowd as they gave him looks of disapproval and whispered to the spectators beside them.

“Why would they put Styles against Suasso?  That guy never stood a chance,” The guy behind me mumbled. 

Louis whipped around. “Shut the fuck up, yeah?  Suasso should be better than that after all these years.  Shit performance on his end.”

Finally, the noise returned as Sammie stood back up.  He wiggled his shoulders and blinked a few times until his vision was straight again before he slowly put his gloves up in front of his face.  The crowd cheered, and where most of them had initially been cheering for Harry, most of them were now chanting Sammie’s name.  A bead of sweat dribbled down Harry’s taught jaw from his hair.  He beat his gloves together and narrowed his eyes at his opponent.  He was pissed.

“Come on, Harry,” Arnold said, looking at his phone.  It was like he didn’t even care about watching anymore.  Sammie sprung at Harry once more with his fist extended in front of him – more of a leap of faith than any actual attempt to hit Harry – but was immediately knocked down again by a harsh blow to the face from Harry.  Sammie didn’t even twitch as he hit the ground of the ring.  He was knocked out cold.  Instantly, the crowd began to boo. 

I was so stunned that I couldn’t move.  I was too busy watching a distressed and simultaneously fuming Harry to realize that my posse had gone.  Niall, Louis, and Maria all disappeared with Arnold, I suppose to get away from the shame of supporting Harry Styles at the moment.  How am I supposed to get home?  Where do I even go from here?  I don’t even know what part of the city we’re in.  My heart began to race.  I tried not to look too panicked as the crowd’s booing became louder and people started pushing down the stands.

“I paid money for this shitty fight!”

“That was unfair!" 

"Pick on someone your own size!" 

People spat at Harry.  They threw things.  Harry watched them with his teeth grinding and his eyebrows furrowed.  Finally, Harry’s eyes met mine.  He dared to lean over the ropes of the ring toward the crowd, but kept his eyes locked on mine.  “Run up the stairs and to the left.  Keep going until you hit black double doors.  They’ll be locked.  Just wait there.”

Without a second thought, Harry and I ran opposite directions, me up the stairs of the arena and Harry down into where I assume the locker rooms and warm-up areas were.  I shoved past people, colliding with a few as they tried to push down to the ring (why, I don’t know).  My head was on a swivel as I looked for Niall, Louis, Zayn, Arnold, or even Maria at this point, but I couldn’t spot any of them.  I debated texting Garf and asking him or Liam to pick me up, but instead, I just kept pushing through people until I got to the hallways surrounding the arena.  I sprinted left like Harry commanded until I spotted the black doors.  Forgetting that Harry mentioned they would be locked, I yanked on them anyway and leaned against them in defeat when they didn’t open.  I sighed heavily but was forced to leap forward as they suddenly burst open.  Harry didn’t even have a shirt on yet, but his bag and gloves were slung over his shoulder.

“Come on,” He said, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers.  He pulled me to the nearest door and started to open it, but stopped.  He glanced at me for a moment, giving us a chance to catch our breaths, and pushed a stray strand of hair into my bandana.  “Are you okay?” He asked relatively calmly, given the situation.  No one was in the hallway near us just yet, but people were beginning to exit out the doors of the arena.

I nodded.  “Are you?”

Harry shook his head and growled. “Just keep your head down, okay?  Don’t stop.  Don’t let go of me.”

I frowned.  “Wha-?”

Before I could ask why, Harry pulled me out into the night.  As we ran down the steps that lead up to the building, all kinds of paparazzi and fans swarmed us with flashes of light and papers for autographs.  I could tell that once the paparazzi recognized that I was certainly NOT Maria, they snapped more and more pictures.  I felt my face flush.  The back of my neck was hot.  Harry’s hand was sweaty already, and the sweat starting to form from my hand was making it hard for us to stay together.  Harry gripped my hand more tightly and dragged me to the road where a black car was parked.  Liam bailed out of the front seat when he saw us and opened the back door.  Harry slung my body forward and I dove into the car.  Harry threw his heavy bag into the floor of the car and dove into the seat beside me, landing halfway on me and halfway off of the seat.  Liam slammed the door behind us and hurried to get in front of the wheel.

Harry didn’t move his head from my lap as we started to drive away.  Both of us were breathing hard, him from the physical stress of pushing through that mass of people in front of me and me from having a mental break down all within the last five minutes.  I laid my head back against the seat and subconsciously reached for Harry’s head on my lap.  I tugged lightly on some of his sweaty curls and massaged his scalp.

