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whiskey-tango-matcha · 11 months

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Patient Zero (m, colds)

I'm trying something a little different on this one - there's no sick character POV, but both Greyson and Elijah are sick. This is written from first Matt (the sous chef) and then Mark's (the floor manager) perspectives. It was a fun little exercise, and I hope you all like it.

Elijah & Greyson both have the flu and blame each other for it. No real plot, just quips and vibes. Enjoy :)

cw: male snz, colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, dizziness...snarkiness... the usual lmao. 3.5k words

Patient Zero

The early hours of the morning were the best the restaurant had to offer. It was summer, but at three in the morning it was cool, quiet, dark, and almost meditative to be in the restaurant alone. I could get used to this, Matt thought, setting his things down on the prep table in the empty kitchen.

Matt almost never worked the AM shift, but it was an event night and event nights always came with an unusual schedule. This particular event was a small business celebrating ten years open, and the two women in charge of the event were lovely but… particular.

Everything had to be just so – which was fine, because they were paying through the nose to buy out the restaurant for the night – and many of their requests were ones that Greyson and Elijah had never heard before.

“They want us to… make their dinner rolls?” Matt had asked when Greyson had showed him the banquet event order he and Elijah had put together. “But we buy the best bread in the city… I mean, isn’t Alicia going to get mad that she’s losing our business for that event?”

“Elijah already talked to Alicia about it; she’s annoyed, but she gets it. These people want everything made in house, and trust me I told them that Alicia makes better bread than I’d ever be able to, but they didn’t care. They’re fuckin’ weird, Matt,” Greyson said, smoothing the piece of paper onto the prep table. “They want us to make them a cake, too. You did a stage at that bakery in Italy a couple summers ago, right?”

That was how Matt had ended up at the restaurant at oh-dark-thirty, using their decrepit Kitchenaid mixer to make some maybe-okay bread and a probably-not-great cake for a group that had no clue what the difference between a pastry chef and a regular one was. At least he’d be able to enjoy the evening off; it was a Saturday, it was summer, and he could already taste the cocktail he’d be sipping while the rest of the team was slaving away.

About three hours into mixing, proofing, and looking up recipes on his phone, Matt heard the back door of the kitchen slam open and then shut. He whipped his head towards the sound – Greyson wasn’t supposed to be in until nine, at the earliest. Who the fuck was here?

“HTSHH-ue! Huh! Hhh… huhITSZHUE!” Matt heard Elijah before he saw him, and winced when he did. Elijah had definitely seemed a little off yesterday, but the rest of the team figured that he was just nervous about this event and how picky the people paying for it were. Matt, at the very least, hadn’t assumed he was -

“HUHHHESTCHUE!” - sick.

“Bless you, Elijah,” Matt called from the prep kitchen. Elijah jumped at the phantom voice and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He turned the corner to find Matt, covered in flour and frosting, and laughed.

“Thangks,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You doing okay with the whole… bread thing?”

Matt shrugged and motioned to the recipe on his phone. “I mean, if this bread recipe is good enough for The Barefoot Contessa, it should be good enough for these people, right?”

Elijah smiled, amused. “Right,” he said, turning to cough away from the prep kitchen entrance. Matt gave him a sympathetic look, and Elijah shrugged.

“You’re here early,” Matt said, scoring the tops of his rolls and covering the baking sheets in plastic for proofing. Elijah gave him a small smile.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, sniffling. “Worried about this party tondight, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed, noncommittal. Elijah and his boss were two sides of the same stubborn-ass coin, and there was no use reasoning with or forcing confessions of illness out of either of them. The only people they listened to were each other; their relationship was weird, it was codependent, but it worked so Matt didn’t question it. He hoped Greyson would be in soon.

“I’mb going to go work on the mbenus for tondight,” Elijah said, swallowing back a cough. “Holler if you ndeed mbe.”

Matt knew he wouldn’t need Elijah, but he nodded anyway. “Right back at ya.”

***

The sun had finally made its way to the middle of the sky when Greyson burst through the doors of the kitchen, his signature bull-in-a-china-shop style.

“Christ it’s hot out there,” Greyson moaned as he walked into the prep kitchen. Matt had finally finished the three-tiered cake and was working on making fondant letters to adorn the top. He looked up from his work to see his boss perusing the trays of rolls and cake tiers cooling in the prep kitchen’s reach-in refrigerator.

Greyson was looking especially disheveled this morning; he’d let his hair grow all the way to his shoulders this year – everyone on the stupid dating apps loves long hair, is what he’d said to Matt when he mentioned his boss had needed a haircut back in February – and it was pulled back into a messy ponytail today. He was in a cutoff t-shirt and cutoff shorts, flip-flops, and, frankly, looked more ready for a lazy day at the beach than the huge party he’d have to put out in a few hours.

“It’s August,” Matt said in response to Greyson’s gripe. “That’s, like, peak hot. Why are you wearing that?”

His boss turned to face Matt, gave himself a once over, and huffed out a little laugh. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I ended up walking to a club. Went home with some girl and crashed at her place, passed out, didn’t have time to go back home, so you get flip-flop Greyson. I have a spare set of clothes in the office.”

Matt rolled his eyes, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Elijah earlier; two sides of the same coin.

“You all good on the bread, Master Baker?” Greyson asked, grinning at his own joke. Matt gave a little laugh through his nose.

“All good,” he said. “I just need help with the fucking frosting for this cake, I can’t seem to get it -”

“IGTSHZZ-ue!”

Matt’s head snapped up suddenly; his boss’s face was pressed into his elbow. The sous felt his heart sink. Not both of them.

A sick Elijah was fine. A sick Greyson was slightly more annoying, but also tolerable. But when both of them were sick, it was, to put it lightly, a nightmare.

“Shit, ‘scuse me, sorry, can’t stop fucking sneezing today,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“Bless you,” Matt said, accusatory. “are you feeling okay?”

Greyson started to nod, then held up a finger as if to say, ‘hold on’. Matt waited a moment while his boss stood, waiting for another sneeze that didn’t seem to want to come. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’mb good,” he said, congestion already seeping into his voice. Matt had a sudden memory pop into his head – Greyson offering Elijah a bite of a short rib dish yesterday, then taking a bite himself from the same fork. Goddamn it, Greyson.

“Are you -”

“ITSZH-ue! HTSHH-uh! Fuckin – HGTSHH-ue!” Greyson suddenly collapsed into a volley of sneezes, covered only by a hand. He grimaced at the obvious mess he’d left behind and went to the sink to blow his nose and clean himself up.

“Fuck, Chef,” Matt said while Greyson washed his hands. While, like Elijah, there was no use trying to force a confession out of Greyson, Matt was much closer to the executive chef and couldn’t help accusing him. “Are you serious? This is so not the day for you to be fucking sick.”

“Oh, relax,” Greyson said, rolling his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick, it mbust be allergies or somethiii….INGTSHH-uhh! Fuck mbe,” Greyson moaned, pulling more paper towels out of the dispenser and blowing again.

“It’s not allergies,” Matt said. Greyson raised an eyebrow at his sous.

“Yeah? How do you know that, all-seeing eye?”

As if summoned, Elijah turned the corner into the prep kitchen at that moment. “Grey, good, you’re here,” he said, attempting to clear his throat. “Cand we go over verbiage for the mbenu tondight?”

Greyson pursed his lips and closed his eyes on seeing the GM. Matt’s eyes darted from Elijah to Greyson and back again, wondering how this was going to play out.

“What?” Elijah asked, sniffling.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Greyson said, giving Elijah a little playful shove. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were fuckin’ sick?”

“I’mb ndot sigck,” Elijah said, pathetically. Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; Elijah’s eyes were rimmed red, his nose was chapped from blowing, and since he’d walked through the door he hadn’t gone more than five minutes without sneezing. If you looked up ‘sick’ in the dictionary, there he’d be.

Greyson had no such tact and barked out a laugh in his boss’s face. “Yeah?” he asked, slapping a hand on Elijah’s forehead. The GM shook him off, but the damage was done. “You’re burning up,” Greyson said, his voice accusatory. Elijah flipped him the bird.

“I’mb ndot burning up, it’s just hot in the office,” Elijah said, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Also, why the fuck are you dressed like you’re in a ndineties beach dramba?”

“I’m about to go change, but nice attempt at changing the subject,” Greyson said, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, have you taken anything?”

Elijah rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Just drop it,” Elijah said, his voice deadpan. “Why are you being such a dick about it, andyway? It’s ndot like -”

“HGTSH! HTSH! Huh… hh…”

“Oh, mbother fuck -”

“HUHESSTZCHUE!” Greyson doubled over to sneeze into his elbow, cutting his boss off not once, but twice. He gave Elijah a knowing glance over the crook of his arm and sniffled.

Elijah sighed, a congested, tired sound. “I… bless you,” he said.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Patient zero.”

“Fuck off,” Elijah said, shoving the chef. “Cand you please combe help mbe with these stupid mbenus?”

Greyson nodded, then turned back to Matt. “You said you’re all good, yeah?” he asked. Matt hadn’t; he needed help with the frosting, and wanted to make sure Greyson was okay with the way the rolls were proofing. But he nodded anyway; no use trying to separate the two of them while they were mid-squabble.

“I’m good,” Matt said. “I’ll come get you in a bit.”

Greyson nodded, then followed behind Elijah, muttering something about a plague rat. Matt could hear the slap Elijah bestowed upon him from across the kitchen.

***

Mark hated these types of events.

When he was younger, Mark had been a banquet captain for a hotel; a job he’d rather forget on most days. The nights were long, the people were always entirely too drunk, and although the pay was good, he dreaded every single shift.

Elijah had decided when the year began that Elliot’s had a goal of doing one full buyout banquet a month, a decision that made Mark’s heart sink, though he’d never let that on to his boss. Instead, he’d told Elijah all about his past banquet experience, showed the GM how to make a proper BEO, and volunteered to captain the events that his boss booked. He hated banquets, but he did love this tiny restaurant; he loved his staff and he loved his bosses and he wanted to make working there enjoyable for everyone.

Putting on a good face didn’t mean he hated it any less.

Mark yanked open the kitchen doors at noon the day of the event – an event he knew from the very moment of its booking was going to be a nightmare – and tried to get his game face on. He was going to be there until two in the morning, he was going to get his ass handed to him by some overinflated MLM Boss Babe, he was going to have to move the tables a hundred times… Mark shook his head to clear it. Becoming hyper-focused on how much this evening was going to suck wasn’t doing him any favors, that much he knew.

“Hey, Mark,” Matt said from the prep kitchen to his left. Mark stopped in his tracks and waved at the sous chef.

“Hi, Matt,” he said, smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be out of here by now? Didn’t you come in at like four in the morning?”

“Three,” Matt corrected, pulling a hand down his face in obvious exhaustion. “I’m trying to get out of here, but…” he trailed off, looking behind Mark in anticipation. Mark furrowed his brow and turned – nothing there.

“But…?” he prompted. Matt sighed.

“Greyson’s… on one,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t for the fuckin’ life of me get him to come back here.”

Mark chuckled. “When isn’t he on one?” he asked. Matt let loose a dark laugh as well. “What’s his problem?”

“HHUTSZHH-ue!”

Mark cocked his head towards the sound that came from the office in the front of the kitchen. Then, slowly, he turned back to Matt. “He’s not…”

“Both of them,” Matt answered, resting his head in his hand, an elbow propped on the prep table. “I thought maybe it wasn’t so bad when they came in this morning, but…”

“HGTSHH-uhh! Huh -”

“HTZSCHUE!”

First Elijah. Then Greyson. Rinse, repeat.

“Goddamn it,” Mark muttered. “Okay. I’ll go do damage control and send Greyson back here to check you out so you can go.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, picking up a Sharpie and labeling a pan wrapped in plastic. Mark gave a nod back, and headed to the front of the kitchen.

Greyson and Elijah were both seated in the office, twin tissues held to their faces. Elijah was coughing like a man who’d just escaped a house fire, while Greyson seemed stuck in a sort of pre-sneeze torture. It would’ve been almost funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.

“Um,” Mark said, knocking on the open door and catching both his bosses off-guard. “Hey. Everything, uh… okay in here?”

Greyson let out a shaky, unresolved breath. “Yeah. All good. Hi,” he said, his voice low and stuffed-up. He hit Elijah in the arm, motioned up to Mark, and said, “Where are your mbanners?”

Elijah rolled his eyes and took a sip from a water cup of questionable age. “Hey, Mbark,” he said. The GM’s voice was nearly gone, and sounded raw, like his throat was on fire.

“You guys look great,” Mark joked, prompting a bark of a laugh from Greyson and a dead-eyed look from Elijah. “How the hell did you both manage to get sick overnight?”

“Well, sombeone was getti’g sick yesterday and didn’t tell mbe,” Greyson said, flashing a pointed look Elijah’s way. Elijah turned to the chef and placed his head in his hand; apparently, Mark was no longer invited to this conversation.

“You kndow what I was thinking,” Elijah said, his voice going out on the final syllable. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I was thinking, how do you kndow it was mbe who got you sick? Mbaybe you’re just projecting because you’re patient zero.”

“Elijah, I kndow you have a fever but let’s try to rembain in reality, shall we? You’re obviously patient zero because I was finde last ndight. You, on the other hand, were texti’g mbe ‘oh, mby allergies are so bad, I don’t know what’s bloomi’g but it -’ IGTSZZHUE! ETSHCHUE! Oh, fuckigg finally,” Greyson groaned, yanking more tissues from the box placed squarely between the two of them and blowing. Elijah coughed out a laugh.

“You were sayi’g?” he asked, smug. Greyson rolled his eyes from behind a tissue.

“Fugck off,” he said, turning back toward Mark, who assumed he’d been forgotten completely. “Did you ndeed sombething, Mbark?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Matt said he needed to check out with you, Chef?”

“Oh, fugck I totally forgot Mbatt got here in the mbiddle of the ndight,” Greyson said, pushing himself to his feet too quickly. He caught hold of the desk, swaying slightly, and closed his eyes.

Elijah raised his eyebrows at Greyson, who got himself back together after a moment. “You gonnda mbake it?” he asked as the chef slowly opened his eyes. Greyson sneered.

“Screw you, Elijah, this shit is your fault,” he said, pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

Elijah looked to Mark. “Cand you please tell me what kind of fever he’s sporting?” he asked. Mark set his jaw; he really didn’t want to get in the middle of this whole thing… but Elijah was his direct report. He didn’t have much choice; without warning the chef first, Mark placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead.

Greyson pulled away as quick as he could. “Back off,” he snarled, pushing past Mark to relieve Matt in the back kitchen. Mark shrank back as the chef breezed by; he really could be scary when he wanted to be.

“Sorry,” Elijah said when Greyson was out of earshot. “He shouldn’t be such an ass to you.”

Mark shrugged. “I get it. It sucks working when you don’t feel well. He definitely has a fever,” the floor manager said. Elijah nodded and Mark gave him a pointed look. “You look like you do, too.”

Elijah gave a little half-shrug back. “Ndothing I haven’t worked through before,” he said. “Huhh...HGTSHH-ue! Huh! ETSHZHUE!” The GM wrenched away from Mark to sneeze painfully towards the door. Mark flinched in sympathy.

“Bless,” he said. “So… how are we going to handle tonight?”

Elijah turned sluggishly back towards Mark and sniffled, an unproductive, squelching sound. “You tell mbe,” he said, his voice all but gone, “captaind.”

Fuck.

***

“You do it.”

“No fuckin’ way. This is on you, dude. I’m one foot out the door.”

“Matt, you’ve been saying that since two PM and now it’s ten. Clearly you’re not one foot out the door.”

Matt shot Mark a look, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. But how the fuck could he have left earlier? When Greyson had come to the back kitchen to dismiss him hours before, the chef had nearly passed out just from the walk. He never would’ve said that he needed Matt to stay; he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was the guy who worked until he literally passed out without even asking for a hand to grab before he fell. Both he and Elijah were.

So, without being asked, Matt stayed for the event. He prepped with the line cooks, while Mark helped the servers prepare the dining room, and both of them attempted to corral their bosses into resting in the office.

“Are you sure you don’t ndeed mbe to at least sear off the short ribs?” Greyson had asked, white-knuckling the prep table that Matt was working at. “Seriously, Mbatt, you don’t have to do everythigg.”

“I don’t need you to sear the short ribs,” Matt said, gently guiding his boss back to a chair. “Please. Just sit down, it hurts me to watch you… breathe.”

“Mbark, at least let mbe fold ndapkins for your or something,” Elijah had insisted, swaying in the middle of the dining room. Mark had to nearly run to keep his boss from face-planting at the host stand.

“Lij, we have an army on,” Mark said. “Go rest, please. We’ll need you for service.”

The two ill men had eventually given up on asking to help their counterparts. The staff, a truly well-oiled machine, had worked around them, narrowly avoiding being coughed or sneezed on, until the event started.

Once the hosts of the event arrived, Greyson and Elijah pulled themselves together enough to at least look like figureheads. Greyson hoarsely shouted orders in the kitchen, while Elijah helped the servers organize their tables and schmoozed the hosts. Against all odds, it had gone smoothly, and once the food was out both Elijah and Greyson stumbled back into the office, sunk down into the waiting tablecloth nest, and passed out.

Which led them to now.

“I don’t want to wake them, dude,” Matt said. “They’re so mean when they’re sick.”

“Well obviously I don’t want to wake them, either,” Mark countered. “But one of us has to do it, the hosts aren’t going to leave till they can say goodb -”

“HGTSHH!” Greyson woke himself with a massive sneeze, which shook Elijah awake.

“Fuck, mbust you be so goddamn loud?” Elijah asked, his voice cracking. Greyson flashed him an annoyed look.

“Oh, mby sincere apologies, ndext time I have an uncontrollable bodily functiond occur I’ll mbake sure to think about your combfort beforehand,” he said, pushing his hair into a small bun on the back of his head.

“Mbuch appreciated,” Elijah said, slowly sitting up. The two of them turned, almost simultaneously, to the younger men standing at the door. “...yes?” Elijah asked.

Matt elbowed Mark, who gave him a fleeting dirty look. “Um,” Mark said, “the, uh, hosts wanted to say goodbye to you guys if you’re… up for it.”

Elijah nodded, but Greyson was the first to push himself to a standing position. “Just stay there, old mban, you’re sicker than mbe and obviously worse at keeping your germbs to yourself.” Greyson pushed past Mark and Matt, placing a hand on his sous chef’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.

“Thangk you for stayi’g,” he said. “Ndow go hombe before I kick you out.”

Matt smiled a bit. “Yes, Chef,” he said. “Um… feel better.”

Greyson nodded and disappeared through the doors to the dining room. When Mark turned away from the swinging doors, Elijah was also standing.

