#your experience with the album was so nice to read | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berryhobii · 2 years ago

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Reconnect (myg x reader)

Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x black!wedding designer!female! Reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, mentions of secret relationship, mentions of a wedding(but not Yoongi and the reader’s), reader and Yoongi are engaged, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), unprotected sex(please speak to your partners before engaging in this), vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, riding, doggy style, mating press/missionary, oral(f receiving), soft dom Yoongi(he’s super soft and vocal but also goes kind of rough😊), rough sex, multiple orgasms(f and m receiving), brief aftercare and mentions of amazing aftercare, reader has goddess locs(color and length not specified), reader also has that Wendy’s Strawberry Lemonade kitty, reader also also has nipple piercings, reader got a fat ass because who doesn’t appreciate a nice booty?

A/N: Hi! This is my second time uploading something. I’ve had this story in my drafts for a while. I had been writing it using she/her pronouns so I’ve been spending the past few days to change those to you/yours. If I missed any, I’m sorry but please let me know so I can make the story more cohesive. Reader is black but their skin color isn’t really described but I believe I referred to their nipples being dark so that’s it. My next post with either be a GreekMythology!Jimin or a Gamer!Jungkook. The Jimin story is actually really long so I think I’ll turn it into a small series but I’ll post the 1st chapter sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Criticism is greatly accepted and I hope my black and melanated girlies feel good reading this! Have a good day.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I said we’d have dinner but we have to do some last minute recording.”

You tried not to sound disappointed when you replied. “That’s okay. I understand.” And you truly did. You knew how important his job was and that it would be a priority of his.

You just wished that it didn’t take so much of his time. You understood that his music was his life and that it was his dream career. All of his hard work had led up to being able to do what he does now; to make music and inspire the millions of fans that listened. You were so proud of him. Seeing him live his dream filled you with a different kind of pride and emotion. He was happy and that’s all you ever wanted for him.

Still, you missed him. You two had barely spent any time together the past month while he’s been preparing for their new album. He’d come home long after you’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep into the afternoon, just to rise and immediately get ready to go again. You couldn’t even have breakfast together like you used to. You could barely even start a conversation before he was cutting you off with a kiss and rushing out of the door.

While you had your own career of designing wedding dresses, you still had so much free time on your hands. You had already designed your newest collection and it was currently in production to be created. You’ve even made multiple visits to a few stores and they were running amazingly. There was only so long you could bury yourself in work before your heart began yearning for Yoongi’s companionship.

“I promise when this is finished, we’ll go on a trip. Just you and me.”

That made you smile. You and Yoongi have traveled a lot together over the years; Bora Bora, Italy, The Maldives—and each experience had been just as memorable and romantic as the last. He proposed to you in Italy at the Orange Gardens. It was such a magical moment. Just thinking about it made you want to cry. The entire trip was just absolutely perfect; from taking a gondola ride on the gorgeous waters to the 5 Star hotel they stayed in for 3 days and 2 nights, all the way to the candlelit dinner where he got down on one knee. You remember it fondly.

While the promise of a trip together didn’t fix your loneliness now, it gave you something to look forward to.

You couldn’t fight the smile in your voice. “Okay.” Your eyes went over to the stove where dinner was cooking. You had just finished searing some steaks that were finishing up in the oven. There was no point of putting them away for him to eat later. They wouldn’t be as flavorful or tender.

“Hey, is it okay if I bring you some dinner? I know you haven’t eaten yet.” Your tone shifted to one of slight teasing but you knew you were right. His pause of silence was proof enough.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I want to though. I made steak and I’ll feel better knowing you’ve eaten. I won’t stay long or distract you.” Just knowing he had a home cooked meal would make you happy. You would nag him constantly about drinking too much coffee and eating take out. It came from a place of love, however and Yoongi never minded. He loved having someone so attentive to his health when he’d blatantly ignore it. It showed you cared. Also, he secretly loved being babied by you. He’d never admit it out loud or to his friends but you knew. There was nothing better than coming home, a bath prepared for him to soothe his sore muscles, a meal on the table, and cuddling into your soft breasts while your rubbed his back—always being careful with his shoulder.

Your already nurturing nature and tendency to baby Yoongi increased tenfold once he got surgery. You barely let him leave the bed, even following him to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. A little bit stifling but he was so grateful to you. You always took care of him.

“Then that sounds great. I’ll leave my door open for you. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

With a giddy pep in your step, you finished cooking dinner, packaging it nicely in cute Tupperware before putting it in a bag. You had already showered and your clothes were fine but you wondered if you should put on something different. While Yoongi thought you looked good in anything, you still liked to look pretty for him; wearing dresses and heels whenever you went out, keeping your nails and toes done, and making appointments to get waxed every month. Self care was important to you. It not only made you feel good about yourself but it was also something you just liked to do for your husband.

Deciding to change your clothes, you slipped on a t shirt maxi dress that hugged and showed off all of your curves, along with some short open toed shoes to show off your freshly painted white toes. It was simple but still dressy and feminine, just your style.

Checking your hair once more in the mirror and smearing on some lip gloss, you grabbed the bag of food and your keys before exiting your home.

HYBE Studios was a pretty moderate drive from your apartment. The reason for that is to keep crazy fans from ever finding it. Once the company realized other idols were having their homes broken into, there was a decision to move all of the boys about 30 minutes from the company in a luxury gated neighborhood. You had to admit, you missed your old apartment you shared with Yoongi since that was their first place together but you also couldn’t complain about the walk in closet and the jacuzzi bathtub.

You greeted the security guard in front of the car garage, him lifting the block to the garage. After parking close to the company cars that were often used to transport the boys during RunBTS, you exited your car and made your way through the side door to the lobby.

You nodded at the secretary, everyone already knowing who you were and letting you pass with no issue.

Yoongi’s studio was on the 8th floor at the end of the hall. Namjoon’s was just a short distance away as well.

Once you reached his door, you entered the pin code on the keypad. Besides a few staff members and the boys, you were one of the few with the password to his studio. He just preferred silence and no disruptions so the code was only used during emergencies or whenever you or the boys came to visit. There was also a group chat for everyone with his code, adorably named ‘The Plastics’, courtesy of Taehyung. If they ever needed to come to his studio, they’d send a text beforehand so he’d know to expect them.

The beep sounded and you opened the door, smiling at the sight of your husband who was cutely leaned over on his right palm as his eyes scanned the production screen for his music. You didn’t get most of it but you always found it adorable when he’d try to explain. He’d get so invested in telling you how reverb and delay could either make or break a song that he’d never see how endearingly you’d stare at him. And he’d always get surprised when you’d lunge to bite his cheek.

“You are just too adorable! I have to bite you!”

His headphones were around his neck so he turned at the sound of his door opened, a smile immediately rising to his face at the sight of you. He removed his headphones, standing to greet you.

You could barely put the food down before his hands were around you waist, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body as you inhaled his cologne and the gentle scent of his favorite body wash.

He pulled away a little to press a few pecks to your forehead. “Hi baby.” His deep, slightly tired voice sent shivers down you spine. It was almost like his regular voice was just his morning voice constantly and out of all of the little things you loved about him, his voice was towards the top of your list—right after his newly grown out hair, his hands, and that little habit of him slurping whenever he’d explain things.

You inhaled a deep breath, basking in the affection. “Hi.”

You two just held each other for a moment, locked in an embrace and not wanting to let go. This was your special kind of intimacy, just not speaking or moving, simply holding one another.

Yoongi considered himself a pretty private person. A little ironic considering he was a world famous idol who’s whole job was being put in the spotlight. However, when it came to his personal relationships, he did his best to keep that as private as possible. Just imagine the uproar when people found out he was engaged. You had been hidden from the public eye for 3 straight years before you got engaged. How? One part extreme luck, the other part moving quietly. Your relationship started off with you meeting for the first time at a staff member’s wedding. You had designed her dress and she was so amazed and in love with how you created her dream dress that she insisted you come to her wedding. Always happy to see people overjoyed with your work and excited to see your design in action, of course you agreed. Coincidentally, you were sat pretty close to the table the boys were at. When you recognized them, you softly smiled and introduced yourself, expressing how you were a fan and how many women said they were using BTS songs as their wedding songs. Yoongi was drawn in instantly, your gentle voice and sparkling eyes as you talked about your clients drew him in. He could tell you were passionate about your career, just like he was.

After exchanging numbers while the bride and groom were cutting the cake, you two mainly texted and called each other in your free time. It took about 4 months for you to go on their first date since Yoongi had to go to America for promotions. He thought you’d lose interest since he traveled and couldn’t take you on a proper date but you never minded. You liked talking to Yoongi and found yourself developing feelings for him. He was trying and effort was one of your biggest green flags for a partner. A little distance wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Of course, you wanted to be able to be close to him and hold his hand and maybe even kiss but you knew what you were signing up for when you started talking.

Once Yoongi went on break, he started dedicating a lot of time to you; dates, inviting you to his place for dinner and wine, and learning more about you. He didn’t think you would get along so well. Talking on the phone was vastly different than being in each other’s physical presence but you had melded together like the pieces of a puzzle. You were so gentle and compassionate, always looking after him and giving him affection he hasn’t gotten in years. You were perfect for him and vice versa.

Your eyes slowly blinked up at him, just taking in his handsome features. You could spot the bags under his eyes, feeling a little sad that he was running himself ragged.

“You look tired. Have you slept since his morning?”

He hummed. “I took a little nap around lunch. The new couch came in.” You turned a little to look at the new addition to his studio. Before, he just had a small leather couch, moreso for decoration than comfort. Once he got a bigger studio, he upgraded his furniture but kept that couch. After some prodding from you, he ordered a new and more comfortable couch—one that could become a pull out bed for those overnights at the studio.

“It looks great.” It was a dark grey color, wide and stretched enough to fully support 2 people if you wanted to spoon on it.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it would take that long to get it in the door. Namjoon almost knocked over my synthesizer.” He said that with a shake of his head. You giggled, imagining the tall and clumsy man scrambling to pick up the keyboard.

“I can only imagine. I brought food. You should eat it before it gets cold. I should go.” You tried pulling away from him only for him to tighten his grip on your waist. You let out an “oof” as your face met the hard planes of his chest. All that physical therapy and time in the gym had really bulked him up. While you loved his body regardless, you definitely weren’t complaining about the extra muscle. He was filling out this black shirt just fine.

He nuzzled his nose in your neck, inhaling your favorite perfume that you’ve worn since he met your. It was one of his favorite scents. His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling all over the material of your dress.

“No, stay. Eat with me.”

Yoongi could be very affectionate and straightforward when he wanted to be, normally when you were alone. He’d never show this side in public. Not because he was ashamed of his love for your, far from that. He just preferred to keep their intimate moments private. Maybe a little kiss here and there and some hand holding but moments like this were for you only.

Your manicured fingers went to his nape, scratching at the hair there. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back to look you in eyes. “I want you to eat with me. I feel bad we couldn’t have dinner at home.” And he did. He knew his job demanded a lot of his time and attention and even if you understood that, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about leaving you alone all the time. He knew you could entertain yourself and had your own life outside of him but he still felt bad not being able to spend as much time with you as he wanted. He missed you just as much. While he loved his job, nothing beat coming home to your warmth and affection. To be honest, he was getting a little touch starved.

He led you over to the couch, waiting for your to sit before going to the mini fridge in his studio.

“Do you want juice?” He asked as he pulled out a couple of drinks. He always kept some of your favorites in his mini fridge just in case. You didn’t drink caffeine or really any alcohol, water and juices were your favorites.

You nodded your head, beginning to take out the Tupperware containers. They were still nice and hot. He placed a juice down on the table, along with an energy drink. You frowned at that, leaning forward to pick it up.

“You need to drink water. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those coffee cups on your desk.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. You were too good to him. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you. Taking the energy drink from you, he went back to the fridge to grab a water instead.

Ignoring the smug smile on your face, he sat next to you, waiting for you to open all of the containers. The smell was delicious, making his stomach growl.

Your handed him some chopsticks and a few napkins before sliding the steak over to him. “Here. Try it.”

You ate in silence, him using his chopsticks to place some pieces of steak and vegetables in your bowl. You smiled, the cute ways Yoongi showed he cared always making your heart warm. Fans knew he was more subtle in showing he cared and that wasn’t any different than him in private. You had to learn that his love language was acts of service but in a more quiet way.

After you finished eating, he helped clean up the containers, giving you some wipes to clean your hands and the table.

He let out of a groan as he sat back down on the couch, belly full and fully ready for a nap. But he knew he had to get back to work and that meant you had to leave.

“Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, rubbing the soft skin. You hummed, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course. I’m happy you liked it.” You both rested for a moment before you began moving. “I should go. You have work to do.”

You barely made it to your feet before he was tugging you back down on his lap. A surprised yelp came from your lips at the sudden movement, ass meeting his thighs when you landed. He situated you so that you straddled his hips, his hands immediately going to your ass.

“Baby….” You pouted, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. You were normally the one who initiated physical affection so for Yoongi to do it so roughly surprised you. You weren’t complaining, however. The way his eyes were hooded over and how he looked up at you with that dark endearment made your belly tingle. You knew where this was going.

“Stay.” His left hand pressed your body down so your chest squished against his. “You come here in this dress and my favorite shoes…”

You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. “I hardly wear these.”

He shrugged. “I love anything you wear. You look so sexy.” His hand traveled up your dress, moving it up your ass so he could grope full handfuls of the fat. While Yoongi appreciated all parts of your body, your ass was his favorite. Genetics, exercise and a little bit of happy weight had all accumulated into jiggly ass he loved to squeeze and slap. When you met, you were pretty thin but in shape nonetheless. Fans speculated that you gained ‘happy relationship weight’ since Yoongi treats you right. Whatever the reason, he thanks the higher power every day for it.

You could feel the heat beginning to spark between you, along with Yoongi’s growing boner pressing against your panties. Now that you thought about it, it’s been a little while since you’ve been intimate. You and Yoongi have barely had any time for quickies, let alone a full session of sex. And you two could go for hours if you wanted. On the day of your engagement, you barely left the hotel room because you couldn’t keep your hands off him. How could you? He was your fiancé. Mmm, that word just got you hot and bothered.

Your hands ran up his neck and into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The low hum of contentment that came from him spurred you on. You brought your faces closer together, lips hovering before you trapped him in a kiss. He hummed again, lifting his head to kiss you deeper, hands still squeezing at your ass.

Your kiss grew more heady, both of your hands massaging each other and trying to stroke any piece of skin you could. Yoongi began pushing against you to make your roll your hips against him. His cock could probably cut glass from how hard he was. You always got him excited with barely doing anything. To be honest, he started getting hard the moment you entered the room. Just your presence got him feeling almost immediately horny.

And it was the same for you. Your cunt had began getting wet the moment Yoongi turned around in his chair. He just looked so comfortable and effortlessly sexy and the way his muscles strained against that shirt made your imagination run wild.

You pulled away to inhale a deep breath. “Yoongi….please…”

His lazy smirk sent a rush straight to your already wet pussy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

God he was such a tease but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it.

“I need you.”

That was all he needed before he moved to flip you onto your back. You bounced against the soft couch cushions, barely getting your bearings before he was back on you, pressing his lips to yours.

His large hands traveled up your dress, lifting it over your belly and breasts. He leaned back to get a look, letting out a groan at the absolute beauty under him.

Your chest was heaving from just a little kissing, your goddess locks spread out under you, glossed lips plump and ready for more. You were so gorgeous and he made sure to let you know.

You squirmed under the compliment, feeling giddy and a bit bashful. You always received compliments and the occasional catcall and while you accepted the respectful ones gracefully, none of those ever mattered to you. Yoongi’s praise and compliments put you on cloud 9 and you really believed him.

His hands traveled up your body to your breasts, eyes catching something under your bra. He pulled the annoying piece of fabric down and if he could get any harder, he probably would.

“Fuck. You’re wearing your piercings? Did you come here to try and kill me?” The little diamonds sparkled under the light. He remembers buying the jewelry for your birthday last year. He also remembers sucking the sensitive nipples until you were crying just an hour later.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Of course not.”

His smirk widened. “You little sneak.” His hands went to grope at the soft flesh, a sigh falling from your lips. His thumbs ran lightly over the stiff peaks, pulling more sighs and little squeaks from your lips. Your nipples had gotten so much more sensitive after piercings. Yoongi couldn’t be too rough on them when you first got them, being careful of your healing process. He could barely touch them without you gasping in the slight pain from healing. Of course, he never complained, understanding your pain so he just stopped touching them. He just didn’t think it would test his control so much; seeing you walk around without a shirt sometimes, the already silky and delectable breasts looking more appetizing from the little barbells. Months had passed along with many maintenance appointments before you announced that they could be touched without pain. With the pain gone, your sensitivity skyrocketed and with Yoongi’s skilled tongue beginning their assault, your pleasure had been taken to a new level.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and his mouth open to lick over your nipple. You let out a moan as his tongue swirled all around your piercing. He switched to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

The heat between your legs was becoming too much, your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable from how they were sticking to you.

“Yoongi….” You whined. His eyes lifted to lock on your flustered face, lips parted as puffs of air came through them, your eyes desperate and pleading for anything. Everything.

Reluctantly pulling away from your nipples, he helped you pull the dress from your body, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of you cared.

He kissed from your breasts to your tummy until he reached the apex of your thick thighs. You immediately dropped them open, revealing yourself to him. He groaned at your desperation but also at the sight of your soaked underwear. The thong barely covered anything, the baby blue fabric now dark from your arousal. It was practically leaking from you, the bottom of your ass shining. Kissing over the stretch marks that streaked down the inside of your thighs, he whispered words of praise to you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t help himself, surging forward to suck on your clit through your panties. A shiver racked your body, your hands coming down to bury in his hair. The friction wasn’t as good with your panties still keeping his tongue from making direct contact with your clit but it was something. And it felt so good.

Your hips jerked against his face, trying to get more. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them open as his tongue licked at your clit.

More moans fell from your lips, pleasure causing your vision to go blurry. You felt so close already and he’s barely done anything. Blame it on you not having a proper orgasm for weeks. Your hands just didn’t feel the same and Yoongi had thrown out all of your vibrators once you two started having sex.

“You won’t need these anymore. All your orgasms should come from me.”

Now you were remembering why he threw them out in the first place. Only he could rip pleasure and orgasms from your body in seconds, playing your body like a piano.

Your hand came down your body, tapping against his forehead. He pulled away slightly, eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You really only stopped him when you were shaking in overstimulation and he knew you hadn’t even cum yet so why were you stopping him?

When he pulled back, you grabbed onto your panties, pulling them aside to reveal your fat and dripping pussy to him.

How the hell did he get so lucky? Did he save orphans in his past life or something? Not only had he managed to put a ring on a kind, generous, and absolutely amazing person who treated him like a King and opened up the deepest parts of him, he also managed to snag a submissive, slutty, and needy woman who could ride his cock for hours and bend in ways he’s only dreamed of.

There was no way.

Eyes darkening in lust, he dove back in to capture your clit, licking at it more furiously than before. The heat from his mouth made that pressure build in your lower belly, your toes curling from their position in the air. Your loud moans only pushed him further, shoving 2 fingers in your tight heat. Your slick walls gripped his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them.

“Y-Yoongi! I’m gonna-“

He curled his fingers up, pulling away from your clit to lean up close to your face, his breath hitting your cheeks. “You gonna cum? You’re such a good girl.” He pressed some kisses to your open mouth, fingers thrusting in and out of your in a superhuman pace, veins and muscles in his arms shifting and bulging from the exertion.

When your orgasm crashed, you swore all of your senses except touch disappeared. You couldn’t hear and your vision blurred from the tears that had welled in your eyes. But Yoongi didn’t stop.

Your hand flew down to grab at his wrist, back arching as he continued his assault, helping you ride the huge wave.

He pulled his lip between his teeth. You were so sexy.

Once you came down, he slowly pulled his fingers from your, the digits glistening in your release. He sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now he wanted more. Standing from the couch, he pulled off his own shirt and pants, taking his briefs with them. His hard cock slapped against his stomach, red at the tip and practically pulsing.

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as your pussy throbbed. Fuck you were so wet.

He flopped back on the couch, patting his lap. “Come ride this cock, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over into his lap, taking your bra and ruined panties off on the way.

His hands gripped your ass once you were straddled on his hips. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing on your ass and it filled you with excitement.

Reaching your hand back, you gripped his cock, pumping it a few times. He groaned, head falling back against the couch at your touch.

Delivering a sharp slap to your ass, he growled, “stop teasing.”

His deep and demanding voice sent shivers down your spine. Never one to disobey, you lifted your hips, lining up his cock with your entrance. You rubbed the tip over your opening to gather some of your wetness before you slowly began sinking down on him.

A moan came from both of you as his thick cock began splitting you open. Your walls were squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could cum right there but he refrained. He wasn’t even all the way inside yet.

Your mouth was dropped open as his cock stretched you open, head tossed back and eyes closed as you basked in the feeling. Each ridge and vein was pressing against you in the most delicious way, the slight curve pressing against that spot deep inside of you. You felt like you could cum again just like this.

Once your ass met his thighs, you both let out sighs. Not only from pleasure but from being able to be close like this. This is what you needed; this closeness, this union, this intimacy. Sex was so much more to you than just getting off. It bonded you and brought you closer than ever, love spilling over and intertwining your hearts and souls.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a sweeter and more sensual kiss.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hips began rolling against him, slowly at first to get accumulated to the stretch. He assisted you with one hand on your ass and one on your hip.

Before long, you began raising your hips, falling back down on his lap. The low clapping sounds spurring you on.

Yoongi groaned against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Faster.” With another sharp slap to your ass that made you moan, you bounced faster. Your ass jiggled each time it connected with his thighs and a part of him wished he could see it but the blissed out look on your face was too good to pass up.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, you leaned back to get that perfect angle, your hands landing on his knees. A squeak fell from you as his tip began bullying your soft spot. Your head fell back, mouth dropped open as that delicious feeling began building in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Yoongi! Your cock feels s-so good!” You felt drunk, mind hazy and awareness faded. All you could focus on was the feel of him under you and the way his perfect cock slipped in and out. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity spreading all the way to your fingertips and making your toes curl.

Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even know where to look; your breasts, face, where you were connected? He could see how your arousal was dripping down to wet his pubic hair, a ring of your wetness coating the base of his cock. You were truly was a sight to behold.

That pressure was building faster than you thought. Sliding your hand down your body, your fingers connected with your clit, rubbing the nub in fast circles.

“Yoongi!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Your walls clenched and constricted around him, almost suffocating him. His hands rubbed at your nipples, flicking at the piercings. You were seeing stars, the stimulation was too much. His hands roaming you, your own fingers on your clit, and his cock inside of you was all too much.

That pressure…..

“I’m cumming!”

Your hips lifted from his cock, it falling out to slap against his stomach. Your fingers rubbed at your clit until some drips of liquid came out. The motion of your fingers caused the droplets to fly everywhere, some landing on the cushions as well.

Once you were done riding it out, he was flipping you back on the couch, head pressed into the cushions and ass up in the air. He delivered a few slaps to your ass, pulling some moans from your at the sting. Your head was swimming, the sudden movement making you a little dizzy but that dizziness quickly left when Yoongi entered you again.

His cock entered you in one swift motion, hips immediately working to push and pull against you. Your ass clapped back on his hips, the fat jiggling and rippling with every move. His own orgasm was just over the horizon.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “You come in here looking this good and then you bounce on my cock until you squirt? Why the fuck have I been spending all my time here when you’re at home?” He was really talking to himself. Only a true idiot would leave a hot piece of ass like this at home all day. And he must really be a true idiot, probably the dumbest man alive. But not anymore.

Your moans were rising in pitch. With this position, you could every inch, every curve, absolutely everything. You could barely breathe, your brain only being able to form utterances of his name and begs of faster and harder.