“Why didn’t they like me?  They usually love me,” he finally mumbled into my thigh.  I began to push my fingers into the back of his neck, sending goose bumps down his arms, but I could tell he liked it.

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” I explained quietly, unsure of whether or not we were including Liam in this discussion.  The small privacy window between ours and Liam’s seats was up, but I was sure he could probably still hear us anyways.

“I was supposed to win though.  I wouldn’t have picked someone I was going to lose to for my first fight back,” Harry said, tensing his body. 

I massaged a little deeper.  “I mean, I understand that.  But you literally knocked him out in three hits.  That’s horrible.”

Harry whipped up and glared at me through the dark car.  I could see his eyes were a dangerous shade of green as the passing city lights flickered against his body.  “You weren’t impressed?” He asked through gritted teeth.

I tried to restrain my own anger as I looked at him.  “That’s not what I said.”

“You implied it.”

“I was trying to explain why the fight was unfair, Harry.”

“Then explain.”

“I.  Just.  Did.”



Harry huffed. “Please.”

I sighed.  “You knocked him out in three hits.  That’s impressive, but you couldn’t have let him get a little hit on you or something?  You knew he was easy to beat.  You could have at least made it look fair by letting him get you a few times and maybe not taking him out after a single round.”

“Arnold told me to.”

“Yeah, well Arnold was watching his Blackberry more than he was watching you.  He didn’t know what he was talking about.”

Harry eyed me closely.  “The crowd started cheering for Sammie after I hit him only like, two times.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled darkly.  “And you got hella pissed, didn’t you? Punched the consciousness right out of that little dude.”

“I just get a little angry sometimes,” Harry admitted shamefully after a moment, laying his head back on my lap and extending as much of his body out along the seat as he could.  He grabbed my hand and placed it on his hair again.

I glanced out the window to hide my grin and started to massage Harry’s head again.  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I giggled.

A deep purr came from his throat.  

As I gazed down at him, he looked so content.  Seriously, he was one of the most bipolar people I had ever stumbled across in my entire life. 

“I’m a pretty angry person too, if you haven’t noticed,” I suddenly said, chuckling to myself.  It wasn’t that I was laughing at my confession, but rather that I was actually relating to the one person I never thought I would.

“Well you control it pretty well.  Except that one time you threw a knife at me,” Harry said, the muscles in his abs tightening as he laughed.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” I giggled.

“Were you aiming for me?”

I shook my head. “I’ve got good aim.  I was just trying to scare you,” I admitted.

Harry laughed. “It worked.”

I chuckled as the realization of what Harry just confessed hit him.  He turned red with embarrassment.  After another moment of silence, he spoke again. “How?”

I frowned down at him on my lap. “How what?”

“How do you control your anger?”

I almost hoped he hadn’t asked.  I gulped and glanced out of the car window, listening to the honking from a taxi as it passed us. “I just think of old memories when I know I’m about to lose it.”

“Something happy?” Harry asked, shifting his head on my lap.

I pushed my back forward in the seat until it cracked.  “Well, I suppose.  It has to be something special to you.  A memory or something to distract you.  A lot of people do this, I don’t understand why you’re acting like you’ve never thought to do it yourself.” 

Harry bit his lip.  I could tell he felt like he was irritating me, and suddenly I realized that he probably hadn’t ever thought to think of a special memory to calm him.  Our eyes met for a second and I smiled as politely as I could, giving Harry the silent “okay” to ask me more questions.  He studied his fingernails and asked, “What do you usually think about?” 

“That’s personal,” I snapped, crossing my arms and looking out the window again.  Harry didn’t move his head, but rather turned his face away from me to stare at the back of the leather seat.  That was the one question that I wanted to avoid.  I could sense his body slump against my thigh and instantly I felt bad again.  He was looking for my help and I was being a pain in the ass about it.

I sighed. “I don’t think about something happy… I actually think about the lowest point in my life.”

Harry frowned and cocked his head at me, waiting for an explanation that I knew was inevitable at this point. 

