#and i looked at the date.... right before lockdown so yeah. that tracks

[arieslost]

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

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© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

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dividers by @/saradika

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[path-of-my-childhood]

Musicians On Musicians: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

By: Patrick Doyle for Rolling Stone Date: November 13th 2020

On songwriting secrets, making albums at home, and what they’ve learned during the pandemic.

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you...

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very... Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice... I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource.  I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music - I had to do an instrumental for a film thing - so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas... “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen...”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff -  you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology...”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13... 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find...

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s...

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us]... We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper...” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks... it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely...

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture - the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school...

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics - for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and...

Swift: Oh, I know that song - “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack - I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use - kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember - this is what happens with songs - there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair - it was in a place called Sefton Park - and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house - I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way - like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it...”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really - talk about dumpy - little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down - “I’ll have that one” - and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology - it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic...

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime - because I was born actually in the war - and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios - you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents... it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal - we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves - this crystal attracts them - they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

[fangirl-writes]

Pop Culture

Benny Weir x Reader

Request:  hey i hope ur doing well! would u be able to do a benny x fem!reader where she’s really popular and has a crush on him and isn’t shy about it. benny likes her a lot too but he’s scared that she’ll just end up leaving him for another popular kid. so she makes multiple public declarations as well as takes him on a string of extravagant dates to show him how much she truly likes him.

Warning(s): none. A lot of star wars references. Like. A LOT.

Notes: I am doing fine thank you! Sorry for taking so long with this one. This was cute. I got a little side tracked from the main request and just went all in with the star wars theme, I’m so sorry.

Y/N L/N was one of the most popular girls in school. That was undoubtable. She was a cheerleader, head of the prom committee, former homecoming queen, and her parents were one of the richest people in town.

But the fact that she had the biggest crush on Benny Weir, resident star wars lover, science wiz, and all around huge geek? Unbelievable.

Extremely unbelievable in Benny’s opinion, even if she had grown up in the house across the street from him.

And Y/N wasn’t shy about her crush on him. In fact, she was very unsubtle about it.

She left him hoards of candy in his locker, hung a bouquet of roses for valentine’s day, and stood on a cafeteria table to wish him the grandest of happy birthdays. 

“Benny!” She cooed as she walked down the hallway with some of her other friends, who were currently rolling their eyes so far into the back of their heads that the nerd squad thought they might get stuck.

“Oh, no,” Benny said, a blush spreading across his cheeks as she approached him, Ethan, and Rory, leaving her posse behind.

“Benny, I rented out the entire movie theater for a star wars marathon this weekend, if you’re free?” She asked.

Benny could barely concentrate on what she said because of how close she was. He could smell her sugary perfume and see the school fluorescents shining in her pretty (e/c) eyes.

He stumbled over his words for a minute before spitting out, “Can’t! Already got plans with Ethan, can’t back out, been planning it for months, years, a whole decade. Can’t miss it.”

“We have?”

Benny elbowed Ethan in the ribs.

“Oh. Right, those plans. Yeah.”

You frowned, looking disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”

Your smile returned for a minute. “Can we reschedule then? Is tonight good for you?”

“Ah, well, you know what-”

The screech of the school bell interrupted him and he looked relieved.

“Well, look at that, saved by the bell! Sorry, Y/N, gotta get to class.” He took off down the hallway. It was the fastest Ethan had ever seen Benny run.

You turned to Ethan, looking more devastated than ever. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Who? Benny?” he replied. “No. No, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Then why does he keep giving me excuses? The old Benny would straight up turn me down...” You said, crossing your arms and staring at the floor.

Ethan put a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Benny absolutely doesn’t hate you. He’s just...nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?” You echoed. “About what?”

“Well, you’re really popular and he’s...well, he’s Benny. He’s just afraid that you’re gonna leave him for someone like David Stachowski.”

You pulled a face. “Hairy Dave? No thanks. He’s dog.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ethan muttered.

“And you guys know I’m the same Y/N, right? Just because I run with a more popular crowd doesn’t mean I stopped liking nerdy things and stopped thinking about my nerdy friends.”

Ethan laughed. “It’s just a big change from how it used to be. You don’t have braces and a star wars backpack anymore.”

You returned the laugh, remembering how you used to be. “Well, I’ll just have to prove it to him. Will you help me?”

Ethan’s face contorted. “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Come on! Help me, Ethan Skywalker! You’re my only hope!”

Ethan sighed. You got him.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” You wrapped him in a hug. “Now let’s get to class!”

***

“Is everything ready?” You asked Ethan over the phone.

“Yeah, good on your end?” He replied.

“Yep. Movie theater is set. All up to you now.”

“On it.” He said before hanging up and shoving the phone in his pocket. He took a deep breath before bursting into Benny’s house and running up the stairs frantically.

“Benny!” Ethan shouted slamming his bedroom door open.

Benny let out a high pitched scream, falling from his desk chair onto the floor.

“They’ve got Y/N!”

“What?!” Benny bolted upright. “Who’s got Y/N?”

“A couple vampires out for revenge. They must have seen us talking at school the other day. They’ve got her trapped at the movie theater-”

“What are we waiting for?” Benny said, bolting out the door passed Ethan. “Let’s go! Grandma I’m taking the car!”

Ethan waved to Benny’s grandmother as he ran passed her, following Benny out the door.

He hoped this worked.

***

Benny parked the car and was about to run into the theater, guns blazing, but Ethan caught his elbow.

“Wait, wait, we can’t just burst in there! Look!” He said, pointing to the sign that read ‘Star Wars Original Trilogy Marathon - Tonight Only!’ People stood in a line out of the theater, dressed to impress in various Star Wars get ups.

Benny cursed. “Of course, the one time we need to get in there quickly they’re having a special screening.”

“We can use the side door,” Ethan said. “And here” - he handed Benny a storm trooper helmet - “we’ve gotta blend in or they’ll see us coming.”

Benny groaned. “They could be sucking her dry right now!”

“They want us, not her. And Y/N is not helpless. And I’ve got Erica and Sarah already in there scoping the place.”

“You called them before me!”

“They’re vampires!”

Benny just grumbled and put the helmet on, crossing his arms.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Put on the costume and let’s go.”

***

Ethan and Benny snuck through the side door, dressed fully in storm trooper get up.

“This sucks, E. I can’t see a thing in this helmet.”

“What do you want from me, B?” Ethan retorted.

He suddenly let out a gasp and turned to Ethan. “Oh my god, E. This is a New Hope. I’m Han, you’re Luke, and Y/N is Leia. Yes! This is like my perfect dream.”

Ethan groaned. “I wish I could argue with you.”

“Ethan, Benny!”

The two turned to see Sarah and Erica running their way.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Benny turned to Ethan. “You called them, right?”

“Uh-”

“There’s a bunch of vampires here. Some of Jesse’s old friends that want revenge for his death.” Sarah explained.

“They’ve got the whole place on lockdown. They’re planning on locking all the star wars nerds in here and feasting.” Erica said.

“Oh my god, this is exactly like Star Wars!” Benny gushed.

“Yeah, okay, Han Solo, chill.” Ethan said. “But that does give me an idea. Where are they hiding?”

***

Erica scowled as Ethan and Benny led them up the stairs like prisoners. “I never agreed to being Chewbacca.”

“Shh. No choice.” Ethan retorted before pushing open the door to the control room.

There were three vampires sitting in there, they were staring out the small window, watching the movie before turning to the now open door.

“Who are you? And what have you here?” One of them sneered.

“We’re with you. Had to dress up to blend in. Caught these two trying to pull the fire alarm. Thought you might want to deal with them.”

Erica hissed at them and the leader, grabbed her by the chin. “Such a pretty face. Shame we’ll have to kill you.”

Erica kneed him in the crotch, making him groan.

“Look out! They’re loose!” Benny quoted, letting go of Sarah’s arms so that she could assist in beating the crap out of the three of them.

It was a good thing that Star Wars was a rather loud movie or the crowd might have been alarmed by all of the noise.

“All right, you scum,” Benny said, grabbing one that was barely conscious. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Benny-”

“Tell me!”

“Benny!”

“What?” Benny yelled at Ethan.

“They don’t have her. This was supposed to be a surprise for you. We were gonna find her in one of the empty rooms in the theater and then she was gonna take you to an empty theater and you two were gonna watch the marathon together. But now she’s alone in a room with a bunch of vampires around.”

“What?” Benny shouted. “For the love of- You go and get her, we’ll hold them here.”

“You mean we” - Erica gestured between her and Sarah - “will hold them.”

“Yeah, whatever, just go her!”

Benny pulled off the helmet and sighed.

“She really likes you, you know.” Sarah said.

“Come on,” Benny said with a bitter laugh. “Maybe right now, but once she gets me she’ll be off to the next guy in a week. That’s how they all are.”

“Not Y/N.” Erica replied. “She doesn’t get around. Never has. Her last boyfriend was a dick so if she’s pursuing you, she must really like you.”

Benny sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m just scared. We kinda run in two different circles now, you know?”

“And you can’t overlap? According to what? The rules of high school? The world isn’t so black and white, Benny.” Sarah encouraged.

****

Ethan rushed down the hallway, looking on the door numbers for 2187 (a number you had modified for the surprise).

“Yes!” Ethan said, reaching the door. He quickly pulled it open to find you laying there on a table, decked out in an impressive Princess Leia costume. It looked like you’d fallen asleep.

“Y/N!” He called and you sat up.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” You said cheekily. “Where’s Benny?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, pulling off his helmet. “No time!”

“Come on, say the line!”

“What? No, you don’t understand-”

“Ethan! Say the line!” You whined.

He sighed. “I’m Ethan Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you.”

You grinned broadly. “Thank you.”

“But seriously, I’m rescuing you. There are vampires here, and we need to get back to Benny, Sarah, and Erica.

“What?” You shouted, processing the information.

“Sarah and Erica are vampires. Good ones. But there are evil ones here that are planning on sucking the souls out of everyone in the theater and we’ve got to get them and you out of here.”

“What? Where’s Benny?”

“Come on!” Ethan encouraged and, just like the movie, you ran out first despite not knowing where you were going.

***

You met back up with Benny, Sarah, and Erica in the hallway, as they were backed against the wall with more vampires on the way.

“Where are they all coming from?” Sarah said, spraying a holy water gun and knocking one down.

“I don’t know but I know for sure we can’t get out that way.” Benny said.

“Looks like you cut off our only escape route. All the doors are that way!” You replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry, perhaps you'd like it back in your cell, Princess Leia!” Benny bit back at you sarcastically.

“Ethan, are the sprinklers still lined with holy water?”

“I don’t know. I never did anything to take it out.”

“Let’s give it a try!” Erica said, pulling out her lighter and holding it up to the sprinkler above her head, covering herself with her leather jacket and Sarah holding up an umbrella she had been using as a weapon.

The water almost immediately started spraying out, setting off the fire alarm and soaking the vampires attacking you, burning and hissing all the way down.

“What is your problem?” You hissed at Benny.

“Well, we wouldn’t be cornered if you hadn’t lured me here! And by using Ethan! I feel betrayed!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to prove to you that I like you!”

“Ha! If you really liked me you wouldn’t have become so popular! Leaving your real friends to rot in geek town!”

“That wasn’t my fault! I did what I liked! You guys are the ones who thought I needed to change just because I did similar activities to the other rich kids!”

“Guys!” Ethan interrupted. “Not the time! We need a way out. Now.”

“Oh for the love of-” You rolled your eyes and opened up the trash cute. “Everybody in!”

“Ew. Do we have to go full star wars?” Sarah asked.

“Would you rather chance the holy water river?” You replied, pointing to the floor that was slowly filling up with more water.

“Good point. Let’s go!”

Sarah entered first, followed by Erica, then Ethan, then you, then Benny.

You all were spit out into the dumpster that was full of candy wrappers, old popcorn, and soda cups.

Erica toppled into Sarah and Ethan rammed into her. You managed to avoid their collision only to have Benny slam into you from behind.

You all groaned at the impact and rolled around for a minute, picking popcorn and sticky candy out of your hair and clothes.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a shower.” Ethan groaned.

“After this I think you all deserve a spa.” You said. “I’ll buy.”

“You better.”

“Well, that was not how I foresaw this night going,” You said, standing up with the others and pulling a candy wrapper out of your hair.

Benny stood up, picking garbage off his clothes, and let out a chuckle. “What? Did you think that I was gonna give in just because of your big gesture?”

You turned on him with fiery eyes. “Would you just get it through your thick skull? I like you, okay? I’m not gonna break up with you in a week, I’m not gonna cheat on you, I’m not gonna try to convert you to a jock. Benny I’ve liked you since third grade! I just got enough confidence to tell you and you keep avoiding me every chance you get! If you don’t like me would you just tell me? It would save me a lot of time and money!”

“Not that that would be a problem for you, rich girl!”

“Well, I’m sorry my parents are wealthy! I’m sorry you live with your grandmother and not in a mansion! We’re different but quit painting me as the villain in your pathetic hero story!”

You both were fuming at each other. Erica, Sarah, and Ethan were standing with wide eyes watching this go down.

“Well, maybe if you had just stuck with your real friends we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“I did! You guys are the ones who treated me like I’d been converted to a cult!”

“Not much different!”

“What is your problem with popular people? You have some sort of nerd code that says you can’t get along with them? Weren’t you the one who was friends with David Stachowski?”

“That’s a different story! He chose us!”

“So did I!”

“No. You didn’t choose us, you chose to have sleepovers with the cheerleaders and go to country club parties and be homecoming queen!”

“I can have more than one group of friends, you know? But do you know who I had hoped would be there for me when I needed it? You guys. Ethan was. You’re the one who keeps running away from me!”

“Well, I’m sorry I think I’m not good enough for you!”

“You’ve always been good enough for me!”

“Well, then I guess I’m saying yes!”

“To what?”

“Everything. All of it. Every date you’ve asked me on, every invitation to a dance, every declaration of love. Yes. I love you. Yes.”

Tears were in your eyes now and you threw yourself into his arms, burying your face into his neck.

Benny hugged you back, as tightly as he could without hurting you.

“You smell like garbage,” you whispered.

He laughed. “So do you.”

Suddenly there was clapping from behind you.

You turned to see Erica slow-clapping. “Well, as much fun and as that rom-com moment was. Can we get out of the dumpster now?”

And you did.

It was safe to say your Leia dress was probably ruined, but you would probably keep it anyway.

Benny held your hand all the way to the car.

You hoped this was the start of something wonderful.

[stargazing-enby]

“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé” + Drarry 😘

Thank you @stavromulabetaaa @secretlycrazyhummingbird and anon for your prompts! I turned them into a New Years story, I hope that's all right 😁 

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Fake Fiancés, Auror Partners, Locked Down Together, Love Confessions | Read on AO3

“...And we’re still unsure whether the situation will be safe enough for us to marry in spring, so that’s why we haven’t organised much yet. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know as soon as we have a date.”

Harry, mind still fuzzy with sleep, empty mug in hand, stopped in his tracks by the living room door. Had he heard right?

“We understand, Draco,” came Narcissa’s voice from the Floo. “But you must understand our concerns, too.”

“I do, mother. But you know this was necessary.”

“We do,” Lucius said. “The most important thing is that we’re all safe right now, even if we missed having you home last night.”

Harry didn’t hear the end of the conversation—didn’t notice Draco walking into the kitchen a minute later; he was too busy frowning at the kettle. 

“Morning,” said Draco from behind him. “Didn’t know you were up.”

“Didn’t know you were engaged,” Harry said without thinking—without turning around, without even understanding why he didn’t want to turn around; didn’t want Draco to see the whirl of emotions unravelling in his chest.

“Oh,” Draco said, voice low. “You heard that.”

Harry shook his head, eyes still fixed on the kettle. 

“Not on purpose.” His words came out strained, and he cursed himself inwardly. Why did he even care? It wasn’t like Draco’s personal life was any of his business. Sharing a flat didn’t make them friends, now did it? No matter how much Harry had grown to enjoy having the git around all the time, and watching him fall asleep while they watched telly together at night, and getting to see Draco’s tousled hair in the mornings—

Draco sighed—a slow, heavy sound—and leaned against the counter beside him. Harry did look up at him then, and the maelstrom of emotion probably still all over his face came to an abrupt halt when he realised Draco was holding back a giggle.

“I’m not engaged, Potter,” he said, grin widening. “You look really upset at the idea, though. It’s a cute look on you.”

Draco’s mirth was beautiful, and so, so good at softening Harry from inside out. Still, Harry crossed his arms over his chest with an indignant huff, grumbling, “Sod off, I thought you were keeping an engagement from me!” When Draco only laughed at him, he added, “Why on Earth do your parents think you’re engaged, then?” 

“I’ll tell you,” Draco said through another giggle, “but don’t murder me. I’m the best Auror partner you’ll ever have.”

Harry just raised his eyebrows at him—curiosity and concern mixing with a subtle hint of betrayal that refused to fade away just yet.

“My parents are…very traditional,” Draco started.

“I’d gathered that much, thank you.”

“Shut up, you giant prick. The thing is, they firmly believe people must live with their parents or on their own until they marry. Sharing a living space with anyone other than your spouse is…improper to them. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail as to why.”

“You really don’t,” Harry said, grimacing. 

“So when I told them I was moving in with you temporarily, I sort of…kind of…had to tell them we were engaged, and the only reason I was moving in with you before getting married was that we wanted to wait until the pandemic was over to have a big wedding with all our loved ones.”

To Harry’s credit, he didn’t drop the mug full of piping hot coffee all over himself.

He did gape at Draco for a good three seconds, though.

“Your parents think we’re engaged?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” Draco had the decency to look sheepish, at least. “If it’s any consolation, they also trust me to remain chaste until my wedding night, so they don’t think you and I have—”

“Oh my god.”

“I would never, anyway. They raised me well.”

“Stop. Shut up.” Harry rested the mug on the kitchen table—sat heavily on a chair, gaze unfocused. “But didn’t you explain—”

“I did explain to them I was moving in with you because we work together and it’s safest to have you as the only person in my bubble so I don’t put them at risk, yes. They argued I had enough money to rent a place for myself, and I panicked and told them you and I had plans to marry anyway, so it wasn’t all that bad, since they trust me to wait until my wedding night to—” 

“Yeah, yes, got it.” Harry pressed his eyes closed, desperately trying to will images of a virginal Draco Malfoy draped over a white king-sized bed from his mind. “Were you planning on telling me any of this? You’ve been here for weeks…” 

“I was, of course.” 

Harry side-eyed him.

“It’s just—I guess…I was waiting for the right time to tell you, and it never really came up. And don’t give me that look! Remember how long it took you to tell me you weren’t dating Ginny anymore?” 

“That’s different!” Harry said. 

“Potter, you let me send both of you a Christmas card as though you were a couple and replied to it with her because it felt too awkward to tell me you’d broken up!” 

Harry took a sip of his coffee to avoid Draco’s gaze. 

“That may be true,” he muttered eventually, when he looked up at Draco again and found him still looking expectantly at him. “But this involves me directly. I mean, what if I’d answered a Floo call from them while you were in the bathroom and they’d brought up the engagement?” 

“Excuse you, I never schedule anything at bathroom hours!” 

“I...don’t want to know what that means.” Would it be too much for him to bury his face in his arms and fall right back asleep? “What are we going to do now?” 

“We wait until lockdown is over and pretend we’ve broken up and are no longer engaged, of course.” 

“What, so your parents hate me forever?” Harry asked. “No, thank you!”

“What do you mean, no thank you? The alternative, in case you hadn’t noticed, is to marry me, Potter!” 

“You’re making my year start with a headache,” Harry groaned. “I hope you’re happy.” 

“Very much so, actually,” Draco said. “Because you will pretend you’re my fiancé over Floo, won’t you? My parents have been asking to talk with you directly, and if it doesn’t happen soon, they’re going to start thinking you’re a bad husband…” 

“Fiancé! I mean—flatmate. Colleague. Ugh. Fine. Fine. I’ll do it,” he said when Draco just pouted dolefully. He couldn’t resist those puppy eyes, dammit. “But I’ll be cursing you to hell and back in my mind the entire time.” 

Draco’s grin was definitely not worth the sacrifice. 

***

“Harry! What a delight to finally be able to talk to you. Draco says you’ve been busy with work matters lately.” 

“Y-Yeah, it’s been chaos,” Harry said, resisting the urge to glare at Draco and hoping Narcissa couldn’t see the puzzle sitting on the coffee table or the stack of movies by the sofa through the Floo. “I’m really glad to see you, too.” Fuck, that’d sounded awfully awkward. “Happy new year, by the way—let’s hope it’s a better one.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it will be. The year an offspring gets married is always among the best of a mother’s life.”

“Right. Of course.” Add ‘upsetting Narcissa terribly’ to the list of reasons to curse Draco. 

“And I imagine it will be an even happier year for you two, especially if a future heir is in the picture by the end of it!” 

ADD ‘ALMOST CHOKING TO DEATH ON MY SALIVA’ TO THE LIST OF REASONS TO—

“Mother, please, I think it’s a little bit to early for that—” 

“I know, I know, sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m just really excited for you, my Draco. You’ve wanted this for so long…”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Harry, you are one very lucky man, I hope you know that,” Narcissa went on, oblivious to the look Harry and Draco were sharing—the colour drained from Draco’s cheeks, a breath caught in Harry’s lungs. “I do hope you will be taking the Malfoy name, too! It would be an honour to have you as a part of our family tree…”

She went on about the Sacred Twenty-eight for what seemed like forever, and Harry was only vaguely aware of Draco interrupting her with the excuse they had to get back to work and ending the call after a round of good-byes. 

For a moment, they both stared into the faceless flames. 

“You’re not going to buy it if I tell you I really do need to get back to work, right?” Draco said after a moment, voice low. 

“You know the answer to that.” 

Draco huffed. 

“Well, then, go ahead and ask what you want to ask. Don’t make me suffer for longer than necessary.” 

Harry sneaked a glance in Draco’s direction. Unlike a few moments before, his face was a dark shade of red, hand clutching the edge of the carpet, knees drawn close to his chest. 

“I don’t want to ask if you don’t want to tell me,” Harry murmured, looking back into the flames. 

“It’s not like I can Obliviate you,” Draco retorted. “You heard what you heard.”

Harry nodded. 

“That you’ve wanted me for a very long time.”

Draco didn’t reply. 

Harry glanced at Draco’s hand again, now playing nervously with the fringe of the carpet, and, after a moment of hesitation that faded with his next exhale, he reached out and rested his hand on it. Draco’s fingers stilled under his touch, and Draco’s eyes found his—wide, scared, vulnerable. 

He dared run the tips of his fingers over Draco’s knuckles, and his own breath caught when he heard Draco’s hitch. 

“Draco…” Harry started, not knowing what he was even going to say. “The past few weeks have been… they’ve been—”

“Don’t,” Draco said, voice strained. “Don’t. Just—” He looked away again. “Just tell me you just want to be colleagues and be done with it, please.” 

“Maybe that’s not what I want.” He slipped his fingers between Draco’s soft own; squeezed them gently. “Maybe what I want isn’t so different from what you want. You don’t know what’s going on inside my mind. You have no idea what the past few weeks have meant to me.” 

Draco didn’t move under his touch—didn’t seem to move at all, except for the quick, uneven rise and fall of his chest. When he talked, the words came out quickly, in a whisper, as though he was terrified to hear himself say them.

“What are you saying, Potter?”

“What I’m saying is I want more of this. More puzzles, and movies, and more of your way-too-salty chicken soup, and more evenings and mornings by your side. I’m saying I hadn’t realised until very recently how much I want more of you, Draco. But I do. Merlin, I do.” 

A sound somewhere between a whine and a choked cackle came out of Draco’s throat.

“You sound like I’ve actually proposed to you, you idiot,” he groaned. Harry rolled his eyes at him, squeezed his fingers yet again.

“I’m being serious!” he said, unable to hold back a laugh. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not! I’m just—this whole situation, it’s…”

“I know,” Harry murmured. “But it doesn’t have to be. Things don’t have to be so different now. I mean, we already work together and we’ve been having movie nights every Saturday for, what, three years now? And now we live under the same roof, we cook meals together, we fall asleep together on the couch…Merlin. We’re already like a married couple, aren’t we?” Harry said, horrified. “No wonder your parents bought the engagement story!”

“Wait till I tell you they were actually surprised it hadn’t happened sooner…”

Harry buried his face in his knees to stifle a groan.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, and stood up still holding on to Draco’s hand. “Let’s make some lunch and pretend like this wasn’t the most embarrassing conversation we’ve ever had.”

Draco’s fingers were still comfortably hooked around his as they made their way to the kitchen.

[jgroffdaily]

Man About Town interview

INTERVIEW | JONATHAN GROFF IN THE NEW MATRIX FILM 

JONATHAN GROFF HAS FROZEN AND KEEPS TRIPPING OUT ON MY SCREEN. WE BOTH LAUGH, APPRECIATIVE OF THE IRONY GIVEN WE’RE CATCHING UP WITH THE FROZEN STAR ABOUT HIS ROLE IN THE MUCH-ANTICIPATED NEW MATRIX FILM.ONCE WE FINALLY OVERCOME TECHNICAL ISSUES, THE 36-YEAR-OLD SPOTS WE ARE BOTH PROUD OWNERS OF EXACTLY THE SAME BEYONCÉ MERCH – A BLACK SWEATSHIRT WITH ‘SURFBOARD’ WRITTEN IN PINK.WE DISCUSS GROFF’S INCREDIBLE MUSICAL CAREER TO DATE AND HOW IT ALL BEGAN BEFORE TURNING OUR ATTENTION TO THE MATRIX RESURRECTIONS

On how he spent COVID

Lockdown was kind of life-changing. I got a house right before COVID right near my dad's horse farm. My dad trains and races horses for a living. I knew I wanted to always go back to Pennsylvania at some point in my life to be near my family. And when I was living there with my friend Katie during COVID, I had this dream in the back of my brain through the years that I wanted to turn my dad's horse farm into an artist retreat. Being there and re-falling in love with the Amish landscape and the stars and nature fast-tracked this whole thing. It was a huge realigning moment for me. I also did a movie club with my friends where we would watch classic movies and we did it for an entire year. Bertoluci’s 1900 was a very polarising movie. I remember there was some members of the group that really went with that, and then there were others that were not going with it. 

