#stuff like that makes me wonder slightly what things like weed or being drunk would do to my creative process

[d-criss-news]

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

[restapesta]

Fucking Milkovich

words: 5.5k

Five times Ian pulled Mickey away from starting a fight and the one time the roles were reversed.

1. THE STORE

The old lady had been side-eyeing them since they accidentally bumped into her at the wine aisle, Mickey backing into her as he and Ian led a loud, heated discussion about whether or not the Rose that was in Ian's hand was the same one from the gay party they had attended a couple of days before.

Ian was dead set on saying that it was the same bottle of pink wine and that even if it wasn't, it probably tasted the same, all the while Mickey was dead set on proving to Ian that the bottle was most certainly not the same one and that they should crack it open and try it even if they were still in the middle of the supermarket. They were bickering back and forth, not paying much attention to their surroundings, and Mick had backed away from the rack of wines, unceremoniously colliding with the gray-haired lady who was pushing a cart filled to the brim with groceries. It was a miracle the items hadn't toppled out, considering there was a mountain of them. Ian wondered how steadily the lady must've been pushing the cart, and how close his husband had come from knocking it all down.

Mickey had muttered a quick sorry and Ian had shot the lady an apologetic look when she just stared at Mickey and the tattoos that covered his hands and arm, blatantly revealed by his short-sleeved t-shirt. Ian had told him he looked hot in it that morning, so Mickey had kept the jacket off, appeasing his husband's gaze. He felt a bit cold but Ian's eyes following unapologetically as his arms flexed made it all worth it.

Ian gestured for Mickey to leave the aisle with his eyes, accompanied by a sharp tilt of his head -- and they continued their way to the other racks of food and drinks, Ian placing the bottle of wine in their own basket. They weren't there for a full-on grocery run. They were in Costco purely because their snacks and beer needed stocking up, and they needed some shit for the mac-and-cheese Mickey had been craving. Ian had lost a bet while they were at work today so he promised to make him some -- a deed Mickey was quite happy about.

They bumped into the lady once more at the cash register. There were some people six feet in front of them (considering they kept their distance), unloading their stuff, and the woman was mere inches behind them, as if she was waiting in line with the couple, not behind them, pressed close. Mickey shot her a glance and when he noticed her scowl, he gave her a slight smile that Ian knew was obviously not a smile, but rather a 'hello lady I crashed into, why are you standing so close, back away from me and my tall ginger before I tell you to back the fuck away'  threat. He had a feeling the lady caught on to what Ian did, but chose not to comply, considering how her scowl deepened and how she seemed to press impossibly closer.

Mickey and Ian shared a look but kept their mouths shut, preparing to unload their shit onto the moving thingy -- but then the old bat spoke.

"Least you could do is let me cut the line." She was looking straight at Mickey, and to Ian,  judging by the look on his husband's face, it seemed as if he was considering it. But when his gaze swept over the pile in her cart -- the one almost spilling over -- he simply shrugged, "No. I couldn't."

Mickey kept unloading the few items they did have, and Ian followed his lead, but the lady was persistent. "You are very unkind."

Mickey simply muttered an 'uh-uh' as he grabbed the money out of his jacket.

"You should be ashamed."

Mickey rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb and Ian knew that signaled danger, so he pushed him lightly with his shoulder, gesturing for him to pay. Mickey obliged begrudgingly, choosing to ignore the bitch. The cashier was just finishing placing their shit into the plastic bag, handing it to Ian, also handing Mickey back the change. They were going to leave the place unscathed.

Too bad the bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You should put a leash on him."

Before Mickey had a chance to jump her and gauge her eyes out, Ian wrapped his hands around his torso and pushed him towards the door of the store, whispering 'calm the fuck down' to him curtly, the grocery bag in his hand making it harder to sustain his husband. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and he doubted it would be the last. It was somewhat of a struggle but Ian managed. He also tried to ignore the look of pure horror on the grandma's face.

When he was finally able to get Mickey through the door -- while the guy spewed graphic insults at the hag -- he let go, making sure to keep him a safe distance away from the store.

"What the fuck is it with old bitches being so fucking rude?" Mickey muttered loudly, grabbing the bag out of Ian's hand and pulling out the Rose. He opened the bottle easily and took a long gulp, emptying a third of the bottle with it. His face scrunched up immediately. "I fucking told you it wasn't the same one!"

Ian just shook his head.

Fucking Milkovich.

2. THE JOB

The day had been pretty slow. They had their regular cash pick-ups and deliveries, and they had finished most of them, considering how the day was nearing its end. Both Ian and Mickey were ready to get back home and crash on the couch, maybe down a beer or two, and especially take off the uniforms that had truly made them sweat today. Spring was coming, and fuck if Ian wasn't ready for the onslaught of discomfort the camo brought on with it. Mickey didn't look like he minded it much, but Mickey was Mickey, so it wasn't a surprise. Ian, on the other hand, was already considering alternatives.

They were delivering their last bags of weed, taking a long ass drive to fucking HerbalCare, knowing it would take them a while to get back home too -- but the Northsiders that owned the place were kind of their regulars, so they were used to it.

Both Ian and Mickey expected the usual chick to show up and pick up the marijuana when they eventually got to the place -- the one with the curly red hair and a sassy attitude -- but instead, an unknown guy did with a large-ass man following shortly behind.

The first guy looked like any other -- casual clothing, friendly face, easy demeanor -- unlike -- what Ian supposed was -- his bodyguard. He looked like a capo with his broad shoulders, tight black shirt, tattoos littering his body, head cleanly shaved. Ian glanced reluctantly at his own thug, mentally praying Mickey had a bullet that could take down the motherfuckers in front of them if necessary.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" The normal-looking one spoke.

Mickey nodded, also slightly taken aback, but not letting it show. "We have a delivery for HerbalCare." He glanced at Ian. "For Dina? Wasn't it?"

Ian nodded slowly, assessing the situation.

"I'll take it from here." The guy responded, eyeing Mickey up and down. "Dina is currently busy at the moment." Mickey didn't seem too happy with the asshat's statement. Ian wasn't either, naturally. The man had an odd vibe to him -- he seemed on edge despite his cool facade, and Ian saw straight through it. He glanced at Mickey who seemed to have been noticing the same thing. They were not handing shit over to these assholes. There's a certain trust you had to earn before claiming a couple of thousand dollars worth of weed from Gallavich Security.

"How 'bout I just speak to Dina, yeah?" Mickey's voice was calm and eery -- he was in boss mode. The mode that even scared Ian, sometimes. It was dangerous territory these guys were treading on if Mickey had resorted to going into the mode only slightly less scary than Milkovich thug mode.

The dude, still nameless, smiled without humor. "Why don't you just give me the weed, huh?"

Mickey pulled out his gun swiftly, pointing it straight at the guy's head. The shock on his face only lasted for a moment before it turned into a smirk. The capo next to him pulled out his own, only slightly smaller than Mickey's, pointing it at Mickey's head.

Well, shit.

Ian pulled out the gun from his waistband, feeling slightly worried for his and his husband's safety, pointing it at the tall-ass man. It was like a scene from a movie. A poor, shitty-quality one.

"How about we all just put down our guns and we'll come back when Dina gets here?" Ian's voice was smooth and the silence hung lowly over them for a couple of moments. Ian was never a gun sort of guy, but rather a talk-it-out one.

They eventually all put down their guns, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay, then. Guess we'll be seeing you." The guy muttered as he turned his back to Ian and Mickey, capo following behind, shooting them a glare. Their movements were slow and deliberate, but eventually, when they were a safe distance away, the capo turned around and shot them the middle finger.

Ian was just barely in time to stop Mickey before he leaped out to kill the motherfucker.

He wrapped his arms around him like a boa constrictor, attempting to stop him from committing homicide. As always, it took a while.

Mickey growled after a minute or two, finally calming down, glaring at the spot the asshole thieves were a few moments before. "Oh, you fucking will be seeing me. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares, you motherfuckers."

Ian barely contained himself from rolling his eyes.

Fucking Milkovich.

3. THE ALIBI

Ian had been nursing a beer for the past hour while his worse half had already downed three. Mickey was on his fourth glass of Budweiser, slightly tipsy, but not quite drunk just yet as he and Ian enjoyed their night out, something one might even call a date (correction: something only Ian would call a date).

They had gone out for chicken wings, played some pool after dinner -- even took a fucking stroll out -- and now, they were chilling at the Alibi Room, enjoying each other's companies, talking about anything and everything, laughing at Kevin's jokes and making fun of Kermit and Tommy, the regular drunks of the Southside.

It was a slow day today, their job weighing a little extra heavy on their shoulders, but the night was swift, in contrast. In fact, they were having a really good time, letting go of all of the fucked-up things happening in their lives right now, the burden coming off of their shoulders, even for a little while. And Ian was especially looking forward to the sex that was bound to follow when they got back home. Hell, if Mickey continues drinking the beers at this pace, maybe even in the bathroom -- it truly only depended on the level of horniness the drunken state would illicit.

They were still enjoying their alcohol and horniness when Kermit had decided to remind everyone of a comment. Ian guessed it wasn't supposed to be that big of a deal. Both Ian and Mickey had dealt with far worse from people far shittier than Tommy and Kermit. But the comment  --  the one about how Tommy was against their wedding, saying it was a man-woman thing -- didn't really sit well with either of them. Ian had no idea how the topic even came up, and the whole 'kind of drunk and talk-y' Mickey wasn't helping the case, but the words most certainly had an undesired effect on the couple.

Mickey had stilled immediately.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Homophobes were all around them, and they knew that Tommy was as gay and as homophobic as any of them, and Mickey would probably ignore the comment had he not been this content with the night he was having.

Here he was with Ian, having a great time, enjoying his life, his marriage, and over-all his husband, and this asshole was going to ruin it with this comment. This stupid, meaningless comment.

Neither Ian nor Mickey lived in a fantasy -- the one where everyone was supportive of the gays and where love was simply love, no matter if it was between a male and a female, or a male and a male -- but sometimes, they forgot what world they actually lived in and in those moments they were at their most vulnerable to these sort of remarks. They cut them deep, Mickey especially.

He was so happy with Ian, so happy with his marriage, the life they shared, that the outside world rarely even mattered. But when he heard someone saying how they shouldn't have gotten married -- shouldn't have been enjoying their love and relationship, shouldn't be where they are now -- Mickey got pissed.

"Oh yeah, Tommy? Man-woman thing?" Mickey's voice was unnervingly steady.

Kevin eyed Kermit, silently conveying the question, "why the fuck would you say that". Kermit shrugged but Mickey only had eyes for dear old Tom. He was watching him like prey.

Tommy gulped, not as afraid of Mickey as he used to be, but definitely not one-hundred percent safe around him either. Everybody knew Mickey protected himself and his family -- Ian and the Gallaghers -- only. Everyone else could just go fuck themselves. Tommy fell into the latter group.

"That's just the way I've been taught. Y'all are good, enjoy your marriage." He attempted to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself but it wasn't really working. The asshole had made it too deep and had fallen into it headfirst.

"Oh, I'm so fucking happy I have your approval." Mickey bit back.

"Oh, no," Ian muttered lowly. "Mick."

"You should be happy I don't have a gun on me now. Now, while I'm on a date with my husband." He annunciated the words slowly, making sure Tommy understood and heard them very well and remembered them for good. Ian's heart fluttered at the mention of the word date, but he reeled it back in for now. He could enjoy it later when Mickey wasn't on the verge of murdering someone.

"Hey man, how 'bout you just calm down?"

Tommy really wanted to die today.

Ian was pushing Mickey out of the bar before he strangled the man with his bare hands. Mickey cursed as they were leaving, resisting his husband as he attempted to drag him out. Ian barely got them through the door, and when he did, Mickey tried hard to go back in.

Ian hissed at him to stop. Eventually, Mickey did.

"I see him one more time, I'm killing him, understood?" Mickey was baring his teeth at the bar as if Tommy could see him. "Him and his counterpart."

Ian closed his eyes briefly.

Fucking Milkovich.

4. THE BLEACHERS

It had always been their spot. From the beginning, it was a place for Ian and Mickey to run away to, not just to hook up, but to escape their lives and the turmoils of their families, each fucked up in its own fucked up way. It was easy for them to just disappear for a while, fucking against the fence, shot-gunning beer with no one to reprimand them for when they left the cans on the stadium, the world completely oblivious that it was the odd duo. Not just Mickey Milkovich, the infamous Southside thug, and not just Ian Gallagher, the skinny army ginger -- but both Ian and Mickey, a pairing no one saw coming, not from a million light-years away.

It was easier back then, sure, but now, it was better. They used to just fuck underneath the bleachers, making it nothing more than a hook-up spot, barely touching after sex, drinking beer like just a couple of friends, not like they were in between rounds, Ian aching for more, Mickey denying him access to it. Ian knew Mickey wouldn't even admit they were friends back then.

But then again, it was different then than it was now.

Now the bleachers were their spot. Not just a fuck spot like it used to be. No -- it was a hangout spot. They didn't have their own place yet -- that was still a work in progress -- and when the Gallagher house became too loud and too messy for them to just enjoy their night, outside of the confines of their room, they went to the bleachers.

It wasn't a regular occurrence, more like a once-a-month sort of thing, but it still felt great and rejuvenating -- it felt like them. A space in the dark where they could just talk and drink and mess around and make out in, unapologetically relieved of the burden on their shoulders, whatever it may be.

Tonight was a night like that, a night where all they wanted and needed to do was escape -- Terry's death was still weighing heavy on Mickey's soul, for reasons Mickey and Ian both had yet to uncover, and the house was brimming with too many Gallaghers with too many opinions and observations. They needed a break.

The spot under the bleachers was supposed to be reserved for them as always, and they had brought along a six-pack of beer as well, deciding to just get drunk, even if they still had to get to work the next morning. It would be a good ending to a shitty week.

But the asshole kids sitting at their spot weren't gonna let that play out.

Ian and Mickey were aware that they were grown-ass men, but it was ten pm and these children had no right to even be near the bleachers let alone smoking and drinking underneath them. They were far from teens and they reminded Ian of himself and Lip when they were mere eleven-year-olds trying to figure the messed-up world out.

Mickey didn't really see it that way. He was clearly just annoyed.

"Beat it." He said in a curt voice, flicking his wrist to point to the imaginary exit. Ian followed suit reluctantly, only after trying to convince Mickey to just let them have at it and go to the dugouts instead.

"No Ian, we came here because this is our spot and these little fuckers need to go." Mickey had responded.

Ian was aware his husband had issues.

He was used to it.

The kids laughed, the three voices laughing merging, sounding more like a pack of hyenas. "Watcha' gonna do about it, grandpa?"

Mickey had a very shitty couple of days.

Mickey was not a well-tempered person.

Mickey was on the verge of killing something.

These kids were the catalyst.

When Mickey took a swift step towards them, Ian was once again -- how many times was it, now? -- holding him back. The kids scattered around, scared shitless of the thug. They were gone in the blink of an eye.

Ian felt sorry for them, but he was happy that, at least, Mickey didn't dump their tiny bodies in the river. Not that Mickey would've actually done that.

Ian hoped.

"I was one second from threatening to eat them for lunch," Mickey grumbled. He then pointed at the free spot. "At least they're gone. Gimme that beer, I wanna have some good drunk sex."

He made a gesture with his fingers and smiled as if nothing had happened. Wasn't Ian supposed to be the crazy one?

Fucking Milkovich.

5.  THE GALLAGHER HOUSE

Debbie Gallagher was extremely annoying nine times out of ten. Ian Gallagher knew it. Mickey Milkovich knew. The entire Gallagher clan knew it. But today, she seemed especially bitchy.

It was a Friday night -- usually reserved for a good home-cooked meal, chilling on the couch, watching TV,  and just having a family night altogether. Even Lip and Tami were in the house on Fridays, bringing Fred along to play with Franny and Liam (who would more-so look after them than play with them).

That's how the nights usually went.

But tonight, Debbie the Brat had every intention of fucking it up.

She sauntered into the house, bitchiness oozing from her pores, head held high even though it should have been bowed down in shame. She was drunk off her rocks, and she was dragging Franny along with her.

"Hi, assholes." She greeted the family in the kitchen, letting go of Franny's hand, pulling her sunglasses off to reveal blood-shot eyes. God knows where the hell she had been today. All Ian knew was that she left the house sober with Franny and was now completely drunk, if not high, the little girl still trailing behind.

"Wash your hands, Fran," Liam instructed, eyeing Debbie up and down. She seemed even more fucked up than usual in his eyes.

She plopped herself down on the closest free chair which happened to be across Mickey. It was quiet for a few moments, everyone waiting for something to happen. Debbie was an unpredictable drunk, something they were only lately discovering.

It seemed like Debbie had woken up today and chosen violence.

She looked straight into Mickey's eyes. "Your cousin is a cunt."

Mickey raised an eyebrow while the other Gallaghers observing the exchange. Ian was sat next to him. He put his utensils down, not sure how this exchange was going to unravel, also pulling Mickey's knife out of reach, in a way he hoped was inconspicuous.

Just in case.

"She is a self-absorbed cunt who has no business in this house anymore." Deborah continued as if someone gave a shit. Mickey especially.

He shrugged. "Last I'd seen her was the morning after you guys broke up. I couldn't give less of a shit about whether or not she's with you or not with you. For fuck's sake, the break-up happened a long-ass time ago, get over it." Mickey looked down at his plate, continuing to eat his dinner, clearly signifying the conversation was over. He glanced at Ian when he couldn't find his knife.

Instead of moving on, Debbie grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it at him.

Mickey stilled.

Carl elbowed her hard but she paid no attention to the warning. She was having a staring contest with Mickey Milkovich. One she would eventually lose.

"Back the fuck off, Debbie," Ian warned himself.

She switched her gaze from Mickey to Ian. Her gaze was murderous. "Or what, Ian? You'll try and kill me with a bat?"

Collective silence fell over the table. Noone seemed to be breathing. All eyes switched to Ian, gauging his reaction, not believing the words that had left Debbie's mouth, but even warier of the ones that were bound to leave Ian's.

Ian had other things occupying his mind, though, and one of those things was his husband who was probably a second away from killing his sister-in-law.

"You bitch." Ian held Mickey down by his shoulders as he attempted to climb over the table and tackle her to the floor. "You and your condescending cunt can fuck off."

"Mickey. Come on." Ian pushed him out of the chair and shoved him lightly, indicating for him to go upstairs.

"No, Ian. She needs to be set fucking straight, or else you'll have a new Frank on your hands. This bitch." He fought against him as Debbie just sat still.

"Mickey." Ian shoved him towards the stairs, afraid he would have to explain to the cops how his husband murdered his sister if Mickey didn't leave the room, immediately. Mickey noticed Ian's serious expression, and slowly climbed up, all the while muttering to Debbie to go fuck herself.

Ian glanced at Debbie from where he stood.

"What?" She asked, innocently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Debbie snorted. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings. Not like it wasn't true."

"I couldn't give less of a shit whether or not you think I'm crazy. You come in here and talk to Mickey like that again, I will be using a bat. Only then you'll see how crazy I can get." Ian was dead serious.

It was the first time since she came in that her eyes truly widened in fear.

He backed away upstairs slowly.

The rest of the Gallaghers were silent for a moment before they all collectively shot Debbie a dirty look, soon erupting in chatter, as if nothing had happened.

It had been merely a few seconds before Ian had entered their room, when Mickey finally started his rant, talking shit about Debbie, defending Ian being at the core of it all.

He had a lot to say, and Ian was going to listen to it all, like the supportive husband he was, always taking Mick's side.

As he listened to Mickey rant about Debbie, he thought about what he had said to her. It was true -- every single word that had left his mouth. He hoped she and the rest of them -- no matter who it was -- understood.

Mickey was more important to him than anyone else in this world, even his sister. He was Ian's family, his next of kin, the one Ian trusted and loved the most. When push comes to shove, he will chose him, no matter what. He will always choose his husband, the love of his life, his worse half.

God, he was soft.

Fucking Milkovich.

+1 THE STORE, THE JOB, THE ALIBI, THE BLEACHERS, THE GALLAGHERS

"You really keep me from killing people, man. Feel like I should thank you."

Mickey had muttered that lowly in the dark, his head resting on Ian's chest, both of them naked, enjoying their post-sex bliss. It was then when they were at their most open, letting out emotions and feelings that usually didn't seep into the mundane day.

Ian ran his fingers along Mickey's bare back, enjoying how Mickey shivered against them. "You do the same thing." He answered simply.

Mickey raised his head slightly to look at his husband. "No, I don't. I've never had to physically pull you away from stabbing or strangling someone."

"You do realize I usually get as pissed off as you do at these things."

"These things?"

Ian rolled his eyes in the dark. "C'mon Mick. You really think I'm okay with an old lady calling you rude and ignorant and judging you like you're nothing but a street rat. Or some assholes flipping us off after trying to steal our weed?" He adjusted his arm so it rested over Mickey's shoulder, Mickey's cheek pressed into his peck. "You think I don't get mad when Tommy talks about how we shouldn't have gotten married because we're men? Or how Debbie had the audacity to talk to you like that, in front of me."

"You never react to it, though. That's why I don't pull you away from starting shit. You kind of just stay calm." Mickey responded to Ian's short monologue.

Ian chuckled. "Mick. If I wasn't so busy pulling you away, I'd probably be the one murdering them all."

This time Mickey raised his head to fully look at Ian. They adjusted their positions so it was easier to keep each other's gaze.

"I'm serious," Ian responded to Mickey's expression of disbelief.

Ian was completely and utterly serious. That shit happened a lot.

In fact, had Ian not been so busy pushing Mickey out of the store, the plastic bag filled with shit they needed for dinner and the expensive -- but probably not correct -- Rosè in one of his hands, making sure his husband didn't go to prison for stabbing the geriatric bitch, he would have gotten really fucking pissed and probably have gone off at the grandma himself.

If Mickey didn't attempt to go after the fucking thieves, like the sociopath he was, Ian would've probably pulled out his gun and pointed it at the men's fucking back. Maybe he would've even tried emptying the clip.

Mickey trying to strangle Tommy was good enough of a distraction for Ian not to beat the asshole up himself. How fucking dare he talk about marriage like that, the drunk bitch. Ian would've been a second away from hurling himself at Tommy and beating the shit out of him -- but fuck it if Ian was gonna let Mickey get arrested for aggravated assault and risk his parole.

The kids at the bleachers didn't bother him. He knew Mickey had a soft spot for kids himself, so it was more of a hissy fit than a homicidal fit.

Debbie was the one that truly made his blood boil.

"You know," Ian began. "I would've probably signed a death warrant on Debbie and mine's relationship that night if you weren't there."

"How so?" Mickey was caressing Ian's cheek with his thumb, giving him the biggest case of heart-eyes. Ian didn't doubt that was how he was looking at Mickey himself.

"When she was saying that shit, all I could think of was making sure you didn't kill her. I barely registered what the fuck she was saying. I was trying to keep you from flipping the table and making Franny an orphan." Mickey rolled his eyes but kept silent. He knew there was truth in Ian's words. "But, if you weren't there. If Debbie had just started talking about me and the whole bipolar thing and I didn't have you to keep me from actually letting the words sink in..." He drifted off, not knowing how he would've reacted. The words would have probably cut him deep.

Shifting closer, Mickey pressed his palm against Ian's cheek. "Do we need to talk about how you should under no circumstance listen to your bitch of a sister? What happened all those years ago happened while you were manic and off your meds. Her using that as a comeback in an argument is low and a fucking betrayal. Right now, you are the healthiest you've been since your diagnosis and you shouldn't let her get in your head. Hell, if I have to, I'll fucking try and murder anyone to stop the words from -- what did you say -- sinking in?" Ian laughed wetly, feeling himself get emotional over Mickey's little speech.

"You're amazing, Ian." He finished. "I'm proud of you."

Ian pulled Mickey's body close, making their naked bodies press flush against each other. Their noses touched as Ian took a moment to appreciate what the universe had given him. The soft lines of Mickey's face, the blemishes, and the tiny scars -- the eyebrows Ian had joked were iconic to him -- everything that made Mickey Milkovich his Mickey.

A kid forged in hate and homophobia, morphed by the Southside into a short-tempered thug, capable of murder in the blink of an eye if you so much as looked at him wrong. A Milkovich taught to care for nobody but family, to stay loyal to them and never snitch, but also taught to put a bullet in their fucking heads if betrayed. A hard-ass and a thief, ready to shamelessly steal from any store of his choosing, barely giving a shit whether it lands him in juvie or not.

A man capable of so much love. A man who took care of Ian when he was at his worst, made sure to keep him safe and protected. The man who came out for him in front of his worst nightmare, all so he could keep Ian, even if he was nothing but a mess kept together by unawareness. A man capable of murder for Ian. A man capable of running away with Ian. A man capable of going back to prison for Ian. A man who loved Ian, and would always try to keep him safe.

"You done staring?" Mickey smirked at him.

Ian smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I'll ever be." He then added, quietly, "I'm so lucky."

Mickey nodded, his lips mere inches away from Ian's. "I am too."

Soft lips moved against each other slowly, creating a rhythm Ian never wanted to lose.

He knew he never would.

His life, even after all the worst possible shit a person could imagine, was pretty fucking great. All thanks to Mickey.

His husband.

His partner.

His soulmate.

His worse half.

His Milkovich.

THE END

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.19 "Out of the Fire"

CW: captivity/pet whump, memory loss, drugs/alcohol (explicit), party theme, noncon/dubcon (explicit), tics/tourettes, blood/gore, injury description, mouth whump, restraints, August being nasty, emotional abuse/gaslighting and the aftermath of that, multiple whumpers, pocket knife used as a weapon (let me know if i missed anything!)

What was his name? Elias couldn't remember it, he could taste it on his tongue and hear it like a distant ringing in his ears, but when he tried to say it he always came up blank. He knew the face, he remembered his voice a little, he knew that when this nameless person popped into his head it was always with pleasant memories. But his name? It was diminished to nothing, not even an echo, just a blank slot where something once was.

His own name he knew, even if no one used it anymore. Elias, or Eli, sometimes. But even if that was his name, it wasn't who he was, not anymore. Now, he was “Bunny”, he was “sweetheart”, he was “pet”. August had turned him into nothing more than those words, and everyone around them followed suit. All of the lavish people who showed up to August’s parties reinforced that these names were all that he was, now. And there was nothing he could do about it except stare down his bloodied and mangled reflection and whisper his name to himself when he was alone. His cracked, bleeding lips moved almost soundlessly as he repeated his name, then he could taste tears when he murmured the name of the city he had to get back to.

"Elias," he whispered (he had to make sure it was never above a whisper because August was drunk all the time lately and had been jumping at the chance to punish him for any little thing, and he couldn’t risk being hurt for being loud), "Elias, you have to remember Los Angeles. You have to get back to Los Angeles to be with...to be...with… Fuck."  Yet again, the name slipped his mind right as he tried to speak it. The idea of this person he missed was just a face. No Name.

A knock on the door startled him, and he hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and the residue from the words off his lips, then opened the door. August stood there, looking him over with his lip caught in his teeth. It was hard to tell if he was sober or not, his eyes were shadowy with something, but sometimes being inebriated and being a shitty person with shitty motives could look about the same. Elias bit his tongue hard so he wouldn’t slip up and yell something like that right in August’s stupid face. This was becoming a habit, his tongue had scarring on it by now. Most of it was from himself, from physically biting back tics so that August wouldn’t use it as an excuse to hurt him. The rest of the scarring was closer to the back of his tongue, and even thinking about where he got it from made him sick to his stomach. 

It was the reason why he made such great effort to stay quiet, why he was so afraid of opening his stupid mouth in front of anyone, especially August. Even accidentally brushing the scar against his back molars always made him vividly remember how much blood there was, how loud he had shrieked. The entire scene was soaked through with actual, pure violence, and Elias was horrified of August even more after it. 

Elias had been high, like always, and nervous, because August had friends over. They weren't immediately familiar, but August had told him that he'd met them before, and that made Elias wonder if they'd been at one of the parties, if Elias had entertained them. He couldn't remember, though, and he was left jittery and ticcing, the coke August had given him certainly wasn't helping his case. And then August was next to him, with his smug smile and his evil hands, and Elias hardly even processed himself shouting "you cocksucking faggot!" until it was too late. Until August was pushing him to the ground to crawl on top of him, pulling his small pocket knife out at the same time.

"I told you not to speak to me like that, you slut!" August was screaming at him. Elias would've tried to apologize, if August wasn't shoving his fingers into Elias's mouth forcefully. Elias choked on his hand, then the metallic taste of the blade was on his tongue, and then he was screaming, thrashing under August desperately. August had warned him before that he'd cut his tongue out if he misspoke, Elias just never thought he was cruel enough to actually do that. And yet, here he was, trying to cough up the blood trickling down his throat around his mangled screams. 

August would've kept going if he'd been allowed to, but at some point one or two of August's guests realized the severity of the situation and bolted up to rip him off of his poor pet. There was blood all over the both of them, on August's hands and arms and face, and Elias's entire front half was soaked. His tongue had a deep, jagged slice across it in the back, if August had kept going there was no doubt in his mind that Elias would've lost the entire thing. That took a week or so to completely heal, and since then Elias had tried everything he could to be quiet and well behaved.

"You feeling ok?" August asked him, even though his tone was exactly the opposite of caring. August had started to resent him, now, he was so far gone that he wasn't fun anymore. He was reduced to pure submission, a shell of a person that couldn’t be filled anymore. He didn’t scream and cry and fight quite like he used to, and August was more or less pissed off he had to deal with the aftermath of the damage he caused. Sometimes, though, he could get a reaction out of Elias, if he was in the mood to really mess him up. But that was typically draining for the both of them, and August didn’t enjoy cleaning up after himself, so mostly it was reserved for special occasions. 

Elias prayed that this was not one of those special occasions. 

"Yes, sorry," he replied. The words sounded so...dry, even in his own ears. He didn't have any more passion or emotion to put into them. He felt like he needed a nap, a nice long nap with silk sheets and feathery pillows and the whole mattress to himself with absolutely no unwelcome hands grabbing at him. He scolded himself, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to want things. August was making sure that was one rule Elias really understood. Above everything else he was taught, the idea that desire was above him was the most easy to sink into. His entire life he'd been unlucky and disappointed when he didn't get his way, but really it had just been because he didn't deserve his way. And as for thinking about a nap, luxurious and soft and alone, he wasn’t worth any of that, and he was so lucky that August miraculously thought he was pretty enough to share a bed with, to touch whenever he wanted. He was lucky, he was in this beautiful place, he was sometimes allowed to go stand at the edge of the ocean and let the water come up to his shins, August shared his expensive drugs, and occasionally he held him closely, arms tight around him, and called him very sweet names. Yes, he was very lucky. He just wished he actually felt lucky, it was getting rather hard to keep trying to convince himself that any of this was pleasant when he felt like he had swallowed one of the circles of hell and now was the host of all of that evil and pain.

August let out a heavy sigh, his annoyance tangible. The fear that buried into Elias's chest at just that simple, scornful sigh was slightly muted from how exhausted he was, but still there nonetheless. It always was. "I'm having people over again tonight, I'll have to put you away."

Elias could sob at the words, at the knowledge that he would be back in the cold room downstairs, with the chains. After the first party, when August was angry at him for allowing all those people to use him, things were fine for a bit. They didn't have people over for awhile after that first time, August would instead opt for dragging him along to clubs or bars. When August finally did decide to have people over, it went south yet again. It was alright for a while, Elias sat quietly and looked out the window at the waves lapping at the beach, pretending he was out there instead, as August spoke to his guests about whatever it was they were talking about in words Elias couldn’t understand. And for whatever reason, when Elias felt fingertips brushing against his collar and turned his attention away from his land of make-believe, August wasn’t the one touching him. Elias really didn’t know how to make them stop this time, his begging was more desperate and he cried harder than ever, yet they never let up. August was even more furious that time. 

So, he decided that Elias would be banished to the basement anytime he had people over. That horrible basement, with the horrible chains and the horrible dark and the horrible loneliness.

"August please don't put me down there," he whined, dropping his head down in fear that he would be slapped for arguing, "please, I'll be good. I won't even look at anyone-"

"It isn't about you, Bunny," August cut him off, grabbing his shoulder with a shocking tenderness, "you're always good. But other people aren't, and I can't risk that. Don't worry, I'll give you stuff to keep you busy."

Elias cringed hard, squeezing his eyes shut with a tiny huff. He didn’t want to argue, really he knew that this was just a surefire way to get hurt, but he couldn’t stomach thinking about being taken down that dreadful staircase another time. "It's so cold down there...I don't want...please, please August..." Before he could keep begging, he was pulled against August's chest tightly, he could feel August trace his palm over his shoulder blade.

"It'll only be for a little bit, sweetheart. Now quiet down."

And that was that. August gave him a few shots of Grey Goose and some weed and then walked him down the stairs, hooking up one of his wrists to the chain on the wall. "Stay here, nice and quiet," he was told, and he could only watch hopelessly as August made his way back up the stairs. 

He was thankful for the muted sound of the music upstairs, it at least gave him something to focus on. He leaned heavily against the wall, trying not to think too much about the soft aching spreading through his legs from standing too long. It was even harder when the fatigue began to mix with the alcohol and he had to put in great effort to stay upright. He was miserable, and he found himself missing being able to interact with people at the party, even though the interaction was always vile and agonizing. At least if he was upstairs someone would touch him, would look at him, would acknowledge him. If he were upstairs, he would exist to someone besides himself. Down here he was nothing, he wasn't real. In the basement he was neither person nor pet, he was just...not there. And it frightened him more than August or the strangers upstairs.

He flinched hard when the music swelled suddenly, pushing himself off of the concrete wall to peer up the stairway, watching the shadow of a pair of shoes hesitating on the top of the steps, light flooding in past them. Was August going to let him come up? Did someone figure out he was down here and came to use him? He felt like maybe he'd be ok with that, it had been hours and the boredom was hurting him more than anything.

"Elias?" A woman's voice called. His chest tightened uncomfortably at the sound of his own name, having been the only one to use it lately, and the chain rattled as he stumbled over a bit. "Elias are you down here?"

"Y...yes." he answered, his voice wavering nervously. As soon as he did, the door closed again and her footsteps were bounding lightly down the steps toward him. When he saw her familiar red hair he sucked in a shaky gasp of relief. "C-Camille?" He whispered.

She looked him over, at the chain his arm was dangling lazily from and his battered and bruised skin, sighing in disdain at his state. She had felt bad before about taking so long to come back to him, and upon seeing how much worse he was since the last time gave the guilt an extra reason to eat away at her. "Jesus christ what are they doing to you?" She muttered, setting down her bag as she approached him.

"I forgot you...I didn't think you'd come back." When she reached out to grab his arm to inspect the lock of the shackle, he flinched back and closed his eyes. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, darling. We have to go, though, there's not much time." As she spoke, she pulled at the metal around his wrist, groaning to herself when it didn't immediately come undone. "One second, wait here." He watched her turn on her heel and sprint back up the stairs.

Elias closed his eyes, swaying where he stood and trying to get his racing thoughts together. They were leaving, she was taking him home to that nameless face that he missed like an organ that he'd had forcibly removed. No more August, or parties, or basements. But it seemed so impossible, he'd been here for so very long that the idea of a world, a life, outside of it was mostly unimaginable. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he felt like he did need August, to some extent. He hated his guts, sometimes so viciously that Elias was shaken to his core by the violent thoughts it caused, but he needed him nonetheless. Elias was broken now, shattered glass, and August had done it so he was the only one who knew how to handle it. If he left, he feared that he would just stay broken and No Name wouldn't be able to even touch him without hurting himself, too. 

