tags: eventual romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn. (more tags to be added)
story summary: Amid what's left of a post-apocalyptic America, Monica is a porter just trying to do what's right for the people. That's until she meets the charismatic sociopath, Higgs Monaghan. After several attempts of him trying to recruit her, she finds herself questioning everything. And Higgs might be hiding a secret on their past.
A/N: this is my first fic in like 10+ years, the chapters are short because if they were longer, I'd never get done. but there will be lots of them. rating and tags will most likely change as I write the story. also I will come up with a better summary later.
UPDATED AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first few chapters of this fic need rewritten but I'm probably saving it for when I finish.
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CHAPTER TWO : Nightmares
word count: 1.1K
He continued to circle her slowly, like a predator with time to kill. “Mm. You could be so much more than some fuckin’ porter.”
Higgs tried to reach out and run his hand along her cheek, but she knocked it away instead. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He tsked and shook his head. “You ain’t gonna be easy, are ya?”
A Couple Days Later…
Monica bolted upright, startled by the shelter alarm. The red glow pulsed like a heartbeat, casting frantic shadows across the metal walls as the terminal alerted a breach. Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced over the room as she threw herself out of the bed and sprinted to the console, checking for any signs of movement in or around the shelter.
Nothing.
Monica paused, heart pounding in her ears, loud enough to drown out thought.
And then the sound of the airlock groaned and hissed on the other side of the shelter door. Monica’s eyes grew wide as another sound followed. The soft scrape of boots on metal flooring. Then a shuffle. Then…a knock. Slow. Deliberate.
Monica’s breath hitched before she ran to her locker, yanked it open and grabbed her handgun. Her hands shook as she leveled it at the door, knuckles pale and jaw clinched.
She crept forward, gun pointed as she unlocked the hatch and pushed the heavy door open with a grunt. A cool breeze blew through the black and white strands of Monica’s hair as she sees the airlock door down and in the dirt. The terminal stood active as if it were recently activated. No doubt someone had been there.
Gun still raised, Monica stepped out. The landscape was empty. The sky hung low, bruised and colorless. She scanned the perimeter, her breath shallow and jagged. No new footprints. Just the faded impressions of her own boots.
Then she saw it. A note. Folded neatly, resting on the ground near the bunker door.
Monica knelt, fingers trembling as she picked it up and unfolded it.
LOOKING FOR ME
No signature. No clue. Just the words…taunting and intimate. The ink looked fresh and was written in capital letters.
Monica’s gaze darted across the terrain, searching for any sign. A shadow. A figure. More notes. Anything…
Then her eyes caught something written on the side of her shelter.
Scrawled across the side of her shelter in bold black paint.
HIGGS WAS HERE
Her pulse spiked. “Higgs?’ she whispered, voice barely audible.
Panic bloomed in her chest. She spun in circles, gun raised, eyes wide but there was no one. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. The wind had died. Even the dust seemed to hold its breath.
And then —darkness.
Monica gasped awake. The shelter was quiet. The alarm silent. The doors sealed. No note. No graffiti.
Just her breath. Just her bed. Just the soft purring of Salem curled beside her.
Just the echo of a name.
“Higgs…”
Monica sat up slowly. The nightmare clinging to her skin like static. Her gaze drifted to the door…untouched. Then she remembered. The man. The golden skull mask. She’d seen him a couple of days ago. He hadn’t spoken a word, but his presence was carved into her bones.
He wasn’t just a memory. He was a warning.
Monica opened her eyes to black sand and the sound of gentle waves splashing against a shore. Above her, the sky stretched in a dull smear of grey, neither day nor night.
She sat up slowly, her loose braid falling against her shoulder in a swirl of black and white. She brushed away black sand from her palms as she stood up. The air was still, heavy with salt and static. In the distance stood a single house on the shoreline, its silhouette warped by mist. It looked abandoned. Or waiting.
The sound of slow soft footsteps pressing into the sand startled her but she didn’t move. Then a voice…muffled by a mask and close to her ear whispered huskily.
“So…you do have DOOMS.”
She turned her head slightly, heart thudding.
He appeared slowly, circling around her right to stand in front of her. The same figure from that day. High up on that cliff.
He was here. On her beach.
“Who are you?” she demanded, though she already knew.
