#feeling v emotional and reflective on this fine sunday

[hunny-pp]

PENACONY 2.1 SPOILERS /

[basically a more elaborate version of my twt thread on this]

I don't think I'm the first or only person to say this, but I do think Gallagher is v likely a memory zone meme

EDIT: heres pt 1.2 with additional evidence

Sunday deduces that Gallagher is an amalgamation of fifty-one Family members, who he's inherited physical traits from to create the appearance he has now.

Gallagher alludes in his own story that he may not be human

In short, Memory Zone Memes are amalgamations of multiple fragments of the Memory Zone, all have reflections of different memories, cognitions and emotions.

A meme in definition is when something, usually ideas, culture or behaviour is passed to another person through imitation or non-genetic means.

It makes sense for Gallagher, as he mimicked the physical traits of Family members without taking them or that trait away - these NPCs are very much fine and you can interact with them. It's more like a copy-paste onto himself.

Other little details include: -This could change in the future depending on if we get any fire units, but for Gallagher specifically, he takes the Raging Heart materials - which is harvested from a Memory Zone Meme-type enemy. This one's a bit of a stretch but it fits nonetheless

-His signature colour is magenta - shown in his clothing, his marketing materials and in the VFX of his attacks, his claw and his brew. This colour is specifically his and not something he had inherited from someone else.

Memory Zone Memes, especially "Something Upon Death" have stark magenta/purple/pink eyes and cores. When seen from afar or at least in a general sense, the shades are similar enough

-The writing style of Gallagher's stories feel strange, like different aspects of Gallagher's personality and life are on the outside looking in. Akin to a reflective surface giving off different reflections from different angles of the same subject. It adds to the idea that there are multiple aspects and fragments within Gallagher all looking within each other.

Mixology and The Dreamjolt Hostelry:

Gallagher's main interest outside of work is mixology. Like any culinary craft, there's an inherent science behind it, and it takes a lot of work and knowledge to craft well constructed cocktails and drinks. Symbolically, mixology complements Gallagher, as he himself is a combination of a diverse range of people. When you view these inherited traits isolated, you know they come from someone real - but when put together, they form One Complete Gallagher - cohesive and seamless.

While you can say the same for different branches of culinary arts, mixology in particular symbolically represents Gallagher the most. This is just from a layman's perspective but when I view the same with cocktails - from a general inspection it's one cohesive drink even if from taste or watching the process, I know it's all made with different components.

Notably, when Gallagher talks about mixing drinks, he describes it as akin to combining different emotions, experiences and memories into a singular cocktail and it's reflective of both customer and bartender's own current state of being.

His philosophy on mixology links back to the concept of Memory Zone Memes, manifestations of fragmented memories, emotions and cognitions nestled into a vessel.

The reason why I bring up the Dreamjolt Hostelry is because of the Vignettes in a Cup event (spoilers for it). It's not explicit in his stories or voicelines, but going by the Trailblaze quest, it's implied that the Dreamjolt Hostelry is the lounge/bar he regulars for a drink or to hone his craft as he's v friendly and familiar to Siobhan and is seen in the 2.1 trailer to be serving a Dreamjolt Domescreen (whether it's Lady or not doesn't matter).

Dreamjolt Hostelry is in the sealed off dreamscape Reverie, where the corrupted Dreamjolt Troupe monsters and Memory Zone Memes reside. Notably, where you encounter Something Unto Death in key moments of the story.

I'd like to believe Gallagher is very comfortable with the company of monsters, going by the fact that he himself is non-human.

In Vignettes in a Cup, Siobhan explains that the reason why she mixes drinks for the Dreamjolt Troupe monsters is that it helps regulate their emotions - since the dreamscape is falling apart and in turn they have become unstable.

Gallagher himself in one of his idle animations drinks an unknown concoction from his hipflask once his scar starts acting up - in which it settles back down. It's hard to discern in this point in time how long this has been going for, but as a non-human entity (meme or not), the dreamscape's decay is also likely affecting Gallagher and thus he has to regulate himself.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?: In the mission "Why Do The Heathen Rage?" we learn a lot of the Watchmaker's secret history as well as a general run through of Gallagher's own personal story.

First off, a lot of Penacony's trailblaze mission titles are references to songs, literature and media relevant to the themes of Penacony and/or by American classical authors or poets (ie Heaven is a Place on Earth, Cat Among Pigeons, The Tell-Tale Heart).

Why Do The Heathen Rage is both based on Psalm 2.1 Old Testament, but also it's a fragment of an unfinished novel by Flannery O'Connor. Fragment of a novel -> Gallagher is made of fragments of different people -> Memory Zone Memes are fragments of (I'm booed off the stage for being a broken record).

The story tells of a man called Walter Tilman who lives on his family's farm. There he starts to write letters to different people - particularly to Oona Gibbs, a black civil rights activist. However, he writes to her under the guise of a black man, and writes with the intention of testing the commitment and integrity of her beliefs.

Going with what we know in hindsight, Gallagher is masquerading around as a human, likely as a Memory Zone Meme as we've realised hopefully by now that they're the monsters most likely to pull something of Gallagher's calibre off.

This is all I'm gonna talk about from "Why Do The Heathen Rage" mainly because my additional theories are based off leaks and are more speculative.

Bonus section: "Something Unto Death" When it comes to Gallagher's connection to the Memory Zone Meme "Something Unto Death", a lot comes from his many symbols of death. This is just a bit of a bonus since we're talking about Gallagher likely being a Memory Zone Meme, we might as well address the elephant in the room as well.

For brevity, we'll call the little guy "Death Meme". Death Meme is a Memory Zone Meme created from the Dreamscape's fear of death and murder as "death" shouldn't be something that can happen in the dreamscape.

Gallagher has a FUCK ton of symbolism and nods to death. The most striking is that Gallagher's iconic "I'm Thirteen", which is the number for the Major Arcana "Death". (For additional reference I also think Thirteen could be the amount of Amber Eras he's lived in, or that he's at least 1300 years old. Also since he has a lot of dog theming, 13 dog years in human years is around 60-80 depending on the dog's size).

Additionally, thirteen is a common number to represent bad omens and misfortune - namely the well known Friday the 13th superstition, amongst other things.

When Gallagher makes you a drink, no matter what choices you make - the cocktail will have a memento mori/death/morbidly themed name and he will accompany most of them with a sardonic toast.

Gallagher's eidolons are names of different cocktails which fit his mixology theme. However, Corpse Reviver, Last Word, Death in the Afternoon and Blood and Sand are all death centric names, as if he couldn't get edgier enough.

There's also the call into question his playstyle, where he's a much more aggressive battle healer than the likes of Luocha and is the first abundance character to provide debuffs on the enemy, and derives healing through damaging opponents.

Conclusion: If you've read this far then I'm assuming you're as normal about Gallagher as I am. But yeah, there is so much to him I haven't touched on, his connections to the Enigmata, my continuation on this theory based on leaks and his shared past with Mikhail, what I think he'll do in the plot moving forward. This patch and its characters are themed around hiding secrets and that there's more than meets the eye. Gallagher in particular has proved to be the most mysterious of the trio, as while we've gotten a clear enough picture of both Acheron and Aventurine but there's still enough intrigue to keep them going, Gallagher's just given me more questions than answers man.

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 4: It's A Date

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

Marc and Steven have a heated discussion about his feelings. You have to deal with some rejection.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 3.5k

Your weekend went about as normal as any. You’d had some homework for your first week, and a couple of assignments that you put off until the last minute before completing. Layla had invited you out for drinks at a local bar where you ran into Cameron from your creative writing class. If only you weren’t so infatuated by a certain history professor, you might’ve given in to the obvious flirting Cameron was laying on you. Unfortunately for him, you just couldn’t stop thinking about how Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

Steven, on the other hand, felt like the weekend flew by all too quickly. He knew that he had lost control of the body for sure this time, at least once. After he walked with you on Wednesday night, he went home in a huff, frustrations at an all time high. If Gus had rational thinking skills, surely he would’ve thought Steven was insane, screaming at his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright, Marc, you wanted to talk to me, yeah? Come on then, let’s talk. I hear you trying to poke your head in while I’m tryin’ to teach.”

Silence.

“Marc, what are you afraid of? Huh? You have no problem interrupting my tutoring sessions. You promised!”

“You call that a tutoring session?” There he was…finally. “Don’t forget that we share a head, Steven, you were undressing your student with your eyes. She’s gotta be what, nineteen? Twenty? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now Steven was the quiet one, feeling the shame wash over him. Was he upset that Marc had called him out on something he was trying to keep hidden, or was he upset that Marc was getting involved when he was supposed to be taking a permanent backseat? Oh dear, was it both?

He blacked out, and when Steven woke up again, it was already Sunday. He had no recollection of the prior days, but Marc was more than happy to clue him in to the events that took place.

“Steven, I’m fine with you having the body, Jake and I both are, but we need you to understand something…”

Steven was sitting on the couch in front of his television, staring at his reflection. His brow was furrowed, hair falling into his eyes. He was pissed and trying to keep it contained. This was against everything Marc and Jake had promised him.

“You told me that I could have the body now. You said you would set me up with this little job in this little town, let me be happy as a professor and now you’re ruining it.” Steven felt his bottom lip start to quiver.

“I had to, Steven, because you are ruining everything we gave you. Jake and I gave you a nice, quiet life to live, and you’re getting a little too close to ruining it.” Marc was pacing back and forth on the television screen, running his hands over his face in frustration.

Steven ran his hands through his hair. He felt some stray tears making their way down his cheeks. His emotions were so conflicted. On the one hand, there was you. From the moment he met you, you’d taken his breath away. The way you smiled, and the way your eyes lit up whenever you were around him, he couldn’t shake it. On the other hand, Marc was right. Steven was going to ruin both of your futures if he didn’t hit the brakes.

“I’m sorry, Steven. There’s a few billion women in the world, pick a different one.”

“I don’t want a different one.” Steven said, sniffling and wiping his face.

“Listen, there’s this nice little librarian, her name is Jane. I have been…talking to her on your behalf.” Steven looked back at the screen with a confused gaze.

“You flirted with someone for me? Isn’t she going to find it strange when I show up with an accent?”

“I fudged it a little.” Marc shook his head, “that’s not the point. The point is that…I think you should talk to her on Monday, maybe see if you can get her to go on a date with you. It might help you move past …whatever this is.” Marc let out a heavy sigh, “If you get caught, or get in trouble with this girl, they might come looking for us. I can’t let that happen.”

Marc had a point, and Steven knew that, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about you for the rest of the painfully long day. He just wished that he hadn’t met you, that would’ve made things easier. He imagined how simple it would’ve been if fate hadn’t placed the two of you in the coffee shop that morning. What if he’d remembered his wallet? If he’d had his wallet then you never would’ve talked to him. What if he’d decided to make coffee at home instead? Then you would’ve just come to his class like normal, never having had that first spark.

Steven resolved to keep Marc out of the body. He’d been strong enough to do it before, but he’d let his guard down on Wednesday. It wouldn’t be happening again, but he also decided that Marc wasn’t totally off base in suggesting he ask out the librarian. He knew that by pursuing anything with you, he was not only putting himself at risk, but you as well. He didn’t want to ruin your life before you even had a chance to live it, so he decided that on Monday, he would see about that date with the librarian.

He felt much more confident on Monday morning. He hadn’t seen you since Wednesday the week before, so he was hopeful that his feelings had subsided with the time away, at least a little bit. Steven put a little more thought into his outfit, something nice, knowing that he would be asking Jane out later that day. He even went so far as to spritz a little cologne on his neck. When he looked in the mirror, he wondered for a second if you might like his outfit, but he quickly shook away the thought before heading to class.

Class was about to start, and you were sitting at your desk with your laptop open and eagerly waiting for Steven to come in. You hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, and you couldn’t deny that you were excited for him to walk through the door. The moment he stepped in, you felt your heart race and cheeks flush.

He looked up at you once he got to his desk, and all the color faded from his face. He looked nicer than usual, hair not as unruly as last week. He was wearing a crisp, black button down, not one of the usual intricately patterned shirts he adorned. You were surprised, and felt excited knowing he’d probably dressed like that for you. At least, you wanted to think he did.

When he kept his eyes off of you for the remainder of class though, you started to feel anxious. Did you say something Wednesday evening without realizing? Had you looked at him in a way that he felt was offensive? Maybe there was something wrong with your face? To say you weren’t even just a little upset would be a lie. You felt the familiar pit in your stomach that came with rejection and it hurt.

Class ended right on time, and you got up, preparing to leave without saying a word. You stopped as you got to the doors though. You were willing your feet to move forward, but your heart was keeping you in place. There was something between you and Steven, you were almost certain, and now he was acting…off. He was acting like you were nothing. You should’ve been satisfied with that, accepting that nothing was going to happen, as it should be. It was a perfect opportunity for you both to avoid breaking school rules, but you turned around anyway. He was already looking at you from the desk, eyes hurt.

“Um…” You said, unable to think of the words to say.

“I’ll see you for tutoring on Wednesday night, right here, yeah?” He gulped harshly.

“Steven.” Marc said. “I can hear what you’re thinking, just remember what you’re risking if-”

“Yeah.” You said, not realizing that you were cutting off the man in Steven’s head.

“Alright then.” He nodded, “see ya.” He looked down at his papers.

He was telling you to leave, quite plainly. You took the hint with a heavy stomach, walking out to the hall before deciding at the last second to go to the library. Steven had assigned a paper due Monday the following week and you wanted to get a head start on it.

As you walked into the library, you went to the left of the reception area and saw the printer room. You felt haunted by the memory of that room, wishing you could do it over again and this time be a little more bold. Maybe he didn’t realize that you felt that way about him. Maybe he didn’t know you were as interested in him as you were.

You were hidden behind various shelves of non-fiction, scouring for a book to write your paper on, when you heard him in the entryway.

“Yeah, hi.” You heard him speaking from the entrance.

You didn’t know anyone else with that accent, it surely was him. You peeked from behind the books on the shelf, looking out and seeing him talking to the brown haired librarian. He was smiling, a little too widely for your liking. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Hi, Steven, right?” She said, smiling just as widely back at him.

“Yeah, s’right.” He cleared his throat. “I was, erm, I was wonderin’ if you would be free this weekend? Maybe to grab a drink or somethin’?”

You’d never felt such a punch to the gut as you felt in that moment. You even held your stomach as though you’d actually felt the physical attack, fingers clutching your shirt. Breathing was harder when panic struck, and you wanted to leave so you didn’t have to listen anymore, but you stayed, hoping that maybe she would either reject him or he would change his mind.

“Oh, you know what I would love to, but I’m going to be going upstate to see my parents for the weekend. But…I actually have Wednesday night available.” She was swaying while she spoke, clearly interested in the timid professor.

Steven hesitated, thoughts turning back to you once again. Your smile, the way you touched his hand, the way you made him feel, everything about you. He could hear Marc stirring, probably upset that his alter was hesitating, but he couldn’t help it. Wednesday night would interfere with your tutoring, but he had to do this. He had to get away from you.

“Yeah, Wednesday night should work fine.” She was all smiles as they wrapped up their conversation and parted ways.

His eyes wandered around the library and eventually looked in your direction, but you couldn’t be certain if he saw you or not. Part of you hoped he did so he could feel a little guilty for flopping on you that way. The other part of you didn’t want him to know how nosy you were being, watching him ask a woman on a date, one he had every right to ask on a date, one that he should ask on a date.

You skipped your next class, emailing your professor that you were sick. The thought of trying to get through a class without crying was too much. You were mad at yourself for feeling that way, and for feeding into a fantasy that you knew deep down would lead nowhere. When Layla came into the room that night, you pretended to be asleep. You couldn’t sleep though, you hardly slept all night.

Steven didn’t get much sleep either. He was plagued by thoughts of you, and how upset you might be when he had to tell you that he was canceling. He couldn’t stop playing the image of your face in his mind in class earlier that day. You’d known something wasn’t right, that much was clear. He wanted to tell you right then how he felt. He wanted to pull you back into his classroom and say he was sorry and that he knew it was stupid but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

But he couldn’t. It wasn’t right. 

Instead, Steven sat on the edge of his bed in his underwear and a tee shirt staring at nothing in particular. He felt empty. His head was quiet again, for that he was grateful, but emotionally he was spent. He had spent several days the week before thinking about you, unable to shake you from his mind, only to have the other two, mostly Marc, come busting back in to take over. He was supposed to be letting Steven live his life in peace.

Tuesday was numb, and you hardly ate. Layla noticed, and when she asked you what was wrong, you just brushed her off and tried to focus on your classes. You’d only known Steven for just over a week. There was no reason for you to be acting so heartbroken over someone that you shouldn’t be looking at that way anyhow.

Wednesday was harder for you to get out of bed. Wednesday morning you knew that you had to go to his class and sit through his lecture while he avoided eye contact. He was going to be looking over the papers you’d started to see if anyone needed help and let you work on it for the duration of class. In truth, emotional turmoil or not, you needed help with the paper. All the more reason to be upset that he was ditching you on tutoring night.

He made his way to each student, and it didn’t surprise you that he walked to you last. He had been eyeing you here and there, clearly not wanting you to catch him spying while he helped other students, but you noticed. How could you not? He nearly tripped over one of the desks trying to avoid you, but you decided to be more bold than usual.

“Excuse me, Steven?”

Steven’s heart stopped as he faced away from you. He didn’t want to turn around. He wished you would’ve just let him go sit down at his desk and not speak to him, but of course you couldn’t do that. Of course you couldn’t just let him go. He walked up to you slowly and stood there next to your desk. His hands were clenched into balls at his sides.

“You don’t have to-” you started.

“What do you need help with?” He asked, almost coldly, but you sensed the tremble in his tone and it made the uncomfortable pit in your stomach return.

“You said that King Henry VIII had how many wives?” You asked in a whisper.

“He had six.” Steven said sternly.

“Oh, okay,” You said, typing that into your notes.

“Erm, I meant to talk to you. I’m not gonna make it to our tutoring sess-“

“I know.” You looked at him with your brow slightly furrowed, he gulped harshly. “You have better things to do.” You felt your eyes welling, “I’m just going to go work on this paper instead of tutoring.”

He paused for a while. He didn’t realize you’d heard him and the librarian setting up their little rendezvous. Steven was just going to make up something, tell you that he was busy helping another faculty member or volunteering at the homeless shelter. He was going to tell you anything other than the truth, that he was desperately trying to forget about these new and developing feelings he had.

“Maybe you should find something better to do, too.” He said softly, pressing his lips in a hard line.

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, unable to speak without losing your composure. Steven gathered that you were done with the conversation and walked away from you and sat down at his desk. He heard you sniffling, and he felt terrible as the class went on. He wished he could apologize, maybe tell the librarian he wasn’t interested after all.

“You did good, Steven. I know that wasn’t easy,” Marc said.

Steven, understandably, didn’t respond, but even if he could respond without making the whole class think he was mad, he wouldn’t. You were eager to leave the second the clock struck 10:20. You were so eager, in fact, that you were the first person out the door.

While you were still too upset to eat much of anything, Steven was in his apartment looking at himself in the mirror. He sighed tiredly at his appearance. He didn’t care if the librarian found him attractive, he didn’t care if she liked him at all.

“You need to care, remember the danger you’re putting everyone in if you don’t move on, Steven.” Marc said.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I bloody remember.”

“You’re really going to wear that, amigo?” Jake was there, too, it seemed. Steven had been wondering when the other alter would show up.

“Jake. No one asked for your opinion.” Steven adjusted his tie, “,‘sides, I think I look fine.”

“Thought you wanted to impress her,” Jake was chuckling, “wear the red tie.”

“Enough!” Steven shouted, stomping to the front door, grabbing his keys and coat before exiting.

Steven took an Uber and then waited outside the restaurant where he was set to meet with Jane. He could see her through the window. She looked beautiful, wearing a red dress and hair done up in curls. It was obvious that she’d tried harder than he had on her appearance.

“Steven, what are you waiting for? Go inside.” Marc said after Steven had stood there for a little too long.

He sucked in a deep breath. Jane was sitting there, waiting for him, but he could only think of you. You must be holed up in the library working on your paper for his class. He was supposed to be with you that night, not her. He was supposed to be with you. 

The chattering in his head was incessant the moment he turned away and started moving for the college building. His heart was racing, he knew it was stupid, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t shake this feeling.

He had shut them out in the past, he was strong enough to do so, so he did it now. He couldn’t ever get rid of them completely, but he could keep them quiet for short periods of time. He could keep them from taking over and keep them from bothering him further. Steven felt like he could handle it, he’d never felt so in control. He could keep a secret, he knew you could, too.

You were in the library, like you said you’d be, sitting in a corner by yourself. You didn’t want to be seen in case you started to cry. You managed to keep the tears at bay all day, by some miracle. There was a shuffling noise coming your way, taking you by surprise considering the late evening. When you looked up, Steven was there; breathless and covered in a layer of perspiration.

He’d left. He didn’t go through with the date. You stood up clumsily, feeling your heart rate rise. This confirmed all of your suspicions. He was as infatuated with you as you were with him. He stepped closer and said your name.

“Steven…” you stepped closer, too, cautiously. He closed in further, there was hardly any space between you two now. “You didn’t go on your date? I…I thought…”

“I couldn’t, I just…”

He leaned down quickly before the moment got away from him and slotted his delicious lips against yours. When people talked about someone taking your breath away, this is what they meant. He grabbed your shoulder in one hand and wrapped the other around the small of your back to pull you in closer.

The kiss wasn’t over and you let yourself fall into it more, melting your mouth into his, filling the empty spaces with your tongue. He tasted better than you could’ve imagined. You stuck your fingers into his dark locks, angling his head against yours. He let out a groan before pulling back abruptly.

“We can’t…s’wrong.” His lips were swollen and still glossy with your combined spit.

“I can keep a secret, but I can’t keep avoiding you, this feeling…” you stepped forward, desperate for more.

He put up a hand, “Not here. Not now, it’s too risky, love.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, “Yeah, sure okay.”

“Okay.” 

He didn’t say another word, just nodded and then walked away, right out of the library.

You were left standing there, pressing your fingertips to your lips with the dumbest grin on your face. It was confirmed: your Professor, Dr. Grant, had feelings for you, and regardless of the risk involved, you were already addicted. 

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TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts, @outmodead, @sleepyamaya, @pimosworld, @ababynova, @flordelalunas, @360iris, @momo-mochiball, @missdragon-1, @lunar-ghoulie, @liquorlaughslove, @kiwibaekie, @wordacadabra, @deezisnotreal, @onzayhe

[kunoichihatake]

it’s so exciting to be awake for saturday night shitposting

[gaiuswrites]

World's Best

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.2k~

Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff

Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.

You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.

You’re not here today. Not all of you.

There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.

You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.

heavy heavy

heavier, still.

If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.

Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”

The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”

“Baby, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”

“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.

“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—

“You gonna talk to me about it?”

You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.

“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”

He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.

He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.

A scary thought—wonderful, too.

“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.

“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.

“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.

“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.

You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.

“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.

Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.

“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

God, this man.

You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”

“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”

A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.

You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…

Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.

Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.

You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”

His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.

You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.

His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.

/

He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.

Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.

Fuck baby—fuck you feel good

How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-

God, you’re a— fuck

You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me

Made for me, made for me, made for-

You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”

“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.

He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”

You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.

“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”

Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.

“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.

Indiscernible. The same.

When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.

Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.

The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.

The clock whispers in the morning quiet.

A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”

Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.

You don’t have to apologize

You don’t have to thank me

I love you

I love you

I’m right here

I love you

tags:

@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79

[papergirllife]

Bitter/Sweet Drabbles

*gif credits to owner

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The way he smiled at her, the way their chemistry made fans of both fandoms cheer made you worry. It’s common for artists to have stages with each other, especially if they took on emceeing jobs or during award shows.

You weren’t angry, nor disappointed in any way. But the way they were smiling at each other made you nervous. You always had a very serious case of insecurity, it started ever since your ex started cheating on you, you hadn’t dare to leave the relationship, until you confronted him, then he left you permanently, only leaving a huge scar on your heart. You hadn’t known that the wound would reopen until today.

When it all became too much for you, when SM announced that he’ll consider taking on the role, you went to look for his co star’s account on instagram, and she’s so beautiful, Jaehyun is way out of your league, you knew this from the start. Yet she’s at the same level of beauty as he is, what if he finally sees that he made the wrong choice? And leaves you for her?

Then you found a short clip of a fan pointing out that Jaehyun panicked when he received a text from someone during his birthday live a few months back, you looked at it a hundred times to see a sunflower emoji saved as the contact’s name. But you were most definitely not the sunflower emoji. So who was it?

You could feel yourself panicking as you laid down on your shared bed with Jaehyun, has he shared this bed with anyone other than you? You try to bury your thoughts as you switched on some random movie on netflix, yet your heart wasn’t really into anything that’s happening on the screen.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

You woke up to the voice of Jaehyun calling for you, it was a Sunday, and he just got back from another inkigayo episode. You soon felt his arms wrapped around your tired body. You tensed up when he did so, flinching at his touch like fire being burnt on your skin.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I think I’m just feeling a bit cold from the constant rain, I’ll be fine, you can go get dinner with the boys, I want to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Should I get you some medicine now?”

“There still some in the cupboard. I won’t be needing any.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

You successfully avoided his eyes, the eyes that make you want to give him the whole world if you could, the eyes that would send you into cloud nine, as well as a painful death over the cliff.

Once he left the door, you cried and cried even though you didn’t really know what you were crying for at this point, until you tired out yourself, slipping into slumber.

Jaehyun could sense something was wrong when he woke up to find that you had left his embrace, when he clearly remembered that he pulled you against himself as close as possible, and when your hugs were short and tensed. He finally decided to ask when the both of you sat down for lunch, when you finally came out of the room saying you had lots of work to do.

“Is something up, Y/N?”

“Nothing, why would you think so?”

“I feel like you’re a bit distant these days.”

“I’m just busy.”

You weren’t looking him in the eyes when you answered him, instead your eyes were trained on the plate of noodles in front of you, suddenly finding them very interesting.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not, Jae, it’s going to be month end, I just have lots to fix before passing it up to my boss.”

“Look at me then, look up Y/N, stop avoiding my eyes.”

When you did as he said, Jaehyun was shocked to see how tired and swollen your eyes were, and he had only seen you like this once, when you got out of your last relationship. 

“Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, babe. Why have you been crying so much?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing.”

“I’m just insecure okay?!”

You hadn’t meant on lashing out at him, but your emotions had been running high these past few days. You could see the shock in Jaehyun’s eyes, the realisation that it was your doing, made tears leak at the corner of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with you, it’s just me”

Then you rushed into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

Jaehyun was trying to decipher what you had said, were you back with your ex? Are you leaving him? Are you still conflicted on who to be with? Jaehyun laid down on the couch after clearing up the plates, not knowing what to do.

When you heard complete silence outside your bedroom, you sneaked out and laid a blanket on top of his sleeping figure.

That very night after having dinner with his members, Jaehyun tried his bedroom door once again, finding that it was unlocked. He went in to see your sleeping figure, so beautifully peaceful unlike earlier that day, what did he do to make you so distressed? What if your ex was looking for you again? Would you choose that trash over him?

Jaehyun sat next to your sleeping figure, his hand brushing away hair that was stuck onto your cheeks by your dried tears. When you woke up with such hurtful eyes, Jaehyun could feel his heart clench.

“Can I ask you something, Jae?”

Your voice was croaky from all the sleep, but you didn’t care, you needed to know now.

“Who’s the person you saved as a sunflower on your contacts that contacted you during one of your v lives when you were showing your phone to your fans?”

“What are you talking about? That’s the florist shop that I buy your flowers from, their shop’s logo is a sunflower and their name is very long, so I was lazy to type it out, and put the emoji instead. The reason I was worried was because they sent a text to confirm my order being sent to this address. You didn’t trust me?”

You looked up to see Jaehyun sporting hurtful eyes at what he was suspicious about, you let your gaze fall back down on your hands clasped upon your thighs, emitting a loud sigh.

“It’s not you that I don’t trust, I don’t trust myself.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“What I mean is that I don’t have enough faith in my plain old looks and boring personality to keep you interested in me for forever.”

Jaehyun’s feelings went from being hurt, to being heartbroken, not for himself, but for you. The words you said had such heavy feelings that his broad shoulders sagged, he thought you were suspicious towards him, but it was self doubt. When did this start again? He thought he had brushed all your worries from your past relationship away, is he the source of all your insecurities now? 

You got up and walked inside the connected bathroom, standing in front of the mirror to look at your own tear stricken face, too emotional drained to even bother putting in the effort to wipe them away.

You looked back at Jaehyun who sat hunched on the bed, his own tears crinkling at the corner of his own eyes. You didn’t know what are his feelings towards you are now. Anger? Disappointment? 

“I’m sorry, Jaehyun.”

Your voice rang loud and clear as the echos bounced off the walls of the bathroom towards the bedroom, letting it ring into Jaehyun’s head a few times. He heard it loud and clear, shaking his head, not wanting you to apologise when you’re most clearly not in the wrong, but he couldn’t utter the words yet, a lump in his mouth as his head spins.

“I’m like a broken mirror, no matter how much effort you use to put the pieces back together, I’ll still be broken.”

You felt more tears escape your eyes as you said this, you knew the truth all along, but you still let yourself love another being, even when you knew how heavy your emotional baggage weighs.

When Jaehuyn heard what you had said, he made himself force down the rock in his mouth, you’re not broken, no one is allowed to say that, not even yourself. He walks to the bathroom, and pulls you into his embrace, out of the cold and empty toilet.

