c, i just listened to dark side kelly clarkson for the first time in WAY TOO LONG and god i’m obsessed

do you have a top five ish list of your favorite kelly songs?

ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG!!! i don’t listen to it nearly as much as i should/want to! the last half of it slaps SO HARD. kelly literally never misses <3

and omg top five ish list?? hardest ask of my life 😭

long shot (my all-time fave song ever)

how i feel

magic

tip of my tongue

save you

and (bc you said five-ISH and to limit myself from listing all of kelly’s songs), i’ll list my favorites off of each album (i won’t repeat songs in my top 5 though)

Thankful (2002)

just missed the train

Breakaway (2003)

walk away

My December (2007)

judas

All I Ever Wanted (2009) (THE album of all time)

already gone

honorable mentions: whyyawannabringmedown and the day we fell apart

Stronger (2011)

hello

Wrapped in Red (2013)

underneath the tree

Piece by Piece (2016)

second wind

Meaning of Life (2017)

heat

When Christmas Comes Around (2021)

santa, can’t you hear me

Chemistry (2023) (my second favorite kelly album <3)

lighthouse

i’m very much aware this was more than you asked (i leaned heavily into the “ish”), but i saw kelly and got excited and flew off the handle lolll if you decide to listen to any of these and wanna talk about them hmu! also, if you want to tell, i’d like to know your fave kelly songs!

The incredible rise of guitar hero Sophie Lloyd: from YouTube covers to Machine Gun Kelly

Sophie Lloyd has gone from playing Avenged Sevenfold covers in her teenage band to working with Matt Heafy and Machine Gun Kelly

It was during a show in August 2022 at the FirstEnergy Stadium in Ohio, home to the Cleveland Browns NFL team, in front of 41,000 people, that Sophie Lloyd knew she was doing something right. She was playing guitar for US pop-punk/tabloid star Machine Gun Kelly, when he brought four fans onstage. One of them was a girl, who ran right past him to gift Sophie a cap.

“It was such a cool moment!” Sophie grins today. “I was on my knees jamming with her. It was one of my favourite moments of the tour – and I still have that hat.”

That tour was in support of Machine Gun Kelly’s sixth album, Mainstream Sellout, and encompassed some of the US and Europe’s biggest venues. Before Sophie joined his band, she hadn’t even played to 1,000 people before. At least, not in person.

Sophie is part of a generation of YouTube guitarists – players showing off their chops online, building a following via a combination of covers, original songs, tuition and personality. She has 869,000 subscribers, and is unique in making that leap to IRL stardom in arenas. Some old-school gatekeepers might argue she hasn’t paid her dues, but she stresses she’s put in many hours of practice, and it took eight years before her channel made any money.

“Anyone who thinks it’s easy to get big on YouTube clearly fucking doesn’t know shit,” she says. “I get what they’re saying, in a way… people who’ve been in broken-down vans, and slept in the ‘roach coach’ where there’s roaches climbing everywhere, for a gig that’s paying you £30 – I get it. And I did elements of that when I was growing up. But the world has changed now – you either need to evolve with it and become successful with it, or you’re just stuck in your ways and you’re complaining about it. We want to be inspiring these young people growing up and creating, we don’t want to be bashing them down.”

Sophie’s sitting in her living room this afternoon, in front of a towering scratching post, as cats Luna and Jaxx run around. Behind that, boyfriend Chris Painter, her co-writer, drummer and sometimes videographer, is on the sofa on a laptop. She speaks with the kind of smiling, chatty confidence you see in her videos, clear and assured but not afraid to show vulnerability.

Her introduction to heavy music came from her dad, a data scientist, who would play Rory Gallagher, Joe Bonamassa, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath in the car. At age nine, she took a few lessons in classical guitar, but it didn’t really land. It was seeing an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants – yes, really – soon after that inspired her to pick up an electric guitar.

“People have these really cool backstories and I’m like, ‘Fuck, mine was an episode of SpongeBob’, she laughs. “It’s when they cover the Twisted Sister song I Wanna Rock, and it’s like [she sings] ‘I’m a goofy goober, rock!’ with lasers shooting out of guitars. I was like, ‘Oh my god, that���s so awesome. That’s what I wanna do.’”

Falling in love with electric guitar, she got big into emo and punk, alongside guitar virtuosos Joe Satriani and Steve Vai. The problem was, there weren’t many heavy music fans in her gentile hometown of Henley-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, and she felt like an outcast.

“I dressed like a proper rocker,” she explains. “I had the undersides of my hair dyed black, and I would wear studded bracelets. Which doesn’t sound too extreme, but in Henley-on-Thames, it’s like, ‘Who the hell is this Satan worshipper?!’ And I felt like I didn’t really connect. I didn’t have anyone to go to gigs with. I’d go with my dad, and he’d be there in his suit in the back row, while I’m moshing in the front. I wish I’d had people to share that stuff with.”

Instead, Sophie spent a lot of time alone. While everyone else was hanging out at lunchtime, she’d go to the school’s music room. While they went to parties, she would stay home and practise songs. Between the ages of 13-17, she became withdrawn. “It was kind of like a dark time, I guess?” she remembers. “But at the same time, you look back and you’re like, ‘I’m so grateful that happened’, because that’s where my inspiration and creativity really grew.”

During that period, she also joined her first band, The Hidden Truth, via the website Joinmyband.com. Their first set included covers by Chelsea Grin, Parkway Drive, Avenged Sevenfold and Black Veil Brides. “We were awful,” she laughs. “But that was a fun time. It was the first time I’d been around other musicians, and discovered the love of playing music.”

Like her dad, Sophie excelled in science, and landed a scholarship to study Forensic Science at Sussex. But just before she was meant to start, she got the feeling something was wrong, and made a snap decision to apply to music school BIMM London, where she’d spend the next four years.

It was another tough time for Sophie who, desperate to get good grades, doggedly studied genres she wasn’t interested in, such as gypsy jazz, rather than playing the metal she loved – all while in a “bad relationship” with someone who didn’t want her to pursue music at all. When they broke up after her second year, she started therapy and antidepressants, leading to a change in mindset. Rather than worrying about her academic performance, she loosened up and applied her new knowledge to her rock playing – and still got a First.

“I was like, ‘Right, I’m gonna take home all this stuff that I’m learning around different genres, and play it through a distortion amp to a rock backing track and see how it sounds,’” she says. “I started writing and honing in on my particular sound. Although they felt like some of the worst times, I was sort of born again. Sorry, that got a bit deep!”

Although Sophie never had a career path in mind, she’s thrived on YouTube, uploading her “shred versions” of songs by artists ranging from Iron Maiden and Killswitch Engage to Britney Spears and Dua Lipa, alongside vlogs about everything from pedals to performance anxiety. She started her channel in 2012 at age 16, hoping to meet likeminded people, and went full time with it after BIMM while working a side job at dessert restaurant Creams (“I don’t mean to brag, but I make amazing sundaes!” she laughs).

Early YouTuber inspirations were Andy James, then guitarist of Sacred Mother Tongue and now in Five Finger Death Punch, alongside personable general creators such as danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil. For Sophie, YouTube isn’t just about guitar playing, it’s about relatability. When she arrived in the States for the MGK tour, she filmed herself lying in bed, crying, nervous and homesick.

“I want people to see it’s not just all rock’n’roll. We’re all humans, we all go through shit. Sometimes you can look at social media and be like, ‘Everything’s perfect for this person’, but I think it’s important to break that wall down and be like, ‘Well, it’s not always sunshine and roses,’” she explains.

The tour was a leap for Sophie, who had only played small gigs with The Hidden Truth, a few bands at uni, and her last venture, Marisa And The Moths. She’d messaged MGK two years earlier on a whim, saying, ‘If you ever need a guitarist, hit me up!’ – and there he was in her DMs in April 2022, looking for a live guitarist. After a FaceTime meeting with him and his team, she learned the songs within a month.

“I was fucking terrified, because it’s such a different thing that I didn’t even really know if I wanted to do it. I didn’t know if I’d like it,” she admits. “But I always try to live my life with the mantra, ‘What would make the best story’? And I thought I’d just give it a go. If it fails, at least I’ve got a funny story to tell at the pub on a Friday night, you know? Ha ha ha!”

Growing up on YouTube rather than ‘paying her dues’ the old-fashioned way had left Sophie with a bad case of imposter syndrome that she’d long been battling before this tour.

“I was like, ‘I’ve come through this such unique avenue. Do I deserve to be at this level when I haven’t gone that traditional route?’ But I think your journey’s your journey. And I think you’ve just got to try and shake that,” she says. “You shouldn’t have any shame about what you’ve done to get to where you are, because at the end of the day everyone works to be where they are, and if they’re there, they’re there for a reason.”

Luckily, her nerves evaporated as soon as she stepped onstage for the first date in Austin, Texas. “I was like, ‘Oh my God, this is what I’m meant to be doing,’” she smiles. 