That feeling in Yoongi began cresting, balls drawing up as his orgasm washed over him. His hands gripped your hips and ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less. He could bruise you up all he wanted.

His orgasm spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shuddering his whole body. “F-fuck….” He breathed out. That was probably the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Your own breath began to even out. You thought that was the end but you were suddenly flipped around back on your back. Both of your legs were hiked up over his right shoulder, thighs pressing into your chest in Yoongi’s absolute favorite position.

“You think I’m done with you?” His smirk was teasing and it caused more arousal to drip from you. He reached his hand down to line himself up before pushing into your heat. A gasp came from your throat at the intrusion, your hands coming to grip at the back of his neck.

His hips set a brutal pace, balls wetly slapping against your ass.

“Oh my god! Y-Yoongi!”

It felt like he was in your throat, every thrust hitting you in all the right spots. Your nails scratched at his neck, the slight sting only pushing him harder. He could feel your walls tightening, a tell tale sign of your orgasm. Your breasts bounced with every push, dark nipples looking incredibly enticing.

“Cum, baby. That’s it.”

Your body seized up as your second orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision spotted white and your ears were ringing.

But not even your orgasm made him stop or slow down. He pushed faster and harder, the squelching noises getting louder as more and more wetness spilled from you.

It was like your orgasm wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave came over you. Every nerve was lit on fire, your mouth dropped but no sound came out. He had taken every word from you.

When he felt you squirt on his cock again, he shoved his full cock inside. Your toes curled so hard that you could feel them crack, legs shaking but he held them tightly. Your hands smacked against his shoulders as the stimulation became too much. You were so full.

“Yoongi!”

“Take it. Take all that cock, baby.”

You had no choice but you didn’t care. You’d give up every choice if it meant he’d fuck you like this.

He rolled his hips against yours a few more times before his own orgasm washed over him. He groaned into your throat, a full body shudder racking his body.

Lifting his head, he connected your lips in a soft kiss, a complete turn from what just went down. You hummed against his lips, hands roaming his soft skin.

He moved your legs from his shoulders, massaging your slightly sore muscles as you kissed. You both let out small moans as he pulled out of your heat, his cum flowing out of you.

Yoongi helped you clean yourself up, giving you a large elastic to tie up your hair. The sweat would definitely make your roots curl back up but that was a problem for another day. You put your dress back on as Yoongi pulled his shirt and pants back on. Your underwear found themselves tucked into his back pocket. A little silly considering he had endless access to you pussy but you guessed it was some man thing.

When Yoongi went back to his computer, leaning over the chair to click at some things, you visibly deflated, mood dampening. Was he really going back to work? You guessed you did just come to drop off food, the sex was a bonus and you did say you would leave afterwards. You just couldn’t help but feel a little sad and used. Yoongi was the king of aftercare, always running you a bath or giving you cuddles as you two calmed down from lovemaking. It’s not like this one moment would make you think Yoongi didn’t care but you did feel a little defeated.

Gathering your things, you were about to approach the door but Yoongi’s voice stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. “Home. Aren’t you going back to work?”

A snort came from him. “Of course not.”

You gasped when his body pressed against your back, also the feeling of his boner was right on your ass.

“Yoongi….”

“You really think I’m about to work and let you go home so you can wash my cum out of you? I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

Maybe you should come to the studio more often.

#bts fic #bts #yoongi studio sex #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #Yoongi imagine

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glitchpirate · 29 days ago

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Another year, another same template.

This Last year was pretty packed; I managed to get back into commissions (still catching up with waiting list though) and draw some gifts for friends. ^_^ While still being able to draw for myself!

Happy new year y'all. May your dreams come true and all. I'm not big on speeches. No talking, only ART.

Or, well. Some talking. Ramble again, like last year, under the cut.

January: ko-fi limited palette sketch commission overdue many years of mutual's OC. <3 Thankfully everyone's been so patient with my lack of speed. I'll do better next time, I promise!

February: COTL brainrot... I had an Anassy art I was thinking about putting in here but COTL was really so big in my life in February, I had to put my low-effort fanart in there... which surprisingly blew up in numbers. (Thank you 🛐)

March: didn't really draw anything in March except this OC art and a small fanart doodle, so decided to go with this one, with which I experimented with textures. I haven't shared this before and I don't think I will (sorry), but it's on Dia's (depicted OC) toyhouse.

April: birhday gift for friend I haven't talked to in years. This was a perfect opportunity to get back in contact and it worked out nicely. ^_^ In the art are her OCs from her story still in progress. Lineart and painting together works surprisingly well!

May: fun little drawing I had depicting my inkling OC as a human. ^_^ Sorry not sorry for the eyestrain-

June: boy, this month was THE OC month. I created so many here, I don't know what happened. The characters in here are one of them, my beloved Mortis Twins. They are an asura (Guild Wars 2) musical duo who play darkwave music about death and dying. ^_^ (<-Glitch stop writing this emoticon every time pls) Goth siblings beloved. This art is a promo shoot for their new era and album. Get yours signed at a local show now!!!

July: another birthday gift for a long time no contact/talk friend/mutual! Was super happy how this came out and for the recipient's reaction. <3 It's her VTuber! (Check her out at ChiikaboomTV on twitch)! I prefer not uploading birthday gifts and only sharing them privately to who I'm drawing them for but I might share this one sometime cuz I'm really prou of this one. I experimented with a new shading technique even, and it worked out just fine~

August: would you guess it? Another birthday gift for a long time no contact- ok you get the drill. Same shading technique, same-ly happy friend. ^_^ It's her main OC, Persephone Eddington, whom I love very much. <3

September: another overdue ko-fi commission! Despite the overwhelming details, I like how it came out~ I've always been so bad with great amount of detail and mecha stuff. x_x

October: birthday gift for my bestie leeche, depicting their Dragon Heist dragonborn character, Nephintaad Morzavur, whom I also love very much. <3

November: Guild Wars 2 Tyria Pride giveaway art! I offered a bust and wanted to go back to painting again, and the recipient loved it very much. The biggest compliment. <3 Included a lot of things important to the "commissioner's" player character and had a blast!

December: normal commission! I'm finally catching up with the waiting list. A bit saucy hehe but that's just icing, I swear!

Aaand that's it. Thank you for reading if you've reached this far and once again, Happy New Year!

#2024 #art summary #art summary 2024 #summary of art #summary of art 2024 #idk :D #glitchpirate art

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jokeroutsubs · 6 months ago

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[ENG TRANSLATION] "It seemed like an impossible dream to perform on Sziget's Main Stage" - Exclusive interview with Joker Out

Original article written by Peti for MusicDaily on 25.07.2024. English translation by IG gurdonanna, X brnbergeron and X zozzzzie, proofread by IG gboleyn123

Video interview available here:

youtube

Formed in 2016, Joker Out became the fan favourite band of the Eurovision Song Contest in 2023. The boys represented the neighbouring Slovenia with their hit 'Carpe Diem', and this year they are finally coming to our country for the first time. Namely to Sziget Festival, at which they say was one of their biggest dreams to perform - or rather, never in their wildest dreams they could imagine to ever get about an hour long time slot at the main stage of such a big festival to prove their dedication and talent.

If you ask them, they describe their musical style as 'shagadelic rock n'roll', which roughly translates to very sexy rock n'roll mixed with the extravagant style of the '80s. They've toured the old continent, and in the UK, even Lewis Capaldi was curious to see what kind of party they put on. One thing is for sure, with their coolness, they put Slovenia on the musical map of the world, as they proudly use folk music in their sound, sometimes in the ex-Yugoslavian style.

We sat down with the boys for a Zoom call before their performance at Sziget Festival, where Kris, Jan, Jure and Nace were present.

We asked them about their song 'Bluza', of course, but also about the new album, Sziget and their experiences at the Eurovision Song Contest. The guys already knew a few Hungarian words, which we will only reveal in the video version, while you can read the whole interview below - exclusive interview with Joker Out.

It's so nice to see you. How are you today?

We are good, right? I think we are well woken up right now, because usually this would be too early for us, but we've been doing interviews for the past hour and a half, so we are in a good mood right now.

You'll be playing your first show in Hungary in less than a month. Have you ever been to Hungary before?

Yeah, yeah. But I think we've only been to Budapest so far.

This summer, you'll be performing at Sziget, which is like one of the biggest festivals in Central Europe. How excited are you about the show, and what can your fans expect from it?

I think we are all very, very, very excited for it, because especially playing on the main stage has always been one of those unachievable dreams, like we never thought it will ever happen. So it's very surreal, that we'll play there, and so accordingly we are gonna give it our all onstage.

We'll have everything with us: screens, lights, special effects, to make it worthwhile for everyone, for those who already know us and those who don't yet.

And your fans are very curious if there will be any unreleased songs at the concert...

We haven't decided on the setlist yet.

We have so many released songs, so it would probably be a mistake not to play them. The thing is, we probably won't have a lot of time to play, so we have to prioritise... and those are definitely going to be the released ones.

And speaking of concerts, do you have any pre show rituals that you always do before concerts?

When the intro starts rolling... there is always an intro. When the intro comes on, and we hear it in our earpieces, we do this [demostrates] and it's like, unifying our energy before we go on stage.

Sziger Festival is also called "The Island of Freedom". So I'm curious, what does freedom means to you personally?

Freedom from alarm clocks. That is definitely one of the biggest freedoms I enjoy and do not take for granted in my life.

Freedom is to be able to freely express your opinions on any topic, and to walk around on the streets of your town without feeling danger, that anything might happen to you. That is a kind of freedom we take for granted, but maybe it is good to sometimes think that it's not the same for every person in the world.

And the freedom when we are creating music. We don't have labels on us that are pushing us. And being able to live from music. That's freedom to me. Being able to do what you want and to have the financial means to feel free and to enjoy this.

If you could change just one thing about the world, what would it be?

That there would be no jealous or greedy people in the world anymore.

And I would try to make the borders between countries disappear as much as possible.

No more music on Spotify, only on CDs and records. And stop spreading false information and only share what is objectively true. It's a hard one, but it's a good sentiment.

You just released your latest song 'Šta Bih Ja'. Can you tell us a bit about the background of the song? What inspired it, and what is the message you want to convey with it?

The background to the song is that we went to London for two months, in January and February, to create our new album, and this was the first song we composed. We actually put this song together very quickly in January, in maybe like the first or second session in our new rehearsal space there.

Musically it's very up-tempo, energetic and a bit ex-Yugoslavia inspired, but the lyrics are darker than the music itself.

So there's a bit of contrast. The message or the vibe of the song is kind of what we felt when we went to England. The feeling of being a stranger in a big city, not knowing many people, and knowing that someone you love is waiting for you somewhere else, but you can't reach them at that moment. That's pretty much what it's about.

How is your new album shaping up?

Slowly, but good. Very slowly. But very good.

What three words would you use to describe the album?

To describe the album in three words? Not released yet.

If I had to say one word, I'd use "cocktail". Because it will have different languages and musical styles. Love... of course. And an album full of hits. So the three words: cocktail, love and hits.

Your fans are particularly excited about one song, and that's 'Bluza'. Do you know when it will be officially released?

I just recorded the drums for the second time yesterday, so slowly, probably in a couple of weeks. I mean to finish it, not to release it. We haven't even finished it completely, but we'll probably release it before the album.

This is going to be the next single, so probably in late August or

September.

September, yeah. Hopefully. Don't take it for sure, but yeah, because

it's a song that we all really love, and we feel it's very special, so we want it to be perfect for release.

Now let's talk about Eurovision, a very famous competition with a very long history. So I wonder how you prepared for it emotionally?

I think there was not much emotional preparation. Everyone says that Eurovision is intense, and you have to prepare and stuff like that. But nobody, at least the first time they go to Eurovision, really understands what is meant by that. So you just go into it like 'yeah, I'm gonna do this', and then when things start happening you realise it's really intense, but by then you're already way too deep into it to start preparing. So what we did was more like surviving Eurovision, doing everything we could and then trying to process what happened.

It's much easier for us because we're a band. We can do it together and so relieve the pressure of interviews or performing on stage. So it's much easier than being a solo artist.

Do you have a favourite memory from your Eurovision journey?

Barcelona, Barcelona. The pre-parties. Those were awesome. Oh yeah, getting to the final... the semi-final too. The semi-final was great.

Finally, do you have any message for your Hungarian fans?

First of all, it's very nice to see that we have Hungarian fans, because although it's a neighbouring country to Slovenia, it's a very different country. We don't share many cultural aspects, especially in music, so we're happy that we have fans there to play for, and we hope that one day we can play our own concert in Budapest.

We promise to try to make that happen as soon as possible. See you there, and at Sziget!

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #jure maček

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vevobly · 3 months ago

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Being Misty Quigley's Girlfriend Headcanons (Pre-Crash) [Part 2]

A/N: More love for one of my favorite crazy girls 🥰🫶

On your first date with her, she spends weeks planning everything prior in detail to the point that she practically recites a script when the day arrives. Misty is just full of nerves and adorably awkward—always checking if you’re comfortable, if you like the food, or if she’s being too much. Also, she probably researched first-date advice and tried a few “tips” out before the said day just to make sure it works out.

You can bet this girl read every romance advice column she can get her hands on, practicing different compliments she's read to her mirror so it comes off as natural when she says it to you. She gets a little flustered when she actually does try them on you, and sometimes ends up saying something weirdly formal instead. No matter how it comes off, she'll always mean it very genuinely with all her heart.

If you're really into something—music, books, etc. Misty will dedicate herself to learning as much as she can about it. This girl will binge your favorite show or read a book you like, even if it isn't her thing. She'll research your favorites and might even make these little things like fun facts about [insert whatever]. She'll do these and so on, just to show you how much she wants you.

She tells everyone about you, maybe a bit too much. Misty does not seem to shut up about you. It's gotten to the point that almost everyone—the yellowjackets, her parents, and even her teachers all know something about you. Her amazing girlfriend. She'll have a conversation with someone and whether the topic relates or involves you, you are ALWAYS one way or another brought up in it.

Misty loves to keep memories of you both, she'll save these little souvenirs from every outing you guys have together. It doesn't matter if it's a crumpled movie ticket, a goofy polaroid, or anything similar. She collects everything. With these stuff, she's a bit of a scrapbooker. She spends a lot of hours just arranging these things into a "relationship album" for you guys to look back on.

Misty being Misty uncannily remembers all your little preferences—how you like your coffee (if you drink that), your favorite snack, that one song you mentioned you liked. She knows ALMOST everything when it comes to you. She surprises you by randomly bringing these things to you, and if you comment on it, she'll say "oh, I just know" with a small smile as if it's second nature to remember that of you.

While her being absolutely attentive to you is sweet and all, it gets a bit out of hand at times. Like, if you just casually mention liking a certain color or fashion style, she'll be trying it out whether it looks good on her or not. And depending on how much you pay attention to her back, you may or may not notice it immediately. And when you do, you tell her you love her just the way she is.

(She WILL continue to do it though despite that..)

Since Misty doesn't have that many friends, being with you equals you as her safe haven. You're one of the first people to really actually get to know her, and she treasures every moment with you—big or small. She practically can't believe she got to be with you and got to experience this "romance" she's only heard people talk about. She's so happy you love her. You mean E V E R Y T H I N G to her.

Okay, now she might be drifting a bit too far away from the present, but she's already imagined a future for you guys! There's not much really, just you two living in this house you guys saved money for and bought together. You guys might have a pet, a cat or a dog. Just one or two, maybe. It's nothing major, but it certainly is a nice future... Before the crash, that is.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley x you

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the-apocrypha · 3 months ago

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3, 22, 26?

3. How would you describe your writing style?

Uh. Functional. Highly functional. Occasionally I strive toward the slightly poetic or prosaic, and I feel like my own tendency toward dry humor will come out from time to time, but otherwise I think it's pretty… basic.

(The more literary answer is that my style is highly reflective of my history of pretty much only ever writing within the bounds of fanfiction. While there are obviously exceptions, there tends to be a lot of homogeneity amongst fanfiction writing style, for a lot of reasons, including (1) You tend to write what you read, and (2) People generally turn to fanfiction for literary comfort food. While a House of Leaves or an On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is nice on occasion, we are mostly here to straight torture or sexify or cuddle our blorbos and we don’t want to beat around the bush. It is in no way a bad thing! It’s actually kind of cool, from a literary perspective, because it's genuinely recognizable. Like the Scholomance trilogy! They are good, but you can tell by page two that this person absolutely cut their teeth on fanfiction. So, I am a product of my experiences.)

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots fall in love over and over again?

See above: comfort food.

Long answer: for me, I am a person who does not instantly attach to characters. I rarely enter fandoms that are based around a single book or movie, and greatly favor comics/television/series because it lets me spend a lot of time with characters and my affection for them can really take root and grow. Fanfic is just the next natural extension of that. I am very much a person who finds a Happy Button and then wants to mash the Happy Button ad nauseum until it breaks. I listen to the same album on repeat for three months. I just discovered Tim Tams and have bought a box a week for the last four months. And when I settle into a fandom, I want to see my blorbos having nice things over and over and over and over again. :D

26. What would you describe as OOC?

Oof this is a tough one! I think characterization is such a personal thing that it’s impossible to define that. I definitely have opinions on things that I read, on whether they’re in/out of character, but the beautiful thing about fandom is that we are all casting prisms of the same characters and what is out of character for me may be in character for someone else! So, eh.

I will say that I feel like any time I start writing for a new fandom, my first fic or two will always feel a little rocky in characterization. Once I’ve written more and developed a more nuanced and consistent concept of the characters, I usually look back on the early stuff and go woof. Sandman has been no exception to this. (Fond wave at fly me to the moon. You’re not completely terrible.)

(for the writers ask meme)

#gosh i'm long-winded tonight #thanks for the questions pell!#writers ask meme

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 month ago

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Snow Day Part 2

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none for this part either :)

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 5462

Unknown number: Roman, this is Logan. Are you free the evening of the 15th?

Roman blinks at his phone.

Me: How did you get my number?

Logan: I asked Patton. You do remember that we work together, yes?

Me: Yeah i remember but why did you want my number

Logan: To ask if you're free on the 15th, for starters.

Me: i think so, why?

Logan: The firm is throwing a holiday party and I've been instructed to bring someone who, quote: 'Won't cause a disruption but will add to the seasonal atmosphere.'

Me: is this supposed to be a compliment? also what kind of invitation says that?

Logan: I've certainly never met anyone as determined to preserve the holiday spirit as you. And no, that was a special instruction from my boss.

Me: still don't know if that's a compliment

Logan: Take it as you like. The dress code is black tie, so no terrible sweaters for you.

Me: i can't do that

Logan: Surely the holiday will survive if you're not in a hideous sweater for one evening

Me: no i don't have anything to wear to a black tie thing

His phone is silent for a long time and Roman's…fine about that. He was gonna enjoy that evening off, actually. Watch some of his favorite Christmas movies, listen to his favorite album, maybe actually get around to baking himself that thing he wanted to try ages ago…

Then his phone buzzes again. He picks it up and blinks to see an address.

Logan: Meet me here at 9 tomorrow.

Me: why?

Logan: To find you something appropriate to wear, of course.

Me: Logan, you don't need to do that.

Logan: I'm aware. 9 on the dot, don't be late.

Well.

Okay.

He's going shopping with Logan tomorrow, apparently. He also definitely needs to ask Patton why the hell he gave Logan his number.

At 8:55 the next morning, he's standing outside one of those department stores that just feels like it's the setting of some cliché rich person montage. He'd picked out a loose-fitting tee and a pair of decent sweatpants because, you know, shopping typically involves trying things on, but now he's wondering if he should've put on his nice slacks and a button down because holy shit does he feel underdressed right now.

"Ah, good. You are on time."

And sure enough, here comes Logan in his goddamned suit. Does the man own casual clothes? Logan gives him another look up and down and no, Roman doesn't imagine the way his nose turns up ever so slightly before fixing him with a stern expression.

"Am I right in thinking you don't have much experience buying formal wear?"

"Not for a black tie event, no."

"Lovely," he says, tone indicating this is anything but, "I expect you to pay attention."

"Logan," he says quickly before Logan can actually make it to the door, "I can't—I can't afford anything here."

"Don't worry, I'll pay."

"You'll—what?"

"I said I'll pay for it, Roman, now come on—"

"Why would you do that?"

"Aside from the fact that you've just said you can't afford it?"

"You don't—" Roman pinches the bridge of his nose— "look, I don't know what game this is or what point you're trying to prove, but it's not—I don't need your charity, okay?"

"It's not charity, Roman. Every man should have at least three well-fitting suits."

"Three? It's one night, Logan, I'm not—I can't do this."

Logan's looking at him strangely, like he's the one being weird about this—which he's not, he's being very reasonably suspicious and Logan shouldn't be looking at him like that—before he turns on his heel and heads down the block. After a moment of realizing that Roman's not walking with him, he reaches back and tucks his hand into the crook of Roman's arm the way he did at the party, which Roman still isn't thinking about, thank you very much, leading him around the corner to a coffee shop that also looks too expensive. He holds his tongue this time, resigning himself to whatever it is Logan's decided they're doing, taking the cup pushed into his hand and following Logan back outside.

Logan leads them to a bench in a more secluded area of the street, sitting down and nodding for Roman to sit next to him. "What's making you uncomfortable?"

Roman scoffs, but then Logan furrows his brow and…shit, he's actually being sincere. He swallows. "Aside from the fact that everyone in there looks like they're wearing my rent?"

"They're only clothes, Roman."

He doesn't register the surprisingly gentle tone Logan's using. "They're not just clothes, they're—they're—I don't belong in that world, Logan. I'm not gonna try to force myself into it."

"What world?"

"The world where I can spent rent on a suit and have that be fine. The world where people are that rich and that—that—" he suddenly remembers that Logan is one of said rich people, or at least is acting like it right now— "I just can't do it."

Logan's quiet for a moment, still just looking at him. Roman looks away, sipping at his coffee. Shit, it's good coffee too. Logan's probably thinking about how much of a waste of time this was, and he wasted his time the other day with buying the gifts too…and now with the whole party thing, maybe it's better to just leave.

That's not very seasonally gracious of you.

The memory of Logan's voice in his head shocks him into realizing how much of a dick he's being. Logan's doing this—presumably—out of the goodness of his heart, or at the very least he's not expecting Roman to pay him back or anything. And here Roman is, practically throwing a tantrum about it.

"Sorry," he says quietly, bowing his head, "I'm being an asshole, aren't I?"

"Being uncomfortable doesn't make you an asshole, Roman."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts. I'd rather you tell me than suffer through it." The sincerity in his tone makes him look up again to see Logan still watching him. "What is it about it that's making it worse? Is it the money? I really don't mind paying for you. At the risk of sounding, well, like that, it's not that big of a deal to me."

He's gonna put that aside for now, yeah. "I just—I know how those people look at me."

"And how is that?"

He scuffs his toe through some of the salt congealing under the bench. "Like I'm not supposed to be there. Like I have the gall to be in the same room as them, or like I don't exist. I don't like it."

There's a pause. Then: "Do you think that's how I look at you?"

His head jerks over. Logan's hands are still around the coffee cup, but there's a bit of tension in them now. He adjusts his glasses even though there's really no need for it. He swallows.

"I don't…I really don't know how you look at me, Logan," he admits, "I thought that's what you were doing at first, but it's…I don't know, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm not your enemy, Roman," he says with an unmistakable hurt that makes Roman want to throw up, "nor am I interrogating you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean it like that."

Logan just looks at him for a few more seconds. He fidgets under it and looks away.

"Why're you doing this," he asks quietly, "surely there's an easier way to get around your boss's instructions?"

Another long pause. A car drives by and nearly splashes them with gray sludge. A dog barks at a pigeon taking flight.

"You're the first person who's successfully gotten me to buy actual presents for my family in almost ten years," Logan says suddenly, "and you managed it on the second time we'd ever met."

Hold on, Roman was what? He did what, now?