“A mirror will never be broken Y/N, they reflect the same thing at different but all very unique and beautiful angles, that’s how you see me, you’re the only one who sees each and every one of my sides but yet you choose to stay next to me.”

Jaehyun knew what he had to do to heal your aching heart when he first met you, he swore to himself that he’s never going to give up. He knew the weigh on his shoulders wouldn’t be an easy fit, but as long as he’s standing tall, there will always be a place for your head on his shoulders, right now, tomorrow, and many more days to come.

[flvcr]

— ( harry styles, twenty-five, cismale, he/him ) did you see ETIENNE FLUOR walking down main street earlier? you know who i’m talking about, they’re a POTTER / HOCKEY PLAYER. everybody in town says that they’re IDEALISTIC & INTUITIVE, but have a tendency to be UNPREDICTABLE & DESTRUCTIVE too. ETIENNE has been in town for THREE years. c'mon, they’re always requesting RUNNIN’ WITH THE DEVIL BY VAN HALEN at karaoke nights. well, i’m sure you’ll see them soon! @westmerestarters​

hiya! i am kt &+ underneath the read more is a LOT of info about my bb, etienne. ** insert clown emoji but make ‘em yee-haw ** if you’d like to plot you can reach me on here or at space cowboy#8536 on discord !! <33 v excited to interact with y’all and your bbs !!

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘

name: etienne ‘ marcel ‘ fluor. 

nicknames: goes by marcel, only allowing very few people to call him etienne.

gender / pronouns : cismale / he, him.

age: twenty-five.

birthday: june 27th.

zodiac: cancer !!

orientation: pansexual / panromantic.

occupation: hockey player ( currently injured ) // potter ( for fun ) !!

languages spoken: french, english & italian.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

- PINTEREST - featuring his wardrobe, his home, his aesthetic, some character inspo and olive, his german shepard pup !!

- SPOTIFY PLAYLIST - what he is currently listening to !!

personality type: INFJ-T / THE ADVOCATE

moral alignment: chaotic good

style-wise: etienne is v stylish, but isn’t overly flashy by any means. he’s intuitive in the sense of what works and what doesn’t. willing to explore the latest wardrobe craze, but also just likes what he likes and likely won’t venture out unless pressed by another to do so. post coming soon for his wardrobe !!! they say that the cancer man’s clothing is selected to reflect “ sophistication over flash “ but kdgjn i’ll let ya’ll be the judge of that. he’s v much harry inspired clothing wardrobe, but also tones it down with some casual looks, especially when it comes to getting his hands dirty in creative aspects !! but can be a bit on the flashier side as well, especially w/ hockey press and what not !!

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

   etienne ‘ marcel ’ fluor was born in montpellier, france to two lovely parents, theodore and estelle fluor ( both born in england themselves ) . he is the youngest of his siblings, having one older brother and an older sister, all of them being roughly two years apart. at the age of eight, his family relocated to montreal, canada as a result of a promotion his mother received, which at such a young age, etienne had no qualms with, despite his siblings’ uneasiness.  upon moving to a new country at a young age, etienne truly found himself via escaping into various books and movies. often attempting to write his own and would force encourage his siblings to act his skits/plays out for his parents enjoyment. he continues to be very close with his parents and siblings - recently he taught his parents how to use facetime, so catch him face timing his family on sunday nights. 

   growing up, etienne also enjoyed playing all types of sports ( his parents signing him up hoping that he’d make friends as a result, which he did ). when it came down to it, athletic abilities-wise, there truly wasn’t anything that he wasn’t ‘ good ’ at, and that’s simply because he’s always been such a competitive individual / as well as a perfectionist. that competitive/perfectionist energy caused him to go home and practice a skill or trick for hours in order to be able to come back the next day and whoop everyone’s asses. overall, he’s very athletic, found alternating between various sports offered not only at school, but as well as through local clubs. ultimately, his love and appreciation for hockey swayed him and soon enough it became his sole focus. due to his perfectionist tendencies, etienne is very dedicated to his craft, he will spend hours practicing specific tricks and skills in order to be the best at what he does, which transcends past hockey and into, really, every aspect of his life. 

   throughout highschool ; etienne was a v dedicated student. although he’s a bit reckless and loved to goof off, he was always acing classes and applying himself. he genuinely cares for others, you could’ve seen his ass volunteering at a soup kitchen with his mom on sundays and what not, as well as take part in various clubs and sports ! just SOFT and sporty things. during this time, he joined the ontario hockey league and from there was eventually scouted out and recruited to the pittsburgh penguins as a defenseman at the age of eighteen - forgoing his parents desire for him to attend a university. although he enjoyed his time with pittsburgh, he was excited when the idea of being traded came up - eager to explore a new city and immerse himself in a new area. 

      trigger warning - injury, dislocation ( just in case !!!! ) however, he really didn’t enjoy new york ( hehe ), so he relocated to westmere soon after his initial arrival to nyc - finding a lot of comfort in living in a less populated area. he would commute during the hockey season to nyc, which to him wasn’t very far away, so this is where he’s been residing for the last three years !! however, in the last couple of weeks while training for the upcoming season my lil bb injured himself - not to get into tooooo much detail, i’ll just leave it at shoulder dislocation / joint separation due to a hard hit !! basically he’s out for this upcoming season, already having surgery completed, he’s currently healing for the next couple of months, allowing himself to fully experience that westmere fall !!!

   overall, etienne can come off as a bit reserved, and distant whether that be a result of his untrusting nature of others, or simply unfamiliarity. it takes a bit of time before he feels comfortable to share his true opinion / commentary / only doing so when he feels secure to do so. he’s not necessarily unfriendly, just a bit distant / lost in his thoughts. which varies, as with most ppl ofc, upon person to person and his level of comfortability among them. despite his often lack of conversation, he abhors an uncomfortable silence to settle and will fill it with nonsense to simply avoid the feeling altogether. so, if you ever want to catch him rambling, just making him uncomfortable dkjfngdf. he definitely approaches most things with a bit of ‘ tough love ‘ . he doesn’t mind getting into a quarrel or two if he knows its worth the outcome he’s envisioned. etienne will tell others when they are fucking up, and if they are throwing a punch as a result - catch him leaning into it, which explains his bout of reckless antics. he can come off as a know it all, when it comes to advice giving, but more so because he thinks he’s really good at analyzing others and situations they are in, not necessarily because he’s lived through them himself, he’s just rather intuitive and able to empathize quite easily with others despite his verbal admittance of it. when it comes down to this binches reckless bits, he just feels so intensely that he ends up numbing himself in the aftermath of it all ( especially bc he’s definitely not sharing those feelings with the people around him ), therefore he’s willing to put himself into harms way in order to get a bit of that - happiness / pain, it doesn’t matter to him as long as he no longer feels overwhelmed by numbness. so, if ya see him with some scrapes and stitches ~ mind ya business. but he’ll likely try to drag somebody else into it, and make it seem like it was their idea. but if he is truly comfortable with somebody, he walks a fine line of won’t stop talking, especially if it’s an interest of his, and comfortable silence.

_________________________

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 & 𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖘

he is a CANCER, therefore in this essay i will..... kidding but here’s some fun cancer info i saw that applies to my bb !! at first he appears to be wistful, sarcastic ( maybe a lil crabby ) , shy, distant and mysterious. this personality remains if he isn’t completely comfortable around somebody. but overall, that’s just his facade, his ‘smokescreen’ of sorts to scare off the world from his outwards persona. underneath that layer ( makes me think of shrek metaphor with onions // don’t mind me ), BUT he’s gentle, kind and affectionate ( if you manage to make it to that level * bell dings * ) !!! overall, etienne is a sensitive soul, a bit emotional although he’d rather d*e than show that to others. likely will internalize anything that can hurt his feelings / a low blow and will do something chaotic as a result later on bc of it. very polite, and a little worldly, he is truly the epitome of old-school gentlemanly manners. chivalry coming as a second nature to him !!

that was getting ramble-y, so continuing HERE. but when it comes to romance, as per the cancer man, the concept of love is a mystery, one that etienne is trying to attain. however, his shyness and innate distrust of others make it difficult for him to allow himself to fall in love. his guard is always up when it comes to his emotions, and it’ll take a bit of prodding before he’s willing to speak up on what’s desired from him. he’s v picky when it comes to finding the “ partner of his dreams “ - but he’s def willing to throw himself into the romance of the situation, i.e. buying flowers, riding white horses, and slaying metaphorical dragons. the traditional side means that he will shower his partner with thoughtful gifts, wine and dine them in the best restaurants, and try to grant their every wish. he will take the garbage out, fix that wobbly shelf, navigate on road trips, and kill more so trap and release bugs for his partner, and most important of all he will do it all without being asked. his loyalty and keen attention to the needs and wants of his potential partner. so basically, more so willing to showcase through actions than speak on it. it’s the little things, right ??!?!?! he def cherishes not just the act of being in a relationship, but what it means to become one with another person in mind, body, and soul.

prides himself on being able to make a mean cup of coffee, likely the worst person to watch a movie with bc he knows exactly how it’s going to end after only watching five minutes of it, he has a godawful sense of direction, will walk in circles for fifteen minutes before even raising a question about it/noticing ( but he refuses to acknowledge it. )

his house, car, workspace, junk drawer, closet….you name it - it’s organized, practically sparkling. often times arranged by color, and / or style. nothing is ever out of place, and if it is - there’s trouble brewing. but, more than anything, if he’s visiting somebody’s place and it’s messy, he will spend a solid thirty minutes picking everything up before doing whatever it is that was intended.

likes : reading, flowers, handwritten notes/letters, deep cleaning, baking, working on his pottery, watching the history channel and true crime docs and playing / watching hockey !!

dislikes : artichoke, clutter, sandals ( fkjgh ), unrealistic plotlines in movies &+ burnt coffee.

habits :  likely has a severe caffeine addiction, although he’s now normalized having six cups of coffee throughout his day. he’s an early riser, no matter how little the amount of sleep he’s received, he’s always the first to rise - for his early morning runs !!

strengths: creative, insightful, inspiring, convincing, determined and passionate, decisive, altruistic, intuitive !!

weaknesses: sensitive, extremely private, perfectionist, low-key always needs to have a cause / purpose, can burn out easily !!

overall : etienne truly strives to be kind, and genuinely wants for everyone to get along. treat people with kindness and the like. he has the best of intentions, but often times that can get a bit muddled with the way he goes about things due to his bit of chaotic energy / as well as his often points of getting lost in his thoughts. he won’t realize he’s been quiet for the last three hours unless it’s mentioned to him. he will do anything to lighten a dark mood, and will sacrifice / throw himself under the bus if its needed. however, he also is the type to cause the dark mood depending on the day. wahoo! his more reckless antics increase when he’s feeling a bit emotional !! but he’ll likely try and convince somebody to propose the idea so it’s not on him.

𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

he lives with sebastian !! with his commuting to nyc for the hockey season, he wanted somebody to be able to take care of his house / garden and what not, and thus, seb arrived.

he’s v into making ceramics, cups / bowls / vases / etc !! what began as a fun hobby to distract himself in the offseason became something that he truly enjoys. ( laughing about that scene in ghost BUT DKJFNG OKAY ) although he’s pretty low-key about it, you can catch him at the farmers market selling his creations !! some pictures of his work can be found on his pinterest board !!

he is a vegetarian ! he has been since his freshman year of high school and has no plans on eating seafood/meat ever again.

he loves fancy wine ~ he’s cultured. 

he can play the drums !!

he collects vintage matchbooks and the stickers off of various fruits ( he puts them in a little notebook - can be found on his bookshelf ).

saves handwritten notes and letters from pals.

he loves to garden !!!! he has a specified rose shearing hat.

HE WANTS TO JOIN A BOOKCLUB PLEASE !!!!!!!! or at least have some casual moments of silence with another reading. plz and tysm.

to make things a bit simple, he has all of harry’s tattoos !!  might add more along the way !! stay tuned, folks !!

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

i am so up for anything!! please accept this ramble of ideas thrown below.  if you have any other ideas, lmk !!!! <3333 :’-) down to start from scratch and PLOT PLOT PLOT !

( 2 / 2 ) - BFFZ : the z for an added emphasis dkfjgnd. somebody who likely has a key to etienne’s house, they can enjoy one anothers company as well as the bouts of comfortable silence. you know how best friends are but kdjfngd still !! whether they are likeminded or polar opposites that just flow ~~ down for anything !! even a trio of sorts ?!

( 1 / 1 ) - RIDE OR DIE / CHAOTIC COMPANION : it would be wrong to say one is the more likely the bad influence over the other, although etienne may just be. these two find themselves bounding into, well hell, ( i guess??? ) together. playing on one anothers impulsiveness and if one ends up in the back of a police car, the other is handcuffed to them. and yet despite the length of their potential injuries, they find themselves thinking of something crazier to subject them to the next time around.

( 1 / 1 ) - GUARDIAN ANGEL / GOOD INFLUENCE : with etienne being a bit chaotic in nature, he needs somebody that is likely going to steer him clear from all the ideas that’ll bring him to the brink of disaster. he’s impulsive and in that desperate attempt to feel again, he’s very likely to bring a bit of mayhem upon himself. so while they may be worrying and attempting to talk his ideas down, he’s trying to get them to go along with his plan. it may be rare that he actually takes their advice, but when he does it seems to be for the best.

( 1 / 1 ) - PARTY FRIEND : these two know how to have a good time together. despite the amount of alcohol they are throwing back and the shenanigans they find themselves in as a result, this is a time where they also find themselves confiding in one another. if you look at their camera rolls, it’s likely they have tons of embarrassing and unflattering videos and pics of one another, in between their sob-worthy confessionals and venting/rants. these two trust one another, and although they love getting wreckT together, they find themselves discussing very raw and personal details. likely the only person etienne confides in, simply bc he’s completely plastered.

( 1 / 1 ) - SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP : these two have a love/hate relationship, very sibling like filled with pranks, competition, teasing and playful banter. however, when it comes down to it they have so much love and respect for one another. they know that no matter what happens they will always have one anothers back and be supportive of the other. truly a pure content filled relationship.

okay quick mention, ENEMY PLOTS ?!?!?!?!?!? i would live for one. i can’t imagine etienne being hardcore nasty, but i’d like to see whatever version comes out for this. so let’s get it djfngjakdfg maybe they just hold different viewpoints on the world and what not and clash, anything really !!! v open !!

( 1 / 1 ) - MENTOR - etienne needs a bit of structured or unstructured guidance, all depending on what their deemed mentor is wanting to impart on him, a bit of wisdom or slight chaos. kdjfgn he’ll take anything !! 

RANDOM LITTLE IDEAS : maybe they’ve heard of one another in town, but haven’t quite met yet! or maybe they see each other around all the time, but have yet to introduce themselves to one another but low-key maybe in some online forum for the town together ?! who knows some fun things kdjnfg i AM OPEN !

ooh maybe a slowburn of sorts ?! something spicy to wreck HIS and my life with.  dkfjgn we can base this off of chemistry !!! :’-)

[cvrnelivs]

— ( harry styles, cismale, he/him ) &. * — meet ( cornelius ‘ oliver ’ edwards ) ! ( he ) is ( twenty five ) years old and has lived in st. helens for ( two ) years . when they’re not helping the town prepare for halloween , they work as a ( baker ) . around here, they’re known to be ( idealistic ) & ( intuitive ) yet ( unpredictable ) & ( destructive ) and apparently their favorite fall activity is ( visiting the farmer’s market ) . safe to say it really wouldn’t be halloweentown without them !

hiya! i am kt &+ underneath the read more is a LOT of info about my bb, cornelius/oliver. ** insert clown emoji but make ‘em yee-haw ** if you’d like to plot you can reach me on here or at space cowboy#8536 on discord !! <33 v excited to interact with y’all and your bbs !!

( DISCLAIMER : THIS IS LONG - WOW !!! just felt a lot of muse !!! apologies !!  ) 

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘

name: cornelius oliver edwards.

nicknames: ollie, ol, lee !! literally whatever - “hey, you” dkjfgn

gender: cismale. pronouns: he, him.

age: twenty-five.

birthday: june 27th.

zodiac: cancer !!

orientation: pansexual / panromantic.

occupation: baker // aspiring filmmaker.

languages spoken: english & french.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

- PINTEREST - featuring his wardrobe, his home, his aesthetic, some character inspo and olive, his german shepard pup !!

- SPOTIFY PLAYLIST - what oliver is currently listening to !!

personality type: INFJ-T / THE ADVOCATE

moral alignment: chaotic good

style-wise: oliver is v stylish, but isn’t overly flashy by any means. he’s intuitive in the sense of what works and what doesn’t. willing to explore the latest wardrobe craze, but also just likes what he likes and likely won’t venture out unless pressed by another to do so. post coming soon for his wardrobe !!! they say that the cancer man’s clothing is selected to reflect “ sophistication over flash “ but kdgjn i’ll let ya’ll be the judge of that. he’s v much harry inspired clothing wardrobe, but also tones it down with some casual looks, especially with being in the bakery and getting his hands dirty in creative aspects !!

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

   oliver was born in kent, england. he’s the youngest in his family of three, having an older brother and sister w/ two loving parents. when he was nine, his family packed up and moved to southern california, where they resided until oliver left for college on the east coast - his family trading off between living back in england and on the west coast throughout the year. upon moving to a new country at a young age, oliver truly found himself via escaping into various books and movies. often attempting to write his own and would force encourage his siblings to act his skits/plays out for his parents enjoyment. growing up, oliver also enjoyed playing all types of sports ( his parents kind of threw him in hoping he’d make friends ), but when it came down to it, athletic abilities-wise, there truly wasn’t anything that he wasn’t ‘ good ‘ at, and that’s simply because he’s always been such a competitive individual / as well as a perfectionist. that competitive/perfectionist energy caused him to go home and practice a skill or trick for hours in order to be able to come back the next day and whoop everyone’s asses. throughout highschool ; oliver was a v dedicated student. although he’s a bit reckless and loved to goof off, he was always acing classes and applying himself. he genuinely cares for others, you could’ve seen his ass volunteering at a soup kitchen with his mom on sundays and what not, as well as take part in various clubs and sports ! just SOFT and sportythings.

   post-high school, oliver attended NYU double majoring in film & television and dramatic writing. despite his extensive and well received portfolio, oliver has always been a perfectionist and overcritical of his work, unwilling to share his projects with anyone until he deems them to be ~ perfect ~ himself. after graduating, he spent a year traveling, trying to find a bit of inspiration around him and taking up odd jobs to get some $$ of his own, dog walking, attempting his best at being a handy man, etc !! he moved back home to socal, and eventually made his way up to st.helen’s after he was sent a job posting for the bakery in town !! although he knows he doesn’t want to pursue a career in baking forever, he’s enjoying his time while trying to find a bit more muse for his future film&writing career.

   overall, oliver can come off as a bit reserved, and distant whether that be a result of his untrusting nature of others, or simply unfamiliarity. it takes a bit of time before he feels comfortable to share his true opinion / commentary / only doing so when he feels secure to do so. he’s not necessarily unfriendly, just a bit distant / lost in his thoughts. which varies, as with most ppl ofc, upon person to person and his level of comfortability among them. despite his often lack of conversation, he abhors an uncomfortable silence to settle and will fill it with nonsense to simply avoid the feeling altogether. so, if you ever want to catch him rambling, just making him uncomfortable dkjfngdf. he definitely approaches most things with a bit of ‘ tough love ‘ . he doesn’t mind getting into a quarrel or two if he knows its worth the outcome he’s envisioned. oliver will tell others when they are fucking up, and if they are throwing a punch as a result - catch him leaning into it, which explains his bout of reckless antics. he can come off as a know it all, when it comes to advice giving, but more so because he thinks he’s really good at analyzing others and situations they are in, not necessarily because he’s lived through them himself, he’s just rather intuitive and able to empathize quite easily with others despite his verbal admittance of it. when it comes down to this binches reckless bits, he just feels so intensely that he ends up numbing himself in the aftermath of it all ( especially bc he’s definitely not sharing those feelings with the people around him ), therefore he’s willing to put himself into harms way in order to get a bit of that - happiness / pain, it doesn’t matter to him as long as he no longer feels overwhelmed by numbness. so, if ya see him with some scrapes and stitches ~ mind ya business. but he’ll likely try to drag somebody else into it, and make it seem like it was their idea. but if he is truly comfortable with somebody, he walks a fine line of won’t stop talking, especially if it’s an interest of his, and comfortable silence.

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 & 𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖘

he is a CANCER, therefore in this essay i will..... kidding but here’s some fun cancer info i saw that applies to my bb !! at first he appears to be wistful, sarcastic ( maybe a lil crabby ) , shy, distant and mysterious. this personality remains if he isn’t completely comfortable around somebody. but overall, that’s just his facade, his ‘smokescreen’ of sorts to scare off the world from his outwards persona. underneath that layer ( makes me think of shrek metaphor with onions // don’t mind me ), BUT he’s gentle, kind and affectionate ( if you manage to make it to that level * bell dings * ) !!! overall, oliver is a sensitive soul, a bit emotional although he’d rather d*e than show that to others. likely will internalize anything that can hurt his feelings / a low blow and will do something chaotic as a result later on bc of it. very polite, and a little worldly, he is truly the epitome of old-school gentlemanly manners. chivalry coming as a second nature to him !!

that was getting ramble-y, so continuing HERE. but when it comes to romance, as per the cancer man, the concept of love is a mystery, one that oliver is trying to attain. however, his shyness and innate distrust of others make it difficult for him to allow himself to fall in love. his guard is always up when it comes to his emotions, and it’ll take a bit of prodding before he’s willing to speak up on what’s desired from him. he’s v picky when it comes to finding the “ partner of his dreams “ - but he’s def willing to throw himself into the romance of the situation, i.e. buying flowers, riding white horses, and slaying metaphorical dragons. the traditional side means that he will shower his partner with thoughtful gifts, wine and dine them in the best restaurants, and try to grant their every wish. he will take the garbage out, fix that wobbly shelf, navigate on road trips, and kill more so trap and release bugs for his partner, and most important of all he will do it all without being asked. his loyalty and keen attention to the needs and wants of his potential partner. so basically, more so willing to showcase through actions than speak on it. it’s the little things, right ??!?!?! he def cherishes not just the act of being in a relationship, but what it means to become one with another person in mind, body, and soul.

prides himself on being able to make a mean cup of coffee, likely the worst person to watch a movie with bc he knows exactly how it’s going to end after only watching five minutes of it, he has a godawful sense of direction, will walk in circles for fifteen minutes before even raising a question about it/noticing ( but he refuses to acknowledge it. )

his house, car, workspace, junk drawer, closet….you name it - it’s organized, practically sparkling. often times arranged by color, and / or style. nothing is ever out of place, and if it is - there’s trouble brewing. but, more than anything, if he’s visiting somebody’s place and it’s messy, he will spend a solid thirty minutes picking everything up before doing whatever it is that was intended.

likes : reading, flowers, handwritten notes/letters, deep cleaning, baking, curating soundtracks for his film projects, watching the history channel and true crime docs and playing / watching hockey !!

dislikes : artichoke, clutter, sandals ( fkjgh ), unrealistic plotlines in movies &+ burnt coffee.

habits : smoking cigarettes - although he’s been meaning to quit. likely has a severe caffeine addiction, although he’s now normalized having six cups of coffee throughout his day. he’s an early riser, no matter how little the amount of sleep he’s received, he’s always the first to rise - for his early morning runs !!

strengths: creative, insightful, inspiring, convincing, determined and passionate, decisive, altruistic, intuitive !!

weaknesses: sensitive, extremely private, perfectionist, low-key always needs to have a cause / purpose, can burn out easily !! 

overall : oliver truly strives to be kind, and genuinely wants for everyone to get along. treat people with kindness and the like. he has the best of intentions, but often times that can get a bit muddled with the way he goes about things due to his bit of chaotic energy / as well as his often points of getting lost in his thoughts. he won’t realize he’s been quiet for the last three hours unless it’s mentioned to him. he will do anything to lighten a dark mood, and will sacrifice / throw himself under the bus if its needed. however, he also is the type to cause the dark mood depending on the day. wahoo! his more reckless antics increase when he’s feeling a bit emotional !! but he’ll likely try and convince somebody to propose the idea so it’s not on him. 

𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

in an attempt to throw himself into the town’s traditions and what not, after moving to st. helen’s oliver decided it was upon himself to put on a very spooo0ooky haunted house! so, catch him converting his home into a haunted house for the month of october !!! nothing cheesy either !! it’s more a psychological scare dkjgn with some gore elements !! EnTeR iF yOu DaRe !!!

he bounced around playing sports growing up, but favored ice hockey and field lacrosse out of them all.

HE WANTS TO JOIN A BOOKCLUB PLEASE !!!!!!!! or at least have some casual moments of silence with another reading. plz and tysm.

he is a vegetarian ! he has been since his freshman year of high school and has no plans on eating seafood/meat ever again.

he loves fancy wine ~ he’s cultured. visits seb’s winery v often !!!

he can play the drums !!

he collects vintage matchbooks and the stickers off of various fruits ( he puts them in a little notebook - can be found on his bookshelf ).

saves handwritten notes and letters from pals.

he loves to garden !!!! he has a specified rose shearing hat.

to make things a bit simple, he has all of harry’s tattoos !!  might add more along the way !! stay tuned, folks !!

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

honestly, i am so up for anything !!! please accept this ramble of ideas thrown below.  if you have any other ideas, lmk !!!! <3333 :’-)

( 2 / 2 ) - BFFZ : the z for an added emphasis dkfjgnd. somebody who likely has a key to oliver’s house, they can enjoy one anothers company as well as the bouts of comfortable silence. you know how best friends are but kdjfngd still !! whether they are likeminded or polar opposites that just flow ~~ down for anything !! even a trio of sorts ?!

( 0 / ?? ) - MUSE(S) : somebody that he often strikes inspo from for his short films and what not !! or has starred/he plans to have them star in his future compilations of sorts !! can be simply from their own ideals, their look / ~vibe~ dkfjgn // whatever !!

( 1 / 1 ) - RIDE OR DIE / CHAOTIC COMPANION : it would be wrong to say one is the more likely the bad influence over the other, although oliver may just be. these two find themselves bounding into, well hell, ( i guess??? ) together. playing on one anothers impulsiveness and if one ends up in the back of a police car, the other is handcuffed to them. and yet despite the length of their potential injuries, they find themselves thinking of something crazier to subject them to the next time around.

( 1 / 1 ) - GUARDIAN ANGEL / GOOD INFLUENCE : with ollie being a bit chaotic in nature, he needs somebody that is likely going to steer him clear from all the ideas that’ll bring him to the brink of disaster. he’s impulsive and in that desperate attempt to feel again, he’s very likely to bring a bit of mayhem upon himself. so while they may be worrying and attempting to talk his ideas down, he’s trying to get them to go along with his plan. it may be rare that he actually takes their advice, but when he does it seems to be for the best.

( 0 / 1 ) - PARTY FRIEND : these two know how to have a good time together. despite the amount of alcohol they are throwing back and the shenanigans they find themselves in as a result, this is a time where they also find themselves confiding in one another. if you look at their camera rolls, it’s likely they have tons of embarrassing and unflattering videos and pics of one another, in between their sob-worthy confessionals and venting/rants. these two trust one another, and although they love getting wreckT together, they find themselves discussing very raw and personal details. likely the only person oliver confides in, simply bc he’s completely plastered.

( 1 / 1 ) - SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP : these two have a love/hate relationship, very sibling like filled with pranks, competition, teasing and playful banter. however, when it comes down to it they have so much love and respect for one another. they know that no matter what happens they will always have one anothers back and be supportive of the other. truly a pure content filled relationship.

okay quick mention, ENEMY PLOTS ?!?!?!?!?!? i would live for one. i can’t imagine oliver being hardcore nasty, but i’d like to see whatever version comes out for this. so let’s get it djfngjakdfg maybe they just hold different viewpoints on the world and what not and clash, anything really !!! v open !!

( 1 / 1 ) - MENTOR - oliver needs a bit of structured or unstructured guidance, all depending on what their deemed mentor is wanting to impart on him, a bit of wisdom or slight chaos. kdjfgn he’ll take anything !! life advice in any and all aspects. maybe they come into the bakery, or maybe they help him with his garden. who knows, i certainly don’t know how they met, but we’ll figure it out ?!?!

RANDOM LITTLE IDEAS : maybe they’ve heard of one another in town, but haven’t quite met yet! or maybe they see each other around all the time, but have yet to introduce themselves to one another but low-key maybe in some online forum for the town together ?! who knows some fun things kdjnfg i AM OPEN !

ooh maybe a slowburn of sorts ?! something spicy to wreck ollie’s and my life with.  dkfjgn we can base this off of chemistry !!! :’-) 

[firstofall-howdareyou]

Transcript of Tessa and Scott’s new interview with Mandy and Tyler (Please excuse any mistakes - I’m not a stenographer!) 

Mandy: Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, thanks so much for chatting with Tyler Magz and I today. You guys are the most decorated figure skaters and you are Canada’s sweethearts. We have followed you through your career and the last Olympics for sure was like crazy for us. Tyler and I were talking about you probably every single day. 

Tyler: Yes. 

Scott: Awe, thank you. 

Mandy: So you’re doing The Thank You Canada Tour right now. You just started like what? A few days ago? Not too long ago. 

Scott: Yeah, we’ve only done three shows. So started last week, yeah. 