Sophie’s willingness to be in the public eye was tested when a baseless rumour started circulating in the media that MGK had cheated on his fiancée, actress Megan Fox, with her. To get some downtime, the guitarist and her boyfriend retreated to her parents’ house, where they were doorstopped by a reporter. Meanwhile, Megan stepped in to dispel the rumours, calling Sophie “insanely talented”.

“Yeah, that was wild!” she exclaims, calmly but with disbelief. “I never thought I’d be in some sort of internet scandal. The week it happened, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’ve been in a relationship with my boyfriend for five years, and we just had our anniversary. It felt like a step back for women in the industry, in a way. Where just because there’s a girl in the band, they automatically become the homewrecker, when it’s like, ‘I’m just doing my job.’ I was annoyed and I didn’t want girls to see that.”

At the start of the pandemic, Sophie and boyfriend Chris began working on her debut album, candidly titled Imposter Syndrome. Following on from her Satriani-influenced instrumental Delusions EP in 2018, and inspired by Slash’s 2010 self-titled debut solo record, it features an array of guest vocalists, including her former bandmate Marisa, Nathan James from Inglorious, Trivium’s Matt Heafy and more to be announced.

“The album is so full-circle,” says Sophie. “I’ve gone from being scared to even do a live performance online – that’s why I started my Twitch in 2021, to try and start doing live stuff to feel less like an imposter – to playing Wembley Arena live. It’s a cool story.” 

She plans to tour Imposter Syndrome next year, and then carry on with YouTube, Twitch, Patreon and whatever else comes up, in an era where artists need multiple revenue streams to survive, and on a mission to “bring shred guitar into the mainstream”. In the long run, she’d like to open an animal sanctuary. For now, she’s happy she’s been able to reach so many people – especially young women, like the one at the Ohio show.

“Everything I do, I do with the thought of my 15-year-old self watching,” she says. “I’m making my YouTube channel for that girl. That’s the same with my album. I wrote it with the idea of, ‘What would that girl wanna listen to?’ or ‘What would be inspiring for her?’ I wanna make that depressed little metalhead child happy and make her smile.”

Punisher Pt. 7

Seventh part of Punisher. I couldn’t stop writing so here’s another part. I included a dress as a suggestion of what Jo would wear to the renewal, I’m just so obsessed with that dress, but imagine it how you want! This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the shows.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, mentions of domestic abuse

“It looks great, thank you Jo,” Trudy warmly grabs my shoulder. I smile and let her get back to her other guests. The ceremony was short and sweet, Trudy and Mouch exchanged the same vows they did years ago. Trudy looked like a badass with her white suit while Mouch wore his dress uniform. Since they got married at city hall they didn’t get to have the full experience and wanted to dress up to the nines for the occasion. Everyone, out of respect, dusted off their dress uniforms as well, even the Intelligence Unit wore their’s. That left the doctors, spouses, and me in our formal wear. I haven’t had to dress up for an occasion like this in what felt like years, Silvie had to take me shopping to find a dress since I had nothing. I grab a glass of champagne from the table and bring it to my lips. 

“Trudy happy with the place?” Jay asks, I nod as I swallow.

“Yeah, she even thanked me,” I say proudly. 

“Well, it looks like you owe me a dance tonight,” Jay leans down to grab a bottle of beer from the tin tub filled with ice. 

“Oh yeah? How did you come to that conclusion exactly?”

“It’s simple really. I helped you decorate this place and Trudy loves it so it would be a thank you dance so to speak,” Jay smirks as he pops the cap of his beer.

“Well if I had known that there would’ve been strings attached, I definitely would’ve thought it through more.”

“What more do you need to think through?”

“You don’t seem like a good dancer if I’m being honest.”

“I’m a great dancer.” 

“We’ll see,” before Jay can respond we are told to take our seats for dinner and toasts. I’m sitting with most of the Molly’s crew - Stella, Kelly, Hermann, Cindy, me, and Matt, while Jay’s table is all of the Intelligence Unit. Normally I’d roll my eyes if they put Jay and I at the same table, knowing that it was them mostly teasing us, but right now I deeply wish that we weren’t at different tables. 

“Excuse me everyone,” Chief Boden announces. “I was asked by the couple to say a few words.” The room quiets to listen, there are only a few clangs of silverware since people are still eating. 

“I’ve had the privilege to know these two separately and as a couple. And let me tell you, if you don’t believe in soulmates, these two will make you reassess. I remember when they first met - I’d never seen Mouch so giddy and Trudy so… quiet. It was like they knew what was about to happen.

“I’ve been lucky enough to be with my wife for some years now, and her love changed me. Just like I know your love for one another has changed each other. I think anyone can tell you that love is easy, sometimes it's so simple, just like you’re waking up in the morning. But other times…. It can get really hard. Love isn’t something of convenience, there's sacrifice and there will never be a ‘right time.’ But I can tell you it’s so worth it,” without thinking, I look at Jay. 

“You two have something so fierce that cannot be copied, but hell we all will try. To Randall and Trudy,” Chief Boden raises his beer to the couple that snaps me out of my daze. Maybe, I’ve been wrong this entire time to push Jay away. Boden’s words sit heavy on my chest for the rest of the toasts. Is it okay to confide in Jay? I turn to look at him again and this time I meet his bright blue, ocean eyes. He doesn’t try to look away, he smoothly winks and smiles. 

“Thank you all so much for being here. We know we surprised everyone when we got married nearly ten years ago. You are all so important to us, that we wanted to go through this with you. We love you, now drink up!” Mouch yells. People immediately get up to get more drinks and start mingling again. I shoot down the rest of my champagne and go behind the bar to get more. 

“I think you’re off the clock Jo,” Will jokes. 

“It’s like a safe space, a security blanket almost.” I gesture to ask if Will wants another beer and he nods. “So how’s everything going with you and Nat? I mean, your ‘guy’ and his girl?” I slide him the opened beer.

“What?” his eyebrows furrow. 

“You and Nat? The girl that just went through the ‘massive life change,’ you know who you have feelings for?” 

“What? I wasn’t talking about us,” Will begins to whisper yell.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” I whisper back.

“No I really wasn’t talking about us. Why would you think I would be talking about us?!”

“Because her husband died a year ago?! And you’re shamelessly in love with her?! Also everyone knows that when they say ‘I know someone who’ they’re really talking about themselves!” I whisper yell back to him.

“I’m not shamelessly in love with her, please.” 

“Yes you are.”

“No - I was talking about Jay!” 

“What?” My voice sounds as if I was punched in the gut. Hearing that Jay wants someone else feels painful. It has to be karma for not speaking up sooner. I lost him.

Before Will can say anymore, Jay walks up to the both of us. He slaps his brother on the back and scolds us for not joining the party. 

“I should get out there, thanks Jo,” Will stands up from the stool and walks away. 

“What were you two talking about?” Jay asks through a laugh. 

“Ugh… you actually.” 

“Yeah? Whatever he said he’s lying,” Jay jokes, but I don’t laugh.

“He said you have feelings for someone, and it’s painfully obvious apparently.” “I wouldn’t say painfully -”

“But you do?” he nods. “I’m happy for you,” I plaster on a fake smile. 

“You are?” he asks, almost confused.

“Of course, I’d love to meet her if I haven’t already,” Jay starts laughing. 

“Jo,” he holds my hand. “I guess it isn’t so painfully obvious to one person. To the one person it matters.”

Oh shit.

“C’mon,” he doesn’t wait for me to speak. “I think you owe me a dance.” 

Adele’s cover of “Lovesong” comes through the speakers as guests begin to couple up. Without a word I walk out from behind the bar and take Jay’s hand again. He strokes his thumb on the back of my hand as he leads me out to the dance floor. My other hand rests around his neck while his free hand wraps around my waist to pull me close. Our temples rest against each other as we sway to the music. 

“I feel so stupid,” I whisper.

“Don’t, you needed time.”

“Thank you for giving it to me,” I pull away to look into his eyes.

“Of course, take all the time you need, okay?” I nod. “You look beautiful,” I can feel my cheeks flush.

“Thank you. You look…. Really hot in that uniform,” he laughs. 

“Thank you,” we hold each other’s gaze. I watch as Jay’s eyes flicker down towards my lips. I look down towards our feet, not allowing the potential kiss.

“I’m sorry, it feels like everyone is watching us,” I whisper. 

“You never have to apologize to me about that,” he whispers in my ear. “And you’re right, they are. Stella just gave me a thumbs up,” I laugh. Jay and I sway there for a while, despite knowing everyone is looking I never want to leave Jay’s arms. Luckily another slow song begins to play. 

“I wanted to ask you something, um, police related,” he nods.

“I can’t get you out of that parking ticket Jo.”