"And I thought about how my family would react to those presents and I found myself actually getting excited about it," he continues, like he isn't blowing Roman's mind right now, "so…perhaps there's something to this whole gift-giving, caring thing people like to peddle this time of year."

"They do say Christmas is the joy of giving."

"Quite, but I have no interest in making you out to be a charity case."

"You don't?"

Logan shakes his head. "No. If anything, this is my reward for myself. A selfish act to balance out the selfless one."

Roman frowns. "You…buying me a suit is you being selfish?"

A familiarly smug smirk curls up Logan's face and Roman will deny the way he swallows when he sees it until the day he dies. "No, me inviting the one person I'm genuinely fascinated by to an otherwise boring event of schmoozing and networking is the selfish act. The suit, well…aside from the fact that it is a crime that you've never been properly fitted for a suit before—"

"Hey! Again, not all of us are going to galas all the time!"

"—you managed to captivate me in a cheap sweater and worn jeans," Logan continues as if he hadn't spoken, voice suddenly a lot, lot lower, "and I can hardly pass up the opportunity to see you in something better."

Roman does not squeak. He does not turn bright pink, he does not shuffle like a schoolboy, he does not go all wide-eyed like some little fawn caught in the jaws of the Big Bad Wolf. He doesn't do any of those things because there's no way Logan just said that to him like it was nothing in the middle of the day while they're in public.

Logan's smirk just grows.

"You what?"

"Come, now, there's no need to be shy. You certainly have a healthy appreciation for my suits—" goddamnit— "can you truly begrudge me for having the same interest?"

"I—that's not—I didn't—shut up!"

He just chuckles, like an asshole, as Roman hides his splutter behind another sip of coffee. Thank God he's wearing a hat so Logan can't see how red his ears are right now.

"I don't need three suits," he manages with a remarkably steady voice, "not if the party's just one night."

"You never know, you might have the chance to attend another in the future."

Nope. Not thinking about that. Absolutely not, no, thank you. "I think sticking with just the one is fine for me right now."

"Very well." Logan stands with a swish of his coat. "One suit it is."

It takes until Logan's halfway down the block that Roman realizes he's been tricked into agreeing to let Logan pay for a suit, and the bastard doesn't even look sorry about it when Roman hollers after him.

Dick.

Of course, as soon as they get inside, part of him wants to leave immediately, but then Logan's hand is curling around his arm and he swallows, letting himself be guided across the sales floor to a section with a lot of black and navy fabric. He stares at the racks with what must be some form of abject terror because Logan's chuckling at him and leaning close.

"Don't worry, I'm not about to leave you on your own."

"You'd better not," he shoots back, but his voice comes out all high and thready.

Logan waves over a sales associate who's dressed better than Roman's ever been in his entire life and explains that Roman needs a suit. At least that's what he assumes just happened. In reality, there's a dull buzz in his head right now that's making it hard to focus on anything other than staying upright, not having a panic attack, and on the warmth of Logan's hand holding onto his arm through his coat. He does notice the associate eyeing his clothes a little disdainfully and quickly forces out: "Easier to change."

"Ah, how sensible. If only all of our clients were as considerate. Now, what sort of styles do you like?"

"I have absolutely no idea and I'm mostly scared to touch anything."

Both of them laugh and somehow manage to do it without sounding mean. "Do not worry, nothing in here bites, I assure you."

Roman can't help the way his gaze darts to Logan. Logan, because he is apparently determined to kill Roman today, winks at him.

"You're not helping," he hisses as the associate turns to pull something from a nearby rack.

"I don't recall promising to help, only that I wouldn't leave you alone."

"You're buying me another hot chocolate after this."

He does, and it's way too expensive and it tastes way too good and he wants to be mad about it and the garment bag he has to haul home, but then Logan's threatening to get him a cab as well and he high-tails it out of there before he makes good on it.

When he gets home, he just sort of…stands there for a moment, looking at the bag. In a daze, he reaches up and traces the emblem of the store embroidered into the black fabric. This is his suit. He actually owns it, it's made for him, it's something that he just has now. And yeah, maybe Logan was right: more than a small part of him is dancing at the idea of such a thing.

Before he can tell it to stop, that part of him whirls him through a set of doors and he's picturing himself in a grand ballroom with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, music overflowing into the gardens, the balconies, as it should for any spectacular party. With this suit, he belongs there, just as much as anyone else, amidst the swirling skirts and glittering tidings, where he could stand on his own and be welcome, celebrated, even, as much as anyone else. Where a hand might extend to him and mean it, where he could look up at Logan's face and smile, and not have to worry that a kiss would be refused—

The garment bag hits the floor with a crumpled thud.

Roman blinks rapidly, giving himself a good shake. What the hell was that? How did Logan manage to sneak in there? What's that got to do with—

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no—no, shit, he is not doing this again. He knows better now, he's not that young or naive or stupid anymore, he is not getting caught up in some ridiculous thing that will only end with his heart in pieces on the floor and a wobbling smile on his face. He is not going to start doing that.

With a muffled groan, he snags the bag off the floor and stomps to the closet, hanging it up and shoving the door closed again. This is stupid. This is the third time he's met Logan, there's no reason for him to be doing this. Even if by some Christmas miracle Logan doesn't find out about this—because Roman wears his heart on his sleeve and Logan keeps doing that thing where he sees him—his traitor of a heart flutters again and he shoves a pin through its wings—he's still going to have to look at him at this stupid party and—and—

And his mind flashes back to that little bit of hurt he'd heard in Logan's voice when he asked if Roman thought he looked at him the way all those fucking rich people do. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. Would Logan look at him the same way now, knowing he was assuming the worst of him?

No, no, that's not right. Accurately predicting the rejection of his sudden and really very stupid feelings was not assuming the worst of him. If anything, Logan might complement him on his very mature and reasonable handling of unrequited emotions. Yeah, that was it. He just has to be an adult about this, the way everyone else has said the same thing his entire life. It's a good thing he realized these feelings now, actually, and not at the party where there will be other people and he'll be in that suit and Logan will be there too, because he's invited Roman of all people, going so far as to make sure he has something to wear…

He snaps himself out of it, almost glaring at the closet door. No. Not doing that. He's just going to go to this party as Logan's friend, spend the time being there the way a friend would, and not think about what would happen if Logan had asked him there as more than a friend.

He can do this.

***

He can't do this.

He's been standing outside the lobby of this big slab of glass and steel in the middle of downtown for about ten minutes now and he has no idea of how to move forward. He's on the list, he knows, because Logan sent him a confirmation email yesterday, so he doesn't have to wait here for someone else to show up and let him in, he definitely doesn't have to wait for Logan to show up so they can go inside, but here he is. Loitering. He's pretty sure it's only because of the suit that the front desk person hasn't called the cops or whatever.

"You've truly a wonderful sense of timing."

He whirls around to see Logan getting out of a sleek black town car. His mouth goes dry a little at the sight and he'll deny it forever. Take the fifth, or whichever amendment is the one that means you don't have to say shit. Logan's smirking at him by the time they're standing next to each other, though, so he's pretty sure he has some idea of what's running through his head.

"Hey," he croaks, clearing his throat, "thought about going in, but then I realized I'd have no idea of where I'm going."

"They could've told you."

Don't bring your logic here while I'm having a crisis. "Yeah, well, isn't it bad form to show up separately from the person who invited you?"

Logan gives him that look like he's being nice to him by letting it go—and hey, he is a lawyer, maybe that counts as being nice—and takes his elbow. "Come on, then. We're getting dangerously close to being disastrously late instead of fashionably late."

They walk through the door and Logan waves a card at the person behind the desk—ID badge, Roman's brain supplies helpfully. The elevator is just a normal elevator, thank God, but then it opens onto a floor of way too many people in expensive clothing and more of that pretentious not-Christmas music and it's all he can do not to immediately slam the 'down' button again.

"Relax," Logan says quietly, "it's just a party."

"Easy for you to say, you work here."

"Actually, that makes it worse for me: I have to see these people again after tonight."

A somewhat hysterical giggle bubbles up in Roman's throat but he steps out of the elevator all the same. There's a large booth off to one side where racks have been set up for people's coats, two smartly-dressed people manning a small desk. Logan walks up and passes over his coat without hesitating, which means Roman has to hustle a little bit to not get left behind in the crowd.

"So, what're we supposed to do?"

"Mingle," Logan sighs, like he's just been asked to hold up the heavens, "I am responsible for following up with a few of our more…anxious clients, but you just have to walk around and look pretty."

Roman snags an offered glass of champagne and downs about half of it in one go to avoid thinking about that too much. Logan just chuckles and starts leading his way through the masses, Roman trudging along behind him.

The first set of people they come across must be other people Logan works with on a regular basis; they react like Logan's the cool kid coming to join them at the lunch table when he strolls closer, one of them giving him a slap on the shoulder and the others raising their glasses in toast. A change comes over him, growing taller and sleeker as Roman watches before he realizes hey, this is probably one of those things Logan wants him to talk at. Sure enough, as he approaches, one of them spots him over Logan's shoulder.

"Is this the lucky man with you tonight?"

"Yes," Logan says, turning and extending a hand to gather Roman in close, "this is Roman. Roman, these are some of the insufferable colleagues I mentioned before."

"Hello, nice to meet you."

"Look, Logan, someone with manners," a woman says, dark eyes flashing over the rim of her glass, "you could learn something from him."

"You must be the one that threatened to stab him if he didn't get the right presents," he says, without thinking, only for the others to burst out laughing. The woman just grins.

"That would be me, yes." She holds out her hand. "Ava Nath. Pleasure to suffer through knowing Logan along with you."

"Roman."

"Claws to yourself, Ava," Logan says lowly and fuck, Logan being all weirdly possessive around his friends—are they friends? Roman's really gonna hope they're friends—is doing things to Roman.

"How'd you manage to meet this one, Roman?" asks another man, nudging Logan with his elbow. "Can't have been through work, otherwise we'd've warned you away ages ago."

Roman swallows another mouthful of champagne. "Mutual friend."

"Oh? Which friend would that be?"

"You guys realize we're not in a court room, right? You don't have to interrogate me if you don't want to."

Again, thank God they took that as a joke, laughing again even as Logan's hand lands warmly on his upper back. The man waves his hand in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry. Ask anyone here, it's hard to turn off."

"No, it's fine, I…should've expected it. I'm friends with Patton, that's how we met."

"Patton…from down on the 16th floor, yes. Sweet guy. Makes sense." He gives himself a shake. "Here I am forgetting my manners too. Scott Kensington, pleased to meet you."

Roman shakes his hand. Logan's hand is still on his back, thumb slightly stroking the material of suit. He should not be paying attention to that, he should be paying attention to the conversation.

He takes another gulp.

"Well, you just got here, so you've still got your rounds to do."

Logan groans. "Don't remind me. Just tell me that Forstby isn't here yet."

"Oh, God, no, he'll probably stumble in about an hour from now."

"Small mercies. Well, it was lovely catching up with you, but I'm afraid we're needed elsewhere. Roman?"

"Yep, I'm coming."

"Pleasure meeting you," Ava calls as he's ushered away, "come back when you're done!"

"Will we be doing that?"

Logan rolls his eyes. "If we must. Come on, now, we've more hands to shake."

It turns out that meeting people in rapid succession is not a good way for him to remember names, or faces, instead he just gets more and more through this glass of champagne with a pasted-on smile and a few comments he doesn't think about that thankfully just make everyone else laugh. He's pretty sure Logan can tell, though, judging by the way his hand never leaves his back or his shoulder for longer than about ten seconds at a time. He'd like to resent him for that. He really would. He'd also like to resent him for feeding the fantasy Roman's brain has been helpfully pushing at him all night but he's ignoring that one like a champ.

They end up in a conversation with one of the firm's clients, not that he really knows what that means—okay, no, he does know what that means, he just doesn't know what he's supposed to do about it. The couple is a striking older duo, a man with ginger hair flecked with salt and pepper, as is his beard, introducing himself as Ben, and a stunning blonde woman with high cheekbones and a piercing green stare who tells him call me Sadie. They'd both spoken warmly to Logan upon seeing him, gathering him in for a hug—which he hadn't been shocked by, nope, not at all—before turning to Roman. He'd stumbled his way through an intro, belatedly offering his hand, only for them to…well, basically coo at how adorable he is. He minds a little less than he'd thought. They explain how they met through a mutual friend again and the three of them have been talking about something business related ever since. Which means Roman can just nod in the right places, laugh in the right places, and not think about anything else.

Nope.

Not at all.

"But that's enough business talk," Ben sighs, "this is supposed to be a party."

"That doesn't typically stop you," Sadie says, to which Ben huffs and she turns her smile to Roman. "Forgive us."

"Nothing to forgive, I get it."

"I suppose we have you to thank for this evening?"

"Uh, what? Sorry, I, um…how so?"

"Come now, there's no need to be coy about it. We all know Logan's a bit of a Grinch when it comes to the holidays," Ben says with a wink at Logan.

"If being practical makes me a Grinch, then yes, I suppose so."

"See what I mean?"

"We weren't sure he was even going to be here," Sadie continues, "so I presume I have you to thank for getting him in the spirit?"

Which…is not how Roman thought this worked out. Logan told him about the party, told him he needed a guest to bring, like it was a mandatory work thing that he had to go to. Not…what he's currently being told. But before he can say that, or something to that effect, Logan's rolling his eyes again. Seriously, the man puts in a full eyeball workout every hour, it looks like.

"Ava's already declared her allegiance for him after learning he helped me with gift-getting, I don't need you two doing the same."

"You, willingly buying presents that aren't run-of-the-mill?" Ben says. "You are a miracle worker, Roman."

"It wasn't that big of a deal."

"It was," Logan corrects gently, looking at him with actual affection, "and I don't believe I ever properly thanked you for it, so thank you."

"Um…you're welcome?"

Sadie laughs. "Next thing you know, you'll be throwing your own Christmas party."

Roman laughs along with her. The idea of cynical, practical Logan throwing a Christmas party will do that. He can just imagine Logan's face at the idea too—

"I've actually been considering it."

He knows his head is not the only one that snaps around to stare when Logan says that. Ben recovers first, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Not this, obviously," Logan continues, gesturing about, "but something with a few friends, certainly."

"Will wonders never cease…I never thought I'd see the day where you willingly get into the festive spirit."

"What can I say? It's that time of year."

"It certainly is," Sadie says, her gaze sliding far too neatly to Roman for a little too long. "Well, I hope that if you do deign to throw such a party, the two of us will be invited?"

"Naturally."

And then there are polite excuses being made as to why everyone has to be elsewhere and they're back to mingling again. Roman's brain is still stuck on the idea of Logan at a Christmas party. An actual Christmas party, where there's cheap alcohol and shitty music and terrible sweaters. He manages to get through a few more brief conversations before he's mumbling to Logan about needing a break and wandering off in search of the nearest window.

He manages to find one far enough away from the pounding music—and open bar—but close enough that Logan won't have to look around forever to find him. He leans against the edge, watching the snow drift between the skyscrapers. Absentmindedly, he tugs at his collar, as if it could get his mind away from the thoughts still swirling around and around his brain.

This is going fine. This is going great, even. It's just like what he normally does at parties: socialize for a little bit, find and hang on to the people he actually knows, and then find a quiet corner to just be by himself. He didn't even check to see if Patton would be here—no, no, Patton's with his partner now, he left last week. Well, that makes it only Logan that he knows here, not counting the few people whose names he's managed to remember.

That's fine too. Completely, totally fine. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

He takes another drink and finds the glass empty. Well, sallying forth to try and procure another one sounds like a bad idea, so he's just gonna have to deal with it.

"You," comes an amused voice from behind him, "are far too sober to be looking so worried."

He huffs a laugh, turning to see Logan holding out a fresh glass of…something that definitely isn't champagne. He takes it, eyes it warily, and at Logan's pointed stare, takes a sip. He doesn't cough, because he's not that bad at this, but he does make quite the face.

"You'd think I just handed you a glass of cyanide, it's just whisky, there's no need for all of that."

"Don't think it's quite to my taste." But he's also not in the habit of refusing a drink, so he tries another sip. This time he lets it sit on his tongue for a few moments before swallowing and it's…mildly better. "Thanks."

"I felt obligated to do a morale check." Logan glances over his shoulder. "The wolves haven't torn you to shreds yet, have they?"

"I thought sharks were the lawyer metaphor animal."

"Both suffice in their own ways. Both have a reputation for being particularly ruthless or determined, an association with chasing bloodshed. Keen senses, for noticing when someone's deflecting."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," he grumbles, "I'm fine. Just…needed a minute."

"No one's looking at you funny, are they?"

He's about to give Logan a hard time for teasing him about something that he knows is a sore spot, he made his point already, but when he looks up, Logan's looking at him with a small furrow between his brows and the retort shrivels up. He shakes his head. Logan's shoulders relax.

"Good."

"Ava and Scott seemed cool. So did Ben and Sadie."

Logan hums, still watching him. He shuffles under it.

"What?"

"Is there something else bothering you? You seem upset still."

"I'm fine, really, just…not used to all of this," he finishes, somewhat lamely, "most of the parties I go to are more low-key. You know, bunch of people in a house, food, drink…that's it. Kind of like what you were describing."

"I hope you know that you'd be invited too."

"R-really?" He can't help the slight laugh of disbelief. "But we barely know each other."

"And yet, you're the only one who's managed to convince me that there might be something to all this holiday nonsense. You think I'd do something festive and not make you suffer through it with me?"

"See, you say there might be something to it, then you call it nonsense that you have to suffer through."

"Just because there's something redeeming about it doesn't mean I suddenly have to enjoy it."

"You really are a lawyer."

Logan laughs at that, a proper laugh, and that's just fucking unfair that he's a gorgeous bastard when he laughs too. He shakes his head, and Roman quickly looks back out the window. Nope. Not thinking about it. Not thinking about anything at all. No thoughts, head empty, that's him.

"You would come, though."

"Huh?"

"If I did have a party. You would come?"

"Of course I would," he says before his brain catches up to what he's saying and realizes that…yes, he actually would. He'd be happy to. "Just let me know when and where."

Logan smiles. Then it fades slightly, and Roman stands up a little more, about to ask what's wrong. His mouth opens and that, of course, is when someone comes up to talk to Logan and the moment's gone almost as quickly as it came.

"I have to go," Logan says, "don't run off this time, would you?"

"I'll be here."

Logan touches his arm again and turns, touch lingering just a bit on the edge of his bare wrist and Roman takes a huge gulp of the whisky.

Shit.

Unknown number: Roman, this is Logan. Are you free the evening of the 15th?

Roman blinks at his phone.

Me: How did you get my number?

Logan: I asked Patton. You do remember that we work together, yes?

Me: Yeah i remember but why did you want my number

Logan: To ask if you're free on the 15th, for starters.

Me: i think so, why?

Logan: The firm is throwing a holiday party and I've been instructed to bring someone who, quote: 'Won't cause a disruption but will add to the seasonal atmosphere.'

Me: is this supposed to be a compliment? also what kind of invitation says that?

Logan: I've certainly never met anyone as determined to preserve the holiday spirit as you. And no, that was a special instruction from my boss.

Me: still don't know if that's a compliment

Logan: Take it as you like. The dress code is black tie, so no terrible sweaters for you.

Me: i can't do that

Logan: Surely the holiday will survive if you're not in a hideous sweater for one evening

Me: no i don't have anything to wear to a black tie thing

Then his phone buzzes again. He picks it up and blinks to see an address.

Logan: Meet me here at 9 tomorrow.

Me: why?

Logan: To find you something appropriate to wear, of course.

Me: Logan, you don't need to do that.

Logan: I'm aware. 9 on the dot, don't be late.

Well.

Okay.

He's going shopping with Logan tomorrow, apparently. He also definitely needs to ask Patton why the hell he gave Logan his number.

"Ah, good. You are on time."

"Am I right in thinking you don't have much experience buying formal wear?"

"Not for a black tie event, no."

"Lovely," he says, tone indicating this is anything but, "I expect you to pay attention."

"Logan," he says quickly before Logan can actually make it to the door, "I can't—I can't afford anything here."

"Don't worry, I'll pay."

"You'll—what?"

"I said I'll pay for it, Roman, now come on—"

"Why would you do that?"

"Aside from the fact that you've just said you can't afford it?"

"You don't—" Roman pinches the bridge of his nose— "look, I don't know what game this is or what point you're trying to prove, but it's not—I don't need your charity, okay?"

"It's not charity, Roman. Every man should have at least three well-fitting suits."

"Three? It's one night, Logan, I'm not—I can't do this."

Logan leads them to a bench in a more secluded area of the street, sitting down and nodding for Roman to sit next to him. "What's making you uncomfortable?"

Roman scoffs, but then Logan furrows his brow and…shit, he's actually being sincere. He swallows. "Aside from the fact that everyone in there looks like they're wearing my rent?"

"They're only clothes, Roman."

He doesn't register the surprisingly gentle tone Logan's using. "They're not just clothes, they're—they're—I don't belong in that world, Logan. I'm not gonna try to force myself into it."

"What world?"

That's not very seasonally gracious of you.

"Sorry," he says quietly, bowing his head, "I'm being an asshole, aren't I?"

"Being uncomfortable doesn't make you an asshole, Roman."

"Yeah, but…"

He's gonna put that aside for now, yeah. "I just—I know how those people look at me."

"And how is that?"

There's a pause. Then: "Do you think that's how I look at you?"

His head jerks over. Logan's hands are still around the coffee cup, but there's a bit of tension in them now. He adjusts his glasses even though there's really no need for it. He swallows.

"I don't…I really don't know how you look at me, Logan," he admits, "I thought that's what you were doing at first, but it's…I don't know, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm not your enemy, Roman," he says with an unmistakable hurt that makes Roman want to throw up, "nor am I interrogating you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean it like that."

Logan just looks at him for a few more seconds. He fidgets under it and looks away.

"Why're you doing this," he asks quietly, "surely there's an easier way to get around your boss's instructions?"

Another long pause. A car drives by and nearly splashes them with gray sludge. A dog barks at a pigeon taking flight.

"You're the first person who's successfully gotten me to buy actual presents for my family in almost ten years," Logan says suddenly, "and you managed it on the second time we'd ever met."

Hold on, Roman was what? He did what, now?

"They do say Christmas is the joy of giving."

"Quite, but I have no interest in making you out to be a charity case."

"You don't?"

Logan shakes his head. "No. If anything, this is my reward for myself. A selfish act to balance out the selfless one."

Roman frowns. "You…buying me a suit is you being selfish?"

"Hey! Again, not all of us are going to galas all the time!"

Logan's smirk just grows.

"You what?"

"Come, now, there's no need to be shy. You certainly have a healthy appreciation for my suits—" goddamnit— "can you truly begrudge me for having the same interest?"

"I—that's not—I didn't—shut up!"

He just chuckles, like an asshole, as Roman hides his splutter behind another sip of coffee. Thank God he's wearing a hat so Logan can't see how red his ears are right now.

"I don't need three suits," he manages with a remarkably steady voice, "not if the party's just one night."

"You never know, you might have the chance to attend another in the future."

Nope. Not thinking about that. Absolutely not, no, thank you. "I think sticking with just the one is fine for me right now."

"Very well." Logan stands with a swish of his coat. "One suit it is."

Dick.

"Don't worry, I'm not about to leave you on your own."

"You'd better not," he shoots back, but his voice comes out all high and thready.

"Ah, how sensible. If only all of our clients were as considerate. Now, what sort of styles do you like?"

"I have absolutely no idea and I'm mostly scared to touch anything."

Both of them laugh and somehow manage to do it without sounding mean. "Do not worry, nothing in here bites, I assure you."

Roman can't help the way his gaze darts to Logan. Logan, because he is apparently determined to kill Roman today, winks at him.

"You're not helping," he hisses as the associate turns to pull something from a nearby rack.

"I don't recall promising to help, only that I wouldn't leave you alone."

"You're buying me another hot chocolate after this."