Mandy: So, with this tour... so we got to see you when you did Stars on Ice and we were the ones - we made posters here in Winnipeg and were like - Tessa, you totally tweeted us back. It was like “Are you dating? One spin: yes. Zero spins: No. 

(Scott laughs) 

Tessa: Yes, yes, great, that was you guys! 

Tyler: And you tried to avoid the question by asking “If twizzles count?” 

(Tessa laughs) 

Tessa: That is so funny. Well, I’m glad to know, I’m glad to be able to chat with you now and follow up. 

Mandy: Great and now call us out on our stuff. 

Tessa: Exactly. I appreciate the effort. 

Mandy: So, yes, we understand, I’ve read the book, too, and I was like, “I get that you guys aren’t together, but like people just love your partnership, right? They just want a fraction of even that chemistry that you guys have. So that’s why everyone just wants you to be together. We’ll stop harassing you now that you’re done. 

(Tessa laughs) 

Scott: Oh, we take it as a compliment, but we’re happy that people are starting to recognize and see our partnership and what that means. It’s pretty neat and special. 

Tyler: I do want to know because you guys have just been on various tours since the Olympics, just constantly working. When are you going to have some time off to yourself? Because honestly, it seems like you’re just go go go. You know you had the Stars on Ice, now you’re back here in Manitoba. When are you going to take a break and maybe you know, relax a bit? 

Tessa: I mean, we’re hardwired to work. We’re just those people that fill our plate. It’s um, finding a purpose again and a goal following the Olympics when that was all consuming, of course. I think it’s been refreshing to commit so much energy into this project. The Thank You Canada Tour is sooooo incredibly close to our hearts and its something we’re so wonderfully passionate about. So it’s neat to have brought it to life and we’re trying to embrace everything that comes with it. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster, but to be able to go all the way across Canada and hit these smaller cities and venues that haven’t seen skating shows and haven’t certainly seen it in awhile. So that’s been really special and that’s keeping us going - that’s invigorating and energizing to us. 

Mandy: Right. And I know, again because I’m reading your book, and I just love that you guys are from smaller towns, too. And you totally - you get it right? Going to the smaller rinks, because like you said they've never seen shows that big so far. So that’s really awesome! That’s pretty cool. And then I - we’ve been following along on Instagram with all the choreography. So we’re curious to know: are you guys more involved in your routines this time? I mean, you guys are always involved, but do you guys get to customize your routines this time? 

Scott: Well, we always customize our routines. But this time we’re involved in the entire show and we’re really excited about that opportunity. But yeah, I’m happy that you’ve been following along on Instagram. You know, we can’t take the credit for the show. We’re very proud of our creative team. We’re very proud of our cast members who’ve really stepped up and embraced it and - do you guys know the flash mob yet? That’s a big part of the show. We’re excited to be able to dance in Brandon with all of the fans. 

Mandy: What??

Tyler: Oh, that’s cool. 

Mandy: What??? No, go on, go on. I haven’t heard about this. I will drive to Branden for this. 

Tessa: It’s on The Thank You Canada Tour post (Scott: Website, yeah) 

Mandy: You guys get to do a flash mob. Well, I feel like Tyler and I should be a part of this. 

Tyler: I’m still trying learn your “You Rock My World” routine

Scott: I feel like, I feel like you might be.

Tyler: I can’t get past the four steps. The first four steps of it, I’m like “I’m lost.” Once you do the hand gestures and everything, so I’m just still working on that choreography that you guys’ve got going on. 

Tessa: Oh, yeah, you’ll get this, you’ll get this. 

Scott: You have a week from Sunday. 

Mandy: Oh don't worry, we don’t do work here. We’ll just do the routine in the studio and it will be fine. 

Scott: (laughs) yeah, I’ll just clear my schedule. 

Mandy: I wanted to talk a little bit more too about the book. I know it just came out - I literally got it on the day it came out and Tyler’s like “of course you did, Mandy” cause I went right after work. 

Tessa: Awe, thank you. No, I mean, reflecting back on the last eight years since the 2010 publication of the book was cathartic and enlightening and emotional. It was really interesting to sit down with Steve Milton once again, and to share our story, and also just touch base with each other, and figuring out what Scott had remembered and the takeaways that he had from certain moments, key moments in our career and how different they were from my memories. It was really special. And you know, we’ve always been pretty private people. When the first book came out we weren’t on social media and now, of course, we are a little bit more active, but there was a lot that people just didn’t know of the behind-the-scenes what was gone on, especially in this comeback process. I mean, even those closest to us weren’t totally sure what we were going through. So it’s a nice way for us to share our story and we’re really proud of how it came out and it’s neat that people seem to be connecting with it. 

Mandy: Yeah, I love the old/young pictures. Like they’re amazing. Tyler sent me one yesterday! What was the one you sent me? 

Tyler: The one that like - I don't know how old you are, Scott, but it’s just a hey this is - what is it? you have it right there. 

Mandy: Tessa, here’s my picture. To the best partner ever, love Scott. 

Scott: Oh yeah, I was young. 

Mandy: And it’s like your school picture. So people really love that. 

Scott: So see, that might have been from the years when we were dating because we were 6 and 8. 

Mandy: Right, the 8 months that you guys were together. 

Scott: Yeah, (Mandy talks a lot right here) That’s long gone. 

Mandy: Yeah, we know. I know. 

Scott: Now we’re magic all on the ice. 

Tyler: Now do you guys have any plans for Halloween, specifically coming up? Or anything fun that you guys have coming up? 

Tessa: We’re going to be in.. Barrie? So, usually we’re competing over Halloween. We haven’t really celebrated Halloween in many many many years. But hopefully we’ll be rocking the house of Barrie. 

Mandy: Are you going to dress up? 

Tessa: I mean, we dress up (laughter) I will dress up as Satine from Moulin Rouge. 

Tyler: And I wanted to let you know that Mandy and I, we were planning on dressing up as you guys for Halloween. 

Scott: Yes, yes. 

Tessa: Awww, that’s amazing. 

(more talking jesus) 

Tyler: What specifically do we need to have to master the Scott and Tessa look? Like pieces of clothing? Hairstyles? What do we need to encapture you guys in a Halloween costume? 

Tessa: I think you’re going to need to rock a deep v, that’s for sure. Regardless of which one - who you are. 

Scott: You’re going to need a big nose if you’re going to be doing me. Nose and the hair, and you’ve got it. 

Tyler: I have the hair down, the deep v’s I have no problem with that, I’m already set with that. 

Tessa: just enter every room dancing. Whatever party you're going to, just dance away. 

Scott: In 2010, there were some really good Halloween costumes, Tessa and Scott, so you have some competition, so bring your A game.

Mandy: Okay, alright we can do some research. 

Tyler: We’ll do some research. 

Scott: You’re going to need some mesh there, Tyler. 

Mandy: He said he’s going to rock it. Speaking of Tyler, Tyler is learning how to skate this winter, he doesn’t know how to skate and I’m going to teach him. 

Scott: Oh, cool. 

Mandy: So he was wondering if you had any tips - what was that? 

Scott: It’s never too late! 

Mandy: Yeah! So we were curious to know if you had any tips? Like should he start on figure skates? Should he do hockey skates? Should he start with a chair in front of him? 

Scott: I think he should probably do all of those things. Start with hockey skates so he doesn’t have to worry so much about the toe pick and yeah, he’s going to need a chair probably. He can handle it. I say just go for it! 

Tyler: How many layers do I have to wear to soften the padding of like falling so many times? 

Scott: I’d wear elbow pads. 

Tessa: Some pillows would never hurt. But you have a good partner! So that’s half the battle. 

Mandy: Right? I try. 

Tessa: Maybe a helmet

Scott: A helmet and confidence goes a long way. 

Mandy: Okay, fair enough. I’ll suit him up. We’ll be okay. You guys are going to be in Brandon for The Thank You Canada Tour - now in the book I know you guys said you were going to do other fulfillments - so what’s kinda the next chapter for both of you? 

Scott: That’s a good question, actually! We’re hoping to take a Christmas off and catch our breath, to be honest. We’ve been really going since the Olympic games, which has been a ton of fun. But this project got us thinking. We’ve really enjoyed putting a tour together. We enjoy being on the road kinda in this capacity. So I think there will be more skating shows to follow. We just don’t know exactly what those are, but hopefully we’ll have an update in the next little bit. I think we’re probably leaning more toward the show - we’re still skating ourselves - but we want to excite the next generation of skaters. We also want to make sure we’re exciting the young, the youth just taking up skating - inspiring them a little bit. And I think that’s where we can be most impactful right now. So we’ll probably focus on more of our shows and performing. But I think, for me anyways, coaching is probably is in the future in some capacity, I just don’t know how far. 

Mandy: Yeah, I grew up figure skating too, when I was like 4, and then we switched, because again, I didn’t know too many figure skaters back in the early 90s about skating. I think the young kids now know who you are and totally going to keep going because of you guys. 

Scott: Oh, that’s cool! That’s a great compliment. I mean, we are figure skaters and we’re very happy about that, but we’re just happy to hear stories about kids in sport. Whether it’s figure skating or hockey or anything. We just like to hear kids do many sports. 

Mandy: And I saw your mad dangles when you’re doing your hockey stuff on the ice. 

Scott: You know, that’s the one thing about The Thank You Canada Tour - the only negative thing I found is that I miss the first fifteen hockey games in my beer league, so my dangles, I gotta work on. Hit a golf ball on tour. 

Mandy: Well, you guys are going to be fantastic, it’s going to be awesome. The Thank You Canada Tour rolling into Brandon on Sunday, October 21st. Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir. 

Scott: Can’t wait! 

Tessa: We’re so excited to perform in Brandon. 

Mandy: Miss you guys, come back any time and Tyler and I will always make signs and be in the crowd for you. 

Tessa: Awesome

Scott: Good luck with your Halloween costumes. 

Tessa: Send some photos

[barchie-is-endgame]

Learning to Love

Prompt - Can you do a "what happens in Vegas " movie au prompt where they are 18 and the group sneak into a bar. They weren't on speaking terms. Drunk and stupid and get married. Money is on the line and the each person partner wants it for different reasons. The makes them stay married, and they fall in love Pleaaasse.

Warning - Very LONG fic. 16.5k words.

Betty stared out the window of the aircraft, she sighed deeply to herself. Her emotions were in turmoil, deep down she knew she should be ecstatic, she was off to Vegas after all, but the company on the vacation was putting a downer on the whole thing. Her mom had arranged the vacation in celebration of Betty getting into college even though Betty was already halfway through her first year, Betty had been excited at the prospect of time away in Vegas but unfortunately for her, her mom’s best friend had also decided to come along, bringing his son with him.

Fred Andrews and his son, Archie Andrews lived next door to Betty and her mom, Fred and Betty’s mom had been friends since high school, it was pure coincidence that they ended up living next door to each other, they’d both had this dream that Archie and Betty would become best friends like they were, the only problem was Betty couldn’t stand Archie.  They had been good friends when they were younger but as Archie grew older he’d become the kind of person Betty despised, a typical clichéd airhead jock who’s only interest was sports and girls. Despite Betty’s protests to her mom she still had to endure dinner parties and family barbecues with the Andrews, knowing exactly how much he got under her skin Archie would constantly find ways to torment Betty which only added more fuel to the fire of her hatred. Betty had thought that once she left for college that would be it, no more Archie, no more fake smiles at family events, but Betty’s joy had been short-lived when she spotted Archie roaming around her college campus. Betty had brushed off the first few sightings, surely there had to be more than one redhead in the city of New York, but Betty wasn’t that lucky, one day at lunch she had been thrown over someone’s shoulders and spun around until she nearly vomited. After she was placed back on her feet she came face to face with none other than Archie, who’d kindly forgotten to mention that he’d gotten into NYU. Betty had been furious, this was supposed to be her time, she was supposed to get away from Riverdale and leave all the bullshit behind, but no, here was Archie lingering like a bad smell, she couldn’t even vacation without him tagging along. Thankfully her mother had agreed to let Betty invite a friend along, Betty’s longtime best friend Veronica had agreed to accompany her on the trip, whilst Archie’s friend Jughead had joined Archie. Hopefully, this would mean that Archie would be too busy with his friend to remember that Betty had even joined him on the trip. Arriving at the hotel Betty was exhausted, she couldn’t wait to get into her room and have a long hot shower, she’d always hated flying, all that recycled air left Betty feeling grimy. Arriving at their room Betty was annoyed to see that Archie’s room was directly next door to her and Veronica’s, rolling her eyes she let herself into the room refusing to even acknowledge Archie. After a long relaxing soak in the shower, Betty felt much better, after drying her hair she threw on a summer dress and some flats to go and join the others for lunch.  As the six of them ate they discussed their plans for the holiday, they were only in Las Vegas for the weekend, this was the only weekend everyone could get together, having arrived late Saturday afternoon the plan was to do some sightseeing for the rest of the day before retiring to their rooms after dinner, her mom had booked tickets for them to see the Cirque du Soleil on Sunday so she wanted them to be well rested, they had been flying most of the morning so Betty was more than happy to have an early night.

They spent the afternoon taking in the sights that Las Vegas had to offer, they walked down the strip before visiting Fremont street where they were treated to a spectacular light display before stopping at the Bellagio Resort to watch the fountain display, by the time they made it back to their hotel Betty was exhausted. After bidding her mom goodnight Betty and Veronica retired to their rooms, Veronica headed straight to the bathroom while Betty routed through her suitcase for her pyjamas. When Veronica appeared from the bathroom, Betty looked at her confused. “Is that what you’re wearing for bed?” She questioned, Veronica was dressed in a short black sequined dress that just about covered what it needed to, Veronica laughed. “Of course not Betty, we’re not going to bed, we’re going out.” Veronica said as she walked over to the mirror with her make-up bag. “Veronica we can’t just go out, this is Vegas and we’re only eighteen, there’s not a chance we will get in anywhere.” “Ah, but that’s why I have these.” Reaching into her bag Veronica pulled out some plastic cards, riffling through them she passed one to Betty, it was an exact replica of her drivers’ license, except this one said she was twenty-one, not eighteen. “Where did you get these?” Betty asked, she honestly couldn’t tell the difference between the fake ID and hers, they were amazing. “Let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” She said smugly, Betty looked down at the other fake ID’s and her face fell. “Why do you have one for Archie and Jughead?” Betty said snatching up the ID’s. “Because this was Archie’s idea, come on Betty we can’t come to Vegas and not experience the nightlife.” Betty tossed the cards back on the dresser before sitting back on the bed, she folded her arms in front of her in a strop. “Well thanks anyway but I’m not going.” “Oh yes you are, Betty Cooper.” Veronica spun round to face her. “You ran off to New York straight after graduating, we never even got to have a goodbye party, so this is your punishment. You will stop being such a prude, you will go out with me and you will enjoy every minute of it.” Veronica stated jabbing her mascara in Betty’s direction with every word. “But I don’t even have anything to wear, I packed for a sightseeing holiday, even with great fake ID’s I doubt I’m getting in anywhere wearing Khaki shorts.” Veronica smiled at her. “Don’t worry about that, I’ve got you covered.” Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out a little black number for Betty to wear, throwing it at Betty she shoved her towards the bathroom to change. Trying on the dress Betty couldn’t deny the dress was beautiful, albeit a tad short, the dress was black lace with a jersey style skirt, the top was all lace that reached up into a halter neck before draping down the back. Betty had to remove her bra as the back was sheer lace. Splitting up the dress was a chunky gold belt that wrapped around Betty’s waist. Walking out the bathroom Betty couldn’t help tugging at the bottom of the dress. “I think this is too short V.” Betty said as she checked out the dress in the full-length mirror. “Don’t be daft Betty, you look hot.” “I can’t even wear a bra with this, I may as well be naked.” Betty really didn’t feel comfortable. “Oh yeah, here.” Veronica reached into her bag before throwing a black item towards Betty. “What it this?” Betty questioned as she held the garment up. “It’s a stick on bra, stick it over your boobs and pull that cord, it will give you a killer cleavage.” Betty raised her eyebrow at Veronica, she didn’t want a killer cleavage. “It’s either that or braless.” She sang. Huffing Betty made her way into the bathroom to try on the bra, she was surprised to find that it was actually quite comfy, she decided against pulling the string all the way, she wasn’t one to stand out. After letting Veronica do her hair and makeup Betty was quite pleased with her reflection in the mirror, Veronica had left her makeup subtle yet sexy, she had layered on the eyeshadow to give her smokey eyes and the layers of mascara made her eyelashes pop. Veronica had provided Betty with a pair of heels, whilst they weren’t the highest pair she owned Betty knew she was going to struggle to walk in them. Opening their hotel door, Betty glanced down the corridor before tiptoeing to the room next door, Jughead opened the door and Betty and Veronica snuck inside. Jughead handed over two drinks to Veronica who passed one to Betty. Taking a sip Betty nearly choked. “Jesus Jug, are you trying to kill us.” The drink was more alcohol than mixer. “We didn’t bring enough soda with us, I had to make do, it’s probably best if you down it all in one.” Veronica looked down at her drink before shrugging, she tipped her glass back and drained the cup. “Jeez, that was strong.” She shuddered and turned to Betty. “Come on Betty, down the hatch.” Betty stared at her drink before sighing, bringing the drink to her lips she pinched the bridge of her nose before downing the drink, goosebumps erupted over her skin as Veronica and Jughead cheered for her. Opening the bathroom door Archie strolled into the room, he was wearing a pair of dark jeans and an off-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he glanced around the room before looking Betty up and down. “You look great Betty, when did you grow breasts?” Archie joked, Betty shot him a dirty look before folding her arms over chest. “Ignore him Betty, your boobs have always looked hot.” Suddenly Betty wasn’t looking forward to the night, Archie always found a way to ruin any good mood Betty found herself in. Sighing she turned to Jughead. “Have you got any more of that drink?” She asked as she crossed the room to give Jughead her glass. “Sure, it’s gonna be strong though, I don’t have a lot of soda left.” “That’s fine just fill it up.” Betty was going to need a lot of alcohol if she was going to make it through this night. “So…” Archie chimed up. “Let’s see these fake ID’s.” Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out the cards and handed them over. “Wow, these are great.” “Yeah, they weren’t cheap but they are the best, if they are scanned they’ll come up.” “This is awesome.” Archie said, Betty rolled her eyes, screwing her eyes shut she knocked back the rest of her drink shuddering once again, Jughead wasn’t lying, it was much stronger than before.  “Well, what are we still doing here, let’s get out there.” Betty adjusted her skirt once again before following the others out the door. 

                                                   ——————

After flagging a taxi down the group found themselves back at the Bellagio, but this time they weren’t there for the fountain display. Queuing up outside Hyde Bellagio Betty felt incredibly nervous, the slight buzz from the alcohol she’d consumed was doing nothing to help keep her calm. Reaching the front the bouncers carded them, just as they expected, Betty fumbled with her clutch almost dropping it before handing over her card with shaky hands, the bouncer glanced between Betty and her fake ID before nodding her through, Betty released a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding and stumbled past the bouncers and into the club. Heading straight to the bar Betty and Veronica giggled to each other, she couldn’t believe they had done this. The bar was crowded so Archie decided they should order two drinks and a round of shots each, that way they wouldn’t spend half the night queuing for drinks. after everyone had ordered Betty ended up with six multicoloured shots in front of her, Archie and Veronica had ordered double shots. “Alright, you have to slam them all, one after the other.” Archie shouted over the music, Betty blanched, she didn’t do very well with binge drinking, she’d learnt that the hard way at a frat party her first week at college, she’d got wasted and almost ended up naked in a pool. “Come on Betty, drink then we can go dancing.” Veronica shouted in her ear. “On three” Archie said as he lifted the first shot to his lips, Betty nodded and got her shot ready. “One, two, three.” Betty slammed shot after shot, she was shocked to look up and see she was the first one to finish, Archie was next while Jughead and Veronica struggled with theirs. “Nice one Betty, who knew you could drink.” Archie held his hand up to high five Betty but she just slapped his arm instead. “Shut up.” Veronica pulled on her arm to get her attention. “Down one of your drinks so we can go dance.” She shouted down Betty’s ear, Betty grabbed her glass from the bar and quickly drank her double vodka with lime and lemonade before swapping the empty glass for her full one and following Veronica towards the dance floor. After dancing their way through a bunch of songs Betty was more than feeling the effects of the alcohol, not wanting to be the first one to flake on the night she shouted to the others that she was going to grab some water and made her way towards the bar. Leaning over the bar trying to get a bartenders attention Betty felt someone place a hand on the small of her back, looking around she saw Archie standing next to her, he leaned down to talk in her ear. “You okay?” He asked her before pulling back to look at her, Betty could see in his eyes that he was also feeling the effects of the alcohol, Betty nodded at him. “Yeah, I just need some water.” She turned round to look down the bar again. “Don’t be such a lightweight Betty, let me buy you a real drink.” Betty shot him a dirty look. “I am not a lightweight.” “Prove it,” Archie said smugly. “Have a shot with me.” Betty hated the way he was looking at her, she really did not want to prove him right and wuss out by ordering water so against her better judgement she moved to the side so that he could order their drinks. “Hey, you said a shot.” Betty shouted as she glanced down at the bar, Archie had ordered six shots of some clear liquid as well as some fancy cocktail for the both of them. Archie simply shrugged his shoulders. “I can order you that water if you want.” Shooting him yet another dirty look Betty picked up the first shot, Archie picked his up and clinked the cup with Betty’s. “Cheers Betty.” She rolled her eyes before knocking back the shot. The liquid burned all the way down and Betty coughed as she slammed the glass back on the bar, Archie was already holding out the next one. “What the hell is this?” Betty said as she tried to clear her throat. “No idea, it’s strong, that’s the only reason I got it.” Archie necked the next shot and Betty followed suit, once again Archie had the next shot waiting for her, Betty shook her head. “No, no more, it’s disgusting.” Betty scrunched her face up as the after-effects of the alcohol took over. “Come on Betty, last one. You’re not going to turn me down are you, that wouldn’t be very nice seeing as I bought you this drink.” He grabbed hold of Betty’s arm and placed the shot glass in her hand. “No drink it before I make you.” “Ha, I’d love to see you try.” Archie smiled suggestively at Betty and raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you would.” He said smugly. “Gross Archie.” Betty lifted the shot glass to her lips and braced herself before tipping the glass back. “There you go.” Archie smiled before drinking his own shot. Betty grabbed her cocktail and took a sip to try and wash the foul taste out of her mouth, she was met with a fruity punch taste, enjoying the taste Betty drank deeper and was shocked to find she’d drank the cocktail all in one, Archie laughed at her. “Thanks for the drinks, now let’s go and find our friends.” Betty said as she grabbed her bag and turned round to face the dance floor. Spinning a bit too fast the room took a while to come into focus and Betty swayed slightly on the spot. She felt Archie’s hands grab hold of her hips to steady her. “You good?” Archie breathed in her ear, Betty nodded. “I think so, let’s go.” She walked forwards in the direction that she last saw her friends, Archie’s hands moved from her waist but he kept one hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the crowd of dancing bodies, spotting Veronica Betty lurched forwards and almost fell into her best friend. “Hey,” Veronica laughed. “Where have you two been?” “Drinking,” Betty replied. “You should try one of the cocktails, they’re amazing.” Betty could hear her words slurring but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “I will do, after you dance with me.” Veronica smiled at her before pulling her close to dance. Betty’s head was swimming and she was finding it very hard to concentrate, the lights felt incredibly bright and she could feel the music pulsing through her body, she was definitely going to regret going out in the morning.

                                                   ———————

Betty groaned as the sunlight streaming through the window burned her eyes. Prying her eyes open Betty glanced around the room, her mouth tasted like vomit and she had no recollection of getting back home. Sitting up she glanced around the room, her dress and underwear had been scattered all over the floor, looking down at her body she could see she had slept naked, pulling the sheet around her she glanced over at Veronica’s bed, it didn’t look as though it had been slept in. Stretching her arms above her head Betty tried to ease the ache in her upper body, feeling a sharp pain in her left shoulder Betty flinched, reaching round she could feel some scabbing across her back, panicking thinking she’d cut herself she raced out of bed and bent down in the dresser mirror, angling her back so she could see her shoulder Betty could see it wasn’t a scratch, it looked like a tattoo. “Oh, no.” Betty reached round to try and rub the tattoo away hoping it was fake, when pain erupted from the tattoo all hopes were squashed. Moving closer to the mirror Betty tried to see what the tattoo was, it looked like a heart but it had something written inside it, moving closer Betty screamed when she realised what it was, Archie’s name was written in a fancy font right in the middle of the heart. The bathroom door was thrown open and Betty screamed once again when Archie ran out of the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist, reaching for the sheet Betty covered herself up as quickly as she could. “What the hell are you doing in my room, get out!” Betty shouted at him as she tugged the sheet closer around her body. “Betty this is my room.” Archie said smugly, Betty glanced around the room, it looked very similar to her room but as Betty looked closer she noticed that her suitcase was missing as was Veronica’s, and she could see the cups they’d used to drink from before they went out. “What am I doing in your room? How did we get home last night?” Archie shook his head as though he didn’t know either. “And what the hell is this?” Betty angled her shoulder towards Archie so he could see her tattoo. “Is this real, what the hell.” “I think it’s real, mine is anyway.” Archie angled his shoulder and Betty could see what looked like a matching tattoo. Holding the sheet tighter around her Betty shuffled forwards to check out the tattoo, sure enough, Archie had a matching heart tattoo except in the middle of his heart was Betty’s name. “Oh my god.” Betty walked backwards and dropped down on the bed. “A tattoo, why would we get a tattoo, my mom’s gonna kill me.” Betty put her head in her hands, quickly pulling her hands away Betty put her hands in front of her, sitting on her ring finger was what looked like a large plastic ring normally found in gumball machines. “What the hell is that?” Betty questioned. “Oh yeah, if you thought the tattoo was bad you’re gonna flip at this.” Archie walked over to the bedside table and grabbed a piece of paper before handing it to Betty. Betty struggled to read whatever was written on it, the words were swimming on the page. “What is this?” Betty questioned shaking the paper in Archie’s direction. “That my little wifey  is our marriage license.” Betty stared at Archie as she tried to comprehend what he’d just said. “That’s not even funny Archie, seriously what is it?” “I’m not laughing Betty, it’s real, we got married last night.” Betty’s face fell, she pulled the document up to her face and tried to make sense of the writing, she could see her and Archie’s name and her signature at the bottom. Betty threw the paper to the side, standing up she started pacing the room. “This can’t be real, this is some kind of sick joke, we can’t be married.” Betty said with a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” Betty’s stomach lurched as the reality of the situation sunk in. Racing towards the bathroom she dashed past Archie and slammed the door in his face, only just making it Betty emptied her stomach into the toilet bowl. After having a quick shower Betty wrapped herself in a towel and opened the bathroom door, Archie was lay on the bed flicking through the channels on the tv. Trying to maintain as much dignity as possible Betty went around the room and scooped up her dress and underwear, Archie laughed from on the bed. “Shut up okay, just shut up. Where’s my bag?” Betty asked as she looked around the room. “I have no idea, maybe Veronica has it.” Archie said as he continued to flick through the channels. “She’s next door with Jug.” Betty huffed as she tucked her clothes under her arm, there was no easy to ask what she was about to ask so she just came out with it. “Did we, you know, last night?” Betty asked hoping he understood what she meant. “I honestly have no idea Betty, we were both naked in the same bed when I woke up, so maybe, I don’t really remember much.” “Oh my god.” Betty’s head fell into her hands again, what the hell happened last night. “How can you be so calm about this Archie?” “What do you want me to do Betty, you have to admit this is pretty funny.” “No Archie it’s not even remotely funny.” Betty scolded him. “I’m going to check on Veronica, you can google where you get a quick annulment done, now.” Betty stormed out of the room slamming the door shut behind her. Standing in her towel Betty banged on her hotel room door, a very rough looking Jughead answered wrapped in a bathrobe, Betty pulled him by the arm into the hallway. “What the fuck Betty.” “Get back in your room now. I need to speak to Veronica.” Slamming the door shut behind her Betty threw her clothes onto her bed. Veronica shuffled out of the bathroom looking very worse for wear. “What the actual fuck happened last night?” Betty screamed at Veronica. “Urgh please don’t shout.” Veronica pleaded as she sat down on her bed. “My head is killing me.” “Oh your head is killing, that’s nice, I think my problem tops yours.” Betty held up her ring finger which still held the tacky plastic ring. “Nice ring,” Veronica laughed. “Is it stuck or something.” “It’s not just a ring, it’s a wedding ring. Apparently, I married Archie last night, how the hell could you let this happen.” Betty demanded. “Hey, I threw up in my purse okay, none of us were in a fit state.” “Yeah, no shit.” Betty swore. “Relax okay, you can just get an annulment, no one needs to know, what happens in Vegas and all that.” Veronica said. “Oh that’s not all, I doubt this is going to be as easy to fix.” Betty angled her shoulder to show off her tattoo. “Oh shit, did you get a tattoo?” Veronica stood up to get a closer look, she laughed when she saw Archie’s name enclosed in the heart. “Oh yeah, Archie got a matching one.” Veronica started laughing. “Why does everyone think this is funny, my mom’s gonna kill me.” “Betty you’re eighteen, you don’t even live at home anymore, your mom’s never gonna know.” Betty flopped down on her bed. “Did you and Jughead sleep in the same bed?” She questioned when she realised her bed hadn’t been slept in. Veronica gave her a smug looking smile. “Ew, you didn’t did you?” Veronica nodded. “Hey, me sleeping with Jug seems very tame compared to you marrying Archie.” Veronica said as tossed a pillow at Betty. “So did you guys, you know, consummate the marriage?” Betty threw the pillow over her face. “I don’t even know.” She sobbed into the pillow, she could hear Veronica laughing from beside her.

