#originally this was gonna have two parts but just this page took me 7 hours so. ill do the next part later

[twistedchristianscience]

eclipse plumage

based on that one tweet about birds on hrt

[ya-pucking-nerd]

sabre and doodle - o. power

This fic is a part of @antoineroussel ’s winter 2k22 fic exchange.

Hello @bords !!! I am your mystery fic-writer ;) I am so excited to be your writer. I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time now, and I’m so excited that I was able to use it! I’ve decided to write this story from two different perspectives - Y/N’s and Owen’s. I think it gives the story more depth. Writing for Owen was never really an option for me before simply because I never payed him much attention, so thank you for inspiring me to broaden my horizons! Also, I have discovered that I am older than Owen Power by 12 days and I feel old :/

Disclaimer! I do not know anything about University of Michigan. I only googled the name of the library lol

One last thing, I decided to break this fic up into two parts. The deadline for the fic is creeping its way closer and I want to only give you my best. I have a whole plan for the rest of this fic, but I don’t want to give you a rushed ending - you don’t deserve that.

Word count: 4094 words

Warnings: I’m pretty sure it’s race-neutral (is that even a term? idk) so like I didn’t put any descriptive words about Y/N except that she uses she/her pronouns, some swear words but nothing hard core

Enjoy!

“Hey there! At long last, you’ve found the sticky note I placed here on 9/4/2021! Hopefully this book helps you out more than it did for me. This idea is sounding lamer and lamer, so I’m gonna leave it at that. If you want, you can leave your reply in this book :) ”

It was a folded little yellow sticky note sticking out of a book called Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman. You had to snicker a little. The note was recent – today was 9/7/2021. Apparently, you and the mystery sticky note person had awful time management skills in common. Truth be told, you weren’t looking specifically at time management books. You were just exploring Shapiro Library because you had never been inside of it. Well, there was that “mini-golf through Shapiro Library” thing during freshman orientation, but you didn’t exactly pay attention, opting instead to finish as quickly as possible to get to the pizza on the top floor.

You dug through your bag, searching for any stray piece of paper you had. You found a pink index card and a blue pen. That’ll have to do.

“Hello mystery sticky-note leaver. I’m Y/F/N. I’m sorry the time management book didn’t help you. So... what year are you? What’s your major? Put your reply in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith – it’s one of my favorites :)”

You smiled to yourself, satisfied with your note. You hoped the mystery note person would find it. Maybe it was just a little game to them. They put the note in as a joke, thinking it would stay there forever, or at the very least for more than three days. Regardless, you folded it up, tucked it safely between pages 1 and 2, took the original note with you, and walked away.

3 days prior...

“This is stupid,” Owen thought to himself. He was sitting in a study room on the third floor, math homework on his left side and an empty Google doc on his right for his economics class paper. He had hockey practice in an hour and a half and a night class after that. College was much more stressful than he thought it would be. He felt like he was never going to be able to get this all done. At this point, he was getting kind of desperate, so he decided to look for a time management book. Maybe they would give tips like a daily planner (which he already had) or perhaps something in the Reminders app on his phone.

Then, Owen realized he didn’t know anything about the library and where books were other than the author’s names were in alphabetical order. So, he went to the library aide. She directed him to the non-fiction floor and to look for books with the number 650.11 on the side. See, telling him to look for books with 650.11 on the side was easier said than done. He did eventually find it. Tucked in a corner with a window facing the stadium (ironic) were the books labeled 648-661. There were a few thick books that Owen didn’t really want to waste his time on. Then, he saw a small book by Oliver Burkeman that looked like it might be helpful.

The book proved not helpful. But by that point, Owen didn’t really feel like doing work. He had 13 minutes until he needed to leave the library, head back to his dorm room, grab his hockey gear, and head to practice. “Might as well use these,” he thought as he looked at the yellow sticky notes that he was going to use to write important notes down for his economics paper.

“Hey there! ...”

Back to the present...

You figured maybe the mystery sticky note person would never return your message. Or someone random who hadn’t written the first message would find your index card and throw it in the trash. What you didn’t expect was to see another yellow sticky note in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn the next time you went into the library.

The classes you were taking this semester hadn’t piled on the work yet, so you decided to browse through the library. You found yourself in the classics section a lot, finding comfort in the words of the greats like Mark Twain, Harper Lee, and John Steinbeck. This time, you came upon your favorite book from your high school English class and found a sticky note peeking out of the pages.

“Hey Y/N, you have really nice handwriting! My mom would be very impressed. You can call me Sabre. Kinda makes me feel like an international spy with a codename, which is the most fun I’ve had since getting here. And I’m a sophomore sports management major. What’s your major? Post your reply in one of my favorite books, The Giver by Lois Lowry. Signed, Sabre”

Sabre. Interesting. Why didn’t they want to give you their real name? You also wondered if a sabre could symbolize something in their life. Sabre like a saber-toothed tiger? Maybe they liked cats. Or it could be a saber, like a Star Wars lightsaber. They could be a Star Wars fan. But why spell it sabre instead of saber. There had to be a significance to that. You were a little confused at their choice of codename, but you played along. You dug out another index card and your blue pen, mind racing as you thought about what to write back. You weren’t sure what to expect with this... friendship? This guy... girl? was a sophomore. And a completely different major. You didn’t have anything in common with them – except poor time management skills. You would just have to wait and see. Upon finishing the note, you got up and strolled through the library, quickly finding the fiction section. As thankful as you were that Shapiro Library was this big and had this many resources, your feet were starting to hurt, and you hoped you found the book soon.

3 days later...

Owen was genuinely excited. His first year with the UMich hockey team went really well, to say the least. Despite it being the year of COVID, he managed to scrape together a damn nice resumé. He made the Big Ten All-Freshman Team, the second All-Big Ten Team, Rookie of the Year, Big Ten Freshman of the Year Finalist, and he led his team in blocked shots. But this time around, he had expectations to live up to. He was the “first draft of the 2021 NHL draft” guy. The very first one. Top selection. All of his achievements and the NHL draft meant that he was clearly a phenomenal hockey player. His coaches expected him to up his game. Umich hockey and Buffalo Sabres fans were expecting to see something spectacular out of him, and he was deathly afraid of disappointing them.

And, as guilty as he felt, it was nice to talk to someone who had no idea who he was. There were no expectations. Even if he would have told you just his first name, he could still be just Owen, but he didn’t want to live that dangerously. He didn’t bring up hockey with purpose, and he strongly doubted you would bring it up. His codename still kind of gave his identity away, but only to the extreme hockey fan. Maybe you would get confused with a Star Wars lightsaber or something like that (he was a Star Wars fan, anyway).

None of his teammates spent much time in the library. They all thought about playing Junior hockey, and some of the guys were drafted into the NHL, too. They partied hard, had their fun with girls, and did not put in a lot of work in terms of the academic side of college, but Owen knew that all it took was one bad hit on the ice, and his NHL career would be over before it even started. So, he took his studies pretty seriously.

Since leaving his last sticky note, Owen had been hanging around the library a little more than he’d like to admit. Meeting ... well, talking to you had been one of the few times that Owen felt he could ultimately be himself since entering college. Not the number one NHL draftee, not the Big Ten Rookie of the Year, not Big Dawg, just Owen. It was like a breath of fresh air, a glass of cold water, all the metaphors for feeling peaceful and relaxed.

Today, he genuinely had work to get done. Calculus was kicking his ass, and he absolutely could not afford to fail, especially with his hockey scholarship on the line. But first, he had to check the Lois Lowry book. At this point, he was getting a little scared that you had answered his sticky note out of pity and then completely forgotten about the whole thing. He wouldn’t be mad, exactly, but he’d be a little disappointed.

Strolling through the fiction section, he found the L’s. La. Le. Li. Lo. Loa. Lof. Lou. Low! The library had three copies of The Giver, and Owen was praying he found a pink index card inside one of them. In the first book, Owen didn’t find anything. He found an old bookmark in the second book, but nothing was written on it. The third book, he found it. He snatched it, returned the books to their proper place on the shelf, and rushed back to the study cubicle he reserved.

“Sabre? Well, in that case, call me Doodle. I’m a freshman business major. I’m taking the classes because I want to own a bakery one day. Why did you pick Sabre as a codename? Are you going to the football game next Saturday? Leave your reply in The Giver, too. I can’t think of another book. Signed, Doodle”

So, you decided to go along with the code names. Owen had never met someone so... God, what was the word. Open? Fun? All the girls who have ever approached Owen at a party or at the rink only wanted to talk to him because they heard he was slightly famous and a future NHLer. You still didn’t know about his future career, and he was certainly nervous if the day where you find out his identity would come, but for now, he liked just being Sabre and Doodle. The second thing Owen noticed was that you asked about the football game. So, his codename hadn’t given him away. Maybe you were an all-American girl who only cared about football and didn’t know the first thing about the NHL. Or maybe you only asked him because he told you he was a sports management major. Either way, it also showed an attempt to connect with him, meaning maybe you were enjoying this strange connection as much as he was. He dug out his pen, crafting his response to you.

6 days later...

The first person to find out about Sabre was your roommate, Carly. Unfortunately for you, the UMich rooms were set up so that your desks were next to each other, so Carly could easily see the sticky notes you collected. She confronted you as you got back from your art elective class.

“Sabre, huh? Who’s that?”

“Oh... Um... It’s a... It’s a friend, I guess,” you stammered back, caught off-guard. “How does one explain this one?” you thought.

“And have you ever met this ‘Sabre’?” she persisted.

“No, we’ve just been writing notes back and forth. Clearly, you read them; they’re harmless. Sabre is harmless.” you replied back, now getting upset that she read your notes. Yes, they may have been sitting out on your conjoined desks, but that didn’t give her any right to just read your stuff. You didn’t read through her bullet journal.

Carly crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. She brought her left hand to the bridge of her nose, sighing once again.

“Y/N, don’t you get it? What if it’s a creepy perv trying to lure you in and then kidnap you? Or what if....” At that point, you stopped listening. Carly could talk for hours if you let her. She was a journalism major and political science minor, so she absolutely loved to talk. You figured she would stop for air eventually. Besides, you didn’t really care about her opinion, especially considering you met her less than a month ago.

Finally, after being fed up with Carly’s nonsense about your “psychopath stalker library sticky note guy,” you picked up your bag, grabbed a textbook and your laptop, and walked out the door. And yes, maybe slammed the door to make a point.

At first, you thought about grabbing a slice of pizza from the North Quad and studying there. And, truth be told, it was nice, but no place was as beautiful as the library. So, you grabbed a slice of pizza to go and started walking towards the library, eating your pizza along the way.

It was probably a horrible idea to go to the library. If you found another sticky note, Carly would get super mad. But you trusted Sabre. They hadn’t given you a whole lot to go off, but it just seemed safe. You knew that if you ever found anything to be a little suspicious, you would snuff it out quickly. Carly’s doubts and warnings were starting to get into your head.

At first, you couldn’t remember the location of The Giver. Shapiro Library was so huge. Then, you remembered the staircase, so you thought upstairs might be your best bet. You hopelessly asked the library aide, who smiled sweetly and pointed to the next floor up and to the far right corner. You thanked her and rushed up. At this point, you weren’t sure if finding a note would make you feel better or worse, but you checked anyway.

You found the sticky note tucked between pages 34 and 35. Did the number 34 or 35 mean something to Sabre? Or, did they carelessly place it between the first two pages their fingers found? It was things like this that continued to intrigue you about Sabre. How much did they care? Were they leaving you subtle clues to their identity? Or were you just overthinking this like you tended to do?

You took the sticky note out and plopped yourself onto the ground right next to the shelf. 

“Dear Doodle, Sabre? Lightsaber? Star Wars? Come on... And yes, I went to the football game with some of the guys on my team. And also, if you want to own a bakery one day, I definitely want to stay friends with you. Chocolate chunk cookies are my weakness (and definitely not on my diet). And, since I am a sports management major, leave your reply in The Mamba Mentality by Kobe Bryant. Signed, Sabre”

And here he is, leaving you with more questions than answers.

So, Sabre was a guy. And, you were right about the Star Wars thing, but still confused about why he chose to spell it Sabre. And second, he had a team? What type of team? He could be fooling you and be on the football team. It technically wouldn’t be a lie because if he was on the team, he did technically go to the game with guys on his team.

You didn’t know him well, but he didn’t seem like the type of guy to fool you like that. He could be on the basketball team since he mentioned Kobe Bryant. But that would be too obvious – if he was trying to conceal his identity, he wasn’t doing a good job of it. Here you were overthinking again.

He even called you friends. And he wants you to bake him cookies. It’s a shame the communal kitchen in your dorm is disgusting, but you’d be more than willing to bake him chocolate chunk cookies once you get into a proper kitchen.

You were nervous to reply. What do you even say?

That very same day...

Owen was not having a great time. The hockey season was picking up, and midterms were about a week away. In the last game, Owen barely had ice time. And when he did, it just seemed like he couldn’t do anything right. He messed up easy passes, took way more hits than he was used to, and he broke a stick on a slapshot.

The only thing he was looking forward to at this point was going to the library and searching for a pink index card. He wasn’t even sure if the library had The Mamba Mentality. On the way in, he bumped into a girl, furiously texting on her phone.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry. I was texting my roommate and wasn’t looking!” She bent down to pick up her phone and the water bottle that miraculously hadn’t spilled. When she bent, Owen could have sworn he saw a yellow sticky note at the top of her bag, but he dismissed the idea, knowing that sticky notes were common among college kids.

“No problem, take it easy,” he replied.

The sports biographies and autobiographies were always Owen’s favorite part of the library. He knew where to look. The library didn’t have The Mamba Mentality, but a flash of pink caught his eyes in the place where it should’ve been.

“Sabre, Ok, so I was right about the Star Wars thing! I went to the football game with my roommate, but we got shitty seats because we were late. So, what sport do you play? I don’t play sports, really. I played volleyball for my high school, but I hated it. My parents made my play because my sister did. And I’ll totally get you those chocolate chunk cookies. Let me know where to leave them. Leave you answer in I am Malala by Malala. Doodle”

What if you were one of those crazy girls that look up the roster and then are investigative enough to figure him out. That’s a lot of ifs, but Owen wasn’t sure if he was prepared to take that risk. He liked the anonymity of the sticky notes in the safety of the library.

He thought carefully. He obviously didn’t want to dismiss the question entirely because you would probably just ask him again. He also didn’t want to answer. This was tricky.

Two of his teammates found him on his way from the library to practice. He would’ve preferred to be left alone, but he couldn’t tell his teammates without them asking him what was wrong. They would probably tell him he was being ridiculous. They didn’t really get it, and Owen wouldn’t have expected them to.

The boys walked to practice, fooling around and hitting each other with random leaves and twigs that littered the Quad on their way to the rink. Owen, however, had Airpods in both ears, with the volume turned to maximum. He knew he loved the sport of hockey and would never give it up, but at this moment, all he could think about was Y/N.

4 days later...

Carly was still giving you grief about the “situation” (as she called it). So, you did the most non- sensical thing possible and told your other friend, Gia. Gia was the type of friend who would do anything for you. Gia was the friend you would call if you found a dead body in a creepy alley and needed support as you called the police to report it.

“... So that’s basically everything. You don’t think I’m crazy, right?” you asked after explaining the whole thing to Gia. She just stared at you, mouth open like they do in cartoons.

“Y/N,” she said gently. “Have you considered that this guy may be acting so sweet just to, well, you know. Screw you over?”

Carly raised her arms above her head, shouting. “That’s what I said!”

You looked behind you at Carly and rolled your eyes. Why couldn’t your friends just be supportive of this friendship? Making real friends on a college campus with more than 44,000 students was so incredibly hard. Yes, finding that sticky note was a twist of fate, but continuing the conversation was intentional. You responded with enthusiasm, and it seemed that Sabre was, too.

Gia was looking at you as you were thinking things over.

“G,” you sighed. “It just doesn’t seem like that. I mean, you guys have both read those notes. It just seems so real. So natural. At this point, you hadn’t checked the library in a while. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. “Guys, come one! We’re going to the library.” Your two friends looked at each other with the “she’s crazy, but I guess we’re responsible for her” look.

The three of you made your way into the library. When you opened the door to Shapiro Library, you did a quick scan to see if there were any people in the library. It was the Saturday after midterms, so you didn’t expect too many people. You only spotted three guys studying in the back left corner. Well, one was studying. You could see the second one hiding his phone behind his laptop screen while on a Zoom call, and the other was playing 2048.

The book you told Sabre to leave his next note in was actually on the shelf right behind the guys. You tiptoed your way back, and with every careful step you took, the old hardwood floors creaked louder and louder. They say silence is loud, but you would argue that attempting to tiptoe on old creaky hardwood floors was louder.

You picked up the book, found the sticky note, then put the book back. You missed the smirk on boy #2’s face as he watched you take the sticky note and sit down with your friends in a study cubicle.

“Doodle,

Well, football isn’t really my thing. We got shitty seats, too, but I’m not a huge football guy. And I’m not gonna tell you my sport, how about you guess? Besides, me telling you my identity kind of ruins the point of me having a codename ;) And if you leave chocolate chunk cookies outside of the window with the TikTok lights on the west side of Weller Hall, I will literally love you forever. Leave your answer in I am Malala. 

Sabre”

It wasn’t much, but he did give you a little more. So, he didn’t play football. And he was smart. He knew you would try to figure it out on your own. Also, he lives on campus. And while that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, it means you had a slightly smaller pool of people to investigate. You let all your friends read the note after you. While they read it and analyzed it, you found your pen and notecard.

On the other side of the library...

Owen watched the group of girls enter the library, and a small part of him wondered if you were one of them. He was a little anxious, wondering who you were. He obviously knew your name because you gave it to him before deciding to use codenames. Owen also had to exercise extreme self-control to not look you up on all forms of social media.

Then, he watched you walk up to the shelf that he had just put his sticky note in about 5 minutes ago. At the time, his friends laughed at him. Now, they were staring at Owen in shock. 

“Bro, she’s real?”

“I thought you had like an imaginary friend, or some ass gave you a fake name.”

“Thanks for the support, guys.” Owen had grumbled.

But now, he watched you read the note, brows furrowed as you concentrated. Then, you passed it off to your friends, and they read it more intensely than you did if that was possible. Your friends giggled, pointed to a bit, and then whispered some more about it. You were busy writing furiously, barely listening to your friends, let alone looking to the corner of the library. 

It was incredible to Owen how close he was, yet how far away. He could practically smell your perfume, but he couldn’t go up and say “hello”. At least not without scaring you. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He just wanted to watch you leave the note and read it ASAP. And if you noticed him reading the index card, that was fine with him.

~

@bords I hope you enjoy it :)

[bitchesgetriches]

Noble citizens of the aspirationally decadent Conglomerated Nation of Bitches Get Riches: let’s have a lil’ chat, shall we? It’s been a while since we chatted about our favorite topic: ourselves!

We hope you’ve enjoyed season two of the Bitches Get Riches podcast. Recording it was a bright spot for us during this dumpster fire of a year, so thank you all for listening.

As we wrap up another season, we had a few notes to share with you. Including some more personal reflections about how we’re doing, where we’re at, and what the future holds.

Let’s get into it!

Merch is back online

If you visited our Etsy shop in the last few months, you might’ve noticed the physical merch—tee shirts and coffee mugs and tote bags and such—wasn’t listed anymore. Basically, when lockdowns started, it caused a lot of disruption and delays on orders. Not wanting people to be stuck waiting for stuff, we decided to take it all offline, and only offer digital merch.

As of today, we’ve reactivated everything! But please keep in mind that there may still be delays, depending on what’s happening in the world! We appreciate your patience, if patience is indeed called for.

Visit Our Etsy Shop

Season one transcripts

Next, we wanted to let you guys know that we now have transcripts available for season one of the Bitches Get Riches podcast!

We’re committed to making BGR as accessible as we possibly can. We know that some people can’t hear, or struggle to absorb information aurally, so transcripts were something we’ve always wanted to offer.

… But, you know, at the end of the day, we’re just two people! Transcribing and editing audio is time- and labor-intensive work, and there just aren’t enough hours in the day for us to do it along with the fifteen million other things we have to do.

We were able to offer season one transcripts thanks entirely to A Purple Life, a peerlessly talented and wonderful fellow blogger who selflessly made it happen. (If you don’t already read her stuff, you’ve already disobeyed us, as we commanded you to in 10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now. And for that, we’re strongly considering smiting you.)

We’re incredibly thankful to Purple for her hard work on this. But we also feel strongly that this DESERVES to be paid work! So the release of season two transcripts is dependent on getting more Patreon donors to offset funding it.

Season 1, Episode 1: “Should I Tell My Boss I’m Looking for Another Job?”

Season 1, Episode 2: “How Should I Behave on My First Day at Work?”

Season 1, Episode 3: “My Parents Have Bad Credit. Should I Help by Co-signing Their Mortgage?”

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Season 1, Episode 5: “I Don’t Love My Job, but It Pays Well. Should I Quit—or Tough It Out?”

Season 1, Episode 6: “I Lent My Boyfriend Money. He Took It to a Casino.”

Season 1, Episode 7: “I’m Terrible at Budgeting. Do I Suck It Up—Or Is There Another Way?”

Season 1, Episode 8: “My Mother Demands Information About My One-Night Stands.”

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

Season 1, Episode 10: “I Want a Pedigreed Dog. She Wants a Rescue Mutt. It Turned into a Fight… and the Fight Got Ugly.”

Season 1, Episode 11: “I Feel Cornered by a Friend Who Keeps Asking to Borrow Money.”

Season 1, Episode 12: “Should I Believe the Fear-Mongering about Another Recession?”

Bonus Episode: Merry Bitchmas! The 2019 Star-Studded Holiday Spectacular

For transcripts, scroll to the bottom of each episode and click “episode transcript.” Or read them directly in the podcast player of your choice!

Podcast reviews

We also super wanted to thank all the people who’ve etched their names in blood upon the dusty pages of our dark grimoire written reviews for the show on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, and other places!

We are beyond flattered by the kind things you guys have said about us. Like MoonPetalLily, who described us as “the snarky older sisters [they] wish [they] had.”

FunshineKelly said our “advice helped [them] land a $20k raise and a signing bonus without crying even a little bit.” GOOD! We don’t support tears in the workplace! Not even in the sanctity of your car parked way in the corner of the parking lot. Keep it together!

And God bless MelHubbs, who said, and I quote:

They’re prepared, and still relaxed; informative, and still light-hearted; comforting, and still sexual. It’s everything you could ever want in a podcast, in an internet personality, in your sisters-in-arms against the terrible war between capitalism and what humans actually need to survive & thrive. One of my favorite things about them is that they don’t have any corporate sponsors or ads, so you know what they’re saying is what they mean, not what their advertisers want them to say. If you’re able, support them on Patreon! If you’re not, listen to their podcast, take their advice to heart, reflect on your options, make your moves, then, with your newfound financial independence, become a patreon!

MelHubbs, you joyful sonnet!

Your review is so good that it reads suspiciously like something we paid you to write! But we’re too cheap for that—IT REAL!

Bitches Get Riches at the crossroads

All right. Time to level with you guys.

In keeping with 2020’s overarching theme (“everything is pure shit”), this year has become a real “shit or get off the pot” moment for the two of us.

Although I’m comfortable and doing fine, Piggy is still unemployed. And last week she received the last unemployment check she’s entitled to. It sucks. And it’s scary.

Being a partnership is awesome in almost every way. But one way that it sucks is that we have to earn double the amount of money to be truly profitable! (And no, before you ask, it’s not possible for us to only pay Piggy. Believe me, that was our original plan—but it turns out that’s not allowed in a 50/50 legal partnership. We must pay ourselves equally, or Uncle Sam will spank us. And he doesn’t do it in the sexy way—only the traumatic way!)

Piggy is doing okay for now. She has freelancing work, and an intact emergency fund. But understandably, anxiety and worry take their toll. She’s pushing through it, but it’s hard. Creativity and passion can’t thrive for long without some measure of safety and stability.

During these scary times, our Patreon community has been a lifeline. As more and more of you have joined us, it’s slowly crept up from grocery money to grocery and utility bill money! So thank you, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts thank you to those who’ve stepped up and joined.

But we’re kind of at a crossroads. Because of Piggy’s situation, we really need it to become “paying the mortgage” money. And it’s gotta get there pretty fast. Otherwise, it’s just not fair to ask Piggy to invest so much of her time in Bitches Get Riches, when she could be taking on higher paying freelancing work to keep herself afloat.

And trust me, you do not want a BGR that’s too Kitty-heavy. I am longwinded af, slowly losing my abilities to think and spell, and take every possible detour to inject disgusting sexual comments wherever they are least germane (although idk maybe you’re here for that).

Our new goal for ourselves, and you

With all of that in mind, we have a new goal: to produce season three of our podcast, we need 500 total Patreon donors.

Today we have… 294. So that’s, uhhhhh… a really ambitious goal!

It’s probably too ambitious. We’re probably gonna fail. Who cares, it’s 2020! The planet is on fire and god is already dead, so we have no reason not to give it our all!