The garment bag hits the floor with a crumpled thud.

Roman blinks rapidly, giving himself a good shake. What the hell was that? How did Logan manage to sneak in there? What's that got to do with—

Oh.

Oh, no.

He can do this.

***

He can't do this.

"You've truly a wonderful sense of timing."

"Hey," he croaks, clearing his throat, "thought about going in, but then I realized I'd have no idea of where I'm going."

"They could've told you."

Don't bring your logic here while I'm having a crisis. "Yeah, well, isn't it bad form to show up separately from the person who invited you?"

"Relax," Logan says quietly, "it's just a party."

"Easy for you to say, you work here."

"Actually, that makes it worse for me: I have to see these people again after tonight."

"So, what're we supposed to do?"

"Is this the lucky man with you tonight?"

"Yes," Logan says, turning and extending a hand to gather Roman in close, "this is Roman. Roman, these are some of the insufferable colleagues I mentioned before."

"Hello, nice to meet you."

"Look, Logan, someone with manners," a woman says, dark eyes flashing over the rim of her glass, "you could learn something from him."

"You must be the one that threatened to stab him if he didn't get the right presents," he says, without thinking, only for the others to burst out laughing. The woman just grins.

"That would be me, yes." She holds out her hand. "Ava Nath. Pleasure to suffer through knowing Logan along with you."

"Roman."

"Claws to yourself, Ava," Logan says lowly and fuck, Logan being all weirdly possessive around his friends—are they friends? Roman's really gonna hope they're friends—is doing things to Roman.

"How'd you manage to meet this one, Roman?" asks another man, nudging Logan with his elbow. "Can't have been through work, otherwise we'd've warned you away ages ago."

Roman swallows another mouthful of champagne. "Mutual friend."

"Oh? Which friend would that be?"

"You guys realize we're not in a court room, right? You don't have to interrogate me if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine, I…should've expected it. I'm friends with Patton, that's how we met."

"Patton…from down on the 16th floor, yes. Sweet guy. Makes sense." He gives himself a shake. "Here I am forgetting my manners too. Scott Kensington, pleased to meet you."

Roman shakes his hand. Logan's hand is still on his back, thumb slightly stroking the material of suit. He should not be paying attention to that, he should be paying attention to the conversation.

He takes another gulp.

"Well, you just got here, so you've still got your rounds to do."

Logan groans. "Don't remind me. Just tell me that Forstby isn't here yet."

"Oh, God, no, he'll probably stumble in about an hour from now."

"Small mercies. Well, it was lovely catching up with you, but I'm afraid we're needed elsewhere. Roman?"

"Yep, I'm coming."

"Pleasure meeting you," Ava calls as he's ushered away, "come back when you're done!"

"Will we be doing that?"

Logan rolls his eyes. "If we must. Come on, now, we've more hands to shake."

Nope.

Not at all.

"But that's enough business talk," Ben sighs, "this is supposed to be a party."

"That doesn't typically stop you," Sadie says, to which Ben huffs and she turns her smile to Roman. "Forgive us."

"Nothing to forgive, I get it."

"I suppose we have you to thank for this evening?"

"Uh, what? Sorry, I, um…how so?"

"Come now, there's no need to be coy about it. We all know Logan's a bit of a Grinch when it comes to the holidays," Ben says with a wink at Logan.

"If being practical makes me a Grinch, then yes, I suppose so."

"See what I mean?"

"We weren't sure he was even going to be here," Sadie continues, "so I presume I have you to thank for getting him in the spirit?"

"Ava's already declared her allegiance for him after learning he helped me with gift-getting, I don't need you two doing the same."

"You, willingly buying presents that aren't run-of-the-mill?" Ben says. "You are a miracle worker, Roman."

"It wasn't that big of a deal."

"It was," Logan corrects gently, looking at him with actual affection, "and I don't believe I ever properly thanked you for it, so thank you."

"Um…you're welcome?"

Sadie laughs. "Next thing you know, you'll be throwing your own Christmas party."

Roman laughs along with her. The idea of cynical, practical Logan throwing a Christmas party will do that. He can just imagine Logan's face at the idea too—

"I've actually been considering it."

He knows his head is not the only one that snaps around to stare when Logan says that. Ben recovers first, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Not this, obviously," Logan continues, gesturing about, "but something with a few friends, certainly."

"Will wonders never cease…I never thought I'd see the day where you willingly get into the festive spirit."

"What can I say? It's that time of year."

"It certainly is," Sadie says, her gaze sliding far too neatly to Roman for a little too long. "Well, I hope that if you do deign to throw such a party, the two of us will be invited?"

"Naturally."

That's fine too. Completely, totally fine. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

He takes another drink and finds the glass empty. Well, sallying forth to try and procure another one sounds like a bad idea, so he's just gonna have to deal with it.

"You," comes an amused voice from behind him, "are far too sober to be looking so worried."

"You'd think I just handed you a glass of cyanide, it's just whisky, there's no need for all of that."

"I felt obligated to do a morale check." Logan glances over his shoulder. "The wolves haven't torn you to shreds yet, have they?"

"I thought sharks were the lawyer metaphor animal."

"Both suffice in their own ways. Both have a reputation for being particularly ruthless or determined, an association with chasing bloodshed. Keen senses, for noticing when someone's deflecting."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," he grumbles, "I'm fine. Just…needed a minute."

"No one's looking at you funny, are they?"

"Good."

"Ava and Scott seemed cool. So did Ben and Sadie."

Logan hums, still watching him. He shuffles under it.

"What?"

"Is there something else bothering you? You seem upset still."

"I hope you know that you'd be invited too."

"R-really?" He can't help the slight laugh of disbelief. "But we barely know each other."

"And yet, you're the only one who's managed to convince me that there might be something to all this holiday nonsense. You think I'd do something festive and not make you suffer through it with me?"

"See, you say there might be something to it, then you call it nonsense that you have to suffer through."

"Just because there's something redeeming about it doesn't mean I suddenly have to enjoy it."

"You really are a lawyer."

"You would come, though."

"Huh?"

"If I did have a party. You would come?"

"Of course I would," he says before his brain catches up to what he's saying and realizes that…yes, he actually would. He'd be happy to. "Just let me know when and where."

"I have to go," Logan says, "don't run off this time, would you?"

"I'll be here."

Logan touches his arm again and turns, touch lingering just a bit on the edge of his bare wrist and Roman takes a huge gulp of the whisky.

Shit.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #logan sanders

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corrodedseraphine · 2 years ago

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perfectly wrong | #1 I wish you hadn't saved me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: When you all get together to say goodbye to Corroded Coffin before going on tour, the evening ends with a standard argument between you and Steve. The next day, under the influence of a massive hangover, he wonders if he might have overreacted, when he gets called to help with a patient. From a conversation between a doctor and another nurse, he learns that the person who showed up is in a very difficult situation. He was definitely not ready for who he finds there.

TW: mentions of pregnancy, domestic violence, blood, wounds and bruises, let me know if I forgot about something!

The story is also avaliable on ao3

masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

@phantypurple thank you so much for helping me with this whole "enemies" thing, I am new in it and your support really helped me ❤

Before we start!I don't have much knowledge about pregnancy, being a nurse etc, which doesn't change the fact that I will try to do research and write everything in the best way possible, I hope you will forgive me!

In the beginning, everything may seem quite chaotic, I do not hide it and I realize that after reading the first chapter you will be a bit confused and many questions will appear, but with each chapter I will try to develop it and clear up doubts.

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

As soon as you crossed the threshold of The Hideout Robin immediately shouted your name. You cut through the crowd of people and with a smile on your lips made your way to your friends. Today was Corroded Coffin's first concert after the "earthquake." When Eddie finally recovered from everything that had happened he couldn't wait m until he returned to the stage. At first everyone thought that after what he experienced in the Upside Down he wouldn't be able to look at a guitar again, but he surprised you all. All the experiences inspired him to write many of the songs that, with the help of the government, will make up the band's first album. So this was the first and last concert for the guys before they set out to follow their dreams. You as good friends couldn't miss it.

"Am I late?" you asked, sitting down between Robin and Argyle.

"No, they are just getting ready to go on stage. I'm glad you're here." your friend said.

"I know, Ro. I'm sorry." You said grabbing her hand with a gentle expression on your face. Since your private life had turned everything around you had kept your encounters with other people to a minimum. You isolated yourself completely, however, you couldn't miss today's concert, you knew it was too important to just not come.

"And who my beautiful eyes see!" Steve shouted and with a loud clang he set down his beer bottle. This was definitely not his first. "Look who has kindly decided to show up!"

"I really don't have the energy for your drama, Steve." You sighed rolling your eyes.

"Woah! So you know my name?" he fiercely rambled on.

This is what it looked like. Your relationship with Steve was...complicated. No one expected you to end up at a stage where you couldn't stand each other in the same room. The sarcastic comments from his mouth were something quite gentle anyway. Normally you wouldn't have let it go however today you really didn't have the strength to do so, so you just ignored him and didn't answer anything.

The concert was going nicely, one could say too nicely, considering that for over an hour you didn't hear a single offensive word in your direction, and you really enjoyed your first meeting with friends in a long time. Unfortunately, it was the lull before the storm.

Steve definitely needed to de-stress, from what Robin told you he had failed a pretty important exam, so he decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Beer after beer he became more and more fussy and irritated. He was like a walking time bomb that went off when you refused Eddie's proposed drink.

"Now aren't we worthy of you having a drink with us?" he mischievously snorted with laughter.

"Steve, I really don't have the strength to deal with you tonight."

"And that's not the case? It seems that instead of having a drink with the people you claim to be your friends you prefer the company of your boyfriend and his pile of alcoholics. Did you start doing drugs with them, too?" he leaned back on his elbows. You knew he wouldn't let go, wouldn't let go until the two of you started arguing and he would pour out all his frustration that way. You could feel your blood boiling inside you and you were feeling breathless. "What? You won't say anything? You always have too much to say." He grinned feeling that he had the upper hand over you.

"Do I look like I want to debate with you?" You snapped.

"I don't know, through that ton of makeup it's hard to read what your real expression is."

"Steve!" Robin interrupted you. "Control yourself!"

"You're still defending her?!" He got what he wanted. He got his five minutes. "For the last two weeks she does nothing but ignore you, and then I'm the one who has to hear about how much you miss her! You consider her your friend and she just doesn't give a shit about you! All of you!"

"It's not true!" you wanted to defend yourself. In truth you really wanted to, but you knew that from their point of view it really all looked like that.

"Yes? Then what was more important than meeting your friend, what was more important than being there for her when she needed you when Vicky broke her heart?" He knew he was in control and it made him happy. Unhealthy pleasure derived from your embarrassment and confusion.

"What? Robin, why-" you were shocked. You had no idea.

"Are you going to ask now why she didn't tell you? Let me explain." He didn't waste a moment to crush you into the ground even more. He was giving you needle after the needle. "She wanted to tell you, but of course you didn't have time for her. I don't even know which hopeless excuse on your part it was then why you supposedly couldn't meet. But no problem, you can rehabilitate yourself and tell the truth now." He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his satisfied gaze into you. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly closed it and pressed your lips into a thin line. He was right, you yourself no longer remembered which excuse you used then. You were already lost in them, but the truth would not pass your throat for anything in the world. Not when all eyes were on the two of you. Not when Steve humiliated you without considering how many people were around. "That's what I thought. What about Max and El? Did you forget about them too? Do you know that since you stopped helping El with her lessons she barely manages to pass? Do you think you are better than them? You don't deserve any of them. No one!"

You couldn't stay standing there any longer. Feeling tears coming to your eyes without saying a word, you began to push through the crowd to the exit. You had no idea about Robin, you had no idea about El, you had no idea about anything. Locked in your own tragedy, you also cut yourself off from those who could always count on you and left them without the support they had become so accustomed to. He was right. You hated him for the way he treated you, but you hated yourself even more for the fact that everything he said was the cruel and painful truth. Moreover, by leaving you gave him another reason for which he could haunt you. You didn't stay to say goodbye to Eddie and the rest of the boys before they left. They would only be back in three months, and by then nothing would be the same.

You walked ahead wiping away tears. No matter how much you wanted you couldn't go back there. You weren't able to. Life was crashing down on your head, and his comments and reminders of what a hopeless person you were made you feel even worse. You wanted to disappear. To sink into the ground, to run away somewhere where your problems wouldn't reach you, but this couldn't happen. You were grounded here. Ironically, you would rather be grounded in the Upside Down now than be in your current situation.

When you arrived at the house you tried to enter as quietly as you could. In your spirit you prayed that your boyfriend, Travis, would already be asleep and not wake up. Unfortunately, fate decided to test your strength once again. Inside you found him sitting in front of the TV and an almost empty bottle of vodka standing on the coffee table.

"Where the hell have you been?!" he asked as soon as he heard your footsteps in the hallway. At that moment you already knew that a very long night was ahead of you.

Drinking so much alcohol the day before the morning shift was not a wise idea. Feeling dehydrated and drained of life, he sat in an uncomfortable chair with a face hidden in his hands and a nasty headache. He had just taken a painkiller, so it will have to be a long while before it takes effect. In addition, he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday's events. You never gave up when it came to arguing. Everything always ended in a shouting match. You were never so...quiet? Confused? Lost? You never showed your feelings either. Certainly not in front of him. Nor have you ever walked away with tears in your eyes. Did he exaggerate this time? Guilt slowly crept into his head.

"Tough night?" he heard from behind him. It was Judy, one of the senior nurses who had not run away from Hawkins after everything. She was also one of the better ones who saw him as more than just the Harringtons' son. She treated him like a normal trainee, for which he was grateful.

"Mhmmm." he muttered, still not opening his eyes. "We were saying goodbye to Eddie before going on tour," he said.

"I can't believe he finally made it. Do you think I'll be able to brag about how I changed his bandages?" she laughed quietly while making herself some coffee.

"I'm sure he'll write a song about it." he replied with a joke and fell silent. The silence between them was broken by the doctor's entrance into the room.

"She's here again." she sighed heavily. "Another 'fall'."

"Are you sure we can't report this anywhere?" Judy pinched the tip of her nose and furrowed her brow. This person's condition must have really worried her.

"If we report domestic violence and she denies everything the police won't do anything anyway,"

"She is pregnant, Linda. This is a very serious case."

"The only thing we can do at this point is to talk some sense into her and try to persuade her to agree to help."

"She's as stubborn as a mule, and I doubt she'll agree,"

"Sooner or later it will come to her that she will have a child and it is its safety that should be the most important thing for her. For this moment we have to go, Steve you will take care of sewing up the wound, and you Judy will help me with the gynecological examination."

"Come on boy..." the nurse sighed patting him on the back.

He walked sluggishly along the corridor contemplating the women's conversation. How scared must this girl have been that she didn't run away from this deviant? Did she really have no one to help her?

Entering the room, he was not ready for the sight that awaited him there. In the sterile white room, you sat in a chair staring at the floor, pressing a towel to your shoulder. A towel that was soaked with blood. When you raised your eyes and noticed him you froze. Steve also turned pale with surprise and horror at your condition. You were the girl they were talking about. The truth seemed too horrible to believe right away. There was a nasty bruise on your face, and when you moved the towel away from your arm an elongated wound appeared, from which blood would not stop pouring.

"What happened to you dear child?" Judy asked, looking at you with compassion in her eyes. Although you were no longer such a child, legally in every aspect you were already an adult. You quickly tore your gaze away from Steve and looked at the older nurse.

"I- I fell over. I fell on a glass bottle and a piece of it stuck in my shoulder...the blood won't stop flowing, when I fell I also hit my stomach, it hurts a lot, I was scared that..." you said quietly, ashamed looking at a single point on the floor. You knew that neither the doctor nor the nurse believed you. You also knew that, as if on a platter, you had given another reason from which Steve could create another level of your personal hell. He, however, was still looking on in disbelief at what was happening. The whole situation seemed to him as if it was made up. It was impossible that it was really you, that you were sitting completely defenseless as a victim of domestic violence. A pregnant victim of domestic violence. Holy shit, he was getting weak. It wasn't possible that after all you'd been through in the Upside Down, life was putting more hurdles in your way. You were fighting monsters from another dimension and you couldn't deal with your boyfriend? He didn't understand anything anymore.

"Steve take care of the wound. Make sure there's no more glass there, clean it up and apply stitches. We'll be back in a minute to do the rest of the examination." Dr. Linda ordered and together she and Judy went to get the equipment needed.

Not knowing how to behave, he simply began to prepare everything and sat very close to you. He took a deep breath. A very uncomfortable silence fell between you and the atmosphere was tense. After putting on his gloves, he gently grabbed your hand with both hands to take a closer look at the wound. Your inhalation stopped midway and your body stiffened all over.

"Do you need some anesthetic? It might hurt." He said in a nervous voice and corrected his glasses.

"I can handle it." you muttered.

"Are you sure? It really can-"

"I'm sure, Harrington." You growled interrupting him and turned your head toward the window, and he silently began to dispose of the glass shards.

Your hissing in pain did not escape his attention. To make matters worse, he also noticed the single tears that flew down your cheeks. As he was putting the stitches in place memories of last night began to fly through his head. Everything he said in your direction. Every word went straight to the heart of the problem. Glancing at your face every now and then, he could feel it getting fainter as he stopped at the purple area under your eye. Now he knew why you were wearing so much makeup. He knew what you wanted to hide and that scared him even more. He now understood why you refused to have a drink. Everything seemed so obvious now. Why didn't you tell anyone about this? He thought of the evening when Robin cried her eyes out because of Vicky. He was furious with you for not even being there for her at such a time. He was furious that you left her alone, but now he knew. He knew why, he knew the reason you canceled all your meetings. You didn't want anyone to know about what was going on. But now he knew now. This realization became a burden he didn't know how to lift.

"Y/n, listen...I- I want to apologize for yesterday. I was an asshole, I shouldn't have said all that." he said quietly. Shocked, you looked at him. He had said many awful things about you but never apologized for it. After a moment, though, surprise turned into a stony face.

"I don't need your sympathy or pity." you replied dryly. "You don't need to lie about being sorry, I know that's not true."

"Y/n..." normally he would have already started to get irritated that you wouldn't accept an apology causing another argument, but now he didn't feel an ounce of anger at you. He himself didn't know exactly what he felt.

"You weren't supposed to find out about all this. Believe me, if I didn't have to I wouldn't be sitting here right now, sitting here with you is much worse." He was already used to these kinds of words coming from your mouth, but never in his life had it been accompanied by tears, and he knew it must have meant you were on edge. "But there is one thing we agree on." You looked him straight in the eye. "I wish you hadn't saved me that night too." you were too tired. You had survived one hell only to immediately land in another. After a sleepless night and a morning full of screaming, you no longer had the strength to keep up the mask that everything was fine and you were handling it. Your life was one big mess and this was just the beginning.

"No, y/n-" before he could say anything further the women came back into the room. He knew what they were talking about. He remembered perfectly the moment when he said those words, and to this day he regretted it. No matter how bad the relationship between the two of you looked, he knew it was too much.

"How's the arm?" the Doctor asked when they returned to the room.

He coughed before speaking. "I took out the remaining shards of glass and cleaned it carefully. Just two more stitches and everything will be ready."

"Well done." She praised him by sending him a warm smile, and then turned to you. "You mentioned very severe abdominal pains, I'd like you to lie down now. We'll run some tests to make sure the baby is okay."

To make sure the baby is okay. Baby. You were pregnant. You were pregnant and a victim of domestic violence. I wish you hadn't saved me that night too. Your words gained more and more frightening meaning making his heart sinking.

While the examinations were being carried out he took care of cleaning up the position after sewing up your hand. This did not take long. Dr. Linda reassured you by saying that everything was fine, but pointed out that you should try to avoid stressful situations. What did that even mean? Your life now was one big stressful situation, how the hell were you supposed to avoid it?

"Now listen to me carefully." she looked at you. "If you ever decide to talk to someone about your "falls", remember that you are safe here and we can help you. You just have to let us do it. We'll take care of you and the baby, okay?"

You just nodded your head. You couldn't do that. You couldn't get away from him no matter how much you wanted to. "Let me walk you out." You quickly got up and followed the doctor.

Before leaving you looked at Steve one last time. He wanted to say something, anything that would erase all of yesterday's words, but it was impossible. With a broken expression on his face, he could only watch the door close behind you and think about the fact that you were on your way home, where your abuser was waiting for you. He involuntarily clenched his fists at the very thought that Travis might once again lay a hand on you. He was filled with emotions he couldn't recognize.

"You know this girl, don't you?" Judy asked with a sigh. Steve just nodded affirmatively. "You're a good guy, Steve. It's good that she has a friend like you." Her words were like a strong punch.

Oh Judy, if only you knew...

taglist (guys thank you so much for wanting to be in the taglist before the story even started! I really hope you won't be too dissapointed!): @i-me-mine @phantypurple @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather

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spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia · 23 days ago

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Understood some readers would prefer to read on tumblr I stead of ao3, so here's a recent one!

January 30th, Thursday, 1998.

DAY 3 OF THE FRIENDSHIP EXPERIMENT, SECOND STAGE

Dear Galileo,

So as previously reported, the first day went well (a few complications aside). I should have been in quite optimistic spirits then, no?

A foolish question. Gretchen Grundler is quite chipper when she wants to be, but when metaphorical shit hits the metaphorical fan, she gets quite not metaphorically antsy.

Literally. I had to pretend I was a nice, peaceful ant for 15 minutes this morning because I could carry on.

Still, the day was… Another success, for the most part. In some ways, it was quite enlightening.

But I digress. Let me regale you with today’s experiment, which I shall title “The Spa Study, or, An Assessment of Ashley Armbruster’s Curious Craving for Curative Baths”.

Or, in short, “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Chill the Fuck Out Sometimes”.

It all started this morning, after I pretended to be an ant, where I proceeded to pretend I was telling my parents the truth about my future hangout partner…

“Woah, a-get you’ hands in the air

And get to clappin’ ‘em and, like, back and forth

Because-a this is what you thought it wasn’t

It be’s the brothers representin’ the Dirty Dozen

I be the F-R-O, the double G

And check out my man, he goes by the name of, er, uh…

Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady

I’m a M-80, you little like that Kim lady

I’m buzzin, Dirty Dozen, naughty rotten rhymer

Cursin’ at you players worse than Marty Schottenheimer

You wacker than the motherfucker you bit yo’ style from

You aint’ gon’ sell two copies if you press a double album

Admit it, fuck it, while we comin’ out in the open

I’m doin’ acid, crack, smack, coke and smokin’ dope then

My name is Marshall Mathers, Ii’m an alcoholic (Hi, Marshall)

I have a disease and they don’t know what to call it

Better hide your wallet ‘cause I’m comin’ up quick to strip yo’ cash

Bought a ticket to yo’ concert just to come and whip yo’ ass

Bitch, I’m comin’ out swingin’ so fast it’ll make yo’ eyes spin

You getting’ knocked the fuck out like Mike Tyson (pssh)

The proof is in the puddin’, just ask DeShaun Holton

I’ll slit yo’ motherfuckin’ throat worse than Ron Goldman

So when you see me on yo’ block with two Glocks

Screamin’, “Fuck the world” like 2Pac

I just don’t give a fuck

So put my tape back on the rack

Go run and tell your friends my shit is wack

I just don’t give a fuck

But see me on the street and duck

‘Cause you gon’ get stuck, stole and snuffed

‘Cause I just don’t give a fuck”

Sitting at the breakfast table (this time, the Grundlers had convinced her to at least eat some of their healthy and cheap grown up cereal), Gretchen twitchily jotted down details of the day’s experiment, one which she had yet to tell Ashley A, but didn’t feel like she would need much convincing.

If anything, she was still trying to convince herself.