“You go, too, Mbark,” he said, straightening his glasses and smoothing his sleep-wrinkled shirt as best he could. “We ndeed both of you well rested for the rest of the week. Great job tondi- IGTSZH-uhh! Snrf.” Elijah didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just smiled at Mark and rubbed his chapped nose.

“Bless,” Mark said, “and thank you. It did go well, didn’t it?”

“Well as it could’ve,” Elijah said, one hand on the swinging door. “Ndight,” he said, and followed behind Greyson.

Matt and Mark exchanged a knowing look when both their bosses exited the kitchen.

“We totally ran a restaurant today,” Matt said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Mark laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “we kind of did, didn’t we?”

The moment of elation sat between them like a birthday balloon, bright and taut enough to pop, until they heard a massive, “HGTSHHZUE!” from the dining room, followed by coughing, followed by motherly-sounding tutting from the hosts of the event.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, and Matt nodded.

“Before they change their minds,” he said.

The two of them rushed out the back of the kitchen into the late-summer-evening heat. “Hey,” Mark said, before they went their separate ways. “I know you’ve had a long day, but would you like to go get a drink with me?”

Matt smiled, and turned toward the other man. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I definitely would.”

#snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #contagion #whiskeyswriting #coughing #vertigo #feverfic #fever

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crinkled-emotions · 8 months

Note

CARSICK HANGMAN

HARSICK CANGMAN

CARSICK HANGMAN

WATERMELON SUGAR

CARSICK HANGMAN

Pooty behave yourself- how did that watermelon sugar get there??

You KNOWWWWW this is on my mind all the damn time at the moment

Let's goooooo!

WATAHMELAH SUGAH (Aussie Version)

(you don't want to know how long this has been in my inbox)

It came out at a party almost ten years ago. Jake had whispered it into Bradley's shoulder before they were Hangman and Rooster. The other man had held his side, and sent him a funny look as his cheeks flushed from the alcohol they'd been drinking.

"But you don't get nauseous when you're flying?"

"Only commercial."

"Bullshit."

Jake had laughed, pulling away from Bradley to go and find Javy, later known as Coyote but better known as Jake's best friend. Bradley had watched him go, an amused smile on his face when Jake jumped on to Javy's back and that was the end of it.

Until now.

"Roo."

"Bagman, why are you here?"

"Because I'm the only one who wanted to keep you company; even your dad got on the jet willingly."

Rooster's brows furrowed, no longer fond but mildly exasperated. He'd decided he was too old to be doing this song and dance long ago, but Hangman brought it out of him every damn time.

"Didn't want to chance hurling in front of your CO, Seresin? Mav wouldn't care, man, he's not that kind of boss."

This time Jake's face tightened, and he clenched his jaw as he tossed his duffle bag into the back of the bronco alongside the bottles of water and extra supplies.

"Bradshaw, the only one who should be worried about their relationship with our CO is you."

Rooster got into the front seat, starting the Bronco to warm the engine whilst he did the final checks. Hangman got into the passenger side, knocking Rooster's water bottle out of the second cupholder to place his travel mug of coffee down.

"If you're that worried about me and Mav you can walk."

"And let you drive on your own? No way in hell. It's not safe."

"I wouldn't be alone-"

"-I meant with another person. C'mon, Bradshaw, you're a Cali boy; you need a Texas man to get you across the desert."

Silence. A pregnant pause.

"Get your fucking coffee cup out of that holder."

Jake did as told as Bradley put his water bottle back where he'd had it originally, sunglasses going over his eyes.

"Utah, here we come."

Rooster's eyebrows pinched again but he refrained from saying anything further, choosing to back out of the driveway carefully. In minutes Hangman was asleep in the seat beside him and Rooster took that as a good thing.

"Hey, can we pull over?"

"Seriously? We're not even out of San Diego."

"A man can't want to stretch his legs?"

"It's barely a half hour-"

Rooster glanced over and his brows furrowed, taking in the way Hangman shifted uncomfortably.

"Fine, fine. Hold on."

Rooster navigated off the side of the road and before he could further comment Hangman threw his door open, gagging into the dirt. Rooster took off his seatbelt and moved around the back of the Bronco, taking a deep breath as he narrowly dodged being puked on when he got close to the other aviator.

"Shit, dude. What happened?"

Jake slowly wiped his mouth, carefully sitting upright. Bradley reached into the back of the car, producing a fresh water bottle.

"Rinse your mouth. Are you good?"

"Yeah. Fuck, shit, sorry-"

"-no. No, uh, don't... apologise."

The pair shared a look, Jake passing Bradley back the water bottle and leaning back in his seat. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, just breathing and letting Rooster's heart settle back into a normal rhythm after the mild panic.

Rooster: so hypothetically

Maverick: oh no

Rooster: I didn't do it this time

Maverick: that's not helpful

Rooster: Hangman's with me

Maverick: and?

Rooster: and he puked on the side of the road

Maverick: I thought that was going in a completely different direction

Maverick: has he got a fever?

Rooster: not sure

Maverick: well could you check?

Rooster: negative

Maverick: could it be something he ate?

Rooster: I don't think so. His body is a temple etc

Maverick: what do you want me to do?

Rooster: what do I do?

Maverick: gatorade

Maverick: crackers

Maverick: trash bags

Maverick: pray

Rooster: gotcha

The gentle vibrations of the Bronco on the road was soothing to Bradley but hell to Jake. Every time Rooster glanced over Jake had his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his stomach, a furrow between his brows. With one hand on the steering wheel he reached out, gently nudging Jake's shoulder.

"You need me to pull over again?"

He cracked an eye open, grimace covering his features.

"When's the next gas station?"

"I dunno, maybe the next few miles?"

"Fuck."

Jake turned his head toward the window, taking a couple of deep breaths. Bradley had seen this once, many years ago, when they were still together. Jake had eaten something expired the night before and woken up to intense nausea and dizziness, not even making it downstairs before he'd been making a very quick exit to the bathroom. When he'd retreated to their living room couch he'd laid flat for all of thirty minutes, resorting to deep breaths, before he'd had to turn around so he didn't puke on the fabric. He wouldn't let Bradley into the bathroom with him; they weren't at that point in their relationship or their personal development.

"Do you... still like blue gatorade?"

"Guess so."

Rooster lifted his sunglasses from his eyes, glancing at the map on his phone.

"The gas station should have some motion sickness meds if you want those."

"Fuck off."

"I wasn't trying to-"

Rooster felt Hangman push his hand off his arm and got the hint, promptly shutting his mouth.

Rooster wasn't entirely sure how he got here.

Well. Hold on. I think we all know how he got here, specifically. But here? That one's still a little unclear.

Standing outside the gas station bathroom, no phone reception and a bottle of lukewarm water in hand, he waved awkwardly at the worker who had been eyeing him since Jake had barrelled through the door.

"He gets carsick; it's fine."

"Maybe you could give him some space?"

"Don't you fuckin' move."

Rooster jerked his thumb in the direction of Hangman's voice from inside, shrugging.

"I'm under strict instructions."

The worker slowly backed away, just in time for the bathroom door to open.

"How's your stomach?" Bradley asked when Jake appeared. He waved him off, grimacing as he tried to carefully sip the water handed over.

"Oh, also, try these."

Rooster shook the box of travel-calm then held up a bottle of Gatorade.

"Apparently anything pale or clear is best for dehydration so I grabbed the lemon-lime one. I know it's not your favourite-"

"-it tastes like piss-"

"-but it should help with your electrolytes."

"Fuck you."

Jake accepted the bottle despite his complaints, leaving gingerly while Rooster followed shortly behind.

"How long do we have?"

"Eleven hours and fifteen minutes. Down the meds and brace yourself, we're in for the long haul."

"Should've flown," Hangman muttered to himself, unimpressed. Rooster snorted, following him out the gas station door and into the parking lot.

"You really should, I could've been halfway there by now."

They climbed back into the Bronco and Hangman cranked the air conditioning, turning slightly on to his side to face the driver.

"So... eleven hours and twelve minutes?"

"Seems so."

Hangman groaned, trying to stretch out but he paused halfway to put a hand to his abdomen. Rooster grimaced.

"Alright, let's get back on the road. Take the drugs and have a nap or something."

Landing in Salt Lake City, the plane had barely touched the ground before Maverick was taking his phone out of flight mode and calling Rooster, gesturing behind himself to get someone to grab his bag from the overhead. Bob got the memo and Payback was already moving to help some of the older people around them to get their bags without being crushed by the crowd.

"Mav, hey."

The call echoed in the background, telling Maverick that Rooster was driving. He frowned.

"Should you be touching your phone?"

"I have a bluetooth set up."

"Whatever that means. How's Hangman?"

"Still here, pops."

"How's your stomach?"

"Not good, Mav."

"We managed to get out of San Diego but now we have to brave the Interstate and I don't think you can pull over all that often once you're on it," Rooster added. Maverick internally counted on his fingers, a grimace crossing his features.

"Maybe it'd be better turning around and getting a flight. It's only a couple hours."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Mav, it's been proven," Rooster agreed. As Maverick walked through the airport he did a head count of the other Daggers in his vicinity, then heard Rooster curse again.

"Fuck, we gotta go. I'll call you later."

Once they were gone Maverick turned to the others, all watching him in utter confusion. He hadn't told them what was going on, why he was being more secretive than usual and why he'd randomly called Rooster on his way off the flight.

"Hangman's sick," he started. Everyone frowned.

"What do you mean? He was fine when we left."

Fanboy didn't seem particularly convinced, Payback nodding. Coyote facepalmed.

"Damn, I forgot. If he's not driving, he gets carsick."

"You knew?" Maverick asked. Phoenix scoffed.

"I don't think there's anything he doesn't know about Bagman. What did Rooster say?"

"Not much. He's trying to make a plan but I reminded him they had time to go back and get a flight. They're cutting around Las Vegas but Bradley could leave the Bronco there and they could get on a plane. It's only an hour and a half flight."

"He'd never leave his Bronco like that," Bob commented. Everyone agreed. Maverick shrugged.

"As much as he'd never say it, I think he cares about Hangman a little more than the Bronco right now."

"This is Rooster we're talking about, right?" Phoenix grinned, earning laughter. Maverick slung his duffle bag over his shoulder, gesturing to the airport exit.

"Alright, that's enough picking on Bradley... for now. Let's go."

Pulling up just on the other side of the California border, Rooster turned to check on Hangman who had managed to pass out about half an hour ago. He'd been quiet but Rooster had a feeling that wasn't going to last. As he did a lap of the gas station then stocked up on cold water and found some snacks, his eyes stayed on the Bronco the entire time just in case. His phone buzzed as he made his way back over to the truck, carefully opening the door only to get that piercing green-eyed glare Jake had perfected whilst they were together.

"How's the strong Texan man going?" Rooster asked, reaching into the backseat for his hat, somewhere amongst the other shit. He felt a hand gently smack the back of his head and glanced over his shoulder.

"Glad to see you're feeling better."

"You know what would make me feel better? Something with sustenance."

"Dude, I'm not feeding you."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later."

A stare off. A battle of the wills, if you will. Pun intended.

"I just need saltines, Bradley. Please."

"Thought you'd say that."

Rooster reached into the backseat, producing a box of the crackers-

And a blue gatorade.

"I figured after I made you down the gross one you'd probably like something else," he said. Hangman cleared his throat.

"Sure. Uh, listen, I-"

"-yeah."

Hangman blinked.

"What I could really use is a flat surface and a pillow."

Rooster glanced into his backseat. Hangman could almost see him connecting the dots.

"I'm not gonna fit in there."

"That's what he- no, I can't say that."

He had managed to toss everything important from the backseat to Hangman's feet, and then uncovered a blanket he usually kept in there for when the Daggers went to the beach and he'd drive one of them home- Fanboy always got cold and Phoenix never dried off before sliding into the passenger seat. After over twelve months together the Daggers' initial politness toward one another had faded away. Rooster wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Alright, now come lie down. I promise not to crash and kill you."

"Morbid, Bradshaw."

Hangman did as asked, clambering into the backseat. Sure enough his legs didn't fit in there by far but he wasn't particularly bothered by it considering lying flat was the only thing at this point that would get him through the next few hours.

"Isn't this breaking the law?"

"It's only breaking the law when you get caught, dumbass."

"I feel like there's a story there."

Hangman got comfortable, sighing.

"Now what?"

"Now you nap and I drive until it's too dark."

"Hm. It's only midday, Rooster, are you sure you wanna drive that long?"

"We still have another six hour drive tomorrow at least."

"Ugh. Maybe this will work."

Pulling up for the night and stifling a yawn, Rooster stretched his arms to try and fix his cramped muscles.

"Hey, Hangman, you've been pretty quiet back there."

When he didn't get a response he turned his head, an eyebrow raising.

"Bagman?"

Still nothing, but getting a better look he could see Hangman had put his hat over his face to block some of the road noises and was sound asleep. Rooster snorted, reaching for the keys and heading to the motel reception.

"Hey, room for two?"

"Sure thing. Have you got any ID?"

The room was organised in minutes and Rooster walked back to the Bronco with the room key in hand. By then Hangman was out the door but in a pleasant surprise he wasn't violently unwell this time. Instead he was gathering his bag, collecting his valuables from the front seat where Rooster had tossed them. He stood at the front, an eyebrow raised.

"Are we going to bed or are you just gonna stand there?"

"You're not nauseous," Rooster blurted. Hangman shrugged.

"I passed out pretty much the second we got back on the highway. Can't get motion sickness if you're not awake."

Rooster hummed.

"Guess so...? Let's go."

Rooster opened the hotel room door and sighed.

"I think I'm too tired to be mad about it."

"Mad about what- you didn't ask for separate beds?"

"The author likes the there's only one bed trope," Rooster huffed. Hangman shrugged.

"It's one night; we're in Salt Lake City tomorrow."

"Just don't grope me in my sleep, barf breath."

"Don't even get started, the last time we shared a bed I swear the walls were shaking with your snoring."

Silence. A stare.

"Fine, take the floor then."

"Fuck you, Hangman."

"Rooster. Stop flirting."

That got Rooster a glare and he turned to reach for his sleep shorts in his duffle bag. Hangman stepped into the bathroom to get ready. When they met back up by the bed, neither of them said anything as they got into the dodgy motel bed together. Lying in the darkness, Rooster switched on to his back while Hangman curled on to his side.

"We're taking this to the grave, right?" Rooster whispered. Hangman scoffed.

"Just like the rest of our relationship, Bradshaw."

"Go to sleep; I'm getting up at six, if you're not in the truck by six fifteen I'm leaving you behind."

"You're so kind."

Now that they'd figured out Hangman was okay if he was lying down, the drive went a lot smoother. Hangman had put his airpods in once he was in the back of the Bronco and tried to just relax. He was driving the last three hours of their six hour trek planned, Rooster too much of a control freak to let him do first shift but just willing enough to let Hangman help him out right at the end of their journey. Rooster was prepared, coffee cup refilled and his water in the second cupholder as he pulled out of the motel car park. The glance over his shoulder confirmed Hangman was okay so he turned up the radio just in case he got chatty. Considering Rooster woke up to being spooned (and he wasn't complaining, deep down), he wasn't feeling particularly chatty.

Phoenix: how's it going?

Rooster: Hangman's driving the last stretch

Phoenix: wtf??

Phoenix: are YOU feeling okay?

Rooster: I resent that

Rooster: and I'm fine

Rooster: apparently because he's focused on not killing us his brain doesn't make him carsick?

Phoenix: that tracks

Phoenix: god you two deserve each other

Phoenix: you're both control freaks

Rooster: two negatives doesn't make a positive

Phoenix: I didn't say the relationship was healthy dude

Rooster: jeez who pissed in your cereal?

Phoenix: no one

Phoenix: just calling it like I see it

Rooster: ow

Rooster: I think I preferred the approach on the tarmac

Phoenix: love u

Rooster: not that one

Phoenix: pull your head out of your ass

Rooster: that's more like it

"Hey, is that Bradshaw and Bagman?"

Phoenix glanced out the window of the Airbnb the Daggers had pooled together to rent out, getting Maverick's attention from the kitchen and the others' from the living area.

"I didn't think they were coming for another hour," Fanboy frowned, checking his watch. His eyebrows raised.

"Okay, maybe this is that hour."

"Man am I glad to see you!" Maverick called as he walked out the front door, giving Rooster a hug once he was up the steps of the house. He gave Hangman a hug too, patting his shoulder.

"How are you feeling? Are you still sick?"

"Honestly, pops, I feel like it never happened- is that lunch? I'm starving."

Hangman greeted everyone as he went inside, already looking for whatever Maverick had been making as they'd pulled up. Maverick looked his godson up and down, an eyebrow raised.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothin- what's up with you?"

"Nice try, Bradley."

Rooster slowly exhaled.

"Later, Mav."

Stepping into the house he was greeted by Payback and Bob, shaking their hands. Phoenix and Coyote were eating lunch, watching from afar.

"Bradshaw, you look worse than Hangman does," Coyote commented. Rooster waved him off.

"I think he slept the entire three hours I drove, we're cool. What is that anyway? Pizza- Mav, is that pizza?"

"Here, kid."

Maverick passed him a plate, giving Rooster's arm a squeeze. Phoenix, done with her lunch, cleared her throat.

"So was I supposed to find out Hangman gets carsick on my own or is this a well known fact?"

Hangman and Rooster exchanged looks; Hangman shook his head. Rooster nodded; they were in silent agreement.

"Truly, Phoenix, I thought you'd know all about our bad habits after that one night of truth or dare," Rooster commented, effectively distracting everyone. The banter broke out and Rooster nudged Hangman's shoulder on the way past.

"To the grave, man."

"Whatever, Bradshaw."

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin #hangster #sickfic #emeto warning?

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pxnsneverland · 1 year

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Beauty and the Boss | austin!elvis x oc (part 7)

plot summary: Laura Jean Walker is the daughter to Louisiana’s most powerful mafia boss, but to her, he’s just her jail warden. When she sneaks out to the Louisiana Hayride with her friend she sees Elvis Presley perform and instantly knows something is special about this boy. Especially when he saves her from being assaulted by a townie. She thinks she’s on cloud 9 until she gets kidnapped in the middle of the night by the Memphis Mafia led by Elvis himself. Will Laura Jean try to free herself or will something hold her back from finding her way home?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 1938

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 7

As our escape car made its way to the police station where Elvis was being held, minutes felt like hours. It was ridiculous. He had committed no wrongdoing. The riot had been sparked by the cops, not Elvis. The vehicle arrived at the police station, which was already encircled by protesters demanding Elvis' release. We were brought inside the station through the mob. Colonel left Gladys and me alone to speak with the officer in command. For once, I was relieved to have a smooth-talking conman among us. Ms. Gladys seemed beside herself, pale with a worried expression. I put a soothing touch on her shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, Ms. Gladys,” I reassured her as much as I could, “They can’t hold Elvis in here. They can’t even charge him with anythin’.”