His thoughts were cut short as the door opened again and Camille came back down, a second pair of steps behind her. An older man was following close, they were talking to each other in French, and Elias was immediately uneasy at not knowing what they were saying about him. They approached him, the man reached into the bag he was carrying as they got closer.

"Who is that? What's going on?" Elias rushed, shuffling away from them as much as he could, but the wall was closer than he thought and his shoulder thudded against it hard.

"It's ok, Elias. This is my older brother, he's going to help us get on a plane. You can trust him." She threw a nervous look over her shoulder to the staircase, grimacing a little. "I know you're scared, but we have to go now. August is distracted now but I don't know for how long."

Elias took a deep breath, using his free hand to rub the stress out of his eyes. "Ok," he groaned, "fuck, ok."

Camille's brother took her place in looking over the restraints, and it only took him a few moments to figure out the thin lock and free his arm. Elias couldn't help but stare up at him with wide eyes, shocked and nervous at the idea of not being chained up. 

Camille began to pull out clothes from her bag, looking over Elias's slender frame with a frown. "Can you get this on? I can help if you need."

Elias shook his head, taking the hoodie from her and slipping it over his head, then he put the hat on that she handed him as well. The brim was wide enough to droop over the top half of his face, and he was relieved to be hiding behind it. 

"Ok Elias. Ok. Alright." Camille seemed rather frazzled, and it wasn't making Elias's own nerves feel much better. "How are you to walk? Can you make it up with us to the car?" 

"I can walk." His voice was just a mumble, he knew if he allowed any of the emotion he felt into his voice he would freak out. 

The walk up the stairs felt unsteady, each step seemed uneven and rickety, and he was dizzy by the time they got to the top. "Camille?" He whispered, reaching out to grab the wall to right himself. "If he...if August sees me leaving he'll flip out. He'll kill me." 

"We're not going to let him touch you, ok? I promise, we'll get you out of here. But we have to go right now."

Elias whined a little, then nodded his head and followed her. He was thankful when she reached over and took his hand to hold him closer, it made it easier to push through the people without looking up. The party was buzzing still, the light chatter, laughter, and music felt near suffocating. It felt like the time August's friends tied him up and shot at him while he was drowning, each step was a kick towards the surface, a desperate fight for fresh air. This time, though, when he was suddenly walking on the gravel of the driveway he wasn't bombarded with pain and more atrocities, just fresh air and the night sky. The music faded quickly behind them, and he relaxed his hand against Camille's, unaware he was gripping it so tightly.  He was...out? Now the collar on his throat seemed constricting, more so than usual, and he felt his hand jerk up to grab at it, to make sure it was still there. 

They approached a black sports car, and Camille held the door for Elias as her brother got into the front seat. She crawled in after him, then watched anxiously out the window until her brother had the keys in the ignition and was starting the car. Elias looked out the window as they sped away from the house, watching it get smaller. He looked until he couldn't see it anymore, and then he slowly turned to face forward, staring blankly at his hands. He didn't even feel tears falling from his eyes until Camille reached over and grabbed his hand gently, mumbling "are you ok?" when Elias turned to look at her. The question made him break, collapsing in on himself in a fit of muted sobs. Camille was quick to pull him against her, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair and down his back with such comforting softness that Elias wondered how it could be real. 

The car ride to the airport seemed shorter than when August first got him here, because soon the three of them were walking through a near empty building, their shoes scuffing against the linoleum offensively loud. The bright lights bothered Elias, and he pulled his hat lower over his face to ease the discomfort. They walked up to the largest desk Elias had ever seen, a detail that he couldn't find any importance in but that was still intimidating. Then he realized that everything was intimidating; the desk, the floor, the lights, the people. Camille spoke to the woman behind the desk, pulling out a few papers and pointing back to Elias as they talked. He wondered if they would tell him he couldn't fly back home to Los Angeles. Where would he go then? Back to August? Because really, besides No Name, he didn't have anyone else. He watched them talk with his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

When they seemed to reach an end to the conversation, Camille thanked her and began to lead Elias away. Her brother didn't follow. Elias didn't know if he wanted to be alone with her. For probably the first time since she approached him at the party, Elias didn't know if he could trust her. He wanted to, there were some days, when August was particularly rough, that the only thing keeping Elias alive was the hope that Camille would come save him. But now she was saving him, and he realized all at once that he hadn't even thought about the possibility that this might be a trick, that maybe she would send him somewhere that would only ruin him further. It didn't help that the only information he had was that they were in an airport and he was supposed to be getting on a plane home, but everything else had only been said in French and Elias was left relatively oblivious.

"Camille?" He tried, his voice small and shaking. "What's going on?"

She stopped walking for a second to look at him, her face falling from it's tight frown to a saddened smile. "Sorry. Let's take a second to breathe, you and I. This is a lot, isn't it?" 

He nodded along with her, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They did this until Camille seemed satisfied, then she cleared her throat. "I'm walking you to a plane right now, there will be flight attendants and security sitting close by to watch you. Once you get home, you'll have an escort to take you from the plane to a hospital, and then you can go home." 

Elias blinked at her, at how plainly she put it. "It's that easy?" He whispered.

She laughed a little, a lighthearted sound that made Elias feel much better almost instantly. "It will be, now." 

Once they were at the gate to the plane she was sticking him on, Elias was shaking, but this time mostly in excitement. After Camille's reassurance, he realized that this meant safety, freedom, and he couldn't wait to get on the plane. Camille was standing at his side, eyes darting over the few people around them skeptically. At one point she looked over to see Elias bouncing on the balls of his feet, and she felt like an idiot when she saw he was still wearing that damn collar. She figured he would've taken it off himself once they were out of the house, but it was still tight around his throat. She coughed a little to get his attention, then once he was looking at her, she pointed to the collar. 

"Do you want help taking that off?" She offered. She watched him reach up to feel what she was talking about, fingers brushing tentatively over the leather like he didn't actually want to touch it. He gave her a reluctant nod, holding his breath when she stepped toward him. 

He felt unbearably naked once the collar slipped off, his skin felt over exposed and cold in its absence, and he surprised himself when his vision was clouded with tears. Camille asked if he was ok, which he responded to only by stepping forward and wrapping his frail, banged up arms around her. 

"Thank you, Camille," he whimpered, "thank you so much. I can never repay you." 

Camille smelled of flowery perfume as she hugged Elias back with more strength than he would expect her to have, slightly crushing him in the friendliest way. "You don't have to thank me, Elias. Just...you just stay safe now. Go home and take care of yourself." She pulled away from him and wiped his tears away, Elias frowned when he saw she also had started to cry. 

The plane boarded after that, Camille walked Elias all the way to the door, handing over his ticket for him and then hugging him once again as a goodbye. He thanked her again, a million times, then he allowed one of the stewardesses to lead him down the long hall to the plane, to home, to relief.

[amelialincoln]

“And a rather unfortunate scare in high school.”

Could you write about this please (Addison and Amelia)

2 Much

After dating Derek Shepherd for years Addison was used to his youngest sister’s outbursts. Derek had four sisters. This terrified Addison from the moment she found out, which was out of the ordinary because she wasn’t intimidated by much. Addison hadn’t grown up with sisters so she wasn’t surprised when her first encounter with each of them didn’t go as planned. Kathleen, Liz and Nancy had immediately taken a disliking towards her. They idolized their older brother and the idea of another girl finding her way into his heart was in no way appealing. Amelia, however, was different. Addison ignored the fact that Amelia initially only chose to get along with her to piss her sisters off and eventually the two became closer than neither of them expected. Amelia was like the sister she’d never had and always wanted and she had no problem taking advantage of the soft spot her brother's girlfriend had for her. Whether it was ear piercing, alcohol buying or pretty much anything, Addison couldn’t help but comply and slowly the two became closer and closer. She remembered getting home one night after being at Derek’s and realizing Amelia had called Addison her sister. She knew from that day on that she’d always protect Amelia, no matter if she were dating Derek or not. Amelia’s outburst of the day happened at dinnertime. The family, including Addison, were sitting around the dining room table - they all ate dinner together every night, which was very abnormal to her - when Amelia burst through the front door.

“Always one to make an entrance,” Kathleen nudged Lizzie and the two of them laughed. Addison could tell that something was wrong as Amelia glanced at them.

“Are you joining us for dinner?” Mrs. Shepherd asked. Addison could hear the impatience in her voice. Amelia was never timely. The brunette shook her head in response and stormed up the stairs. Their mother sighed, setting her napkin on the table and began to get up from her seat.

“I got it,” Addison found herself assuring her. She motioned for Mrs. Shepherd to sit as she went to exit the dining room.

“Addie,” Derek complained. “Let’s just finish dinner.”

“It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.” She gave him a quick smile before following Amelia up the stairs. She found the youngest Shepherd cocooned in a pile of blankets on her bed, tears falling from her eyes. She entered the mess of the bedroom quietly and went to sit beside the shaking teenager.

“You okay, Amy?” She’d picked up Derek’s nickname a couple of weeks ago. Amelia said it was fine but if anyone else other than she and Derek started calling her that, she wouldn’t be too happy.

“Yeah, I’m great.” She rolled over, obviously not wanting to be bothered.

“Is this about that teacher again? You’re a month away from finishing grade eleven, it’s doubtful you’ll have him again next year.” 

“I went to the counsellor and got him in trouble, that’s not an issue anymore.” She shrugged. There was the Amelia she knew so well.

“Well then what’s wrong?” A pause between them lingered for a while before Amelia started sniffling again. “Look, Amelia, you know I don’t judge--”

“I think I’m pregnant,” the brunette blurted out, surprising her. She whipped around to meet Addison’s slightly stunned expression. “See, you’re judging.”  

“I’m not.” She tried to look less concerned. “Is this with that senior?”

“Jack,” Amelia confirmed, placing her head in her hands. “I wanted to break up with him. He got all mad so we took a break for a couple days. I saw him on Saturday night at Isaac’s thing. We were drunk...and horny. Apparently he did stuff to the condom? Why would he...I don’t understand...I trusted him,” she began to sob heavily.

“Oh, babe, I know you did.” Addison wrapped her sister in her arms protectively, trying to conceal how furious she was. She knew Derek could fuck that pathetic kid up but also knew that Amelia would kill her if she ever told Derek she was even seeing the guy. Derek had heavily advised against dating Jack from the beginning and, of course, had been very right. “Do you have any symptoms?” Amelia groaned, she hated when Addison and Derek went all “first year medical student” on her. “Amelia, I’m serious.” Addison found herself raising her voice.

“I dunno,” she yelled. “You’re supposed to be on my side. Why are you getting mad at me?”

“I’m not getting mad,” Addison sighed, arguing with her sometimes was impossible. “Are you on birth control?”

“My doctor said if I was on birth control I couldn’t smoke. Blood clots or something?” She glanced at Addison who nodded. “She said condoms would be fine if we were careful.” She refused to look at Addison. “I trusted him.”

“You need to take a test.”

“My mom tracks all my bank statements after she caught me e-transferring that guy for weed, I’m not buying a pregnancy test.”

“I’ll buy it for you.” Addison stated it as if it was obvious. “Let’s go now, my car is here and you can take it at my apartment.”

“What if Derek comes by?”

“I think you’re forgetting that your brother does exactly what I tell him to do.” The med student laughed despite the situation they were in and Amelia started to giggle as well. “Now get your ass out of bed and let’s get out of here before your sisters start asking questions.” She extended her hand and breathed a sigh of relief as Amelia let her lead her out the front door.

Amelia followed Addison into the pharmacy nervously. She was surprised when Addy walked directly to the isle she was looking for and wondered if she’d had a similar experience. Her brother’s girlfriend was too smart for that though, she’d never get herself into the mess that Amelia was in. But by the amount those two fucked, (the room that Derek was in before he moved out was unfortunately right beside her’s) she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever had a scare. Addison held up two tests, breaking her from her train of thought.

“Do you want anything else? We could grab some snacks and watch a movie or something tonight?”

“We could stop by the liquor store.” 

“Amelia,” Addie sighed, trying to hide her disappointment. She felt guilty in a way, Amelia had been getting a little out of hand lately and she couldn’t help but think that she was the one that started buying her alcohol in the first place. “You have school tomorrow.”

“So do you and you were having wine with dinner,” Amelia taunted back. Addison could tell she thought she was going to convince her.

“Amelia, it’s different. I don’t have class until eleven. Your school starts at eight.” She shook her head as they made their way to the cashier. “And one glass of wine is not the same as your heavy drinking.”

“Addison Montgomery?” A familiar voice called from behind them.

“Mrs. Hastings?” Addison grinned as she recognized her former teacher from undergrad. “It’s so good to see you!” The physics professor leaned in for a quick hug. Addison had idolized the woman from day one. She was the youngest professor she’d ever had. Her success had comforted Addison. It made her feel confident in such a male based profession.

“You’ll be a great mom.” She squeezed Addison’s hand. Amelia suppressed a snort as Addie glared at her.

“Uh, thanks!” She held up the tests awkwardly.

“You’re still with the Shepherd guy I assume?” Addison had never wanted to leave a conversation more. “That will be a stunning kid.” 

“Hope so!” She laughed awkwardly.

“Just don’t let anything get in the way of your success.” The professor warned. “You’ll go on to do amazing things, Addison.”

“Yes...um, that’s true,” she coughed. “Well it was great running into you.” She tapped her credit card as the cashier handed her the plastic bag. “Have a happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays?” Amelia was wheezing by the time they left the store. “It’s September.”

“Shut up.”

Addie had ended up giving in to Amelia’s requests for alcohol. She poured two small glasses of wine as she waited for her to come out of the bathroom. Amelia finally came out holding both tests. She set them on the counter and they both waited.

“How long is it supp--”

“Like two minutes,” Addison shrugged, trying to hide her nerves. She really hoped she wouldn’t be driving her sixteen year old boyfriend’s sister to the abortion clinic tomorrow. Amelia let out a sob, bringing Addison back into reality. “You’re kidding.” Her mouth opened in shock as she grabbed the two tests. Negative.

“Sorry,” Amelia choked. “I just really thought…” she brushed off tears of relief. Addison wrapped her in a long hug. Silently thanking god. “This doesn’t mean I’m like unfertile or something right?”

“No, honey.” Addison sighed. “This just means you were very lucky.”

“Well that’s a first.” Amelia grinned.

[illdesigns]

(Metalrat) first confession of feelings for either Magnus x Charles or Pickles x Magnus? :)

Raindrops spattered against the windows and roof of the apartment, fat and heavy, trees outside bending and shivering in the wind. The rain cooled the hot outside air, the wind kept the humidity at bay, things were...not bad, if you were inside. The sun was probably trying to set for the night, or starting to, and the grey sky grew darker and darker. The fan was running at a lazy pace to circulate air, the window by the front door opened a crack to let in the fresh air and smell of rain, even as it left moisture in the windowsill.

Pickles was glued to the sofa. Glued by the sweat on his back to the fabric, glued by the alcohol that choked his legs, glued by the fat tabby that was on his chest. She was a stray, Magnus had said, one that he had started to feed. She was fat for a stray, but Magnus had explained other people had to have been feeding her too. They were both sheltered in the rain by Magnus’ apartment. Pickles’ roommates had gotten into an ugly fight with him and so he just...started walking. Now he was on the sofa in a shirt and shorts that were far, far too large on him as his own sopping wet clothes were folded over the side of Magnus’ tub to dry.

The door opened, whipped wind through the apartment, made Pickles crack his eyes and the tabby jolt. Magnus had an armful of brown paper bags soaked through by rain. His hair was weighed down by water against his shoulders and face, droplets hanging from his nose, his arms, his chin.

“I got beer,” he announced. “And, uh, some food. Fridge was a bit bare.”

Pickles had noticed but not complained. Especially now as Magnus sat the bags on the coffee table and began to unpack the groceries. Chips, the previously mentioned food, ham for sandwiches for just Pickles and cans of tuna to name a few. Magnus cracked one of the tuna cans and placed it on the floor, the cat sitting up on Pickles’ chest and stretching with a wide yawn before jumping down to eat. She had a bowl with food in it, Pickles noted, but seemed to be getting as much people food from Magnus as her heart desired. No wonder she was so fucking fat.

“Cousins of yours?” Magnus asked as he held up a jar of pickles, making Pickles (the person) snort. “I’ll make us some food. Pick, like, a record or something. I know nothing’ll come through on the TV.”

Pickles obeyed as he sat up and leafed through one of the many boxes of records strewn across the living room. Magnus had a decent collection - stuff they both grew up listening to, more modern acts, some bands that Pickles didn’t even notice. There was even a Snakes ‘n’ Barrels album, but it was dusty with disuse and Pickles didn’t want to dredge that up tonight. Or ever.

“And I have some dessert, too,” Magnus said as he shimmied next to Pickles on the sofa, set two paper plates with food down and opened up a drawer on the coffee table. A decent stash gazed back up at them expectantly. Pickles made a soft ‘ooh’ of recognition. “Dude, sit up.”

“I’m sittin’,” he replied with a thick mouthful of food.

The day crept onward slow and certain. The rain continued unabated, the cat circled ankles hoping for more food and beers were consumed until five cans sat on the coffee table with the paper plates. Pickles was ahead of Magnus in the alcohol department (half of why that ugly fight turned so ugly) and continued that without a thought as his houseguest. Especially when Magnus busted out the weed. It was good shit. It had an acrid but floral sort of quality to it, almost sweet in how skunky it was, and Pickles’ drunk brain honed in on how it was so sticky it clung to Magnus’ fingers as he broke it apart.

“I like you, man,” slipped from his lips as he passed the joint to Magnus. Like an involuntary motion, as if moving his arm somehow set off his vocal chords.

“Thanks,” Magnus replied as he took it. Pickles watched a pink tongue dart out to wet dry lips and while some kind of attempt at dirty thoughts tried to dart into his brain in the moment, in a bit he would be very mad at the wet joint he got back. Magnus’ voice was thicker and deeper as he spoke, streams of smoke dribbling from his lips. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Thanks,” Pickles echoed numbly. His brain argued with him, he was already here, being that stupid. He might as well keep it up. “But, like, I…”

What did he say in fucking junior high? “Like-like?”

“I really like you. You’re a cool guy,” Pickles swallowed. “And, like...I dunno. You’re real cool. Hot, too, and I dunno I just really-”

Magnus cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. It seemed like it was taking him a moment to absorb that thought.

“What did you say?” he asked with a scoff. “Fuckin’...repeat yourself, man.”

“If you want me to go, I can go-” Pickles began. A panic bubbled in his chest. He had miscalculated. Misheard certain rumors. They were just that - rumors. He hadn’t heard it from the man himself and if Magnus wasn’t like that, he had a hair trigger temper. And Pickles just-

“No, no. Stay. What, dude? God, calm down,” Magnus pat his knee and Pickles jumped. “Relax, Jesus! What did you say?”

“I said you were hot but...it’s nothin’,” Pickles flinched when Magnus laughed. “God, don’t laugh at me before you fuckin’ beat my face in, dude.”

Magnus stared. Took a sip of beer and shook his head.

“I get fucked in the ass too much to gay bash people, man,” he said casually and Pickles’ laugh sounded more like a yip from a small dog that accidentally got stepped on. “You’re just...God. Okay. Okay, sure, dude, thanks. I like you too, is that what you wanna hear?”

Well, yes? That was absolutely what Pickles wanted to hear. With the rain still pit-patting on the windows and roof, with the record playing, with the air that smelled like rain and wasn’t cold and wasn’t hot. It was like...a storybook. Yeah. A movie, maybe. Pickles had showed up wet, cold and in the rain. Magnus had swooped him inside. Feelings were confessed. It was just missing a kiss. So, Pickles leaned in for that Hollywood movie magic kiss.

And had Magnus gently place his hand over his mouth.

“You’re so fucked up right now,” Magnus said softly. “No, dude.”

Pickles hung his head and nodded sullenly. The cat was gone. He’d really like to pet a cat at that moment, but she was gone, probably curled up asleep somewhere. That was ideal. He hadn’t realized just how far the sun had set, and how late it was, and as he stood to use the bathroom the day’s substance abuse hit him. The food barely soaked any of it up and there was a blur as he stood. He was walking down the hallway, naturally, but he was supported. And he looked up to see Magnus looking down at him.

“Told you, you’re fucked up,” there was still a matter-of-fact tone to the slur in Magnus’ voice. Even as he gently pushed him into the bathroom, waited a moment for Pickles to finish and drug him back into the hall again. “C’mon. Bedtime.”

“It’s eight…” Pickles offered tiredly.

“It’s like, eleven, man,” Magnus replied as he let Pickles gently fall onto his bed. “Don’t get wise with me tonight, either...we-we’ll talk...morning. In the morning.”

Pickles nodded sleepily and bundled himself in the bed. Magnus collapsed next to him. He blinked, the bed weaved and wobbled like he was at sea and Pickles swallowed down a hiccup and wave of nausea. But he was tired. So tired. And the bed was warm. So warm. And he eventually closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“Did you piss in my bed, man?” Magnus asked blearily, jerking Pickles from his sleep. The clock on the bedside table said it was three in the morning. Magnus turned on the light. “Oh, fuckin’ shit. God, no, fuck-”

Pickles sat up and pried his eyes open. There was a strange wetness to the sheets, an odd warmth, but it was focused more towards his legs, not his crotch. Not even where Magnus’ crotch was. Then his vision focused. Using their legs as the walls of a makeshift next, the stray sat. And licked something.

“You fuckin’ hooker,” Magnus groaned as he rubbed his face. “This is not...a home for...for unwed mothers...goddammit-”

The stray was licking many somethings. Four somethings, really, all wiggling little writhing balls of kitten. She wasn’t fat. Just very pregnant. Pickles laughed as Magnus stood up, reaching for one of his record boxes that had somehow migrated to his bedroom and moving the vinyls onto his dresser.

“You’re a grandpa, man,” Pickles chuckled stupidly. “She must like you, to sit and have her-her babies on you...you’re special.”

Magnus grumbled about having to wash his sheets. But despite that, he still grabbed a few old shirts from his closet and shoved them into the box. And approached the bed. The tabby blinked up at him, looked slightly offended when he reached a hand near her stomach.

“Hey, mama. Let me have these for a second. Made you somewhere more comfy to sleep for a bit, okay? Until I can get something better,” Magnus spoke in that same tone, Pickles heard it. The tone that he had used when he told PIckles he was too drunk to kiss. Soft and caring, something that felt special and secret and rare from Magnus. “Lemme borrow the babies.”

Pickles heard purring. She really did like him. The kittens mewled in offense as they were removed from their mother and their dinner, but it was quieted when the box was set on the floor and she crawled inside with them. Magnus grumbled and peeled the afterbirth covered sheets away from the bed. Pickles just lay there for a moment.

“Magnus?” he finally said.

“What, Pickles?” asked Magnus.

“This is why I like you.”

[maraudererasmut]

Experiment MJ001

TW: Drug and alcohol use. Mentions of drugs and alcohol use by minors. 

Marjiuana is legal in my country. It has been for a while.

I’ve always been very nervous about things in my life. Not anything in specific, just things in general. I had spend so long being repressed by my parents, I had cotten it in my head that drugs = bad and since marjiuana = drug, QED marjiuana = bad. 

Today, I decided to do something out of the ordinary and purchase a (legal) chocolate bar from the pot store and try it out!

So, I am currently high for the very first time in my life! (I’m in my late 20s)

I had an idea that I thought was brilliant at the time to write Wolfstar fan fiction about Remus getting high for the first time WHILE I was high and see what happened!

I also decided that I’m going to POST IT. Without editing it! (Pure, unadulterated chaos!!!) Now, for your viewing pleasure, the ramblings of a T on Pot. I have no idea if this is good or not. I haven’t read through it yet. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow, read this, regret it and delete it. But until then... enjoy!

((I’m sorry if it’s terrible!!!))

((I am also currently still high while typing this, so I apologize for any errors!!))

Remus had never consumed marjiuana before. Growing up, his parents had been very strict with what kinds of medication he was allowed to consume, particularly in regards to his lycanthropy. “You don’t know how it will affect the wolf, Remus.” “You don’t know what will happen…” “We can’t predict how the wolf will react…” 

Magic had always been the go-to remedies for colds or maladies; Muggle drugs were never to be trusted in the LUpin home.

So when Remus got drunk for the first time, he made sure that his friends were around to help him through the experience. 

Now, in his seventh year of school, Remus finally built up enough courage to ask his friends to, once-again, monitor Remus while he was testing the waters.

Remus sat with the three other Marauders, staring at the brownie in his hand.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he groaned, internally terrified of what may happen. The scent of the brownie wafted through the air, and Remus cursed his wolfish senses as his mind began convincing him that this might be worth it for the chocolate alone.

“”Yeah, I’m sure, Moons…” Sirius teased, licking his lips like a cartoon wolf sizing up a prized pig as he stared at his own brownie.

“Yeah, Pads and I have done this hundreds of times!” James chimed in, already  half way through his. “It’s fine!”

“You’re not werewolves,” Remus grumbled as he turned to Peter. “You’re the sensible one, Wormy. What do you think?”

Peter stared at Remus for a moment before breaking out into a smile. 

“I say fuck it!” he said, taking a bite out of his own brownie. “You only live once, Moons!”

Remus closed his eyes, took a bite from his brownie, chewed and swallowed. 

Nothing happened.

No big bang, no swirling in his brain, no sudden rush of feeling. 

“It’s… not working?” He said, turning to Sirius.

“Give it a bit, Moons! It takes time to work! It’s like alcohol!”

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, finishing the rest of his brownie. “So… what do I do until then?”

Sirius shrugged, but his smirk gave him away. He sat back onto the pillows and blankets that they had dragged to the ground, his head resting precariously close to Remus’ lap. He grinned up at Remus before reaching for his wand and giving a lazy flick into the air. 

Sirius’ record player began to spin, and All Along the Watchtower began playing, filling the entire room and seeping into Remus’ bones.

Remus laid back on the pillows, his head next to Sirius’. He closed his eyes and let Hendrix drift through his mind, trying not to let Sirius’ scent drive him crazy. 

Remus didn’t feel anything.

Not for a while.

He didn’t think it was even working.

The boys had spent the next hour talking, chatting, chilling, as they usually do on Saturday evenings. They talked about girls (James complaining about Lily), boys (Sirius’ trists with that Ravenclaw boy), and everything in between (Peter’s insistence that, yes, James, he is still Asexual. And no, James, he doesn’t need to double check.) 

Remus didn’t notice the time passing as he laid on the pillows next to his friends, for the first time in his life actually being able to participate fully. They normally spend evenings hanging out in the middle of the room. James and Sirius always got high. They had since they had discovered Muggle weed last year. Peter had partaken on occasion, but usually insisted that he preferred a couple of beers over weed. Remus, on the other hand, remained sober all night, watching his friends fall into various states of inebriation, testing their limits, seeing new sides of themselves. 

This was his first time.

Remus smiled to himself, thinking about how much fun it is to participate, even if he didn’t know what being high felt like yet. 

“What’re you smiling about?”

Sirius’ voice was practically a purr in Remus’ ear, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. 

“M’not… Not really. Just… happy to be here with you lads....”

“Mmm, same, Moons. Happy to be here… Today’s a good day to be alive…”

“That’s a weird thing to say…” Remus rolled over and looked at Sirius. 

Was Sirius always that handsome? Did his eyes always sparkle silver in their conjured lights? Did his hair always look that soft and touchable? What would happen if Remus touched it? Was his skin always so pale, so milky while, Remus had to resist leaning over and tasting it. Remus edged his arm over slightly, comparing his own freckle-dusted arm to Sirius’. One was slender and perfect and tattooed and lovely. One was broken and scarred and ugly. 

It was no wonder Sirius never noticed Remus.

“Whatya thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Sirius’ voice distracted Remus from his thoughts. 

“Mm? What’d’ya mean?” 

I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…

The Who was playing in the background and Remus watched as Sirius’ head bobbed up and down to the music, a wide grin spread across his perfect cheeks. 

“I mean you’re thinkin’ of stuff. We all are… I am… That’s what makes things so cool when you’re high… You think of stuff…”

Remus blinked. What was Sirius even saying? What had he been doing? Was he thinking? He seemed to be thinking…

His brain felt like the needle was skipping across the record. Or that more than one record was playing at a time. Everything that was said out loud was one record in one player, and a vision of him talking to Sirius from a bird’s eye view was another record. And the way the music blended into his brain was another record. 

Was this what being high was?

“I’m thinking of the music… I guess. And… Mrs. Robinson…”

“Ha ha! That’s that one Hufflepuff chick, ya?”

“What? No… it’s… coo coo ca choo?” Remus closed his eyes. His mind was feeling a bit foggy. 

Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes…

“Oh! Yeah! Jesus holds a place for those who pray…”

“Hey hey hey!” James’ voice came from miles away. Or across the room. To Remus, it felt like both at once.

“Yeah,” Remus said with a grin, rolling over onto his left side to face Sirius. “Coo coo choo, Mrs. Robinson….”

“BOYS!” Peter hollered from the other side of the room. “Hot Blooded! This is my jam!”

Remus grinned, listening as the sound of guitar filled the room. He tapped along to the song, watching Sirius watch the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about, Pads?”

Sirius tilted his head towards Remus and gave a wink. 

“That I’m hot blooded,” he said, his tongue resting on his fang. 

“Pfftt… You’re just a horny mutt…” Remus teased. He felt an immediate pang of regret as Remus realized that Sirius was likely horny for a certain Ravenclaw boy. 

“Mmm, bet you are too. Not that you’d ever date anyone… But I bet you’re real bad, Moons… “

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to keep his heart from exploding from his chest with terror. Why was Sirius talking about how horny Remus was? That wasn’t something Sirius ever talked about. 

“You know how it is… not allowed. The whole… furry little problem…”

Oooh, I’m picking up good vibrations, oooh she’s giving me excitations…

“I’ve told you, just date one of us…”

Remus chuckled, trying not to show how much he wished he could. 

“Oh yeah, James would totally ditch Lily for me,” Remus teased, listening to the Beach Boys suddenly start the quiet part of Good VIbrations. 

“I didn’t say date James…”

“Oh, Sorry… Peter then… Yup. That seems like a great idea…”

Good good good good vibrations!!

“Are those really your only choices?”

Sirius was on his side at this point, facing Remus head-on, giving a sly grin. 

Normally, Remus would laugh this off as a joke and change the subject. Perhaps talk about the fact that Sirius had American Woman on his magical mixed-record. 

Today was different though. Today, Remus was feeling a little bolder. A little dizzier. A little more capable of looking at the situation differently.

Most days, from the very beginning of his life, Remus had been taught to be small, demure, less than other people. He knew not to make waves or say what was on his mind, because he was not to draw attention to himself. Today, for the first time in his entire life, Remus was starting to understand what it felt like to be a normal person. Someone who wasn’t a werewolf. Someone who didn’t grow up being told that they had to hide themselves because of societal pressures. Today, he could suddenly just say whatever he thought and felt and there was absolutely nothing keeping him from saying it. 

“I can’t very well date you, Padfoot. What would that poor Ravenclaw boy do without you in his life?”

“Who, Spencer? Nah, we were never an item. Just fooling around…”

“Fine then,” Remus said with finality, trying to shrug while on his side. Whoooo are you? Who who, who who? “I suppose you’re the only person in all of Hogwarts who I can date.” 

Sirius grinned his wicked grin, inching closer to Remus, his eyes positively smouldering. 

“I suppose so. Guess we’re to call it, then. We’re dating now…”

Whooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Aaaawww, who the fuck are you?

“Hear that Prongs,” Remus said, playing along with the joke. “Sirius and I are dating now.”

“Well it’s about goddamn time,” James yelled back.

Remus chuckled to himself, but when he opened his eyes, Sirius was there. In front of him, their noses almost touching… There was a moment…

Whoooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Remus inched closer, rubbing his nose to Sirius’, just playing along, just being silly, just keeping up with the game.

Sirius closed the gap.

Remus sank into the kiss, feeling Sirius’ lips against his own, Sirius’ tongue tasting like chocolate and pot, Sirius’ hands suddenly around his waist. 

Then Remus pulled away.

Who are you? Who who? Who who?

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sirius laughed, pulling himself slightly away from Remus.

“I just wanted to see how far you’d be willing to play along! I didn’t realize you’d actually let me kiss you!”

“Fuck…” Remus swore, starting to feel angry at Sirius. “Shit... I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Nothing…”

“Maybe what, Remus?”

“Nothing, Sirius.” Sirius’ lips were against Remus’ again, but the werewolf knew better this time. He pulled away, his eyes narrowing. “Stop dicking around.”

“I’m not dicking around…” Sirius whispered, his voice dropping low and rumbly. Remus felt a chill down his spine as House of the Rising Sun played in the background.  

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” Remus grumbled, before he had a chance to think about his words and and regret saying him, Sirius was kissing him again. Remus tasted his tongue and lips and the thrill of kissing someone he had wanted to kiss for as long as he could remember. Sirius pulled away, his eyes gleaming and ravenous. 

“I mean it,” he cooed. “I—”

Before he could continue, Remus was pressed into Sirius, taking advantage of his inebriated state and lack of over-thinking. 

“Get a room, you prats!” James called across the room. Remus didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the feeling of Sirius’ body against his own, Sirius’ hands around his hips, Sirius’ tongue in his mouth, Sirius’ teeth nipping his lower lip. Everything was Sirius.

Remus closed his eyes and lost himself in his Padfoot. He silently prayed that things could stay this easy forever, but deep inside, he knew that would be a dangerous path to head down...

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

Paper Rings (Richie Tozier X Reader)

WC: 3952

Warnings: Language, kinda sexual stuff at one point, alcohol, weed, tiny bit of angst at the end but not much

Summary: Y/N and Richie’s relationship through ‘Paper Rings’

A/N: The bitch is back y’all. I apologise for not having written in about 8 billion years, but I’m back. I hope you guys enjoy this, bc I really love it.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met 

2009 

Y/N had never been a fan of parties. Ever since high school she would always be the one to stay home and re-watch her favourite movies instead of going to parties. Unfortunately, now that she had a career in comedy writing she was being dragged to parties left, right and centre, and she hated them all. 

“Mulaney, please tell me why I’m coming to this thing? I’m going to miss Seinfeld and you know I live for that shit.” Y/N whined, tugging on the sleeve of John’s jacket while he rolled his eyes. 

“They’ve been playing episodes of that show every night since 1989, and you’ve watched each one about three times over, Y/N. I think you can afford to miss one night’s rerun.” John said, causing Y/N to let out a groan of protest. 

“It’s about the habits, John. The habits.” Y/N mumbled, and John shook his head like an irritated parent. 

“You’re coming with me to this party, Y/N. I’ve heard they’ve got this bigshot comic coming in from LA so just think about that potential opportunity before you complain again.” John said, and Y/N narrowed her eyes before caving, causing her friend to give her a victorious smile. 

The pair walked into the crowded club, and Y/N immediately grimaced at the loud music and the overwhelming stench of alcohol and weed. “Real classy joint, huh?” She muttered to John, who simply chuckled in response. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink, and I want you to mingle. Have some fun Y/N. Let loose for once!” John said, gripping Y/N’s shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest but John quickly snuck away before she could say anything. 

Y/N pouted, trying to navigate her way through the bustling club. Eventually she found her way to a booth where she saw a group of people, including one manwho was strangely familiar to her. She heard him laughing and she found herself beginning to laugh as well as she walked up to the booth. 

“Hey sweetheart! You lost?” One of the men at the booth called, and suddenly all of their eyes were directed towards her. Y/N let out a nervous laugh and shook her head, a slight smile on her face. 

“My friend ditched me. He told me I needed to mingle and have some fun, his words not mine.” Y/N said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she made brief eye contact with the oddly familiar man. He had a head of wild black hair and was wearing glasses so big they nearly covered his face. 

“Well, uh, you can come sit with us if you want.” The man spoke, a kind smile on his face as he looked up at her, and she knew she was done for.  