                                              ——————-

 After getting ready Betty and Veronica made their way down to the hotel restaurant to join the others for breakfast, Betty’s mum and Archie’s dad were already seated at the table along with Archie and Jug, Veronica rushed ahead and stole the seat next to Betty’s mom leaving her with no choice but to sit next to Archie. Scowling at the back of Veronica’s head she slid into her seat. 

“Morning hunny, did you sleep well?” Her mom asked her. Betty shook her head “Not really, I could really do with some coffee.” Archie reached across and filled her cup with some coffee from a jug in front of him. “Thanks.” She said to be polite. “What’s mine is yours.” As he said this Betty heard Veronica choke on her orange juice, shooting Archie a dirty look she reached over and slapped Veronica on her back. “So are you guys ready for Cirque du Soleil?” Alice asked all excited. “Oh yeah, I can’t wait.” Archie answered her. Betty nodded along with a forced smile, she was finding it hard to act normal, thoughts were running through her mind a mile a minute. “Well I’m going to grab some food from the buffet, Archie could you come help me.” Betty said as she slapped his leg and gave him a look that she hoped told him he didn’t really have a choice. “Of course dear.” Archie joked, Betty quickly glanced around the table but noticed that fortunately, no one was paying attention. Stomping over to the buffet Betty stopped at the plates. “Will you stop with all the wifey jokes.” Betty hissed as Archie came to a stop beside her. “What, it’s funny.” Archie said with a laugh. “It’s not, I don’t want my mom to find out about this.” “Are you ashamed of me Betty, am I not good enough to marry you.” Betty couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Archie I don’t want to be married to anyone, we’re eighteen for goodness sake. Did you look up places we can get annulled?” She asked as she moved down the buffet, she was piling food on her plate but she didn’t have an appetite. “Yeah, we’re not gonna get anything done today, we’ll have to speak to a lawyer when we get back to New York, until then your stuck being my wife.” Archie threw his arm around Betty’s shoulders as he wore a smug grin, Betty’s shoulders sagged. “This is a nightmare, it has to be, I’m going to wake up in my hotel room and last night will have never happened.” “You keep wishing for that Mrs Andrews.” “Stop that.” Betty scolded. “It is not funny.” “Whatever Betty.” Letting go of her he stomped back towards the table, Betty took a second to compose herself, she plastered a fake smile on her face before heading back to the table.

                                              ——————-

 Cirque du Soleil was probably amazing but Betty found she couldn’t enjoy it, she spent most of the performance worrying about what was going to happen once they got back to New York. How could she be married, and who on earth let them purchase a marriage license when they were clearly very intoxicated. After the performance finished Veronica and Jughead got a taxi back to the hotel leaving Betty and Archie some alone time with their parents. Walking down the strip Betty could only glare at the back of Archie’s head, how could he be so calm about this, he was just laughing and joking with his dad as of this was just any other day, stopping outside a casino Alice turned to Betty.

“So we know you’re both too young to gamble so Fred and I have decided that, as a graduation slash well done for getting into college gift, we will put a bet on for both of you, whatever we win will be yours.” Archie’s face lit up, he pulled out his wallet and started rattling off what he’d like to put down on the roulette table. Betty shook her head at her mom. “I’m okay thanks, I’m not really into gambling.” “Are you sure Betty, you can gamble the money anywhere, roulette, cards.” “Mom I know nothing of gambling, I’d just end up losing money.” “Just stick a dollar in a slot machine for her, you can’t visit Vegas and not gamble.” “Archie it’s fine I don’t…” Betty started before Archie cut her off. “Betty, your mom’s trying to do something nice for you, let her gamble for you.” Archie handed Alice a dollar bill. “Put that into a slot machine for her, it’s better than nothing.” Taking the money they disappeared into the casino leaving Betty and Archie stood on the strip. Betty moved over to a bench and slumped down, Archie joined her shortly after. “Don’t start please, I’m really not in the mood.” Betty said before he could say anything to her, he held his hands up defensively. “Whoa, I wasn’t going to say anything.” “I’m sure you weren’t.” Betty replied, she was really struggling with this whole situation she couldn’t understand why Archie was being so nonchalant about it all. Betty and Archie sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Alice came running from the casino with a massive grin on her face, coming to a stop in front of Betty Alice dragged her up from the bench and into a hug. “You won, Betty you won.” She squealed down Betty’s ear. “Oh cool, how much.” Betty was happy to have won, a few extra dollars was always welcome. “No Betty, you won Oh my god, you won .” Alice was ecstatic. “How much did I win? A couple of hundred?” Betty questioned, she was already spending the money in her head, she was desperate for a new laptop for college. “No Betty, you won the jackpot, you won three million dollars.” “What?” Betty questioned, she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “I put your money in the slot machine and it hit the jackpot, you won three million dollars. Fred’s inside now sorting it all out, I better get back, Oh my god Betty.” She kissed her cheek before running back inside. Betty sank back down onto the bench, three million dollars, that couldn’t be right. “Whoa.” Betty said trying to get her head around it. “Congrats Betty, what are you gonna do with one and half million dollars.” Betty looked at him confused. “My mom said it was three million, where are you getting one and a half from?” Archie smiled at her smugly. “Well that’s your half, we’re married remember, what’s mine is yours.” He said with a grin on his face. “You have got to be kidding, my mom won that money for me.” “Yeah, with my dollar, and it was my idea to use the slot machines.” Betty reached into her pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill, she threw it at Archie. “There you go, you just made interest on that dollar.” “I don’t think so, you won that money while we’re married, that’s both of our money now.” “Archie not even you are selfish enough to do this.” Archie looked at her defiantly. “You obviously don’t know me very well then.”

                                                    ———————

Arriving back home Betty had no choice but to let her mom know what had happened in Vegas. Her mom had been furious. “Sneaking into a club with fake ID, getting so drunk you can’t even remember getting married, Betty I thought I raised you better than this.” Betty had never seen her mom so disappointed, it made her feel awful. “What do I do mom, Archie’s saying he wants half of that money, it was his dollar and we are married, is he really entitled to half of it.” Betty sat on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, she felt like a child all over again. “I don’t know Betty, we’re going to have to get a lawyer, speak to him. God Betty how could you be so stupid.” Tears welled in Betty’s eyes. “I’m sorry mom.” “The cost of the lawyer will come out of your winnings, and you’ll pay for Archie’s lawyer as well, even if he isn’t entitled to any money he shouldn’t have to pay to get out of this.” Betty looked down at the sofa ashamed.

               Betty’s lawyer seemed pretty confident they could get out of the marriage with minimal loss, they were going to offer Archie fifty thousand, which her lawyer said was more than he was owed, Betty had forced him to up it to half the winnings, she wanted to be out of the marriage as soon as possible and it was, after all,  Archie’s money they had gambled with, Betty was starting to feel guilty about dragging him and his dad through this. Sitting in court Betty found herself feeling nervous, she wasn’t going to have to say anything, her lawyer would be doing it all for her but she still felt really uneasy. Braving a quick look at Archie she caught him smirking at her, Betty’s stomach flipped and she shot him a dirty look back before facing forwards again. Everyone rose to their feet as the judge walked in, as he sat down Betty and Archie took their seats while the lawyers remained standing, after a quick recap Betty’s lawyer pleaded their case. “Your Honour, my client was in a state of total inebriation when the wedding took place, she was in no fit state to enter into a legal marriage.” “Mmm hmm. And you,” he said as he looked over at Archie’s lawyer. “Do you have any evidence to prove they both entered this marriage knowingly. Any evidence that would show this was premeditated.” “We do, Your Honour. We have various pictures of the couple together throughout the night, always in each other’s arms.” On a tv screen in the corner flashed picture upon picture of Betty and Archie, they were both laughing in all the photos, sometimes Betty would be sat on Archie’s lap, other times he would be holding her from behind. “We also have this.” On the screen popped up an image of Archie’s love heart tattoo, Betty cringed. “This is a tattoo they got hours before they were married, according to the receipts, we believe Betty also has a matching tattoo containing Archie’s name.” The judge looked over to Betty’s lawyer for confirmation. “Is that true?” Her lawyer whispered in her ear. “Yeah, but again I have no memory of getting it.” Betty lawyer sighed. “It’s true, Your Honour.” The judge nodded his head. “We also have a video, Your Honour.” Betty’s head snapped over to Archie but he refused to look at her, turning to look at the screen Betty watched her drunken self try to place a veil on her head. “We’re getting married.” She sang into the camera. “Yeah, we are,” Archie giggled. “You’re going to be Mrs Archie Andrews. We’re going to be married forever.” “Absolutely, forever and ever.” Betty dropped her head into her hands, she had never seen this video, she didn’t even know there were videos from that night. “I’ve seen enough.” The judge interrupted. “I don’t like you.” He said looking between Betty and Archie “you and your generation and their disregard for marriage. You are destroying the sanctity of marriage, it’s meant to be about love and commitment, not about jokingly getting hitched and expecting a quick divorce. Before I even consider letting either of you out of this marriage I’m going to make sure you try everything to make it work, and I do mean everything.” Betty sat up straighter as she listened, what exactly did he mean by this. “Do either of you have your own place?” Betty was unsure whether she was supposed to answer, she looked to her lawyer who nodded his approval. “I erm, live in university halls.” “What about you?” He asked looking towards Archie. “I have a small apartment near college.” “Excellent, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m freezing the three million dollars for the next six months and sentencing you two to six hard months of marriage, you will attend weekly marriage counselling and you will try to make this work, if you do not play ball I will lock your money up in so much litigation that neither one of you will ever see a dime of it. Congratulations you two, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge banged his gavel and collected his paperwork together, Betty turned to face her lawyer. “What the hell just happened?” “I’m sorry Betty, I had no idea this would happen, I guess he wanted to make an example out of you. “Can he do this, surely this can’t be legal, he can’t force us to be together, can he?” “He’s the judge, he can do whatever he wants.” Betty let her head bang against the table. “I can’t do this.” “It’s just six months, move in together, attend the marriage counselling and follow the rules, that’s the only way you get the divorce and see any of that money.” “You’ve been useless you know that. You have been absolutely no help.” Betty said turning to her lawyer, frustrated she stood up from the desk and began to make her way out of the courtroom. Archie caught up to her and threw his arm around her shoulder. “You ready to move into my lad pad wifey, I should warn you, I live in my underwear, except on laundry day, then it’s birthday suit time.” Betty shuddered, shaking his arm of her she turned to face him. “You are not going to chase me away that easily. We grew up together, I’ve seen it all before remember.” She said looking him up and down. “I can put up with you for six months for one and a half million dollars, as long as I never see you again after I’ll be happy.” Betty walked out of the courtroom and made her way back to her university dorm to pack.

                                                   ———————-

After packing only the essentials Betty made her way across the city to Archie’s address, looking around the neighbourhood Betty was pleasantly surprised to see it was a nice area. Pressing the buzzer for Archie’s apartment she waited for an answer. “Hey, it’s me, open up.” She said into the buzzer. “Wifey, come on up it’s all the way at the top.” Betty rolled her eyes, this was going to be a long six months. Walking into Archie’s apartment Betty breathed a sigh of relief, the apartment wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be, she was expecting some dirty man cave but the sitting area was actually presentable. Walking into the kitchen dampened her spirits. “Have you ever washed a dish in your life?” Betty said with a look of disgust on her face. “I wash them as and when I need to.” Archie shrugged. “Oh god, is that dirty laundry?” Betty dry heaved into her hand. “You leave your dirty laundry on the kitchen top, where do you prepare your food?” “Oh, I just shove it out of the way, or order takeout.” “Disgusting, so disgusting.” Betty continued her tour of the apartment. “Oh my god” Betty screamed as she ran out of the bathroom. “That’s… there are no words, I can’t do this, oh no, I can’t.” She dry heaved into her hand again. “Seriously, it’s one thing if you like a guy, but I don’t care for you, so clean it up.” “Hey, I can live quite comfortably like this, if you can’t then there’s the door.” Betty’s shoulders sagged, Archie moved to grab something from the kitchen cupboard. “Here, these are antibacterial, so get to work.” Betty made dramatic crying noises, how could she do this, she couldn’t live with a boy, boys were messy and disgusting, there was enough evidence of that in the bathroom. Betty held her breath as she made her way into the bedroom, like the living room it wasn’t the worse place in the apartment, Archie came to stand behind her in the doorway. “It’s no king but it’s should fit the two of us quite comfortably.” Betty spun round to face him. “We are not sharing a bed, not ever.” “You didn’t seem to mind sharing a bed in Vegas.” Archie said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Ugh you are unbelievable, you can sleep on the sofa.” “No way, this is my place, why do you get the bed.” “Because it’s the gentleman thing to do, you can’t expect me to sleep on a sofa for six months.” “Oh but it’s okay for me to.” “Fine.” Betty huffed. “We’ll do alternate nights.” “Deal.” Archie smirked. Donning some rubber gloves Betty made her way through the apartment trying to get it as clean as possible, she struggled in the bathroom, having to run out every so often for fresh air, a full bottle of bleach later and the bathroom certainly wasn’t sparkling but it was definitely better. Pulling out her phone she was shocked to see it was almost one am, walking into the sitting area she spotted Archie passed out on the sofa, guess this meant she had the bed tonight. Grabbing a box of her stuff she made her way into the bedroom, stripping all the bedding she took Archie’s quilt out to him and placid it over his sleeping body. Watching him sleep she could appreciate that Archie was quite attractive when he wasn’t awake and being annoying as hell. Walking back into his bedroom she unpacked her own sheets and made the bed before flopping down, she was exhausted and needed to be up for an early class. With the stress of the day catching up with her it wasn’t long before she drifted off.

               Betty had survived their first week of living together, the fact she was hardly ever in had certainly helped, she had classes to keep her busy during the day and then she’d stay as late as possible at the library before heading home. It was now time for their first ever marriage counselling session, Betty still couldn’t believe that this was happening, married and heading to marriage counselling at eighteen. Arriving at the counsellor’s office she spotted Archie sat in the waiting room, she walked in and dropped into the seat beside him. “You ready to do this?” He asked her. “What, pretend like I don’t throw up in my mouth a little every time I look at you? Yes, I’m ready.” Betty said without looking at him, she heard him laugh from beside her. The receptionist motioned for Betty and Archie to go through, Betty took a deep breath to prepare herself. Glancing around the office she noticed that it looked like a typical shrinks office, a sofa and an armchair and wall to wall of books and trinkets. Betty took a seat next to Archie who immediately threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, Betty flinched slightly before straightening up, she was trying her hardest to look as relaxed as possible.   “So Archie, tell me a bit about yourself.” The woman sat in front of them was a slightly plump lady, she reminded Betty of her late grandma. “Well I grew up in a town called Riverdale, right next door to this one,” he said as he shook Betty’s shoulder with his hand. “Guess you could say it was destined for us to end up together.” He pulled Betty closer to him as she plastered on a fake smile. “I moved to New York to study music at NYU.” Betty’s head snapped to look at Archie, she had no idea he was here studying music, she just assumed he got here on a sports scholarship, she didn’t realise he was into music, while she recalled spotting a guitar when she was cleaning the apartment she had thought it was just a prop for his lad pad. “But mostly I just like to watch Betty, and listen to her, I’m a good listener, she can talk and talk and I’ll just listen and listen because that’s what a good husband does, isn’t it wifey.” Betty let out a forced giggle. “Absolutely.” She replied through gritted teeth. “I just love living with Archie, most people my age would probably hate the idea of living with a boy, most people would probably be disgusted to find dirty underwear and socks at the bottom of the freshly washed bedsheets, but not me, I love brushing my feet over them in the middle of the night, it doesn’t make me want to scrub my skin red raw, not one bit.” Betty reached down and playfully slapped Archie’s leg, letting her hand linger slightly. “Right,” Dr Cameron cast a suspicious eye over the two of them. “well I hope you both know I’m not buying one bit of this thing…” she gestured over Archie and Betty with her pen.” “You’re trying to sell me. I have to report back to the courts with my findings and they want to see proof that you’re actually working on this.” Betty sighed, this was not going to be as easy as she first thought.

                                              —————-

“Betty, get a move on, I need to use the bathroom.” Archie shouted from outside the bathroom.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Betty sang, she was currently in the process of neatening her hair, if she was completely honest it looked fine ages ago, she was simply taking her time to piss Archie off, last night she had come home late to find Archie having a little house party with his friends, they had stayed up till well past three in the morning and despite Betty’s pleas for them to keep it down, they had been loud and obnoxious all night. To top it off when Betty had tried to get into the kitchen she had been met with piles of take away boxes and masses of empty beer cans, Archie was passed out on the sofa with a waste bin full of vomit lay next to him. “Betty you said that an hour ago!” Betty could hear Archie becoming more and more annoyed. Good. “I’m almost done.” Betty pulled her phone out and sat down on the edge of the bath. “Dammit Betty.” Archie pounded on the door, Betty just giggled and scrolled through her phone. Figuring he’d suffered enough she unlocked the door, Archie threw Betty out of the way and sprinted into the bathroom, Betty could only laugh, served him right. “I’m going now, I’ll see you after class hunny.” She shouted out as she grabbed her bag and coat. “Fuck you.” Archie shouted back, Betty laughed once again. After finishing her classes Betty decided to forgo the late night library session, she was exhausted after having very little sleep last night so just headed home. Arriving back she spotted Archie sprawled out on the sofa playing a video game. “Do you ever go to class?” Betty asked as she hung her coat up. “Only the ones I care about.” Archie replied without looking at her, Betty rolled her eyes before heading for the bathroom, she reached in to close the door but came up empty. Spinning around she spotted why, there was no door, it had been taken off its hinges. “Where’s the door?” Betty shouted out towards Archie’s direction. “We got robbed.” Archie replied nonchalantly. “And all they took was the door.” What a crock of shit. “I know weird right.” Betty let out a frustrated scream, walking into the bedroom she slammed the door shut behind her.

               “He took the door off the bathroom, I have to pee behind a sheet that I hung up, what kind of guy does that, I’m sure he doesn’t move from that sofa, like at all, it’s got ass dents in it. I just, I feel like he’s not even trying, like he doesn’t want to make this work.” Betty was currently at the marriage counsellors on her own for their one to one sessions. Betty much preferred these sessions, she didn’t feel like she had to fake her feelings. “He has these parties, I’m not even sure you could call them that, a bunch of his friends come to the apartment and they drink and are loud till all hours of the morning, he might not care about graduating college but I do.” “This is good, you’re arguing, this feels like a married couple, this is progress.” Betty shook her head, it didn’t feel like progress, it felt like one massive step backwards.

                                                   ———————-

Two months in and Betty was ready to rip her hair out, she felt like she hadn’t had a decent nights sleep in ages, the apartment still lacked a bathroom door which meant Archie was free to walk in and out the bathroom, which he frequently did whilst she was showering. Betty made sure to return the favour, bursting in to brush her teeth when Archie had just gotten in the shower, turning the hot top all the way up leaving Archie screaming from the cold water. Unfortunately, Archie had got her back by deleting her English literature essay and replacing it with a porn link, Betty had emailed it to her professor. She hadn’t spoken to Archie since then, it was one thing to mess with her home life but school work was absolutely off limits. She was in the process of rewriting the essay, her professor had been kind enough to give her an extension after she claimed a virus had wiped out her computer and infected her emails. Picking her phone up from the bed as it vibrated she saw it was an unknown number. “Hello this is Jenifer calling from Dr Cameron’s office, may I please speak to Betty.” A woman on the other end of the phone asked. “Speaking.” Betty replied “Hello Betty, I can see you are down to see Dr Cameron today at four, unfortunately, she has had to cancel all appointments today, is there any chance you can do this Friday at three instead.” “Actually I have class till three on Fridays, do you have anything later?” “I can do four-thirty, is that any good?” “Yes, that’s fine.” “Excellent I’ll pencil you in, see you Friday.” Betty hung up and stared at the phone, something didn’t feel right. Routing through her bag she pulled out the card she’d taken from the counsellor’s office, ringing the number she was shocked when Dr Cameron picked up. “Cameron’s office. “Dr Cameron, this Betty, Betty Coo… I mean Andrews.” Betty still hated correcting her name to that. “Mrs Andrews, yes what can I do for you?” “Well, I just received a call from your receptionist to say our session had to be rearranged, I’m just ringing to double check that fact.” “Your session is definitely still on, and just to make you aware any absence is considered contempt of court.” “Oh, it is, well thanks for clearing that up for me.” Betty hung up, Archie was trying to get her to miss therapy, if she missed therapy then it would seem like she didn’t want to work on the marriage. That son of a bitch. Betty cleared her stuff from the bed, placing her laptop in her bag she set off for the doctor’s office, she wanted to get there before Archie, she couldn’t wait to see his face when he realised she was there. Betty arrived twenty minutes before their session and took a seat in the waiting room, not ten minutes later she watched as Archie strolled in, the smug look soon fell from his face when he spotted Betty. “Betty, you’re here early.” He said as he took a seat beside her. Betty simply smiled at him, he was still going to receive the silent treatment from her.

Arriving home from college the next day, she found the apartment empty, sitting on the sofa she spotted Archie’s guitar, in the two months of living here Betty had never once heard him play it, he must have to for his music course. Snatching up the guitar Betty left the apartment, if he wanted to mess with her work she was going to mess with his. 

Returning home from the library that night Betty found Archie pacing the floor, he pounced on Betty the moment she walked through the door. “Have you seen my guitar?” He asked looking panicked. “Guitar? I didn’t even know you had a guitar.” “Fuck, I left it right here.” He said gesturing to the sofa. “You know maybe we were robbed again. Maybe the guy who stole the bathroom door struck again.” Betty walked towards the bedroom and threw her bag on the bed, she could hear Archie following her. “Betty did you take my guitar, please tell me you have it. My mom bought me that guitar before…” Betty’s stomach dropped, now she felt shitty, Archie’s mom had passed away when they were thirteen. “The door.” Betty demanded, Archie looked at her confused. “I want the bathroom door back, then you can have your guitar.” Archie gave her a dirty look before sagging his shoulders and sighing. “Deal.” He finally said. “And the late night parties with the guys, I want them to stop.” “Fine whatever.” Betty reached her hand out to shake on the deal, she watched as Archie reluctantly reached back to shake her hand. “Now where’s my guitar?.” He said as he snatched his hand back. “I put it in my dorm room. “You carried my guitar across campus?” Archie looked shocked upon hearing this. “I was careful.” Archie shook his head at her “Well come on.” He said signalling towards the door. “You want me to get it now?” Archie nodded at her, sighing she turned around and headed towards the door, she could hear Archie following her as she left the apartment. “You don’t need to come I can get it myself.” “There is no way I’m letting you touch my guitar again.” Betty rolled her eyes.

After crossing campus Betty let Archie into her dorm room, he’d made a beeline straight for his guitar which Betty had placed carefully on her bed, she watched whilst Archie had checked every inch of the guitar before sighing happily.

“I told you I was careful.” Archie finally stopped paying attention to his guitar to glance around Betty’s room. “So this is your room.” He said as he placed his guitar back onto Betty’s bed and began to nosey around. “Why don’t you have a roommate?” He asked as he stared at the empty bed on the other side of the room. “I was just never assigned one, I’m actually quite glad.” “Aw look you have pictures of me in your room.” Betty rolled her eyes. “Well, thanks to our parents, we hung out a lot as kids, you’re in a lot of my childhood pictures.” Betty walked towards Archie to take a closer look at the pictures, the one he was referring to was a family barbecue taken when they were about nine, Archie had his arms wrapped around Betty’s waist as he lifted her off her feet about to throw her in a pool, they were both laughing, Archie’s mom stood off to the side smiling at the two of them. Betty watched as Archie reached up and touched the image of his mom, Betty felt her chest constrict, losing his mom had been hard on Archie, he’d turned into the douche she’d come to hate not long after. Betty cleared her throat. “Well I think that’s enough nostalgia for one day, come on let’s go, I’m starving.” Betty moved away from the picture and made her way towards the door, throwing it open she found her path blocked, in front of her stood her ex-boyfriend, James, he stood with his hand up in a fist as though he’d just been about to knock. “Betty, hey, I thought that was you.” “James, hi, what are you doing here?” Betty asked, this was the first time since their break up that he’d tried to speak to her. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Kate said you’d moved out of the dorm.” He moved to lean casually across the doorframe. “Yeah, I’m staying with a friend for a while.” Betty didn’t know why she’d answered him, it had nothing to do with him where she was staying, not anymore. “Right, well I was thinking, maybe we could grab dinner..” “I don’t think so.” Betty cut him off, Betty wanted nothing more to do with him, talking to him now was more than he deserved. “Come on Betty, don’t be like that.” He reached out as if to touch her face but Betty moved back out of his reach, her back collided with something hard and glancing behind her she spotted Archie. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Archie said from behind her, Betty cringed, she really did not want to do this now. “I’m sorry, who are you?” James asked looking Archie up and down. “I’m the friend.” Archie simply replied, Betty watched as realisation dawned on James’ face and his head snapped in Betty’s direction. “I see, well clearly that didn’t take long.” Before Betty could react James turned on his heel and stomped down the corridor and out of sight. The walk back to the apartment had been quiet, Betty had a stomp on as she angrily thought about the exchange that had happened between her and James, he had no right to judge her. Walking into the apartment Betty headed straight for the bedroom, she threw her coat angrily on the bed stomping her foot in frustration. Turning around she slammed straight into Archie’s chest, she hadn’t heard him follow her into the bedroom, he grabbed hold of the top of her arms to steady her. “Jesus Archie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that.” “Who was that guy?” Archie asked looking down at her, he still had hold of her arms and Betty seemed overly aware of how close he was standing. “My ex.” Was all Betty said, Archie furrowed his brows at her answer. “You have an ex?” Betty was offended at his question. “Yes Archie, I have had boyfriends in the past, if you can believe that.” “Why didn’t you tell him we’re married.” Betty couldn’t be sure but she could swear she heard a hint of jealousy in his voice. “Archie I don’t tell anyone we’re married, in four more months we won’t be and this will all just be a bad memory. “I see.” Archie said as he released his hold on her arms, he sounded hurt almost. “So why’d you and James split up.” He said James’ name with a hint of disgust. “That’s none of your business.” Betty said as she folded her arms in front of her. “Fine then.” Archie turned on his heel and made his way through the apartment, Betty found herself following him. “Where are you going?” She shouted after him when she realised he was heading for the front door. “To find James, I might buy him a beer or two, find out what happened between you two.” He said turning to face her. “You wouldn’t.” Betty said incredulously. “Come on Betty, we both know I would.” “Why does it bother you so much?” Betty asked him, she watched as he shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t, but I can see it bothers you.” He turned his back and started towards the door again. “He cheated on me.” Betty blurted out,  Archie froze on the spot. “He cheated, there are you happy now.” She watched as his hands tightened into a fist and he slowly turned around. “He cheated?” Archie said, it came out more of a question. “Yes okay, he cheated.” Betty’s shoulders sagged. “So go ahead, make jokes about how about how I can’t keep a boyfriend, how I must be so awful to be with and no one will ever want to stay with me. I know you’re dying to.” “Betty I…” Archie quickly turned around to face her. “I lied about my roommate, I did get assigned one, we became good friends, until I walked in on them fucking in my bed.” Betty braved a look at Archie, she was sure she was going to find him smirking at her, probably on the verge of laughing, which is why she was shocked to see that he looked angry. “Son of a bitch.” Betty could only look on shocked as he turned and carried on towards the front door, Betty had expected him to laugh at her, make fun of her, she certainly hadn’t expected this. Coming to her senses she chased after him. “Archie wait, stop, you can’t do this.” Betty could hear him muttering under his breath. “That bastard.” Betty panicked, she’d worked so hard to move past this, she couldn’t let Archie run out opening old would. “What are you doing, Archie stop. Archie.” Betty’s voice broke as she shouted at him, she was on the verge of tears, she had no idea what is happening. Archie had stopped walking, he had his hand on the door handle with his back to Betty. “You can take the bathroom door back, fuck up as many of my assignments as you want, just don’t bring my past into this, please.” Betty was fully crying now, big fat tears streamed down her cheeks. Archie turned round to face her, with two big strides he stood in front of her, Betty was startled when he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, her face was crushed against his chest and her arms were pinned by her sides. “What’s happening? Are you hugging me.” Her voice sounded muffled against his shirt. “No one deserves that Betty, especially you.” “Thanks, I think.” Betty was confused, this was the most compassion Archie had shown her in years, he continued to hold her awkwardly. “Archie.” Betty said into his shirt again “Yeah.” “I can’t breathe.” “Oh, right, sorry” Archie quickly let go of her and stepped back, Betty looked up at him quizzically, was he actually being nice to her, maybe he just pitied her. “So, erm.” Archie reaches up and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand “Do you want to order a pizza for tea.” “Is that because you want pizza or is it because there are no clean dishes in the kitchen.” “A bit of both.” Archie replied smiling at her. After the pizza arrived Archie put a film on for them to watch whilst they ate, Betty found herself glancing over at Archie every now again, in the two months of living together they had never sat down to watch television, they hardly spent any time in the same room. Archie glanced over at her and she quickly looked away, smirking at the tv she felt as though she’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

Waking up the next morning Betty glanced around the room, she couldn’t remember getting into bed, she must have fallen asleep during the movie, had Archie carried her to bed? It was meant to be her turn on the sofa. Getting out of bed Betty walked into the kitchen in search of some coffee, she almost had a heart attack at the sight that greeted her. The kitchen was spotless, all the dishes had been washed and put away, there was no take away boxes or trash lying around, Betty could see the kitchen tops, walking out of the kitchen Betty also noticed that the bathroom door was back, she walked through the rest of the apartment and whilst the apartment was squeaky clean there was no sign of Archie. Frowning Betty made her way back to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee but found there was already a full hot pot waiting. As Betty was pouring herself a coffee she heard the front door open, taking her cup she made her way into the sitting room. Archie stood in the middle of the front room cradling what looked like a bag of groceries. “Okay, did I enter the twilight zone at some point last night.” “What?” Archie said with a half laugh “The apartment, it’s spotless. And did you go grocery shopping?” Betty said as she tried to peer into the bag, Archie snatched it out of her reach. “I just grabbed some essentials.” “And the apartment,” Betty raised her eyebrow at him. “I haven’t seen you clean once since I moved in.” “Yeah about that,” Archie looked at Betty sheepishly. “I erm, I’m actually very house proud. I hate mess. “So all the filth, the trash, the bathroom, that was ..” “Just to mess with you? Yeah.” Archie tried to smile at Betty. “I threw a trash the apartment party the night before you moved in.” Betty looked at him shocked. “You’re an arse.” Betty turned and headed back to the bedroom, she found herself wondering what had brought this change in Archie. 