Gladys sighed loudly, her hand over her heart. “I promised myself that after Vernon went to jail, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Elvis, no matter what. Then he wanted to do this music thing and I thought it was harmless and…” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“It is harmless. Elvis isn’t the problem. It’s those bigots and prudes in society that are the problem. They’d rather have things stay exactly the same than even think about change.”

Colonel approached us. “They will let us see him. They are holding him but nothing to worry about. The police want to make an example out of him, scare the kids, you know? Ah, they will send him home with a fine and nothing more.”

My chest tension began to relax slightly. I'd feel better once this was all over and we were all secure back in Graceland. Until then, no matter how frightened I was, I would put on a brave face. “We want to see him.”

Colonel turned and nodded to the officer who signaled for us to follow him. He took us down a poorly lit corridor before entering a code to unlock a door at the far end. It opened to reveal an interrogation room with two chairs, one long desk, and a lamp hanging overhead, much like on those cop dramas on television. Elvis sat in one of the seats, exactly as untidy as when they took him away. Gladys immediately hugged him, kissing his face and clutching him closely as if he would vanish.

She finished by hitting him in the arm. “What were you thinkin’?!”

Elvis touched the spot on his arm where she had struck him. “I was thinkin’ that I didn’t get this far by being a musician who wears tails and sings to dogs. You’ve always approved of what I done, Mama, and all my fans do too. That’s all that matters.”

Gladys shook her head as she sat down in one of the seats to rest, as if all her energy had vanished. Elvis shifted his gaze to me, encircling me and putting his cheek on the top of my head. “I am sorry for getting you involved in this, Darlin’. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re okay. It could have been so much worse.” And, to be honest, I wouldn't have known what to do.

“Worse? Quite an understatement,” Colonel replied from his corner seat, “My boy, I told you simple. We play this show as family style and then we go back to our show business. You just had to get through one performance.”

Elvis glared, but he wouldn't release my arms. “And I did, as myself. I’m sorry, Colonel. You done so much for me, but I just couldn’t do it. I can’t be somethin’ I ain’t no matter what happens to me. Not when it comes to music.”

Colonel shook his head, clearly agitated. “You are just lucky I snowed them. You will have to pay a fine, a hefty one, but it is better than jail. I don’t know where you get these ideas from, but they are going to have to stop.”

“Why?” I cocked my brow. “This is what his fans want. It’s what sells all that merchandise you make and pays for whatever it is you’re doin’ when you’re not at Graceland. Sounds like Elvis’s ideas are workin’ better for everyone than yours.”

Colonel grinned evilly. “Ah, I see. So, this is where you are getting these silly ideas. The pretty girl with the big mouth.”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Elvis exploded.

“You’re smarter than this. Smarter than letting a little skirt distract you from the career you have worked so hard to achieve, the family you’ve worked to protect.”

“Laura Jean is my family now which means she’s in this just as much as you are. And ain’t no one distractin’ me from nothin’. What I did tonight was my choice! And I ain’t goin’ back to that family style Elvis you keep talkin’ about so hush up about it! I can’t sing if I can’t move!”

Colonel leaned back and nodded, but he still didn't seem persuaded. He had that dreadful look on his face again, this time directed at me. I didn't give him a second thought. Elvis knew music better than anyone. Being himself and singing his heart out was precisely what he needed to do. It's what made him so famous and endearing to his fans. It's what made me care so much for him.

Elvis smiled sheepishly as he peered down at me. “How did you like the show?”

“Besides the riot of teenagers, it was amazing.” I laughed as he kissed my cheek.

Then two cops entered the room. The expressions on their faces indicated that they were not there to accompany us home. Gladys rose from her seat, as did the rest of us, to see what was going on. One officer signaled to his comrade, and the other took out handcuffs, seizing Elvis and putting his hands behind his back.

“What the hell are you doin’? Let go of my son!” Gladys screamed.

Colonel approached the officers. “Officers, w-what is going on? I talked to the chief. He said we were all good to go as long as we paid for all the commotion caused tonight.”

“Change of plans, Parker.” The officer tightened the shackles around Elvis' wrists. “Looks like your boy here has been doin’ much more than causing riots and inciting violence.”

Elvis battled his bindings half-heartedly. “What are you talkin’ about? I ain’t done nothin’!” That wasn't totally correct, but he hadn't done anything that they were able to figure out about him in two hours.

Suddenly, the other cop grabbed my arm. I was struggling. “Hey, let me go!”

“This girl is all the proof we need. Elvis Presley, your being charged with the kidnapping and abduction of Laura Jean Walker.”

My eyes grew wide. What? How did they find out about that? Except for me, Elvis, and the Memphis Mafia, no one knew, and none of them would have informed anyone, especially a cop. But none of that mattered. Whatever had brought me to Elvis, I didn't want to go, and I wasn't a kidnapping victim. I fought harder against the cop's grip. “What?! No, he didn’t! Let him go! He didn’t do nothin’!”

I could still hear Elvis yelling down the hall as they dragged him out the door. The Colonel followed as taken aback as the rest of us. Gladys' expression had changed from worried to outraged. She raised her finger at the officer. “Now, you tell me who is out here spreading these vicious lies about my son! He’s good boy! He didn’t kidnap Laura Jean! She’s his girl, simple as that! Ain’t no crime here!”

The officer softened as he spoke to Gladys, clearly recalling his manners. “With all due respect ma’am, the girl’s father has given us a completely different story. Until we get to the bottom of it, we have to hold your son and her as well.”

My mouth became parched. “Daddy? Daddy told you this?!” I should have known better. Instead of returning the money, this was his answer. In this manner, he might win the fight while also eliminating the leader of a competing gang in a single strike. I never imagined he'd descend so low. For good reason, the mafia avoided the police for the most part. I was curious as to who he had hired to back up his story. It didn't make a difference. He should have realized by now that I wasn't scared to fight him. “Is he still here? I want to see him.”

The officer nodded. “We’ll take you to him. Mrs. Presley, will you please wait out in the lobby?

I was escorted into another room, away from the individuals I had considered family for the last month. When the door reopened, Daddy strolled in, cocky and unconcerned about what he had just done. I felt a strong urge to hit him in the face. I would have if I hadn't known he'd instantly block it.

Daddy extended his arms to me. “Oh, my little girl…”

Instead of hugging him, as I'm sure he expected, I began banging on his chest with all my might. It had no effect on him, but it made me satisfied. “You damned bastard! How could you do this?!”

Daddy appeared to be perplexed. “How could I save you from the man who kidnapped you? The man who’s been…God, who knows what he’s been doing to you.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me except treat me better than you ever have!”

“So, he’s got you under his spell just like he’s deceived the whole world? Somehow, I figured you would be smarter than everyone else.”

“And I thought you would at least be decent enough to give back what you stole instead of involving the police. You know how the law feels about Elvis. They want any excuse to throw him away!”

“He should be thrown away! He kidnapped my daughter for ransom!”

“Ransom you owed him anyway! And I wasn’t kidnapped! I was treated like family, like my own person. I was more of a prisoner at home with you than I ever was at Graceland. And let’s face it, Daddy, you don’t care one lick about me. You just don’t want to get bested by another mafia family, much less one headed by someone much younger than you.”

When Daddy's cheeks became crimson, I realized I'd touched a nerve. He snatched my arm violently. His fingers were pressing into my skin. “You’re damn right! You belong to me! You hear me?! And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some little punk take you from me and give me the run around!” He drew me in closer. “Now, be a good girl and you tell the police that he abducted you and held you against your will or I really will give you somethin’ to be afraid of.”

I was familiar with this speech and its intimidating air. He handled his employees who went out of line the same way he treated anyone who had slighted him. It was the mask of the murderer I suspected him to be. I almost thought he'd do something to me if I didn't cooperate, but even if he did, I didn't care. I couldn't care less about him or the authority he wielded. I was concerned about Elvis, Gladys, the boys, and Graceland. They were now my family, and I would go to any extent to keep them safe, just like Elvis. I would even defy my own father.

“No,” I calmly answered, looking him down, I’m going to tell them that I left home to go live with my boyfriend and his family, and you didn’t approve so you lied to them and said he kidnapped me.”

I struggled to stop myself from cringing as his grasp on me tightened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, Daddy. Elvis isn’t the only one the police would love to lock up.”

Something about the way I appeared apparently made him hesitate. He seemed to be seeing someone else instead of me. He let go of my arm long enough for me to draw it back. He shook his head, but not in defeat. I couldn't quite put something in his gaze, but I didn't like it. “Your mother would be so disappointed.”

“Thanks to you she’s not around to care.” It was a stomach hit, but he had gone too far, so I had to go just as far. I was, after all, my father's daughter.

As he put his hands in his pockets, his jaw clenched in the corner. “I’ll see to it that the charges are dropped for the kidnapping and abduction.” He took a step closer to me, his finger in my face. I smelled cigarettes on his breath. “But just remember, Laura Jean…you wanted to play with the big dogs. I hope you’re ready for what that means.” He grinned slightly and kissed my brow like an adoring father. He moved carefully towards the door. He walked away, giving me one final glance.

I knelt on my knees, panting heavily. I'd challenged one of the South's most feared men, and it wasn't some juvenile rebellious challenge. I had approached him as if I were a genuine candidate, which I knew I wasn't. But I'd have to be. Daddy didn't enjoy losing, and he'd already lost twice. This wasn't over, and unexpectedly, I wasn't afraid that I would be the one paying the price.

Stay tuned for part 8!! Click HERE to view!

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armed-with-knitting-needles · 1 year

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Woo! Just got my first fic for dp side hoes week done! Today was Day 1 Tucker Foley/Power Up. I spent way to much time deciding on an idea. It's also my first time in a while trying to be funny, so hopefully I hit the mark.

Ao3 Link, then full story.

---

The second time he went on patrol with Danny, Tucker chased a ghost-coyote down for an hour. He ducked under branches and jumped over bushes. He vaguely remembered thinking it was a lot like being in one of those old school 2-D platformer games. He called Danny when he caught up to it, but Danny was in another part of town trying to deal with a ghost-roadrunner, so Tucker tried to fight it himself with the Fenton fishing rod. Maybe it would be like some kind of boss fight. If you hit it enough times, it would just poof? That seemed right.

That was the night they decided to start making more Fenton Thermoses.

It turned out, hitting a ghost-coyote with the Fenton fishing rod only got its attention. Hitting it more than once only made it mad. Hiding in some bushes until it went away worked okay though.

A couple of hours later, Danny was able to shove the ghost back in the thermos. That was the first time Tucker really felt jealous of Danny’s ghost powers. It was like Danny actually had the tools to play the game while Tucker didn’t.

Three weeks and a nasty encounter with a genie later, Tucker found out that it was very, very bad to want ghost powers. Apparently a Tucker with ghost powers was an overpowered asshole and Tucker wasn’t sure if that was because of himself or the genie. Being a half-ghost did not agree with him.

Maybe any power was too much power. Afterall, this time had been even worse.

This time it had been an Ancient Egyption curse. All he had wanted was to be listened to and he ended up dragging the entire school into a weird desert. He just wanted his friends to see him and he managed to be tricked by a mummy into enslaving his classmates. What the hell? Maybe the problem was him. He couldn’t risk it.

As soon as he was back on the stage, he had conceded the race to Dash. It was only right. He couldn’t be trusted with power after all.

“You good, man?” Danny asked. He looked worried. Danny shouldn’t be worried. Danny was fine with power. Danny was an actual superhero and he never enslaved his classmates.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just wished the person I was conceding to wasn’t Dash, you know?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker saw Sam’s face screw up. That was her Opinion face. Whether it was about Dash, him, or high school elections, Tucker couldn’t guess. The only thing he knew for sure was that she had Opinions about it.

He braced himself.

“Tucker Foley,” a glowing green eyeball boomed directly in front of him. Tucker jumped. One second, he was walking through an empty back hallway and the next it was full of three green eyeballs in fancy robes. What the fuck?

Tucker felt the blast of cold air as Danny shifted next to him. Thank goodness they were alone.

“Observants,” Danny hissed.

The observants ignored him.

“Tucker Foley,” the observant at the front of the group repeated, bowing low, “You are the new ghost king.”

It said a lot about Tucker’s life that his first thought was not again. Like, he had literally just gotten out of a situation almost exactly like this. His second thought was What the Fuck!?

He said that second thought out loud and was promptly echoed by Danny and Sam.

“No,” said Tucker, “I am not the new ghost king. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

“No, we don’t.” The observant was unwavering in their certainty and Tucker wasn’t exactly sure how to shake their conviction. Actually, why was it this convinced? This didn’t make any sense. What the fuck!?

Thankfully, his friends seem to be just as confused as he was. “What do you mean Tucker is the new ghost king? How is that even possible?” Danny said less than a foot to his right. Having his glowing, superpowered friend next to him was a comfort, even if Tucker really did not want another ghost fight happening in school this week. They were still cleaning up the basketball courts from the last one.

“Silence, ghost child,” the observant to the right of the front observant said, “You had your chance and you lost it.”

“Lost it? What are you talking about?”

“The kingship,” Left Observant spoke again, “You had it and you lost it; in a human game called Mario Kart.”

Tucker winced as Sam’s combat boot slammed against the linoleum of the high school hall. “Explain,” she ground out. And, oooh, she was pissed. This was going to turn into a confrontation if they weren’t careful. Danny was getting better about shooting not-actively-attacking ghosts on sight, but he was already transformed and his hands were pretty damn glowy. A riled up Sam was enough to set him off.

Tucker heard the murmur of a crowd coming towards them. Dash must have finally stopped congratulating himself and the assembly was letting out. This was about to go from probably-a-fight to definitely-a-fight and definitely-a-fight meant no answers and a wrecked hallway.

“Yes, explain” Tucker said, his voice more panicked than he would like it, “but explain in here.” And Tucker chose the nearest door and gestured. Oddly enough, the observants just bowed slightly and entered. Tucker slammed the door closed as he, Sam, and Danny bunched in after them. The murmuring was getting closer, but seemed to turn toward another corridor. It still wasn’t a good idea to have a confrontation where anyone could see.

The nearest door turned out to be the janitor's closet. It was cramped and the only light was coming from Danny’s still glowing hands. The observants had managed to arrange themselves in the same order they had been in the hall. A mop fell on the right one. The observant ignored it and Tucker chose to do the same.

“Okay,” Tucker sighed, keeping an ear out for anyone that could possibly be a problem, “Now, yes, please explain. How can I, Tucker, a techno-geek human boy, possibly be the ghost king?”

“And how does Mario Kart factor into this?” Danny added on because, yeah, that was weird.

Front Observant somehow looked miffed, which was an impressive feat for a single giant eyeball. “You have won it by rights. You bested the last ghost king in a test of skill. As Wuunda said, the skill was the human video game Mario Kart.”

“Okay, I definitely did not play Mario Kart against Pariah Dark. I would have remembered something like that. There is no way, right guys?”

Danny shook his head, his glowing green eyes leaving streaks as his head moved, “No, you definitely would have remembered that. The man was not subtle”

All three observants shifted nervously. Tucker exchanged glances with his friends. They saw it too.

“So,” asked Sam, leaning not-at-all casually against the door, “Who exactly did Tucker beat in Mario Kart.”

“The last ghost king.”

“And what was the last ghost king’s name?”

More nervous shuffling.

Sam sighed. “It was Danny wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” the front observant ground out. They were glowering.

Tucker felt more resignation than surprise. Yeah, he knew that was where this conversation was going. Based on the tightening of Danny’s fists beside him, Danny knew too.

“Just so I’m clear,” Tucker started, “Danny had this epic, all out battle with Pariah Dark in his parents battle suit and won.”

“Yes.”

“He became the next ghost king.”

“Yes.”

“A week later, I beat him in Mario Kart and became the ghost king.”

“It was actually four days later, but yes.”

Tucker folded his hands by his nose and breathed in slowly. “Okay, so first question. I have definitely been beaten at stuff by people since then. How am I still king?”

“It didn’t count.” Front Observant’s tone was flat. Tucker got the feeling they had searched for ways to make it count. Tucker was sure they hadn’t looked hard enough.

“I’ve lost to Danny since then. At Mario Kart even.”

“The throne cannot be won by that king who had just lost it. It doesn’t count.”

“No take-backsies then. Got it. I lost to Sam, also at Mario Kart.”

“There were other terms. If you lost, you had to eat a whole package of tofu. You cannot lose the throne if there are already set terms. It doesn’t count”

“I literally just lost an election.”

“Ghost King is not an elected position and you were competing for something specific. It doesn’t count.”

Tucker sighed. He could try to exploit technicalities later, but for now, he’d accept at least that bit. “Okay, question two. I’m human? How can I be ghost king. It’s literally in the title.” Tucker really hoped the answer wasn’t along the lines of “that can be fixed”. By the way Danny was moving in front of him, he’d had the same thoughts.

“We’ve had living kings before. Your human status is of no consequence and will eventually fix itself.” Okay, well at least the problem was going to fix itself and not be fixed.

“Third question. Why now? Danny defeated Pariah Dark like three months ago.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Sam piped up from where she had been unusually quiet against the door, “Shouldn’t you have been having this conversation with Danny like the day after it happened?”

The nervous shuffling was back. Tucker glanced at Danny. Danny shrugged. The trio stared at the observants.

After five more seconds of awkward silence, the right observant blurted, “It took us a while to get the crown of fire back from Plasmius.”

“Koshno,” the left observant hissed. The right observant had obviously let a secret slip.

The front observant cleared their throat, “The important thing is we have it now,” they straightened to their full height, “Now come Tucker Foley, we must get you ready for your coronation.”

Tucker took a step back into the door. He was suddenly very aware of how small the closet was.

It suddenly got a lot brighter as well. Danny’s hands had been dull embers, now they were blazing with green light. “He’s not going anywhere,” Danny yelled, and Tucker hoped no one was outside.

“Hmph,” the Front Observant shook their eyeball, “You have no stake in this ghost child. Move.”

Sam stepped in front of Tucker too, and all Tucker could think was how grateful he was for his friends. “Fuck no,” she said, “Tucker isn’t doing anything he doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, thankful for the backup, “And I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

All three observants drew themselves up. “Tucker Foley,” the front observant started, “ You must-”

“Nope,” Danny cut the observant off, “He said no. Now get going, or get souped.”

The observants looked at each other before seemingly coming to an agreement. “Fine,” the front observant said, “but this is not over. You will be crowned.”

Then, Danny, Sam, and Tucker were alone in a closet.