I gulped and reached for his hair again, avoiding his gaze as I spoke.  “I was a foster kid,” I started.  Harry’s face fell.  I laughed and shook my head. “That’s not the bad part.  It doesn’t bother me anymore.  When I was about 10, I had this mom and dad come to ‘interview’ me and see if they wanted to adopt me.  I thought the interview was going so well and kept getting more and more excited with how they reacted to the things I would tell them like what I wanted to be when I grew up.  At the time, I wanted to own my own orphanage, actually.  I loved my brothers and sisters and thought that what my ‘mother,’ Andrea, was doing for us was amazing and I wanted to do it too.  But the mom and dad left without me.  Before they left, I heard them telling Andrea that I had no drive.  No motivation.  Not a good enough dream.  I wasn’t going to go far in life.  For me, that seems like more of a reason to adopt someone, right?  Take them home.  Give them love.  Show them other options.  Change their life.  But they left without me.  I never had another family come to see me after that.  Even if they had, no one would have taken me in.   I was too angry at that point.  I hated everything.”

Harry had his eyes closed and his brow furrowed as he listened.  When I finished, his eyebrow twitched and he looked up at me.  “THAT helps you control your anger?” He asked, still struggling to wrap his head around the story.

I smiled to myself and shrugged.  “That man and woman who said I had no future?  I proved them wrong.  Whenever someone like Robert Fley tells me I’m not good enough, I just remember how far I’ve come and what I’ve accomplished already.   When Maria calls me a servant, I just try and think about where I could have been at this point had I not mustered up some sort of drive with myself.  When someone criticizes a dish or insists that I make them something like peanut butter and jelly instead of some damn good shrimp-and-grits,” I tugged on Harry’s hair a little harder.  He finally cracked a grin.  I continued, “I just think about how fortunate I am to be here.  I remember where I started and how far I’ve come already, even if it’s not as far as I would like to be.”

“That’s what you always think about when you’re angry?” Harry confirmed.

I nodded. “For the most part.”

“That’s what you were thinking about when you walked in on Clark and that girl?”

A sick feeling rushed through my body as I thought of that day.  I didn’t exactly try to control my anger, but I wasn’t exactly as ferocious as I could have been with Clark. “Well, no.  I guess I was thinking about…” I laughed.  “Nevermind.”

“Aww, don’t do that!” Harry laughed too, reaching up and poking my cheek with his finger.  “Tell me,” he urged, biting his bottom lip and grinning.  He poked me a few more times in the chin and around my cheeks.  “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he started to chant. 

I giggled and shoved his hand away from me only to have him grab my free hand and hold it against his bare chest, a motion that made my heart flutter.  “Okay! Okay, shut up.  I mean, I don’t totally remember what I was thinking about…”

“That’s a lieee,” Harry stated, sticking his bottom lip out in a pouty way.  For the first time, he actually looked younger than his age.  He was undeniably adorable, his hair sticking all around from my massaging and his face dotted with little unshaved hairs.  I scratched under my bandana with the hand he wasn’t holding and looked away from him.


“Youuuu…” he squeezed my hand.

I couldn’t help but grin.  “Stop! I was thinking…”




“THINKING ABOUT YOU! I was thinking about you, okay???  I don’t know why, I don’t know… I just think that I thought that we had a little – I mean, you kept touching my leg at lunch and – we kissed.  You kissed me and - I just don’t – I don’t know,” I sputtered.  Harry’s breathing slowed and finally, he sat up and faced forward in his seat.  Kennedy, you stupid, stupid girl, you said too much.  You’ve ruined everything.  I stared forward.  I could fell LIam was listening from the way his ear was turned slightly toward us.  I shook my head and spoke to Harry again, trying to fix what I had just ruined. “It was just because of the day though.  I think my mind was in a billion places and I was just latching onto you because you were giving me attention that Clark wasn’t.”

Harry’s fingers around my hand loosened their grip and he allowed my hand to slip out of his lap.  I chewed my lip as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared forward. “Kennedy, I-“


The door beside me flew open and Niall scooped me out, pulling my entire body tightly into his chest.  I hadn’t even realized that we were back to the house already.  “I’m so sorry,” Niall stammered. “We thought you were behind us and all of a sudden you weren’t, but then we started to get swarmed and we had to leave-“

I shook my head. “It’s okay, it’s really okay.  Harry found me.”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Arnold bellowed, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking to Harry.  I could only see Arnold’s silhouette against the light from the house as he stormed toward the car where Harry was climbing out of his side.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, gritting his teeth.

“You have ruined all of the fucking good publicity I’ve been getting for you this week.  Ruined it.  Shot it to hell.  All because you wouldn’t take a single damn hit from Suasso-“

Harry tensed.  “You told me to take him out.”