“I paid it already,” he laughs. “No, I have this friend from back in LA and her boyfriend was horrible. He’s this drug runner, that would hit her so she got a restraining order. She moved to Boston to get as far away as possible, but would the restraining order still work in Boston?”

“Yeah, it should. Does she think he’d follow her out there?”

“Maybe? He’s unhinged and obsessive.”

“Well, I have some friends from the service that are now cops out there. I can give them her information to check on her.”

“You’d do that?” he nods.

“She’s important to you and she must be scared out of her mind.”

“Yeah, she is. But it took a lot of convincing to get her to even let me ask you about it, so I don’t know.”

“Whatever she’s comfortable with, you let me know.”

“I will, thank you,” Jay spins me out and back, making me laugh. I’ve never felt a moment more perfect than tonight. I guess I’ll have to make Will that Manhattan after all.

Taglist: @whit85-blog @bestillmystuckyheart @nocturnalherb16 @5sos-imagine​ @miranda0102

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

Radio Free Samwell

@exhibit-no-restraint sent along an awesome prompt requesting Jack falling for the school radio station DJ, and this is what popped out! Thank you for donating and I hope you like it!

Jack Zimmermann considers himself a creature of habit. As a collegiate level athlete with designs on going pro, Jack has to be diligent; routine isn’t just a necessity, it’s a mandate. 

This is the reason Jack’s so surly when his 4:30 alarm starts blaring Single Ladies instead of the expected classic rock. At first, he thinks it must be a mistake, so Jack checks the station: 96.9 ‘Radio Free Samwell’. 

Sitting in his twin bed, sheets rucked around his waist, Jack presses the heel of his palm against his eye and resigns himself to a new year and a new morning DJ. 

Goodbye Journey, hello Beyoncé.

_________

“You’re looking particularly surly this morning,” Shitty greets from the landing when Jack manages to stumble downstairs, half focused on tying his shoes. “You’re usually so chipper before you terrorize the incoming class.”

“Woke up to the wrong song,” Jack yawns, rolling onto his toes to pop his spine. “Trying not to take it as a sign of how the season’s gonna go.”

“Oh, day one and we’ve already got Mister Cynical,” Shitty catches the yawn. “That is a sign.”

Jack gives Shitty the finger.

_________

Hall pulls Jack aside after initial introductions.

“I need you to keep an eye out for anyone that needs improvement. There’s a freshman enrolled on waivers that submitted for scholarship and showed potential; I’d like to give him a shot if we’ve got any weak links.”

Jack casts a glance to the freshman running drills with Shitty and Johnson. They all appear to be decent talent, if rusty from a summer without conditioning.

“What kind of potential?”

“Ex-figure skater. Skinner-type. Speedy winger with some level of contact aversion.”

“Contact aversion? You could tell that from his tape?”

Hall nods.

“Never seen so much spin-o-rama in a submission. Skilled, but he was doing everything possible not to get checked. We don’t need the kid but I don’t like leaving talent on the table, especially when it’s already here.”

Jack takes a second look at the freshman, now with something amorphous to compare them to. Johnson catches Jack’s eye and waves. Jack waves back without thinking.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” He echoes, knowing that while the request is somewhat benign, he’s definitely been directed to cull the fat from the incoming class.

__________

Jack blinks awake, not to a high energy tune, but to a soft, accented voice wishing him a good morning. Or, rather, wishing all of Samwell a good morning; but for a brief moment Jack’s bleary enough to live in a world where he’s just that special to be receiving a personal shout out.

The moment passes when the next song begins to play and Jack rolls over, covering his ears with his pillow to escape the synth bop.

___________

Jack wakes to Nicki Minaj and rolls over to grab his phone, squinting at the bright light as he texts the radio line with misplaced irritation. He’s only half awake but he can bitch like the best of them when he needs to.

Jack definitely doesn’t expect to hear a reply so quickly after the song ends.

“Wow. And I thought it was just campus security and my lonesome self out here. This student seems to have taken umbrage with my choice of music this morning and has suggested if I must play ‘pop’ music I sprinkle in a little ‘culture’. Well, mysterious student who has no reason to be awake and this rude at 4:30 AM, I guess I can meet you halfway. Hope you like Mika.”

Jack stares at his radio as the mildly accusatory opening refrain of ‘Grace Kelly’ begins drifting from the speakers. Jack actually does enjoy Mika.

‘You know Mika recorded a live album with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra?’

Jack doesn’t receive a reply, because it’s a one way line, but the next song is the orchestral version of Relax (Take It Easy), the soft rendition so gentle it nearly sends Jack right back to sleep. He slaps the snooze button before he loses his rhythm, and when the radio clicks on again five minutes later, the music that pumps through the small speakers is something Jack doesn’t recognize.

____________

The next morning, Jack wakes to late 2000s Britney Spears.

‘What was that about culture?’ Jack texts blearily.

After the song finishes, that soft, southern voice comes on the air and sighs, “I shouldn’t reward bad behavior, but I’m also certain you’re the only person on campus listening right now.”

The next track is another Mika song. Jack takes the victory and texts ‘Thank you. I like having a routine.’

Three minutes later, Relax (Take it Easy) plays again.

For the following week, at 4:30 AM sharp, there is a song from the same Mika album. Jack’s not even necessarily a fan, but he appreciates the gesture from this faceless DJ with an adorable voice.

____________

Petersen starts to fade around week three. Jack would assume some measure of partying  is the culprit, but then he starts hearing the rumors about Yale sniffing around rival schools to poach talent after a disappointing recruiting season and losing several players to NHL development deals.

“Time to give that back-up kid a call?” Jack asks. “Petersen’s itching to bounce.”

“Might be time,” Hall agrees. “We’ll talk to Nathan and if he’s a goner we can bring Bittle in. If this happens, can I count on you to get him up to speed?”

The Jack of a few short years ago would have been insulted by the question, at the loose implication he can’t handle working with a new teammate, but he’s gone through enough therapy to know better, now.

“How much speed we talking?” Jack jokes, relishing the smile he gets from his coach.

____________

For the first time since he’s returned to Samwell, Jack wakes to a song that predates 2005. It takes a moment to adjust, and just like that, the new routine is gone. With Petersen gone, and a new winger stepping up to take his place, maybe it’s a sign of normalcy returning to the Samwell Men’s Hockey team.

____________

Eric Bittle introduces himself, voice light, bearing a familiar accent, and Jack’s first damning thought is that Bittle doesn’t have a face for radio.

All That Jazz (Jason Todd x Theater Star!Reader)

-Requested by: @inconspicuousasparagus​  

(Sorry I didn’t include the Batfam, girl! I hope you still do like this though!)

The last three smut fics had public sex in it. I swear I’m not a felon.

WORDS: 2431 WARNINGS: MASTURBATION IN A CAR. BLOWJOB IN A CAR. IN PUBLIC. LOTS OF DIRTY TALK. AND GETTING A BONER AT THE WORST TIME

Masterlist

Slick your hair

And wear your buckle shoes

And all that Jazz

This song. This fucking song. This fucking song that never seemed to end. He knew this scene was going to bite him in the ass, but there wasn’t any worse possible time for him to get a fucking huge boner. Jason shifted around his seat with as little movement as possible.

He placed his hand on his crotch. Fuck. The friction just made it worse.

He tried with the arm rests, but the two people beside him had them occupied.

He bit on his hand. Focus on the pain. Look anywhere else on stage. Just not at you. Jason shouldn’t have bought a seat so fucking close. He could see the lace of your stockings, the ties on the corset, the bright red on your lips that he desperately wanted against his dick. Fuck. It was getting bigger.

It's just a noisy hall

Where there's a nightly brawl

And all that jazz

Velma Kelly. It was your first night as Velma Kelly during your run as an understudy, and you only had a few performances. You were so happy when you heard the news, and Jason was even more pumped. He watched other performances of Velma with you and he couldn’t wait to see you on stage as one of the sexiest characters in any musical. You had a fantastic voice, and tonight, it resonated into him and went straight down to his fucking crotch.

He didn’t know he had a thing for 1920s vaudeville girls in fishnets and bob wigs. Fuck, how was he supposed to know that? Maybe it was because it was you. It was probably that. Or not, because he wasn’t going to look at tiny black dresses the same way again.

Your legs were up in the air, your arms were around another man. But instead of feeling the slightest pang of jealousy like he usually does; it only gave him a more accurate image of how you’d run your hands all over his chest if you were in character.

Motherfucker. He was going to draw blood eventually from chewing at his gums so much.

The scene did eventually end. And it was only the overture.

He prayed he’ll get through the night.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jason was already outside waiting for you, and immediately he pulled you into the tightest hug, never mind the bulk of your coat and his. It was the final touch of the victorious sense of pride you needed after your first successful performance.

“You. Were. Amazing.”