“Well, that was something,” Sam said. Tucker could only nod numbly. He wasn’t good with power and here it looked like he had just been handed a whole lot. No. He hadn’t been handed power. He’d won it. In Mario Kart.

Light flashed as Danny changed back. “I’m sorry, Tuck,” he said, “I’ve gotten you wrapped up in my weirdness again and-”

“Don’t,” Tucker cut him off as he slowly opened the door a crack and checked to make sure no one was around. All he could hear was the distant squeaking of sneakers. The coast was clear. “I’m your best friend, Danny. I’m here for your weird and this isn’t your fault. Besides,” Tucker flashed a grin, “it’s not like you let me beat you in Mario Kart.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know I didn’t? I’m amazing at Mario Kart.”

“Please you only beat me, like, a quarter of the time.”

“And I beat you both all of the time,” Sam said, draping herself over both her friends.

“Yeah, you curb stomp us in video games, that’s why we never play against you.”

“Pssh. Wimps. I just know how to get all the cool power-ups,” Sam shifted more of her weight to Tucker. “Of course, you got a crazy power-up yourself.”

Tucker chuckled, “Yeah, ghost king is a way cooler power-up than the blue shell.” It wasn’t. The blue shell was powerful enough.

Danny smiled over at him. “Mario Kart is a way better way to win it, too.” Danny’s eyebrows knit. “Want to stay over at my place tonight?”

Tucker thought of green eyeballs, and promises of return, and potential power he definitely shouldn’t be trusted with. “Yeah man, I think that’d be a good idea.”

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2023 #tucker foley #ghost king au

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

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So about rise leo x villian! Reader plot, bef i say anything am a huge sucker for good endings so don't blame me.

So i hc reader as a gymnastic - the the villian from Barbie spy movie(?) - with gadget that help her/them shape shift to anything or anybody (So OP must nerf).

Plot; So the reason why reader is begin a villian to begin with is she's working for big mama - yes am gonna blame big mama - as her special thief, reader have the ability/ or have a gadget that make them shapshift to anybody or anything which it helped them escape from the crime scene/ mad dogs may many times.

The reason why she works for big mama is because BM took her in from the streets after she almost pull a perfect heist from BM's hotel, instead of sending her to police or just k1ll her she took her in as her new minion.

The reason why she know the mad dogs was because she's also a friend to april whom she trusts, so April trusted her enough to introduce the mad dogs to her which in the beginning reader took it as a nice game to make fun of the mad dogs to know what they feel about her after she's able to escape them, but soon fall in love with leo which it was unfortunate for her.

Fast forward, the mad dogs takes reader hostage because they just can't let her go, she knows where they live, she knows too much, they try to interrogate her to know anything about her; who's her boss, where she got the gadget? Why working as a thief? But reader is as hard as a nail and won't peep of an info.

That until leo asks her " was everything about us fake? Your feelings towards me? Our dates? Was everything fakes? " Leo asks, reader wanted to be honest and say no but begin afraid of seeing her answer as a lie she sees its best for them to break up and for leo to find another person, but for this to happen he have to hate her, so she pulls the " bad girl " mask and say " yep, everything was a lie, am surprise you even believed i loved you! " To the mad dogs, splinter and April they believe her mask but leo knowing how people could see right through her.

When everyone leave leo and reader alone to talk, leo start pressing reader for his answers, reader put a fight by saying hurtful words but in the end breaks from guilt, she loves leo so much she feels the guilt is crushing her, she wants him to forgive her but she knows she doesn't deserve it.

She get surprised by leo mentioning how reader have to stay in the lair to keep on " interrogate " her, tho reader knows it's way of leo saying " you're gonna stay with me until your problems is solved ", yes reader hadn't gotten leo's full trust again but it's a step to regain his and the family's trust.

first of all, i love the headcanon of gymnastics reader with the shapeshifting because it's just such a cool thing tbh. And almost pulling the perfect heist?? i would hire her in an instant. I think if it was me who wrote this it might go something like:

You slide down the rope, eyes scanning the room to see if any alarms had been triggered yet. Noting the absence of flashing lights and loud blaring sirens, your shoulders sag in relief at going undetected.

----

and reader getting caught by the mad dogs and being interrogated??? Oh my GOD so much potential for angst here it's insane. Mikey interrogating her?? sweetheart won't be able to hold back tears. Raph??? Incredibly disappointed. "I thought we were bear buddies!"

Donnie?? Well. Honestly I'm not sure how he'd react but i think he'd be rather hurt bc he considered you a good acquaintance, maybe even working your way up to be a worthy friend.

And then there's Leo. Our sweet, sweet turtle who just so happened to fall for the enemy. Honestly I'm always a sucker for sweet endings but I just so happen to be rather evil and as such will leave it on a high note of heartbreak :>

So, if I were to just kinda drabble a bit (Please pardon the suddenness of it all, this is very on the spot bc inspo hit and completely unedited/thought out) I'd write it like this:

"Fine, don't tell me anything then." Leo stands up, the shards of hurt and betrayal stabbing into his chest even deeper as he watches your bowed head. You refuse to look up, to meet his gaze because you knew that if you did, you'd break.

You're already trying to silence the voice in your head practically screaming at you to tell him everything. To tell him everything you felt for him - that you still feel for him, was never a lie.

Your eyes water, but you refuse to let a single tear overflow and land on the table. Your arms are tightly secured with rope, and you can barely breathe even though they had been lenient with your restraints.

Leo wants to say something - anything, for the glimmer of hope in his heart that you'd come clean.

"Please."

That makes you look up. His eyes are filled with desperation, pleading with you to admit that what the both of you had wasn't just pure deceit.

When he finally manages to meet your gaze, he almost forgets how angry he is. Your eyes swirl with guilt and regret, conflict in his chest as he watches you visibly struggle to find the words to reply. He wants nothing more than to wrap you into a hug, to soothe your worries (and his) and to forget everything that went down in the past two days.

But you don't reply, and it worsens the pit of despair his heart is already plummeting into.

So he turns around, walking out of the room and slamming the door shut, leaving you behind in the cold darkness.

-------

but yeah! I genuinely really love this plot idea and i think i'll come back to it one day. But currently I'm rather busy and bogged down with work, so it might be a while (whoops).

Thank you so much for sending this in! I really enjoyed this idea :D

Actually, i just got reminded of this one Donnie fic by someone on tumblr(i can't remember the name of the blog, someone please lmk what it is!) but it has a similar storyline whereby Donnie and reader are in a relationship, only for him to find out she's been working for Big Mama all along! I remember it has a happy ending, so I think you'd really enjoy it!

#CPRambles #asks #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #female reader #x reader #leo x reader #leonardo x reader

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theacedragon0w0 · 3 months

Text

Trying something new

Hazel x Sage smut fic

Summary, Sage is given a chance to test the waters in their relationship with an unexpected tool

NSFW WARNING: butch4butch, use of robotic arm, fingering, oral sex, intense make out session, power playing?

OH BOY I SAID THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN

Hazel belongs to the fabulous @puffymucher who inspired me to write this

"Try something different? What do you mean?"

"I mean let's try changing it up a bit Bluebell, yer usually the one getting railed by either me, the boss, or even Rosa for that matter, have yer ever even thought about giving us a bit of our own medicine?"

Sage was flushed at the notion, they did prefer being the receiving end of their partner's desire. It wasn't from the lack of experience that worried her but the rather the notion of being given control. She rationalized it as performance anxiety but did agreed on Hazel's point.

"Ok I guess it makes sense that you should experience some of the methods you and the others test out on me~" as Sage's face was nearing toward her lover's heat, but Hazel quickly stopped her,

"Actually, I was thinkin we can take that fancy arm of yours for a spin?" Pointing toward the recently upgraded prosthetic that was sitting on the nightstand

Sage hesitated, the arm was tailored for Sage's cooking and combat needs as, in her words, "that is all that I need from it," but allowed Vox to add a "fun mode" if the situation arrived, which didn't seem likely at the time.

Hazel's puppy eyes were irresistible to Sage, giving her at least enough encouragement to humor the idea, "Eeargh, fine we will see if this will actually work, and if this backfires we will use good old reliable," being her right hand that still remained attached to her body.

"Ya got yerself a deal love~" already positioning her legs around Sage, giving reassurance at every shift and touch between them.

The arm clicked into place when Sage attached it, she was feeling the wires being activated as the arm began to come more responsive to each nerve signal that it received. It took a few minutes of stretching the arm; flexing each finger, rotating the wrist both ways, and even the elbow for good measure. It wasn't painful but rather an annoyance of having to reattach the arm for it to charge or if it became too heavy. It just felt like pins and needles during every start up but she was grateful she didn't have to do it alone.

"All ready to go?" Hazel teased, pulling Sage closer toward her.

Not wanting to keep Hazel waiting, she began to work her hand at Hazel's entrance, gently tapping around the sides and using her other hand to grip Hazel thighs. Hazel's moans and whimpers motivated Sage to proceed.

And then they both got a jolt from the arm. Sage wasn't sure if it was from the stimulation but her thoughts jumped to her lover, who made a yelp and tucked her tail between her legs

Oh god I fucked up

"Oh shit are you ok?! Are you hurt? Did the arm shocked you?!"

Hazel's face was a deep crimson, she didn't expect to feel that sensation even with her rounds with Velvette and Rosalina. Hazel knew it wasn't an electric shock but seeing Sage's face of horror made her realize that she was about to chuck the arm across the room. Not when things were getting good.

"Wait calm down Sage, I'm fine really"

"You're sure? You made a sound that isn't usually good for sex."

Face still beat red, Hazel grabbed one of Sage's arm that was attempting to disconnect the prosthetic. Legs still having a strong grip on Sage's lower torso, refusing add space between them.

"i-it aint. a bad bad.." Hazel admitted "uhm. uhm. i think. id.. like it. lots."

It was Sage's turn to turn deeper shades of crimson, she was expecting to let Hazel to switch instead but was now told that she was still doing a decent job,

"o-oh, ok, as long as it isn't painful I keep going right?"

"Yes you can keep going love," remembering that Sage needs clear confirmation for these types of activities, which was very sweet of her.

Getting the clear, she readjusted herself so she would be able to work without another jolt from happening. Fingers gliding up and down with the same rhythm as before, with the thumb moving in circles around Hazel's clit.

Hazel was being to moan again, this time with one hand keeping Sage close and the other keeping them both upright.

Hazel then heard Sage grumble "she can make that sound?"

"Hazel this feels hella awkward, here can you lie back?" To which Hazel obeyed, still clinging on to Sage so they weren't an inch apart. To be honest neither of them expected this to be going this far, Sage now starting to insert their digital digits in. Hazel whimpered as Sage was going in and out of her, Hazel's arms and legs now wrapped around Sage, determined to keep them close to her

"Fffuck, Bluebell, just like that," Hazel begged as she felt Sage's legs now pining against her thighs and Sage's right arm gripping the back Hazel's scruff, reciprocating that need to be as close as they can get.

Hazel's moans were getting louder as she felt herself getting closer to the edge, claws digging into Sage's shoulders but it didn't stop Sage's momentum.

Sage felt it as well, and when Hazel loosened her grip Sage quickly slipped her head downward.

"W-wait, what are you doinng aug," Hazel buckled as she felt Sage's tongue sliding in with the robotic arm now gripping her inner thigh. Sage wasn't going to let this opportunity pass them, Sage needed to taste every inch of Hazel. Hazel's back arched as she became at the mercy of her partner's conquest. Now gripping Sage's hair to keep them from pulling away.

Sage could have made Hazel edge just how Velvette and Rosalina would to both of them, but they weren't here, it was just Hazel and Sage alone together. And they both knew how more enjoyable the aftercare would be with some energy to spare.

So Sage let Hazel release everything, including a bellowing howl that would have perceived Sage's eardrums if it weren't for Hazel's thighs squeezing Sage's skull.

Sage was about to pull away when Hazel pulled them up towards her, quickly locking lips when they reached eye to eye.

This was both Hazel's and Sage's favorite part. Being able to just melt into each other with no fear or judgment. Just being here together as their most honest selves, letting the other lovingly feel every curve that encompassed them.

Sage rolled off to the side of Hazel, still holding on to her while nuzzling their face into Hazel's neck. Both still trying to catch their breath

"So," Hazel managed to puff out, "how did you enjoy that?"

Sage, still trying to steady themselves responded "Heh, guess that arm turned out to be quite handy"

Hazel now howling with laughter, turned to pull Sage into a long embrace.

"Yeah I guess it did."

#hazbin hotel oc #oc x oc #sage is a bottom #BUT NOT REALLY HERE LOL

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scarletttries · 2 years

Text

Party Favour (Succession Request)

Pairing: Tom x Greg x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, threesome, dom/sub dynamics so please avoid reading if that's something that might upset you :)

Word Count: 3.3k

Request: "hi!! can I request some tomgreg x reader smut with meandom!tom and softdom!greg? something where the reader is being a little bratty at some business event or party or something and just trying to push their buttons and they teach her a lesson when they get home? love love love your writing ❤️

Author's Note: Thank you for another fun succession request! This is my first Tom/Greg request so I hope you enjoy it, and it's what you expected!

Party Favour

Another Saturday night, another elaborate party held in one of a dozen country houses owned by the Roy family. Another night of smiling warmly at Greg as you kept to yourself, and trying not to make too much eye contact with your married, older, boss Tom. It had been a few months since an office party had lead to an eye-opening night with them both, their competing affections intoxicating, until you were completely and hopelessly theirs.

Tonight was no exception: you circled the bar holding a glass of champagne that cost more than your car, not that you drove yourself anywhere these days, and making small talk with what you were sure must be some of the richest men in the world. Greg had seen the small crowd of older men forming around you, their interest in a young, beautiful woman from Waystar not surprising, but unacceptable to him nonetheless. Swooping over as fast as his lanky frame would allow, he appeared by your side, attempting a serious expression as he whispered in your ear,

"Hey, uh, pretend we need to have a work conversation." His tone was unsure as he spoke, jealous of your newly formed disciples, but still uncertain of his position in your unusual arrangement. You nodded politely at his request, turning to men around you apologetically,

"Please excuse me gentleman, something needs my attention, it's been a pleasure." Appeased by your charming goodbye they began to disperse, leaving you with a now much happier Greg, smiling down at you with tangible relief.

"Thanks for the rescue Greg, I thought they were going to be following me round all night." You teased, watching the blush form on his cheeks as you beamed up at him, his carefree smile turning to a concerned frown before long.

"What exactly is a social media emergency Greg?" Roman barked out sardonically, watching him shift uncomfortably as Tom followed quickly behind.

"I was thinking the same thing, is there really anything so urgent we need one of our 'non-Roy' employees here on a weekend." Tom's tone was sarcastic as he smirked at the two of you, wanting to make you squirm before ever even got you alone. Roman laughed at his question before you formed your response, playing Tom at his own game, despite knowing it would never end well for you.

"I suppose I don't really need to be here for work, but Greg asked me to come as his date." Your tone was sacarine sweet as Tom's smug face dropped, watching as your fingers interlaced with Greg's sweetly as you shone up at him. Greg's eyes met your, inescapable smile spreading across his face at the adoration in your eyes, everything around him long forgotten for a second as he savoured the moment of affection and normalcy.

"Wow Greg, you managed to weasel your way into a job AND a girlfriend at Waystar, you might just be a Roy afterall." Roman laughed dryly, tipping his glass all the way back to get the last drops before nodding your way towards the bar. "(Y/n), you're coming to the bar with me so I can ask you disgusting questions about Greg." Giving you no time to argue as he pushed past. You turned to follow him, but not before allowing yourself a glance at Tom. His jaw was clenched so firmly you could see the veins in his neck bulging as his knuckles turned white against his glass, frustration nearly enough to smash it entirely as he turned his attention to Greg.

"You've got a girlfriend have you Greg?" Manic look in his eye, making him recoil slightly into himself,

"I didn't even say anything Tom, it was all her!" He mumbled pathetically, a tinge of guilt for not standing up for you, as Tom smiled darkly,

"Oh, you'll both be getting a reminder of your place, don't you worry."

---

You could feel Tom's eyes on the back of your neck for the rest of the evening, knowing it was only a matter of time until he came over to make you regret your little comment. His marriage was a sensitive topic at the best of times, but flaunting yours and Greg's freedom to flirt in public right in front of him had probably taken it a little bit too far. Still, that's what he deserved for trying to embarass you at a work party. As the night grew darker and the crowds grew thinner, you found Greg returning to your side more and more, relishing in the opportunity of a night of showing off the fact you two were together, wrapping an arm timidly around your waist and fetching you a fresh drink whenever the glass threatened to dry up. At the first stifled yawn, Greg was scooping your hand up in his, leading you down the hall to his room for the night, cooing softly that is was time for you both to 'relax' for the night. As you stepped through the door he quickly shut it behind you, locking it in a swift motion and looking at you almost apologetically as Tom cleared his throat, announcing his presence in the dark room, perching on the edge of the dark mahogany desk that filled one corner of the room.

"Come here (y/n)." He said sternly, voice thick with tension as you considered turning for the door, before deciding against pushing even more of his buttons. You stepped forward slowly, Greg looming behind you like a shadow, ensuring you weren't going anywhere but into Tom's outstretched arms.

"I.." you started to argue, quietened by a shushing noise from Tom, finger curling towards himself to usher you nearer. As you finally stepped into his grasp, he grabbed your waist, spinning you over his lap quickly, holding you so firmly you couldn't even fight against his grip.

"Darling, did you know half the party's talking about how you've got yourself a boyfriend?" His words were laced with venom as his hand grazed over the inside of your thighs, pulling your dress up over your back so you ass was exposed to him. You voice caught in your throat, unsure of what to say to stop yourself ending up in more trouble. You looked up at Greg pleadingly, only to find him staring down at you with a hungry grin that only made you tremble more.

"What do you think your boyfriend would say if he knew I was doing this." Tom continued, as his hand smacked firmly over your exposed ass, the pain rippling through you as Greg watched on in awe.

"Tom. I didn't mean it." Your voice cracked out, earning another sharp tap across your fleshy cheeks as he cut you off,

"I don't want to hear anything from you right now, silly little slut." He spat back, landing another smack you could feel building in white, hot heat against his previous hand prints.

"Tom" Greg started, unsure what he wanted to ask for, the sight of you powerless and pouting stirring up the desire to keep you laying in front of him forever, but his aching need to touch you winning out. Before any other words could form between his lips Tom smiled up at him,

"Good catch Greg, I did buy her these," running his finger lightly over your lace panties, etching circles in the fabric over your entrance, feeling your core react to his touch through the dampening material. "I don't think she deserves them right now." His finger hooked under the material, the sensation of his soft touch where you wanted it most making you jolt against him, a perfect contrast to dull ache spreading over your ass. The thin fabric was ripped away unceremoniously, leaving a slick trail glistening down over your inner thigh, Tom humming contently at the sight.

