#polish hash browns

[polish-food]

Polish Potato Pancakes with Mushroom Sauce (recipe in Polish) - Placki Ziemniaczane z Sosem Grzybowym

[unknownmarley]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴛᴇxᴀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𐙚⋆.˚ a multi part benny rodriguez fanfic

𐙚⋆.˚ benny rodriguez x crushing!fem!oc

𐙚⋆.˚ friends(kinda) to lovers, mutual pinning later in story, fem!oc hard crushing, fem!oc kinda dumb

⋆𐙚02

IN the cool, air-conditioned living room of the Zerman household, the two girls occupied the space. Hallie sat on the floor, her back against the couch, delicately applying a shimmery pale yellow polish to her nails. The scent of nail polish wafted through the room, filling the air with its distinctive aroma.

Meanwhile, Cherry reclined on the couch, her eyes fixed on the small screen glowing in the dimly lit room. The early morning sun peeked through the blinds, casting slivers of light across the space. As Cherry watched the screen, yesterday morning's events replayed in her mind like scenes from a movie that she couldn't get the shake off of.

A soft sigh escaped Cherry's lips as she leaned back, her head resting against the couch's back. Hallie, sensing her friend's troubled thoughts, glanced over with a sympathetic look, her brown eyes meeting Cherry's.

"Forget about him," Hallie reassured her, setting her nail polish aside on the coffee table. With a gentle pat on Cherry's thigh, she pushed her self up up on the couch, careful not to smudge her freshly painted nails. "His friends are jerks anyway."

Cherry sighed, her frown deepening as she confessed, "It's not just him. I feel bad about the boy." She looked over at Hallie, who mirrored her concern with a disappointed expression.

As a tranquil silence draped the room, Hallie's lips curved into a soft sigh, her gaze drifting lazily across the space. But the quietness was short-lived as the sound of Hallie's brother's footsteps interrupted the stillness, heralding his arrival into the kitchen just beyond the living room.

With a casual grace, he swung open the fridge door, prompting Hallie to glance his way with an annoyed groan of acknowledgment. Cherry's eyes trailed over to Hallie's brother, awkwardly watching the two. Mike had always fancied himself a rebellious figure, a wannabe guitarist, yet beneath the façade lay the reality of his privileged life.

"Mike, how many times do I have to remind you to stay in your room when I have friends over!" Hallie's tone carried outright annoyance as she pushed herself off the couch, making her way towards the kitchen. With a hashed push, she closed the fridge door, eliciting an eye roll from her brother who hadn't even managed to grab anything.

"You know I can't stay cooped up in my room forever," Mike replied, his arms folding across his chest as his gaze shifted towards Cherry, "plus it's cherry, hi cherry." He pointed out, lazily greeting the girl who gave him an awkward tight lipped smile and small wave.

"That's not the issue, Mike, and you know it," Hallie retorted, her hands resting lightly on her hips as she scolding him as if he was a child.

"Whatever, you're such a dork," Mike dismissed her with a roll of his eyes, lightly flicking her on before grabbing a cereal bar from the countertop and retreating to his room, leaving Hallie to groan as she stomped her way back to the couch.

"Jerk," she mumbled under her breath as she plopped down next to Cherry on the comfy couch. Turning to face her, Cherry couldn't help but stifle a giggle at the sassy remark.

"Anyways," Hallie smiled, "The kid from yesterday is just like a few houses down. Maybe we should go say hi or something." Cherry's eyes lit up at the idea. She knew all too well the feeling of being the new kid, and yesterday's incident had surely left a mark on that poor boy.

"Hallie, you're an actual angel!" Cherry exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. A toothy smile spread across her face as she eagerly stood up, pulling Hallie up with her. The two girls hurriedly made their way towards Hallie's room, to get ready.

AS Cherry and Hallie strolled down the sun-drenched pavement, the rhythmic tap of Cherry's worn-out boots echoed softly against the scorching ground. In the distance, they spotted a familiar sight – a blonde boy perched on his front steps, his brow furrowed with evident concern.

Hallie nudged Cherry, wordlessly prompting her to take the lead. With a hesitant grin, Cherry smoothed out the lace patterns adorning her summer dress, her gaze shifting nervously towards the boy.

"Hey there," Cherry greeted, elongating her southern twang in a bid to sound welcoming. Her eyes couldn't help but notice the bruise that was nastily coated his eye in hues of yellows and purples.

The boy looked up, offering a shy smile in return. His gaze flickered uncertainly between the two approaching girls, his apprehension palpable.

"I'm Christina Benson, but folks 'round here just call me Cherry," she introduced herself, extending her hand for a friendly shake. The boy reciprocated with a tentative grip before turning his attention to Hallie.

"Hallie Zerman," she chimed in. "I live a couple of blocks down from you."

"I'm Scotty Small," the boy replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he shook Hallie's hand.

Cherry hesitated, her thoughts drifting back to yesterday's unfortunate incident, the memory still fresh in her mind.

"We saw what went down yesterday," Cherry began, her voice trailing off slightly as she recalled the awkward encounter. Scotty's cheeks flushed deeper as he relived the embarrassment.

"you shouldn't stress it that much, you did better then what i could do," Hallie interjected, her tone laced with empathy. Sensing Scotty's discomfort, she offered words of reassurance.

"yea, them boy are a bunch of piddle anyways," Cherry added, with a shrug and smile as she felt Hallies head lean on her shoulder.

Before Cherry could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation. Cherrys eyes quickly widen and quickly turn back to ground as she went silent, which didn't go unnoticed by Hallie and unfortunately Benny.

"Hey, laddies," Benny greeted the two girls with a hesitant smile, his expression met with an icy silence from Cherry, who avoided his gaze like it held some ancient curse.

"Hi, Benny," Hallie interjected, her voice cutting through the awkward tension that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, though it had only been five seconds. There was an underlying tone of annoyance in her words, prompting Cherry to swiftly swat at her friend's head, signaling her to cease.

Hallie straightened up, her gaze shifting to Cherry with a raised eyebrow and a faint smile playing on her lips. Cherry, however, couldn't bear to meet her friend's eyes, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. Dodging eye contact with the two people engaging her in conversation proved to be quite the ordeal.

"I'm gonna play some ball. We need an extra guy. You wanna go?" Benny's attention shifted towards Scotty, his brow furrowing slightly as he stood there with bat and glove in hand. "You two could tag along too," he added, casting a glance towards the girls. "just sit and watch or whatever," he shrugged nonchalantly before refocusing on Scotty, who cast his gaze downwards.

"No, thanks," Scotty's voice was barely a whisper, a crease forming between his brows as he shook his head.

"Why not?" Benny's confusion was palpable, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and concern. "don't you like baseball?" he inquired, tilting his head with slight annoyance.

"Yeah, but, uh..." Scotty's voice trailed off, his eyes darting around, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone present.

"But what?" Benny's impatience was evident, his hand thrown up in exasperation as he awaited an explanation.

"But your fri—" Hallie began, but Cherry swiftly covered her mouth, shooting her a frantic look, her eyes wide with urgency, silently pleading for her to stop.

"Scotty, you should give it a go," Cherry interjected, turning towards the boy with an encouraging smile, her hand still hovering over her friend's mouth. Benny's smile towards Cherry went unnoticed by her, and truth be told, he was rather relieved.

"But my glove—it's busted," Scotty explained, rising to his feet and displaying the worn-out glove to the trio, his fingers idly tracing the frayed edges.

"Uh, see? Now I can't go," Scotty muttered, his voice laden with a mix of relief and disappointment, as if he had been secretly hoping for this excuse. His gaze shifted nervously between the trio, lingering for a moment on Cherry, whose frown deepened at his words.

"It's okay," Benny reassured with a small, sympathetic shake of his head as he reached into his back pocket. "I got an extra one," he continued, his movements deliberate as he retrieved a slightly worn but serviceable glove. A grin spread across Cherry's face as she watched Benny throw the glove to him, her eyes briefly meeting his before her face turned red and flickered back to Scotty.

Meanwhile, as Cherry was momentarily distracted, Hallie seized the opportunity to finally get her mouth uncovered gaining a "Eugh!" from Cherry as she hastily wiped the saliva off on dress. Hallie quickly wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, a proud smile on her face.

"Come on, let's go," Benny called out to Scotty, impatiently gesturing him to come. Scotty wasted no time, rushing to his front door to inform his mom of his plans before bounding down the steps to catch up with the others.

"You two coming?" Benny glanced back at Cherry and Hallie, his expression a mix of anticipation and encouragement. Hallie nodded with a shrug, while Cherry just stared her mouth as a gap no word could form out her mouth as her face still had a light pink hue on her face.

"Come on, let's go," Benny urged once more, picking up the pace with a slight jog. Hallie reached for her friend's hand, gently tugging her along as they followed the boys, the sound of the four set st  opfeet stumbling against the ground echoing down the morning sun-dappled street.

01 ← → 03

[universecorp]

Hearbeat pt.2 Teaser

Summary: After starting a situationship with your best friend from high school, things start to become complicated. Especially when you start to catch feelings.

Jaehyun x Reader Haechan x Reader (In pt2 and 3 )

w.c.: 2.3k

Genre: Comedy, smut, and angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, small argument

PLAYLIST: ♡

Sitting in a Dennys at 2:00 AM is not how you expected your night to end. You and Donghyuck had spent the better part of an hour talking and getting to know each other. He was easy to talk to, and funny, you didn’t feel like you were forcing any of your reactions which made you feel a lot more at ease than usual.

“Wait, you're Haechan? The streamer?” Donghyuck nodded, shoveling a scoop of hash browns into his mouth. “That’s so fucking crazy, my best friend loves your streams. We used to fuck and I remember one time he got the notification for your stream and stopped mid fuck to watch you.” Donghyuck nearly choked on the strip of bacon he was munching on.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You shook your head. “That’s so sick, did he at least like pick up where he left off while watching?” Another shake. 

“I had to push him on his back and ride him.” Donghyuck laughed loudly, catching the attention of most of the other late night eaters, but it was clear he didn’t care. 

“Now that I think about it, there was this one time I read a comment and it deadass said ‘I was fucking my girl and stopped to watch.’ I thought it was probably a troll, but that might’ve been him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head once again. “There’s no way that was him, he would never refer to me as ‘his girl’ it would be kind of funny if that was him though.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement, it was all he could do since he didn’t even know Jaehyun. 

There was a small awkward silence filled only with the sounds of plates clinking and light chatter from the other patrons. Donghyuck looked like he was having a debate with himself befofe hr finally opened his mouth. “Look, uhm, I don’t usually do this, I honestly don’t usually take my hookups to pre-breakfast either, but I was wondering if I could get your number?” 

You were a bit shocked. You thought maybe this was normal and Donghyuck was just one of those nice guys who treated his fucks to post coiatal meals. Hearing otherwise brought a bit of heat to your cheeks. 

“So uh… is that a no? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Oh no, wait no, I mean yes! Yes… you can have my number.” 

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. You and big head aren’t fucking again right?” Minjeong was doing your nails on the floor of your dorm, and you were definitely making it hard since you were texting Donghyuck with the hand she was trying to get you to dry. 

“Of course not. I’m texting a new guy, I met him at that party me and Jae went to.” Minjeong perked up at the mention of a new guy. Talks like these reminded you of being a teenager, but they were always relaxing. You seriously owed Minjeong some girl time anyway with how far up Jaehyun’s ass you had been for the past year.

“So what’s his name?”

“Donghyuck, he goes here obviously, also get this, ” Minjeong leaned in “he’s that streamer that Jae likes a lot.”

“No way!?” Minjeong gasped, she accidentally swiped a little polish on your finger, but you didn’t mind.

You nodded, smiling basically ear to ear. “Yes way, and he’s so cute. He’s telling me how he wants to take me on a date this weekend!” You closed your phone to give Minjeong your undivided attention while she swiped acetone over her previous mistake.

“I’m happy for you, I know I was kind of an ass with all the ‘I told you so’, but I really just wanted you to be with  someone who treats you for what you’re worth.” You knew that, but hearing it felt really good. You always knew Minjeong was just looking out for you, but she also knew that whatever you felt for Jaehyun wasn’t going away like magic. Even now you sometimes felt a twinge of what you used to when he did certain things, but it wasn’t as strong as it was a month ago. 

“It’s ok Minnie, I know you only had my best interest.” You brought your nails hand up to blow on the wet polish. “Look on the bright side though, I went through all that and now I've learned my lesson. No more wasting time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.” 

Minjeong jostled your shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

 A week later you were with Donghyuck in his apartment, playing a co-op game called “it takes two” that he specifically bought for the date. He turned on his twitch to stream, but he left his mic off to enjoy the moment with you. He was ticking so many boxes and even Minjeong gave him the stamp of approval when he met her a couple hours ago. Everything today was perfect, he bought you flowers, ordered from your favorite takeout place and even surprised you with slippers for you to wear around the apartment. You had been seeing each other for about a month now so you figured he would be asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but you were in no rush. His gestures meant the world to you and even then just his presence was enough for you to feel satisfied. 

Now the two of you were snuggled up side by side, controllers in hand and your head on his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment, nothing except your phone which had been buzzing on the nightstand for a good two minutes. “Hey babe, I can pause if you wanna get that?” You looked up at Donghyuck with a small pout before shaking your head. You felt bad that whoever was calling you clearly didn’t get the memo that you were busy. 

“We can keep playing, I’ll talk and play, m’sorry.” Donghyuck waved it off as he waited for you to answer your phone. You rolled your eyes slightly when you saw Jaehyun’s photo, but still answered the facetime call. “What’s up loser?” You sounded less than enthused, but he should’ve expected that since you ignored his calls for two minutes. 

“God what crawled up your ass and died weirdo and why aren’t you showing your face?” Jaehyun scoffed as if his facetime screen wasn’t paused.

“Just the fact that you’ve been calling me for two minutes. What the fuck did you want? I’m kinda busy.” You cursed under your breath since you and Donghyuck failed the game stage for the fifth time. 

“First of all, I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner and come watch a movie, I’ll buy obviously. Second of all, if you’re gonna lie about being busy at least make it believable, I can hear you playing a game in the background.” Jaehyun had some fucking nerve assuming you would lie to him about being busy, but you weren’t gonna fight about it. You were gonna be civil. Even though Donghyuck had heard the way you and Jaehyun talked to each other before, he was a little annoyed that the other man was accusing you of lying. 

“Jae, I’m on a date and we’re playing a game, so I actually am very busy. 

“Wait… are you playing ‘it takes two’?” Jaehyun didn’t know about Donghyuck. He knew you had been on dates, but since he didn’t ask who with, you didn’t bother telling him it was Donghyuck A.K.A. his favorite streamer. 

“Yeah, with my date.” You knew you sounded like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had barely been hanging out with you and even then it seemed like he only wanted to when he was bored. You were trying to follow Minjeong’s and your own advice and stop wasting time on people that don’t deserve it.

“If you’re actually playing a game with your date, show your face and his, then show the tv.” You were so close to hanging up on Jaehyun, but when you saw the screen pause and suddenly your phone was being held up by Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck didn’t look happy. All of the irritation must have been building up to a point where even Jaehyun looked concerned. “Look, Jaehyun, I get it, you’re bored. I’m sure you miss having Y/N at your beck and call because you knew she would drop anything for you before.” Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Donghyuck had him closing it immediately. “Those times are past and whatever sick game you’re playing at needs to stop. Got it?” The silence on the line was loud, Donghyuck knew he made his point. “Good. Now I’m going to go back to playing games with my girlfriend, enjoy the stream Jaehyun.” With that he pressed the end call button with a sigh and immediately after you were straddling the man.

“Girlfriend huh?” 

Donghyuck set his controller down and placed his hands on your hips, it was all he could do to look cool despite the blush rushing his face. “Yeah uhm… I was going to ask you later during pillow talk after some earth shattering sex, but this is cool too I guess.” 

You giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This is cool too, don’t worry. We can still have earth shattering sex but now as boyfriend and girlfriend.” It was Donghyuck’s turn to giggle now. “Do you want to keep playing, we could even turn on the mic?” 

Haechan shook his head, “No I think it’s time for that earth shattering sex we were talking about.” You bit your lip trying to suppress a laugh, he was so goofy and hot at the same time, you didn’t understand how anyone could be capable of that. 

“I think that can be arranged…boyfriend.”

“He told you off?” Mark nearly yelled, catching the attention of several of the other students in the library. 

“Dude keep it down, we’re in a library.” Johnny reminded before focusing back on his music theory assignment. 

“Sorry, he told you off?” Mark asked again this time in a more suitable whisper.

“Yes, and she didn’t say shit bro, she just let him.” Jaehyun grumbled, taking a chip from the bag Johnny had managed to smuggle in. 

Johnny was pretty unamused with the entire situation, given that he asked if the two men wanted to study in the library, but had basically been talking the whole time. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s over how you treat her. I know you think you’re like bestie of the year, but you literally evaded her feelings for at least 6 months just so you would have an easy fuck.” 

Jaehyun scoffed, “Remind me to stop telling you about my problems.” Johnny simply rolled his eyes before training them back on the score in front of him. 

“I mean he has a point. You knew she caught feelings a while ago, and your agreement was to break it off, but you kept everything up. Plus you were the one who kept fucking with her and being all domestic, she’s probably traumatized.” Jaehyun shot a glare at Mark; he did not come here to be ganged up on.

“She can’t be but so traumatized since she spends all her time with Haechan, or Donghyuck, whatever the fuck his name is.” Mark and Johnny looked ready to hit their heads against the table, but clearly this was a delicate situation that needed to be nurtured and cared for so that Jaehyun would actually get some sense.

“Jae, buddy, pal, old friend if you will.”

“Get to the point Johnathan.” 

Johnny sighed, “See the point is, she’s in a relationship now. You had your 15 minutes of fame where she basically avoided getting into something because she was holding out hope for you. Now, she’s tired of waiting. She wants something that makes her feel loved and worth it and frankly, your bare minimum effort of taking her back to your place to watch a movie and then fuck, isn’t cutting it.”

“Bars.” Mark fist bumped Johnny, adding an explosion sound effect at the end.