“Thank you!” You grabbed his face and kissed him hard even as the other cast members had walked out the door and gave you knowing glances you couldn’t care less about. Jason wasn’t going out for patrol tonight. Even after the performance. It was your night. He was going to dedicate the whole of his to you.

“I thought I messed up my lines back there,” you squealed. “Hopefully no one noticed!”

“You were perfect. In every way. I’m so proud of you.” He hugged you again and kissed the top of your head. You couldn’t stop smiling, inhaling into his neck and enjoying that lighthearted, blissful rush through your whole body.

“I have more good news!” You handed him your phone with a screenshot of an email you got while you were performing.

“They loved my audition! I’m officially Anne Boleyn in the Original Gotham Cast of SIX!”

“HOLY SHIT, WOMAN.” Jason snatched your phone and read through the contents. You couldn’t stop squealing and hugging him, jumping around even with his large chest in your arms. He kept kissing your face, neck, anywhere that wasn’t covered to hide from the cold. He kept saying ‘I’m so proud of you’ ‘God, you’re amazing’ ‘I’m so lucky to have you’ over and over like it was the only set of words he knew at the moment.

“Jason, you can totally go on patrol tonight if you want to-“

“Oh, no.” he pulled you into his arm and walked you out of the alley back to the car. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not after that performance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have your costume with you?”

He opened the car door for you and you stopped to look at him skeptically. “No, but I’m wearing a black dress underneath my coa-“

“Good enough. Get in the car.”

You laughed when he walked over to the driver’s seat a bit too eagerly. Like he was skipping like a little boy. You drove out of the theater and turned the heater on.

Jason turned to you, and everytime you stopped at an intersection, he’d put his hand on your knee and squeeze it. The car was getting too hot, so you took off your large coat.

His mouth instinctively began to water. The black dress wasn’t the same. It had long sleeves that covered most of your arms, but your had boots on so you only had thin leggings underneath you still looked so hot. And the lipstick you had on hadn’t faded. Jason drove his hand further up your leg, then pulled away when the light turned green.

“Jason, you are horny as fuck.”

“You can’t fucking blame me when you were up there in fishnets, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop laughing after that. “Were you hard for the last two hours?”

“Three. I had a boner since the overture.”

“Oh. My God.”

Another traffic light. And it didn’t look like he was going to get past this after the next one. The traffic was a fucking ass and it wasn’t going to be until another thirty minutes until he reaches the apartment at this rate.

“You looked so fucking hot. As much as I loved the show I couldn’t wait to get home and fuck the living daylights out of you.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and leaned in against his ear. “Would you like me to sing while you’re at it?”

“You’ll be screaming the highest fucking notes you never thought you’d reach.”

Jason’s hand went to your leg again, this time playing with the thin fabric going all the way up to your upper thigh.

“I swear I’ve never had a boner like that in public in my life. I had to go to the bathroom twice in the intermission. I almost wanted to jack off while I was at it if not for the line. Fuck, I couldn’t take it. You’re so fucking hot. Your performance was one thing but the costumes you wore. Shit¸ I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.”

He squeezed your leg. You could feel your juices seeping through your underwear.

“Jay,” you breathed too heavily. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, kitten.”

You looked at him with the hottest smirk and made sure the red of your lips were what his eyes were on when you licked them intensely. Further up, his hand reached the waist band of your tights, just as the cars began to move. “Fuck.”

He turned the car to the right. Whichever was the quickest way to the apartment. But there was traffic no matter where he went. He stopped again at a red light, and his hand went back to your hip, under your tights and underwear so he could have at it with your cunt.

“Fuck,” you moaned. It was the same sounds you made on stage when you sang. You threw your head back and reclined your seat.

“These windows are tinted right?”

“This used to be Bruce’s. Of course, it’s tinted. It’s practically a mirror.”

“Good,” you laid back and kicked off your boots. You were getting so wet. Your hand was gripping your hair just as he started circling your clit, gathering your wetness and stimulated it with more pressure than he usually gives you. He was rougher tonight, and you gasped when he pressed on it a bit too hard.

“That’s it. Lay down. Lick those red lips for me.”

You did just that, and his fingers violated your clit even faster. Your moans were getting louder, and you could only hope this car was sound proof. You bit the back of your hand but Jason pulled it away from you.

He heard a car honk its horn and it turns out the light had been green for a while. Jason cursed beneath his breath and you took it as a chance to relax. “Play with yourself, kitten. I’ll watch you.”

You couldn’t argue. Your hand continued Jason’s job and you spread your legs even wider, never taking your eyes off him while you played with your folds the way he’d do it. You circled your clit, inserted a finger or two into your hole, or teased yourself with neither of those sweet spots just to drag it out. He’d watch you when he had the chance, and his breaths were short, his chest heaving, and the sounds of your long, needy moans, his cock was painfully asking for some action in his pants.

“Lick your fingers and squeeze those tits.”

You kept at it. There were the beginning flashes of an orgasm, shocking you to your core and making you tremble and twitch, but you slowed down just as those flashes happened, then went faster again once the shocks simmered down. Your other hand that had been squeezing your breast under your shirt was now around your neck. You brought your fingers to your mouth, dragging them long and hard with your lips wrapped around them, so harshly that your lipstick stained.

You took your tights off, and your pussy clenched at the exposure of the colder air. You raised your legs up, and he had a perfect view of your cunt. You inserted your middle and ring finger inside you and slowly pumped them in and out, filling the air of the sounds of your lapping juices and your animalistic moans.

You looked at Jason, then watched your own fingers with your mouth locked open. You craned your head over, watching you fuck yourself, watching it happen as the wonderful sensations buzzing through you as a result from your own doing, then you went faster and threw your head back against the seat. Your other leg snaked around Jason’s thighs, causing enough friction against his pants to drive him insane. A sharp turn around and you were met with a dark, lightless alley where he parked.

“Jay, why are we h-here?” you asked even with your fingers inside you.

Jason didn’t answer and instead, removed your hand so he could replace it back with his, with his other hand this time.  He leaned over you, lips on yours while he violently fucked you with his fingers. The slow buzzing through your limbs were now a fast, overwhelming current that sent you screaming in an instant. The sound of your wetness, and how his fingers sent you thrashing uncontrollably in your seat. You grabbed the hand holder by your seat and gripped tightly just to contain it, but he only went faster, curling his fingers at just the right angle.

His hand was on your hair, gripping it tightly when he felt you come hard. You were violently shaking, holding onto his arms this time. It was so wonderful, and you bit his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming too loud. The heavenly highs that sent your limbs almost to the point of dysfunction. It was so fucking good. You panted as the high subsided.

He pulled his fingers out, bringing it up to your lips for you to lick. Jason kissed you again and sat right back against his seat.

His dick was practically poking out of his pants. The clock in your car told you had about thirty minutes past midnight. You still wanted more. One round was never good enough. Jason ran a hand through your hair and you went with it, leaning over his cock.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me.”

“Your cock obviously can’t wait any longer.”

You unzipped his pants, and your legs went up to the seat so you could fold them under you while you worked. Jason could see your pussy still throbbing through the reflection in the window, so he brought his hand back onto your cunt just to wet his own fingers.

A sharp slap to your ass cheek, just before he smoothed it over with his palm. You freed his cock and it was already leaking so much, it looked like he was cumming in his pants. You took no time to wait and took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down and widening your mouth as much as you could.

He turned the music up. All That Jazz. The one from the movie. It was playing from his phone. You giggled at that took him whole, pumping the bottom half with your hand. He held onto your hair and guided your head to his own liking.

He wasn’t going to last long. Jason wanted it fast, too. The rush of being in an alley. So dark, yet you could unmistakably look at every detail of you like you were perfectly lit up. He threw his head back, moaning your name. You felt his palm over your ass and went faster when you felt him squeeze.

You choked with him in your throat and gagged, swallowing around him which made him twitch. Another sharp slap against your ass, and you bobbed your head violently and hollowed your cheeks, sticking your tongue out with the amount of drool wet enough to drench his underwear.

He busted so much of his load into you, and you kept swallowing around him, over and over to let him ride out his high. His hand on your ass was tight enough to leave a mark, and you swirled your tongue around the tip just as the last of his cum blew into you.

A bit of his cum was on your mouth. Your lipstick was almost entirely faded by now, so you licked the last of it, including the cum.

Jason kissed you immediately, and held your face.

“Are we gonna reach home soon enough or are we gonna do it right here?”

He looked back. There was still no one around. No one usually came here even at this hour. Not even criminals liked hanging out at this corner.

“I think we’re fine here.”

Jason held your chin and slowly slid on top of you, spreading your legs and reclining your seat even further.