“The names Higgs,” he answered with a slow, lazy bow. His golden mask glinted faintly in the grey light as his head tilted, looking her up and down as if he were examining her. His black and gold cloak drifted lightly in the breeze as he shifted closer.
Monica’s breath caught. Her beach wasn’t supposed to have visitors.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, voice low.
He tilted his head and gestured with a gloved hand, casual and amused. “Neither are you, but here we are.”
“What do you want?”
He stepped closer, his tall frame looming as he bent closer to her face. He pointed, “Well, let’s see now.” then began his pacing in slow, deliberate circles around her as she stood nervously.
“To talk. To offer you a future. A purpose.” He paused between each line and nodded his head.
Monica narrowed her eyes up at him. “I have a purpose.”
Higgs smiled beneath the mask. “Do you? Or are you just survivin’?”
She didn’t answer. Just watched him silently, her body tense, her mind racing.
He continued to circle her slowly, like a predator with time to kill. “Mm. You could be so much more than some fuckin’ porter.”
Higgs tried to reach out and run his hand along her cheek, but she knocked it away instead. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He tsked and shook his head. “You ain’t gonna be easy, are ya?”
Monica narrowed her brows as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“I ain’t your enemy,” he said, voice low. “But…I could be.” His finger pointed as he gave her a nod.
She took a step as she watched him, her expression twisted into disgust as she wondered why he was even here.
A low chuckle low and deep as he reached up to remove his mask along with the leather gas mask underneath.
Monica looked up into his eyes and her breath hitched. His face was sharp and angular, with high cheek bones and a smug ass grin. He was beautiful in a way and to Monica that felt wrong. His eyes lined with ancient Egyptian styled eyeliner sparkled an icy blue and in place of brows were fresh tattoos. Monica tried to focus her eyes to get a better look. They were…equations. Tattooed onto his forehead like a reminder of who or what he was.
She looked away.
“Please, just stop.”
Higgs tilted his head. “Stop what? Hm?”
“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she murmured.
He leaned down closer to her ear. “Not tryin’,” he whispered. “Just planting seeds.”
Monica turned her head away and closed her eyes tightly. “Leave me alone.”
Higgs shook his head and smiled, slow and knowing. “Damn shame, Monica. Don’t think I give up that easily.”
Monica opened back her eyes and looked at him before he leaned in again. “Catch you later, sweetheart.”
And just like that, he vanished.
No sound. No trace. Just absence.
Monica let out a gasp, her body jolting. And before she knew it, she was back again in her bed.
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Bad father: Abuses his son, neglects his family, tests dangerous drugs on his son, is a selfish, egotistical jerk, wants to use his son to get himself fame
Bad mother: Says she cares about her son but treats him like some alien, doesn't engage with him or try to connect in a way he understands, doesn't question his mental change when his father tests him with drugs
Bad teacher: Gets too close to his students personal life, lets a boy run away and helps him hide, lets him take drugs, doesn't see the blatant familial abuse in the boys family, wants to use the boy to get himself fame
Bad girlfriend: Seems to care about him but still doesn't try to engage with him, legit says "get out of my life" one minute then says "I hope he knows I wish him well" the next, kicks him out of her house when he was at his lowest, wanted to use him for love and not to actually help him
Normal bully: Bullies the kid, commits fraud, robs a bank, uses the kid to rob a bank, normal bully things
Dr. Malpractice: Gives an autistic kid potentially dangerous untested drugs in secret, uses the kid to test these drugs, should have his license revoked
Prodigy: Normal kid with autism who just wants to live life and vibe but is constantly abused and used by literally everyone around him and not one person tried to connect with him on his level or did anything that really helped him, please give him a hug and a blanket, he needs so much love and GOOD therapy he did nothing wrong and everyone else in this album is horrible to him
Thanks to Jan Sewell makeup artist for the BTS photo and info she posted on Instagram.
jansewell1: “I took this photograph on Camber Sands while we were shooting The Theory of Everything... wonderful Eddie Redmayne as Stephen Hawking and talented Director of Photography Benoit Delhomme setting up a shot... Eddie was in his stage 3 make-up... wig, mouth pieces, prosthetic knee pieces and shoulder piece, no facial prosthetics as yet...”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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Endless List Of Favourite Movies [5/??] ⋈ The Theory Of Everything (2014)
There should be no boundaries to human endeavor. We are all different. However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at. While there’s life, there is hope.