‘I suppose it couldn’t hurt, really. Plus, scientists have to risk themselves all the time for the craft. Why, would the Curies have discovered radium if they hadn’t taken the plunge into cancer? Heck, if they weren’t truly careful, we would be making Godzilla movies about them!’, she muttered to herself, trying to motivate but mostly just spilling nervous thoughts onto the notebook like milk from her cereal bowl (which, coincidentally, was also spilling a little). The bran flakes floated by and popped like mines in a field, and Gretchen was the bomb defusal expert too busy writing about her lover at home to eat them.

‘…I must have my head checked. It can’t be healthy to have this many gay thoughts about a strictly platonic friend.’, Gretchen voiced, ignoring how dumb that statement sounded and resuming her antsy writing (not to be confused with her antsy acting upstairs).

Mr. Grundler, who was simply enjoying the music billowing from their radio, attempted to strike up conversation with his daughter, who he could tell was feeling the butterflies in her stomach. He knew her well enough by now to know the symptoms beforehand. ‘That Eminem could really be going places soon. I heard Dre might be helping him on his next LP.’

Gretchen let out an ‘Mm hmm’, the kind of Mm hmm that indicated she was only kind of listening and mostly sunk into her work. Phil recognized it, as he had emitted it many a time himself. Trying from another angle, he coughed ‘You know, they say a pair of more… Experienced eyes can often clear up what seems unclear right now.’

Gretchen simply nodded this time, eating air with her spoon instead of cereal.

Phil pursed his lips. This would take a little less subtlety, but would she allow that?

Slowly leaning over, as if he was simply assisting with homework (something which Phil never really had to do with Gretchen but still), he whispered ‘What’s grinding your gears?’.

Gretchen sighed, realizing he wasn’t gonna let up. This was unusual for her, since she normally reveled in listening to her father’s angle on things, even things she knew more about. She would have loved nothing more than to sit back a little and see his mind work, his eyes process the information, his lips curl a little as he considered the questions, his fingers gently tap on the paper, that sound that could rock her to sleep, the tiniest reveal of his true excitement at encountering a problem. To the Grundlers, such work was as fun as a rollercoaster.

But this wasn’t homework, or calculations for an experiment. This was something far more… Personal.

And Gretchen unfortunately couldn’t share it… Just yet.

‘It’s just…’, she suddenly closed the notebook, searching for a lie that wasn’t too mean. Was there a way to tell the truth without telling it? She’d have to try. ‘…I’m simply trying to figure out how to approach today’s hangout session with Ashley R.’

‘Well, that’s basically the truth.’, Gretchen thought, proud of her excuse. Ashley A would have somehow sputtered out some crap about suddenly being blind or whatnot, and still get away with it.

Phil nodded, hiding his knowing smile. It was sort of adorable that his daughter thought she was good at lying about this, considering she muttered everything she wrote at listening volume. ‘Hmm, I see. What is it this time?’

Seeing no reason to lie about the specific hangout, Gretchen didn’t. ‘It’s a… Spa thing.’

Mr. Grundler now understood the problem. ‘You know, Spas aren’t only for illustrious elitists with troves drowning in trinkets.’

Gretchen normally would have understood what he meant, but she was so anxious (even biting her pencil while fiddling it up and down) that she found herself blinking and mumbling out a ‘What?’

‘What your father means is that you don’t have to be a fancy pants to enjoy a nice little massage!’, Mrs. Grundler cried, marching in with her cleaning robot and repairing it on the table, right next to the orange juice. Such was a typical Grundler morning, and the three of them wouldn’t have it any other way. ‘I think it sounds rather fun! Great idea by Ashley A…’, Mrs. Grundler started, only for Mr. Grundler to wave his arms in alarm, morse code tapping S.O.S. Once more, Gretchen was too distracted to notice what she would have always noticed, so Mrs. Grundler got away with her slip and way too loudly stated ‘R, THAT IS, ASHLEY R!’

While Phil wiped his brow with his hand, Gretchen placed her chin on her palm, which was connected to her arm, which was on the table, in a spot of spilt milk. ‘Well, actually, it was… My idea.’

Both parents were silently surprised, but refused to judge. Gretchen was a growing girl, allowed to experiment with new things. Unlike other house holds… ‘Well, it’s riveting to see you so open to fresh ideas, Gretchen!’, Mrs. Grundler tried, hoping that would raise a tiny smile.

Gretchen still frowned however, the potential problems permeating in her mind’s eye. ‘I suppose… It’s just… It’s really important. Ashley R might have a few similarities with me, but she’s… Still an Ashley. She has hobbies and vocations that a lady of science and… Rowdy shenanigans such as myself isn’t quite accustomed to. Good friends must be able to walk in another’s shoes, or in this case, another’s natural habitat, and at least try and find common ground. Lions and Zebras both inhabit at the watering hole, after all.’

The Grundlers couldn’t have loved their daughter more if they tried. But they knew she wasn’t going to just let them hug her now, so they instead nodded softly and held each other’s hands, sharing very knowing looks. ‘I’m sure that it will work out swimmingly, Gretchen, even if you don’t like the spa date. HANG. I MEANT HANG.’, Mrs. Grundler sputtered while Mr. Grundler shook his head affectionately and patted Gretchen’s hand. ‘Plus, if you get worked up, remember the mantra we practiced.’

Gretchen nodded resolutely. ‘All the moons from Pluto to Earth.’

‘That’s the ticket! Now, you should probably get going. Want me to drive…’, Phil started, only for Doris to shake her head, making two fingers walk together. Phil ah’d and nodded, realizing. ‘That is, you should get going. You wouldn’t want to keep ASHLEY R waiting, would you?’, he winked at Doris, who couldn’t help but blush at her husband.

Gretchen, missing all this because this is a story about oblivious gays, did you think they’d stop being oblivious about other things, nodded once more and marched off, notebook and backpack at the ready. She still didn’t eat enough, but hey, at least she took a few bites. Plus, there was food in the mall.

As she stepped out of the front porch onto another oddly hot day for January, Gretchen looked back at her parents, who were now eagerly fixing the robot together as if it were the most romantic parental activity ever and smiled for the first time that morning. ‘I’m so lucky.’

Then, she grimaced, as she turned towards the street, remembering her challenge. ‘And here I am, trying to befriend someone who probably wouldn’t fix a robot at the breakfast table. Oh, I hope massages don’t kill brain cells.’

And so, she walked off, ready to face destiny with a pounding heart and sweaty palms.

Destiny arrived far too soon for her nerve’s tastes, in the form of a chipper but clearly tired Ashley A, still blinking away the sandman’s gift. The rich girl was yawning as she put her glasses on and used Gretchen’s tall figure to keep herself from falling until she balanced herself. ‘Long, restless night? I can relate.’, Gretchen questioned, as she kept writing in her notebook about the day’s experiment.

Ashley nodded and yawned again, lightly bapping her cheeks to wake up. ‘Those Dawson’s Creek, Party of Five, Spice World and Katie Winslet posters won’t put themselves up!’

‘I relate… Slightly less now.’, Gretchen admitted, as she weighed how to ask Ashley about her plan for the day.

Ashley then made her job easier for her, as she clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes cutely. ‘So… What’s the next step in the Friendship Experiment? We buyin’ double the gum?’

Gretchen side eyed her with a smirk, shaking her head. ‘Unfortunately, Ms. Sequel, that’s not what we’re doing.’ Swallowing the ball of spit in her mouth, she choked out ‘It’s, well… Um…’

Lowering her voice to a near imperceptible whisper, she stammered ‘I was thinking of going to the… S-Spa…’

Ashley, however, could barely hear her, so she tilted her head and hummed in confusion. ‘Sorry, but I literally can’t hear you.’

‘Of course.’, Gretchen sighed in annoyance. Never an easy way out. Clearing her throat, she raised her voice a little. ‘I was thinking of going to the spa.’

‘...What?’, Ashley asked again, blinking in confusion. ‘You sound like you’re underwater.’

‘I was THINKING of GOING to the SPA!’, Gretchen raised her voice, now genuinely miffed, hoping no one in the vicinity heard her. She was clenching her fists and shaking, mostly from anxiety, but still.

Ashley stared at her blankly for too many seconds. ‘...What?’

‘I WAS THINKING OF GOING TO THE SPA!!!’, Gretchen shouted one last time, so loudly and strongly that it made the ear bud fly out of Ashley’s ear, emitting a low but noticeable “Tubthumping” by Chumbawama. Ashley sheepishly grinned. ‘Oh, right, I was listening to music.’, She giggled, wagging her finger and singing “I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down”.

Gretchen groaned, half frustrated with Ashley, half disappointed in herself for losing her cool like that. ‘Sorry, I’m just… Unsure of today’s experiment.’

‘How come?’, Ashley asked, and Gretchen remembered that she still hadn’t heard what they were gonna do today. Defeated, she muttered it while walking away. ‘I was thinking of going to the spa.’

Ashley’s high pitched gasp and squeal sent shockwaves of worry across Gretchen’s mind. ‘A SPA DATE?! OH, LITERALLY TOTALLY SCHWAY!!!’

Gretchen ignored her blush at the word date and waited for Ashley to finish her victory dance so she could elaborate. ‘Normally this wouldn’t be my cup of tea, but this is a crucial part of the experiment, one that, if not passed, jeopardizes the entire relationship.’

Ashley slowed her dance and gulped, alarmed at the serious tone. ‘Talk about a buzz kill. Why so on the real, Gretch?’

‘Because, Ash, true friends are open to each other’s more… Unique interests, even if they are markedly different.’

Ashley nodded and mumbled ‘I see…’, and Gretchen rolled her eyes, understanding what that meant. ‘You don’t get it.’

‘Not a clue.’

‘It means that my idea of a good time does NOT involve cucumber slices on one’s eyes or a mud bath, which I thought was something you people hated.’, Gretchen explained, not hiding her disdain for the activity.

Ashley, meanwhile, was still confused, as evidenced by her tapping on her chin while avoiding all the cracks on the street. ‘But didn’t we go to the spa all the way back in THE GREAT ASHLEY BAMBOOZLING CAPER? You didn’t seem to mind it that much.’

‘Adrenaline plus we were so close to succeeding that I could have put up with a black hole. But that was work. This is fun, and I take it VERY seriously. Why do you think the gang and I get into misadventures once a week I mean day?’, Gretchen illuminated, not bothering to skip the cracks, little twigs snapping at her heels.

Ashley shrugged, finding Gretchen’s attitude perplexing. ‘Girl, take a chill pill. It’s just a spa! It’s not gonna bite!’

‘See, that’s my point! You practically live and breathe that kind of stuff, and I find it as inviting as dinner with a female praying mantis. Which is bad.’, she quickly elaborated, Ashley beginning to understand. ‘If I don’t like this, then maybe I won’t like other stuff, like going shopping for clothes, or gossiping, or…’

‘A sleepover, I get it.’, Ashley bit her lip, now nervous too. This was a lot more important than she realized. She could also now see how strained Gretchen seemed. Her hands kept wringing each other, her fingers often twirled around while tapping each other, her teeth grinded, and she seemed to clench everything, even her shoulders. Was she always this anxious?

Suddenly, it melted away a little, as Ashley placed a smooth, soft and comforting palm on Gretchen’s clenching shoulder. ‘Hey, maybe you’ll like it. After all, I tried something very different and unusual lately, and it’s been pretty dope.’

‘Which is?’, Gretchen asked, not bothering to look back.

‘Hanging out with this pretty wicked brainiac, yea tall, hella smart, answers to Gretchen Grundler, ever heard of her?’

Gretchen finally looked back, and Ashley flashed that winning smile of hers, and she couldn’t stay worried, at least, for now. ‘You have a real annoying habit of growing on me, you noticed?’, Gretchen smirked, squeezing Ashley’s hand, who squeezed back. ‘You would know.’

Suddenly, they realized they had reached school, and quickly separated, shoes slapping off the playground pavement. ‘Mall, 15:30 sharp, got it?’, Gretchen cried, as she quickly joined Vince’s kickball team.

‘I’ll come up with a good excuse!’, Ashley flashed her two thumbs up, before dumping her disguise and quick changing into Ashley A behind a bush shaped like a closet. ‘I’m getting better at this lying shit!’, Ashley praised herself, only to run into Ashley B, the two now lying on the ground, Ashley T and Q helping them up respectively. ‘Owie…’, both of them muttered, opening their eyes to now see each other. Ashley A immediately turned nervous while Ashley B grinned, unknowingly turning an already complicated day far more difficult. ‘Oh, Ashley A! Great! We were, like, wondering where you were and stuff!’

‘Oh, I… Took the scenic route!’, Ashley A excused, a shaky smile doing the salsa on her lips. ‘Gretchen’s kinda pretty, so it’s not totally a lie…’, Ashley thought, a thought which would bite her in the behind relatively soon.

‘Totally, totally, very schway.’, Ashley B waved it off, clearly more interested in what she had to say. Ashley A was really getting tired of that. ‘Did I use to do that all the time? No wonder Gretchen’s worried. What if she thinks I wouldn’t try for her?’

While Ashley got lost in her worried thoughts, Ashley B ordered Ashley T to lay down the morning report for them, and Ashley Q led them into the clubhouse while there was still time before class. Soon, they were in The Ashley’s famous hangout, it feeling like a strange place almost after so long for Ashley A. Three of them were now sitting on the velvet red couch underneath light pink sashes, and opening up the secret candy bar, Ashley Q passed them a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup bag each, as they snacked and gossiped, the “Spiceworld” album ringing out banger after banger.

‘So, first, Megan is TOTALLY packing fake Jordans. I heard Library Kid and I think some other girl talking about it while I was at the library returning some… Magazines.’, Ashley T dished out, stuttering towards the end, hoping no one caught her white lie. They WERE magazines… Just with a lot of pictures of people fighting. Totally normal. ‘Oh, and Jenny, she’s trying to shake it up with a blue top that does NOT match her ginger hair at all. Like, I know they’re complimentary colors, but, well, Jenny just doesn’t pull it off.’, she lied truly there, but that was the point. No one got to be fashionable BUT The Ashley’s, and Ashley B and Q giggled haughtily and nodded while they popped in peanut butter cups. ‘How true, wouldn’t you say, Ashley A?’

Ashley A snapped out of her daydreaming and hurriedly nodded, a non-committal ‘Mmm hmm’. Truthfully, she was haunted by two specific thoughts, two that made her feel like she was having an out of body experience: 1. She really didn’t like how all their gossip was mean, and 2. Gretchen.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t picture Gretchen there, sitting between Q and T, laughing with them and sipping some ice green tea, sharing her own gossip, even gossip that wasn’t mean. It just wasn’t like her, was it? ‘She’s nothing like them. And, in a way, that means she’s nothing like me. That’s a LOT of differences.’

If she couldn’t imagine Gretchen chilling at the clubhouse, how could she ever enjoy a spa? Or a shopping day? Or a sleepover?!

And vice versa: Could Ashley truly hang out in the dirty playground? Play kickball? Conduct experiments? Could she, even in disguise, fit in with the likes of Spinelli and Gus, kids she had bullied since the moment she laid her eyes on them?

‘Ashley A? Ashley A!’

Two finger snaps sent Ashley A crashing back to reality, observing Ashley B’s miffed expression. ‘Girl, am I talking to the hand or not? I was just reporting that I heard there’s a girl who’s crushing on Gus! Gus!! How aren’t you rolling on the floor laughing?’

Ashley A gulped. Once, she would have found that hilarious. But now, it just felt so… Mean. Could she really do that?

‘Fake it till you make it’, she thought, and with a brave breath, she emitted a fake laugh, far too shrill and loud for her, but thankfully enough to cast away the suspicion for now. ‘That really… Totally helps my mood!’

‘Oh, are you okay?’, Ashley T asked, genuinely worried, but Ashley B simply ignored, clearly caring more about the response to her dirt and less about the responder. ‘Oh, by the way, who’s paying for the spa this time? I’d bother to memorize the paying chart but that’s Ashley A’s job, as our most beloved president. I could do it, but you know, duty calls for her.’, B reminded, just a tinge of jealousy coloring her words, as she filed her nails perhaps a little too angrily.

Ashley A’s face turned pale (but for once, not to her liking). ‘Mall Day Thursday!’, she exclaimed, as if she were the subject of an edvard munch painting.

‘Um, duh! Ashley, you are REALLY distracted today. Not very presidential…’, Ashley B once again stung her friend, while Q and T gave Ashley A weird looks. It was only their weekly tradition. HOW did she forget?

‘Oh, right, of course! I’m just… Well, you see…’, Ashley A scrambled for an excuse. She couldn’t be at two places at the same time, right?

‘...Better keep that for a far more pressing situation.’, Ashley A decided, unknowingly setting up a truly disastrous scenario. For now, she needed a good lie. But what? ‘I…’, she felt her heart pound and her palms sweat (‘Eww’), as the other Ashley’s now bore holes in her face, squinting at her strange behavior. She couldn’t let Gretchen down! She just couldn’t! That would be a catastrophe!

Catastrophe.

Cat-astrophe.

Cat.

‘Sometimes, my genius impresses even me.’, Ashley smirked at the 4th wall, which was very pretty today, someone must have dusted lately.

‘...Muffin! Muffin, my poor little baby snuggly wuggly lil angel schmoopsie poo googly bear is feeling…’, Ashley paused for dramatic effect, a hand over her shoulder, eyes closed, as she prayed to God that this would work. ‘...Ill!’

The other Ashleys all seemed confused, tilting their heads.

Ashley A realized her mistake and was quick to correct it. ‘Oh, I meant bad Ill, not good ill.’

The three Ashleys all gasped accordingly, reacting apropos: Ashley T was dabbing her tear stained cheeks with her pink handkerchief, Ashley Q had already fainted, and Ashley B was already phoning 9-1-1, stating ‘Yes, it is an emergency, my daddy will cut the funding if you don’t answer right now! Cancer patients? What did they ever do for me?’

Ashley A panicked, realizing that could lead to her being discovered. ‘Oh, don’t worry, it’s only… Starting stages! But someone must volunteer to be with my baby girl, and I would never trust my family with her!’, she reassured, waving her arms all over.

Ashley Q and T bought it, simply happy Ashley M had proper care, but Ashley B did have a habit of making things harder for Ashley A. ‘Well, while it is disappointing, we totally understand! A valid excuse, for sure! But we should come over, anyway. Just to offer a helping hand to our honorary member! A sick kitty is nothing to be sneezed at!’

She couldn’t really tell them not to go. Sighing, Ashley A realized she’d owe Menlo another favor, but at least she and Gretchen would be safe. ‘No further complications’, she thought with a relieved smile, as she popped in another Peanut Butter Cup.

Meanwhile, in Ms. Finster’s office, further complications were indeed being formulated that very instant.

‘Randall! Randall!!’, Ms. Finster cried out, huffing and puffing after a hard training session. ‘Where could that blasted boy be?!’, she muttered, pacing around her room in her usual drill sergeant way; Methodical and precise. Every movement, every action, had to be carefully coordinated and planned. EVERYTHING had to be under control. ‘Lest there be chaos. Lest there be anarchy. Lest there be…’, Finster nearly finished her tragic muse, only for the door to open with a slam, a panting Randall instantly falling to his knees in apology. ‘Finster, please, accept my most humble apology, I was just doing what you said…’, Randall started, but Finster was quick to wave him off, sitting at her desk, the lack of light making her seem dramatic and all powerful, beady eyes glaring back from her thin spectacles. ‘I have no time for groveling, Randall. I KNOW you were doing what I said. If you weren’t, you’d be sitting your sorry little keyster in detention!’

Taking a moment to relax (but still ever alert), Finster snapped her fingers. ‘Morning report, boy, let’s hear it.’

‘Of course!’, Randall cried, a little more excited than usual. Finster noticed the inflection immediately. She had a way with that. Sniffing the truth from your soul in an instant. Meanwhile, Randall flipped through his notebook, which was color coded, for a change. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’ve sorted it through priority levels!’, Randall boasted, half ego trip half genuine desire to please his superior. ‘See, Green is your usual garden variety trouble, some half baked Hustler Kid operation, Lawson being a plain old jerk, etc. Then we have Orange, for slightly more troubling news, say, Mundy, Kurst, Sue Bob and Lazy Kid are up to something, or King Bob is getting a little too big for his throne. Now, Red is normally the most dangerous color, but I was thinking that could be reserved for Detweiller and his gang, since they’re usually your top priority, and that’s because currently our focus is on the Ashley’s, hence the Purple section, I thought that was pretty clever of me, since Purple is the Ashley color…’

‘I asked for a morning report, Randall, not bootleg Bob Ross. Give me the 4-1-1, stat!’, Finster ordered, clearly a little impatient this morning. Randall would normally have bitten back at any kid saying that to him, but instead he quickly whipped out a ready made thermos of the blackest coffee he could find that morning at the farmer’s market and poured her a mug. Not a word had to be shared. It was a routine as familiar as family dinner for the duo.

Pertaining to her report request, Randall nodded gently, still a little upset that his color coding went unnoticed. ‘As you wish, Finster. I did as you said, tailed the Ashley’s meeting. Who would have suspected the plush pile? I must say, it was quite comfortable! Nicer than an action figure pile, anyway. That was a pretty whomping Friday…’

Finster raised one eyebrow while sipping, not needing to look. Randall stared down at his feet and muttered an apology. ‘That is, that was a pretty crummy Friday.’

Finster grunted, indicating he continue. In the darkness of the office, the only real light emitted from Randall’s eyes, glad to have someone’s attention for once. ‘Well, I can’t say I got a LOT of dirt, but we’re not dealing with any Sunday School getup here, Finster. Ashley A isn’t attending the weekly mall visit.’

‘So? She hasn’t the last few weeks, last week excepted, thanks to that so called sickness of hers. Probably wanted to be pampered, even if it meant missing out on her quality time with her sycophantic crew.’, Finster ignored the intel, but Randall insisted, clearing his throat. ‘But see, that’s the thing… Ashley told them she was taking care of her sick cat. Only she didn’t want them to visit just yet.’

‘...Randall, I’m missing the part where this turns into dirt.’, Finster complained, voice rising in frustration. ‘If you don’t have anything to say, then stop wasting my time and get to class already!’

Randall, panicking at the mistaken assumption of his failure, was quick to correct. ‘But Ms. Finster! I know her cat isn’t sick!’

Finster, still not believing, began to stand up to open the door. ‘Randall, don’t make me kick you out. It’s humiliating for the both of us.’

On his knees again and clutching her leg, Randall cried ‘I know because she told Gretchen she’d come up with an excuse!’

THAT stopped Finster. Like a mole looking up from the ground onto the sun, Finster’s wrinkly rat like face scrunched up as she opened the blinds to her office, exposing the blinding sunlight and most importantly: Her domain.

‘Grundler? Considering her company, she steers clear of my iron fist more than one would assume.’, Finster muttered, Randall the only recipient of her turning gears. ‘Sure, she’s got that troublemaker gene, but only in association with Detweiller. What could POSSIBLY get her to become strange bedfellows with Armbruster?’

‘That’s what I was thinking! And remember what I told you about a few weeks ago, when Ashley was running around school with her backpack?’, Randall added, but Finster was already advancing in her plan. ‘Yes, yes… Yes, it’s time.’

‘Time? Time for what?’, Randall asked, checking his schedule. ‘I don’t need to massage your feet until…’

‘Not that, boy! It’s time for the PLAN!’, Finster emphasized, and suddenly, Randall realized, and gulped, nervous. ‘I’m… I’m still not sure about this, Finster. I mean, I’m more of a secret listener. A “Hide behind the bush and peak” listener. A “Doesn’t disguise himself as a girl to collect info” listener. Point is… Why a girl?’

‘I’m on budget watch thanks to the Cafeteria incident. Who knew so many parents would find interrogations “excessive”?’, Finster explained, but she didn’t seem as firm. She shared a sympathetic look. ‘Unfortunately, we can only use drama club costumes, and the only ones that fit your scrawny little body are girl ones.’