                                                   ———————-

The next few weeks were bliss for Betty, there were no arguments, the apartment stayed tidy and Archie even cooked a few times, they would also spend their evenings together in the sitting room, bonding over their love of cheesy action movies. Betty was packing up her laptop when she heard the front door open, throwing her bag over her shoulder she made her way through the apartment where she spotted Archie holding a takeout bag. “Hey, I thought we could watch the next mission impossible, I’ve got Chinese.” He said holding the bag up as proof, Betty was immediately hit with the smell of mouthwatering Chinese food, her face fell. “I’m going out.” “Oh.” Archie’s face also fell, he almost looked disappointed. “I’ve got a study group with some guys from my English lit class. I shouldn’t be too long, save me some food?” Archie smiled at her and nodded, Betty gave him a quick smile before leaving. Whilst at the study group Betty found it hard to concentrate, she kept thinking about Chinese food and Archie, shaking her head she tried to pay attention. Zoning back in she realised none of the group were talking about the exam they had coming up, they were instead talking about a party that was happening not far from them. “We should go, we’re not getting any work done here. Everyone’s too exhausted, even Betty’s got her head in the clouds.” A girl with dark hair said. “Hey.” Betty frowned, it was true though. “Fuck it, why not.” Josh, one of the boys in her class piped up. Everyone around her started packing up. “You coming Betty?” He said looking at Betty. “No I think I’m just gonna head home, I’m hungry.” “No Betty,” the girl with dark hair moaned, Jenna or Jenny Betty’s wasn’t too sure of her name. “You have to come, don’t let me be the only girl.” Betty glanced around the table, she hadn’t noticed they were the only girls in the study group “Come, have one drink, please.” Betty pulled out her phone, it was coming up to nine thirty, she sighed as she relented. “Fine, one drink and then I’m going.” The party was booming when they arrived, people were milling about on the lawn of the house whilst one person threw up over the porch railing. Walking through the front door Betty was hit by the sound of thumping music, there were a lot of bodies dancing away, heading straight for the kitchen Josh handed them all a red cup from in front of a beer keg, taking a sip Betty grimaced, the beer was warm and flat. “Ew. If we’re only having one drink it is not being this beer.” Jenna or Jenny took the cup from Betty’s hand and placed it back on the table. “Let’s find something proper to drink.” Walking further into the kitchen they were greeted by a few people Betty didn’t recognise. “Jenny, Betty yes!” They both received thumbs up and high fives as they walked, Betty had no idea who they were but at least she knew Jenny’s name now. “Hey,” Jenny shouted back. “We’re after a decent drink, where’s all the good liquor.” A blonde guy jumped down from the where he was sat on the kitchen counter. “If you’re after a good drink I’ve got just the thing,” he reached in a cupboard behind him and pulled out a bottle of liquor, filling two cups a third of the way he passed one to Jenny before passing one to Betty’s, he smiled as he brushed his fingers with hers. “Top them up with soda and you’re good to go.” “Thanks man.” Jenny said before grabbing Betty’s hand and dragging her over to a drinks table, Betty sniffed at the liquid in her cup, it didn’t smell like anything she had drunk before. Topping both their cups up with cola Betty took a long drink. The liquid felt warm going down but tasted a lot better than the flat beer. “What is this?” Betty asked before taking another sip. “I’m not sure, tequila maybe.” Jenny replied. “Come on then, let’s mingle, if you’re still insistent on staying for just the one then I want to find girls I know before you leave.” “Yep still staying for just one, I’ve got leftover Chinese waiting for me.” “Lucky.” Jenny smiled before dragging Betty out of the kitchen.

                                               ————-

 Betty stood outside, she couldn’t remember getting here, she turned around to look for Jenny but she was all alone.

“Jenny.” She tried to shout out but the words came out slurred, Betty heard laughter. “No Jenny here. Why don’t you come join us though, we’ll keep you company.” Betty tried to squint in the direction of the voices but her eyes wouldn’t focus, she could just make out a group of large black blobs. Betty turned back around, she could just make out the light of the house. “I want to go home.” “I’ll take you home sweetheart.” Betty hadn’t realised she’d spoken out loud, more laughter followed. Betty reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, squinting at the screen she tried to dial anyone, holding the phone to her ear she strained to listen. “Hello, I want to go home.” Betty thought she could hear someone taking but the noise seemed to be coming from everywhere, she was sure she heard someone ask about where she was. “I don’t know where I am. It’s a party, where’s Jenny?” Betty was rambling, she didn’t even know if she was talking to anyone. “Is this a frat house, I think it is. I want Chinese food and Archie.” Betty was hysterical, someone put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take care of you.” Betty couldn’t focus on his face “Will you take me home?” Betty just wanted to get home. “Sure I will, let’s go.” Betty was inside now, the music pulsed through her body, someone had hold of her hand, pulling her through the house, heading towards the stairs, Betty didn’t want to go upstairs, she wanted to go home. Pulling her hand back she stumbled back and hit the floor, she could hear more laughter. “Come on.” Hands were pulling at her again. “Is she okay?” She wasn’t okay but she couldn’t find her voice. “She’s about to puke, I’m taking her to the toilet before she blows chunks on the carpet.” Did she feel sick, Betty wasn’t sure. Her head was fuzzy, it was getting harder to see. Betty looked around the room, it didn’t look like a bathroom, she felt beneath her, it was soft, and bouncy, a bed. Betty let her body fall back, sleep sounded good. At the sound of a door closing Betty sat up, the room span and her stomach lurched, someone stood in front of her. “Who are you? I want to to go.” “Shh. Shh.” Hands on her shoulders guided her back, something didn’t feel right, she didn’t like this. “No, I want to go, leave me alone.”Betty tried to sit up but a pressure on her chest stopped her moving. “I can’t move, I want to go.” Betty’s head swam, somewhere far away she heard a bang, the pressure from her chest disappeared and she felt like she could breathe again, more bangs and grunts sounded from far away, Betty tried to roll over but the room was spinning too much, she started crying, she just wanted to go home. Betty was moving, her head was resting against something cold, opening her eyes she could see flashing lights moving fast. “Am I going home?” The words came out incredibly slurred. “Yes Betty, we’re going home.” “That’s good, Archie’s at home.” Betty’s eyes closed again.

                                              ————-

 A persistent throb behind her eyes caused Betty to wake with a groan, she lay there as she tried to get her bearings, moving to sit up she breathed a sigh of relief to find she was in Archie’s bedroom. Panic set in as she realised she had no memory of arriving home, what had happened last night? She had been at the study group she remembered that and then they had stopped at a party, everything started to get fuzzy after that. Startled by a sound Betty glanced around and found Archie asleep in the desk chair, had he slept there all night? Betty watched as he lightly snored, he didn’t look in the slightest bit comfortable, moving the covers to the side she went to stand up but an intense wave of dizziness stopped her in her tracks.

“Whoa.” Betty placed her hands on her head. “Betty?” She heard Archie say, he sounded worried. “I feel dizzy.” Was all Betty could say. “Lie back down.” She heard the chair creak and felt Archie come to a stop next to her, Betty shook her head. “I don’t want to lie down.” Betty heard Archie walk away, removing her head from her hands she looked up as Archie walked back in with a glass of water, he handed it to her without saying a word, Betty took a small sip but it sat heavy on her stomach, shaking her head she held the glass out. “You need to drink Betty,” She shook her head, her stomach couldn’t take it. “Fine then.” Archie took the glass from her and slammed it down on the table, he dropped down on the chair with a huff. “Did you sleep on that chair?” Archie nodded without looking at her. “Why?” “Because I thought you were going to die Betty.” He snapped at her, Betty flinched. “What the fuck happened last night, you said you were going to a study session, how the fuck do you end up off your face at a frat party.” Betty cringed, she’d never seen Archie so angry. “I..I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie, Betty couldn’t remember anything. “Do you realise the situation you put yourself in last night, if I hadn’t have found you when I did you could have been..” Archie trailed off. “There are guys out there just waiting to take advantage of wasted girls like you.” Betty looked down at her hands, she felt like a child being chastised. “How could you be so irresponsible Betty, and why would you lie to me.” “I didn’t lie,” Betty cut in. “I went to my study group, they were calling at a party on the way home, I said I’d have one, I...I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember anything.” Betty started crying, had someone really tried to take advantage of her, she couldn’t remember anything and that scared her. She felt the bed dip beside her and Archie engulfed her in a hug, Betty turned and buried her head in his chest. “What happened Archie?” She said into his chest. Betty felt Archie reach up and stroke her hair. After her cries subsided she pulled back and reached up to wipe her face. “How did you know where I was?” Betty questioned, she couldn’t remember Archie being there, was he at the party? “You rang me, do you not remember?” Betty shook her head. “You weren’t making a lot of sense, you were crying and you sounded out of it, I tried asking where you were but I don’t think you could hear me, you said something about a frat house before…” Archie trailed off, his jaw tensed and his hand clenched into a fist. “I heard a guy say they’d take care of you.” Archie added through gritted teeth, Betty’s breathing hitched. “I got in my car and just drove around campus hoping I’d find the right party.” Archie had come looking for her, he wasn’t at the party, he’d gone out to find her. “You were upstairs, in a bedroom, I could hear you shouting from outside the room.” Betty didn’t remember any of this, the whole night was just a dark void from leaving the library, Betty didn’t want to hear the rest, she felt sick to her stomach. “I got there just in time, five minutes later and…” he shook his head. “I’ll kill that bastard if I ever see him again.” Betty shifted away from Archie. “Betty?” Archie’s eyes questioned Betty’s but she couldn’t speak, her hand flew up to her mouth, she was going to be sick. Shifting to the end of the bed she moved to stand up, standing shakily her legs gave way beneath her, before she could hit the floor Archie threw his arm around her waist and straightened her up. “Are you going to be sick?” Betty furiously nodded her head as tears were filling her eyes, before she could comprehend what was happening Archie bent down and placed his other arm behind her knees and scooped her up bridal style. Quickly walking to the bathroom he dropped Betty in front of the toilet seconds before the contents of her stomach made an appearance, there wasn’t much to throw up so she spent a lot of time dry heaving. After flushing the toilet she tried shakily to stand up, Archie lifted her up gently using her underarms, had he been watching her throw up? She was too weak to be embarrassed about it. Archie held her as she brushed her teeth and carried her back to bed, after ensuring she was comfy he sat back in the chair. “So why did you sleep on the chair?” Betty found herself asking again. “Betty you were so out of it, you couldn’t walk, you were mumbling in the car, you couldn’t even hold your head up. I put you in bed and you kept making this gasping sound, I thought you were going to stop breathing. I kept asking if you’d taken something, but you couldn’t speak.” Betty shook her head, she would never take drugs. “I was so close to taking you to the emergency room. You scared me Betty. How did you let yourself get into that state.” Betty thought hard, she tried to pull anything from the night, she could remember feeling the music, tasting flat beer, but she’d drank something else, why when was only having one drink? “I only wanted one drink,” Betty said as the memory came back to her. “Jenny didn’t want to go alone so I promised one drink but that was it. We had a beer but it didn’t taste nice. Someone gave us something else to drink.” “You took a drink from a stranger?” Archie interrupted her, he sounded frustrated, Betty shook her head. “No, I watched him pour it, we were in the kitchen, I added my own soda. I don’t think I had another drink.” Betty tried to think harder to try and fill the blanks but she was just giving herself a headache, tears filled her eyes again. “I can’t remember anything.” Betty buried her head in the pillow, she felt the bed dip again. “I’m sorry Archie, I’m sorry you had to sleep in the chair.” She heard Archie laugh beside her. “What a silly thing to apologise for.” She couldn’t help it, she felt guilty about the whole night. Betty lay there silently for a while before she heard Archie’s even breathing, turning over she found Archie had fallen asleep beside her, he must have been exhausted, he can’t have caught much sleep in the tiny desk chair. As Betty watched him sleep her own eyes became heavy with tiredness, closing her eyes she breathed deeply as she drifted off.

                                             ——————-

Waking up Betty found the room was plunged in darkness, glancing over she found the bed empty, sitting up she was glad to notice there was no more dizziness. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she carefully stood up, she still felt incredibly weak but felt it was nothing a coffee and a big breakfast couldn’t solve. Walking into the bathroom Betty closed the door behind her, her bladder felt uncomfortably full, after relieving herself she stood up and turned to flush the toilet, a strong wave of vertigo hit her and she stumbled slightly, trying to steady herself she grabbed hold of the nearest thing, knocking bottles into the sink with a clatter she gripped on to the edge of the sink she closed her eyes as she waited for the dizziness to pass. “Betty.” Archie shouted through the door, she heard as he tried the handle but Betty had locked the door behind her. “Betty, are you okay.” He shouted as he banged on the door. “I’m fine.” Betty shouted, she meant for it to sound like she was fine but her voice came out all croaky. “I’m okay.” She said after clearing her throat. Glancing in the mirror she cringed at her reflection, her face looked pale and washed out and her hair was matted like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. After quickly washing her face she tried her best to tame her hair with a brush, sighing that it was as good as it was going to get without a shower she went in search of food. Opening the door she found Archie stood just the other side. “Betty are you alright? What happened in there?” He looked her up and down before glancing into the bathroom behind her. “I’m okay, I knocked some things into the sink. I’m okay really.” Archie stared at her like he was studying her, satisfied with her answer Archie moved to the side to allow Betty to pass. Walking down the hallway Betty was hit with another wave of dizziness, it was so intense she slammed right into the wall. “Shit.” Betty cursed reaching up to rub her shoulder, she felt incredibly weak her legs were like jello. “Betty?” She heard Archie call her name but it sounded like he was underwater, she shook her head to try and clear it. “I think I need to eat something.” Was all she could say. “Come on, I’ll make you something, go sit down.” Archie grabbed her hand and led her into the lounge, her legs struggled to work, she felt like she was treading water, dropping down on the sofa Betty leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Betty.” Her eyes flew open and she found Archie’s face inches from hers. “I’ve been calling you, didn’t you hear me?” Betty shook her head slightly. “I must have dozed off.” Archie looked at her worriedly before leaning back, he gestured towards the table. “Eat something, it’s probably best to start light so I’ve just made you some toast.” Betty smiled at him before reaching out and grabbing a slice of toast. Taking a bite she had to stifle a moan, it was only toast but it was warm and buttery just the way she liked it, after her first bite her stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud, screaming out for more. “What time is it?” Betty asked, it looked as though the sun was just rising, the room was cast in a slight orange glow. “Just after ten.” Betty glanced outside, it seemed a little late for a sunrise. “In the morning?” She questioned. “No Betty, it’s nighttime, you’ve slept all day.” Betty blanched, she’d been asleep all day, she didn’t even feel that well rested. “What time… erm, what time did you come get me, last night.” Betty was curious as to what time she got back and just how much time she had lost. “Let’s see, you called me at,” Archie picked his phone up from the table and began to scroll through it. “You rang at ten past ten, I drove around for about ten minutes before…” “Wait, that can’t be right.” Betty cut him off. “Are you sure it was ten past ten?” She questioned, Archie nodded. “Positive, it’s right here.” He turned the phone round to show Betty, she didn’t even attempt to read the screen, her eyes struggled to focus. “That doesn’t make sense, we left the library at half nine.” Archie frowned at her. “Are you sure.” “Yes, I remember checking the time before we left the library, if it had been late I was just going to come home. How could I have gotten that wasted in half an hour.” It just didn’t make sense. “You didn’t.” Archie face contorted with anger. “You were spiked.” Archie’s hand slammed down on the coffee table causing Betty to jump. “I’m going to kill that bastard.” He stood up and held his hand out to Betty. “Come on.” Betty looked at him with confusion. “Where are we going?” “To the hospital, you need to get checked out.” “What! No, I’m not going to the hospital, I’m fine.” “Betty you’re not fine, you’re walking into walls for fuck’s sake. You could have been spiked with anything.” “Archie I’m fine, I just needed to eat, I feel much better now.” She wasn’t really lying, she did feel a bit better after eating. Archie stood staring at her for what felt like an eternity before his shoulders sagged. “Fine, but promise me if you start to feel worse you’ll tell me.” “I promise.” “And if you walk into another wall I’m dragging you kicking and screaming to the hospital.” “That’s fair enough.” Betty smiled at him softly hoping he’d relax a bit more, he finally sat back down beside Betty but she could feel him watching her from the corner of her eyes. Betty suggested they watch the film they were going to watch last night and Archie made Betty more toast. More than halfway through the film Betty felt her eyelids drooping, she felt exhausted which was strange given that she’d slept all day. Wanting to go to bed but not trusting her feet Betty let her drop onto Archie’s shoulder, she’d happily take the sofa tonight after all she’d taken Archie’s night in the bed and he’d slept on a desk chair. Betty startled as she felt the sofa disappear from beneath her, opening her eyes slightly she was greeted with the sight of Archie’s chest, he was carrying her to bed. Closing her eyes she let Archie place her on the bed and cover her with a blanket, she was quite happy to just drift off to sleep once again until she heard the creak of the desk chair. Opening her eyes she spotted Archie leaning back in the desk chair trying to get comfy. “Archie you don’t need to watch me, I told you I’m fine.” He jumped slightly at her voice. “It’s fine Betty, just sleep, I don’t mind.” “Archie you can’t spend another night on the chair, it cannot be comfy.” “I’m not leaving you on your own Betty, I just… last night was terrifying. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Betty’s heart ached, she could hear the fear in his voice, she felt guilty despite it not really being her fault. “Well if you’re not going to leave at least get in the bed.” Archie looked at her confused. “And where will you sleep.” “Here, I’m sure there’s enough room for both of us.” Archie looked like he was overthinking it. “Come on Archie, I’d feel terrible if I made you sleep on that chair again.” Sighing Archie stood up and walked around the bed, Betty shuffled all the way over to one side as Archie climbed in, lying there Betty could feel how tense Archie was, he was lay as stiff as a board. “Relax Archie, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Archie released a breath before letting out a laugh, Betty felt him visibly relax. After getting comfy Betty closed her eyes and felt herself start to drift off. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness Betty felt lips on her forehead as a brief kiss was placed upon her. “Goodnight Betty.” Archie said. So close to sleep Betty wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it or not, she didn’t have time to contemplate it before sleep took her quickly.

                                                   ———————-

Things changed after that night, Betty and Archie seemed to get along much better, Archie would constantly go out of his way to make sure Betty was okay, he’d pick her up from the library and meet up with her in between classes. They’d have lunch dates where they’d reminisce about their childhood and some of the trouble they used to get in. Archie opened up about his dreams of becoming a musician and Betty learnt just how important it was to him, that’s why she was currently sneaking into the college music hall to watch his entry for his musical exam. Betty still had never heard Archie play his guitar, she looked around the music hall as she tried to catch a glimpse of him. Taking a seat right at the back of the hall she waited patiently for his turn, there were some very talented musicians in his class, some sang while others played musical instruments, Betty was anxious to hear what Archie could do. Finally strolling onto the stage Betty felt her heart start to race as she watched Archie take a seat on a stool in the middle of the stage. Betty had recently been struggling with her feelings for Archie, she found herself gazing lovingly at him whenever he did the smallest thing for her, she was sure she was falling for him, she was jolted from her thoughts as Archie cleared his throat. “I’ll be submitting an original piece, titled I’ll Try.” The assessors nodded at him and he began to strum the guitar, Betty listened intently, it felt like the whole world fell away and all that was left were Betty and Archie, suspended in time, Archie sang the words with such meaning and Betty found herself leaning forwards trying to capture every moment. And then it was over, Archie stood wordlessly and left the stage, Betty shook her head as she tried to compose herself, she hadn’t been sure what she was expecting but it hadn’t been that. Betty had originally meant to sneak home and never let Archie know that she’d seen him perform, she always assumed there was a reason he never played in front of her, but she found herself waiting near his car for him to arrive, she felt compelled to see him. Betty watched as Archie walked towards his car, he had his guitar case in one hand and his phone in the other, Betty’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she smiled as she realised he was probably texting her to say he was on his way home. “Archie.” His head shot up at the sound of her voice and his confusion gave way to a smile when he saw her. “Betty, what are you.. why are you here.” Archie opened his car door and slid the case onto the back seat. “Now don’t get mad but, I snuck in to watch you play.” Betty rushed out. “Archie that was amazing, I…” Betty couldn’t put into words what she’d just witnessed so instead she rushed forwards and threw her arms around Archie in a hug, after a few seconds Archie hugged her back. “Thanks Betty, but it wasn’t that good.” Betty pulled back to look at him whilst keeping a hold of his forearms. “Are you kidding me, Archie that was incredible, I.. well I loved it.” Archie smiled down at her. “You really thought it was good.” Betty nodded furiously, she was so proud of Archie. Looking up at Archie she smiled softly, her heart was racing so fast she could feel it pounding in her ears, her eyes darted down to Archie’s lips and back up to his eyes, without thinking Betty leaned forwards and captured Archie’s lips with her own, she let her lips linger slightly before pulling back, her eyes flew open in shock, she just kissed Archie. “Archie I’m…” Before she could apologise Archie grabbed her face and smashed his lips to hers, the kiss was furiously passionate, Betty felt her self being consumed by the kiss, reaching up she threaded her fingers into his hair and gently tugged at it, Archie gently walked them backwards and Betty’s back collided with his car, Archie’s hips pushed into her and she felt herself pushing back just trying to get closer to him, Betty’s head was swimming and her lungs were screaming out for oxygen but she was reluctant to break the kiss, afraid that this would all be over the moment they stopped. Archie was the first to pull away, he rested his forehead on hers as he tried to catch his breath, Betty’s eyes remained closed as she struggled to calm her breathing, she didn’t want to open her eyes, she was more than content to stay in this moment forever. A throat cleared behind them and Betty’s eyes flew open, Archie jumped away and turned around, sneaking a peek over his shoulder Betty could see one of Archie’s music assessors stood in front of them. “Evening Archie, I just wanted to say well done in there, you should be very proud.” Betty felt a smile come to her face, she couldn’t agree more. “Thank you professor, that means a lot.” “You’re welcome Archie, well I’m sorry for interrupting.” Betty could feel herself blushing as he glanced over at her. “Oh I’m sorry professor,” Archie stood to the side and wrapped his arm around Betty’s waist forcing her forwards a few steps. “This is my wife, Betty.” Betty’s head snapped up to Archie, he was staring at the professor with a huge smile on his face, Betty felt herself smile, she reached out to shake the professors extended hand. “Oh, wife, well its lovely to meet you Betty.” He leant in slightly “Now I know where he gets all his inspiration from.” If Betty’s cheeks weren’t red before they were flaming now. “Well I should be off, I look forward to seeing you in my class next year Archie.” Archie’s hand tensed on Betty’s waist almost making her jump. “Wait, are you saying… did I pass?” Betty could hear the excitement in his voice. “Archie, you know I can’t reveal anything until the results are posted.” He said with a sly smile before turning to walk away. “But you said… but he said see next year. Did he say see you next year?” He turned to face Betty, his face was beaming with excitement. “Yeah, I think he did.” Betty smiled at him, Archie picked her up and spun her round excitedly, Betty could do nothing but laugh, when he placed her back on her feet Betty smiled up at him. “See, what did I say? Amazing.” “Thank you Betty.” Archie stared down at Betty with admiration in his eyes. “Why are you thanking me, that was all you.” “No, my professor was right, you were my inspiration Betty, you inspired that song.” Before Betty could question what he meant he kissed her, the kiss wasn’t as passionate as the other one but it’s still managed to take her breath away. “Archie I…” “Betty do you know what tomorrow is?” Betty tried to think, she had so many exams coming up she wasn’t sure what day it was. She shook her head. “It’s six months since we got married, tomorrow’s the last day we are legally obligated to stay together.” Betty was shocked, had it really gone that quickly. “Only I don’t want it to end, Betty I can’t imagine waking up and not finding you dancing away in the kitchen as you wait for your coffee, I don’t want to give up our late night cheesy action movies. I love having you around, I love coming home to find you sprawled out on the sofa, your face buried in a mountain of books, I love our lunch dates when we talk absolute nonsense for hours on end and I, well Betty, I love you. And I want you to marry me, well stay married to me, not because you have to but because you want to.” Betty looked up at him stunned, this was a lot to take in, she had no idea Archie felt this way and if she was being honest with herself, she felt exactly the same, she loved living with Archie, she loved spending time with him, she loved him. Betty felt all of her emotions come bubbling to the surface, they seemed to get stuck in her throat and her eyes welled with tears. “I want that too.” She finally managed to say, it came out all croaky and she must have sounded so pathetic. “You do?” Archie asked, he sounded unsure. “Yes. I love you Archie.” A huge smile erupted over his face and he leant down and captured her lips with his, Betty poured every ounce of emotion she had into the kiss, hoping to show Archie exactly how she felt. Pulling back she gazed up at Archie, who knew that a drunken night in Vegas would end here.

[tsuki-sennin]

Re~vi~i~ve Go~retsu~! Goretsu!

I'm kidding, of course, but y'know what? I can relax sooner or later!

As much fun as I've rather obviously had with Revice over this past year, I do agree with the general consensus being that it's hit a lot of stumbles. Nothing truly show-breaking or making it unwatchable or anything like that, but definitely noticeable. Maybe I'll talk about them in depth after I see the final episode, or maybe I won't, but hey! Might as well try to end on a good note, eh?

Spoilers, I guess...

-Man.

-Nah, it's fine Vice, I kinda feel the same way.

-I wonder... how the hell does Ikki get removed from photos? I'd understand the symbolism behind it if the rest of the family forgot about him but... did he take the photos? Set the camera up?

-"THIS IS OUR FAULT YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER"

-He's working for free!

-"...yeah, sure, I know who you people are!"

-Oh hi George.

-Yeah, splash him.

-"Let's go see your dad... together, next time."

-Man...

-"Nah, you don't have to apologize. I was just doing it for myself."

-Bros 4 Lyfe.

-Delicious :)

-"So like... who is Ikki Igarashi, anyhow?"

-Epic Dad Joke.

-Did that beer even spill out?

-Awwww, Love-chan :(

-Ikkiiiiiii :(

-He moved out.

-Man, we kinda dropped that Ptera Genome hoverbike thing, huh?

-Guess it was just too much.

-Fenix Frat House.

-GEORGE DID YOU CREATE THE MEMORY DRAIN

-Oh, I... drastically misread that.

-That might be Vice's destruction.

-Dolphin!

-BEDS

-Vice, how much money do you think we have?

-Vice cookin'.

-Demon Spice!

-Bonk.

-Fellas, is it gay to live with the manifestation of your childish impulses and desires meant to protect your brain from trauma?

-Hot damn, Ikki got drip.

-See ya.

-Man... I can't imagine the amount of talent and effort it must take to convey so much emotion just through body language... mad props to Eitoku, that man's a living legend.

-My man wore a suit to a locally owned ramen joint.

-Oh hey, parfaits. I've had one of those in Oishi-na Town!

-...ohhhhh, shit.

-Cake...

-Your phone's goin' wild.

-My man, Tamaki!

-Holy shit, Genta went in there barehanded!

-What a Chad.

-DESTREAM LET'S GO

-Wish I got to see more of this suit, it's awesome.

-V

-Vice duck.

-Oh my god, Vice duck.

-I

-Genuinely don't know what to say to that, what the fuck

-Oh my God.

-I think we've had two fart jokes in the entirety of Revice. Admirable restraint, compared to the preview in Saber.

-Ohhhh shit, we fightin'.

-"I ate your Mom, shitlips!"

-Oh my god, Revi reflected in Vice's helmet's visor... ohhhh, that's such a cool shot...

-Ah, yep. This is all part of a zany scheme.

-...I really hope those people Vice was "attacking" were in on it.

-Oh my fucking god, Sakura sprayed ketchup all over Tamaki.

-...hey, lucky him, I guess!

-Ikki's having himself the most violent masturbation ever.

-We're deleting Vice.