“Sounds good.” Y/N said, laughing lightly as she watched the men scoot along so there was enough room in the booth for her. 

“I’m Y/N by the way, in case you were wondering.” Y/N said once she had settled herself next to the very kind, very attractive man in the glasses. 

“I’m Richie Tozier, and this is Carol Feeny and Steve Covall.” As soon as Y/N heard his name she smiled, not really thinking as she politely shook hands with Carol and Steve. 

“I’m just gonna put it out here now, Steve and I are a bit high so sorry in advance if we do or say anything weird.” Carol said, and Y/N gave her a thumbs up before shooting Richie a confused look. He let out a laugh at her expression, and Y/N felt her stomach fill with butterflies. 

“This is like a normal Saturday night for them, I just tagged along because they’re my friends and I don’t want them dying or whatever.” Richie said, raising his voice slightly due to the loud music.

“Glad to know. Well, here’s to getting to know strangers at a wild party.” Y/N said, lifting her drink as Richie did the same. They tapped their glasses together and Y/N couldn’t shake the giddy feeling that washed over her as soon as their eyes met. 

Oh yeah, she was well and truly fucked. 

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed 

2009 

“John Edmund Mulaney, I need your goddamn help.” Y/N said, busting his bedroom door open and pulling the covers off his bed. John groaned, giving the girl a dirty look as she stood in his doorway, a determined look on her face. 

“What the hell do you want Y/L/N? It is Sunday morning and I am too hungover to breathe.” John grumbled, rolling over reluctantly as Y/N sat down cross-legged next to him on his bed. 

“I met this guy at the party last night and I forgot to online stalk him last night so I need to do it now.” Y/N said, and John sighed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes before turning his attention to Y/N. 

“Did you at least get his name?” John said and Y/N nodded eagerly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. 

“Yeah, he said his name was Richie Tozier.” Y/N said and John’s eyes widened as he sat up straighter, looking at Y/N with shock. 

“Y/N do you have any idea who that is?” John said, and Y/N shook her head, giving him a confused look. 

“Remember when I said there was going to be some bigshot comic from LA at the party last night? Well that’s him! Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier! He’s massive right now.” John said, snatching Y/N’s phone and plugging his name into Google as the wheels turned in Y/N’s head. 

“Is this him?” John said, pulling up a photo of him to show to Y/N. She nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place. John let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

“Y/N how the hell are you a comedy writer who doesn’t know one of the biggest names in comedy right now? Honestly woman.” John said, handing Y/N her phone back. Y/N took it graciously and she immediately found Richie’s social media accounts and followed him on Facebook and Twitter.  

“What can I say, I’m ridiculously stupid Johnny. I’ll go make you some breakfast as a thank you for making it very easy to stalk this guy.” Y/N said, ruffling John’s hair before leaving his bedroom with a smile on her face. 

For the rest of the day Y/N was deep in Richie’s social media feeds, and it was so bad that she found a photo of his bedside table on Twitter and immediately found and then bought all the books that were on the table so she could read them. 

As she was in bed that night watching a video from one of Richie’s specials on YouTube, she saw two notifications pop up on her phone. 

Richie Tozier is now friends with you on Facebook

@TrashmouthTozier is following you on Twitter 

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe 

2009 

“Y/N, John, so good to see you guys! Welcome to Saturday Night Live!” It was Y/N and John’s first day as writers for Saturday Night Live and they were both panicking internally as they were being shown around the studio. 

They were shown writing rooms and all the relevant things they needed to know, before their guide told them one final piece of information. “Oh, and the first host you’ll be working with is Richie Tozier. He’ll be here in about 20 minutes to discuss sketch ideas with the team, you guys included. Good luck!” 

Upon hearing this crucial fact Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned to John, who instead was sporting a smug look. “Holy shit, did she just say Richie Tozier? As in Richie from that party a few weeks ago Tozier? As in the guy I am so very into but won’t talk to because I get really anxious?” Y/N was rambling, her words and her breathing getting faster and faster as she started to pace back and forth. 

“Yes, the very same guy.” John said, sitting down at a table as Y/N continued pacing. 

“Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck! What do I do John? He’s a comic genius and I am just a lowly rat writer.” Y/N said, starting to feel light headed from all the hyperventilation. John sighed, standing up and marching over to his friend. He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Y/N, calm down. You just have to keep it professional for now, and then at the after party on Saturday night or the very early hours of Sunday morning you can get piss drunk and hopefully sleep with him.” John said with a straight face, and Y/N let out a huff. She went to respond, but a familiar voice stopped her. 

“Hey, I wouldn’t happen to be interrupting something, would I?” At the sound of Richie’s voice Y/N spun around, knocking John’s arms off her shoulders in the process. 

“Nope, not at all. You’re all good, Richie.” Y/N said, internally cursing for being so casual with him. Richie just gave John a wave before stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. 

“Please, have a seat.” John said, and Richie obliged. As he walked around to the table he passed by Y/N, stopping to whisper something in her ear. 

“It’s really good to see you again Y/N. I’ve missed you.” 

2015 

Y/N felt so comfortable in Richie’s arms, and in her mind there was absolutely nothing like it. They always fell asleep the same way; with Y/N’s head on Richie’s chest, her arm slung across his torso and his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. 

Some nights Y/N would wake up at around one or two in the morning and just watch Richie for a while before going back to sleep. Tonight was one of those nights. 

She woke slowly, the warmth of Richie’s body almost lulling her back to sleep as she opened her eyes. She took in a deep breath, shifting slightly so she could gaze at Richie without waking him up.  

He always looked so peaceful when he slept. It was something Y/N had noted since the night they first slept together, and she never got tired of seeing her always energetic husband at peace.  

Y/N was almost mesmerised by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and she couldn’t help but lift a hand to his face and gently stroke his cheek. She felt his body stir slightly, and a gentle smile appeared on her face when she heard him let out a little groan. 

His eyes opened and he smiled almost immediately when he saw Y/N’s eyes staring back at him. “Y/N, why are you up?” He asked, his voice deep and groggy with sleep. 

“Just like watching you sleep, sue me.” Y/N said softly, pecking his lips before resting her forehead against his. 

“You’re a creep, wifey dearest. I love it. I love you.” Richie mumbled, kissing Y/N lightly in between his words. Y/N let out a giggle before dropping her head into the crook of his neck. 

“I love you too, but you should really get some sleep mister. I’ll still be here when you wake up, don’t worry.” Y/N said, melting a little when Richie’s hand came to rest over hers on his cheek. 

“Goodnight Y/N/N.” 

“Night Rich.” 

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night

Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright 

Three times 'cause I waited my whole life 

2011 

Y/N had been working on this sketch for about eight hours and had gotten practically nowhere. She was almost tearing her hair out, having gone through at least ten cups of coffee in the last hour alone. Richie was performing somewhere downtown and John was out with his girlfriend, meaning that Y/N was tired and alone in her apartment. 

She checked her phone to see that it was now verging on one o’clock, and she groaned loudly, both at the time and her lack of progress. She went to put her phone down before seeing a text from Richie, causing her heart to skip a beat. 

Trash Boy: I’m outside with Chinese food, shitty coffee and the potential for a lot of cuddles. Please let me in. I nearly dropped a chow mein writing this.

She let out a relieved laugh, a smile blooming on her face as she raced to the door, pulling it open to reveal her beautiful, wonderful boyfriend. Richie seemed to be drowning in bags so Y/N ushered him in quickly, shutting the door as he unloaded all his bags onto her dining room table. 

“Ok, so I’ve got some fried rice and what I think is satay beef, honestly I have no.” Richie’s words were cut off by Y/N grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. His hands quickly found her waist while hers found his hair. When they pulled apart they were breathing heavily, and Y/N let out a chuckle when she noticed his glasses had fogged up slightly. 

“Not that I’m complaining but was there any reason for that?” Richie asked once he had caught his breath, and Y/N chuckled as her head found its way into the crook of Richie’s neck. 

“I’ve had a super long night and then you brought me the food and the coffee even after your show and I just fucking love you so much.” Y/N admitted, and Richie’s eyes widened slightly at the confession. It was the first time either of them had said those words, and it made Y/N look up at her boyfriend with trepidation in her eyes. 

“Rich I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t too soon or anything, but I really do love you.” Y/N said, her voice a lot meeker than it was previously. Richie’s look of surprised melted into one of pure adoration, and he simply leaned down and kissed Y/N, long and hard. 

“I love you too Y/N, so fucking much.” 

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want 

2015

“Babe, have you seen my good blazer? The grey one!” Richie called out from across the house, causing Y/N to groan in annoyance. 

“Rich I told you it was hanging up in your closet next to your wedding suit, and if you tell me you can’t remember which one that is, so help me God you will get my shoe so far up your ass it isn’t funny.” Y/N hollered, putting her earrings in with a little more force than usual. 

“Found it, thanks babe!” Richie called back, and Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately as she straightened the skirt of her dress. Tonight was the taping of Richie’s most recent special for Netflix, and he wanted Y/N to be there in the front row. 

She looked her outfit over once more before catching a glimpse of the framed photo that sat just outside their bathroom. It was of her and Richie kissing with a disgruntled John next to them, and she gave it a tender look before making her way over to their bedroom, where Richie was trying to psych himself up for the show. Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle from behind, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. 

“You nervous Rich?” She asked and he nodded immediately, taking in a deep but shaky breath. Y/N moved so she was now standing in front of him, her arms still resting securely around his waist. 

“You shouldn’t be, honestly. You are the funniest man I have ever met, and my best friend is John Mulaney. I have so much confidence that you will go out there and make that stage your bitch, Richie, and I will be sitting there right in the front row, watching it all. I couldn’t be prouder of my amazing husband.” Y/N said, lifting one hand to cup her husband’s cheek. She noticed a tear begin to fall and she gently swiped it away, sending him a genuine smile. 

“How did I get so lucky?” Richie said, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. She let out a soft laugh as she hugged him back, rubbing her hands up and down his back. 

“Honestly Rich, you could’ve proposed to me with a paper ring and I would’ve said yes, and you know how much I like my shiny stuff.” Y/N said, and Richie burst out laughing, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple. 

“Come on, woman of my dreams. We have somewhere to be.” 

In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool

When you jumped in first, I went in too

I'm with you even if it makes me blue 

2013 

“Welcome to the Christmas extravaganza, Toziers.” John said, ushering Y/N and Richie into the warm house. Every inch of spare space was covered in Christmas decorations, and the scent of gingerbread and mulled wine was thick in the air. 

“God this is amazing. I’m assuming Anna was responsible for most of the decoration?” Y/N asked, causing John to pull a rather insulted face that made both Y/N and Richie chuckle. 

“I’m hurt, however you would be right there. She’s always been more talented in the design aspect of things. Did you guys want a drink?” John said, and the couple nodded quickly. John laughed to himself as he went to fetch three glasses of mulled wine. 

The amount of mulled wine consumed increased greatly over the course of the night, and by about ten o’clock John, Y/N and Richie were well past it. “Hey Y/N, how much do you bet that Richie will jump in the pool?” John asked, and Y/N let out a laugh of disbelief. 

“There’s no way in hell he’d do that. It’s fucking freezing, right Rich?” Y/N said, turning to look at her husband. Instead of the shock and repulsion she thought she’d see on his face, Y/N instead saw a look of contemplation and deep thought. 

“How much are you offering, Mulaney?” Richie said, and John’s face split into a Cheshire cat grin, much to Y/N’s horror. “I’ll give you fifty if you do it, one hundred if Y/N does it as well.” John said, and Y/N’s eyes went wide as Richie stood straight up, already shedding his jacket and outer shirt. 

“Come on Y/N, it’ll be fun!” Richie said, taking his shoes and base shirt off before unbuckling his belt. Y/N let out a whine of protest, watching as her piss drunk husband stumbled towards the freezing outdoor pool. 

“Richie, don’t you dare!” Y/N shouted, but it was too late. Richie had already jumped in, and even though she knew she’d regret it, she jumped in too.  

Which takes me back

To the color that we painted your brother's wall

Honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws

We wouldn't be standing here so tall 

2010 

Painting was hard work, Y/N had come to realise. When her brother said he needed one of the walls in his apartment re-painted, Y/N had volunteered without even thinking, which is what caused her and Richie to be spending a precious Sunday covered in sweat and blue paint. 

“I can’t believe that instead of staying at home and fucking each other senseless, we are painting your brother’s feature wall. Fantastic.” Richie grumbled, painting the wall with much more aggression than necessary.  

“Easy Tozier. I’m doing this as a favour for my brother, and if you keep complaining there will be no chance of us fucking each other senseless at all today or tonight.” Y/N said sharply, and Richie gave her an annoyed look, sticking his tongue out as a childish gesture of irritation. 

The painting took quite a bit of time, with Y/N and Richie leaving the apartment at around four o’clock. When they got home Y/N was straight in the shower, itching to get the paint off of her skin. 

“You’d better not be having a shower without me, you minx! Wait for me!” 

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy 

2016 

“Mrs Tozier?” Y/N walked up to the young stagehand who had called her name, a kind smile on her face. 

“Please, just call me Y/N honey. What do you need?” She said, gently touching the young girl’s arm. 

“Its your husband. He’s really not feeling well, and he asked for me to get you.” Y/N’s face dropped slightly upon hearing that news, but she kept up the smiling front with a little less sincerity than before. 

“Where is he?” Y/N asked, and the stagehand lead her through the back corridors of the venues until she came to a fire exit door. 

“He’s out there.” The girl said before leaving, and Y/N felt confused as she opened the door, though the confusion turned into concern and worry as soon as she saw Richie. He had clearly just vomited and he was shaking like a leaf. 

“Shit, Richie. What happened?” Y/N asked, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the man she loved. His arms snaked around her waist almost instinctively, and she felt him rest his head against her chest. 

“I got a call from home… from Derry.” He breathed out, and Y/N felt all her muscles tense up. She knew Richie didn’t talk much about his childhood or his hometown, but from what she gathered it was not a good place, and clearly the phone call must have brought some stuff up in Richie. 

“Shit. Are you good, babe?” Y/N asked and Richie let out a shaky breath, lifting his head so he could look up at her. 

“I don’t know. I was fine but when I heard Mike tell me he needed me to come back to Derry I just lost it.” Richie said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Ok well do you still wanna do the show or not, because you don’t really look that red hot, Rich.” Y/N said with concern evident in her voice. 

“No, I’ll still do the show, but we have to go back to Derry as soon as we can after it, ok?” Richie said, an almost pleading tone in his voice. Y/N nodded, kissing the top of his head. 

“All of your problems, all of your shit, you can share it with me. For better or worse, right? And if you need it, I will drive away with you at a moment’s notice. I love you Richie Tozier. Always have and always will.” Y/N said, and when she met Richie’s gaze she was almost overwhelmed with the sheer emotion in his eyes. 

“I will never love someone as much as I love you, Y/N Tozier. You’re my world. Now let go of me so I can go do some kickass comedy.” Y/N chuckled at Richie’s words and obliged, letting go of her husband. 

Though neither one of the couple knew what their trip to Derry would have in stall for them, the sheer love between them was enough for them. 

[maybankiara]

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: With Midsummers having come and gone, Kiara thinks the only consequences will be their friends teasing them for a little bit, and telling her parents they called it off slips her mind. Nobody expects the Carreras to decide they want to see JJ again, and when they do, it’s pretend all over again.

word count: 6k

almost pretend masterlist | tag list

read on ao3

previous chapter

‘So, did you guys mack on each other?’

  John B’s arm is slung over Sarah’s shoulder as they are both draped over one of the hammocks in Chateau’s backyard. He’s grinning at the trio in the hammock opposite of theirs, mostly at Kiara and JJ. 

  ‘Please,’ scoffs Kiara. ‘As if I’d ever.’

  ‘Ouch, Kie.’ Next to her, JJ puts a hand on his chest, pouting. ‘I think I heard my heart crack.’

  ‘Pope will fix it for you.’

  ‘Nu-uh, I’m nobody’s mechanic.’

  ‘Not even for me?’

  Pope makes a throwing-away motion with his hand, shaking his head at JJ. ‘Not even for you.’

  ‘Ouch! You guys are mean.’ JJ sighs. He pats Kiara and Pope’s thighs as he pushes himself off the hammock, accompanied with grunts from the two. ‘I’m getting beer. Anyone want some?’

  They all say they do, which makes him groan at himself for trying to be nice to them, but goes to get it for them anyway. It feels as if the atmosphere has shifted ever so slightly, with all three remaining people having their eyes trained on Kiara now. 

  ‘What?’

  ‘So you really didn’t kiss?’ asks Sarah.

  ‘No! We didn’t!’ Kiara sighs and lets herself be swallowed by the hammock, taking up the space JJ left empty. Her head is touching Pope’s lap and he’s looking at her as if he’s waiting for her to say something else. ‘Why are you guys being so insistent on that?’

  Pope cocks his head to the side, exchanging a quick glance with the other two before looking back at her. ‘I don’t know. We just thought something could’ve happened.’

  She feels her chest stiffen. ‘Did you guys make bets?’

  ‘No,’ says Pope, but he’s an awful liar. ‘No, we didn’t.’

  Kiara decides to let it slide.

  ‘You guys are making me feel uncomfortable. It was just one night and it’s over. We can talk about something else, like asking John B and Sarah if they had enough condoms for their little escapade while Big John was away for the weekend.’

  As if on cue, Kiara hears JJ’s footsteps coming from the Chateau, accompanied by a rant about having to carry this many cans all on his own. It’s enough to take the Pogues’ attention away from the topic they’d been discussing, and beer is enough to get them to actually talk about something else. 

  JJ comes to sit back down with Kiara and Pope. She doesn’t realise in time, so she doesn’t raise her head up from his spot, but he pulls her legs up and sits down, putting them over his lap instead. 

  It’s such a nonchalant, effortless movement that she thinks nobody notices. But JJ’s hands are on her legs and she feels them move as he talks, and it’s difficult to get the group’s previous conversation out of her head. 

  it’s just jj, she thinks, and the thought releases the heaviness from her chest. 

  (just john, she thinks, and it’s stupid enough to make her light again.)

  ★

Eventually, though, the conversation does get back to Midsummers. It’s Pope who starts it as they drive back to the Chateau, leftovers from the Wreck in the back of the van with him and JJ. 

  ‘So, what’s the deal with you two?’ he asks, mouth full of fries. ‘What do you do now that your entire family and Kooklandia think you’re dating?’

  Kiara munches on her burger, glancing at Pope. Next to him, JJ is staring at her with a question in his eyes – they haven’t talked about this. 

  She stuffs a fry into her mouth and shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’

  Pope bumps JJ’s shoulder. ‘Hey, now you’ve got to keep pretending until you’re Mr. Carrera and it’s too late to stop.’

  ‘Hey, if the kooks like me as much as they did that night, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Ew.’ The boy next to him makes a grimace, scrunching up his nose. ‘Kook sympathiser.’

  ‘You’re just jealous.’

  ‘Well, yeah. We all are. Except for Kiara.’

  Kiara smiles, rolling her eyes at the half-assed joke, but the words take her back to half-assed smiles the kooks gave her and her family. It takes her back to JJ giving her hand a squeeze and keeping her calm throughout the night, so she looks at the road, instead. 

  John B’s concentrated on driving with a burger in one hand, and it’s easier to pretend it’s just the two of them. She knows JJ is perceptive enough to have a better understanding of her kook status than any of the other two – she doesn’t want to see whatever must’ve been on his face after Pope’s words. 

  Especially not pity. 

  The whole charade is mentioned only once more that night, when they’re having the last of beers, just John B, JJ, and herself. Pope left earlier to get a good night’s sleep as his dad expects him to work first thing in the morning, and Sarah is busy spending time with her family (they’re doing some therapy one of her dad’s friends suggested, because he found out about her brother’s addiction).

  ‘You know, JJ, you’re one hell of a fake boyfriend,’ Kiara says. She raises her can in the air, exchanging glances with both boys. ‘I wanna cheers to that.’

  ‘Hell yeah. That’s what I wanted to hear.’

  All three of them bump cans into one another, laughing as it takes them a lot more effort than it would if they were sober. 

  Next to Kiara, JJ spreads his arms over the couch behind him. ‘You know, it was a good night.’

  ‘What was he like?’ asks John B. He’s sitting across the two, leaning against the wooden wall. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. ‘JJ in the middle of Kooklandia. I can’t picture that.’

  ‘Oh, he was loving it,’ Kiara answers. ‘He tricked at least a dozen of them into thinking that they’d do business with him, or whatever. You know, the usual.’

  John B laughs. 

  ‘Yeah. I was a real catch that night.’

  Kiara glances at JJ, because his voice seems a little distant, and not in a drunk kind of way. 

  He’s looking at the space between the three of them, eyes out of focus. There’s the hint of a smile dancing in one corner of his lips, but it looks like something that’s a reflex, nothing else. JJ looks almost entirely different in that moment – it reminds her of the JJ she spoke to at the beach during the party, when he needed a few minutes of quiet. 

  Her hand reaches for his and she gives it a little squeeze. If John B notices, he doesn’t mention it. For a moment, JJ does nothing, but then she feels him applying the same pressure. He raises his head and gives her a little nod, as if he’s saying i’m okay.

  Kiara sends him a smile, before turning to John B. ‘He had all the kook ladies willing to leave their ugly ass husbands for him. The James Dean of our times.’ 

  John B laughs and JJ comments how James Dean was actually bisexual and he isn’t, and soon enough, it begins to feel a little less out of place. Still, JJ doesn’t let go of her hand even as he waves around the air with the other one. 

  It’s the first time that Kiara notices something has changed since Midsummers. Spending the night with JJ in an environment neither of them felt comfortable in exposed some part of their personalities they haven’t shown to one another before, and not to the pogues, either. She looks at him, now, as he talks about why the movies James Dean starred in are valuable pieces of art, and thinks about how she doesn’t see him the same as before. 

  They have something that’s just theirs, realises Kiara. The experience of Midsummers and the things they found out about one another is something only the two of them share. 

  He doesn’t let go of her hand until he’s back to his old, JJ Maybank-self.

  ★

Kiara is at work when her dad tells her to invite John to dinner tomorrow. She’s got her hands full of plates and glasses and nearly just about costs her dad 200 bucks when she almost drops them. 

  ‘Careful, Kiara!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she says, turning in the spot. ‘Um, JJ? Are you sure?’

  A slight wrinkle appears between Mike’s eyebrows. He flips a steak he’s currently cooking, handling the pan and the spatula at the same time. ‘Yeah. That’s your boyfriend’s name, right? John?’

  ‘Um. We call him JJ.’

  ‘JJ, then.’

  Mike makes an offhand motion towards the waiting area of the restaurant. The dishes on Kiara’s tray shake as she walks where he directed to, towards a table with a family of four. She manages a smile, but the conversation is cut short when she finds herself incapable of holding one. The mother thanks her and she’s kind enough that Kiara’s newfound jitters don’t end up causing a scene. 

  On her way back, she stops at the bar, taking a breather. 

  fuck. 

  ‘You good, Kie?’ From behind the bar, her cousin Iona throws a dish towel over her shoulder, a toothpick in her mouth. ‘Looking a little pale.’

  Kiara nods. She glances at her dad, who’s busy taking an order on the phone, and feels herself shudder. ‘All good. Just got a little lightheaded.’

  ‘You’ve been on your feet too long,’ notes Iona. She grins and cocks her head to the side, towards the backdoor of the restaurant. ‘Go out and take five. I’ll deal with your pops.’

  ‘Iona, you’re a gem.’

  Outside the back of the Wreck, there’s a little wooden bench where Iona usually sits on during her breaks. There’s cigarette butts in the little ashtray on the side of the bench, and she wonder how stressed just does her cousin get. 

  (Of course, she’s got better things to wonder about, the ones that are actually causing her to feel like she’s walking on needles, but ignoring them feels better.)

  Iona’s been working at the Wreck for about seven years now. At the age of almost twenty-one, she’s the eldest of Kiara’s cousins on her dad’s side and she’s by far the one she’s closest to. They’re friends, kind of, even if they aren’t in the same social circles. Kiara knows Iona’s friend group does drugs harder than weed, and the girl being from the Cut, she’s gotten herself in a fair share of trouble already.

  This brings her thoughts back to another person from there who can’t seem to stay out of trouble, and Kiara rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling her shoulders slouch. 

  It’s been nearly two weeks since Midsummers and foolishly, she forgot about the whole “dating” situation. Even the pogues stopped harassing her and JJ about what happened, or what might’ve happened.

  She forgot. Her parents didn’t. Her parents still think she’s dating JJ because she forgot the part of her plan where she tells them they ended things, amicably, and now she’s too much of a pussy to do it. 

  fuck. 

  Kiara just wants to throw something, but the only thing on hand is the ashtray, so she just kicks the bench underneath her. 

  It hurts her heel. She curses again and grits her teeth, angrier by the second.

  JJ is going to kill her. She promised him it would be a one-time thing and even if he joked to the pogues that he wouldn’t mind doing it again, that doesn’t make it okay. 

  It’s been more than five minutes, Kiara is angry and her foot is starting to really hurt and her dad is going to call her back in any second now. Her mind is buzzing – she’s freaking out, a little bit, maybe. 

  Her phone’s in her pocket, so she takes it out and shoots JJ a text. It’s short and concise and it explains what’s going on a little better than the one before Midsummers did, but she’s still a jittery bundle of nerves. She even has the urge to bite her nails, or pick at the ends of her hair, which is a JJ thing to do, not Kiara. 

  The phone in her hand buzzes and she pulls down the notification, reading only the first text before opening the chat. Her heart already sets in her chest – the rests of the messages that keep buzzing in only make it calmer. 

  JJ [7:22pm] ur dads offering free food. of course im coming

  JJ [7:22pm] do you think kiara carreras bf would wear a tie to smth like that or just jeans 

  JJ [7:23pm] also does your dad send innocent boys to military 

  JJ [7:23pm] that ones for science

  Kiara sends another text, telling JJ to stop asking and get into character! and the fact that he doesn’t even seem upset about this not being a one-time thing, gives her enough rest to finish her shift. Even her dad mentions she’s all chipper when she tells him JJ has agreed to come over, and Iona tells her she knew it was about a boy. 

  It doesn’t matter. Kiara finishes the rest of her shift with a spring in her step – for whatever reason, she has a good feeling about this.

   

★

JJ shows up too soon. It’s just fifteen minutes, but dinner isn’t ready yet and the table isn’t set and the living room is a little bit of a hot mess, so Kiara just takes him to her room. Through the hum of the cooker hood, she hears her dad shout at them to keep the door open, and it relieves some of the tension that anchored itself within her chest. 

  If they’re wanting to close the door, it will be for a variety of things they shouldn’t be doing, but sex isn’t one of them. 

  JJ plops face-down onto her bed, making a whew! sound. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a Kildare County logo, probably stolen from his dad. Kiara told him to dress like he’d dress if he was genuinely going to have dinner with his girlfriend’s parents for the first time (and now she’s slightly regretting not actually choosing the outfit). 

  ‘You’re not going to impress anyone looking like that,’ she notes, getting into a cross-legged position next to him. 

  He pushes himself off the mattress, just enough to prop his torso on his elbows. ‘Are you saying I’m not parent-approved?’

  ‘I don’t know. You might not be.’

  ‘Shit. What if they make you break up with me?’

  Kiara covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head in feigned disbelief. ‘But you’re my true love!’

  ‘It’s okay.’ JJ’s hand is on her knee and his expression is soft, enough to make her almost believe in it. ‘Love always finds a way.’

  It’s almost good enough, Kiara tells herself, almost. Because there’s little wrinkles in his forehead and a gleam to his eyes and the curve of his lips is somehow different than she’s used to, a little less prominent but somehow more, and suddenly Kiara is thinking of a lot of things at once. 

  What she does is roll back in laughter, sticking her hands in her hair. She looks at JJ, and he’s smiling right back at her. 

  ‘You’re a terrific actor,’ she tells him. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any problems tonight.’

  ‘You, on the other hand…’

  ‘Oh, excuse me!’ She pushes him so he loses his balance and falls on his side, groaning. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m good at acting.’

  JJ scofs. He shakes his head and his hair loses some, if nearly all of its composure. ‘Sure, yeah, I remember how that play went in sixth grade.’

  ‘We don’t talk about that.’

  ‘We don’t?’

  Kiara shakes her head. 

  ‘Must’ve missed the memo, then. They didn’t give it to actually good actors.’

  JJ receives a playful slap on the back and just as she begins to tickle him, her mother calls their names from downstairs. They smoothen each other’s clothes, looking for any wrinkles and imperfections, and JJ’s thumb brushes off a smudge of chapstick he caused by tickling Kiara when she was putting it on.

  (‘What are you wearing lipstick for?’

  ‘It’s cherry chapstick, dumbass. So my lips aren’t crusty. Smell it.’)

  Neither of them is taken aback by the intimacy of the action, even if the edge of Kiara’s lips burns where he touched it. Her dad calls them again and Kiara’s fingers go through JJ’s blonde hair fixing it into a little bit less of a mess, but still messier than he came with. 

  He glances at himself in the mirror and frowns at Kiara through it. ‘Why did you mess it up?’

  Kiara smiles. ‘Can’t have you too perfect, I don’t want them to like you too much. Anyway, let’s go eat.’

   ★

Dinner at the Carreras’, especially when there’s people over to impress, is a big deal. Kiara’s dad is the owner of the Wreck, which is one of the two restaurants from the island that employ people from the island, as opposed to Figure Eight’s staff imported from some of the finest restaurants on the mainland. That means he gets down and dirty, and adores preparing meals, so whatever he’s going to serve is going to be nothing short of a five-star meal. 

  When they came down to the table, Mike and Anna had prepared a full feast. Roast chicken with onion and sage stuffing sat in the middle, a variety of salads and toppings and side dishes scattered around it. They didn’t know what JJ liked, and when Kiara said that he’ll eat just about anything he can get his hands on, even mouldy bread, Mike decided to show the boy what a dinner is.

  There are times when Kiara wonders if he’s heard stories about Luke Maybank – if he has an inkling of what’s happening behind closed doors in the Maybank family. 

  In any case, both Carreras were right. JJ ended up tasting a bit of everything, taking as much as he could and showering her dad with compliments. 

  They’re ready for dessert, JJ finally having admitted that he’s left just enough room for it, and Anna invites Kiara to come along to the kitchen. 

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ her mom notes. 

  ‘Mom!’ 

  Kiara leans back a little, just enough to see through the kitchen door. JJ has a smile on his face as he chats to her dad, and even though she can tell there’s a little bit of fearful respect hiding behind it, it’s better than she could’ve hoped for. 

  The thought brings out a smile to her face, too. ‘He is.’

  ‘You should’ve introduced him to us sooner.’ Her mom hands her a clean plate one after the other, and Kiara stacks them. ‘Your dad seems to like him.’

  Her eyebrows perk up at Anna’s words. ‘He does?’

  ‘Mhm. I haven’t seen him this interested in a boy in a long time, even the ones working for him.’  

  ‘But he’s interrogating him,’ Kiara counters. 

  ‘He’s making sure John is—sorry, JJ is the right person for you and won’t screw you over.’

  All Kiara gives in response is a sigh. She watches her mother cut the cake she made (her dad sucks at baking) and she can already tell JJ is going to love it. It’s got custard filling on the inside, between the biscuit layers, and chocolate sprinkles on top with a crunchy crust on the outside. 

  It’s yet another thought that makes her smile. 

  Anna places a piece on the plate Kiara is currently holding. It’s not supposed to take long, but she is as diligent as her husband when it comes to food, so it does. 

  Kiara can overhear the conversation taking place in the dining room, but not enough to be able to tell apart what they’re talking about. She can only hope it isn’t about her. 

  ‘You know,’ her mom begins, putting a piece on another plate. ‘It’s very obvious that he cares a lot for you.’

  ‘Obviously, he’s my best friend. And boyfriend,’ she adds, quickly. ‘Best friend and boyfriend.’

  ‘The winning combination.’ Anna gives her daughter one of her rare, earnest smiles. ‘I can see it in his eyes, you know. When he looks at you, it’s as if you’re the only thing he sees.’

  Kiara shifts the plates in her hands, maneuvering them around, really doing just about anything she can to hide her face from her mother. She knows she’s blushing—she feels the heat in her cheeks, on her neck, on her freaking palms—and she doesn’t want that to be seen. 

  ‘Don’t hide from me, I can tell what you’re doing. You’ve got the same look in your eyes, you know? It’s not something to be ashamed of.’

  it is when you’re not actually dating, Kiara thinks, but bites her tongue before the words slip out.

  She just nods, manages to come up with a smile and follows back into the dining room. Anna is the one who presents the cake and just like Kiara thought, JJ hardly contains himself before reaching for his piece (and then a few more). She likes seeing him enjoy himself; she likes seeing him happy, even if her dad terrifies him. 

  Kiara has some cake, too, and listens to JJ tell a story from his childhood. He leaves out a few major details that would classify the story as illegal, and both her parents laugh at it. 

  At some point, JJ notices something’s up with her. He doesn’t say anything, listening intently to Anna’s tales about being a lawyer since JJ expressed some interest in the profession, but his hand finds hers under the table. It’s a subtle touch, more of a question than a statement, and Kiara’s fingers intertwine with his. 

  Some time later, her parents get involved in a few exchanges between themselves only, and JJ glances at her with eyebrows raised in question. 

  She nods, with a smile, and feels her hand squeezed. 

    ★

JJ asks her if she wants to go for a walk once Kiara’s parents have retreated from the kitchen. Both he and Kiara have offered to help out with the cleaning, but Anna was adamant that they don’t, so there was quite literally nothing else to do. 

  Outside, the air is chilly. Kildare island smells of the sea, wherever you go, and Kiara often thinks she could never be away from the sea. It’s the one thing she associates with home – the distinct smell of salt mixed with oak trees and freshly mowed grass, occasional bonfire and barbecue. 

  That is what comes to mind when someone says home. She isn’t much of a person who ties herself to places or people as her anchors, but memories are where she finds herself dwelling. Memories and experiences. 

  This part of the island is quiet. Her and JJ’s steps on the gravel path are the only thing she can hear that isn’t animals, really. It’s calming and terrifying, to not hear children playing outside even so late at night, like she always hears when she’s on her way home from the Chateau. 

  ‘What’re you thinking about?’

  Kiara glances at JJ, shaking her head a little, smiling a little more. ‘Everything,’ she says. ‘This is going to sound stupid, but I think I’m starting to appreciate what I’ve got. Friends, family, work, all the memories I’ve made here… It’ll be difficult to let go of it someday.’

  JJ chuckles, dryly, but doesn’t say anything. His footsteps fall into the same rhythm as her and he edges just a little bit closer. ‘Do you often think about leaving?’

  His voice is curious, but it’s low and slow in a way that’s making her wonder if there’s more behind the question. He doesn’t look at her when he asks it – he’s looking forward instead, eyebrows a little furrowed and shoulders hunched. 

  ‘Sometimes,’ admits Kiara. ‘I think about college, and sometimes about what happens after. I always thought I’d go out there, travel the world, try to save as much of it as I can, but I don’t know anymore. There’s people who need help here, too. People I see every day.’ She pauses, glancing at him. ‘Recently, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d come back here after college.’

  JJ nods without a word.

  She doesn’t think about him when she mentions the people who could use her help, and she wants to backtrack on that statement, but it feels like the deed is done. There’s only hoping he understands she doesn’t see him as someone needing fixing. 