“You guys are losers. She didn’t seem to be complaining about the movie and fuck a couple months ago.” Mark cringed and Johnny simply shook his head at the way their friend could so shamelessly talk about you like that.

“Jaehyun, listen to yourself, you sound delusional. She may not have been complaining, but that’s also because if she did you would’ve had to break all of that off. You’re acting like she broke up with you when the two of you weren’t even together in the first place.” Johnny’s volume was starting to increase, but he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t the closest to you, but he refused to let Jaehyun disrespect you like this. “Also you literally only text or call her now when we can’t hang out. Do you think that makes her feel good?” Jaehyun opened his mouth, but Johnny cut him off. “Don’t answer that because I know you’re about to say some bullshit. You need to get with the program and stop treating her like some play thing that you decide to pick up everytime your other toys are broken!” Johnny finished closing his laptop and packing up his belongings. 

“Dude, where are you going?” Jaehyun groaned before looking at Mark who was following in Johnny’s actions. “You too? Come on!”

Mark just shook his head, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before speaking again. “Dude, you have some serious soul searching to do. We don’t mind if you vent, but the way you talk about and treat her is sick.” Jaehyun just clicked his teeth in response to the younger man. 

“Whatever.” Jaehyun stood up from the table and stormed out of the library.

“He needs to get laid.” 

“Totally.” Mark agreed.

Taglist: @snapcracklen, @peachesmilk

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The time has come to fly back home... but who won the bet?

Word Count: 6,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, references to graphic images, references to sex, references to bodily functions, toilet humour, motive for murder, way too much caffeine)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Thank you so much for bearing with me! This chapter was supposed to be done quickly but then it suddenly exploded into the almost 7,000-word monster that you see before you (I blame Leo 😆). Hopefully, the contents make up for the longer-than-planned wait! There will be one more chapter.

A/N2: As an FYI, everything that is mentioned is true/correct/accurate. Yes, everything! You'll know what I mean when you get to it! 🙃

Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

"Mmm... You're right... These pancakes are heavenly...!" enthuses Max 'round an overstuffed gob.

"I have to admit, I may have been skeptical at first, given the somewhat... dated nature of the décor," admits Chris, skewering the last bite of his own stack, "but I am very glad that I did not allow first impressions to sway me, and to instead let the delights of the fare speak for itself."

I throw him a sidelong glance. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"That you did, mate," Chris chuckles good-naturedly. "That you did."

"Drake always finds the best food," sighs Max as he closes his eyes in blissful appreciation.

I shrug nonchalantly. If you know where to look...

Having hit up Times Square and snapping the obligatory pic or two — it's the end of the trip... fuck it — I'd heeded Chris' final request for this trip by tracking down somewhere we could fuel up before our fast-approaching flight home.

And given the questionable-looking nature of our chosen venue, Chris' initial trepidation had been more than understandable.

Because from the outside — but for the tell-tale smell of bacon wafting out onto the street — this joint looks more like an illicit drug den than a bona fide restaurant. The single-paned window that faces the street has a massive crack in it, the doorway stinks of stale urine, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dead body or two had ended up in the dumpster 'round the back.

The inside's not much better, either. It's a cheap, no-frills galley-kitchen kind of set-up manned by a single, overweight chef who pumps out eggs, bacon, pancakes and hash browns in massive portions while you sit on the other side of the greasy, Lino-covered counter on creaky, '60's bar stools, sipping fully-leaded coffee from chipped mugs.

In short, the complete antithesis of the polished and slightly over-glammed feel of the retro, 1950s diner we ate at yesterday.

And that's why I picked it. Because after having been up the whole night, we need something to sub-in for our lack of sleep, and nothing tastes better than comfort food when you're craving a calorie hit. Plus, Chris had wanted a 'classic' Stateside breakfast experience, and it doesn't get much more Americana than this...

"What is all that sticky goop that it's swimming in?"

...except for the fact that I have Tariq sitting on the other side of me, complaining loudly about every-damn-thing that offends his toffee-nosed sensibilities.

Because as per usual, I can't seem to take two steps in this fuckin’ city without the Almighty crapping on me.

Our butts had just hit the stools when Chris' phone began lighting up with a million-and-one messages from Max asking where we were, what the plan was, and was there any food anywhere.

So, Chris (being Chris) had extended the breakfast invite to not only Max, but to the rest of our band of noble misfits, meaning that our laid-back outing has now morphed into a real-life rendition of The Breakfast Club.

I suppress a groan as I take another swig of my scalding coffee, careful not to move my mouth too much, given that — on top of everything — my jaw has set into exactly the kind of contused stiffness that I'd hoped to avoid.

My own damn fault for not icing the damn thing down when I had the chance...

The only person missing is Leo.

Not that I really care. I've had enough of that guy and his BS for one trip. And the main reason I haven't decked him yet for the shit he pulled last night is because I haven't actually seen him since Gale and I got booted from the club.

And I don't want to ruin Chris' last hour in the Big Apple by knocking his brother's teeth out.

The same can't be said for Tariq, though...

"It's maple syrup, Besnard..." I grunt at him, trying to maintain my focus on the viscous caffeine in my hand, and not the half-a-dozen ways in which I could smash the asshole's face into the countertop.

Because after the steady stream of crap that's hit the fan in the past 36 hours, the only thing keeping me on this side of sane right now is the free-refill mugs of coffee that I've been pouring into myself since we sat down.

Which means that my mood's dancing on a hair trigger, and I'm one stupid comment away from committing violence.

The chef'd probably thank me, though...

Tariq flashes me a disgusted look. "Maple syrup...? You mean tree sap? That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!"

"A lot of things come from trees, dipshit..." I mutter, forcing myself to keep staring at the wall ahead.

Tariq scoffs. "Why would—?"

"Cinnamon is obtained from the inner bark of various South and South East Asian tree species," Chris reminds him.

"And cloves are the dried aromatic flower buds of the clove tree," adds Max, chewing loudly on a ketchup-coveted tater-tot.

Tariq glares down the counter disdainfully. "What are you lot? Walking encyclopaedias...?"

"We just know where our food comes from, Besnard," I grind out around the rim of my mug. "As would you if you ever bothered to step outside."

"Where it comes from is irrelevant," comes the derisive clap-back. "The only thing that matters is the price tag."

"Even when it's been through the digestive tract of a wild animal?" interjects Max with a perfectly straight face.

Tariq nearly spews his over-steeped tea across the room. "What!"

"Certain brands of coffee demand a premium price because of their somewhat... exotic processing process," affirms Chris. "For instance, Kopi Luwak is the most exclusive coffee in the world primarily because it comes from beans that have been consumed and then excreted by the Indonesian palm civet."

Tariq's eyes bulge. "Excreted... As in—?"

"Pooped out," confirms Max gleefully. "Through tiny little butt holes."

Tariq looks like he's about to puke.

"That is correct," continues Chris. "The bile in the civet's digestive system causes the fermentation of—"

Tariq bolts from his chair.

"Lemme guess..." I drawl, turning to face the other two. "The fuck stick's just realised that he's willingly subjected himself to this fancy ass coffee."

"Ass being the operative word..." sniggers Max as he mops up the escaped yolk from his sunny-side-up eggs with a piece of over-buttered toast.

"Yes," laughs Chris, reaching for his own mug of coffee. "He accompanied his father on a business trip to Indonesia last year where he was given the 'Holy Grail' of coffees as a gift..."

"...not realising what it actually was," I snort. "Typical."

The door of the dive creaks open.

"Speaking of typical..." I muttered under my breath as I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the familiar figure who's just stepped through the entranceway.

"Hey, hey, hey, party people!" greets Leo as he saunters up to us like he doesn't have a care in the world...

...Oh, wait. He never does.

"Glad you could make it!" smiles Chris as he gets up from his stool to clasp his brother's hand in his own. "I was starting to think maybe you lost your phone again."

"I did, as a matter of fact," confirms Leo with a lop-sided grin, fist-pumping Max as he flops down into Tariq's now-vacant seat.

Chris frowns. "But then how—?"

"DiCaprio took pity on me and gave me a new one he had lying around his flat... Which, I have to say, is pretty sweet."

Max is gaping in starry-eyed admiration. "You got to go to famous Leo's apartment? Jealous!"

"No party like the after-party! And that man knows how to party. Oh! Bacon!" the elder Rys exclaims, suddenly laying eyes on Tariq's abandoned plate.

Chris still looks confused. "But if you lost your phone—"

"The magic of the eSIM, baby!" declares Leo with a full mouth as he brandishes a brand-new iPhone into the air. "Been using it for years! Why d'you think my number never changes?"

Chris opens, then closes his mouth. "Fair point."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Walker," continues Leo with a shit-eating grin as he elbows me in the ribs. "This place is the perfect spot to get daytime murdered in!"

"Careful what you wish for, Rys..." I mutter under my breath.

"Good bacon, though!" he quips, filching another rasher.

"We can order you a helping if you're hungry..." offers Chris.

"Nah, I'm good," replies Leo, dunking the bacon into some syrup. "Grabbed a bagel on the way from this awesome little Jewish place. Do you know that they even—?"

"Oh, dear God...!" gasps Tariq, bursting back into the dining area with a horrified look on his face. "That restroom is disgusting!"

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus give me strength...

"I admit it smelled a bit funky," concedes Max, "but nothing worse than when Bertrand—"

"There is excrement floating in the toilet bowl!" Tariq all but shrieks.

"Lemme guess..." I murmur to Chris under my breath. "He didn't know how that shit got made either."

Chris' eyes bulge as his coffee goes down the wrong way.

"That is generally what happens when you take a dump," Max tells him prosaically.

"It wasn't mine!!"

"Hate to break it to you, old sport," intones Leo, laying a hand on Besnard's shoulder, "but not every pisser flushes itself. So, you're going to have t—"

"No!" interjects Tariq, shoving Leo's arm away. "I refuse to go back in there! In fact, I've had it with this entire establishment, this entire city, and this entire bloody trip! Everybody is rude, nobody respects me, and I have suffered enough denigration to last me a lifetime! I am leaving!"

Throwing his nose into the air, he turns on the heel of his treadless Ferragamo loafers to stomp out of the diner.

"Christ!" huffs Leo as he jerks a derisive thumb in Tariq's direction. "Who pissed in his Earl Grey?"

"Oh, he's just miffed because he knows he lost the bet last night," supplies Max 'round a mouthful of toast.

Leo perks up. "What bet?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I groan.

I'd completely forgotten 'bout the stupid bet...

"He does know that the hotel is in the other... direction..." coughs Chris, having finally managed to clear the wayward coffee from his lungs. "Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I mutter, watching Tariq nearly get run over by an early morning cab as he tries to cross the street. "If we're lucky, he'll end up in Brooklyn again."

Chris starts hacking all over again as he tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "You're a...horrible person..."

"But I'm not wrong," I tell him, pointedly lifting my mug to my mouth again.

"Screw the sour-arsed sod!" cries Leo. "I want to know about this bet! And why I wasn't included on it!"

"You weren't there," I tell him tersely. "Plus, you'd've been ineligible anyway."

"Why would I—?" The proverbial lightbulb clicks to life in Leo's head. "Ooh! It was a race to fourth base, wasn't it?"

"Congrats, Sherlock," I grunt. "You've graduated to deductive reasoning..."

"Not just a pretty face, Walker," winks Leo in reply.

I roll my eyes as I return my attention to my coffee.

"But who's the winner...?" Leo continues contemplatively, eyeing the rest of us.

Max opens his mouth...

"No! Don't tell me!" decrees Leo, shoving a hand into the Beaumont's face. "I wasn't included in the bet, so I demand some vicarious recompense! I'm going to guess!"

"How—?" starts Chris.

"By using my incomparable situational awareness, sprinkled with just a smidge of mind-reading!"

"Sounds mystical..." admits Chris.

"Oh, it is! Prepare to be amazed!"

"I'm ready!" shouts Max like an overeager five-year old.

My head hits the Lino between my arms with a pained groan. Somebody just shoot me...

"Alrighty, then," declares Leo, rubbing his hands together with an ungodly dose of perverse satisfaction. "So, we know for a fact that Toss-Pot Besnard never made it out the gate, and—"

"How are you so certain?" asks Chris with a frown.

"For a start, it's Tariq," I mutter at him from the greasy countertop. "Plus, if by some miracle he had managed to pull, he'd've been bragging about it as soon as he walked in."

"True..." Chris concedes with a laugh.

"But, more importantly," adds Max, "Lucy and Jamie — the two girls he'd been after — ended up taking me home last night."

My head snaps up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash. "They fucking what?"

"You heard me!" grins Max like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

"Hayley and Harper's friends..." reiterates Chris carefully. "You slept with both of them?"

"Yup!" comes the cocky affirmation.

"Well, fuck me running..." I scoff with a shake of my head.

Though I can't seem to stop an involuntary smirk from pulling at my mouth. Because that shit? That's impressive.

"Yes, gold star to Baby Beaumont," agrees Leo with a grin, slapping Max on the back. "But did he seal the deal before my little brother? That's the million-dollar question..."

"What about Drake?" interjects Chris. "He and Harper—"

"Oh, Walker didn't score!" laughs Leo.

Chris' eyes widen as he turns back to me. "You didn't? But you were the first to leave."

"Not by choice..." I admit sourly.

"Captain America here got his arse handed to him by a couple of beefcakes..." Leo explains.

"Fuck you, Rys!" I snap. "It was five against one and I still held my ground!"

"It was you who got caught up in that fight?" gasps Max. "That looked brutal..."

"It would certainly explain the bruises on your face," muses Chris, eyeing me critically. "And the ripped shirt."

I make a vague noise by way of reply. But I don't bother to correct him. The details aren't important. They lead to the same result.

Not that that's anybody's business...

"...and promptly got tossed out the club with Swifty in tow," continues Leo cheerfully. "Which I'm guessing is the reason why she wasn't willing to put out, because—"

I shoot off the stool, shattering the mug in my hand in the process. "Mention her one more time, Rys, and I swear to God—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interjects Max with a frantic wave of his hands. "If he left with Harper, how do you know that he didn't—?"

Leo jabs an uncompromising finger into my face. "Does this look like the expression of a man who spent the night warmly cocooned by the soft embrace of a woman's supple and welcoming thighs?"

I slap his hand away with a growl.

"Hmm..." muses Max, narrowing his eyes at me. "Now that you mention it... He does seem surprisingly grouchy this morning. Even more so than he was last night..."

"Beaumont..." I warn.

"Whereas my little brother is positively glowing!" continues Leo, fanning his hands around Chris by way of illustration. "Tell me you don't see the difference!"

"Fuck you, both," I grunt, slinging myself down into the barstool again.

A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, as if by magic.

I grab for it tersely. Where's the whiskey when you need it...?

"I rest my case," declares Leo smugly. "Which means, it's down to Lord Three-Way Beaumont and Prince Pull-Hard Charming. But who took their ladies to Heaven first...?"

"It doesn't matter," I grunt abrasively. "Max isn't in the running."

"I am afraid he is correct," Chris agrees after a second's reflection, glancing at Max. "No one backed you, so—"

"Rubbish!" objects Leo loudly. "The sheer act of the ménage à trois should guarantee him a spot in the champions' league, if not the entirety of the pot outright!"

"Except he's not the one who gets the money," I point out. "It's the person who ponied him."

"Christ, if it's that much of an issue, I'll punt him!" declares Leo. "What were the stakes?"

"Eight hundred ducats," Max tells him.

"Done," Leo declares, pulling his wallet out to drop a handful of Ben Franklins on the counter.

Chris meets my eye. "Your call, Drake. It's your money on the line."

I flick my eyes between Max and Chris, before letting out a low breath. "Fuck it. Let's make it interesting."

Pulling my own wallet out, I slap the requisite cash down as well.

Because worst case? I'm out of pocket $500. But best case? I net four times that. And I'm my book, that's a play worth making. Especially when my money's on Chris.

"That's my man!" whoops Leo, punching me enthusiastically in the arm.

"Careful, Rys," I warn him as Chris and Max add their contributions to the purse as well. "It's your dough I'm about to walk away with..."

"Eh..." shrugs Leo unconcernedly. "Money's relative."

"Spoken like a born-and-bred fat cat," I reply dryly.

"And now for the big reveal!" shouts Leo, clapping his hands together. "The stakes are set. The buttocks are clenched. Who takes the crown of Don Juan?"

Chris and Max exchange wry looks.

"What time did you get back to the hotel?" Max asks.

"Just after midnight, I believe..."

"Twelve thirty-five," I tell him.

Max's feet start dancing beneath him. "Oh, this is going to be close! We got back to the girls' flat around half-past as well."

"Sod all that!" cries Leo. "Get to the climax, gents! We want to know who got slob on their knob first!"

"Well, after we got back to the suite, we shared a drink before we..." Chris clears his throat. "...retired to the bedroom. So, perhaps 1am?"

"Yeah-yah!" enthuses Leo with a snap of his fingers. "Bring it home like a pro, bro!"

"Not sure why you're rooting for him," I scoff.

"I am permitted to share in my little brother's sex-tastic accomplishments!" he counters. "Especially when I'm the one who taught him everything he knows!"

"Except now, it's about to leave you out of pocket," I smirk, reaching for the pile of cash.

"Hold on!" interjects Max, scrolling furiously through his phone. "I think I have Christian beat!"

I frown. "How in the—?"

"Watch it and weep!" the Beaumont exclaims triumphantly, thrusting his phone out.

Leaning in towards the device — from the speakers of which spew the unmistakably pornographic sounds of sex — Leo, Chris, and I are greeted with a bird's eye view of Max balling Lucy from behind while she went down on Jamie's spread-eagled form on the bed.

Leo's jaw drops. "You filmed it?"

"Would've been rude not to," smirks Max.

"You dirty bugger!" laughs Leo, grabbing the Beaumont to noogie him.

I pull my eyes away from the X-rated spectacle. "Okay, but how does this—?"

"Look at the...time stamp," prompts Max from beneath Leo's arm.

Glancing back at the screen, I focus in on the tiny numbers at the top.

12:52am.

My shoulders slump. "Goddamn it."

"Looks like we have our winner," Chris concedes with a wry chuckle.

"You're not even going to contest it?" I demand, throwing an accusatory hand out at Max.