On how his upbringing shaped his acting career

It's a combination of growing up in this idyllic, natural environment where the summers were spent with my brother and our friends putting on plays in my dad's barn. I was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz there and we were running through the fields and it was very free, open and creative. Then on the flip side, I understand how much doing community theatre and high school theatre. Acting was a culmination of joy and at the same time, it was great kind of therapy and an outlet for self-expression so growing up in that conservative area allowed me great freedom and creativity, but it also was quite repressing in certain ways, which I think is why I reached for acting. 

On finding out he’d been cast inThe Matrix Resurrections It was total disbelief. I was doing Little Shop of Horrors off-Broadway, playing Seymour, such a musical theatre nerd character. And I had gone on my day off to meet Lana and audition for her and talk to her. A couple of weeks later she called me and said, “Hey, so we'd like for you to be a part of the film and just wanted to check in and see if you'd be comfortable with learning Kung Fu as it's going to be quite physical.” I was like, “Yeah, I have absolutely no experience but count me in." We hung up and I felt like, well, this isn’t happening. Then I put on my glasses and my nerd outfit and sang my songs and it felt very distant. Then slowly, I got a trainer in New York while I was doing the play. I'm training five days a week to get ready for the fight training then two months later, I land in San Francisco and walk into like the training tent and the first person I see is Keanu doing high kicks. I was like, “Oh my God, where the fuck am I?” I just totally fell in love with the training, it was like learning dance moves in a way. The physicality, learning the choreography, I was super into it. Then before I know it, I’m doing a fight scene with Keanu Reeves. It was like a state of disbelief all the way up until we were actually shooting and doing it. And it was the most surreal, incredible experience. 

On first meeting with Lana Wachowski

We met in San Francisco for my audition at the Fairmont Hotel and as I was walking through the hallway, there’s this poster of Looking because we shot in that hotel. So I went up to the room where she was doing auditions and her wife was there and we had a creative personal heartfelt dialogue before we did the audition material. I talked about San Francisco and I talked about Looking and I talked about identity and owning identity. She has a lot feelings and experience in that so funnily enough, Looking and San Francisco was a real part of my connection with Lana initially.

On playing Agent Smith

I didn't go to work thinking about the legacy of The Matrixand the legacy of Agent Smith... as Lana made it clear that it was new programming. She didn't want an impersonation of Hugo Weaving. We were looking to explore different territory and have fun in doing that but there were still elements of the brutalism so I would go home to my hotel room in San Francisco and put on The Matrix movies and I would have it kind of subconsciously playing in the back of my head because I wanted it in there. But then when we got to the moment of playing the scenes and playing the moments of the beats of each particular interaction, I had a blast exploring the way in which the people we work for, like the character that I am in the beginning. The first line that I have in the movie plays with this idea of the corporation that we work for and inhabiting that energy and inhabiting that smooth, cynical, but seemingly warm capitalist vibe in a suit, that this is kind of a version of what an agent is now to us in our world and living in that headspace and then getting to express what in many ways is the kind of brutal quality of those people as it's articulated in what ends up becoming a connection to the brutalist energy and physicality of the Smith that we know from the former programming. Jonathan Groff stars in The Matrix Resurrections. The full interview and shoot will feature in Man About Town's SS22 issue. 

Photography: Ben ChabanonStyling: Erica CloudGrooming: by Melissa DeZarateInterview + Editor: Mike Christensen Art director: Jeffrey Thomson Photography assistant: Will Colacito Editorial director: Huw Gwyther .

[moeyy-writes]

Second Chance

Zak Bagans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, arguing (nothing violent), mention of break-ups, happy ending (with fluff!). Oh, and a super cheesy, silly title. Let me know if I’m missing anything.

Word Count: 3.3k

My Master List

Zak lifted his head as a purple glimmer caught his eye. The room around him was loud, and the lights were flashing in a nauseatingly rapid rhythm. Why the hell did Aaron drag him to a place like this, especially when they had a lockdown the next night? He should be resting and reserving his strength, not wasting his time in some random Vegas nightclub.

It’s a good distraction, Aaron had told him. Although the music wasn’t bad, it wasn’t exactly Zak’s scene. Not anymore, anyway. He preferred less people, and more intimate conversation.

But, right now, he was mentally thanking his best friend for dragging him to this god-awful place as his eyes lifted to a familiar face in not-so-familiar clothing.

“Y/N?” He greeted you, his eyes scanning up and down your glittery purple dress. The deep cut accented your curves better than anything he had seen, and the length was shorter than he ever imagined you wearing.

Not that he was complaining one bit. You looked beautiful.

“Uh, hiya Zak.” You glanced around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

There was no way in hell Zak was there on purpose. He hated places like that, you knew that. But, you remembered seeing Aaron a few minutes earlier, which meant the other paranormal investigator wasn’t far behind.

It had been two weeks since the two of you had talked, and a day less since you had resigned from the show. The last time you talked to the blue-eyed lead investigator, he had admitted to you that he had more than platonic feelings for you. So, you ran.

It wasn’t that you didn’t share those feelings. No, it was quite the opposite. You had been harboring feelings for the older man for at least the past year, probably longer. But, there was no way he truly felt the same way. You knew Zak wasn’t the kind of person to stick around in a relationship for long, and you didn’t want to be the latest victim.

Zak glanced around, as if he was desperately searching for his partner in crime. But, the older friend was nowhere to be found. So, he relaxed his shoulders and locked his gaze on yours.

“Aaron dragged me here as a ‘distraction’. I guess that failed miserably, thank god.” He smiled sweetly, then his expression turned serious. “I’ve been calling you for days. I left voicemails. We thought something bad happened to you.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. You didn’t want to be there either. Honestly, you had no idea why you were there. Distraction was the best word you could come up with. You were hoping to pick up someone to keep your mind off the man you wanted, but knew you could never have.

“Well, I’m alive, and I’m probably not going to be in town for much longer. I took a job in California. My condo there is going to be about a third the size and the same price as the one I have here, but it looks like a nice area.” You peered away, unable to look him directly in the eye. But, even in your peripheral vision, you could see the pain on his face.

“You’re moving? Wow. I guess I never saw that coming.” His voice was softer, almost hard to hear against the pounding music. His shoulders sank more in defeat, making your stomach ache. You knew he felt something for you, but it wouldn’t last. He’d get over you just as fast as the others you had seen come and go.

“Yeah, it’s a good gig. It’s with a news station outside of Sacramento. I’ll be editing their videos before they air.” Zak’s eyes remained wide and painful. You had been friends for years and had been on the show for about half a decade. So, it was obviously a shock to him when you resigned. It was a shock for everyone.

Billy, Aaron, and Jay had also left you multiple voicemails asking where you were and if you were okay. Hell, even Dakota reached out to see what was going on. You knew they loved you and cared, but you weren’t one for goodbyes, and you definitely didn’t want to think about Zak anymore.

“Y/N, we miss you. The last investigation wasn’t the same without you.” He stared down at his feet. “You didn’t even give an explanation. We thought you were in some kind of trouble.”

You narrowed your gaze. “Zak, don’t be stupid. You know exactly why I left.” Your body tensed. Was he really that naïve? Or was he in denial?

“What?” You rolled your eyes.

“Zak, what was our last conversation about?” You crossed your arms over your chest. He wasn’t this dumb. He wasn’t dumb at all. Sure, he had a dorky sense of humor, but he was brilliant. He had to know what was really going on.

His eyes widened again, this time in realization. “Wait, you left because I told you that I love you?” Bingo.

“Zak, do you know how many women I’ve heard you say that to, just for you to toss them to the curb within a few months? You haven’t had the best track record over the years I’ve known you.” You sighed in frustration. “You love ‘em and leave ‘em pretty quickly. I didn’t want to be another statistic.”

Zak slammed his back into the cement wall behind him. His gaze left you, hazing over with an emotion you couldn’t quite recognize. His tight, black shirt hugged his chest as he crossed his arms.

“You think I picked you as a target or something? Y/N, I wouldn’t have told you I loved you after five years if I didn’t mean it! I wouldn’t risk our entire friendship over something like that!” Zak’s chest heaved as his voice got louder. “I know I’ve had several girlfriends since I’ve met you, and I know none of them ever turned out to be much of anything. But, I didn’t know them for more than a week before things progressed. I didn’t have the time to get to know them like I know you.”

You clenched your teeth as you listened to his words. Oh, so he loved you because he knew you long enough to realize you weren’t after his money and fame? Great.

“Zak, why the fucking hell didn’t you say anything before? You’ve had five years to realize your feelings for me, to say something. We’ve traveled all over the country together for years, and we live within four miles of each other. Why are you just saying something now?” You could feel the frustration, and heartbreak, washing over you.

“Because it didn’t seem like you were going to be the one to say it.” You blinked as you took a half-step back.

“Excuse me?”

Zak smirked, pissing you off even more. “You think I didn’t notice they way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t looking? Or how your hand lingered on my shoulder a little too long while we looked over evidence at Nerve? Y/N, I’m not blind.”

Shit. Shit, fuck, damn. He wasn’t blind at all. And, you were sure that the others saw it too. You had flirted with him for as long as you could remember, to the point that it became second nature.

“I didn’t say anything for the same reason I left. I didn’t want to be another Zak Bagans statistic.”

Zak unfolded his arms and stared at you. His eyes were dark, but not with anger, but pain. He tilted his head ever so slightly as he took a step forward.

“Y/N, do you really think I’m that much of a monster? After all of these years, spending weeks at a time with each other, do you really think that I’m incapable of loving someone?” Your heart was about to pound out of your chest. No, you didn’t think he was a monster. Hell, you loved him for how caring and kind he was to everyone around him. He may have carried a cocky, bad-boy persona, but he was really a complete marshmallow under those muscles.

“I don’t think that. I just saw a pattern and didn’t want to be a part of it.” Zak just nodded at your words, leaning back against the wall. You could see his thoughts forming behind his eyes. His face was surprisingly soft, considering his obvious anger.

Zak nodded as he sighed. “Y/N, do you know what the problem was with those other girls?” He let out a sigh. “They weren’t you—”

“Oh, don’t give me that cliché crap, Zak.” You rolled your eyes, unable to contain a frustrated chuckle.

“I mean it. I know it sounds cheesy, but you know me. That’s my humor. And, that’s my entire point. You know me, my humor, and almost everything that swims around in my weirdo brain. And, for a while, I think that scared me. But, now I know that’s something special. You get me like those other girls didn’t. I mean, you know me in ways most other people in my life don’t.”

He wasn’t wrong. When he needed someone to talk to, and Aaron was busy, he called you. He knew you’d give him an ear at three in the morning and would help him with just about anything. And, until now, it was a two-way street. He was there for you whenever you needed someone.

And that was what set you apart from the others. You bothered to know him. You quickly realized that he reached out to you even when he was in a relationship. He didn’t go to whoever he was dating at the time because they didn’t listen like you did.

They didn’t care like you did.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Zak, I—” Tears threatened in your eyes. It was you who was blind all this time. And now you had pushed away the man you loved when he said he loved you back.

You turned away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. Who cared if your mascara was waterproof or not? You didn’t care what you looked like, or where you were anymore. All you could think about was the pain in your chest.

“I’m sorry, Zak. I have to go—”

“No! I’m not letting you walk away again. Y/N, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I get it. I know what you saw.” Zak reached out, gently taking you upper arm.

“It’s what I didn’t see that’s killing me now,” you muttered, nearly drowned out by the music.

Zak turned you back towards him, smiling sweetly at you. “I know. I get it. I think we both do.” He glanced around the packed room. “How about we take a step outside so we don’t lose our voices,” he suggested with his award-winning smile.

It was his softness that sent you over the edge. You let the tears fall as they nodded, allowing your best friend to lead you out of that bustling club and onto the quieter, cooler sidewalk outside.

It took you a few minutes to form another coherent thought; your mind was reeling. Zak wasn’t the monster, you were. Not that you actually thought he was a monster, but this whole situation made you feel like the biggest nightmare of a person one could ever think up. You had to just run from a scary situation instead of being a grown ass woman and expressing your fears. You had been able to openly talk about all sorts of emotions on the show when you were with the guys. But, when it came to actual adult emotions, you ran.

Very mature.

And now you probably skewed the way Zak thought of you for the worse, and there was probably no coming back.

Zak leaned down in attempt to meet your tear-filled gaze. “Y/N, tell me what you’re feeling right now.” You sucked in a whimper and squeezed your eyes shut, letting a new stream of tears free.

“I feel like a fucking idiot. I feel like I royally screwed up and I’ve ruined something I wanted for years, but never thought could happen. I-I don’t know. I don’t know what to think now.” Your voice trembled. You were tired of trying to look tough. It was too exhausting.

“You aren’t an idiot. You were scared, and you weren’t seeing the whole picture. I get that. And I forgive you, not that I really think that I need to forgive you for anything.” His hand cupped your cheek and lifted your head up. “This whole thing was a huge misunderstanding.”

“Definitely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me most, Zak. I did what those other girls did when you needed someone. I’m so sorry—”

“No, don’t be. I told you, Y/N, I understand. Fear makes us do stupid thing. Out of everyone in the world, I know you know that.” He sucked in a long breath, then let out a shaky sigh. “I love you, Y/N. I do. I don’t just throw those words around. I love you so much, and I have for a long time. If you want to move to California, I get it.”

Shit. Fucking shitty fuck. You clenched your teeth. What the hell have you done?

“I—well—not really. Shit, Z, I really fucked up.” Your mind raced as your breathing quickened. Your head started to feel funny, but you tried to keep yourself grounded. “I mean, I haven’t sold my condo yet, and I can withdraw from my offer on the one in Sacramento. And I can decline the job. But, I left the show. I don’t have a job anymore.” Your words came out in panicked breaths as your hands clenched into fists.

Zak smirked. “Well, if you do want to stick around, I think I can pull a few strings and get you your old job back. I mean, we haven’t replaced you or anything. It’s not like we could if we tried.” You nodded slowly, taking everything in.

“Zak, I’m so sorry,” you muttered as you reached out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His arms quickly supported your waist, cradling you against his chest. He gently rubbed circles with one hand on your back.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay. Y/N, it’s alright.” You nodded against his chest, repeating the mantra in your head. After a few minutes, you started to believe it. Everything was going to be okay. You were there, and you just happened to run into Zak that night. Not that you were much of a believer in fate, but that had to mean something.

After a while, you pulled away from him. You peered up at him, fully aware that you had proven your mascara was less that waterproof.

“I’m sorry Zak.” You nibbled nervously on your lower lip.

He just shook his head. “I know, Y/N. You don’t need to keep saying it. I told you, I forgive you, not that I blame you for anything.” He reached head hand out. “So, are you staying after all?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m staying.” Zak’s smile stretched across his lips.

“Good. And what about us?” Your heart raced like it did just a few weeks ago, when he admitted his feelings for you. But, you sure as fuck weren’t going to run this time.

“I love you too, Zak. You already know that. I know I’ve done a piss-poor job of showing that over the last few weeks. I have some catching up to do.” You finally smiled under the drying tears. Zak chuckled, shaking his head.

“Bullshit. You’ve done enough over the years. No catch up needed, just a little Dijon mustard.” You blinked for a moment, then busted into laughter. He could never pass up a pun, no matter the circumstance.

“Oh my god, Zak,” you chuckled. “Really? Now?” You couldn’t stop laughing, which only made him smile wider.

“Hey, I made you smile. I call that a win.” He wrapped his arms around you again, causing your heart to speed up yet again. This time, you welcomed the feeling, loving the way you felt at home in his arms.

You glanced up at Zak and sighed. “Well, I guess there is no point in either of us being here, huh? I mean, I look like a fucking mess, and well, I guess my original plan is no longer happening.” Zak raised in eyebrow and huffed a laugh.

“Wait, what was your original plan?” His face tensed as he came to a realization. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Either way, you look stunning.” You blushed under the streams of black mascara you were sure were plaguing your face.

“Thanks, Zak.”

You glanced around, eyeing the door as people came and went around you. You had totally forgotten about Aaron. Had Zak driven there with him? Or was Zak Aaron’s ride home?

“I hope Aaron is okay in there,” you mentioned casually, not wanting to sound too nosy. Zak’s eyes widened.

“Oh, man. He probably thinks I either went home with someone or got lost. Probably the latter.” Zak reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His screen was littered with notifications, probably from Aaron. Zak rolled his eyes. “Yep, he thinks I’m lost.” You both laughed.

“Did he drive you here? Is he okay to drive home?” Zak shook his head.

“Nah, we got a cab. He’s probably loaded. We should fine him before he hurts himself.” Zak and you rolled your eyes in sync, then laughed. He was probably right, there was no way Aaron and alcohol were ever a good mix, especially when he was alone.

“Good idea.” You took Zak’s arm and made your way for the door.

Zak paused a few steps from the door. “Did you drive here?” You shook your head. “Do you want to ride with us? We can go back to my place for a while and just, I dunno, do something boring. If you want to talk more, we can do that. Or, we can just watch a movie or whatever. I just know that I don’t like being alone after emotional situations like this, and I know you’re the same way.” He placed his hand over yours, which rested softly on his arm. “No pressure.”

He knew you all too well.

“Yeah, that actually sounds great. I wouldn’t mind a movie in your fancy shmancy theater.” You grinned as Zak chuckled.

“Deal. I don’t know what my inventory situation is on popcorn, but we’ll survive.” You nodded in agreement, then went to take a step towards the door, but Zak gently stopped you. You turned to him, raising a brow.

“Zak?” He just smiled at you for a moment.

“One more thing.” You should have seen this coming. He reached out and took your jaw gently in his other hand, then leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

You gasped as you made contact, but quickly eased into it. He lingered, letting out a low laugh, before pulling away. You followed him as he leaned back, not wanting to separate just yet.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Zak whispered. You rolled your eyes and shoved his chest. He truly was the king of cliches.

“Oh my god, you cheeseball! One serious moment is all I ask of you!” you teased, before taking his arm again.

“You’ll get one of those at some point, hopefully.” You rolled your eyes for the millionth time.

“Way to keep me on my toes, handsome,” you retorted. Then, you followed him back into the club in search of your friend.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! <3

[nekowriteshaikyuu]

 - new years with haikyuu boys <3 -

 𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚 , 𝕜𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕠 , 𝕚𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕚 , 𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚 , 𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕦

 — fluff, aged up characters, not proofread

 word count : 2,375

 a/n: happy new years everyone ! 2020 has been a really difficult time for all of us, we’ve lost many loved ones and had a really difficult time adapting to the lockdown situation. nonetheless, i hope you all are doing great and being safe wherever you are. let’s all be there for one another and enjoy life as much as possible :) i kinda got carried away with my writing so yeah hehe sorry if it’s a little too long. but anyways, thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me and i hope that you will continue to support me and my blog :) love yalls have a wonderful new years !! <33 ~neko 

— 

𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚 𝕤𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕞𝕦𝕣𝕒

night picnic date !

you both sat in a good spot and enjoy your time together, looking up at the sky and pinpoint clouds that shaped like objects

you brought shoyu ramen which daichi enjoyed so much he emptied the bowl instantly. and also munch on strawberry shortcakes:)

you both stayed until night falls and the new years were counting down

you gazed at the stars above, unaware that daichi was patiently waiting for you to look at him.

“there’s so much stars today.” your eyes never leaving the dark-blue sky. you attempt to count every star you observed but it was just to impossible.

“hey daichi, what do you think of-” you stopped your tracks when your eyes met up with your boyfriend. he sat cross-legged comfortably, his hands tucked in his hoodie pocket. he gave you an innocent smile, taking out one of his hands from his pocket to pat your head. 

he loves you so much, so so much. to him, it was a blessing to bump into you down the hallways when you both first arrived in karasuno. the moment your eyes lock, it was like an electric current just waved past him. he instantly fell in love. and here you are now, stargazing the night before new years. he wants to keep you. he wants you all for himself, and no one can ever call dibs on you.

his other hand pulled out from his pocket, holding onto a small black box. carefully, he opened it, revealing a couple ring. he took a moment to recollect his thoughts, before taking out one of them and slipping it in on your left ring finger. he slipped in his then looking up at you. 

“i got us promise rings, to promise that we’ll always be there for each other.” he smiled, kissing the ring that was nicely fitted on your finger. you couldn’t help but blush so hard before throwing yourself onto daichi, hugging him tight as you let out tears of joy.

“daichi !!! you’re so cute !!” you couldn’t help but be honest. he laughs, hugging you tight and placing small kisses on your cheek.

“another new year with you, my love.”

— 

𝕜𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕠 𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦

boy was feeling a little fancy tonight.

he threw a nice red silk dress at you, telling you to get dresses and get ready for a dine in the restaurant you’ve always wanted to visit

he was smart to get you a dress that nicely wraps around your body, showing off your curves with your shoulders bare. 

he wore a nice (and smexy) tuxedo with his top two buttons unbuttoned 

you pleaded him to buttoned them but he gave an excuse that it was only fair since you had your shoulders exposed and your boobs elevated.

you both arrived at the restaurant and had a great meal, before having multiple glasses of wine.

every second, he just stop his actions and admire you, how lucky he is to have you and you only.

“my goodness, that was a really good meal.” you sighed after emptying your plate. the waiter came by soon to discard your empty dishes, before returning with two glasses and a wine bottle. the waiter politely pour both glasses, placing the wine bottle on the table and bowing down then leaving.

“you didn’t say we’re having wine tonight.” you glared at your boyfriend but also slyly picking up your glass and taking a sip. he only sat back at his seat, his hand resting on the hand rest while his other supporting his tilted head. kuroo chose the best seat out of all the seats in the restaurant. right by the glass window, where there is a clear view of the new years count down.

slowly you watch the numbers go down. your eyes never leaving the timer and kuroo’s never leaving your side view. he admired the sight of the beauty sitting right across him. the necklace he gave you for your birthday, the earrings he got in a carnival game, your lips tinted in red, the silk dress that was draped over your shoulders. it felt like a sin he could observe all these for free. he adjusted himself in his seat, laying back slightly with his hand supporting his chin, still admiring you.

your eyes continue to stare at the timer. five...four...three...two...one. fireworks were lit up and the dark sky was now filled with fireworks of colours. your smile widened as you hear the clink of wine glasses from other tables. you turned back to kuroo, who happen to be holding his wine glass already.

“happy new years, kitten. cheers, to another year with you stubbornness.” giggling, you raised your glass and lightly tap over his, both of you taking a sip. kuroo stared deeply into your eyes, the lights of the fireworks reflecting at your side.

he sighed, removing the napkin that was placed on his lap onto the table.

“shall we go ? don’t wanna spend the night of the new years without having some fun, huh?” he grabbed your hand and walked you out the restaurant, thanking the waiters for their service on the way.

what a night, you might say~

—

𝕚𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕛𝕚𝕞𝕖

unfortunately, you had to cancel your plans on spending new years with your boyfriend because he was busy coaching.

but you couldn’t let this day go to waste without celebrating new years.

that night, you went to his gymnasium and spotted him just finished showering.

immediately, no thoughts, you grabbed his hand dragged him to catch up with the fireworks.

the door swung open and you stomped your way in, checking small room to find your boyfriend. at last, you spotted him drying himself after a shower.

“hajime !” you screamed, making him flinched from your voice echoing through the corners of the room. he turned to see you standing by the door, panting after running down the road to the gym he was coaching people in.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” he stuffed his towel in his duffel bag, zipping it close then hanging it over his shoulder. he made his way to you who was still gasping for air. he circled his hand on your back, instructing you to inhale and exhale slowly. soon after you catch your breathe, you grabbed into his arm, having a really strong grip.

“there’s not much time, hurry !” you pulled him out the room, running once again. he couldn’t stop you, only yelling at the back telling you to slow down as you continue to run up the stairs. lucky enough iwaizumi is an athlete trainer, his daily morning runs with you really boost your speed so despite you constantly gasping for air, your legs just won’t stop running.

iwaizumi’s wiggled his wrist out of your grip and adjusted so that the both of you are holding hands now. he continued to run, following behind you, his other hand holding onto the sling of his bag that was dropping from time to time. after the last flight of stairs, you both arrived at the top of the mountains. iwaizumi dropped his bag to the ground, his hands on his knees as he coughed over his dried throat. you stretched you back, groaning in pain after running without having to stop halfway at all.

“what was that for ?!” iwaizumi placed his hands on his sides now, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. just as you were about to explain, a loud explosion was heard and lights started to flicker up in the sky. you both looked up to see the fireworks, colour after colour overlapping each other.

“we made it !!” you threw your hands up in the air, laughing in joy as you clapped your hands. you rushed to the railing, leaning over slightly to get a better view of the fireworks. iwaizumi was stunned. because of his sudden cancelation of your new years date, you decided to drag him all the way up here to be able to at least see the fireworks. 