We are leaving this in your hands. We—Piggy and I—believe that the world would be a better place if people could hear reliable, relatable financial wisdom funded by regular people, untainted by corporate sponsors with deep pockets who want us to push their capitalist crap upon you. And 294 of you have already demonstrated that you believe that too. Thank you, thank you, infinity thank yous to all of you who are already a part of our Patreon community. You are shining stars that smell faintly of vanilla.

For the rest of you: if you like what we do and you want us to keep doing it, please show us that you believe in it too. You can do that by joining us at the Bitches Get Riches Patreon.

We hope to be back soon for a third season. Until then, stay safe, stay sane, wear your masks, triple-check that you’re registered to vote, and save room for dessert. (What’s for dessert? So glad you asked—it’s the rich!)

For now, Bitches OUUUTTTTT!

Join the Bitches on Patreon

Join the Bitches on Patreon

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Exhaustion

Word count: about 3300 words

Author’s Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me during the months this fic was on hiatus...but thankfully, the wait is over! I hope you all enjoy!

No warnings for this chapter, though it is pretty dark.

First | Previous | Next

...

The team had been working nonstop through the past several days, spending hours upon hours at different libraries throughout Westopolis and the surrounding areas. They never used the same one twice, so they couldn’t be traced. Hopefully.

Loading the full video and an explanation onto the three different USB drives they had bought took up most of that time, since it required a lot of formatting and download time and they couldn’t stay in any one place for too long. Rouge was the most talented with technology from her hacking experience, but slow Internet connections were something even she couldn’t work around.

Shadow really wanted to be a major part of the process, but his struggles with the video itself had posed serious issues for his involvement. While he had eventually been able to view the other part of the film, he’d still had a strong reaction and then needed an hour to decompress afterwards, all while feeling frustrated at (in his words) his “lack of self-control”.

Rouge and Omega were strongly opposed to that wording, since it suggested that his trauma- because it was trauma, despite his arguments- was something that he could control.

In the end, Shadow was often forced to take a backseat during much of the work, or else his mental state would be a mess throughout the rest of the day. He still helped out in any way possible, though, even if it was something as simple as going out to buy food to keep Rouge’s strength up.

Today was the final day. Team Dark was fully prepared to make a post on three of their main social media pages, and all three envelopes with the USB drives inside had been mailed out (under the false cover of being simple job application letters). They were headed to three different media organizations, which- while not necessarily mainstream- were at least somewhat reputable and sympathetic to their current cause.

While it was still unlikely that the general public opinion would change after this information release, there would hopefully be enough supporters for this to mean something.

At exactly 12:00 p.m. on Oceanic Standard Time, ten days after Team Dark had stolen their original files and fled capture by G.U.N., the videos were released out into the world for everyone to see.

At 12:01 p.m., OST, as the team watched from a public computer, the Internet basically exploded.

All three of the team’s accounts were flooded within seconds, ablaze with accusations, conspiracy theories, and more. The best were the expressions of sympathy and support, though. Those boosted the general mood in the room while providing the three with enough bravery to actually write back to a few people.

There were a few particularly vocal supporters who the team members recognized right away… it seemed that the members of Team Sonic had grown tired of sitting around while their friends put their lives on the line and were now channeling all of their frustration into their keyboards. The team’s morale only rose higher. (However, considering the depths they had been in before, this mainly meant that they seemed almost normal again.)

Through it all, G.U.N. remained silent.

The team decided not to stay at the computer for long- the organization was always watching and probably had some of their best hackers on the case already. Shadow grabbed a couple of books before they left, but none of them really even had the energy to read at this point. They’d spent so many late nights going over and over the wording of everything they would say and every move that they would make, and the replies they’d given just now were carefully considered by all three of them as well.

As soon as they made it back to the hotel, Omega whipped out his charging cord and shoved it into an outlet, and Shadow fell face-down onto the bed. “Oh chaos. Oh chaos we’re really in it now, aren’t we.”

Rouge sighed, sinking into a chair and massaging her brow. “Yes, we are. It's worth it, though.”

“I know.” Shadow muttered into the bedspread. “It’s just…” he trailed off, uncertain as to how to express his thoughts.

“...exhausting.” Rouge finished his sentence for him. “It’s tiring to work so hard on something, all the time.”

The hedgehog pointed a gloved finger at her briefly, before letting his hand fall back onto the mattress. “That sums it up perfectly.”

They lay there for awhile, just allowing themselves to rest after the frenzy of the past few days.

Eventually, though, Shadow forced himself to sit up. “So what are we doing next?” he asked, a frown set low over his eyes.

Rouge got to her feet, exhaustion weighing down her movements. “I think we should probably take a couple of days before we do anything else, hon. That was a lot of work.”

“I know,” Shadow said quickly, looking down at the mint-green sheets of the bed. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t working hard, I just-”

“I didn’t think you were.” she said gently. “I know you want to stop them as soon as possible, and so do I. But...we’re not in any shape to do much like this- being tired always makes people sloppy.”

Rouge smirked faintly. “I learned that one the hard way.” she mused, recalling a particular heist that she’d tried to pull off after going 48 hours without sleep. It had not ended well, to say the least. 

“I’m gonna head down to that restaurant we looked at earlier. I need food.” the bat muttered quietly. Omega gave her a thumbs-up as she walked out the door.

Rouge wandered through the town, looking around. She saw so many different people, all of them going about their ordinary lives, and reminded herself that soon enough, the world would be just a little bit safer for them to enjoy. This raised her spirits, if only slightly. Just enough that she felt like being a little more friendly to the (likely overworked and underpaid) workers in the restaurant than usual.

In fact, she suspected that recently when she had gone out to eat, she’d come off as almost as sulky as Shadow- constant work and paranoia really took it out of a person. Today, though, her work was temporarily finished, and she could take a deep breath with, if not relaxation, then at least a certain amount of freedom.

Rouge got her food quickly, but with a (perhaps a little too) bright smile and a cheerful wave. 

She left a sizable tip in the glass jar out front, all the while trying to ignore a little voice inside her head that whispered you should give that money to others, you won’t be needing it for much longer…

The bat hated trying to imagine just what G.U.N. was capable of, as well as the potential consequences of their actions. That was exactly why she spent the rest of the day relaxing in her room with Shadow and Omega, mostly reading or playing board games with them. As nice as it was to be able to relax and not obsess over sentences and file formats, they all missed being able to go about their ordinary lives, instead of having to control their every move in order to stay alive. She could feel it in the atmosphere of the room. 

Out of nowhere, Rouge felt the sudden fervent hope that Shadow’s motorbike and Omega’s weapons collection would be okay. She had seen the occasional picture of Club Rouge during her time spent working, and it was all cordoned off and dark and sad...she had made a lot of fond memories there. 

Whether or not some of those memories were of kicking particularly irritating patrons to the curb when their behavior went too far was entirely nobody else’s business.

Rouge hoped for another day or two like this before they had to do any more work- they needed it if they were going to succeed. Shadow had dark rings under his eyes and this was Omega’s first day in over a week where he hadn’t gotten a “power low” warning. If they tried to pull off the kind of heist she had in mind like this, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

The next morning, however, it became clear that Team Dark wouldn’t get that kind of luxury until their work was completely finished.

Allowing herself one quick yawn as she strolled downstairs (given that her fangs could appear quite menacing to those without them), Rouge traced a familiar path to the hotel’s breakfast buffet, planning to fill the gaping void that was currently her stomach.

Her shoes clicked across the tiled floor, irritating her tired ears, and the too-bright lights didn’t do anything to help her overworked senses. She seriously considered just going back upstairs and hiding under the covers for another hour or two, but the smell of pancakes and ripe fruit dragged her over to the long table that held the complementary food from the hotel. 

Filling her paper plate, Rouge began to think again about G.U.N. and the various...unsavory tactics she’d seen them use over the years. Often enough, the soldiers in particular were not above frightening or intimidating those groups of people they saw as ‘threats’ while simultaneously politely cooperating with those that didn’t. While she did her best to distance herself from those kinds of people, filing a complaint would only get you a reprimand or even a hint that you might be fired. No real action was ever taken against those who had joined the force to hurt instead of protect.

She had seen, though, that the commander was definitely trying to make the organization a better place- the raid on Space Colony ARK had clearly left an impression- but that didn’t mean he was succeeding. Over fifty years of brutality, violence, machismo and deceit were not so easily rooted out, not even if the person trying to create change was at the very top. The bat had seen a few too many people being beaten mercilessly by a soldier long after they’d shouted their surrender to think that G.U.N. was all good. Indeed, fighting first and asking questions later was ingrained in the very foundation of the organization.

But whenever Rouge’s mind went down these pathways, there was one thought that always rose above the rest…

While she may have seen what they did, Shadow had lived it.

Rouge sighed, trying to control her violent emotions that always appeared regarding that particular event, and took another pancake. The poor hedgehog had dealt with so much already, and now this...she truly felt for him. They were constantly on the run, always trying to stay ahead of the entire military organization, and despite his status as the ‘Ultimate Lifeform’, she knew that he was struggling. Shadow would insist otherwise, of course, trying to carry the world on his shoulders as he so often did.

She knew better, though.

Rouge glanced upwards to get another look out the window, the general paranoia that came with being a spy too deeply ingrained in her body to ever fade. There were plenty of times when it was just a nuisance, if not embarrassing, but right now those reflexes came in handy.

That was when she saw the five G.U.N. agents talking to the receptionist out front.

She took a deep breath, standing very still at the table. Panic would not help her now. Rouge took two very deliberate, very slow steps to the side, obscuring herself behind a helpfully placed tiered food display. 

The bat caught a snippet of conversation. One of the agents was talking to the man at the front desk, asking, “Have you seen someone matching any of these three descriptions?”

The receptionist frowned, leaning in closer to study the photos, and Rouge decided it was about time to get out of there.

She put her plate down slowly, and then walked purposefully but calmly back to the stairs. Once she was sure that they couldn’t see her any longer, she beat her wings and began to fly up the stairwell as quickly as possible.

Once she got into their room, she slammed the door shut, catching Omega’s attention from where he had been constructing a paper-clip chain. Rouge allowed herself two deep breaths before rushing over to the bed and shaking Shadow’s shoulder with surprising gentleness.

“What do you want?” he mumbled, his eyes only half open.

The bat beat down another wave of nostalgia for relaxing weekend mornings (focus, Rouge, your lives depend on it!) and instead gave him a sad smile.

“They’ve found us.” she said, shattering her teammates’ relative peace in an instant.

Shadow practically catapulted himself out of bed. “G.U.N.? What? When?”

“Yes, five agents, and just now.” Rouge said, beginning to pack up their few belongings.

“What shall we do?” Omega asked, an almost staticky tone creeping into his voice. It had the effect of making him sound rather more dangerous than usual, which was probably intentional. “I would be happy to burn this building to the ground. Just say the word,” he said, revving up his flamethrower.

“No burning.” Rouge said, and it was evident just how used to Omega’s antics she was that this statement was delivered in a completely calm tone of voice. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We split up- there’s only so many of them there. We’ll get out of here any way we know how. Meet up at 9:30 outside that waterskiing shop. Got it?”

“Yes.” Omega and Shadow said simultaneously.

“Alright, good. Omega, take the suitcases. Let’s go.”

She threw herself out the window as Shadow teleported the robot down into a nearby alleyway before vanishing again. Her wings folded tightly against her back as she shot down the side of the building, her fingers nearly skimming across the steel and glass. Rouge forced herself to trust in her wings, snapping them out at the absolute last moment before she could hit the ground and hoping that nobody in any of the rooms had seen much more than a red-and-black blur.

She almost laughed to herself- that used to be Shadow.

Laughing wasn’t something any of them did much anymore.

She stalked through a dark alleyway before rushing down a couple of blocks, trying to get as far away from the hotel as she could on foot without being too suspicious. By now, G.U.N. would have realized that the team did not look like they used to, which would make it a lot more difficult to escape their notice.

Rouge spotted Shadow moving quickly several blocks down, and made an immediate left to stay away from him. There was still over an hour until their rendezvous time, and until then it was best to stay away from one another. A hedgehog and a bat together would only draw the organization’s attention. 

Rouge forced her legs to take one step in front of the other- she had to stay moving. The bat was...a little too used to pushing through exhaustion when simple survival was her only goal. Memories of having to hide after heists, constantly walking to nowhere just to stay away from the police surfaced vaguely in the back of her mind. Rouge was still tired from nights of obsessing and writing and rewriting with Shadow and Omega, and this new stressor wasn’t helping at all, forcing her back into the same introspective cloud that always surrounded her whenever important things started happening.

Yet at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to feel afraid of what could happen should she get captured. It was almost as though she wasn’t truly awake. She was worried for the rest of the team, it was true, but they were all already in such deep trouble that it almost felt as though she’d maxed out on stress.

As she walked, Rouge wanted to feel something more, some sense of a higher purpose to keep her inspired…

...but when it got down to the basics, change wasn’t always glamorous court battles or powerful arguments delivered to roaring crowds. Sometimes you just had to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until finally someone took notice and listened to what you had to say. It was tiny steps, day by day, almost like trying to grind down a mountain with a single stone. Despite being part of the catalyst, she couldn’t see any of the effects from here.

Was anything even changing? Rouge didn’t know.

She shook her head, trying once again to bury these thoughts in the back of her mind. This was just like a mission. Do the task, then think about the bigger picture afterwards.

The bat briefly wondered if this mentality was why the organization had gone downhill before forcing herself to focus. Right now, she needed to use her instincts. That was all.

…

After an hour, during which she had to hide behind a dumpster (in other circumstances, she would have laughed and called it cliche) to evade G.U.N. pursuit, she met up with the other two at the waterskiing store. Thankfully, Omega had managed to acquire a new car- their old one would have to be left back at the hotel and become more collateral damage, as much as they all wished otherwise.

They’d really liked that car.

Rouge and Shadow piled in, and the bat could only feel relief that Omega didn’t really get tired like they did, so at least there was low danger of someone falling asleep at the wheel. 

“We’re in the final stages now,” Rouge said encouragingly, trying to keep up morale. “Just this last heist to get more dirt on G.U.N., and then we’re free to do as we please…”

Shadow sighed. “I hope.”

“Perhaps…” Omega said cautiously, “...G.U.N. will get so busy with lawsuits that they will cease pursuing us after that. Their public image is...somewhat important.”

He didn’t sound like he believed his own words, though.

Rouge, feeling tired, had to practically beat her nagging thoughts off with a stick by this point. What if they never stop, the voice whispered. What if they just keep coming and coming until you give up because you’re just so tired of running-

“Rouge.” Shadow said quietly. “Are you doing the overthinking thing again?”

“What, hon?” she asked, feeling underequipped to have any conversation, let alone one about herself.

“The thing.” Omega called from the front seat. “Where you insist upon shouldering all of the burden simply because you’re the self-appointed team leader. That is not allowed in this car. At all.”

The bat smiled faintly. Even after all this work and exhaustion, they were still worrying about her. That kind of thoughtfulness was enough to relax her a little, and she leaned on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Let’s talk about stupid stuff for a little while.” she said firmly. “We should talk about something like, like- when we went to that one restaurant and Shadow ate like three bowls of their five-alarm chili in twenty minutes and won that T-shirt.”

Shadow smirked briefly. “It didn’t hurt at all and Sonic and Knuckles yelled at me for being a cheater. Having specially bioengineered taste buds has its perks.”

They reminisced about the good times, all three trying to keep the mood light and not discuss the elephant in the room (or car, as it were)- which was of course when they might be able to do that sort of fun thing again.

And then they were on the highway, and headed to what was hopefully the last place G.U.N. would ever expect them to be.

Central City.

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

[millennial-ring]

Can we get more info on 5-7?

             5. Dear God

So this one is ANCIENT (2012!!!) and idk why it’s still in my WIPs folder because I do clean it out/reorganize it every few years or so (which is why that unfinished powershipping christmas fic wasn’t on the list, cause I moved it to a different folder). Sadly the title makes it seem more interesting than it actually is - it’s just a few paragraphs and nothing really happens at all. 

Russet eyes were glazed over as they watched the rain pelt the ground, each drop making tiny indents in the dirt, puffs of the still-dry earth floating up with each splash before settling down again, the process repeating over...and over... Rain drummed against the body of a beaten up jeep, the only prominent sound within miles, save to the sound of the rain falling in the grass, and the dirt, and the leather jacket Bakura wore. 

The man blinked as water ran down his face, following the curve of his brow and rolling over the crease of his eyelid, flowing into his eye. The water pooled between his lids, blurring his vision for a few moments until he blinked again, and the water was squeezed out to mingle with the rest on his face, like a single, solitary tear. He inhaled slowly, then let the breath out in a quick huff, turning away from the long stretch of dirt road in front of him. Behind him, another long chunk of drivable desert. He growled under his breath and began to pace, wet sand squishing under his boots, gravel shifting with each step. 

How could be trapped here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a flat fucking tire and no spare? 

It was inspired by this Avenged Sevenfold song and I vaguely remember that it was going to be thiefshipping, about the various trials Bakura goes through to get back to Malik after a fight or something but... 🤷

              6. Domestic Disturbance

This one is also super short, more fleshed out in my mind than on paper, and I started writing it after we had to call the cops on our neighbors because they were having a very loud and long argument (like, over an hour of yelling). Inspiration comes from the dumbest places with me, haha, but this is another one of those “why is this still in my wips” documents because I don’t have any intention of finishing it. After writing what I did I kinda had a “maybe these kinds of situations shouldn’t be your inspiration for fanfics, weirdo” moment and I scrapped it. But anyway! 

The story goes that Bakura was playing some Wii game, lost grip on the controller, and accidentally chucked it and broke a vase because he wasn’t wearing the wrist strap. Malik hears the crash and comes around the corner, lecturing him about “how many times have i told you i s2g bakura why are you like this” even as Bakura’s already beginning to clean up the mess. Bakura gruffly tells him to chill out because nothing important was broken anyway, just “that ugly ass vase” and he holds up a piece for Malik to see. The tension thickens immediately and Malik speaks with measured anger instead of the usual screaming, so Bakura knows He Fucked Up. “That was a gift from my sister.” Bakura panics a bit on the inside, but outside he scoffs and he’s all like “even better, tell her she has awful tastes” because ykno. He’s like that. Doesn’t wanna admit he fucked up, doesn’t wanna take responsibility or acknowledge he hurt Malik’s feelings. At this point I’d stopped writing it, but still have the basic outline. The regular bickering becomes a super intense all out screaming match about basically anything and everything, all the tiny little things they’d been burying for as long as they’d lived together finally coming out, start demanding why they ever thought this would work and they’re just about to get to that great crescendo where they're about to break up (”Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me back!” “At this point I’m inclined to agree!” Bakura’s shocked. “Well...then is this going where I think it’s going?” “I think it is.” “Then say it.” “...” “Say you want to break up!” “I...Bakura, I...” when someone knocks on the door. Heyo, it’s two cops, saying someone called in a domestic disturbance. Malik snaps that they’re fine, still pissed from the fight, but obviously like no Malik that’s not gonna help. So one officer brings Bakura out into the hall to question him and the other stays with Malik. Cop asks if they’re together, how long, what the fight was about, etc etc, and then if the fight had been physical at all. Bakura recoils in shock and practically screams “No!” “You never hit Malik?” “I would never!” “And Malik wouldn’t hit you?” There’s a few things there, bc I wasn’t sure how I wanted Bakura to respond; make an “only if he asked wink wonk” joke that the cop rolls his eyes at, or stammer that “i mean he’s smacked my head once or twice but it never hurt and i was being super annoying at the time and it was more like playful slapping” but either way the cop asks for a more direct answer or for Bakura to elaborate and Bakura gets pissed, says Malik would cut off his own hand before he hit Bakura because obviously. Cop seems taken aback but nods, and then lectures Bakura a bit about volume, tells him maybe one of them should pack a bag and stay with friends or family for a few days. Their partner comes out soon after and the two cops leave. Bakura goes back inside, where Malik is standing with his arms crossed, looking shaken with red rimmed eyes. They look at each other, feeling awkward, but then they make tea, sit down, and have a calmer “are we really like that?” conversation. they admit a lot of their fights are pointless and stupid and they’re just fighting to fight because it’s Their Thing and aha, aren’t we so cute and quirky, arguing is our foreplay - which it is, but they admit they’ve taken it too far, gotten too used to snapping at each other when something happens, and some of their issues (like Bakura disrespecting Malik’s siblings, and Malik’s control freak attitude) really need to be sat down and talked out, not screamed out. They apologize, foreheads pressed together, and Malik thumbs a tear from Bakura’s cheek. Bakura strokes his fingers through Malik’s hair. Malik makes a “well you know the best part about fighting, right?” and Bakura laughs, and then it ends.

               7. But he came back

So if y’all didn’t know I recently commissioned a(n amazing) fic from @/sitabethel (not properly tagging cause i don’t wanna bother them). In it, Bakura promises Malik he’ll come back after his final showdown with Atem, but ten years pass and Malik gets engaged to Seto. It’s corporate theifshipping and obviously I recommend reading it - but it’s based on an RP I did with a friend of mine years ago. In the RP, Bakura was pissed Malik hadn’t waited for him and does the whole “why did I even bother coming back I literally only came back to be with you?????” and Malik being like “Sorry? But you took a long fucking time and I had to do something to stop the loneliness.” We never finished it, but when we dropped it Bakura was starting to heal and move on and we had plans to end it powershipping and tendershipping - and Bakura catching the bouquet at the wedding and Ryou immediately being like >:) but anyway. The concept stuck with me and I really liked the idea of Bakura coming back to that situation and more so rolling with it - maybe a touch bitter at first, but hey, he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he absolutely invites himself into the relationship in the clunkiest way possible. 

“But he came back” was the start of my own attempt to write something with that kind of plot. When I write a fic, I start with a vague collection of ideas or scenes I want to write, and then when I have enough to work with, I begin organizing them into an outline. This doc is just a very small collection of ideas and dialogue, mixing some things taken from the RP and my own ideas. It’s mostly things like how Malik and Kaiba get to the marriage point, starting with an impromptu kinda tipsy make out session hidden away in the kitchen during a party Yugi’s throwing, and how they navigate each other’s trauma and fumble their way into a genuine romance despite everything. I’ve never managed to sit down and work it out into an outline of any kind, and the way I wanted to explore Malik and Bakura’s relationship before the show down, Malik and Kaiba’s relationship building afterwards, and then the relationship building with all three of them meant 30 chapters, at least (the original rp is over 2,500 pages and again, we had only just started with Bakura wanting to ask Ryou out and going to Malik for advice adjklj, when we dropped it) and well. yall know i’m bad at writing multi fic chapters 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Playing With Fire ~ Part 7

Pairings: Michael Shelby x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Very graphic violence, mentions of rape/pedophilia/molestation (y’know, all the disgusting Father Hughes BS), lots more cussing than usual

A/N: This really got away from me... it’s um... it’s really long. Like 10 pages on Google Docs long. Kinda thinking of ending it here on a cliff hanger but I’m not sure yet. Let me know if you want it to continue (It’ll be ending soon though)

Also, there are a few parts in this that are from the actual show. Again, I don’t own any of that. I even paraphrased stuff. All I own is the original stuff. 

___________________________________________

Michael looked over at your sleeping form, lying on your side. One hand was draped over your large stomach protectively while the other was propped under your pillow. Gosh, you were beautiful. Every piece of you. Even with your eyes closed, he loved the the sparkling colorful orbs behind your lids. And especially now, even though you occasionally complained of feeling uncomfortable or fat, you absolutely glowed. 

He wanted to stay and finish out the night with you, sleeping by your side, but he couldn’t. There was work to be done tonight. Tonight was the night he’d put a bullet in the priest’s head. 

He glanced at his pocket watch and noticed it was already 9:45. It really was quite early but you’d been exhausted, having had been exceptionally sore today with contractions. The second he’d heard your breath first hitch this morning at the first contraction, he’d immediately gone into internal panic mode. After it passed and you swore that it really wasn’t that bad (probably just the moving), he calmed slightly but had still been on edge. 

These contractions persisted throughout the day though, gradually getting more and more uncomfortable but still not overwhelmingly painful, nor were they close or consistent. You’d called Polly to ask about it and she told you that this was the beginning stages of labor but not to panic until the contractions were intense and five to seven minutes apart. All day, they’d been erratic, anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half apart. 

Michael hated himself for leaving you like this. He knew his obligation was to you and part of him wanted to tell Tommy to fuck off so he could be with you but he couldn’t. This was so much more complicated than just some blow-and-go mission. Tommy’s son was kidnapped and being held by the man who’d taken advantage of him so many times as a child. All Michael could imagine was his own child having to endure these same things and he snapped. He refused to bring his child into a world where this man was alive and he refused to allow Tommy’s son to stay in his grasp. 

Michael tucked the pocket watch away in his coat and leaned over to kiss your forehead softly before leaving out the front door. Two men, handpicked by Arthur and John, waited outside of your house for him and Michael ran to slide into the backseat. The drive was silent until they arrived outside of their destination. The weight of his gun sat heavy in his hand but there was no going back, “You two wait here. I’ll do the killing. That’s a fucking order.” Michael wasn’t asking. He didn’t care what John and Arthur said. This was his kill. 