"I am not sure there is anything to contest," replies Chris. "The numbers speak for themselves. And since Maxwell is the only one out of the two of us who had the foresight to record the exact timing of the event, I think it is only fair that he takes the pot."

"Yeah, baby!" whoops Leo, jumping off his stool with outstretched arms to thrust out an in-your-face victory dance à la Ace Ventura. "Can you feel it? Can... you... feel it?! Damn, it feels good!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I grunt with a roll of my eyes.

But, Leo's asinine antics aside, I have to hand it to Max. Not only did the guy manage to go above and beyond, but he somehow managed to beat the clock as well.

So, I can't begrudge second place too much.

"I believe this is rightfully yours, big brother," declares Chris, graciously handing the pile of bills over.

"Why, thank you, little brother!" grins Leo as he accepts the winnings with a mock bow...

...before studiously dumping the cash into Max's lap.

The Beaumont's eyes widen in disbelief. "I— But you— I didn't—"

"Hey, I wasn't the one with my pants down on the front lines last night," he says. "So, if anyone deserves the spoils of war, it's you."

Max is still gawping like a stupefied goldfish. "But—"

"Spend it well, kemosabe," the elder Rys incants somberly, laying a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Th-thank you," stammers Max, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion.

"Ehh... Don't mention it!" shrugs Leo with a grin. "I'm just here for the memories. Though... speaking of, if you want your lasting memories of this trip to be anything other than dear Father sending a squadron of Guards after you to haul you back across the Pond, I suggest you get your tushes to the airport."

"Oh, shit..." I cuss, glancing down at my watch. "We gotta move." Necking the last of my coffee, I signal for the cheque.

"Are you flying back with us?" asks Chris as he pushes himself off his stool.

"Nah," demurs Leo, reaching across his brother to grab the final piece of bacon off Tariq's plate. "As much as I'd love to steal your thunder by gate-crashing yet another fancy ball that I don't have an invitation to, you know Regina still hasn't revoked that shoot-on-sight order she put out on my head last year."

Chris laughs. "I'm sure it's not all that bad..."

"You'd be surprised!" insists Leo with only a touch of sardonicism. "Plus, I promised Katie that I'll bring her back a box of cronuts. So, I got a few errands to run before I jet out."

"Well, in that case," replies Chris, reaching out to envelop his brother in a hug, "thank you for coming, and we'll hopefully see each other soon!"

"You can bet on it, matey," confirms Leo, giving Chris a heartfelt thump on the back before pulling away. "At the Coronation, if nothing else."

Chris' eyes widen. "Father signed off on your attendance?"

"Not yet," the elder Rys admits. "But I'm slowing wearing the old man down."

"Well, I — for one — certainly hope you succeed!" laughs Chris.

"I have faith in myself," winks Leo. Leaning past Chris, he reaches out to bump knuckles with Max. "Beaumont. Say hi to Bert for me."

"Will do," nods Max. "And thank you. Again. You really didn't—"

"Like I said," Leo deflects with an arrant smirk. "Don't even mention it."

Max nods gratefully.

Finally, Leo turns to me. "Walker."

I meet his eye impassively as I draw myself up to my full height to face him. "Rys."

"You got his six, right?" he asks, inclining his head almost imperceptibly back towards his brother, who — true to his earlier promise — is in the process of intercepting the bill before it can make it to me.

"Come hell or high water," I affirm.

"Good," he nods, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "'Cause there's going to be both. And he'll need someone to help pull him through."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Leo," I remind him, watching Chris trying to figure out which greenback was which with Max's help as he sought to pay for our breakfast.

"I know," acknowledges Leo, his face tightening as the memories of the fallout from the assassination attempt flash through his memory. "But I still appreciate it. He is my only brother, after all."

I meet his eye. "Then you know why I'm doing it."

Leo holds my gaze for a long moment before extending his hand. "You're a good friend, Drake."

"Someone's gotta be," I tell him with a wry smile, reciprocating the gesture.

Leo might grate me up the wrong way with his bad jokes and juvenile attitude, but we are — and always have been — on the same page when it comes to Chris.

"They're rarer than you think," Leo murmurs softly. Dropping my hand, he turns back to Chris and Max, who have finally managed to settle the bill, plus tip. "Ciao, amigos! It's been a blast!"

"Have a good flight!" Chris tells him with a wave.

"I always do!" Leo assures him. "Stay safe, little brother. Give the ladies a fair chance, don't do anything I wouldn't—"

I scoff. "Is there even such a thing?"

"—and remember," Leo continues unabashedly, "if you're ever in doubt, there's always the balcony!"

Chris stifles a laugh. "I'm sure it won't come to that..."

"Never underestimate the beauty of a Plan B!" Leo hollers over his shoulder as he pulls the rickety door open, and steps out onto the street.

Max stares after him with a perplexed look. "When he said 'balcony'... Did he mean you jumping off it, or you throwing the lady off?"

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I advise as I grab my leather jacket to pull it on. Turning to Chris I ask, "You good?"

"Yes, I think I managed to sort the bill..." he replies, pulling his own jacket on as well. "Fifty percent gratuity is acceptable here, right?"

I nearly dislocate my shoulder putting my arm into a non-existent sleeve. "Erm... Yeah. Sure. More than acceptable."

Christmas definitely came early for this waitress!

But at least the hefty tip would help smooth over any wayward resentment left in the wake of Tariq's ass-like behaviour.

Chris' face visibly relaxes. "Oh, good! I wasn't sure of the correct etiquette."

"Trust me," I drawl, opening the creaky door. "You ain't never gonna fall flat in that department."

"If you say so," concedes Chris with a smile as he and Max follow me out onto the street.

"I know so," I assure him, leading the way back to Broadway.

At just gone 7am on a weekday, the city is already a hive of activity with cyclists, taxis, and pedestrians vying for position on the thoroughfares against the buses, garbage trucks, and private vehicles, as everyone tries to get where they're going just that much faster.

My gaze tracks west almost on auto-pilot. Wonder what Gale's doing... Is she still asleep, or—?

I yank myself forcefully back from the precipice of that dead-end drift.

The only thing that matters right now is getting Chris and Max (...Tariq can go fuck himself) back to the hotel and then getting 'cross town to Teterboro in time for scheduled departure.

Leo hadn't been joking when he'd said that Constantine would not hesitate to unleash a squadron of King's Guard on our tails if we didn't arrive back in Cordonia by the agreed time.

That had been the agreement.

Because the first event of the season kicks off tomorrow with the Masquerade Ball, and Chris has a full week's worth of engagements penciled into the twelve hours beforehand.

Which means that there can be zero deviations, zero slippages. We have to be on that plane...

...even though that's the last thing any of us want to do right now.

Because glancing back at Chris and Max as we make our way up back to the hotel, it's clear that New York has been a much-needed escape for both of them. Not just from the daily grind of court, but also from the strictures of expectation. As here, you weren't your name, or your title, or your birthright.

You were just another guy on the street, trying to make your American dream come true.

And despite — or rather, because of — their stations, that's a privilege that neither Chris nor Max have ever had the luxury of experiencing before. Because even though they may have all the money in the world, one thing they could not buy with it is freedom — true freedom. As money garnered expectations and expectations choked you out like chains around your neck.

And that was life's unfair trade-off...

...unless you were Leo, who somehow managed to screw the pooch into laying him a golden egg by finding a woman who was apparently not only worth abdicating for, but who also turned out to be loaded in her own right, thanks to a very generous inheritance provision in her grandmother's will.

And because that money came with zero strings attached, the lucky bastard got to have it all: living it up large, while also getting to flip the rules and regulations that he's always hated the bird.

But, unfortunately for the rest of us mere mortals who weren't born with the luck of the devil, the best we can hope for are those rare moments in between when the constraints of your usual life fall away, and you're rewarded with a much-needed breath of levity.

And maybe that's why I'd fallen so hard and fast for Gale. Because irrespective of the magnetic pull she had on me, she wasn't just some hot girl I'd happened to hit it off with. As while undeniable, the deep seated attraction went beyond the mere physical... or even the personal.

Because beyond the fact that she was gorgeous, funny, and knocked me for six at every turn, she was more than just simple perfection. She was the sweet promise of possibility. Tantalising me with a taste of what could've been in a world free of obligation. Where I was just me — not an undercover Guard, not a duty-bound friend to a prince, not a jaded outsider confined to the sidelines, always looking in.

But as entrancing as the experience had been, I know it couldn't last.

Because such moments are — by their nature — transient. And like a pre-dawn mist on the water, they dissolve with the first light of the sun.

Just like our time in the States.

Which means that it's time to return to reality. Whether we want to or not.

Because duty always calls.

Arriving back at the hotel, I see that the pre-arranged limo is already idling next to the curb.

Detouring by the driver's side window, I have a quick word with the chauffeur to let him know that we'll be back down in a sec with our bags.

Turning to lope into the hotel, I catch up with Chris and Max just as the lift arrives in the lobby. The doors ping open and we pile in to make our way up to our floor, each of us lost in our respective thoughts.

The elevator arrives on our booked-out floor and we disperse into our rooms to throw our shit together. While packing, I send a text to Schweitzer to let him know that we're bugging out, so his team can start the clean-up and check out.

Zipping my duffle up, I do one last sweep of the space before grabbing the keycard and exiting the room for the final time.

Stepping back out into the corridor as the door clicks shut behind me, I find Chris already waiting for a lift.

"You were quick," I say, coming to a stop next to him.

"Wasn't much to pack," he admits.

"Hayley still there?"

"Yes, she's sleeping," he confirms with a ghost of a smile. "I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

I nod wordlessly. Good-byes suck. They're either gut-wrenching, or awkward, or both. Best to just—

"Will...you be back?" "I wouldn't hold my breath." "Maybe I want to."

The ding of the elevator knocks me back into the present.

Shaking my head, I step into the car after Chris. But for some reason, I can't seem to duck the sudden sense of emptiness that's dropped into my guts. Like I'd forgotten something... Even though I know I haven't.

I rub my eyes. I'm just beat...

I'm about to hit the button for the lobby when Max careens in out of nowhere to throw himself through the wedge between the doors, Gucci backpack dangling haphazardly from his arm.

"Oh, thank God!" he pants, falling gracelessly into the small space. "Thought you'd left already!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving without you, dear friend," Chris assures him with a laugh.

"Speak for yourself," I grunt abrasively as the doors finally close. "You fall behind, you get left behind."

Max's eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I meet his gaze impassively. "Try me."

"But Tariq—"

"—can find his own damn way home," I cut in flatly. "If he ain't buckled up by last and final call, that plane's not waiting for him."

Max flicks his horrified gaze from me to Chris.

Chris shrugs. "Drake is correct. It is unfortunately too short notice to modify the flight plan and—"

Throwing his head down, Max begins typing away furiously on his phone.

"You're wasting you're time, Beaumont," I tell him with a low exhale. "Regardless of where the fuck-wit is, he'll still need to come back to the hotel to get his passport, if nothing else. He ain't gonna make it."

"But we can't just abandon him!"

"He's a grown-ass man," I grunt dispassionately in response as we hit the ground floor again. "If he can't be bothered to look at his overpriced Rolex, then that's his problem. Not mine."

"Chances are he is waiting for us at the terminal already," advises Chris optimistically.

"But��"

"Drop it, Beaumont," I grunt, grabbing my duffel to march out of the elevator car without a backwards glance.

I have no clue why Max is being so hard up about waiting for the dipshit who wasn't even supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Especially since that same dipshit also happens to be in possession of a gold credit card.

So, I really can’t give a flying fuck if Besnard misses the flight. He can pay for his own charter home.

I'm not about to jeopardise Chris' commitments for the benefit of a self-absorbed prick.

Exiting the lobby, I beat a straight line to the back of the waiting limo. The chauffeur spots my approach and scrambles to open the door, but I've already beaten him to it.

Popping the trunk, I toss my duffle in before making my way to the front to grab the shotgun seat while Chris and Max offload their own bags.

A slam of doors, a click of seatbelts and we're pulling out onto 57th St., only ten minutes behind schedule.

I try to settle down for the half-hour drive, but I find my knee jackhammering impatiently. I know we have plenty of time to spare before takeoff, but I hate running late. Even if it's only by a minute.

Because you never what kind of shit's gonna hit the fan — roadworks, lane closure, freeway pileup — and you can't mitigate if you ain't got any time in the bank.

I can only hope and pray that we don't run into any last-minute surprises on the 15 or so miles to the airport.

Chris strikes up some kind of conversation with the chauffeur, but I'm in no mood for small talk. Folding my arms, I try to tune out whatever it is they're saying by watching the skyscrapers flick past as we head west, then north to pick up the George Washington Bridge to Jersey.

And apart from a brief wait at the toll plaza on the other side of the Hudson, the journey passes quickly and uneventfully.

Arriving at the airport concourse, we exit the limo and make our way into the main terminal building. Luckily, at this time in the morning, there are not too many flights, so we pass through customs without any hang-ups...

...except for the fact that Max remains glued to his phone, obsessively-compulsively checking for texts from Tariq every two seconds, even as we board the jet.

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asks as he stows his bag in preparation for the flight.

"At least ten times," confirms Max, glancing anxiously out the window in the over-keen hope that Tariq will magically appear.

"Maybe his phone ran out of battery..." offers Chris hopefully.

"More likely he got mugged," I grunt, falling into one of the leather seats.

Max throws me a disbelieving look. "That's a horrible—! Oh. You're actually serious..."

"Guy like him... Prime target," I reply dispassionately.

Max's face drains of colour. "We have to call the police!"

"And say what?" I snap abrasively. "That the bell-end got himself lost somewhere in Manhattan? They'll laugh us off the call."

"But—"

"If Tariq really is in trouble, he can hit up the Cordonian consulate," I declare uncompromisingly. "But it was his bright idea to throw a hissy fit and stomp off in the wrong direction when—"

"You ungrateful ingrates!"

My eyes snap past Max. "For fuck's sake..."

Tariq is stood in the doorway of the jet, looking like he'd literally battled his way through the nine levels of hell to get here. His over-gelled hair looks like it's been zapped with a Taser, his clothes are somehow drenched and filthy, and he's wearing only one shoe.

"Would it have killed you to wait?!" he shrieks, throwing his Louis Vuitton man-bag onto the closest seat.

"Yes..." I reply.

Tariq shoots me a murderous expression. But before he can open his mouth again, Max has crushed him into an over-eager bear hug.

"You made it!" he enthuses. He pulls back suddenly. "But why were you not picking up your phone? And also, why do you smell like a wet dog?"

"Because I was robbed!"

"Told ya," I smirk across the aisle at Chris.

"It's not funny!" shouts Tariq, jabbing an irate finger at me. "If you only knew of the horrors that I have been subjected to, you would think more than twice about making light of my plight!"

"Pretty sure I wouldn't..." I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

"What was that?" demands Tariq imperiously.

"Nothing," I grunt as a steward appears next to my seat.

"Can I interest you in a pre-flight refreshment?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," I shrug.

She hands me something pink and bubbly in a champagne glass. "Enjoy!"

"I doubt it," I mutter, grabbing the flute to throw it back in one swig.

I grimace as the sour mix of grapefruit and Prosecco hits the back of my throat. But alcohol's alcohol, and at this point, I would've downed windscreen wash if it'd've helped drown out Tariq's high-pitched info dump of his trials and tribulations.

Kinda wish we had left the bastard behind...

But I couldn't seem to win on this trip, so I'm just going to have to suck up the next twelve-or-so hours locked up in an airtight fuselage with the bouchebag and pray that there's enough whiskey on board to keep me from choking him out.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to help distract myself, I shoot off one final text to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it to the airport and we're about to take off.

I'm about to do the same for Bast when the over-taxed device finally gives up the ghost and the battery dies halfway through the text.

"Great..."

Reaching into my duffel with a sigh, I extract the phone's charging cable and plug it into the seat's USB port so it can get some life back while we're airborne.

As Tariq continues to piss and moan about nearly getting run over, having his phone stolen right out of his hand as he tried to call a cab — followed shortly thereafter by his watch — and then tripping and falling into an open excavation hole as he tried to chase after the pickpockets, the cabin crew shut the aircraft door and complete their final cross-checks in preparation for departure.

A quick intro from the captain, and the jet starts rolling. After a short taxi, we're out on the runway, where we idle for a couple of minutes waiting for the go from the tower.

As soon as we get it, the pilot revs the turbines and the jet lurches forward. We hurtle down the runway, wheels bouncing and jet engines whining before jumping into the air to start our climb to 41,000 feet.

Glancing out the window, I watch the ground fall away as we ascend over Jersey, my ears popping from the rapid altitude change.

The plane banks sharply to the right and I catch sight of the Manhattan skyscape...

...but there must've been something in the mimosa because I’ve crashed out before the plane fully levels off.

The story concludes in Epilogue: Into The Night.

A/N: As another little bonus, here is a pic of Chris in Times Square:

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Breakfast - New York - Diner - Chris - Tariq

Max, Leo, and Drake were generated using the AI art app Wonder

[wowwowokay2]

Turning the Tables, Part 2!

After feedee Clara can no longer gain weight, her girlfriend and feeder Esme has the tables turned on her, and she starts to try to gain weight instead.

-

The next morning Esme drags herself out of bed. She’s still tired, but her alarm had gone off more than an hour beforehand, so she figured she should get up. Standing up she stretches her arms and rolls her shoulders. The bed was now empty, so she exits the bedroom and enters the living room. She sees a tea mug out on one of the side tables. A bright green sticky note is next to it.

‘Grabbing something for breakfast, be back soon ❤️’

Esme hears a key in the front door and Clara enters, carrying a large bag in her arms.

“Whew, morning.” She says, slightly flushed and panting. “I forgot they were doing maintenance on the elevator this morning.” Clara kicks her shoes off and shuffles into the kitchen. She places the bag on the countertop. “Although they are working past when they said they’d been done.”

“Good morning to you too.” Esme chimes. “And I hope it’s nothing serious, that’d be a bummer.”

Esme’s nose then caught a whiff of something eggy and slightly sweet.

“Did you get to-go French toast or something?” She says somewhat skeptically. She can’t imagine it travels well.