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf

Strangers

Part 1 - Losers (S1E1)

Nathan Young x Reader  Words: 4.4k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs  Songs:  Strangers - The Kinks  Bad Reputation - Joan Jett 

“So you've been where I've just come From the land that brings losers on”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

--

    As bad days go, you’re having a pretty horrible one when you arrive at the Wertham Community Center. It’s the first of many to come, part of the court-mandated service that goes along with your ASBO. Your dad keeps telling you that you’re lucky the judge had been so lenient and should be grateful that he’s allowing you to stay with him and your stepmum again– even though you have no one to stay with and nowhere else to go. And he’s your dad. “In the future,” you tell him while getting out of the car, “I think I’ll walk.” 

     Striding through the frosted glass of the front doors, you continue on to the locker rooms to change into the orange jumpsuits you find waiting for you. You choose a locker on the far wall and dump your stuff there. You decide to leave your t-shirt on underneath, zipping the suit up most, but not all, of the way. Finished, you lean back to take a look at your designated companions for the 200 hours to be dispersed across the next few months. One girl has chosen her locker to be in front of the mirror. Her hair is short, curly, and pinned back on the side to form some cute bangs-like fringe. You notice an ankle monitor adorning her lower leg as she strips down to a pink lace pushup bra and panties and steps into her jumpsuit, rolling up the sleeves and bottom cuffs and adding a gold belt around her waist to complete the ensemble. The color of her earrings and bangle bracelets– both large, round, pink, and plastic– match her underwear. She steps back to take a look at herself and smiles. Another girl brushes her hair back into a high and tight ponytail. She looks curvier than the first girl, but just as confident, pairing smoky black eye makeup with shiny, pale pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. The guy who’d taken a locker near yours fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips. He looks equal parts cute and odd, tall and lanky with a mop unruly, curly hair framing his face. He wears a red and black checkered shirt and an air of swaggering cockiness radiates from him with a pungency usually reserved for uncommonly offensive odors. He smirks at you slyly. The guy with the locker across from the two girls looks vaguely familiar to you. He has two gold chains, one with a cross, and a grey tank top. His jumpsuit is only zipped up halfway, with the arms tied around his waist. He looks remarkably fit, and, not having much of an affinity for sports, you wonder where you recognize him from. The last person you see in the locker room is shadowy and reserved. His hair is short and neatly combed and his jumpsuit is buttoned up all the way to the very last button. He holds a small, black camera phone in his hand and shifts his gaze between people nervously. As you start to file out, one last person stomps in front of you, looking you up and down as he nearly bowls you over. You grimace as he winks. The first thing you notice about him is the immaculate green flat-brimmed baseball cap. You suspect that this hat and others like it are a large part of his personality. Once you’re all together, a man introducing himself as your probation worker, Tony, leads you outside and has you line up against some railing as he gives what you believe is supposed to be a rousing speech. From left to right is Curtis, Gary, Nathan, you, Kelly, Alisha, and Simon. You would learn their names later, but for the purposes of clarity, we’ll start using them now. Tony paces before you, attempting to assume the macho, fear-inducing demeanor of a boot camp officer. “This is it,” he barks. “This is your chance to do something positive. Give something back. You can help people, you can really make a difference to people’s lives. That’s what community service is all about. There are people out there who think you’re scum. You have an opportunity to show them they’re wrong.” He has the tone of someone who has given this speech before and is just barely holding onto their faith in its underlying message. The girl to your left, Kelly, looks mildly offended at the word “scum,” as if Tony had been speaking directly to her. “Yeah, but what if they’re right?” Nathan interrupts on your right. He looks around at the rest of you, “No offense, but I’m thinking some people are just born criminals.” You smile to yourself and try to hold back a chuckle as a look of anger flashes over suspected-douchebag-Gary’s eyes and he bursts out with “Are you looking to get stabbed?” “You see my point there?” Nathan asks, turning back to Tony. A phone rings and Alisha answers with a casual “Hey,” while twirling a curl between her manicured fingers. Tony tries to continue, but he’s becoming increasingly exasperated. “Doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past-” “Doin’ my community service,” Alisha speaks to her phone. “Hey!” He tries and fails to catch her attention. “Boring as fuck,” she continues. It was getting harder not to laugh and you glance at Nathan out of the corner of your eye, amused at the part he had to play in the deterioration of Tony’s speech. “Excuse me!” He tries again. “Hello, I’m still talking here.” “What, I thought you’d finished?” She didn’t care, evidently. “You see my lips still moving, that means I’m still talking.” He tries to assert something akin to authority but clearly doesn’t realize how poorly that approach tends to work on rag-tag groups of rebellious young offenders. “Yeah, but you could have been yawning, or chewing,” Nathan points out facetiously in a drawling tone. Tony ignores him, but you are full-on laughing at this point. “End the call! Hang up!” He shouts at Alisha to no avail. “My probation worker,” she explains to the person on the other line. “You all right there, weird kid?” Nathan leans past you to point at Simon, who stood alone at the far end of your lineup. Tony fumed. “Don’t be disgusting. I’ll call you later.” She finally hangs up, looking over at Nathan, who was approaching Gary and making kissing noises at him. “I’ll rip out your throat and shit down your neck,” Gary snaps back. He looks amusingly short in comparison, you now realize. Curtis grimaces and leans away from the touchy ball of anger standing next to him. “I shouldn’t be here, man.” Kelly gapes at his arrogance as Gary starts to scuffle with Nathan, grabbing at his jumpsuit. “We need to work as a team here. Hey, that’s enough!” Tony takes a few steps forward. “Can I move to a different group? This isn’t going to work for me,” Curtis continues, even though Tony is clearly otherwise engaged. You lean back, nearly bumping into Kelly as she steps to Cutis’ indirect insults. “Um… What makes you think that you’re better than us?” “What is that accent?” Nathan comments, drawn out of his conflict by the way her “us” sounded a lot more like “oss” “Is that for real?” Curtis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What, are you tryna’ say something or yeah?” She speaks, the latter half her sentence mostly lost due to her lack of enunciation. “Its- you- that’s just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?” Nathan exclaims. You shake your head and raise your eyebrows at their audacity and Kelly’s incoherence. She sticks her hand out and flips him off, “Do you understand that?” Things escalate again when Nathan puts an arm around a violently unwilling Gary who responds by grabbing him and preparing to punch. “Hey, pack it in!” Tony lunges forward to separate them “It’s love, man!” Nathan yells. You double over, stepping back to get out of the way. Kelly meets your gaze and smirks at the growing scene before you. Alisha laughs, a high-pitched giggle. Tony stood between them now, pulling Gary further and further away from Nathan, who assumed a boxer’s stance and put up his fists comically. “Do it man! Do it! You’re a prick, man, look at you!” Gary calls, trying to push past Tony. “What the fuck are they doin’?” You say to everyone behind you as Kelly looks between you and Alisha. Simon looks like he’d rather be elsewhere, as does Curtis, but for different reasons. Nathan had taken to punch the air, which only served to further aggravate Gary. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, bruv! He’s takin’ the piss, come here!” Cue the intro music. --     Tony eventually diffuses the conflict between Nathan and Gary and finally leads everyone to some benches by the lake, which you are told to paint white. Paint drips everywhere, from your shoes to the concrete sidewalk, but you hardly care. How different is this from the reason you were here in the first place? You were reprimanded for painting on someone else’s property and were told to instead paint on someone else’s property to pay for it, how is that supposed to work? The only difference is that the first time had been art, and this was largely pointless. They wanted to cover up the graffiti on these benches, but the new paint job would only make future acts of vandalism easier to see. You did it anyway, though, happy to peel off with Nathan and Kelly as Curtis and Alisha and Simon and Gary pair off to the benches on either side of you. You watch as Gary leans down to pick up more paint on his brush, his hat brushing dangerously close to the fresh paint before it finally touches, leaving a stark white smear on the brim. You poke Nathan’s shoulder and point as Gary notices, ripping off his hat in horror and stomping off in a huff, kicking a bucket of paint into the lake and leaving behind a violent burst of white. “Oh, man! There’s paint on my cap, this is bullshit!” “Ooh!” Alisha whistles as he walks past. Everyone turns and stares as he struggles with a shopping cart that’s in his way, kicking it at first before trying and failing to shove it into the lake as well when it simply falls in front of him, still blocking the path. “I know you,” you hear Alisha say to Curtis, perking up due to your own curiosity. “No, you don’t,” he brushes her off. “Yes, I do,” She continues, unphased. “You’re that runner guy. You screwed up big time.” That’s it. You’d seen him years ago at your secondary school’s track meets and races, and later in the news for his accomplishments and subsequent arrest. “You noticed, yeah? Thanks for reminding me.” He grew increasingly annoyed, and it was abundantly clear. Overhearing, Nathan glances up at Kelly and tries to strike up a conversation, “So I’m guessing shoplifting?” She ignores him. “No?” He was about to speak again when she cuts him off, “Don’t act like you know me, ‘cuz you don’t.” “I’m just makin’ conversation!” He motions to you and Kelly, “This is a chance to network with other young offenders. We should be swapping tips. Brainstorming!” He looks at you to continue, but you stay silent, also curious about Kelly’s infraction. You shrug and he looks back at her. “Come on, what did you do?” “This girl called me a slag so I just got into a fight,” she admits, slapping her paintbrush to the bench in annoyance. “Was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?” He jokes. “No, it was at Argos.” “Argos?” you ask, finding the store an odd place to get into fights. “You know what you should’ve done? You should have got one of them little pens and jabbed it in her eye.” He was referring to the pens for filling out the catalog cards at Argos and you smirk at the image, but Kelly just stares at him incredulously. It’s an odd thing to say to someone you barely knew. He turns to look at you, “And you? I need to know what we’re workin’ with here.” “Ah…” You glance between Nathan and Kelly before continuing, “Graffiti, mostly, and throwing a party that bugged my neighbors, breaking the peace.” You had broken the law, technically, but it was nothing compared to punching someone and getting into a fight in the middle of Argos. He raises his eyebrows curiously, “Is there a story behind it or was it just mindless vandalism?” “It was on the wall of my apartment, my landlord saw it when he went to break up a party that my friends were throwing and he said he’d report me.” “Oh, what a wanker!” Nathan exclaims. “The worst part is I lost the apartment and now I’ve gotta live with my dad and stepmum again and it’s a living nightmare.” You don’t want to exaggerate or sound like too much of a cliche, but your stepmother is one of the meanest people you have ever encountered. You could understand it to some extent, as she has two young children and you aren’t the greatest of influences. You call these siblings stepfuck and stepcunt respectively, case in point. “Well, I can sympathize with that. But at least yours is a stepmum, they’re, like, inherently kinda hot, amirite?” You glare at him and begin to understand some of Kelly’s annoyance. He redirects, turning his attention to Simon, who is now painting his bench all alone after Gary’s outburst. “What about you, weird kid? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like a panty-sniffer.” He holds his hands up beside his face, mocking a disgusting sniff of some invisible panties. “I’m not a panty-sniffer,” he responds. “I’m not a pervert.” He tries to return to painting the bench, but Nathan begins walking towards him, pretending to jack off with his paintbrush still in his hand, grunting disgustingly. You sigh and roll your eyes, glancing at Kelly. He could be funny, sure, but you were quickly learning about his tendency to take things too far. Kelly shrugs at you. “I tried to burn someone’s house down,” Simon blurts out to get Nathan to stop. Everyone who’d heard snapped to attention, as arson seems considerably more serious than vandalism or a few punches. “Fire?” Nathan laughs and walks back. Kelly looks up at him, “What did you do?” You were still curious about the fire and arson, but you let the conversation move on regardless. “Me? I was done for eatin’ some pick ‘n’ mix.” “Yeah, right,” you scoff. “Bollocks,” Kelly agrees. “What is goin’ on with this weather,” Nathan muses, distracted, as thunder rolls down from overhead and you quickly noticed the growing dark storm clouds in the sky just across the lake. Huh, odd. That hadn’t been there just a few minutes ago. “How did that happen?” you hear behind you, looking around to see Tony returning, an angry look instantly plastered to his face. He points to the overturned paint can, part of Gary’s carnage, and holds his arms up in exasperation. “I mean, you’ve been here five minutes. It’s painting benches. How’d you screw that up? You tell me, because I’ve got no idea.” From out of nowhere, a giant white ball of something smashes down on the car behind Tony, completely caving in the roof and sending the car alarm blaring. Shocked, you jump back and duck amid the various screams and cries of “What the hell was that?” and “Oh, Jesus!” Nathan’s smug grin immediately falls and transforms into fear and wonderment. Alisha shrieks, crying out in a warbling tone, “What’s goin’ on?” Tony turns around slowly in disbelief and gasps, “That’s my car!” “Oh, fuck,” you mutter under your breath. But Nathan isn’t taking it as seriously. “Classic,” he chuckles, thinking it to be some sort of prank. But then another thing falls from the sky into the lake behind you, whizzing past your heads and spraying you, Nathan, and Kelly in an onslaught of lake-water. “Okay, so I’m a little bit freaked out!” he admits. “No fucking shit!” you agree. “What is that?” Alisha asks, turning your attention to the storm Nathan had pointed out just moments ago. It had grown, somehow, turning dark and dangerous as it travels at an unnervingly fast pace towards your group. Simon holds his phone up to film the storm and its effects just as another ball crashes into the dumpster beside him, knocking over the heavy, metal container and spewing ice at him as he ducks and runs from it. More and more ice falls from the sky, huge blocks larger than your head, and you don’t want to think of what could happen if one of them hit you. “Right, let’s get everyone inside,” Tony instructs as more and more of them fall all around you. “Move! Move! Run!” You sprint back to the community center at top speed, holding your head as ice shards rain down on you, pelting and stinging your face and arms. Your heart practically beats out of your chest. One ball of ice pummels into the sidewalk in front of you, breaking a concrete tile. Another falls into a phonebooth, and the glass shatters to the ground around your feet. The storm seems to get thicker as you near the center, and your hair is plastered to your face from the mixture of sweat and water that you were drenched in. You could barely hear Tony yell “Keep going!” over the crashes and booms that fill your ears as you run for your life. Curtis reaches the door first, pulling on the handles and banging on the glass before stepping back and yelling over the din to Tony, “It’s locked! Open it!” Tony groans, “Come on…” and fumbles with the keys. You throw yourself against the wall, as far away as possible from the mega hail storm, and scream, “Just fuckin’ unlock it!” “What is happening?” Kelly shrieks as another massive ball of ice falls onto the pavement beside her. “Open the door, come on!” Nathan yells as Tony grows increasingly frustrated. “I’m finding the right key!” he bellows back “Open the door!” Curtis yells again, and Alisha agreed. “Open the fucking door!” Tony whips around in a burst of anger, “Don’t speak to me like that!” You were about to berate him for his poor priorities when a bright white burst of cold lightning cracks in front of you and sends you flying backward in a chorus of screams. Time slows as you fly through the air and the electricity transforms from a chilling shock to a burning flare, searing and snaking through you as you soar and tumble backward onto the hard pavement. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, from which groans and cries of pain follow. A few remaining snowballs hit the ground around you, but the storm appears to have passed. “I feel really weird,” you hear Kelly say. Your vision is still black, which has you worried until you realize it’s only because your eyes are still closed. You open them and sit up, rubbing the back of your head, which is still screaming in pain. “That’ll be the lightning,” Curtis says to try and explain what just happened. “We should be dead,” Simon points out. “Well, that’s comforting,” you snap back. “A little reassurance might be nice, you know,” Nathan agrees, instead directing his comment to Tony, who is sprawled before the door of the center and has just started to sit up. “‘You’re fine!’ ‘Looking good!’” he elaborates. “Wanker…” Tony groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Did he just call me a wanker?” Nathan asks, indignantly glancing at you and everyone else. He snaps his fingers at Tony, “Hey? Hello?” You see a quick look of anger flash across Tony’s face before he grumbles, “Is everyone alright?” “We could have died, you dick,” Alisha adds. “Are you alright?” Kelly asks tentatively as Tony shakes his head and coughs out a growl. “You’re actin’ like a freak.” He ignores her, “Maybe we should call it a day.” --     Tony finally manages to unlock the door, and you return to the locker rooms to gather your things. You feel like you should be annoyed, leaving early only means you’ll have to spend another day here, but you are too exhausted to feel anything. That was probably the closest you’d ever been to death. You can still feel your heart beating, a deep, steady drumbeat, and your lungs ache from the running and adrenaline. Beside you, Nathan closes his locker and leans against it before turning to you, “Do you think we’ll stick together now, bonded by our shared experiences?” “Dunno. I’d rather spend as little time here as possible,” you explain, closing your locker and stepping away to put on your hoodie. “Oh, you’re one of those types, are you?” Nathan smiles. “What type?” You glare at him. “The I’m-too-cool-for-this type.” “No, that’s Curtis,” you quip, knowing that he’d already left the room. “I just happen to not like community service.” Or any of these morons, all the other girls are total slags. “Hey!” Kelly snaps, swinging around to glare at you suddenly. “Oookay?” You turn away awkwardly and leave, you can’t imagine anything you’d said having offended her. Maybe she just really loves community service or something, but that is decidedly not the impression you’ve gotten from her so far. You walk out to the waiting area by the vending machines, where you find Curtis and Simon standing around in heavy silence. Nathan follows after you moments later. “Do we just go, then?” Curtis asks, clearly annoyed. “Where’s the probation worker?” “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Simon speaks up. “It’s like he was having a spasm.” “He was probably just faking it, trying to get some compensation. Cheap bastard,” Nathan scoffs. “I don’t think he was faking it,” Simon insists, looking back down at his phone. “And you know all about being… mental.” Nathan takes a few steps forward as he talks, leering at Simon and lowering his voice. Then he pretends to convulse and yells “Wanker!” You punch him in the shoulder. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He sticks his head out at you almost comically. You stick your head out back at him. “Stop being such a prick, he might have a point.” Alisha walks in, already looking bored. “Are we waiting for something?” “Probation worker,” Curtis explains. She scrunches up her face in disgust. “I’m not hanging around for that dickhead.” She turns on her heel and leaves, which everyone else seems to take as their cue to leave as well. You can’t be bothered to be the only one waiting around, so you follow suit. Once outside, everyone pretty much goes their separate ways. Nathan, however, trots after you. “What’re you doin’?” You ask. “Thought you looked a little lonely, and, well, I’d like to recommend my own company as recompense.” He motions to himself like he’s all that, which honestly has you snorting to hold back your laughter. “You can’t be serious.” You raise your eyebrows. “Fine, I happen to live along this way, alright? I’m Nathan, by the way.” “Y/n.” You smile at him. “And I’ll have you know that to date, I haven’t had a single complaint.” He says it like you should be impressed or something. “Can’t have complaints if you haven’t been with anybody,” you joke, smirking. His jaw drops in mock surprise, “Oy! I have, too!” He keeps trying to impress upon you the depth of his sexual prowess, offering many stories as proof, all of which have you in stitches. He peels off when you were about halfway home. You say your goodbyes and wave as he walks away, grateful for the company. A few houses down from your own, though, you stop walking, contemplating what to do next. Home doesn’t seem like a particularly fun place to be right now, but it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. It’s still the early afternoon, so it would probably be only your stepmum at home, with your dad at work and your step siblings at school. It’s practically a worst-case scenario, as you doubt she would believe that they let you go early. You wish this day had gone differently. As you’re musing and trying to work up the courage to walk the thirty or so meters left to your front door, the skies begin to darken. You look up to see if a cloud had rolled in overhead, not exactly trusting the weather as of late, but as soon as you do so, it disappears and the sky goes back to normal. You think nothing of it, which is probably a poor choice on your part, but you are too burned out to care. You finally reach the front door, closing it gingerly behind you, but to no avail. “Y/n? Is that you?” You hear from the other room. “Yup.” You stand in the doorway to the kitchen, knowing you need to address this, but desperately wanting to leave. “They let us go early today.” She eyes you quizzically, “Really?” Now here’s the thing, the truth isn’t even remotely believable– There was a freak hail storm and everyone in our group got hit by lightning or something but now we’re all okay and our probation officer did too, he let us go early and then disappeared– so you have to lie. “Yeah, ‘cuz it’s the first day. They mostly showed us the ropes, got us started on something, and then let us go.” You wait, holding your breath. “Oh.” She looks disappointed. “I thought you’d be out today.” “Yeah, well I did, too,” you mumble as you walk away, not really caring whether or not she heard. “What’d you say?!” she calls after you. “Nothing!” you yell back as you walk as quickly as possible to your room. Once inside, you sigh and collapse onto your bed. You feel like a teenager again and it’s horrible, being forced to be somewhere where you’re treated like immature crap every day, living at home again, constantly having a row with your stepmum. You hope, but doubt, that the next day will be better.