‘Oh man… I knew I should have stuck to that fitness regimen you suggested.’, Randall groaned, sounding guilty. Finster knew the tone well, and tried to lower her usual firm and rigid tone to reassure him. ‘It’s just a costume, Randall. Think of it as… Acting!’, she snapped her fingers, remembering Randall’s failed dream of playing Santa Claus at the school play.

As predicted, Randall’s eyes instantly lit up, and he wiggled his arms, unable to hold his excitement back. ‘You’re right, Finster! That’ll show that snooty club what for!’

‘Exactly! Plus, if we bag the Ashley’s, you know what that would mean for the school?’, Finster reminded him of their broader goals, as she stared down at the children in the playground. Kickball, marbles, other extracurricular activities… It all seemed rather by the numbers. But Finster saw more, knew more.

‘Look at them, Randall. So blind to the threats of their own indulgence. They let hustlers and bullies and Ashley’s get away with anything, which makes them think they can bend my rules, twist my codes. They think I’m unfair, think I’m some kind of monster. But they don’t understand… I’m the only thing standing between them and total anarchy. I’m protecting them. You realize that, don’t you, Randall?’

It was an honest question, a momentary crack of doubt, and Randall was quick to nod. ‘I’m dressing up like a girl for you, am I not, Finster? You don’t find this cause alone!’

Finster nearly allowed herself a small smile, but…

‘I can’t. Not after… Him. I can’t trust anyone again.’, she reminded herself, so she remained vigilant. Randall had to truly earn such a thing as a smile from Muriel Finster. ‘Attention, soldier. Actions speak louder than words.’

Randall, understanding, saluted as hard as he could, then ran off to put on his disguise.

Finster saluted back, nodding, before sitting down at her desk, darkness spreading once again, except around her eyes. A necessary devil for a playground full of potential demons. Someone had to stand guard.

‘Someone has to protect them from themselves.’, she grunted, staring at a framed photograph of a ginger woman and blonde man, straight from the late 60’s, with smiles too innocent for this world.

Meanwhile, just before the class bell rang, the Gang reconvened by the see saw. ‘How was the kickball g…’, TJ started, only for Gretchen to walk past, lost in her own thoughts. She just kept writing in her notebook, looking and sounding stressed, her anxious mutters sticking with the gang as they saw her depart without a word nor a look.

‘...Ame?’, TJ scratched his head, while Gus (who was on the see saw with Mikey) worriedly stared at Vince, wiping his sweat from the game. ‘Gretchen acting weird again?’

‘You better believe it, Short Stop.’, Vince grunted, leaning on a part of the jungle gym, his brows furrowed in a way only someone who really cared did. ‘I don’t get it. She usually enjoys being on my team. Did I forget to brush my teeth? Maybe she just doesn’t like kickball anymore? Is my hair okay?’

‘Your hair’s fine, get off it!’, Spinelli rolled her eyes, before offering a dark glare at the departing Gretchen. ‘I smell something fishy, however.’

‘Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to eat my tuna sandwich.’, Mikey apologized, on the other end of the swing, worried about his friends suspicions.

‘I have to admit, something seems off. Gretchen never acts like that during kickball.’, TJ thought, a flash of concern across his eyes. Was Gretchen hiding something from them? If so, what? Was it wrong to want to know?

‘I say we do something about it. It’s been like this for weeks! We should follow her today and see what she’s up to!’, Spinelli pitched, wiggling her fingers around as if she was already spying Gretchen doing something devious.

Mikey gulped, thinking back to his discovery of a crush… Which to answer if he was right or wrong would sort of defeat the purpose of this story, would it not? ‘Um… I don’t know… Isn’t that a breach of Gretchen’s privacy?’

‘No it’s not! It’s just making sure she’s… Okay! You know? As the caring friends we are! Very caring!’, Vince added enthusiastically, cringing at his tone. He must have sounded so dumb.

‘Yeah, but… Would any of us like it if Gretchen spied on us?’, Gus countered, trying desperately to lower Mikey on his end of the see saw. ‘My dad says that spies are the most despised of all military positions! He’s not one for exaggeration with that sort of thing!’

‘I guess the deciding vote is yours, Teej. What do you say?’, Spinneli asked, hoping he would agree… Just because she was really passionate about this, no other reason!

TJ rubbed his chin. As leader, he always had to make hard calls, but this one was up there. He totally saw where Mikey and Gus came from, but…

‘Sometimes you gotta bend the rules to do what’s right. I’ve always thought that. All right. We’re doing it. We’re spying on Gretchen.’, TJ declared, rubbing his fist in his palm. The reactions were mixed, but relenting. There was no backing off now.

A moment of tranquil worry settled on the gang…

‘Yes, let’s spy on Gretchen indeed!’

The kids all turned around to see a disguised Randall, with a clearly fake wig, terribly applied lipstick, and an old timey dress. He looked like he was out of a Shakespeare play about bad liars. Waving his hand, he spoke in a stupidly shrill voice. ‘Oh, heh heh, my name is… Randall-ina! Ain’t I pretty?’

‘Randall, are you whomping serious? Get outta here before I treat you to a knuckle sandwich!’, Spinelli roared at him, Randall running off in fear.

‘...That was weird.’, TJ commented, while Vince shrugged. Mikey then got off, crossing his arms in protest at the decision to spy, while Gus flew off from the force of the see saw finally moving. ‘I’m okay! Randall-ina broke my fall!’, Gus reassured, while Randall moaned in pain.

‘I’m telling you, it’s gonna be FABULOUS!’, Ashley shrieked with excitement, as she and Gretchen rode on the Grundler Comet, only at a far more sane pace this time. There was no major rush, after all. The excited popular girl, wearing her “embarrassing according to the Ashleys” helmet, hung on tight to Gretchen’s waist as the duo cycled through the same old sights and sounds of the town: Families tossing frisbees in the park, dogs barking to and fro, the warm scent of raised donuts and hot tamales dancing with scrapple and pierogi, sunlight sparkling off toy store windows, clouds lazily floating by, and a constant permeating atmosphere that could be summed up in one word: Busy. Not as busy as New York, but what was?

Gretchen, still feeling quite anxious (her stomach was hurting a bit and her bike handles were drenching with her palm sweat), momentarily swiveled her head back to answer. ‘I’m telling you, I have understandable reservations!’

‘I’m telling you, you’re overthinking it!’, Ashley countered, shaking her head and wishing Gretchen would just let loose already. Couldn’t be so hard.

‘I’m telling you, you’re underthinking it!’, Gretchen retorted, rolling her eyes, wind blowing her hair into Ashley’s face.

Ashley, moving her face up, suddenly widened her eyes and turned white. ‘I’m telling you, TURN RIGHT TURN RIGHT TURN RIGHT!’

Gretchen, turning back, gasped as she saw the gigantic truck full of cat food, and sharply turned right, sending the Grundler Comet flying towards the mall, the two girls somehow parking perfectly after turning around and around in circles wildly.

‘...Well, I guess now you’ll REALLY feel how relaxing it is, huh?’, Ashley joked sheepishly, as Gretchen gave her an annoyed glance and wrote down tersely “Bad cycling partner, ironically.”

Ashley gulped, rubbing her neck sheepishly as Gretchen trudged into the mall, clearly a little miffed. ‘I really need to make this work for Gretchen, or I could fail the experiment!’, Ashley thought in worry, and she rushed inside, trying to act like the most gracious host possible, as if she owned the mall. In a way, she did, to be fair. ‘Can I offer you an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel? We could get the Original Nuggets, or maybe the Cinnamon Sugar, you know, if you like it sweet! And an Orange Julius Original? We can share, or I can pay for two orders, you know, I have the money after all!’, Ashley offered sweetly, curtseying, hoping Gretchen was a fan of that kind of stuff.

Gretchen raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to butter me up?’

‘I just really want this to work.’, Ashley said through gritted teeth, eyes flying back and forth, hoping Gretchen would take her offer. Her outstretched hand twitched like a caffeine addled squirrel with a hard 9-5 at a major stock market.

Gretchen sighed and rolled her eyes, staring trepidatiously at the soft as the first winter snow hand. ‘I don’t really see how sugar’s gonna calm me down.’

‘It calms me down.’

‘You’re a scientific anomaly.’

‘I’m gonna take that as a compliment.’, Ashley grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, finally making Gretchen laugh. She had to resist pumping her fist at her success.

Gretchen, fighting back the urge to tell her how fun she is even at the worst times, said ‘Okay, look, I love sugar too, I’m just saying, I don’t know how that’s gonna calm me down.’

‘Gretch, please. You said that we need to try each other’s interests. How will we if we don’t, you know, try?’, Ashley countered, and Gretchen had to admit, she was making sense. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she grunted ‘I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know. I think I’m just having an anxious day.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’, Ashley instantly asked, despite probably not understanding what anxiety really meant, and in a way, that was enough. Gretchen couldn’t help but smile, and while she still felt nervous as all hell, she patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘You already are. Come on, don’t let me chicken out. Let’s see if all this expensive stuff really deserves to be expensive.’

‘It’s not that expensive.’, Ashley countered, only to understand how large the gulf was between her and Gretchen’s finances. Stifling an awkward cough, she mumbled ‘For… Me, not for others. I am not the only person in the world.’

‘Just take me there.’, Gretchen nudged her, feeling a little lighter. Happily, Ashley clasped her hand and they raced to get their snacks before their spa date. In a way, Gretchen was grateful for the prelude, but still, she wished they could get this over with ASAP. ‘Who knows what could go wrong if we don’t hurry up?’, she thought, tapping her chin, unaware of how right she truly was.

‘All right, Ashleys! Stand at attention!’, Ashley B ordered, feeling quite pleased, as she, Ashley Q and Ashley T (all dressed in adorable differently colored nurse outfits) all marched towards the Armbruster house, then stopped in front of the door. Ashley B took out a small yellow notebook with a bumblebee color pattern and fuzzy covers, and opened it at a specific page, clearing her throat. She had waited so long to deliver a leadership speech like this, and with Ashley A currently at her house, this was her chance to prove she could do it too. ‘Maybe even better’, Ashley B chuckled to herself as she laid down the law. ‘Distinguished Ashleys before me, do you know WHY we’re gracing this already hallowed abode with our most esteemed presence?’

Ashley Q and Ashley T, the former curtseying as a salute, the latter playing a tiny pink bugle, exchanged curious glances. ‘Um, yeah? Ashley M is sick and…’, they both started, only for Ashley B to offer them a look that could kill. ‘Procedure, people! Have you no penchant for pomp OR circumstance?’

‘Wow, Ashley B really worked on her vocabulary.’, Ashley T commented, and Ashley Q nodded. ‘Must be her way to succeed as acting president of the Ashleys.’

The two curtsied silently, allowing B to have the room.

‘I’ve never had the room before. Is THIS what Ashley A felt like this whole time? No wonder she was, like, totally drunk with power and junk, this shit is schway all the way, baby!’, Ashley B thought to herself, taking it in for a moment, before delivering her speech.

‘Ahem. Distinguished Ashleys before me, do you know WHY we’re gracing this already hallowed abode with our most esteemed presence? It is because one of our own, an honorary member but still, lays in her mother’s bed most unwell and owie. Owchie, even!’

Ashley Q and Ashley T both shed sympathetic tears, blowing their noses with custom Ashley handkerchiefs (each their own signature color, light blue and light green).

‘Yes, but we mustn’t mourn!’, Ashley B declared authoritatively, fist raised in the air. She tried to sound as in charge as she could, as powerful as she could muster, as Ashley A as she could. ‘Ashley M needs us, as much as we need the Backstreet Boys! Maybe even more!’

‘That’s a lot!’, Ashley T gasped audibly to convince herself that was true, while Ashley Q seemed very alert and alarmed. ‘Even more than Kevin?’

‘Even more than Nick!’, Ashley B insisted, making the others gasp for real at her comparison of Ashley M to the Backstreet Boys. ‘This really is a CATASTROPHE!’, Ashley T accidentally joked, which made Ashley Q giggle just a little. ‘You’re so silly, Ashley T.’, she remarked, and Ashley T swore this was how she was supposed to feel when staring at all those “cute” boy posters.

Ashley B, annoyed at the loss of attention, snapped her fingers to get it back. ‘Focus, people, focus! We need to help that kitty, stat! Do we have everything we need?’

Ashley Q and T lifted a ton of medical toys that their little sisters had, sort of proof that perhaps they weren’t as mature as they thought they were. ‘Yes, ma’am!’

‘Great! Then let’s, like, totally do this thing!’, Ashley B ordered, and with closed proud eyes, she marched in with Q and T, opening the door without even knocking. Inside the famously stylish house, one could only see Mrs. Armbruster, who was wearing quite the fashionable mink fur and smoking from one of those thin opera cigarette holders Cruella De Vil would use. Blowing out a dollar sign smoke ring, she lightly observed the girls entering her house, chuckling a little, and called out to them for a moment. ‘And where are you fancy little angels off to now?’

The other Ashley’s gasped once more, hearts hammering in their chests. To gain the attention of Ashley A the first, even momentarily, was considered an honor as sacred as attending an Ashley Birthday party! Ashley Q and T instantly bowed down, which even Ashley B found a bit much, as she simply curtsied. ‘Mrs. Armbruster, we are simply attending to your daughter’s cat, who is currently under the weather!’

‘Cat… Cat… Right, Ashley has a cat. I suppose once she dies she could make a great purse. Anyway, like, whose initiative was this? My daughter’s not one to ask for help… That would be MOST disappointing.’, Mrs. Armbruster blew another smoke ring as she enunciated her words, the smog billowing towards Ashley B, who coughed and wheezed from it. ‘Oh, no!’, Ashley B was quick to correct, half to save Ashley A’s face (for all their recent problems, she still did care about her), half to earn some face herself. ‘I, like, totally came up with this mission myself, pretty bomb, am I right?’

‘Very bomb.’, Mrs. Armbruster’s smoke covered all but her eyes, which sparkled like rare gems, with a hint of fire behind them. She actually drew close then and cupped Ashley B’s chin, making Q and T shocked (and a tad jealous). ‘Yes… Yes, I see now truly why I knew you’d make a great companion for my little pet. You have the makings of a real O.G all that.’

‘Heh, just… Keepin’ it real, Mrs. Armbruster!’, Ashley B gave a two finger salute and winking. It took all her might not to scream right there and then.

‘Well, off you pop, now!’, Mrs. Armbruster declared, and just before the three girls were out of earshot and up the stairs, she declared (in a voice loud enough for anyone to hear, especially her daughter, if she was there) ‘Ashley A Jr. could benefit from your example. A rising star such as yourself is hard to eclipse.’

Ashley B would have died on the spot right there, but instead, she kept her cool and nodded, before slowly getting out of sight and sound alongside the other Ashleys. Once they were safe to celebrate, they did so enthusiastically. ‘Did you HEAR that?!’, Ashley B cried, fanning her face as tears streaked down. ‘She thinks I’m a rising star! An O.G! All that!’

‘Say psyche right now!’, Ashley Q and T called, still shocked (and happy) about this development. Sure, a part of them was a little envious, but Ashley B’s smile made it worth it.

‘I can’t WAIT to brag to Ashley A about this!’, Ashley B crowed, as they opened the door to her room, expecting a sick Ashley M and a doting Ashley A, probably wearing her own matching nursing outfit.

Instead, they were met with a bored Ashley M, who was reading one of Ashley’s old Tiger Beat issues (a 1996 one all about Brad Pitt, the 4 posters already shared between the 4 Ashleys), snuggling in her custom made kitty bathrobe with A.M inscribed in gold lettering, and letting out sensible chuckles at a rerun of last night’s new Friends episode, “The One with Rachel’s Crush”. And on top of the bed, organizing all the Tiger Beats by alphabetical order (of course) was… “Ashley A” (Menlo in his disguise).

‘Ashley M doesn’t… Look sick.’, Ashley T scratched her head, confused. She and Ashley Q still approached carefully, holding up plastic stethoscopes. ‘I don’t want to interrupt her during educational television, so let’s wait until there’s a Rachel scene, she won’t miss anything.’, Q proposed, T nodding in agreement.

Ashley B (rolling her eyes at the Rachel hate), soon turned her attention to “Ashley A”, finding all this rather… Odd. ‘Ashley A? You look… Different.’

“Ashley A”, panicking at the sudden intrusion he didn’t hear (he often got lost in his work), coughed awkwardly and squeaked in an absolutely terrible impression. Without the hazmat suit she had to wear when “Ashley A” had cooties, Ashley B could suddenly hear that there was something very off with Ashley’s voice. How had she not heard it until now? ‘You sound different too…’, Ashley B trailed off, mind working overtime. Something fishy was going on here.

“Ashley A” knew he had to do something, so trying his best, he hurriedly made up an excuse. ‘Oh, like, um, what is this, “Little Red Riding Hood”? I’m totally, like, confused! Ugh!’, he blurted out, hoping that would stave off the trouble.

It seemed to work a little. Ashley B may not have recognized the voice, but the mannerisms were on point. ‘Huh… Maybe I need my ears checked.’, Ashley B commented, still unsure, but putting it down to being hungry. She hadn’t had a treat for a whole hour! Speaking of… ‘Ashley T, fetch us all some snacks, chop chop!’, she clapped her hands, and Ashley T rushed downstairs. Ashley Q, raising an eyebrow while scratching Ashley M’s belly, questioned this. ‘Shouldn’t we be all hands on deck for this?’

‘Ashley Q, puh-lease, is this not what Ashley A would do? It’s simply common Ashley procedure!’, Ashley B fanned herself with her clipboard, hiding the fact that bossing around for a change was thrilling her. Is that what ordering people around felt like? And right next to the supposed president?

‘Well, shouldn’t Ashley A have done that? She’s right here.’, Ashley Q reminded her, making Ashley B frown in frustration. Why was it so hard to just let her enjoy the acting president role, even for a minute? ‘May I remind you Ashley A hasn’t acted very Ashley like for a while? I know we reinstated her, but I’m just saying, maybe I could serve as a reminder to her of how an Ashley president acts!’, Ashley B argued, making Ashley Q eye her suspiciously. ‘I thought we put that behind us.’

‘I agree! Ashley A hasn’t done anything wrong! That is, I haven’t done anything wrong! Heh heh.’, “Ashley A” agreed with Q, but it was this agreement that got both present Ashleys to stare at her with lingering doubts. A quick whispering session occurred. ‘Like, is it just me, or like, was that not at all like Ashley post the Purple Day Fiasco?’, Ashley B voiced, and Ashley Q had to agree. ‘Most unlike her!’

The two, now certain something was up, nodded at each other and signaled the approaching Ashley T of a “Potential Whack Stowaway” (A Code Orange for the Ashley’s, conveyed with a click of shoes and two twists of a nose). Understanding the gravity of the situation, Ashley T took up her position as “distracted with Ashley M” (alongside Ashley Q), while Ashley B, quick on her feet, improvised a perfect authentication question. ‘Pretty presidential of me, if I do say so myself.’, Ashley B smirked as she laid down on the bed and draped a sinister arm around “Ashley A’s” shoulder, making the latter gulp. ‘Now, “Ashley A”, tell me… How exactly is Ashley M over here sick?’

“Ashley A” didn’t flinch. The real Ashley A had prepared him for this eventuality, and he grinned sassily, stating ‘She’d accidentally overheard some ancient country music only our daddy's like.’

This was no lie, to be fair. Ashley A had told Menlo to play some when he arrived, and Menlo had delivered a thousand apologies from her to Ashley M, who understood, albeit after quite the hissy fit.

Ashley B was undeterred, however. In fact, she barely seemed phased, as she moved onto the next question. ‘Well… What about that Rachel, huh? She’s really taking over the show, huh?’, Ashley B “complained”, winking at Ashley Q and T, who giggled, knowing full well how A and B always insisted Rachel was the best character during “Friends” arguments.

“Ashley A” was ahead of the game once again, though, simply voicing ‘Don’t be silly, Ashley B, we all know Rachel carries the show, and anyone who doesn’t think so can talk to the hand!’

“Ashley A” was so proud of herself, that she nearly high fived herself. ‘Who’s a bad Ashley A now, huh?’, he thought, sniffing importantly. ‘She’s sure to marry me now! Oh, we’ll find the nicest IRS bureau in town, and we’ll use rulers to measure our vows, and…’

But Ashley B really was a force of nature right now. Paired up with the confidence she gained from Mrs. Armbruster’s compliments, and her growing rage at her best friend potentially stabbing her in the back again, Ashley B noticed which scene was playing right now…

Rachel: Hi!

Joey and Phoebe: Hey!

Rachel: So I was with Joshua for an hour today, and he has not asked me out. It’s just so frustrating!

Phoebe: Why don’t you ask him out?

Joey: Oh, Yeah, Totally! That’s such a turn-on!

Rachel: Really? It doesn’t seem desperate?

Joey: Oh-ooh, that’s the turn-on.

Phoebe: He just got a divorce, right?

Rachel: Mmm-Hmm.

Phoebe: So, he’s probably really nervous around women, y’know? Maybe… You just have to make the first move.

Rachel: Yeah, but I’ve never asked a guy out before.

Phoebe: You’ve never asked a guy out?!?!

Rachel: No, have you?

Phoebe: Thousands of times!!! …That doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?

Rachel: I don’t even know how I would go about it.

Joey: Oh, oh, oh, oh, how I do it is, I look a woman up and down and say… “How you doin’?”

Phoebe: Oh, please!

Joey: Hey… How you doin’?

Phoebe (looks at him and giggles, charmed)

Ashley B, smiling a crocodile smile, suddenly squeezed “Ashley A’s” hand, and absent mindedly stated ‘Isn’t that catchphrase SOOOOOOOOO funny? Isn’t it like, totally the most bomb catchphrase ever?’

Ashley Q and Ashley T, understanding the trap, silently giggled as they waited for it to snap.

“Ashley A”, unaware of its nature, finally fumbled the ball at the 5 yard line. ‘Oh, um, yeah! Like, totally the most bomb!’

‘A HA!!!’, Ashley B cried, grabbing the wig and throwing it out, revealing none other than Menlo. ‘H…How did you know? I know everything about Ashley A!’, Menlo cried, while Ashley Q and T proceeded to boo and jeer, disgusted at this intrusion. ‘Shall we stone him, Ashley B?’, Ashley Q asked, her and T lifting up their converses.

‘No, no, that would be a waste of a good mirror. It’s okay, I’ll handle this.’, Ashley B waved them off, power flowing through her veins. They listened to her. She was in charge again!

Slowly lifting Menlo up to her, a malicious grin growing on her like a snake stretching across branches, Ashley B explained. ‘Dear, dumb Menlo, who better stop breathing lest I catch his cooties…’

Menlo did as he was told, pathetic as ever.

‘You may know all there is to know about our wayward Ashley… But you don’t know all about “Friends”. That isn’t a catchphrase. Joey’s never said that before, and I doubt he will ever say that again.’

Ashley B’s grip tightened, hurting Menlo’s neck. ‘However, there is something about Ashley A you do know that I would simply ADORE hear, some dirt, gossip, whatever you wanna call it, that I would KILL to know.’

Menlo’s eyes shivered in fright, while Ashley M, scared out of her wits for her mama, raced outside to warn her. ‘W…What?’, he asked, life flashing before his eyes. Mostly, it was just folders, files, and Ashley A’s disgusted looks at him.

Ashley B’s voice was as sweet as honey, but as toxic as a bee sting. ‘Where… Is… Ashley… A?’

Meanwhile, over at the mall, things were only getting worse for our would be friends, as the gang slowly approached it, having spotted Gretchen walking into it, but crucially not Ashley R.

‘The mall. Where financial prudence goes to die.’, T.J remarked, with a strange sort of pride.

‘And friendships, apparently!’, Spinelli declared angrily, rubbing her fist in her palm. Mikey was quick to calm her down with a soft hand on her shoulder. ‘Now, hold on, let’s… Let’s not assume the worst!’