“No, but thanks for reminding me of another food I love that I can’t eat anymore.” Clara says with humour. She reaches into the bag and begins pulling out containers. The sight of the Golden Arches makes Esme raise her eyebrows.

“Really? I’m pretty sure Mc-Dee’s doesn’t have gluten free options.” She says.

“Potatoes!” Clara smiles, holding up a small container. “Hash browns for me, McGriddles for you.”

Esme looks at the boxes. “Are those all McGriddles? I way overdid it last night, there’s no way I’m finishing those.”

“Well you can eat them throughout the day then.” Clara says. “We can’t return them, and they won’t be any good tomorrow.”

Esme grimaces, leaning against the counter. She opens up one of the boxes and sees the warm golden brown pancake with the imprinted “M” on top. She casts Clara a wary look, Clara quietly munches on a hash brown at the table. Esme picks up the sandwich, yellow cheese drooping, golden egg glistening slightly, and bacon crowning them both. She cautiously takes a small bite. The flavours and different fats combine in her mouth, and she takes another larger bite and chews. She swallows and bites into it again, breathing deeply through her nose. Esme’s stomach lets out a low groan that she feels echo through her stomach. Despite the previous night’s stuffing, it feels hollow.

“Ah, and you thought you weren’t going to be hungry.” Clara pipes.

Esme quickly chews and swallows. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, no? Do tell me if I’m wrong.”

Esme has already taken another bite and she looks Clara in the eyes as she finishes off the sandwich.

“Okay, sure.” Esme replies, wiping some grease off the corners of her mouth and cheek. “Is that so unreasonable to expect?”

“No, no.” Clara says. “You don’t have to finish them. I didn’t even ask you what you wanted for breakfast.”