***

This time, the contraction woke you up. What had been just uncomfortable and, quite frankly, moreso annoying than anything, had turned to actual pain that jolted you from your sleep. You sat up as quickly as you could, a silent whimper of pain shaking your lips. All you wanted to do was be in Michael’s arms right now with him telling you everything was going to be okay but he wasn’t here right now. Tommy had given him some job to do tonight. He swore up and down that it would be quick and that he’d be back by morning, and, since you hadn’t expected your labor to speed up this quickly considering how slowly it had been all day, you were okay with him coming back in the morning. 

But things just sped up and fast. Once the pain finally released you, you sat for a second, trying to think everything through. This was probably just the start of things speeding up, you told yourself. You still probably had plenty of time for Michael to get back in a few hours.

After a few minutes of recouping, you stood up from the bed, and waddled towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping that maybe it would help with something. You made it there well enough but the second you stretched up to grab the glass, another contraction hit you harder than the first. The glass slipped from your grasp and came crashing onto the ground around your feet. Barefoot, you just tried to stand as still as possible to avoid stepping on the shards as waves of vice-like pain ripped through your lower stomach. 

That had to have only been ten minutes since your last contraction, at most. How did this speed up so quickly. 

Michael. You needed Michael. He’d even told you that this was just some small quick job tonight so it shouldn’t be a big deal if he left early (not that you really cared if it was a “big deal” since you were literally about to push a human being out of you). 

Once the pain subsided enough for you to feel safe to move, you carefully tiptoed around the broken glass over to the telephone on the wall. Your fingers moved quickly as they dialed the betting shop, knowing that’s where he probably was. 

“Michael? Do you have Charles? Is he safe?” Finn’s voice sounded urgent but like he was trying to be tough. 

Excuse me?! You thought. You were well aware of the fact that Charles had been kidnapped but you had no idea that this was the “small job” that Michael had promised you. And wait, if he was going to save Charles, then that meant he was going to the orphanage where Father Hughes was… 

“Finn, this is Y/N. Where the fuck is my husband?” 

** 

Finn rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants, his leg shaking violently with anxiety. This was one of the first big tasks his brothers had given him and he couldn’t mess it up. Wait for the call from Michael, save his nephew. He was honestly glad he wasn’t apart of the whole mess of blowing up the train. He didn’t want any part of that, although he wouldn’t admit that to his older brothers. 

The loud shrill of the phone only had the opportunity to ring once before Finn jumped on it, “Michael? Do you have Charles? Is he safe?” He gripped the phone with both hands, trying to keep his voice straight despite the fact that he was shaking. 

“Finn, this is Y/N. Where the fuck is my husband?” Y/N’s voice stopped my heart. What was I supposed to say. Michael had made it very clear that you weren’t supposed to know that this was happening tonight. He was going to tell you but then the contractions had started and he didn’t want to worry you any more. 

How the hell was he supposed to get out of this? “I’m not sure where he is.” Lie. “Are you okay?” Finn could hear the fear in your voice and was scared that the worst was happening. 

“My contractions have spe- oh fuck.” You were silent for a moment. 

Finn leaned forward, “Y/N?” 

“My water just broke. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Finn couldn’t see you but he could hear you milling about your house and moving things, “Finn, I swear to God, you better tell me where my fucking husband is or I will reach through this phone and choke you.” 

The youngest Shelby couldn’t deny that he was taken off guard by your aggression. You’d never really been one to threaten anyone like that. “I-uh, call Pol and Ada. I’ll take care of Michael. Are you at home?” 

“Mhm.” You grunted out and Finn could tell you were trying to grit through a contraction. 

“Okay, stay there. It’s gonna be okay.” Finn hung up without another word. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t call Michael cause that would fuck up the whole operation but he couldn’t have you giving birth alone. 

He had to wait until Michael called him. He just hoped it would be soon. 

**

Michael crept along in the shadows down the halls of the church, gun raised and ready to fire. His heart was in his throat. His whole life had come to this moment right here and nothing could take it from him. 

A child’s noises down the hall alerted Michael as to where he needed to go. His breathing was hard to calm down, he felt like he was almost hyperventilating, but now wasn’t the time to fall into a panic. 

Trying with every fiber to breathe quietly, to step quietly, he made his way towards an open door with a light on, which appeared to be where the child’s voice came from. He entered a large room full of benches and tables to find none other than Father Hughes standing just outside the room with the child. 

Without hesitation, Michael raised his gun at the man, his hand shaking violently. 

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” His Irish accent spoke, all the memories from his past flooding his senses. All the pain and anger and confusion. 

Michael stepped closer to him, pressing the barrel of the gun hard into his face, just between the eyes. The priest stood there, his voice calm as he raised his hands, “Please don’t. Please don’t shoot.” 

This man disgusted Michael, thinking that he had any right for mercy now. He tried with all his might to pull the trigger but a sick sadistic side of him wanted to make this man suffer. A quick bullet to the head wasn’t enough for him but it would have to do. 

But then Michael heard Charles whimper from the back room and again, he was morally stuck. He was going to have to come home to you and your child knowing what he did tonight. These thoughts alone scared to him no end. The thoughts that this man needed to suffer and that he wanted to be the one to make him bleed. He was becoming Tommy. 

Quick and clean, Michael swore to himself. Just as he pulled the trigger, Father Hughes’ hand swept up quickly and knocked the gun sideways, the bullet flying into a wall. While taken off guard, Hughes took Michael all the way to the ground and kicked him harshly, “You fucking rat! What you think you’re doing?” He kicked him over and over, pulling him up when he fell and then stomping him back down again. 

Michael grunted as he was pulled up harshly and pinned to a table by the collar, blow after blow landing on his face. “Do you know who you’re fucking messing with?” Hughes’ yelled, bringing his hands around Michael’s throat and choking him out. 

Michael’s air was running low and he gripped his arms, trying to pull his grasp off his throat. 

“I’m gonna take your fucking life from you.” Hughes stared straight into Michael’s eyes as he threatened him, attempting to murder him. Michael was petrified, stuck in the man’s gaze. This was a gaze he’d seen before in situations that made him just as helpless as he did now. This was the look that reminded Michael of why he was here. “You gypsy bastard.”

All fear left Michael as he reached down for the blade that he hid in his pocket and slashed it upwards, cutting the right side of Hughes’ face. The older man screamed and fell back, his hands covering the bleeding cut across his face. While he was stunned, Michael slashed the knife up, making contact with his face yet again, and kicked him solidly in the chest and watched as his body hit the ground. 

Michael let out an animalistic yell at the man, holding the knife like he was ready to finish the job. “GET UP!” He yelled. 

Suddenly, the other two men that Tommy had hired to help came running in, “We’ll take ‘im!” They pointed their guns at Hughes but Michael put his hand up. 

“No! This bastard’s mine. Go call Finn!” Before either of the older men could object, Michael knelt down, putting his knees on the priest’s chest and drove the knife straight into his throat. 

Blood dripped all over Michael and the ground, the sound of flesh being torn and Hughes gagging resounding off the walls. Michael’s hand was finally still has he finished plunging the knife in and he watched the life drain from the monster’s eyes at last. 

**

“Y/N! We’re here! Where are you?” Ada called, having let herself into your house. 

“I’m in the bathroom!” You yelled, sitting on the floor. You’d tried to clean up the mess from your water breaking and figured that the bathroom would be easier to clean than anywhere else if there were to be any other messes. 

Polly and Ada came into the bathroom to find you sitting on the floor but leaning against the tub. Your nightgown was soaked from the waist down. Polly immediately sat on her knees in front of you, lifting the dress so she could check how far along you were. “How long between contractions?” She was calm but urgent in the way she spoke and moved. 

“About five minutes.” You guessed, “But it sped up really quickly. Ever since my water broke it’s progressed a lot.” 

Polly nodded, pulling your gown back down to cover you, “You’re almost ready to push. Just a little bit longer. Ada, go get a towel, a bowl of water, and a blanket for the baby.” Ada nodded and quickly left the room. 

“Where the hell is your husband?” Polly asked, clearly upset that her son wasn’t here for you. 

You fumed, “They didn’t tell you either?! Apparently, they’re getting Charles back tonight.” 

Polly’s eyes widened, “Fuck! I told Tommy that Michael wasn’t to be involved in their shit!” She ran her hands through her hair, not only worried about you but now her son as well. 

“Oh shit!” You winced, eyes tight shut as another contraction hit. You bit the back of your hand to keep from making noise but whimpers escaped anyways. “He better get back soon.” 

** 

Michael sat back against the wall, covered in blood. Everything was covered in blood. His hands, his face, his clothes, the floor. The body. He actually killed Father Hughes. He finally did it. So why did he still feel so shaken and so afraid? Why was he trembling and rubbing hands over his face despite the fact that he was just covering himself in blood? 

This was different than his first kill the other day. The first kill had been quick. He didn’t get too messy. Tommy was there with him and that was oddly comforting. But this time he was alone. He stared a man in the eyes as he plunged a blade into his throat and watched the life fade from him. Michael felt like a monster. 

Around the corner of the door, Charles played, blissfully unaware of what had unfolded just outside the room he was in. The young child scooted closer to where Michael was and threw a block towards him with a giggle. 

Michael peered around the corner nervously, seeing the young boy with a wide smile. “It’s all right now.” He promised, also trying to reassure himself that. 

He wiped as much blood as he could off his face with his sleeve and inched his way towards Charles to try and keep from scaring him. “Hey, Charlie.” Michael’s voice shook as he lifted the child and hugged him tight, glad that he was finally safe. 

Once he got to the car, the two men Tommy had hired quickly announced, “We called Finn. He said that Y/N called looking for you earlier. She said the baby is coming now.” 

Michael’s eyes widened as he felt himself fill with a different fear now, the painful numbness that had consumed him just moments ago dissipated. “Go! Back to my house! We’ll bring Charles!” Michael demanded, holding the infant in his lap as the car sped off. 

** 

“All right, push!” Polly directed you, holding your knees open while you beared down. You whined at the pain, feeling like your body was ripping. Tears began streaming down your face. “Almost there! C’mon, you can do this.” You pushed again, all of your muscles aching. 

You stopped for a moment, needing a break, “I need Michael.” You cried, trying to hold back your tears. 

“He’s going to be okay. He’ll be back soon.” Ada reassured as she stroked your hair back and held your hand. 

“AGH!” You yelled as you pushed again.

“I see the head!” Polly announced excitedly, her hands leaving your knees to reach towards the newborn’s head to catch him. “Just a few more pushes.” 

Outside the bathroom, you heard the front door fly open with great force, slamming into the wall, “Y/N!” Michael called out. He set Charles in the living room with his toy and ran towards you. 

You cried out as your muscles contracted involuntarily, forcing the baby out. Michael followed your cries, “Y/N!” His eyes went wide when he saw you, legs spread wide and leaning against the bathroom, his mother already holding the head of his son. 

“Michael! Where’s Charles?!” Ada asked, panicked. 

“Living room!” He told her, pointing out the door. Ada rushed out to inspect the child and never let him go, tears streaming down her face at the fact that he was safe and back home. 

“Michael!” You exclaimed, trying not to sob as he rushed up next to you, kneeling on the ground and trying to brush your sweat slicked hair off your forehead. As he reached over though, you saw streaks of red across his hands and on his fingernails. It was on his face as well, going down his neck. His coat and pants were soaked in darker spots. There was something in his eyes too. Something happened, “You lied.” You cried, your chest heaving in both pain and fear. 

Another pain hit and you gripped his bicep tightly, thankful it was a clean spot. Michael kissed your forehead, “I know, I’m so sorry.” He was almost crying too, the emotions of the day overflowing. 

“We’ll talk about it later but right now- fuck!” You whined, your body shaking as you pushed one last time. 

A tiny cry sounded and Polly’s eyes lit up, her arms dipping down with a new weight as she caught the baby. Reaching down, she grabbed the scissors Ada had brought her and cut the umbilical cord before wiping the baby down and wrapping him up. 

You finally sighed out, the pain subsiding. You watched tiredly as Polly finished swaddling your child and handed him to you, “I was right. I have a grandson.” She smiled proudly. 

You cradled the baby in your arms, his body so tiny against your chest. He had a small amount of dirty blonde hair on his head and his eyes were open wide, that greyish-blue that all babies first have. “He’s beautiful.” You breathed out, reaching a single finger out to gently stroke his cheek. 

“Oh my gosh. That’s my son.” Michael choked up a little. He shifted to ask to hold him or even touch him but he stopped himself, remembering that he was covered in blood and couldn’t touch his son like that. 

It was almost as if you could sense what he was thinking, even though you didn’t know exactly what happened that night with him. You leaned your head back against his shoulder and shifted your son up so Michael could have a better view, “You can hold him when you get cleaned up.” You told him, but still trying to make him feel apart of the moment. You couldn’t imagine what it was like for him. 

After about ten minutes of sitting like that, Polly and Michael helped you up, insisting that you get cleaned before going to your bedroom. Michael took a shower and changed his clothes. Ada took Charles back to Tommy’s home where she said she’d watch him for the night. Polly insisted that she go as well. 

Finally, it was just you, Michael, and your new son, all lying in your bed, propped up against pillows. Michael finally held his son for the first time and he couldn’t believe that he was finally here. He couldn’t wait to watch his son grow up.

But then all the images of tonight flooded his memory. Charles was kidnapped, Michael murdered a man, cold-hearted and bloody, six innocent men were blown up on a train by Arthur and John, and Tommy had almost died in the trenches. He couldn’t do this, not with his son. In order to watch his baby grow up, he needed to be alive. It was becoming all too apparent to him the extent to which these people in the business would go and if children weren’t off limits, he was damn sure neither were women. 

“Let’s move to America.” He didn’t look up at you, just kept staring in awe at the baby in his arms who was now sleeping. 

“What?” You asked, confused at his random comment. 

He shook his head, trying to conceal the shake of his body as tears welled in his eyes, “We need to move. You’re not safe here. Neither of you. I got involved in the side of things I swore I wouldn’t and I-I’ve done things,” His voice cracked and you sat up to put your hand on his face, guiding him to look at you. 

“I don’t know exactly what happened tonight but I do know that you are a good man. I know that you killed a man who hurt you and so many others. I know that you saved a child. I know that you came back here and let me curse at you while we had our baby. I know that you may have done some bad things but that does not make you a bad man.” Michael shook, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, which you wiped away gently with your thumb. 

“You didn’t see what I did.” He sniffled and just broke down in front of you. You reached forward and held him tightly, leaning over the sleeping baby. 

You reached down and gently grabbed his free hand and placed it on your chest, “You feel that?” He nodded. You moved his hand down to gently stroke the top of your son’s soft head, “You feel that?” Again, he nodded with a sniffle. “We’re both here still. This, us, is what matters. You can’t change the things you did but you can control the things you do. And then the fact that this is bothering you this much just shows that you are still a good man. If you think going to America is the safest decision for our family, then let’s go to America.” 

His eyes lit up, still crystalline, as he looked up at you, “Are you serious?” 

You nodded before kissing him gently, his lips salty from him tears, “Yes. Let’s start over in America. We can go wherever we want. Be whoever we want.” 

Michael smiled a little and nodded excitedly, “Yeah, let’s do it. I’ll collect the money Tommy owes me tomorrow. We’ll pack what’s important and get on the next ship out.” 

A few days later, you and Michael sat at a family meeting. The plan of get the money and go didn’t go quite to plan for your family. Tommy had called a family meeting of the utmost importance that you were required to attend and it was there that you all would be paid. 

The family gathered around, Tommy’s desk in his study. You sat, holding your child, behind Michael, beside Esme who held her baby as well. The air in the room was thick and heavy. 

Finally, Tommy stood, “I’d like to admit that I made a mistake. I never should have trusted the Russians. Arthur, I didn’t trust your wife and nor did I trust Esme. I’ve added 3,000 pounds to both of your payments in hopes that you’ll forgive me. Michael, here’s 10,000. Five for the stabbing and five for the shooting.” In front of you, you felt Michael shift uncomfortably and you knew that the images of what he’d done had returned. Your husband stood tall and took the money from the table. 

Even from behind them, you could see Polly’s disgraced look as her son took the cash from Tommy but she also knew of your plan to get away. It was the only reason that she wasn’t calling him out for taking the cash because he’d finally realized that this wasn’t a life to live, especially not with a wife and child. 

Tommy finished passing out the money and apologized profusely for this being all he could offer in exchange for the lives, souls, and consciences of everyone. You didn’t speak up much. You weren’t involved in the family business much, except for the occasional errand running or double checking the books. You’d always found it safer to stay on the sidelines and help your family at the shop. 

After a long silence, Linda stood, “C’mon Arthur. The train to the dock leaves in an hour. Then we’re off to New York.” You hadn’t realized that the time had passed that quickly but glancing at the clock, you realized she was right. You too, stood up, readjusting your sleeping son in your arms. You and Michael were out on that same ship today. 

Michael looked back at you before looking over to his mom. Both had misty eyes as they stood and hugged tightly. You awkwardly side hugged Esme, trying to embrace without crushing your babies between you, “Thank you for all the baby advice.” You smiled before moving on, making your way around the family just as Michael, Linda, and Arthur did. 

Once you made it to Polly, she hugged you tightly, “Thank you.” She whispered, tears in her eyes as she leaned down and kissed her grandson on the forehead. 

“Thank you for finally making him realize that he should get out while he can.” She wiped away her tears, recomposing herself. 

You leaned forward, “You can come with us.” You offered, knowing that she was unhappy here. 

Pol shook her head, “No, no. These boys will get themselves killed here if I leave them.” 

Bittersweet goodbyes continued until you all reached Tommy. Linda had avoided him entirely but you at least came by with a small smile, “I’ll see you soon.” You laughed a small, sad laugh, seeing that he clearly was in no mood. 

Michael and Arthur both stood before him but he didn’t even look up, “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Arthur announced, hoping his brother would stand. 

“Thank you for everything, Tommy.” Michael really was appreciative of everything Tommy did for him. Hell, he owed his whole family to the man. But when Tommy said nothing in return, Michael turned and put his arm you, going to leave. 

Finally, Tommy spoke, “You guys can leave but you won’t get far. I spoke to Moss last night. He told me the Chief Constable of Birmingham has issued a warrant for your arrest. Arthur, they want you for murder, sedition, conspiracy to cause explosion. John, they’re coming for you as well. Michael, the murder of Hughes. Polly, the murder of Chief Inspector Campbell.” 

Everything stopped. Michael’s grip on you dropped as he stared slack at the ground. You felt like you were to be sick.

“What the fuck?!” Arthur yelled angrily. 

John and Polly both had similar reactions to Michael, all of them feeling their worlds crashing around them. 

“The people that we betrayed last night, they want to bring us down. They control the police, they  control the judges, they control the juries, they control the jails. But they do not control the elected government. 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US BEFORE?!” John was full on screaming at his brother. 

“Oh my God. They’re gonna hang us.” Michael’s voice was barely audible but you heard it. You heard it and your heart stopped. Everything felt surreal and you felt dizzy and all you could do was hold onto Michael and hold onto your son. 

“They’ve offered us a deal in return for giving evidence,” Tommy continued over the growing noise. It’s all taken care of. You’ll all get your money in due course.” 

Somebody walked up to you and Michael and took the money from his hands, the money that you were going to use to start a new life together, and walked away with it. 

“They’re gonna fucking hang us.” Michael was pale, almost as pale as when you’d seen him come home the other night. 

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face, “We can still go. We don’t need his money. We’ll run. It doesn’t even have to be to America. We can just get in the car and drive to Ireland until we can save up enough to take a boat somewhere else.” 

Michael looked at the ground for a second, contemplating everything, before nodding. He gently scooped your son from your arms and grabbed your hand with the other, “Yeah, good plan. Let’s go. We gotta run.” 

He pulled you as you ran out of the room and down the hall as fast as you could, the whole group trying to escape the house before the police showed up but just as you made it out the door, your heart dropped. 

At least ten officers stood there, ready to get you all. John was at the head of the pack, trying to shove his way through when a cop grabbed him and slammed him face first into the wall. Everywhere around you, family members were being arrested. The door was right there, it was so close. A tall cop stood in front of Michael and you saw him raise a baton but you ran up in front of him, kneeing the cop in the stomach, “He’s holding our fucking baby!” You screamed at the man for not noticing the bundle in your husband’s arms. 

Michael held the infant out to you, “Take the baby and run.” He nodded towards the door, eyes wide with fear. 

You shook your head, tears of anger spilling out, “No, I can’t leave you!” Another cop came up and pressed him face first against the wall as well, patting him down. He flipped your husband around and held him against the wall with his baton pressed against his throat. 

“Let his fucking go!” You yelled, pulling on the cop’s shoulder. Another man, much larger than you came up behind you and grabbed you by the bicep and roughly pulled you away from Michael, leading you away with Linda and Esme. “MICHAEL!” You yelled out him as he was cuffed and dragged away. 

All of you were loaded into the back of the police cars, all of those with warrants in one and all of the rest of you that were just connected in another. You sat between Esme and Curly, trying to calm your crying baby. You tried to calm him and hold it together yourself but how could you when everything was falling apart. 

Michael sat in the back of the other police car, hands cuffed behind his back. He leaned his head back against the wall of the moving car and sighed. How the fuck could Tommy let this happen? Michael had finally gotten everything together. He had a wife and a brand new son and you were all going to move to America with all the money Tommy had given you but now it was all just gone.

[ubernoxa]

The Dare: A Guns N’ Roses FanFiction

Chapter 33: Every Beauty

Masterlist

Story Summary: A stupid harmless dare, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be something they would do, and never revisit. For Delilah, little did she know that visiting the strip wasn’t going to be a one time thing when she made the choice to accept the dare. Life is full of choices. Some choices can mean absolutely nothing, while others can change your entire world. Delilah had heard many rumors about the Sunset Strip or Devil’s Strip. Teenagers would whisper stories about how the Devil walks the streets of the strips without a care in the world. It was known as a place untouched by God. After years of hearing rumors about the Devil’s Strip, Delilah wants to see it for herself. Thus a Dare was born.

Chapter Summary: Betsie and Delilah’s exfiance encounter the magazine article. Mags, Stef, and Del put on masks to pretend everything is okay. Not because they want it to be okay, but because it has to be okay.

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks @str4nge-haze @queen-crue

Beth leaned back on the sofa that was tucked away in a small room hidden in the church basement. This ‘hidden’ room was her solitude. At first she couldn’t step foot step foot in the room, too afraid of the memories of Delilah that would flood back. It felt like only yesterday that four friends hatched a dare in this very room. She shook her head trying to get the thought out.

It was such a stupid dare!

Why did she ever agree to it?

How could she had been so stupid?

Beth wondered how different things would have been if she told Delilah no. Would Delilah have even gone on the dare? Guilt flashed over Beth to the night she abandoned her former friend at the bar. Originally Beth though she was courageous for not going into the bar, but after weeks and weeks had flown by, she only saw herself as a wimp and horrible friend.

“Hey I though I would find you in here,” Mat’s words pulled her out of her deadly thoughts.

He felt his heart sink as he found Beth curled up in a ball alone in the haunted room. He had prayed day and night in search of a way to help fight the demons that lived inside of her head, but it was useless. It was clearly a battle she had to fight herself, but that wouldn’t stop him from sitting with her or cuddling her if needed. All he knew was that he needed to be there for her to clean the wreckage Delilah had left in her path.

“Hey,” her voice was week as he joined her on the couch. She was thinking about Delilah, no doubt about it. Part of him wondered how much Delilah had thought of Beth. Had she ever regretted leaving or thought of the chaos she had created?

Mat wrapped his arm around Beth and she quickly snuggled into him. He watched tears slowly form in her eyes and gently cascade down her face. Sadly this wasn’t new to him. This was almost a weekly occurrence, every Saturday like clock work. The tears would come and she would melt into him like wax over a hot flame.

“If I have to make another berry pie or hear another child scream about how they don’t want berry pie, I think I’m going to lose it. God won’t be able to save those little whiny brats from my wrath,” Mat pulled Beth in closer earning a laugh from her. A laugh he surely missed. The laugh that used to frequently fill the room.

“Your wrath? What are you going to do, read them the Bible?” Beth teased back causing their laughter to fill the right room again.

“Hey! My readings are great!”

“No! You couldn’t be more wrong! Have you ever heard of not reading in a lifeless monotone voice?” Beth pulled away pointing at him with her index finger.

“It’s not my fault I get stuck with all of the ‘boring’ Bible versus!” Mat quickly shot back regretting ever volunteering to read for the children.

“David versus Goliath is ONLY boring when you tell it,” Beth chuckled, finally gaining her composure and sitting up straight.

“What time is it?” Beth added, regretting the fact that she didn’t wear a watch.

“Almost 11...did you buy my a watch that way you didn’t have to wear one?”

“That’s a secret I’ll never tell!” Beth mocked before she left the room laughing.

Mat sat up and let out a deep sigh. It was good to see her laugh. Her laugh was more beautiful than any song he had ever listened to. He pulled out the small velvet box he had in his pocket. He sighed as he knew it wasn’t the right time. Maybe someday.

Beth began to collect plates from the picnic tables and place them in large tubs for cleaning.