‘Mikey’s right, Spinelli. Gretchen is far too smart and sophisticated for that!’, Vince added, quickly checking himself in the mirror and fixing his hair. ‘I’m sure that if anything, it’s someone taking advantage of her!’

‘Or she got her brain sucked out by an alien!’, Gus declared in fear, shivering and shaking like a leaf. T.J had to hold his shoulders to settle him down. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gus! Gretchen’s brain is far too big for that!’, T.J calmed him down, while Vince nodded enthusiastically. ‘Look, guys, let’s not make a big deal out of this. We’re just… Concerned friends, seeing if Gretchen’s okay. I mean, maybe she just felt like going to the mall on her own! She’s allowed to!’

‘Of course she is, but I still think something’s off.’, Spinelli mumbled, feeling the potential betrayal already lace her heart with shrapnel.

‘Sorry, I think my egg salad sandwich went bad.’, Mikey apologized, throwing it away.

‘Not… Look, I’m speaking metaphorically! Aren’t you all about that poetic stuff?’, Spinelli pointed at Mikey with a huff. Mikey sighed sadly, thinking of his betrayal of Gretchen here. ‘How true, and how broken I am at the thought of spying on our dear friend, Gretchen.’

‘Guys, please…’, T.J again tried to calm the group down, hating how it felt. ‘We are not betraying Gretchen, nor is she betraying us! How many times have we all acted kind of different for a while, only for it to be a good thing, huh?’

T.J pointed at Vince. ‘Vince, remember when you gave up on Kickball? That failure got you to be better than ever!’

‘That’s true, I am pretty wicked at Kickball now. If only Gretchen still cared.’, Vince muttered, but he still accepted T.J’s point.

‘And you, Gus! Remember when you lost your glasses and became “Guy”? Sure, you acted like a real jerk, but it got you to see the real you ain’t half bad!’, T.J. nudged Gus affectionately, and Gus smiled cheerily back. ‘Yeah, that’s true! And the same thing happened when I was King for a while! Huh, talk about a rerun.’

‘And Mikey, didn’t those singing lessons really help your confidence, even if it meant you falling for that teacher for a while?’, T.J. tapped Mikey’s shoulder, while Mikey simply replied ‘For a while?’.

‘I’ll ignore that. And Spinelli, you literally went to ballet class once! Ballet! Not to mention that pageant with Vince! And how did that go, against all odds?’, He smirked that annoyingly lovable smirk that made Spinelli want to punch him or kiss him, and the pintsized powerhouse blushed a deep red. ‘Okay, okay, Teej, we get your point, sheesh.’

‘All I’m saying is that Gretchen would NEVER judge us without at least being sure. And even if something bad was happening, she would be worried, not mad! We owe her that much, don’t we?’, T.J. reminded them all, and everyone, regardless of their feelings, nodded passionately.

‘Exactly! Now, come on, let’s go spy on our friend! …Wow, there’s just no way to say that out loud without feeling awkward.’, T.J. rubbed the back of his neck, as he and his friends walked right inside, prepared to face a potentially terrifying destiny.

‘Oh, and don’t forget the personal 11 minute Journey I went on!’, a voice cried from behind them.

All the gang simply blinked in confusion. ‘And… You are?’, Vince asked, shrugging.

Randall, dressed in an admittedly better disguise this time, but still clearly Randall, smiled from underneath his ginger wig and waved a plastic purse around, the dollar sign tag still attached to it. ‘Mandy! It’s like Randy, but without the R!’

‘You’re gonna be Skilled without the S if you’re not out of here in 3 seconds!’, Spinelli cried, shaking her fist, and Randall bolted off, screaming in fear.

‘Wow, WHAT is his deal?’, T.J. wondered, as the others all shook their heads. ‘Must be a dry snitching season.’, Vince pondered, as the gang finally started making progress in the mall. They all agreed to split up, to cover more ground that way.

They’d find Gretchen, no matter what.

And at the same time, the Ashleys (sans Ashley A) all arrived, Menlo carrying Ashley B on his back, Ashley Q and Ashley T making up the rear and searching near and far. ‘I’m telling you, she’s not here!’, Menlo cried, loyal to the end, but Ashley B shook her head. ‘Obviously she’s here. We were supposed to be here today. She probably wanted to get a head start on the fro yo, the selfish… Oh, when I get my hands on her!’, Ashley B growled, so angry she was turning red and thirsty. ‘Menlo, Diet Coke me.’, Menlo sadly handed her the bottle, which she began drinking from.

‘I can’t believe Ashley A would betray us like that again.’, Ashley T sighed sadly, hugging herself as she and Q passed the Orange Julius, where Ashley A and Gretchen were still at, ordering their drinks, blissfully ignorant of what was behind them. ‘I thought… I thought everything was back to normal…’

‘Now, chin up, T! We don’t know that for sure! You know how B gets, all spazzy and stuff!’, Q tried to cheer her friend up, as she placed a finger underneath her chin. ‘Come on, let me see that pretty and fancy smile!’

Ashley T, as if under a spell, smiled as nicely as she could. From her POV, Ashley Q looked like an angel, dressed in the finest silks and jewels, while also rolling a basketball on her head for some reason. ‘There. Feel better?’

‘Always…’, Ashley T whispered when Ashley Q moved up ahead, totally unaware of her effect on the girl. ‘Gosh, I hope a boy just like her rolls by already. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was some kind of lesbo!’

Well, with all those complications, we should probably head back to our heroes! Let’s see how their experiment is going…

‘Soooo…’, Ashley drawled out, hiding her blatant nerves with a sort of playful cadence that didn’t fit her rapidly blinking eyes. ‘How’s the Cinnamon Sugar Pretzel? And the Orange Julius Original? Are they… Yummy yummy in the tummy? Hmmmm?’

Gretchen rolled her eyes at the customary crappy acting she was now used to from Ashley, as she sipped on her drink. ‘They’re good, Ashley! Why do I have to tell you to calm down? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?’

Ashley sighed, kicking a stray empty box of chicken nuggets and looking around at the mall that normally made her so happy. ‘I guess you put me a little on edge here. I just want you to see how fun my side of the ‘hood can be.’

‘Never say ‘hood again.’, Gretchen half joked, but she felt bad about creating even more tension. ‘I can’t help how I feel, Ashley. Anxiety isn’t something I can just switch off.’

‘I know. I just wish I could switch it off for you. I just know we can pass this experiment!’, Ashley exclaimed, as she swung on one of the poles near the Abercrombie's. Realizing something, Ashley suddenly grinned. ‘...Maybe I can!’, she cried, leaping off the pole and holding her arms aloft, the entire mall’s selection behind her. ‘How about we take a small tour, Ashley A style? That is, Ashley R style!’, she winked from behind her dumb fake glasses, making Gretchen’s dumb heart skip a beat. Blushing, she crossed her arms. ‘I’m not sure we should divert from the plan. In fact, that kinda makes my anxiety worse…’, Gretchen insisted, but Ashley insisted too. ‘Come on, let loose, just a little! You’ll never know if you don’t try! Isn’t that what I did in the museum?’

Gretchen was about to correct Ashley, only for her outstretched finger to begin tapping on her chin. ‘That’s… A good point.’

Ashley drew closer, offering her hand, the one so ridiculously soft and soothing. ‘She must use high quality moisturizer and soap and… Stuff.’, Gretchen gulped, hesitantly taking it. ‘The Schway express is off, choo choo!’, Ashley cried, and so, they were off, Gretchen still a little scared, Ashley grinning with belief, even with an old song playing from the PA that she normally would have considered “ancient and boring”.

(Sh-Boom - The Crew Cuts)

“Life Could Be a Dream

Sh-Boom, If I Could Take You To a Paradise Up Above”

First, Ashley took her up in the elevator, excitedly pointing out all her favorite sights, while weirdly catchy elevator music played. Gretchen got a little queasy, but she tried to keep her lunch in.

Rushing through the top floor, Ashley spun Gretchen into Anchor Blue, nabbing her a pair of baggy denim jeans. When Gretchen (who eyed the jeans with a little bit of desire) raised an eyebrow, Ashley flashed her Credit Card, that sparkled with the words “Armbruster Infinite Charge”, and Gretchen actually relaxed a little, admiring the comfort.

“If You Will Tell Me I’m the Only One That You Love

Life Could Be a Dream, Sweetheart, Hello, Hello Again

Sh-Boom and Hopin’ We’ll Meet Again, Boom”

At B.Dalton, among all the cozy book shelves and afternoon fall lighting, Ashley chuckled as she read the opening pages of The Baby-Sitter’s Club #11 (“Kristy and the Snobs”), nudging Gretchen, who smiled while holding a copy of “Pride and Prejudice”. They then exchanged the copies, nodding in interest despite themselves.

Then, at The Body Shop, Ashley applied some body butter onto Gretchen’s palms, explaining to her how her stress makes her skin rougher. Gretchen admired her skin, pleasantly surprised at how effective the lotion was, as she and Ashley compared their palms by touching them. Gretchen then blushed, as she stared at Ashley, excitedly explaining how it worked, not dissimilar to how she herself would explain a scientific concept.

“Life Could Be a Dream

If Only All my Precious Plans Would Come True

If You Would Let Me Spend my Whole Life Loving You

Life Could Be a Dream, Sweetheart (do-roo-do-do, sh-boom)”

Gretchen wore an uncertain grimace, considering all the things that could go wrong. Ashley, noticing it, quickly spotted a store perhaps more Gretchen’s speed, and took her to The Nature Company, where they admired Amethysts, Tiger Eyes, Telescopes, and other special gemstones. After some help from the store owner, Ashley and Gretchen had matching Rose Quartz pins, one on Ashley’s bow tie and one on Gretchen’s new jeans.

Then, at F.Y.E., the two left the store wearing new T-Shirts (a Biggie shirt for Gretchen and a Simpsons shirt for Ashley A, the two complementing each other’s looks(.

“Everytime I Look At You

Something is on my Mind

If You Do What I Want You To

Baby, We’d Be So Fine”

At this weird new place called “Build-a-Bear”, Gretchen acquiesced to trying something very Ashley: Making a cutesy Teddy Bear. Sure, she had one at home, but it was different to actually make one, and give it all kind of Ashley flourishes (like a hair bow and glitter). Still, she gave it a sporting try, and to show solidarity, Ashley made a very scientific and serious looking bear. The two bears finished, the girls chinked them like wine glasses, giggling at the action.

Then, Ashley stared with admiration and affection at Gretchen as she couldn’t help but tap her feet on the KB Toy store’s floor piano, as The Backstreet Boys song Ashley once sang next to her “Anywhere For You”. Brushing up to her, she danced a little too, and they both smiled, actually feeling calm, as they subtly swayed on the floor piano, every note horribly off key, except for their connection.

“Oh, Life Could Be a Dream

Sh-Boom, If I Could Take You to a Paradise Up Above

Sh-Boom, and Tell Me Darling, I’m the Only One That You Love

Life Could Be a Dream, Sweetheart, Hello, Hello Again

Sh-Boom, and Hopin’ We’ll Meet Again, Boom

Oh, Life Could Be a Dream

Life Could Be a Dream, Sweetheart!”

In quick succession, the girls ogled the display window at Cache’s, imagining dressing so fancy and jokingly pretending to be ridiculously snobbish ladies; Gretchen sat back and let Ashley geek out at the Disney Store, enjoying her hyperfixating; checked out the stuff at Claire’s, with Ashley secretly buying a gift for Gretchen for their sleepover; blushed at the Victoria’s Secret display window, for different (yet also very similar) reasons; and messed around at a photo booth, as any two friends would. For a moment, who could have guessed they were forbidden?

The first photo was very serious and dry, as if they were from the Victorian Era; Then, they took a silly photo, Ashley sticking her tongue out, Gretchen making monkey noises; Then, Ashley made a kissy face at the camera, stifling a laugh as Gretchen flipped it off for jokes; and finally, they took a genuine photo, heads leaning as they smiled.

And one didn’t have to ask to see Gretchen was feeling a lot calmer.

So much so, that when Ashley saw how late it was and explained they had to go to the spa immediately, she found herself strolling down the mall towards it… Happily.

‘Ashley Armbruster, you really are a scientific anomaly.’, Gretchen observed, barely holding back a lovesick grin, as they entered the place, unaware of the impending arrival of the Gang and the Ashley’s…

About 15 minutes later, give or take, I’m not some all seeing god…

Wait…

Regardless, about 15 minutes later, two very different gangs with very similar motivations began approaching the last area they hadn’t checked.

‘I don’t get it! Every place I checked told me there was some girl matching Gretchen’s description who had just left, but I was never there on time to actually see her!’, Vince ranted, arms outstretched in disbelief. ‘I’ve struck out more than a paraplegic blind batter playing blackjack!’

‘Well, maybe if you hadn’t taken so long to describe her each time…’, Spinelli grumbled, making Vince blush and huff. ‘I was BEING professional, Spinneli! Unlike you, grabbing people with glasses and interrogating them!’

‘Guys, guys, let’s not go there! She’s gotta be somewhere, and there’s only one place we haven’t checked!’, T.J reminded them, pointing above to…

‘The Spa?’, they all tilted their heads in question, before staring at each other in confusion. ‘Gretchen doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to do that. That’s more of a…’, Vince started, only for him to be interrupted by the other approaching group.

‘Of an Ashley A thing to do, yes! It all makes literally SOOOO much sense now! Ditching us so she can hog the sauna room all for herself! I’d be proud if I wasn’t so frikin’ MAD!’, Ashley B declared, motioning for Menlo to drop her down. ‘Go, boy, buy yourself something nice.’, she flipped a chocolate coin onto his palm, as he frowned in frustration. ‘My queen isn’t there! Let lightning strike me down if I lie!’

Thunder clouds gathered above the mall’s roof. Everyone shakily stepped away from Menlo just in case.

‘Ashleys! See, I told you something smells funny!’, Spinelli wagged a finger in the air, eager to mess up those girls' makeup.

Mikey rubbed his chin in thought as he lifted a bowl with a clown fish in it. ‘I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to smell like anything.’

‘MIKEY, I SWEAR TO GOD…’

Ashley B lifted her palm, as if that was supposed to silence them all, then proceeded to talk even though they didn’t follow suit. ‘Step aside, Freaky Five! This 11 is passing judgment on a former 10!’

‘Math now too? Is there ANYTHING you won’t ruin?!’, Spinneli cried, shaking her fist as Ashley B, who smugly smirked at the display. ‘Um, Spinneli? You hate math.’, Gus reminded, shivering between their two faces. ‘It’s the principal, Gus.’ ‘Where?!’, Gus cried, ducking, while T.J. sighed, having to step in between again. ‘Look, Ashley B, you don’t own the spa. We just want to find our friend Gretchen and see if everything’s okay with her, you want to find Ashley A and, I guess, beat the whomps out of her, not our problem. I’m sure we can all just stay out of each other’s ways.’

Ashley B considered it, before nodding slowly. ‘I suppose I can relent. But I warn you, Detweiller: If your geekasaurus has turned a hair on Ashley A’s head wack, the prank ceasefire is off!’

‘And the same the other way, Boulet!’, Spinneli threatened in return, and an uneasy deal was set in place.

‘Ashley Q, Ashley T, let’s head inside, chop chop!’, Ashley B clapped for her assistants, eyes closed, only to open them and meet with no one. ‘Um, like, where ARE you?’, she cried, impatient, tapping her foot and looking around.

Ashley Q sighed, staring longingly at the TV screens, showing a rerun of a game from earlier that day, Minnesota Timberwolves at LA Lakers (114-121). On another screen was Golden State at Chicago with Michael Jordan (80-87) and Philadelphia 76ers at Atlanta Hawks (99-109). Her eyes seemed to glitter like they were supposed to from more… Acceptably Ashley fare. But she just couldn’t help it. The squeaking of the shoes on the floor… The speed and artistry, like a dance conducted with a full painter’s palette, a dance of motion and form she knew she could perform if just given the chance… The buzzer, the chants, the commentary, the thrill, the rush, of something secret and wrong that felt so so right. It scratched an itch in her brain… No, it was more like a sugar rush, like one of those jumping candy chocolates, that sparkled and popped and flew in your mouth, until all you could feel was the wind in your hair and the air between you and the basket. It must have felt like heaven to fly, even if only for just a moment.

‘They really should bring Micheal Williams on, Minnesota. He’s still got the most consecutive free throws made record, 97, from between March 24th, 1993 to November 9th, 1993. But Flip Saunders, girlfriend, I swear, it’s like he and Crunch the Wolf switch brains sometimes. How are they EVER gonna win a title? Though they’re definitely better than our 76ers. I swear, I could replace those morons. I’d be just like Lola Bunny. I’ve already got the looks, after all.’, Ashley Q ranted quietly, whipping her hair and allowing herself, just once, to express this secret desire. After all, no one was…

‘You definitely have the looks.’

Ashley Q’s eyes widened, and she swiveled her head to meet Ashley T, whose palm was glued to a comic book shop window, specifically at Robin #51 (Vol.2) which showed the Tim Drake version of the character with temporary super speed. Ashley Q would have understood (if, albeit, with quite the outraged stare) if Ashley T was referring to the junk literature before her.

But she was staring right at her fellow Ashley.

Ashley T blushed and shut her mouth, while Ashley Q blinked in surprise and felt her heart hammer. Then the two realized the other could see what they were staring at.

‘...All that stuff I said? Was, um, an impression, yes, an impression of a lame loser basketball fan! I am… I am definitely not one! It’s just a phase!’, Ashley Q lied badly, hating how forced it all sounded. Why couldn’t it come easier to her? Why couldn’t this dumb basketball illness pass?

‘And all the stuff I said about that yucky comic book and also you totally don’t mean anything, I was making fun of my little brother, who… Has a big crush on you, yes. I don’t… I… I am sure it’s just a phase too…’, Ashley T whispered, but Ashley Q simply shrugged. ‘You said stuff?’

Ashley T didn’t know rather she was grateful to be ignored again, or kinda miffed about it, but she chose the former option. ‘No, I… I didn’t say anything at all. Like, totally, yeah.’

‘Totally, like, yeah.’, Ashley Q nodded, and they ran off to join Ashley B, their hearts just a little heavier from their denial…

Meanwhile, inside the spa’s massage room…

(“Together Again” - Janet Jackson)

For once, there was nothing but darkness and a seering white light on the frayed edges of sight. For once, there was freedom where there used to be tension. For once, Gretchen truly opened herself to the stressful concept of “Was she more similar to an Ashley than she thought?”, and shockingly, incredibly…

She didn’t mind the positive answer.

‘Ooh… Oh… I didn’t even know a shoulder could feel that good.’, Gretchen sort of exhaled, as her masseuse’s strong arms kneaded her joints into relaxation. It wouldn’t truly solve her tight shoulder problem medically, but still, it felt nice to have a short reprieve. Ashley, eyes closed too, as she got light chops on her back, grinned at the sound of that. ‘So, like, are you, like, liking it?’

‘Enough not to point out how you murdered grammar with that sentence.’, Gretchen smirked, and Ashley didn’t need to see it to feel it, even if technically Gretchen still critiqued her. Wrapped in tights (that were thankfully available to rent due to Ashley’s frequent customer status), Gretchen searched for the pain she was supposed to feel, and found none, allowing her to operate better. It was like all her senses were at fuller capacity. ‘Even that song doesn’t sound as bad as the first time you played it.’

Ashley had to hold back a cheer. ‘Janet Jackson would probably be a little insulted that that took a massage though.’

‘Eh, she should just come here and relax too.’, Gretchen quipped, and the two girls laughed, as they entered the last phases of this stage, both sat next to each other as they got final shoulder rubs. ‘So, what do we have after this? My anticipation is at a startling boiling point.’, Gretchen admitted, while Ashley (not even needing to look) recited from memory her usual routine. ‘Well, next we have the Rhassoul mud chamber, which I know sounds gross and icky but…’

‘Ashley, I may not be a cosmetics expert, but I know about healing mud.’, Gretchen rolled her eyes fondly, and Ashley chuckled. ‘Can you blame me? It DOES sound WACK.’

‘You should destress like I have. You were SO right. What was I all so worried about? Ooh, a mall and spa day with my buddy Ashley R! Quick, alert the national guard!’, Gretchen joked, making siren noises with her mouth, before suddenly leaning over to Ashley, almost melting on her. ‘I couldn’t do this with my other friends. Eye opening experiences are worth a lot of points in the Friendship Experiment.’

Ashley could barely suppress her excitement, shaking giddily, which annoyed her masseuse. Her fists pumped up and down as she voiced hopefully ‘So does that mean we’re currently passing?’

‘Passing, winning, soaring, boring, snoring, roaring, lion, lion-o, DAY-OOOOO, DAY-OOOOOOO, DAYLIGHT COME AND WE WANT GO HOMEEEEE!’, Gretchen suddenly slurred, waving her arms all about and sounding kind of, frankly, insane. Ashley, getting a little worried, waved her arm across Gretchen. ‘Gretch? Earth to Gretch? Like, are you literally okay?’

‘Hardly, uncool but still blood relative of Ashley A.’, Gretchen’s masseuse informed, eyeing her customer worriedly while flashing a light in her eyes. ‘I’ve never dealt with a body THIS tense. I doubt she’s ever felt THIS relaxed. She might be TOO loose.’

Ashley shrugged, confused at this admittedly vague explanation. ‘In Ashley?’

‘She’s, like, totally drunk on bein’ chill, yo.’, Ashley’s big tough Swedish masseuse translated, making Ashley nod like a scholar having just cracked the Da Vinchi code. ‘That sounds… Bad.’

‘Oh, don’t worry! As long as you don’t have to hide some complicated and convoluted lie from your closest friends, it won’t matter at all!’, the first masseuse replied, making them stand up. ‘Now, come on, join the mud chamber! Your cousin's other friends are already there!’

Ashley A really could have used that mud mask, since she just turned as white as a sheet. Her knees began shaking like jell-o and her teeth chattered like a corny Halloween decoration from Prickly’s last school bash. If it weren’t for her massage, she would have crumpled like a fallen curtain. Instead, she was light as a feather while she leaned on Gretchen for moral support. ‘God, like, why are you such a cruster to me? If this is because I sneak 17 magazines into Sunday church, I’ll stop, just Cut. It. Out.’

‘What’s up, dawg?’, Gretchen suddenly asked, making Ashley gape. Gretchen only used slang if she was trying to make fun of someone (usually Ashley) or make a very specific point about their friendship. What was this relaxation doing to her? ‘You seem to be hella trippin’. We just illin’ out at this joint, homie. Take a chill pill like me and go with the flow, honey.’

Ashley felt like dying, and not just because Gretchen had used honey (‘I know I’m pretty but there’s no reason to emphasize it, Gretch! We can practice “how to flirt with boys” later!’), but also because she could see the other Ashley’s, and her face was now too red to blend into the white room. Plus, she didn’t have her glasses on, because she was about to cover her face in mud, duh. ‘OMG, OMG, what do I do, what do I do?!’, Ashley panic gasped, as she and Gretchen got seated and had mud masks applied, right next to the other Ashley’s.

Ashley B, still unable to see properly thanks to her mask, voiced to Ashley Q and T ‘Girls, are you, like, sure you haven’t even heard a whisper of Ashley A’s treacherous voice?’

‘Not so far, no.’, Ashley Q informed, enjoying the heating chamber. She could pretend as if she was enjoying post game recovery for a basketball team, not that she’d tell anyone that. ‘But I thought I heard something. Someone said “We just illin’ out at this joint, homie”, which was weird, because nobody else talks like us except for…’

Ashley A felt her heart jump into her throat, as she gasped a little too hard and began choking on the steam from the heating chamber. She had to do something, and fast, or the Friendship Experiment she and Gretchen were acing was gonna go from Hero to Zero!

‘Who’s that? I thought we were the only customers here! What do they think “Private Session” means?!’, Ashley B ranted, while Ashley Q and T exchanged alert glances. ‘You don’t think it’s Ashley A, right?’, Ashley T ventured, and Ashley B suddenly snapped into business, smirking like a tiger before dinnertime. ‘Oh, well, that changes things, doesn’t it? Ashley A, is that you coughing like the sneaky snake you are?!’.