-Man...

-I mean, Kagerou was supposed to be gone forever when the Holy Vistamp was brought into play, but...

-God, I can feel the pain...

-Oh boy, final episode.

-Man...

-Well, I hope you'll all join me Sunday morning, where we bid farewell to the Igarashi family. I'm almost certainly gonna cry, so that should be fun! And after that, I'm gonna post a big long review of Revice maybe probably who knows!

[juicehoee]

All Along the Watchtower {Chapter 6: Catnip} (Juice Ortiz)

One/Two/Three/Four/Five/Six

Chapter Six: Catnip

“Isn’t she a beauty?”

Juice’s newly bought Jeep sat proudly in his driveway, shiny and modern in all of it’s camouflage glory. He almost second guessed the camo pattern, but ultimately decided that the whole thing just reflected his personality too much to turn down.

It was a sunny afternoon built for cruising around the neighborhood on their bikes, but Juice was much more interested in taking his new Jeep for a joyride with the doors off. He decided he needed something to go back and forth from Nevada with that would be a bit easier on his back and could carry a bit more stuff with him. It was hard to pack all his shit in a little mesh backpack that barely had room for a toothbrush and he was sure Uncle Lenny was wary about his precious niece being on the back of his bike all the time (even though Uncle Lenny had his own hog in the backyard in pristine condition).

Juice and Opie stood around the back of the Jeep, Juice admiring the exterior while Opie stared part in shock and part in disbelief of the younger man’s purchase. Jax was around the front, checking out the engine. In truth, Opie thought it looked like something out of that Kardashian show (not that he had ever watched it, or would admit that he’d seen it) and those girls just had bad taste, in his public opinion.

“Well,” Opie’s eyebrows furrowed, not quite sure of what to say to Juice. “Sure. If that’s your kind thing, then it’s perfect.”

“You really mean that?” Juice asked, touched in his heart by Opie’s words.

“Yup. Meant every word of it.” Opie pat Juice on the back. “You did good, Juicy.”

Jax came around to meet them at the trunk of the Jeep. “Kinda looks like something you’d see Kylie Jenner driving around Calabasas.”

Juice took a step back with wide brown eyes. “You know about Kylie Jenner?”

“Yeah,” Jax shot back, defensive. “Anyone with an internet connection has heard of Kylie Jenner. She’s everywhere, you can’t really miss her. Right, Ope?”

Opie shook his head side to side and put his hands up, trying to stay out of it. “Nah, brother. Don’t know who that is.”

Opie gave Juice a knowing glance while Jax was looking the other way and Juice shot him a thumbs up behind his back. Jax was none the wiser. It was so easy to get him riled up over random shit, so Juice and Opie made a game out of it to see who could get him to lose his shit the fastest.

“You really good with all that camo, Juicy?” Jax asked, inspecting the car with a judgmental scrutiny that he could have only learned from his mother. “You’re sure you’ll be able to find it in the parking lot?”

“Jeez, you’re funny.” Juice clapped Jax on the shoulder. “Stop with the humor, funny man. There’s a stitch in my side.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Jax said. “You didn’t want black or blue or something like that?”

Jax’s nose was two centimeters away from the Jeep’s bumper and Juice entertained the thought of kicking the back of his knees in to get him to trip, but refrained from it. He didn’t answer the question (he didn’t think he needed to, it was his truck for God’s sake and he really liked it).

“I like the camo.” Juice said, shrugging. “It’s not like I can show up with a receipt and get store credit for the thing anyway.”

“Can you get me a water or something from inside?” Opie turned to Juice. “My throat’s a little scratchy.”

As Juice jogged up the driveway and into his front door, Opie grabbed Jax by the collar and shoved him forward. Opie slugged him in the kidney real quick, glancing at the door to see if Juice had come back yet. He hadn’t.

“What the hell was that for?” Jax yelled. “Kidney hits fuckin’ hurt.”

“Stop being a dickhead about the damn Jeep, Jax.” Opie grumbled. “The kid’s excited about it and my truck’s a piece of crap but I’d knock around anyone who gave me shit for it. Give Juice a break, he’s pussy-whipped and he just bought a camo Jeep. Let him live a little without makin’ him feel bad about it.”

“Fine, fine.” Jax agreed. “I’ll let up on him a little bit.”

Inside, Juice was grabbing them all a few waters when Dolly and Shiloh came rubbing against his legs. They were being suspiciously nice which, in Juice’s experience, usually meant they wanted something. The food bowl was full. So was the water dish. There had to be something else.

“You sneaky bastards want catnip, don’t you?” Juice said, scratching them both behind the ears. “Well, alright. You know I spoil you.”

They just stared at him, but the meows started going when he opened the cabinet he kept the catnip in. Sometimes, they were smarter than he gave them credit for. They were a lot like him in that way, he figured. Underestimated.

Dolly and Shiloh were practically jumping to reach his hands as he sprinkled it on the floor for them to roll around in for a good fifteen minutes. It must be nice to have such a simple life where fifteen minutes of catnip could keep them happy for the next week. That, and the fact these spoiled cats get to sleep in his comfortable king size bed gave them a pretty content life. He envied it.

“Jesus, Juicy! Get back out here!” Jax yelled through the front window. “You can jack off later after we leave!”

With a dramatic sense of gusto, Juice fled out the front door, grabbing the three water bottles from the counter on the way out. He tried not to look too flustered. Hopefully, his face didn’t look too red to his friends when he emerged from the house.

“What were you doing in there?” Opie asked, catching the water bottle Juice tossed to him.

“Shut up.” Juice mumbled. “I was feeding my cats.”

“You have cats?” Opie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Jax smiled, a malicious grin taking over his face. “You didn’t know that? He’s got two of ‘em. What are their names again?”

“Dolly and Shiloh.” Juice answered. “I’m not ashamed of my cats. Actually pretty proud of them. They’re self sufficient.”

“Dolly?” Opie asked. “As in Dolly Parton?”

“Yeah,” Juice shrunk into his boots. “Not so proud of that though. I had a weird country phase the week I got them.”

“You sure it wasn’t about the fake tits?” Jax smirked.

Juice considered this for a second. “Yeah, it might have been a little bit about the fake tits.”

Hanging around with Jax and Opie like buddies was a rare occurrence for Juice. Only a couple months ago, he had been a prospect and everyone looked down on him (quite literally since he spent most of his time cleaning out the toilets). Even now, most of the guys treated him like a prospect, and technically, he was still a new guy. Jax and Opie got down off their high horses once in a while to treat him like a brother, like an equal, and those times were like beer that Juice could guzzle down a gallon of on a hot summer Sunday. He liked having buddies. He liked having brothers.

“You wanna go for a joyride in this thing?” Juice asked, dangling the shiny new keys to his shiny new Jeep. “Might as well break it in to go grocery shopping. Super exciting stuff.”

“Take it to Nevada. Impress that pretty little thing you’ve been daydreaming about.” Opie laughed. “She better be worth all the shit you’re putting into this.”

“She is.” Juice said. “She really fucking is.”

“She better be,” Jax chimed in. “You’re worth it, Juicy. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. And if they do, punch ‘em in the nuts.”

“And if it’s a woman who tries to bring you down, just send ‘em to Gemma.” Opie hugged Juice for a moment. “She’ll take care of that issue real quick, believe me.”

“Thanks, guys.” Juice fought the emotional tears welling behind his eyes. He meant it.

Damn, it was fucking good to have brothers.

{***}

“Hey, stranger. Need a ride?”

Juice pulled up beside Lana on the sidewalk as she was walking down the street. He knew he’d have to talk to her sooner or later and it would take the pressure off of his shoulders. The idea of cutting this whole thing off was like a fat rock pressing down on his chest and it was starting to put a damper on him. Better do it now when Clay and Tig were out of sight. Tig gave him a good beating that had left him with a solid bruise under his left eye and a cut on his lip that hurt like a bitch every time he tried to eat anything hot. Buffalo chicken was out of the question until at least next week, and Juice knew he needed this pain to fuel the conversation with Lana that was about to ensue. He hoped they could still be friends.

“Juice?” Lana furrowed her brows. “Is this- did you just buy this?”

“Yeah.” he twiddled his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Get in, I need to talk to you without Tig beating my face in.”

“Are you trying to lure me into your car, Mr. Ortiz?” Lana asked. “I’ve watched To Catch a Predator. Can’t trust anyone. Chris Hansen taught me that.”

“I’m serious, Svetlana.” He was surprised he used her full name. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

It killed him to put on such a cold front, but Gemma was the wisest person he knew when it came to women, what they wanted, what they needed. He felt so lost and naive when it came to relationships and Gemma seemed so happy with Clay. He just wanted a girl who would ride on the back of his bike in thirty years and not get tired of him. He wanted what Clay and Gemma had. Might as well follow her advice seeing as he was swirling down a dark path with Lana and he needed to stop it before things got worse for him.

“Okay.” She looked hurt as she climbed into the car. “I like the camo.”

“I don’t want to lead you on anymore.” Juice said, trying his best to be blunt but gentlemanly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you and I shouldn’t have taken you home that night. You’re nineteen, you need a nice college boy who will take you to parties and make sure you get home okay. You don’t need me.”

“But I like you, Juice.” Lana said. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, I understand that, but if you’re gonna pull some angsty Hollywood movie bullshit about how you’re not good for me, then I’ll tuck and roll out of this Jeep right now.”

Lana’s voice had an aggression in it (she must have learned it from Gemma, it sounded very Gemma-like) but she wouldn’t look at him. Instead, her eyes were glued in her lap and her dainty fingers played with the fringe of the ripped denim shorts she wore. There was an instablility in her hands that made him shake and he prayed his hands wouldn’t shake that bad or he’d have to pull over the car (and he really needed to get to the damn grocery store before it closed, he was running out of chocolate-covered raisins).

“I’m seeing someone.” Juice said. “A girl in Nevada. I really like her and she’s been really good for me. If things keep going well, I might ask her to move in with me.”

“In Charming?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Juice said. “Considering that I currently live in Charming.”

“You really gotta be a smartass with me right now?” Lana snapped. “Were you seeing her before you kissed me?”

Juice froze. He didn’t think about it like that. His brain stopped working and he ran through a red light, much to the chagrin of the beeping drivers around him.

“Yeah.” he said. “Nothing official, but I was going to Nevada to see her a bunch.”

Her hands clenched into fists, leaving little red crescents in the soft flesh of her palms. She didn’t care. How could he have been so fucking selfish? It was humiliating to be played by him in front of the whole club. In front of Clay. In front of Tig. In front of Jax. They all knew about it and they would al know that she was rejected. She was just some little kid trying to put on her big girl pants and be part of the club when they all wished she would move away to paint shit and go to class.

“What the fuck, Juice?” her voice was low, but strong, on the verge of her breaking point. “How could you lead me on like that? How could you do that to me?”

“Did you really think there was ever a chance for us, Lana? I mean, it didn’t seem ridiculous for us to be together?” Juice rose his voice. “You really think we would have survived with Clay and Tig trying to beat the shit out of me for even looking at you?”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, Juan.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Juice yelled louder. “Thanks to you, I’ve got two black eyes and a split lip and Clay’s gonna bury me somewhere in the woods before I even get anywhere with the Sons! This club means everything to me and I put that in jeopardy because I knew you needed a friend.”

“So you were just my friend for five minutes because you pitied me? You kissed me and took me home with you because you pitied me?” Lana threw her hands up, incredulous. She was no longer quiet. “That’s fucked up, Juice.”

“That’s not-”

“You think I’m just some pathetic little kid who can’t handle her own. Who’s stupid and helpless and needs someone to hold her fucking hand while she cries.” Lana fumed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Yeah? You don’t need my pity?” Juice said, looking over at her. “Then stop fucking going around feeling sorry for yourself like a damn puppy with her tail between her legs and then you won’t look so damn pathetic-”

Juice’s words were cut off by Lana reaching for the steering wheel and jerking it to the right, forcing the car to swerve to the side of the road. His stomach lurched and sank like a rock as they went flying. He couldn’t breath. His lungs were dead. (If there’s a fucking scratch on my new car, she’s fucking dead.)

Juice’s arm jutted out to his right and slammed Lana’s back against the passenger seat to prevent her from flying through the windshield. Gunshots rang out on all sides, bullets embedding themselves into the interior. He can see the silver rip the leather all around him in slow motion. His heart doesn’t speed up as he goes delves into his instinct, grabbing Lana by the neck and shoving her down.

“Don’t get up!” he screamed and floored the gas, speeding away from whoever was shooting at them.

In the chaos, Juice didn’t pick up much of whatever was going on outside; he was too focused on making sure neither him nor Lana bit the dust in his brand fucking new Jeep (he couldn’t return it with bullets lodged in the sides. Damn.) However, he did see that shiny motorcycles surrounded him on all sides, and that’s where the bullets must have been coming from. Some guy was on the ground, sprawled out and covered in blood, next to his bike closest to the side of the road. The bike was smashed and so was the guy’s skull; brain matter covered the ground in a death sentence Juice would have nightmares about for weeks. These must be the Roman Skulls MC Clay was worried about.

They must be new. A daylight drive-by reeked of amateurs trying to nudge their way into outlaw territory.

Shots still fired as he burned rubber to get the hell out of there. His tires marked the ground and the car groaned under the pressure of the accelerator. What a big hunk of metal.

The shots slowed the farther he got, but a bullet caught him in the arm at the last second, right above his elbow. Juice screamed in agony, but focused on the road before him and put the pedal to the floor, hightailing it to the SAMCRO clubhouse. Blood poured out of his arm and Lana tried to get up to fix the wound.

“Stay down!” he barked. “Don’t get out of the car until Clay or someone comes and gets you!”

Juice tore his neck around to see if they followed. They didn’t. Maybe these guys weren’t complete numbskulls. If they had any sense, they’d be hightailing back to wherever the hell they came from.

{***}

Chibs and Bobby were in the office talking to Gemma when an obnoxious camouflage Jeep shredded the concrete in the parking lot. Chibs immediately stormed out of there, ready to put the idiot in his place when he saw Juice in the front seat of the car. Next, he noticed the bullet holes in the side of the car.

Juice grabbed a sweatshirt from the backseat and used it to quell the bleeding of his arm until Chibs could stitch him up in their makeshift hospital. It stung, but it looked like a through-and-through: two clean bullet holes with no slug lodged inside him. Count him lucky, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t get out until someone gets you. I don’t think they followed us, but you’re not getting a bullet in your head on my watch.” Juice ordered.

Juice climbed out of the car, holding his arm tight. Chibs rushed over, holding the half-assed tourniquet and leading him inside to where he could assess the damage. It didn’t look like Juice was gonna bleed out, but he was getting woozy from blood loss. There was just so much fucking blood.

He never did well with blood. When he was ten years old, he tripped and fell off of his skateboard, smashing his face into the side of a telephone pole. Seeing the blood on his hands, Juice had passed out and his sister found him a few minutes later. Things had gotten better, but Juice still hadn’t shaken the queasy feeling he always felt at the sight of blood. He was a Son now; he’d have to toughen up.

“Lana’s in the passenger seat. Not hit. Someone go get her.” Juice struggled out between labored breaths. “She’s fine.”

“BOBBY!” Chibs yelled. “GET LANA IN THE FRONT SEAT!”

Juice leaned against Chibs heavily, feeling his head grow lighter than a balloon. At any moment, he could float away through the clouds, away from Charming, and away from the Sons. He pictured flying all the way to Nevada down in Priscilla’s backyard so he could catch a last glimpse of her before he came crashing down, probably getting caught in a tree or something dumb like that.

“Juicy boy, are ya-”

[lastbuckshot]

NSFW: ”Fabian”/Jackson Pritchard/Reader

Words: ~10k Fandom: Devil’s Gate but don’t worry about it Rating: Explicit Title: Easter Sunday

so this is a smut fic i wrote mostly for @miloventimillas, Fabian is made up dw about it this is a mess

        ��  The Sunday mornings in Jackson’s home tended to start much the same; he wakes you from bed, you both shower; you put on a dress, he puts on a suit; he heads outside to his truck after locking up the house, and you followed, sitting obediently in the passenger seat to be taken to church.

           This morning, however, the emotion in the home was different; a different intensity, a new tension. As you wrapped Jackson’s tie around his neck, preparing to tie it for him in front of the bathroom mirror, you watched him feverishly check his watch every few seconds.

           “He’s late,” he jabbed, lifting his chin to make way for your hands, “Shoulda figured that.”

           The black silken fabric of the tie wisped past and between your fingers as you began to tie it in a knot.

           “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

           With your hand close to his throat, you felt and heard a grumble from his throat as you pulled his tie taught against his neck.

           “You c’n be sure all y’like. But I ain’t.”

            You turned toward the bathroom mirror to make your final adjustments to Jackson’s suit. The position of every button, the cuffs, the evenness of his tie; each part of him received your special attention. You pulled his tie down to meet his belt, and picked a couple stray pieces of lint from his bright white dress shirt. Jackson stroked his beard in the mirror, laying down a few stray hairs on his freshly trimmed jaw, but the abrupt sound of knocking turned you both toward the bathroom door.

           “Looks like he made it after all,” Jackson teased, looking back toward the mirror, “I’ll finish up ‘n here. You go’n downstairs an’ greet ‘im. Get acquainted. See if y’ like ‘im any better th’n I do.”

           With Jackson staring intently into the mirror, brows furrowed as he stroked his beard and laid down several thick, dark strands of hair on his head, you turned toward the bathroom door to exit. Descending the stairs toward the front door, several more knocks filled the home, as did several startled barks from Earl.

           When you opened the door, you saw a man with a similar stature to Jackson, his face clean shaven, his hair long and neatly combed over. You were distracted by his bright and glinting gold watch, reflecting rays of morning light, before you noticed the rest of his outfit. A white button up outlined in black, short sleeved, leaving his lightly tanned arms exposed; with them, a pair of black dress pants, down the side of which were a black pinstripe. The man stood at the door with his hands in his pockets, a smirk crawling across his face when he saw you open the door.

           “You don’t look much like my brother, thank god,” he said, looking you over, “You must be the ‘helper’ he was talkin’ t’ me about.”

           “You could call it that. You must be Noah?”

           You heard him scoff and bite the inside of his cheek, lifting his hand from his pocket to wipe his face.

           “Figures my brother decided t’ tell you that name. That is my name, but it’s not what I go by. I prefer Fabian, if you don’t mind.”

           “Oh,” you said, stepping aside to swing the door open wider, “Well, Fabian, please come in. Jackson’s still upstairs getting ready.”

           Fabian stepped inside, looking around at his surroundings, dragging his fingers over the kitchen table and dining chairs. He looked at the walls, at the pictures and plaques, and peered into the living room at the walls and furniture.

           “Jesus. Didn’t realize how bad Jackson needed someone t’ help him clean until now. The place actually looks nice now. I might have t’ pick you up and whisk you away t’ help me out.”

           You laughed and straightened out your dress, to which Fabian shared a momentary chuckle. He slowly licked his lips as you responded.

           “Thank you. I try to do my best around here.”

           “If this is your best, then your best is perfect, sweetie. It really is. And so’s that dress.”

           Fabian motioned his finger toward your dress, all white and flowing to your knees. The dress itself was thinly strapped, with a V cut deep enough to expose the gold cross on your chest. To cover your arms, you wore a light pink cardigan, soft and elegant to match with the holiday.

           “That’s very sweet of you to say, Fabian.”

           “Of course. Tell me, somethin’, though.”

           Fabian leaned his elbow against a dining chair, scanning you up and down again.

           “How’s a girl as beautiful as yourself end up in the middle of nowhere with someone like my brother?”

           You cocked your head to the side, laughing gently at his comment.

           “Where should I be instead? With someone like you?”

           “If you ask me,” said Fabian, taking a few steps closer toward you, “I think we’d get along just fine—”

           “Noah, that you down here makin’ all that noise?”

           Interrupting Fabian’s approach, you heard the evenly timed thuds of Jackson’s shoes against the stairs and on the floor as he stepped toward the kitchen. Fabian straightened his posture as you moved aside, leaving the brothers to look each other in the eye, silently and intensely as they shook hands.

           “I thought I remembered telling you I prefer to go by Fabian, Jackson.”

           “Y’ mentioned it, sure,” Jackson said, letting go of Fabian’s hand, “But y’know you’ll always be my little brother Noah t’ me.”

           You could see Fabian roll his eyes and nod, and simultaneously felt Jackson’s arm snake around your waist. He squeezed your hips lightly and looked down at you.

           “Y’ about ready t’ go, darlin’? I don’t wanna be late.”

Before responding, you glanced up at Fabian, whose eyes were fixated on Jackson’s hand on your waist. He looked up at you, with a cocked eyebrow, to which you abruptly looked away to look at Jackson.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready to go when you are.”

With that, Jackson walked ahead of you toward the front door, and you grabbed your purse from the kitchen table. You looked up at Fabian, who smirked and twirled his keys around his finger. He motioned his hand toward the door and made a shallow bow.

“After you, please.”

Following behind Jackson, you walked out of the front door, hearing Fabian’s steps close behind you. As everyone stepped from the porch and onto the sandy dirt of the yard, you heard Fabian’s voice from behind you.

“You know, I was thinkin’,” he proclaimed, walking up behind you and placing his hand on the small of your back, “Maybe the young lady and I could ride together this mornin’. You know, t’ get to know each other.”

Jackson turned, his keys jingling in his hand as he squeezed them. His brows were slightly furrowed, and he cocked his head to the side.

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

“Maybe. But maybe not. Just let me drive the young lady to church. We’re all goin’ to the same place anyways. And I like to get to know the people I hang around.”

Jackson’s top lip flared up for an instant before he shook his head, turning to walk back toward his truck on the other side of the house.

“Fine. Take ‘er, Noah. Just don’t be late.”

“Yes, because it’s so hard to keep up on a straightaway road. I’m in awe of your driving skills, Jackson.”

Jackson didn’t respond, but even as the physical distance between the brothers grew, the presence of their tension could still be felt. Fabian placed his hand on your shoulder as he walked toward his car, leading you to the passenger side and opening the door to allow you inside. You sat down and buckled your own seat belt, watching as Fabian sat and did the same. His key clicked in the ignition and the engine hummed quietly, much more gently than the loud angry roaring that often came from Jackson’s truck. The car itself was pristine, the outside a glimmering silver, and the interior a deep black leather. Being in close quarters with Fabian now, you could smell him, his fresh clothes and the scent of expensive cologne, which you’d not smelled for the while you’d been in town. With each of his gentle movements, to turn the key, switch gears, move his foot to the gas or the brake, a waft of his scent caressed your nose.

“Your cologne smells nice.”

Fabian glanced over to you and smiled, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against his car door as he waited for Jackson’s truck to pull ahead.

“Thank you, sweetheart. That’s sweet of you to say.”

As Jackson’s truck pulled off down the road, Fabian followed, a fair distance behind.

“So,” he started, breaking what had been several moments of silence, “Can I ask sort of a personal question?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“How long have you been religious? You always been that way, or did you find it later in life? Did Jackson introduce you to it?”

You shifted, somewhat uncomfortably in your seat at the question. You thought back to your first night and everything that had happened since; the sermons, the lessons, the sex, the guilt, piled on with more sermons in a vicious cycle. You thought back farther still, to your life before coming into town, before you formulated an answer.

“My family was religious. You could say I grew up in it. Grew up used to it. I was sorta tired of it when I came into town, honestly. I loved letting loose, doing my own thing all the time. But I guess you could say Jackson pulled me back into it. Religion, I mean. I don’t mind it, really.”

“D’you really believe in all of it, though? Or do you do it ‘cause it’s his lifestyle?”

He paused, sensing some of your discomfort, and added,

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not big into religion myself. I grew up in it, same as Jackson. Just realized it wasn’t for me. I won’t judge you, darlin’.”

You thought on the question for a moment before saying anything. You looked down at your nails, picking at them, trying to find the words. Or trying to find the truth. Knowing well what Jackson’s reaction would be if you didn’t choose your words carefully, you questioned Fabian.

“If I’m honest, can you not tell Jackson what I say?”

“Whatever you say stays with me,” he said, glancing away from the road and at you. He smiled, his eyes gazing again at the open road and the dirt and sand that surrounded it. “I don’t want you to lose your job on account of me. I’m just curious.”

You sigh, adjusting your cardigan and playing with one of the corners.

“I believe some of it,” you started, pausing again. You looked ahead on the road, seeing the tail end of Jackson’s truck. You looked back down toward your lap.

“I don’t think having faith is a bad thing. But sometimes it’s too much. I understand having a lifestyle, but sometimes it’s too restricting. I don’t wanna feel like everything I do or say or want is gonna land me in hell for an eternity.”

Fabian nodded, his eyes still fixated on the road ahead. He rubbed his lips and jaw with his free hand before speaking again.

“Does that mean you still have a li’l bit of a wild streak in you?”

You laughed and tugged your dress, which had begun to ride up your thighs, down closer toward your knees.

“I guess you could say that.”

Fabian smirked slightly and leaned back in his seat, his thighs spread apart, with one hand guiding the wheel. You looked him over, starting toward his knees and moving up his leg, to his lap, up to his chest. When your eyes met his, you saw his eyes, meeting directly with your own. You smiled nervously but quickly looked away, back toward the road.

“Does Mrs. ‘I-Love-God-But-Only-For-My-Job’ like what she sees?”

Your lips curled inward and you chuckled lightly.

“You’re handsome. Your brother is, too. I won’t deny that.”

“How handsome? ‘Cause I know I’m more handsome than some church goin’ farm boy.”

“You’re both handsome. But to answer your question, very. Very handsome.”

Licking his lips, Fabian pressed further.

“Mmm. Okay. Can I ask another question? More personal?”

You glossed your eyes over the land for a moment.

“Sure.”

“Have you ever fucked him? Jackson, I mean.”

You cleared your throat to voice your surprise at the question itself. You bit the inside of your cheek and twisted your mouth to consider it for a moment, then answered him.

“If you must know,” you sighed, “Yeah. Yes, we’ve slept together before. But definitely don’t tell him I said that, either.”

Fabian gripped the steering wheel and raised his eyebrows, a tickled laugh filling the car. He rubbed his jaw, still chuckling over his words in his response.

“Oh, wow,” he started, laughing a little under his breath as he adjusted his hand on the steering wheel. “I knew my brother could be a little bit of a rebel, but damn. A full-on hypocrite nowadays, huh? Jesus.”

The car ride continued with curious conversation from Fabian. He asked about your life, both before Jackson and now, your likes, your dislikes, how you enjoyed life on the farm. He danced around the topic of yourself and Jackson, of how you’d met and what you considered the relationship to be; before he could ask too much, however, you saw the town within eye distance, and soon enough, you’d made it to the church.

The parking lot was full with cars; at least as full as a small town like this could get. Jackson’s car pulled into a space close to the front door, while Fabian opted to park in the back. He turned off his car, exiting and walking to your passenger side door to let you out. He offered his arm for you to hold on to as you both walked around towards the front of the church. As you bent the corner, passing two large trash cans, you saw Jackson come into view, slamming his truck door shut and shoving his keys into his pocket. He turned to see you both at the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement.

“So, you two did make it on time,” he said, adjusting his tie. “I’m almost shocked.”

Fabian rolled his eyes, the three of you walking toward the front door, with Fabian leading.

“If anything’s gonna shock you, it’s gonna be some broken part in that bucket of bolts you call a truck.”

Fabian swung the church door open and filed in, turning immediately toward an unoccupied backmost pew to sit. He guided you to sit closest to the wall, while he sat between yourself and Jackson. He crossed his legs, resting his arm behind you on the pew.

Service began, and all throughout, you could smell Fabian’s cologne, and his subtle aftershave. The pastor of the church, Mr. Dover, and his wife, along with several other speakers preached in short bursts, each with their own presentation for Easter. Most spoke about the resurrection, some spoke of self-growth and still others lead youth presentations. At the latter, you could hear Fabian talk under his breath.

“Why do kids need to get involved in this?”

Jackson shot him glances whenever he caught a line of defiance, but soon, Mrs. Dover stepped up to the podium after a particularly rehearsed (“indoctrinated”, Fabian had called it) song about Christ’s resurrection to speak.

“Now,” she said, leaning into the podium’s microphone, “We have a final sermon, to be led by Mr. Jackson Pritchard.”

The crowd erupted with claps, as it often did when Jackson’s name was called for a sermon. Jackson was well respected, and his father well-known; everyone tended to listen to his sermons with reverence. Fabian, however, clapped half-heartedly, almost mockingly, as Jackson left the pew, walking toward the front of the church.

“This should be great,” he jeered. “Absolutely great. I wonder if he’ll talk about pre-marital sex sending people to hell while he’s up there.”

You nudged Fabian with your elbow and heard him laugh at himself, and promptly thereafter heard the echoing of the microphone being adjusted between Jackson’s fingers before he spoke.

“How’s everybody doin’ on this beautiful Sunday mornin’?”

The crowed jubilantly responded back with “goods” and “greats”, along with a defiant “we can chat about it” from Fabian, earning him another nudge from you.

Jackson began his sermon, asking the audience to flip to scripture pages and read along with him, before going on to build his speech. With the sound of Jackson’s voice filling your ears, you felt a hand rising up your leg, past your knee, and towards your thigh. You looked down to see Fabian’s hand gripping your thigh, his fingers beginning to slide between the warm space between them.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, church girl.”