“Ohh dear, you’ve been working all morning. Why don’t you enjoy a slice of pie,” Beth looked up to see Mat’s mother handing her a slice, not noticing the quick glance his mother made towards Beth’s own hand.

“I just had an hour break, I’m fine,” Beth sweetly replied continuing to wash dishes.

“Honey, relax. We have a couple children who need to serve detention, and will more than happy to chose the chore of washing dishes instead,” the woman replied.

“Thank you,” Beth smiled as she took the plate and headed in search of Mat to share the pie with. He had been cooking them all morning and she highly doubted that he was able to have a slice. Plus she owed him for cheering her up. She didn’t want to imagine where she would be if he wasn’t there for her the past couple months.

She twisted and turned through the church until she found him still in the basement. This time he was at one of the large tables entertaining the children. In a quick glance, Beth noticed he needed to be rescued.

“Hey, Mat! Want to share a piece of pie? I heard the guy who cooked it was mediocre, but it’s still food,” Mat smiles when he saw that Beth was still in a good mood. He quickly said goodbye to the children and one of the nuns took his spot.

“Sure, wanna join Mark?” Beth quickly asked earning a nod.

“No way that’s totally Delilah” the pair froze as they heard the familiar name. Beth sidestepped and headed for the table of girls that appeared to be holding a magazine. Mat chased after Beth hoping that this wouldn’t go to sour too quickly.

“Hey Beth,” one of the with eighth graders sent Beth a warm smile as she hid the contraband under the picnic table hoping Beth wouldn’t see it. Beth saw it, clear as day. Her and Delilah used to do the same thing when they were in middle school.

“Come on, hand it over and I won’t turn you in,” Beth flashed a sweet smile to the eight graders. After a couple of seconds one of them broke the silence, “Give it to her Mary, she would be the best to know if it’s Delilah anyway.”

Mary placed the magazine on the table and Beth’s eyes grew wide.

“Holy fucking shit,” were the only words that came out of Beth’s mouth as she stared at the article.

“Is that the Doof guy” Mat asked looking at the cover, Beth ignored his words too focused on her own thoughts as she quickly went to page 7 where the article was.

“Duff, it’s Duff,” Beth pointed at a picture of Delilah and Duff dancing captioned, ‘late night after a gig, Bassist Duff Mckagan shares a sweet moment of slow dancing with girlfriend Del to Aerosmith’s single, Home Tonight’.

“Duff is a stupid name,” Mat said under his breath earning a nod from Beth.

“So is Del,” Beth replied. Mat pulled the magazine away from Beth before she could continue reading, earning a quick protest.

“Mat give me the magazine”

“No Beth, we all know this magazine is filled with nothing more than gossip. It’s not true and we don’t need to read it,” Mat calmly replied.

“Fine, Fine. We will probably see her in another article in a month or two when she ends up pregnant like that Mags chick that was also mentioned in the article,” Beth shot back.

Before Mat could think the words, ‘how could this get any worse’. Mark grabbed the magazine from him and stared at his ex fiancé posing scandalously with Duff on the cover.

Today was defiantly not going to be the day he proposed to Beth.

Less than an hour south of the church, the article was causing a similar chaos.

“I’m not ready to have a child,” Mags said no louder than a whisper as Tonya, Stef, and Del sat with her in the locked bathroom.

“You’ll make a great mom,” Instead of three pairs of eyes, Del felt like there were thousands starring at her. Del quickly added that to the list of things not to say to a pregnant woman who clearly didn’t want to be pregnant.

“How much longer?”

“A minute, Mags,” Tonya checked the stopwatch she tightly held in her hands.

All four girls sat together in silence beyond cramped in the mold infested bathroom. The stop watch buzzed, and Mags dove for the prgnacy test that was sitting on the countertop, or what was left of the countertop.

Mags remained frozen as she looked at the plastic stick.

Positive.

She had already known that she was pregnant. This test was just for Steven, but it still struck her like a freight train.

“I’m gonna get you some honey tea for you Mags, would anyone else like anything,” Stef asked before standing up. She was quickly followed by Tonya who volunteered to help carry the tea for all four of them.

“Steven get out to the kitchen, if you ask me about the pregnancy I will pour this warm water in your face,” Tonya said before stepping over towards the cabinets trying to find some tea bags.

Stef stood across the kitchen as she watched Steven eyes the bedroom door. He looked like a banished puppy. A hopeless banished puppy.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” For the first time all day Stef talked to Steven, her hushed voice causing his heart to melt. She walked over towards him, and he immediately pulled her in for a hug.

“Yeah, I know Stef...but”

“Stevie, you are a good older brother to not only Mags but everyone in this entire apartment. You will be an amazing uncle,” Stef looked up to see absolute shock in Steven’s face. She hadn’t meant for the last bit to slip, but she couldn’t take the words back.

“She’s keeping it?” Stef shrugged as she went back to joining Tonya in the kitchen.

Back in the moldy bathroom, Del moved to sit next to Mags on the floor. Mags immediately melted in Del’s arms, and once the first tear fell, the rest cascaded like a waterfall.

“Please don’t look at me,” Mags mumbled as Delilah tucked Mags’ hair behind her ears.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to you to see me like this, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Just fuckin’ leave,” Mags spat as she pulled away.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Del shrugged. It was clear that Mags needed someone, and there was absolutely no way in hell she was leaving Mags alone in her current state.

“Ohh so you just want to watch a fucking train wreck?” Mags snapped back, careful not to yell in worry that more people would come into the small bathroom. She estimated she had a couple more minutes before Tonya and Stef came back with warm tea.

“If I wanted to look at a train wreck, all I have to do is look in a mirror,” Del’s monotone response caught Mags off guard resulting in silence slipping into the bathroom.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be judging me or some shit like that?” Mags spat. To her she was shocked that Delilah wasn’t lecturing her about her sins or condemning her or quoting bible versus.

“I’m here because you’re more than just my friend. As weird as it might sound I consider you as my sister. Plus the Bible doesn’t teach us to judge one another, it teaches acceptance and love. The Bible is open to some interpretation, and sadly most people abuse that and use it a an excuse to justify condemning others. To be honest, I’ve never understood why. Granted I do care that you’re pregnant, but now how you think. I care because you’re going to be going through a lot whether you keep the child or not. I want to be there like you have been there for me,” Delilah’s voice was no louder than a mouse. Several minutes passed and a comfortable silence filled the bathroom.

“Everything has beauty,” Mags looked down at her stomach and placed her hand on it as she spoke.

“But not everyone sees every beauty,” Delilah finished the sentence as she placed her hand on top of Mag’s own.

“Come on, we should get moving,” Mags said as they headed out of the bathroom.

“You should tell your boyfriend his apartment is disgusting,” Tonya mumbled to Stef as she eventually gave up on looking for not only tea, but clean cups.

“He knows,” Stef sighed back. It was a battle she had lost several times.

They both froze as they saw Mags and Del slip into the bathroom, undetected by the guys who were now relaxing in the main room that had the shit couches in it.

“So we need to get out of here without getting noticed,” Del whispered to Stef and Tonya who quickly nodded.

“Mags and I are going to slip through the fire escape, but can you two distract the guys?” Stef was a bit put off by Del’s idea of sneaking out before she talked to Duff, but one look at Mags changed her mind.

“Yeah, we can ask about their gig tonight,” Tonya said dragging Stef towards the guys.

They went their separate was, and everything was going smoothly until Del felt someone grab her arm as she was about to climb through the window and onto fire escape.

“Where the fuck are you going,” Del turned to see the red hair that matched Axl’s voice.

“Trying to leave without causing further damage,” Del shot back, not in the mood to deal with him. They needed to leave ASAP, and he was preventing that. What was he going to do, hold her prisoner?

“Are you okay?”

Del looked at Axl’s hand which was still tightly holding her wrist. She knew that there was no way of overpowering him, and if she resisted she would only drag attention to herself.

“If I answer will you let go of me? I have to catch up to Mags who is probably waiting for me,” Del whispered earning a nod from the red head.

She took a deep breath before speaking, “No.”

Axl watched the brunette as her eyes began to water, he gently let go of her wrist causing her to sprint towards the fire escape.

Delilah sat in the living room that she shared with Tonya and Mags reading the article over and over. She couldn’t wrap her mind around why Drew would do this. He told her that he loved Mags. Love must have meant something different here on the strip. Her heart ached at the thought of all the times Duff had told her he loved her.

There was one paragraph that stuck in her head, and haunted her in her dreams. The one paragraph her mind had over analyzed hundreds of times over.

‘This relationship is doom to fail, no doubtz At first glance one might think the pair have found the infamous true love, but upon a second glance one’s opinion would change. It isn’t a love story like the ones in the movies. This is a story of a guy who has manipulated an innocent foolish girl to fall head over heals for him when he clearly doesn’t have the same feelings for her. There are only two ways this relationship will end, and neither of them bode well for Del. The first option is that he moves on because he grows tired of her. The second is that she eventually catches him cheating, as all rockstars do, but forgives him when he gives her a half assed apology which she pathetically accepts. Eventually though he would move on, but the real question is what will she move on to do? She has nothing. While the old saying does say that opposites attract, but there is a reason opposites are opposites.’

“Del, throw that piece of shit out. You are only torturing yourself,” Stef joined Delilah who was currently sobbing on the couch like a high schooler who had her heart broken on prom night.

“You know that article is trash right? Drew made up this stupid shit so the articles would sell! He did it all for his pathetic career. People aren’t drawn to happy stories Del, they’re drawn to ones filled with drama. Trust me hun, I’ve seen the way Duff looks at you, and you don’t have to be worried. Now go put on something cute. We have a gig to go to,” Stef was quickly met with a grown from Delilah as she melted further into the couch.

“Delilah get off your ass and change. Either you’re changing yourself, or I will. This article means nothing. DUFF IS NOT CHEATING ON YOU. You have NOTHING to worry about okay?” Delilah nodded and headed over towards the kitchen where her bag was.

Feeling like the Delilah situation was under control, Stef headed back into Mag’s room.

“Before you open your mouth Stef, I’m going to save you the time. I’m not going to the gig tonight. Not because of the article. I don’t want to deal with my brother when he is like this. He needs to focus on his gig. I will still be pregnant tomorrow,” Mags snapped back to Stef the moment she entered the room. Stef’s attention quickly snapped to Tonya who nodded her head in agreence with what Mags had just said.

“Makes sense. Delilah and I will be heading out shortly. I think she is currently getting dressed. You’re welcomed to come, but you don’t have to. I get it,” Stef promptly left the room knowing that there was nothing she could do to change Mag’s mind. To say that Mags was stubborn was an understatement. She was a damn bull and once her mind was made up there was no changing it.

After planning a small movie night with Mags, Tonya walked into the kitchen noticing Stef chugging a beer. Tonya’s original intention was going to ask how Stef was doing, but the amount of vodka she had just consumed defiantly answered he question. Stef was not okay.

“So who do you think is going to beat up Drew first?” Stef looked up at Tonya before she finished her drink.

“My money is on Duff or Steven,” Stef made herself another drink as she spoke only worrying Tonya more. Usually Tonya was all for getting plastered, but in the spirit of having fun, not as a coping mechanism.

“I would have said Axl. He already had a shitty temper and is incredibly protective of the band,” Tonya casually replied. Stef shrugged before downing her drink again.

“If you tell him you didn’t say it and that Drew misquoted you then you don’t have to worry. Everyone will believe you. That entire article is filled with lies. Don’t worry you’ll be fine,” Tonya calmly spoke as she watched Stef continue to drink.

“What if I did say it? What if I did say that I didn’t think he was going to make it?” Stef’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why would you...” Tonya was immediately interrupted by Stef before she could speak again,

“I would because I was drunk, and Steven is good but.....If he does make it everyone knows it will be short lived. With the money they will get they’ll drown themselves in booze and drugs. Don’t tell anyone but part of me doesn’t want them to make it. I’ve seen what the industry does to people and I don’t want it to happen to Steven.....Drew was interviewing me and I was by no means sober. I didn’t mean for it to come out, and he promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone. A girlfriend is supposed to be supportive and shit,” Tonya ran to Stef’s side as she began to cry.

“Shhh shh shh, you’re fine, no need to worry about it. Just deny it okay? You love him, I know you do. All you can do is be there for him, okay? That’s what you gotta do for him okay? Just be by his side through the think and thin....None of us are perfect Stef. So what you said something? It will all blow over in a week or two, now go fix your makeup because you and Del have a gig to go to,” Tonya flashed Stef a fake smile to cheer her up. Tonya shook her head as she watched Stef leave the kitchen. Tonya wondered if maybe she would be the first to beet the living shit out of Drew.

Delilah fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as her and Stef waited amongst some other girls for the guys to comeback from their quick sound check. Delilah watched true groupies, as Stef called them, as they walk around in heels that where higher than their hair. Paired with their clothes that with one wrong move they would flash themselves to the world. Delilah tried not to judge. She tried to ignored them as they flaunted themselves around, acting like they owned the place and sent Delilah glares. No matter how much she tried she hated them, and she hadn’t even spoken a word towards them.

“Just ignore them, believe it or not they’re jealous of us,” Stef whispered into Delilah’s ear before taking another shot.

“Jealous of having an article written about us or that we are dating a member of Guns N’ Roses?” Delilah questioned.

“Probably both,” Delilah chuckled back at Stef’s question.

“If they want an article that’s full of lies written about them, then they can fucking have it,” Delilah joked back.

“What about Duff?” Stef teased back.

“Over my dead body,” Stef watched as Delilah’s tone went sharp and a frown formed on her face.

“Don’t worry, you got that blonde under some sort of spell. I believe some people call it love,” Stef replied in attempt to pull Delilah back. There was no doubt in her mind that the article put Delilah a little on edge.

“Really?” Her voice sounded like a child when the question escaped her lips. Stef took a piece of Delilah’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“It’s clear as day hun,” Stef said as she watched Delilah take her fourth shot. For most a fourth shot in an hour wouldn’t cause any concern, but for a light weight such as Delilah it raised a lot of red flags.

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XVI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14 Part 15 - S3BE1 + S3BE2 Part 16 - S3BE3 + S3BE4

Word-count: 3.5k+

A/N: nano’s lowkey kicking my butt but i’m super excited to get back to writing fics when december comes around

“You know, I really hate driving on this thing,” you mumbled as you took off your helmet. Scott took it from you as you shook out your hair. “I mean, look at this. My hair’s a mess.” 

He didn’t answer and you were about to complain some more when you saw him walking around the bike to talk to the twins. What were they doing back? 

“You’re back in school?” he asked them. 

“No, just to talk,” Ethan said as you stood next to your brother. He cast a quick glance at you before turning back to Scott. 

“Well, I’m not really in the talking mood, so-” you said as you looped your arm through Scott’s. 

“Plus, talking’s kind of a change of pace for you guys,” Stiles interrupted you as he walked up to the group. “Usually, you’re just hurting, maiming, and killing.”

“You need a pack,” Ethan continued like he didn’t hear you and Stiles. “We need an alpha.” 

“Yeah …” Stiles pretended to think about it. “Absolutely not. That’s hilarious though.”

“You came to us for help. We helped.” 

“You beat his face into a bloody pulp,” Stiles argued. “That’s not helping. In my opinion, that’s actually counterproductive.” 

“Seriously, that’s what you guys were doing while I-” you started, pulling on Scott’s arm again.

“Why would I say yes?” Scott asked interrupted. 

“We’d add to your strength. We’d make you more powerful,” Aiden said. “There’s no reason to say no.” 

You rolled your eyes. You liked it better when he wasn’t talking. 

“I can think of one,” Isaac said as he strode over, pointing a finger at them with the same hand that was holding Cora’s. “Like the two of you holding Derek’s claws while Kali impaled Boyd.” 

“Yeah, that was real helpful, guys,” you said sarcastically.

“I don’t know why we’re not impaling them right now,” Cora chimed in. 

Aiden shifted just enough for his blue eyes to shine and his fangs to drop. “You wanna try?” 

You stepped forward and put a hand out to Cora to stop her from engaging. Scott pulled Isaac back by his wrist. You took a deep breath and stepped back so you weren’t in the middle of everything.

“Sorry, but they don’t trust you,” Scott said, diffusing the situation. “And neither do I.” 

He pushed past them and Stiles followed. You started to as well, but stopped when Cora lingered. You grabbed her hand and pulled her away from them, and Isaac trailed after the two of you. 

“I don’t get why you always stick up for them,” Cora said once you were a few feet away. 

“I don’t stick up for them,” you said. “I just don’t want you to all worked up before your big geometry test.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

---

The school was a nightmare. You hated mischief night. As fun as it was to pull pranks and get free candy, it was exponentially less fun to hit with a toilet paper roll on your way to class. You put on a smile for Cora because she was having enough trouble adjusting to high school as it is. The look of relief on her face when Derek called was enough for you to encourage her to ditch the rest of the day. Yeah, she needed to catch up a lot but she also needed to not murder her classmates. 

Noah had come to deliver an announcement to the school and you’d bumped into him in the hallway. The two of you were talking about the book you were reading in English when Stiles came running up to you. 

“The William Barrow?” he asked, bulldozing over your conversation. “The Shrapnel Bomber? Spotted nearby?” 

“Stiles, what are you-” 

“A little closer than nearby, actually,” Noah admitted. 

The frown on your face deepened as your dad blew past with a team of officers, talking about he needed to know where every entrance and exit in the school was. 

“Okay, can either of you tell me what’s going on here?” you asked. Your eyes followed your dad until he rounded a corner. 

Noah told you about the bomb that Barrow set up years ago and then he told you the reason why he did it. The kids on the bus had glowing eyes. And now he’d escaped from the hospital, with the intent to set off another bomb. 

“We, um-” you put your hand on Stiles’ arm after Noah. “We happen to have some friends with glowing eyes.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “You wanna tell ‘em or should I?” 

The original plan was to split up to cover more ground, but at some point you’d met up and gathered Lydia and Allison to tell them what happened. The police already cleared the building but Lydia was sure Barrow was still there, and you had to figure out what to do once he was caught. 

“The bestiary is literally a thousand pages long,” Allison said as she lifted the blinds. “If I’m going to find anything about flies coming out of people’s bodies, it could take me all night.” 

“I’ll help you,” you said. Stiles was giving you a look. “It’ll go by faster that way and it’s not like I can concentrate on my classes with Barrow still out there.” 

He nodded and you started following Allison out the window. 

“And remember,” Lydia said, “The word in archaic Latin for fly is ‘musca.’”

“Got it,” Allison said as she climbed over the ledge. 

“See you guys later,” you smiled and waved at them before following her out.

---

After a good few hours of combing through the bestiary for any mention of flies, Chris got home with dinner. Allison pushed herself up and walked over to the door, throwing a look over her shoulder to you. 

“You coming?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You go ahead. I’m gonna call Scott with an update.” 

“Okay,” she smiled. “Hey, uh, I know this is awkward, but-” you raised an eyebrow and she laughed. “Never mind. I’ll save you some pizza.” 

“You’re the best.” You grinned at her as she closed the door behind her. You dug out your phone and got up while you waited for it to ring. Voicemail.

“Okay, so Allison and I have basically spent the day doing nothing,” you sighed as you paced. “Well, nothing helpful. Flies are able to carry messages from the dead, but Barrow’s not dead. Beelzebub is the Lord of the Flies, but I think he probably has better things to do than mess with teenagers.” The lights started flickering and you got quieter. “Just call me back, okay?” 

You hung up and walked over to the door, but it wouldn’t open. You tried again but it was locked. You heard something fall over and spun around to find five shadowy figures getting closer to you. You engaged Derek’s knife and called for Allison, but it didn’t help. Fighting didn’t help. 

You heard the Argents yelling your name when they closed in, but they started to sound further away. The room was cold. One of the shadows put their hand on the side of your face. They cradled your face, and you were faintly aware of the burning sensation. Just like you were faintly aware of your screaming. 

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the glowing orbs just behind the shadow. Or were they in front? They were gone in the instant that you blinked. And so was everything else - except for the darkness. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed between calling Scott and Chris pouring water on your face. You gasped as you woke up and scrambled to get your back against a wall. 

“Y/N, what happened?” Allison asked, trying to get close to you. 

“I- I don’t know,” you said. You were stuttering. You were freezing. “There were five of them. They- they came out of the shadows. They were the shadows-” 

Your phone lit up and you could see Stiles’ name flash across the screen. He could be in danger. You reached for it and got up. 

“I-I have to go,” you said. 

“Y/N, wait-” Allison caught your arm. “What happened?”

“They were wearing black and I couldn’t see their faces. Their eyes were …” you searched for the word. “Haunting. Glowing. Almost like …” 

“Like what?” 

“Fireflies.” 

---

You ran out of the Argents’ apartment building and called Stiles. He didn’t answer. You checked your messages. 

“Hey, so don’t panic,” he started. You hated it when he said that. “I know you hate when I say that but just- just trust me, okay? Barrow was after Kira and we’re on our way to the substation to go save her. It’s no big deal. Call me when you get this.” 

You checked your most recent message. 

“Okay, so you didn’t call me. It’s cool. It’s fine. Scott says you called him but whatever.” He took a breath. “Uh, this is kind of awkward but your dad is kind of taking us into custody because we may or may not have destroyed the power station. If you could meet me at the police station, that would be great. Oh, this is Stiles, by the way. In case you didn’t notice from the-” 

Your phone cut him off and you shoved your phone in your pocket and started heading to the police station. Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Stiles were on their way out when they got there. 

“Oh, so your phone does work?” Stiles asked as you ran up to him. You almost tackled him with the hug you gave him. “Woah, hey, I’m fine. I told you- why are you so cold?” 

“I don’t- just hug me, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” he said softly, tightening his grip around you. You pulled away when Scott cleared his throat and handed you his jacket. 

“What happened?” he asked. “You look terrible.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I was at Allison’s and I called you … and the power went out so I tried to go find Allison. The door was locked and-” you looked up at Kira. “I’ll tell you at home, okay? Right now, I just want to go home.” 

---

Not to sound narcissistic or anything, but considering this was the second time you almost died in six months, you expected a little more concern. But Scott was more concerned about Kira getting her phone back. He even gave her your helmet so she could ride on the bike with him! Sure, you hated that bike but still. A little brotherly concern would be nice. 

“Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors,” Stiles explained as he handed Scott a key. You stopped sulking in the passenger’s seat and paid attention. “This one into the evidence room. And this one’s for my father’s office.” 

“You didn’t steal these, did you?” Scott asked. You rolled your eyes. 

“No. I cloned them using the RFID emulator,” Stiles answered with a nod. 

“Is that worse than stealing?” Scott asked, frown on his face. 

“That depends on your definition of worse,” you said, leaning over the armrest to get closer to the conversation. “But it’s a lot smarter.” 

“Aww, thanks,” Stiles smiled and looked down at you. You realized just how much closer you had gotten. 

“Uh, Scott, can I ask you something?” Kira asked. She led Scott a few feet away and you moved back to your side of the car.

“So they’re cute together. Don’t you think?” you asked. 

“Who?” Stiles asked. You pulled a face. “Oh, Scott and Kira? I mean, yeah. They’ve both got that sunshine child thing going for them.” 

“Yeah, but-” you stopped when they headed back to the car. 

“Okay,” Stiles grinned at them. “So, now almost everybody’s out dealing with the blackout. But there’s always somebody at the front desk. There’s dispatch and usually a night shifter or two.”

You listened as Stiles explained the plan to the two of them and that he could only be lookout because of the investigation around Noah. That your dad was in charge of. He sunk back in his seat and watched Scott and Kira leave. 

“So you think they’ve got a shot at pulling this off by themselves?” you asked quietly, slumping back in your chair. 

“Oh, not a chance in hell,” Stiles answered. “But Scott goes along with all my dumb ideas so-” 

“Your ideas aren’t dumb,” you said, pushing yourself up. “Reckless, maybe. Never dumb.” 

“You think so?” Stiles asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Listen, we, uh, never really got the chance to talk,” Stiles started. “About, you know, that night our parents were missing … and Scott wasn’t …” 

“I remember,” you said.

“You do? Great, uh …” he took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m really sorry for-” 

A car pulled in front and you pulled Stiles down. Peering over the dashboard, you saw that it was your dad. Stiles was unusually quiet next to you. 

“I’ve gotta go help them,” you whispered. You were so close to him. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I understand. I’ll, uh, text Scott.” 

You nodded and made your way into the building. What you were going to talk to your dad about, you had no idea. But you had to try. 

“Dad!” you called after him, pushing through the doors. “Dad! I need to talk to you.” 

Rafael looked surprised to see you. You couldn’t blame him. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just-” you took a breath. You needed something. “Why did you stop coming to see me? I know Willow Creek was a lot closer, but why didn’t you … call? Or text?” 

Rafael looked away and took a deep breath. “Y/N, I … I thought we were in a good place.” 

“We were, but then I got kicked out and you dropped off the map,” you said. “You didn’t even tell me you were coming home.” 

“I didn’t want to have to bring you guys into this,” he explained. “I just wanted-” 

“Wanted what? To do your job and leave?” you asked. “Were you even going to tell us that you were back?” 