“You did not.” Esme says, flipping open a second box. “But in this case it’s fine.” She takes a pointedly large bite.

~~~~~

Esme ended up eating four McGriddles for breakfast. By around noon she had another. At three o’clock in the afternoon she had a sixth, and at a bit past four she forced herself polish off the last two, with some help from Clara.

“How about a late dinner?” Esme suggests, reclining on the sofa.

Clara sits next to Esme, her soft form pressed against hers. Clara studies Esme with a small smile on her face.

“Whatcha doing?” Esme asks.

Clara’s eyes twinkle a bit. “You’re just so gorgeous. But some more meat would look good on you.”

Esme flushes and warms, and Clara sees this, and rolls up her shirt. She takes Esme’s hand and places it on her soft little bulge of a tummy.

“Take a nice feel.” She coos, moving her hand along with Esme’s. Esme allows her fingers to spread and dig slightly. She was so lovely and soft. “You like to rub my tummy, what if you could rub your own?”

Esme takes her other hand and follows the outline of Clara’s frame. Her wide hips, her soft tummy.

“Imagine you had a tummy like me.” Clara whispers. And Esme imagined it. She imagined turning sideways in the mirror to discover that her distended stomach and softened, and that it was not temporary.

“Imagine you had a tummy that droops down, it hangs, your arms and thighs are ever softer.” And Esme imagined it. She could almost feel herself wrapping her hands around her arms, stroking lightly.

“Imagine you didn’t have a little tummy, but you had a gut. You can plop it in the sink, and it arrives in the room before you do.” And Esme imagined it, and she squirmed, hot. She imagined grabbing her tummy, no, her gut, squeezing the fat in great handfuls. She imagined Clara grabbing and jiggling her, the way Esme grabbed and jiggled Clara right now.

Unconsciously, Esme’s hands had gripped a bit tighter into Clara’s sensitive stomach. Clara pulled her hands away firmly, but kindly. Esme made to apologize, but Clara had swept in for a kiss.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too.” Esme replies quietly, still hot. “And I feel safe with you. This is a unique realization on my part. And I’m glad that by dipping my toes into it, I have you with me.”

Clara giggles slightly. “You make it sound like an epiphany.”

Esme shimmies upwards slightly, sitting upright despite her full stomach’s protests. “Maybe it is. Maybe I’m nuts. But you’re with me, right?”

Clara’s brown eyes carefully embrace Esme. “Of course I am.”

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Lykos (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Moonling by Lycana

Babe by Urso

Sweetie by Arktos

Age- 19 (immortal)

Location- Lunar district, New Olympus

Personality- A true lone wolf she's confident, self-aware, free-spirited, & above all loyal to those that matter to her. She's also quite scrappy, resourceful, and stubborn- a non-believer when it comes to second chances. She's in a relationship.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess. As the goddess of wolves her other powers/abilities include limited lunakinesis, night vision, acclerated healing, being able to emit a sonic wolf's howl from her vocal chords, enhanced hearing & smell, adopting wolf physiology into her physical form, being able to shapeshift into a wolf, and being able to communicate with other canines.

Lykos lives on the top floor of The Dianos Building, a luxury high rise apartment building in the Lunar neighborhood of New Olympus. Her apartment is 12A. Inside, the interior design is very cool & hip with the color scheme being silver, black, ivory, and dark blue. The flooring is black mink carpeting and there's also leather & velvet furniture, moonstone and obsidian furniture pieces, and various decorative wolf fur pelts on the walls. She has two pets- twin boy siberian huskies named Romulus & Remus.

She has a couple of canine tendencies like growling when she's angry or frustrated and shaking water out of her hair.

A member of Lykos' immediate family is her mother Lycana (Titaness of lycanthropy).

She starts out her mornings by walking her dogs through Eaglepoint Park. Her own personal form of exercise is running through the Nightfall Forest & Celestial Woods in her wolf form.

Lykos and her mother have a very close relationship. They talk & text daily and they see each other all the time. When they hang out (especially during a full or new moon), they love running through the city on the rooftops of buildings in their wolf forms. They'll also enjoy a shopping trip or an olympian sized cup of chocolate crunch ice cream at The Frozen Spoon. When Lycana visits her at her apartment, Lykos loves when she brings over her delicious homemade chorizo & arepas.

A go-to drink for her is vanilla cola. She also likes beer, ginger ale, pomegranate juice, lavender tea, cookies n' cream milkshakes from The Frozen Spoon, manhattans, rum & cokes, and her mom's limonada de coco. Usuals from The Roasted Bean is an olympian sized iced tea & a large iced cinnamon latte (topped with extra cinnamon).

A favorite piece of jewelry that she always wears is a yellow gold necklace that has a full moon charm- gifted by her mom.

A typical breakfast for her is a BIG bowl of Golly Grains cinnamon crunchies cereal. She also likes going to The Hearthside Diner for a plate of hash browns, bacon, and two steak & egg breakfast burritos- with extra salsa & peppers.

Much like Lycana, Lykos hates silver jewelry and is allergic to wolfsbane.

Her other favorite ice cream flavor is cookies n' cream.

She always naps and sleeps with the wolf plushie Urso won for her during their date at the LunarWorld theme park.

Lykos is fluent in Latin.

The spicy BBQ rib sandwich is her favorite thing to get from The Bread Box.

Her favorite nail polish color to wear from Olmorfia is "Blackout."

Lykos is outspoken concerning many social issues including illegal underground dog fighting, humane fur farms, and illegal hunting.

With makeup she loves using eyeshadow, the Ourania eyelash curler, liquid eyeliner, & matte lipstick.

Lykos' primary source of income comes from modeling for/endorsing Hot Intoxication, Nocturnal Vibez, and La Petit Amour.

In the pantheon she's friends with Artemis (goddess of the hunt & moon), Pasithea (goddess of hallucinations & relaxation), Aphrodite (goddess of love & beauty), Lyssa (goddess of rage & frenzy), Hecate (goddess of magic & witchcraft), Urania (muse of astronomy), Alala (goddess of the war cry), Dionysus (god of wine), Apollo (god of the sun, music, poetry, healing, medicine, archery, plague, light, & knowledge), Britomartis (goddess of mountains, hunting, & fishing nets), Methe (goddess of drunkenness), and Mania (goddess of insanity). She also respects & admires her boyfriend's mom Arktos (goddess of the night sky & constellations).

Lykos doesn't like Ailuros (goddess of cats & warfare) or her mom's boyfriend Pseudologos (god of lies). She met him very briefly once when she came by her mom's apartment.

She likes playing basketball with Apollo & Artemis. Afterwards, they all go for a run in their wolf forms.

Some of her guilty pleasures include meat lover's pizza, beef jerky, spicy tuna rolls, spicy birria tacos, as well as an order of olympian sized cajun fries with 20 chicken nuggets (with spicy buffalo dipping sauce) from Olympic Chef.

Lykos is in a relationship with her boyfriend Urso (god of bears). They met two summers ago at the Summer Solstice Music Festival & their first date was a hunting/canoeing excursion in the state of Arcadia. She enjoys their deep conversations, his cuddles, his eyes, and his breathtaking kisses. Lykos fondly remembers when they first made love- underneath the New Olympus sign after watching the sunset while drinking beers.

She went to the Underworld once where she went skiing with Mania and Hecate.

Lykos & Lyssa schedule playdates for their dogs!

Aphrodite released a limited edition handbag for her fashion brand inspired by Lykos- an ethically sourced wolf fur bag, with the fur being dyed rose gold.

In her free time Lykos enjoys archery, hunting, basketball, hiking, mixed martial arts, reading (is a fan of mystery & suspense novels), going to the cinema, dancing, watching TV, and playing video games.

Her all time favorite meal is her mom's arroz atollado.

"If you live among wolves, you have to act like a wolf."

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 15

Previous chapter

Find me on wattpad and ao3!

Show: Big Time Rush

Pairing: James Diamond x Original Female Character

Chapter 15: Was I The Only One (1.15) ~ 12.5k

It had been one week since “Z-Day” as Camille and Jo had taken to calling Roxy’s break up, and the writer deemed overall that she was handling it pretty well. Especially if watching Pride and Prejudice on repeat while choking down her sixth frozen hash brown for the morning and bawling her eyes out counted as handling it pretty well. 

The girls had been more than generous when it came to sharing their time with the writer, who knew full well they had many important auditions to attend, but couldn’t bring herself to finally tell them she felt fine enough to be alone until this morning. Not only were they probably sick of hearing about Dak, but they also likely wanted a space to gush about their own new relationship developments without fear it would bring Roxy into a spiraling state of sadness. More than once did Jo mention her new official status with Kendall, and more than once did Roxy try and fail to hold back her tears - wishing she still had a faithful, loyal boyfriend.

She knew choosing to end their relationship was the right thing to do, but wished it wasn’t causing her so much pain.  

With Camille and Jo away, Roxy had planned to spend today in a similar movie-watching- hashbrown-eating fashion - she couldn’t get enough of Lizzie and Darcy and their stupid, perfect, amazing relationship that still worked out even though she was way out of his league - but Gustavo had called her to make sure she kept an eye on the boys for a little while. Apparently, he had a top-secret, surprise guest at Rocque Records and he didn’t want them making fools out of themselves in front of them. 

It probably would have been a better use of her time if he had told her who to look out for, but he had generously granted her the last week off of work, so Roxy didn’t say anything about it before her boss hung up the phone.

As the assistant made her way down to the lobby, she spotted Big Time Rush lounging by the pool reading their respective favorite magazines: Hockey Action Magazine for Kendall, Future Doctor for Logan, HELMET for Carlos, and Pop Tiger for James. Spying an empty chair by the long-haired boy, she scooted past him and noticed he had this month's new edition of the magazine. It featured one of her current favorite singers, Jordin Sparks, but unfortunately also featured a picture of Dak in the upper right-hand corner. 

What took over her, she didn’t know, but she smacked the magazine out of the boy’s hand before settling down on her chair and taking out her songbook to polish a few chords for her new song. 

James scoffed, picking up the magazine once more and reading one of the blurbs on the cover. “Hey, do you guys want to know Dak Zevon’s secret to perfect toast?”

Seems like someone’s mad I never replied to his message. Roxy registered, doing her best to not reach out and wring his neck at the mention of her ex. At least it had been long enough that she didn’t tear up at just the mention of his name.

The rest of the band shot James a death glare before hissing out a chorus of “No!”

Throughout the last week, they had seen her sparingly; only a few times on the way to the second-floor ice machine and once at the vending machines in the lobby, aggressively taking her anger out on a package of Cheez-Its that wedged itself in the gap between the glass. 

“It’s all in this month’s Pop Tiger.” The boy explained, waving the magazine around before Carlos snatched it out of his hands. 

“What I wanna know is, we’ve been in L.A. for four months,” He began, staring into magazine Jordin’s bright eyes. “When are we gonna meet some totally cool and hot celebrity, like Jordin Sparks.”

Yeah, because the last celebrity we met was just so cool...

Biting her tongue, the assistant drew out a few music staffs as a young woman with a large blue suitcase walked up to the teens. 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr. Bitters.”

The sound of her voice was near perfectly recognizable from the writer, who had spent a lot of time listening to the album Battlefield this past week. Roxy looked up so fast that her notebook nearly slipped out of her lap and onto the damp pool concrete at their feet. 

In front of her stood Jordin Sparks, there in the flesh, asking her - and less importantly her band - for directions to the front desk. Maybe the band did hold the power of manifestation. 

Big Time Rush was less than cool about this, as they all huddled in towards Carlos, holding the magazine cover up a few times to compare image and reality before ultimately confirming they were the same person. All at once, they began talking, tripping over their words and giving nonsensical statements, to which the woman was taken a bit back. 

“Hi, Ms. Sparks,” Roxy greeted, pulling the pop star’s attention away from her dumb, babbling friends. “The front desk is right through those doors! And I’m Roxanne, if you need anything else.” 

With a nod of her head, Jordin thanked her and made her way toward the double doors to the lobby. 

So much easier talking to Jordin than… 

Thankfully her thoughts were swiftly cut off as a few beats of a melody came to her, fixating itself on the first lines of her song. These days, the only good it did her to think about Dak was in terms of songwriting.

Roxy was barely able to get anything down before the band jumped up, presumably to follow the famous singer, and dragged her along - not that she was complaining. There were only so many days she could sit in her apartment watching her movies in the dark; seeing what the newest person at the Palm Woods was up to seemed like an exciting alternative.

Catching up to the star, the four boys were calling out her name over and over again in order to grab some of her precious attention. Poor Jordin was just trying to get to the elevators, signaling to the assistant she would be staying in the hotel for at least a few days. Maybe she had a new project coming up, like an album writing or recording session.

Is it possible she’s Gustavo’s special guest?

“We just wanted to say welcome to the Palm Woods!” Kendall blurted out, seemingly very ecstatic that Jordin would be sticking around for a bit. Out of the four, he was normally the one to be the least starstruck.

Carlos beamed, following with, “We’re Big Time Rush.”

“We’re recording at Rocque Records.” Bragged James, running a cool hand through his hair.

Nest in line, Roxy waved. “I’m their songwriter-assistant! And a huge fan of yours.”

“What are you doing here?” Logan finished, eager to learn what the singer was up to while in Los Angeles. 

Slightly frazzled, Jordin looked between the five as she internalized their statements, “I’m recording at Rocque Records.”

Oh, my God…

***

Of course, the song Jordin had written to record with Gustavo had to be a love song. A sweet, sappy love song about being open and vulnerable and surrendering to your feelings for another person, while begging them not to rip out your heart and stop all over it. It was slow and incredibly melodic, perfect for Jordin’s soothing voice coming from the recording booth. 

As Roxy sat in the control room with Gustavo, she was focused on not allowing the oddly specific lyrics to hit too close to home - even if the words put her feelings into words better than “Stuck” ever did. As each line fell smoothly out of Jordin’s lips, she prayed that it was just this first verse that would bother her. 

Reaching back into the recesses of her mind to access as much information she had about Jordin Sparks allowed her to tune out the words and focus on the beautiful piano melody filling her headphones. Along with winning American Idol a few years ago, Jordin had released two full-length albums since then that had easily landed her as one of the hottest new artists on the Billboard charts. To have her recording a new song at Rocque Records was more than an honor; it was just another step in Gustavo’s path back to the big time. 

Easily singing the last high note of the song, Jordin inadvertently opened a small window for Big Time Rush to reveal themselves in the back of the control room, startling their boss, in order to cheer for their new label-mate. A smattering of compliments came flying out of their mouths, praising the singer for the perfect execution of her carefully crafted song. 

From the booth, Jordin cringed a bit, seeming to recoil at the praise. “Are you sure you guys like it? ‘Cause I’m not sure I’m feeling it yet.”

Immediately, the band switched up their words entirely to agree with her. 

Yikes, good thing that’s not one of my songs.

Beside the assistant, Gustavo stood up to silence the boys with a wave of his hand before turning to address his guest. “Don’t worry about the song, okay? Just take a little more time with it, and give me some time to fill in the chorus and add some layers. This song is gonna be a big hit. It’s gonna be great!” 

Absentmindedly, Roxy reached out and messed with a few of the buttons on the large control panel to save Jordin’s preliminary recording for the producer to listen to later as he was reworking the song. Though her headphones were nice and plush with wonderful noise-canceling abilities, she was still able to hear Gustavo yelling to the band behind her the moment he flipped off the two-way communication with the pop star. 

“Dawgs, Roxanne, I got a big present for you in my office!” 

There was no time wasted as the band rushed towards the other room, eager to see what Gustavo had for them. 

When Roxy didn’t move, still messing with the control panel in front of her, the producer hung around for a minute, waiting for the assistant to follow her band. 

“I know there isn’t anything in your office, Mr. Rocque,” Roxy said plainly, pretending to be incredibly interested in the tone and pitch sliders on the board. “Besides, you don’t need me today, I mean, you’ve already got a song-”

“It’s just a meeting to make sure everyone is on the same page. Come on.”

It wasn’t a request at this point, and the girl had nothing else to do besides follow the man to his office. On the way there, she unfortunately realized that would be the first time she would be in that room post-break up and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle it as gracefully as she had been handling everything else this past week. 

As she pushed open the large black door, she hesitated for a moment as she rocked back on her heels, before she looked up to find Big Time Rush locked in Freight Train’s embrace. This was certainly a better sight than imagining her and Dak holding each other in the center of the room, gently swaying to the dulled music from the dance hall. 

“Freight Train’s squeezing us!” Kendall squeaked once Gustavo entered the room behind his assistant as if that would help his situation at all. 

A bit red in the face from the pressure, James looked less than pleased, “This is our big present?”

“Yes!” Gustavo confirmed, making sure to look each boy dead in the eye as he spoke. “Because I want you nowhere near Jordin Sparks!”

Once Freight Train was sure everyone got the memo, he let the band go. 

Between breaths for air, Carlos cried, “What? Why?”

“Because you’re bad luck and destroy everything you touch.” Their boss deadpanned. 

Logan chucked a bit, nonchalantly leaning his hand back onto the desk behind him for support. “That is so not true.”

Once a bit of weight hit the big, black desk, the wooden leg crumpled and sent everything on top crashing to the floor. Papers flew, mugs shattered, and, much to the assistant’s pleasure, the large computer monitor hit the floor particularly hard, destroying the glass screen. 

From across the room where Roxy was leaning on the glass-paneled wall, she spoke up, “I’d say they’re the opposite. In fact, I think they’re my good luck charms.” 

Narrowing in on his point and ignoring all that had just occurred, their boss continued. “Jordin and her team picked me to produce her new song over every producer in this town. ‘Cause word on the street is, Gustavo Rocque is back.”

Yeah, thanks to my songs! was a thought the girl chose not to vocalize. 

“Now, Jordin is staying at the Palm Woods, which means, if she is by the pool, I want Bad Luck Rush to be in the lobby!” Gustavo screamed at the band, before turning to the young girl behind him. “And I want you to switch your focus to helping Jordin for the duration of her stay. Anything she wants, make it happen, and if she so much as breathes the same air as these four, I need you to call Freight Train and have the situation dealt with as I fix this song.” 

***

After Roxy had gotten Jordin back to the Palm Woods, the two sat out by the pool examining the song she and Gustavo had written. 

On the ride back, the singer explained to her temporary assistant her fears about being caught by the paparazzi at the hotel - since winning one of the biggest reality TV shows in the country, they had made her life a living hell. Wanting to make a good impression on her, Roxy had promised to do her best to keep her out of the public eye and since then had been on high alert.  

For the last 20 minutes, Jordin had been marking up the lyric sheets with suggestions for different notes and changes to the general melody while listening to the song over and over on her MP3 player; the assistant had cracked her notebook open in hopes of making any more progress on her own song. In the last week, she hadn’t been able to get anything down after her session with James in Studio B - which was both good and bad. At the very least she hadn’t been thinking of Dak every waking moment of today. 

From a quick scan for paparazzi across the pool, she noticed her band standing arms crossed inside the doorway to the lobby. It was clear they wanted to come say hi, but were respecting their boss’ wishes and staying away from the pop star. 

Quickly excusing herself, Roxy popped up and made her way toward the boys, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Bad Luck Rush?” James scoffed, peering over at Jordin, “He’s wrong!”

Logan nodded his head in agreement, “It’s more like Roxy said, we’re good luck charms.”

“In fact, the best luck Jordin could have is spending her entire day with me!” The wannabe continued, pulling out a hand mirror and comb to freshen up before the rest of the band gave him some nasty side-eye. “Uh, I mean, us!”

Sucking in a breath, the girl laughed, “Oh I could think of much better ways for her to spend her day - like songwriting with me.” 

Evidently, her words startled the long-haired boy who must have been too absorbed in his primping to see her walk up, causing him to yelp and drop the mirror at her feet with a loud crash. 

Wide-eyed, Roxy looked down at the destroyed glass at her feet before panning up to the band. Each member had an equally terrified look on their face as they realized the ramifications of James’ actions.

Carlos was the first to speak, “You broke a mirror… That’s seven years bad luck!”

Pulling the remains of the shattered mirror off of the carpet and ringing the comb back to his hair, James rolled his eyes, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Heads up!” 

In a second, Logan grabbed Roxy’s hand and pulled her behind the large doors along with Kendall and Carlos. This left James wide open as a large beach ball coming from the pool bounced off of his head, followed by a large squirt of bright, white sunscreen from someone on a lounge chair directly onto his gray button-up. As the boy attempted to collect himself, Logan pulled the writer even farther back as a stampede of children appeared seemingly from nowhere headed directly for the pool, and by extension James. In no time he was mowed down by the kid mob.

Though it took a few seconds to collect his bearings, the singer eventually pulled himself off the ground looking a little worse for wear. 

“Oh!” He cried, holding the mirror up once more to examine his form through the sharded glass, before dropping it at the ugly image in the frame and running off towards the elevators. No doubt to get cleaned up and attempt to impress Jordin later in the day.

Kendall, stepping out from behind the doors, turned to his friends. “Guys, we’re not bad luck, and don’t let Gustavo get to you. Just enjoy the day, like I’m gonna enjoy my day with Jo by the pool.”

From across the way, Jordin got up from her seat and began collecting her items. 

“Ah, that’s my cue,” Roxy stated, giving a quick wave to the boys before taking off. “Stay safe! Don’t let James anywhere near Jordin!”

 After they had taken in what she had said, Carlos and Logan held Kendall back and began arguing about something unintelligible by the time the assistant made her way back to Jordin.

“Anything I can help with, Ms. Sparks?” She asked, grabbing her bag off the seat beside the star. 

Jordin picked her things up as well, “That’s alright, but thanks! I’m going to take a few laps around the pool to try and sort this song out.”

Beaming, Roxy nodded, “I’ll join you, then. I’m always looking for new songwriting techniques to try!” 

As the pair made their way down the stretch of the pool, the assistant noticed a twitch in the planter box beside them. From among the top of the foliage, she spied something that didn’t belong: a tree hat attached to the head of Reginald Bitters, holding a sleek black camera. 

What the… 

Scanning the area in front of them she noticed a vivid, yellow banana peel by the side of the pool - directly in Jordin’s path. The singer was too buried in her lyric sheets to notice and with her headphones back in to listen to the song, Roxy’s attempt to call her name was futile. 

Click!

Once the shutter of Bitter’s camera released, Roxy rushed forward and placed herself in Jordin’s path to stop her from stepping any closer to the banana, but in her haste miscalculated where her foot would land. Of course, in her heroic attempt to save Jordin from the paps, she would be the one to slip the moment her foot hit the peel.