You said nothing and simply smiled, looking up towards the podium at Jackson. With his hand swinging into the air and his face emoting every several seconds, the crowd was completely transfixed on Jackson. He was a gifted speaker, no doubt; which left time and opportunity for Fabian to slide his hand higher up your thigh. His fingers teased the hem of your panty line, and he leaned over, his mouth brushing against your ear with each movement of his lips.

“Take off the cardigan.”

You obliged, slipping your pink cardigan off of your arms. As it slipped off of your body, Fabian adjusted it in front of you, laying it in your lap to cover the movement of his hand under your dress. He shifted in his seat to get closer to you, but kept his legs crossed to block the view of unwanted eyes.

His fingers began to push and pull at the fabric of your panties before creeping into them from above. His and your eyes maintained fixed on Jackson, who still preached, increasingly involved now, at the podium. His fingers teased below your waistline before he slid his fingers between your lips. His middle finger lapped up your wetness, and moved back up toward your clit, rubbing it in wet circles. Tension grew in your throat from the pressure of suppressed moans. With one hand, you gripped Fabian’s arm, stroking it with your thumb to keep your hands occupied, distracting yourself from the urge to make noise.

Fabian’s hands worked rhythmically, stretching down between your lips to feel your wetness before they reliably slid back upwards, rubbing one side of your clit, then the other, then rubbing in circles before a dip back down between your lips.

Intensity began to build in your stomach, which Fabian felt with your grip on his arm beginning to tighten. You glanced around the room for assurance that no one was looking, and were relieved at the sight of the church still steadily focused on Jackson’s impassioned sermon. Fabian looked up toward the podium with a self-satisfied smile.

“Fucking clueless,” you could hear him say under his breath. “Absolutely fucking clueless.”

The intensity in your stomach only grew as your stomach twisted itself into knots; a combination of nervousness and the imminence of an oncoming orgasm. Jackson’s speech grew louder, and your grip on Fabian tighter the closer you crept towards release.

“Were it not for the sacrifice of our Christ Jesus,” you could hear Jackson say, “Our sins would never be forgiven. We’d all be wallowing in our sins, in our own transgressions. Drowning in them. Can I get an ‘Amen’?”

The crowed echoed back his “Amen”, and Fabian laughed momentarily as his pace around your clit quickened.

“Sins. Fuckin’ tell me about it.”

He dipped his finger once more between your lips, the slick fluid coating your clit as he rubbed quickly and steadily against your clit. Your face felt flush and warm, the tightness in your throat began to hurt. Fabian could feel your nails begin to dig into the skin of his arms, but he continued, eyes still defiantly fixed on Jackson, proudly staring through him as he made Jackson’s-little-servant-girl cum.

Your thighs squeezed around his hand and your teeth clenched together, your body seconds away from orgasm. You closed your eyes and felt a rush of warm blood course through your body, the urge to cum replaced by an intense throbbing between your thighs. Fabian continued to rub his fingers against your soaking wet lips, but slowed his pace to draw out your pleasure.

“Open your eyes,” he said, leaning in your direction. “Don’t look obvious.”

You open your eyes and cleared your throat to release some of the stress that holding in your moans had brought. Your orgasm now subsiding, and Fabian’s fingers ever-slowing, you let go of his arm as his fingers lap between your lips once more, coating them in thick, sticky wetness before he pulled his hand from below your dress.

Fabian licked his fingers, your taste coating the middle of his tongue. He did so slowly, savoring the warm liquid, before he pulled a small package of sanitary wipes from his pocket. He licked his lips, fully satisfied with your taste, and used a wipe to clean his hands before placing the package back into his pocket. From the same pocket, he pulled out a tin of Altoids, which he opened and offered to you. You pulled your dress down and regained your composure, taking one before he took one himself, and put the tin back into his pocket.

Service continued without a hitch, with Jackson finishing his sermon, loud and powerful, to be met with adjulation and tongue-speaking and “Amens” from the crowd. As service wrapped up and people began to file out of the doors, Fabian unwrapped the sanitary wipe he’d crumpled in his hand. On the wall behind both of you, a gold cross hung, seemingly unmoved or untouched for years. Fabian took the wipe, damp with the scent of both yourself and him, and wiped down the crust of a few inconsequential flecks of dust. Some passersby nodded in his direction, ignorant to Fabian’s actual intentions, and only seeing a kind member of the church cleaning off precious memorabilia. Jackson stepped down from the podium, talking to several people eager to thank him for the service. Fabian, proud as ever, continued to wipe down the cross with the soiled wipe until Jackson was able to walk away from the center stage, and to the back of the church, where you both stood.

“I never took you as th’ type t’ wipe down a cross,” Jackson said, his head tilted to peer over at Fabian’s handiwork, “’specially not outta th’ kindness of your heart.”

“Well,” Fabian said, crumpling the wipe again in his hand, “I guess your preaching skills got me in the mood this mornin’. Could you take this and throw it out for me? I would, but I ain’t been here in a while. I don’t know where the trash cans are.”

Jackson opened his palm, wherein Fabian dropped the wipe. Jackson walked away, out of the door and out of earshot before Fabian snorted and laughed, covering his face with his hand. Everyone had exited the church but the Dovers, who had gone into the back of the church to begin cleaning and sorting things away.

“Holy fucking shit,” he struggled out, still laughing, “This is the best fucking day of my life. I swear to God, out of all my days on Earth, this is the best one.”

“A day for me to get caught if if you don’t stop fucking around,” you whispered harshly. Fabian shook his head and rubbed your back reassuringly.

“He won’t realize a damn thing, darlin’,” he said. “This’ll stay between you and I. Trust me.”

Fabian nudged his hand forward towards the front door, which you both exited before he closed the door behind both of you. At the side of the church you could see Jackson, lifting the lid to a trash can and dropping the wipe inside. When he looked up to see yourself and Fabian, he took off his suit jacket and draped it over his arm.

“Seein’ as you got to drive the young lady to church, I’d appreciate it if I drove her back home.”

Fabian, with widened eyes, pointed toward Jackson’s truck.

“In that?” he jeered. “You wonder why you and I were so different with girls back in the day. You wanna drive a girl in that death trap. And your skin is always dry, cracking, and covered in dirt.”

“She’s been in it plenty of times. ‘Cause she works with me. You’d’a figured that out if your skull wasn’t so thick.”

“I’m sorry, big strong Mr. Jackson Pritchard the preaching farmer, but what happened to that message of love and forgiveness you were talkin’ about in that sermon?”

Jackson closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, sighing out of his nose before opening his eyes again.

“I apologize, Noah—”

“Fabian.”

Jackson cleared his throat.

“I apologize. Now if we could please—”

Fabian held up his hand.

“I’m sorry, Jackson, but I don’t think I heard you say my name. Do it at least once today. I know you can find it in your good Christian heart.”

“Fabian—”

A grin spread across Fabian’s face.

“I will drive her back home, and we c’n all have lunch and dinner at my house. I’d enjoy your company.”

Fabian nodded and pulled his keys out of his pocket, swinging them by the key ring around his finger.

“Alright. Sounds good to me. I’m ready to get outta here before God-fearing children start huntin’ for eggs while recitin’ scriptures, anyway. I’ll meet y’all there.”

With that, Fabian turned toward the back of the church to walk to his car, while yourself and Jackson stepped to his truck at the front. Stepping inside and slamming the door shut, you felt the truck bounce gently on its wheels, giving into the weight of Jackson taking his seat. Jackson backed out of his spot and pulled off onto the road, with Fabian following behind soon thereafter.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Jackson’s hand gripping the steering wheel, his silver ring wrapped around his right ring finger, rays of sunlight dancing over the top.

“So,” he started, shifting in his seat, “Did’ya like it? My sermon, I mean.”

You thought back over the sermon you’d heard, but only remembered in patches. Resurrection, something, forgiveness, someone, something else, sins wiped clean, so on and so forth. The incident with Fabian had left your memory of the sermon in a blur.

“It was good,” you responded, adjusting your cardigan in your lap, “Very beautiful. Really moving.”

“Thank you, darlin. I appreciate that. I really do.”

Another few moments of pause fell between the two of you.

“Did y’ get hot in the church? With all th’ people in there? I noticed y’ took of y’r li’l sweater.”

You gripped on to your cardigan, adjusting it in your lap much as you had in church earlier. You remembered the sensation of Fabian’s hand between your legs, and the sensation of your nails digging into his forearm.

“I did, actually. Especially when you started speaking. I feel like everybody’s temperature rose.”

Jackson laughed and leaned back in his seat, switching his hand grip on the wheel. His left hand now steered, while his right hand rested on his thigh.

“Then I guess I did somethin’ right, didn’t I? I’ll take it as a win.”

Another pause.

“If you don’t mind my askin’, what d’ya think of Noah, anyways? ‘R Fabian, ‘r whatever he prefers t’ go by nowadays.”

“I think he’s sweet,” you said, pulling your dress down toward your knees. You could still feel an uncomfortable wetness in your panties from earlier, and crossed your legs to avoid the sensation. “Very much a gentleman. Aside from the looks, you aren’t very much alike.”

“Nah, an’ we never were. Not really. He c’n be a little too rich f’r my blood nowadays. We bumped heads a lot. Still do. Y’ could probably tell.”

Thinking back to your car conversation with Fabian, you decided to press further.

“He said you had a little bit of a rebellious streak. Way back when.”

Jackson rubbed his jaw and scratched his beard, again adjusting his posture in his seat.

“Yeah. I guess y’ could say that. I did some things I ain’t proud of. Probably some things I don’t remember no more. But our paths diverged a long time ago. If I was a li’l rebellious, he was a lot rebellious. Our daddy got onto both of us f’r it, an’ Noah wound up leavin’ home after a while t’ get away from it all. I stayed, though. S’ now I got the farm an’ th’ house, an’ the preachin’ thing. An’ he got… well, he ain’t preachin’, that’s f’r sure. An’ he got whatever it is boys from the city with nice cars an’ nice clothes tend t’ get.”

After a while longer of conversation, yourself, Jackson, and Fabian had all arrived back home. Jackson pulled in around the back of the house, while Fabian pulled in at the front. Stepping into the house, you were all greeted by Earl, whose paws thudded against the kitchen floor with his jumping.

“How old is Earl now? Younger than you? Even in dog years?”

Jackson knelt down to stroke Earl’s head and adjust his collar.

“I dunno. ‘Bout as old as you act? Seven or so.”

With yourself and the brothers beginning to wind down now, you prepared for the rest of the day. Jackson had asked you to cook both lunch and dinner for everyone, and you did, with help from both brothers. Lunch was modest, with fish, rice, and vegetables (Fabian didn’t share Jackson’s love for red meats), while dinner was more substantial. Ham, mashed potatoes, corn, rolls, mac and cheese, and a cherry pie; the table was full with an array of Easter dinner foods. Fabian took pleasure in helping you, stirring pots for you, kneading dough with you, all the while sneaking light touches against your arm and back under Jackson’s nose. When dinner was ready, and all the plates made, the three of you sat at the table. Just as soon as you all sat, Fabian picked up his fork in his hand, aiming it directly toward a piece of ham. You held is hand back, to which he cocked his eyebrow up at you.

“Grace first.”

Jackson smiled, holding out his hands to hold both yours and Fabian’s in prayer.

“Very good catch, darlin’. She’s right. I always say grace in my house.”

Fabian put his fork down and sighed, putting one hand in Jackson’s palm, and gripping your hand with the other.

“Right. I forgot you think that the food we just cooked with our own two hands will be poisoned and inedible if we don’t say words first.”

“Watch your mouth, please, Noah.”

Under his breath, you heard Fabian remark, “It’s Fabian, but alright, Jason Pritchard,” to which you pursed your lips to bar laughter.

With you gripping both Jackson’s and Fabian’s hands, you all bowed your heads, as Jackson led the prayer. Throughout the prayer, you could hear Fabian commenting just loud enough for you to hear as you sat beside him, but not quite loud enough for Jackson to notice, or care.

“Heavenly father, an’ Lord, His son—”

“Right. Forgot there were two of ‘em.”

“We thank you—”

“Jeremiah Pritchard thanks you.”

“F’r this meal you have blessed us with t’night.”

“Did we not just slave over the fucking stove?”

“T’night, we recognize the Resurrection of you, our Lord Jesus Christ—”

“How many names does one man need?”

“An’ the sacrifice you made t’ cleanse us of our sins.”

“Like that wipe from earlier?”

You squeezed his hand to nudge him to stop, but he continued.

“May your word heal even those who have strayed from the path, O’ Merciful Lord—”

“Me. That one was about me.”

“An’ may we continue t’ reap your blessin’s for life eternal.”

“Seems like a long time t’ listen to a ghost.”

“Amen.”

Yourself and Fabian repeated back Jackson’s “Amen” and began to eat. Both Fabian and Jackson complimented the meal, and dinner continued without conflict. After the meal, with nightfall having approached and arrived, you turned your attention toward the sink. With a sink piled with dirty dishes and everyone full and satisfied, Jackson pulled off his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, walking toward the kitchen sink.

“Little lady an’ I c’n work on the dishes here. Y’ c’n use the shower if y’ like, or head on home. Not sure what you planned on doin’ t’night.”

Fabian stepped ahead of Jackson and next to you at the sink, beginning to rummage around for dish soap.

“Oh, no, Jackson,” he said, wetting a sponge with soap and warm water, “Please. Allow me. I’m your guest. I c’n do your dishes.”

“You ain’t gotta do that, Fabian.”

“As much as I appreciate you using my name for once, please. I insist.”

Jackson sighed and untuck his dress shirt, beginning to unbutton it from the top.

“Alright. Go ahead. I’ll be in the shower if y’all need me.”

“To help wash dishes?”

“Y’know what I mean.”

Jacked turned and ascended the stairs, and Fabian watched as he reached the top, entered the bathroom, and closed the door, out of view.

With the reassuring “click” of the bathroom door locking, Fabian stepped behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist, then your hips, then your thighs. You felt his light kisses on your back, neck, and shoulders as you washed dishes. You stopped to enjoy the sensation, feeling Fabian’s hand slide around in front to lift your dress, his hand sliding down into your panties to feel between your legs. His fingers were met with a familiar slick wetness from earlier.

“Damn, still wet? My brother must not be givin’ you anything worthwhile if you’re gettin’ like this for me.”

With one hand in your panties, his other moved up toward your chest, squeezing your tits in his hand as his tongue slid up the side of your neck. He kissed up your jawline, and pecked your cheek before moving his mouth over yours for a kiss. His tongue wrapped around yours as his fingers steadily rubbed between your legs. After a few moments, Fabian released the kiss and pulled your hips back toward him. You could feel him hard against your ass and thighs as he pressed his hips forward.

“How d’you feel about quickies?”

“I enjoy them.”

“How long do his showers usually take?”

“Around twenty minutes.”

“Alright. Consider this round two, then. Go ahead and do the dishes. Don’t mind me.”

Fabian looked over at the kitchen clock to note the time, then grabbed either side of your hips and knelt down. You almost immediately feel his arm breath against your thighs, and soon thereafter his warm, wet tongue between your lips. His thumb continued to trace wet circles around your clit as his licked you out, his tongue wandering now and again up to your taint, and your ass, before swirling back down to your lips and clit. You heard a couple of swallows as he took in the taste of you, and he squeezed your thighs each time, satisfied, but still hungry for more. After a few minutes, he slowed his pace and kissed your pussy lips, then the back of your thighs, and stood.

The metal of his belt buckle clicked and jangled as he unbuckled his pants, unzipped them, and pulled them down just below his underwear. You felt the head of his cock begin to stroke up and down the lips of your pussy, getting wet before Fabian pressed his hips forward, sliding himself into you. You moaned and gripped the kitchen counter with one hand and squeezed your sponge in the other. Fabian kissed your shoulder blades and caressed your hips.

“Sshhh. Don’t want Mr. Old McDonald finding out you’re getting something worthwhile on his farm, do you?”

As you leaned over the sink, continuing to scrub dishes, Fabian slowly bucked his hips forward and back, sliding in and out of you while he reached a hand between your thighs to play with your clit. Gradually, he picked up pace, looking up at the bathroom door every few minutes, his hear attuned to the sound of shower water pounding against the tub upstairs. A moan escaped his mouth as he felt your tight, wet walls squeezing around him the faster her went. You looked ahead at the wall behind the kitchen sink, and read the plaque that read:

“Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb have I given you all things. Genesis: 9:3.”

Fabian followed your gaze and read the plaque, laughing behind you as he slid his hand up your back.

“I’d say I’m givin’ you a lotta things right about now. The meat thing is a li’l on the nose though, don’t y’ think?”

His pace was fast now, with the close of Jackson’s shower nearing closer now, ten minutes away. The faster he went, and the more you felt his wet fingers circling around your clit, the more you feel an acutely sensitive feeling inside of you with each stroke of his length. After a minute of his fast paced thrusting, you feel a hot gush of fluid between your legs as you squirt, with the liquid dripping down your legs and spraying onto the floor, and onto Fabian.

Fabian pulled out to allow the rest of the liquid to gush out of you, patting his cock against your lips, letting his cock drip soaking wet.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he said, with a momentary laugh between his words, “How bad did you need that?”

Giving you a moment to catch your breath, and pressing his lips against the dip in your back, Fabian slid his cock back inside of you, and replaced his fingers between your thighs to rub your clit. He used the wetness as lube, slicking it against your clit as he favored each side, edging you toward climax. He’d lifted his button up shirt, and you could feel the warmth of his stomach and the stiffness of his abs against your back as he continued to thrust. A familiar swell of pleasure began to build between your legs, as it had in the church, your body hot and seconds away from release.

In your hands you squeezed a plate so hard you thought it might break, and between your legs was an intense throbbing between Fabian’s fingers as you came, his cock still steadily sliding in and out of you. You heard him moan in satisfaction and slow his pace, enjoying the new wetness between your legs, feeling your pleasure and aching for his touch.

“Does Jackson do that for you?”

Breathless, you simply shook your head.

“Figured he didn’t.”

He continued to fuck you from behind, both of his hands squeezing your hips as he picked up his pace. Five minutes left.

With each minute passing, Fabian’s moans grew louder. He began to stifle them, trapping the moans in his throat and grunting, and exhaling sharply through his nose. Continuing to thrust, you felt his grip tighten and his breathing become more labored as he came closer to climax.

Two minutes out from the time Jackson would typically finish his shower, you felt Fabian pull out.

“Get on your knees. On your knees for me, sweetheart.”

You listened, getting on your knees and holding your mouth open expectantly. Fabian tilted your head back with his hand and stroked himself with the other, his own head thrown back, eyes closed. With a final moan, his warm, thick cum shot out from his cock and onto your tongue and lips, in several long, powerful spurts. You held your mouth open for him for several seconds before swallowing, then licking and sucking the head and shaft of his cock, tasting yourself, licking your own juices off of him, and sucking out every last drop. You lifted his shaft to kiss and lick his balls, met with groaning laughter from Fabian. You stood and wiped your mouth, while Fabian zipped and buckled his pants, then reaching into his pants pocket for the tin of Altoids. He offered another to you, which you took gladly as you finished up the dishes.

Fabian stood at your side, helping dry the dishes that you’d cleaned, as you both heard the bathroom door click and swing open. From the door exited Jackson, none the wiser, who turned toward his bedroom to get dressed for the night. Several minutes passed before he descended the stairs, black tank top and black pajama pants, to inspect the kitchen. He looked over the progress on the dishes, then at the floor, where his eye was drawn to a puddle beneath your feet.

“Fabian can’t even wash a dish without makin’ a mess, huh?”

Fabian looked down between your legs, raising his eyebrows and nodding.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I did do that.”

Jackson laughed to himself, and you nudged Fabian, who was proud as ever. With dishes nearly done, you watched as Jackson walked over to his liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and another of red wine, and setting them both on the table. Fabian looked behind himself to see the bottles, and Jackson, who was unscrewing the cap on the whiskey.

“This is what we’re doing on Easter Sundays now?”

“I feel like windin’ down for the night. So I’m gonna wind down. The wine’s f’r you, if you want some.”

With the dishes now done, Fabian looked over the table and sighed.

“Where do you keep your wine glasses in this mess of a house?”

Jackson pointed Fabian toward the kitchen cabinet wherein he kept his wine glasses, and the two sat at the table to drink casually over casual conversation. Fabian stayed mostly on his phone, while Jackson drank and fiddled with his harmonica, playing several seconds worth of song a couple times. Fabian had drunk two and a half glasses of wine, while Jackson had thrown back more than a few glasses of whiskey over ice. Cutting through what had been a small while of silence, Jackson spoke.

“So,” he said, throwing back the rest of what was in his glass, “You headin’ home t’night? Or do I need to make a bed?”

Fabian glared at him, tapping on the base of the wine glass.

“You know, despite our family history, I’m not dumb enough to drive home after almost three glasses of wine.”

“It was just a question.”

“A dumb question. Yes, Joshua, I’d like to stay the night and not kill two people, four horses, and fifteen chickens on the road.”

Fabian stood, pushing his chair out from underneath him and walking towards the staircase.

“I’m gonna lay down,” he called back. “In the room that must not be named. Hopefully God doesn’t strike me down in here.”

Jackson watched as Fabian went up the stairs, turning right towards the bedroom that had remained empty since you arrived. He listened for the click of the door shutting, much as Fabian had when the roles were reversed, then looked over at you. His eyes wandered up and down your legs and chest as he poured himself another glass of whiskey. He spread his legs apart and patted his thigh.

“C’mere. Sit.”

You walked over to Jackson, acquiescing to his whim and sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he drank again, his breath thick with the scent of whiskey. He spread your thighs apart, making sure your panties, still wet from the activities of earlier today, sat directly on his thigh. He waited, patiently, for the sensation of a wet spot against his skin. His free hand grabbed his glass of whiskey, downing the remainder of it, then grabbing and stroking his crotch as you sat obediently on his lap.

Abruptly, Jackson stood and picked you up in his arms, your legs now wrapped around his waist. He stepped up the stairs in silence, turning to his bedroom door, closing and locking it behind him. He laid you back first on the bed and crawled on top of you, his whiskey stained lips and breath leaving trails on your neck and chest where he left kisses and bites. He pinned your arms above your head, lifting your dress up towards your stomach.

He paused, then, suddenly, standing upright and staring down at you as he lifted his tank top up and over his head, then pulled his pants down to the floor, and his underwear along with them. You could see plainly that he was hard as he took a couple of steps back, giving you room to slide off of the bed and get on your knees.

You cupped his balls with one hand, and lifted him into your mouth with your tongue. As his cock slid towards the back of your throat. You looked up to see his head thrown backward, his throat bobbing as he moaned and grunted at the motion of your tongue. Between sucks, you took him out of our mouth to kiss and lick his shaft, delicately swirl your tongue around his head, and suck his balls. He moaned at each transition, and moaned louder each time the head of his cock sit the back of your throat as you took him back in.

Your drool and spit bubbles ran down the shaft of his cock, some dripping farther still down to his balls, and some others dripping down to the floor. Several minutes passed you by without notice, and Jackson held your chin to keep your head at bay, moaning at a final lap of your tongue against the underside of his head.

He crawled into bed and laid on his back, motioning his fingers for you to come over. As you crawled on your hands and knees into bed, Jackson snuck his hand up your dress to grab the hem of your panties and pull them downward, down your thighs, calves, and finally off of your feet and onto the floor.

Jackson lifted your dress and held it in a fist in his hand to keep it out of the way as you straddled him, positioning him against your lips and beginning to sit down slowly. As more and more of him inched its way inside of you, Jackson let out a long, drawn out, grunt-like moan, letting himself enjoy the sensation of how tight and wet you were.

“You c’n make noise this time if y’ like”, Jackson breathed out through a moan. “I don’t mind.”

You rested your hands on Jackson’s chest, which was bobbing up and down from his heavy breathing, and began to ride him. You moaned, and Jackson stared up at you, mouth ajar, breathlessly moaning every few strokes. Jackson put his hand behind your neck and pulled your head down toward him. Your noses touched, then your lips, and thereafter you felt Jackson’s tongue inside of your mouth as he kissed you, your hips continuing to buck and grind, back and forth, side to side as you rode him. He moaned into your mouth, still kissing you, his mouth thick with the taste of whiskey, his body light with the scent of soap and cologne.

He released the kiss, allowing you to sit up and continue riding. As you sat up, your cross necklace dropped and dangled from your chest, hanging directly over Jackson’s face. He stared at it, then up at you, your hands still gripping his sides, his cock sliding in and out of you to the rhythm you’d set. He looked around at his bedroom walls, at the plaques and crosses, and then again at the cross necklace, and abruptly sat up, pulling out and pushing you off to the side as he sat up against his headboard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, putting his head in his hands. “I really am. I shouldn’t’ve done this.”

You adjusted your dress as you sat on the bed next to him.

“You sure?”

Jackson sat on the bed, bare and naked, illuminated only by the faint moonlight outside. He glanced at you, but looked away quickly in guilt as he cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can go’n ahead an’ go to bed if y’ want. I won’t bother you any more t’night.”

Picking up your panties from the floor, you unlocked Jackson’s bedroom door and left, closing it behind you. You heard it lock as you stepped into the hallway and turned towards the stairs. Before you could get to the first step, however, the bedroom door on the opposite side of the hall opened, from which you could see Fabian’s head. He stuck out his hand, motioning for you to come in, and after looking back at Jackson’s bedroom door, you did.

“Did you just fuck him?”

“Are you kidding me? This is what you called me in for?”

Fabian looked at the panties you had gripped in your hand and cocked his head to the side.

“You fucked him.”

You sighed defeatedly.

“Yes. I mean, sort of. We didn’t finish.”

“He can’t get it up?”

“No, smartass. He got guilty and stopped.”

A snort of laughter left Fabian’s nose before he covered his mouth to prevent any more sounds from escaping. He laughed silently to himself, almost doubled over in laughter, and took what felt like hours to regain his composure.

“Okay. Okay, wow. God must’a took over. Hallelujah. No pussy on Easter Sunday.”

You shook your head, and Fabian continued.

“Well. Alright. That means you still need to get off, right?”

You smirked up at him, but said nothing.

“I can finish you off, if you want. I’d be happy to, actually.”

Fabian’s hands lifted your dress, and pulled it up over your head. He dropped it to the floor, then wrapped his hand behind your neck to pull you in for a kiss. You began unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the bottom and working your way up the top, slipping it off of his shoulders once it was completely undone. You grazed your fingers against his stomach, your fingers rolling against the hills of his abs as he moved his kisses down to your neck. You unbuckled his pants, but before you could unzip them, Fabian lifted you by the waist, allowing you to wrap your legs around him as he carried you to the bed.

Laying you down, he unclasped and removed your bra, throwing it aside, and allowing his hands to explore your now naked body. He cupped one breast with his hand, and put his mouth on the other, swirling his tongue, slowly and gently, around your nipple. He moved his mouth down, leaving a trail of spit as he moved down to kiss your stomach, and down still to your waistline. He knelt on the floor and spread your legs apart, rubbing between your lips with his thumb.

“How does the farmer usually do this for you? Fast? Slow?”

“He doesn’t do it, usually. Not often.”

Fabian’s eyes rolled as he positioned his mouth closer to your lips and clit.

“’Course not. Fuckin’ idiot. Or a coward. Or both.”

Before he put his mouth on you, he spoke up one more time.

“Don’t worry, then. I know how to treat a lady as beautiful as yourself.”

With those final words, you felt Fabian’s tongue snake up slowly from your whole, up between your lips, and then to your clit, where his tongue lapped up and down against the front of your clit, before gradually moving to one side, and then the other. As he licked and sucked, you felt a finger slide inside of you, moving and twisting as slowly and carefully as Fabian’s tongue. He looked up at you, his eyes greenish-brown, and his long, dark hair falling in strands on his forehead. He continued, painfully slowly, and you gripped a fistful of his hair between your fingers. With the sensation of you tugging at his hair, Fabian slipped a second finger inside of you, his tongue moving in circles and teasing semicircles around your clit. You moaned, to which Fabian moaned in response, the vibration of his moan hitting your clit directly.

You swayed your hips and arched your back as he continued, his pace only picking up momentarily. You came close to orgasm a couple of times, and each time, Fabian would pause to lick between your lips, your wetness coating his tongue. He’d wait for your body’s excitement to decline before he worked his way back up to your clit, his pace slowed to draw out the time it took for you to come close to orgasm again.

The third time, Fabian watched as your back arched and your hips bucked into him, bringing your pussy closer and deeper into his mouth. He quickened the pace of his finger fucking, but slowed the movement of his tongue, making your moan sound almost like a cry as he teased you closer and closer to climax. You squeezed his head with your thighs as you came, your back arched, his tongue still swirling around and sucking on your clit as it throbbed in his mouth. He continued to lick through your orgasm, and kept going until you tugged at his hair to bring his head up, your body nearly jumping out of its skin, your clit sensitive to even the slightest wisp of warm breath from his mouth. Fabian licked his lips, then kissed between your legs, resting his head on your thigh.

“I was gonna go some more. D’you need me to stop?”

You let go of his hair and nodded.

“Okay. D’you still wanna fuck, or are you settled for the night?”

Your head was still laid back on the bed, but you nodded, and spoke breathlessly.

“Please fuck me.”

Fabian smirked, picking you up off of the bed and carrying you toward the mural of Christ that hung on the wall. He laid you down on the floor beneath it, on your side, beneath the collage of crosses. After removing his pants and underwear, both of you now bare, he laid down behind you and lifted one of your legs, positioning himself between your lips.