“hajime, hurry up and get here ! they look amazing !” your hands gestured him to come over, which he did. he leaned over the railing like you did, watching the fireworks go off. he turned to you, admiring your happy expression and your smile. he can’t believe you did all that effort to run from home, to his work place then up the mountains to see the fireworks. he pulled you in for a hug, caressing your hair as you both sway side to side.

“happy new years, babe.” he whispered to your ear. god, you’re really an angel.

—

𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚 𝕜𝕖𝕚𝕛𝕚

being friends ever since highschool, you both hung out almost every day

no matter how hard you tried though, you could never

e v e r

get over the fact you have a crush on him

you felt like your feelings will never be returned, so you never dared to let him know

but this year was the year. the year he had been wishing for.

“keiji-kun !” you whispered to his ear. he turned around only to smile when he saw you bending over to his level. he assured you to your seat, which you tiptoes your way before dragging the chair silently.

you both thought to spend the new years this time in your favourite place, the library. normally, new years were spent in cafes on book stores, but the cafes has been pretty crowded recently and the local book stores were closed for the day. you both decided to then spend the night in the library, reading through books taken from the shelf of from home.

“are you cold?” akaashi asked politely, handing over his coat since you both were seated right underneath the air-conditioner. you thanked him then slipping it on, mindlessly inhaling his scent that was sprayed on the material. you both silently read your books, the sound of pages flipping through time to time. 

hours pass by as you both were still engrossed over your books. you took a short glance towards akaashi, the sight of him just making you fall for him all over again. his messy hair, his glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and his small frown as he was reading through the words of his book. every time this happens, you just wish he’d knew how much you meant to him. how much you adore him. how much you love him.

your train of thoughts was suddenly cut off when you heard akaashi whispering you name. you turned to look at him, flinching slightly by how close his face was to yours.

“y/n-san, let me know when 12am strikes.” was all akaashi said before resuming back to his book. your heart was pounding, it could probably be heard from out. you pulled your phone out your pocket to check the time.

11:45pm, 31st december 2020.

you set your phone down on the table, screen facing down. you cleared your throat quietly before reading your book, but all you could think about is what’s going to happen when the clock ticks down to 1st of january 2021. despite your book open, your eyes was glued to your phone case, tempted to pick it up and check the time. after a while, you went back to your phone.

11:59pm, 31st december 2020.

just a few more seconds...just a few more-

12:00am, 1st janurary 2021

“keiji, it’s 12-”

“y/n-san, i’m in love with you.” you froze. you could feel the chill running down your spine. is this for real ? did he really meant that ? you clutched onto your phone, pulling it closer to your chest.

“i..uh..uhm” you kept stuttering, unable to find the right words. akaashi closed his books and set it on the table, before laying back onto his seat.

“i never really had the courage to let you know earlier. i guess you could say i was too afraid of what you might respond. but now i’m ready to accept any respond you give me. it does not matter if you won’t return your feelings, i just hope we can stay as friends.” he looked everywhere but you. you could tell that he was really anticipated for whether you’ll accept him or not. you tried to speak once more, but the words just won’t come out. your mouth was closed shut. all you could do..is show you really feel physically.

“i guess i’ll take the silent as a n-” you cupped his cheek, pulling him close to you before kissing him. you thank the gods the library was empty so you won’t have an audience observing. you kissed him passionately, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks. akaashi’s hands held your wrist, pushing himself closer to you to deepened the kiss.

after a while, you broke the kiss off, a strand of saliva stretching from both of your lips. akaashi smiled, settling back to his seat while you attempt to fan yourself from all the heat you were feeling after that kiss. your cheeks were slowly painting red.

“it’s uh..kinda getting a little hot up in here.” you tried to cover your red cheeks, only for akaashi to pull your hands down and holding it tight, laying a kiss on the back of your hands.

“happy new year, y/n.” he pecked a kiss on your lips once more, his eyes glistering from the lights on the ceiling.

he was now yours for you to claim dearly <3

—

𝕞𝕚𝕪𝕒 𝕠𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕦

osamu had a busy day in his work that he ended pretty late

he thought he could make it in time but just as he was about to leave, more people started to flood in

by midnight he was all done and was cleaning up

you decided to visit him to enjoy your new years in his shop.

he was very happy to see you after a tiring day at work uwu

the door bell rang as the door was swung open. osamu was busy wiping the counter just as he heard it which brought him into a sigh. it was a busy day and despite the door sign stating it’s closed, people still keep pushing in.

“i’m sorry, the shop is clos-” it took him a moment that the person who walked in wasn’t a customer but you, his love of his life. osamu’s tired face soon lit up just as he watches you walk closer to him, holding a paper bag in one of your hands.

“pretty busy night considering it’s the new years, huh?” you asked, setting the bag on the counter. you gave your boyfriend a peck on the cheek before settling down on one of the seats beside you. osamu leaned by the edge of the counter as he watches you look around the store. osamu decided to take a small peek in the bag, noticing there’s two bento boxes inside.

“what are these for?” he asked, taking the seat next to yours. you pull the bag closer to you, taking out the bento boxes and opening them, a strong aroma emitting just as the lid was opened. osamu was already salvating over the sight of the food your brought over, his hands fumbling with his chopsticks. 

“dig in.” your words all it takes for osamu to shove chunks of rice into his mouth. he laid back on his seat, huffing out to cool the hot steaming rice he was chewing on. you giggled just watching him chow down on the food you prepared at home, knowing he was working day and night and barely had breaks in between. you took a bite from your own bento, savouring the teriyaki chicken you deep fried.

“i guess this is how we’ll be spending our new years.” you teased, covering your mouth to avoid food spitting out. osamu only looked at you for a split second before munching down of his food, taking sips of water to push his chewed up food down his throat so he can shove in more. you smiled, playing with his hair at the back of his head. you both silently ate your food, having small talks here and there about new recipes osamu is trying out for his shop. all shops outside were closed and lights were out, but osamu’s was still lit up, with just the two of you inside eating.

“hey, teach me how to make onigiris ! i wanna try some !” you pleaded excitedly, scooting a little closer to him. osamu sighed as he began to rub his forehead.

“babe, not today. i just made a crap ton of onigiris i feel sick of it. let me enjoy my food.”

[footballxwrites]

a mason one where you're an exchange program student and you had told yourself that you woudn't date anyone in London bc you would be leaving by the end of the program, but you and mase meet and everything changes (a little bit of slow burn please?) | thank you your writting is AMAZIIINNNG xoxo

Thank you so much, you’re amazing anon x

Writing this made me realise how much I miss London and that I can’t wait to go back after lockdown and all because it’s been a while, hope you enjoy reading this...once again I did not spellcheck it because I’m a lazy sod so any mistakes are my fault 😅

———————————

“I’ll still never get used to that” you giggled as the two of you exited the underground at Waterloo and entered the cool, frosted streets of London, “lived here two years and It still scares me every time” he laughed, referring to the dodgy tube yous had just been on.

“It’s cold out tonight isn’t it” you said through a trembly voice, feeling a shiver go up your spine and an arm drop over your shoulder and pull you close, “no you’re just a massive softie” he joked, rolling his eyes as you lightly elbowed him in the ribs making him wince, “where I’m from there’s palm trees surrounding my house, the sun’s always out and it’s a good 30° degrees every day” you challenged back as he held his hands up in defeat, “fair play, can’t argue with that. Anyways how long until you’re back in roasting LA?” he asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow as you let out a sigh. “About 6 weeks, maybe 7 if I’m lucky. Just depends on when the program ends...but I’m in no rush to leave” you huffed, shoving your hands in your pocket and setting your gaze to the scenery around you, “believe it or not I’m going to miss this place, the landmarks, the cobbles, the massive buildings, even the rain and that damp city smell” you continued as you received a look of confusion from your friend, “I know I know I’m strange alright” you smiled as he shook his head, “you can say that again London gal” he grinned as the pair of you strolled by the river Thames.

“Ok I guess I’ll miss the people too...that includes you bestie” you said, stopping in your tracks before sitting on a bench, taking advantage of the city that never sleeps in all its glory at night, “I feel so loved” he dramatically gasped, placing a hand on his heart, settling down beside you as you presented him with a fake frown, “suppose it’ll be strange not seeing your beautiful face on the daily” he warmly smiled, making your heart beat about 10 times faster and that fluttery feeling fill your belly. Although you knew he was of course joking (well you could only assume as that lad was never serious about anything) you couldn’t help but wonder why his words meant so much to you and made you feel all weird inside, “shut up Mount, you’re kidding yourself there” you laughed, playing off and resting your head on his shoulder.

The last thing you planned on doing during your visit here was falling for a guy you’ll most likely never see again in your life and for the many months of your stay so far, you had always seen Mason as just a friend, a mate who you can have random late night chats with or movie nights stuffing your faces full of chocolate, so why was it now you had began to catch feelings.

“You have to promise me you’ll stay in contact with me ok? Like I still want all our midnight talks and stuff” you muttered, looking up at him as he sat with a cheesy smirk on his face, “oh yeah definitely, could never ditch the night time chats” he winked before shifting his view back to the river in front of him.

“Let me take you out, for dinner...how about next Saturday?” he said, taking you by surprise to say the least before you gently nodded, taking your head off his shoulder and staring into his eyes, “yeah I’m not at Uni on weekends so that’d be perfect,are we talking like a date or something casual...just so I know what to wear” you asked, a little too quickly for Mason not to notice your eagerness. “Oh it’s a date alright, let’s make it a special one before you head back home” he grinned, standing up and offering you a hand, which you happily took, as the pair of you made your way through the breezy London night, enjoying one another’s company.

Right now you couldn’t care less about going back to America, about the program ending, in fact you weren’t even sure if you wanted to go back to LA, well not permanently anyways, London had become a second home to you and it would seem a real shame to leave it behind. Not to mention a certain someone you met and soon became your best friend and the one person you could have a laugh and feel young and free with...maybe a fresh start here after graduation was just what you needed 🤍

@champagne-coys @footballcloud @jamesmaddiscnx @kierantierncy @kingkepa @footballmagical @alexajanecollins

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track nine

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Eden arrived in New York in the biggest coat she could find in a store in Los Angeles, which came equipped with a furry hood and enough stuffing in it to make her resemble the michelin man when she climbed into the car. 

She leaned back against the headrest of the seat with a sigh, an iced coffee in each hand. Her eyes closed for a minute, like she was trying to find her inner peace, and then she sat up and passed a cup to Indy in the driver’s seat.

“Vanilla, oatmilk right?”

“Always,” Indy laughed, taking a sip before putting it in the cupholder. “So uh, I love you and all, but are you finally gonna tell me why you changed your flight and made it so much earlier?”

“Drive to your place, and I’ll explain.”

Eden waited until she got out of the majority of the traffic.

“So, I had my original ticket and I was just gonna rent a car and show up, you know this, we planned it. But then I had the brilliant idea to come early and kidnap you,” she grinned, sipping her coffee.

“You’re kidnapping me?”

“Kinda. Well, reverse kidnapping I guess cause I’m forcing you to host me. You told the boys you were Christmas shopping like I said right? So you’re clear for a few hours?”

“Yeah.”

“Well good, cause we’re having a girls moment, because you need me.”

“I need you?” Indy laughed. She could never imagine possessing the confidence that Eden manifested every day, but she hoped one day she could have a fraction of it. 

“Yeah, because you’re surrounded by Dolan twins, not Dolan twins girlfriends. And I’m sure neither of them have shut the fuck up about everything going on, right?”

Indy sighed, which Eden took as a yes. The two had been talking more and more, but especially since the absolute blow up on social media. Eden had been the first one to text her that day with a simple message.

Been there, I know how much it sucks but it’ll pass. Call me later when you’re up for it

Indy hadn’t called. She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want Eden to think she was weak. Instead she’d gone onto Eden’s instagram, tried to see how she handled things, and from the first few scrolls on her feed it was blatantly obvious that she didn’t give a shit. Just a few weeks prior she’d posted a picture of her and Ethan in the mirror dressed up for a date, his hand fully grabbing her ass with the caption miss you bby. Indy scrolled the comments, blood boiling at some of the shit people said to her. She wondered if she’d ever get to the point where she could even stand to reopen her own instagram, much less post with reckless abandon. 

“We love men who think they know what it’s like to be a woman,” she teased, shaking her head as they continued down the road. “They’ve got such a protection complex, both of them, but Gray especially. Don’t get me wrong, I love it most of the time. Actually, it’s kinda hot. But holy shit does it get annoying when they underestimate you.”

Indy had experienced it first hand in the last week, and she couldn’t disagree. It was like she was on lockdown. Gone were the days of Grayson meeting her in the lobby of the building, or waiting for her outside of Jets. When he came to her apartment he was in sunglasses and a beanie, sometimes even a scarf pulled up over his mouth in an attempt to hide from any cameras he couldn’t see. He relaxed marginally when he got inside, but the only time he really seemed to catch his breath was when the sun set and they were tangled in each other’s arms, or when they were off the interstate on the back roads to Jersey. His shoulders would sink a bit, and his grip on her hand would relax when they took the exit. Something about the trees, still coated in snow, made him feel safer, made him feel like he could protect her somehow. 

It felt like a breath of fresh air to walk into her lobby with someone by her side. There were no cameras, but Eden wouldn’t have cared even if there was. She held her hand and walked in as if she’d done it a thousand times, though she had to wait for Indy to hit the right elevator button. 

When they got inside the apartment, Eden plopped herself down on the couch with a smile and patted the cushion beside her. 

“Alright, spill. Give me all the details, how’s it been going?”

Indy started to talk, and then she couldn’t stop. It spilled out of her like water, every single thing that had happened since her graduation date. Eden listened intently to each detail, from the way they’d changed their walking path to the hospital to the fact that he was looking into a new paint job for the truck to make it less recognizable. 

“And he’s just so paranoid, and I mean I guess I am too in a way, cause I like my privacy too. But it’s like he thinks I’ll die if a picture of me gets out or something, like damn, I’m a little sensitive sometimes but I’m not that fucking fragile.”

“You should have seen Ethan when the pregnancy rumors started for me. One big lunch at Monty’s later and all of a sudden I’m 3 months pregnant and I don’t know which twin’s it is,” she rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee through her straw with a smile.

“No fucking way.”

“I thought he was going to actually murder the dude from Hollywood Fix for that one. We burned through two Relax candles that week. Wild.”

“Jesus christ.”

“But hey, you already got the engagement rumor out of the way, so pregnancy is probably next. To be safe though, never even look in the window of a wedding dress store, and definitely don’t go to the baby section anywhere.”

Eden said it all so casually, as if making sure to avert your eyes from a wedding dress in a window was a totally normal thing to do. Indiana’s breathing picked up at her words, afraid that somehow she’d accidentally start a rumor about herself that would come back to bite Grayson.

“Isn’t that exhausting though? Being worried about that shit all the time?”

“You get used to it, and you adapt. Like the topaz ring for Lisa. That’s from Ethan and Grayson together, but they decided to send Gray in because if Ethan got spotted in a ring shop there would be an article about our secret wedding on DailyMail next week. Of course, that plan didn’t work out for Gray so well either, as we now know. Why the fuck he didn’t think about that is beyond me, but whatever,” she laughed. 

“No one was supposed to know about me,” Indy said, and her words didn’t resonate until they hung in the air. Was that what it was? The sudden shift in him being so damn worried about someone possibly seeing them together? It made her palms sweaty and she rubbed them on her pants before she spoke again.

“When did Ethan get over it?”

Eden scoffed. “He’s not over it. Still makes him want to lose his mind when someone says some shit about me. He broke a knuckle last year punching a wall cause a news outlet got pictures of me in a bikini while we were in Hawaii and said I’d gained weight.”

“That’s… absolutely fucked Eden, I’m fucking sorry.”

“I put it on my instagram story and laughed it off.” She shrugged her shoulders, as most women do when they have to accept unsolicited opinions from strangers. But something about the confidence she exuded when she said it made Indy believe that, somehow, she really had just brushed it off for the most part. 

“Is it hard to do that? Laugh it off?”

“Sometimes.” She sat up, getting more serious as she looked at Indiana. “But here’s the thing babes. Someone is sitting in an office somewhere, probably in their little house, with a bunch of clutter on their desk writing shitty articles about me. Meanwhile, I’m living in a nice ass house in LA with my hot ass boyfriend who bought me that bikini and took me to Hawaii. So who's actually winning?

“People talk shit about you when they wish they were you, that’s just how the world works. It’s shit, but once you accept that it changes your perspective on a lot of things. I mean honestly Indy, who gives a fuck what dolantea with 7 a’s the end has to say on instagram when you have Grayson fucking Dolan in your bed every night?” She raised her eyebrows, happy to see the smile she got out of Indy. “And if you ever tell him I said that I’ll put Nair in your shampoo.”

“My lips are sealed,” Indy teased, suddenly filled with a boost of confidence. “You have a very interesting perspective on the world Eden, I like it.”

“Coming from the college grad, I take that as a major compliment.”

“Believe me, there’s plenty of dumb people with college degrees. Doesn’t mean much at the end of the day.”

“But it gets you into a career that means something,” she mused. “I mean, being a doctor is a big deal, you’ll help a lot of people.”

Indy chewed on her lip. Every intrusive thought she’d had in the last few days that didn’t revolve around Twitter had to do with her imagining herself as a doctor, but it always faded into something else. It was her at a patient’s bedside, her helping them get to their feet, her sending them home with their family. Things that nurses did, not doctors. 

“Yeah. I hope so,” was all she could say. 

“That wasn’t very Indy of you.”

She quirked an eyebrow at Eden and waited for an explanation.

“You always keep a convo going, and you let that one drop, which means you probably don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll listen if you want to get it off your chest.”

“I don’t know… it’s just. The more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe being a doctor isn’t exactly what I thought it would be.”

“Oh. Well, then don’t be a doctor.”

It was Indy’s turn to scoff. “It’s not that simple Eden.”

“Isn’t it though?”

Indiana couldn’t come up with an answer. So instead, after the silence became too much, she deflected, making Eden walk her through the plans for the day.

A few hours later, once they’d gotten ready, they headed out to Jersey for the early birthday surprise, which Lisa was in on. She had ordered a massive vegan cake from one of the bakeries in New York that Indy picked up on the way, making Eden hold it for the majority of the ride. But when they got to the start of the driveway, she pulled over and had her counterpart climb into the trunk of the SUV, sticking a shiny blue gift bow on top of her head while she held one hand on the cake box to keep it steady.

Grayson appeared on the porch at the sound of the gravel crunching, cocking his head to the side when he noticed that Indy was backing in. He jogged up to the window when she put it in park, waiting for her to roll it down so he could lean in to kiss her. She hummed and smiled at him.

“Happy Birthday.”

“It’d be happier if you were out here,” he mused, leaning back to pull on the door handle, frowning when he realized it was still locked. 

“Go get Ethan for me, tell him I need help getting the cake out of the trunk.”

Grayson turned to do as she asked before he did a double-take at the very cake shaped box in the passenger seat.

“But…”

Indy repeated her sentence with a tight smile, but he still just frowned.

“Is that not the cake? Mom let it slip that she ordered one, I can just get it, cause Ethan is grumpy.”

“BITCH JUST GO GET HIM.”

Eden’s yell was so loud that Grayson jumped, putting a protective hand on Indy’s shoulder, though he didn’t know what he was protecting her from until he peeked into the car.

“Oh thank god,” he laughed at the sight of her, half hidden by the back row of seats. “He’s been moping for like three days!”

“Oh believe me, I know. Now go get him, I’m getting a fucking leg cramp back here.” 

Gray grinned, already feeling his brother���s happiness somehow as he bounded into the house, yelling incessantly until Ethan finally came trudging down the stairs, muttering profanities as he stepped out into the New Jersey cold.

“Bro, be nice, Indy worked really hard to make this birthday nice for both of us, even if Eden couldn’t be here. Just help me carry the cake,” Grayson said, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

Ethan took a deep breath and nodded.

“Dee, open the trunk babe!” Gray called, having to turn away to hide his grin. But he looked back quickly, not wanting to miss his brother’s face when the door lifted and revealed his girlfriend, sitting adorably with a bow on her head. 

Ethan just stared for a moment, mouth hanging open so wide that it made Indy laugh as she watched in the rear view mirror.

“You little shit!” He finally said, closing the distance and pulling her into his arms and out of the car, spinning her around for a moment before peppering kisses all over her face. It was like he couldn’t let go. Every time he went to pull back he caught sight of her face again and pulled her back against him until they were both shivering out in the cold, wind whipping at their exposed hands and ankles.

Grayson helped Indy out of the car, warming her lips with a welcoming kiss before they moved to unpack the car, letting the lovebirds have their moment. Lisa greeted her as soon as she made it in the door and sat the gifts down, her hair smelling like she’d just put on hairspray. Eden and Ethan trailed in moments later hand in hand, with Ethan yelling about how Li had been in on it the whole time.

In terms of birthdays, it was a chilled out evening. The twins birthday used to be a huge event, full of laughter and excitement. Now, there was a blanket over the scene, a silent understanding that one person was missing from the table - one who should have been a year older just a few days prior. But they made the most of their time together, eating the cake first gathered around the table before moving into the living room and starting on presents. 

Grayson kept a hand on Indy’s knee unless he was unwrapping, looking over at her with a warm smile any time that he could. Lisa’s gifts were first - new sweaters, Ethan’s red and Grayson’s green, a bottle of shampoo each, specific to their hair texture. They gave each other such an incredulous look that Eden and Indy couldn’t help but laugh, only growing louder when Lisa leaned over to smack their heads lightly. They got individual gifts too - a new helmet for Ethan for his longboarding trips and a nice drill that Grayson had asked for. They both stood up to kiss her cheek in thanks before they settled back down to open gifts.

Indy was let in on the tradition that Ethan always opened first because he was older, and she was more than happy to lean on Grayson and watch his brother open his gifts. He started with Eden’s, eyebrows shooting up when he pulled out an odd arrangement of things. A bottle of sparkling cider, sunscreen and a pair of swim trunks that were adorned with a pattern made of a picture of Gizmo. He checked the bag for anything else before looking back at Eden and waiting.

“Read the bottle.”

He held it up to his face, reading aloud. “Passionfruit Cider. Made and bottled on Maui. Oh shit. Oh SHIT! Are we going back to Maui?”

“We’re going in March cause that’s the only time when I could put two weeks together where we both don’t have work.”

Indy sunk down even further despite already being on the floor while they celebrated. She looked at the tiny box she’d brought for him, wanting to reach out and hide it behind her back.  

She didn’t get the chance to, because Ethan had already grabbed it, reading the tag. 

“Indiana you didn’t need to get me anything,” he said, and his sincerity made her feel a fraction better.

“Well, it’s no trip to Hawaii, so don’t get too excited. And your mom helped.”

He unwrapped the box carefully, opening the lid and staring down for a moment. 

“It’s a key,” he murmured, reaching in and pulling out the necklace, a silver key which sat on a matching chain horizontally.

“It’s a copy of the key to your house here, but as a necklace. I know you really miss home while you’re gone, and you wear necklaces sometimes, so I thought I could make you a little reminder.”

“You made this?” He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah! It’s not much, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it's perfect Inds. Seriously, I love it, thank you so much.” 

Indy blushed anyways, not really believing his words but trying to accept them as he leaned over to hug her, grateful for the change of subject when it was announced that it was Grayson’s turn. 

He started with Eden’s, smiling wide at the tool belt that he pulled out, yelling when he realized it was customized with his name on the side.

“You can use that to build that side table you keep telling me you’re gonna make me,” Eden teased, which devolved into a moment of playful bickering. Indy used the time to line up the boxes in the right order, biting her lip when she handed him the first one.

“That’s way too many gifts,” Grayson said, frowning at her a bit.

“It’s really just one, it’s like a - well they go together - just, just open it.”

He did as she asked, pulling the paper off and unboxing the first one.

“A fucking nutcracker! Fuck yes!” He yelled, starting to look at it a bit closer. “Wait. WAIT. Is this Cudi?” 

“What!?” Ethan piped up before Indy could even answer.

“Bro it looks like Man On The Moon End of The Day cover, look at the fucking colors, and the moon.” He pointed to specific parts on the body of the doll, showing his brother who leaned over his shoulder.

“Open the next one,” Indy laughed, passing him the box.

He was quicker with that one, yelling so loud that Gizmo started to yell in the kitchen as he recognized the album art from Man On The Moon II, all tans, blacks and stars. 

“Holy fucking shit these are so fucking cool! Give me the next one, holy fuck.”

Indy passed them along, laughing when each reaction was just as dramatic as the first. The Indicudi was Indy’s favorite, with the mixture of reds and oranges. The collection started to take shape as he sat them out next to one another, adding the simplistic Satellite Flight nutcracker next, followed by the neutrals of Speedin’ Bullet 2 Heaven. Passion Pain and Demon Slayin’ matched well with the bright colors of Man On The Moon III, and Grayson was so excited by the end of the six that he had to stand up and run a lap before he came back and pulled Indy to her feet. 

“You like them?”

“You got me Cudi’s discography in fucking nutcracker form. I fucking love it, and I fucking love you.” He kissed her like no one was in the room, her heartbeat so loud in her ears that she didn’t even hear Lisa’s ‘awe’ from behind them.  

“I love you too,” she murmured against him, letting him hold her for a minute before he dropped back down to his knees to look at the collection, dissecting every detail like a six year old with a brand new toy. 

Ethan was just as enthralled, and she wished she could be as chilled out as Eden seemed as she sat and watched them. But instead, she was running numbers in her head, trying to calculate how much a trip to Maui for two would cost with airfare and lodging put together. 