  ‘You think you’d stay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got some time to decide.’ Kiara glances at him again and this time, he’s got an expression on his face that she can’t read. He’s thinking about something, she can tell, but beyond that he’s a mystery. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ His voice is sharp and deadpan, no thinking behind it. ‘As soon as I’ve got high school sorted, I’m out.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  JJ nods. ‘You’re going to be at college or travelling the world. Pope is going to be a big shot somewhere far away from here, where he can actually have a future. John B and Sarah are going to do whatever floats their boat, but considering their Romeo and Juliet status here, they won’t stick around, either. There’ll be nothing keeping me here.’

  no friends, no family, no future, Kiara understands. Her stomach churns at the realisation that unlike her, JJ didn’t spend a moment thinking about his answer. He’d had it prepared – he’d thought of it enough times to know it by heart. 

  They walk in silence, because what do you say when you realise your relationship with the person next to you has an expiration date and it’s approaching at a rapid speed?

  It was supposed to be a good evening. 

  Kiara wants to bump shoulders with him, brush his hand, give him any sign that would say i’m not gone yet, yet all she does is wrap her arms around herself. ‘You know we’re always going to be a team, right? The pogues are for life.’

  He chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Nah, that’s just a dream. We’re all going to move on, someday.’

  ‘Is that how you see us?’

  JJ looks at her and she has never, in her entire life, seen him so certain. ‘That’s the way it is.’

  They reach the end of the path and looking around saves Kiara from showing her reaction. She leads them toward the beach, through the trees with only the moon to shine their way, and hopes he won’t try to see her face in the darkness. 

  With her chest getting heavy and eyes teary, Kiara shoves those emotions in the back of her mind. 

  the pogues are forever, she thinks, even if i have to make you realise that.

  The tension between them isn’t like usual. It’s heavy with things they aren’t saying, loaded with emotions they’re both trying to hide; it’s a line there’s no uncrossing. 

  ‘Kie.’ JJ’s hand catches her arm and he waits until she turns to face him. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t care about you. I just—’ he stops himself and shakes his head, letting his hand fall to his side. ‘I don’t want to be disappointed. I need to keep myself in check. If I’m wrong, I’d – fuck, I’d give anything to be wrong about this.’

  She steps closer to him, wondering if her face is a book he can read word for word. Her hands longs to touch his, to give him the physical support she knows he needs, but she doesn’t let it. 

  Instead, she puts on what she hopes is a reassuring smile, and blinks the emotions away. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little hope.’

  ‘I can’t afford hope,’ he states. 

  ‘JJ—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ He takes a step back and Kiara feels the space between them like a blow to her chest. ‘We’re just kids, Kie. We’re not meant to be forever, or some shit like that. Hell, there’s shit about me that you wouldn’t even like if you knew. Right in front of your eyes and I’m pretending—’

  ‘Tell me, then,’ Kiara cuts him off. ‘I bet I’ll know it already.’

  He closes the same distance he’d previously put between them and they’re almost chest to chest, almost close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. 

  JJ has fire in his eyes, one that one he knows why it’s burning. ‘The kooks, I— I’m a hypocrite, Kie. I say I hate them when I really envy how fucking easy they have it. How one night with them when they think I’m one of them gives me more opportunities than I’ve had in the entire seventeen years of my life.’

  ‘That’s what this is about? Midsummers?’

  Something shuts in him and he steps away, further than before, walking towards the beach. Kiara catches up, falling in step with him. She doesn’t want him to run away from her and she isn’t going to let him. 

  ‘JJ, you can’t just do this.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He doesn’t stop walking, or slow down, and his strides are bigger than hers. 

  ‘Let me try.’

  He shakes his head; Kiara sees his fists curled as they swing at his sides, and reaches for one of them. The way his hand relaxes in his is instantaneous and instinctive, as if he were ice and she were fire. 

  JJ’s steps slow until they come to a halt. He leans his back against a tree without letting go of her hand; when he faces her, his eyes glimmer in the darkness. 

  ‘They kept mentioning my dad, and how good he’s always been with boats,’ he tells her. His voice begins rushed but calms to a steady pace, almost as if the words are hurting as they come out. ‘Then they started asking me questions about their boats, and I could guess what might be wrong with them and they thought it was amazing. They thought I had a gift.’ He pauses for a second; she hears him swallow. ‘In reality, I learnt boats because my dad would beat me if I didn’t recognise a boat he was fixing. I had to know all that shit because if I didn’t remember the horsepower, no one did, because he sure as hell couldn’t.’

  A shiver runs down her spine. JJ’s voice is distant but pained and she recognises it all too well. She doesn’t know what to say, so she gives his hand a squeeze and steps a little closer, enough to hold him if he needs her to. 

  He’s looking right through her. ‘I know boats because I had to. I always thought it was a curse, a burden, whatever. But they…’ JJ pauses, shakes his head, composes himself. ‘They saw someone who understands their boats like no one else. They gave me contacts of people who could use my expertise, offered me more jobs than I could take. And I saw my way out. I saw myself as one of them, eventually, with a nice three-piece, a fancy house, and someone else to take care of my shit.’

  Kiara’s eyes stare at his, waiting for them to come back into focus. He’s warm and trembling, and their hands are beginning to sweat, but she doesn’t let go. She watches him, his chest heaving, and waits for him to come back to her. 

  His thumb brushes her knuckles. JJ rests his head against the tree trunk, too, and closes his eyes for a few moments. 

  Now she understands why she recognised the way he’s been acting since they started the conversation – it’s the same distant, almost ethereal way he held himself that night during Midsummers, when he brought her out to the ocean. 

  Now there’s no waves to drown the silence. 

  ‘I hate it,’ he whispers. ‘I hate how much I liked their attention. I hate that I’ve been exchanging messages and emails and calls with some of them, arranging how I’d come take a look at their boats and yachts and whatever shit they’ve got parked in their private harbours.’

  ‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Kiara tells him, her voice hoarse. His eyes flutter then open, not seeing through her anymore. ‘I know you, JJ. I know why you’re saying this, and I get it. But you don’t have to hold onto those grudges anymore. People are shitty.’

  He laughs, dryly, but Kiara still considers it an improvement from what he was like only moments before. 

  She steps closer to him. ‘You understand boats in a way no one I know does, JJ. It might be because of your dad, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t use it. That it can’t bring you something good.’

  ‘It feels wrong.’

  ‘To want something better for yourself?’

  JJ nods, and Kiara’s heart shatters. ‘JJ, no. You’re not a hypocrite for realising the world doesn’t work the way you thought it does. There’s no good or bad people, right or wrong side of anything. That’s called growing up.’

  ‘Does being a grown up feel shitty?’

  It’s a light attempt at a joke, half-hearted and half-assed, and Kiara gives him a half-smile and a half-chuckle. ‘Yeah, based on everything I’ve heard.’

  ‘Ugh. Can’t wait.’

  Kiara tugs on his hand until he looks at her. She hesitates, for a moment, but then wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. There’s a moment in which she doesn’t know if she overstepped his boundaries, if this is something she shouldn’t have done, but then she feels his hands gentle on her back and she thinks it’s okay, i’ve got you.

  When they part, she ruffles his hair, just like she did before they went down to have dinner with her parents. She does that with a smile and to the question in his eyes, she says, ‘Can’t have you looking too sad.’

  JJ just sighs and pushes himself off the tree. ‘You’re so dramatic, Kie.’

  He gets back on the path and Kiara follows, navigating them through the woods. There’s a spring in his step that she didn’t even notice had been gone for a while, and she doesn’t comment on it. 

  ‘Says the one who just had a monologue that would put Hamlet to shame.’ 

  ‘Please,’ he says, ‘Shakespeare ain’t got nothing on me.’

  Kiara laughs and bumps his shoulder, causing both of them to almost lose balance at the touch. 

  JJ stabilises himself and looks at her. His eyes are wrinkled with mellowness to them, a faint smile tracing his lips. ‘Thanks,’ he says. 

  ‘Anytime. You’re my fake boyfriend, after all.’

  The words make him laugh just as they reach a clearing leading toward the open sea. The moon shines bright high up above them and he speeds up, almost running to water. 

  Kiara wonders if maybe she isn’t the only one who considers a place that makes people feel like this home. 

  JJ takes off his shoes and dips his toes into the water, watching her do the same. ‘You know, if pretending to be your boyfriend means I keep getting delicious food that’s also free, I’m down for doing it whenever. Seriously. This has been the highlight of my summer so far.’

  Stepping into the water until it’s above her ankles, Kiara frowns. 

  So far, this summer, they’ve had a road trip in John B’s van through the whole of North Carolina, thrown a few of the best keggers of their lives, nearly set the entire Chateau on fire amongst many other things. 

  So she just shakes her head in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Mhm.’

  JJ’s hand touches the water and throws it in her direction, sprinkling her. She fakes a grunt and then he laughs with ease, with no heaviness in it, and she feels her own chest to be a little lighter, too. 

  Her hands are on his chest, pushing him backwards. ‘Well in that case, Mr. John, I’ve got a gig for you. My mom’s cousin is getting married at the end of August and I desperately need a chaperone.’

  He cocks his head to the side, a grin taking over his face. ‘Then you’ve got yourself one, Miss Kiara.’

  Then he reaches down with both hands and splashes her with water until she’s completely soaked and so is he and they’re laughing, and Kiara thinks that maybe there’s some hope for the pogues left in him, after all.

   ★

tagging. @jjmaybanky​​ @chasefreakinstokes​​ @drewstarkey​​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge​​ @outrbank​​ @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​​ @teamnick​​​ @jjmaybanksbaby​​​ @mahleeyuh​​​ @nicolewithasoul​​ @kiarawilliams127​​ @starlightstarkey​​ @anonymous0writer​​ @outerbongs​​ @warnettc​​ @jjandreidsgirl​​

[infernwetrust]

AHS 1984: Between The Lines [Xavier Plympton x Chet Clancy] 2. Upset Me

PART 1

Summary: A world before the horror. A world with some horrors. A fantasy world, where things are slightly normal. A world where Chet Clancy has been in a relationship with his long term girlfriend, Brooke Thompson. A world where Xavier Plympton, struggles to find himself after a dark past. But what if I told you that's not all who Chet is romantically involved with? What if I told you there’s a little bit more to Xavier than what he presents himself to be? What if I told you to read between the lines? Together we'll explore friendship, love, deceit, and sexuality on a different level.

Rated: R for Restricted. 18+ Very Mature Themes.

Warnings: Alright folks, I’m going to be very honest with you. This book can get dark and depressing sometimes. Due to it’s unpredictable nature, since it is a work in progress, read at your own discretion, and apply tags as you see them fit. I will be giving warnings at the beginning of chapters that do take it to that level. If you do choose to read and you come across anything that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I am all ears.

WC: 1.4k

"Did anyone remember to grab joint papers?" Chet asked. "I used my last one outside." A now, shirtless Chet, stood at the top of the stairs. He combed out his hair and was wearing a gold chain. His eyes scanned his rather large living room where his friends had spread out to their comfort. Except not really. Brooke had no problem laying against Xavier's side, his arm in the back of the sofa,while he was having a conversation with Ray.  

Xavier paused his sentence to turn his attention towards Chet who was now at the bottom of the steps. He couldn't help, but to glance over him one good time.. or twice.

"Montana said that she would bring hers if she remembered to, so we're just waiting on her." he spoke. "What's the rush? I'm sure you and Brooke here are high out of the ass."  

"And wouldn't you love to be too?"

"Why is that even a question?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Please don't start this." Brooke interjected. "I've dealt with your bromance long enough in high school."

"Seriously." Ray added on. "When are you two not going at each other's throats. And it's always for something stupid. And to top it off you start talking again like it never even happened."

"Total bullshit." Xavier directed towards Ray.

"Yeah what he said." Chet chimed in, lifting Brooke's legs up to sit down. He gently placed them on his lap and smiled at her before throwing his arm around the sofa, just a little higher than Xavier's.  

"You two argue like an old couple. It's kind of cute actually." Brooke spoke again. "Chet you should see your face when X mentions anything about sports."

"Because I know that he's only saying it to make me mad. I've known this kid since we were toddlers and he has never had interest in sports."

"False." Xavier interjected.

"Oh did I mention he thinks aerobics are a type of sport, when it's a type of exercise?"

"You're joking right?" Ray asked Xavier. Xavier stayed silent, avoiding eye contact with every single person in the room. Chet stared him down like a dog with a heavy smirk on his face.

"Go on." Chet said, slapping the back of Xavier's arm.

"Jesus Christ,  he's not joking."

"I hate you. You disgust me. And I hope you choke on the beer you decide to drink tonight." Xavier said to Chet, getting up without warning Brooke who's head was now where he once sat.

"A warning would of been nice."'she mumbled.

"Where are you going?" Chet asked trying to hold back his laugh. He was ignored as Xavier headed for the door, taking out a box cigarettes from his pocket.  

"You done did it now." Ray said to Chet.

"Oh fuck me..." Chet sighed, throwing his head back. "Xavier I didn't-,"

The door was already slammed shut.

"Fuck." Chet quickly got up, again, giving Brooke no warning, hustling out the door behind Xavier. He stood at the bottom of the porch steps, hand in his pocket, puffing on his cigarette. He looked over his shoulder slightly at Chet, who ran his hand through his hair.

"Xavi." he called out.

"You know, Clancy." Xavier spoke. "You don't do well at keeping your mouth shut."

"And neither do you." Chet joined him at the bottom of the steps and the two sat down. Xavier took another pull before passing the cigarette to Chet who gladly accepted. "A little nicotine never hurt anyone right?"

"A little nicotine?" Xavier jokingly asked, looking at Chet and grinning. "I wish, Chet. I've been smoking since I was 12. I'm so fucked up." He sighed, putting his head between his knees.

"Just smoke more weed."

"I can't afford to keep being high all the time."

"Bullshit. You want to be a big time actor. You can more than afford to keep being high all the time."

"Not on set. In a couple years that stuff is going to ruin your memory. I promise."

"You get on my nerves. Always trying to be so good, innocent, and pure. Always trying to spit some words of knowledge."  Chet punched him in the side of the arm. "But if you want to keep that pretty face of yours, you need to stop smoking cigarettes or at least try cutting back."

"This is coming from the guy that's done coke twice now."

"How did this become about me?" The two looked at each other and started laughing. "But, listen. I'm sorry. You told me not to tell anyone about that and I did. You can tell everyone about the time I pissed my pants in public."

"No." Xavier responded, softly. "I'm not going to do that. It's not the worst thing you know about me." Chet had to go way back into the memories he had with Xavier. He had too many. And then he remembered.

"Ooo, yeah. Let's not ever talk about that one."

"Ever."

Chet handed him back his cigarette for him to finish up, but instead of finishing it, he simply flicked it into the grass. Xavier cared about his face too much to finish it. This one at least.  He looked at Chet, who was now staring now at his hands, playing with his finger nails. He admired everything about him. From his hair, to his eyes, to his lips, and everything below. Xavier didn't want to admit this, but he liked Chet. He knew how fragile Chet's masculinity was, so he made sure to never push those buttons when he made his sexual jokes around his friends. A flirt, he was, but Chet made him feel small despite the small height difference.  

"Are we moving the party outside?" a well dressed Montana asked as she stood behind the gate, chewing her gum aggressively.

"It's about time you showed up."  Chet said. "I've been sobering up and I don't like it. Did you bring those papers?"

"Well it's nice to see you too, Chet." she responded, blowing a bubble. She stared her ex up and down. "Xavier."

"Demon that haunts my dreams." Xavier responded, rolling his eyes.

"You miss me."

"I hate you."

"You want to fuck me."

"I want to choke you."

"Are you guys dialogue fucking right now? I can feel the sexual tension in the air." Chet spoke.

"I rather die."  

"That's funny, Xavier. I swear you were moaning my name last week at your party."

"That was you two?!" Chet's jaw dropped. "I was wondering where you went Xavier. Anyone that stood at the bottom of the stairs could hear you guys. See I knew there was still some love there."

"Oh please. I was drunk, high, and horny and so was she. It was a mistake."

"Then why did you kiss me yesterday when I came to give you back your flannel that you haven't stopped bugging me about?"

"Fuck off, Montana." Xavier got up swiftly, eyeing her down.

"Make me."

"Okaaaay. I think I'm gonna go back inside." Chet said, also getting up. "When you two are done lusting, I hope you'll join us and not go fuck in the woods somewhere."

Xavier and Montana stared each other down as Chet made his way back inside and as soon as they heard that door slam they went after each other.

"Why are you such a bitch?" he asked her.

"Ugh. Why are you?" she asked back. "You get fucked up, coming knocking on my door or calling my house. You tell me you love me, fuck me senseless, and then you leave and start acting like this. And I thought I was the moody one in the group."

Xavier hung his head low for the second time tonight, laughing quietly to himself.

"And you're just going to leave out the part where you do the same? Where you show up to my door, crying over me? Where you literally beg me to fuck you all the time and get livid when I say no? Right. Montana, please go fuck yourself."

"You already do that."

"Yeah, not anymore." He turned around to head back in the house.

"You won't last. You miss me too much."

"I'll hope for the day when you're not so full of yourself, sweety."

"Coming from the guy who thinks his face is worth billions of dollars."

"I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just say that. Now come on, let's go inside."

Toxic. But we'll examine that next chapter.

[jjsjuiceboxx]

LOVE TRIANGLE

POPExREADERxTOPPER

REQUESTED FOR: @letsgofullkook

SUMMARY: a love triangle between readerxtopper and readerxpope

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: underage drinking, smoking, cuss words, angst.

︎A/N- revamping my stuff so I’m just editing for decoration and stuff to make it pop more and draw attention ( no changes to the actual fic ), happy reading :).

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

You were currently on hms pogue with John B, Kie, pope, and JJ you were zoning out looking how the suns reflection could be seen from the water of the marsh, you were pulled out of your thoughts when Kie started to talk about the kegger tonight at the boneyard.

“ok so who is going to bring what?“ Kie asked looking to everyone expectantly.

Across the boat you can see JJ smirk “you all already know I’ve got the weed.”

“I’ll have the kegs filled up and take them both to the boneyard.” John B stated

You were about to speak but was cut off suddenly when you felt a cold chill approaching, “hey are you ok y/n?” Pope asked you slightly concerned.

“Yeah dont worry Pope I just got a cold chill suddenly it’s gone now tho.” You smiles sweetly at him for even noticing and then instantly be concerned Pope eyed you suspiciously he could still see chill pumps on your arms so he walked to his bag and pulled out his hoodie, his favorite one that he won’t even let John b or JJ wear.

Instead of Pope handing it to you he put it over your shoulders letting you slip your arms into them then he zipped it up for you, you blushed at the action heart pounding pope smiled at you.

“Really she can wear your hoodie without asking but when we ask nicely you don’t let us? Man I even say please I never say please!” JJ explained shocked

“She isn’t a cluts like John b and doesn’t spill beer everywhere and I cannot have you making my hoodie reek of weed, besides it’s Y/N we are talking about she doesn’t need to ask” Pope state’s non challenger

“Wow pope you’re a changed man.” Kie said laughing at the end and sending a wink your way

You were close with all the pogues but you and kie were the closest gossiping with one another about kooks and the boys while you did face masks and painted each other’s nails she knew you had a crush on pope which is odd considering he isn’t your type but he is so smart and it’s almost mysterious and he isn’t afraid to tell random people he wants to be a coroner and then proceed to tell them facts about what happens after you die and you couldn’t help but catch feelings.

“Wow pope you’re a changed man.” Kie said laughing at the end and sending a wink your way.

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

You and the rest of the pogues were now at the boneyard setting up for the kegger kie brought chips and a speaker to blast music, John b had the kegs and was setting them up, JJ sat down on a big fallen tree with his small contribution his weed, pope had a cooler with ice and more drinks inside while you carried a beach chair and solo cups kie also had you pick up straws for some of the beer in the cooler and it HAD to be recyclable.

“Y/N you know even at parties we have to save the turtles and other animals and our only earth.” She said seriously when you went to object she gave you a stern look.

“Yeah yeah....right the straws” you said kinda scared

“recyclable straws recyclable is important” she hollered after you now you were putting the straws on the table and putting solo cups out to be easily grabbed when you saw a few kooks show up a little earlier probably to set up their own beers and what not

But you couldn’t help but think Topper would be here yes he was dating Sarah but he always flirted with you before and during the relationship you at first hated it but one day when he stopped you realized you miss it so you decided the next time you saw him you would flirt first and so you did he then offered to get you a coffee and eat and you really got to know topper not kook topper, he hated pogues and was rude to them but he has never said anything bad about you atleast not to your face he always bullied the others.

As more people showed up you started to get anxious about toppers arrival you knew he was coming he always does the question was when ? And do you go up and talk to him ? When it’s just him and you you guys always talk about real stuff and you see that topper is just like the rest of us just slightly more perfect and put together.

You decided to start getting drunk to calm your nerves once you had two cups you were tipsy still sober enough to remember things and control yourself but a lot more relaxed and care free you saw pope walk away from taking to a girl and decided to dance with him.

“Pope come dance with me I love this song” you said cheerfully while spinning around

“Fine but If you get sick from spinning I’ll be mad” he laughed grabbing your hand

You and pope danced for 30 mins or something laughing and joking around and then suddenly you caught a glimpse of a tall tan boy with frosted tips along with Sarah and Kelce right by his side a slow song was playing and pope had you facing the entrance to the boneyard suddenly you and topper made eye contact he Gave you a slight nod in which you returned with a smile but it suddenly shifted when he looked away shaking his head so pulled back from pope and started taking his hoodie off

“I’m getting hot from all the Dancing I’m gunna grab a drink and cool off” you told him Pope pulled you into a tight hug that lasted about a minute.

“Thank you for dancing with me I’ve always wanted to slow dance with a pretty girl.” Pope stated shyly scratching the back of his head.

“Aww I’ll slow dance with you anytime handsome” you said blushing getting on your tip toes and kissing his cheek letting it linger for a bit you back off seeing him blush under the moonlight you handed him his hoodie and walked to get a drink.

While waiting in the line for a drink you looked up to see Sarah climbing a red buoy and Kelce and topper trying to get her down safely you looked away not wanting to catch their eyes. You hadn’t noticed but topper gave up as Sarah was being rather difficult while kelce climber up with her to pry her hands off the top of the buoy.

You felt a light tap on your shoulder prying your eyes away from John b trying to impress tourons by juggling some beers, your eyes met a pair of eyes you were all familiar with, topper.

“Hey there ken of the outerbanks, hows it hanging in the Barbie dream house?” You questioned amused

Topper laughed at your nickname you gave him “it isn’t the Barbie dream house when she isn’t my Barbie you’re” topper declared

You and topper during many of your hang outs tho you like to calls them private dates where you just talk and laugh he was wearing a bright salmon polo and khaki shorts with a belt and some sperrberrys to match and let out a little chuckle and said he looked like your old ken doll you have “accidently” taken from school, oops.

Topper laughed “ok ok fine I’ll take it but you have to be my Barbie” he said laughing

“Ok I’ll be the Barbie to you ken”

And hence the day the nicknames had been born. By this time it was your turn to get your drink topper took your cup and filled it up and gave it back to you while he did his.

“Wow who knew topper Thornton could be such a gentlemen” you mocked

“Oh haha you’re so funny aren’t you Barbie” topper said sarcastically

You were about to come up with a remark when he suddenly turned to you stopping you in your tracks looking at you seriously.

“Hey can we like uh talk somewhere?” He questioner awkwardly.

“Yeah of course top Ik a good place” you motioned him to follow you in a set of bushes near the woods looking around once you got there for any horny drunk teens only to find none.

“Is everything ok topper? You’re never really serious unless something is wrong” you said worrying you know a conversation with topper was serious when you said his name and not a nickname.

“I know you’re friends with pope and I’m with Sarah but I can’t talk to Sarah or rafe and Kelce the way I can with you I feel like the real me I had forgotten about and you help me find it again, I don’t know I guess I got slightly jealous seeing you dance with Pope and laughing while wearing his hoodie” topper said quickly

You put your hands on either side of his cheek making him look you in the eyes you stared at him in an adoring way “topper I feel the same but I’m a pogue you’re a kook even though we understand one another not everyone can see it that way, I mean rafe could unfriend you Sarah wouldn’t be around and I don’t want you to lose that because of me” you said softly

“I know I know it just sucks because I do really like you I want To be with you, don’t get me wrong I like Sarah too but I feel pressured because of my parents saying and putting words into my head makes me wonder if I really like her or if I just think I do, but one thing for sure I know I like you” topper stated stepping closer

By this time Sarah was looking for topper him being gone far to long for “getting a drink” when she neared the keg topper was no where insight “hey kie I know you hate me but have you seen topper? He was getting drinks and now he is gone” Sarah explained looking around

“ I saw him walk down the beach following someone too dark to tell who, I know what you’re thinking that I’m saying that to upset you like or whatever but I’m not” kie defended rolling her eyes.

“No I can tell when your lying I believe you thank you” Sarah said walking off in the direction joe pointed too.

“Topper I like you too but I don’t know how this could work and I don’t want to hurt you saying this but I also like pope but we don’t flirt nearly as much as we do he doesn’t know I like him” you said looking down not wanting to hurt him

“ hey hey it’s ok friends who spend all the time together are bound to catch feelings whether it’s one sided or not I’m not upset thank you for being honest” he said smiling softly tucking some hair behind your ear you smiled leaning into his soft touch.

Pope was a little further down the beach then Sarah was pope sat in front of the fire with a marshmallow on a stick while John b laughed at pope trying to teach JJ how to roast a perfect marshmallow for the worlds best s’mores, “JJ you need to hold both hands one on top of the other at the bottom of the stick and then push your marshmallow down at the top till the stick poked through the marshmallow so it won’t fall into the fire and waste the marshmallow, then you hold it just above the flames. No not like that it’s too close you will catch the marshmallow on fire....again. Now you wait 5 mins then rotate it to the other side and then wait 5 mins and do the same all over so it gets a perfect brown shade don’t catch it on fire because one it’s bitter two it is a lot more hot and three some sparks could be left on it that you can’t see and will burn the shit out of your tongue possible 2nd degree burn that grants a hospital visit now you see mine is perfectly brown on all sides now you take your graham crackers and put the marshmallow on one then the chocolate then you sandwich it all together like so and bam you’ve got yourself the worlds best s’more” Pope said with a chefs kiss after he did a technical tutorial on the proper way to make a smore for the poor boy who has never learned how.

“Eww mine looks like toe cheese” JJ said grimacing.

“ I don’t want to know why you know that man.” John b said watching it play out amusingly.

“Just eat it JJ it’s good the best ever honestly, off topic have you seen y/n I havnt seen her in 30 mins” pope asked curiously

“Aww pope you have a crush on the baby pogue” JJ said teasingly

“JJ leave him alone who cares if he likes her damn, but uh I saw her walk the way” John b Pointed in the direction you had went

Pope stood up nodding his head going in that direction to look for the girl he was soo in love with still ahead of Sarah.

You could feel the tension between you and topper being so close to one another he started to lean on slowly and you did too not being in control of your body you were so lost in his eyes your lips finally touched and it was slow and passionate and it felt like time has stopped just as it was getting more heated you heard a twig snap and looked behind topper to see a wide eyed pope standing there.

“ y/n....what’s going on why are you kissing topper ???” Pope asks shocked

“I..I” you stuttered startled that pope who you like caught you kissing another guy you also like

“Topper you there?” You heard Sarah’s voice from behind a tree

“He’s right here” Pope deadpanned looking you straight in the eye

“ topper there yo- what are you two doing?” Sarah asked confused

“We were just talking babe.” Topper said softly

“Yeah If by talking you mean tongues in each other’s mouths” pope said angrily

Sarah stares between you and topper shocked “is..is this true topper?” Sarah asked quietly when topper looked down and didn’t say anything she knew her answer.

“Wow and after all I’ve told you about my past and you do this, you told me you loved me” Sarah said walking away.

“Pope look I ca-“ you were cut off by pope speaking

“No no you don’t get to talk right now, I thought you liked me? I know you never said it but I can pick up some ques, I gave you my favorite hoodie so you were warm I danced with you and I stood for an hour waiting for you and you never showed. Was I just a toy for you to use when topper isn’t here?” Pope asked sad

“What no of course not I like you a lot Pope I really do, but I also like topper as well and I’m so confused I don’t know why or how anything would work with any of us with the no pogue on pogue macking rule and the whole kook vs pogue thing I...I just don’t know” you said ashamed

“Wow, you were just talking shit about topper the other day and now you like him? I’m sorry y/n I can’t do this right now you don’t like me because if you did you wouldn’t have has another guy so pick topper” Pope said tears in his eyes leaving the seen fast.

You looked at topper tears running down your face he immediately wrapped you In his arms rubbing your head as a loud sob shot out of your body and a bunch of oh my gods.

“Hey hey it’s ok just let him cool down and then you can speak it him rationally I’m not mad you like us both I get it all I ask is that you give me a chance and Pope too and then when you’re ready you can choose who you want or choose neither of us” topper said reassuringly.

You pulled out of his embrace nodding your head as you wiped your tears away planning on what to tell pope when everything is calmed down.

[bangtansflower]

Opium Chapter 1

A/N: This one I wasn’t planning on bringing out so soon, but it kept on nagging me at the back of my head that I had to write it. I guess I love the heart break.

Warnings: Drug abuse. Underage drinking. Suicide. Angst. Tons of it! Heart break. Lying BTS. Just want to point out there that this is entirely fictional and that BTS and other characters in this fic are not based on real life at all! 

Summary: You couldn’t believe it. He was back. Now that Min Yoongi is back in your life, it takes a turn for the worse. How could he just up and leave then waltz back in? And how could the guys you trusted with all your heart betray you like that. Struggling to cope with it all you turn to drugs and the comfort of Yeonjun and his older brother Sejin. Falling into a deep pit of despair is there any hope of you managing to climb out of the hole that just gets deeper each day?

Wordcount: 1,487

Masterlist / Next

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You sprawl on the couch one leg dangling off it, head thrown back leaning against the cushions. Taking a long drag of your spliff you let your eyes roll back, allowing the tingling feeling to take you over, letting your mind forget. Tomorrow will be another day. Another day of forgetting. You plan to drink and take drugs till you could forget everything and everyone. A mop of blue hair comes into your side view before a face comes close to yours making eye contact. “Noona, give me some of that weed”. Rolling your eyes you pass Yeonjun the rest of the spliff watching him take a long drag, holding it before exhaling slowly, you were mesmerized by the smoke coming out of his mouth. Yeonjun made himself comfortable on the floor leaning against the couch. Taking a swig of his VERY strong whisky which only had a bit of coke, he eventually asked in a quiet voice “Noona...What happened?” A silence engulfed the two of you for a few moments, the only sound was the pitter-patter of the light rain outside. Turning your head slowly you faced the ceiling focusing on that one dark patch that stood out against the whiteness and started to explain in a soft whisper. 

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Flash back

You were walking along campus, headphones blasting loud music but you did not have a care in the world. It was getting dark, the sun slowly setting painting the skies in its warm colours of red, yellow and orange. It was rare to see the campus this empty, it was peaceful, but then again it was the start of the weekend and everyone wanted to party. A ding of your mobile pulls you out of your thoughts, checking it quickly a pout comes across your face.

Sunshine: Sorry guys I can’t come join the escapade of fun tonight! T.T I have to finish this dance routine for the exam. Which also means Jungkook and Jimin, sorry to ruin your plans but i really do need you there! 

Chimmy: Hyung! Why?! It’s the weekend and I was looking forward to it! Aish let me get ready.

Joonie: I’m also going to have to be that person and pull out of the plans too. And I’m going to drag Taehyung with me. I need him to sing.

Bunny: HA pull out. And Hobi on my way.

JinJin: OMG Jungkook grow up. And same here guys. My head is pounding from all of the studying I’ve had to do this past week.

Vante: LOL. And dammit. I thought you would forget Joon hyung.

Joonie: Harhar.

This was happening more often recently, a frown marred your face, yes it was exam season, and yes tensions were high, but it never stopped anyone before. You decided to ignore the rest of the messages, not replying and opted to finish your walk to your small apartment. Your apartment wasn’t much but it was home. You and Jungkook lived together, in a non platonic way, the two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Making your inside you notice how quiet it is, Jungkook must have already gone to the dance studio. You sigh putting you mobiler on charge, now that you weren’t going out at least you could finish off your assignment. 

After 2 hours you finally finish, rubbing your eyes your stomach rumbles. Deciding to go to the convenience store to treat yourself to your favourite snacks, you deserved it after all, you stand up and stretch like a cat, even getting on your tippy toes. Grabbing your favourite oversized hoodie you grab your phone off charge seeing 2 missed calls from Jungkook and a message.

Bunny: Y/N gonna be home late, Hobi is really drilling this dance into us and won’t let us leave till it is near perfection.

Replying that it was okay and that you will see him tomorrow, you find your purse shoving it into your pocket, tie up your shoes and head out into the night. You found it weird being out on a friday night without the boys, but was it really that weird, your heart fell, you were getting used to it. Being without the boys, you swore you saw all of them less and less these past few months, even Jungkook and you live with the guy! Your eyes started to water but you quickly wipe them away, you would not cry over this you told yourself. 

Loud recognisable laughter made you turn around in curiosity, scanning the area your eyes land on Hoseok who was drunk and dancing in the middle of the park across the road. Eyes widening you could see all of the guys, Jungkook and Jimin recording Hoseok, with an even more drunk Taehyung joining in on the dancing. Seokjin and Namjoon laughing out loud leaning on each other for support, and wait...no...it couldn’t be..could it? Take a step back your mouth opens in shock. Yoongi? Yoongi was back? And no one told you? Rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things you knew that there was no mistaking that gummy smile, Yoongi was really back. And he was back with another girl, arm wrapped around her waist pulling her closer to his frame. 

The feeling of your heart sinking just moments before was nothing like this feeling, the feeling of your heart shattering into a million pieces, so many that it could be mistaken for fine dust particles being dragged away by the soft breeze. Feeling something wet on your face your shaking hands touch your cheeks, when did you start crying? Muffling a sob with your hand you turned away, turned away from the people who you called your friends, from the people who knew all the pain you went through and now were the cause of your pain. You ran to the only safe place you knew, but not before grabbing some things from your place, you really did not want to stay at that apartment, drinks and drugs.

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Present

Yeonjun listened in pure silence attentive to every word you said, a lone tear fell down his face as he turned to face you. “How could they do that to you? After everything that happened? The hyungs were meant to help you yet they did the complete opposite!” He raised his voice with every word, anger filling his chest. “Noona your staying here, Sejin hyung won’t mind.” He said determinedly “Pretty sure your the only girl he would allow me to have stay over” he added as an afterthought head tilting in concentration, the drugs were truly starting to get to him. This made you laugh a little, a small smile appearing on your face, moving one hand you ruffle his vibrant blue hair a little “Thank you Yeonjun, I knew I could count on you” you say in a small thankful voice. Smiling back at you he moved his half empty drink to your mouth causing you to sit up slightly, taking it from him you downed it, the whisky burning your throat as it goes down. Gasping suddenly Yeonjun gets up in a stumbling mess, the drugs and alcohol making the room spin a little, you grab him quickly helping stabilize him before he falls trying to stop your own dizziness from the sudden movement. “Noona I’ll be right back, I have just the stuff that will make you forget!” He grinned a toothy grin and puts two thumbs up before running in the direction of his room, your eyes followed him wondering what on earth he is talking about. Yeonjun came back a few moments later with a small tin “Noona this is Sejins secret stash, he would usually kill me for taking these but I do say this is on occasion where it is worth the risk”. Looking curiously at the silver tin you notice that there are a few rolled up cigarettes inside “Is that more weed?” You grin looking quickly between Yeonjun and the tin, you both have exhausted your combined weed supply. Shaking his head with a smirk on his face “No noona, this is something much better.” He takes one carefully out of the tin holding it up for you to see, “This is opium, and I have to say it is one of my most favourite things to smoke” Reaching out you take it from him putting the end in your mouth and make eye contact with Yeonjun waiting. He reaches into his pocket taking out a pink lighter, lighting his own laughing at the annoyed expression you make before lighting yours. You inhale slowly savouring every minute, before exhaling. You have found your new favourite fix you think to yourself. You don’t even notice the messages piling up from the guys on your mobile, and even if you did happen to notice, you certainly did not care.