“I dunno about you,” he said, pressing his hips forward, “But I always wondered what it’d be like t’ give God himself a show.”

His stomach warm and solid against your back, you felt Fabian’s cock move past your lips and inside of you. One of his hands was beneath you, clutching your breast, while the other kept your weak, shaky leg hoisted in the air. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck and moaning next to your ear. With every few thrusts, he let a puff of air out of his mouth, hot and damp against your skin, stained with the scent of red wine. His pace was slow and gentle, allowing you to recover from your climax minutes prior.

He got pleasure from the disrespect, the defiance of fucking you beneath a painting of Christ himself, but yearned for more. He continued for several minutes on his side, but gradually slowed his pace until he stopped, pulling out and getting up on his knees. He gripped your hips and guided you semi-upright, on your hands and knees. You were both facing forward now, looking directly at the bedroom’s makeshift altar, staring directly into the eyes of a picture of Christ.

“D’you think He likes it so far? Maybe we can ask Jackson. See if God’s favorite puppet knows.”

Fabian again pushed himself inside of you, eliciting a moan from you both. He spanked your ass and thighs, throwing his head back and groaning.

“I swear, Jackson is so fucking ungrateful,” he said, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck. “You are so fucking perfect.”

You groaned as Fabian’s pace quickened, his cock hitting against your G-spot in rapid succession. You bent forward, your face now touching the floor, your ass still pointing up into the air as Fabian continued his strokes. Nails scratching against the hardwood of the floor, you felt a familiar warmth begin to grow inside of you, promptly followed by a gush of fluid from between your legs, coating Fabian’s abs and thighs, along with your own.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he said, laughing to himself. “Jackson really didn’t give you mucha anything for you to be doin’ all this, did he?”

He gently wrapped his fingers around your neck and lifted your head up to see the mural of Christ. His head was circled with a crown of thorns, from which blood dripped down his head. Fabian wiped his fingers against his stomach, and then on the floor, capturing the fluid on his hands, and wiped it on the painting, tracing everywhere the blood was. On the painting, you could see your wetness dripping down, mimicking the streams of blood on the painting itself. Behind you, heard satisfied laughter from Fabian.

“There. Look. Now it’s better than the boring ass original.”

Fabian kept your head gently held upright with his hand, while the other guided your hips back and forth against his length. Several minutes passed before he lifted your head further, forcing you up on your knees, your back now laid flat against his chest. He continued to pump, his fingers delicately encircling your throat, his mouth trailing kisses along your back and shoulder. You heard him swear under his breath again and again, “Fuck,” “Oh my fucking god,” “Jesus fucking Christ,” quietly into your ear between held-back moans. He slowed his pace momentarily to speak.

“Where do you want me to cum, pretty girl?”

His head was in the crook of your neck now, your moans vibrating against his mouth as his lips grazed over your throat.

“Inside,” is all you could manage between moans.

Fabian’s groans and growls grew more intense the closer he came to climax. His grip around your throat tightened, and he nibbled on your ear, tugging with the lobe between his teeth.

You felt his warm breath against your ear as he breathed out a final moan, feeling a sudden warmth between your legs. You felt his throbbing inside of you, and the gentle movement of his hips pressing against you through his orgasm. As the intensity subsided, Fabian stayed inside of you, kissing up your neck and jaw, then kissing your lips before letting go of your neck. He pulled out slowly, his cum beginning to drip out of you and onto the floor. He reached behind himself, for his pants, and reached into one of the pockets to pull out his pack of sanitary wipes. He pulled out several, using them to wipe the floor clean. He set all of them aside to throw away, except for the last one. He looked at it momentarily, after wiping a few remaining spots of cum from the floor, and stuck it on the mural of Christ, in the middle of his forehead.

“Amen,” he said, with a cocky grin, “And happy fuckin’ Easter.”

[amorremanet]

what's your novel about??

Oh my gosh, nonny, thank you so much for asking!!

Okay, so the absolute shortest version — the, “summarize this thing and make it sound as shitty as possible” meme version — is, “Superpowered LGBTIQ neurodivergent and/or mentally ill mutant weirdos with emotional problems (and their self-appointed sidekick, who isn’t a mutant but is very enthusiastic about the work) investigate some seemingly unrelated incidents and accidentally uncover a neo-fascist supervillain club that’s trying to take over the U.S. on as many levels as possible — currently, by pulling strings to sabotage the lead-up to the still-upcoming 2016 election — and the neo-fascist supervillains are, unfortunately, very good at this.

“Also, our heroes start out as a ragtag group of misfits with superpowers [or, in Pete’s case, enthusiasm, wit, dedication af, adaptability, and a rather sizable collection of lime-green hot-pants], and progressively become both an actual team and a set of accidental rising stars in the superhero world. Is it a bit of a tired plot? Yeah, especially given how often superhero teams have to do some kind of song and dance like this — but: 1. it’s done so often because it resonates with people and, when done well, it can work; and 2. tired or not, it’s something that viewers/readers deserve to actually see happening, rather than just being told, ‘oh yeah, now they’re a team, okay? okay cool.’”

At least, that’s the plot of the first book, since…… I can’t make anything simple or less-difficult for myself, series are often more fun in general, and I just have a lot of characters here who I love, so the whole, “These incidents are starting to string themselves together in really suspicious ways, oh shit fuck goddammit, the election is being sabotaged” plot is just the start of things.* The bigger series plot would be more about trying to deal with further attempts by the neo-fascist supervillain club to wreak all kinds of neo-fascist supervillain Hell all over everything.

Then, the way I’m looking at this, structurally? Is that I have an ensemble cast, in the end. There are different tiers of importance among the different characters, because that’s unavoidable — I mean, I rail against JKR’s habit of treating her characters as plot devices first and people second, but even if you all treat your characters as people, you have to prioritize some of them over the others at different points, or else you end up worse off than George RR Martin, drowning in impossible goals and strangled by the giant pile of fictional people you made up to tell stories about — but I still view the cast as fundamentally an ensemble.

However, for the sake of reining in my horrible attention span and trying to avoid GRRM’s example, each installment has a focal character, whose own personal story of the moment gets to exist alongside the bigger plotty plot-stuff of each book (…I am a serious business writer, oh yes I am). As an approach, this has its drawbacks — balancing things without making it all too coincidentally intertwined is a big one — but I also love it because, to me, it reflects the way that life has several different levels to it that aren’t always intimately woven together, but still affect each other and need to find some kind of balance if you’re going to get anywhere

Anywho, the focal character for book one is Sebastian, because on one hand, he was here first. Like, he was originally for a game that my Sunday night RP group was playing this past summer, which was still the same-ish idea of mutant superheroes, except that it was more closely modeled on the way that Aya Brea’s powers work in the Parasite Eve games

Meaning, “the system is very openly based on Parasite Eve, it says so in the player’s handbook and everything,” rather than a motley hodgepodge assortment of superhero comics and movies/TV, speculative fiction in general, LGBTIQ theories and histories and cultures, “okay, I’d kind of like to be more active in superhero-related fandoms, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that the stories I want to tell right now are not easily mapped onto characters who already exist, I won’t feel fulfilled in trying to change them so I can shoehorn Sam and Steve and Nat and Bucky or Dick, Jason Stephanie, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Harper into them, so I’ve got to just say, ‘fuck it’ and do my own thing”

and, “what if I did [something that is a big and very, very deliberate middle finger to either Marvel or DC, possibly both, for some reason or another]” — e.g., “what if I made a pair of characters who are a pretty blatant satire of/commentary on/response to/whatever Marvel’s perpetual, annoying as fuck Cherik-baiting, except that they’re actually married — and they will be literally married as soon as the U.S. Supreme Court rules on Obergefell v. Hodges in-universe — and also they are old lady lesbians, nah nah nah nah nah nah *flips off Stan Lee et al. with both middle fingers while doing a, ‘come at me, bro’ dance and generally being a Stunning Bastion Of Authorial Maturity Lmao Not Really*”

So, yeah. I had to rescope some things after my RP group dropped that game, but in the name of, “developing my character and giving Jake, my DM and high school friend, material with which to torment my character, and also, Double-Cross’s system actually makes character development and characterization pretty important elements to playing the game,” I’d already written way too much stuff to just let it go, and Sebastian had endeared himself to me in a big way, and I just went, “Fuck it, I’ll write my own thing with him in it, it’ll be fun.”

I don’t remember when he decided to look like Hayden Christensen, only that I tried to stop that mental image from solidifying, and trying to stop it only made it worse, so I just gave up and went, “Fine, whatever, look like Hayden Christensen, see what I care.” But then, more importantly than, “Sebastian gets to go first because in fairness, he was here first”? Well.

On a thematic level, I feel like this little mutant disaster’s biggest personal story of the moment (trying desperately to get his shit together after making it to 30 without his clinical depression getting noticed as depression, much less treated; trying to stay sober and find something to do with his life that feels even vaguely fulfilling, which for him would mean, “helping people, doing some kind of good in the world, trying to make someone else happy because he is fairly certain that he never will be, period”; trying to actually deal with the past and move forward, not forgetting it or forsaking it entirely, but also not being frozen and chained to the past, learning from it and building something new)…

…has the most common ground and overlap with the current round of big plotty plot-type stuff, since it’s all about things like, “whoo, the formation of a new team! whoo, the new team getting it together and learning how to work as a team and trying to figure out their team identity and values! oh no, emergence of previously unseen threats that have not actually come from out of nowhere, even though it kind of looks like they have, and are more complicated than previously estimated! oh no, we can’t just delete them from existence because they’re insidious and entrenched in more places than we entirely realize at first, so how do we even fight this! ohhh no, progressive realization that we’re fighting a symptom rather than the actual facts problem, but we can’t just NOT-treat the symptom or shit is even more fucked than it will be if we treat the symptom by not the actual problem, and in some ways we don’t even entirely know what the bigger-picture problem is yet! oh man, what do we do!”

—so, like. These two threads work together better than they would with different parts of the larger, longer story.

(And then there’s Pete, who is an admitted authorial pet of mine, just like GRRM blatantly favors Tyrion and JKR visibly projects onto Harry and Hermione, and who I feel lends himself better to a format more like, “Dunk and Egg”-esque novellas, or a collection of, “chronicles of side-kicking” short stories about his little side-adventures and myriad hijinks that aren’t always immediately relevant to the main story but that are really fun. But I also feel like that might just be an excuse to write more weird adventures for him that aren’t necessarily tied together in the right order, like novels generally need to be unless you have some kind of reason not to do that.

idk, man, I just really love my stale cinnamon roll Dramatic bb theatre kid with a heart of gold who will tell you that you’re wrong and he so does not have a heart of gold while he is digging around Seb’s kitchen and making dinner for himself and his Princess because an unfortunate side-effect of one of Seb’s superpowers — the toxin filtering part of his mutant healing factor — is that his body doesn’t only filter out poisons, gases, narcotics, caffeine, and alcohol… it also filters the antidepressants that he gets given a prescription for about ten hours before abruptly being thrust headlong into his newly-awoken mutant superpowers.

Which is a huge mess all over — though, yes, there is a huge part of this that is a pretty deliberate, “fuck you” to literally every piece of media that goes, “and then the hero found out they had superpowers or magic or the fuck whatever and lol suddenly no more mental illness or disabilities or any kind of neurodivergence or anything neener neener” — and anyway, Pete’s hypothetically just found Seb half-spaced out and listening to, “Careless Whisper” on repeat, and Pete is going to tell you that he doesn’t have any kind of heart of gold because he’s a heartless wretch shut your mouth……

…while he’s making them dinner and going, “okay, come on, Princess. Sit up, let’s try and get you through this. No, don’t argue with me. You did the same — or similar, anyway — for me in that entire ten-day stretch when you knew I wasn’t eating disorder okay but couldn’t get me to talk about it and we’ve been over this: if that’s what friends do for each other, then it cuts both ways, so come on. Dinner. Do you want me to put on Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, Female Trouble, Ten Things I Hate About You, or some other thing until you feel like talking.”)

But anyway, as I was saying.

I look at the attempt to find thematic crossover between the plot parts of a book in the series and the story parts of a book as being kind of like how, in the first three seasons of Community, whatever class the Study Group had together was a of synergistic reflection of certain season-long themes and developments for them as characters and in their relationships.

Like, in season one, they were learning how to talk to each other and the basics of building relationships with and understanding each other, so they took Spanish, a language class.

In season two, they took Anthropology — in-universe described as, “the study of humanity” and which is presented as being so open-ended that shitty memetic youtube vids are as valid an object of study as humanity’s development and use of tools, and the different processes by which humans work together to do greater shit than we can do solo — and in that year’s shenanigans, the Study Group cemented their trust as friends, but also went through Hell together in several cases, and in the last two episodes (the cowboy/Star Warts paintball two-parter), they had to face the question of whether or not removing one of them for his shitty behavior (Pierce) would be better or worse for the overall health of the group.

And in season three, they took Biology, defined in-universe as, “the study of life” (which isn’t wrong irl, but the specific phrasing is important to me, here), and they spend a lot of time exploring and developing their lives, both together and individually, both at Greendale Community College and more importantly outside its walls. There’s also the season-long theme of evolution, because the Study Group have evolved as people and continue to evolve — which reaches its biggest culminations in the finale, not just in Jeff’s Winger Speech, but also with five of the big seven (Annie and Britta are sort of adrift but Troy, Abed, Shirley, and Pierce all have moments, and Jeff has the BIGGEST, most obvious moment).

So, with the books, I’m trying to do something kind of similar. Not quite the same, because…… well, TV vs. novels, school setting vs. a variety of settings but none quite as structured as a school (even one that’s as, well, Greendalian as you get on Community), a million other reasons besides — but having some kind of thematic synergy between the plot part of each of the books and the focal characters’ personal stories in each book…… idk, it gives me a comforting sense of structure to play with?

And aside from that, I feel like it’s probably a better choice for the sake of the whole stories because having those points of connection means they can more easily work to enhance each other, rather than distracting from each other. Like, one of the biggest issues that I have with shoehorned-in romance plots in stories that don’t need a romance plot? Even overlooking how they are almost invariably white and m/f and heteronormative and can be all kinds of, “uggggh” in several other ways besides, it comes down to whether or not they work, thematically and tonally, with everything else.

[this is where i had a tangent trying to illustrate my point by talking about pointlessly shoehorned-in white, m/f romance plots in otherwise no romo stories, then cut it after i started to feel moderately ashamed of how many examples and trends about this that i just have in my back pocket]

The point being: you can use dissonance and conflicting juxtaposed parts of the story to different effects, but it’s often harder to pull off and you do need to have some idea of what you’re doing, otherwise you’re going to end up with a huge mess and no idea where to start sorting through it (I say this based on having done this exact thing several times before)

So, in the interests of not doing that, I like the idea of trying to find the big points of synergy and connection between any given book’s focal char’s story, and the plot points of that installment and how it fits into the larger story. And, for the sake of book 1, Sebastian’s big story of the moment is the one that lines up best with the plot stuff, thematically.

Also, apropos of nothing but, he spends like all of two minutes coming up with his nom de spandex, and ends up with Pete being Unimpressed at him because…… Really, Princess? Princess, really. Like. Princess. Really. Your family is obnoxiously insistent on your Frenchness, even though you were all born and raised in fucking Baltimore and your Dad’s family hasn’t been in France itself since your ancestor sold the old ancestral marquisate and came to save the Revolution with the Marquis de Lafayette… and now you turn into a nine-foot-tall wolf-man…… and you picked out the official, “it is on your actual facts government-issued vigilante hero license” name of…… Gévaudan.

Really, Princess. Fucking. REALLY. Ugggggggh, you’re more creative than that, why did you pick the stupidly obvious werewolf name ffs, your family isn’t even FROM Gévaudan or anywhere in its general damn vicinity, why did you have to pick THAT name, it’s BORING.

And now I don’t know how to wrap this up so I’m gonna abruptly stop talking (apart from the footnote below, which I wrote a couple hours ago, whoops)

Thank you so much for asking this and giving me a free excuse to talk about my novel, nonny

*: Given my chosen subject matter, I feel like it has to be? Partly, yeah, it’s authorial self-gratification because I love my weirdos and their adventures.

But another part of it is the idea that it’s not enough to punch fascists in the face. Like, yes, by all means, we need to do that, too — but fascism is insidious and easily enabled by so many aspects of our contemporary societies. So, we need to resist the urge to simplify the discussion. We can go, “Fascism is wrong, period” while also trying to understand the different ways that fascism draws people into supporting it, how it can spread so far and so thoroughly in nominally non-fascist societies, and its different manifestations and ways of working, so that we can better fight it.

Additionally, we’re products of the same societies that create people who do become fascists and we can easily become complicit in both fascism and oppression more generally, so we need to hold ourselves and each other accountable while trying to fight fascism, instead of putting it off for later, because…… historically, and based on several different precedents? Putting off addressing the internal issues among ourselves doesn’t work; it just creates fertile ground for more problems to breed and makes it even harder for people down the line.

And there aren’t any easy answers here. There are some part of them that are easy or at least easier than others — e.g., agreeing on the statement, “Fascism is wrong and we should oppose it” — but unfortunately, not everything in life and resistance can be as easy as, “This thing is wrong, we should oppose it.”

Even getting into the questions of HOW to best and most effectively fight back against fascism gets complicated, to say nothing of situations where there isn’t an obvious Right Side or Wrong Side, no matter how many people try to turn those discussions into Right vs. Wrong and get into a lot of binary-thinking moral absolutism that ultimately upholds a lot of the shit we’re nominally trying to fight, and does more harm than good to everyone involved.

(ftr, those discussions are not things like, “Fascism is wrong, Y/N,” but more like disagreements between people, none of whom are outright in the wrong, but all of whom have different sets of values, different kinds of grievances with each other [some fair, some not so fair], different points of view on any given topic, and so on, usually about things like, “is it more important for people to be free but with more potential for people to abuse that freedom in hurtful ways, or for people to be safe but in ways that give us new ways to hurt each other in the name of safety,” however the Hell these issues are manifesting in a specific context at any given moment)

And, well. It’s a precarious line to walk on, as someone who wants to be as ethical and responsible a writer as I can be and as true to my handful of basic guiding principles as possible. Principles that I have because…… uh, I want to be as ethical and responsible a writer as I can be? And I want to always work on failing better, as @saathi1013​ would put it?

so, if you’re going to do that, you kinda need to have something to stand for and try to be more aware of what’s going on in the world, more aware where the content you’re making fits into those discussions, and more aware of yourself and how you work so that you can try to find places of potential Unfortunate Implications or places where you’re not actually living up to the values that you want to put in your work — c.f., JKR’s handling of House Elves and Muggles in the HP series, or how she wants the books to be anti-abuse but gives Dumbledore a free pass on hardcore manipulating both Harry and Snape [to say nothing of how he doesn’t do shit to make Snape act like a teacher, not a bully, because of reasons], and gives Molly and Arthur a total free pass on all of their unadulterated abusive bullshit

—and part of all this is knowing what you stand for, knowing what you think and feel as much as you can, and being willing to actually interrogate your positions and adjust your views and stances as you come into new information, new experiences, etc. Call it a belief, call it a good idea, call it whatever you want, but for me? You have to have some kind of principles to stand for/by, if you really want to be ethical and/or responsible content creator, because if you don’t have your principles, then what’s guiding you in this, exactly? Principles are what separate people who at least try to be ethical and/or responsible content creators from fuckbishops like the Dadaists, the Marquis de Sade, and the creative team of Family Guy.

And one of my principles here is, essentially, “People are people, and this means, on one hand, that all people deserve basic human rights and civil liberties. But on the other hand, it means that many of our problems are, in the words of Pterry and Gneil in Good Omens, caused not by people being either Good or Evil, but by people being fundamentally people. We’re all a bunch of disasters to varying degrees, and most situations are not going to come down to Good vs. Evil, but to (as Richard Siken puts it) need against need, where everyone is at cross-purposes and everyone has the potential to be doing wrong by/unto someone else, even if some of us are going to come out more wrong than others based on our actions and/or the context of the situation.”

Which all basically adds up to…… yes, “Fascism is wrong” is a simple and straightforward statement, but there are situations and debates that arise surrounding most simple, straightforward statements that are tangled up and complicated. In this case, for example, how fascism takes root and spreads, how to best fight it in which situations, how it takes advantage of structures and practices even within non-fascist communities and uses them to fester and draw people into supporting it + what the fuck to do about that especially since at a certain point all of us become complicit in it to some degree or another, by virtue of being people who are alive and take part in our civilizations, and what’s at stake for everyone in all these discussions + how best to approach the question(s) of priorities

(…see, what I mean when I say that yes, I have interest in contemporary sociopolitical goings-on for their own sake but also bring them back to the novel pretty easily and regularly? It’s kinda unavoidable when you’re living in the times we are now, writing about superheroes who have to fight very explicitly neo-fascist supervillains)

So, anyway, the TL;DR of my basic point here is that I do try to approach my writing with principles in mind, but I don’t believe in oversimplifying shit — based on what I’ve encountered so far, I believe that oversimplifying things in a lot of these discussions usually starts in an understandable sort of place, but only ends up creating more problems for everyone in the long run, because it too easily fosters binaristic thinking and moral absolutism, dehumanizing each other, creating arbitrary hierarchies that we always end up using to justify hurting each other, and so on — and I don’t want to be a preacher in my work. I’d be a lot happier if I inspired actual discussions.

……Unfortunately, I’ve been in fandom and literature generally for too long to think that this is going to happen without the risk of people playing the apologist cards, the [douchebag character] in Leather Pants card, and all of that good stuff, but…… well.

I’m just trying to tell myself that this is a risk I’m going to have to live with, and if I do everything that I can reasonably do to prevent that and it still happens anyway, then hey, I’m in good company with George Orwell (all the people who have read 1984 as a defense or endorsement of right-wing anything when Orwell was a Socialist, he just opposed fucking Stalinism), Dr. Seuss (the anti-reproductive rights brigade who co-opted Horton Hears A Who to make it a screed against abortion), Emily Brontë (everyone who thinks Heathcliff is romantic and awesome when no. NO. fuck ALL the way OFF, he is an abusive jackass who literally kills a puppy and torments a generation of kids into reenacting his and Cathy’s relationship, just to get back at her for dumping him, and whose author was a fucking abuse survivor, now can everyone please get off her tits and stop using her book to justify their own abusive garbage behaviors), and so many countless others

But that’s a whole other kettle of monkeys, and I should only be so lucky to maybe someday have enough people reading anything I write that there are actually popular misinterpretations of anything. Like, would it be ideal if the misinterpretations didn’t happen? Yeah, but that’s not how writing works and it’s not how reading works and it’s not how most contemporary socialization trains us to read and see things, and everyone who reads anything I write is going to come up with their own interpretation because I can’t tell them how to read it, so

*shrugs* The Author Is Not God, y’know? I can do the work to try and best actualize my vision of things, but there will be things in it that other people see that I didn’t intend or didn’t notice, and my version of the story can’t be the absolute truth because the readers’ input is just as vital to the life of a written work as the work itself. It’s an unavoidable risk of writing shit on shit, so we make do, the end, I guess?

[papergirllife]

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The way he smiled at her, the way their chemistry made fans of both fandoms cheer made you worry. It’s common for artists to have stages with each other, especially if they took on emceeing jobs or during award shows.

You weren’t angry, nor disappointed in any way. But the way they were smiling at each other made you nervous. You always had a very serious case of insecurity, it started ever since your ex started cheating on you, you hadn’t dare to leave the relationship, until you confronted him, then he left you permanently, only leaving a huge scar on your heart. You hadn’t known that the wound would reopen until today.

When it all became too much for you, when SM announced that he’ll consider taking on the role, you went to look for his co star’s account on instagram, and she’s so beautiful, Jaehyun is way out of your league, you knew this from the start. Yet she’s at the same level of beauty as he is, what if he finally sees that he made the wrong choice? And leaves you for her?

Then you found a short clip of a fan pointing out that Jaehyun panicked when he received a text from someone during his birthday live a few months back, you looked at it a hundred times to see a sunflower emoji saved as the contact’s name. But you were most definitely not the sunflower emoji. So who was it?

You could feel yourself panicking as you laid down on your shared bed with Jaehyun, has he shared this bed with anyone other than you? You try to bury your thoughts as you switched on some random movie on netflix, yet your heart wasn’t really into anything that’s happening on the screen.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

You woke up to the voice of Jaehyun calling for you, it was a Sunday, and he just got back from another inkigayo episode. You soon felt his arms wrapped around your tired body. You tensed up when he did so, flinching at his touch like fire being burnt on your skin.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I think I’m just feeling a bit cold from the constant rain, I’ll be fine, you can go get dinner with the boys, I want to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Should I get you some medicine now?”

“There still some in the cupboard. I won’t be needing any.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

You successfully avoided his eyes, the eyes that make you want to give him the whole world if you could, the eyes that would send you into cloud nine, as well as a painful death over the cliff.

Once he left the door, you cried and cried even though you didn’t really know what you were crying for at this point, until you tired out yourself, slipping into slumber.

Jaehyun could sense something was wrong when he woke up to find that you had left his embrace, when he clearly remembered that he pulled you against himself as close as possible, and when your hugs were short and tensed. He finally decided to ask when the both of you sat down for lunch, when you finally came out of the room saying you had lots of work to do.

“Is something up, Y/N?”

“Nothing, why would you think so?”

“I feel like you’re a bit distant these days.”

“I’m just busy.”

You weren’t looking him in the eyes when you answered him, instead your eyes were trained on the plate of noodles in front of you, suddenly finding them very interesting.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not, Jae, it’s going to be month end, I just have lots to fix before passing it up to my boss.”

“Look at me then, look up Y/N, stop avoiding my eyes.”

When you did as he said, Jaehyun was shocked to see how tired and swollen your eyes were, and he had only seen you like this once, when you got out of your last relationship.

“Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, babe. Why have you been crying so much?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing.”

“I’m just insecure okay?!”

You hadn’t meant on lashing out at him, but your emotions had been running high these past few days. You could see the shock in Jaehyun’s eyes, the realisation that it was your doing, made tears leak at the corner of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with you, it’s just me”

Then you rushed into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

Jaehyun was trying to decipher what you had said, were you back with your ex? Are you leaving him? Are you still conflicted on who to be with? Jaehyun laid down on the couch after clearing up the plates, not knowing what to do.

When you heard complete silence outside your bedroom, you sneaked out and laid a blanket on top of his sleeping figure.

That very night after having dinner with his members, Jaehyun tried his bedroom door once again, finding that it was unlocked. He went in to see your sleeping figure, so beautifully peaceful unlike earlier that day, what did he do to make you so distressed? What if your ex was looking for you again? Would you choose that trash over him?

Jaehyun sat next to your sleeping figure, his hand brushing away hair that was stuck onto your cheeks by your dried tears. When you woke up with such hurtful eyes, Jaehyun could feel his heart clench.

“Can I ask you something, Jae?”

Your voice was croaky from all the sleep, but you didn’t care, you needed to know now.

“Who’s the person you saved as a sunflower on your contacts that contacted you during one of your v lives when you were showing your phone to your fans?”

“What are you talking about? That’s the florist shop that I buy your flowers from, their shop’s logo is a sunflower and their name is very long, so I was lazy to type it out, and put the emoji instead. The reason I was worried was because they sent a text to confirm my order being sent to this address. You didn’t trust me?”

You looked up to see Jaehyun sporting hurtful eyes at what he was suspicious about, you let your gaze fall back down on your hands clasped upon your thighs, emitting a loud sigh.

“It’s not you that I don’t trust, I don’t trust myself.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“What I mean is that I don’t have enough faith in my plain old looks and boring personality to keep you interested in me for forever.”

Jaehyun’s feelings went from being hurt, to being heartbroken, not for himself, but for you. The words you said had such heavy feelings that his broad shoulders sagged, he thought you were suspicious towards him, but it was self doubt. When did this start again? He thought he had brushed all your worries from your past relationship away, is he the source of all your insecurities now?

You got up and walked inside the connected bathroom, standing in front of the mirror to look at your own tear stricken face, too emotional drained to even bother putting in the effort to wipe them away.

You looked back at Jaehyun who sat hunched on the bed, his own tears crinkling at the corner of his own eyes. You didn’t know what are his feelings towards you are now. Anger? Disappointment?

“I’m sorry, Jaehyun.”

Your voice rang loud and clear as the echos bounced off the walls of the bathroom towards the bedroom, letting it ring into Jaehyun’s head a few times. He heard it loud and clear, shaking his head, not wanting you to apologise when you’re most clearly not in the wrong, but he couldn’t utter the words yet, a lump in his mouth as his head spins.

“I’m like a broken mirror, no matter how much effort you use to put the pieces back together, I’ll still be broken.”

You felt more tears escape your eyes as you said this, you knew the truth all along, but you still let yourself love another being, even when you knew how heavy your emotional baggage weighs.

When Jaehuyn heard what you had said, he made himself force down the rock in his mouth, you’re not broken, no one is allowed to say that, not even yourself. He walks to the bathroom, and pulls you into his embrace, out of the cold and empty toilet.

“A mirror will never be broken Y/N, they reflect the same thing at different but all very unique and beautiful angles, that’s how you see me, you’re the only one who sees each and every one of my sides but yet you choose to stay next to me.”

Jaehyun knew what he had to do to heal your aching heart when he first met you, he swore to himself that he’s never going to give up. He knew the weigh on his shoulders wouldn’t be an easy fit, but as long as he’s standing tall, there will always be a place for your head on his shoulders, right now, tomorrow, and many more days to come.