You heard the doors open and felt Stiles stop next to you. Rafael was staring at him but you couldn’t look away from your dad. 

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” he asked. 

“I-” 

“I asked him to come,” you said. “Because he’s always been there for me. Just like Noah has always been there for me. Unlike you.” 

You turned to leave and Stiles said he’d be right behind you. You stormed out to the parking lot and sat on the Jeep’s hood while you waited for everyone to finish. 

Stiles was out first, but he didn’t say anything. A few seconds later, Scott and Kira ran out with dumb, goofy grins on their faces. 

“Are you finished?” you asked. 

“Yep! All the pics deleted,” Scott beamed. 

“That was awesome!” Kira was still visibly excited. “I mean, terrifying. Completely terrifying, but kind of awesome! I’ve never done anything like that before. Have you?” 

You choked back some laughter when you saw how quickly Scott’s face fell. 

“Yeah, once or twice,” Stiles said. Kira hummed in acknowledgment. 

“So I guess I should take you home,” Scott said. Kira looked a little crestfallen as they walked away. 

Stiles turned to you. “I guess that’s our cue, huh? After all the excitement of, uh, getting some new emotional baggage to carry around?” 

You laughed pushed yourself off the Jeep. “You know … Cora texted me something about a blacklight party at the loft. If you wanna take your troubled childhood and use it as an excuse to do a little underaged drinking?” 

“I don’t need to use my troubled childhood an excuse for my underaged drinking,” Stiles scoffed. “I’ve got plenty of other reasons to drink underage!” 

You met up with Scott and Kira at the party, but excused yourself to grab some waters for the group. Before anything too crazy happened, you needed to make sure everyone at least had some water in their systems. 

When you got back to the group, however, you found Stiles’ face smeared with luminescent lipstick. You handed the waters out and shoved Stiles’ in his chest. “Seriously?” 

“Y/N, it’s not- it’s not like that!” he yelled over the music. You were already stomping away. 

“I don’t think I care what it’s like anymore,” you said. You laughed. “I mean, honestly, Stiles, I don’t know what I expected. Go have fun with whoever kissed you. Heck, go have fun with Lydia! Just leave me alone.” 

You shrugged him off and went to find wherever they kept the alcohol in the loft. You ended up finding Allison and handed her another drink. She was staring in the direction of Cora and Isaac slow dancing to electro-dance music. 

“Rough night for you, too?” you asked, bumping into her arm. 

“I’m not moping,” she said when she turned to you. “Seriously, I’m not. So don’t pity me.” 

“So this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Scott’s here with Kira and you thought Isaac was into you until he asked Cora out?” you asked, downing your own drink. 

“Maybe,” she admitted. “Okay, give me that. I’m not moping sober.”

“That’s the spirit!” you laughed. 

“Wait, why are you moping?” she asked a few drinks later. “And why is Stiles dancing with some girl in a wig?” 

“I’m moping because he’s dancing with some girl in a wig,” you said. “God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” 

“So you’re seriously saying you’ve never told anyone how you feel about him?” Allison asked, laughing slightly. 

“I’m saying that …” you sighed. Looking around the room. “That I need to find Lydia. How long has it been since you saw her?” 

“I don’t know … a little while ago.” She frowned. “You’re right. We should find her.” 

You got lost in the crowd and eventually found Stiles racing out of the loft. You grabbed his arm. 

“Hey, have you seen Lydia?” you asked. 

“Seriously, you’re still mad at me about that?” he asked. 

“No- well, yes. But I haven’t seen her since we got here and I’m really worried about her,” you said. 

“I’m sure she’s just making out with Aiden somewhere,” he sighed. “Is that all? Because I’ve gotta go.”

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

He sighed again and pulled out a key. It was glowing under the UV light. “To figure this out.”

---

The sun had started to come up by the time you and Stiles broke into the chemistry classroom. Stiles closed the door carefully behind you and then went to the supply closet. His mystery key fit perfectly. 

“Stiles, that doesn’t mean anything,” you said gently. 

“What? You’re talking to me now?” His words were harsh but his voice was quiet. He was confused. Hurt. 

You watched him go up to the blackboard and take a piece of chalk. He wrote matching atomic numbers next to the originals. His handwriting was an exact match. 

“Does that also not mean anything?” he asked. His voice was shallow. 

You put your hand on his and took the chalk out of his grip. “Hey,” you said gently. “Look at me, okay? Stop looking at the numbers.” 

He did. There were tears in his eyes. “I thought you were mad at me?” 

“I was,” you said. “But I think I was just jealous. It doesn’t matter now.” 

“You forgive me?” he asked. 

“I-” you looked down. And you realized that you did forgive him. He’d done nothing wrong. “I understand that it wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing to forgive.” 

“There’s a lot to forgive,” he said. “Y/N, I- I’m scared. I don’t remember doing this. I’m getting worse.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “So am I. I think Allison’s the only one that's not … not falling apart.”

“I’ve been having these nightmares,” he started. He shook his head and scratched his neck. “I don’t know. Can you still call them nightmares if they happen when you're awake? Or when I think I'm awake. Am I awake?”

“As awake as I am,” you said. 

You reached for his hand when he started picking at his nails again. They were a little bloody and ragged looking, but that didn't matter to you. 

“You promise?” His voice was small and it trembled with every word. He looked like a scared little boy. 

“No matter what.” 

You squeezed his hands and pulled him into a hug. When he pulled away, his hand was cupping your jaw. He ran a hand through your hair, finger stopping behind your ear, and frowned. 

“What’s wrong?”  you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“Nothing.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “Nothing at all.”

You frowned. He was acting strange. “You’re sure nothing's wrong? Cause you’re acting a little-” 

“Actually, I’ve gotta go,” he said. He pulled away and started heading for the door. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You asked, walking behind him. He was going so fast. “Stiles, you drove me here. Stiles!”

But he was gone when you reached the hallway.

“Great,” you mumbled. “Looks like I’m walking home.”

Part 17

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Of Books, Brothers, and Broadway (Creativitwins College AU) Chapter Three!!!

Word Count: 6875

TW: Remus, Janus, cursing, ocean critters, think that’s it

Pairings: dukeceit, logince, I think mentioned moxiety, familial creativitwins, platonic everyone else with everyone else, a nice bit of parental Remus and Thomas.

Notes: It gets gay!!!!! Finally!!!! Also skirts!!!! We learn more about Thomas, who is baby TBH hes just like, Remus good boy and I agree. these two have a very close mentorship, Remus has been there for for several years and Thomas has pretty much adopted him. They have one of my favorite dynamics in this. A lot of angst comes shortly after this so enjoy the soft gays while you can.

Summary: Remus is gay and smitten. Roman is as well. The two battle to woo their brothers best friend and both succeed. Soft boys going on dates and being in love. Remus rants a bit.

By the time that they all finish dinner, Remus is more than a little excited to show Janus his lizard friends. Janus is so nice and cute and he has an interest in reptiles, and the book he wrote for the musical in progress, and god he's in love. Roman gives him permission to run off without him while he and Patton engage in ‘civilized’ conversation. So he shows Janus his room, and heck he's bringing a cute boy into his room god this is filthy, disgusting worse than the worst most cuddly pornos that he's ever sat through, this is intimate and Remus feels like his blood is going to boil. He smiles instead though, because Janus is squealing and bouncing and looking at all the little guys in the tanks and he so desperately looks like he wants to hold one but he bounces in place while sounding like a balloon with a leak.

“You want to hold one?”

“More than anything!”

Remus walks over to the tank and tries to pull out a small gecko, but his only snake slithers out and coils his arm before he could. He laughs at it, petting its little head softly and he's almost knocked unconscious by the pure joy on Janus’ face. His eyes are damn near sparkling, his bouncing has stilled as his jaw dropped.

“This little guy is a Kenyan sand boa, he's actually the only scaly friend I've ever gotten from a rescue, the rest of these guys are just local pals. His name is Amadeus. Wanna hold him?”

“Yessssssss!!!!”

Remus guided Amadeus to slither up Janus’ arm. He ended iup coiling around his neck loosely and Remus could see the effort Janus was exerting to not get too excited. He petted the snake gently, stars in his eyes as the snake seemed to lick him.

“I love him!”

“He seems to like you too”

“I’m sorry I’m being so childish heh, I just, I lose my composure with animals I guess. And theater. I suck at keeping up this uh, facade I guess I can call it”

“Why would you? You're cute like this”

Janus froze and Remus nearly backpedaled on his words before Janus broke out in a huge blush with a matching grin. He swept the bangs that were sticking out from his beanie to the side of his face as he looked back at Remus.

“Do you want to go get coffee at some point? I mean uh, we can, we can talk about the musical some more and uh, maybe I can convince you to strike up a deal of some sort?”

Remus blinked and smiled back at him. He pulled out his phone and looked at something before changing it and handing it over to jay.

“I've got a class tomorrow and then work, and I'm bringing home an octopus so I probably can't do coffee tomorrow, but how does dinner sound?”

Janus took the phone and saw a new contact page pulled up. He smiled as he entered the information and sent a standard text and handed it back.

“That sounds even better! I'm free after 4 tomorrow!”

“How does 7 sound? I'm technically back at 5:30 but I want to be here for a bit in case shit goes sideways with Cephy”

“Sounds like a date! Er, um, a plan! Sounds like... a plan..!”

“God you're gonna have to stop being so adorable before I turn myself in to the police preemptively. Anyways, Roman might be getting annoyed from having you stolen for so long, so hows about we put back Dee and pick up this convo later?”

“Great idea!”

By the time that they leave the room, Patton is ready to leave, and as jay was his ride, he had to leave as well. The four said their goodbyes, and when he thought Roman wasn't looking, Janus mimed a little ‘call me’ motion to Remus and he nearly melted as the two left. Remus flopped onto the couch, and subsequently Roman, when the door closed with a sigh.

“You've already stolen him haven't you?”

“Were going to dinner tomorrow”

“Of course you are. I'm going to have to help you get ready aren't i?”

“Yup. and I'll make dinner on Saturday and Sunday as a thank you”

“And as payment for skimping on your original day”

“Yeah sure”

~

Remus wasn’t panicking, of course not, he was totally chill. It's just that he was bringing home an octopus at the end of his shift and then he was going on a date with a cute boy and he just wasn't used to so much happening in one day. He refocused however. He was wearing his lab coat and was sitting next to the institute's recreation of the coastal ocean with pen and paper in hand. He was recording some behaviors in the dolphin they just got, and its differences in behavior compared to their other inhabitants. It was moving slower, and did not seem to like getting close to the walls. He had many questions as he continued to note its peculiarities. Thomas walked in and squatted next to him with a smile.

“You have your inquisitive look on, whats up kid?”

Remus continued to watch the dolphin intently.

“Why is she so scared of the walls?”

“Oh, she was abused by her human caretakers, she's afraid of us still. She also doesn't like our feeding rods, or when we get in to do maintenance. She's just people shy, which isn't too terrible for her or us for the time being. She hasn't lashed out, and it's only a mild inconvenience during feeding times. The longer she's here with the others, the easier it will be, animals are great at encouraging trust in others, its key for survival. But isn't she just so beautiful?”

“Definitely! Hey, weird question, do you ever get transfers from different parts of the world?”

“Sometimes, not often though, they only transfer out of country or state if its a true emergency for the most part, and we aren't really in the hierarchy for those things”

“Hmm. I really want to see an amazon river dolphin. They're so fricken cool!”

“Well, if that's something you want to see about, and you're serious about it, I have some connections with the dolphin research center as well as Clearwater, and I think they both have some that were serious rescue cases. I might be able to set you up for a summer stint if you want?”

“Oh no, no that's fine I just, it's just one of the things that made me want to pursue marine biology. It was an episode of Go Diego Go if you can believe that. They were just, so magical, and I learned more about the ocean and like, the ocean is filled with magic that we don't even know about, and it's just, I dunno. Its a bucket list thing I guess”

“Fair. mine was jellyfish and sea turtles. Finding Nemo”

Remus chuckled at the image of the doctor as a child getting starry eyed at Finding Nemo. He nodded distantly and Thomas fully sat, giving Remus a nudge on the arm.

“What's eating at you kid? You're acting distant today, is something up?”

Remus finally looks at Dr. Sanders at this, a little shocked and confused. He looks back at the water and curls his legs up close to him and lays his head on them.

“A lot is happening and I’m scared I’m going to mess something up”

“Talk to me Re”

“Well, ok so my brother is real into theater, always has been, and he asked me when we were younger to write a musical with him. And, and it's fun, don't get me wrong, but I hate hate hate showing people my writing. And now I'm showing him it regularly, on top of my writing assignments for my creative writing minor. And like, I don't know how to feel about it. But like, it's not just that. Like, I'm a full time worker here now, not an intern, but I'm not even working full time hours, and I feel like I have to prove to you and everyone else that it was worth it but I don’t have the time to put in more hours and it makes me feel so guilty because you're losing money by upping my pay and I don't know, I feel like I'm not doing enough but I know I can't do any more. And then! I'm getting Cephy and like, I know she's gonna be a lot of work, and I'm so ok with that but I’m worried I’m gonna mess up and hurt her or something! And I've got a date with a cute guy tonight and he's my brother's friend and he's so cute and we mesh so well, but I could ruin it, like I always ruin my relationships, and then what if he holds it against Roman? He’ll hate me forever and I don't know what I would do if I lost my brother too, I drive him crazy but I know he still loves me but it makes me want to die thinking about how conditional it could be, even though he's never shown me that that would ever happen it still eats at me and god I'm a mess. God I talked too much I’m sorry boss, I'll shut up now, you didn't need to hear all of that”

Thomas hides the shock and concern on his face, choosing to nod as he rubs a gentle circle in Remus’ back. The two were very very close, they were basically family at this point, Thomas having chosen to be his mentor the moment he met him. He waits a moment to choose his words before speaking.

“I can't pretend that I totally understand your problems, but I'm aware that that isn't what you're looking for. So lets start with something easy. Cephy will not get hurt with you. There is not a single doubt in my mind that you won't be able to, while you were the only applicant, if we didn't know you were responsible enough to care for her with complete certainty and confidence, we would have sent her home with one of our older scientists. This was a long discussion and I know that you will do exactly what you have to to keep her safe. Two, you were not promoted because we needed you to work more. As I've said since you've started here, your studies come first. You were promoted because you did amazing work with what little you are allowed to do as an intern, and we could see that you would do even better with less restrictions. This was meant to give you the ability to learn more and aid in your work ethic. We don't need you to spread yourself too thin so you can work more, we have enough people for you to only work part time”

Remus nodded, he was trying to believe him, he really was, but his head kept turning them around with what ifs. He stayed silent as Thomas paused again.

“Your writing is personal, creative work always is, it is a bearing of your soul and its reasonable to be hesitant in sharing it. Even more so when it's to an overly creative person. But if I know anything about your brother, it's that he is a kind and uncritical person. You don't seem to have any reason to distrust him with it. I know that sometimes your head makes you nervous and casts doubt over others intentions, but it isn't healthy for you to be unable to trust even someone as close as your brother. And, if you let him know your feelings on it all, I'm sure he would be willing to work on it with you. This ties in with the other bit. If you have no reason to believe that something like a break up would cause your brother to hate you, then it's likely not the case. Trust that he values his relationship with you enough to endure the small likelihood of a break up between you and his friend. His friend is a bit of a wild card to you right now but just, give it a shot. It might go better than you can imagine”

Remus felt like he was about to cry. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and took deep breaths. He pulled his hands away and looked at Thomas as he leaned slowly into a hug with the older man. Thomas smiled and wrapped his arms around the other and they sat there a moment in silence.

“Thank you Dr. Sanders”

“This is an emotional moment, call me Thomas”

“... thank you Thomas”

Remus had calmed down and felt far better after his conversation with Thomas, he was pretty zen as he drove home with Cephy on his passenger side. He parked outside he and Roman’s house and dialed Roman’s number. Roman picked up on the second ring.

“You back?”

“Yup. can you get the door for me, I don't want to set Ceph down on the ground”

“On it”

Remus got out of his car, opening the passenger door and lifting the rather small tank carefully in his arms. He felt bad for her getting stuck in such a small carrier tank. He got to the door and saw Roman in the doorway. Roman held out his arms.

“I imagine if I hold the tank I won't have to transfer her into the big one? So hand her over.

Remus chuckled and did so. He slid past then, opening the door to his room and lifting the cover on the big tank. He pulled on plastic gloves and did the same to the carrier. He laughed as Cephy’s arms immediately swung over the side of it. Roman nearly screamed and dropped the thing when one of her tentacles stuck onto him. Luckily he just hummed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. Remus carefully picked Ceph up, placing her oh so delicately on the little rock shelf near the top before he released her and she dove to the depths of it quickly, swimming around happily, likely glad to have room again. Roman rushed to the bathroom, shouting as he went.

“REMUS CAN I DUMP THIS???”

“GO AHEAD! IF SHE NEEDS TO TRANSFER AGAIN I’LL JUST PUT HER IN IT WHEN ITS EMPTY, SHE CAN SURVIVE OUT OF WATER FOR A BIT”

“WHY IS SHE SO FUCKING SLIMY???”

“SHE'S AN OCTOPUS WHAT DID YOU EXPECT???”

Remus pulled off the gloves and tossed them, placing the tank lid on again before going back to the car to get the rest of her supplies. When he finished unloading, Roman was back out of the bathroom with the tank now placed under the other one in the living room. His hair, which was about shoulder length, was tied up in a hair tie, his bangs pinned up and he was wearing a black crop top with golden print of a crown and shorts. He had a makeup bag in one hand and a hair brush in the other. He had the most sinister smirk on his face.

“K, go take a shower and change into shitty clothes so we can try some faces. Go on! Its 5:45 and I need an hour to get you in order”

Remus opened his mouth and shut it, knowing that Roman was right. He sulked to his room, grabbing some pjs and heading to the bathroom.

“Roman I’m going to look like a clown with all this makeup, why are we even doing this?”

“Because you want to look nice, and you'll look better if you do a little bit of makeup to accentuate your features. And also because you suck at shaving so I'm hiding the welts you gave yourself. He won't want to kiss you if you look like you've been eating out a beehive. Now sit still! We still have to choose your outfit and deal with your hair!”

Remus did as told, pouting as he did so. Roman finally, finally put down the makeup brush. He pulled up a mirror and Remus gasped at his reflection. His face looked clear and smooth, and his cheeks had color. But his eyes were stunning. They were black on the lid, but it faded into a sparkly green shade and gosh Remus loved it.

“I’ll put some lipstick on you when you're done changing. Don’t want to accidentally stain anything”

“Ro I love it!!!!”

“Good. ok clothes next. Where are you guys going?”

Remus blinked and felt himself flush and Roman rolled his eyes. He walked into Remus’ closet with a sigh.

“Typical. Ugh, men. Jay likes anything, he's pretty basic on that, I'd say go to olive garden. Mid Range price but nice aesthetic. Plus he eats bread sticks like an actual snake. He’ll love it. Maybe plan your next date a little more though”

Remus nodded, eternally grateful for the suggestion. He followed Roman as he flipped through his clothes. Roman sighed again.

“You're so lucky I saw his outfit and know it isn't too regal, otherwise I would make you push it to later and buy you new clothes. Here, how about this?”

He pulled out his skull shirt, some ripped jeans, his leather jacket, and his fingerless gloves. Remus smiled.

“He's not against punk?”

“Of fucking course not, did you not see his outfit yesterday? He's a baby pastel punk. He thought you looked good yesterday, he’ll think you’re the sexiest mother fucker tonight if I do this right so get changed”

Remus did so, not caring enough to be modest as he changed in front of his brother. They'd seen each other in less, it didn't matter. He grabbed some socks as well for the outfit, pulling them up before tugging on his jeans. He carefully pulled his shirt over his head, keeping it from hitting his face. He was swinging his arms through his jacket when Roman grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the proper part of his room. He sat down and Roman ruffled his hair before grabbing his hairbrush. 

“Ok so we’re making this look decent. Ok so you’ve got the fucking fade done, so how about the nice swoop?”

“I have no idea what language you're speaking”

“Okay it was a rhetorical question anyways. Lemme grab my gel”

Roman poured a decent heap of gel into his hands, rubbing them together before raking them through Remus’ hair. He then took his comb and moved his hair all over to the right. He pulled a few strands free to fall in his face then pulled away and smiled as he wiped the excess gel off with some wipes. He gestured to the mirror next to Remus and once he looked at it, Remus was once again astounded.

“Roman what the fuck kind of sorcery?”

“I'm a theatre major, I dabble in makeup and hair”

“Dabble???”

“Oh honey you should see Patton at work”

“Roman, grab my docs”

“Which ones?”

Remus knew that while a valid question, it was also meant to tease and he narrowed his eyes at him. He pointed at the ones still on his shelf that had skulls. He rarely wore them, and was ecstatic at having the chance to. Roman brought them to him and he slipped them on with practiced ease.

“I think you owe me for this”

“If I give you Logan's number will we be even?”

Roman sputtered and blushed but nodded shyly. Remus grinned. He texted Logan to get his ok, which he got instantly, then sent the number to Roman.

“There you go! Now, I have a date to get to!”

“You have his address?”

“Of course not”

“You fucking spoon. I’ll text it to you”

“At least I’m not gaysexual”

“What the absolute fuck did you just say?”

“Spoonsexual?”

“Leave before I break your fucking neck”

“Fair, have a nice day”

Remus pulled up to Janus’ dorm room expecting many things. None of which he got. Janus was dressed in a black crop top with a turtleneck, a high waisted pastel yellow skirt that reached his mid thighs, and soft yellow thigh high socks. He was wearing bright yellow converse and had a golden flower headband. Remus thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. When Janus gets in his car he finally tears his eyes away as he goes to start driving again.

“You look nice Jan”

“As do you”

Remus avoids speaking, hoping that Janus will start talking and getting more anxious as he doesn't. Janus is playing with his skirt wait, his? Is his still a thing?

“Might I ask if you're still using he him pronouns?”

Janus looks up suddenly and smiles as a blush forms on their? Face.

“Oh, yeah, he/him all around, they them is good as well, but yeah”

“Ok cool”

“...I’m sorry I’m being so awkward, I'm a little on edge”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest actually. Um, where are we going?”

“My two brain cells fucked off and didn't think of that until about an hour ago, but Roman told me you liked olive garden so we’re going to olive garden”

Janus giggled and god if Remus wasn’t already gay, he wouldve been the ambassador of queerland to hear that again. He smiled and sent him a quick look, feeling his cheeks darken as he saw Janus looking at him.

“That sounds great! So um, how's the musical going?”

“Hm? Oh, it's going well. Uh, sort of. I've gotten a bit stuck on the script, and Roman’s hit a roadblock in the songs. I'm a little uh, let's say bad, at writing things like this. It's uh, it's far more tame than my usual stuff, but Roman isn't one for my more graphic shit, you know how it is. He's all unicorns and rainbows and im blood and porn, so writing something he would like is tricky to say the least. It's far easier to just translate all my night terrors and intrusive thoughts to paper than to actually be creative”

“Well, your night terrors and intrusive thoughts may be you know, normal or whatever to you, but I'm sure your writings about them are just as good! Creativity takes many forms and seeks different inspiration! I would love to see more of your writing, if it's ok with you?”

“Oh, no they're, they're shitty, you don't want to see them. They're about eldritch monsters and serial killers and they're really bad, I don't want to subject you to that”

“Nonsense! Like I said, I'm sure they’re amazing! But if you're uncomfortable showing me, then that's ok too”

Remus shuts up, avoiding the end of this conversation. Except he digs absently in the back seat and pulls out a notebook, handing it to Janus.

“It's filled with them. It's my last notebook, I suggest you just borrow it and not try and read them over dinner. Some of them make me a little sick to read. But uh, yeah. Go ahead”

Janus looks at it, the little doodles that are sprawled over the cover, and then looks at Remus with his eyes filled with stars. And Remus almost crashes, he’ll admit it, but that is a look that no one has ever given him before and he might actually die this time. They're at olive garden though, so he gets out and rushes to the other side to open the door for Janus who giggles again.

“So where'd you come up with the idea for the musical?”

Remus looked up from his food at Janus. Janus had his hands pressed together and he looked insatiable for answers. He smiled, licking his lips before explaining.

“When me and Roman were kids one of our favorite movies was the nutcracker. Around the same time that he said he wanted to write a musical, our uncle took us to the ballet of the Nutcracker live, it was our Christmas present from him. It was, well it was magical. So that was part of it. But like, as a kid I always loved reading. I found that I had loved some characters more than I had loved anyone outside my family. I had crushes throughout my life, but none of them really worked out, so I ran back to stories, it gave me something permanent and I dunno, I had a recurring dream where I would wake up and the hero or villain of my favorite books would be there and would love me. It's uh, it's a bit pathetic now that I say it out loud”

“No! Its, cute”

Janus was leaning on his hand as he stared and listened to Remus, moving to be more attentive in his posture, both arms on the table, with an insistent look on his face at Remus’ last words.