[starrystarrybabe]

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER EIGHT (Ben Hardy x OC)

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while. 

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX, CHAPTER SEVEN

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hey, everyone! Apologies for the slightly altered formatting, the option for the lines isn’t currently available on tumblr and I am confused. If you could help me figure this out, I’d appreciate it. Thank you!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: explicit sexual content (18+ only please!)

~

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

Sonakshi Sinha as Anusha Laghari

~

LILY’S DRESSES

~

Lily is howling in laughter as she watches comedienne Anusha Laghari’s comedy special on Netflix. It is filled with jokes about growing up Indian, dealing with white people, and being in the comic industry as a woman of color. She’s currently talking about how she’s being described as the “brown John Mulaney,” but nothing about that man is remotely like herself, as much as she likes John Mulaney.

“The man is from a bloody Catholic household and walks around like he’s taking up too much space. I don’t have anything in common with that. The only thing that’s similar about us is that we both get massive paychecks,” Anusha says, grinning as the audience cheers. “I’m alright with the success rate being similar, but I am my own person, and not any version of anyone else. It’s been a wonderful show here in Radio City, and thank you so much for coming out to see me! I love you all! Good night, New York!” Anusha blows kisses to the crowd before the screen fades away to the end credits.

Lily met Anusha when they were both very young, and the pair were in the same Indian dance class. Jer would drop her off, and the Indian mothers would look at her curiously, but not say anything.

Needless to say, the fact that she was only half Indian was very noticeable when Jim’s pale complexion and cable-knit sweaters clashed with the brown women and colorful saris he was surrounded by.

Lily had practically no friends in that class except for Anusha, who told off some mothers and walked over to Lily when she was crying. She was always there for Lily, even though her mother didn’t exactly approve of the life Lily lived. When she saw how dedicated Jim was to taking care of his daughter and helping her experience her culture, she gained respect for him and practically adopted Lily as her own daughter, bringing her along to family occasions and constantly allowing the girl to sleep over with Anusha, and vice versa. Jim would sit with Anusha’s family at recitals and smile as his little girl twirled around stage with her best friend.

Anusha was always funny. Comedy made sense for her. She struggled for years, moved to New York, booked strange hours and worked under sexist bosses to make her name in the industry. Now, she’s one of the biggest names in comedy. Lily couldn’t be prouder of her childhood bestie.

Lily calls her friend, catching her breath. Anusha picks up immediately.

“Hello, Lily!” she cheerily says. “How was the special?”

Lily wipes a tear from her eye. “Darling, you’re so talented. I’m so proud of you. Also, my stomach hurts from laughing so damn hard.”

Anusha lets out a laugh. “Thanks, Lily! You’re the best, mate. I’m so glad you like it.”

Lily sighs and pets Reykja, who jumps up onto the couch. “It was amazing, darling. I’m so proud to call you my friend, and I know that Jim is smiling at you as we speak.”

Anusha quiets, letting out a small sigh. “Lily… stop it, don’t make me cry. You know I loved Jim more than anything. He was the absolute best. I’m so proud to call you my friend. Your latest album is a hit, and you’ve got a gorgeous blonde man pining over you. Now, if I were you, I would have immediately dragged him to bed, but--”

“Can’t I be nice without you making things filthy?” Lily scoffs, shaking her head. “You don’t even like blondes.”

Anusha laughs. “You’re right. But I have an interest in one of your blonde boy’s friends.”

She raises a brow. “Gwil is taken and so is Rami.”

Anusha huffs. “I know, Lily! You think I didn’t do my research? I like Joe.” She takes a deep breath. “Joe seems really nice, and he’s very cute and talented. I looked online, and I didn’t see anything about him having a girlfriend.”

Lily smiles. “He’s single.”

Anusha lets out whoops and hollers of joy. “Yes! Could you get me his number? I really want to talk to him.”

“You’re in New York right now, aren’t you?”

“Yep! I’m coming back to London tomorrow,” Anusha says.

“He’s in New York as we speak. I can tell Joe to meet you somewhere tonight.”

Anusha nervously laughs. “Lily, babe… I’m in sweats and my hair is greasy enough to sustain a fire. I can’t meet anyone like this.”

Lily nods. “I get it. I’ll ask him if he’d be interested in meeting you, alright?”

Anusha sighs in relief. “That would be great. Love ya, Lily!”

Lily smiles. “Love you too, Nush.”

She hangs up and immediately calls Joe, who picks up after a few rings.

“Hi, Lily! I was just thinking about you!” He sounds kind of drunk. “Sebastian and I are out drinking and one of your songs came on and I screamed ‘That’s my friend!’’

Lily smiles and chuckles. “That’s very sweet of you, darling. I appreciate it.”

“I also told everyone how you and Ben are soulmates,” he continues, giggling.

She holds back anger and sighs heavily. “That’s great, Joe. The world already thought that. I can’t wait to see Ben’s reaction to the news. Can I ask you something quickly?”

Joe laughs. “Sure thing! What is it?”

“Do you know Anusha Laghari? She has a comedy special on Netflix,” Lily begins.

“Of course I know her! I love her stuff! She’s also super pretty,” Joe says happily.

Lily smiles. “She’s my best friend from Indian dance school, and she wants your number.”

Joe gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. “Me? And her? Lily, you’re joking.”

“I’m not. She told me herself,” Lily says, leaning back on her couch.

“She’s talented and funny and gorgeous and cool, and— and— I’m just a lanky white dude who met Jeff Goldblum once! Why me?”

Lily shrugs. “Because you’re funny and handsome and charismatic and sweet.”

Joe stutters. “Aw, Lily, I’m blushing. Really, she asked for my number?”

Lily nods. “Mhm.”

“Give it to her, and tell her that I’ll text her when I’m not drunk. Thank you so much, Lily!”

“Of course, Joe. Uber home and drink some water, love.”

“Sure thing. Bye, Lily!”

Joe hangs up and Lily texts Anusha Joe’s number, explaining that he’ll text her when he’s sober.

—-

The next morning, Ben looks in the mirror and tries to pep talk himself up, trying on his beanies to see which one works best with his navy blue adidas jacket and black-striped joggers.

“What’s better, Frankie? Yellow or red?” He turns to his pup, who opens one eye and sniffs in the direction of the yellow hat. “Thanks, girl. I’ve got to look good for our walk today. I’m going to ask Lily to go to the Oscars with me.”

Frankie yawns and stretches, standing up and walking to Ben’s feet. Ben leans down and puts the leash on her before checking that he has his phone, keys, and wallet. He puts on his sunglasses and they leave the apartment, walking over to his car.

They drive to Garden Lodge and Ben parks next to Lily’s G-Wagon. The gate is already open, since Ben and Lily do this joint dog walk five times a week and Ben arrives at the same time every time they do it.

“I think the garden is pruned well enough,” Ben comments, watching as Lily meticulously goes through a patch of yellow flowers looking for weeds.

Lily looks up at him and takes off her filthy gloves and large sun hat, shaking out her hair. “I saw some weeds earlier this morning, so I decided to do something about it.”

Ben smiles as Frankie licks Lily’s cheek, and Reykja runs out of the doggie door to meet her friend. Frankie barks happily and Rey yips in return, playing with the other pup.

Lily picks up the end of the leash attached to Rey’s harness, standing up and looking up at Ben.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“Yep!” Lily responds, walking alongside Ben and locking the gates after they exit. As they walk out of the driveway, they see two teenagers pasting notes to Freddie on the wall.

They spend ten minutes with the excited teenagers who fawn over Frankie and Rey, explain how much they love Queen and Room 301, and get selfies with both of them.  After the kids leave, Lily smiles up at Ben.

“They were more interested in you than me, you know. BoRhap made a difference,” she says, smiling as they begin the walk to the park a half mile away.

Ben nods. “I know. But they’re getting into your music as well because of the movie, so it’s not just Queen that’s thriving.”

She nods. “I just hope the Academy acknowledges all of that. Rami deserves to win, and BoRhap deserves all the awards it’s up for.” She chuckles. “I have a feeling I might be a little biased though.”

Ben looks down and lets out a little laugh. “I don’t mind. Actually, on that note, I’d like to ask you something.”

Lily bites back a smile and looks up at Ben. Is he going to do what she thinks he’s going to do? “Of course! What is it?”

Ben takes a deep breath as the dogs sniff the base of a tree, and gathers all his courage. “Would you like to go as my plus one to the Oscars?”

Lily’s eyes light up and her smile brightens the gray London sky. “I’d love that, Ben!”

Ben grins back at her, releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and Frankie looks up at her dad, wagging her tail. “That’s great!”

Lily walks alongside Ben, and she laughs, shaking her head. “You looked nervous for a second, Ben.”

Ben feels a cold drip of sweat coming down his forehead and his face burns. “Huh? I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?”

Lily looks up at him and raises a brow. “I could’ve said no.”

Ben looks down, laughing nervously. “I mean, you could’ve, and gone with Joe again.”

She scoffs. “Even then I ended the night with you, Ben.”

Ben nods, smiling. “Yeah…”

She shrugs. “Besides, I practically set him up with my friend.”

Ben grins at her excitedly. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Mhm. You know the comedienne Anusha Laghari?”

Ben nods, grinning. “Of course! How do you know her?”

“She was my best friend as a child. We went to Indian dance school together as children.”

Ben nods, impressed. “Sometimes I forget that you know so many famous people.”

She grins. “Another one of my friends was Sean Ono Lennon. Yoko still sends me birthday gifts.”

Ben stops in his tracks. “You’ve met Yoko Ono.”

“Yes, I’ve been to her house for play dates with Sean. He helped me through the loss of my father.”

“Wait.” He waves his hands around in a confused gesture. “Does this mean that you met the other Beatles as well?”

She nods. “I know Paul and Ringo. I met George briefly when I was a baby but I don’t remember.”

Ben shakes his head as he continues walking. “That’s… how are you so nonchalant about that?”

She shrugs. “I was born into this life. It just sort of happened.”

Ben stutters for a minute before taking a deep breath. “Anyways, back to the topic at hand. Joe’s been single for a long time. What makes you think that Anusha can change that?”

Lily nods. “I have a good gut feeling about this, Ben. Also, she’s the one who asked for his number. He’s not chasing after someone who’s uninterested. She’s funny, he’s humble, and it wouldn’t be long distance since she lives in New York at the moment. That makes everything easier.”

Ben raises a brow. “Do you think it will last if it happens?”

She smiles and nods. “The last time I had a feeling this strong about anyone was when Zichi asked me about Gwil. Before then it was for Madi and Bron.”

Ben purses his lips. “You have a pretty good track record then. I trust your judgment. If Anusha is like she comes across in her special, her and Joe will be great together.”

She grins. “What you see is what you get with both of them. I have a good feeling about this.”

They walk along the track in the park in relative silence before Lily speaks up.

“You should wear a white suit jacket.”

Ben looks over at her and raises a brow. “All white?”

She shakes her head. “No. I think it should have a little bit of black, but that with nice dress pants and a pair of black Louboutins? Could be a major look.”

Ben nods, considering her suggestion. “What about sunglasses?”

She smiles, looking up at Ben. “That could be good.”

Ben takes mental notes of that before giving a suggestion of his own. “You should wear a red dress.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “Any particular style?”

He smiles and shrugs. “I think a princess gown would be fitting. After all, you’re the princess of Queen.”

She lets out a little laugh. “I guess I am. I’ll get it with a hoop skirt large enough to fit a person under.”

Ben raises a brow and looks away from her.

Anybody would be lucky to be under Lily Anne’s skirts. He just prays that one day, it could be him.

—-

Lily is corsetted tightly, and leans on the California King sized bed for support. “Fucking hell— holy shit! How much tighter can you go?” She asks the assistants helping her into her red ballgown.

It is heavy, large, has poofy sleeves, and her tits are barely contained by the layered fabric that dips low and squeezes her waist. The skirt looks like the curtain of an opera house, and the fabric is subtlety embroidered. She’s never worn something so grandiose before, but she has a feeling that tonight will be the night Ben admits his feelings to her, so she’s made every effort to look like a goddess.

Her heels are placed on her feet and her loose curls are adjusted before a heavy diamond choker and dangling diamond earrings are put on her. She looks in the mirror and catches her breath, her red lips turning up into a smile.

She’s never been this gorgeous before.

There’s a knock on the door, and she collects her clutch and does final checks on her outfit before opening the door and seeing Ben—

Her breath stops in her throat, because her man is looking so good tonight. That white suit with the black shoes and the perfectly tailored pants— she thinks she’s going to die.

He’s looking at her like she’s God, and in his eyes, she may as well be. Ben has never been struck speechless by how good someone looks before, but both of them are trying to form words as they look over each other.

“I— you— wow,” Ben gets out, shaking his head in awe. “You look amazing, Lily. Truly.”

She smiles and looks him over, adjusting his bow tie. “So do you. I was right to suggest the white tux jacket.” She smiles up at him. “You look stunning, Ben.”

Ben smiles and takes her hand as she exits the room and thanks her assistants. “We both look great. Now we just have to figure out how to transport me to the event so people witness how good I look.” She says, chuckling.

Ben nods, letting out a noise of thought. “You might need to stand.”

She sighs. “The things I do for fashion.”

—-

When they get to the red carpet, they are barraged by people asking if they’re a couple, and they brush off those questions, but a little part in each of them wonders how long it’s been since they could truthfully classify each other as mere friends.

This game they’re playing has to end. They need to admit to each other that they’re so much more than just friends to one another. The tension is thick, and the unspoken truth they both know has to come out of someone’s mouth.

When they leave the interviews and take photos together, Ben’s hand rests on the small of her back, and hers on his shoulder. Paparazzi are screaming about how good they look together, and they don’t respond. They already know that they’d be a gorgeous couple. If only one of them would make a move.

—-

“We’re not allowed in?” Lily Anne asks, raising a brow. “My uncles are performing and we were all a part of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

The guard shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your seats were taken by other people.”

Lily huffs, and looks back to see her friends nervously pacing, Anusha looking over to see what’s going on.

The rest of the night was going great, and she and Joe have hit it off wonderfully. Everything was wonderful until now.

Lily leans in, lowering her voice. “How much did they pay? I promise I can double it.”

The guard shifts uncomfortably and after a moment says, “One thousand for a whole row.”

She nods, and pulls out two thousand from her clutch. He takes it and nods, stuffing it in his vest pocket. “I’ll be right back, ma’am.”

Lily smiles and nods. “Good choice, darling. We’ll be waiting.” She walks back to her friends and smiles. “Give them a moment to kick the Kardashians out of our seats and we’ll be let inside.”

The whole group grins except for Ben. “How much money did you give him, Lily?”

Lily looks up at Ben. “That’s none of your business, Ben. It doesn’t matter, anyways. We’re in. That’s what counts.”

Ben shakes his head. “How much? I’ll give you the money, because it’s bollocks that you had to pay in the first place.”

Gwil and Joe nod, and Anusha speaks up. “Yeah. Tell us how much it was, and we’ll pay you back for it.”

Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “No. It was pocket change for me, really.” Zichi gives her an impatient and accusatory glare. Lily crumbles under the pressure. “Fine.” She leans in. “Two thousand dollars.”

Joe chokes on his own spit, and Gwil curses in Welsh. Ben looks down at her and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, you did all that for us to get in?” Ben asks.

She nods. “This movie has been one of the most important projects of our lives. It’s brought together you guys in a bond that’s truly unbreakable, my band, and my best friend from childhood. We’re a family, all of us. We deserve to be there when Rami and the movie win the awards it fucking deserves. I can earn back my money. It’s worth it for this.”

They are escorted inside, and sit down, Lily Anne apologizing for her skirt going onto Ben and Joe’s chairs. She stands back up as they sit down and then sits, her skirt covering both their laps. Ben laughs and she looks over at him, frowning.

“Why are you laughing?”

“It feels like I have a blanket on my legs. How thick is the fabric of this dress? How are you even walking around in this? Your legs must be damp.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, I have ventilation installed in this thing. I can’t have a swampy vagina by the end of the night.”

Joe covers his mouth as he laughs, and Ben snorts, grinning. Anusha is trying to contain herself and failing, and the whole row tries to quiet down as the lights dim. After they settle down, Ben lets out a chuckle and Lily elbows him. Joe snorts and Anusha shakes from containing herself. Then, the music starts.

Nobody is singing louder than them. Adam looks over and blows a kiss to Lily Anne, and she winks back at him, waving to Brian and Roger. The camera pans over to them as they shout along to We Will Rock You. It’s wonderful, and they could care less about what the other people in the audience think about them. This is their moment, and they will bask in it.

Things quiet down as the award show starts, and whenever BoRhap wins an award, they stand up and jump around, hugging one another and cheering loudly. They must be annoying the fuck out of literally everyone else in the audience.

Finally, Rami wins. Lily begins to cry, and Ben hugs her. She carefully angles herself so she doesn’t get any makeup on his pristine white blazer but still enjoys the tight embrace. When he gives his speech, she squeezes Ben’s hand, and he squeezes hers back just as tightly.

The ceremony flies by after that, and while their group mingles with other celebrities, Lily and Ben stick together and make their way into a quieter area of the auditorium.

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” he says, smiling. “I think Freddie would be proud.”

Lily laughs. “He’d be proud regardless of if BoRhap won all of the categories or none of them. You all worked so hard on this film, and it showed. He knows you tried your best, and it was done with love. It was worth the time it took to develop the project. Tonight is merely proof of that.”

Ben smiles at her. “I’ve never seen you so happy before, watching Rami win.”

She shrugs. “Rami deserved that. He became Freddie, and that takes a lot of talent and hard work to be someone that big. I’m so proud of all of you. You did a glorious job.” Lily takes a moment. It’s time to say it. “There’s only one thing that could make this night even better.”

Ben raises a brow and looks down at her. “What would that be? I’d be happy to provide it if I can.”

She purses her lips, taking a deep breath. “We’re close friends, you know that as much as I do.”

Ben’s heart skips a beat. “Of course I do. Casual friends don’t just go to the Oscars or walk their dogs together.”

Lily nods. “Casual friendship doesn’t usually involve quitting cigarettes together or buying out Indian restaurants either.” She looks up at Ben, who’s looking at her with a knowing look. “I think we both know that we’re not just close friends, either.”

Ben presses his lips together, and nods slowly. “I think we’ve known that for a while now.”

“I care more deeply for you than I have for anyone else in my life, and I felt that way almost immediately after meeting you. I knew those feelings were true after you threw away your pack of cigarettes and vowed to help me quit one of our worst habits.” Lily speaks slowly and clearly, and their gaze could not be separated by anything going on around them. “You didn’t kiss me at the Globes because you were afraid of mucking it all up and losing something so precious to you.” She places a manicured hand on his chest and feels his heart pounding. “You’re just as precious to me, Ben. You’re the only man I’m ever going to devote myself to for the rest of my days, and I know that.”

His hands shake as he places one on top of hers, and the other on her waist. He has no words, but none are needed.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. We knew that a long time ago, but tonight, I’d like to get that confirmation. That would send me over the moon.”

Ben nods and pulls her tightly against him, and in the room full of people, kisses her passionately. It feels like winning that last Oscar to finally have her lips on his, and when she cups the back of his neck with one warm hand, he closes his eyes.

The only thing that matters right now is her. Everything else is drowned out by the sensation of an embrace months in the making.

When she pulls away from him, her eyes are sparkling, and he rests one hand on her cheek, stroking it gently. She leans into him and smiles, red lips quirked into a smile.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long…” he admits. “But as much as you deserve gentle loving, tonight I’d love nothing more than to be the man under your skirt.”

Lily smirks, grinning like a cat that got the cream. “I know. Why else do you think this gown is so bloody wide?”

They rush off to find a bathroom stall.

—-

“No luck?”

“I can’t fit in any of these stalls, Ben. The skirt is too wide,” Lily responds, pouting.

Ben sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. “Stand in front of a sink.”

Lily’s eyes go wide. “Benjamin Jones, are you serious? Anyone could walk in here and see us!”

Ben nods. “I don’t fucking care. Let them see.”

Lily sighs and looks up at Ben to see if he’s actually serious, and he nods to a sink. She releases a resigned breath and does as she’s told.

Ben promptly ducks under her skirts and taps her thighs, and she spreads her legs to give him room. She’s wearing black mesh panties, and he can see that she’s freshly waxed, with only a tiny bit of pubic hair.

“Oh… you planned for this, didn’t you?” Ben says with a grin.

Lily huffs, her face burning under her foundation. “Well… yes, of course I did! But I didn’t plan for it to happen this publically!”

Ben chuckles and shakes his head, gently kissing her thigh and causing her leg to shake. “Don’t worry, darling. This won’t take long. You’re already soaking wet, and I know what I’m doing.” He kisses further up her thigh, one hand holding her leg firmly in place. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

She lets a moan and squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the counter. After five minues of Ben’s tongue doing magical things to her clit, he tugs the thin panties aside and strokes her folds with one finger. His hot breath and amazing tongue and finger combined with the tight grip on her thigh-- she knows she’s close.

Just as she’s about to come, Lucy walks in the bathroom, and she clenches up, all chance of orgasm gone. Ben has frozen up too, so Lily is just standing there with his tongue on her clit and his finger inside of her while their best friend has no clue.

“Hi, Lily!” Lucy says, waving to her friend before frowning at her flushed face. “Is everything alright? You’re so red!”

‘I have our mutual friend’s mouth on my vagina. Everything is great.’

“Oh, it’s nothing! The dress is just heavy, that’s all,” Lily tells the blonde woman. “It’s not easy to walk around in.”

Technically that isn’t a lie. The dress is heavy, and she has had to have assistance to walk around at the event.

Lucy nods. “That makes sense. The dress is magnificent, but highly impractical.”

Lily laughs. “Isn’t that true of most fashion, darling?”

Lucy nods. “It is.” She takes a moment and sighs, smiling. “Tonight has been wonderful. I’m sure Freddie is happy.”

Does it feel wrong to think about one’s father while there’s a mouth on your clit and a finger inside of you? Yes. It does.

“Freddie is probably ecstatic right now,” Lily says, grip tightening on the counter as Ben continues slowly.

Lucy laughs. “I’m glad. The boys are celebrating. By the way, where’s Ben?”

‘Under my dress. Pleasuring me with his tongue.’

“I don’t know. He was in the auditorium last I saw him, but—“ Ben hits her G-spot and she has to take a moment. “Ah. Just some period cramps. Sorry.”

Lucy looks over and pats her shaking hand.

“I’m sorry. I have some Advil back at the hotel if you’d like it,” she says.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you, lo—“ Lily kicks Ben when he hits a sensitive spot, and he pulls away, crawling out from under her dress in pain.

Lucy looks amused. “Do you want the Advil, Ben?”

Ben is all flushed and his hair is a mess. There’s red lipstick on his mouth and his pants have dust on the knees from where he was kneeling.

“That would be great, Lucy. Thanks.” He looks down, beet red.

Lily scratches the back of her neck, and Lucy smiles at the couple.

“It was about time you two figured it out. I’m glad you did!”

Lily and Ben mumble their thanks, and Lucy finishes washing up.

“Joe wants to pick up snacks at 7/11 with you, Ben. Lily, Anusha is waiting for you. Come out once you’re ready and we’ll be on our way,” Lucy says. “Congrats!” She calls out as she leaves the bathroom.

Lily helps Ben up and sorts him out, sighing.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Ben smiles and kisses her forehead after she cleans up the lipstick. “It’s alright. That was fun.”

Lily smiles at his flushed appearance and kisses him, tasting herself on his lips.

When they leave the bathroom, Brian, having spotted them, gives Roger twenty pounds for losing their bet of whether Lily and Ben would confess to each other tonight.

—

“So we have Sun Chips, Doritos, tortilla chips, queso, and guac. Do we need anything else?” Joe asks, holding some of the items in his arms.

“I think that’s all,” Ben says, only really half engaged in the conversation. He’s still thinking about Lily.

“Is something wrong, Ben? You seem distracted,” Joe asks, frowning.

Ben lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “No, not at all. I mean, I’m distracted, but it’s not for a bad reason.”

Joe nods, smiling. “I’m glad you and Lily figured it out, really. I’ve been waiting for that to happen for such a long time.”

“Thanks, mate. I appreciate it. How’s Anusha?” He asks, following Ben as they head up to the checkout.

Joe grins. “She’s amazing, Ben. She’s gorgeous, funny, and I’m not uncomfortable around her. We get along really well.”

After they check out, Ben walks back to the Uber with Joe and after they get in, he smiles at his friend. “Do you think you and her could date?”

Joe thinks for a moment before nodding. “I do. I really like her.”

Ben grins. “As long as I’m best man at the wedding, I’ll support you.”

Joe flushes and Ben laughs, and as they head back to the hotel, they bask in their happiness.

—-

“Then Lucy walks in—“

“He’s still under your dress?”

“Yes! So we’re talking and he hits a sensitive spot and I kick him, and he exits the skirt in pain,” Lily finishes, reapplying her mascara.

Anusha cracks up, clapping her hands. “Lily!”

“What?” She looks over at her friend, confused.

“I never took you to be an exhibitionist, but I guess life is full of surprises,” Anusha comments, grinning.

Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head fondly, picking up her nude lipstick. “Shut up. How’s it going with Joe?”

Anusha grins, pausing her makeup routine. “He’s amazing, Lily. I couldn’t have imagined a better person to go to an awards show with.”

Lily raises a brow. “Do you want to date him?”

Anusha nods furiously. “I’m never letting him go, mate! He’s been perfect. Why would I give up that?”

Lily raises her hands in defense. “Alright! Ease up, Nush. I’m glad you like him. He’s a really nice guy, and you two will make a great couple.”

Anusha grins and adjusts her cocktail dress, looking over herself in the mirror. Lily looks over at her and nods in approval, liking the way the dress looks on her. Anusha lets out a satisfied hum and smiles before looking over at her friend’s dress and raising a brow.

“You’re certainly going for easy access tonight, aren’t you, Lily?”

She shrugs and looks in the mirror, turning in her metallic, low cut dress with lantern sleeves and a short skirt, the deep plunging fabric left leaves little to the imagination.

“I didn’t get to come in the bathroom. He has a job to finish,” Lily says, smiling. “After all, now there’s no use in playing coy after what happened earlier.”

Anusha smirks and pats her friend on the back with a knowing grin. “If you can walk tomorrow, I’ll know he didn’t do his job well enough.”

Lily’s suite soon fills up with guests, and the alcohol begins flowing. The boys finally get back from their trip and the snacks quickly become the center of attention, and as Lily heads over to get some guacamole and chips, she feels someone put a hand on her shoulder and turns to see Sarina smiling at her. She hugs the woman and grins.

“How’d you enjoy the ceremony, Sarina?” Lily asks, looking up at the woman.

Sarina grins. “It was wonderful! I loved it. Roger and Brian are very pleased with how everything turned out.” Her grin becomes a smirk. “How did you enjoy the ceremony?”

Lily laughs. “It was great. The boys deserve this, as do Roger and Brian. But I know you’re not asking about that.”

Sarina shrugs. “It was bound to happen and we both know it. Roger had a bet with Brian about it, and he won. He’s ecstatic that you two got together before he’s on his death bed.”

She rolls her eyes. “He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he?”

Sarina lets out a small laugh. “That he does. I’ll leave you to find your man and I’ll go off to find mine. Have a fun time, Lily.”

She kisses her aunt’s cheek and continues walking, and feels a large, warm hand on her hip. She looks up at Ben and smiles, placing her hand on his chest.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. “You certainly chose an easier dress for me to take off of you, didn’t you?”

She smirks and kisses him gently. “I’m glad you like the view, darling. I figured after the hassle of the first dress you deserved something a little more easy access.”

Ben grins and kisses her back, tugging on her bottom lip as he pulls away. She looks up at him with dark eyes, and he raises a brow. “You want to go to your room now?”

Lily sighs, looking down. “We should be a little subtle. Let’s wait a little bit. Once people are drunker, we can slip away and nobody will notice.”

Ben nods, kissing her forehead. “Sure thing, Lil.” He leans in close to her ear and whispers, “I can’t wait to absolutely ruin you.”

Her knees go weak and she looks up at him with a smile. “Was that a threat or a promise?”

Ben smirks and pinches her ass. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

She raises a brow and grins. “I’ll see you later in my bedroom, Benjamin.” She pulls him down and whispers in his ear. “If I’m able to walk tomorrow, I’ll be upset with you.”

She walks off, hips swaying. Ben’s eyes follow her body, and she grins, feeling him follow her.

Joe is already very drunk, and so is Anusha. They sit together on the couch, leaning against one another.

“We should do karaoke!” Joe exclaims. “Can we get a karaoke machine?”

Anusha gasps and puts a hand on his chest. “We should totally get a karaoke machine. You’re a genius, Joey.”

Joe blushes and grins at her, holding her hand. “Will you sing with me?”

Anusha nods, smiling. “It would be my honor.”

Lily looks over at Ben with a knowing look, and he nods, impressed.

Joe points at Lily. “Call the front desk. We need a karaoke machine, stat.”

Gwil stands up from his place on the couch. “I’ll get it. You stay sitting, Lily.”

Lily smiles at Gwil gratefully and leans back, Ben’s hand resting on her shoulder. She moves closer to him and smiles.

—-

Surprisingly enough, this hotel can provide karaoke machines. Joe hollers as the machine is set up by a level headed Ezichi.

Anusha looks over at Lily. “You should do it!”

Lily chuckles. “What song do you propose I perform?”

Joe grins as he looks at her. “Another One Bites the Dust.”

Anusha nods enthusiastically and she nods, smiling. “I’ll appease you drunken idiots.”

“I’m not an idiot!” Anusha insists.

“I’m not drunk!” Joe adds, pouting.

Ben snorts in laughter and Lily shakes her head fondly before standing up when Gwil cues up the song and hands her the microphone.

Her performance is captivating. The dress combined with her moves, and the eye contact she makes with the rest of the group as it continues is amazing. She ends up on Ben’s lap, with her hands resting behind his neck and his own on her waist. She feels his trousers getting tighter in the crotch and smiles at the good work she’s done. The crowd cheers her on and she stands to bow, and walks off to the kitchen. She’s intercepted by Roger, Sarina, Brian, and Anita, and hugs her family.

“Turning in for the night?” She asks.

Brian smiles and ruffles her hair. “We’re too old to party like this. The rock and roll lifestyle isn’t meant for the elderly.”

She grins and kisses his cheek. “Well thanks for coming anyways. I appreciate it.”

Anita smiles and hugs her niece. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The couple leaves after saying goodnight, and after Sarina exits the room, Roger presses a small plastic square in her hand. She looks down at the condom and back at her uncle, pressing her lips together. Roger grins and ruffles her hair, kissing her forehead before leaving the room. She sticks the condom in the waistline of her dress and walks back to the kitchen, where she pours herself a glass of water.

She feels hands on her waist and breath on her neck and smiles, closing her eyes. “How’d you like my performance, Benny?”

Ben’s grip on her waist tightens. “I think everyone is drunk enough.”

She turns in his arms and presses her hips against his own, looking up at him demurely. “Promise to make me scream, Hardy?”

Ben leans down, eyes darkening. “That would be detrimental to your career if we make that a habit, y’know.”

She shrugs. “I know. I’m sure hickeys all over your neck and chest would be detrimental to yours as well. I suppose these can be our mutual indulgences.”

Ben smirks and rests on hand on her cheek, brushing back a curly strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to oblige your desires, and wish for you to do as you please with me.”

Lily leans in, placing one hand on his chest. “What are we waiting for then? I have so many plans for you.”

The two of them walk into the bedroom and lock the door, and Lily pulls out the condom. Ben looks amused.

“Roger’s gift,” she explains, smiling as she throws the condom onto the nightstand.

Ben grins and pulls her close, kissing her and gripping her hips tightly in his big hands. She wraps her arms around the back of his neck and leans into him, jumping up to hitch her thighs around his waist. He supports her weight effortlessly, and his hands cradle her ass.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this to happen,” Lily says when they pull apart, catching their breath.

She gasps as Ben pushes her against the wall. “I’ve been attracted to you since the day I met you.” He begins sucking kisses down her neck. “When I saw you with Joe at the Golden Globes, I was so angry with myself.”

Lily moans and fists Ben’s hair. “Why were you mad? You’re the one who asked him to take me.”

Ben grinds into her and looks up at her, pushing her dress off her shoulders to reveal her chest. “Because you looked gorgeous, and you could’ve been my date. But I was an idiot who was too scared to ask you.” He kisses down her collarbones, leaving angry red marks all over. He relishes in her little sounds, and the cursing, and his name being said like a prayer. “I could’ve been doing this to you before the show if we had figured ourselves out sooner. You’d barely be able to walk on the red carpet, leaning on me for support. Everyone would know why you’d be unstable, since you don’t drink. The headlines would be proclaiming how filthy of a couple we are.”

Lily gasps as he nips her breast. “Do you always talk this much during foreplay, or am I just a lucky woman?”

He grins and looks up at her flushed face. “You like it?”

She nods, pupils dilated. “So much. Please don’t stop.”

He raises a brow. “Not even to finish eating you out?”

“...I can make an exception.”

He moves her to the bed and finishes what he started in the bathroom.

---

She spends five minutes composing herself before shakily sitting up in bed. Ben is taking off his white jacket, and she clears her throat, leaning against the pillows.

“Ben.”

He turns around to look at her and takes off his jacket. “Yes, love?”

“Let me,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He sits next to her on the bed and she straddles his lap, beginning to undo his bow tie. She can feel the bulge in his pants and smiles, tossing the tie aside and beginning to undo the buttons. “I’ve got you all worked up, haven’t I?”

He lets out a small laugh and squeezes her hips. “You’ve had me worked up since the day I met you.”

She smiles and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He takes off the shirt and she runs her hands over his chest slowly, eventually getting onto her knees and undoing his belt. “I’ve always thought you were very pretty, Ben.” She unzips and unbuttons his pants, and feels his thighs tense up.

“In college my friends and I would talk about our celebrity crushes, and, well…” He helps her take off his pants and slips off his shoes after she unties them. “You were always mine.”

She smiles as he leans down and kicks off his socks, and kisses him, chuckling. “We really have been into each other for the longest time.”

Ben’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses up his thighs, looking up at him. She puts one finger in the waistband of his briefs and looks up at him for permission. When he nods frantically, she pulls down his underwear and tosses it aside.

Ben isn’t the biggest she’s ever seen, but he’s proportional and thick, and she knows that he’ll feel good. She can’t wait to take him. She takes him in her hand and begins slowly pumping, and his muscles practically ripple with the release and uptake of tension in his body.

“Relax, love. I’ll take good care of you.” She presses a kiss to the head of his cock and he releases a sweet moan.

The sounds of drunken karaoke in the background are ignored, and Lily focuses on Ben’s noises as she takes him in her mouth.

---

The wet slapping sounds of skin on skin fill the room, and Lily moans out her lover’s name as he’s propped up above her, holding onto the headboard of the bed and her waist. He grunts into her neck, and she rakes her fingernails down his muscular back.

Sex has never felt this good. Sure, Frank made her orgasm, but he never made her feel quite like this. Ben sets a good pace and is incredibly attentive to her needs. She’s not afraid to voice what she wants him to do, but she’s more than happy to let him have his way with her.

She’s always enjoyed being submissive. Luckily for her, Ben enjoys being dominant.

“Lil… fuck, Lil. I can’t hold out much longer,” he groans, leaning into her neck.

Lily moans, her fingers tugging on his curls. “Me neither. Speed up-- oh! Yes! Like that!”