She’d thought she’d gone overboard with the $300 collection of nutcrackers. For her, it was anyways - she’d timed her showers for two weeks and left them lukewarm in an attempt to save some money on her utility bill to justify it. Her mind spun for a moment as she thought about the little stack of Christmas presents hidden under her bed. A sweater for Lisa, a roll of film for Charlie to go with the new camera Dev was buying her. Fuzzy socks and a candle each for Eden and Cam that she’d found on a good sale. The thought of them sitting next to big extravagant gifts she was sure would arrive on the 25th made her deflate, so much that Grayson sensed it enough to pull himself away from his new toys.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“I’m here,” she said, giving him a smile that didn’t make it to her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was have him worried about her on a day that was supposed to be about him. He returned one in hopes it would lighten her mood, but he knew not to push it. In fact, he didn’t bring it up until they were back at Indy’s apartment, in their pajamas after eating extra cake that Lisa had sent home with them. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” Indy asked, tracing H-A-P-P-Y-B-D-A-Y on his chest.

“I did. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it was good. But today was for you, it doesn’t really matter what kind of day I had.”

“It always matters what kind of day you had,” he countered. “You seemed kinda upset when we were giving presents.” 

“Oh, yeah, it was no big deal. I just didn’t feel like I got you guys enough stuff. 21 is a big birthday.”

He leaned back enough so he could see her face, frowning down at her. 

“First off, it’s only a big birthday because you can drink, which doesn’t matter to me. Second, you gave us both more than enough, I have no idea why you think that.”

“Eden got Ethan a trip to fucking Maui.”

“And?”

“I got him a key. On a chain.” 

“Which is probably the most thoughtful gift he’s gotten in a really long time.” 

“It cost $20.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you can buy people whatever you want.”

“We’re just in different life stages,” he said. “You’ll be making bank once you’re out of school, you just have to get to that point. And even then, it doesn’t matter what you buy people for gifts. They only care that you’re there with them.”

Indy resisted the urge to repeat her words back to him again. She didn’t really expect him to understand where she was coming from.

“Yeah, I hope so.” She ran her hands down over his ribs under the covers, smiling when she felt him sigh under her. “By the time I pay off my loans Ethan and Eden will probably have three kids, you’ll have to spot us for all the baby shower presents.”

It was Grayson’s turn to fall quiet. He could see it - see Indy in a little pink sundress out in their LA backyard, celebrating a new baby on the way, talking with Eden and Lisa, helping Adele organize tables. And he wanted it. But he held her in his arms and thought about all that would come for her before that time came, and his heart tightened in his chest when he realized that he wouldn’t be there to see it.

“Tell me about school.”

She sat up a bit, running her hands through his hair.

“That’s what you wanna do with the last hour of your birthday? Hear about school?” 

“Yeah. Just wanna hear you talking to me,” he said, ignoring the tightness in his throat. 

She did as he asked, talked about the classes she had left and what order she’d have to take them in, the application process, the in’s and out’s of medical school as he tried to memorize every inflection of her voice, her laugh, and the feeling of her pressed up against him. 

When they woke up, it seemed that the holiday season had fully taken hold overnight. Suddenly, the days were flying by in blurs of Christmas lights and shopping. The pair were together 24/7, attached at the hip every moment that they could get away with. When Grayson was recording the podcast, Indy was just out of sight on the floor listening. While Indy was clearing out her laptop from the semester, Grayson was sitting behind her on the bed braiding her hair. Before they knew it they were trying to fit Bekah’s presents, and the cookies they made for the nurses into an already packed backseat of the truck on Christmas Eve.

A blanket of snow still rested in the city, muffling the city sounds it seemed as they drove. They were bundled up enough that Grayson wasn’t worried about them being recognized in the short walk to the hospital, and they shed their layers once they were inside the warm walls. They took the elevator, not minding the slow climb up to Bekah’s floor. But when they got to the desk to sign in, the nurses looked weary. Indy chucked it up to having to work the holiday and hoped that the cookies would lift their spirits when she left them on the counter. 

Bekah’s room had a small tree in the corner, covered in colorful lights and generic silver and red ornaments that were identical to those in every other room of the hospital. Bekah hardly reacted when she saw the duo enter in, though she tried. She sat up as much as she could but ended up back flat on her bed. 

“Hey Beks, hold on, let me help.” Indy rushed over to her side, fumbling for the buttons to raise the back of her bed up so she could sit up and see the room. Grayson held up her stack of presents with his biggest smile, the one Indy loved where he would clench his teeth. Bekah lit up, grinning wide at the two of them. Her skin was pale, and they could tell that she’d lost weight, but her smile was just the same. 

“Earrings, you double as Santa on the weekends or something? They already give the sick kids pity presents, you didn’t have to go so hard.” 

“These are from Indy actually,” Grayson said. Indy bit her tongue. She’d picked them out, but Grayson had footed the bill.

“They’re from both of us,” she corrected. “You feel good enough to open them now?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” 

And she was good. But she wasn’t great. Just unwrapping the boxes seemed to zap out the small energy store she had left. Indy wished she’d had the foresight to package them in bags instead of boxes, make it a bit easier for her to open. But the excitement was enough for her to make it through opening the new Christmas blanket, which was covered in cats and dogs in festive sweaters, a Harry Styles crewneck and new fuzzy socks. The last box was an Among Us shirt, with a little purple crewmate peeking out of the pocket - Bekah was notorious for how many hours she spent playing (Gray and Indy would sometimes hop on and play a few games with her when they weren’t there). 

“You guys are the best,” she said, letting the pile of presents rest on her bed. She yawned, so hard she leaned back and her beanie slipped off her smooth head. Grayson watched as she reached for it and winced, and suddenly he was watching his dad there in the bed, trying to get to his phone on the bedside table, wincing in pain. His breath caught in his chest and he blinked hard, trying to come back to reality.

And then Bekah closed her eyes, and laid perfectly still. It was quiet in the room for a moment, and a wave of nausea rose in Grayson, so strong that he raised his hand up to his mouth.

“Beks?” He choked out.

“She’s okay, she’s okay.” Indy rushed to reassurances. “Look, look at her monitor.”

The blips on the heart monitor line meant much more to Indy than they did to Grayson, but he recognized them enough to catch his breath.

“Sometimes, when someone is exhausted like that, they lapse in consciousness for a little while. It’s a defense mechanism, she’s okay.”

“For a second I thought - fuck,” he huffed, running his hand over his face. Indy moved beside him, taking his hand in hers and kissing his knuckles one by one.

“What the fuck.”

They both turned to the bed, where Bekah’s eyes were open again. But they were unfamiliar somehow, none of that usual Bekah charm that warmed the dark pools of brown in sight. 

“Bekah-” Indy tried, but she was cut off.

“You two are dating? Seriously? What is this, community service date night?”

“Beks-” Grayson spoke up.

“I never ask for much, but fuck you two. Fuck you.”

“Bekah, hey.” Indy took a step towards her bed, and Bekah recoiled.

“I try. I try really fucking hard not to think about how fucked up and shitty my life is. I’m 15, and I’m dying. I’m never gonna go back to school. No prom, no graduation, no wedding. Not even a fucking boyfriend before I die and everyone forgets me. The least you could do is not rub it in my fucking face.” 

“Bekah, you can’t think like that. You’re gonna get better, you’re gonna get all those things,” Grayson said, blinking through the tears that had formed without warning in his eyes. They fell down his cheeks in uneven droplets, hot and unfamiliar. 

“Yeah? Just like Emma was gonna get better right? Well, her funeral was last week. She’s never going to play hide and seek again, much less anything else. What about Damion from my last radiation rotation hmm? God was gonna come down and heal him too right? Then why is he dead, huh? Where’s God in all this? Where’s my fucking happy ending? I’m gonna get the inside of a box, that’s what I’m gonna get, and no one will fucking admit it because I’m a kid, and I’m supposed to be here longer than this! I’m supposed to have more time! I’m supposed to get to do stupid shit in college, and grow up, and find my person but no. I’m never going to get those things, so fuck you both for throwing it in my face.”

“Bekah-” Indy’s voice broke on the word.

“Get out. Both of you, out.”

“Bekah please.”

“OUT!”

Her yell was loud enough to alert a passing nurse in the hallway, and she stepped inside.

“You two need to step out of the room please.”

The sobs didn’t take hold until they were in the hallway. They ripped out of Indy without warning or grace, and Grayson did all he could to hold her pieces together as she started to shatter. 

“Shhh, Dee, hey, it’s okay, let’s go outside,” Grayson tried to comfort her through his own tears, leading her towards the doors.

A hand caught his shoulder and he turned his head to see Jessica in her scrubs, coming out of another patient’s room.

“What did she say?”

Indy perked up from where her face had been buried. 

“What did Bekah say?” She asked again

“She’s agitated, talking about how her life is being cut short, how she’s dying. She told us to leave.”

Jessica sighed, looking down at her shoes. 

“We’re on our last resort. A final round of chemo and radiation. If this doesn’t work, we’re out of options. And it’s going to be brutal, it’s spread to her brain. You’ll have to be patient with her, she’s probably going to go through some personality shifts. She’ll be more emotional, more irritable. Sometimes she might be disoriented. This type of cancer, when it’s in the brain, it’s unpredictable. One minute she could be fine, the next she could be completely unrecognizable. Give her a few days, wait until after the holidays when everything is back to routine, and give it another try okay? Hopefully it’s better when things are a bit more normal.”

“Yeah,” Indy sniffled. Jessica put a hand on her shoulder.

“Indiana her face lights up when you two walk in that room. She talks about you guys non stop when you aren’t here. She’ll come around from whatever it was, okay? Just give her some time. We’ll be here to take care of her, don’t you worry.”

Indy wasn’t sure why, but she pulled Jessica into a hug. The woman was surprised, but she reciprocated anyways with a squeeze. 

“Sweet girl. It’ll be okay,” she murmured, which only made the tears flow even more when she let go. 

Indiana transferred from one set of arms to the other, back into Grayson’s strong grip which only loosened when he pressed the button for the doors. When they made it to the ocean hallway, it all hit at once, and her legs gave out. She caught herself on the support bars as Grayson lowered her to the ground. They came in waves that she couldn’t control, not for want of trying. 

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she stuttered, trying to force air into her lungs. Someone down the hall pulled a door closed quietly. 

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay. Breathe baby, just breathe,” Grayson murmured, running his thumbs under her eyes to try and wipe her mascara, which was running down her red cheeks in dark streaks. He waited until she was able to take a few solid breaths before he spoke again. 

“C’mon, let’s go to Jersey. I’ll take you to Jersey.” 

She put most of her weight on him while they took the stairs out into the cold streets. It had begun to snow again, and the cold only added to the stinging in her eyes as he led her to the truck. She wondered in that moment how many times he’d had to hold her together, and her stomach twisted in guilt for a moment at the thought. Even still, she huddled into Grayson until he opened her door for her, immediately moving over as close to him as she could, pushing the middle console up to make it a bench seat and scooting to the middle when he climbed in.

His Dad had once told him it was important to be a confident one handed driver - you never knew what you’d have to hold in your passenger seat, he’d said. At the time, he was referring to the four large pizzas that ended up leaving a permanent grease mark in his jeep seat. But Grayson was thankful for the advice as he maneuvered the car out of the spot and out of the parking garage with an arm still around his girl.

The roads were quiet, and he questioned it until he remembered that it was in fact Christmas Eve. He slowed down when they got to the Jersey neighborhoods, looked at all the lights, all the families he could see in the windows, huddled around their bright trees. He could remember those nights like they were yesterday, him and Ethan sneaking to the top of the stairs to try to catch a glimpse at the big man with the red sack. When they were five they’d seen him and ran to wake their sister. They’d all watched in amazement as he placed presents under the tree and ate the cookies they’d left.

He’d found the santa suit in a box in his dad’s closet when they went through his things after his funeral. 

“Does your family have any Christmas traditions?” He asked quietly, running his arm quickly over Indiana’s arm in a bid to keep her warm as he drove. The cool wind that was whipping the snow around seemed to be outrunning the heater in the truck. 

“We did. We would watch Elf the night before, cause it was mom’s favorite. We did the cookies, the stockings, all that stuff too. But we always had grilled cheese and soup for dinner too.”

“Grilled cheese and soup?”

“Yeah. That was mom’s idea too. She always said we could leave extra room for a good Christmas morning breakfast if we ate grilled cheese and soup. So we always ended up in the living room with our plates and bowls and Christmas PJs watching elf. Turns out, warm soup was always her trick to get us to go to sleep early. Made me and Charlie tired I guess. She told me it worked like a charm every time. What do the Dolan’s do?”

“Ours is more Christmas morning. We do the whole giant breakfast thing. We open stockings first, and Santa presents, then we do breakfast and then we do the rest of the presents. Used to drive us crazy when we were little, cause all the presents would just be waiting for us. But Mom said it was so we were grateful for our food too, cause it was a gift that we had it on our table at all.” 

“Li is a good mom,” Indy sighed, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes were tired, the kind where your eyelids feel like they weigh ten pounds a piece, but she fought with them and won, still awake when they made it to the house. She hopped out and moved to the backseat, but Grayson caught her.

“I’ll carry the stuff in. Go get cleaned up, take a hot shower and relax. Mom will be worried, she always knows when someone has been crying, it’s like a sixth fucking sense.” 

For once, Indy didn’t argue. Instead, she went in the house as quietly as she could, grateful that even Gizmo didn’t seem to note her arrival. She snuck up the stairs to Grayson’s closet, grabbing an old thick flannel and a sports bra that she’d left, plus some sweatpants, considering she’d left her bag in the truck.

She had never been so thankful for a shower. She lost track of how long she let the warm water wash over her head, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling of the stream against her skin. It was peaceful, but surreal in a way. She thought about where she’d imagined herself on Christmas Eve night at the beginning of the year, and it looked so vastly different than where she was, on the cold tiles of a New Jersey shower with her boyfriend carrying in gifts downstairs. The thought of him waiting for her gave her enough motivation to get cleaned up, though she had to resort to using Grayson’s shampoo and bodywash, which was an unlabeled Wakeheart sample he’d been testing out it seemed. It smelled fresh, with a vanilla mixture that was reminiscent of Jet’s.

Indiana was in higher spirits when she sauntered down the stairs, and her heart swelled a few sizes when she heard a familiar song in the background - the title screen of Elf, waiting on the TV in the living room. She checked rooms until she found Grayson, standing in front of the stove with two pots and a skillet going. She didn’t have to ask. Instead, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. 

He spun around, spatula in hand until they were chest to chest as he watched the stove over her head, holding her close to make sure she didn’t get burnt. He nuzzled into her wet hair, and then sniffed harder.

“You smell like me,” he noted.

“Had to use your stuff. I like that body wash though, which one is that?”

“Can’t remember. Let me see.” He reached around and caught her arm, smelling her skin.

“Ah. That’s Polis.” 

She looked up at him. 

“Polis? Like… Poland?”

He chuckled against her, flipping over a grilled cheese.

“Polis as in the end of Indianapolis. A smell that makes you seem put together and professional with a sweet note at the end. Vanilla. Like your lattes.”

As he often seemed to, he rendered her speechless enough that all she could do was press a kiss to his chest and wrap her arms around him, under his sweatshirt to trace on his back.

L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

He kissed the top of her head and stirred the soup. 

Ten minutes later and they were cozied up on a makeshift palette on the floor under a few blankets, with soup and sandwiches in hand. Grayson had made himself three vegan grilled cheese and tomato soup, and caved and given Indy the last can of chicken noodle in the cabinet because he knew it was her favorite even if it wasn’t vegan, though her grilled cheese was vegan as well. They watched Elf play, laughing and noting all the familiar NY scenery. Indy swore the man in the red jumpsuit had come into Jet’s before. They sipped their soup out of the bowl, and Indy listened to Grayson talk about the cinematography, trying to follow all that he was saying. 

Once the bowls and plates were sat aside, they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms, and Nicole’s old trick seemed to work, considering Indy was asleep before the end credits. Grayson carried her upstairs and put her to bed before going back down to clean up.

Though he tried to get into bed without waking her up again, he didn’t quite manage it, his weight moving the mattress just enough for her to stir and open her eyes. 

“Sorry baby, it’s just me. You fell asleep.”

“Hmmm. C’mere,” she murmured, opening up her arms. He laughed, knowing that if he laid on her the way she was asking that he’d press all the air out of her lungs. Instead, he pulled her on top of him and slotted their legs together, revealing in the feeling of their skin pressed together. She was warm for once since she’d been under the covers, and he hoped his fingers weren’t cold as he began to trace patterns against her back. 

“I love you,” she hummed, tracing a swirl over his ribs lazily.

“I love you too.”

“Forever.”

“Hmm?” He asked.

“I’m going to love you forever. I can feel it. I’m yours forever Grayson Dolan, and don’t you forget it.”

He pressed a kiss to her head and felt her finger against his ribs. F-O-R-E-V-E-R.

“I’ll love you forever too Indy. Forever.”

The tears returned.

------------------------------------------

Grayson was the first up the next morning, after a restless night of sleep - or so he thought. Lisa was in the kitchen, watching the snow continue to fall outside. It coated the trees outside and muffled the woods in a blanket of white. Lisa turned to greet her son, and frowned. 

“Have you been crying?”

He hadn’t shed a tear since the night before, but he should have known she would know. A mother always does.

“Just some stuff with Bekah. She’s not doing well, and I feel bad cause I won’t see her again until next time we come visit after we leave.”

“You can always call, and she’ll have Indy. She’ll be okay love.” She stood and ruffled his hair as she passed, headed to pour him a cup of coffee.

“It’s not as good as Indy’s, but it’ll do,” she smiled, rubbing her hand over his shoulder. They sipped in silence for a moment as the world woke up.

“Do you remember the year Dad dressed up for Christmas? When we were five?”

“Oh yeah. That was your Poppy John’s idea, he did it for Sean when he was little. Said it made him believe in Santa for a few more years. Your dad wanted to keep you guys kids as long as he could, and he knew Cameron was going to figure it out sooner than later. He also knew you two would be spying. You tried it when you were four, but you both fell asleep on the stairs before you could see any action. He told you Santa must have carried you to bed when you woke up that morning.” 

“Holy shit, I remember that.” He paused for a moment, reflecting. “You all always went all out for us on the holidays, I never really thought about it. Thanks.”

Lisa smiled the warm smile that only mom’s could really give, and patted his hand on the table. “I just hope you’ll do the same for your kids one day. I know you will.” She paused for a moment, and then she smiled. “You remember what he told us, on that last Christmas? About what he was gonna do?”

Grayson could hear his father’s voice in his head for a moment, and it made his throat tight.

“Yeah. Said he’d give us white Christmases for the rest of our lives if he could.”

Lisa lifted her mug towards the windows.

“Merry Christmas Sean.” Her words hung in the air, and Grayson swallowed the lump in his throat, watching the snow fall. 

Eventually he went back to bed to coax Indy awake about an hour later, smiling at her bedhead when she rolled over.

“Merry Christmas Dee,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Her eyes widened a bit quicker than normal.

“It’s Christmas!”

“Yep,” Grayson laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. She caught his hand and pulled him down over top of her, the covers wedged between them as she kissed him.

“Merry Christmas,” she said against his lips, and he melted into her. He couldn’t think of how many Christmas morning’s he’d woke up wishing to have someone there with him. It brought a new kind of excitement that quieted his mind for the time being, and he happily scooped her up and sat her on her feet so they could go wake up the other duo of the house. 

By the time they convinced E squared to arise - which took jumping on the bed, a promise of lattes and the threat of cold water - Lisa was already halfway done with breakfast.

Grayson hadn’t exaggerated - there was a huge assortment of fruit, pastries and coffee to get everyone started. 

“Stockings first! Well, coffee, then stockings!” Lisa clapped her hands and passed out mugs. Indy channeled her Jet’s days to make the lattes quickly, funneling in behind everyone as they headed to the fireplace to grab their stockings.

She melted when she noticed the I. 

“Lisa, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Oh hush. Okay red E is Ethan, white E is Eden…” she trailed off as she passed them out, slightly confused when she watched Ethan reach underneath the tree to pull out a stocking for his mom that the boys had filled. 

Indy was let in on the stocking tradition when she opened it. Everyone got essentials - a new toothbrush, socks, chapstick, lotion. She also threw in each person’s favorite candy and a giftcard to a local ice cream shop in town with vegan options. Lisa’s stocking was more extravagant, with some of her favorite high-end hair products, a certificate for a free massage, and lots of bath bombs that were Wakeheart testers. She hugged her boys necks when they all stood up, up on her tiptoes so she could reach. Everyone funneled into the kitchen after that, the boys in charge of the vegan meat options while Indy and Eden helped with the biscuits and cinnamon rolls. They ate around a full table, laughing and telling stories of Christmas. Eden won the most interesting story with one about her holiday with her extended family back in the Philippines, in which they’d spent Christmas using buckets to get water out of the house from a monsoon that had made landfall, a rarity for that late in the year. 

Time seemed to fast forward as they moved to open presents. The boys spoiled Lisa, as they always did. A new iPhone, expensive tennis shoes to help her back while she worked. New signs for the garden beds that Grayson built and Ethan painted, a canvas print of the picture Charlie had taken from Thanksgiving. They saved the topaz ring for last, knowing it would make her cry. Her tears were enough to get Ethan’s eyes prickling - forever the mama’s boy, who just hugged her while she let it out, Grayson joining in a few moments later. She opened her sweater from Indy, complimenting the color, and a new set of Airpods from Eden, seeing that she’d lost her first set. 

They moved on to Eden next. She also got a new phone from Ethan, which she smacked his arm for buying considering she knew how expensive they were, ignoring the fact that her phone barely held 20 minutes of battery anymore. Grayson got her a new sketchbook with a set of top line pencils and markers for her to sketch out her work designs, and Indy bought her a pair of Nike’s that she’d had her eyes on. Lisa got her a gift card to her favorite restaurant in LA - a non vegan one that she proposed could be used on a girls date when Lisa came to visit.

Indy was next. She had always hated opening gifts in front of people but she swallowed her un-comfort and proceeded through the boxes. Lisa bought her a nice blow dryer, remembering that she’d complained about hers once and raved about the one that she let Indy borrow. Eden bought her a new outfit - it was a bit out of Indy’s comfort zone, with the patterned pants and bright top, but she hoped she’d be able to pull it off. Both Eden and Gray assured her that she could. Ethan bought her a print of the state of Indiana, laughing at the way she tried to pretend that she loved it. 

“Read the back.” 

She flipped it over, squinting to try to read his messy handwriting that told her to check behind the tree. Sure enough, she found a box with a stethoscope in it. Top of the line, one of the more expensive brands.

“Every doctor needs one of those things, at least that’s what google told me. It’s got your initials on it too, cause apparently people try to steal them.” 

He dismissed her claims that it was too much, and instead urged her to open Graysons gifts. The first was a speaker, because ‘Cudi needs to be played loud and well’, followed by a bag full of clothes. She pulled the first piece out and gasped.

“You bought me scrubs?”

“Yeah. I know you were stressed out about them being expensive, and I knew you’d use them. I bought five sets, I hope that’s enough. And I asked the nurses at Frazier what the best brand was, but if you don’t like those I have the receipt.” 

“I’m sure they’re perfect. Thank you bub, I love them.”

She knew that Grayson had held back, and she was appreciative, especially as they got closer to his gifts. Luckily, Ethan was born first and therefore got first dibs. He got a custom longboard from Eden that she’d designed with all his favorite things, including a thermal painting of a very scandalous picture of her on the bottom that she’s covered with a piece of paper so Lisa didn’t see. Grayson got him an envelope with three tattoo appointments that he’d managed to get with their favorite artist in LA, who was usually booked up for months in advance. Lisa bought him a new jacket and boots, while Indy bought him a pair of headphones designed for the inside of a helmet, so he could listen to music while he skated. 

Grayson was the last to go. Eden got him new sweatshirts since he ‘wore the same ones all the time’, while Lisa bought him a sweater and jacket. Ethan bought him extra organizers for his closet and a minimalistic nutcracker, though he admitted it didn’t stand a chance of taking the spot of one of the Cudi nutcrackers, which stood tall on the mantle. Finally, he opened his bag from Indy, smiling when he pulled out a few things. The first was a journal, made of recycled paper and bound in a dark green cover with his name on the front in gold. The next was a Jet’s gift card, a small inside joke between the two of them. The final one was a picture frame. It was simple, black with flecks of gold along the edges. Within it, the first picture they’d ever taken together, in the mirror of Indy’s room where half his body was covered in her writing, labeled muscles. 

“Can’t lie, I spent most of my budget on your birthday. But I have a matching picture to put on my shelf, so I figured you might like it.”

“I love it,” he reassured her, kissing her cheek quickly, a sweet moment before the bustle of clean up began. The afternoon flew by with movies playing in the background and the snow continuing to fall outside. The boys cleaned off the cars, and after sunset, they appeared with a duffle bag each and a mischievous look on their faces.

“C’mon, we’ve got one more gift to show you guys.” 

Lisa waved goodbye from the front porch as both couples climbed into the truck, the girls in the back.

“Do you know what this is about?” Eden whispered.

“No idea.”

So they waited patiently until they finally put the pieces together - it only clicked when Ethan got out and opened the gate.

The trail looked different from the seat of the truck. Partially because it had been cleared out, but mainly because they weren’t on the back of a quad, with the wind whipping in their faces.