"You like getting punished by me don't you?" he teased, running his fingers along the shining mark before slamming down against your cheeks again. You nodded, fighting back a sob and hoping your quiet submission would get his fingers back to where you ached for him.

"Well that's too bad, considering I'm not your little boyfriend." He spat, "Let's see if he can get you this wet," plunging his finger inside you as a loud moan escaped your lips at the intrusion, your hips bucking to meet his touch, wet patch between your thighs spreading with his every motion. He withdrew his finger to a whimper, before leading you to your feet, an awestruck Greg watching his moments, palming himself roughly through his straining trousers.

"Come take my spot Greg, since that's clearly what you want to do. And let's get these off so we don't risk you ruining them." He mocked, pushing Greg to land where he sat on the desk, tugging at the fabric waistband until his aching erection sprung free of the material, Greg gasping in relief as the cold air met the drops of pre-cum smeared across his tip. Turning his attention to you, Tom quickly tugged the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground so you had nothing on you but his greedy stare. He held your hips lightly as he stepped backwards, leading you towards Greg, but never taking his eyes off your form.

"Now be a good girl and sit." His smile was smug as you settled over Greg's lap, back pressing against his chest as you sunk down onto his throbbing cock. Tom's hands stayed settled on your hips as the two of your gasped at the sensation, the relief of your bodies being interlocked again. You tried to roll your hips, chasing the feeling Tom's finger had stirred inside you, but his grip on your hips held you still in place, voice echoing commandingly,

'Don't move yet Greg, neither of you move without my say so." You heard Greg whimper behind you, eyes clenched shut as he tried to follow Tom's instructions, the pleasure of being buried inside you almost too sweet a feeling not to chase. You whined as you tried to move against Tom's grip, aching for friction, the fullness not enough on its own to bring you the pleasure you would crave.

"Greg's not enough on his own is he (y/n)?" Tom asked pointedly, licking his lips as he watched your thighs clench and release, desperate to feel the pressure inside you build. You shook your head,

"No Tom, I need you too." You pleaded, big eyes meeting his, frantic desperation in your voice.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" He replied, releasing one hand from your hip and bringing it just about you clit, hovering just out of reach.

"Yes!" you almost screamed, "I'll be YOUR good girl Tom."

He grinned, wide and manic, as he finally brought his fingers to play with your throbbing button, rubbing it in rapid circles, letting your hips buck into his touch. Greg moaned out from behind you, the movement of your shaking hips driving his dick deeper inside you as the heat inside you both began to finally build. Tom praised you as your hips rocked towards him, his fingers spreading slick across your clit as he worked you up into a frenzy with his expert touch. Your eyes fluttered shut as your thighs began to shake, Greg's hips twitching behind you as you each approached climax, guided by Tom's rough touches. And then he snatched his hand away, watching you whimper pathetically as your orgasm began to drift back out of reach, entrance pulsing and aching for release.

"No, Tom, please let me come." You cried out, legs too shaky from the tension to be able to follow him as he stepped backwards, Greg echoing your words as he sat pinned beneath you. He laughed at the desperate plea, shaking his head as he licked your juices off his fingers,

"I only let MY girl cum, I thought you were Greg's girl now." He teased cruelly, watching you shake your head in desperation, need for his touch overriding your brain cells, barely able to form a coherent thought.

"She needs both of us man." Greg sighed out in frustration, desperate to spill his release inside you, the sight of you squirming on his lap making it difficult to hold back. Tom hummed thoughtfully at his words,

"Is that true (y/n)? You need both of us?" He turned back to you, watching as you nodded wildly, thighs rubbing together in your discomfort. "You'll just have to prove it then." He smirked, finally undoing his belt as letting his trousers and boxers fall to his feet, revealing his impressive erection as he sat on the edge of the large double bed at to the side of you. Greg helped you to you feet, both of you suppressing the whines that threatened to escape as he pulled out of you without satisfaction. You made your way over to Tom on shaky legs, settling into his lap as he patted the tops of his thighs. Even with your cunt dripping with excitement, taking Tom's length still had your pussy stretching around him, hitting spots inside you that almost gave you the friction you needed.

"You take me so well baby." He moaned, wrapping his arms around your back to lean you into him, spreading his thighs and motioning for Greg to step forward. "Now show me how well you take both of us." He cooed, running one finger, still sticky with your slick over your tight hole. Yours and Greg's eyes both widened, new territory for you both as you looked at Tom in disbelief.

"Now now, don't look at me like that, you said you needed us both, so you're going to take us both like a good little slut, and then maybe I'll let you cum." He said darkly, dipping his fingers into the tight ring of muscle and chuckling as he felt your pussy clench at the sensation.

Greg stepped forward, his own fingers replacing Tom, who held you tight as Greg began to pulse his finger in and out you, watching you tremble and shake at even that level of sensation. "I don't know if I can," You whined, heat inside you already building from the way Greg touched you gently, kissing the back of your neck as he lined himself up with your previous unused entrance.

"You can take it (y/n), you're going to like it, it's going to feel good." Greg soothed as his aching erection began to push into you, making you a level of full you'd never felt before. It was like there was nowhere you could move, completely pinned by the two cocks inside you, waves of sensation emanating from deep inside your core.

"Well done (y/n), now I believe you." Tom said, tone sweeter than before as his fingers found your clit again, returning to the firm circles he knew would bring you quickly to the edge. Moans spilled from your mouth as your hips moved of their own accord, each buck causing Tom and Greg to hit new spots inside you that only had your body shaking more.

"Good girl, fucking yourself on us." Tom mocked, hips still as you used them both to chase your pleasure, the steady rhythm of his fingertips, and the pressure of Greg's twitching cock inside you finally bringing your long awaited release.

"Fuck!" You cried out as your thighs trembled, holes clenching around the men inside you as your climax hit you hard, electricity shooting through every cell of your body. Your hips rocked harder against Tom's hand as he kept his rhythm watching intently as you rode out your high before slowly coming back to earth.

"Not yet Greg." He said firmly as he watched the younger man hips begin to shake, the tight, hot feeling of being in your ass more intense than he'd ever experienced before. Your eyes grew wide at the instruction, slight panic across your face obvious as Tom's fingers only quickened their pace around your clit, rubbing harder as overstimulation began to set in. You writhed in his lap at the sensitivity as Tom began to buck his hips into you, hitting new spots deep inside you that had high pitched moans leaving your mouth in a steady stream. From behind you Greg's lips found your neck, adding yet anything overwhelming sensation to the experience, quickly increasing the pressure in your abdomen again. Every thrust of Tom's hips sent you crashing back down onto Greg's cock, clutching Tom's broad shoulders as if you life depended on it as you felt him brush that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

"Tom!" You moaned as your second orgasm came, your legs trembling against his as your core tensed around them both. Your whole body was aflame with the burning passion of the two men, every inch of you dominated by their hands, mouths, and cocks. As you rode through your second orgasm Tom coaxed you, calling you his good girl, teasing your clit to keep the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Please" you managed to moan out as you realised his hips and fingers weren't stopping, the mix of pleasure and pain from between your legs more than you could take.

"Please what pretty girl? You were begging to come earlier, I'm just giving you what you want." Tom responded eagerly, his hips bucking into harder, sticking his fingers in his mouth before returning them to your throbbing clit the new level of wetness making you jolt against his touch. The sudden shake running through your body was too much from Greg, who groaned loudly, hot breath spilling over your neck as he released inside you, the feeling of his warmth dripping out of your hole as he pulled out making your entrance flutter.

"Good effort Greg, but (y/n) needs a real man to teach her a lesson." Tom stated, using the increased room around you to grip your ass hard with one hard, lifting and slamming you onto his cock with no respite, while he continued his assault on your clit, feeling the familiar shake of your thighs begin again.

"See, I told you you could do it. Make it a good one for me (y/n), I want that pussy to milk me dry." He groaned as he felt your walls start to clench around him, too fucked out to respond to his words, except with the pants and whines that left you of their own accord. As the coil inside you snapped for the third time, each orgasm building in intensity, you felt a rush of liquid, gushing over Tom's lap as he rocked deep inside you.

"Oh, good girl, I didn't know we had a squirter here Greg, lucky us." The last few words grew strained as his voice faltered along with the rhythm of his hips, a deep moan breaking out from inside his chest as he released inside you, pushing his hand against your stomach to feel the outline of his cock as it twitched inside you, sending you crashing forward against his chest as you rode out your own high. As Tom eased you off his lap, discarding your limp body on the bed beside you, every part of you was exhausted, aching, and alive with sensation. You could barely raise your head to see Tom and Greg stood over you, staring at your spent form, their cum dropping from your holes, muscles spasming as Tom drew a gentle circle on your inner thigh.

"See, you're much better company like this. Guess you just needed someone to fuck that attitude out of you." Tom mocked, readying himself to return to the party. "Why don't you stay here and rest of a minute (y/n) and then come find me when you're ready to be my good girl again. We'll see how many times you can gush like that for me." His tone devilish as he scooped your discarded panties off the floor and into his pocket, knowing that you'd be dripping his cum down your bare thighs as you rejoined the party later, wondering how easy it would be to slip his hand under your dress unnoticed while you tried to form sentences for an audience.

#one shot #writing #requests #fanfiction #succession imagines #succession headcanons #succession imagine #succession hbo #succession #tom x greg #tom x greg x reader #greg hirsch #tom wombsgans

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ryverbind · 1 year

Text

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Strawberry Lipgloss [8]

"Okay," I tell dad through my sleepy eyes and groggy voice. "I have to make this believable." Dad nods ferociously, eyebrows drawn together curiously.

"So, excuse me for a moment," I say, holding up a finger and clearing my throat. Then, I scream a good, long, loud, unnecessary scream.

Dad flinches and I can't help but smile when he glares at me, clicking his tongue and undoubtedly disapproving of my unsavory tactics.

I finish my scream and cough a bit. That should be enough, seeing as I've managed to kickstart a scratchy throat.

I fish my phone out of my carry on bag and dial my boss's number. He ends up scowling at my excuse, but I think my coughing and hoarse voice passed his bullshit test. I promised him I'd be heading to the doctor while taking my day off.

My bags were packed and ready to go right before I headed to bed last night. I only left out a change of clothes and my toothbrush and toothpaste for the morning before packing them too.

I packed my mask as well. I wouldn't be meeting The Faces without it, after all.

A nervous smile pulls at my lips as I think of the intricate purple mask hiding safely in my luggage. I'll be putting it to good use for the first time ever tonight and the reminder sends a rejuvenating pulse through my body.

I'm going to be boarding my flight in about two hours and I'm so excited that I physically and mentally cannot stay still. I'm fantasizing about our meeting, wondering how it'll go.

Larry would probably notice me first and know that I was there. He would jump around like a lunatic and hug me, then try to pick me up with his little lanky self. I'm genuinely looking forward to finally being able to see his long, luscious hair that he's been growing since he was a teenager.

I haven't seen a photo of Larry since he was eighteen-- he's nearly twenty three now, so I'm sure his hair is incredibly long. He better not have cut it.

Sal will, hopefully, not associate me with a certain Lexi. But would he be kind to me? Would he recognize my voice?

I don't know what to expect of Todd, seeing as he's such a formal guy, but I know Ash is going to know me just by stance alone.

I can't wait to embrace my best friend, feel her warmth and the rush of emotions that'll come with finally being reunited.

I carry these thoughts with me as I tell my dad goodbye, giving him a tight hug and promising to stay safe. I ponder a bit more as I pass through security. I giggle and smile to myself while waiting outside my gate, and I pull out my phone to text Ash just because I can't keep all this excitement to myself as I settle into my seat towards the back of the plane.

All this excitement made the time pass ridiculously fast.

My veins are filled with never-ending adrenaline. My sleep-deprived brain is running on straight expectations and hope. My heart is pumping out optimism and begging for a break, but my mind doesn't let up. We're going to hold onto these positive emotions until we have to go home.

Me hiya ashy!! how's vegas? :P

Ashers <3 Hi baby!!!! Vegas is awesome so far. We're up at the crack ass of dawn (Larry and Sal hate it but Todd and I are troopers) for a meeting with some other popular streamers out here. I think it's some kind of breakfast meet and greet thing??? Idk. But how are you!!

Me well, not suffering like you guys lmao. just getting ready for an 8 o'clock shift. the usual.

Ashers <3 Yuck :( make sure you punch your boss for me. He's the whole reason I won't be seeing you!!!

Me no issue there. i've been waiting to lay a good one on him for ages. you're just giving me a good excuse to actually go through with it :3

Ashers <3 That is my job as your bad influence ;)

Me prayer hands to that, babe. wouldn't be where i am today without miss ash's guidance <333

Yes, I know, I should just tell Ash that I'm literally about to take off on a flight headed straight to Las Vegas, but the prospect of surprising her-- seeing the elation and shock on her face-- I can't pass that up. This'll be worth it.

"Would you like something to drink before we take off, ma'am?"

My head flies up and I meet a flight attendant's smiling gaze. Her lips are a fiery red, her hair meticulously and beautifully fixed into blonde waves flowing down her back.

I gape at her beauty for a moment before smiling politely. "Um, would you happen to have coffee? Or tea?" I ask after a moment, wincing at my own awkward question. I just really need some kind of caffeine.

"We have both!" she chirps, her sweet voice reminding me of Ash's. I can't help but smile wider at the connection. "Which would you prefer?"

"Coffee, if possible," I say, squeezing my phone a little tighter in my hands.

"Great! Creamer and sugar as well?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you!" I tell her, to which she nods then walks over to the seat in front of me to ask the people ahead the same thing.

I glance down at my phone again just as our pilot announces that we'll be taking off within a few moments. That means I won't be able to talk to Ash for a bit.

Ashers <3 Aww, you're too sweet, my little love. I'll always be here to catch you when you fall :D

Me i would hope so!! i have to go though, so i'll text you in a bit when i get a break, kay?

Ashers <3 Sure thing, sweetness! Se latrevo <3333

Me ermmmmm i love you too??? if that's what that means?

Ashers <3 It's Greek for "I adore you!!!"

Me cute <333 se latrevo too (LMAO)

I close my phone with a smile as the wheels of the plane start moving, only gaining speed as we practically fly down the runway. Exhilaration takes over my entire body as I look away from the woman beside me and stare at the fast moving objects outside of the little window.

The plane lifts from the ground and my stomach practically jumps in my body, all my limbs tensing up as I cling to the tray in front of me. That's it, I'm officially unable to go back on my last-minute plans.

It feels a bit refreshing knowing that I have no other option now. For the longest time (all night and all morning), I didn't think I'd actually be able to do it, but here I am. And I'm so proud of myself for this.

With my head held high as my coffee gets placed down beside me, I look around the inside of the airplane, glancing away from people who suddenly meet my gaze. I'm not embarrassed though, I'm on top of the world right now. There isn't a single thing that could turn my mindset around.

I'm going to finally fucking see my friends!

My eyes travel along the various rows of seats that I can physically see (which isn't all that much) and I'm momentarily blessed by the sight of a little fur baby passing by my row.

I perk up a bit more instantly, smiling as the woman sitting beside me spews out an audible, "Oh my goodness! Look at that baby!"

I watch the exchange between the woman and pet owner, noting the yellow lab who sits right on top of its owners feet, tongue hanging out of its mouth like it doesn't have a care in the world. The little vest around it's body catches my eye and I find myself respecting the lady beside me for not reaching out to pet the sweet baby. It's a medical service dog.

"What's their name?" The woman beside me asks, smiling down at the dog who pants heavily.

"Her name is Yeager," The owner says proudly, giving their dog a little head pat. "She's a cardiac alert dog, so thank you for letting her do her job."

"Oh, no need, honey!" The woman says politely before smiling at little (well, rather large actually) Yeager again. "What a hard-working little thing! She's such a good girl."

Watching the exchange suddenly turns into a horror movie for me, actually, it's a bit more like a nightmare in which I can't wake from. You know, when you're being chased but you physically can't move. That's exactly how I feel-- the freeing feeling of taking flight is replaced by the very obvious realization that I can no longer escape the personal hell that I've stuck myself in.

Fuck. Oh no.

I've really made a terrible mistake. Why couldn't my father have let me cry for a few days?

Is there any possible way for me to get off this plane? I don't care if I lose my life. It's better than landing in Vegas within the next hour.

We're already over three thousand and something feet in the air and probably traveling over a hundred mph, but maybe I can just... you know... pop open the emergency hatch and launch myself out of it. At least everyone would be able to talk about how I went sky-diving at my funeral.

The woman and the owner of Yeager continue to chat for a bit while I try to contain my flaming cheeks and wide eyes, pushing down the memory that holds me in a vice grip-- it's like I'm bound in chains, forced to listen to everything all over again.

How could I have forgotten? And worse, why did this woman calling a dog a good girl resurface the fucking memory? I'm losing it. It's official.

I was so preoccupied with not being able to go to Las Vegas that I forgot why I really shouldn't fucking go. And now it's too late.

I completely ignored the lingering memory of one of the most exhilarating nights of my life.

Yea, I'm an idiot. An unremarkable one, mind you, who was, again, reminded of Sal and I's salacious act simply because a woman uttered the words "good" and "girl" to a dog. The dog isn't my issue because she is, in fact, a good girl. I'm just shocked that I've traveled this low on the pyramid of idiocy and lunacy.

Sigmund Freud really would have loved me.

I finally decide to just duck my head down and let it rest on my tray, nearly knocking over my fresh, scalding hot coffee. My eyes are still wide as I cross my arms around my head, my cheeks still burning with the rage of 25,000 babies being denied titties. I mean, what better way to explain how betrayed I feel? And not to mention, I'm the damn betrayer. I've betrayed myself. Larry would be proud of that statement, at least.

Sally and I haven't talked about what happened-- nor do I want to talk about what happened (it's unavoidable). We haven't even spoken since he left me hanging like a little bitch when Larry jumped into the voice chat and scared the orgasm out of me.

Somewhere, somehow, my unconscious brain decided it would be a fantastic idea to have the conversation with Sally in person. Now, I'm forced to do just that. Fucking hell.

I gulp down my overwhelming feelings. There's no going back now, unfortunately. I'll just have to devise a plan that keeps Sally Face's mouth shut until we're alone (which I pray never happens) or until I'm back home, safe and sound.

Actually, this might be good for me. Sally, despite his shitty vendetta against me, is actually pretty shy and quiet in person. I doubt he'd be brave enough to say anything out loud, so maybe this will prolong the time I have before having to talk to him about our weird phone sex thing that happened the other night.