Ben moans as he comes, and Lily shouts out his name, orgasming at the exact same time as him.

She kisses him gently as he lays down partially on top of her, his head resting next to hers on the pillows.

“I love you,” he whispers. Her heart soars.

“I love you too, Ben.” She smiles and moves so he can dispose of the condom.

When he comes back, he brings her into his arms, and she entangles her legs with his, resting her head on his warm chest. She yawns, cuddling up to him. He closes his eyes and smiles, and they fall asleep in each others’ arms.

When they’re walking to the terminal, Lily tries to avoid Ben’s eyes, because she knows that he’s smirking. She is beyond sore, and it is painful to move after everything he did to her the night before.

They board the plane quickly and after Ben puts his and Lily’s carry on luggage in the overhead bins, he settles in his window seat. She sits next to him and immediately rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing.

“Did the Advil help?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Not really,” she mumbles. “I can barely walk, you wanker.”

He laughs and places a hand on her thigh, smiling. “You’re welcome.”

She smiles slightly and when Gwil and Ezichi sit in the middle two seats next to them, Ezichi grins at the sight. Gwil holds her hand and smiles as well, because he’s never seen Ben this content before.

After the plane takes off, Lily readjusts herself and curls up against Ben, and he holds her, closing his eyes. The pair fall asleep entangled in each others’ embrace.

Gwil stands up and takes a picture of them, and once they land on the ground, he posts it on instagram with the caption “It took ten months. @joemazzello”

~

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback @samanthadegaro @lv7867 @fatbottomedcurls @redspecialty @haisimsim @peterparkeroos @teenwolflover28 @ixchel-9275 @alessandra-elle @onexlittlespark @queenficarchive @leah-halliwell92 @rrrogah-tayluhh @maddistudiess @queen-fam @evrsncnewyork @reddiefreddieee @babebenhardy @toms-irish-girl @bensrhapsody @good-old-fashioned-rogerina

[silliusssoddus]

The First Names Concept - Night 3

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Vince Neil)

MASTERLIST

A/N: HI HEY IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! there were a lot of exams

and of course a writing-deleting cycle but i've finally gotten it to a point where 'm sorta content w it

anyways i am so sorry for being all ‘ooh symbolism’ in this part i just...really like fleetwood mac...and i’m kind of trying to do the whole ‘show don’t tell’ thing, but i’m terrible at writing and idk when to use what so...yeah...idk

WARNINGS: very small mention of smut, mentions of people taking drugs (not reader), mentions of coke, weed, alcohol, fluffish and angstish at times, car accident and that’s it

WORD COUNT:  5,456 (a lot of stuff happens folks)

SPECIAL THANKS TO: @scarecrowmax for making sure this doesn’t suck, i appreciate it so much!!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Elektra Records have signed Mötley Crüe their record deal and they celebrate with Queen. You make amends with both boys, which leads you to the position you were in the first place.

(creds: @taylormaydwithlove)

“Ready Freddie?” 

(creds: @getthefckouttahere)

“...grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss...”

-

It was perfectly normal for people to like morning, but some could call you insane for waking up at an ungodly hour just to see the sunrise. But more than often it was because you couldn’t sleep and last night was no exception.

You managed to find your way up to the hotel roof at 5am, seeing the first few orange streaks in the purple-ish clouds, and walked on over closer to the railing.

You wrapped Vince’s jacket - the only thing you could find in the darkness and you couldn’t afford to lose more time finding something else - tighter around your body. Yes, LA had a reputation for being warm all the time, but only when the sun was out.

Thoughts of the past few days flowed through your mind as you saw rays of the orange light flood onto the floor.

Vince was right though, maybe you and Roger weren’t ‘destined to be’. Did that mean you were finally over him? All thanks to Vince himself?

Even if that was the case, you were still mad at him. You wanted to go after the woman and apologise, both on his behalf and your own, but after seeing her with Roger, you began to think that she deserved it.

Turning back around to find a seat, you spotted a metal bench and made yourself somewhat comfy. Your head angled itself so that the back of your head rested on the top of the cold railings, trying your best to ignore how blatantly uncomfortable it felt. Besides, your mind whirred in thought too much for you to even realise it.

Maybe it was how deep in thought you were, or maybe it was because you were starting to fall asleep, but you didn’t realise that Roger had come up to the roof. And you certainly didn’t realise how intently he was admiring you and how you were hugging your knees and staring into the landscape.

“Uh, hey.” he finally cleared his throat to say. You didn’t really have the energy to turn around, especially because you could already recognise the voice.

“Hi.” you returned, failing to meet Roger’s eyes when he made his way over to slump down beside you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, so Freddie sent me up to say sorry...or something.”

“I’m late for breakfast? Isn’t it 5?”

Roger let out a sharp laugh at that, so you returned with a look of annoyance. It was way too early to deal with this.

“Maybe it was when you got here.”

You looked down at your watch, eyes widening in shock when you saw that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh whatever, I can wait ‘til lunch.” you relaxed, too tired to even care at this point.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I guess I know you too well,” he shrugged, “or, at least I thought I did.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re here to talk about. Look, I don’t know how it happened, okay?”

“Yes, but- Y/N I told you I missed you and you just-”

He was struggling, you could tell from the way he paused and groaned in exasperation to let his head fall into his hands.

“You know how unfair that is, right? You had 13 years to say something, but you never did. You brought this on yourself, Roger.”

“I- I know, that’s why I don’t know what to...feel...and Fred wanted me to apologise-”

“It’s alright.” you cut in as a desperate way to help him from struggling so hard.

“H-how do you feel about...me?”

“Rog…” you sighed.

Picking his head up out of his hands, he turned to look at you, his face full of worry when he saw that you still hadn’t moved an inch.

“You know I really like you, I always have and I always will…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Everything. Brian, our age-”

“It’s Vince, isn’t it?”

You gave him an irritated sigh again, hoping he’d take it as a sign that you wanted to change the subject. It was the first time the two of you had even discussed what your relationship was, but he could not have picked a worse time to do so.

Giving up, he finally realised the position your neck was in and let out a little chuckle, in hopes that it would be enough to change the topic and lighten the mood.

“Is that even comfortable?”

“Not really,” you laughed in return, “but it’s the only thing that’s stopping the throbbing in my head.”

“Course you got a sore head, you’ve drunk two nights in a row. Uh, here.”

You looked up to see him patting his shoulder and decided it would be better to rest there instead. He used one of of his hands to guide your head, before snaking down your shoulders to place itself on your arm. You grinned to yourself when you felt his hand rubbing your shoulder, while the other rested on the bare skin of your leg, lazily and platonically.

“This might...sound weird...but have you ever thought about what you want to do? I mean, you can’t be around us forever.”

“Christ, you sound exactly like Brian.” you giggled.

“Well he’s right, y’know, you have to find something to spend the rest of your life doing.”

“But I literally can’t do anything. Like, I barely even went to school, because half of the time you guys were too tired or too busy writing songs to drive me there. The only time I actually went was when Oliver’s parents drove me.”

“Oh yeah, Oliver. Never liked that chap. He seemed distracted all the time. But he had you as a girlfriend, I don’t blame him.”

Your cheek grew warmer against his shoulder, but as soon as he realised what he had let slip out, he did everything he could to stop you from talking about it further.

“And don’t say that you can’t do anything, ‘cause I’ve heard you play the organ.”

“God, you’re a genius, I could get a job in a church!”

For some reason, he seemed to think that was the funniest joke in the world, seeing that his chest was rising up and down rapidly as he bellowed in laughter. You joined him, equally as amused, letting yourself get distracted from the conversation you had managed to throw away.

“Hey, uh, speaking of the organ. Freddie managed to seal Vince’s band their record deal and they really want us to be there for their first official concert, to say thanks and whatever, and Freddie suggested we do ‘The Chain’, ‘cause that’s your favourite song...and because you’re the only one that can play the organ...”

“Absolutely not.”

You loved ‘The Chain’. You loved Stevie Nicks, her voice, her words and the meaning behind them. But you had always associated that song with Roger.

“What? Why?”

“For starters, I’m still mad at the both of you.” you said, sitting up straight out of his arm.

“But you’re not mad at Brian, Freddie or John. And you haven’t met the rest of the band. You’d absolutely love Tommy, he’s like a child in an adult body. Reminds me a lot of you.”

“Fuck you too.” you snorted.

“Oi, watch your mouth.” he chuckled in return.

A few seconds of silence passed again as you weighed your options for what you could do.

“Alright fine. But only because I’m not letting Brian down. Or Stevie Nicks.”

He laughed again, watching as you got up off the bench and were headed back indoors.

-

“I look ridiculous.” you told Freddie, standing in front of a mirror as he zipped the back of your purple leather dress.

It looked as if a low neck, leather top was sewed onto a flared, leather skirt, while being horribly tight around you. But you weren’t going to lie by saying you didn’t look great.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this self conscious in my 26 years of living.”

“Oh, don’t be so fucking daft, darling, you look fantastic.” he said, smearing some bright red lipstick on your lips. You had done everyone else’s makeup in that hour, but you spent a little while longer on Roger as a result of him mucking around.

“You know you look absolutely gorgeous in anything. And you already have two men drooling over you, imagine what they’d be like after seeing you like this.”

He fluffed up your hair again as a final touch for your outfit and gave you a toothy, reassuring smile.

“On the subject of those two men...can I ask you something?” you said, giggling slightly at his comment.

“Always, love.”

“When we went to see them live, I noticed that Stevie and Lindsey kept looking at each other, like they were singing this song to each other. And it made sense, ‘cause, y’know, that’s what the song’s about - them not wanting to lose their love, because if they did they’d never get it back.”

“And you were wondering who you should sing it to?”

You nodded, letting a sigh out along with it.

Freddie noticed that both bands were just an earshot away and if they concentrated, they would definitely be able to hear your concentration.

“I can’t speak for your mind, darling. Just go with what’s natural.”

“That would be Roger.”

“There you have it.”

“But-”

“Vince is quite alluring, isn’t he?”

“And he told me something really...wise, to be honest. He said if we were meant to date, we would’ve by now.”

“That is a good point. But listen-”

Before he could tell you anything else, the stage manager had knocked on the door and warned you all that there were only 5 minutes left until they were expected onstage.

You and Freddie both made your way back to the boys, not at all surprised to be greeted by wolf whistles and cheers from the younger ones. The fact that their leather jackets had the same ridiculous studs and patterns as your skirt eased your nerves a bit, because you didn’t feel as embarrassed. Besides, you were more than used to trying on Freddie’s and Roger’s clothes in the past. This was nothing compared to that.

“Leather really suits you, Y/N.” Roger commented with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, especially that jacket that I gave you. You gonna wear it?” Vince tried his luck.

You had been giving him the silent treatment from the moment you got here. Sure, you couldn’t help laughing at the greeting he yelled when he saw you (“Ah, the royal fuckers made it!”), but besides that you wanted him to know what he did was bad.

“Actually, I wanted to give it back. It’s not like I was gonna keep it anyways.” you snapped, grabbing the jacket you slung over a chair earlier so that you could shove it on his chest.

Subconsciously, you found your eyes flickering up to meet his and it made you stop your actions altogether. There was a hint of sadness in them, like they were screaming ‘red from crying myself to sleep last night’, but it could’ve easily been ‘red from smoking a blunt’. It wasn’t easy to tell from a guy like Vince.

Maybe you were misjudging him though, because ‘a guy like Vince’ wouldn’t be this affected by his mistake only because of the girl he cheated with.

Girl he cheated with. You felt disgusting. But the feeling couldn’t stay for long, thanks to your own empathy. You blamed Brian for the fact that you care too much.

“Actually, it might look good with the purple on my dress.” you spoke softly, taking your arm back to put the jacket on.

It was a way of forgiving Vince, because if anyone would know how it felt to act out because you had feelings for someone, it was you.

John walked toward you with his blue shirt and the same leather jacket as everyone else. It was hilarious, you felt like a motorcycle gang of rainbows, having  guitarists in red, the singers in yellow, drummers in green, bassists in blue and you in purple. He was the last one to meet them, having to perfect the curly mess of hair on his head so that his furious bopping onstage wouldn’t ruin it.

“Looking good, D!” Tommy said, greeting him with a high five.

“Yeah, yeah, took you long enough.” Roger grumbled, picking up the drum stick he had managed to drop due to attempting one of Tommy’s drumstick twirls. He seemed to give out another huff of annoyance after you, John and Tommy - the only ones that saw what happened - laughed at him.

“Right. Let’s get going, shall we?” Brian said, managing to peel himself away from a very deep conversation about guitars with Mick and turned to lead both bands to the wings of the stage, holding various doors open for them along the way.

There was no doubt that the nervousness was visible in the younger band. John managed to calm Tommy down and talk him out of drinking right before the show, Freddie kept reminding Nikki how proud he was of them, Roger was trying his best not to bite Vince’s head off but gave him useful tips to ease the nerves and Mick and Brian lagged behind, laughing at them.

You noticed Freddie’s jolly expression turn to that of concern when he looked from the stage and back to you. Returning with furrowed eyebrows, which he then answered by nodding over to the stage, you immediately grew more nauseous.

The stage was set perfectly for the situation you were in. The organ was placed so that you faced both the drumkit and the microphones. Great.

You let out a shaky sigh as both John and Freddie gave you a reassuring pat on the back, before turning to give Brian a hug. Despite having made fun of the boys, he tended to be the most nervous one before shows, so you couldn’t even being to think how scared he was to perform with another band.

“What if they hate it?” he said as you pulled out of the hug.

“Bri, you’re asking me if people’ll hate one of England’s greatest bands.” you said with a teasing chuckle.

“Don’t worry, everyone loves it when there’s a change of routine. You of all people should know that, being in a band with Freddie Mercury.”

“Huh, and people call me the smart one. Thanks, sis.” he laughed, before turning around to set up his guitar.

With a scoff of disbelief, you decided to join Freddie and Vince as they were vocalising and warming up their voices, but it shortly turned into a competition of who could reach the highest note.

Of course you won out of the three, using your higher pitched voice as an advantage, but Vince came very near to beating you.

“Ah, it seems like Roger’s got competition.” Freddie had joked, causing everyone onstage (apart from Roger) to erupt into laughter.

That was over as soon as it started, seeing as the stage managers in the wings were frantically waving for silence onstage so that they could flip the spotlights on.

“Please put your hands together for Mötley Crüe!” you heard from the loudspeakers around you. It emitted a tiny roar of excitement, nothing compared to the reaction Queen got.

“And joining them tonight, England’s royal highness, Queen!”

The curtains drew back and you were suddenly greeted by the faces of thousands, screaming and chanting their names like bloody murder. They seemed like restless, tiny blobs of colour, the way you always perceived the audience to be ever since Roger used it to calm you down.

It was right before a gig at the Rainbow back in London. Both Brian and Freddie had insisted that you sang and played with them for one song and you gave in, but you were an easily frightened teenager and didn’t know what to do. Roger spent the day calming you down to the point where you ran onstage with nothing but confidence.

“Ready Freddie?” Roger repeated the words he was so used to before every show.

Freddie gave him and Tommy both a nod to start their drumming before turning to give you a nod to start playing.

And it went really well. Everything was perfect. Your high pitch matched with Freddie’s and Vince’s low tones, the organ sound fit perfectly along with Brian and Mick’s guitars, which you could keep in time with thanks to Tommy and Roger on the drums. Nikki had nothing to do for the time being, so John had kept him occupied by teaching him a few moves that he clumsily followed.

The audience enthusiastically clapped along with the two drummers, on the edge of their seats to see how brilliantly the two sounds were going to mix during the chorus.

But as soon as you thought all of your own fears had melted away, you made a mistake. Not a noticeable one that ruined both bands’ reputation, but one that was sure to ruin your relationship with one of the ‘two men drooling over you’.

You looked up and met Vince’s eyes.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again...”

You wanted to break the eye contact, but the audience was going absolutely ballistic and the giddiness on his face when he took the small action as a way to confirm that you weren’t mad at him anymore gave you double the guilt you already had. You knew that Mötley Crüe needed this. It was a good way to kick start their band, a way to gain more popularity by actually putting on a show for the audience.

And because you were set on doing things for the audience, you let Vince pull you up from the organ seat and lead you by the hand to the centre of the stage during the little bass solo. The two of you bobbed your heads in time to the gradual crescendo of the drums and you let out a yelp when Vince picked you up by the waist, spinning you around a couple times.

As you were gasping and squealing along with the audience, Vince used his hands to ensure your legs were wrapped around his waist before sliding around your waist. By letting your head fall in the crook of his neck, you deepened the hug.

“Chain, keep us together.” you sang into Vince’s mic once you were on the ground again.

“Running in the shadows.” he sang back, leaning over your shoulder so that his arms stayed wrapped around your waist. His lips then fell on your shoulder to give a quick peck.

Tommy noticed how the drummer’s arms swung down harder by each second, the expression on his face growing angrier.

“Yo!” he hissed to Roger, then doing it louder the second time when the first one failed to get his attention.

“If you break the toms, you’re paying for a whole kit.”

“Sorry.” Roger mumbled, returning his strength back to the softness it was before.

The song ended and Vince made you curtsey (while the rest of Queen bowed, of course) before giving you a kiss on the cheek and a teasing slap on the ass to send you off backstage.

And you didn’t think much of it, because it was only for the audience.

It was only for the audience.

The sentence was the only thing that kept Roger calm.

It was only for the audience.

Vince didn’t mean it and you didn’t actually choose him.

-

You were sat on the floor of the band’s apartment, chatting away with a drunk/slightly high Nikki and finding out that the two of you were more similar than you thought you were.

The topic of parents came up when you noticed a lady had walked over to you, holding out a plate with two lines of coke. Nikki looked ecstatic, rubbing his hands together before picking up the tiny, metal straw. He looked at your blank expression and pointed to the second straw on the plate in confirmation.

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Just one line. I promise I won’t make you an addict.” he laughed.

“I’m good, thank you though.” you laughed in return.

And just on cue, Freddie had waltzed his way over.

“Yo Fred! Want a line?”

“Course I do!” he exclaimed, picking up the straw and copying Nikki’s movements from before.

“I didn’t know cocaine was your thing, Fred.”

“Neither did I. But it doesn’t hurt to try new things. Have a great night, darlings. Ta!” he cheered, getting up to turn on his heel and walk away.

You were about to ask Nikki for a line yourself, but Tommy shortly stumbled toward you after Freddie had left.

“Y/N...I have a serious question for you.” he spoke, forcing creases on his forehead to show that he was indeed being serious. It concerned you, if you were being honest.

“Sure…”

“Are you a witch?” he continued, still no sign of it being a joke on his face.

But you did notice that there was something off in his eyes and you turned to Nikki for help. He only mouthed the word ‘drugs’ and gave a very drawn out nod to ensure that you understood, which you showed by laughing.

“And why do you think that?”

“‘Cause Vince is going crazy about you, dude! It’s like you’ve got him in a spell or some shit. Look.”

And sure enough, you heard the repetitive chanting of your name, accompanied by the blonde singer hopping around the place.

“It’s fucking wild, man. He’s never done this for any other girl.”

You felt your cheeks heating up wildly at the realisation, more so when he decided to add the words ‘I’ and ‘love’ in the mix.

“Who’s up for a beer drinking contest?” he suddenly screamed, evoking a loud cheer from everyone at the party.

There was only one voice that didn’t do the same.

“We don’t have any fucking beers, dumbass.” Mick chuckled.

“Well, I’ll go get some.” he slurred, stumbling his way over to the ashtray in which his car keys were, but falling before he had the chance to even stand up properly.

“Take Y/N with you. She’s the only sober one here.” Tommy chipped in, earning drunk nods of the head from the rest of the boys that wanted you two to make up.

Roger himself nodded, too enticed in an argument with a woman about how bad Queen’s music was. But he didn’t seem mad, rather the opposite. They kept giving each other teasing touches and you suddenly didn’t want to be sober anymore.

You managed to steal Vince’s bottle of vodka and take a swig from it as you were walking out of the house, resulting in him giving out a cry at his stolen good.

“Shit...I didn’t bring my license.” you huffed after you had ruffled through your purse.

“‘S fine, I can drive.” he mumbled, slamming his hip square against the back of his car.

“You sure about that?” you giggled, tightening your grip around the neck of the bottle when he tried to grab for it.

“I know these roads like the back of my hand, pretty lady. And you know how much I look at that.” he winked.

His hands fumbled on his car keys, but eventually managed to put the key in and start the car. For a drunk man, he was surprisingly good at driving, but you guessed it was just muscle memory.

The car radio played softly, tinkling out different hits from the 70s. Vince drunkenly nodded along to the beat of the songs, singing along if he knew the words or looking over to you singing and laughing at the exaggerated movements you made to the love songs.

You loved the way he laughed. You loved the way his teeth glistened and his eyes shone when he did and how the night lights enunciated all of that. The sound itself was boyish and charming and made your heart soar every time you heard it and washed away some of the fears you had letting a drunk man drive.

“Wait wait wait...I need to pull over.” he stated after 5 songs, slowing the car down and parking it on the sidewalk.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“...I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Vince.” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

“No don’t worry, that’s not the reason.”

The smirk he gave you before he left the car made you fear for your life even more.

He appeared once again, now right outside the car door, and opened it up for you.

“M’lady.” he kept the smirk, earning a playful kiss on the cheek from you as you got out of the car.

He took your hand and lead you in the direction of a tatty, old and seemingly abandoned building, with its door broken so anyone could come in. There were no signs, but it screamed ‘keep out’. And Vince didn’t obey.

He dragged you through the endless corridor, which was only lit up by a few lamps scattered on the walls here and there, but you eventually managed to end up in a place that felt colder. Dragging you to a stop, he slammed his hand on the wall and activated some kind of switch that lit up the pool in front of you.

“This place always looks better at night.” he spoke proudly.

“Vince, why are we here?” you asked, trying your best not to sound as irritated as you were.

As you stood there grumbling to yourself, you didn’t notice that Vince had put you on the perfect spot right on the edge of the pool and had lined his hands on your shoulders to push you in.

You fell in with a scream and a loud splash, flailing your arms and legs around desperately to get above water.

Seeing Vince collapsing to the ground in laughter sent something through you. It wasn’t anger or irritation - you just wanted to find a way to get back. So you swam up to the edge and had him perch closer to you.

His childish grin and droopy, naïve eyes almost made you feel bad for even planning your impromptu revenge, so you decided to take it easy on him. You bunched up the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you with your lips puckered, but ducked under the water before your lips could touch. It caused him to tumble into the pool beside you and a louder fit of laughter from you.

“You asshole! I can’t swim!” he gargled, swinging his arms around in desperate need of something to grab on.

A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you immediately made your way over to him, avoiding the splashes of water the best you could. But as soon as he had access to your shoulders, he found a way to push you down underwater, completely off-guard so you didn’t have the chance to take a deep breath, and kept you there for a few seconds.

When you came back up, you were fuelled with nothing but anger. Maybe a little bit of hysteria along with it.

“Wanker!”

You managed to send a huge wave of water crash over him with your arm, to which he returned the favour and did the same, and things continued like that for a bit. Until he dived down at the same time as you and grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss.

Slowly, your laughter came to a halt after the two of you came back up for air, him getting a chance to get a hold of your legs and wrap them around his waist for you. It also gave you both a chance to look into each other’s eyes properly, like when you were in the bathroom, or when you were onstage.

There was still that sense of awe in the way he looked back at you and it was still evident despite the alcohol. It warmed your heart to see, but it didn’t feel right at the same time.

“Stop thinking.” he grumbled, wading through the water over to the edge of the pool with you still in his hold.

“What d’ya mean?” you queried when he hoisted you up onto the concrete surface again.

“Lemme show you.” he stated, reaching over to the jacket he smartly placed on the poolside before you pulled him in. You hadn’t even noticed he had bought his Polaroid along with him, due to the fact that the bag holding the camera was hidden under his jacket.

(thank daniel webber for inspiring this part, i love his photography)

“Say cheese!” he said after pulling the camera out, drawing out the ‘e’ in an adoring manner.

So you gave him a big smile as you were blinded by the flash for a few seconds, but when he looked at what he had taken, you saw that the smile on his own face had disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” you pushed when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“You’re thinking.” he repeated, showing you the picture. You couldn’t see what was wrong, though.

“The light from the pool fills your eyes and your face perfectly. You’re so fucking gorgeous. But your smile ain’t right, babe.”

You bit your lip, not because you didn’t understand what he meant, but you were scared of what he was implying.

“You wish I was Roger, don’t you?”

The sentence hit harder than it was supposed to. Even Vince could see that.

“I- Vince-”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can take you back.” he hummed sadly, hoisting himself onto the poolside next to you.

“No- Vince, please, I want to be here.” you said, but even he could detect the uncertainty in your words.

“I want you.” you corrected yourself

“Then prove it.”

You pulled him by the neck for a rough, messy kiss, causing him to topple onto you. But he pulled away as quick as the kiss started.

“I’d continue if it wasn’t for those two cockblockers standing there.” he answered your confused expression.

You turned to look at what Vince was referring to, only to meet the eyes of two scary-looking security guards (that’s what you assumed they were at least) towering over the two of you with stern faces and crossed arms.

“You’ve got 5 seconds to leave before we call the cops.”

With that, Vince leapt off you and pulled you up with him so that you could bolt out the building into your car again, laughing like mad men along the way.

“That was the most embarrassing to ever happen to me.” you half-mumbled, half-laughed to yourself.

“Let’s get these fuckin’ beers!” he whooped, igniting the car once more and speeding down the road.

It didn’t take long for Vince to drive to the nearest gas station and use his rockstar money to get 8 boxes of 8 cans of beer, which he then had to buckle a seatbelt over because it was his ‘duty as a father to protect his children’ and ‘you’re the mother, you should be concerned about their safety too’.

The ride back to their apartment had a lot of stopping and starting again, as Vince kept his hand on your thigh and couldn’t help going further. You had to frequently scold him and tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but of course he didn’t want to.

‘Baby, It’s You’ started to play on the radio and the two of you simultaneously went to turn the volume up. Vince then rolled down all the windows so that everyone in their cars and their pet dogs could hear the song and your voices harmonising/borderline screaming.

But Vince didn’t keep his eyes on the road at all and you were having too much fun to notice. He leant in to your side to try and steal a kiss, but he pulled the steering wheel in the same direction without realising it. The car skidded and spun in the direction of the grassy field next to you and before you had the chance to grab the wheel and put the car back on track, two blinding lights suddenly appeared in the darkness with a blaring noise you assumed was the horn.

The only sounds you could hear after that was the shattering of glass, the screeching of both cars attempting to break and the song quietly playing in the background. Only, it wasn’t The Beatles’ soothing vocals, nor was it Vince’s.

“I love you too, Roger.”

-

“Holy shit.”

-

TAGLIST: @lifesasickjoke @slowandangry @rrrogah-tayluhh @fatbottomedgorl @ugly-shirts-girl @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @kawennote09 @totallynotkaibiased @amy-brooklyn99 @hannafuckingsucks @miss2001babe @anxious-diabetic @drowsebaby

PART 4

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 10

"Garbage Person"

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), injury description, blood, sick whumpee, anxiety attack, amputation mention (vague), noncon mention, conditioned whumpee, food mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko had been working on a tattoo when Ben called him. The skin underneath him belonged to a slightly older woman, a blonde with pink lipstick on her teeth that he could see every time she smiled at him. She was annoying, and she was flirting with him, which made her even more annoying. The first time his phone rang, he ignored it completely, too consumed in his work to even look up. Secretly, he was wishing that he was tattooing Gio instead. It had been a little over a week since Nicko made him sick by icing him out, and Nicko hadn't allowed himself to bring him back to the shop. Instead, it became his mission to make him better. He made him soup, he let him sleep in his bed, he even helped him take a bath the first day he was sick.

That had been difficult. Nicko had never been "nice", he knew that about himself. He was notoriously an asshole, famously short tempered and foul mouthed. He knew what empathy was, he could feel it, but it was just...rare. The knowledge that others had emotions and feelings didn't matter to him, most of the time. But when he gave Gio a bath, he'd never felt worse for someone in his entire life. Gio could hardly keep himself upright, couldn't even keep his eyes open, when Nicko undressed him and helped him into the water. Nicko hadn't washed the blood off of his face the night before, hadn't wanted to move him around and hurt him more than he was, so when he wet a rag and tried to gently wipe the dried blood off, he wanted to cry right along with Gio. He held his head still with one hand on his jaw as he ran the towel over the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbones, very carefully under his eyes, wiping away some of his tears along with the blood. Nicko couldn't believe he'd hurt him so badly. He felt even worse when Gio's face was clean and he could see the bruises he'd left there. Then Nicko washed his hair, there was blood there, too, somehow, and then he just sat outside of the bathtub and let Gio warm up in the water for a few more minutes. He couldn't stop crying.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whimpered out, using his wrists to push away the tears, directing his huge, teary eyes at Nicko. He looked hopeless, his chocolate brown eyes dulled down with fear and sadness. Nicko reached out and traced his thumb down Gio's face tenderly. He looked so young, with his hair slicked back out of his face and his huge eyes and his cheeks and nose flushed red from crying and his fever. His file didn't include an age when Nicko got him, but he couldn't have been more than 20.

"You shouldn't be sorry, Gio. Really, I'm the one who messed up. I'm..." He paused, frowning to himself. The words didn't sound right in his head, he hadn't used them earnestly enough all that often, so it was sort of alien to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Gio looked positively perplexed, like he was just as much as used to hearing apologies as Nicko was at giving them. "S...Sir?" He squeaked.

"When I came back out and saw you outside like that, all bloody and fucking tied up...God, Gio, I was just disgusted." He could see Gio's face fall even more, and his heart sank. "No! No, not of you! I was disgusted in myself. I was disgusted that I did something so awful to you. And I'm sorry."

After that, Nicko made him rest, and he nursed him back to health. It was the least he could do, after putting him in that condition in the first place. That morning, he was up with Nicko, asking if he could go with him to work, if he would finish his tattoo. Nicko thought it was adorable, but he still had bruises and still seemed a little out of it, so Nicko made him stay home. He was regretting it now, as the blonde bimbo told him "Don't be afraid to hurt me, I don't mind a little pain" with a wink.

The second time his phone rang, he told the blonde to give him a moment, pulling off his gloves as he stood up and walked into the next room to answer the phone.

"What Ben? I'm working."

"Hey, uh...you didn't take Gio with you to work, did you?" Ben's voice was a little nervous, and Nicko was instantly worried.

"No, I left him there. Is he not there?"

"Um..."

"Ben is he there or not?!"

"I thought I saw him earlier, but I can't find him now. I think he jumped ship, dude."

Nicko had never had an anxiety attack before. Nervous, sure. Fits of rage, all the time. But he'd never felt the tight rubber bands around his lungs feeling that took his breath away when Ben said that. So he hung up the phone and left through the back, all but sprinting to his car. It was a miracle he got home in one piece, with how fast he was driving and how badly his hands were shaking. Gio jumped ship. Gio hates you because of how badly you hurt him. You scared him so bad he ran away. You awful person. You horrible, garbage person. The anxiety only worsened when he got home and Gio really was gone, he wasn't just hiding out somewhere like he sometimes did. Nicko pictured him, his huge, horrified eyes, how small he was, how he was probably out there scared and alone and someone might hurt him and Nicko wasn't there to protect him. You should have just taken him to work with you. This wouldn't have happened if he came with you. This is all your fault. Garbage person.

It wasn't until after he had calmed down and hours after Salem was home that Nicko even realized any of his things were missing. He was exhausted, the second he explained to Salem what had happened there was a fight, with rightfully placed blame on Nicko that he was wrongfully defensive about, as always. With his nerves shot and beyond tired from his incessant anger, he got drunk. It was a bad habit, his drinking in an attempt to mute his anger. But it was better than picking another fight with Salem to blow of some steam, and it felt better than the newfound anxiety every time he thought about Gio.

It was when he was drunk that he decided to paint, to make a mess with some red without actually hurting anyone again, and he noticed a few of his paintbrushes were gone. No one ever touched his art supplies (especially not Gio, and especially not after Nicko once made a joke about cutting off his fingers if he decided to be a thief and take his things), and he was very particular about how it was all organized. So when he realized they weren't where he'd left them, even in his drunken stupor, he could tell that something was wrong. So he looked around more, and he was missing more than just his brushes. His room had basically been ransacked, and he didn't know how he hadn't noticed before just then. So he rushed back out to the kitchen, where Ben and Salem were both standing around talking.

When he opened the liquor cabinet (for the second time in the last hour, and he wondered again how he had failed to notice something so important) he was missing a bottle of vodka and the jar of cash he and Rory secretly added to for party funds was empty. There was only one other person who knew about it, and then it clicked.

"Nicko," Ben started in careful disdain, "shouldn't we be doing something besides...you know...drinking?"

"Gio didn't run away."

Salem scoffed at him. "Right. Why would he want to run away from you?"

Nicko shook his head, trying to rub some of the stress out of his face. "No, you idiot. Rory was here. She took my stuff. She took my art shit, she took my cash, she took Gio."

Ben was instantly pale, and Salem stood from his chair and began pacing. It was unspoken, but they were all thinking the same thing, more or less. Rory had a problem, she had ever since they all met sophomore year at a party, and she had never downplayed it or try to make it less obvious. Sober Rory was a rare occasion, despite at some point everyone telling her she should at least talk to someone, go to a meeting, go to rehab. So at some point, their persistence fizzled out and they stopped trying so hard, and she was happier that way, anyway. Nicko had tried a few times to give her somewhat of an intervention, but in the end he decided the only thing he had the power to do was be there with her, whatever she decided to do. Yeah, because you could be all the help she needed? You, the garbage person? Right.

Nicko spent the rest of that night, all the way through morning, driving to places she might be. Her friends hadn't heard from her in days, they'd said, and the dealer that they had been going to together said she'd stopped by the night Nicko kicked her out and bought some weed. After that, he drove up and down neighborhoods all over the city looking for her car. But he had no luck, and he returned home the next morning without Gio or any idea where he was.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Nicko starting failing his classes. He couldn't bring himself to care much about his assignments when Gio was still missing, somewhere with Rory, probably being pumped with whatever she was using. Don't forget that it's your fault. He's gone because of you're shitty decisions.

He also got fired from his apprentice at the tattoo shop, the blonde he was working on didn't particularly like him running out on her and not finishing her piece, and his boss didn't like it either. He couldn't really bring himself to care that much about it. His job, his school, none of that was important to him anymore. Not as important as Giovanni, who was his responsibility and was probably miserable and scared because of him.

So he mostly stayed hidden in his room, starting paintings but never finishing them, tattooing senseless things on himself out of boredom, laying in bed doing nothing. He drove around a lot, too, looking for anything that would tell him where Rory was. He got pulled over three times, he spent a ridiculous amount of money on gas, and he never found Gio.

The guilt was suffocating. Every morning when he woke up alone in his bed he was reminded that Gio was missing, and then again when he got up and saw his empty beanbag, and knowing that he wasn't there because Nicko hadn't kept a good enough eye on him was crushing.

At some point, even Salem noticed how much Gio being gone was eating Nicko up, because he grudgingly came into his room one night, hovering in the doorway, asking Nicko if he was ok. Nicko was sitting on his bed, eyes droopy from however much booze he'd had that day, and for the first time since Salem had known him, he looked painfully human.

"I was responsible for him," Nicko admitted, "if Rory hurts him...if something bad happens to him..." He didn't finish his thought, but Salem had an idea of what he was going to say: that it would be his fault.

"Nicko, whatever Rory does is not up to you. You've done everything you can to find him, that's all that you can do." It was strange for him to be comforting Nicko, of all people, especially after he had found out that he'd assaulted Gio and left him outside in the cold until he got sick. After that, whatever little respect Salem had for Nicko was gone, and now it was being replaced by pity.