Center of gravity shifting, she let out a small yelp as she helplessly began to fall backward. Anticipating a hard fall, the girl closed her eyes, tensing her body to brace for impact before someone’s hands shot around her waist to save her. 

Blood from her racing heart pooled in her ears as she slowly opened her eyes, to find Kendall peering down at her, worry written across his face. 

“Woah,” Roxy breathed, trying to catch her breath as she stood weightless in his arms. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it, it was a lucky catch.” The boy grinned, giving her some time to collect herself.

Behind them, a pair of footsteps stopped echoing on the pool deck.

“Uh, Kendall? Roxy?”

Without thinking, the girl dipped her head back to find an upside-down image of Jo burning into her retinas. The assistant felt Kendall’s hands tense the moment he registered her voice.

“Jo.” He greeted calmly, peering down at his assistant before looking back up to his girlfriend. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Roxy watched Jo’s knuckles turn white as she gripped her beach bag. “Really? ‘Cause it looks like you’re embracing my best friend.”

“It does look that way…” Roxy mumbled, watching in dismay as Jo began to walk away before she could explain what had happened.

Broken mirror, banana peel, jealous girlfriend… Maybe they are bad luck.

Once Kendall helped her back up, she gave him a fleeting statement of gratitude before running after Jordin. She, thankfully, had been able to keep her from wiping out in front of Mr. Bitters but since this scheme had failed, who knew how many more traps he could have potentially set up around the hotel. While being a bodyguard wasn’t on her list of dream jobs, for now, Roxy was content to keep the singer safe. 

A few dozen laps around the pool later, Jordin was still lost in her own little world, leaving Roxy on high alert as they continued to pace - even with her aching feet. While this strategy seemed to work for Jordin, the assistant found that her hyper-awareness of their surroundings did not make for good songwriting material. The only thing she could think about as they went around and around was Jo and how much she couldn’t wait to explain what had happened earlier. 

It was interesting to learn that her friend was the jealous type; that felt more like a Camille quality than anything. 

Another go around allowed the acute danger-detecting sensors in her brain to spot Logan and Carlos moving around the pool like they were in a cheesy spy movie while talking into their watches like walkie-talkies. Dressed in nice black suits with a lapel pin of a four-leaf clover and dark aviators, the assistant could only assume it was some form of protest against Gustavo’s title of “Bad Luck Rush.”

The fake spy antics brought the two together at a table by the side cabanas that had been set up for what looked to be a nice, romantic lunch. Kendall stood beside them, adjusting the tablecloth - suggesting that his day at the pool with Jo was quickly turning into an apology date. 

It reminded her of Dak more than she cared to admit. 

Caught up in her head now, Roxy let her guard down for a moment as she tried to push the thoughts of her ex-boyfriend out of her mind. The last week had been more than enough time to get her act together and she hadn’t even gotten a good song out of it yet. 

Losing my mind is all I can do, ‘til I forget about you… 

Now, in front of both the pop star and the assistant was a fairly large black cat sitting down, licking one of their hind legs. 

Too concerned with digging around in her bag to find her songbook and write that thought down, Roxy was unable to stop the unlucky obstacle from bothering Jordin. Thankfully, unbeknownst to her, both Logan and Carlos bolted over and picked the animal up to relocate it, cooly saying hi to the girls as they passed by. 

“Hey Jordin, hi Roxy!” Carlos cooed, cradling the cat in his arms and doing his best to act very nonchalantly about it. “‘Sup!”

“Working on the song…” Both the girls mumbled, holding up their respective projects and ignoring any other interference. 

Wearing a satisfied smile, Logan held his hand out, “You two go do that!”

Their speech grew fainter as the pair continued their laps, both writing more on their respective pages as more ideas began to formulate.

Maybe Jordin’s right… The writer thought. This does seem to be helping.

Roxy’s revelation was quickly forgotten as someone from behind called out her name, causing her to turn around, only to be met with a large, angry, black cat landing directly on her face. 

Terrified, a scream left her lips as she dropped everything she was holding to try and pry the creature off of her. The cat, equally as terrified, thrashed around; scratching her face, digging its claws into her scalp, and tangling its limbs in her hair - causing an extreme amount of pain on the girl's part as she continued to wail in hopes someone would be able to help her. 

The writer was hopeless as she tried to stumble to a chair in order to ground herself, her vision obscured by the angry creature. Entirely focused on the warm blood she could feel rolling down her cheek, her actions quickened, causing her to knock down a pool umbrella, a palm tree planter, and even send someone unexpectedly flying into the pool.

Trying to form an apology, the only sound she could make was “Mhh-orry!” as the cat continued to stick to her.

More struggling occurred, but only for a few more moments until she bumped into a chair and fell harshly down into it. 

Screw it.

With as much force as she could muster, she snatched the animal around the waist and pulled, fully detaching it from her body before gingerly placing it on the pool deck. As soon as it hit the ground, it ran off, scattering between two orange planters on the other side of the pool. 

Tangled hair covered her eyes, it took Roxy more time than she would have liked to gather what she could into a side part. A few places were sticky - with blood or something else, she didn’t want to know - and a few chunks detached into her fingers. Gently taking one hand, she reached up to her cheek and immediately winced. There was at the very least one visible mark left on her skin and it was taking everything she had in her not to burst into tears out of both embarrassment and shock.

Finally able to catch her bearings, she noticed a small table in front of the chair she was sitting on covered in a beautiful tablecloth and a variety of little finger foods arranged around a pastel flower bouquet. Across from her sat Kendall, mouth agape, who moved to shoo her away as fast as he could. 

“Oh!” Someone called from behind her, making her cringe. The frontman wasn’t trying to be rude, he was just trying to save her from another awkward situation with Jo. Safe to say he had not succeeded.

Jo stood, arms crossed behind the writer, staring her boyfriend down. “Now you’re having a girly, romantic lunch with Roxy.”

With a sigh, the girl stood up to face her friend. Cat scratches, matted hair and all, “Do you really think I’m in a space to be going on a date right now? You just sat with me for days on end while I was sobbing and trying to come to terms with my last relationship ending. I’d never do anything to hurt you like that, Jo.” 

“Seriously, It’s not what it looks like!” Kendall chimed in. 

“Just because you couldn’t keep your boyfriend doesn’t mean you can steal mine!” Yelled the actress before shoving past Roxy and Kendall, back into the hotel. 

All the writer could do was sit there as her jaw dropped and her eyes threatened to spill over with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. There had been too much crying over the past seven days for her liking. 

“Rox, I-”

“Save it.” She cut him off, lip beginning to tremble. “Keep an eye on Jordin, please, and just… Stay away from me.”

Forgetting she had even dropped anything, she got up and practically ran into the hotel. A few cold drops fell from her eyes, hitting the cut on her cheek and bringing a salty, stinging pain. Whatever hurt more, the physical or emotional damage, Roxy couldn’t tell as she used the heel of her palm to wipe everything away. 

Typically, the staircase was a safe bet for getting onto the upper floors undetected and she had made it to the top of the second-floor stairwell before motioning to pull the door open. Since she had been just so lucky today, it shouldn’t have shocked her that as she pulled the door towards her, someone on the other side pushed it open - causing her to fall backward onto the carpeted landing. 

This cannot be happening to me right now.

“What the hell is your problem?” The girl bit, pausing for a moment to register who the figure in the doorway was. 

Looking back at her was James, hand still on the door handle, as pale as a ghost. 

They both stared for a second before the singer broke the silence, crouching down to her level trying to comprehend what had happened to his assistant. 

“Roxy…” He whispered, so gently, as a few more tears escaped her eyes. Though she should have, she didn’t stop him as he reached one hand out to cup her face and slowly swipe his thumb over her non-injured cheek. “How did you-”

Not bothering to finish his thought, the boy ran one hand down her arm to grab her hand - using it to pull her off the ground and back towards their apartments. 

***

One thing no one ever talks about after a breakup is the feeling of utter worthlessness one will experience. 

Over the course of the last week, it was safe to say Roxy was feeling quite worthless. Like she wasn’t good enough, or interesting enough, or pretty enough for anyone to have any sort of feelings for her. Did Camille and Jo actually want to be her friends or were they only interested in using her to get to the band? Do Gustavo and Kelly really think she’s a talented songwriter or did they just want to take a load off and use her to get rich off her music? 

Is James helping me because he cares about me or is he just trying to use me like Dak did?

An unfair thought for sure, and the girl knew that, but she couldn’t escape the little voice in the back of her head telling her there was no way another human being could care for her in any capacity. Even as James was delicately holding her chin to the side and wiping away at the cut on her cheek with an alcohol wipe from the small first aid kit he had found in the bathroom, she knew logically he must be doing this out of some form of care. However, based on his naturally flirtatious disposition, and the fact he asked her out hours after she had dumped her ex, Roxy had a sinking feeling form in her chest as she burrowed back into the orange couch. 

After the week I’ve had, I need someone to take care of me - even if it may send him mixed messages.

The sting of the alcohol bit at her damaged cheek, bringing her back to the present and out of her head. It had been a nasty place to live since Z-Day 

“Uh,” She tried, thinking a bit of light conversation might keep her from any more selfish thoughts. “Were you going somewhere? Earlier I mean, in the stairwell.” 

Pausing for a moment, James swallowed loudly before pulling his hand back completely. “No. Nowhere more important than being here.” 

Wow.

“And… I’m sorry for what I said this morning at the pool. I knew it would hurt you, and I was upset about how I ruined our night at the dance-”

“You didn’t ruin it. The only person who ruined the dance was Dak.” 

In fact, you made it better, was a fact she almost let slip, but was able to refrain from sharing as she followed his reach into the first aid kit. Talk about sending mixed signals.

It was hard to ignore the snort that left James’ lips as he pulled out two bandaids in their white, crinkly packages, holding them out in a ‘V’ shape. “Fuck that guy. Now, want the Incredible Hulk or Scooby-Doo to help you heal?”

Tell him, tell him, tell him! 

Finally, the metaphorical angel on her shoulder made its appearance to remind her of her selfishness as she dodged his question. 

“I’m sorry I ignored your messages afterward, I should’ve been clear with you. I’m not interested in seeing anyone for a little while.” 

“Scooby-Doo it is.” James declared, opening the package and leaning in close to her face to place it. 

Roxy thought about recoiling, but it was hard to deny the jolt that ran down her spine as the hand once holding her chin made its way down to the couch, pushing down a part of the cushion dangerously close to her thigh. 

“And it’s fine,” He said, practically whispering into her ear, as the sticky substance on the back of the bandage connected with her cheek. “I’d just hate to see another douchebag break your heart.” 

Only able to muster a quiet “Oh”, Roxy sank backward onto the couch as he turned away and moved to put the first aid kit back in the bathroom. Generously, he had left her a hairbrush on the coffee table to fix the number that the cat had done on her. 

Mind a complete blank for the few minutes he was in there, all the girl could do was let his words echo in her head as she untangled out her locks. When her heart wasn’t racing, he could be quite easy to talk to. 

Now who’s sending mixed signals? 

“I’m gonna head to the park now, unless you need anything else.” The boy called from the kitchen sink, washing his hands.

 Stay with me for a bit-

“Ah, I think Jordin said she was heading there. Something about a lucky wishing well? I swear I’ve been to that park a million times and I’ve never seen one... Probably a good idea for me to go with you.” 

With the well not at all related to wanting to spend a bit more time with James, the pair silently left the apartment - no one bringing their previous conversation any further than what they had already discussed. 

Not entirely sure how to feel about the whole exchange, at the very least Roxy left that apartment knowing for sure someone in Hollywood cared about her. She knew the rest of her friends did too, and she would soon realize once the effects of heartbreak wore off and put to ease the voice in her head telling her otherwise. 

The thought to find Jo and fully explain their situation crossed her mind, but the writer wasn’t quite sure how to face her yet. Even if they were best friends, Jo’s words had cut her to her very core. To insinuate she was interested in stealing Kendall was just plain rude, especially with the additional, backstabbing comment about not even being able to keep a boyfriend. 

Not like that hadn’t been the only thing she had been thinking about for the last week. Jo even knew, holding Roxy as she rocked back and forth on her bed in her blanket of stuffed animals, listening to her sob about how boring of a person she must have been to have Dak actively seek out another partner while they were dating. 

Keeping him isn’t the problem, Roxy realized as she stepped out into the beautiful, grassy area behind her home. It’s just a matter of picking the right guy.

Finally, after having such a strange, bad-luck-filled first half of her day, the writer wanted nothing more than to sit on one of the park benches and bask in a bit of sun while Jordin continued to work on the song. Thank goodness, she could spy the pop star from where she and James were standing together, lost in thought as she slowly walked towards the well on their right.

She would have to ask Bitters about the well later, still swearing it had never been in the park before, but to be fair, if pop sensation Jordin Sparks asked her to build a well out back the hotel, she absolutely would too.

The monument stood about seven feet tall, covered in mossy stone and long hanging vines as if it had been a permanent figure in the park for ages, along with a weathered sign reading Wishing Well. Its beautiful stone base was decorated in small, orange flowers that almost felt dangerous to trod on in order to throw a coin down the well. There was even a small hand crank to retrieve what should have been a bucket on a string to collect water, but as the girl peered over the ledge down the hole, she realized there was nothing but dirt covering the bottom. 

Instinctively reaching to her back to open the flap of her small bag and grab a coin, Roxy realized she didn’t have it with her; meaning her songbook was nowhere to be found. 

Anxiously, the girl mentally retraced her earlier steps in hopes of determining its location before finding herself amidst a breakdown. 

Maybe it’s in the stairwell… or had fallen off my back after that cat attacked me.

“Ugh,” The girl growled. “I hate this bad luck curse!”

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she was a bit distracted in trying to find a place to think when she noticed James drop onto the grass - hands and knees and all - as he began to comb the piles of clovers spread out along the field. 

He glanced up at her from his place on the ground, “Then get down here and help me find a four-leaf clover. I’m trying to counter my mirror-breaking bad luck with good luck.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll pass. Rolling around on the grass doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time.” The writer decided, leaning against the edge of the wishing well. “Besides, I think I lost my bag. Did you see me drop it in the stairwell?”

Shaking his head, the boy went back to his search. 

Behind Roxy, the soft sound of footsteps being cushioned by blades of grass let her know that Jordin had arrived. 

Even though she was listening to the song through a pair of long, white earbuds, the faint tune was loud enough to be carried by the wind to the other side of the well. 

Sighing, the pop star dug a coin out of her back pocket. “Okay, wishing well, I’m recording a new song today, and I need some good luck.” 

Tell me about it. Roxy agreed, trying to focus on the beat of the song flooding across the well’s opening. The slow song filled her ears, if only it were a bit faster it would fit the band’s style perfectly. Maybe even a duet?

Across the field, a pair of agents dressed in black suits popped out from behind a tree, clearly spying on the two girls at the edge of the well. Logan and Carlos were still in their weird spy get-ups, talking to each other through their watches as they peered around the park. Whatever they were doing earlier had caused her more trouble than it was worth, so she silently prayed the two wouldn’t bring any more bad luck to Jordin’s - and by extension, her - day. 

Tap tap tap

Sounds of a hammer striking a nail instinctively caused the girl to glance to her right, where she noticed Kendall - keeping a respectful distance between himself and his assistant - setting up a game of horseshoes a few feet away from the outdoor lounge area while James continued to look for his clover. How much more cliche could this day get; now all the band needed were repeating 7’s, some ladybugs, and a wishbone to complete whatever bad luck countermeasures they were taking. 

Exchanging a few pleasantries with the boy in the grass, the assistant overheard that the frontman was setting up another date and made a mental note to avoid the right side of the field at all costs. The wannabe tried explaining his strange behavior, before realizing one of the game pieces might be good luck, lunging towards his best friend and trying to take the horseshoe from him. The pair struggled for a bit, unknowingly turning the object upside down in the middle of their tussle. 

Roxy was just about to go and break up their fight, and turn the horseshoe right side up, before Jordin called out to her from the other side of the well.

“I see you’re doing better!” The beautiful woman noticed. “I was pretty concerned after your catfight.”

Letting out a light chuckle, the writer didn’t feel like explaining the fight with her best friend hurt even more, before holding a finger up to her bandaged cheek. “I got lucky, just a little scratch.”

The statement was a bit ironic, considering the cat was black, but the two thought nothing of it. 

“Well,” Jordin said, reaching into the large stack of songwriting books and papers she had been cradling into her arm before pulling out a familiar black, leather-bound journal. “You dropped this when you were attacked. It looked really important so I held onto it.”

Eyes lighting up, Roxy rushed over to the singer and made a move to grab the book. “Oh, you have no idea how much that means to me! Thank-”

Ding

Something large and metallic hit the back of her neck, shocking the assistant as she felt herself begin to slip in and out of consciousness at the force. Still gripping onto the journal, she wasn’t aware of her body enough to let go as she tumbled forward, eyes closed - dropping completely into the well and accidentally taking Jordin with her. 

***

A few minutes later, Roxy came back to consciousness.

Save from her monster headache dominating what felt like every square inch of her skull, as she held out her limbs for a once-over she seemed to escape with no cuts or bruises. Someone, presumably Jordin, had propped her up against the cold, stone walls of the bottom of the well and a shiver shook her body as the cool atmosphere ran through her. 

“Thank goodness!” She heard Jordin squeal. “I was so worried you were seriously hurt… What even happened?” 

Rubbing the back of her neck, the girl winced as her fingers ran over the spot she had been hit. “I have no idea… Something hit me in the back of the head and I just… Passed out. I’m so sorry I dragged you down here with me. Are you okay?”

Leaning forward to collect some of her scattered books and papers, the singer nodded, giving her a sheepish look. “Yeah, you kinda broke my fall.” 

Roxy had no words about that, choosing instead to examine their surroundings and try and figure out a plan to get out. First, she checked her pockets, only to find she had left her phone in her missing bag - calling 911 was out of the picture. Next: the walls of the well. The smooth stones were embedded in some kind of concrete, making it impossible to get a grip or foothold out of any of the gaps. Then finally, she held her hand up to block the sun from her eyes as she peered up towards the top. The well was too deep for her to stand on Jordin’s shoulders to climb out and there was no bucket with a rope to pull themselves out with. 

We are so fucked.

Putting on a brave face, the assistant turned to Jordin with a bright smile, “We’ll find a way out of here.” 

That dream, however, was short-lived as the girl attempted to stand. The sudden movement of it all, combined with the aching of her joints as she slowly rose caused her knees to wobble, bringing her straight back to the floor. Her stomach churned, bile rising into her throat when she tried again placing her officially out for the count. 

A moment later, a penny flew down the well, conking the assistant on the head. It took everything in her not the empty the contents of her stomach right there as she hissed out, “Ow!”

It was even beginning to hurt with every word that left her mouth. 

“Guys, is that you?” Jordin called out, standing up as she tried to find which side of the well they were on based on the direction of their voices. 

As she spoke louder, an echo emanated off the stone walls, driving the girl crazy as her headache worsened. 

“Uh…” The sound of Kendall’s voice falling down on them felt like taking a cheese grater to her brain. “Don’t worry, you two. You can count on us! How are you doing? You good?”

Jordin threw her papers down in anger, “We’re in a well!”

Making the “phone” motion with her thumb and pinky fingers, Roxy tried to ask the pop star if she had hers on her person but weakly dropped the gesture as more echoes filled her ears. Just as much as the sound bounced off the walls, it felt like they were bouncing around her skull too.

“We have to call the fire department…” Logan said, voice not carrying since he wasn’t speaking directly into the well. 

Kendall scoffed, thinking his voice was out of earshot, “We can’t call anyone, or Gustavo will find out and kill us!”

“The second I’m out of here, I’m going to kill you.” Roxy declared through gritted teeth, hoping her voice would carry enough to reach the blond. 

Up top, someone shuffled around, “He’s going to think we’re bad luck.”

“Carlos!” James called, sounding incredibly irritated. “We are!”

A slap on the brick let the pair know someone was leaning over the edge of the well. “Jordin! Roxy! Everything’s fine. We’ve got a plan!”

Simply based on the panicked tone of Carlos’ voice, Roxy knew that was a load of bull. It was both a good thing and a bad thing she had gotten to know the boys well enough to tell their mood based on the way they spoke. Right now, she wished she could believe him. 

A bit of incoherent mumbling came from the surface that Roxy was unable to focus on. Though she knew she should be working to find a way out with Jordin, for now, all the girl could do was pull her knees to her chest and rest her forehead there. She had been the punching bag a few too many times today and the pain was starting to take its toll on her body. 

Across the well, the song lazily jumped out of the singer’s headphones allowing the girl to focus on it as her eyes fluttered open and closed. 

What had I been thinking earlier? Roxy questioned, trying to recall the idea she knew she had to help Jordin fix her song. Right now, all the calm melody was succeeding at was putting her to sleep. 

“Woah, woah!” Jordin started, glancing over at her trapped companion. “You need to keep those eyes open for me.” 

The task felt close to impossible, but Roxy did her best to keep her eyes on something; ultimately deciding to count the number of bricks that made up the circumference of the well. When that got boring after about 30 bricks, her attention turned to the song sheets the pop star had strewn over the ground. 

Gingerly, the girl leaned forward and snatched a few of the sheets and a pen Jordin had let fall as well. Perhaps by looking at the song, the assistant would be able to remember her earlier thoughts. 

Riddled with notes and add-ins from Jordin, the pages were a bit complicated to read, but it was nothing compared to the girl’s mess of a notebook. Quickly adapting, she learned that the singer used similar notation and was able to somewhat understand the changes she was wanting to make to the song. Most of the chorus flowed together nicely and the subject of the song was very romantic - Roxy tried to save herself the pain of thinking of her ex - but there was something off about the individual verses themselves. They didn’t fit together as well as the chorus did.