‘Any ideas, Gretch?’, Ashley tried, but Gretchen was practically knocked out from relaxation, clearly unable to provide any sensible plans. ‘Which means it’s time for a dumb one. Yay. My specialty.’, Ashley A sarcastically groaned as she latched onto the first idea that popped into her mind, hoping it would only illicit two eye rolls from Gretchen later.

Clearing her throat and sitting atop Gretchen’s shoulders (hoping that all the steam and mud would disguise them enough), Ashley performed a pitch perfect impression of… ‘Why, Ashley Boulet, I do, like, believe you are mistaken. I am Ashley A, but not the one you hang with, so to speak, ha ha.’

It was pretty impressive, and Gretchen would have rated it if she wasn’t practically high. Ashley had managed to attune her voice to generate all the dry and dulcet tones of her mother, sounding both sophisticated and calculated, like every word was designed to achieve some sort of goal. Right now, though, Ashley A had one goal: Get the FUCK away from her friends.

For their part, the other Ashley’s instantly tensed up (maybe they needed a massage now too) and practically saluted out of respect and fear. ‘Mrs. Armbruster! What an unexpected honor! Twice in one day!’

Ashley had to suppress a double take. ‘Twice in one day? My mommy’s never spoken to my friends before. Heck, she rarely speaks to me. She’s far too busy. Freaky…’, she mused, feeling just the tiniest ember of envy, but dismissing it. It wasn’t like her mother loved her friends more, that would be ridiculous, and the sort of behavior that truly deserved two Gretchen eye rolls.

Returning to character (and trying not to shake any mud onto Gretchen), Ashley A carried on with the deception of her friends, leaning into the role as far as she could. ‘Uh, yes, yes, twice in one day. Like, um, I’m impressed to see you taking care of your skin in such a whack climate as this. Great minds think alike and junk.’

Ashley B couldn’t believe it. One conversation praising her grace was one thing, but two? She bit on Ashley T’s hand (the latter doing all she could not to yelp), making Ashley A wince a little. ‘Since when was B THAT obsessed with my mommy? You have one yourself!’. Meanwhile, Ashley Q steered them back onto the business side of things. ‘Yeah, um, say, did you, like, see Ashley A around here? Your daughter, that is. We just have this feeling that…’

‘OH, NO, NOT AT ALL!’, Ashley A exclaimed too loudly, before centering herself. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath (“If I can’t see them, they’re technically not there!”), she reiterated ‘Why, if Ashley A were here, I think I would know, no? She’s, um, elsewhere, um, trying to get the special deluxe cat food for her sick little darling Muffin. But there was, um…’, she remembered the food truck she and Gretchen had nearly crashed into, and smirked, snapping her fingers. ‘A freak accident with a bicycle, yes! That’s what’s been holding her up!’, she lied, thinking how her mother probably didn’t know where she was at any situation, let alone now. ‘The sacrifices a working woman makes. An inspiration to us all!’, Ashley A sighed to herself, waiting for her friends to finally buy what she was selling.

‘I mean, like, she can be pretty sneaky…’, Ashley B started, and then, in a flash, Ashley A realized she had an advantage. Ashley B’s strange fixation on praise from her own mother meant that she would hang on her every word, right? Especially negative ones. ‘Um, like, EXCUSE ME? Hello? Are you, like, doubting me word? You think I’m, what, frontin’?’, Ashley A boomed in her most scolding maternal voice, and Ashley B’s big head shrunk to the size of a pitiful raisin. ‘Frontin’? Never! I, I would never… That is, I didn’t mean to imply… It wasn’t an insult…’, Ashley B desperately looked for her friend’s help, but Ashley Q was busy kissing Ashley T’s hand boo boo better, and Ashley T was busy being the gayest girl in the story, which was saying something considering the presence of Ashley A and Gretchen.

Relishing the role a little too much perhaps (Ashley B HAD caused her a world of grief lately), Ashley A leaned into theatrics and let out a laugh that would make Ursula proud. ‘You know what I think? I think that good little Ashley’s are to be seen flaunting fabulous fashion, not heard spouting the shit, except I mean that in the bad way and not the good way, ugh!’

Ashley B was practically quaking by now, her eyes flashing with visions of her social standing plummeting down from a healthy third place (behind the two Ashley A’s) to a pathetic 420th (just about ahead of Randal). ‘Wait, wait, I…’

‘And just when you think that the dissing is over, you dare suspect my daughter of being a lying loser? LAME. Talk to the hand, Ashley B, because this O.G is fiendin’ to outtie.’, Ashley A boomed, barely able to hold her grin back. ‘Won’t Gretchen be proud of how I sold this!’, she thought, getting a little too excited at the image of a proud and impressed Gretchen.

By this point, Ashley B was so scared that her social life was dead, that she was on her knees, mud splattering a little on her tights. ‘Don’t bounce, Mrs. Armbruster! I swear I meant no harm! If you really think Ashley A ain’t here, then she ain’t here, right, girls?’, she asked, desperate for their co-operation.

‘But didn’t you say…’, Ashley Q started, while Ashley T was just nodding, afraid of another bite, but Ashley B fired her a death stare and Q decided to just comply. ‘That is, um, yeah! Probably just these spa fumes making us woozy! Oh boy! They make you say all kinds of weird things!’

Suddenly, “Truly, Madly, Deeply” by Savage Garden started playing, and Gretchen chose the worst time to talk. ‘Oh, snap, this song is da bomb, dawg! I don’t know why I didn’t care for it when you first played it!’.

Then, as if Gretchen wanted to add a heart attack to the list of ailments Ashley A was currently undergoing, the genius girl began to sing loudly (and quite off key) “I’ll Be Your Dream, I’ll Be Your Wish, I’ll Be Your Fantasy! I’ll Be Your Hope, I’ll Be Your Love, Be Everything That You Need! I Love You More With Every Breath Truly, Madly, Deeply Do…”.

Ashley A, panicking, went for the hail Mary so she and Gretchen could make a run for it to the Jacuzzi. ‘OH, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, MY, UM, HUSBAND, YES, HUSBAND, IS CALLING ME FROM THE PHONE THAT I DEFINITELY HAVE HIDDEN HERE AND IS SINGING TO ME AGAIN! YOU KNOW HUSBANDS, WITH THEIR FAMOUSLY… HIGH PITCHED 9 YEAR OLD GIRL VOICES! LIKE, TOTALLY RELATABLE, MAD TRUE, HELLA NOT A LIE, WELL I GOTTA BANANA SPLIT OUTTA HERE AND DO SOME WORK AT MY OFFICE PLACE WHERE I DO THE WORK, YOU KNOW, THE WORK OFFICE PLACE, FAMOUS STORE NAME, WHO DOESN’T GO THERE, NO ONE, BECAUSE THEN THEY WOULD BE SQUARE, LIKE A HOUSE, A HOUSE I SHOULD BE HEADED TO, THAT IS WORK, WORK IS ALSO SQUARE, SQUARE IS THE NEW BLACK, YOU KNOW, ANYWAY I SHOULD REALLY LEAVE NOW, BE GOOD, TRUST ASHLEY A, PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MUDDY FACE BELOW ME, BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’

And with that, Ashley A puppeteered Gretchen out of the room like a rat using a ginger twink to cook soup in a movie that wouldn't be out for another 9 years. As they passed a mirror, Gretchen muttered ‘Schwing!’, at Ashley A’s detoxed skin, but both girls had no time to think about what that specific slang meant about Gretchen’s subconscious.

The three other Ashley’s sat there, gobsmacked, literally gaping, as workers came in to clean the mud off their faces. Clearly, there was only one logical conclusion to all that they witnessed:

‘Wow, Ashley Q is right. These fumes really are making us woozy.’, Ashley B confessed, blinking over and over to make sure she was actually awake. Ashley Q nodded uneasily, while Ashley T simply sighed wistfully. ‘Wow, Mr. Armbruster has a lovely singing voice! It’s so authentic and natural!’

‘It sounded like he was screeching. Like a cat.’, Ashley Q countered.

‘That’s what makes it natural!’, Ashley T argued, as we move on from this predicament, and onto the next, because even at a place DESIGNED for relaxing, our heroes can’t dodge THE PLOT ™.

Now with the Jacuzzi room in sight, Ashley was hoping that she could wake Gretchen up, just in case anything else bad happened. ‘Then again…’, she considered, the lax part of her brain butting in. ‘Who’s to say there’s anything else? Outside of the Ashley’s, who else could possibly give us trouble?’

However, when Ashley glided through the door, her eyes were met with the exact problem she anticipated at first: Gretchen’s friends, The Gang, surrounding the entire area like a low budget cop show that would get canceled after the first episode. ‘Great, Law and Order: Jacuzzi Unit is here!’, Ashley commented in frustration but also alarm, desperate to hide Gretchen from her friends, as she covered her friend’s eyes (I never said she was smart).

Gretchen, however, was still woozy and out of it, and instead of do something nice and constructive like co-operate and hide, she chose to stare down at Ashley with a look most queer. ‘Let me break it down, Ash: You’re hella bangin’, one fine and phat wifey, feel me? Why don’t you and I bounce outtie here and stop pretending we’re not close friends feelin’ things in this spa tonight? Just keepin’ it real, ‘cause you are all that and a bag of chips!’

Now, if Ashley had enough brain cells right now, she would have realized that Gretchen’s subconscious had been accidentally unlocked and the girl was spilling her true feelings both about her and the friendship experiment, and that all this denial and delaying was stunting their relationship, and that they should just take it easy and all that, until they inevitably confront the romantic feelings they were beginning to harbor.

But unfortunately, Ashley was born with a serious case of “Neverenoughbraincells-itis”, so she instead ignored all that romantic slang and instead said ‘Gretchen, this is no time to compliment me! Our covers are about to be blown!’

‘Heh, heh… You have a cute nose. Boop!’, Gretchen booped Ashley’s nose, before pretending she was an airplane. Ashley, massaging her temples, decided she had to come up with a plan on the spot. ‘Okay, Ashley, think, think, how do we get smart Gretchen back? This is literally the hardest thing ever!’

She then pouted and crossed her arms. ‘Dang it, if the real Gretchen was here she’d tell me how it can’t literally be the hardest thing ever because that wouldn’t be objective or some crap.’

That’s when the idea hit her. Finger up in the air, she cried ‘Eureka!’, and grabbed Gretchen before she could finish her scheduled flight to Acapulco. ‘Gretch, Gretch! Check this out, I can recite all the plants in order!’

Ashley smugly grinned as she realized Gretchen’s reaction to this could be pretty funny. ‘I’m allowed a little fun on the job.’, she thought, before reciting right into her friend’s glazed over eyes. ‘Saturn, Mars, Neptune, Venus, Pluto, Mercury, Jupiter, Earth, Uranus!’

Like a magic spell, Gretchen shook her head, the wooziness and relaxation gone, and with slightly hunched shoulders and a pained expression of pure cringe, she sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and corrected. ‘Ashley, are you serious? It’s Mer…’

‘Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.’, Ashley finished for her with a satisfied grin. ‘I do listen, you know.’

‘Wait, so why…’, Gretchen started, only to get a relieved hug from Ashley. ‘Welcome back, Gretchy! You were kinda… Well, fucking insane back there!’, she exclaimed happily, nuzzling into her friend’s cheeks.

‘Must have been the fumes, and a reaction to being super relaxed. But at least I’m back to normal. Did I say anything weird when I was, quote, “fucking insane”?’, Gretchen asked, curious as to the effects, a scientist as ever.

Ashley suddenly blushed, remembering how odd the terms were. It probably meant nothing, but a part of her didn’t want to think about it again, lest she get all confused. ‘Um, we can go over that later, what matters is that your friends are here! We could be exposed!’

‘Oh, no! This is EXACTLY what I was fearing!’, Gretchen began to shake and shiver, stress rushing back like a river during low tide. Ashley, deducing rightly that a stressed Gretchen won’t solve things, shook her head. ‘No, no, Gretchen! We need you to be calm, not coco for Coco Puffs!’

‘You think I wouldn’t love to just do that in a snap?’, Gretchen illustrated with a finger snap. ‘It’s easy for you to say, but I’m not like you!’, she declared perhaps a little too loudly, exasperated with the situation more than Ashley.

Ashley bit her lip, looking guilty at the floor, hands clasped behind her back. She was clearly upset about insulting Gretchen. ‘S…Sorry. I didn’t mean to make little of it, it’s just… We need to stay hidden.’

‘I know, I know…’, Gretchen slowly calmed down as she said these words, and she exercised some breathing techniques, grasping for something to center her. Feeling Ashley’s hand, she clasped it and focused on the moment. She was here, she was in trouble, and she had to get out of it, and she could get through it because she was smart enough to do so. Later, she could worry about the potential consequences. Later. ‘Right now… Please… Let me just get this hurdle done. Please.’, Gretchen whispered, and her stress melted ever so slightly. Not totally, but enough to see and hear clearly.

Releasing her panic (but not Ashley’s hand), Gretchen stared at her partner in crime and nodded. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Describe the situation. Leave no detail behind.’

‘Well, just before I had to distract the Ashley’s by pretending to be my mom and telling them I wasn’t here, and now all your friends are searching the Jacuzzi room we’re in the corner of.’, Ashley quickly explained, worried about being overheard. Gretchen leaned in to whisper, the girls so close to each other they could feel each other’s breathing. ‘Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: You’re gonna keep watch for the Ashley’s and distract them as Ashley R if needed. But I am going to also be Ashley R.’

‘Wait, why? Wouldn’t it be easier if I…’, Ashley started, but Gretchen shushed her, eyes darting everywhere. ‘I need to do this myself, okay? Just trust me. Let’s exchange glasses.’

‘Won’t that make you squint?’, Ashley pointed out, confused, but Gretchen nodded as she took her glasses off. ‘Exactly. Every change to my look in this steamy place will add to the illusion. Here, fix my hair to look more Ashley esque.’

‘I mean, I only have my hands here, it’s not gonna be perfect.’, Ashley reminded as she began doing just so.

‘It doesn’t need to be perfect. Their eyes will form the rest from the squinting. Now, go and scout them out. I need to lie to my friends.’, Gretchen expressed, trying to remove the sting by just saying it, but it didn’t help much. As Ashley saluted and ran off to look out for the other Ashleys, Gretchen, now looking like Ashley R, hoped that her impression would work as she marched towards the jacuzzi (which would also help disguise her).

Slowly settling into the jet streams (which began relaxing her muscles, which worried her, since Ashley R couldn’t sound too much like Ashley A), Gretchen decided to rip the bandaid off and just call out for her friends. ‘Hey, um, who’s there? Am I interrupting something?’, she declared in an uncannily perfect impression. The implications did not occur to Gretchen.

The Gang, all hearing the mostly unfamiliar voice, turned around towards the source, the jacuzzi. ‘H-Hello? A-Anyone in there?’, Gus stuttered, unsettled by the sudden presence in the room. ‘Shh! No one can know we snuck in, guys!’, T.J. shushed them, and bravely ventured towards the voice. ‘Depends. Who are you?’

‘I’m just a customer, if you’re worried about that. I won’t tell. That’s an… An Ashley R guarantee!’, Gretchen vowed, crossing her heart, which made her feel grosser. ‘This must have been what Pinocchio felt.’, she wondered, hating how often she was now lying to her friends.

The reveal startled the gang. ‘Ashley R? Aren’t you that fake Ashley that Gretchen likes?’, Spinelli exclaimed, worrying Gretchen. Everyone knew of Spinelli’s violent resentment of The Ashleys. ‘Um, yes, that’s me, ha ha. Average old Ashley R.’, Gretchen doubled down, hoping she wouldn’t need to explain to a doctor she was bitten by a 9 year old, not a dog.

Instead, Spinelli laughed affectionately and reached out to shake her hand, which Gretchen just about managed to find. ‘Us Fake Ashley’s gotta stick together! You palling up with Gretchen must really get their designer jeans in a twist! I respect that!’, she said in a revered voice only reserved for her bestest friends. ‘Then again, I am one already.’, Gretchen mused, as the others all sat down around her, feeling safe now. ‘Plus, anyone who likes Gretchen is good in our book! Except for that slime, Jeffery.’, Vince grumbled, clenching his fist. ‘What a creep. She deserves much better.’

‘Heh, heh, yeah…’, Gretchen trailed off, trying her best not to think of the important other reason she had left out as to why she hated Jeffery’s approaches.

‘Anyway, speaking of Gretchen, that’s why we’re here. We’ve been trying to find her.’, T.J. explained, sounding a little guilty, which alarmed Gretchen. Hiding that in a veneer of curiosity, she mumbled ‘Oh? How come?’.

‘Well, she’s been really distracted. No one really liked the idea of tracking her down, but we couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong, you know?’, Gus explained, even though all of them were feeling guilty about it when voicing it like that.

‘Not me. When Gretchen’s ready to tell us, she can. I say we wait it out, like good friends!’, Mikey insisted, crossing his arms and protesting over on the other side. Gretchen couldn’t help but appreciate it. ‘Good ol’ Mikey.’

Gretchen didn’t want to hurt her friends. She knew that deep down they were worried for good reason, and that they really didn’t mean any harm. But she also knew they wouldn’t understand why she and Ashley A needed to try and be friends. There was no choice. She had to lie to them, and try and get them off the scent, even if that meant a little guilt tripping.

Still, it broke Gretchen’s heart to twist a metaphorical knife into their chests. ‘Well, as someone whose been… Befriending Gretchen as of late, I… I personally think she’s okay. She’s, um, she’s always thinking about you guys, and she still really loves hanging out. She’s just, well… Making a new friend as well. Me.’

Well, that part wasn’t a lie.

‘And, well, I personally think she’d be a little… Hurt if she knew her friends couldn’t just trust her when she felt like doing something else.’

That part was a lie, one she barely managed to choke out. While obviously she didn’t think it was totally fair that she couldn’t just be friends with Ashley A, she couldn’t blame her old friends at all. The Ashleys had done many, many terrible things to them, especially Spinelli and Gus. She herself had promised an explanation, gave a very half baked one, then kept on disappearing. Obviously she was allowed to, but she would have expected some sort of answer too. Plus, they weren’t envious, like The Ashleys. They were worried.

‘Maybe… Maybe I can call the whole thing off… Maybe I can just tell them now, get through the fallout, and stop all this hiding.’, Gretchen thought, feeling the stress waves hit her. Maybe that’s how she could calm down.

Yet, when she suddenly caught sight of Ashley A, waving to her that the other Ashley’s weren’t arriving, when she caught sight of her face, the total opposite of the hard and rigid girl who had been a terror to her friends, a girl who instantly made her feel calmer no matter the situation…

She knew that no god or physical force in the universe could truly get her to give up now.

‘Just saying. I’m not trying to cause any trouble between you guys.’, Gretchen finished, unable to stare them in the face.

‘She’s got a point… Maybe we should just ask her? Or at least wait and see if this is just a short term thing?’, T.J. pitched, and while Spinelli was still a little unsure, the gang all nodded at this. After all, they truly didn’t want to hurt her feelings. ‘Finally, some common sense!’, Mikey cheered, and like that, they just left, bidding “Ashley R” farewell.

As Gretchen sighed in relief, Ashley A made her way towards her and sunk into the jacuzzi, sighing in relief. ‘Ooh, that’s good! So, I see that you got through to them?’

‘Yeah…’, Gretchen muttered sadly, making circles in the pool. Ashley, noticing her sad face (and needing her fake glasses back) swam over to her and they exchanged spectacles. Then, Ashley placed her hand on Gretchen’s. ‘Hey… You okay, Gretchy?’

Gretchen closed her eyes, and the alarm bells rang and rang. ‘No.’

‘...If you want to call it off, I… I understand.’, Ashley lied, preferring to suffer than to see Gretchen suffer. She hugged herself, feeling colder than she was supposed to.

Gretchen shook her head despite the pains she felt from her tension. ‘No, I… No, that’s not what I want. I just… I also want to be able to tell my friends. To not hide all of this. To be sure of us. I just… I just wish it wasn’t so hard.’

Ashley sympathetically nodded, clasping the hand harder. ‘I know how you feel.’

The two floated in silence, the jet streams doing their best to soothe them, but not succeeding.

Finally, after a long time, Gretchen roused her courage to speak. ‘Look, can we… Can we be more careful, please? I don’t want to lie to my friends again. I don’t want to look behind my back all the time when we do this. I want to be able to have fun with you without feeling like a criminal.’

‘We were careful, no?’, Ashley countered, but Gretchen shook her head. ‘We had to pretend to be other people, Ashley. We have to do better.’

Blinking away tears and feeling her heartbeat in her throat, she turned to Ashley with a pleading tone. ‘Please… I don’t want to live in fear with you.’

Ashley understood how serious this was, and she offered her pinkie. ‘More careful. Promise. Pinkie promise.’

Gretchen knew by now Ashley’s pinkie promises meant something, and so, they locked pinkies and nodded, another vow made between them.

And for a few glorious minutes, the alarm bells rang less, and the shadows felt smaller. Letting out a deep breath, Gretchen couldn’t help but smile as she admitted ‘This was… Nice.’

‘Yeah, the jacuzzi is great…’

‘No, I mean, all of it. Even before the spa.’

Ashley looked at Gretchen.

Gretchen looked at Ashley.

Ashley smiled. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

Gretchen smiled. ‘Like, totally.’

And the soft laugh they shared could only be heard by them and their hearts beating in synchronization.

Outside, meanwhile, while The Ashley’s all left the mall in haste and fear (though Ashley B still felt a suspicion in the back of her mind), The Gang were leaving the mall in a mixed mood: All a little guilty over Gretchen, and all really annoyed by Randal’s latest lame disguise. ‘Nice try, shrimp, but you’re wearing the same clothes!’, Spinelli aimed her fist at him, and he just ran back into the mall, shouting in fear. ‘That oughta do it.’, Vince mused, as T.J. shook his head. ‘Weird, weird kid.’

‘Weird’s an understatement, Detweiler. I’d also use bizarre, offbeat, quirky, outlandish, eccentric, unconventional, unorthodox, idiosyncratic, and my personal favorite, outré. That’s French for startling!’

The gang all turned around, startled by the voice behind them. It was upbeat and almost New Yorkie, as if she belonged to a 1940’s screwball comedy. Holding in one hand a notebook with the Eiffel Tower on it and on one ear a chewed on pencil, there stood a girl about Spinelli’s size, wearing a purple jacket, a black and white striped shirt, golden bracelets, a short blonde bob (akin to Stacey McGill from The Babysitters Club), and green ankle boots. And that was without mentioning her ruby red glasses, black beret, and sky blue scarf.

Sashaying towards the gang, she waved a business card and smirked confidently. ‘Penny. Penny Bly. At your service.’, she bowed, while the gang scratched their heads. ‘Bly… Are you Library Kid’s older sister?’, T.J. ventured, and Penny nodded matter of factly. ‘Books run in the family. She reads them, I write them. Well, actually, I write news articles, but you know. School paper.’

‘We have a school paper?’, Mikey asked in excitement. ‘Why did no one tell me?’

‘New thing. They had to exchange me from across town for it. Budget finally cleared up after Prickly lost his foosball table.’, Penny took out a lollipop and bit onto the stick as if it was a cigarette.

‘Okay, cool, but what’s that got to do with us?’, Vince questioned, eyebrow raised. ‘Yeah, we’re not conducting any interviews!’, Spinelli rejected, also suspicious.

‘Nah, nah, nothin’ like that! I’m just here for my first big story, the one everyone’s wondering about…’, Penny explained, a fire in her eyes glowing with pure excitement and hunger.

‘What’s going on with Gretchen Grundler?’

#ashley a #gretchen grundler #gretchen recess #recess ashley a #scandalous chemistry #disney recess #recess #ashley x gretchen

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