Arnold shook his head back and forth quickly.  “I told you to quit dancing with him-“

“You said to ‘MAKE IT A TWO SECOND FIGHT,’ Arnold,” Harry spat.  “Remember that??”


“I’M NOT STUPID-“ Harry bellowed, making me wince.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed my slight movement and inhaled so deeply that I could almost feel the air thin out around me.  Arnold looked too afraid to say anything more, and Louis stood in the doorway of the house, looking like he had already had his neck rung for setting Harry up with Sammie in the first place.  Liam’s body was only halfway out of the car, and I could tell he was struggling to figure out whether he should just leave or not.  Niall kept a protective arm around me, which I hardly noticed as I watched Harry slowly crack his neck and sigh.  “I’m sorry…” He said stiffly.  “Please, set me up another fight with someone who can actually punch me back without me having to let them.”

Arnold ground his teeth together, but turned and nodded to Louis.  Louis pulled out his phone and started to make a few calls as he disappeared into the house.  Arnold shook his head and walked to his car, disappearing down the driveway before anyone could say anything more.

“Where is Maria?” Harry asked Niall.

“She came home with us.  In her room.”

Harry nodded slowly.  “Arnold is going to have a shit-fit when those pictures of me and K show up tomorrow,” Harry said aloud to no one in particular.  Liam frowned.

“Just explain later she’s your chef, mate.  Came along to watch the fight,” Niall said.

Harry’s eyes met mine. “Just my chef,” he repeated, chewing his lip.  “Right.”

He picked up his bag and gloves from the back seat and thanked Liam with a handshake before Liam nodded to me and drove away.  Harry passed Niall and myself as he walked to the front door, but stopped before he went inside.

“Coming, Kennedy?”

I pulled myself away from Niall’s body and smiled at him.  “Thank you, Niall.”

“Fer what?” He asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

I laughed quietly. “You care about me too much.”

Niall grinned and cocked his head at me.  “Well, you deserve to be cared about.”

“Kennedy? Coming?” Harry asked again from the door.  He seemed impatient.  I waved to Niall and started to walk toward the door.

“Hey, Kennedy?” Niall stopped me.  I faced him once more.  He seemed to shove his hands even deeper in his pockets and rock harder on his heels.  “Want to go out to lunch tomorrow?  I mean, if Harry and Maria go out?  Maybe dinner? Or just whenever you aren’t cooking for them?  Whenever you’re free?” He chuckled nervously.

I raised my eyebrows as I heard Harry inhale sharply behind me.  I was torn in so many different directions at the moment that I almost said no.  I needed to take a break and really think about my life.  Think about the people.  Think about Clark.  Niall.  Harry…

But then Harry’s words flashed through my mind.

You can go after someone who deserves you now.

I didn’t know who deserved me.  Why did anyone have to deserve me?  Who the hell was I to decided who deserved me and who didn’t?  Frankly, I just wanted to know who actually wanted me.  Frankly… I wanted Harry to want me.  But he didn’t. 

“Yeah, that would be nice, Ni.”

Niall’s grin spread nearly all the way across his face.  His feet crunched on the gravel as he stepped toward me and planted a kiss on my cheek.  He hadn’t stopped grinning by the time he got to his car and wheeled out of the driveway.

When I finally had the courage to turn around and walk to the front door where Harry was, I saw that he was scowling at the ground.  I waited for him to go inside, but he continued to stare at the pavement of the step and chew on his lip intensely.

“Harry?” I said quietly. 

He jumped and shook himself out of his trance. “What?” He growled, shifting his eyes up to meet mine. 

I waited for a moment.  “Are… are we going to go inside?”

Harry chewed his lip more and glanced into the house before nodding and stepping out of the way so that I could enter first.  He seemed completely lost in thought as he dropped his bag and gloves into the middle of the floor in the foyer and started down the hallway that lead to the hidden staircase to his room.

A little disappointed in his lack of conversation, especially after all I shared with him in the car, I began to descend the stairs to my room.

“K?” He called as I was halfway into my room.

I turned quickly and tripped as I started to leap up the stairs, and then almost fell down them when I realized Harry was standing at the top of the staircase.  His eyes were glowing green like I had never seen before.
He hesitated.  Why was everything so awkward between us when we weren’t screaming in each other’s faces?  I blamed myself.   Harry took a breath.  “Thanks for sharing what you did with me, Kennedy.  You didn’t have to do that.”

I forced the most sincere smile I could. “Anything for a friend.”