Recent country songs that have made me literally gay gasp as a gay woman, in order of how much they make me want to write an essay on gender and queerness

HONORARY MENTION BUT JUST BECAUSE I THINK THIS IS TECHNICALLY AMERICANA NOT COUNTRY (but genre is fake) AND THIS SONG ISN’T RECENT (2014 and I’ve been listening to it faithfully since then) BUT I ONLY RECENTLY LEARNED IT’S A COVER AND THAT’S MADE ME RECONTEXTUALIZE IT: “Murder in the City” by Brandi Carlile, a cover of The Avett Brothers where she changed the words “make sure my sister knows I loved her/make sure my mother knows the same” to “make sure my wife knows that I love her/make sure my daughter knows the same” which fucking. fucking gets me. Especially since the first time that I heard this song, I assumed it was from a man’s point of view because of that line, and then I learned that Brandi Carlile is a lesbian and I was caught up in my foolish heteronormitivity, and then I learned it was a cover and thought oh okay I guess the song is originally from a man’s pov and it’s cool she covered, and then I learned she changed those lines to make a song that already feels deeply personal to her to explicitly include her love for a woman and the family they’ve made together. And that’s just. It’s all just a lot. 

3) “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” by Miranda Lambert featuring Maren Morris, Elle King, Ashley McBryde, Tenille Townes and Caylee Hammack, because the first time it came up on my spotify, I saw the title and was like “hey dope I like this song” and then I heard the first line was still “I must have been through about a million girls” and I realized none of the words or pronouns were getting changed and I was getting the song I’ve always wanted and deserved: a high production value, high energy, big girl group tribute to being a lesbian fuckboy who Fooled Around And, oops can you believe it, Fell in Love. 

2) “If She Ever Leaves Me” by The Highwomen, sung by Brandi Carlile who is, as mentioned, lesbian, but since I’m apparently still chugging my comp het juice, I was still trying to figure out if this song--a classic “hey buddy keep walking, she’s my girl and she’s not interested” song with an interesting element of the singer being aware the relationship might not last anyway--was gonna be explicitly queer. And then there’s the line, “That's too much cologne, she likes perfume,” and I was like OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! 

This is immediately followed by the lines “I’ve loved her in secret/I’ve loved her out loud” which is also deliciously queer in this context, with this singer and that juxtaposition, but the line that really fucking got me is my favorite of the song: “If she ever leaves, it's gonna be for a woman with more time.” This is two women in a complicated relationship. This isn’t just a “keep walking, cowboy” song, it’s a song that uses that framework to suggest a whole ass “Finishing the Hat”** relationship, and that’s so interesting to me. Like a song that isn’t just explicitly about two women in love but one that conveys very quickly a rich history between the two of them. And in a genre where the line “Kiss lots of boys, kiss lots of girls if that’s something you’re into” was revolutionary representation.

(Fun fact, “Follow Your Arrow” was partially written by Brandy Clarke, another country lesbian! Another fun fact, so is basically every other good country song. Brandy Clark, please write a big lesbian country anthem, I know it will immediately kill me on impact.) 

To quote one youtube comment, “”lesbians how we feeling??” and to answer by quoting some others, “As a closeted baby gay in the 90s, who was into country, this song would have changed my life”, “I just teared up.  So many happy tears, as a gay woman raised on country music,  this is something that's definitely been needed.  Thank you Brandi. Thank you highwomen”, “This song means more than I can say in a youtube comment”, and “Lesbians needed this song :)”

It’s me. I’m lesbians. 

**ANOTHER HONORARY MENTION EXCEPT IT ISN’T RECENT AND IT ISN’T COUNTRY SO I GUESS THIS IS JUST A MENTION, BUT I AM INTERESTED IN THIS SONG--“Finishing the Hat” by Kelli O’Hara. A very good Sondheim joint, that’s about making art, the costs of its obsessive and exclusive nature and the incomparable pleasure of putting something into the world that wasn’t there before. It’s such a traditionally male narrative that I’m thrilled to find a wonderful female cover of it. I’m not even fussed about her changing the gender from the lover who won’t wait for the artist (except that the shift from “woman” to “one man” sounds so clunky) because there’s value turning this song into a lament of the men who won’t love artistic women. But I do also wish she’d also recorded a version that kept the original gender so it would be gay. OKAY BROADWAY TANGENT OVER, BACK TO COUNTRY. 

1) “Highwomen” by The Highwomen, ft. Yola and Sheryl Crow. I can’t even express the full body chills the first time I heard this. Like repeated, multiple chills renewed at every verse of the song. This really closely parallels my experience with “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” up there, because when I started it I was like “oh dope I know what this cover will be” and then the lyrics started and I was like “OH MY GOD I DIDN’T.” In the case of “Fooled Around” it’s because I was amazed that they kept the original words. In the case of “Highwomen” I fucking transcended because they changed them. 

So I grew up on Johnny Cash, obsessed with a couple of his albums but largely with a CD I had of his greatest hits. (Ask me how many times I listened to the shoeshine boy song. Hundreds. Johnny Cash told me to get rhythm and I got it.) And my FAVORITE was “Highwayman” from the country supergroup he was in, The Highwaymen. The concept of the song is that each of the four men sing a verse about a man from the past and how he died. It’s very good. The line “They buried me in that grey tomb that knows no sound” used to scare the shit out of me. I didn’t expect to have a song that targets so specifically my fear of being buried alive in wet concrete. 

(If you haven’t heard the song, by the way, listen to this version to properly appreciate it as a piece of music. If you have, watch the fucking music video holy shit this is a work of art oh my GOD.) 

So I was predisposed to love this cover before I even heard it. But then I heard it. And they rewrote the song to be about historical women. And it’s like. There’s layers here okay. 