But Nicko didn't want his pity, he didn't want to be comforted by anyone. He didn't deserve that. So he told Salem to get out, to just leave him alone. Only Salem, stupid, relentlessly nice Salem refused to leave, and instead he crossed the room and sat down next to him on his bed.

"He likes you a lot, Nicko. Did you know that?"

Nicko did know, unfortunately. He vividly remembered one of the nights when Gio was sick, when he turned over in bed and pressed himself close to Nicko and told him he was his favorite, that it hurt him when he couldn't be around him all the time. And now he was gone. And it was Nicko's fault. "Yeah, I know. He's sort of dumb in that way, isn't he?"

Salem laughed at him, mostly because he didn't know when Nicko became so self aware. "No, I don't think so. I think he's just miraculously good at seeing the best parts of people. He likes Rory, too. Even after...you know, even though she got him high all the time." Nicko let out a long, heavy sigh, and Salem followed suit. "I'm telling you that because he knows that none of this is your fault. I mean, to him, you fucking walk on water. You couldn't ever do anything wrong. So, wherever he is, he isn't blaming you. No one here is blaming you either."

Nicko didn't believe him, but he didn't have the energy to argue against him. So instead, he just said "ok", and then Salem left. Nicko spent the next twenty or so minutes drinking and sketching lazily, dragging pencils across a paper only as a means to distract himself. Everything he drew was ugly, every drink tasted awful, life was miserable. He thought back to what Salem had said, that Gio liked him a lot, and then he thought again of Gio whispering in the dark, "you're my favorite person, Nicko," and his heart broke all over again. He trusted you and you put him in danger. He liked you and you didn't even fucking care, you god awful garbage person.

He was pulled out of his spiraling, self hating thoughts by a knock at the front door. He almost wanted to ignore it, didn't want to ever see or speak to anyone ever again, knowing he would probably end up hurting whoever it was in the end anyway, like he did to everyone he'd ever been around. But then he decided against it, and he stumbled down the hallway with his beer still in hand.

Giovanni sank to his knees in the same instant that Nicko opened the door, so fast that Nicko didn't even realize it was him at first. Only when Gio looked up at him from his place on the snowy porch and started to choke out a familiar sounding apology did it click that it was him. He looked awful, his pale skin peppered with small scrapes and his neck littered with what looked like hickeys, the usual bags under his eyes were an even darker shade of purple, his lips were cracked and bloody, and his face had hollowed out dramatically.

"I'm so s-s-sorry that I left, Nicko," he was rushing out, tears threatening to fall from his frightened round eyes, "ple...please forgive me, sir, please take m-me back-"

Then, Nicko was on his knees too, reaching out to take Gio's face in his hands, frowning at him when he flinched away just a little. Once Nicko's hands were on him, he really couldn't hold back the tears anymore, staring at Nicko as they slipped down his face and onto Nicko's hands. He was afraid at Nicko's silence, he would prefer for him to just start yelling already so that they could get the punishment over with and Gio could maybe be allowed to sleep after. He was exhausted. But Nicko only kept staring at him, almost in disbelief.

Then, as if he remembered that Gio was still outside, kneeling in a pile of snow, he stood up and pulled Gio carefully to his feet, helping him across the threshold so he could shut the door and keep the cold out. Once he was inside, and upright, Nicko got a better look at him, and he was physically upset at how rough he looked. Then he noticed how badly Gio was shaking, and how he was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt nervously as he stared at Nicko. He realized then that he hadn't said anything, and Gio had apologized because he thought he was in trouble, so Nicko being completely silent was probably freaking him out. Gio let out a soft whine when Nicko stepped closer and pulled him against his chest.

"I was so worried about you, Gio," he whispered, swaying side to side, "I looked all over...I'm so sorry I let her get you. I'm so sorry."

Before Gio could even begin to protest the apology, Salem came down the hallway and gasped when he saw Gio all wrapped up in Nicko's arms. "You came back?" He breathed. Gio nodded as much as he could in Nicko's snug embrace. Nicko pulled away then, brushing Gio's hair out of his face and looking at him with a frown.

"Come on, let's get you some food. Anything you want." He pulled Gio behind him into the kitchen, forcing him to sit in a chair. Gio was confused, wasn't sure why he wasn't being berated with pain and cruel words for running off and being gone for so long. He watched as Nicko looked through the fridge, then jumped when the chair next to him screeched against the hardwood floor as Salem sat down.

"Are you ok?" He asked Gio softly, a concerned frown on his face. Gio was happy to see his kind face, but the question made his heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest. He wasn't ok, his body ached all over, everything felt uncomfortably fuzzy and far away from the drugs that hadn't worn off yet, his fatigue was so bad he felt like sobbing every time he had to move his tired muscles. More than anything he was confused, like always, and it was much too difficult to try and figure out why Nicko was being nice to him and trying to give him food like a reward when he had run away and been gone for so long.

"You want pizza, Gio?" Nicko called from the freezer, already pulling out a frozen pizza and setting it on the counter. Gio didn't answer either of their questions, it felt like his any words that he wanted to say were shards of broken glass on his tongue, and it would only hurt him and everyone around him if he started to talk. It was mostly because his mind was a mess of racing thoughts about Rory and Oscar and all the awful things they did to him and how badly it hurt and how scared he was and how horrible he felt for worrying Nicko.

His silence made them both uneasy, and Nicko set the pizza box down with a thud on the table in front of Gio, then he crouched down next to him, placing his hand on his thigh. Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut in response, Nicko noticed his shoulders began to rise and fall quicker in his uneven breathing.

"What's wrong, darling?" Nicko tried, keeping his voice soft and level. Gio cringed, turning his face away from him. "Talk to me, Gio. Please."

Giovanni let out a tiny whimper, shaking his head. Salem and Nicko shared a nervous glance. Salem shrugged his shoulders hopelessly, not sure how to comfort Gio or make him talk anymore than Nicko did.

So, without any other idea of what to do, Nicko reached up and tilted Gio's face towards him, even though he didn't open his eyes. "Gio, I can't help you feel better if you don't tell me what's wrong. I want to help you but you have to tell me how."

Now, Gio opened his eyes, his frown deepening when he looked at Nicko. Within half a second his eyes were overflowing with tears and his shaking went from a tiny shiver to violent tremors up and down his body. "I...I don't know what's wrong." He admitted. His voice was a hoarse whisper, and Nicko pulled his hand away from his face after he spoke. Gio burst into tears just then, tilting his head down as he sobbed out weakly. "I'm s-sorry, I'm so so stupid I'm so f-fucking stupid I'm-"

Nicko shut him up by standing up and wrapping his arms around him again, pulling his head against his stomach and petting through his hair softly. Salem watched them with his hand over his mouth, obviously troubled at Gio's hysteria. "It's ok, Gio," Nicko soothed him, "you're not stupid. I'm not upset with you. I just want to help."

Gio wasn't really listening, couldn't hear anything over his ragged breathing and his sobs that were muffled by Nicko's clothes. When Nicko realized he wasn't going to calm down like that, he pulled off of him, looking down at his tears stained face. It's all your fault he's crying right now. Look at how broken he is because of you.

"You're not stupid, Giovanni. You hear me?"

The sternness to Nicko's voice snapped Gio out of it a little, he forced his mouth closed and nodded up at him reflexively. Then, Nicko sighed softly and turned away from him altogether. He grabbed the pizza, busying himself with that instead of having to look at how ruined he made Gio. He was only turned away for a minute or two before Salem cleared his throat.

"Um, Nicko?" He said. "I don't think he's really hungry."

When Nicko turned to see what Salem was talking about, and Gio had his head rested against the table, passed out cold. Nicko hadn't thought that he might be tired, and he felt like an asshole for not even checking with him. With a huff, he turned off the oven and threw the pizza carelessly back into the freezer. When Nicko picked Gio up he didn't even stir, completely limp when Nicko scooped him out of the chair and pulled him against his chest.

Seeing Gio back in his bed was more relieving than Nicko had anticipated, and once he was curled up under the covers all Nicko could do was stare at him. He was broken and banged up and looked seconds away from death in a lot of ways, but Nicko felt like he'd never seen anything as beautiful as Gio passed out under his covers. Suddenly, the art block he'd had since Gio had been gone dissipated, and Nicko was as quiet as he could be as he got out a canvas and what little art supplies Rory left him with.

Hours later, Gio woke up to find Nicko asleep next to him, covered in splotches of paint on his face and hands and all over his clothes. He sat up just a little, and then noticed the huge painting across the room. Through the dark he couldn't tell what it was, but it made him smile nonetheless. With a yawn, he layed back down, a little closer to Nicko than he was when he woke up. When Nicko reached out and grabbed onto his hand, Gio tensed up just a little, only until he laced his fingers in between Gio's and held onto his hand gently. Gio looked up at him only to see him still peacefully sleeping, and he realized he probably thought he was someone else, maybe Rory. Still, Gio happily pushed himself closer, resting his head against Nicko's shoulder and keeping his grip on his hand tight.

[crazy-rich-sorceresses]

𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘

𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒷 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 @𝒶𝓎𝓏𝓇𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 @𝓅𝓊𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝟣𝟤𝟥

It was barely two weeks into the semester, and Jessie already wanted to drop out and go back to computer science.

Because like, really. She was a frickin’ programmer, not a magical sorceress person. Jessie had barely understood what the headmistress had told her that night she randomly appeared in her apartment, and now she was just. At the lady’s school. And probably failing every single one of her classes????

Well, besides the mandatory Chinese class. And the only reason she wasn’t failing that was because her parents forced her to go to weekend Chinese school until she was like fifteen.

After her last class of the day, Jessie found the cute little cafe that was already her favorite, bought herself an overpriced bubble tea, and set up camp outside, because it was nice out. The one good thing about this entire thing, Jessie thought, was the weather. It would be practically balmy in December.

Jessie skimmed over the passage in her Intro to Elemental Magic textbook for the twentieth time. Stuff about elemental energies, directing magic with the force of her will, whatever. Holy fuck. Jessie wasn’t usually the most hands-on of people, but all this reading and trying to understand the conceptual basis and everything-this was worse than that theoretical physics class she’d taken as a sophomore, when she still thought she was going to be a physics double major (and thank God she’d dropped that shit before her junior year).

Nope. This just didn’t make any damn sense. Coding, Jessie could do. Math, Jessie could do. Anything that was freaking logical, Jessie could do. But she couldn’t seem to find any of the logic in this stuff. She still wasn’t even convinced that she had magic herself, truth be told. Sure, she’d sensed it and whatnot before, but she’d never actually done anything with it. Directed it, made it bend to her instructions, whatever you wanted to call it. None of that.

Sighing, Jessie leaned back in her chair and drank some bubble tea. I wonder what the headmistress would say if I tried to leave? She mused to herself, idly. Would she put a curse on my family or something? Jesus fucking Christ.

Achara didn’t need more plants. But sometimes Ophelia liked a change of scenery. And Sasha needed help coming out of her shell. A new pot could do that for her. Also, the shop-keeper had Achara’s number and sent her photos every time there was a new collection put on the shelves.

She needed new planters like she needed another coffee mug.

But, Achara had the money. Nobody would notice if the majority of her spending in a month went to little bits and bobs.

I’m only buying two things today. Who was she trying to kid? There was no way she was putting back the new elephant planter. It was too cute to put down. But the porcupine already had a name and Achara really really wanted the new Cherry Blossom themed mug to.

By the time the cute little cuckoo clock struck 4 P.M. Achara was exiting the little shop with three new planters, a new amethyst crystal, and a cherry blossom mug. She could feel Bella laughing at her back but every time she turned to look at her bodyguard, Bella’s face was a stoic mask, well practiced in scaring danger away with merely a glare.

“Can we get a coffee Bella? I know you like the Snickerdoodle Coffee they make here?” the woman in question sighed but nodded silently. The only reason she ever put up with all the coffee trips was because her addiction was just as bad as her charge. “But none of that extra large business. You’re having dinner with an uncle tonight and you can’t be buzzed and needing to pee every five minutes.” Achara pouted slightly but knew when to pick and choose her battles. “Fabulous. Can you just get me a black coffee? I don’t have the patience to look through the flavour book.”

Achara very rarely went into small shops like the cafe if she wasn’t planning on staying for a while. To little space and not enough patience for Bella to do a security check lead to Achara typically sitting at the corner most table to await her drink.

It was just what she was planning to do when she glanced down at the table she was passing on the way to the corner and spotted the Intro Elemental magic textbook. She followed the hands all the way up to the face attached to the body that owned the book. “Jessie, right?”

Jessie was still stuck on the same page when she heard someone call her name. She looked up to find one of Lyra’s friends glancing down at her.

Pushing her textbook aside for a moment, Jessie nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Chara, right?”

Jessie definitely remembered her. Lyra had invited Jessie to a party last Saturday, and then introduced her to Chara. She and Chara had been forced to help an extremely drunk Lyra back to her dorm room. Good times.

She nodded her head slightly, not wanting the headband she had paired with her outfit for the day to slide. “Achara actually but most people call me Chara. You can to! I take it you’re in Intro Elemental? Is it a hard class?”

At Chara’s question, Jessie let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through her hair and giving her a rueful smile. “Well, I dunno. The other people in the class seem like they’re doing fine, and I’ve heard that they don’t do weed-out classes here. But I’m pretty new to this whole magic thing, so…” Jessie trailed off and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I should be in, like, magical elementary school or something,” she said, a wry grin on her face.

Achara let out a small laugh. “I wouldn’t know what they teach in Magical Elementary school, if one exists. Most people I’ve talked to had private tutors. But then again, if what I’ve heard is true, you never really had that opportunity right?” Without asking, Achara pulled out the seat across from Jessie and delicately sat down, Birkin safely placed on her lap.

What she’s ‘heard’ about me? Does that mean...are there rumors about me? That’s weird, thought Jessie. She had always been a pretty lowkey kind of person, and to be perfectly honest, she really didn’t care about stupid drama. So, yeah-being gossiped about behind her back was a bit of a new experience, to say the least.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. Jessie was super boring by non-magical standards, but she guessed that being a 22-year-old first year at magical college was pretty different. And there was also the fact that she hadn’t even known that magic existed until like five months ago???

And oh yeah-private tutors? Private fucking tutors? Jesus Christ. Sometimes, Jessie forgot that these people probably spent more on a weekend getaway than Jessie had spent during her four years at UMBC as an undergraduate student.

Jessie nodded in response to Chara’s question. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t even know that magic was a thing until like, five months ago. Last April.” She ran a hand through her hair, laughing. “I’ve never done any of this before.”

“Oh Elemental Magic is one of my favorites. I can help if you want! I learned at one point so I’m definitely qualified to teach it to you. And don’t worry about where you were when you started. No one has time for that. In case you couldn’t tell, a lot of the girls here have their lives oriented toward the future.” Myself included. “What’s the part you’re struggling with?” Achara could help with most areas of elemental magic, just not Fire. Please don’t say Fire.

Jessie glanced at the other sorceresses. “That would be...that would actually be awesome,” she replied. “And I guess, just everything in general. This textbook is telling me that I need to like, feel the magical energy in each of the elements or something. But I literally have nothing.” She made a vague gesture. “I’ve tried, and I can’t get anything out of water or earth itself or whatever. Only when an object already has spells on it. But like, when I run my hand under plain old water or something-nothing.”

Achara glanced away from her new companion as Bella made her way outside with her desired coffee. “Bella you goddess. Jessie this is one of my security guards, Bella. Bella this is my new friend Jessie. I’m going to work with her on some classwork for a little bit. Just let me know when we have to leave.”

Bella’s eyebrows shot up in question but, Achara’s bag stayed firmly in her left hand. The signal remained all clear and with a silent nod, Bella sat herself at the table next to her protectee.

“Anyways, the first thing to remember is that it’s not all about feelings. The professors like to focus on getting in touch with that aspect and if you’ve had some magical experience then that usually works. It’s about what you want out of what you’re trying to control. Yin and Yang have an application in all areas of magic. If you’re taking the molecules of the water and changing their pattern…” a small ball rose from Achara’s coffee cup, “you have to picture yourself moving them into that desired form. It’s not going to happen from just feeling the magical energy. You have to be active to.”

Huh. Jessie listened intently to Chara’s explanation, watching her manipulate the coffee. Picture myself moving the molecules into the desired form? I can...try, I guess?

Jessie set her own drink on the table and tentatively stretched her hand out towards it, flexing her fingers slightly before concentrating. Okay, so she had to picture the water molecules. Easy enough, right? She’d taken chem before. Her high school teachers and college professors all loved those little sculpture thingies that showed the bonds between the atoms. She knew what water was; two molecules of hydrogen, one molecule of oxygen.

Right. Simple enough. She could do this.

Jessie focused on the elemental energies that she was supposed to be able to feel. She did as Chara had said, pictured the molecules in the drink. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it correctly, since she couldn’t sense the magical energy, the way she had done so before with charmed objects, but nevertheless she directed all her thoughts to creating a small ball of milk tea, the way Chara had done with her coffee.

On the first try, there was nothing. The second and third weren’t great, either. But on the fourth try, Jessie saw the tea ripple, slightly, and on the fifth, she managed to push some of it to the side of the cup. She tried it again-yes, there it was, all those molecules of hydrogen and oxygen and whatnot (there was a ton of glucose and/or fructose in there, Jessie imagined) shifting and rippling, bending to her will.

“Holy shit,” Jessie said out loud, breathless. “I just did that.”

Achara clapped delightedly. “You did that! I was going to suggest you maybe use my coffee as their are a lot less different aspects to black coffee than bubble tea but you did it! The thing is, with all of the other aspects of your drink you don’t have enough practice to hold it for long.” Achara laid out two cloth napkins over her bag, and one over her blouse. She leaned over and spread one out on Jessie before continuing. “So in order to avoid making it splash you have to picture multiple little balls separating…”

Achara didn’t have enough time to finish explaining. Slowly but surely she could see the ball sinking.

Jessie watched as Chara demonstrated, doing her best to imitate the technique. She was pretty sure that everything she was doing was sloppy and definitely not super clean, but after an entire summer of grappling with this stuff (thanks to the headmistress’ insistence that she at least try to familiarize herself with the basics before classes started), Jessie was grateful for what she could get.

Jessie found that visualizing the chemistry behind it all was very helpful. “How did you learn this stuff?” she asked during a lull in the action. “I mean, I dunno, is it just intuitive to magical people or something? Because I’m definitely going to be staying up all night Googling molecular structures and stuff.” She paused, grimacing. “And I thought that I was done with that stuff after I passed two semesters of chem lab in college,” she said dryly.

Achara smiled slightly. “Magic has its own signature for everything. Everyone can read and interpret that signature in different ways. I learned to read the signatures as the fact that the relationship between a sorceress and magic is a partnership. I think about how I’m pushing the elements or the magic itself to do the job or to change shape. But the magic needs the push. I guess in less fancy words I view the relationship as give and take, push and pull. It’s very western but it’s how my mother learned and she’s very talented.” Achara paused to take a sip of her coffee only to look down at the empty cup in disappointment.

Jessie rolled Chara’s words over in her head, contemplating what she had said. It sort of made sense, she guessed, but these kinds of things were always harder in practice. “Hmm. That’s interesting,” Jessie mused out loud. “Thanks for helping me with this, by the way. I’ve been trying to figure this stuff out all summer.”

“It’s going to take more than a summer to learn all different types of magic. Plus water is considered to be the most malleable of the elements.” Bella cleared her throat from her spot at the table next to the two students. When Achara glanced in her direction, Bella tapped her wrist slightly. “I believe that I have to get going but please feel free to ask for help. I’m almost always around. I’m in one of the suites near Lyra so she can point you in my direction.” With that, Achara removed the napkins from her bag and stood up. “It was so nice to see you again Jessie!” And then Achara turned around and headed over to the waiting SUV. Bella’s counterpart, Fei, opened the door for her and she slid in elegantly. Within moments, the vehicle had pulled away from the curb and Achara was gone.

After Chara left, Jessie went back to her reading, though she could have sworn that she could still feel the magic tingling inside her.

[sceptilemasterr]

Catalysts Play Open Heart: Chapter 4

Summary: The Catalysts, too impatient to wait a week for the next chapter, come up with an incredibly irresponsible and dangerous solution in order to start Chapter 4 of Open Heart. Meanwhile, Raj and Furball are on the roof, enjoying some ‘substances’ and having a deep chat...

Previous Chapter: Link

Note: The things in bold are scenes from the actual Choices chapter. Ian and Alyssa are my twin Endless Summer MCs, who I’ve given some additional abilities here (as in my script rewrite), mostly for rule of funny.

Warnings: Marijuana use (guess who). Also, discussions of childbirth and trauma, as was found in the actual Open Heart chapter.

“Dude… what’s it even like, being you? Y’know?” asked Raj.

He was sprawled out on a deck chair on the roof of the Celestial, smoking some weed he had brought from somewhere. Beside him, on the floor, lay Furball, on his belly with all of his limbs splayed out to the side, the open bottle of catnip in front of him. Every so often, the blue fox would look up, spray out a jet of ice at another piece of nearby furniture, then lay back down again. “Baaaarararmmm,” he answered, making a very un-Furball-ish noise.

“If I could do that… I’d… like, you could be your own air conditioner! Or, like, a great prankster… oh man, that’s the best idea!”

“Brriaaaaarr,” agreed Furball, freezing a decorative plant.

“...Wonder if they started the next chapter of that story yet. That was pretty fun last time. Man, Furball, you should join in for the next one!”

“Wraaaaaa…” Another blast of ice flash-froze Raj’s shoe, which he had kicked off onto the floor a while ago.

“You could join the drinking game too! Wait… can you… do you even… get drunk?”

“Briiii? Rarammm?” Furball looked at him quizzically, then turned and sneezed, freezing a few of the string lights overhead.

“Guess we never tested it. That does it, I’ve got some good stuff for you to try… Later, though. And maybe just a little bit, to start out with, huh?”

“Smrrrmr,” nodded Furball sagely, rolling over onto his back and breathing another stream of ice onto the other lounge chair.

“What would be your signature drink, I wonder? I’m thinkin’... like… definitely some blue curacao cuz, y’know,” Raj said, gesturing to Furball’s blue fur. “Over ice of course. Hmm, what else to add…”

As Raj continued talking to himself about Furball’s signature drink, the ice fox looked up at him for a moment, before laying back down on his back with a sigh. As he did so, he blew out another burst of icy breath-- that shot straight for the door to the stairs leading back down, freezing the handle solid. Raj looked over at the door for a moment. “Huh. Wonder what we’ll do about that…” he muttered vaguely, before settling back down into his chair. “Ah, it’ll fix itself later.” He looked back down at Furball. “Alright, now for the real question. If I had some kinda power like that, what d’you think I’d have?”

“Barrrrrrrmma,” Furball replied.

“Fire? Yeah, I can see that,” Raj answered. “Sure would make cooking easier…”

“Okay, has anyone seen Raj?” asked Michelle, walking briskly back into the lobby. Everyone was munching on a variety of snacks, mostly leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“No, why, you gettin’ impatient, Maybelline?” asked Jake through a mouthful of shrimp.

“I mean, it is a pretty big resort,” Sean pointed out. “Maybe he fell asleep or something? I mean, it’s Raj, he wouldn’t do anything too crazy.”

“True,” admitted Michelle. “Still, I don’t want him to miss too much of the story! We’ve got to continue the next chapter soon.”

“After the way the last chapter ended? For sure!” agreed Diego.

Estela shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m excited to continue too, but-” She stopped talking as everyone but Ian stared at her incredulously. “What? I’m not allowed to enjoy a cheesy hospital story once in a while?” Craig started to laugh, but went silent when Estela fixed him with her trademark death glare. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Jake held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, no objections here,” he assured her.

“Honestly, these chapters don’t take too long to get through,” Quinn pointed out. “It hasn’t been that much time. Let’s just go ahead and start, and Raj will probably come down later, right? We can catch him up on what he missed!”

Everyone muttered to each other for a few seconds, but finally agreed to continue. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this,” Michelle said, taking Quinn’s phone and opening up the app. She scrolled back to the Open Heart book… and stopped, frowning. “Oh no!” she exclaimed.

“Yaaaah!” screamed Craig, but Zahra didn’t react thanks to her earmuffs. “...Wait, what’s ‘oh no?’” he added after his brain caught up to the situation.

Michelle laughed and shook her head. “Nothing that serious,” she reassured him. “It’s just… this says the next chapter doesn’t release until next week!”

“Let me see!” said Diego, walking over and looking at the phone. “Huh, you’re right. That sucks.”

“...Diego, the screen is already available in the same location as before,” Varyyn told him.

Diego blushed, looking up at the projector screen, where, indeed, the phone screen was being shown as usual. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“Aww, but we can’t leave it there!” complained Quinn. “Not for a whole week!”

“We won’t even all be here next week!” groaned Jake. “Drinking games are a lot less fun by yourself, y’know.”

“...Are you speaking from experience?” Alyssa asked him. Jake blushed but said nothing.

“Well, what exactly do you propose we do about it?” demanded Aleister. “The chapter does not exist yet, and that is that. We can either leave this as it is, and be done with this ridiculous game, or begin a new story. We have no other choice.”

“...Actually,” said Jake, with a knowing look in his eye, “we do have another choice.” He shot a meaningful look at Alyssa and Ian.

It took a moment before everyone realized what he had in mind. “No. No way. Absolutely not,” said Sean incredulously.

“You want us to use our Vaanu powers… for this?” demanded Ian. “Jake, are you insane?!”

“Don’t be so boring, Ian,” Alyssa argued. “It’s genius!”

“More like ‘irresponsible’ and ‘dangerous!’”

“What are you, my father?”

The room erupted into shouting, with everyone quickly taking sides with one twin or the other regarding Jake’s ridiculous plan. After several minutes of this, Aleister stood up, pulled out a megaphone, and shouted, “CEASE THIS CACOPHONY AT ONCE!”

“...Where did you get a megaphone, and can I have one?” asked Craig. Zahra slapped him.

“I came prepared for just such an occasion,” Aleister explained. “Jacob, allow me to clarify. You wish for Alyssa and Ian to use their powers to irresponsibly manipulate the entire space-time continuum and reality itself… in order to continue playing a mobile game… a week early?!”

“I’ve never heard a stupider idea in my life, and I live with Craig,” Zahra said.

“Yeah!” agreed Craig, before frowning a few moments later. “...Wait…”

“Whoa, hang on, Malfoy, calm your knickers,” said Jake. “I didn’t mean all of reality. Just, like… a focused blast. Just on that phone. I don’t think any of you wanna miss an extra week of work, anyway.”

“I… guess that's more reasonable,” said Grace hesitantly.

“Oh, not you too!” complained Aleister.

Estela shrugged. “I… maybe,” she admitted. “Ian, you’ve aged objects before, it could probably work.”

“I dunno, it feels like a waste somehow,” Ian argued.

“The powers of Vaanu are not to be used lightly,” agreed Varyyn sagely.

Beside his husband, Diego pouted. “But just this once… it can’t hurt, right?”

“It’s my phone, and I’m okay with it,” said Quinn. “But if they age it to dust, the twins owe me a new phone.”

“That’s fair. Come on, Ian. It’ll be fun!” Alyssa said, making her best puppy-dog face at her brother.

Ian rolled his eyes. “That hasn’t worked in years, ‘Lyss, and it’s not gonna work now.”

“Not even from me?” asked Estela, winking at Alyssa before doing the same puppy-dog face.

Ian frowned. “Okay, that is completely unfair,” he complained.

“Well, guess we leave it up to the Time Twins,” Michelle said, glancing over at where Estela was rapidly wearing down her husband’s resolve. “But just a small burst, okay? One week.”

“We’ll be careful,” Alyssa assured her as Ian sighed and shook his head.

“Alright, Estela, you win,” he told her.

“Don’t I always?”

“Oh, FINE! Let us proceed to utterly BREAK REALITY because someone got slightly impatient for a PHONE GAME!” yelled Aleister dramatically. “Don’t blame me if the universe implodes into nothingness as a result. I am certain if Raj were here, he would be levelheaded enough to talk you all out of this utterly irresponsible and frankly RIDICULOUS scheme!”

Meanwhile, on the roof, Raj leaned over, running a hand along the now ice-coated floor. “What if I had time powers, like the twins…” he said to Furball. “I could, like… fast-forward time to make rollercoaster lines faster… or, watch new movies a week early… or make food cook itself instantly… The twins never do stuff like that, those dudes are missin’ out…”

“Brrrrmmmm,” agreed the blue fox.

Back in the lobby, Alyssa and Ian stood, holding hands, looking at Quinn’s phone on a nearby table, still attached to the projector cord. “Here goes nothing,” Ian said. “Three…”

“Two…” continued Alyssa.

“One!” the twins said simultaneously, concentrating. A burst of prismatic time energy emerged from their conjoined hands, flaring out for a moment before the twins clenched their free fists and focused the beam tighter, until it had zeroed in completely onto the phone. They held their focus for several seconds as the rest of the Catalysts and Varyyn watched with bated breath. Finally, the energy flared once around the phone before disappearing into it.

“Alright, anybody got any extra heads or anything?” asked Jake. “No? Told ya so, Slytherin.” Aleister crossed his arms disapprovingly but said nothing.

“Here you go, Quinn. Try it now,” said Alyssa, releasing her brother’s hand and passing the phone back to its owner.

Quinn took the phone and turned it over in her hand. “The case is a little more scratched up than before, and… what’s this weird orange stain?” She sniffed the phone gingerly. “It’s… taco sauce.”

“Aww, YES!” shouted Craig excitedly, pumping a fist into the air. “Does this mean we’re destined for a taco night sometime this week?!”

Quinn turned on the phone and started scrolling through her texts. Everyone caught a glimpse of a text from Michelle, filled with nothing but emojis, until Quinn hit the home button and it vanished. “Uh… I’ll look at those later,” she told the group. Jake raised an eyebrow at Michelle, but she just shook her head, lips sealed.

Quinn took another moment to navigate back to the Choices app, where she saw that, indeed, Open Heart now showed up as ‘Completed.’ “Wow. The whole book is finished,” she observed. “How far forward did you take this phone, anyway?”

Alyssa blushed. “Uh… maybe a little more than a week…” she admitted.

Ian sighed and gave his sister a knowing look. “You haven’t been practicing at all, have you?”

“I practiced! ...Once! ...A few months ago,” she admitted.

Quinn stood up and smiled. “Doesn’t matter now! We have the phone, nobody’s been time-warped or anything weird, and we have plenty of chapters to keep playing through!” she said brightly. “Michelle?”

Michelle paused for a moment, then shrugged and took the phone from Quinn. “Well, no turning back now,” she admitted. “Everybody got their drinks ready? Great, let’s get started!”

Content Warning: This chapter depicts sensitive topics relating to childbirth and trauma.

“That’s… ominous,” said Diego.

“I mean, it is a hospital, the ‘trauma’ part should be obvious,” said Zahra.

“We’re all adults here, we’ll be fine, right?” asked Jake.

Grace looked around nervously. “Uh… I’m a little nervous… I don’t do so well with blood and trauma,” she admitted.

Aleister put his arm around her somewhat awkwardly. “No need to fret. I shall summarize for you what happens if you wish to keep your eyes closed, should anything too… ‘descriptive’ occur.”

Grace smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Aleister shrugged. “Not that any of this matters anyway. We are all likely about to be consumed by a space-time rift any moment now…” he added, glaring daggers at Jake.

“Hey, don’t look at me, the twins were the ones who actually did it!”

Open Heart: Chapter 4

Dolores

“...Umbridge?” asked Diego.

“Probably not,” Ian told him.

“That would be a pretty random cameo,” Diego admitted.

“She was the irritating woman with the unpleasant personality, correct?” Varyyn asked his husband.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Diego said. “We had a Harry Potter marathon a few months ago,” he explained to the others.

A couple days later, you wake up to the enticing smell of someone frying up breakfast.

“Aww, this is really making me miss Raj,” Craig said. “He makes the best breakfasts! ...Hope he’s okay.”

“We’ll go look for him if he doesn’t turn up soon,” Michelle assured him, before continuing to play.

Landry: No! Just… delayed. What’s a seven-letter term for ‘colds that last a long time?’ Fourth letter is ‘A.’

“Flu!” shouted Craig.

“That is not seven letters, and there isn’t even an ‘A’ anywhere,” Zahra said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh! Uh…” Craig said, pondering for a moment. “What about ‘Flu, A Flu!’ That works, right?”

“...I guess? Technically?” said Diego.

But when the choices appeared, to no one but Craig’s surprise, ‘Flu, A Flu’ was not an option. “Aww, man,” said Craig.

“‘Ice Ages’ is the obvious choice here,” Grace pointed out.

Michelle shrugged. “You’re not wrong,” she said, picking the option in question.

Sienna: He keeps having to cancel. His work really demands a lot of him.

“Wait! Sienna’s boyfriend is always busy… and his name’s ‘Wayne…’” said Diego excitedly. “It’s Batman. Her boyfriend is definitely Batman!”

“Oh my God, that actually works!” agreed Ian, air-fiving Diego.

“Now that would be a pretty cool plot twist,” Estela admitted.

Jake chuckled. “Estela being a Batman fan, now that doesn’t surprise me,” he told her, and the rest of the group nodded in agreement.

Estela shrugged. “What can I say?”

Michelle clicked through to the next choice. “Ooh, I totally want to meet Batman!” yelled Craig. “Pick it, pick it, pick it!”

“I really doubt he’s actually Batman, but sure,” Michelle told him, and chose ‘Well, we can’t wait to meet him.’

Jackie shuffles into the living area, still half-asleep. She yawns, pours a mug of coffee, and takes a seat.

“Zahra. She’s totally Zahra,” Alyssa said.

“Not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Zahra said, “but what the hell. Sure.”

Jackie: Last thing I remember is reading a textbook on my bed and then…

“Okay, Zahra’s personality, Grace’s love of textbooks,” Alyssa amended.

“What, are you implying I don’t read or something?” asked Zahra, annoyed. “I spent all afternoon in the damn library, you know!”

“True enough, but have you ever fallen asleep while reading a textbook?” asked Michelle. “Because I’m pretty sure Grace has.”

“Guilty,” Grace admitted.

Elijah: I hooked up the T.V. and stereo last night. We’re officially ready for a housewarming party!

“Now this is gonna be good!” said Craig. “As long as nobody freaks out over a tiger and ruins the whole thing.”

“That was one time,” groaned Ian.

MC!Michelle: A party sounds like…

“Umm, ‘a great idea,’ obviously!” said Quinn.

“Of course!” agreed Zahra, while Craig cheered again. Jake, Alyssa, Diego, and Varyyn all voiced their agreement as well.

“That settles it,” said Michelle, noting the obvious majority. “‘Great idea’ it is.”

Jackie: About Dr. Banerji. Word is, he just up and quit sometime yesterday.

“Whoa…” said Jake.

“The mystery deepens!” said Diego excitedly.

Michelle frowned. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the way the last chapter ended,” she said to herself. “Hope he’s okay.”

Jackie: Coffee is my breakfast.

Zahra laughed. “I like this girl!”

“True that,” agreed Jake.

“Oh, man,” said Craig, “this reminds me of this one time when I put coffee in my cereal instead of milk. That was not a good breakfast, let me tell ya…”

Several of the Catalysts mimed vomiting. “Okay, how and why did you do that?!” asked Diego, staring at Craig. “That’s...just... no.”

Craig shrugged. “In my defense, I was really drunk, and the coffee pot was sitting in the fridge where the milk was usually.”

“Craig, I told you I was gonna put it in there,” said Sean.

“Not my fault I was too drunk to remember that!”

“Okay, but the real question is… how did it taste?” asked Jake, leaning forward.