Hidden away in the snow covered clearing, the tiny homes were covered in snow. The lights inside were glowing a warm yellow, inviting them in from the cold. Grayson parked halfway between the two, coming around to get the duffle bag before turning around, a sign for Indy to climb on his back.

She didn’t argue, considering he had the advantage of snow boots over her, and climbed on, hugging onto him tight as he trudged through the snow to the front door. He kicked the snow off his boots on the small front porch and then opened the door, the draft of warm air already enticing. 

The inside was more beautiful than Indy could have imagined it would have been. She remembered trying to visualize it when Grayson had explained where everything would be - it felt like years ago, that warm fall day. But the kitchen was exactly as he had said it would be, minimalistic with dark wood that looked black in the dim light and white cabinets. The stairs were beautifully done, and Indy found herself climbing to the loft to find the queen size bed that awaited them, with the triangular window that looked out over the trees. 

“This is incredible,” she mused, looking down over the balcony at him. He beamed up at her, taking her in. Her skin glowed in the warm light, her hair washed yellow in a beautiful tone as it hung around her shoulders. He found himself kicking off his shoes and climbing the stairs to meet her, abandoning his plan of giving her a full tour in favor of exploring her instead. 

She followed his movement like water in an ancient stream, cut out and formed just for her to flow along, and they ended up on the bed with her back against the soft mattress.

“Are we christening the house?” Her words were muffled by his lips, which were eager and hungry against hers, a feeble attempt to drown out his thoughts. He kissed her incessantly instead of answering, pressing all her buttons to make her melt for him. The heater was small and nestled downstairs, goosebumps rising in the cold air as they lost layer after layer, chasing the heat of each other.

He held her as close to him as he possibly could, blocked out the cold and the doubt as he bit onto her shoulder and rocked her in sync with his hips, watched her head fall back and his name sing from her lips as she came undone over and over again until she was putty in his hands. He came so hard he saw stars, slowing down with her still in his arms.

She was in such a daze that it took her a moment to come to her senses and remember that she needed to go downstairs to pee and get cleaned up. As soon as she was out of his sight, the realization of what he’d just done came crashing down on Grayson. The guilt crushed his lungs as he finally admitted to himself that he knew he was hurting Indy. He knew she deserved to know where his mind was at, where it had been ever since Ethan had brought it up. He’d been selfish, and cruel, and as he sat there naked he’d never felt more ashamed in his life. He scrambled to get his clothes back on before Indy came back up. 

She was still blissful, her legs a bit wobbly as she tried to navigate the unfamiliar stairs. But she frowned when she saw his winter coat. 

“Those aren’t pajamas.”

Grayson jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah, uh, Ethan texted me, he said their heater isn’t working, asked me to come look at it.” 

“Oh. That sucks, you want me to come help? I can hold a flashlight or something,” she offered.

“No, no it’s cold, you just stay here and relax, I’ll be back. Might take a while, but I’ll be back.”

“No promises that I won’t be asleep,” she teased, climbing under the covers. “This bed is better than mine I think.”

“Get some rest, I’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay. I’ll save a spot for you. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He headed down the stairs, slipping his boots on as quickly as he could and choking back his sobs until he was out of the door. He trudged blindly across the yard, only guided by the lights from the windows, and he knocked on the door.

He couldn’t imagine what he looked like when Eden opened the door. But it was bad enough that she didn’t say a word. Instead, she simply turned and called for Ethan, who took one look at him and pulled on his coat, following him out into the snow towards the truck. 

Safe inside the cab and in the presence of his brother, Grayson fell to pieces. Ethan could only remember a handful of times that his brother had cried so hard, and he held him tight in his arms as best be could, shaking with him as the sobs ripped their way out of him. 

Ethan didn’t even attempt to talk, only to console as best he could until Grayson could finally breathe. He pulled the extra inhaler out of the glove box and made his brother take a few puffs when he started to wheeze, holding the canister up to his lips.

“Breathe Gray, c’mon, you’ve gotta breathe so you can talk to me. You gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can help. Hey, I’m right here, it’s me. You can tell me, it’s okay.” 

Grayson finally caught his breath enough to calm down, with his hands gripping onto Ethan’s jacket collar like his life depended on it.

“I’m gonna break her E. I’m gonna destroy her and it’s all my fault. I love her, fuck, I love her. What am I supposed to do?”

Ethan sucked in a long breath through his nose, looking over at Grayson’s house.

“You haven’t told her.” It wasn’t a question.

“I wanted to, I fucking can’t. Every time I think I can tell her I just think about what it’s gonna do to her. What it’s gonna do to me. I don’t know what the right thing is here E, you gotta tell me.”

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Fuck that, you’re me, we’re each other, you know me better than I know me. Tell me what to do.” 

Ethan could barely see his brother’s face, but the little bit of light from the moon showed enough pain in his eyes to have Ethan’s stomach twisting. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed.

“You know what I’m gonna say.” 

Grayson’s breath hitched once, and then a new wave of sobs took over. He shook so hard that Ethan was convinced the entire cab was shaking with him. Ethan held him, willed himself to absorb some of the pain, as much as he could, anything to help. 

“If it’s the right thing why does it hurt this bad?”

“I don’t know Gray. I don’t know.” 

“I love her.”

“I know.”

“She loves me.”

“I know.”

“Then how is this the right thing?”

Ethan paused for a moment, holding steady on Grayson’s shoulders.

“What would dad say? If he was here with us, right now, what would he say?”

Grayson pressed into his eyes with the heel of his palms and sniffled.

“He’d say that it wasn’t fair. He’d be mad that I hadn’t told her yet, and he’d say that she’s a good person who shouldn’t have to give up on her dreams for mine. He’d tell me to do what’s best for her, I know that. God, FUCK!” He smacked the dashboard so hard that Ethan heard something crack. He wished there was a way that he could protect his brother in that moment more than anything. Usually, he could step up, take the heat, take the attention off him if he needed. It was one of the few times that he felt truly helpless.

“You don’t have to do it tonight. You still have a few days. Just think about what you want to say, and bring it up whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m never gonna be ready, Ethan. That’s the love of my life, and I’m just supposed to walk away? And what’s she gonna say, when she finds out I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, and I haven’t said shit, huh? She’s not gonna want anything to do with me. She’s not gonna love me anymore, Ethan, and I can’t live with that. I can’t.” His voice cracked, and Ethan’s heart cracked with it.

“If it’s meant to work out, it will somehow. We’ve always believed that.”

“How?” It was a plea more than a question.

“I don’t know Gray. I don’t know.” 

Grayson didn’t know how long they sat in silence. They didn’t need words, just the comfort of each other’s presence as he ran through line after line of what he was going to say. He had to do it then, there was no other option. He had to tell her as soon as he got back, or he was afraid that he never would. But every time he closed his eyes to think, his mind was flooded with her, a kaleidoscope of memories and moments that he couldn’t imagine not making more of. He thought of the way his soul ached every time she cried, and he couldn’t fathom how much worse it would be when he was the cause of it. 

He threw the door open without warning, stepping back out into the snow. It took Ethan a few steps to catch him, but when he did he pulled him into a hug, a real one, and pressed his face into his shoulder. 

“I love you bro. We’ll get through it. You’ll be okay.” 

Grayson always knew when his twin was lying, but he tried his best to believe it. The cold wind stung on his wet cheeks as he went back to the house, kicking off his boots. He took the stairs one at a time as slowly as he could, his panic growing with each one. 

When his foot cleared the final step, he saw her.

She was asleep, curled up under the covers in her New York sweatshirt, hands folded underneath her face. He just stared at her, tried to memorize every feature on her face.

He could have stood there for hours, but she stirred only a moment later. Her eyes peered open just enough for him to see the blue, and then they closed again, a small smile stretching across her lips.

“Come to bed baby. S’warm.” 

Every cell in his body screamed at him, tried to pull him back as he slid out of his coat, out of his flannel, stepped out of his pants. His brain called him every name in the book, told him he was pathetic, weak, manipulative.

But his heart beat just a bit slower at the thought of being in her arms, even if it was just for a moment, the familiar home he’d made for himself comforting enough to let him drown the rest out and climb under the covers and over to her, pulling her into his arms as he pressed his lips together and let his eyes fall closed.

[littleredlie]

Derailed (S1P1)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical. On the day of Med’s reopening Morgan is in the middle of a tense situation as old friends from the past come back and form uneasy relationships with newer friends. Based off S1E1 of Chicago Med.

3.9k+ Words

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Will Halstead, Natalie Manning, April Sexton, Maggie Lockwood, Ethan Choi, Daniel Charles, Sarah Reese, Sharon Goodwin, Connor Rhodes Warning: This might be complete shit, I don’t know. I tried my hardest with the medical stuff, a lot might be inaccurate.  A/N: Let me know how you like it

The alarm clock that sat on the nightstand beside Morgan’s bed rang as it changed to 4:45 AM. At the sound, the weary woman’s eyes blink open with great difficulty. She does not move for a moment, letting the alarm to ring a bit more before slapping her hand against the off button. Pulling herself up, she peeks out the open window to her right, noticing that Chicago was slowly coming to life for the day. It was November now, she had to turn the heat in the apartment soon though her roommate has been telling her to do it since August, but it always got hot in Morgan’s room. She hears a train nearby rumbling along the tracks and she can see a light tinge of blue sitting on the horizon. She had been back in Chicago for three years, but the mornings still entranced her. When a bird flies past her window, Morgan takes it as a signal to start getting ready for work.

Turning on the lamp, her small room becomes illuminated and the picture of her sister that sat on the nightstand beside the alarm clock came into view. It was taken during Morgan’s graduation from medical school about a month before their lives changed. Tearing her eyes away from the frame, she slips the bonnet off her head and places it on the vacant pillow to her left. The bun her hair was in unwraps into a ponytail, the ends of her braids tickling her upper back. Throwing the blue covers off her bare legs, Morgan slips her feet into the slippers beside her bed and trudges towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. However, before she could get there, she noticed a light peering out from under her roommate’s door. She stops and softly knocks, pushing the door a little without waiting for a knock.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Morgan’s eyes sweep over Hayden’s body and she is immediately given her answer. The reporter was slumped over her desk, papers scattered over her bed and on the floor. Hayden looks up to Morgan, her glasses sitting on top of her head and bags stacking under her eyes.

“I’m about to get a huge lead about a sex trafficking group operating around Garfield Park and Humboldt. People are going missing and I know that I’m getting near, I just need –”

“What you need is rest” Morgan interrupts her leaning on the doorframe. “You cannot keep pushing this hard or your body is gonna crash”

“But–”

“No buts.” Morgan pulls the pen out of her roommate’s hand. “Get some rest please, doctor’s orders.”

“You know you cannot keep using your occupation over me, you don’t see me saying investigative reporter’s orders.” Hayden leans back in her chair, arms folding over her chest, a soft smile on her lips.

“Well, when I go chasing sex traffickers in Central Chicago than you can pull that shit.” She smiles back. “I’m gonna go get ready for work, I don’t need the car today so I’ll leave the car keys on the counter.”

“It's reopening today right? After ya know.” Hayden shrugs. That night was rough, Morgan was running on fumes before the explosion and after the lockdown she was trying her best not to tip over.

“Yeah, it’s being televised,” the doctor forces a breath out. “I hope today’s easy, cause these last few months have not. I’ll see you later.” With that Morgan closes Hayden’s bedroom door and heads to the bathroom. Soon the shower head is pushing out water and steam is beginning to fog up the mirrors. The clock in the bathroom reads 4:57 and Morgan knows that she has to hurry if she wants to make it to the hospital by 5:45. She was glad that they found this apartment not too far from the hospital that she’d been working at for the past three years. 

When a shower cap is put over her braids, the dark skinned woman puts herself under the warm water, her shoulder muscles relaxing just a little. Almost instinctively, her hand grazes over the surgical scar that was just under her belly and it lingers. Pulling her hand away she focuses on the rest of her body until she is done. She dries herself and applies lotion quickly, wanting to bring the attention to her makeup. Morgan did not do much when it came to makeup, she’d put light foundation and do her eyebrows. She decided to leave her box braids in a high bun reinforced bu two scrunchies. With a towel wrapped around her body, Morgan heads to her room to get dressed. 

Her maroon scrubs and white lab coat were folded on top of the ottoman at the end of her bed. Slipping on a pair of black boxer briefs and a black sports bra, she knew that she had no one to impress. It’s been a bit of a dry spell since she broke up with her detective ex-boyfriend last spring. It wasn’t like it bothered her much, she was busy with work and had been focusing on her family. There wasn’t time to date (and she couldn’t deny that it took a bit of time to get over him). Glancing at the clock again, she sees that it was 5:20. The train station was about five minutes away, so she had to hurry. She’ll eat when she gets to the hospital. Throwing on her sneakers, jacket, scarf, and hat, Morgan then grabs her phone and her well prepared backpack. 

A chill danced down her spine the moment she stepped outside and made her way to the train station. She waves to the lady opening the flower store to her right as her steps reverberate off the concrete steps. Putting in the headphones connected to her phone, Morgan starts an audio book, her focus only on the words of the story and her destination.

It wasn’t long till she got there, recognizing familiar commuters and passing a few smiles to those who were willing to accept. The ride was uneventful, but Morgan was not focusing on everyone else. She was either listening to the book or her mind was wondering about the day that laid out in front of her. Working in an emergency department was unpredictable, it could be a day filled with easy answers and wins or it could be tragic, long, hard, stressful. Morgan’s been at Chicago Memorial for three years, finishing her residency for emergency medicine and then accepting an attending position. After graduating from University of Colorado’s M.D. program, she decided to come back home after 11 years and applied to a few hospitals in Chicago. Chicago Memorial was her first choice and when she got it, it was like she was starting over. That was until everything happened.

The train stops at her destination and the doctor shuffles off with a few others. Briskly, she makes her way to the hospital, arriving the same time as Dr. Will Halstead. Yanking the headphones from her ears, she walks up to him and nudges him slightly, bringing a small smile to his face.

“Ready for today?” She asks him and he looks down at her, nodding slightly.

“I was so excited I couldn’t sleep last night,” Morgan laughs at his tone and he laughs with her.

“Okay, let’s just get through the day.” Together they walk through the lobby where people are beginning to set up for a press conference. In the doctor’s lounge, Will diverts his attention to Natalie while Morgan heads to her locker. She hangs up her backpack on the hook, pulls out her white coat to put on, and pulls out her purple stethoscope, stuffing it into the left pocket of her white coat. She makes sure her pager is on before stuffing it into her right coat packet.

Soon doctors, nurses, reporters, administration and more are standing in the lobby listening to Mrs. Goodwin speak praising remarks for the mayor. There are cheers and claps resonating around the room and the air is light. It isn’t like that for too long. The second Goodwin cuts the ribbon for the new emergency department, various pagers and cell phones begin to ring. Morgan looks at Dr. Choi when he pulls out his pager and soon after hers begins to ring. She pulls it out and glances down to it, her eyebrows furrowing together. She sees the Mayor being ushered off before Maggie walks out through the automatic doors.

“CFD Plan 2, mass cas. Multiple trauma patients, minutes away.” She yells. “Let’s go!” She urges and medical personnel begin to push themselves through the doors. 

         ❦

All of sudden the emergency department is busy and there are sirens nearing the hospital. Maggie immediately begins delegating as paramedics pour through from the bay. Morgan is pushed to Trauma 1. 

A young teenage girl who’s clutching her arm to her chest sits on the gurney. Morgan peers down and sees her tibia poking out of her shin and knows that the girl is in pain.

“Let’s start a morphine drip!” Dr. Fitzgerald yells out, a nurse fulfilling her orders. “Transfer on my count, gently,” everyone surrounding the girl clutches at the sheet, preparing to move her onto the treatment table. “One, two, three,” with a soft thud the girl is finally on the table.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitzgerald, what’s your name sweetie?”

“Grace,” she breathes out, obviously having trouble breathing. “My name’s Grace.”

“Alright Grace, we’re doing everything we can to help you.” Morgan flashes a light in front of her eyes to see her pupil’s reaction. “Pupils are reactive to light, blood pressure and sats are normal, heart rate is increasing. She’s tachy, let’s push 3 of Ativan.” The room moves around Morgan as they tend to the patient who is crying in front of her. Morgan puts a nasal cannula on Grace’s face so that she could breathe easier. 

Moving to her head, Morgan takes off the collar and looks down. “Grace, I need you to do something for me real quick, okay?” Morgan nods and places her hands to each side of Grace’s head. “Alright, can you touch your chin to the chest?” Grace does so and Morgan then has her move her head side to side. “C-Spine’s clear. Doris, get me Xray and Ortho down here.”

“On it!” Doris leaves the room momentarily, before returning back to help. Morgan walks down to Grace’s feet and checks it’s pulse. 

“Need any help in here?” Dr. Halstead’s voice comes up from behind Morgan and she gives out a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Halstead, I need you to help me reset her tibia before it leads to any deficits.” She says to him, not taking her eyes off of Grace. “Where the hell is that xray?!”

“Should be here momentarily, they’re all used up,” Will heads to the side of Grace’s right leg and nods to Morgan.

“Hey Grace, this is going to hurt a lot, but we need to do this, okay?” Grace goes into panic mode and starts shaking her head, tears ferociously gliding down her face. 

“No, please no!”

“Grace, I understand how you might feel right now, but Dr. Halstead and I need to do this. I promise, it’ll take just a few seconds and then we can fix you up.” Without waiting for confirmation from the teenage girl, Morgan nods towards her colleague and together they work. Morgan pulls down on Grace’s leg, maneuvering the tibia back into her leg. Grace lets out a scream, tears moving down her face at a faster rate. “Alright, Grace, we’re all good now.” Xray finally walks in and everyone who is void of a lead apron, moves out of the way.

In the background Maggie reports another incoming, and it pulls the attention of the two doctors. “You got this from here?” Will looks down, aiming the question at Morgan.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ll be there to help you when I get Grace up to the OR.” She nods and he places a gentle hand on her arm, her replying with a soft smile. Will walks away from her and she turns back to her patient. Morgan and Doris work on calming her down and prepping her for her trip upstairs. 

“What do you got for me?” Someone from surgery walks up behind Morgan, slightly starting her.

“She has an open fracture to her tibia, we cleaned the wound and maneuvered the bone back into her leg. Her arm has a closed fracture, due to her Xray I’d say she just needs a cast. Her leg, she’s definitely going to need surgery for realignment.” The surgeon, Dr. Lasonde, nods and both she and Morgan work to get Grace upstairs.

Soon Grace is on her way upstairs, her leg and arm placed into splints, and Morgan is throwing her gloves to the ground as she watches Lassonde push the gurney, a frightened Grace on top of it. Running a hand through her hair and giving a sigh out, she thanks the team around her before being rerouted to another person coming through the doors. 

          ❦

Later, as she works at the computer filling out paperwork for Grace, Morgan peers up and notices someone stepping out of Trauma 4 and talking to Mrs. Goodwin.

Connor?

Before Morgan can approach him another team of paramedics walk in with Jamie and Goodwin sends them into a treatment room. Morgan looks down and finishes typing up her charts. “Hey Sharon!” Morgan yells to grab the administrator’s attention and she stops, stepping  beside the curious doctor. “Was that Connor Rhodes?”

“Yeah, he’s the new trauma fellow. You know him?” She looks between the room he stepped in and Dr. Fitzgerald.

“Yeah, I do.” She says absentmindedly, “ Huh, I wonder why he didn’t tell me?” Morgan wonders for a moment before looking back down to the computer screen. “It’s fine, I don’t want to bother him while he’s with a patient.”

“I don’t have to worry about anything do I?” Sharon asks, hoping that drama wasn’t gonna arise between them.

“Oh, of course not! Connor and I have known each other since we were kids, he just didn’t tell me he was being transferred here. Don’t worry Sharon.” Goodwin nods and walks away from Morgan. Then Maggie walks up with a distraught, older white woman. “What can I do for you Mags?” MOrgan finally turns away from the computer and gives the duo her full attention.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, this is Grace’s mom, Candace.” Maggier introduces and Morgan smiles at the woman, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“Is my daughter okay?” Candace asks, fear in her eyes and Morgan does her best to calm her down.

“I can assure you that your daughter is okay. She had a closed fracture in her arm that just needed a cast and her leg had an open fracture. That’s a little more complicated, but she just needs her tibia realigned so she’s in surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“It shouldn’t be too long now, and I am willing to walk you up to wait for her.” Morgan places a gentle touch on Candace’s forearm and beckons her to follow. “Thank you, Maggie. I got her.” Maggie nods and continues her job as a charge nurse. 

As the doctor and patient make their way, Candace begins to ramble. “Grace wasn’t supposed to be on the train today, I was supposed to take her. This is all my fault.”

“Candace. Candace.” Morgan pulls the woman to a stop and looks her in the eye. “It is not your fault, these things just happen. But that’s not what Grace is worried about right now, I’m pretty sure that she just wants to see her mother.” Candace sniffles and reluctantly nods, letting the doctor take her to the waiting room outside Grace’s OR.

          ❦

After doing a few more rounds in the emergency department, Morgan sat herself in the doctor’s lounge, still not able to find time to talk to Connor. Morgan isn’t paying attention to the conversation happening between Natalie and Will, instead focusing on the charts of another one of her patients on the tablet in her hands. 

“You meet the new guy yet? Rhodes?” At her friend’s name leaving Natalie’s lips, Morgan’s head snaps up.

“You could say that.” Will answers back. “Likes to throw his weight around.” He leans back in his chair, his body still facing Natalie. “I don’t know, strikes me as a little arrogant.”

Natalie gives him a little look as she contemplates the words he just said to her. 

“Hey, I am not arrogant.” He scoffs at her, a teasing smile on his face. Morgan rolls her eyes and feels herself getting a little defensive over her old friend.

“No, no. Not at all.” Natalie says, sarcastically, to his remarks. “You just happen to know more than anyone else.” 

“Hey,” Morgan grasps the attention of her friends and colleagues. “I promise Connor isn’t always like that. It was just a stressful situation to be making introductions.” She  says, barely looking up to her colleagues.

“Woah, Connor?” Will questions at the familiarity that Morgan had with his name. He glances at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, Dr. Rhodes. He’s an excellent doctor and he’s great to work with.”

“Have you ever worked with him?” Natalie asks, taking another sip from her water bottle.

“No, I haven’t. But I know him and I promise, he isn’t a dick.” With that Morgan makes her way out of the room, she smiles at Nat and doesn’t spare a look at Will.

          ❦

A few hours later,  Morgan makes her way up to see Grace. She’s up and talking to her mom, a smile on her face.  Morgan knocks at the entrance of the recovery room, peering her head in to take a view at her patient.

“Dr. Fitzgerald!” Candace exclaims, waving the young doctor in. 

“How’s everything going Grace? You look a lot better than when I first saw you.” Morgan glances over her vitals and chart before walking to the unoccupied side of the bed.

“Yeah, I’m doing better. The pain meds are really helping out.” She grins.

“That’s good. It looks like you’re okay for being discharged tomorrow morning. And I will try my hardest to come by and see you off.”

“Thank you Dr. Fitzgerald.” Candace reaches over and clasps Morgan’s hand. “For helping my daughter and for helping me.”

“It’s no problem, really.” She squeezes back before pulling away. “You two have a good night, and just let any of the nurses know if you need anything.” With that Morgan delivers one more smile and heads out of the room.

Now that it was the end of her shift Morgan decided to make finding Connor her number one goal.. She was ready to give up but finally spotted him standing outside a recovery room. She sneaks up beside him and peers in, Jamie is off of the ventilator and Dr. Charles sits beside him watching something on a tablet. Morgan had heard about the operation Jamie had and she could tell that he looked so much better.

“So, when were you gonna tell me that you were coming back to Chicago?” Connor jumps, whipping around to look at the owner of the voice.

“Morgan!” He chuckles out, pulling the doctor into his embrace. She hugs him back before pulling herself out and raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, were you just going to end up on our front doorstep hoping we were gonna take you in?” 

“No, I was going to surprise you. I just wanted to come back, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. Welcome home Connor.” She gives him a small smile, looking at the one he was returning to her. “Hey, I heard about your comatose patient, sorry about that.”

“Yeah, it was tough, but he helped us save Jamie.”

“That’s good, Jamie’s a good kid. He deserves it.” They both look inside the room for a moment, before Morgan looks down at the watch sitting on her wrist. “Hey, there’s this diner that’s open 24 hours, wanna grab something to eat? Catch up and give you a bit of a rundown on how things are run here at Chicago Med.” 

Connor looks down at Morgan, her head still facing Jamie and Dr. Charles. “Yeah, sure. You buying?” She finally looks up at him with a scoff.

“Yeah right.” The fellow laughs at her and she leads him back to the doctor’s lounge in the ED. Stripping herself of her stethoscope, she places it in the locker, taking a glance of the family picture she had pinned up alongside the picture she had with Connor from her undergrad graduation.

“You hang that up in here?” He gawks at the picture, noticing how much the two of you had grown in the last 7 years.

“Yeah, I did. You are my best friend, besides Hayden of course.” Morgan hangs up the white coat on a hook in the cubby under the locker before continuing her answer,“but even when we were miles apart, you were always there for me.” She softly closes the locker.

“Huh.” He looks at Morgan, coming to the same realization about her.

“Let’s go, I am dying for their mashed potatoes.” He smiles and grabs his belongings before heading out of the lounge with his friend. On the way out the door, they pass Will.

She urges Connor to continue walking as she looks up at her other friend. “Hey Will, I’m sorry for getting all snappy at you earlier. Just got a little overprotective.” Morgan shrugs, placing her hands in her jacket pocket.