“It's not pathetic to want to be loved! It's hard to feel like you aren’t. I used theater as my escape from my shitty situation, and now I'm in college spending more money than I will ever use on anything else to pursue my escape as my reality. Sometimes it seems silly, but it makes me happy, so it's not useless. I mean, what other group would look at some guy with scars enough to play Deadpool who wears frilly skirts for fun and accept him? Definitely not any group from my home”

Remus frowns a bit.

“Anyone with half a brain”

Janus smiles at him.

Remus was dropping Janus off. He did not want to be dropping him off, he wanted to be taking him home and talking mindlessly for hours about nothing and everything, but Janus had to go, he had a shift in the morning. And Remus did as well, but all he could think of was how wonderful the night had been, and he didn't want it to end. They were standing outside, had been for a while, both of them trying to drag this out. Janus shivered and Remus immediately toar off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Janus was blushing again.

“You don't have to do that, I'm right outside my door!”

“Yeah, but this way I have an excuse to see you again”

Janus smiled and shuffled slightly. He mumbled something incoherent and Remus’ eyebrow rose.

“What was that?”

“I would really like to kiss you, if that's alright?”

Remus felt his skin burning at the question. He nodded, leaning down to kiss him. It wasn't fireworks. It was a chocolate fountain, soft and sweet and smooth, and they were pulling away and Janus looked completely blissed out. Remus felt the same way as he leaned back against the car again. He smirked and gestured to the dorm.

“You should probably head in, it's getting late”

“Yeah. yeah I should. I don't want to but I should. Um, I'll see you again?”

“That jacket is too expensive to leave with someone I don't plan on seeing again”

Janus smiled and nodded. He finally turned to go inside, and Remus waited until the door shut behind him to get back in his car and drive home. He starts the ignition as his phone rings.

“Roman holy shit Roman I’m in love help”

“Of course you are”

“Roman he wanted to read my stories”

“Well yeah, he's already shown interest in your writing-”

“No but the dark shit Roman, the nightmare fuel the terrors and murderers and the dark gritty shit I never show anyone”

“Yeah, he's really into that kinda thing. He's a fan of that genre”

“But he's, he's so soft!”

“Yeah, you only just got to his second layer of that, he's got a bunch of soft covering up the gritty fucked up interior. His words not mine. He's got some shit buried, Patton knows a bit more than me, but he really tries to keep that hidden. I knew you two would hit it off, you're very similar”

“I want to know it all Ro. I want to know everything about him, I want to know what he's afraid of and what his parents told him before bed and what dreams he has and what makes him tick and god I want to kiss him forever and never stop”

“That is the sappiest thing you've ever said. Want some coffee?”

“It's almost midnight”

“Did I stutter?”

~

Roman was distracted. He was at work, so he really shouldn't be, he didn't really have the time, but he and Logan had been texting since Remus sent him his number, and Roman had caught feelings hard. He was super hot honestly, which was unfair Roman thought, he's half his size he shouldn't be allowed to be so attractive. But they had been sending selfies back and forth, mostly because they were both too occupied with their hands and Roman fucking adored it. There was one of Logan in a tie that was slightly loosened and he was giving the camera some sort of smoulder. Roman had decided after that to explain that he was working and turn off his phone. He went to the back of the shop to grab some replacement baked goods to bring up front and he thanks his years in dance that he didn't fall when he saw Logan at the counter. He was still in his polo and tie, but the tie had been tightened and he looks significantly more innocent than he did in the photo. Roman set down the boxes and moved to greet him.

“Howdy hot stuff, haven't seen you around here, what are you craving?”

Logan smirked back. Suddenly Roman was grateful the shop was in a lull, and he's sure Logan was too as he looked him up and down.

“Well, if we’re honest I'm in the mood for a tall cup of sexy, but it doesn't seem like you're on the menu, so I'll go with a salted caramel mocha. I think its a close second in sweetness”

Roman is completely red, very unprepared for any of what was said. Logan's smirk breaks into a smile and he laughs. And Roman quickly gets to preparing his drink before he combusts. He mutters the price quietly as he makes it.

“Aren't you supposed to have me pay first? Or am I being treated by a knight in shining armor?”

“You're going to give me a heart attack, I hope you know”

“You can't expect to tease me and get away without consequence can you? You'd have to take me to dinner first to get away with that”

“I did not tease you, if anything, you were teasing me, you foul beast!”

“Oh so me sending a picture of me in full clothes is teasing, but you in your gym outfit is just the norm?”

“Of course!”

“Mhmm. keep telling yourself that hot stuff. I suppose if I did the same, you would find no problem then?”

“Wha, you go to the gym?”

“Yes, it is healthy and I attempt to keep a healthy lifestyle. In a word… duh”

Roman felt warm all over again, far more attracted to the idea than he was consciously ok with. The two had been flirting incessantly, and Roman may have teased the poor nerd a bit, but he still didn't deserve this!

“So then if the price of free teasing is dinner, then how about dinner tonight?”

“Hmm, irresponsible to wait until the day of to ask someone to dinner, but I am free tonight, so consider yourself lucky. 7 work?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be waiting for your fine ass at 7”

“Oh dear, how have you ever wooed a woman? How dare you objectify me like I'm a hunk of meat?”

“You're definitely a hunk, that's for sure. A true himbo”

“Falsehood, I have a functioning brain, you are the himbo between the two of us”

Logan grinned at him as he finished paying and took his drink. He waved as he walked away.

“Seeya tonight sweetcheeks!”

Roman didn't know what he signed up for but he was so in.

“Yeah so you don't have to worry about dinner tonight, I've managed to seduce Logan into dinner with me”

“Is that how it happened? Logan told a very different story”

“Ok no, but don't let the truth get in the way of a good story!”

“Yeah sure whatever, I guess that means I'm getting the house to myself?”

“Yup! If jay comes over please try to remember our agreement and dont fuck in the common areas?”

“What? One, of course not, I’m not a heathen, and two, we’ve been on one date, I’m a gentleman, no sex until at least the third date!”

“Mhmm. likely story”

“Oh, and one last request, if shit happens with you two, don't tell me anything you wouldn't say in a pg13 movie. If it's worse I don't want to know, I still have to go to class with him on Monday”

“Deal”

“What's cooking good looking?”

Logan was stepping in the car and rolled his eyes at the line.

“No idea, you're the one in charge of food if I can recall”

Roman thinks it's very rude how easily the nerd can manage to take his breath away. He pouts a little.

“Why were you so shy when I first met you, cuz you obviously aren't”

“Nerves. I wasn't expecting to meet someone attractive when dropping off Remus’ belongings and I startle easily”

“Attractive huh?”

“Don't get too excited, if there's nothing else other than good looks I don't imagine this will go anywhere”

“Fair, I could say the same to you”

Logan sent him a sideways glance. He was also ungodly attractive. He was wearing a black v neck shirt, black jeans, and a blazer and Roman didn't think anyone could pull off a nerd look and be hot but counter evidence was sitting in his passenger seat. Roman was wearing white jeans, a simple gryffindor t-shirt, and his letterman jacket from his high school that was a nice red and gold. He also had simple makeup done, as well as his hair being tied back, leaving his bangs to frame his face purposefully. He was really hoping this went somewhere.

“So, where are we going, might I ask?”

“Depends, do you like Japanese cuisine?”

“Yes, I'm a fan of it, why?”

“Well it was between cheesecake factory and Benihana, and we have now decided”

“Benihana? Roman, that's really expensive, we don't have to go there, I know I joked about you buying the ability to tease, but you don't have to pour a fortune into a first date!”

“Nonsense! As you said, I teased you unfairly, consider it an apology and a bribe”

“...I can already tell that you're even more stubborn than your brother”

“We came by it honestly!”

“So you're a theater major right? So you do the big three, acting, singing, and dancing? I imagine you aren't a fan of writing considering Remus is writing for your musical, but do you do any traditional arts?”

Roman was mid bite of sushi when the question came. He set down his chopsticks and grabbed his napkin to cover his mouth as he finished chewing. He finally set it down and smiled.

“I am and I do, but I do enjoy writing, but it's garbage compared to what Remus writes. As much as I'm not a fan of his subject matters, his writing is undeniably amazing. My writing is very ah, fluffy. Not much sustenance. And like, fanfiction, but that isn't like, real writing-”

“Fanfiction is real writing. Every idea is based and influenced by countless things, sometimes without realizing it. Besides, it takes a lot of the most menial and boring part of the storytelling process out. Exposition is just as difficult to write as it is to read, in fanfictions you get to start right where the interesting part starts, no boring history that means nothing to the plot other than for throwaway lines. Sorry for interrupting I just have uh, I have strong opinions on the subject. Continue, please”

Roman might’ve gone red again but he was shocked at Logan's response. It felt… nice to have the validation in the writing he enjoys. He did however, go back to the original question.

“Um, and uh, yeah I do traditional art, I don't really get? Digital art? It's just confusing to me so I just do the bare sketchbook. I think I have some pictures of them on my phone if you'd like to see them?”

“I'm actually quite intrigued. May i?”

Roman grabbed his phone and pulled up his gallery, choosing his art folder and handed Logan the phone. He went back to eating as Logan scrolled through.

“You and Remus have such similar styles in art, I'm surprised. Definitely different tastes in what you draw, but the style itself is almost indistinguishable. Did you learn together?”

“Hmm? I mean, yeah sort of. We both drew a lot when we were little, but other than the little doodles in his musical notebook I haven't seen any of his art in years”

“Hmm. I suppose that makes sense, he's very secretive and protective of his creative works. I wasn’t ever allowed to see his writing until we were paired for a writing project. Creativity is incredibly personal, and while many seek validation and approval, he seems to fit the other type that fears rejection. I can assure you, his art looks a lot like yours but far more ah, violent. And usually a fair amount of tentacles”

Roman smiled softly, he was happy to know that Remus hadn’t stopped drawing. Logan was still swiping through, eating rather absentmindedly. Suddenly Logan sat up and Roman swore that his eyes glittered.

“Is this the Marquis de Carabas???”

Roman looked at the phone and indeed it was an image of his version of the character. He nodded and smiled as Logan smiled back.

“Yeah, I was messing with plague doctor masks, and I had just finished the book. He was always very birdlike to me, so I thought it fit”

“Roman this is incredible! His coat is perfect and, and his hat? Goodness, this is so pretty!!!”

“Meh, it's not my best. I drew Door as well, I think she's a better piece personally”

“I didn't take you as someone who would like Gaiman”

“Remus loves him and he's another talented author. Besides, Terry Pratchet was one of my favorite authors and I fucking love Good Omens. Oh and I grew up on Doctor Who so that also helped”

“You like Doctor Who?”

“Hell yeah! It's probably in my top favorite TV shows I've ever watched”

Roman was walking Logan to his door and they were still chatting when they reached it.

“This was nice Roman. Thanks for taking me out”

“My pleasure. I got to spend a nice night with a radiant man”

He smirked and was ready to watch Logan step inside when Logan grabbed his jacket and yanked him down into a kiss. He stood there with his arms awkwardly floating for a moment before he wrapped them around Logan's waist. It was quick, Logan pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first I-”

Roman leaned back in, crashing his lips against Logan’s,and it felt like a forest fire. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and smiled into it. It was passionate and wild and warm and Roman felt like every inch of his skin was burning and he never wanted to let go. They did though, and Roman stared a moment at Logan's face, admiring the blush that colored it. He knew he wasn't any better. They stayed there until Logan finally spoke.

“Do you um, do you want to come inside?”

Roman released him, and had to hold back a chuckle at the sad whine that left Logan when he did so. He leaned back in, placing a small kiss on his nose before stepping back.

“Sorry doll, not on the first date. ‘Sides, I have work in the morning. Maybe next time though. Text me”

Logan nodded and watched longingly as Roman got in his car and drove away. He sighed softly before stepping inside of his home, reminding himself to get another date with Roman, and soon.

Roman was about to shout about how his date went when he walked in, but he saw the lights in the house were all off. He walked to the living room and cooed at the scene he was greeted by. Remus was sprawled over the couch, one leg on the floor and one arm over the back of the couch, and Janus laying on top of him, curled up small with his head over Remus’ chest and Remus’ other arm wrapped protectively around him. The two were both passed out and Roman chuckled. He went to his room and came back with a blanket to cover them with before going to his room to sleep as well.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @booklover223

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[sothischickshe]

3! 5! 7!!!

Merci beaucoup!

3.  How long do you usually spend writing a chapter? (considering only the actual hours you spend writing/typing!)

Well it's gonna broadly depend on the length 😂 and the me! And I know this said only writing/typing but i do write in my head first!!! And i say that counts!!! For this most recent thing, i think i took time over a two or three day period to make incessant notes? And then the writing period was a similar length? But i dunno what that means in hours; time is fake. I know that at the beginning of quarantine i kept falling asleep though so it took longer, and that seems to have lessened?

I think i typed the thing up over a period of three or four days too? That was like a fair chunk of a day off and then a couple of hours at a go snatched over subsequent days?

But i would say that barely counts as the time spent on writing cos...

5. How long do you spend editing each complete chapter/story?

Like a lot a lot a lot? I mean, again i think length and mood when originally writing plays into it. This thing is/was around 16k, and i think there's a max amount of words i can keep in my head at once that's probably under 7k? So the first draft was very roughhhhh and yea they always are, and yea i had notes to help, but it was rougher than a first draft of something short.

I mean i had read through and edited/added to the notes whenever i'd stopped and then picked up again, same with the paper first draft. And i edited a lot as i typed cos it was rouuuuughhh - adding/moving/changing stuff.

And then i'd spent time over a couple days editing it like hardcore - a lot of moving stuff around, changing tenses, culling bits. (i will be very cranky if I've lost it, sigh.)

But! I just love editing??? It's like... A puzzle? To which you have left yourself the clues?

And i can remember a lot of why i changed what i changed (even if i can't remember exactly what i changed it too?). And I've got a page of notes i made since the computer died cos i keep working out bits that are missing or would need to change!

And that's just... The basic story! Let me actually at the draft again (pls pls pls) and there'd be loaddddssss of other stuff i'd want to change once i liked the shape of the story better!! Addressing repetition, querying word choices, attending to rhythm better, pushing stuff so it made sense later etc etc. I'd estimate at least a week maybe two from where i'd been? (but that's around like life)

(i just want my draft back waaah... Ok will stop whinging now)

7. To you, what is the most important part of writing a romantic relationship

Hmmn! Friendship, i think? I basically always write dumber and dumbest as developing some kind of friendship. It's really the only way I can see them letting their guards down a little and building some trust? But i don't know that i always write them as having an exactly romantic relationship, and i don't necessarily see Beth as particularly romantic

[eggos-world]

Complainers (A MHA fanfic)

Midorya x Fem! Reader

(A/N : So this is my first fanfic EVER and I've really been into MHA for a while now and I LOVED reading all the fanfics, and I saw this particular ask to a blog if the reader had a writing quirk and how would Midorya and two other characters would react (I am so sorry I forgot the blog who wrote that) but I wanted to put my spin on it and make the reader be into slam poetry and let their tongue be their weapon. This particular poem is by Rudy Fransisco!! Not my original poem!! Hope y'all enjoy!)

When you write, it's like the whole world around you finally goes silent. You live out the daydreams in your own head feeling the words on the page a safe space. This was your quirk. Even if it didn't seem as great to be in combat fighting villains, at least it's something to fight your inner demons. That to you was enough.

Midorya was well use to the song and dance of getting you to snap out of your world when the bell rings, apologizing in advance. In truth he hates breaking your concentration, he knows full well that he hates the feeling being separated from writing his notes. But he knew you would sit there for hours on end just writing in your book, even if you finish it all in one go you wouldn't notice that you were writing on the desk. (And yes he had to get you out of there and insisted to clean it up for you). Even after all of this he still admired your quirk no less.

The bell had rung for lunch and everyone stood up and packed their books away and walked out one by one. You feel a tap on your shoulder not a minute later, and a familiar soft spoken voice breaks you from your concentration. " Hey, Y/N, I-Its time for lunch" He says with a smile and you close your book and packed it into your bag, walking with him side by side to the lunchroom.

"So what was today's story in your book?" He asked with a smile looking to you.

"Not a story today, I've been into poetry for a while. So I figured I might try something different. " You say smiling back.

"Woah, I didn't know you were into poetry. That seems really cool! What was it about? "

You were always so surprised that he was interested in your work. Since it was such a personal thing to you and you haven't really shown off your work due to self consciousness, he was always very supportive even from the beginning. Later on you realized that he also loved writing. That was one of the many things that formed a great friendship between you both, besides from your love of heroes and nerding out with each other of course!. You both carried out your conversation while getting your lunches. Sitting down on the table along with everyone else smiling and joking you all causally eat your meals. You pull out your notebook, sliding it over to Midorya to take a look after you promised him too. He smiles and opens to the bookmarked paged, but a soon as he does a hand flashes and snatches the book out of his hands.

"Please tell me you don't think your sorry excuse of a quirk would get you into the top ten!" Bakugou loudly exclaiming with a smug look.

Well shit.

While he was chuckling you were about to stand and get it back, but Midorya beat you to it trying to pry it off of his hands, but Bakugou only lifts it up higher. "What's your deal nerd? Trying to stick up for your little girlfriend?" He says chuckling louder.

"S-she's not my girlfriend kachan! Give back her book! It's not yours!" Midorya says with a blush forming on his face. But Bakugou shoves him away and faces you.

"What makes you think that writing fairytale lands and princesses would make you pro hero? That's not going to save you from the real world. What's going to happen if a villain comes in and starts destroying everything around you? You're gonna write him a love story with a happily ever after!? Give me a break! " He says with a laugh.

"Kachan! You need to stop this" Midorya says stepping back up to him. "Not everyone's quirk is perfect!"

"Heh! If you really think she could handle the world on her own-" He says before holding out the book "Let's give her a chance to prove me wrong! "

And just like that, your notebook, your work your safe haven was blown up to flames. Bits of burnt paper flown into the air, your book quickly into ashes. You didn't notice midorya quickly moving to get his water and put the fire out, your eyes was fixated on Bakugou. A smirk had formed on his face that made your heart sink into your stomach. A lump forming within your chest as you fought the urge to cry. He moved his arms and raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to make the next move. But you felt a hand around your arm.

"Y/N, you don't need this now. Let's just go-"

"No... " You say stepping up to Bakugou. Taking one last look at your destroyed book you turn your head back to him. "It's a shame, because the poem I was just writing... Was about you. " You say with a sad smile and a nod. He blinks back in surprise, his smirk growing larger than before. "That's not a good thing.. " You later say. Even though it was still in the works, even if you didnt get to finish it you felt your tongue burn. An unfamiliar sensation forming in your mouth. Usually you would feel it within your hand as you write, a soft glow transferring onto the words you'd write on the page. But now that feeling had made it's way from your throat and to your mouth.

And it's telling you to speak the fuck up.

You took a breath, looked him deep in the eye and let your mouth took the wheel.

"The following are true stories.

May 26th 2003 Aron Ralston was hiking, a boulder fell on his right hand. He waited four days, then amputated his arm with a pocket knife.

On New Year’s Eve, a woman was bungee jumping in Zimbabwe. The cord broke, she then fell into a river and had to swim back to land in crocodile infested waters with a broken collarbone.

Claire Champlin was smashed in the face by a five pound watermelon being propelled by a slingshot.

Matthew Brobst was hit by a javelin.

David Striegl was punched in the mouth. By a kangaroo.

The most amazing part about these stories is when asked about the experience they all smiled, shrugged, and said “I guess things could have been worse.”

So go ahead.

Tell me that you’re having a bad day.

Tell me about the traffic. Tell me about your boss. Tell me about the job you’ve been trying to quit for the past four years. Tell me the morning is just a town house burning to the ground and the snooze button is a fire extinguisher. Tell me the alarm clock stole the keys to your smile, drove it into 7:00 AM, and the crash totaled your happiness.

Tell me! Tell me!

Tell me, how blessed are we to have tragedies so small it can fit on the tips of our tongues?

You see, when Evan lost his legs he was speechless. When my cousin was assaulted, she didn’t speak for forty eight hours. When my uncle was murdered, we had to send out a search party to find my father’s voice.

Most people have no idea that tragedy and silence have the exact same address!

When your day is a museum of disappointments hanging from events that were outside of your control, when you find yourself flailing in an ocean of “Why is this happening to me?”, when it feels like your guardian angel put in his two week notice two months ago and just decided not to tell you, when it feels like God is just a babysitter that’s always on the phone, when you get punched in the esophagus by a fistful of life, remember that every year two million people die of dehydration so it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty, there’s water in the cup.

Drink it, and stop FUCKING complaining.

Muscle is created by repeatedly lifting things that have been designed to weigh us down. So when your shoulders feel heavy, stand up straight and lift your chin – call it exercise. When the world crumbles around you, you have to look at the wreckage and then build a new one out of the pieces that are still here.

Remember, you are still here.

The human heart beats approximately four thousand times per hour.

Each pulse, each throb, each palpitation is a trophy engraved with the words “You are still alive”...

You are still alive...

Act like it."

When you felt the sensation cool from your lips and the tip of your tongue, Bakugou's eyes were wide. His smirk had fallen. Silence filled around you, even from Midorya. Everyone has seen and heard the whole thing. Just as you were about to walk back to your table to grab your things and leave, you hear a slow clap. Then another. Then another. You turn your head to see everyone clapping and cheering. You smile a little. Bakugou steps back and walks off with a smack of his teeth.

"Tch, whatever weirdo.. " He mumbles under his breath.

You walked over to Midorya smiling and he quickly gives you a hug. "That was amazing! The way you kept firing words at kachan was incredible! I never seen him so speechless like that! " He pulls away with a smile and a blush.

"Oh hehe! It was nothing really" You say forming a blush yourself, looking away shyly.

"I'm really sorry about your notebook though. I could buy you another one and bring it to you tomorrow! "

"Oh no it's okay! I have extras at my house-"

"Nope! It's my treat." He smiles and the bell rings again, making everyone pack up and ready for the next class. Midorya grabs his bag and hands you yours. Making your way back into the building he stops you for a second. "Hey, speaking of treat, d-do you think we could both head out f-for some ice cream after school? " He says with a heavier blush and fiddles with his tie. He always did looked cute when he blushed. You smile and giggle a bit.

"I would love to.. "

(Woah hey! First fanfic done! Hope you all enjoyed that!! 🤣💕)

[alonely-dreamer]

Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 14: Into the Wolf’s Mouth

Summary: Mackenzie Alemaund is an unlucky 18 year old teenager whose life changes drastically after she gets kidnapped by two vampires and learns, in the same day, that she is not human.

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 4073

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there, besides I couldn’t have it edited! I hope you’ll like it!

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Looking in the mirror, Mackenzie wasn’t sure what she was seeing anymore. Certainly not the girl she was when she met Elijah, and not the girl she was when she left Mystic Falls with Katherine almost two months ago. She couldn’t decide if her life were better now that her best friends were vampires or if she missed the days when she was afraid to breathe near her abusive stepfather. Maybe it was Katherine’s confident attitude that was rubbing off on her, but she felt empowered, stronger and more determined than ever. Of course, practicing her magic helped too. It was easy to feel powerful when a simple look could set anything on fire.

For the two months they had been together, Mackenzie and Katherine had only fought once. Mackenzie had been focusing on the element of fire in her training in the previous two weeks when she came across a passage in one of her ancestors’ journals warning about the side effects. Elementals of fire were known for their anger issues of supernatural proportion. Mackenzie had understood then where her sudden hot-tempered attitude had come from. And why Katherine had insisted she practiced fire first.

“Did you know?!” she had asked, loudly enough to wake up the entire hotel.

“Maybe,” Katherine only shrugged, without an ounce of regret.

The argument had lasted two days. Mackenzie went on about how she didn’t like being manipulated but moved on when she realized that “We’re going after Klaus. I need you to be on your game if he catches us. A little confidence could save your life. And mine.” would be the only thing close to an apology she’d ever get from the vampire. Afterwards, Mackenzie had decided to focus on other elements. She decided she didn’t like the person she was when she had fire in her veins. She didn’t like the thoughts she had when she was angry.

Mackenzie had learnt a lot about Katherine in the past few weeks, and she understood very quickly how the vampire had managed to survive the last five centuries. She compelled her way to everything. Food, clothes, cars, hotel rooms… She always found clever ways to get what she wanted. And what she wanted the most in this world was her freedom. And Klaus dead.

On the morning of June 22, Katherine still had blood on her lips when she came back into their rooms with a smile on her face. She saw Mackenzie hadn’t moved from where she was when she left an hour before. The vampire grinned an evil smile as she took a step.

“Happy birthday!” Katherine said loud enough to wake up all the other rooms in the four stories hotel as she opened the curtains, letting the sunlight invade the room. Mackenzie groaned unhappily, waved her hand and the curtains were closed again.

“What time is it?” Mackenzie asked, bringing the bed cover over her head.

“Almost 9. You wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t spent all night practicing your magic,” Katherine said as she sat on the elemental’s bed, turning the pages of one of Mackenzie’s ancient journals.

“I need to practice. I want to be able to defend myself.”

“Well, at least you can defend yourself against sunlight,” she pushed herself off the bed and opened the curtains again. “But not from me. Get up. I got a present for you,” she sang the last part happily.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Mackenzie sighed as she sat up on the bed.

“It’s your birthday! Why aren’t you in a good mood?”