“Hey!” Kendall called from above, startling both of the girls who eagerly looked his way. “The boys are lowering me down. We’ll get you guys tied to this rope and get you out of here in no time.” 

There were a few seconds of silence before the blond let out a fearful scream, landing a few inches from where his assistant had decided to stretch her legs. At least his landing was far more graceful than hers could have been. Not only that, his arrival kicked a large amount of dust at the bottom of the dry well. The substance coated the girl’s lungs causing her to cough, another action that could be felt tenfold due to her injuries. 

“Oh, hey…” The blond said nonchalantly as if his plan hadn’t just ended in horrible failure. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Jordin hit back, picking one of the music sheets off the ground and gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white. “I’ve got a song I can’t figure out…”

Roxy let out another involuntary cough, “I slipped on a banana peel and got attacked by a cat…”

“And again!” The singer took over, “We’re in a well!”

Anger radiating off Jordin in waves, the writer made sure to cover her ears as the echoes rolled off the sides of the pit. 

At least now I can convince Gustavo to kill Kendall instead of me.

Another voice rang out from the entrance, “Kendall? Is that you and Roxy? And Jordin?”

The delicate voice of her best friend filled her ears, causing her to bury herself into her knees once more. She hadn’t even had a chance to discuss everything that had happened with Jo yet, and here she was again, ready to misinterpret another unfortunate accident. 

The three shared a similar statement, “It’s not what it looks like!” and based on the lack of response, it was likely Jo had already left the park. 

Did it ever cross her mind that we might need some help?

Trying not to think too much about her best friend’s terrible assessment of their situation, the writer turned back to the lyric sheets before a conversation between Jordin and Kendall erupted. Working on her own songs with noise in the background was already tough, but now with a fresh and new song, the task felt unachievable. 

“Look, I’m sure Logan, aka the Big-Time Brain, is concocting an amazing rescue plan as we speak.”

A scream coming from someone above grew louder and louder, telling the three that Kendall’s assessment of the situation was incorrect. 

3… 2… 1… 

Logan landed on the bottom of the well with a thud! kicking up yet another cloud of dust in his wake. A few seconds later a tape measure clattered to the floor beside him. Now that there were more people in the well, the narrow area for landing without hurting another person was growing smaller and smaller. 

Trying her best to get to her friend, Roxy was able to get a few inches closer to the center before a wave of nausea washed over her. 

“What plan was that?” Hissed Kendall, pressed flat against the wall of the well, as if he was trying to make himself smaller. 

Laying horizontal on the floor, Logan turned around to face the blond with a scoff. “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.” Pausing for a moment, the singer rummaged around for the tape measure. “I was measuring the diameter of the well to fashion a crude pulley system when I slipped.” 

“Don’t worry guys!” Carlos’ voice rang down, “James and I are on the case!”

“You can count on us!”

At their words, Roxy gripped the papers she was holding just a bit tighter before sighing, “We’re never getting out of here, are we?”

The boys in the well agreed: “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Above, the pair began to vocalize their plans and ideas to save their friends from their entrapment - each plan dumber than the last. Though oddly enough, it was quite inspiring to the writer as she listened in. They were dedicated to helping, despite their natural skill sets falling away from detailed plans and daring escapes. 

Collaboration… She thought, reading over the lyrics once more. The entire love song, from Jordin’s perspective, was a heartfelt and open discussion about first loves and wanting to be cared for. So in her own head about fixing what she already had, the pop star had been blind to the possibilities that this song might be better suited for one - or in their case, four - more people. She just needed a different perspective. 

Taking the pen and underlining the second verse and a bit of the pre-chorus, Roxy took the choppy lines and wrote BTR beside them. Another once over, this time imagining all of the singers together, Roxy quickly etched out the rest of the sheet where she thought Jordin’s lines fit the narrative of herself and where her lines fit the narrative of her lover. 

“Jordin-” Roxy began, delicately picking herself off the ground and leaning against the side of the well for support. However, she was quickly cut off as Logan called something to the boys above.

“Carlos, did you just come up with an ingenious water displacement plan?” 

“Uh,” Carlos sounded unsure, “Yeah!”

Song first, then tell them I’m probably not able to swim.

Trying again, the writer finally caught Jordin’s attention this time. Shuffling over to the singer, she held up the page she had marked up and quickly explained her idea pointing wildly all over the sheet. “I think your song could benefit from a little extra help from a different singer - well, singers. If you sing part of the verse here… and here… then here again, and let the boys sing… these sections here, your love solo turns into a beautiful love duet. Like, a conversation of expectations before agreeing to be in a relationship.” 

At her own words, a small verse quickly popped into her head to the tune of Jordin’s song that would fill up a small bit of the instrumental break in the middle.

Anything I’m doing, I’d drop it for you

‘Cause you’re the one I’m giving my heart to

But I’ve gotta be the only one

Ouch.

Glancing over to the woman, Roxy noticed her eyes running back and forth over the page, mouthing the words to the sections the writer had designated as hers. 

“Ah, I don’t know-”

“Ahhh!”

Knowing this sound well enough by now, the four in the well pressed themselves up against the brick as James crashed down to the bottom, a green hose following in his wake. Before anyone was able to move to help him up, the boy placed his hand down on the floor, taking a handful of the dirt and letting it fall through his fingers. Remaining in his hand were a small group of shiny, copper pennies. 

His face lit up, “Millions of lucky pennies! I’m saved!”

Taking more handfuls and tossing them up in the air like a lucky-penny shower, James missed a distinct “Wah-hoo!” coming from the top of the well. Roxy barely had enough energy left to grab the back of his button-up to pull him back towards her before Carlos landed at the bottom. 

Neither of them said anything as the dust cleared, just a nod of thanks from the wannabe. 

As Carlos stood up, the rest of the band stared at him menacingly, “What did you do that for?” 

“I was lonely!” The boy defended. 

Silence flooded over the well as Jordin scrambled to put her papers together, handing a few more to the girl to no doubt mark up for a duet-style piece. 

Logan let out an anxious chuckle, clasping both of his hands together as he glanced over at the pop star, “Well, it looks like you may not make your recording session.”

Defeated, the boys lowered themselves to sit on the dusty ground. Assistant moving to join them, she gingerly laid her head on Kendall’s shoulder as she set about fixing the lyric sheets Jordin wouldn’t get to use for the day. 

“It’s okay,” The singer said, sitting down as well. “ Just when I thought we might have figured out the song, looks like I might not get to record it.” 

Clearing his throat, James stated, “I didn’t think the song was bad. How did you change it?”

Beside Jordin, Roxy gathered up the sheets and distributed them out to her friends. If they examined the writing she had made on the page, hopefully they��d be able to sell the singer on the idea of a duet. 

Softly counting down, the long-haired boy started from the pre-chorus, “One, two, three, four, to the five-”

“Now, Logan, can you add some background? And Kendall and Carlos, harmonies?” Roxy asked, writing down James’ part on the sheet she was holding. Though the boy’s voices were quite loud, she pushed through the pulsating pain to prove to Jordin that this song would benefit from some extra help.

Trying again, the band executed her wishes perfectly as they made their way to the end of the chorus. Their voices melded beautifully together, and the acoustics from the open space of the well aided them as the sound bounced around the group.  

Making a note to add lots of reverb, Roxy waved her hands in a circular motion to encourage Jordin to jump in too. 

The five sang the chorus one more time, this time deciding to end on a gorgeous high note that probably made its way to the farthest edge of the park. 

By now, there was no denying that not only was their song perfect, it just needed a little extra nudge to get to the place Jordin wanted it to be. 

“That’s it!” The singer cried, a grin splashing across her face. “That’s exactly how I wanted it to sound! Now you’ve got to get me out of here.”

In the middle of the well, Roxy spied the smattering of items the boys had brought down with them. How can we fit a rope, a hose, and a tape measure together?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Kendall sighed, “Well, there’s only one guy I know that can pull six people out of a well.”

***

Before the six of them knew it, they were tumbling out of the well and hitting the hard ground of Palm Wood’s Park all thanks to Freight Train’s incredible strength. 

Would it kill Bitters to seed this lawn?

Admittedly, Roxy still wasn’t feeling the best, and now she had rope burn covering her palms, but anything was better than being trapped down a well. 

The group expressed their thanks in a cacophony of groans and grunts as they worked to untangle themselves from one another. It was hard to tell where her limbs ended and her friends’ began. 

Before they were able to properly stand, Bitters popped out from behind a tree, holding the camera Roxy had seen him with earlier before she slipped on the banana peel. “Aha! Jordin Sparks pulled out of a well, tied to five losers. I’ll be rich!’

As quickly as she could, the girl threw her arms out to try and shield the pop star before yelling, “Freight Train, the camera!”

Thankfully, the man caught her drift as he reached one gigantic hand over the lens and crushed it. Hundreds of little plastic pieces dropped to the ground before Bitters wasn’t even able to get his finger on the shutter release. 

Of course, the hotel manager began to complain, but as he squared up to Freight Train it was clear he was fighting a losing battle. Like a dog with his tail between his legs, Bitters ran off in the direction of the hotel lobby. 

“Hey, guys!” Freight Train greeted, before giving out an ominous warning, “Gustavo isn’t happy. He knows about the well and he has a skunk in his studio that he can’t get rid of.”

Looking around at each other, the boys began to laugh, “Gustavo can’t get rid of a skunk?”

Finally able to get up, the band helped the girls gather their belongings before following Freight Train to the parking lot of the Palm Woods where a car was waiting to take them back to Rocque Records. 

The ride gave the girl a little bit of time to close her eyes and rest her body, warding off any more unwanted nausea. 

Upon arrival, the band ran up the stairs, assistant in tow, as they beelined for the kitchen and janitor's closet near Studio B. Freight Train was kind enough to show Jordin the way to Studio A in the meantime. 

Each boy grabbed a tool to wrangle the stinky little creature: Carlos, a can of Sexy Dog Dog Food, Kendall, a cardboard box fashioned onto a long rope, James, a large piece of cardboard, and Logan, a packing tape gun. Before making their way out to the hallway, they handed their assistant a pair of bright yellow dish gloves. 

“No way I’m helping you catch a skunk.” She deadpanned, trying to hand the items back, “Knowing my bad luck I’ll just get sprayed.”

Logan waved her off before crossing his arms and leaning back-to-back on Carlos, “It’s nothing the Good Luck Patrol can’t save you from!”

“We’re pros at this, don’t worry.” Kendall jumped in to assure her. “You just need to hold the box steady so Logan can tape it down.”

Carlos twirled the can of food in his hand, “It’ll be fun, we promise!”

They must be out of their minds.

Begrudgingly, she slipped the gloves on and followed the four out into the hallway. 

Towards their boss’ office, they noticed he and Kelly were pressed with their backs up against the wall - a small black and white fluffy creature at their feet. With its tail up, there was no mistaking this was an angry skunk, ready to attack the adults at a moment’s notice. 

Counting backward from five, Carlos leaped into action.

Sliding down the hallway on his knees and a “Wah-hoo!” the boy opened the can of food with a satisfying crack! catching the animal’s attention. Once its head turned towards the singer, he threw the can at an angle, letting it spin out over the carpet right in front of the skunk to keep it distracted and in place. 

As it moved closer to the can of food, Kendall, who had made his way to the other side of the hall, swung the box-on-a-string a few times in a circle, before sending it flying in the animal’s direction. Just as the skunk went to take a little bite of the food, it was captured under the box.

Now, it was Roxy’s time to shine. Running down the hallway, giving Carlos a high-five on the way down, she made her way to the large box of cardboard that trapped their prey. On her left, James jumped out from behind the couch with his piece of cardboard and as she held the box down so the skunk couldn’t escape, he slid his item under. Now that there was no open space, the skunk would be unable to roam freely around the studio. 

Still holding it down just in case, she watched as Logan popped out from behind Kendall with his tape gun. With James folding the sides of his cardboard to fit the dimensions of the box, the other boy was able to take his tape and run it all along the edge to ensure the skunk was trapped inside. In another fluid motion, he detached the rope from the top.

Once the boys backed away, Roxy picked the box up carefully, being very mindful of the creature inside. Turning to face her boss, she pushed it into his hands as her band proudly proclaimed, “Here’s your skunk!”

There were no thanks, just shocked looks on their boss’ face as he yelled, “How did you do that?”

“We catch stuff all the time in Minnesota,” Kendall stated as though it was an obvious fact anyone would have known about them. 

Carlos clapped once, jumping in, “Yeah! What did you use as bait, a lady skunk puppet?”

Laughter rang out over the floor of Rocque Records, from the assistant, her band, and her bosses. The latter laughed just a bit too long, suggesting Carlos’ comment may not have been all that far-fetched. 

“Enough!” Their boss cried once he caught wind the teens were laughing at him and not with him. “Let’s hit the studio, it’s time for Jordin to record her song.”

As their boss said, everyone piled into Studio A, ready for what the rest of their day would bring. 

The band naturally formed a straight line, while the other adults and Roxy stood to the side, which Gustavo used to pace back and forth between them as he gave out his orders. 

When Kendall had made the phone call to Freight Train earlier, Roxy had learned the boys were the ones who caused her to fall into the well. As she had reached to take her songbook from Jordin, they had all been arguing over a metal horseshoe from the game Kendall had been setting up. It had slipped out of their hands, flying through the air in just the right manner to hit the writer in the back of the head and send her tumbling down the well. 

Their actions had been horrible and caused her a lot of pain, but more than anything she was happy it lead them down a path where they were able to work out Jordin’s song. She had forgiven them, but now it was up to their boss to see whatever disciplinary action he would like to take. 

“Now, in light of recent skunky events, I have decided not to kill you. 

The band loudly breathed a sigh of relief. 

“However, you blatantly disregarded my orders to stay away from Jordin Sparks and proved once again you are Bad Luck Rush.”

“Mr. Rocque!” Roxy called from the other side of the studio, a slight shake in her voice as she stood up to the producer. “I think I’m the bad luck charm. In the span of a few hours, I slipped on a banana peel, I got attacked by a black cat, and I was the first one to fall down the well. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”

Gustavo turned back to face her, face growing red.

“No, no!” Jordin said from beside her, holding her arms out in defense. “Roxy and the boys are good luck!”

At the statement, Kelly raised a brow. “They knocked you down a well.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t fallen down the well, we would have never figured out the song.”

Their boss blinked a few times, allowing the statement to fully resonate. “They helped you figure out the song?”

Excitedly, Jordin shook her head. “It’s not a solo, it’s a duet!”

Gustavo let out a bout of laughter at her comment, raising his voice a pitch higher in disbelief as he began to point backward toward them. “A duet? A duet with Big Time Rush? That is the most,” He paused to catch himself in front of his new client, “...Greatest idea I’ve ever had.”

Of course… No love for the writers.

At her boss’ command, the girl grabbed five microphones and set up the dance studio for an impromptu recording session. The boys were given plenty of time to learn their parts, and Gustavo had even listened to a bit of her input as he was picking different settings on the soundboard. 

He quickly tracked the piano, along with the assistant on her muted acoustic guitar so the band and the pop star would be able to have a background track as they sang. 

After reading Jordan’s pages over and over again in the well, Roxy had internalized the song - so much so it barely made her think of Dak anymore as she had on her first listen. As the song said, love was dangerous, a message she had unfortunately found out the hard way. But, after a day of being with friends and getting back to work, her heart hurt just a little less than it did yesterday. 

I’m going to be okay, she determined as the song began playing for the five to record vocals to, reaching up to touch the plastic bandage on her cheek. 

Slowly, the low R&B melody filled her headphones in the control room and she watched as the recording process began. Though she was happy to see her friends do their job, it always felt kind of awkward for them to perform a song for the first time. Mostly, the girl had taken to imagining music videos the band could make and putting them in that scenario in her head.

For this song, visions of black and white on a classic late-night talk show sound stage filled her head. Both the band and Jordin would be dressed in vintage suits and a vintage dress with the pop star taking the lead. 

Quickly jotting the idea down in her songbook, she focused on that as the song quickly came to an end. 

A cheer from everyone in the studio lit up the singers’ faces, letting them know they had nailed their initial take. 

“Gustavo, that was awesome!” Jordin cheered, hands still gripping her microphone in excitement 

Her boss nodded, taking his headphones off, “So awesome, in fact, that I’m teaming you up for one more project.”

Gathering everyone back in the studio, he clued them into why a skunk had miraculously appeared in Rocque Records. Apparently, since the ‘90s their boss had been locked in a conflict with another music producer, the owner of Hawk Records. Once Hawk had caught wind that Jordin Sparks had chosen Rocque over him, he sent the skunk in hopes it would convince her to jump ship and pick his record company instead. 

Proposing a quick trip to Hawk Records, skunk included, Gustavo came up with a plan to distract Hawk long enough to place the skunk into his limousine as payback. 

Hawk Records was clear on the other side of town, and it made Roxy incredibly nervous to travel with the skunk, but once they got there their plan was set into motion. 

Handing the assistant her phone, Roxy quickly dialed the number Gustavo had given her. 

“Hawk Records. Hawk speaking.”

“Hello, Mr. Hawk, I’m calling you from the office of Jordin Sparks. Please wait one moment while I get her on the line.”

“Jordin Sparks- as in Jordin Sparks?” The man on the other line didn’t even try and hide his excitement. 

Quickly taking over the phone from the writer, Jordin said, “Yup, that’s me. You were right, Rocque Records stinks. I want to record my song with you instead.”

While the man on the other line continued to speak, she covered the speaker with her hand and made a shooting motion with her hand - meaning it was finally go time. 

The moment Hawk’s silver limousine pulled up in front of the building, the band managed to open the door to the backseat and gently let the skunk go. Once outside of the box, the animal understandably ran as far away from it as possible. Now, Hawk was in for a taste of his own medicine. 

When the doors to the building opened, everyone ducked behind the vehicle as they heard him call out, “Get me to Rocque Records. I beat Gustavo again! Yes!”, as he entered the limo before emitting an evil laugh. 

Pulling away, the car moved a total of 30 feet before the driver slammed on the brakes. The door to the backseat was nearly knocked off its hinges as Hawk let out a guttural scream, holding his hands up to his eyes. 

Guess old Skunky did the tick.

***

The following morning, the band and their assistant got up bright and early to see Jordin off before heading to work. 

Once they had successfully pulled their prank and made it back to the hotel the previous night, Roxy made a beeline for Jo’s apartment - showing up with flowers and a signed copy of Jordin Sparks’ new album Battlefield before explaining everything she had seen was a product of her bad luck. Thankfully, the actress had already had some time to think about what she had said to her friend and profusely apologized for her harsh words. After seeing Roxy get cheated on, she explained it was like a switch had flipped in her brain. Any time she saw Kendall with another girl it freaked her out, but she had never meant for her friend to get caught up in it. 

After a lengthy conversation, the two had finally made up. Not only that, Jo had been meaning to return the mini backpack she had found poolside when she ended up catching the pair on their “picnic”, so Roxy was finally able to reunite with her other precious belongings.

Now, the boys were standing off to the side of the hotel check-in desk talking to Jordin, who had already wrapped the writer in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Good luck with your writing, I’m sure it’ll save more than me one of these days.” The singer gushed, gathering the assistant in another hug she happily returned. Hopefully, they’d cross paths again. 

“Thanks, Jordin,” Roxy replied, handing her a sticky note with her phone number on it. “Call me if you’re ever in another bind - be it writing a song or stuck down a well.”

The two shared a giggle before Jordin turned to face the band, “And you guys, good luck on your album! ‘Cause I could use a really great opening act in concert.”

Reaching out, she pulled Carlos and Logan into a hug as well. Behind her back, the two did their Good Luck Patrol handshake before she moved to hug James. He, of course, ever the dramatic, needed to be physically pried off the singer by his bandmates. 

“And I hope you and Jo work things out,” She said, reaching out to embrace Kendall. 

He assured the singer they’d be fine, but not before Jo walked into the lobby, witnessing their sign of physical affection. With an Ahem! his girlfriend caught his attention before storming off towards the pool. 

“Dude,” Roxy face palmed, “I just smoothed things over for you! Way to make it worse.”

“Wait, here!” 

In an instant, Jordin had pulled a beautiful bouquet of flowers that were sitting in a vase on Bitters’s desk and pushed them into the frontman’s hands. It didn’t take long for him to run after her, assuring her the action was not what it had looked like. 

A loud honk from the parking lot let Jordin know her ride had arrived, and as everyone waved goodbye they were filled with a large sense of satisfaction. 

Today, a song with Jordin Sparks, tomorrow, who knows?

[lurkiestvoid]

it's 3 4 a.m. and I'm hungry and we're perpetually (very) poor so bc I can't help it here is a list of some foods I dearly desperately miss:

- COFFEE.

- almost every fast food. just, hot multi-ingredient satisfying meals acquired in under 10 minutes that require no prep, cooking, or cleanup (quality can vary drastically ofc but idgaf at this point)

- more specifically: giant fucking cheeseburgers, hot and juicy, fully dressed. Taco Bell. and Chinese food. And good pizza that doesn't come from dollar store freezers. And biiig thicc sandwiches from subway or similar

- boneless garlic parmesan chicken wings

- Arby's. Roast beef, curly fries.

- French fries in general

- Zaxby's/Panera salads

- only had it a couple times but chipotle/qdoba burritos or bowls

- restaurants. haven't been out to eat since before the pandemic but just, big complicated filling meals cooked by someone else

- more specifically: warm rolls with honey butter, chicken tenders and fries, enchiladas, chicken fried steak, a good hearty chili, fettuccini alfredo with broccoli and chicken, lasagna, fully loaded potato soup, loaded nachos, a good baked spaghetti and meatballs ...

- fried pickles

- homemade comfort food, like, a full "Sunday dinner" spread. Meatloaf, or pot roast with veggies, mashed potatoes and gravy, baked mac n cheese, sweet cornbread, green beans with bacon, deviled eggs, a giant deluxe salad...

- SALADS. BIG FRESH CRISP SALADS WITH ALL THE TOPPINGS AND VARIETY

- a full breakfast spread. hash browns, pancakes, lots of eggs with onions and peppers, juice, sausages, biscuits and gravy, etc

- orange juice

- a wholeass veggie or fruit tray. mostly the carrots, or cantaloupe/strawberries/apples but give me the whole tray and leave me alone