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.” He nods, looking over the soft smile on her face. 

“You’re okay, Connor has his moments.” 

Will and Morgan were an enigma. They worked well together, everyone could agree on that. And outside of work, they proved to have a level of care for each other as well as always having each other’s backs. With the amount of affection they always seemed to portray to each other, everyone also wondered why they weren’t together. They made a good pair and the blinded love they had for each other was glaringly apparent to outsiders. The two doctors however, never saw it. Will was too hung up on his crush on Natalie and Morgan wasn’t looking for a relationship (the fact that she also dated his brother didn’t help). For now, they would be friends and if the universe allowed for something to happen, the universe would prevail.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Will asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

“Actually, I’m the welcoming committee for Dr. Rhodes so I’m taking him to the diner up the street.” Will nods, but dashes his eyes to where Connor is standing. “But tomorrow morning, I’m bringing coffee.” Morgan says, bringing a bigger smile on her face and chuckle to Will.

“Alright then, have a good night Morgan,” he says.

“Night Will, see you tomorrow.” She gives him a quick, small pat on his arm before turning away and walking up to Connor. They two old friends resume their conversation and Will watches the smile on Morgan’s face as she continues walking with the new doctor.

Part Two

[layce2015]

The Last of Us Part 2 (Joel Miller x Reader)

What If (y/n) Died pt 2

What if (y/n) died pt 1

The Last of Us pt 2 Masterlist

The next day, Joel, Aiden and Ethan were standing in front of (y/n)'s grave, visiting and mourning her. The twins set down a couple of drawings they had made for her while Joel set down a rose on the fresh mound. Joel takes a deep breath as he tries to stay strong for his sons but it was getting harder to keep it together, especially when his sons started to cry.

He kneels down and the boys turn to him and hug him, he hugs them back and closed his eyes. Seeing his sons this upset over their mother’s death hurt him more than anything else. She won’t get to see them grow up, bring home a girl for dinner, get married, have a family of their own.

Hell, he won’t get to be with his wife for the remainder of his life as her life was cut short. Even though they live in a cruel and unforgiving world, a part of him had hoped that he and (y/n) would grow old together and maybe die together. Maybe be that typical old couple that sits on the porch and reminisce about their lives, good and bad. That could be the old romantic part of him talking but still, he had hope.

But now that was never gonna happen. She was gone and he was never gonna be able to talk to her, hold her, kiss her, sleep next to her, make love to her...anymore. 

After a few moments of hugging the boys, Joel let's them go just as he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looks up and sees that the hand belonged to Ellie.

"Hey." She greets, softly.

"Hey." Joel said, his voice shaky and full of tears. He clears his throat before he stands up. "Um...Dina said that Maria has the whole town on lockdown. Stables are locked up as well." She said. Joel sighs then curses his brother for not fighting harder.

"Well, looks like we're doing this the hard way." Joel said and Ellie nods. "Dina said she'd stay behind and watch the boys." She said and Joel looks at her. "She sure? I'd hate to put that on her." Joel said but Ellie waves, dismissively, at him. "Her idea. She loves kids." She said and Joel smirks a bit. "Alright, well...I  guess we'll be heading out." Joel said, making Ellie smirk.

They head back to Joel's house, only to see Maria sitting on the doorsteps. Joel raises an eyebrow at this and walks up to her while Ellie takes the boys hands and holds them back. "What are you doing here?" Joel asked her. She glares at him then pulls out a letter then clears her throat. "Maria, I'm headed to Seattle. I have to make these people pay. Ellie and Joel are gonna try to come after me but stop them, especially Joel. I know him. Take their guns. Lock up the horses. Maybe lock them up. Buy me some time so I can finish this. Love you always, Tommy." Maria reads then she looks up at Joel.

"He's going to get himself killed." Maria growls. "Why the hell did he go? It was my fuckin' wife that was killed, not his." Joel said, angrily, just as Ellie tried to covered the boys ears so they wouldn't hear him curse. "She was our family too, Joel." Maria said. "He should've told me he was leaving!" Joel shouted and Maria sighs.

"So, what are you gonna do to us, Maria? You gonna lock us up?" Ellie asked her. "I prefer you two stay." Maria said. "That's not gonna happen." Joel said, gruffly. "I'd prefer you guys stay but I know you two better." Maria said as she looks between the two.

"So it's just you two?" She asked and Ellie and Joel exchange a look before Joel turns back to her. "Yeah." He said. "I told the stables to let you guys out with yours and Ellie's horses. Grab some ammo too." She said and Joel nods. "Thank you, Maria." Ellie said, appreciatevly.

"Do me a favor and bring my dumbass husband home in one piece." She said to them and Joel could see the pleas in her eyes. "Of course." He said. "All right. Get going, you're losing light." She said as she stands up. "I can watch over the twins." She said. "Okay. Ellie, go get ready." Joel said and Ellie nods then turns to the twins. "Okay, little terrors. Let's go inside." She said and the three head off towards Joel's house and enter.

Just as Joel was about to follow Ellie, Maria stops him in his tracks. “Joel...” She said, softly. Joel glances over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, curious to know what else she had to say. Maria gives him a sad look and continues. “The boys had already lost their mother, don’t make them lose their father too." She said and Joel lowers his eyes a bit then looks back at her. "Just...make sure all of you get home safe.” She said.

“I will.” He said and with that, Joel heads inside of his home. 

"Are you going after the people who hurt Mommy?" Ethan asked Joel once they enter their home. Joel looks down at his son and couldn't bring himself to lie to him. "Yes." Joel replied. "Are you gonna make them...disappear?" Ethan asked, unsure on what to say, and Joel sighs but nods. "They won't come back and hurt us, right?" Aiden asked, nervously.

"I won't let that happen, boys. I promise." Joel said as he kneels back down to them. "You two are important to me and I've gotta make sure that these people don't come back for you two." Joel said and both boys hug Joel, tightly, tears running down their face. "Please be lucky." Ethan said, tearfully, which broke Joel's heart.

He pulls back then looks at his boys before he kisses the top of their heads. "It'll be alright. Now, you two need to pack up." He said and the boys nod and head upstairs. Joel sighs, heavily, at this then heads up the stairs himself, and enters his room. He goes into the closet and flicks through his clothes but looks over to the other side of the space and stares at (y/n)'s clothes.

He frowns at this then picks up on of her shirts that was hanging, holds it and looks at it. He brings the fabric up to his face and sniffs it; it still smelled like her and, in a weird way, it was comforting him. Almost like she was still here with him.

I miss you so much. Joel thought as he, slowly, puts her shirt back up then grabs his backpack, his guns and some clothes to pack up before he starts to leave. But a glint of silver caught his eye and he looks at his dresser, where he sees a chain with a woman's wedding ring hanging on it.

He walks over to the dresser, picks up the chain and puts it on around his neck before holding up the hanging ring and brings it up to his lips. He tucks the ring in his shirt before he looks out towards the doorway to see Ethan and Aiden packed and ready. 

"Let's go, boys." He said and the three walk out of the house.

Joel and Ellie finally made it to Seattle after being on the road for about two weeks. The two would talk amongst each other and Ellie would ask him about (y/n), learn more about her. It took a bit but Joel did give her a couple or three memories he had with (y/n) and Ellie would listen intently.

But once they made it to Seattle, the two were in mission mode as they make their way into the abandoned city and tried to follow Tommy's track. They shot and killed any infected or WLF that got in their way. They even met the new infected, the Shamblers, when they had to hide in the abandoned subway after getting chased out of the TV station, which was a lead to one of Abby's people.

The duo fight their way through the subway and make their way to an old theater, making it their shelter. Joel and Ellie check around the building until Ellie found the power generator and turns it on.

Joel smiles once the lights comes on and goes to the double door that leads to the stage area. He looks around at the place and was reminded of his first date with (y/n), which was actually an action film. He smirks then he goes towards the stage and looks around the backstage area until he found a guitar case.

He opens it and sees a guitar that was in great shape. He picks it up then walks back out and sits in one of the seats. He strums a few notes on it then he begins to sing. "If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself." 

He stops as he realized how true those words have become. He sighs, sadly, then looks down at the guitar and runs his hand over the surface of it before he reaches around his neck and fiddles with (y/n)'s wedding ring. He sets the guitar down then runs his hands over his face just as Ellie comes in and walks up to him.

She places her hand on his shoulder and he looks up at her, tears running down his face. "Joel..." She said, softly, and he looks down. She sits down next to him as he wipes away the tears and clears his throat.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" He asked and Ellie gives him a concerned look before she replies. "Besides a busted old radio from upstairs, there's nothing." Ellie said and Joel nods. "I'll take a look at it." Joel said and he stands up and walks out. Ellie frowns then sighs at this and picks up the guitar and strums it.

Ellie felt sad and guilty about (y/n)'s death, sad that she died but also felt guilty that she didn't get to reconnect with (y/n) just like she's slowly doing with Joel. Even though she was enjoying her time with Joel, it still felt weird that (y/n) wasn't there. Joel felt like he was a shell of himself, like he was on auto pilot. The only time he seemed to be himself was when he killed any infected or any WLF soldiers, which made Ellie worry as he seemed more aggressive and more violent than when she first met him.

"Wish you were here, (y/n)." Ellie mutters as she places her arm on top of the guitar, and leans her chin on top of it.

[skelligiri]

Obligatory lockdown fic

“Good night, angel.”

Click.

Aziraphale hung up the phone, and, with a hum and a spring in his step, went right back to baking. He had come across a carrot cake recipe in one of the oldest cookbooks in his collection earlier that day and busied himself with weighing Ingredients (the carrots miraculously fell out of the bag finely grated). But no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind focused and to not think of the phone conversation, he couldn’t suppress the desire to pick up the phone again as the night progressed. The print date of the book, which indicated that it had been printed shortly after the Reign of Terror, didn’t help, jolting memories of being locked up in the Bastille and being saved from a violent discorporation by an unlikely friend.

2 days. After that, he wouldn’t hear Crowley’s voice again until July. The angel wasn’t sure why he was even giving it any thought - Crowley had a habit of sleeping for months, years, even decades at a time, and had done so countless times over the millennia.

He just hadn’t spent prolonged periods of time asleep since the aborted Armageddon a year prior, Aziraphale mused. Crowley had mentioned how he couldn’t get himself to cause any havoc because everybody was miserable enough already, which was not surprising – the angel knew that, at heart, Crowley was a decent person. However, when reaching for the cake tin, a thought stopped him in his tracks – Could it be that Crowley was not only bored, but that the misery of the situation had gotten him down? His friend certainly hadn’t sounded happy.

---

Somewhere in central London, a demon swatted aimlessly at his bedside table until he found his ringing phone, sending his designer sunglasses tumbling to the floor in the process. It didn’t concern Crowley; his glasses knew better than to invoke their already cross owner’s wrath by breaking.

“What?” he snapped. “It’s me again. I just wanted to know how you are feeling today.” “Same as yesterday. Same as every day since the lockdown started. Bored. Didn’t forget, did you?” the demon drawled. “No… no, and it does make sense I suppose, there are certainly things I am looking forward to after this whole lockdown business. I wonder how the birds at St. James’ park are doing. If the little cafe on Belgrave Street is still going to be there - it used to be a book shop, you know. Anyway, now that I have a better understanding of the baking process, I do wonder if I will have a newfound appreciation for cake. Not that I ever did not appreciate cake, as I’m sure you are well aware, but the cakes at this particular establishment have always been home baked by the owners, wonderful people. Their children worked some odd jobs there to help pay for their education –“, Aziraphale babbled, unable to contain the flood of words until it was cut off by his friend’s exasperated groan. “Aziraphale. You do know that depriving someone of sleep is a method of torture, right?” Aziraphale blinked in response. “You were asleep already? I thought you were going to wait two days?” “Yeah, but I had a very productive day yesterday. Scared a seedling into growing 2 inches, sat around doing nothing. Started a few arguments on Twitter, although that really wasn’t much of a challenge. Sat around some more. Decided to treat myself to an early nap.” “Ah. Right, um. I really just wanted to know how you were doing. And…”

The angel found himself considering his words for a moment. Even in his head, they sounded a bit silly. Still, the question burned on his tongue.

“Out of curiosity… ever since the events of Armageddon and the… fallout thereof. Have you ever felt a little lonely?” As expected, the question was followed by a cackle on the other end of the line. ‘”Yah, I really miss Hastur. Real hard, not having to put up with the threats and the stench.” He paused. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to miss the ponces up in heaven. Missing Gabriel, are you? Michael?” Aziraphale’s face contorted, and he outright shuddered when Crowley added “Sandalphon?” “Oh heavens no!” he blurted out, ignoring Crowley’s snort. “I don’t miss heaven. The bookshop feels more like home to me than heaven ever did, you know that.” “Well then, let me go on the record saying that I don’t miss Hell either, big shocker I know. Was there anything else?” There was a short silence between them, which Aziraphale found himself unable to fill. “… Angel, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me to come over or not?” Crowley asked. “I… I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” “Right. Well in that case, I’m going back to sleep.”

Aziraphale fidgeted. There was one more question that needed answering. “W-well, before you go! You… You definitely shouldn’t come here. But, in theory, if I were to find a way to come over to your place…” “…You. Come over here?” “Yes.” “Wha, you gonna get on a bus during a pandemic? I thought setting a bad example and getting too close to people is something you consider demonic activity. Angel, I’m almost impressed.” “Without breaking any rules, of course!” “And how would you go about that, then?” Aziraphale could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smirk in Crowley’s voice. “… Not sure. It’s just hypothetical, really. Anyway, would you mind if I did?” “’Course not, why in the heavens would I mind, not like I haven’t had you over before.” “… Right, right. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Good night, my dear.”

Click.

----

Not even Aziraphale’s gramophone seemed to be able to drown out the silence of the following days. The angel often found his gaze locked on the black feather he kept next to his recipe books. A keepsake from Crowley. He had passed it off as a meaningless gesture. Aziraphale knew better.

Being honest with himself had never been the angel’s strong suit. But he had gotten better at deciphering what his gut was trying to tell him in the months since the war had been averted. Rather than decades, centuries or even millennia, it now took him a mere fortnight to realize that he couldn’t drown out what he wanted more than anything.

He wanted to be near Crowley. To keep his friend company. They had always had each other to rely on whenever one or more of the horsemen had raised their heads.

But Pestilence posed a very unique challenge, turning the very need for people to reach out to each other during hard times into a potentially deadly risk. He couldn’t just walk out of the bookshop and set a bad example for humans. Maybe he should wait until July, he thought to himself. Sit here, on the couch, where the demon had slept so many times over the years there undoubtedly was a Crowley-shaped indent in the foam, drink tea and eat cake while catching up on his vast collection of books… but after hearing his dearest friend’s voice, this thought suddenly felt so much less appealing. He found himself picking up the phone again, aching to speak to Crowley, but what was he going to say? There was nothing else to say. The time for talking had passed, he realized. Now was the time to act – which was a harrowing thought.

But he should definitely follow the rules of the lockdown, Aziraphale decided, which meant no leaving the house. Not being able to get sick or transmit the disease was beside the point. Laws were there for a reason, after all. But while the laws surrounding the lockdown were not to be broken even by him, not all laws that applied to humanity applied to a celestial being. For one thing, angels weren’t bound by the laws of physics. And just like that, an idea hit Aziraphale as his gaze locked on the phone in his hand.

Crowley had done it before, he had (repeatedly and proudly) bragged to Aziraphale all about how he had outwitted Hastur back before Armageddon’t by travelling through the phone line and trapping the duke of hell on his ansafone. It was one of his favourite stories to relay after a bottle of wine and usually culminated in him thanking the angel for being the sole reason he even kept the ancient eyesore in his flat. If Crowley could do it, Aziraphale reasoned, why couldn’t he? “It might just work…” he mumbled to himself. Hesitating, Aziraphale considered the phone line separating him from his demon. The rules of the lockdown were one thing, but there were other rules to consider. 6000 years of careful consideration, of boundaries, of careful movements so to not spook or even endanger the other. But those times were over now, weren’t they? They were on their own side now, they didn’t need excuses. They were meant to be free. They deserved to be free.

And nothing was stopping them. Not really.

Aziraphale took a long look around his bookshop. He closed his eyes. A thought, a silent prayer, a faint smell of ozone, and just like that, he knew that it would be safe until he returned, whenever that may be. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and without further ado, willed himself to dissolve into particles straight into cyberspace.

Inaudible to anyone but Aziraphale, the phone line for the next fragment of a second was filled with panicked, garbled noises of distress, as a defragmented angel was trying to herd the atoms making up his corporation through a telephone line. He had to admit: Pulling this off without any atoms escaping was brag-worthy. He found himself wondering if bouncing around weightlessly like this was what a rollercoaster felt like. He didn’t much care for it. And he didn’t much care for re-emerging, either, all his atoms snapping back in place like magnets, sending him stumbling aimlessly. All he could do was brace himself for the unavoidable impact.

But luckily for the angel, Crowley’s phone had rolled out of his hand when he’d fallen asleep after their last conversation, on a bed that had to have been touched by a demonic miracle or a dozen to reach such an unnatural level of softness. The yelp that followed Aziraphale’s body hitting Crowley full-force would have usually caused the angel a great deal of concern, but Aziraphale was too occupied with his own spinning vision and trying to figure out where he was and which way was up, limbs flailing, helplessly entangled in black, velvet bedsheets.

“What the FLYING FUCK-“ Crowley yelled, followed by a string of expletives, and Aziraphale realized that the sounds were coming from the floor next to the bed. “Ah – I didn’t mean to - Apologies, my dear.” he offered breathlessly. “Aziraphale?!”

The demon’s upper body emerged from beside the bed, golden eyes wide. “What the heavens - How did - wh-?!”, he stammered, ever so eloquently. Aziraphale scrambled to sit up, tried to brace himself on the wall, missed, and found himself face-first on the bed with a groan. He realized that Crowley must have rushed to his side when he felt himself being propped up by a steadying hold under his arm. That thought was confirmed when he heard Crowley hiss under his breath. The angel held on to his arm for dear life. “I… I’m so sorry to wake you like this. Are you hurt?” “No, just got better acquainted with the floor, thank you very much.” Aziraphale barely managed to lean against the headboard to wait for his vision to stop spinning. “I just. Thought this might be a way of coming over without breaking any rules. I must admit, you made this whole traveling through the telephone line business sound rather a lot easier than it is.”

His vision slowly focused on the demon, who was sitting beside him on the bed, more frazzled looking than the angel had ever seen him. Unkempt, bleary-eyed, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. With a start, Aziraphale noticed that the plants on the balcony had shifted into unnatural positions. As though they were leaning in to see what all the commotion was about. Crowley took notice and turned around to glare at the plants, which immediately went back to their original positions.

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “It’s good to see you, my dear.” “Yeah it’s… yeah. Same.” the demon stammered. “I was a little worried about you. You must really be concerned about the humans, to so adamantly refuse to break the rules. Commendable as it is.” Crowley made a face at that last remark. “Rub it in, why don’t you.” “I’m not trying to be flippant, dear. What I’m trying to say is… I’m a little surprised you didn’t come over.” Aziraphale admitted. “I didn’t come over ‘cause you told me not to.” the demon retorted. “That’s never stopped you before. You know as well as I do that I was tempting you.” Crowley blinked at the angel’s blatant honesty. “Angel,” Crowley began, “This is different. I just…” Crowley threw back his head and let out a frustrated groan, “I couldn’t just go on a limb and invite myself to stay over for however many weeks or months it’ll take for Pestilence to get tired of mucking up everyone’s day and to bugger off again, could I? Taking up your space and drinking all your wine. ‘sides, we’re not just talking catching up, but. You know. More than that.” When it became apparent that Aziraphale wanted more, Crowley ran a hand over his face. “Living together for fuck knows how long. Didn’t want to overstep.”

Oh.

“W- well,”, Aziraphale started, a familiar warmth rising up in his face, “I certainly didn’t mean to overstep-“ “You’re not.” “Oh. Good.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The heat in his face remained. “Still… I can make myself scarce, if you like. Go back to the bookshop, if one of us needs space, I’m sure I’ll get used to traveling through the telephone line. But, truth be told, I have missed your company.” He swallowed again, followed by a deep breath. “Rather terribly, actually. In fact, I don’t know how I ever managed to spend as much time apart from you as I used to. Things have been different since the events of last summer, haven’t they? Speaking of, the anniversary of what could have been Armageddon is coming up in three months, hopefully things will be better by then. Maybe the Ritz will have re-opened and we will get a chance to celebrate the world not coming to an end, like we did last year.” When Aziraphale’s eyes met the demon’s, there was no trace of white to be found in them. “Until then, I’d very much like to stay here with you. If you’ll have me.”, he added.

The silence hung over them thickly, every second stretching out endlessly. “… Crowley?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, but the demon appeared to be frozen in place, still holding on to the angel’s arm. By the time Crowley finally opened his mouth, Aziraphale wondered if he had said too much.

“I need a nap.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Beg your pardon? Did you hear what I just said?” “Y- Yeah, and, if you don’t mind, I really need a nap.” “You may feel free to nap all you want, but-“ Aziraphale started, but before he could say anything else, he felt himself gently being pushed back against the headrest, and before he had realized what was happening, Crowley’s face was buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around the angel’s torso like his life depended on it. Aziraphale quickly snapped out of his bafflement and gave his friend a concerned look. “Are you alright, dear boy?” he asked, and Crowley nodded into his shoulder wordlessly. “… Well, are you still planning on napping until July? I will have to miracle myself some books over if you do.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale returned the embrace, one hand gently stroking the demons back, resulting in a small, full-body shudder. Crowley chose not to comment when, emboldened by this reaction, the angel pressed a kiss on the top of his head, but he did make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of contentment. They had touched more frequently since the events of the year prior, more precisely since the night of the body swap, but it never failed to make their hearts flutter. “Well then, let’s get comfortable, shall we? If we’re in this for the long haul.” He grabbed the cover and draped it over Crowley. And as the arms around his torso squeezed him just a little tighter, he added “We have all the time in the world. The cakes in the kitchen know better than to go stale.”

---

Well, seeing as it’s technically the 30th anniversary of Good Omens  today, I thought I’d try my hand at writing. This is actually my first fanfiction, and I plan to write a bit more often in the future. Hope you like it!

[yeeterparkersblog]

Last Days | PART 1

Pairing: 6 Underground! Four/Billy x reader

Word Count: 6.1 k 

Warnings: Stealing is bad, kids; Sugar baby/daddy jokes; Mentions of stripping 

Summary: To everyone else, he was a suave young man in a gang of thieves, someone they would rather not get tangled up with. To you, he was a cheeky bastard who wouldn’t get out of your hair and most of all, a rival thief. But one day, Billy decides to reach out to you, proposing that you work together.

A/N: Right. Hello. This is my first fic for the Ben/Borhap fandom. If it sucks I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my cavity. So this story is not taking place during the events of 6 Underground, its more of a prequel to the movie. So basically there might be some foreshadowing, but there are no direct relationships to the movie. Also this fic time jumps a lot, so I hope you guys can keep track of it.

This fic is dedicated to @benhardyisdaddy​ . Faith, you are amazing! No more than a week after 6 underground came out, Must Be A Dream was up and posted. Imagine the amount of dedication and hard work that you give. Congrats on 3k, you deserve all of it.

The Pasteque Necklace. An emerald necklace worth almost 3 million, unveiled at the National Museum 2 months ago, and soon to be yours.

You’ve already knocked out the three guards making their rounds in the museum. Easy enough. And now comes the fun part. You rounded the corner into the large hallway that would lead you to your treasure. You wasted no time at all. You quickly made your way to the showcase room, careful to shoot out any security cameras with a silenced gun.

After the necklace had first been revealed on TV, you went straight into planning mode. Now you knew there was an electric field around the pedestal. It took you time to assemble the proper apparatus that could deactivate the filed. It hadn’t been cheap either. You’ve spent so much time and resources on this heist, and after two months, your hard work could finally bear its fruit.

You jogged towards the pedestal and you were prepared to take out the gadgets, but then as your neared it, you quickly realized you didn’t need it at all. The electric field had already gone, the velvet box had already been opened, and the necklace!? Well! It had already been taken away.

In its place, stuck neatly onto the smooth velvet box, was a small sticky note. Your lips snarled with annoyance. You had a feeling you knew who’d done this.

You snatched the note from the box, ready to get this over with. And sure enough…

“i told you i’d beat you to it  -B” 

—

“You absolute wanker!” you fumed, snatching away the bottle of beer he had been drinking. You slid into the booth opposite him and downed the rest of his drink. “Have you pawned it off already, you cunt?!”

He threw his hands up innocently. “Hello to you too,” He straightened up in his seat and beamed at you. Christ, he was enjoying this a bit too much. “Fancy seeing you here, then.”

“Please!” I spat. “You know I work here!”

“Yeah, shouldn’t it be your shift right about now?”

“Well I took the day off. Thought I wouldn’t need the extra money.” You leaned in, giving him a wicked scowl. “But of course you know all that, don’t you?”

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood” He pointed out. “Let’s have a drink. My treat! I’ve recently come into quite a bit of money.” And the fucker winked cheekily at me.

You groan exasperatedly. You fell against the seat and ran your hands through your hair, defeated. You probably invested a thousand pounds or so into this heist, thinking you’d get millions in return. But nah, all you get to do is to beg your manager for extra shifts.

Your hands were covering your face, slightly muffling your words.

“Out of all the heists that you could have hijacked-”

“Hey you were the one who challenged me.”