I mentally pat myself on the back. Maybe I'm not all that dumb. I, miraculously, have some kind of intellectual influence deep down for me to be this smart about avoiding an unwanted talk with my enemy. Perfect.

Doesn't change the fact that Sally is dangerously hot though, by the way.

Either way, I have to look Sally in the eye later knowing that I heard him beating the crap out of his dick to the thought of me. I'll never forget it, and part of me doesn't want to. It was really good.

And I'll also have to look him in the eye knowing that I completely submitted to him and tried to defy him in the end. And he'll know that too.

The thought makes me shiver and I feel like I might vomit for a moment. Whether I have to talk to Sally or not about what we did, I absolutely have to be near him tonight even if I don't want to. I can't escape his presence any longer.

If I think about my future dilemmas any more, I actually will jump out of this plane and risk everyone else inside of it the second I open this emergency hatch. Which, by the way, said emergency hatch is perfectly placed beside me like it was planned out beforehand that I'd sit in a place where I could make a quick getaway. That's it, death by sky-diving is my destiny.

Fuck this-- not like I can actually go back to twenty minutes ago and step off this plane. My fate is sealed and so is my fucking seat belt.

I huff out a quiet, pitiful sigh and close my eyes, wiggling in my seat to get into a better position. My coffee will go cold, but it's better than stressing over the near future knowing I had no time to prepare. Not to mention, any announcement from the pilot would probably stress me out and make me think I'll die. So a nap will do better than my anxiety will for the next hour.

And my nap turns out to be atrocious. I'm trapped in a cage, Sal's tattooed arms chaining me in. It's almost morbid-- especially since I still took the time to trace every inch of what I could remember about the intricate designs on his skin. I am a mess even when asleep and the messy part of my brain follows me into the waking world when a gentle shake startles me from my stupid ass dream.

I throw my head up, eyes wide as I turn to the woman beside me. She has a gentle smile on her lightly worn features, a couple grey hairs peaking through the dark strands that hang over her shoulder. She has a bag in her hand as she stands and people rush past her.

We've landed.

I take a deep, sleepy breath and smile at the woman. "Thank you," I mumble the raspy words, stretching quickly before standing up. "Didn't realize I slept so long."

"That's alright, sweetie," the woman says comfortingly. At least she's nice-- though, I'd gathered that much from the way she spoke to Yeager earlier. "Just wanted to make sure you got off the flight." She gives me a little nod then turns, walking off of the plane.

I deflate in my seat and watch a wave of jet-lagged people pass through the aisle in front of me, waiting for the crowd to clear up before I start gathering my things. I'm in no rush now, remembering that I'll be seeing Sally Face come nightfall.

But I'll also be seeing Ash, Larry, and Todd...

I lift myself from my seat with a grunt and push past a few people to quickly grab my bag from the compartment above my row of seats.

After getting off the plane, waiting for my second bag isn't too rough. It takes a good ten minutes for it to finally pop up on a conveyer belt, but I take off to a Starbucks next to the bag pick-up area to grab breakfast, which consists of a bagel, a cake pop, and a peppermint mocha frappuccino because it's my favorite bitch coffee ever.

I travel through the airport, one bag on my shoulder (which holds my breakfast) as I drag my suitcase behind me and glance around with my green straw in my mouth, constantly sipping on my cold coffee that is ten times better than whatever I ordered on the plane, clearly, since I ended up throwing it away anyway.

People whiz past me, disappearing up escalators or squeezing through packed doorways. I don't wish to be anywhere near it, I mean, who would? That's an anxious nightmare, but I know I'll have to subject myself to that torture eventually. I might as well just get it over with now so I can hail a taxi and get to my hotel. Then, I can hide for the rest of the day until tonight.

I push past a few people as I make my way to the doors leading out of the airport. I wish I could get a good look at my surroundings because the airport is ginormous, but I'm too focused on getting out of dodge. I have so many things I want to look forward to and want to avoid all at the same time, but I can't do that until I finally have time to relax in my hotel room.

I manage to panic enough to the point where I disregard anyone ahead of me in line and just grab a taxi toward the back, more than ready to get to my hotel and crash for the next few hours. I don't even want to think about how excited I am to see Larry, Ash, and Todd because the fear of seeing Sally just completely ruins it.

So I get dropped off at a plain Hilton a couple blocks away from the strip at about twelve in the afternoon, check into my room, and drag the remainder of my dignity as well as my heavy bags up a few stories before finally just crashing onto my bed.

I want to cry because I'm starting to wonder if this was a bad idea, but I am in Las Vegas. Dad paid for me to come visit my friends, so I have to do it. I'm sure it'll work out anyway. I doubt it'll turn out too bad, my head is just messing with me like it always does.

But right now, things just suck. The only good thing about my trip at this exact moment is that my bed is insanely comfortable. That's a pretty awesome outcome seeing as I just want to sleep to ignore all of my worries.

My day seems to fly by as though it's been sped up. My plane ride was made quick due to me being so much of a mess, and now my day is gone since I somehow wake up at about six in the evening.

I'm too distressed to put an actual meal in my stomach, so my dinner consists of complimentary cookies that got dropped onto my tray in the airplane. I can't stomach anything more than that. And for the rest of the time, I watch a few reruns of The Office, tucked into the sheets of my bed with the comforter pulled up to my chin.

At some point, I lift my phone that's been laying face down on my bed to see a missed call from Ash, a few texts in the Discord chat, and then I notice that it's fucking 8:30 pm.

On a normal day, I'd use my lateness as an excuse to just not go altogether, but I didn't waste dad's money and I didn't come all the way here to not see my friends.

I can call, well, talk to Ash later. She'll be seeing me soon anyway.

So, I jump out of bed with a frustrated curse slipping past my lips and run into the bathroom beside my bed. It's a small room, not like I need anything big. I'm just one person.

I'll have to be... fashionably late, I suppose. No issues there. I'm sure many people are going to show up late. It's not like it'll end thirty minutes after it begins, right?

I take a quick shower, blow dry my hair, and put on some eyeliner and mascara. I'm not trying to make a statement. If anything, I'm trying to fly under the radar. Hopefully the little bit of makeup conceals me from being recognized. The last thing I want is for Larry or Todd to recognize me as y/n.

After my face and hair are done, I throw on fishnets and tuck a Fall Out Boy shirt into a black skirt that rests on my hips, then I throw on my worn black and white, hightop vans.

It's nothing special. My boi Kieran said to wear whatever, so I am. At least the fishnets add a little fun to the look.

My last little addition is the mask I bought just a few days ago. It feels as though it weighs hundreds of pounds in my two small hands. But not in a bad way-- I just cherish it so much that the weight of its unspoken value almost seems to double as I simply gaze upon it.

With a breath, I situate it onto my face, tucking the straps under my hair.

I pack a few bills into the back of my phone case and check my bank account, making sure I have a bit of money there too in case I need it. Then I finally run out of my room and out of the hotel in general, hailing a taxi who takes me through the city, adding another thirty minutes to my trip because of traffic.

Despite my poor punctuality, I can't help but feel mesmerized by all the tall, lit up buildings swarmed with people. And once the MGM Grand comes into view, I feel nervous with all the people hanging around the entrance like a pond of alligators waiting to feast upon my bones. It's a scary feeling, but hopefully I can squeeze past everyone and find where I need to go.

My taxi stops in the middle of people, right in front of the door. It's worst case scenario-- I have to step out in the middle of a raving crowd. I don't want that, but what else can I do?

I scramble out of the car, swinging around in a panic when the taxi screeches off behind me. I stare at the spot that repopulates with people instantly, all chatting and looking up at the giant, towering building in front of us.

It's hypnotizing, beautiful. I feel dizzy just by staring up at the roof that covers the driveway before I look over to the doors that almost seem to glow. But unfortunately, the moment doesn't last long because I can't see much through the ridiculous amount of bodies in my way.

Las Vegas sucks while I have my feet on the ground. There are way too many people which makes the views hard to enjoy, especially as I find myself fighting through everyone in my way who just wants casino's.

I eventually stagger through the doorway, trying to hold myself back from running over to a desk with a few workers hanging around. Damn, I really want to go back to my hotel. I've had enough of being around people today.

My stomach feels queazy and my limbs tremble a bit as I take quick steps, my presence easily gaining the attention of a lady working behind the counter.

She smiles politely at me, but a curious, almost wary look crosses her gaze as she watches me walk up. She's probably confused by the mask, but I don't have the time or the desire to explain why I'm wearing it.

"Um, hi," I murmur, smiling carefully. "I'm trying to, uh, get to the roof. For the party." The words are almost too quiet, so I force myself to speak louder despite the tremor tainting my voice.

"Oh," the woman says sweetly, still eyeing me carefully. "I need to see your invite, then." She's kind, but something about her forced expression tells me she fucking hates her job.

I pull my phone from the waistband of my skirt and open up my email to get to the invite before passing the device to her. I watch as her eyes scan over my phone and she purses her lips before handing it back to me.

She looks down, grabbing a clipboard. "Name?" she asks.

Yikes. I mean, it wouldn't be my actual name right? Kieran doesn't know me-- he only knows Vi.

"Um, VioletViolence," I whisper, cracking my knuckles and trying to keep my feet still. I don't need to scuff up this nice floor.

The woman's eyes narrow as she drags her eyes over the paper, flipping it to another sheet before her eyes widen a bit, "Aha!" she exclaims, like she's proud of herself. "Here you are. I'll give you a passcode for the top floor, you have to put it in as soon as you get into the elevator. After that, you're good to go!"

She cheered up a lot. I guess it helped to find out that I'm not some random crazy person.

"Oh, okay. Thanks," I smile cautiously.

Turns out, the passcode to the roof is 1989, just like the Taylor Swift album. That'll be easy to remember.

I punch the code into the elevator nervously, watching as a little green light envelops the button for the roof. Then, I travel slowly upwards for what feels like five full minutes until the doors finally open up to a party that practically smacks me in the face.

I look through the crowd, my heart beating wildly while a mix of electronic and rock music pulses in the air around me. People take up almost every inch of space on this rooftop. At some point, I note the LED lighted (and probably heated) pool crowded with randoms.

My eyes wander every which way in awe. I've never been to Vegas in my life, but the view is so much more than I expected now that I'm able to actually get a good look at it. Everything is exceptionally tall, super modernized and lavish, and lit up with a plethora of colored lights. Actually, I can see The Venetian from here.

I make my way to the edge of the rooftop, squeezing past people to get a good glimpse of the lights, buildings and moving life below me.

This moment feels so surreal. I'm surrounded by people I don't know, just like I have been all damn day, looking for my four-- three-- friends who aren't even expecting me. Right here, in this moment, I'm alone in one of America's busiest and most well-know cities.

I have so many fucking options. Hell, if I really wanted to, I could jump from this roof to the balcony below and get cheered on. Everything-- anything-- goes in Las Vegas.

The area is fun, but the situation is dangerous. I'm feeling risky. It's a stark contrast to how nervous I was moments ago, but seeing all of Las Vegas from up here has brought me back to life in a way.

To my left is a pool side bar, though, which will ultimately help me in the long run. If I want to pursue my risky thoughts that I'm too afraid to act on when sober, then alcohol is a good start.

I push through bodies again, holding onto one half of my mask in fear. I think I'd call it quits on life if I get pushed around so much that it falls off. Genuinely, I'd just pack up and leave.

Out of everything though, that's my only true fear at the moment, even with the lingering reminder that I'll have to find The Faces soon. I have, well, used to have horrible social anxiety, and yet here I am in one of the most social situations I've even laid my eyes on in years.

Here, I actually have to converse with people unlike whenever I was in the airport and getting into this casino/hotel--whatever it is. This right here is something to feel good about.

I'm proud of myself.

I weave past another person and slap a hand onto the bar counter, hanging on for dear life when a few people shove past me and nearly take me with them. Wincing, I make awkward eye contact with the bartender who just stares at me.

Yea, asshole. Could have helped.

"Whatcha got?" The bartender asks, filling up multiple glasses. I know he's busy. There are people in every free spot around the bar. What a fucking party, right?

"Um, can I get a screwdriver, I guess?" I yell to him, trying to make sure he can hear me over the music.

He nods once, grabbing another glass. "$15."

My eyes practically shoot out of my head and I feel like I'll choke on the way I'm being strangled with my pretty much empty bank account. "Is that a joke?" I cough out, watching as he fills the glass up with the equivalent to three shots.

The bartender shoots me a frustrated look that immediately tells me he isn't kidding.

He puts a splash of orange juice into what I would consider straight fucking alcohol then scoots it over to me.

I wince, giving my glass a little twirl in hopes to give myself some clarity and not straight vodka towards the bottom of the glass. Then, I pull a $20 from the back of my phone case and pass it to him. "Keep the change," I murmur, plucking a straw from a styrofoam cup then returning to my task of attempting to find The Faces.

Honestly, finding the group in a sea of people like this is probably impossible. There are just so many bodies and not enough consideration for the poor souls (me) trying to find their way around.

I can just barely make out an unoccupied stage. There's a microphone set up on it and speakers towards the back. It's right on the edge of the large rooftop, so maybe I'll be able to find some space there and catch a breath before I keep looking.

And of course, I could make this easier for myself and just call Ash. I could make this entire search simpler for everyone by letting her know that I have shown up. Who wouldn't do that?

But I'm scared. I love Ash more than anything and she's my best friend, but I also haven't seen her, Larry, or Todd in over ten years. The thought of physically reconnecting after so long worries me. Talking online is easy compared to actually being there, in person, flesh and all, for the thought process of every single question and answer. What if we all are too awkward and don't know how to physically speak to each other?

It's an anxious worry that makes me shiver as I break through the end of the thick crowd.

Suddenly though, I don't have any time left to worry again like I've been doing all day.

I should have known that Sally Face would be as close as he could possibly be to music. Thus, there he is, standing in front of the stage with his back leaned against the edge. And where he goes, the rest of the group goes.

All the air leaves my lungs all at once. My feet are cemented to the ground and my free hand bunches into the fabric of my black skirt.

They stand in a row-- Sally, Ash, Larry, then Todd.

Sally Face is the shortest one in the group. I never would have suspected it just by meeting him once. I mean, he isn't exactly short. I'd say he must be between five foot eight and five foot ten. That's a decent height. But Ash is a head taller than him-- that alone shocks me into stillness. And Larry is even taller than Ash. Then Todd is about Ash's height.

As always, Sally looks delectable. Just looking at him once fills me with memories of his sultry, dirty words and the feeling of his skin beneath my fingertips. What a dangerously frustrating man.

He's wearing a tan, almost sandy colored, Memphis May Fire shirt paired with black jeans and classic vans. The neutral colors clash wildly against the bright, slap-you-in-the-face color of his hair alongside his expressionless prosthetic, but I'm into it. He looks so fucking good and I can see the tattoos on his arms so well.

How I ache to run my hands over every inch of ink covering his skin. To see him flinch beneath my touch again. To read his story depicted in images that stain his body. It's a deep yearning that fills me with a feeling akin to rage-- it's just as euphoric, adrenaline-inducing, and deteriorating as rage is to me.

My eyes rake over him inch by inch, dragging up and down slowly until I've memorized each curve, crevice, freckle, scar, and every other little thing easy to miss regarding his physical body.

I wish I could see more of him. I want nothing more than to peel that prosthetic off of his face and get a look at the beauty he hides so desperately. I just know deep in my soul that he's pretty. There's no way a handsome asshole like him wouldn't have a pretty face.

His electric blue eyes rake across the area in front of him, but he thankfully never looks at me. It gives me an open opportunity to ogle him from afar.

I trail my eyes from his bruised fingertips, all over his ink-stained forearms while I meticulously map out each twist and turn of the veins that lead up to his lightly bulging biceps. Then, I follow the curves of his lightly scarred neck.

Somehow, the in-person image of his pretty throat is better than the photo Larry sent me. That shattered sword tattoo glints under the lights, a result of the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. It brings out the barely noticeable differences in the color of his skin-- his scars. They're lining the underside of his jaw and just a bit on the left side of his neck. I wish I could bite into his skin.

His messy hair and fringe cover the top and sides of his prosthetic, but I'm still able to get a good look at the dips and curves of every inch of it. I'm even able to see the top corner of his prosthetic that's pink instead of white. I wonder why that is.

But even if they aren't real, I can't help but stare at his prosthetic lips. Someday, I'll get to feel his real lips behind the barrier between me and his face.

I try to shake off the simp side of my brain, shocked at my own thoughts. Why am I so eager just over one look at him? Am I that bad off right now? This is an issue.

Sally Face is dangerous.

He has this confident, god-like aura about him that drips with the equivalent to gold-- if there was a color to describe the way he acts, it would be gold. It's in his stance, in his sharp and hypnotizing gaze, in the way he curls his fingers towards himself in a gesture as Ash watches him-- they're likely talking.

Sally face is tantalizing in every aspect of who he is. Personality, looks, vibes. I want my fingers in his cerulean hair so I can ruffle up the soft looking, layered waves. I want to drag my fingertips down the few scars littering his neck. I want to shatter that sword on his throat a little more, see how much deeper he can break. I want his pale skin between my teeth, and I want his gaze on me.

But these are silly thoughts. I can't embrace or act on them. Especially not right now.

I turn my gaze to Ash, the reincarnated Aphrodite dripping in modern eloquence. When imagining the most beautiful woman to walk the earth, I'd think of her over and over again. I feel that anyone else would, too.

Ash's hair has grown since her major cut about a year ago, it's just hanging over her shoulders, brushing her upper back. It's the color of silky chocolate, flowing smoothly and elegantly as though she'd spent hours preparing it. And hell, maybe she did spend a while fixing it up. But the point is that she makes effort look effortless.

The model-like air about her is swathed in a kind-hearted and welcoming feeling that comes just from seeing her do something as simple as smile. Ash is completely one of a kind, an alien in a realm where beauty is misguided and thought to be something else entirely. She's too breathtaking to be walking within ten feet of me. She's too good for this universe she's been sent to.

Ash is wearing a maroon colored dress that hugs her curves in every perfect place possible. There's a slit going up the right side of the dress-- her thigh squeezes against the fabric, more than likely attracting every person's attention within a three-mile radius. She's simply and utterly a sight to behold.

Not like she needs makeup, but even the little bit that she's wearing on her celestially stunning face compliments her dress, her personality, and her overall aura perfectly. Just a little bit of a dark brown shade on her eyelids, accentuating the glowing color of her viridian irises as she, oh shit, makes eye contact with me. But it's only for a moment before she... looks away again?

Anyway, her pearly white teeth are on display when Sally nudges her, pointing off into another direction. Each of her features lifts with the action and makes her look even more otherworldly. She's something else entirely.

I continue dragging my eyes along the entire group, passing my gaze over Larry now who absolutely blows my mind. In fact, I can't quite believe that it's the same scrawny, metal-loving, long-haired, emo teenager I last saw a photo of just two years ago.