“Um, let’s see. I dropped from high school a month before graduation, my only friend is lying dead in a coffin somewhere, I’m one of the last elementals on this planet, I’m going after the oldest psycho vampire in the world with no plan whatsoever… what should I be happy about, exactly?”

“Your only friend?” Katherine gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “I’m offended,” she joked.

“Fine. One of my only two friends is lying dead in a coffin somewhere.”

Katherine grinned. “Get up. We’re leaving today.”

“Where are we going?”

“That is a surprise,” Katherine teased.

“Is that my birthday gift?”

“It’s part of your birthday gift,” she winked before locking herself in the bathroom.

Mackenzie sighed as she pushed the bed cover away from her. She picked up the journals and grimoires from the floor and put them back inside her bag. She had left the chest in a storage room near Mystic Falls before leaving town. She couldn’t take the risk of losing it while traveling the country so she only took grimoires and journals she could read and use to practice her magic and make herself stronger.

“Are you ready for the rest of your gift?” Katherine asked as she exited the bathroom.

“Did you find Klaus?” Mackenzie asked, because that’s all she really wanted.

“Yes. Well… kind of. I know what he’s been up to.”

“What?”

“Ever since the curse was lifted Klaus has been looking for werewolves to turn. Unfortunately for him, and for the werewolves, that didn’t go so well.”

“What do you mean?”

“They all died. He can’t make hybrids. He’s pissed and he wants answers.”

“That’s… my gift?”

“No. That’s my gift,” Katherine said with a smirk as she handed her a postcard.

“A postcard from… Chicago?”

“That’s where Klaus is going. And that’s our next stop.”

“What’s in Chicago?”

“A witch. He’ll ask her why his hybrids are dying.”

“What does she know about it?”

“She’s a witch. Witches don’t know anything, they usually ask the spirits for answers.”

“So… we go to Chicago and… we get Elijah back while Klaus is busy getting his answers.”

“Wow there cowgirl, slow down! It’s not gonna be that easy. You think Klaus leaves his siblings unprotected?”

“I think between you and me, whoever’s guarding the coffins doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Well look at you. I’d be proud if being overly confident wasn’t the best way to get yourself killed,” Katherine said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’ve been waiting for a chance to get close for weeks! This is the best opportunity we got so far!”

“Look, you wanna get yourself killed? I won’t stop you. But you won’t be useful to Elijah if you’re dead.”

Mackenzie clenched her jaw, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Katherine was right. It was a terrible plan.

“Sorry… It’s the fire in me,” she said, and she meant it literally, “I need to slow down.”

“Always remember this, Mack: ask questions first, shoot later. Unless your life depends on it then shoot first and ask questions later.”

Mackenzie frowned. “Thanks for the advice, that clarifies so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

It took them the entire day to get to Chicago, following the Original hybrid by a couple of hours. Mackenzie never asked Katherine how she knew what she knew but she figured that’s where she went early in the morning. She always came back with new information, and blood on her shirt. After 500 years of running, Mackenzie figured Katherine had made a few friends along the way.

The next morning was different though, because Katherine never came back. Mackenzie was getting worried as the clock struck noon and still no sign of the immortal doppelganger. Around 2, Mackenzie was getting tired of waiting, and she was worried. She decided to do a locator spell but as she was looking for a personal object in Katherine’s belongings, she found an opened notepad with an address written in red on it. A Chicago address for a place just around the corner.

It took less than half an hour for the elemental to get there. She was pretty sure that’s where she’d found Katherine as the lock of the apartment’s front door was broken. When she stepped inside, she came face to face with whom she thought was her friend.

“Kat! What are you doing? I was worried sick!”

But Katherine didn’t respond. Instead, she frowned and the surprised and confused look on her face told Mackenzie that the girl standing in the kitchen in front of her wasn’t Katherine Pierce.

“Mackenzie?” Elena breathed out. “What are you doing here? We thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?” Mackenzie frowned. “And what are you doing here?”

“Did you say Kat? As in Katherine?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for her. What is this place?”

“What are you doing with Katherine?”

“Trying to help Elijah,” Mackenzie said as if it were obvious. “Why are you here?”

“Damon brought me here. It used to be Stefan’s apartment.”

Well that would explain why Katherine had the address. Mackenzie was about to reply when a shiver ran down her spine. Uh-oh.

“Klaus is here,” she breathed out.

“What?”

“You need to leave, now!”

“I can’t, he’ll see me!”

“Then hide!”

“What about you?”

“I… I’ll be fine just go!”

Elena hesitated but eventually stepped out of the kitchen and entered what Mackenzie guessed was the bedroom.

Think, think, think. Mackenzie could have locked the door, even set the building on fire but that wouldn’t have helped anybody. Her best shot was to distract Klaus to save Elena. With a little luck, he wouldn’t kill her. With a little luck.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she heard Klaus say with delight.

Mackenzie slowly turned around and faced a smiling Klaus and a frowning Stefan.

“Mackenzie, is it?” Klaus asked. She swallowed then nodded. “Now, that is a complete surprise,” he chuckled. “What are you doing here? Or, how did you find us, shall I ask.”

Mackenzie’s heart started beating harder. Her breath was uneven as she tried to find an answer. “Damon,” she lied.

“Ah. Your brother’s still looking for you, is he?” he told Stefan. “Looks like he hasn’t learnt his lesson yet.”

“You didn’t come here for me,” Stefan said, “you came for Elijah.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “That’s right,” he said as if he had just remembered who she was. “Fancy my brother, do you?”

“What?” Mackenzie shook her head. “I…”

“Relax,” the hybrid laughed, “I appreciate your loyalty to my brother, and your bravery. But you know what people say, there’s a fine line between bravery…” Klaus whispered as he took a step towards the elemental, “and stupidity.”

He gave her one of his terrifying smiles before he slid his nose down her neck. Mackenzie froze as she heard Klaus breathe in her scent. Katherine had just given her blood the day before so he shouldn’t be able to tell what she really was. But still, he was terrifying. Then, after what seemed like hours, Klaus sighed.

“Well, I can’t kill you now,” he said with what might have been disappointment in his voice, “Elijah’s not gonna be happy I daggered him, I can’t make him angrier by killing his girlfriend, can I?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Mackenzie had the courage to say with a weak voice. She then realized how stupid it was to tell Klaus he had no real reason to keep her alive.

Klaus laughed. “So. Where is Damon?”

“I don’t know. He left me here.”

“That wasn’t very smart of him, was it?” Klaus mocked. “Now, now. I can’t have you mess around my business. And if I can’t kill you then… I guess I’m gonna have to keep a close eye on you,” he grinned. “Besides, Rebekah could use a friend. She’s only been dead for 90 years, after all. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your company.”

“You want to give her to your sister?” Stefan raised an eyebrow.

“Rebekah will be angry when she wakes up. Anything to calm her down is fine by me. Go on now. Gloria will be waiting for us.”

“Who’s Gloria?” she asked.

“A witch and a friend of mine who’s helping me figure out why I can’t make hybrids.”

That wasn’t good. If Klaus turned to that witch for help it meant that she was powerful. Very powerful. And witches weren’t Mackenzie’s friends. Stay away from those bitches, Katherine had told her. This could go wrong in so many ways. The witch could tell Klaus she was an elemental, in which case he’d kill her, or the witch could just kill her herself. Either way, Mackenzie doubted she’d ever see Katherine or Elijah again.

***

Gloria, if she knew of Mackenzie’s true nature, hadn’t said a thing. Klaus and Stefan had been drinking for over an hour at the witch’s bar, waiting for Rebekah, whom Mackenzie had learnt was Klaus’ sister who had been lying in a casket since the 1920’s.

The vampires seemed to have forgotten of the girl’s presence as they kept talking about that time, 90 year ago, when they knew each other. Mackenzie didn’t know what to think as she heard of Stefan and Klaus being best friends and Stefan being in love with Klaus’ sister.

“You compelled me to forget,” Stefan said as he realized why he couldn’t remember any of it.

“It was time for Rebekah and I to move on,” Klaus explained. “Better to have a clean slate.”

“But why? You shouldn’t have to cover your tracks. Unless you’re running from someone.”

“Story time’s over.”

Stefan didn’t insist. “I need another drink,” he said. “A real one.” Klaus dismissed him before he poured himself another drink.

Mackenzie was too afraid to open her mouth. She was happy enough that Klaus acted like she wasn’t sitting right next to him. Unfortunately, the evening was about to take a dark turn and Mackenzie knew it wasn’t going to end well when Damon came to sit at the bar, a stool away from the Original hybrid.

“I see they’ve opened the doors to the riffraff now,” Klaus said, not bothering to look at him.

“Oh, honey, I’ve been called worse,” Damon replied which made Klaus chuckle.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“Give me my brother back and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I am torn. You see, I promised Stefan I wouldn’t let you die but how many freebies did I really sign up for? And clearly you want to die otherwise you wouldn’t be here, so…”

“What can I say? I’m a thrill seeker,” Damon grinned.

Klaus smiled back for a couple of seconds before jumping from his seat. The sudden movement startled Mackenzie. The Original seized the vampire by the throat and started poking around his chest with a toothpick from the bar.

“I’m a little boozy, so you’ll forgive me if I miss your heart the first few tries.”

Mackenzie was frozen on her seat, torn between asking the vampire to stop or stopping him herself. It wouldn’t require much magic, she could set the toothpick on fire, which was easy enough, but then she’d have to neutralize Klaus which would certainly piss him off but also reveal her true powers, which she had no intention of doing.

“Klaus! Klaus stop!” she begged. She didn’t really know why, she wasn’t particularly fond of Damon, in fact she really didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean she wanted him dead.

Klaus’ only answer was a laugh. “Stop? Why would I do that?”

“You want a partner in crime?” Damon managed to say despite Klaus’ hand on his throat. “Forget Stefan. I’m so much more fun.”

Klaus tilted his head as if he were thinking about it but then threw Damon over a table.

“You won’t be any fun after you’re dead,” he said as he broke a chair and made a stake out of it.

“Klaus!” Mackenzie shouted as he was about to stab the eldest Salvatore in the heart.

But as soon as she said his name, the stake caught on fire, and Mackenzie was sure she hadn’t done it. Klaus let go of it with a growl.

“Really?”

“Not in my bar.” Gloria said. “You take it outside.”

Klaus sighed. “You don’t have to negotiate your brother’s freedom,” he told Damon. “When I’m done with him, he won’t wanna go back.” He stepped away from him, gesturing him to leave.

Damon got up with a groan. He sighed before he took the direction of the exit.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Klaus asked.

Damon turned away and gave him a confused look. Klaus pointed a finger at Mackenzie. Damon frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

Klaus laughed, raising his eyebrows at her. “Now that’s interesting.” Mackenzie looked away. “You can go now,” he told Damon. “And don’t come back.”

***

When Stefan came back a couple of minutes after Damon had gone, Klaus still hadn’t asked Mackenzie to tell him the truth, which she found weird, but ultimately wouldn’t complain about. She followed them, not that she had any choice, to a big storage room where an empty open coffin was waiting for them. She looked around, wondering where Elijah’s coffin was.

Klaus turned around to look at the room and saw one of his man lying dead on the floor.

“Rebekah,” he called. “It’s your big brother. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Almost instantly, a blonde young woman dressed in a white dress from the 20’s, launched herself at Klaus and stabbed him in the heart with a silver dagger.

“Go to hell, Nik,” she snarled.

Klaus gasped out of pain but was left unharmed by the attack. He removed the dagger from his chest and let it fall to the floor.

“Don’t pout, you knew it wouldn’t kill me.”

“No, but I was hoping it would hurt more,” she said as she walked away from him.

Mackenzie stepped back, only for her back to meet Stefan’s chest. She looked up at him, and she could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to help her, no matter what happened. She was on her own. She thanked Katherine for all the training sessions from the past two months. She had a feeling she was going to have to put them to use very soon.

“I understand that you’re upset with me, Rebekah,” Klaus followed her and she stopped when he placed a hand on her shoulder, “so I’m gonna let that go, just this once.”

She gave him an unsatisfied look.

“I brought you a little peace offering,” he said before he pointed at Stefan.

Mackenzie could see the surprise on the blonde’s face. Her anger faded away as a smile appeared on her face.

“Stefan?”

Mackenzie looked up at the vampire and could see he didn’t remember the blonde at all. She moved away as Klaus stepped towards them. She watched as the hybrid put a hand on the vampire’s shoulder and compelled him to remember before stepping away.

Stefan was confused for a short moment but then his eyes fell on Klaus’ sister and a genuine happy smile formed on his face.

“Rebekah,” he breathed out. He started walking slowly towards her but stopped when Klaus softly called his name. He turned around and frowned as he now recognized him too. “I remember you. We were friends.”

“We are friends,” Klaus corrected him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “And now, the reason you’re here,” he told his sister, “Gloria tells me you know how to contact the Original witch.”

“’The Original witch’?” Rebekah repeated like it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

“What do you have that Gloria needs?”

Rebekah brought a hand to her neck but was surprised to find nothing there.

“Where’s my necklace?” she asked. “What did you do with it? I never take it off!”

“Tell me that’s not what she needs.”

“We need to find it!”

“Tell me that’s not what she needs!” Klaus growled, his anger only growing.

“We need to find it now! I want it back!” Rebekah shouted.

“Tell me that’s not what she needs, Rebekah!” Klaus yelled so loud it made Mackenzie jump.

Rebekah turned to her coffin and looked inside then destroyed it when she found nothing there.

Klaus was so furious Mackenzie started to fear for her own life. After all, Klaus was known to kill people when things didn’t go his way. She looked up at Stefan who had a weird look on his face. Mackenzie thought she saw guilt, or maybe worry.

“It’s fine,” Klaus said as he took a deep breath, “it’s fine. Gloria will find it.”

“She better!” Rebekah threatened. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at Mackenzie. The elemental swallowed, it didn’t seem like a good moment for her to become the center of their attention.

“That, dear sister, is Mackenzie.”

“What is she doing here?”

“She came for Elijah, isn’t that right, Mackenzie?”

Mackenzie’s eyes moved from Klaus to his sister then to Klaus again. She was too scared to speak, certain that the wrong word would be a death sentence. She nodded.

“Where is Elijah?” Rebekah asked.

“In his coffin.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes, disappointed, but not surprised. “Then why is she here?”

“She’s stubborn this one,” Klaus said as he walked towards Mackenzie and put his arm around her shoulders. Mackenzie felt like her heart had stopped beating. “She won’t let Elijah go.”

“But you’re not gonna wake him up. So why is she here?” she asked again, getting annoyed.

“I found her snooping around earlier today, I thought she could keep you company. After all, if she can be friends with Elijah, she can be friends with you.”

“You kidnapped me a friend?” Rebekah asked with a frown.

“You’re welcome. Just keep an eye on her, will you? She’s a powerful witch and I’m not ready to face Elijah just yet.”

Rebekah let out an amused laugh. “She doesn’t look like a powerful witch,” she mocked.

“Well she’s a little inexperienced but she was smart enough to find me here so I’m not taking any chances.”

Rebekah didn’t answer. She looked Mackenzie up and down which made the elemental feel not only like she was taking her final breaths, but also a bit self-conscious. It took everything she had in her not to step back and to keep her chin up, when Rebekah made her way to her. A little self-confidence could save your life.

“So, you’re Elijah’s girlfriend?” she asked, doubt clear on her face.

“No,” Mackenzie said in a whisper, unable to speak any louder, “we’re just friends.”

“You don’t follow Niklaus around for just a ‘friend’. Unless you have a death wish.”

Klaus laughed. Mackenzie could see Rebekah was waiting for an answer. What could she tell her? She had no good reason to be here except for the truth. As pathetic as it could be.

“I don’t have anyone but Elijah. Without him…,” she paused, and Rebekah raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue, “I’m all alone. He saved my life once. I wanted to do the same for him.”

Rebekah didn’t move her eyes from the girl’s face, studying her, thinking about what she had just heard. After a moment of silence, Rebekah nodded and stepped back.

“I like you. We shall be friends.”

***

Damon was in his living room, pouring himself a glass of alcohol with a hand, his phone in the other.

“Okay, you were right. He was there.”

“I’m always right,” Katherine said through the phone. “Let me guess. It ended in tears and heartbreak.”

“Where are you?”

“Why? Do you wanna come rub sunscreen on my back?”

“I’m thinking Europe. Italy maybe. Or Spain. You were always a sucker for those lazy afternoons.”

He expected her to keep lying but instead was met with silence.

“You’re still here?”

“Was she there?” she asked with a serious tone he wasn’t used to hearing from her.

“Who?” he frowned, confused.

“Mackenzie. Did you see her?”

Damon laughed as he realized. “Mackenzie, of course! I was wondering what she was doing with him. But she wasn’t there with him. She was there with you.”

“So you saw her?”

“Yeah, I saw her.”

“Was she okay?”

“Well she didn’t look happy to be there but her heart was still beating when I left, if that’s what you’re asking. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Goodbye, Damon.”

The vampire didn’t have time to say goodbye as she hung up on him. He threw his phone on the couch and sat down on an armchair near the fireplace.

What was he going to do now?

**********

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 15 is already available for early access on my Patreon page! Chapter 16 to 21 are available for instant access! If you'd like to support me here's my page: patreon.com/alonelydreamer any support is highly appreciated!!

If you can't, it's okay! Chapter 15 will be posted on Tumblr next Wednesday!

Have a good week!

Tags: @thepoet1975 @nerdysandwichqueen @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @raegan-hale @captainam-erika-trash @silver424 @monetfatalia @vaniileiinkeks @valeria-winchester @favimag @colie87 @hamiltonmadesomemistakes @s0nh4dorasblog @poemfreak306 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @thegingerthatwaited @therealwatermelon @dark-night-sky-99 @aubri1313 @jardinsecos @gymnastgal1997-blog @thearaviagrace77blog 

(Please let me know if the tags are working!!)

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part X

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Fic!

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.  

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been so busy with requests! But I’m really dedicated to this story and I can’t wait for y’all to see how it ends! We’re getting close now!

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @jennyggggrrr @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny, @caborhapch, @kurt-nightcrawler, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @queendeakyy, @hotttspace, @anxious-diabetic, @someone-get-a-medic, @psychosupernatural, @lizvxx

Let me know if you’d like to be added! I think this story is going to have two more parts and an epilogue!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX

Part X here we go!!!

Joe got his castmates on skype to tell them the big news. Rami, Gwilym, and Lucy were in Chicago. Allen was in London. Ben was in Los Angeles. But all of them knew that it was the day, and they had already arranged a time for Joe to call when they could all answer. You and Joe were on your laptop at your apartment, grinning like crazy at each other and at your friends. They looked eagerly at the two of you.

“So,” said Rami. “Boy or girl?”

You and Joe looked at each other and then back at them.

“It’s a boy!” you cried in unison.

They all clapped and shouted their congratulations. You held up the latest sonogram and they absolutely fawned over it.

“He’s beautiful!” Lucy cooed.

“What are you gonna call him?” asked Ben.

“I thought I told you,” said Joe. “Joseph Francis Mazzello IV.”

“I mean, yeah, but you’re already Joe,” Ben said. “What’s his nickname gonna be?”

“Joey?” Gwilym guessed.

“I call him Joey,” you said, pointing to Joe.

“We could both be Joey,” Joe said.

“That might get confusing,” Allen added.

“Whatever we call him will come naturally, I think,” you said. “He might even tell us what he wants to be called.”

“That’s true,” Joe said.

You chatted with them for a little longer, and they caught you and Joe up on what was going on in their lives. It was nice to hear from them all. The only one you hadn’t met in person was Allen, but he was very nice. When they all had to go, you hung up. You sighed and looked at Joe, happier than you had been in a long time.

“So, what would you say to a round of destressing?” he teased, leaning over to kiss you.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” you returned, smirking.

“It’s just doctor’s orders,” he said.

“Well, I can’t very well say no to that,” you said, kissing him again.

Giggling, you made your way to the bedroom to celebrate.

The following weeks were mostly focused on the move. You and Joe hired movers since you were well into your second trimester and it wasn’t safe for you to lift anything. It made you feel incredibly useless throughout the process. Joe insisted you were carrying the most precious piece of your home, and therefore had no obligation to move furniture or boxes.

On the official moving day, which ended up being late September, you spent time with Christy while Joe oversaw the moving process. It was nice to get quality time with her and celebrate your friendship together before you both took steps you knew meant less time for each other. Several times throughout the day, you got a little emotional thinking about it. As much as you loved Joe, you were going to miss Christy dearly. You were walking together in Central Park when you had to stop and rest.

“Sorry,” you said as you took a seat on a bench. “I’m feeling a little nauseous.”

“Ice cream didn’t agree with little Joey?” she wondered.

You shook your head. “I dunno. I’m still having a lot of nausea. Not as much as the first trimester, but enough to be annoyed.”

“Is that normal?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” you said with a shrug. “Pregnancy is so fucking weird I figure there’s no ‘normal’ way, y’know?”

“I guess that’s fair,” she chuckled.

“According to Google I shouldn’t worry,” you said. “It’s probably just that my hormones are going crazy right now.”

“It just sucks you can’t take anything,” she said.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I get headaches a lot too, so it’s doubly awful.”

“God, I’m never getting pregnant,” she joked.

“Never say never,” you returned. “Don’t forget we weren’t trying for Joey here.”

She laughed. “I’m gonna be super careful to not get pregnant,” she corrected.

When you were feeling better, you began walking again. You told her about all the things you and Joe had done to prepare the house and what you’d gotten for the nursery. She was honestly thrilled for you and couldn’t wait to see it.

Joe picked you up from the park, looking sweaty and exhausted from a whole day of moving. After saying goodbye to Christy, you slid into the passenger seat, cradling your belly in one hand as you settled in. Joe kissed your cheek.

“You look sexy,” you joked, wiping his hair off his soaked forehead.

He smiled. “The house is almost done. We just need to unpack clothes, but I’ve got stuff for us to wear tonight.”

“Okay, we can take care of that tomorrow,” you said. “I can’t wait to see it.”

It looked much like you had imagined it would over the weeks. You and Joe had picked out everything together, and it really felt like yours. This was the Mazzello home. Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked through it together. There were boxes of clothes, and some kitchen things that needed to be put away, but that was all part of moving.

“Welcome home,” Joe said.

You grinned. “It’s perfect.”

That evening, after you and Joe ordered a pizza and had that for dinner, you settled into bed pretty early. For the first night in many, you didn’t make love because he was so tired. You didn’t push because your stomach still felt a little queasy and you didn’t feel super sexy. Just as you leaned back against your pillows and cracked open a book, your phone rang.

“Who’s that?” Joe mumbled beside you, half asleep already.

“It’s Christy,” you said, and picked up. “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”

“I just got our mail,” she said. “You’ve got a letter from Nick.”

“What?” you gasped. “Can you bring it over? We’re already in bed.”

She scoffed. “Really? You leave our apartment for one day and you’re already a grandmother?”

“We’re lame and tired,” you returned, trying to joke but worry was too strong in your heart. “Can you just bring it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and hung up. You knew she was already on the way.

“What’s up?” Joe asked.

“Nothing, baby,” you assured him, kissing his cheek. “Go to sleep. I just left a few things at the apartment.”

He muttered something else, but you didn’t really take it in. You got up, put on sweatpants and went downstairs to wait for Christy. The fifteen minute trip felt like hours when she was bringing you word from Nick. You hoped this meant he was ready to take a plea bargain and you wouldn’t have to go to court again.

When she arrived, you opened the door before she could knock. She had the letter and a few other things for you, but you just tossed them on the counter as you turned the kitchen light on. You eagerly ripped the letter open and pulled it out, your eyes frantically scanning the page. Your mouth fell open at what you read.

“What?” Christy asked. “What did he say?”

“What did who say?” Joe added as he came into the room. “What’s going on?”

“Nick wrote me from jail,” you told him.

“Why’d you say it was nothing?” he demanded.

“I wanted you to rest!” you insisted. “Why are you up?”

“I don’t sleep well without you next to me,” he said.

You didn’t have time to admire that sentiment. Christy let out a frustrated groan.

“You two are adorable, but we don’t have time for this!” she cried. “Y/N, what did Nick say?”

They both had curious eyes on you as you read the words on the page once more, cementing their reality in your head.

“He wants to see me,” you told them. “He says he’ll take the plea bargain but only if I come and talk to him. But he doesn’t say what it’s about.”

“This feels slimy,” Christy said. “Like a trap.”

“He can’t hurt me,” you said. “It’s all supervised.”

“Y/N, are seriously considering going?” Joe questioned.

“Of course,” you said. “If I can end this sooner, I want to take the opportunity.”

“But if you can get him in court -” Christy began but you cut her off.

“We don’t know that for sure,” you said. “And the court date sucks because Joe’s gonna be in London for the BoRhap premiere and you’re going to be in Florida with your boyfriend. I’d have to go alone.”

“What if he’s lying?” Joe asked. “I’m with Christy, I think he just wants to try and intimidate you again.”

“Well, so what if it is?” you said. “Then we’ll go about it the original plan. I don’t see what harm it can do.”

“It could cause you more stress, and the doctor said to do things that do the opposite of that,” he reminded you.