True. You really should know better than to wager your most important heist. The smug blonde had more experience than you had, with his little pack of trapeze thieves.

“Yeah?” You shot up straight. “You had help. That little gang of yours.”

“Oh no I did it alone. Like last time.” You didn’t think his face could get more pompous. You wanted to wipe that shit-eating smile off his face. “So this is on you, yeah?”

Ugh. ‘Last time’. It was what had started this whole thing in the first place.

—

3 MONTHS AGO

It was your first big heist. After years of petty theft, pickpocketing and larceny, you wanted something more challenging. A lot more challenging.

Go big or go home, you went for The Blasé. A diamond ring from 15th century Germany. The Blasé will set you up quite nicely.

Standing at the very end of the large hallway, you could see it from here already.

The Blasé, its large gem glittering in its glass case. The moonlight hit it through the glass ceiling overhead, and the diamond seemed to beckon you in with its shine.

Now you weren’t daft. You knew there were additional security measures set in the glass case. If you were to smash the glass and just snatch the ring away, that wouldn’t do. That would just set off the weight sensor below, and blaring alarms that would alert the police of your presence immediately after. You’d rather do this a bit more discreetly.

You chuckled, remembering how proudly the museum director had bragged about having attained the ring. “The Blasé is in very safe hands. Our security will make sure of it. No lowly thief would get their hands on the jewel,” he had said to the interviewer. “Hundred percent guarantee.”

You scoffed. Bet you wish you didn’t boast about the weight sensors now huh, Mister big shot Director?

You took out a small glass cutter, but before you could make a move, someone cleared his throat behind you. You whipped around and pointed the glass cutter at the man. But instead of a burly security guard whose knock-out gas had worn off, you were met with a fit young blond, who was staring at you intensely with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You froze in place, not really knowing how to act. How would you?

Now he was definitely good-looking. If this were anywhere else, say a café, you’d make a move. But no, you were trying to steal a 2-million-pound ring here. And how would you know that someone would be stealing the same thing you wanted to steal?! And on the very same date and time too?! And on your first big heist. What were the fucking chances?

“How cute.” The blond chuckled, pointing at the mask around your eyes. He took your mask off faster than you could react. “You know you don’t need this if you’ve already turned off the security feed?”

“Hey give it back…” It came out more of a plead than a command. You mentally cringed at how you sounded. But what’s more was that the man was acting so casual, as if this was a friendly conversation and not a crime taking place.

The man squinted his eyes and took a closer look at you, and you couldn’t help but divert your gaze. His eyes suddenly glinted with recognition.

“Hey you’re that girl from that pub!” he laughed. “When I saw the knocked-out guards up front, I knew someone was in here. But I didn’t know it was the waitress from Ritter’s Bar.”

You rolled your eyes. A chat wasn’t what you came for. You turned your attention back to the case, getting ready to slice it with your glass cutter. However, the man put a hand out to block you.

“There’s no need for that, love. I have a more efficient way.” He gave you a sweet smile.

In one swift move, he had smashed the glass case to pieces. The case shattered with a deafening clash and fell to the ground in tiny fragments. He had grabbed the ring and sure enough, the alarms came blaring.

“Shit! What did you do?!” You scolded. “We gotta go NOW!”

“I couldn’t agree more!” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to wall, pointing up at the tiny window high above it. What the hell was he trying to pull?

And to your surprise, he put the ring on and started to climb up the wall like fuckin’ Spiderman. He got to the window and broke out.

“You arsehole! What am I supposed to do?!” I screamed at him. The front gate has definitely gone to lockdown and you were hearing sirens in the background. He was your only way out. 

“I have a name, you know? It’s Billy.” He threw down a rope. “I didn’t quite catch yours?”

“Oh sod off!” You pulled yourself up the rope. “Give me back the ring!”

“Sorry no can do. If you’re gonna be like this, I’m going to have to let you go, literally.” He dared to wink at you. You were only halfway up the wall when the rope suddenly went loose. You grabbed yourself onto a ledge before you could fall back onto the ground. You looked up to the window to see him smiling at you.

“But if I ever change my mind about the ring, I’ll know where to find you.” And with that he ran away. All that stared back at you was the moon in the night sky.

Godammit.

You used the ledge to push yourself up to the window and got out. You looked around and saw that he did in fact give you back something. But of course it wasn’t the ring, it was your ‘cute’ mask.

“JESUS CHRIST, BILLY!” You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t do anything else after that, the cops had come at that second and you had to flee before your night could get any worse.

ONE MONTH AFTER THE RING HEIST

Ritter’s Bar. Not exactly the best job in the world. Not exactly in the best part of town either. No scratch that. Civilians would actively avoid this part of town. The only people here are your own. Like a twisted and tight-knit community of thieves.

“Let me guess, Meg.” You said to a regular sitting down at the bar. “Whiskey, neat.” She gave you a small smile and you poured out some liquor for her. Just as you were setting down the shot glass, a blur of blond passed by you.

Your eyes darted to the image. It was him! Billy! The man who stole your fucking ring!

You watched him as he headed for one of the booths at the very back. He turned back and gave you a little wave. A little smirk to indicate that he knew you were watching him. You involuntarily let out a low growl of anger.

“You can let go of my glass now.” You looked down to see that your hands had gripped tightly around Meg’s glass, knuckles white. You promptly apologized, giving her the drink. “But hey. Blondie, huh?”

“What?”

“You were looking at the blond.” She shrugged. “He’s easy on the eyes but I wouldn’t do anything about it. His trapeze friends are fucking feral. Don’t trust them one bit.”

‘I’m all ears.”

She told you a little bit more about Billy and his gang. You would listen to her, but you could feel Billy’s gaze prickling the side of your neck.

You knew he was here to talk to you. Every time you took a glance at him, he would be staring right back. But he wasn’t initiating the conversation. He was waiting for you to give in. You weren’t going to. But then your manager saw him there sitting for 30 minutes without ordering anything and he ushered you over there.

“Order something or get out.” You folded your arms. “Dipshit.”

Billy smiled at you. “I’ll order a beer if you sit down with me, love.”

“Get out.” You started to walk away but he held you back by your wrist.

“Okay alright.” He pursed his lips and gave you a twenty. “I’ll buy a beer. But I want to talk to you, alright? It’s about the ring.”

You glared daggers at him, trying to see if he was just playing if you. Maybe he’s finally come to his senses and has decided to give you ring.

“Fine.” You said. “Hold on.”

You came back with a warm bottle of beer and sat down, pocketing the change. It was the least he could do for you. You shoved the bottle towards him. “Well?”

He shot you a look before he started talking. “Look I’m very sorry to have left you behind like that. I’m glad you got out fine, yeah?”

“Good, thanks.” You mumbled. It was nice, but not quite what you wanted to hear. “So I’ll be taking the ring now.”

“W-What? No?!” Billy looked almost baffled. “I already pawned it off! Where do you think the money for this disgustingly warm beer came from? And the ring is rightfully mine, by the way.”

“Am I to believe you’re just here to apologize?”

“Um. Yeah?! I’m not giving you the bloody ring!”

You scoffed. “It should be mine. I was there first.”

“That’s exactly what a child AND a bad thief would say.”

“I’m not a bad thief.” You shot back. “YOU just happened to be there!”

“Oh so you admit I’m a better thief then?”

“Wha- NO!” You were fuming. Your face was probably as red as a tomato by now.

The chattering of the TV caught your attention. And there it was. The Pasteque. Just brought in from France, and unveiled at the National Museum right now. An idea popped into your head.

“I’ll prove it to you, then!” You shot up, slamming down on the table. “Two months from now, I’ll have stolen something worth even more than the stupid Blasé!”

“I’ll just beat you to it.” He said with an air of confidence.

“Oh please, you don’t even know what I’m stealing!”

You stormed off before Billy could get another word in. But little did you know, Billy had noticed you darting your eyes towards the TV, and connected the dots.

“I’ll see you in two months then.” He chuckled.

—

PRESENT DAY

“Wanker.” You muttered.

“I believe you’ve already said that.” Billy shrugged. “Now, care to admit who’s the better thief? We’ve got an obvious answer.”

“Yeah yeah. It’s you. I’d buy you a beer but you’ve possibly left me broke.” You looked up at him with tired eyes. You were slightly surprised when you were met with worried ones.

“Hey I’m really sorry. Honest.” He clasped one of your hands. You were startled but you didn’t pull away. Yet. “I can help you if you want. How much do you need?”

“Maybe this isn’t cut out for me.” You pulled away from his grasp. “A few things from the supermarket or wallets from pockets? Sure. Jewelry worth millions?” You gave Billy a shrug. “Perhaps not.”

You tried to take another sip from Billy’s bottle but then you remembered it was empty.

“There’s a strip club a few blocks away.” You continued. “Maybe I could get a job there when I don’t have shifts here. I’ve been told I have ‘nice tits’ by some of the customers. I’d bet some rich old white dudes wouldn’t mind throwing some money at them.”

Billy raised his brows, pausing a second before shaking his head frantically.

“As much as I would hate to disappoint rich old white dudes. I think I have a better solution.”

“Better than having strangers grope my arse?”

“(Y/N)… you could work with me.”

It took you a second. “I’m sorry?”

“Honest, (Y/N). I think we’ll work well together.”

You scoffed, waving your hands about. “I thought you had your theatre troupe.” He rolled his eyes. “And I thought I wAsN’t a GoOD EnOuGH ThiEF.”

“Right first of all, it’s not a theatre troupe. Second, I sometimes do work alone. Like the ring and necklace, as you should know.” Now you rolled your eyes. “Third. How about we do a test drive?”

You shot him a questioning look.

“We can try working together on one heist first. See how it works out. And if we pull it off and you think we’re good together,” He shrugged. “Maybe we can do it again.”

Your fingers fiddled nervously with the bottle. The offer did sound tempting. It’d be nice to have a partner in crime. And it would be nice if the things you wanted to steal didn’t get stolen first.

“Well how do I know I can trust you?” You glared at him.

“See I knew you would say that. That’s why I didn’t pawn off the entire necklace.”

…What?

He took out a small box from his pocket and slid it across the table to you. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You accepted the box warily and opened it. Oh…wow.

“These earrings are gorgeous.” You laughed. The earrings were a pair of studs, with beautiful little emeralds on them. “I’ll assume the emeralds are from the Pasteque?”

“The very same.” He gave you a contagious smiles. How cute. “It was the least I could do. You could even wear them to the test drive if you’d like. That is, if you agree to do it.”

You held the earrings up to eye level. “Why would I wear such bling to a heist? Wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

“This time it’s to blend in.” He explained. “There’s going to be a gala at a country club down south in a month. Snobby rich trophy wives will be waltzing around with millions around their necks.”

You held the earrings up to Billy’s eyes and you couldn’t help but notice they were the same brilliant green.

“I think they’ll notice if we steal it from right under their noses, Billy.”

“That’s not the entire idea. But, I won’t go into detail until you’ve agreed. And I understand you’ll need to time to think this through. If you agree, we’ll get right into it.” He stood up from his booth and brushed himself down. “I’ll be back tomorrow for your answer, yeah?”

He stuck out his hand. He looked at you expectantly, his own pair of emeralds looking back at you. You clasped his hand with both of yours, as he did moments ago and returned his smile.

“No need. I’m in.”

The corners of his lips hinted at a smile. “I’ll pick you up after your shift tomorrow.” He paused to give me a wink I knew so well. “Feel free to quit.”

—

THE NEXT DAY

“So what’s the plan?” You slammed the car door shut, fastening your seat belt. “Better have a 100 percent success rate if you had me quit my job.”

“There’s always a certain risk involved, (Y/N).” Billy put the car into the drive. “If we succeed, we’ll be living lavishly for quite a long time. If not, then I guess you’re left to fend for yourself then. I’m not doing charity work.”

Your head snapped towards him so quickly you swore you heard a crack. “You shithead!” You took a jab at his shoulder. “I don’t have a job anymore. And I can’t go back to Ritter’s.” You sunk down into your seat in embarrassment. “Certainly not after what I’d said. And I don’t have money now! Imagine unemployment.”

“Didn’t you mention that stripper job yesterday?” He chuckled as he swatted and dodged at your feeble attempts to jab him again. “But look on the bright side. The necklace we’re stealing is gonna be enough to free you of your troubles.”

“Easy for you to say. You have money from the Blasé ring to hold on to.” He gave you a sideway glance that you brushed off. “Wait. Necklace? As in singular?”

He nodded. “Just the one.” He paused to think. ‘Well, two necklaces. But we only get to keep the one.”

“A bit stingy, innit?”

“Hey trust me a bit here! Besides you said it yourself. They’re going to notice if we steal it from right under their noses.”

“I’m still not aware of the plan.”

“Patience, love. I said I’ll explain it at my place.”

“I wasn’t aware of that either.”

“Oh pipe down, we’re here!’

He pulled into a small driveway. You took a look at the house while you stepped out of the car. Not the prettiest house, but certainly better than your apartment. You still felt the need to insult him, though.

“You couldn’t get yourself a better crackhouse with all the money you got from the jewelry?” You sassed, crossing your arms.

“Christ! You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“You’re bloody right I’m not.”

“Oh just get in the house!”

—

“So basically the whole reason the gala is happening is because of one necklace.” Billy explained. On his laptop, he looked up the country club’s website, pulling up an article on said necklace. “One of the country club members recently got his hands on an artifact. Apparently the necklace used to belong to a Russian Czar. ‘S called The Ruza”

“I assume he wants to show it off to his snooty friends?”

“Like a little boy with a brand new toy train.”

With a little more digging and scrolling, Billy finally found a picture of the necklace.

“Oh I see why you’d gone for this one.” You pulled the laptop closer, squinting your eyes at the small picture. “It’s blurry. But I can definitely see the gold.”

“It’s probably blurry on purpose.” Billy said. “Rich fucks trying to get more hype for the reveal.”

“Right so I believe this is the necklace we’re keeping?” He nods. “What about the other one. What else are we stealing?”

“Oh any piece of jewelry, really. But it needs to be a piece whose absence will be noticed when it goes missing.” You look at him questioningly, trying to get him to elaborate. He catches your look and sighs.

“Fine. You’ve ever watched Ocean’s 8?”

You tried to fight back a grin by fiddling with your cup. You weren’t looking at him but you were sure he was slightly red. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh don’t laugh. Helena Bonham Carter was brilliant in it.”

“Bloody brilliant.” You chuckled. “But I get understand the plan.”

“Recite it to me.”

“Get into the gala. Steal someone’s bling. There’s an evacuation. And when everyone’s out, you perform gymnastics and steal the Ruza.” You shrugged.

“Right. Let’s get to work.”

-

A/N: Okay so the next few scenes are like a montage. It is not taking place on the same day. It is taking place during the days leading up to the heist. So basically it’s happening over a month long period. I hope you understand what I just said lol. I’m not really good at explaining things? Oops

-

“What about the funding.” You asked. “I haven’t got any money. I’m pretty sure banks won’t lend us any either.”

“I’ll use the money I got from the Pasteque.”

“You’d really do that? That’s your money.”

“I’ll just consider it an investment.” He thought out loud. “For an even better necklace. And for your sake too.”

You smiled to yourself.

-

“We’ll have to dress the part, won’t we?” Billy asked. “Snobby gala and all.”

“Does that mean I get to take you shopping?” You smirked. “Probably get you some fancy shoes and all.”

“Oh I think I can choose for myself, thanks.” He’d interrupted before you could get anymore ideas. “And don’t you forget about the earrings.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

“Coffee break?” You asked, offering him a cup.

“Thanks.” He graciously accepted, sitting down next to you. “Hey can I ask. Why are you in so much debt?”

You sipped from your cup. “Went to uni so, student loans.”

“Ah, understandable.” He put down his cup. “But why were you working in a bar? You could have been working in something in your field.”

“I majored in accounting and graduated with good enough grades.” You said nonchalantly. “Really thought I’d get hired immediately. How naïve of me.” You scoffed.

“Doesn’t explain why you ended up being a bartender.”

“I was broke. Didn’t have any family to ask for money too.” You swirled the coffee in your cup. “Tried stealing food at a store but the owner had me fucking arrested. Then no firm wanted to hire me at all because of that little record.”

“I’m sorry.” He gave your shoulder a friendly tap. “Well sucks on them right? Now you get to be a millionaire.”

You let out a light-hearted laugh. “I’m not sad about it. I don’t regret at all, really. I’m glad I’m plotting a heist, and not working 9 to 5 for the rest of my life.”

“I’m glad too.”

-

“Hey what’s wrong?” You nudged his knee with your heel.

The two of you were on his couch with you taking up most of the space. You were laying down and had your legs sat on Billy’s lap who was sitting at the other end. Billy was staring at phone, troubled. Seconds ago, he had been fine before receiving a text.

“Oh get your feet out of my face!” He playfully swatted at them, putting on a smile.

You put away the floor plan you were observing and sat up next to him. “Don’t try to change the subject. What’s wrong?” He opened his mouth to object it but you interrupted him before he could. “I can see it on your face. It’s quite obvious.”

“Right.” He sighed and threw his phone into the couch. “Remember my ‘trapeze friends’?” You nodded. “Well they just completed a heist that I helped plan a few months back. And they said that I’m not getting my share because I didn’t actually do anything.”

He threw his hands up in a rage, standing abruptly from the couch. “Didn’t do anything?! I was the one who got the blueprints and shit! I came up with the heist too!” He massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down.

“Why didn’t you go?” You asked. But you think you knew the answer.

“(Y/N), the two of us only had one month to plan this out. It demanded my full attention if we wanted it to succeed.”

“Oh, Billy.”

“But the other heist was done. The only thing left was the execution. They said they were fine without me. They said it’d be okay and I’d get a small share for helping out.” He crossed his arms, the veins in his head were prominent with anger. “Apparently not.”

“Billy I’m so sorry. If I had known about the other heist, I wouldn’t hav-”

“Hey it’s alright don’t apologize.” His face had softened up looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just didn’t think they’d cut my share. Alright, look.”

He grabbed his phone. “I’m gonna talk to them. Make sure there’s no bad blood.” He headed for the kitchen to talk in private. “Don’t worry, alright?” You heard him call out.

His words had put you at ease for a while, but you couldn’t help but feel worried for him. The fact that his so called ‘team’ would cut him off so willingly was unnerving.

You grabbed the floor plan you had put down earlier and continued your study. Billy had already suffered a loss helping you, might as well make sure it’s worth it.

-

“I need money.” You nudged his shoulder.

“Who am I? Your sugar daddy?” He didn’t bother to peel his eyes from his phone. “If food’s what you want, I already bought lunch. It’s on the table right there.” He vaguely waved in the direction of the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes. Oh well, if he’s gonna be like this.

You propped yourself in front of him, pouting and giving him the biggest puppy eyes. “Yes, daddy. I need money for a new dress and shoes.” Oh dear Lord this was killing you on the inside. “So you can show me off at the gala. Please, daddy?” That caught his attention.

“W-What?” He finally looked up from his phone to you with widened eyes. “Are… are you? Is this actually happening?” To your amusement, his voice was choked up and he had gone red.

Your face did a 180 and you scoffed. “I need money, you horny cunt!” You doubled back with laughter and slapped him on his shoulder. “God! How long haven’t you been shagged?!” You gripped your stomach in pain from the laughter, ignoring his mumbled protests. He curled into a fetal position with his hands over his face. If it was possible, he was even redder.

“Let’s never talk about this.” He sighed. You watched as he shifted awkwardly into the couch, desperately trying to hide his front from you. Why would he- oh. OH!

“Bloody hell!” You stood up, your fit of laughter returning immediately. “Did I give you a bo-”

“I SAID DON’T TALK ABOUT IT!”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing once more, dropping on the ground with hysterics. He pushed himself off the couch and marched himself to a room, coming back with a few wads of cash.

“Take it and go. I’ll even give you extra for your silence.” He shoved the money into your hands without looking at you. You giggled, despite your best efforts to hold it in. You settled for a cheeky grin when he shot you a dirty look. “Can you go already?”

“Right, fine.” You started to walk away. But, oh what the hell.

You couldn’t help but turn back with a smile, blowing a kiss in his direction.

“Thank you, da-.”

“OH, PISS OFF!”

-

Tomorrow would be the heist you had been preparing for. Everything was already prepared and gone over a billion times. You could recite every detail of the plan word-by-word without an error. And since everything was ready, Billy had given you the day off. A possible ‘last day’, he had said.

“The day before a heist, I’d do something I’ve always wanted to do but never did.” You remembered him saying. “I’d have that ‘last day’, you know, in case something goes wrong, or I get caught by the pigs the next day.”

It was your first day to yourself in weeks, you could do anything! You could have slept in. You could have gone out. You could have had that ‘last day’ Billy was talking about.

But instead you were where you’d been for the last month. You didn’t know what brought you here. You had no legitimate reason to be here. You stared at Billy’s front door, unsure whether you should knock or not.

“Christ.” You mumbled to yourself. “What am I doing?”

Just as you were about to turn and leave, the doorknob twisted open and out stepped Billy. The car keys in his hands jingled when he hastily put on his coat, still not noticing you standing there.

Oh well, too late now. You cleared your throat.

“Heading somewhere, then?”

Billy jumped and whipped his head to you. “(Y/N)!” He proceeded to stutter, the words coming out of his mouth barely intelligible. He looked like a deer in headlights, caught off guard. “What are you doing here? We uh… had the day off.”

I gave him a look that mirrored his own- deer in headlights. “Well I just … I um.” You adjusted the strip of your bag uncomfortably. You could feel his piercing green eyes on you.

“I had questions about the plan?” You looked up to see him confused. Yeah, you weren’t convinced yourself, either. “But I can see that you’re going out so I’ll just… go?”

“Wait no.” He gripped you by your wrist. “I was actually going to see…”

He trailed off when you looked at him. He put his hands back into his pockets awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I was going to see a movie. Do you want to come?”

“Oh I don’t really fancy a movie right now.” You mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Oh okay.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “How about coffee? You said you had questions about the plan?”

“Oh I um. I just thought of the answer, so.” You cringed inwardly, unable to bring yourself to look at him. You never really had questions in the first place. “I’ll just go. Wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘last day’, right?”

You had only made it to the sidewalk when he called out your name. You left out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How about a ride back to your place then?”

You spun around and were met with a small smile. Billy fiddled with his car keys, expecting your answer.

“Alright.” You smiled back.

—

HEIST DAY (yay!)

You stared at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down any wrinkle in your dress, or any stray strand of hair.          

The bright emerald dress was simple yet it had a dash of elegance to it. It had no lace or complicated designs. The silk dress hugged your torso and cascaded down smoothly. The plunging neckline and the slit along the dress brought a teasing element to it, leaving just a right amount to the imagination.

Your hair was tied up, showing off your neck and of course…

“How could I ever forget you?” You picked up the velvet box, admiring the emerald studs Billy gave you. To tell the truth, the only reason you chose this dress was because of the earrings. They matched perfectly.

You smirked as you put them on. It didn’t hurt that the dress matched Billy’s eyes too.

Just when you were finishing up on your makeup, there was a knock at your door. Right on time. As you made your way, you impulsively smoothed down your dress.

God, why were you such an anxious mess? This wasn’t senior year prom.

You shook off the oncoming jitters and opened the door.

“Hey.”

“HI!”

Your response came out a bit more enthusiastically than you had hope. But to good reason. You discreetly checked him out, head to toe. Impeccably dashing and smart, he pulled off that white tux effortlessly. His hair slightly slicked back and a lazy smile present on his face. You suppressed the butterflies that were fluttering about in your gut.

“You look g-”

“Ready to go, then?” He cut you off, pointing at his watch.

Your face fell. Why do you care what he thinks? You roll your eyes, grabbing your coat before stepping out and locking the door behind you. You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t ca-

“You look beautiful, (Y/N).”

There it was.

A grin involuntarily made its place on your lips. “Thank you.” You hid your face, saying it nonchalantly as if it wasn’t bothering you for the past minute.

You suddenly hear him laugh. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” Your grin dropped. “Is that why you’re all moody? That I didn’t compliment you?”

You shoved him back, the blush on your face now of embarrassment. “Dickhead.” You muttered, walking hurriedly towards the elevator before he could make another comment.

“No hey (Y/N)-”

“Shh!” You pressed on the down button of the elevator, impatient. You hear him make his way towards you.

“(Y/N), I’m-”

“SHH!” You hushed him louder. You frantically pushed the down button. Come on come on come on.

Ding!

Christ, finally. You step into the elevator, now repeatedly pushing on the ‘close’ button while maintaining direct eye contact with him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” You hear him mutter. He runs towards you, just barely making it in before the doors close. You lean against the banister and glared at him with crossed arms.

“Watch your mouth next time.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, scratching the back of his neck. He made his way beside you, leaning on the banister as well. You chose to stare at your shoes. The two of you stood in silence, only the occasional ding of the elevator cutting in.

It was times like this you wish you had rented a room on the lower levels.

“(Y/N).” You hesitantly turn your head to him, but he points at the elevator doors instead, a silent instruction to look at them.

You see both of your own reflections staring back. He had his head against the wall, but he was without a doubt, looking at your mirrored image.

“See all that?” He pointed at your reflection. “I’d be a fool to not notice how good those earrings look on you.”

You sputter out a laugh, finally filling out the awkward atmosphere. You manage to muster a grin and look into his eyes. “Thanks, my sugar daddy got them for me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “He has nice taste.” You reply with a hearty laugh. “Suppose he paid for those too.” He gestured at your dress and shoes.