Larry is ripped in every meaning and centimeter of the word. He used to be an awkward, lanky guy-- but now, his biceps seem like they're hardly able to fit into his plain black t-shirt, even his chest is squeezing against the fabric. Veins protrude over the inside of his forearms-- a tidbit I notice when he gestures over to Ash to mention something.

Small tattoos litter various areas of his tanned arms, little crosses or x's, I even see a My Chemical Romance and Sanity's Fall tattoo on him. The ink is a beautiful complement to his honey-colored skin. He's incredibly handsome, I'll give him that. Even in just a plain shirt, black jeans, and red converse-- he's killing the look and making it something unique to him. Actually, I'll bet he wore that shirt because it looks best on him.

I trail my eyes up his sculpted neck and to his striking, chiseled face that seems to have matured quite a bit in the past couple years. His eyes are a mesmerizing and dominant shape that beautifully accompanies his dark brown eyes that seem to mimic the shade of black coffee with just a splash of creamer. His angular cheekbones and jawline make him seem like a fully functioning Roman sculpture come to life. And more than anything, I'm so excited to see that the cute gap between his front teeth is still present when he flashes a hypnotizing smile to his left while running a tattooed hand through his hair.

Larry's septum is pierced, a new addition to his look that I didn't hear of. While a minimal difference, it gives him a boost in the 'attractive guy' department. He looks so different, but so familiar. All in all, he looks just as lickable as Sal does, only he's one of my best friends and I absolutely refuse to pursue anything that could break the bond I have with him.

I finally turn to Todd, a fleshed out man who's incredibly elegant in his own right. He's drool-worthy in a contrasting way compared to the rest of the group-- he's the embodiment of an academia professor and he's absolutely killing the look.

Todd's face is cherubic, angelic even but still handsome in a way that seems to make him shine in the dark of the night. The curves of his face are visible, but not sharp and cut-throat like Larry's features are, for example. Little light freckles paint the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, bringing out the inebriating color of his nearly colorless, inky eyes. Thin lips and a light brush of facial hair on his chin really brings his pretty features together to make him look even more attractive, especially under the moonlight and LEDs.

His curly, red hair is styled in a side part, a singular curl hanging over his forehead in a way that fills me with an urge to push the hair into place with the rest. And perhaps he styled his hair like that on purpose, to make everyone yearn to touch him.

He's dressed in black trousers that are perfectly ironed, a white, button-up dress shirt, and a dark grey blazer that could almost be considered some type of trench coat if not for the style. Then, a pair of shiny black dress shoes.

Todd pulls off the look wonderfully, and never in my life did I imagine I would ever see him sporting dark colors, but the neutral and darker shades look amazing on him. Compared to the monotonous, bright-colored boy I knew as a child, Todd has matured into what he was always meant to be. And fuck, Neil is a lucky guy.

All of my friends are so hot that they are too hot for me. How could I possibly walk up to the equivalent to famous paintings and sculptures? I mean, they're so perfect that I feel as though I need to do a double-take because I can't wrap my head around the fact that they're real. How can anyone be so absolutely gorgeous? Not to mention, four of them standing side-by-side in the same exact place at the same time. And the slim chances that they all became best friends just tops it off and I feel burning jealousy over the thought of it.

I'm not jealous over their friendship or their looks, just that they seem so happy. Joy and true contentment is a feeling I've chased all my life, but never quite gotten close enough to grasp. To know that my full potential with happiness is out of reach, but they're bathing in the feeling... it makes me feel even farther from getting to embrace positivity.

But maybe this is a sign. Maybe they are my opportunity to drown in the throes of joy. Maybe they're meant to be my happiness-- my contentment personified, depicted in the form of actual physical, human beings.

Could be. I've never looked for parts of myself in others because I've always felt that my own emotions are something I have to achieve on my own.

Maybe I've been looking at everything all wrong. Maybe... maybe my morals are outlandish and out of place to the point that I've been depriving myself of real chances to feel something.

I know this-- I literally see an open opportunity to pursue one of my biggest dreams right in front of me, and yet I'm still unable to move my feet. I can't make myself finally meet what I've always wanted.

I can't even tell my friends hello.

This is pissing me off. Why can't I fucking move? I flew out last minute and have spent hours waiting alone to surprise my friends, but I'm too cowardly to actually spend time with them? Absolutely pathetic. I'm disappointed in myself and I'm tired of feeling that way.

I pat a hand around the top of my drink until I grab onto my straw. I pull it into my mouth and gulp down liquid fire as I let my eyes continue wandering over The Faces repeatedly. Yea, I probably look like a creep but I won't be able to walk up to them unless I have something to boost my confidence. As far as I'm concerned, alcohol is the only confidence I have. And if I look away from the group, I could lose them. I don't want to trek through this minefield to find them again.

It takes me a moment to trick myself into thinking that the alcohol will take effect immediately, but my legs finally move. I feel like I'm floating-- and way too fast at that-- as I grow closer and closer to the group, looking to Ash like a lifeline.

Out of everyone here, I'm closest with her and I'm begging, praying with just my eyes that she looks over and recognizes me and helps me grow accustomed to finally being around again.

More importantly, I hope no one is awkward with me. I think I'll just turn around and catch a plane back home if shit flops.

I get close enough to the point that Ash turns to me with a mix of curiosity and concern dancing in her eyes. I feel self-conscious beneath her gaze, but the look in her eyes slowly turns into something interesting and I find myself shrinking a bit as I stop my pursuit just two feet away from her.

My vans scuff the ground when I stop and I tilt my head up to look into her enthralling green eyes. My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage and my palms grow clammy all the while Ash simply grins down at me. Her irises twinkle, an intrigued look passing through her gaze.

"Hi," her soft, melodic voice purrs. "Nice to meet you."

Oh.

I'm thrown off by the fact that she can't recognize me, but when the mask is taken into account as well as the fact that she hasn't seen a photo of me since I was sixteen, it's understandable.

Not only that, I'm preoccupied on the thought that it seems she may be trying to flirt with me.

"Hi," I greet back, fighting off any possible signs of nervousness. I'll murder my anxiety if I can't play off my fear right now. One thing's for sure though, I don't have to worry about any awkwardness. "We've met before," I add in, giggling a bit.

I shock myself when the sound comes out a bit seductive. I don't mean to flirt back-- but what's the problem with that? Ash is my best friend for one, we flirt all the time, but she's also fucking stunning. I see no problems.

Ash tilts her head, scrunching her eyebrows as she flashes her perfect smile at me. Her eyes trail over my body and I instantly feel myself stiffen, heat washing over my cheeks. Her reaction to me is real-- this isn't us acting friendly because we know each other. This is Ash rizzing up a stranger.

"Really? I think I'd remember you if we've already met," she says with a soft laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as our eyes meet again. "When did you see me?"

I suck in a breath, trying to calm my fluttering heart and hot cheeks. "Instead of telling you," I say randomly without any thought, "How about we play a game? The group of you can try and guess who I am." Smiling, I glance over at Larry who's smirking down at me, his sharp eyebrows and deep gaze forcing that blush back to my cheeks.

Todd watches me, expressionless with his hands in the pockets of his neat pants. He doesn't move an inch.

And I don't dare look at Sally who's been quiet too.

Ash narrows her eyes, pinching her lips together to contain a smile. She glances to Sally then over to Larry and Todd before focusing on me again. "Okay," she hums. "I love games."

I flinch back when she gravitates a bit closer to me, her gaze flickering over my mask then to my lips. Is this the same Ash who screamed in excitement over everything when I was younger? And scarier, I find my heart racing because her interest in me is exciting.

Two can play at this dangerous game.

I take another leisure sip of my drink, bringing it to my mouth with shaky hands as I turn my gaze to Ash's glossy lips.

Her top lip is a bit bigger than her bottom lip. She has a soft cupid's bow accentuated by highlighter that was purposefully and meticulously placed there. Her lips look soft, plush. Maybe it's just the glitter or the way the lights reflect off her lipgloss. Either way, I'm sure she'd be fun to kiss.

What the fuck am I doing?

Ash leaves my field of vision almost immediately. I look up, noting that she's sat on the edge of the stage with a smirk on her hypnotizing lips like she knows she has me wrapped around her finger.

"So, Mystery Girl," she says, a seductive lilt to her sing-song voice. "Can you give me a little hint to start?"

I glance over, making eye contact with a concerned Sally Face. One of his elbows is propped on the stage behind him and the other is languidly resting on Ash's thigh.

He watches me carefully, no doubt sizing me up. I've noticed that he finds threats to his group then carefully assesses them. The fact that I'm saying I know Ash probably raised alarm bells in his head.

I look over to Larry next, watching as he raises his eyebrows and turns his back to me, leaning his elbows on the stage as he watches Ash's side profile. He has a really nice, strong back, by the way. Also, I'd love to braid his hair one day.

Todd stays in his same position, he even rolls his eyes when Ash tilts her head at me, waiting for me to give her an answer.

But what kind of hint could I give her? Almost anything I'd say would make her figure me out immediately. I'm really having to think hard about this because everything that comes to mind is something she knows.

I'll have to be careful about this. I have to give her a hint of a hint. Something she may have a memory about, but doesn't know for sure.

I bring my straw to my lips, sipping until I get closer to the bottom. Straight fucking vodka. Damn that bartender.

"Sorry, I'm thinking of a hint. I don't want to give myself away," I muse, throwing a wink at Ash. She immediately grins. "That would take the fun out of the game, wouldn't it?"

Ash giggles cutely as Larry turns around again, watching me with narrowed eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips. What is that hunk of hotness thinking? I already know what's going through Sal's head-- but is Larry on his level?

"You're right. Take your time," Ash says in her soft, lulling voice.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, still thinking as hard as I can. I'm coming up with blanks. I need to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but I'm going to have to stall until I get there.

"Want to hug me and see if it feels familiar?" I ask, narrowing my eyes and opening my arms. My hand tightens around my drink as it slowly slides through my fingers.

Ash's eyes widen slightly and she stands again, her feet tapping the ground once she slides off the stage. She looks off to the side and purses her lips, taking just a step toward me. "Can I kiss you instead and see if that feels familiar?"

My breath catches in my throat and the drink in my hand feels even more slippery as I try to jump over this shock hurdle. I need to get myself together and answer her instead of actually going with this insane proposition she's dropped on me like a weight.

"We aren't familiar in that way, darling," I giggle lightly, letting my arms fall to my side.

Ash shrugs, a guilty grin pulling at her lips. "And? We can just do it anyway."

A deep, amused cackle makes me look past Ash and to Larry who has a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, couldn't hold back the laughs," he snickers. His sharp eyebrows arch further as he raises them at me. "You're in danger, MG."

"That's comforting," I say, laughing at Larry's failed attempt to hide his reaction to me and Ash's flirting. He's an evil little thing and clearly he chases a tense situation to get some laughs. "Maybe Ash is the one in danger."

My eyes cut over to Ash as she takes another step toward me. "Please let me find out if I'm in danger, I promise you won't regret it." She bends her knees just a bit for a moment, clasping her hands together with a mind-swaying look in her eyes. She's begging without words.

I glance at Sally quickly. He's still quiet, but he looks like he's on guard and intrigued at the same time.

Fuck, how do I get out of this. Todd's even standing up straight, watching us with a disgruntled look and curiosity in his eyes. They're expecting me to give in and I'm not entirely sure if I want to say no in the first place. Which is bad.

I don't have any feelings other than platonic love for Ash, but I've missed her so much that I genuinely would love to kiss her senseless. It's like reconnecting with the other half of my heart for the first time in years-- which, honestly, that's exactly what this is.

"Do you care who I am, Ash?" I ask, tilting my head questioningly. If we're going to kiss, I want to make sure she isn't going to lose her entire head once she finds out who I am.

"Yes, I want to know who you are. In regards to a kiss, I don't care who you are. When I find out, I'll probably be happy we kissed." She sends me a sweet little smile then licks her bottom lip.

"Okay. Then my only condition is that we are only friends and you have to remember that. Nothing will come of our kiss." I dip my head down a bit, trying to show that I'm being serious.

"If nothing will come of our kiss, then why are we going to do it?" She asks, starting to take quick steps toward me.

I take one step back, just to slow her down until we can finish this conversation. "We're going to do it because you're beautiful and I've missed you so much that I wouldn't be happy with anything less than a kiss."

Ash huffs out a laugh, growing close enough to take my hands into hers and yank me toward her. She towers over me and I have to tilt my head up to get a good view of her. "You must know me well then," she purrs, her expression filled with curiosity and eagerness. She's reckless. It's fun. "Are you ready?"

"I... think so?" I murmur, quickly licking my lips. Ash's cool hand trails up my arm and then to the base of my neck, pulling me closer to her.

"If you don't want to, say no," Ash says honestly, leaning down so that we're face-to-face. She looks into my eyes, trying to tell me that it's okay to say no. She won't go through with this if I don't want to.

"I-- I want to, I'm just nervous--"

"Don't be nervous. It'll be quick." Ash's serious expression washes away as she glances at my lips then back to my eyes again, pretty smile enveloping her lips again.

I nod, my heart thumping wildly against my chest as she leans forward. I grab onto Ash's wrist as her other hand gently brushes over my cheek.

And then her lips are on mine. She's still for a moment and so am I, just squeezing my eyes shut as I try to adjust to the feeling of her lips.

They're softer than I expected them to be, but sticky. And for that reason, I grip onto her wrist tighter because it feels like she's stuck to me and I'm not upset about it.

Ash takes my squeeze as a sign, tilting her head a bit. The movement causes her lips to slide perfectly against mine and butterflies flutter to life in my stomach.

I kiss her back, enjoying the way Ash's lips mold to mine so deliciously. The feeling is addictive and if it weren't for her sudden intake of breath, I'd probably pull her even closer. But her reaction reminds me that we're in public and that this is just a little test.

Ash pulls away just as quickly as she kissed me. She was right-- it was quick. And I actually thoroughly enjoyed it.

My eyes flutter open and I look up. Ash's hands are still on either side of my face, but she watches me with a tilted head and narrowed eyes-- like she's trying to figure me out. Like... the kiss actually gave her a clue, which would make no sense.

Then, she leans forward and slams her lips on mine for just a second. I shake my head once she pulls away and look up at her with a puzzled expression that I just can't control. What the fuck.

"Is your name Victoria?" Ash turns her head to the side, eyes wide and brows furrowed like even she's confused.

I choke on air over the near accuracy. What the fuck kind of succubus is Ash? How on earth did a kiss give her the first two letters of my nickname? Is this some joke? Does she already know?

"No, my name isn't Victoria," I force out through coughs, wheezing as I blink through my tears.

Ash lets me go, putting a hand on her hip and another on her chin like a real Sherlock Holmes.

I glance over at the boys quickly. Larry has wide eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face. Sally's looking away from us with his hands resting between his legs. He isn't slick. Todd is just shaking his head.

Men.

"Well, who the hell are you?" Ash murmurs to herself.

An audible, obnoxious sigh pulls my attention away from the viridian-eyed beauty again and I look over to Sally who hops off the stage and turns away from us quickly. "I'll be back," he murmurs with shaky breaths. "I'm going get a drink."

Larry snorts. "You lying bastard," he says, patting Sal's back. "You're just as gozzled as me right now."

Sally groans, walking away from Larry without a word. And Larry turns toward him, raising his arms. "What!?" he yells a bit louder as Sally disappears through the crowd. "I'm not wrong!"

"You kiss just like Victoria did," Ash suddenly says, pointing an accusing finger at me. She's gone from playful to serious in just a matter of minutes.

A laugh falls from my lips and my tense stance slackens a bit. "Oh, thank God." I twirl my drink again and shake my head. "I thought you just manifested that name from a kiss. I was freaked."

"Were you?" Ash narrows her eyes and takes a step toward me again. I find that deja vu feeling tickling the back of my brain.

I swallow thickly, never answering as I look over to Larry with pleading eyes. He only shakes his head, flicking me off with a devious and beaming smile. No fucking help.

"So, was I close with the name then? Because why else would you be nervous." Ash pries, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. "Actually, what are you doing here? Why wouldn't you just tell us who you are? Are you someone that we don't like?"

My mouth gapes open like a fish, opening and closing while I fight for an answer. My mouth feels dry and my hands are clammy again. "N-No. You guys like me. You've never had any issues with me, well, Sally doesn't like me but other than that we've all gotten along very well. Incredibly well, in fact!" I hold my hands out in front of me just as Ash stops walking toward me. "You guys love me, well, I hope. Actually, I don't really know. Maybe you all hate my guts, I wouldn't be able to tell."

Ash looks confused, like she's trying to grasp onto what I just spewed at her. My answer didn't convince her, it just fucking confuzzled her.

"I can't believe it." I turn my head when Todd talks for the first time. He doesn't have that borderline angry look on his face anymore. In fact, his eyes are a bit wide and he isn't frowning. I'd say this is his excited face. "You're Vi."

I don't know what to say as my mouth falls open again. I just stare at Todd and that seems to confirm it for him, so I shut my mouth and swallow through the dryness on my tongue. My throat burns and it feels like my heart's dropped out of my ass. I expected everyone to be stuck for hours, not for fucking Todd to sniff me out in just five minutes.

Larry suddenly scrambles into a standing position, his expression the first one I've seen tonight that isn't smiling. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are bunched together like someone just told him Dolly Parton died.

I pull my eyes away from the two men and look up at Ash, noting her slackened expression. Then, suddenly, she's become the same person I see on videos and talk to over the phone. The same best friend that I joke and bicker with.

In her soft, surprised, high-pitched voice, Ash asks, "Is that really you, Vi?"

There are tears on her waterline, but then there's hope in her eyes. Hope in the way she takes a stumbled step toward me with her hands clutched to her chest like she doesn't know what to do with them.

And I can't tell her I'm not Vi. She looks so torn up in the best way and it would tear me up too if I wasn't honest with her.

"Yea," I rasp out. "It's me, Ash."

Ash turns into a blur as I'm lifted from my feet with immense screams of joy filling my ears. Ash throws me around like a dog's chew toy and bellows so many indecipherable things that I'm taken aback for a moment, but overall relishing in the joy that seeps from her and into me.

"You told me you weren't fucking coming, Vi, what the fuck!? And it's been like ten years! Where the fuck? How-- What-- Where did you come from? How did you get here!?" Ash shrieks into my ear, a sob or two getting twisted into her words.

I chew on my lips, finally wrapping my arms around Ash's neck as she continues to throw me around like I weigh nothing. Hell, she has some upper body strength.