Craig shook his head. “You do not wanna know.”

“...And this conversation is officially DONE,” said Zahra.

Dr. Harper: Ethan…

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Get closer! Duh!” shouted Alyssa when the next choice appeared. “I want to know!”

“Alyssa, don’t you think we should respect their privacy, though?” asked Grace tentatively. “It’s not nice to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, come on, Grace. We’re not eavesdropping! We’re just moving closer so that we can overhear their conversation without them knowing about it!”

“...Alyssa, that’s literally what ‘eavesdropping’ means,” Ian pointed out.

“Well excuse me if I haven’t memorized the dictionary!”

“...You haven’t?” asked Aleister. “What on Earth have you been doing with your time?”

Michelle sighed. “I vote to respect their privacy… but we should, y’know, actually vote on this. Who wants to respect their privacy?”

“Come on, guys, let’s not be rude,” said Sean, as he raised his hand along with Michelle, Ian, Grace, Aleister and Quinn. Varyyn raised his hand as well, but then lowered it when he looked at Diego and saw that his hand wasn’t raised.

Michelle quickly counted the hands. “That’s six,” she said, frowning. “Just to be sure… who votes to get closer?” Alyssa, Jake, Estela, Zahra, Diego, and Varyyn (after Diego raised his) all raised their hands. “Wait, that’s six people too! Did somebody not vote?”

Everyone stared expectantly at Craig. “...What?” he asked when he noticed this.

“You forgot to vote!” Zahra told him.

“Oh! Oh, yeah. What did Sean vote again?”

“I said ‘respect their privacy,’” Sean told him.

“Okay, yeah, that’s my vote too.”

“Why not ask to follow my vote?” Zahra asked him, annoyed.

“Because Sean’s my bro, bro! And y’know, ‘bros before…’” He stopped before he could finish the sentence when he noticed Zahra's death glare. “...Uh. It’s just a thing people say.”

“Anyway!” exclaimed Michelle brightly before Zahra could find a way to get Craig to vote her way, “looks like ‘respecting their privacy’ wins. Moving on!” She selected the relevant option.

Kyra: Hey there, doc!

You turn to see Bryce wheeling Kyra down the hall on a bed.

Quinn started fanning herself with her hand. “Kyra and Bryce? Oh, my poor heart…”

“If there’s an option to flirt with both of them, we’re definitely taking it,” declared Sean.

“Fair enough,” agreed Michelle. “Though I would’ve done it anyway.”

Bryce: A lobectomy, assisted by yours truly.

“A lo-ba-da what now?” asked Alyssa.

“‘Lobectomy,’” clarified Aleister. “The surgical removal of a-”

“A lobe of the lung,” interrupted Michelle. “Aleister, you’re not the only one who knows these things, you know. I am a medical student.”

“Ah. You are correct,” admitted Aleister, blushing a faint shade of red. “My utmost apologies.”

MC!Michelle: Kyra! You’re having a lobe of your lung removed today?

“Whaddya know, Peacock Feathers was right,” said Jake.

“Well, of course,” Michelle said, smirking. “You all should know that by now.”

Kyra: I know, right? It happened kinda fast after the C.T. results came back.

“Craig’s Tacos!” yelled Craig excitedly. Silence. “No? Aww… but we’re having the Taco Party of Destiny this week! Quinn’s phone proves it!”

Quinn shrugged, turning her phone over in her hand. “Well, seeing as we sent it even further forward in time… it could probably be any time this month, or even later,” she pointed out.

“Anyway, C.T. stands for Computerized…” said Michelle, before her voice trailed off and she frowned. “Huh. To be honest, I have no idea.”

Jake shook his head, amused. “She doesn’t know a medical question?!” he asked, mock-astonished. “I think this calls for a drink.” The others looked at him expectantly. “ ...Y’all!” he added.

“We always just say ‘C.T. scan,’” Michelle admitted. “I honestly don’t know what it stands for.”

“‘Computerized Tacos?’” suggested Craig.

“What is it with you and tacos all of a sudden?” asked Zahra.

“Taco Party of Destiny, remember?”

“May I?” asked Aleister. Michelle nodded. “Very well. It stands for ‘Computerized Tomography.’”

Michelle smiled at him. “Thanks, Aleister. That’s it!”

“Wait, did he really say ‘Computerized Taco-graphy?’”

Everyone ignored Craig.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“FLIRTY!” yelled Quinn, uncharacteristically loudly.

“Wow. That was impressive,” said Michelle. “‘Flirty’ it is!”

“Aren’t we going to vote?” asked Aleister.

Michelle shook her head. “You know ‘flirty’ would win anyway, since that’s the option that lets them drink,” she told him.

“She’s got a point,” admitted Grace.

“Drink, y’all!”

MC!Michelle: But if you do see any warm, bright lights while you’re under… I’m going to need you to remember this face and turn the hell around.

Instinctively, everyone’s gazes turned to Alyssa and Ian. “...What are you staring at?” asked Alyssa.

Ian sighed and looked into Estela’s eyes. “Honestly, sounds about right,” he told the group. “While I was with Vaanu, it was her who kept me… ‘me.’ If that makes any sense at all.”

“Of course it does, mi amor,” said Estela, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Barf,” said Zahra.

“You know you like it,” said Craig, pulling her into a very similar hug. She playfully pushed him away.

“Just glad you’re home, Princess,” Jake told his wife, a huge, genuine smile on his face.

“You’re flirty when you’re drunk,” Alyssa observed.

“What are you talkin’ about? I’m flirty all the time.”

His wife sighed. “You’re not wrong…”

Bryce: Sorry, Dr. Nguyen, but I have to get Ms. Santana here to the O.R.

“Oh! I really do know this one!” yelled Craig excitedly. “That one means ‘Operating Room!’”

Everyone stared, dumbstruck and utterly at a loss for words, at Craig. Zahra grabbed her glass of whiskey and emptied the entire thing into her mouth.

“...What?” asked Craig.

“You… you got that one right!” exclaimed Michelle, astonished.

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard doctors and stuff say that one before,” Craig explained. “Like when I was in there after I broke my...uh, I think spleen? They told me not to play football but I didn’t listen.”

“...Did you have mono?” asked Michelle.

“Yeah, but like, I didn’t feel that sick, so I figured I could still play--”

Michelle sighed. “God dammit, Craig,” she muttered incredulously, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Zahra nodded in agreement as she refilled her glass.

“Craig getting an acronym right. Let’s toast to that!” declared Jake, raising his whiskey glass for a toast. The others raised their own glasses before each taking another sip, including Craig himself.

MC!Michelle: Bryce, just one more thing…

“Damn, I like both these options,” said Sean.

“I suppose that means this calls for a vote,” said Aleister. ‘Take care of her for me’ won by a close margin, 7-6.

Dr. Zaid: Get down to the E.R. and see if they need any patients admitted!

“‘Exciting Room?’” guessed Craig.

“...Aaaaaand we’re back to normal,” snarked Zahra. “Also, no.”

“It’s actually ‘Emergency Room,’” Michelle clarified.

“At least he was half right,” put in Grace.

“But emergencies are exciting! Doesn’t that count?” asked Craig. Zahra shook her head. “Aww…”

Intern: Hi, Aurora! I brought you a cappuccino--

Aurora: I drink tea.

“Geez, what’s her problem?” asked Sean. “Rude.”

“For sure,” agreed Michelle.

“She needs to lose the stick up her ass,” agreed Jake. Then the next choice appeared, and Jake laughed so hard that whiskey flew out of his nose.

Alyssa fell out of her chair laughing at the sight. “Holy shit, that was amazing,” she said through her laughter.

“Damn, Ariel, maybe your phone is psychic,” Jake said to Quinn. “Can we pick it? Please?”

“We’ve gotta vote,” Michelle reminded him.

“Oh yeah.”

But when the vote was called, ‘What’s up your butt?’ won unanimously, likely due to Jake’s reaction.

Aurora: Funny. That’s what I had to ask my last patient. It was a model train.

“PFFFFFFFFFTBWAHAHAHAA!” bellowed Craig, incredibly loudly. “Holy shit!”

“That was amazing,” laughed Zahra, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Okay, I love this story,” said Jake through his own laughter. “Even if it does predict me sometimes.”

“I still do not understand why butts are funny,” admitted Varyyn.

Diego shrugged and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Love you anyway,” he told his husband.

MC!Michelle: Pretty quiet down here…

“Alright, whoever says ‘how boring’ is an insensitive prick,” said Michelle when the choices appeared.

“Why would anyone say that?” asked Alyssa. “Isn’t it a good thing to have less work?”

“Lazybones,” Jake said, laughing.

“Should we not vote on this choice as well--” Aleister began to say.

“Nope!” Michelle said, cutting him off as she selected ‘That’s great!’

Aurora: What are you even talking about? There are no good cases.

“Insensitive prick alert!” shouted Zahra.

Paramedic: Dolores Hudson, office fire. Her coworkers evacuated in time, but she’s pregnant and couldn’t move fast enough.

“Ah! ‘Dolores!’” exclaimed Varyyn excitedly, a sharp contrast to the ominous music playing. “That is the title of the chapter!”

“Yep, it is,” said Diego, nodding.

“Hope she’s okay…” muttered Michelle, as she continued the story.

When the next choice came up, she looked back at the rest of the group for confirmation. “All you,” Ian assured her.

Michelle thought for a moment, then chose the ‘How long has she been unconscious?’ option.

Paramedic: Elevated B.P., but she and the baby both have strong heartbeats.

“Wait, isn’t that a gas station?” asked Craig.

“...Yeah,” admitted Zahra. “But I don’t think--”

“I know what happened!” he exclaimed. “The lady was ‘elevated’ on the gas station roof and tried to jump off it to test a parachute made of paper and duct tape because someone bet her ten bucks!”

Silence. “I… um… what,” said Michelle finally.

“That was oddly specific,” said Zahra.

Craig paused for a moment. “Well, okay, that did kinda happen to me once. I just broke my ankle instead. Also it was a Shell.”

“Why am I not surprised?” asked Alyssa.

“Blood Pressure, not BP gas station,” Zahra clarified for Craig. “Even I know that one.”

“...Oh.”

Aurora: Smoke inhalation? It’s all yours. I’ll wait for something interesting.

“WHOAAAAAAAAAAAA!” the entire group exclaimed at once, outraged.

“What a horrible person,” Ian said.

“She’s a person, not a goddamn science experiment,” said Michelle, scowling at the screen. “‘Interesting’ my ass.”

“We gotta do something!” said Sean, as on-screen, Michelle’s character agreed to take the patient’s case. “Good!”

MC!Michelle: So… you ran into a raging inferno to save a pregnant woman?

“Wow, when she puts it that way, this guy sounds like an action hero,” said Diego admiringly.

“He does seem like a great guy,” agreed Quinn.

MC!Michelle: I like to think…

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!” hollered Zahra when the full-body picture of the paramedic appeared.

“The man on the screen resembles you, Diego,” said Varyyn.

Diego blushed and looked down at his feet. “Well, uh, ...maybe? If I were like, 30 times more badass?”

“Just as you are now, then,” Varyyn said.

“I think at this point we should all be saying ‘I’d be that brave,’” declared Jake. “Given the bullshit we’ve all been through by now.”

“You do have a fair point,” admitted Aleister. “Michelle?”

“Jake’s not wrong,” Michelle admitted, selecting the option.

Rafael: Rafael Aveiro.

“Wait, is he a Ninja Turtle?” asked Ian excitedly. “This keeps getting better!”

“That would be awesome!” agreed Diego. “So he’s secretly a Ninja Turtle, Sienna’s boyfriend is secretly Batman…”

“BEST. CROSSOVER. EVER.”

“By the way… drink, y’all,” said Jake. Michelle looked at him expectantly. “Oh, come on, you’re gonna pick it,” he insisted, until finally she relented and chose the flirtatious ‘Pretty often, I hope’ choice.

MC!Michelle: (Everyone must love Mrs. Martinez.)

“True that!” shouted Estela. “She’s the best.”

“Ha, even Dr. Ramsey likes her,” said Alyssa.

Michelle laughed. “If he likes someone, then everyone does,” she commented.

Dr. Ramsey: I care for the wellbeing of the people who’ve entrusted their care to me, Rookie. That’s all.

“Huh. That’s weirdly thoughtful,” Zahra said.

“Compared to Aurora, at least he cares for his patients,” Michelle agreed. “Even if he can be abrasive sometimes.”

“I don’t know about you,” said Grace hesitantly, “but I’d prefer a doctor who cared about their patients and was kinda mean to his coworkers than the other way around.”

“Agreed,” said Sean.

Dr. Ramsey: Did you just say Dolores Hudson?

MC!Michelle: Yes?

Dr. Ramsey: I’m coming with you.

“Ooh, the plot thickens!” shouted Diego. “Wonder if they know each other.”

“Could be,” said Quinn.

“Oh!” exclaimed Grace excitedly. “What if this is related to why Dr. Banerji quit yesterday?”

Michelle nodded. “That’s definitely possible,” she agreed.

Dolores: Ethan!

Dr. Ramsey: Dolores! What have you gotten yourself into this time?

“CALLED IT!” crowed Diego triumphantly.

Dr. Ramsey: Dolores was my very first patient when I was an intern.

MC!Michelle: Wow! Dolores, was he always so…

“Wait…” said Zahra, frowning as she read the choices, “are they really letting us flirt with Dr. Ramsey?!”

“Looks like it,” said Quinn. “I mean, not directly, but…”

“Drink, y’all!” exclaimed Jake. Craig immediately took a sip.

“Wait, wait, we haven’t voted yet!” protested Michelle. “I’d rather not flirt with Dr. Ramsey, of all people…”

Aleister stood up at the word ‘voted’ and began counting everyone’s votes. “It would appear ‘Mean’ won, 8-5,” he declared.

Craig frowned. “Aww, man… does that mean I have to put my drink back in the cup?” He started attempting to make himself vomit.

Zahra quickly slapped him. “Uh, no,” she admonished. “Just… drink it normally!”

“Oh, okay.”

Your Stethoscope: Listen to her breathing.

“Okay, ‘drink, y’all’ for real this time,” Jake said.

Craig started to take another drink, but Zahra put her hand over his cup. “No fair cheating, you drank on the last one,” she reminded him. Craig frowned but set the cup down anyway.

“Was that really the first single-option choice in the chapter?” asked Estela. “Huh.”

MC!Michelle: (What do I say?)

“Dr. Ramsey has friends?” shouted Jake incredulously. “That’s both my actual reaction and my vote for this choice.”

“Wasn’t expecting Dolores to get a full picture,” Quinn said. “That’s nice! And my vote goes for ‘That’s so sweet.’”

“Guess she stood up fast just like Kyra,” Diego pointed out upon seeing the photo of Dolores standing.

Aleister stood up, getting ready to take everyone’s votes. “If you don’t mind, Aleister, could I… maybe… do the vote?” asked Grace hesitantly. Aleister smiled and sat back down. “Okay, uh… who votes ‘That’s so sweet?’” Grace asked the group. Quinn, Diego, Varyyn, Ian, Sean, and Grace herself all raised their hands. “And ‘Dr. Ramsey has friends?’” Jake, Alyssa, Estela, Craig, Zahra, Aleister, and Michelle all raised their hands. Grace quickly counted their votes. “Looks like the second choice won,” she said.

Michelle smiled at Grace. “Nice job,” she assured her, before going ahead and picking the option in question.

Dr. Ramsey: Careful, rookie…

“Oh man, I forgot he was actually still in the room!” laughed Zahra. “This just got even better!”

Dolores: I just really wish I hadn’t lost that stuffed frog.

MC!Michelle: I have an idea!

“Okay, this being a diamond choice makes even less sense than the ‘sneaking away with Bryce’ scene last chapter!” complained Alyssa.

“But… she looks so sad,” Quinn said. “We have to buy it!”

Jake shrugged. “That’s up to Michelle. But either way… totally unnecessary diamond choice… so, drink, y’all!”

As everyone sipped their drink of choice, Michelle looked around at the others. “Sorry, Quinn,” she said, “but this is only the first diamond option, and I think we should wait.”

Quinn frowned. “Aww… that’s okay. Go ahead!” Michelle turned down the diamond choice and continued through the story.

You hand him the labs. His face falls as he reads them.

MC!Michelle: She has serious preeclampsia. Her baby’s in trouble, isn’t it?

“Oh…” said Michelle. “That explains the hypertension, at least…”

“‘Pree-what-now?’” asked Craig. “‘Hyper-what-now?’ Slow down, Meech.”

Michelle shook her head. “Hypertension means high blood pressure,” she explained to him, “and preeclampsia is a dangerous condition that can occur during pregnancy. One of the main symptoms is elevated BP.”

“That’s ‘blood pressure,’ not the gas station,” Zahra reminded him.

Craig frowned. “I know that now…”

“Oh no,” said Grace suddenly, “this probably won’t end well… Remember the warning from the beginning of the chapter?”

Everyone’s eyes widened as they realized what Grace meant. “I really hope you’re wrong,” said Sean, “I like Dolores!”

“That’s the job, though,” said Michelle. “It’s hard, but we’re all taught to always be aware that we’ll never be able to save everyone.”

Diego shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Michelle,” he told her, “but I could never handle that kind of pressure. That’s for sure.” The others all nodded their agreement.

“Thanks, Diego. Guess I just… do.” Michelle smiled as she continued the story.

Dr. Ramsey: This is the job, Rookie. Come on.

“Whoa, that’s like what you just said!” said Alyssa excitedly.

“Ha, yep, guess so…”

MC!Michelle: I should tell her…

“Aah! Timed choice!” yelled Craig when the next choice appeared. Michelle quickly selected ‘Gently’ before the timer could run out.

MC!Michelle: The bloodflow to the placenta is slowing. It could soon deprive your baby of vital nutrients and oxygen.

Dr. Ramsey: Your baby is at risk.

“Oh no…” moaned Grace.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” said Varyyn.

“Alright, points for the Star Wars reference, but I’m genuinely worried,” Diego said. “God, I hope we’re wrong about this. Maybe they just put in that warning as a prank? Like, April Fools?”

“Diego… it’s March,” Alyssa reminded him.

“But you two sent Quinn’s phone into the future, right? So this chapter could be from April! ...C’mon, let me have my hope,” he told her. Then he thought about this for a moment. “Wait, hang on, if the phone was sent into the future, then… Hey, Michelle, are there any photos on there from my birthday?”

Michelle sighed. “I don’t think this is really the time,” she told him. “Besides, I think we’re already messing with the space-time continuum enough as it is.”

Diego’s face fell. “Aww… you’re right.”

MC!Michelle: Babies delivered at twenty-six weeks have a good chance of survival.

Dolores: A… a chance?

“Oh, please tell me we can save the baby!” said Sean. “That’s not fair.”

“We’d better be able to save them,” Estela said, literally at the edge of her seat with tension.

MC!Michelle: He’ll have to spend some time in the N.I.C.U., and yes, there’s risk of post-birth complications--

Everyone looked at Craig expectantly. “Any ideas?” asked Zahra.

Craig thought for a moment. “Uh… ‘Nine Interns Carrying… U-tacos,’” he finished lamely. “What? There wasn’t a ‘T’!”

“Points for effort, anyway,” said Jake, as everyone laughed.

“Hey, at least it lightened the mood!” Ian pointed out. “Thanks, Craig.”

“No problem, bro!”

Dr. Ramsey: I’m taking over this case. You’re… not ready for it.

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” said Michelle, frowning. “He’s too personally attached to her.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” asked Alyssa, curious. “To have a doctor who knows you personally?”

“Not in this kind of situation,” Michelle explained. “It’s better to have less of an attachment when a case is serious.”

“Huh. Never thought of it that way.”

Through the window, you spot Kyra, asleep after surgery.

MC!Michelle: She looks so peaceful. Everything went well with the lobectomy?

Bryce: Flawlessly.

“Oh, thank god,” said Grace, letting out the breath she’d been holding. “At least Kyra is okay.”

“With everything with Dolores, I’d completely forgotten about Kyra!” Sean admitted. “Uh… whoops.”

Michelle smiled. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with my character self on this one, it’s about time we got some good news in this chapter.”

When the next choice appeared, it was a perfectly unanimous vote to hug Bryce, which Michelle did. “And… drink, y’all,” declared Jake.

“A toast to Kyra’s good health!” said Aleister, raising his glass.

Everyone stared at him. “Wait, since when were you drinking with us?” asked Zahra. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he huffed. “I do enjoy a stiff glass of bourbon now and again.” At everyone’s continued dumbfounded expressions, he raised his glass again. “Well? A toast, or no?”

“A toast!” exclaimed Estela, who was the first to snap out of it. She raised her glass of water as the others followed suit with their drinks (or glasses of water for those who weren’t involved in the drinking game).

Bryce: Wanna hit up this concert with me? It should be fun. And it looks like you could seriously use a pick-me-up.

Purchasing this premium outfit gets you a night on the town with Bryce!

“She… er, I mean me… has great fashion sense,” said Michelle upon seeing the image of the premium outfit.

“Does this count as a drink?” asked Craig.

Jake shrugged. “Outfits cost money in real life, so I’m gonna say no. Sorry.”

“Even so,” said Michelle, “are we buying it or not? I’m going with yes, but it’s up to the vote.”

“Absolutely!” said Quinn. “We’ve got to do it!”

“I agree,” said Sean.

Alyssa frowned. “What if there’s another choice to come, though? We should save our money.”

“You mean our money?” Grace reminded her. “We don’t mind paying!”

“I know, but still…”

Aleister stood up and held out his hands. “Wait a moment, everyone, we must do this properly. Who votes to purchase the premium choice?” Michelle, Quinn, Sean, Estela, Diego, and Varyyn all raised their hands. “Who votes to decline?” The rest of the group raised their hands, and Aleister did a quick head count. “It appears we have our answer. I apologize, Michelle.”

“It’s no problem,” said Michelle, reluctantly turning down the outfit. “Majority rules.”

Bryce: I hope it works out with your patient.

“Me too,” moaned Grace. “I’m nervous…”

“I feel you,” Diego said to her. “That warning at the beginning has me a little paranoid.”

Your Pager: Read the message.

“Finally! There aren’t nearly enough of these in this chapter,” said Craig excitedly, as he took a sip of his drink.

“Hey, Drax, not so fast! I didn’t even say it yet,” Jake said, making a face at Craig.

Alyssa laughed and shoved Jake lightly. “Wow, didn’t know you cared so much about your ‘line,’” she said to him.

“I care about plenty of stuff, Princess. Like you.” Alyssa blushed as he added, “Drink, y’all!”

MC!Michelle: (I slept through a page about Dolores! She’s been taken to emergency surgery!)

“Oh no,” said Grace.

“They’d better save the baby,” said Estela, scowling at the screen.

Dr. Ramsey: Dolores had a seizure. Full eclampsia. We had no choice but to deliver the baby. It’s fifty-fifty he’ll survive the night.

Michelle and Grace both gasped at the words ‘Full eclampsia.’ “What happened? What does that mean?” asked Diego, covering his eyes for some reason despite it being a text-based app.

“Judging by your expression, nothing good,” Quinn said to Michelle.

Michelle frowned. “No, it’s not,” she agreed. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Seizures during pregnancy as a result of preeclampsia.”

“Please be okay…” muttered Sean.

MC!Michelle: And Dolores?

Dr. Ramsey: She died.

“NO!” shouted Estela, as she stared at the screen in shock along with the rest of the group.

“No… no, no, no,” said Grace.

“I thought it was the baby that was in danger!” Ian said. “I didn’t think Dolores…”

Michelle shook her head sadly. “Eclampsia is incredibly dangerous to the mother, too…” she muttered, half to herself. “But… in this type of story, I didn’t think… didn’t think they’d actually do it…”

“It’s not real, Michelle,” said Quinn softly, a tear dripping down her face. “It’s just a story.”

“I know that. It’s just… things like this do happen. Maybe it’s just a little more real to me, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she crossed over to Quinn and pulled her into a tight hug. “God, am I really getting this worked up?”

Quinn rubbed her back gently. “It’s okay.”

“Talk about whiplash,” Jake muttered. “Gotta say, didn’t really expect anything this real in a story like this.”

“That likely does explain the emotional shock the others are experiencing,” declared Aleister, though a slight tremble in his voice betrayed the fact that he wasn’t immune from the ‘emotional shock’ either. “It is one thing to go into a work of fiction expecting tragedy, but another thing entirely when it is unexpected.” He wrapped an arm around Grace protectively, as she buried her face into his side.

“Uh… that lamp… still looks like a pinecone,” said Craig lamely, but no one laughed. “Sorry, just tryin’ to lighten the mood.”

“Let’s… let’s just continue,” said Zahra, probably the most composed out of the group. “We’ve gotta know what happens to the baby.”

Michelle nodded. Pulling away from Quinn, she picked up the phone again and continued clicking through as everyone watched with bated breath.

You enter the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and approach the incubator.

Newborn: …

Your heart tightens as you read the tiny newborn’s nametag: Ethan Hudson.

“Oh, so that’s what it stands for,” said Craig, trying to cheer everyone up again. “At least it was better than my guess.”

“Did she… name the baby after Dr. Ramsey?” asked Quinn. “Aww… that’s so sad…”

MC!Michelle: Do you mind if I sit with him tonight?

“That’s so nice,” said Grace, sniffling a little. “At least you’re there to look out for little Ethan. I hope he’s okay…”

“He’d better be,” agreed Estela.

“We can’t lose the mom and the baby! We’ve gotta be able to save him,” said Sean. “We’ve got to.”

Dr. Ramsey: Would you mind if I joined you?

“ABSOLUTELY,” said Estela firmly. “How could anyone not--” Her voice cut off as the diamond choice was revealed. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Good thing we saved our diamond choice, huh, Michelle?” asked Alyssa. “We’ve got to do this!”

Aleister shrugged. “Is there any purpose at all in taking a vote at this point?” he asked. “I do believe we are all in agreement on this one?” Everyone nodded their assent.

“Thanks,” said Michelle, smiling weakly. “Thanks, everyone.” She went ahead and selected the diamond choice.

Dr. Ramsey: The first patient I lost… was in my fourth week. I didn’t make any mistakes. He had stage four metastatic melanoma. He just… fought like hell and lost.

“Wow,” breathed Ian. “Wow…”

“It’s like I said,” Michelle told him. “We can’t save everyone. It’s sad, but true.” She looked down at the floor for a moment. “I’m dreading the day it happens to me. That’s one part of residency I’m not looking forward to.”

“Yeah, I’ll stick to teaching, thanks,” Diego said. “That’s just too much for me.”

Varyyn patted his husband on the back. “As she said before, not everyone can be healers. I cannot imagine that an entire village of only healers would be very successful.”

Michelle nodded. “He’s right, it’s not for everyone,” she assured him, “and that’s okay! Besides, we need professors too.”

“And video game designers!” interjected Craig. “Those are important! ...Right?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Zahra muttered. “Sure they are.”

“I think your games are awesome, man,” Sean told Craig. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on?!” demanded Zahra.

MC!Michelle: …

“Mind if I take this one?” Michelle asked when the next choice appeared. “I’m actually very curious to hear the answer to the first choice.” Everyone nodded in agreement, and she went ahead and selected ‘Does it ever get easier?’

Dr. Ramsey: Grieving a lost patient isn’t a weakness. Good doctors should value life. For itself. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t upset.

“That’s… actually a really good way of looking at it,” said Quinn. “If a doctor doesn’t value life, then why are they even a doctor in the first place?”

“Good point,” Michelle agreed. “I guess our emotions are what make us human.

“But the problem wasn’t being upset about losing the patient,” said Alyssa, frowning, “the problem was losing her in the first place! We should’ve kept that from happening! We should be better than this!”

Michelle shook her head. “People generally don’t live forever, Alyssa,” she reminded her. “As much as I’d like to be some kind of perfect super-doctor who saves everyone… I won’t be able to, and I’ve accepted that.”

“Some choices must last,” reminded Varyyn sagely, thinking of his mother.

“Ugh. Life isn’t fair,” sighed Alyssa. “You’re right.”

“He usually is,” Diego told her, and Varyyn smiled at him.

MC!Michelle: But…

“Wow, all of these choices suck,” said Zahra.

“Princess literally just said one of them earlier,” Jake observed. “Maybe we should go with that?”

“Huh? No I didn’t,” said Alyssa.

Ian pointed at the screen. “You said, and I quote, ‘We should be better than this!’”

“Oh. Right. Guess I did…”

“The third choice is even sadder,” Grace said. “She was his friend. Doesn’t that make it worse?”

“That was sort of my point about doctors not taking care of patients that they’re too attached to,” Michelle told her. “You’re right. It would make it a lot harder.”

“I suppose we should vote, then,” said Aleister, his voice noticeably softer than usual. “Shall we?”

‘I need to be better than this’ ended up winning, 6-2-5.

Dr. Ramsey: There are doctors with unlimited patience. I’m not one of them.

“You know… when Michelle says that out loud… it’s a lot funnier,” said Diego.

Everyone laughed weakly. “Ha. True,” Ian admitted. “‘Unlimited patients!’”

“There’s another Star Wars quote I could use here, but we already saw Dr. Ramsey doesn’t like those…”

He swallows and looks at Dolores’s baby. His eyes are red.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“You know, as much as I really didn’t like his attitude at first… that was a surprisingly insightful conversation,” Michelle said. “It makes sense. Patients absolutely should come first.”

“I… guess so,” Zahra admitted. “He’s still an ass though.”

“Even asses can get emotional sometimes, especially with a situation like this,” said Sean. “He needs us right now.”

“Asses are people too,” agreed Alyssa.

“Besides, asses do sometimes have a heart deep down, as we all know,” Jake said, looking pointedly at Aleister.

Aleister scowled. “What on Earth does my posterior have to do with any of this?!” he demanded, looking utterly bewildered.

“Aleister, you have a fine posterior,” Grace reassured him, then blushed and covered her mouth immediately when she realized what she’d said. “Wait, no, that came out wrong!”

“Heh, you two said ‘posterior,’” Craig pointed out.

Everyone laughed at the ridiculousness of the conversation, and the mood in the room instantly lightened. “God, I love you guys,” said Diego warmly.

“I’m not always glad you’re my brother, I admit, but that was amazing,” Estela told Aleister through her laughter.

Aleister stared, completely confused. “I still do not understand-”

“Nor do I, Aleister,” Varyyn reassured him.

Once the laughter had died down enough to continue, Michelle looked back at the screen. “Should we choose now?” she asked them. “I think we should choose ‘touch his hand,’ but we can put it to a vote-”

“No vote necessary, I think we’d all agree with that one,” said Quinn, looking around at the others as they all nodded their agreement. “See?”

“That was easy,” said Michelle as she selected the option.

MC!Michelle: This doesn’t taste like cafeteria coffee!

Dr. Ramsey: This is from my private coffee machine. As soon as I got an office, I vowed never to drink that caffeinated dishwater again.

“Oh my god. That is brilliant,” said Michelle.

“Is hospital coffee really that bad?” asked Jake curiously. “I mean, it can’t be worse than barracks coffee, right?”

“Let’s just say ‘caffeinated dishwater’ is an understatement.”

MC!Michelle: He made it!

Dr. Ramsey: And he’s getting stronger.

“Thank god!” exclaimed Estela, as everyone sighed in relief.

“Glad Ethan is okay!” said Quinn. “Er, baby Ethan. Though Dr. Ramsey is probably okay too.”

“I just hope someone will be able to take care of the baby,” Grace said. “Ooh, what if Dr. Ramsey ends up adopting him?”

“Awww!” said Quinn. “I hope so!”

You and your friends join the growing crowd of medical interns clustered in front of Harper. Ethan stands behind her, arms folded.

“Yep. He’s definitely back to normal,” snarked Zahra.

Dr. Emery: Instead of filling that role, we will be selecting one young doctor to train as a junior fellow.

“Wow. Seriously?!” asked Michelle to nobody in particular.

MC!Michelle: Did I just hear that right?

“Wow. That was pretty much your actual reaction,” commented Alyssa.

“What do y’all think about adding another rule: drink whenever the character Michelle reacts basically the same way as real Michelle?” suggested Jake.

“Hell yeah,” said Zahra.

Jake shrugged. “Alright then… drink, y’all!”

Dr. Ramsey: We will be ranking you daily. The best performing intern at the end of your first year will be selected.

“Holy shit, this got real competitive, real fast,” observed Alyssa. “We’d better win!”

“Sounds like a good idea for a reality show,” joked Diego. “Oh! Imagine an America’s Most Eligible spin-off! ‘AME: Hospital Edition.’”

“That sounds either really awful, or really entertaining,” Michelle said. “Awfully entertaining?”

“Like in a ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ way? I’d watch that,” Alyssa told her.

“I’d watch you watching that, ‘Lyss,” Ian said, laughing.

“Watch-ception!” said Diego.

“Oh! Like, how watching one watching something is similar to dreaming about dreaming, as a reference to the film ‘In-ception!’” Varyyn yelled excitedly, a little too loudly. “I understood that!”

Diego kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” he said with a huge grin on his face. “But it’s a real shame we haven’t done our MCU marathon yet, because you missed the perfect opportunity for another reference…”

Who will enter the competition? And can your friendships survive the heat? Keep playing to find out!

“Oh, we are definitely going to enter… and win,” said Estela fiercely.

“Well, then that settles it, because nobody beats Estela in anything,” Ian told the group. “We’ve got this one for sure.”

“This story just went from ‘good’ to ‘freakin’ awesome,’” Craig said. “It is ON!” Then he frowned. “Uh… but we might need the science nerds for this.”

Zahra laughed and clapped him on the back. “You’re not wrong. At least they’re all on our side, huh?” she said, looking from Aleister and Grace to Michelle, then to Ian.

Sean smiled at his best friend. “Craig, trust me: if this was a sports-related competition, they’d need you just as badly,” he reassured him.

“And you’d need me for a movie-related one!” said Diego. “I’d be unstoppable! Oh, man, we’ve got to have a ‘Scene It’ contest sometime, by the way.”

“Sure, but I’m on your team,” Alyssa immediately said. “I call dibs!”

“Who is ‘dibs?’” asked Varyyn. “And why are you calling them?”

As Diego started explaining the concept of ‘dibs’ to Varyyn, Michelle crossed her arms and frowned. “Alright, we just played through another chapter... after tying space and time into knots... and still no sign of Raj. Where the hell is he?!”

Ian stood up to get everyone’s attention. “She’s got a point,” he said, but no one besides Estela and Michelle paid any attention to him over the din of conversation. “We should break to look for him… uh… guys? Hello?”

Estela stood up, strode over to where Aleister and Grace were sitting deep in conversation, and grabbed Aleister’s megaphone. “EVERYONE, SHUT IT!” she yelled into the megaphone at the top of her lungs.

That got everyone’s attention.

Ian smiled at his wife gratefully. “That was awesome. Thanks.” Then he turned to address the group. “Look, Raj is still missing, and it’s been two whole chapters so far. I’m thinking we should break for now, and split up and look for him. I’m worried he fell asleep somewhere or something.”

“Good idea,” agreed Sean. “Let’s all pick an area to look, and we’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“Great plan. Alright, let’s do it…”

Meanwhile, on the roof, Raj stared at the icy doorknob, frowning. “Dude, how does this not melt… is that like, one of your powers?” he asked Furball.

“Mrrraaaaaarraraa,” said the fox, blasting some ice off of the side of the roof (since literally everything on the roof was now already frozen.) “Mrowwww.”

“Yeah, makes sense, that could come in handy… What if I breathed on it, but while thinking really warm thoughts?” asked Raj, as he pulled out his lighter and... lit another joint with it.

“Rrrram,” agreed Furball.

Raj bent down near the doorknob and started breathing smoke on it. The ice stubbornly stayed frozen. “It’s gotta work eventually, right? ...Right?”

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