“I’d say it’s money well spent.” You mockingly give him a twirl, showing off the dress. “So generous of him.”

“He’s a lucky man.” A playful smile poked at his lips.

And the two of you shared a laugh, glad to diffuse the tension, even if it was just for a while.

But it was short-lived.

The elevator doors finally opened with a final ding! And it rang like a bell to bring you back down to earth. To remind you there was a necklace made out of £5,000,000 waiting for you.

The two of you regained your composure, stepping out of the elevator. Your heads turn towards the sleek BMW that Billy rented just fort the occasion.

Beside you, Billy takes out the car keys. “Well let’s get to it then.”

A/N: I hope that didn’t suck, for any of ya’ll who made it to the end. Also would anyone read a Bucky Barnes fic if I wrote one.

[onestowatch]

Maggie Lindemann Releases Thrillingly Magnetic Debut EP ‘PARANOIA’ [Q&A]

Rock, alt-pop songstress Maggie Lindemann has finally dropped her debut EP, PARANOIA. The EP is comprised of eight dark and enigmatic tracks that show Maggie coming into her own as an artist with a thrilling alt-rock sound. Having accumulated over a billion streams since she began her career in 2015, the 22-year-old is finally ready to present her highly anticipated first official body of work to the world.

We had the chance to talk with Lindemann about the creative process behind PARANOIA and how she's finally making the music she's always wanted to make.

In an interview with TMRW mag, you mention that you were a different person growing up in Texas and that you developed into a new and more open-minded person in LA. It feels like since 2015 your music has also transitioned into a very experimental sonic space. Looking back, did you ever think you'd be making the music you're making now?

I've always wanted to make the music I'm making now. When I first started making music, I was making alternative pop, so I knew I always wanted to be in the alternative lane. I never really thought I was gonna be making mainstream pop. So yeah, I've always wanted to make the music I'm making now. At one point, I didn’t it was going to be possible because of how far into the alt world I was. I felt like it would look fake or just wouldn't look good if I randomly transitioned into rock music. But I listened to a lot of pop-punk growing up and this is something I've always really wanted to do.

Who did you listen to from the pop-punk world growing up?

My favorite band hands-down was Sleeping with Sirens. They're still my favorite now, honestly. I also listened to a lot of Black Veil Brides, Alesana, and Bring Me the Horizon. I would even wear this Bring Me the Horizon pendant all the time!

From the singles that have been released so far from the PARANOIA EP, you dove into many themes of loneliness, power, and paranoia. Can we expect similar themes throughout the rest of the EP?

Yeah, I would say so. All of it is pretty much following the theme of paranoia. Each song is a different form of it. "Gaslight" is obviously about that feeling of being gaslighted and wanting to hit them back harder. And with "Knife Under My Pillow," obviously it's about the paranoia I feel having to sleep with a knife under my pillow because I don’t feel comfortable in my own house. So, with the songs that'll come out when the EP drops, it follows that same theme but dives into other feelings you may feel in that headspace. “It's Not Your Fault" is about feeling like you're not enough in a relationship and how you end up self-sabotaging yourself.

So, it's safe to say this is a pretty dark record?

Yeah. I think there's only one kinda different song and that's "Love Songs."

The collaboration with Siiickbrain on "Gaslight" felt like such a great fit for the EP. What was it like working with her and can we expect any more collabs in the future?

She's literally my best friend in real life. I love her music and I think she's so sick. Just everything about her is so sick. I just said to her, "Dude, we should do something," and we immediately got into the studio with Cody [Tarpley] and made this track in literally a couple of hours. It was super quick. She's just so talented and I'm glad we were able to make that song. Hopefully, there will be more in the future. We've already made a couple of songs and she's helped write a couple of songs. We're definitely in the studio a lot together.

Which songs on the EP are you most excited for people to hear that haven't been released yet?

I'm probably most excited for people to hear "Crash and Burn" and "It's Not Your Fault." They're both such high-energy songs and I love when I can belt really high in songs. I put a lot of energy into those songs and I think that's why they're my favorites.

Your lyricism is not personal but extremely relatable. For me, the lyric "It's so loud inside my head," on "Knife Under My Pillow" really spoke to me and I'm sure many people with anxiety can relate. Are there lyrics that still stick with you from the EP?

On "It's Not Your Fault," there's a lot of strong lyrics that really hit me. I wrote that song when I was really struggling with my life. I was like, "Oh my god I'm sabotaging myself. I'm sabotaging my relationship." I felt like I was going crazy. A lot of the lyrics from that song have stuck with me. And I think on “Loner,” one of my favorite lines is, "I don't need permission to feel sad."

You had an amazing team help bring this record to life. You had John Cunningham (Halsey, XXXTENTACION), Josh Murty, and Cody Tarpley (Lauren Jauregui, SoMo) produce the record and you had Alex Lahey and of course Siiickbrain on as co-writers. What was it like to make this record with your team while dealing with COVID? Were some of these songs already recorded before lockdown?

Luckily, a lot of this was already recorded in 2019, which feels like so long ago at this point. I added "Crash and Burn" and "It's Not Your Fault" last year. To avoid multiple people at the studio, it would just be me and Josh or just me and Cody. And for the song I worked on with Caroline [Smith] (aka Siiickbrain), it was just me, Cody, and Caroline. We just worked in really small groups. It's crazy though, I was actually in the studio with Cody when we got the news that we were gonna go into a lockdown and that things would be closing. We freaked out because at the time we didn't know that it meant we could still go pick up food at restaurants, so we were just like, "We need to get home! We need to go to the nearest grocery store right now!" In hindsight, it was a little funny.

What has kept you grounded during lockdown?

I've still been doing sessions, but just over Zoom. I started them last year and I had never done Zoom session before so that's been a weird shift. I'm still just working on the album I want to have come out eventually and playing a lot of video games. Like A LOT of video games. I started streaming on Twitch so that's been fun! I also got a car over lockdown. I've never had my license and I had been saying "I'm gonna get my license" since I was sixteen and I'm twenty-two now so I'm happy I finally have it! It was a huge thing for me because that was my biggest procrastination ever.

When the world finally opens back up, whenever that may be, and live shows return, what would be your dream show or tour post-COVID?

I want to headline a tour so bad. I've done a few tours where I'm a guest or opening up, but I want to do a headlining tour. I want to bring Caroline with me. I feel like that would be amazing. That's what I was planning on doing last year after the EP's initial drop date, but obviously, stuff changed, and everything got pushed back. So yeah, I hope to do a headlining tour when things open back up.

Be sure to stream Maggie Lindemann's debut EP PARANOIA below!

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Beyond the Boys’ Club: Brittney Slayes of Unleash the Archers

"Don't be afraid to speak up -- if you're a member of a band, you're not a hired gun"

On the initial vision for Unleash the Archers’ new album, Abyss, and how it relates to 2017’s Apex

When we sat down to write both Apex and Abyss back in 2016, I said to the boys, let’s do two albums with a story arc, like a concept record. They were like, “Yeah, sure.” Originally, we were going to try and do a two-disc release. But, just with a time crunch and things like that, and we didn’t want to rush the songs just so that we could put out a two-disc record, we didn’t. So, I had written the story for both albums at the same time. At first, we just focused on Apex and wrote everything for that. We saved a couple of riffs for Abyss, and in 2019, we sat down and didn’t play any shows or do anything and just took a bunch of time off and then I’m really focused on this album. The story changed a little bit, but for the most part, it still remained the same. I wanted the first album to be very grounded, kind of like a fantasy-themed album, and the second to be more celestial and like a science fiction-sounding record. So, I think that it all kind of came together just like I had hoped.

On the genesis of the album’s title track, “Abyss”

That riff that starts that song off was one of the ones that [guitarist] Andrew [Kingsley] came up with when we were writing Apex. The second I heard it, I was like, this is definitely an Abyss track. I knew I wanted it to the be title track. So, when we finally sat down to write that record, we started with that riff and kind of the whole record was born from it. I wrote it in such a way that it’s like an introduction to the album. We brought it back to where our main character — it’s sort of his awakening. It’s a song that you could hear before hearing the rest of the album, and it’s not going to spoil the story for you. It gives you an idea of the sound that is going to be on the album but still hearkens back to Apex a little bit in that more traditional power metal style. We also tried new things and experimented a bit with different genres in that song.

On the experience of releasing a new album during the COVID-19 pandemic

It certainly was intense. There was a lot of expectation. A lot of people were really excited for it, without much else going on. People were step-by-step following us along the way. Every time we would release anything or talk about anything or post teasers, our fans were very much right there with it. It was a really immersive kind of process actually. I’m not saying that people didn’t have things going on, but as you know, people were in lockdown and there wasn’t too much happening in terms of nightlife, so people had a lot of time to hang out with us and follow along.

On whether Unleash the Archers plan to support Abyss with touring once it’s safe to do so

We are booking tours and have dates in the works in North America and Europe for next fall. But, even that is looking shaky already, so I’m not too sure. We’re hoping that we’ll be able to get on the road in support of the album in 2021. We’ve got a whole bunch of festivals that we’ve reconfirmed that we were supposed to play this last summer, confirmed for next summer. But, it’s still looking pretty shaky. So, honestly, I’m not too sure. We have ideas for an EP, and I think we are going to just kind of start casually working on those, depending on how things go.

On how she thinks concerts will be different when they return

I think it’s going to be different for a while. I’m pretty sure when concerts do come back, it’ll probably be mandatory masks and no moshing and all that kind of stuff. But, I think eventually it’ll be the same again. When shows are allowed to happen, I think everyone will be so relieved and so stoked to be there that it’s just going to be such a positive space regardless. It’s been so long. It’s going to be weird at first, but it’s still going to be awesome.

On seeing more women in metal today verses when she started out

When we first started the band back in 2007, there was only In This Moment, Within Temptation, Nightwish, Arch Enemy. The big ones were really the only ones that were kind of making waves. We definitely got a lot of side eyes because we were female-fronted and kind of power death metal. So, the fact that we weren’t symphonic metal was really weird to everybody, and we got grouped in with that a lot, just by people that didn’t even bother to listen or anything like that. So, it’s awesome seeing there’s a lot more women out there and not just singing, but also playing bass and guitar and drums.

On what changes she’s seen for women in metal music over the past several years

Just a little more acceptance and less judgment. They’re still being used as a novelty by a lot of people and mainstream media. Some magazines are still like, let’s get a hot chick on the cover, that kind of thing. So, that’s frustrating, and there’s still a lot of top 25 hottest women in metal polls and stuff like that. I can’t stand that, but there’s a lot less of that. It’s coming to the point where it’s not just about these chicks being hot. It’s also about the fact that they have talent, and that’s a really big step.

On if she feels there’s still pressure on women in music to look or dress a certain way

I think so. It’s not as prevalent as it was before. I do feel, though, that there’s kind of an unspoken thing with women that they feel like they need to look a certain way or be fit or be good looking to make people want to watch us. Like, you need to show a little skin or whatever. Even if it’s not said. But it seems like that’s becoming less important. And I think a lot of times now you look on YouTube videos, and people will say, “Oh, she’s hot,” and it’s like, who cares? You wouldn’t see that for a male friend in a band. Why not, she has a sweet voice? So, there’s that, but I do think that’s changing.

On being a role model for young girls looking to get into music

I guess, as the front-person in a band, I feel that people kind of look up to you a little bit. I’ll often get messages from parents that say, “My daughter loves you, and you’re such a great role model, and I just love that you’re someone that she can look up to and you’re not exactly sexualized or anything like that.” So, I really love that part of it, that I can be that for young girls. Also, whenever other vocalists message me about whatever they have questions about, whether it’s advice or just were we get our merch, I’m always happy to help and to kind of be that mentor person for people. That’s a really important side of it for me, as well.

On whether women still feel a bit intimidated going into metal music

Absolutely. It’s not always this way, but if you can start the band yourself, that definitely helps. If you have musician friends, ask if they want to start a project together. If you can put it together, then you have a lot more control. I’ve heard a lot of horror stories from women that have reached out to me and said, “Hey, I joined this band, and they’re writing my lyrics for me, and I want to write my own lyrics.” It’s harder sometimes to join an existing project and have any say or control.

On what advice she has for other women looking to get into metal music

One big thing is don’t be afraid to speak up. If you’re a member of a band, you’re not a hired gun or anything like that, unless that’s what you want. So, you just have to figure out what’s right for yo, because there are a lot of opportunities out there, and there are a lot of options, and don’t think that this is the only chance that you have. Also, work hard. Work your butt off. Get out there, do interviews and be active on social media. Interact with your fans. Be available.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 2.7k

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i made an unintentional dragon ball z reference at the end of the previous chapter, and now this chapter is loaded with anime references LMAO dont worry if you arent familiar with dbz or sailor moon though!💖

As you approach the entrance to the mall, you have but one wish: Taehyung better show up before Jungkook. Not because you prefer Taehyung, but because you’re terrible at handling small talk and conversation—especially with a timid introvert like Jungkook. You’d rather leave it up to talkative Taehyung to prevent any awkward silences.

Unfortunately for you, however, your wish is not granted. Instead, you spot a bespectacled boy in a bucket hat and white shirt (not a hoodie for once!) sitting on a bench and taking pictures on his phone right outside of the mall. He doesn’t seem to notice you until he looks up from his phone and you’re standing right there with a tiny wave hello. Flustered, he adjusts his glasses and waves back, but that’s the extent of your greetings to one another.

So for the longest thirteen minutes of your life, a huge gap of nothingness sits between you and Jungkook on a wooden bench outside of the mall, waiting for Taehyung to show up. The boy resumes taking photos of the blue sky and the mall itself. You don’t get what’s so photo-worthy about an ordinary sky and the generic architecture of the mall. But then again, this is a boy who also probably has 256GB of storage space dedicated to pictures of his favorite idol (one of which is his lockscreen)—and you certainly don’t understand the appeal of Snow. Therefore, you do not bother asking the boy about his reasons for wasting storage space on certain photos. You wouldn’t understand anyway.

And since Jungkook is too busy using his phone for photos at one end of the bench, you decide to use your phone to text the missing boy from the opposite end of the bench.

10:13AM Y/N “Taehyung, it’s past 10. Where are you??”

10:14AM Taehyung “On my way baby. And don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it worth the wait 😉”

As both a desired and disliked idol, you’ve been called a lot of things: beauty, bitch, babe, ice queen, slut, witch. And you’ve put up with it because you feel like, to some degree, you brought it upon yourself. But you’re wondering what you did to deserve a “baby” from Taehyung. Because the last thing you want is for someone who’s kind-of-not-really your friend to make any sort of romantic advances on you when they know nothing about you.  

10:15AM Y/N “Who are you calling baby.”

10:16AM Taehyung “?”

10:17AM Taehyung “But you were fine with it the other night 🍆💦”

10:18AM Jungkook “monkaS”

10:19AM Taehyung “Wait”

10:19AM Y/N “What’s a monkas”

10:20AM Taehyung “Oops wrong chat LOL”

10:21AM Taehyung “Anyway I already told you guys yesterday that I wasn’t coming to the group project thing. I’m busy.”

He sends a screenshot of the group chat where he very clearly had said he wasn’t free. You must’ve missed that text somehow—a fatal mistake on your end because now you’re alone at the mall with Jungkook and it’s damn near impossible to talk to that kid when you can’t even relate to him. At least Taehyung could’ve broken the ice, but of course he’s too busy getting laid.

10:22AM Y/N “Can’t you fuck around later?”

10:23AM Jungkook “poggers”

10:24AM Y/N “What’s a poggers”

10:24AM Taehyung “Sorry I need at least 2 business days to cancel or change an appointment. I’m a man of my word, not a monster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”

10:25AM Taehyung “But have fun on your date without me~”

10:26AM Jungkook “it’s not a date”

10:26AM Y/N “It’s not a date.”

At least you and Jungkook can both agree that it isn’t a date. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck hanging out with him for a few hours to “get to know each other” for your stupid art project. How are you even supposed to get to know the boy when there’s nothing to talk about?

“What’s a monkas and poggers?” you ask, because your antisocial mind can’t think of anything else to say once the spam of text messages ends.

“Oh that…” Jungkook looks back down at his phone, scrolling through the text conversation to track down his cryptic messages. “It just means like oh my god and stuff.”

“In what language?” you attempt to keep the small talk going. But from the look of Jungkook’s shifty eyes, it seems you’ve probed too far.

“Gaming... language…”

“Oh.” As far as you can tell by his brief responses, the boy would rather not elaborate further. So you let the conversation die.

Instead, the two of you begin wandering around the mall, hoping it’ll spark any sort of conversation. Of course it doesn’t.

At least not initially.

For exactly 16 minutes (you would know because you’d been checking your phone every other minute as if time would pass any faster that way), you and Jungkook aimlessly walk around the mall without saying a word. And it isn’t until a new shop fills Jungkook’s eyes with sparkles that you spot an opportunity to make something happen.

The shop window is decorated with the cutest recognizable characters: Pikachu, Totoro, Naruto, Sailor Moon, and all their friends. The boy appears to have his eye on the green dragon summoned from seven Dragon Balls. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he’s interested.

Knowing him, he’d say no if you asked him if he wanted to go inside, in fear of being a burden and wasting your time. So you find a loop hole.

“Let’s go in here,” you say. He nods, obediently following you in but keeping a safe distance. While he’d say no to his own desires, he has a hard time saying no to what everyone else wants. Sounds familiar.

The first thing you see when you walk in is the magic girl section. As someone who grew up admiring Sailor Moon, you would’ve liked to have scouted out that section for nostalgic purposes. The only thing stopping you is the hoard of weebs in that corner. Jungkook, on the other hand, goes right in.

As he joins the frenzy over waifus and body pillows, you shake your head and make a U-turn towards the section with ninjas, pirates, dragon slayers, and Saiyans. The seven plastic Dragon Balls call out to you, just as they had to Jungkook before he got distracted by pink-haired heroines. If you could have one wish granted with the magic of the Dragon Balls, what would you even wish for? There’s not much that you want, except for maybe a life you don’t feel ashamed of. But not even magic would be able to help you with that.

Sighing, you pick up a display model of one of the Dragon Ball fighters and replace his natural black hair with spiky blonde hair to transform him into a Super Saiyan, an almighty hero to protect the world.

“What exactly is the science behind turning blonde when they unleash their Super Saiyan strength?” you mumble to yourself… and the quiet boy next to you. He has a tiny shopping bag with him, so at least you know he didn’t splurge on a body pillow.

“From an artist’s perspective, it makes it easier for people to distinguish between different power levels. Especially in the comics where it’s black and white, so…” Jungkook’s rambling fades out when he realizes you might not be interested in his weeby-artist mind.

“That makes sense,” you say, still fumbling around with the Super Saiyan’s spiky blonde hair. You’d thought maybe it meant something more significant. As if changing one’s appearance could make them stronger by hiding who they really are. “But I suppose not all plot details need to be that deep.”

He nods and picks up another Dragon Ball character, the bald kid with six dots on his head, and wiggles it in your direction. “Is this the kind of anime you’re into?”

You can’t help but sneer at the random but mysterious six dots on the bald head. “This and Sailor Moon.”

Jungkook’s magic girl radar goes off when you mention Sailor Moon. “Oh, so like heroes and stuff?”

“I guess,” you answer, though you’ve never really thought about it that way. It’s not like you intentionally sought out for anything involving superheroes, but it’s something you’d always been naturally drawn to. “Though it seems a bit childish to say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure everyone has wished to be a hero at some point in their life,” the boy says, glancing back at the seven Dragon Balls. “After all, heroes give us something to admire and believe in.”

“Exactly.” You set the Super Saiyan back down on the shelf and stare at the glammed-up Sailor Moon beauties from afar. For just a split second, you’re reminded of your fateful decision to become Snow. “Kind of like idols, right?”

Jungkook flinches, clutching onto his shopping bag as if you’re lowkey judging him for being obsessed with not only pretty idols, but also pretty magic girls. You weren’t planning on bringing up the topic of idols because it can be quite toxic for yourself, but it somehow slipped out of your mouth in the presence of the biggest Snow fanboy. Oops.

“Yeah, kinda…” He lets out a half-laugh, but it sounds forced, only to fill another round of awkward silence as you both exit the anime shop. Great, you’ve brought up another touchy subject and now the boy’s back on lockdown. And just when the two of you were starting to get on the same page.

“I mean… I used to look up to the Sailor Moon characters… because they were my idols… my heroes…” you stumble over your words in an attempt to salvage any momentum you had built up with Jungkook. Surely this is something the weeb can relate to and not feel bad about now that you’ve exposed a bit of your dark past.

“Really?” He tilts his head and eases his grip on the shopping bag. “Who’s your bias—I mean favorite—of the Sailor Scouts?”

You assume he’s asking because your favorite can say a lot about you. Do you prefer crybabies like Sailor Moon, smarties like Mercury, hotheads like Mars, muscles like Jupiter, or perhaps the one who fantasizes over becoming an idol? “Sailor Venus.”

Before responding, Jungkook shuffles through his shopping bag and pulls out a tiny keychain of Sailor Venus with her pretty long hair and orange sailor suit. “Me too.”

You wonder what that says about Jeon Jungkook.

-

By the time lunch comes around, long silences still follow into the food court but somehow you feel less pressure to fill in the gaps. You’re simply okay with being in the boy’s company. Something about it is almost as refreshing as the iced tea you’re sipping on.

As you down your drink, you stare intently at the tall stack of pancakes across from you. The boy’s plate of fluffy delicacies has to be quadruple the size of your tiny salad bowl that you ordered out of habit.

“Um… do you want some?” Jungkook points to his pancakes, but his eyes are glued to your lips—probably because of the drool and not because you share the same pout as Snow.

“No thanks, I’m trying to eat healthier, and I already splurged on pancakes the other day,” you sigh. Even though you've taken a step back from idol life, you feel the need to maintain your image and health for the sake of fans who may worry about you. It’s in your blood, and sometimes you hate yourself for it. “But honestly, you’re really tempting me, you know.”

“Here.” Before you can refuse, Jungkook plops one of his pancakes onto the rim of your salad bowl. “It kinda defeats the purpose of dieting if it makes you unhappy, right? But that’s why cheat days exist~”

“That’s true.” You take a single bite of your pancake, savoring its subtle sweetness. You can’t remember the last time you found pure bliss in something as simple as pancakes without worry. “Thanks, Jung-”

You’re cut off by the fact that the boy’s stack of pancakes vanished, only leaving traces of syrup on the plate and a cute little crumb on the corner of his lips.

“Did you just inhale all your food while I took one (1) bite?”

He swallows the food in his mouth and takes a sip of his milk. “Maybe.”

You don’t know whether to be shocked or impressed, but it made you giggle either way. “You’re a funny guy, you know that?”

Flustered, the boy scurries off to dispose of his food tray. You rarely hand out compliments, and maybe this is why. It probably seems too out of character for someone like yourself, and Jungkook’s fragile little heart can’t handle it.

You punch yourself in the face until Jungkook walks back to the table. Seeing as you’ve only started making a dent in your lunch, he captures a few more photos on this phone, this time of the mall interior and food court. Then he pulls out his sketchbook.

He begins by mapping out a blank page with light lines and dots. Little by little, he adds in the tables, the people, the food. And before you know it, he has the whole food court sketched out and you haven’t even touched your salad yet.

“Are you into architecture? Or like exterior & interior design?” You don’t exactly know the proper art terms for whatever Jungkook’s drawing, but it would explain why he always seems to be taking photos of wherever he goes.

“Yeah, architecture and design are cool.” He shrugs and doesn’t sound all that convincing. So he diverts the spotlight back onto you. “By the way, I mean this in the least offensive way possible, but you’re not an art major, right?”

“Are you saying that because I’m shitty at art?” you pretend to be offended, but you know he’s not the malicious type. “Or because I’m always carrying a guitar to class?”

“The latter.” You see a tiny smirk on the boy’s face as he continues to add in details to his sketch. He’d never say it, but you can tell he’s also thinking your art is complete trash. “Is it music theory? Or just guitar? Or songwrit-”

Bing! Your phone notification saves you from a potentially loaded question about an uncertain future in music, and you couldn’t be more grateful. It’s a new Witch Hazel update from jk.seagull.

You glance over to Jungkook, expecting him to have the same notification on his phone. But he doesn’t. “I would’ve expected you of all people to have notifications turned on for Witch Hazel.”

“Really? Is it because you think I’m that in love with Snow?” It’s Jungkook’s turn to pretend to be offended. You’re glad to see him lightening up and not taking things to heart.

“Are you not in love with Snow?” you tease. Jungkook freezes and so do you. Why the fuck would you ever ask him if he’s in love with an extension of yourself? You don’t want to hear the answer because it’ll hurt you either way. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

You quickly skim jk.seagull’s beautiful comic-style artwork and stop at a panel of Snow and the new bunny boy character squaring up.

“But doesn’t this look like something right up your alley?” You flip your phone around to let the boy see the cute art.

“Does it?” Jungkook looks up from his sketchbook and puts down his pencil.

“Yeah, it feels like it would be more your style than realistic architecture would,” you say, although his sketch of the food court is somehow more gorgeous than the actual food court itself. “But I don’t know… You’d be fine with anything in the art field, to be honest.”

To your surprise, the boy shakes his head at your phone screen. “I’m not cut out for something like that.”

“Coming from the best artist in our class,” you say unconvinced. He has to be joking. Or maybe just overly modest. “Obviously I don’t know how you are with storytelling and stuff, but your art is undeniably incredible. And you have a lot of passion and knowledge for comics and anime…”

“Thanks, Y/N, but I don’t think that’s the problem.”