Tears start to sting my eyes as all of my senses are filled. I can smell Ash's coconut scented shampoo, I can taste her strawberry lipgloss mixed with my tears, I can hear her screams mixed with the music around us, I can feel each strand of soft hair and her heart beating wildly against my chest, and I can see Larry and Todd's excited and shocked expression every time Ash swings me toward them again.

"I know. But it doesn't matter because I made it here," I laugh through trembling lips. I sniff when the sound of my own voice hits my ears. Fuck, just hearing that I'm hardly holding it together makes me want to break.

"You're so fucking right. Oh my gosh," Ash cries, finally dropping me to my feet but never unwrapping her arms from my waist.

She squeezes me tightly, then abruptly pulls away, holding me at arms length with mascara bleeding down her red cheeks. "Holy fuck, Vi. You let me kiss you!?" She looks absolutely bamboozled, like she truly can't wrap her head around the fact that our lips touched.

"Uh," I spit out, still reeling from being twirled around like a bug stuck on a carousel. "Yea. We kissed. I told you my conditions. What, do you regret it now?" I narrow my eyes playfully.

Ash slaps a hand to her chest like she's appalled. "What? Hell no, I could never regret it! I just can't believe we fucking kissed!?"

"I can't believe you guys kissed and haven't fucking included me yet. Your turn is over, Ash!" Arms wrap around my middle and I find myself being throw around like a test dummy yet again. This time, the perpetrator is Larry. "I can't fucking believe you're here!" he bellows.

"This entire night is full of you guys being non-believers!" I yell once my feet touch the ground again. Larry spins me around to face him and I feel like I'm going to cry again just over the big smile of excitement on his face. "You guys better start believing because I'm here in the flesh."

Larry bends over to reach me, wrapping me up in a big, strong hug. And, oh yea, I take the opportunity to drag my hands up his muscular arms as I hug him back.

"Stop feeling me up, Vi. Your kiss with Ash was hot enough," Larry laughs into my hair, giving me a squeeze.

I can't help but laugh and quickly wrap my arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop myself. I never imagined you'd be so jacked."

"Ha, yea, I honestly didn't see it in my future either, but here we are," he murmurs before pulling away. He looks down at me, tears fucking brimming his eyes too. "Fuck, dude. I might cry. You're such an awesome chick," he says breathily, pretending to wipe tears from his cheeks.

I pinch my lips together and give him my best unimpressed look. "Come on, we're supposed to be strong. No more crying," I tell him.

"Maybe the tears will go away if I get a kiss too.." Larry rolls his eyes very obnoxiously. His gaze cuts to me then he immediately looks away again, being as playful as always.

I sigh, grabbing onto his cheeks. "Come here, jackass," I say, growing excited as I pull him close to me.

Larry murmurs out a "fuck yea" before I quickly press my lips to his. It's a little kiss, shorter than me and Ash's but I was just as eager to do it since I haven't seen him in so long.

When I pull away, Larry scrunches his face up and splutters, wiping at his mouth. "Dammit, Ash," he says, fake gagging. "Why'd you have to kiss Vi first with that stupid lipgloss? That shit is disgusting."

"Hey!" Ash scoffs, walking toward us. "Don't hate on my very expensive, very amazing lipgloss! And besides, Vi seemed to like it well enough."

I scoot my way out of their argument and tiptoe my way to Todd who greets me with a soft smile. I smile back at him and he opens his arms to me immediately.

My insides jump around in excitement as I jump into Todd's hug, scrunching the fabric of his blazer in my hands. "It's so nice to see you, Todd," I murmur into his shoulder. He smells like cedar trees.

"It's nice to see you, too, Vi. Sorry I figured you out so quickly," he laughs softly, giving me a squeeze before separating from our embrace. He puts his hands into his pockets then switches his weight to his other foot.

"It's no issue," I say, waving him off. "I'm really happy actually. I wouldn't have been able to say it myself."

He scoffs lightly, patting my shoulder. "Clearly. Grow a backbone, huh?"

I can't help but giggle as I pat his elbow in return. Todd watches me with a soft look, like he's genuinely happy to see me and that thought feels me with even more joy. Everyone's happy to see me.

Well... almost everyone.

"Vi, what the fuck are we going to do about Sal?" Ash suddenly hisses worriedly, her hands clamping onto my shoulders as she shoves her face next to mine from behind. "He's going to be so pissed!"

"It's alright," I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut as I remember that I still have some true bullshit to handle. "I'm cool," I settle on then turn my head, looking Ash in her pretty green eyes. "I've got this."

________________

A/N::::::: holy shit HI WE'RE DOING CRAZY STUFF

this was supposed to be two chapters. Yep. Somehow, these 11,347 words got fused into one even though they were meant to be separate. I couldn't leave you guys hanging again though, so here we are <3

thank you so much for the continued support. I love you all so much! have a wonderful day/evening/night. tons of kisses!! <333

P.S. I AM EXHAUSTED I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS CHAPTER FOR TWO FUCKING WEEKS

#sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #sal fisher #future smut #sally face #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #larry johnson #ash campbell

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coffeeheartaddict2 · 1 year

Text

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Book: Open Heart (book 2 rewrite)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!mc Casey Valentine

Category: angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: language

Summary: A trip to take Louise to rehab enables Ethan and Casey to have an honest discussion about their feelings. The kindness of strangers gives Kyra an idea.

Word count: 3171

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

It is very Wednesday morning and Casey is one again office alone but instead of working she is reading. The medical journal she is reading is starting to not makes sense and she looks at the clock- 6:00am and two hours sleep no wonder. Casey, along with her friends could not help but feel responsible for the merger falling through. It had been a week since the news and feelings eoUlf not go away, as well as everything with Esme. Despite the physical exhaustion, she had been unable to sleep much, even the thought of Ethan and the use of her toys or hands was not taking the edge off. Casey hops up from the couch and goes to the coffee machine to make a coffee. As she is filling up the water tank the door opens, it is Ethan.

“Stupid question Dr Ramsey but would you like coffee?”

Ethan looks towards Casey in shock,

“What are you doing in so early? And yes I will have a coffee.”

Ethan walks towards the couch and sees journals everywhere. “What is up Casey?” With a very concerned expression.

Casey is making their coffee and is not sure how to answer Ethan. She came in because she could not sleep and she could not sleep with all that was happening. She knows he is her boss and mentor first but but her feelings were still strong and she knew that confiding in him would very easily end up with her in his bed and as much as she wanted that to happen, it would not be wise to do so.

“I couldn’t sleep” she finally replies. Casey makes her way to the couch with both coffees. Ethan takes his cup and sits down beside Casey.

Ethan asks her again what is up. “Nothing” replies Casey.

Casey changes the subject. “How is Louise going?”

Ethan sighs. “Louise is getting discharged today and she will be going to rehab.”

“That is good isn’t it?”

“I honestly do not know. Her body has taken a serious toll from the addiction, she may be beyond help but how could I in good conscience not send her?”

Casey grabs his hand and squeezes it. “If you need to talk you know I am here for you despite our circumstances.”

Ethan squeezes Casey’s hand in return and massages the side of her hand with his thumb.

“Thank you Casey.”

They sit there in comfortable silence. Casey has missed this among other things and Ethan has done so too, they fight the urge to kiss but Ethan is relieved that he has someone else to talk too.

They finish their coffee. Casey gets up. “I best go and get organised for my shift. See you later.”

Ethan cleans up the medical journals and puts them away. How to approach Casey with his feelings for her and how he wishes to tray again run through his mind but work was not the place.

Later on that day Casey is paged. The Diagnostics team have a new case. Marisa, the young patient has Cirrhosis, advanced hepC and has Sepsis due to an unknown infection. The team has to figure it out and the clock is ticking as the liver she was donated. After our consult with Marisa we have a chat. We run a myriad of tests and head back to the office to try and formulate a plan of attack as time is of the essence. Whilst we are in the office, Garry, one of the interns is trying to find the door handle to the diagnostics room. Myself and Ethan try to direct him too it but to no avail. He ends up shouting his message. “She won’t go without seeing you.” Garry then leaves.

Ethan takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Ethan admits that he had promised to take Louise to rehab. Casey and Ethan then go to see Louise to take her to rehab. On the drive to Willow Hill Recovery Centre. The tension is palpable as Ethan does not answer Louise’s questions. Casey can sense the nerves on both sides. Louise starts to apologise and then they arrive. Louise is then taken to her room whilst Ethan berates the receptionist and sorts out paperwork. When Ethan is finished Casey has a chat.

“She really wants to speak to you Ethan.”

“I know that, but what happens if I let her in. I have told you how much of a whirlwind I remember her being, not to mention her being an addict. You know I need to remain rational.”

“Even with me Ethan?”

“We all know that I don’t always act rationally around you.”

Casey smiles.

“You don’t have to let her in but can you at least hear out. It did seem like she wanted to at least apologise. Whatever you decide to do in relation to any relationship is upto you but you need closure on what happened that dayI know you have a lot of deep seated anger and it is time to let it go.”

They make their way to Louise’s room. Before he knocks he asks me to come in with him. I agree. We enter the room and see Louise unpacking. She looks up. “I thought you had left already.”

Ethan sits on the bed. Louise looks nervous.

“You would think this would be easier to say with 10 years of practice.”

I grab Ethan’s hand and hold it. He does not respond but does not pull away either. Louise continues. She tells Ethan why she left, how she later regretted it and apologised for the pain she caused. She knew it was not going to erase the pain but she wanted to at least apologise for walking out but now wants to to be better, for you. You could have sent me off after three days but you did not.”

Ethan was overcome with emotion.

“I was a changed person after that day. I had a lot of anger in me from that. I did not let many people in because of what you did. You are right, an apology is not going to erase 25 years of anger but it is a start.”

Louise looks relieved. We have to head back to Edenbrook. Ethan and Casey head to the car.

“How are you really Ethan.”

“Remember at the Stevenson’s how I said I had a certain restlessness that I could not pin down.

I nod in reply.

“Well it is very disquieting to share personality traits with an addict but at the same time there is an element of relief. I still do not know what to do next but that is a question for another day.”

“I am hear for you Ethan.” I then grab his hand again.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

He looks at me. All notion of of self control goes. I lean across and kiss him gently. He returns the kiss and we pull apart.

“Remind me thank you more often.”

I smile as we return to Edenbrook. We drive back in silence. A million thoughts are running through my brain. All pertaining to why the hell did I kiss Ethan and what does it all mean. It is not like it was a quick peck on the cheek, it was a full kiss. Will we get back together, will he just think I was caught in the moment even though I was not. At least I can take comfort in the fact that he was not angry.

Meanwhile Ethan’s brain is running a million miles an hour too. He wanted nothing more in the last few weeks than to kiss Casey again. It took all his self control not to take the kiss further. He was not expecting it but was glad it happened but what to do next was the thoughts that were plaguing him now. They return to Edenbrook and make their way to the Diagnostics team room. June is there and asks where we have been as we have test results. What is causing the sepsis is Intestinal Cryptosporidiosis. They go to the treatment room and advise Marissa. She is happy to know what the cause is and we start her on a treatment plan of Nitazoxanide but time is running out. We discuss moving her up the transplant list and other medications to speed up recovery but we decide no on the extra medication but look into transplant list options.

I head down to the ward to check on my intern. I can see that the stress of Levi Coates is getting to her especially with all the speculation. I tell her that she needs to put it behind her much as possible but Esme states that she feels that she is the reason behind the failed merger between Edenbrook and Mass Kenmore. I want to try and get a straight answer out of her as to what happened but I am unable to do so. We go through our patients. I head up to the Diagnostics room to get an update. Ethan states that the treatment is working but not fast enough. He advises that he has authorised the liver to go to someone else. We go to break the news to Marissa. She is understandably upset but understands.

Later on, I head to Donahue’s and catch up with my friends. We are all understandably anxious about the future with the hospital not having much time left. I try to have fun but all I can think about is Ethan. The kiss today, the hand holding this morning and how I wish I was with him right now. The evening wears on, after several drinks I feel brave and send a text

CV: are you free, would like to talk

ER: I am at home.

I feign tiredness and tell everyone I am going to head home. I walk out of Donahue’s and order a ride share to Ethan’s. I let him know I am on my way.

I arrive at his building and press the buzzer. He lets me in. I make my way up to his apartment. He is standing in the doorway waiting for me. He hugs me tight. I inhale his scent. He then kisses me on the forehead.

“This is one of the things we need to talk about.”

We pull apart and head inside.

“Would you like some choc cherry tart?”

“What, no chicken?” I say with a giggle.

Ethan just glares and breaks into a smile.

“I would love some.” I say.” I sit at the island bench while he is serving.

I take a bite.”oh my gosh this is amazing! Have you been watching Nigella again?”

Ethan smiles at me ruefully.

“Seeing you genuinely smile for the first time in several weeks is all the justification I need to watch more Nigella.”

We eat our dessert and I move to sit on the couch. He pours himself a scotch and asks if I want one. I accept.

“I have missed you.” I say as he sits facing me on his couch.

“We see each other daily”

“Not what I meant Ethan and you know it.”

We sit in silence drinking our scotch

“The last few weeks have been torture Ethan.” I say rather more spitefully than I intended.

“All I have wanted to do since we broke up was see you, hug you, kiss you, hell I even wished you were in Vegas with us so you could fuck me up against the penthouse room window but no. We both had to decide that we could not handle the bullshit from everyone else at work and I regret that most of all. I have wanted to come to you so much. I have an intern who will not tell me what the hell really happened and I presume anyone else the truth of what happened which is making baby sitting her even more awkward as I can not even bring myself to tell her that I think she did. Yes we took down Panacea and Declan but the next day Kenmore is bought out and we can not help but feel responsible. And again all I have wanted to do was come to you but could not...”

By this time I am tears, hot streaming possibly some of them angry streaming down my face. Ethan moves to give me a hug and I bury face in his chest. He rubs his hands up and down my back. Eventually I settle and I pour myself another scotch. I offer the bottle to Ethan and he pours himself another.

“You are not alone rookie.” Ethan takes a sip of his drink and takes a deep breath.

“Every time I have seen you visibly upset all I have wanted to do was hug you and kiss you, hell even take you on the desk if we were alone but I haven’t and that is all because I know I have caused much of the pain. I talk myself out then berate myself later for being such a selfish coward because despite deciding to end the romantic part of our relationship I have wanted to be there for you, as your mentor and friend but what I feel for you is simmering close to the surface.”

Casey grabs Ethan’s hand and interlocks her fingers with his and squeezes.

“What are we going to do? I can see us imploding if we try to keep this charade up but I care for you too much to only want to keep things casual and keeping it professional at work is not going to work either.”

Ethan rests his spare hand on Casey’s cheek. “Do you remember what I said the first time we succumbed to our wants?”

“ I knew that if I crossed the line again there would be no coming back from it. Well you were right about it in more ways than one.”

Casey moves so that he legs are across Ethan’s lap and she positions her forehead on his. Ethan moves closer, gently kissing Casey on the lips. He pulls back slightly.

“We don’t need to decide right now rookie. I certainly do not want us to be a clandestine affair, you deserve so much more than that. Can't we just enjoy this moment. Casey nods and kisses Ethan gently. They stay in that position kissing and just holding each other for quite awhile and then they change position so that Ethan is on top. They continue to kiss, it started off as tender but it was getting more and more intense as time went on. Casey was getting an all to familiar sensation stirring in her loins. She so badly wanted to succumb but did not want to, not tonight anyway. As Ethan moved slightly she could feel his hard on and boy was it hard. She tried to put those thoughts out of her mind. He started to kiss down her neck, which solicited a moan from her mouth. The next thing Casey knew is that Ethan’s hand was moving up the inside of her thigh. She knew that if she was not going to go further she had to stop now as she knew how wet for him she was.

“Ethan, please stop!” She says. Ethan stops with his hand literally millimetres from her centre. He removes his hand and sits up.

“Are you alright?” He asks perplexed “have I done something wrong?”

“Not at all Ethan. As much as I more than want too, I also don’t want too- its weird I know but I just don’t know how I am going to feel afterwards- especially since we have not defined what this is. I’m sorry Ethan.”

“No need to apologise Rookie.” He says “you know I would never force you into anything you were not a 100% sure on.”

We look at the clock and it is 1:00am. “Did you want to stay in the guest bedroom?” Ethan asks.

“That will be nice, thank you.”

He gives me a hug and walks me to the door. “Sweet dreams rookie.”

“Goodnight Ethan.” I make my way to the bed and fall into an exhausted sleep.

Meanwhile Ethan goes to his room. A part of him wishes he had resolved what they were exactly but he also knew there were too many unknowns which made such a decision difficult. Deep down he was relieved that his feelings were reciprocated but with what happened a few weeks ago still very raw for both of them- it was hard. Ethan was exhausted but he still had a raging hard on. He so badly wanted to relieve himself inside Casey but knew that No meant no and he was not going to pressure her into a yes. He went to bed and started rub himself. Despite the exhaustion he took his time and called out Casey’s name as he released. Ethan than falls asleep. His alarm wakes him up. He gets up and goes to the kitchen and makes a cup of coffee. Casey then emerges from the guest room.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please- can you drop me home? I have no spare clothes.”

“Of course I can.” He says. They finish their coffee and Ethan drops her home.

He pulls up at the front of their building.

“Sorry for earlier” says Casey.

Ethan grabs her hand and squeezes it. “There is nothing to be sorry about Casey. You were not sure if you wanted to continue and you listened to that. I would never force you into anything that you don’t want to do.”

“Thanks Ethan.” Casey gives him a hug. “See you at work.”

Casey arrives at work to find Marissa upset. The liver she was promised has moved to another as she is too unwell to have it. She is convinced that this was her last chance.

Casey leaves her be and heads to the ward. She spots Bryce talking to two people. The lady is going to be receiving the liver. After Bryce leaves Casey walks over to have a chat. Apparently the male was going to donate a lobe of his liver to his sister Janice. Casey states she is happy that Janice was able to get the liver and asks her brother if he would still consider donating a lobe in a few days time when Marissa is better. Casey explains the situation and Janice urges her brother to do this.

Casey takes Janice’s brother to meet Marissa and they have a chat about everything. Kyra then spots her.

“You’re looking happy”

“Yeah I am, glad to see that there is still kindness in this world, even if it is towards strangers.

Kyra looks inspired. “Kindness of Strangers. I have an idea” and she walks off.

Despite still so much being up in the air with Ethan and the future, Casey is cautiously optimistic that things are slowly looking up.

————

Authors note: well that is my take on chapter 16. Next up the gala.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @genevievemd @potionsprefect @cariantha @tessa-liam @socalwriterbee @bex-la-get @a-crepusculo @crazy-loca-blog @trappedinfanfiction @binny1985 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lucy-268

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices fanfic writers creations #casey valentine #book 2 #rewrite of a rewrite #choices stories you play #fic of the week

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