“It could also relieve the stress,” you argued. “Because then I won’t be so scared about going alone to court.”

“Why do you want to go so bad?” he questioned.

“All the reasons I’ve just said!” you returned. “Aren’t you listening to me?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re giving him the satisfaction,” he said, heaving a sigh. “This puts all the power in his hands.”

“It’s not about having power, it’s about finishing this,” you said. “I want to move on from him, and the sooner the better. A whole month before the court date.”

“Y/N, you can’t do this,” he said. “I’m gonna have to put my foot down.”

Your mouth fell open and you blinked at him for several moments. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“Oh my God, run, Joe,” Christy muttered to him.

“I said I’m putting my foot down,” he repeated. “No.”

“You know if you’re gonna keep speaking to me like that, you might as well get me a chew toy,” you spat.

“I didn’t mean -”

You cut across him. “Oh, didn’t you? Because that’s how you talk to dogs and badly behaved children, but definitely not your girlfriend who is five months pregnant with your child.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down.

“Apology accepted,” you said. “I love you and value your opinion, Joe, and you don’t always have to agree with me. But you will treat me with some goddamn respect.”

“Jesus, Y/N, use a dick,” Christy breathed.

“You’re right,” he conceded, ignoring your friend. “Again, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I just worry about you. That’s all.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said with a sigh. “I’m going to see Nick. And you can come with me or not, but I’m going.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I think it’s right, but I don’t want you to go alone.”

When you had everything arranged to go and see Nick, you found yourself more nervous than you thought you’d be. You tried to think of what you could say to him, but Joe and Christy advised waiting until hearing what he had to say before forming any ideas. Not having anything prepared though made you feel anxious.

The jail he was being held in also made you nervous. The officers there were stern and intimidating, but you figured they had to be with the job they had. You would see Nick in a common area that reminded you of a school cafeteria, but a lot scarier. Nick looked rather pathetic is in uniform, and he’d clearly not gotten any drugs either. His recent bout with withdrawal was written all over his face.

Joe held your hand tightly as you took a deep breath. Nick would also now know that you were pregnant. You’d been careful during the first court date to wear loose clothes and hide your bump. It helped that he hadn’t looked very hard at you. You saw his eyes go wide when he noticed it now. You placed your hand on your bump as you took a seat across from him. Joe remained standing, keeping a hand on your shoulder as he glowered at Nick.

“So,” you said. “What do you want to say?”

“First of all, I want to say I’m sorry, Y/N,” he began. “I’m really sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice stony. “You tried to say that before you broke my phone and wrecked my apartment. You’re gonna have to do better, Nick.”

“I don’t know what came over me there,” he said.

“I do,” you remarked.

“Please, let me finish,” he said, and you got quiet. “I don’t know what came over me. I truly didn’t go there with the intention of hurting you or begging for you back. I went there to ask you for money, and I lied to try and get it from you, I know. I don’t know why you having a boyfriend upset me so much.”

“Did you think there was still hope for us?” you asked.

He looked down at his hands. “Maybe a little. I always thought if I got clean...you might...”

“Forgive you for selling naked photos of me?” you wondered in disbelief. “How could I ever get past that?”

“You’re right, it was stupid,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t help but hold out hope, y’know?”

“This is getting off track,” you said. “Is there anything else you wanted?”

“I just want to know that you forgive me,” he told you. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to face a year in prison.”

You completely hardened as you glared at him. “You wanna know what I faced because of what you did? I was a prisoner in my own head, fearing every fucking camera I came into contact with. I was afraid for my job, for my reputation. I lost friends and family. It affected my relationship with Joe. And then you sent them to him and his friends and God knows who else! I had to start over all the progress I’d made on moving past it! And you want my forgiveness so that you can go to prison and feel okay?”

He sputtered for words.

“I forgive you, Nick,” you said, and he looked at you, wide-eyed. “But not for your sake. I’m forgiving you so I can move on with my own life and focus on this.” You placed your hand on your belly again. “He’s my life now. I’m looking forward, because I can’t look at you anymore.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and your head started to pound. You winced with pain and Joe knelt closer to you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “I think so. I’m ready to go now.”

You both looked at Nick and then you spoke again. “Is there anything else? Are you ready to take the plea deal?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Just one more thing.”

You looked expectantly at him. He nodded toward your baby bump.

“If I had never gotten into the drugs, do you think that could have been us?”

“No,” you said simply. “It was always going to be me and Joe.”

He nodded, resigned, and you told the guard you were ready. You could feel Nick’s eyes on you as you left, willing you to turn around for one last meaningful look, but you didn’t give it to him. You were ending this on your terms. And that meant turning your back to him forever and pressing on with Joe and your son.

When you exited the prison, you felt so free. Joe looked hard at you. You’d gotten a little emotional inside, but that was gone now. Relief washed over you like a wave.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” you said, taking his hand as you made your back to your car. You stopped him before you got in, turning him to face you.

“I meant what I said in there,” you said. “It’s me and you now, okay? And little Joey. I’m not worried about anyone from the past. Not when I’ve got you two.”

He kissed you, his hands coming up to cradle your face as his lips claimed yours. This kiss sealed it.

“No more looking back,” he agreed. “I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about this.”

“I love you too,” you said. “And don’t worry about it. I understand why, and it makes me love you even more. You still supported me through it. Thank you, Joe.”

“You feel good about everything?” he asked.

“I do,” you assured him. “It feels like closure.”

He pulled you into a hug. “Good.”

You broke away and you both climbed into the car.

“You know what this means?” you said eagerly as he started to drive back to the house.

“No, what?” he wondered.

“We can just be excited about the premiere of Bohemian Rhapsody!” you squealed. “Yay!”

He laughed. “And then Joey’s gonna get here!”

“I know!” you cried. “We’ve got so much to look forward to!”

[prorevenge]

After months of putting up with my roommate from hell, I got the revenge of lifetime and screwed her over out of a fuckton of money and got her to pay rent and life has never been sweeter! (This is a long one)

This is a long one but very much worth the ride, so buckle up. (also, English isn't my native lang, sorry if there are any mistakes)

This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates, all of them were nice and we got along well, except for this one bitch, let's call her Karen. if Satan and Hitler had a child and that child had a child with Stalin and Cruella de Vil, that would be Karen for you, she is a loud-mouthed stupid, egocentric bitch who has the face that scare the shit out of a toilet. She would never clean up after herself, she would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them. I have lost counts of how many times, I caught her stealing my clothes without asking and if you so much as touch her clothes she loses her shit on you, or her drinking our lactose-intolerant roommates almond milk and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say "I only had a sip, stop being so stingy." She plays her music loud at night, invites stranger without giving any heads up, a time or two she didnt pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she is wearing gucci and prada shit, Karen also fucking lies about everything, even things that are not worth lying about. like if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she'll lie through her fucking teeth and say she rose with the sun rise because she is a natural. (ps, this is something i actually heard her say to her parents while she was skypeing them....so cringy, who the fuck says that? but i digress)

Months we have fucking put up with her, of course we tried to get other roommates but unfortunately when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name so kicking her out would require a lot of effort and most of us were busy with school and work and life happens. So we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.

We are now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpack trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself, this is important so remember this.

One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall. Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the Guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbal autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social ques and subtlety, which lets face it, that is the core of dating, especially flirting but with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola we got her to ask him out. He said yes. She was so happy, you guys, she flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a shit eatin grin on her face; needless to say we were all so happy. Karen caught wind of this and it just so happens at that time she was having relationship problems, I guess her bf finally realized he's dating human garbage. Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy's place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial cheater and even made a fake account for Sasha's so called bf. the guy never called Sasha, and eventually weeks passed by he told us why but by then Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.

I. WAS. FUCKING. FURIOUS.

This, this level of dickery and bloody pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel's back and I vowed I wouldn't fucking leave until I served my slice of justice. Here's another character that you must know about, Prof C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident and as a result is in a wheelchair, this is especially problematic because she was a stay home mom that took care of their two special needs kids and they have a toddler at home. Home life is a mess for him, he is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family, the uni took pity and also feared the workload would see one of their best and most beloved teachers leave the school struck a deal with him to help him out. In all of his classes there will be quizzes and midterms, this doesnt change, but assignments you submit and he corrects at the end of the year, this is important cuz our uni has zero tolerance on proffs that dont constantly update the students course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.

Karen, the lazy and stupid bitch she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a shit tone of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs submit the paper on its due date and to only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrase tool for the rest of the paper so the plagiarism software wont detect it and would think its original material and when the end of the year comes, submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work. Prof C won't know cuz the likelihood a man as busy as him thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low. I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus, she is going down! All semester long I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone, all the while I spied and gathered all of her pass codes, social media, her student ID, everything.

The end of the year came and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos were there are side-to-side comparison of the assignments. This is a good start but not enough. So, One day chillin at the living room I open a conversation about relationships, Karen is two timing her new boyfriend and is sleeping with some other Person. so, I ask her questions like "don't you feel guilty for cheating?" and "You do realize this is wrong?" and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear, for example I would say "It's not fair, so many people work so hard everyday to be successful and you are here cheating and lying your way to success." Karen, narcissistic as fuck, would respond with snippets of I dont care and how she isnt cheating, she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too. This is too good to be true, even her answers are vague, its like god put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes and said, "burry this bitch". and Id be damned if I didnt. As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos, and her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the Professor, and i tell the girls so that they can prep for the shit storm thats coming. Three weeks later, results are out. she failed and LOST HER SHIT. She was screamin, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! you best believe, the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it. she cried and begged for a second chance but he said a hard no. So now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn't graduate with us, and takes on a whole 'nother semester for one measly course or take summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which mind you she spent a fuckton on, something like 13, 000$ and I know it could have been much cheaper but Princess Karen only wanted the best so yh. The next couple of weeks she spent sleepless nights because she was calling and cancelling all the reservations she made, tryin to get her money back BUT (again, GOD really was out for blood that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees. She only managed to scrap 5.5 K back together, lossin 7.5 K. OUCH!

Its not over, having damning evidence I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills till we move out, which was in two months, payback for all the times she was late on payment or defaulted and she would from now do her part of the house chores or else Im gonna send it all to the admin and faculty dean and she will fo sho be kicked out and all those uni years will have been for nothing. She hated it, she fucking threw tantrums and cussed me out but my god if she didnt do whats told. she cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her BF (dont know the guy but the few times i met him he was super sweet to us and i felt bad for the guy), I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years. IT was fucking amazing and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, i kick back my feet and reminiscine and a slow shit eatin grin draws itself upon my face.

tl;dr roommate was super mean, i found out she was cheating on her assignments and so i snitched on her and as a result she had to stay the summer and retake the class again or else she wouldn't graduate.

(source) story by (/u/let-the-write-one-in)

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 11

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8 ; Chapter 9 ; Chapter 10

Masterlist : here

AN : It is wednesday, my dudes! This part and the next ones are like 90% fluff, 10% angst... like bittersweet. You’re still heartbroken but try to keep your friendship with Jake, while doing all of your homework... A lot to handle. Actually I had to cut the chapter in half because it was too long (9-10 pages). I really hope you’ll like this chapter because I liked writing it! Feel free to tell me what you thought of it, send me dms or questions, and thanks for reading me x

Chapitre 11 : Would you cook for me ?

Ignoring Jake's texts or avoiding him was useless. But hanging out with him was a challenge I wasn't ready to handle, never asked for, and yet was pushed into. Pretending I didn't see him when we crossed paths in the hallways, or that I didn't receive any of his texts was petty, there was no point in doing so. I couldn't avoid him without giving him any reason, and I couldn't tell him why I needed some time far away from him either because it meant revealing the truth and 1) I wasn't ready, 2) he'd be the one avoiding me like the black plague if I did. It brought me to the conclusion that I would simply pretend nothing happened at all. Jake hadn't noticed the whole situation anyway, so to him it'd already be like everything was normal, just like it always had been between us. It was the best I could think of. For him, for Josh, for anyone. For me ? Not so much. Of course I was still heartbroken, of course it'd take me some time to get over him, and staying by his side would be like rubbing salt on a wound while demanding for it to heal. But I wouldn't risk to break our group's dynamic for selfish reasons. So I sucked that in, everything. The sadness, and painful pang of my chest every time I saw his face, while repeating myself it was for the best.

That aside, I had some other things coming. For the worst. My useless self got so into self-pity and deprecation that I had totally forgotten about homework... And my drawing teacher would be less than pleased as we were all supposed to hand her five new portraits on Monday. Realization hit me during breakfast with Josh who had slept here, when I saw Mandy pack her things and idly noticing out loud that I wasn't carrying a lot of stuff for once. This. This was the cue. But it was too late now, I thought as I walked down the halls by their side. On our way to the amphitheater we saw Jake, waiting in front of the door for the teacher to come. Other students were here too, chatting and yawning with their backs against the walls or sitting on the floor. Josh looked at me like he wasn't sure if he should greet him but the brunette was the one spotting us, gesturing us to come join him. My eyes were probably still a bit puffy but with the makeup it could pass for lack of sleep. Of course he knew Josh stayed at our place last time, I had made sure the boy texted him, and the jerk had taken this opportunity to ask his brother to bring him all his school supplies, backpack included. Unbelievable.

- Your stuff, said Jake handing Josh his bag.

- Who's the big brother again ?, I jokingly asked with a raised eyebrow.

- He's 5 minutes older, replied Jake.

- You'll never live it down !

We all chatted quietly, and I never felt more conflicted in my entire life. My heart didn't know if it should beat faster or hurt like hell, so it seemed to do both, making me feel weird just by being next to Jake. My body was in total contradiction with itself. I couldn't hold back the smile that crept across my face, but at the same time wouldn't meet Jake in the eye, disguising it by cracking joke after joke while my stress level kept rising the more time passed. My thoughts were running wild. In a few hours the drawing teacher was going to yell at me in front of the whole workshop and I couldn't handle it. I'd surely burst into tears and feel even more ashamed. I'd probably-

- Hey, you alright ?

A soft touch caressed my back and I involuntarily jerked forward, out of its grasp, before realizing and suddenly feeling bashful at my reaction. I could tell Jake was surprised by it but it lasted only a second before his face showed concern.

- Yeah, I just didn't finish my work on time... That witch is gonna murder me and ask the others students to draw a perspective of my corpse I'm sure.

I heard his chuckles before the tutor cut him off, passing by us with the keys in hand to unlock the door, separating the sea of students in half like an artsy Moses. Jake was at the other side when the crowd engulfed through the small door, letting us no choice but to keep our bodies to the walls.

- Do you wanna sit together today ?, asked Jake above the loud stomping noises.

Because of the students between us I couldn't really see his face, but was glad because it meant he couldn't see mine whitening. Josh and Mandy on the other hand were just next to me and clearly witnessed my expression change. To think that a week before I would've been on cloud nine being able to sit next to him for two whole hours... Oh how things could change fast.

We were now the three last people left outside and Jake held the door for us, continuing speaking.

- You guys are always exchanging notes, we should just, ya know ? Sit next to each other and... quietly chat.

As backup to his words, he murmured the last part in a very exaggerated fashion, in a failed attempt to make me smile. I couldn't just say no to him without looking weird because I had no reason to. Even if I knew he wouldn't push the matter, there was no way he wouldn't question it, right ? Josh came to the rescue, playfully elbowing him.

- But then where's the fun in that ? Right girls ?

Both agreeing, we rushed to our usual seats, letting a dumbfounded Jake close the door behind him. In their habitual fashion, Mandy and Josh threw paper balls at each other, while I was for once too focused on the lecture to participate in their shenanigans. I needed to get my mind to focus on something and right now Gilgamesh sounded like a good deal, so I took as many notes as possible. A task proven even more difficult because in the corner of my eye, I could see Jake staring at me.

Saying my drawing teacher killed me was a little bit of an understatement. She scared the shit out of me with her scolding. To be fair, even in a normal mood she was a scary woman. The already quiet   class went completely still and silent when she barked at me, admonishing me with charming names such as « useless », « disappointing » and the timeless « lamentable ». A classic. Truth to be told it hurt much less than I previously anticipated, mainly because I was already half dead inside, with the emotional range of a cactus, and my self-esteem nearly reaching zero. Nothing much to attack, really. Nevertheless, she demanded that I hand her all five portraits plus the five others we had to do this week by the next monday. Meaning I had ten to do in a week. It physically hurt just thinking about it, and I could hear a quiet « oof » escaping some of my classmates' mouths. It's with a huge relieved sigh that I found my bed this afternoon once school was over. This day had been a catastrophe so far, so there was no other thing I wanted to do more than put on my Pjs, put some music on, and slowly work at my desk, thinking Tuesay will be a better day.

Tuesday was not a better day. Wednesday either. All my homework slowly started piling up on my desk to the point where it was starting to be difficult to keep track of it. And sleeping four hours a night wasn't doing my mental health any good. I knew I had two possibilities now ; sleep less but do my work, or skip some classes to work. It was beginning to get ridiculous, skipping classes so I could do my homework. I knew art schools were difficult, awfully so, but like most people I hadn't realized until then, in this very moment, standing in front of my desk completely covered in paint, canvas, my computer, sketches, inks... some brushes had fallen on the floor, staining it in their passage. My laptop was so dirty it wasn't in its original color anymore. There were blotches of paint, ink, and charcoal here and there that I couldn't remove the harder I had tried to, forcing me to give up. At some point I got so tired I put my paintbrush into my cup of tea/coffee, mistaking it with the goblet of water.

- ...Are you alright ?, enquired Mandy on Thursday night.

One look at my face and she had her answer. Bless her soul, she didn't need any more to bring me an energy drink from the fridge.

- I still have five portraits to do. Four pencil ones, and one painting. They all have to be from different angles, and I can't find any models, I complained while throwing my hand in the air in an act of pure desperation.

Mandy knew better than to sit at the edge of my risky desk with her designer clothes, so she leaned on the doorframe, slowly nodding her head in a pensive manner while I kept explaining the situation.

- All week I couldn't find anyone because they all had homework to do, and now most of them are skipping tomorrow's lecture to go home early so nobody's available !

My rommate crossed her arms, thinking hard. I already did almost all my paintings, asking for both her and Josh's help. Both of them were glad to help and even more so to figure on a monochrome painting on a canvas.

- Can you draw the same person multiple times ?, she finally asked.

- Actually... I don't know. I don't think that would be a problem as long as the work is done ?

Hopping on her feet, Mandy lifted an eyebrow before dragging a chair to sit on.

- Let's get into it then, we only have one lecture tomorrow, you can skip it I'll take notes for you.

Having a good night of sleep never felt this good. No. Waking up at 8, slowly realizing everybody was sitting on a lecture except me, and then getting back to sleep was way better. I sketched poor Mandy two times last night but the results were good, and she looked pleased herself. I didn't have time to redo any of these anyway, I still had other work to do. Waking me from my well deserved nap, my phone vibrated under the pillow, the screen blinding me despite the sun peaking through the curtains.

« The boys asked where you were. Told them about the portraits situation. Jake wants to help. Couldn't stop him. »

If the beginning of the text made me smile, the end completely shook me awake, making me sit hurriedly on the bed, rereading the words multiple times. Scratching my face, I quickly glanced at the hour. They were out in a few minutes. My fingers tapped the next message as soon as they could, asking her how and when, while I ran to the showers with my towel, soap and toothbrush in hand. At this hour, and a Friday, they were all available. The other residents were all either drunk as hell and passed out in their room, or in their hometown with their family and friends. The buzzing of my phone vibrating reverberated against the shower walls and it almost got drowned in the sink when I caught it to look at the screen. It was Mandy.

« They kinda invited themselves over to eat. Josh's idea.»

What the hell Joshua we're not your moms ! Throwing my phone to the nearest flat surface, I jumped on some discarded overalls and put on a sweater, wet hair dripping everywhere on the floor, table, but mostly on my clothes, making me sneeze in the process. The whole week I was so overwhelmingly busy with work that not only did my fingers hurt but I didn't have any time to see the Kiszkas let alone think about them since our shared lecture on Monday. I even skipped the Lunch Club in order to get back to the dorms and work on my assignments. Which thankfully saved me a lot of time, but I still had 2 pencil drawings to do and one painting. Once I had put on some makeup, I took a moment to look around me. Our place looked like a dump, no less. Clothes and art furniture were everywhere, the trash was overflowing with empty cup noodles and fast food leftovers, it smelled like perfume and soap mixing with rotten food, paint and cold tobacco. It was terrible, and made me shocked that I even got used to that. A life achievement of some sort. Everything on the floor I put it on a trash bag, running in the stairs to throw everything outside with the others'. My phone vibrated in my pocket, a new notification popping on the screen.

« They bought some stuff at the store, they wanna cook us something. Jake's idea. »

Okay, time to clean the kitchen.

By the time they got here, I looked even more tired than before, owing my guests looks of concern. If was funny, how they put on the exact same face while seeing me. It was like I just mirrored a picture. Their similar features would never cease to amaze me.

- Mama you're very pale.

- Did you not sleep well ?

- I did, don't worry, I dismissed their concern. Had to clean up a bit.

Mandy bit his lip, knowing damn well the place had been a war field when she left. Unaware of anything, the boys put the bags of groceries on the table before apologizing for intruding. We all sat around the table to have a pleasant talk, my friends always making sure I wasn't next to Jake to avoid any brutal peak of awkwardness / sadness. But some habits died hard, I realized when Jake asked if he could have a tour of our dorm. Ignoring glances, I stood up and gestured for him to go first, into the biggest room, were Mandy and I's workshop and beds were. The boy let out a low whistle that flattered me. He looked impressed by everything around him, touching odd looking brushes and browsing illustration books. I knew better this time, and had put his painted portrait under my bed, wrapped in an old sheet. Just as his brother did, he liked to take in his hands everything that came by, caressing it with his fingertips or idly lifting the weight of it in his palms like he was discovering an unknown world. Unmoving, I let Jake do his little tour, watching the street view by the window, sitting on my disheleved bed, jumping slightly to make the mattress bounce like he was testing it before buying.

- So this is where you're gonna paint me, he said, pointing at a chair between my desk and me.

My pale face grew some colors at the thought of it before I nodded quickly, in a childlike way, caressing the wooden chair's back.

- I'll try to be fast so you won't get bored, I assured without looking him in the eye.

It was this moment Josh chose to appear at the corner of the doorframe.

- Jakey we should start cooking or the potatoes will never be ready on time. Come on, doll.

He took me by one of my overalls' straps, pulling me inside the kitchen, making me laugh and pushing my shoulders so I stayed on my seat. Mandy and I gazed at them with awe as they poured us drinks while Jake asked where the spatula was, and Josh was washing the vegetables, already familiar with his surroundings.

In silence, I looked at Jake removing every one of his rings to put it on top of the fridge where no one could kick them, before tying his hair in a tight ponytail. Maybe it was because I only ever saw him with long brown locks framing his face, but he looked even better than usual. If he caught me staring, he didn't adress it, only smiled at me, turning his back to us to help his brother.

- Do you need any help ?, I asked while showing them where the frypans were. You guys are our guests it doesn't seem fair...

Of course the kitchen wasn't a real one, there was only a microwave and some hotplates fixed to a cabinet by the sink. Putting more than one person behind the counter was impossible without bumping into each other, and I could smell the accident from afar when Josh maneuvered the hot water filled pan at the same time Jake opened up a cupboard right above his curly head. Curiously so, probably because they had way more cooking experience than I thought, the boys handled the situation neatly, and Jake was the one preventing me from bumping into his brother.

- Go sit and relax, we've got this, he said while turning me around by the shoulders.

Watching boys make lunch had got to be some sort of ASMR because just watching the muscles of their back move while they were chopping onions and peeling potatoes had some real therapeutic effects on me. We continued chatting together, all the while answering their questions on « Where are the knives ? » and « Where do you keep the salt ? ». Kind of surprised that Josh had the permission of holding a kitchen knife, by the way, this part made me feel the absolute opposite of ASMR but he did a pretty good job, from what I could see. Mandy put on some music on the speakers, argued with Jake over the sound of it as to what was acceptable or not music-wise, and Josh made a show of crying because of the onions, yelling about becoming blind until Jake gently slapped the back of his head. It was all laughs and good conversation, like we've been friends for years, and at the same time I couldn't shake these feelings I had towards Jake. There was something extremely erotic about seeing a dude wearing a dishcloth on his shoulder. Or was it just Jake wearing it really well ?

They refused to tell us what we were eating, muttering to themselves and sometimes asking if we were allergic to this or that, only announcing it while putting the plate on the table, with Josh making grand gestures as usual, using his best waiter voice.

- Crêpes au zucchini accompanied by a fresh salad decorated with feta and its apple slices, ladies.

- Bon appétit, added Jake.

The table was already set because it was the only thing we were allowed to do, so at least the boys could now rest. It looked really good. Way less fancy than what Josh had announced of course but it smelled wonderful, the sweet scent settling in all of our dorm. And the taste, oh Lord. Everything melted in my mouth, the onions they fried were just crispy enough to add something to it, and I learned this day that cheese and apple were really good and refreshing together. A new snack idea I'd keep for my sleepless work nights at the desk. And as dessert, the boys brought beers. Of course.