- my "safe" foods

- banana nut bread 😭

- from-scratch home baked goods, more than just the $1-box-cake-and-$1-frosting every few months. All The Bars, All The Cookies, pies, the decadent brownies

- fucking. CHOCOLATE.

- snacks in general. Just, having them, and the ability to grab a handful between meals if needed or desired

- the delicious but "expensive" (>$5) grocery shit we can't splurge on. there's this amazing cranberry almond chicken salad...

- quiche

- hamburger helper

- polish sausage fried with peppers and onions and sauerkraut

- potato salad

- deli pepperturkey

- non-american cheese

- butterscotch pudding

- chili cheese tater tots

- pizza rolls

- donuts

- granola bars. trail mix

- yogurt with or without granola topping

- really anything that isn't plain rice and beans, bologna/cheese/PB&J sandwiches, ramen, hot dogs, oatmeal, toast, canned mixed veggies, generic boxed mac n cheese, butter noodles, and frozen waffles

- i have to stop now. if u read this far, thanks! pls go indulge in ur favorite foods and take your time to deeply savor them

[cocktailsfairytales]

✩🖤✩ RELEASE BLITZ ✩🖤✩

Christmas Music

Southern Heroes Book 1

By Q. Marlowe

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63891947/

Hosted by DS Book Promotions

𝘼 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩. 𝘼 𝙜𝙪𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.

Amazon | Apple | Kobo | Nook – #99c Limited Time

https://books2read.com/ChristmasMusic

What to expect:

🖤Rockstar

🖤Sweet Romance

🖤Forced proximity

🖤Christmas

🖤Enemies to lovers

🖤Two lost souls

🖤Unwilling partnership

A girl with a broken heart. A guy with a broken family. And a Christmas dream that will bring them together.

Olivia Johns has tried the real world and failed. She had the record contract… and a boyfriend who stole that contract, along with her music.

Now she's heading home for Christmas, escaping the real world and trying to get her feet under her.

______

Connor Wheating knows a thing or two about having his feet knocked out from under him. He was on the verge of getting signed to his first record contract when his dad was diagnosed with cancer.

Now he finds himself home for the holidays… and missing the future he was polishing for himself.

But Christmas doesn't only bring snow and holly. In Arberry, North Carolina, it also brings the Annual Music Festival. The competition: fierce. The reward: a shiny new record contract with one of the biggest labels in the industry.

When Olivia and Connor find themselves in an unwilling partnership, working together—and against each other—for the same prize, the chemistry between them growing by the minute…

Christmas wishes might actually come true.

Two lost souls looking for a way out. A Christmas music contest. And an unwilling partnership that leaves them both longing for something more.

Christmas Music is a sweet small-town Christmas novella that features cowboys, hopeless romance, and a heroine willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, and is the prequel to the Southern Heroes series.

Blogger & Book Influencer Open Signup here: https://forms.gle/ALqTZb2YKcdrSnKw6

About Q. Marlowe:

Q. Marlowe is the alter-ego of bestselling author Quinn Marlowe. She is the same red wine, cheesecake, hash brown and punk rock loving California girl. This version of her simply writes sweeter happily-ever-afters set in charming small-towns you'd love to call home.

Follow Q Online!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3qoxxq9

BookBub: https://bit.ly/3x9iX9Y

Facebook: https://bit.ly/3BpUy2g

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3Qvq2s2

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/qmarloweauthor/

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@quinnmarloweauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/quinnmarlowe

Web: https://quinnmarlowe.com

#NewRelease #ChristmasMusic #smalltownromance #romanticadventure #forbiddenrelationship #forbiddenromance #romancereaders #bookboyfriends #bookrec #bookloversunite #mustread #availablenow #bookish

#quinnmarlowe #dsbookpromotions

@Quinn Marlowe @DS Book Promotions

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

THEY'RE MAKING SWEET HOLIDAY MUSICChristmas Music by Q. Marlowe is back and now available everywhere! Get it here: https://geni.us/ChristmasMusicA girl with a broken heart. A guy with a broken family. And a Christmas dream that will bring them together.

Olivia Johns has tried the real world, and failed. She had the record contract… and a boyfriend who stole that contract, along with her music.

Now she's heading home for Christmas, escaping the real world and trying to get her feet under her. ______

Connor Wheating knows a thing or two about having his feet knocked out from under him. He was on the verge of getting signed to his first record contract when his dad was diagnosed with cancer.

Now he finds himself home for the holidays… and missing the future he was polishing for himself.

But Christmas doesn't only bring snow and holly. In Arberry, North Carolina, it also brings the Annual Music Festival. The competition: fierce. The reward: a shiny new record contract with one of the biggest labels in the industry.

When Olivia and Connor find themselves in an unwilling partnership, working together—and against each other—for the same prize, the chemistry between them growing by the minute…

Christmas wishes might actually come true.

Two lost souls looking for a way out. A Christmas music contest. And an unwilling partnership that leaves them both longing for something more.

Christmas Music is a sweet small-town Christmas novella that features cowboys, hopeless romance, and a heroine willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, and is the prequel to the Southern Heroes series.

About Quinn:

Quinn Marlowe is the bestselling author of the Rossi and Southern Heroes series and a certified California girl. After studying English and film at UCLA, she decided to pursue storytelling full time. She loves red wine, cheesecake, perfect hash browns, really good punk rock, fast cars, autumn, and cooking, but she is most likely to be found spending time with her horses, snuggling her dogs, or taking orders from her small army of cats. She is a professional eye roller with a penchant for swearing like a sailor, and some of her favorite people (her nephews) are convinced she is a spy. She makes her home in San Diego with her loving husband and her prized collections of books and lipstick, neither of which ever fail to lift her spirits when she's feeling down. 

Follow Quinn Online! Amazon: https://amzn.to/3qoxxq9 BookBub: https://bit.ly/3x9iX9Y Facebook: https://bit.ly/3BpUy2g Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3Qvq2s2 Instagram: http://instagram.com/Quinn.Marlowe TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@quinnmarloweauthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/quinnmarlowe Web: https://quinnmarlowe.com 

[nielsbrabants]

ending stoner lifestyle (excerpt from my novella SLUTMANIA)

The lonely stoner seems to free his mind at night but lately I’m just having panic attacks. Wednesday, already stoned and with one more joint to conquer the night, I flush away my stash. The flushing does not work, this is a lie of the entertainment industry, I have to reach my hand down our shared toilet and fish the floating weed out.

Thursday with Seán sitting at his kitchen table, while booking our weekend trip, I get anxious and we order five grams which we split. I do not sleep at all, smoke frantically, my heart beating like a techno track. 

Friday afternoon I rid myself of the weed, my American Spirit tobacco, brown rolling papers and sleek gold tinted grinder by throwing them in a garbage bag and disposing of this downstairs in the container. I find myself on my knees asking God to give me the strength to kick my habit which is serving me in no way anymore. ‘Rid me of this addiction,’ I say over and over again, thinking labeling it as an addiction, permanently shifting the frame of my perception, is an important step towards cleanliness. I download an app called ‘Quit Weed’ which shows me how long the manifold of withdrawal symptoms will last. Basically I need to get through the first week. No one tells you how unchill weed actually is. In the evening I resubscribe to Netflix, wanting a streamlined entertainment experience to distract me from the angst and physical discomfort. 

Oh how hard it is not to go and knock on Miss Iantha’s door and beg for some hash, but I keep on telling myself, twisting and turning on my soaked in cold sweat mattress, I just have to get through this one night. 

At 3 am, aggravated and awake, I open my laptop and end up having a Spotify spiral of recent music. It’s all dark, with techno undertones and lyrics which seem to be written by the algorithm, but the production is impeccable, reflective of our times and I feel as if I am reconnecting somehow. I text some of the songs to Santos, saying, omg I thought no bangers came out in 2021 but I was wronggggg.

The next day, having slept zero hours, on the bus to Poznań, I show Seán the music video of a recent Berlin techno track with lyrics about cum and ego. 

Withdrawls and snow in Poland. I keep thinking ‘what if I die during this weekend,’ then realizing what a ridiculous notion this is. The first evening we go eat pierogi which is being hand made by some Polish ladies in the tiniest restaurant. Feasting on this freshly prepared three euro quality meal, I have to think of the Shock Doctrine and how these people’s economy was raped beyond repair by Harvard and Chicago school Clinton technocrats in the nineties, feeling some vague sense of guilt.

At night, in our shared room, after finally drifting off, I am haunted by extremely vivid nightmares. In one, a freakish figure, wearing a leather trench coat and with a black plastic dog’s head, comes to steal my younger sisters, because I read too much about deep state politics on the internet. In a second one I aggressively spit in my team lead’s face, from up close and I can smell his cheap cologne. Relieved when the alarm goes off. My naked body low key convulsing on the white tiled bathroom floor of the Mercure hotel as I can throw up nothing but vial, embracing the toilet seat with both arms, before breakfast on this snowy Sunday morning, while Seán is doing yoga stretches on the bed. At least I feel as if in a Tom Ford movie. During mass, on my knees in the Neo-Baroque church I cry three times, thank the Lord for getting me this far and receive communion while reflecting on not being baptized.

So yeah, Poland was weird, dreamlike, feverish and strangely transformative. Sunday night I finally sleep and my dreams are less disheveled and Monday morning I feel like a whole new person.

Monday after work, in the East Side Mall, which is on a walking distance from my flat, I surrender to retail therapy. In Bershka and h&m I buy three pair of pants, a shirt, a beige turtleneck, and a pair of knockoff designer boots. It amazes me that each item costs only twenty five euros and I think of the Bangladeshi sweatshop children and in my room I observe myself in the mirror looking fine as hell. Giving up all my principles and being lulled into compliant capitalist bliss actually feels amazing and I cannot understand how I have been denying myself these pleasures for years and no wonder I was feeling so empty and depressed. In the supermarket I buy eggs and bacon for the next morning and for dinner I get myself a Middle Eastern style chicken wrap and for the first time in months I am not hungry at night.

[barbreypilled]

*pigeon noises*

[sunshinesight]

My turn to cook: Kielbasa with hash browns O’Brien, baked beans, and jellied cranberry sauce.

Dice up a green pepper and an onion, add that to a bag of hash browns and bake at 450˚F for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 350˚F and add Kielbasa coins - bake for another 20-30 minutes.

Baked beans courtesy of Bush’s. Cranberry sauce in reasonable condition from the can.

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Eusebeia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes by Dione

Bea by the others

Age- 33 (immortal)

Location- Ioannina, Olympius

Personality- She's a very conservative pious woman who stands true in her values & beliefs. There's nothing more important to her like the reverance, respect, and prayers to the deities of the pantheon. She's single.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of piety, loyalty, duty, & filial respect, her other powers/abilities include being able to manipulate Celestial Bronze, chastity inducement, limited photokinesis, cleanliness inducement, and being able to manipulate the feeling of loyalty in a person & others.

Bea lives in a recently refurbished stone castle in the state of Ioannina. All of the doors are built out of Celestial Bronze. Inside, there's an abundance of silk curtains with the walls painted in cool neutral shades of beige, cream, eggshell, taupe, and powder blue. The interior design is very minimalist & contemporary with many marble, ivory, and stone temple statuettes serve as decorations. Bea has pets like a few cats & dogs as well as a pegasus- a boy named Blanco. He's usually her mode of transportation.

She rarely drinks alcohol though she will indulge herself with a single glass of champagne or white wine every once in a while. Go to drinks for her include coconut water, fruit infused sparkling water, mango juice, & batido de trigo. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean is a large iced green tea and an olympian sized iced vanilla chai tea latte.

Bea's morning routine includes a jog around her neighborhood, a session of tai chi, followed by a steaming hot shower.

She dresses in a conservative fashion style (neutral colors, clothing not too tight, short, or low-cut). She's a fan of minimalist jewelry and soft & subtle make-up. Bea doesn't like high heels for many reasons, the main one being it's impracticality. She won't go higher than kitten heels & she's fond of stylish flats.

Breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. Many of the dishes she makes include scrambled eggs (added with scallions, tomatoes, and onions), ladenia, rizogalo, and a pork-plantain hash (added with spicy sausages).

She goes to church quite often and is a big donator!

Bea dislikes media (art, books, music, television, and movies) that contain an overabundance of explicit material- like coarse language, nudity, & sexual content).

She keeps her nails short, neat, and manicured. She's not opposed to wearing polish, but only in soft colors. She is a fan of Olmorfia's nail polish with her favorite shades being "glacier rose" (a light shimmery iridescent pink), "whipped cashmere" (a soft baby pink), "infinite sun-ner" (a caramel brown), and "mined over matter" (an earthy creamy mauve).

Her favorite dessert is the angel's food cake from Hollyhock's Bakery. She also likes the creme brulee from Aphrodite's patisserie and the frozen vanilla custard from The Frozen Spoon. Bea's also known in the pantheon for her sweet & delicious cucurucho!

Her main job/responsibility is overseeing the construction of all the temples built in the honor of the gods in the pantheon. She also oversees the construction of the country's churches. A notable achievement for Bea was coming up with the layout for Hera's temple that was to be built in Samos. The design included slimmer white columns garlanded with pomegranates & flowers with the walls being carved with images of one of her divine symbols- the peacock. For other work, she writes for O Dianooumenos and Vital Essence magazine. Bea also models for/endorses Glory's Crown (loves the argan oil/biotin repair & restore smoothing shampoo and conditioner), Euryphaessa, White Lily Gallery, Sunshine Radiance (loves the vitamin c brightening peel), Cleanstream, & LipCalm. She also works closely with The Litae.

Bea's personal business is her charity organization called The Pietas Foundation. Other works currently in development is a dating app specifically catered towards celibate & conservative folks with marriage being the goal and a possible tv network focused on faith based, conservative, & family oriented content.

She likes the medianoche sandwich (lightly toasted) from The Bread Box.

A favorite snack of hers are lightly salted plantain chips!

She holds fast in her views and opinions (believing that sex should be between a married couple, heteronormativity, daily prayers & offerings to the gods, etc...). Bea believes in the conservative pious lifestyle with traditional family values. She doesn't disrespect others with "differing lifestyles" & she's always open to having discussions with people who don't share her views.

Her best friend in the entire pantheon is Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith). They call each other "sister" and she supported Pistis during the whole drama involving her sister's wedding. Bea's also friends with Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Aeschyne (goddess of modesty & honor), Themis (Titaness of justice), Eváeros (goddess of air & the zodiacs), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity) Praxidike (goddess of judicial punishment), Soteria (goddess of safety), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), Promylaia, Eudaimonia (goddess of happiness), Elpis (goddess of hope), & Peitharchia (goddess of obedience & discipline). She's also suprisingly friends with the twins Penia (goddess of poverty) and Ptocheia (goddess of beggary).

She dislikes, but won't openly disrespect Kakia (goddess of vice & moral wrongdoing), Hybris (goddess of insolence, hubris, & reckless pride), Dione, Philotes (goddess of sex, friendship, & affection), and especially Dyssebeia (goddess of ungodliness & impiety)- among others.

A birthday gift from Pistis was a gorgeous jeweled hair clip from Diamond Ave. It cost 2,000 drachmas!

She's celibate (also a virgin) and plans to stay that way until she falls in love and gets married. Bea has her whole wedding planned in her journal! In her journal she also wrote about a time she was tempted to break her promise when she was propositioned by Priapus (god of fertility, vegetable gardens, livestock, sexuality, & masculinity).

In her free time Bea enjoys jogging, swimming, reading (is a fan of literary fiction), knitting, sewing, cooking, yoga, sailing (owns a sailboat), tennis, and pottery.

Some of her favorite dishes include platillo moros y cristiano with bistec de palomolla, ropa vieja, moussaka, dakos, and pastitsio.

"Each step following a vice ultimately leads to damnation."

[whoacanada]

(Hey, look! That Zimbits AU where Jack goes into PR after retiring from the NHL and NHL!Bitty comes looking for advice about coming out!)

“Your ten-o-clock, remember?” April gestures to the conference room with her pen. “The cutie the Hurricanes coughed up for Pride Night outreach? He’s here.”

Jack tugs down the blinds with a cautious finger and zeroes in on the handsome blonde sitting awkwardly at one end of their large conference table, conspicuously alone. “There’s always suits for outreach talks,” Jack hazards, looking back at his receptionist over his shoulder. “They never send players alone.”

“It’s what we’ve got on the books. Eric Bittle, Carolina Hurricanes. No plus ones.” April whispers, checking her calendar. “Well? Get in there, Boss; and buckle up, he’s got an accent.”

.

Eric Bittle looks up, his dark brown eyes wide and unfairly attractive as Jack extends his hand, Bittle rising to take it. Everything about Bittle is polished and perfected; suit tailored, hair coiffed so neatly Jack would posit he’d gone in to have it trimmed before he’d arrived this morning. He’s pulled together so tightly, in fact, that Jack can’t find any loose threads, and if he remembers his time in The Show correctly, no loose threads means Mr. Bittle’s probably hiding something.

“Eric? I’m Jack Zimmermann. It’s great to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Bittle chuckles, and Jack’s heart would skip a beat if he wasn’t so certain there’s a huge piece of context still missing from this meeting. “It’s still very nice to meet you in person.”

“So, tell me about Pride Night,” Jack pops the button on his suit jacket and settles down across the table. “What, exactly are the ‘Canes thinking about doing that involves you coming to see us?”

Bittle bites his lip briefly, gaze darting off before coming back to settle on Jack, and Jack is reminded of so many media training sessions it’s like he’s back in Vegas again.

“I may have, ah, fudged the reason for my visit a bit. Yes, we have Pride Night coming up, yes I’m the designated sacrifice, but I’m more here on personal business.”

Jack eases the tip of his pen from the legal pad, recognizing an off-the-record admission is coming. “How personal?” He questions. “Are we talking potential legal trouble or just potential social trouble? Or no trouble at all.”

“I’m gay.” Bittle says plainly. “Whatever trouble that may be. My team knows it, my family knows it, and I want to come out — I need to come out — and I can’t mess it up.”

Jack is grateful for his game face, reaching for the coffee carafe near him to couch his surprise and no small measure of his excitement. “Oh, you mean like I did?” Jack jokes, earning a soft smile.

“No active player has come out since you retired,” Eric skirts Jack’s comment, taking the mug before gingerly amending, “Not voluntarily, at least. I’d like to break that streak. Given your experience, and what you do now, it seemed like the smart move to come speak with you.”

“Well, I’ll be the first to admit my behavior didn’t lend itself to much confidence with the public at large, but that’s why I’m where I am today. Making sure people like you can learn from my mistakes.”

“And you made a lot of mistakes,” Bittle murmurs, taking the mug from Jack gingerly, glances back out the window as he takes a sip, and Jack fights a smile when he realizes what’s happening.

“Are you . . . chirping me?”

“Makes me less nervous,” Bittle admits, apologetic. “But that was rude, I’m sorry.”

Bittle’s eyes are bright. His smile is bright. Everything about him is warm, inviting. Jack might be biased, though, he’s always had a soft spot for compact blondes.

“Don’t apologize.” Jack leans back in his chair, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. “You might be the only one in the whole league right now that doesn’t need to apologize.”

“I think I need to have a partner,” Eric clears his throat. “I can’t come out without a reason, otherwise what’s the point.”

“That answers one of my first questions, gives us a place to start. Yes, a boyfriend gets you points, but not in the way you’re thinking. If you come out with a guy on your arm, the story becomes maintaining the relationship, not that you have one or that you are ‘out’ at all. The scandal is the relationship falling apart, or you flirting with a fan when you have your partner at home, that kind of drama.”

“And if I just say, ‘hello, I am a homosexual’ people will think I’m promiscuous, or just trying to get laid.”

“Maybe. Are you?”

Bittle’s expression turns indignant, lips twisting into a judgmental frown that reminds Jack of his grandmother before a scolding.

“What kind of question is that? Yes, of course, but they don’t need to know that. But that doesn’t — You know, you gave me hope?”

Jack doesn’t quite startle, he’s well beyond the jumpyness of his youth, but he has no clue where this conversation is about to go.

“When you came out, when you were drafted, your cup season . . . every time you succeeded, beat the odds, it made me think, maybe, I could do it, too. I could be a professional athlete, I could play hockey, and it didn’t matter who I wanted to be with.”

Jack knows there’s a ‘but’ coming, he can feel it; so he gets there first.

“But . . . then I overdosed.”

“Then you retired.” Eric corrects. “Two years before I signed with Carolina, and you just gave up. I was going to be the first out NCAA men’s hockey captain, you ‘retired’ in scandal, and suddenly the trustees didn’t want the attention. Back to square one.”

“Eric, I wasn’t well.” Jack defends gently, knowing Bittle isn’t trying to be cruel.

“You let them get to you! You were supposed to be untouchable. I needed you to be untouchable.”

“Eric.”

“I’m sorry,” Bittle looks down at his hands, the table, anywhere but Jack. “I genuinely didn’t intend for any of this to come up so quickly, you’ve been nothing but charming and here I am dumping all my baggage on you like we’ve been talking for years . . . ”

“It’s actually alright. I’ve made peace with what happened to me, what I put myself through, and I wasn’t kidding that I’m very intent on making sure I can help others avoid the same pitfalls. So, what do you need from me right now?” Jack asks, genuinely curious. “An apology? A hug? You wouldn’t be the first to ask.”

“I want . . .” Bittle huffs, closing his eyes and evening his breathing. “I want dinner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve loved the idea of you since I was sixteen, but now I actually need your advice on how to do this without losing my mind, and I can’t plan my future from a boardroom, so, I want you to take me to dinner. I want to hash this out like two normal, well functioning adult men. Also, maybe alcohol.”

“Speak for yourself on the well-functioning part,” Jack chirps himself, “but I think dinner can be arranged. I assure you, you’ll have my full support moving forward. The firm’s, as well.”

Bittle’s lips quirk, holding Jack’s gaze. He caught the slip, and now there’s nothing to do but own it. They lapse into a gentle silence. Jack sipping his coffee, Bittle doing the same. Jack isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, the puck is at the end of his stick. He flashes a smile. Bittle blushes.

“So,” Jack begins. “Do you like Burmese?”

____

They part ways and April’s eyes are huge with suspicion. “Should we discuss fees?” she asks. “Do we need to start billing? Sounds like it went well.”

“Nah, we’ll talk later about payment,” Jack replies, folding his jacket over his arm, hiding the slip of paper with Bittle’s personal number and trying not to stare as the forward walks away. “I have a strong feeling I might be handling this pro bono.”

[gayaristocrat]

I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

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Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this