Neither the Highwaymen nor the Highwomen are signing about famous people. This isn’t a Great Man tour of history, it’s about dam builders and sailors and preachers and mothers and Freedom Riders and also Johnny Cash who flies a starship across the universe, as you do. 

In the 1986 version, it’s a song about the continuity of life--the repeated idea is “I am still alive, I’m still here, I come back again and again in different forms.” The highwayman is all the men in the song. He reincarnates. The song is past, present, future. The title is singular, masculine. The same soul, expressed through multiple voices, multiple lives. 

In the 2019 version, the title is plural, feminine. Highwomen. This song is about women. Each verse asserts the same motif as the 1986 version--“I may not have survived but I am still alive”--but there is no implication of reincarnation. Each woman is her own woman. This version has a final verse that the previous versions lacks. The singers harmonize. It’s not a song where one voice replaces  another, the story of this One Man progressing through time. It ends in a chorus of women saying “We are still alive.” 

We are The Highwomen Singing stories still untold We carry the sons you can only hold We are the daughters of the silent generations You sent our hearts to die alone in foreign nations They may return to us as tiny drops of rain But we will still remain

And we'll come back again and again and again And again and again We'll come back again and again and again And again and again 

Another fun fact! The first time I heard them sing “We are the daughters of the silent generations” I died! But luckily I came back again and again and again.  

This is a song about the continuity of history. It asserts that women’s historical lives matter and that they continue to matter, long after they died. This is a song about legacy as well, the legacy of nameless women who worked to protect the ones they loved and make the world better. They don’t die by chance. They are all hunted down by political violence, by racism, by misogyny, for stepping outside their prescribed roles. But, as Yola (who btw fucking CRUSHES THE VOCALS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????? HOLY SHIT MA’AM) sings as a murdered Freedom Rider, she’d take that ride again. And at the end of the song, she joins the chorus but does not disappear into it. Her voice rises up out of crowd. And the crowd calls itself “we”. These women are united but not subsumed into being One Woman. This is about Women. 

And then, outside the song itself, there’s the history of this song about history. It’s originally by Jimmy Webb and was covered by Glenn Campbell. This cover inspired the name of the supergroup that covered it, the group with Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, and my man Johnny Cash. And it’s like holy shit! What an amazing group to collaborate! Hot damn! 

Then, it’s 2019 and here’s The Highwomen with Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires. The name is obviously riffing on The Highwaymen. Shires set out to form the group in direct response to the lack of female country artists on the radio and at festivals. And they name themselves after a country supergroup, and they put out this song, a song connected to massive names in country music, and they center all of this on women and womanhood and the right of women to be counted in history and to make history and to talk about the ways we have mistreated and marginalized women, in a group that started because one woman was like hey! we’re mistreating and marginalizing women! 

I just think this is neat! I think there’s a lot here we could unpack! But this post is 100 times longer than I was planning and work starts in a bit so uh I’m gonna go get dressed and listen to The Highwomen on repeat for the next hour, “Heaven is a Honky Tonk” is another fucking bop that improves on the original, it would be dope if they’d collab with Rhiannon Giddens, okay byyyyyyyye 

Habits

Rafe Cameron

Word count: 2,670

~Rafe Cameron’s drug addiction becomes too much for him to handle~

Song: Habits by Machine Gun Kelly

Warning: This is a pretty deep fic. It includes drug use and death by overdose/heart attack. It’s not too graphic, but a warning was needed. 

A/N: Drop a comment if you enjoyed and reblog :) 

*GIF is NOT mine, found on Google. Creds to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Complicated

Frustrated

Underestimated

Can’t sleep, mind racing

Hard to stay concentrated

2017: Alcohol dependence.

2018: Cocaine addiction.

2019: Spiraling into insanity.

Hair follicles flutter to the floor, lying beside sharp shards of glass hiding in the bedroom rug. Rafe’s hands tangle in his hair, tugging, tugging. Eyes flicker between a bottle of bourbon and three perfectly measured white lines on the windowsill. Black Veil Brides blares through the speakers at full volume, but he can’t focus on the lyrics as his father’s words are loud in his brain.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Addict.

The veins in his neck are throbbing, working in overdrive to pump blood through his body. His hands find the sides of his neck, squeezing, head falling back, eyes concentrating on the spinning fan hanging from the ceiling.

Round and round and round it goes. His eyes follow, blinking rapidly, until he tears them away, unable to focus for another second longer. Open palms drag down his face and he lets out a heavy breath that morphs into a dark laugh.

He isn’t a fucking disappointment.

He isn’t worthless.

He isn’t a good for nothing.

And he certainly isn’t an addict.

And if he was, that was the result of an overbearing, abusive father.

It all came down to pressure.

Pressure to be perfect.

Pressure to fit in.

Pressure to please his dad.

Rafe needed an escape from his father. From reality. Everything became too overwhelming. He couldn’t sit back and press pause or rewind or do over. But when the liquor flooded his veins and his nostrils absorbed the cocaine, time stopped. His responsibilities, his life outside of the drugs, ceased to exist.

Sweat drips down his body as he rubs his hands together. A cold shower would fix that no problem, but it would wake him up. Sober him up. He doesn’t fucking want to be sober.

He laughs at the bottle of bourbon that’s dying to be used. It sits there, teasing him. And Rafe gives in, flicking off the cap, downing a quarter of the liquid. It used to burn, but he’s immune to any sort of pain.

He eyes the three white lines next, licking his lips, craving another high. His heart races as he kneels in front of the windowsill. Rolled up beside the lines is a dollar bill and he grabs it, making each line disappear after it. He snorts, snorts, snorts, until there’s not a trace left behind.

The effects don’t happen immediately, but when they hit, they crash hard. His pupils dilate. Blood pressure rises alarmingly. He giggles one minute, and is irritable the next. And as the high wears off, he takes another long swig of bourbon. Over and over. A repeat of a vicious never ending cycle.

Rafe barely hears the pounding on his bedroom door over the music. Ward Cameron lets himself in, face twisting with rage. “Rafe. Rafe!”

He spins around, blood rushing to his ears, baring his teeth as venom drips from his voice. Is this a hallucination? Or is Ward really there?

The bottle is clutched between his fingers and his palm, suffocating in his grip. The mere sight of his father changes his mood instantly. Once pleasant, now violent. “Get out!”

The bottle barely sails over Ward’s head, crashing into the door behind him, shattering to the floor. Rafe’s hands are balled at his side, sucking in sharp breaths as Ward watches his son in disgust, horror, a combination of the two.

When the door closes, the tears fall. Rafe’s body warms, clenching and unclenching his fists. Frustration boils in his blood. His brain is racing, all with thoughts of pure hatred for his father.

Calm. He needs to be calm.

He stalks toward his bed, and as his head hits the pillow, his body relaxes.

Rafe closes his eyes, but he knows he won’t sleep.

He never does.

I fell in love with a very bad habit

But I feel alive for the very first time

“You have a problem.”

“Yeah, and it’s you. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

It was in Sarah’s nature to care, even about her brother, but Rafe wished she wouldn’t.

He kneels beside his bed, emptying the bag of cocaine on a silver platter resting on the night stand. The sight makes Rafe’s mouth water and he fishes inside his wallet for his debit card, splitting the powder into even lines.

“Nineteen years old and addicted to cocaine. You’re going places, Rafe.” Sarah taunts, slouching against the window as she watches her older brother’s descent into darkness. She has no idea just how bad her brother’s addiction is.

He ignores her, fidgeting with the rolled-up bill between his thumb and forefinger. The first line disappears from the plate, and he wipes the excess from his nose with the back of his wrist.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit there and snort coke in front of your little sister? What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?”

“Sarah, until you experience the kind of pressure I’ve been under for the last three years, you don’t get to judge how I handle it.”

Another line disappears.

“Have you ever thought of something rational? Like I don’t know, maybe therapy?” Sarah suggests in a sarcastic tone.

He chuckles darkly. “I don’t fucking need therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You know, we used to talk about things,” Sarah whispers, doing her best to try and distract her brother. But the only thing on Rafe’s mind is how badly he wants to be high. “I looked up to you. Now I don’t even know you.”

Another line vanishes.

“Rafe, please just stop.”

One more fades.

“Rafe, stop.”

Another one.

“Rafe, stop!”

And then he collapses.

~

Three sets of eyes stare down at him, one of which belongs to Sarah, but the other two he doesn’t recognize until someone speaks to him. “Young man, we’d like to take you to the hospital.”

Paramedics.

Fuck.

He blinks once, twice, eyes darting from his panicked sister to the stone-faced EMTs who probably had better things to do than to tend to a nineteen-year-old addict who shouldn’t be doing drugs in the first place.

“Is he going to be okay?” Sarah questions, tears welling up in her eyes as she grabs Rafe’s hand, clutching it to her chest. “Rafe, can you hear me? They want to take you to the hospital.”

“No.” A chill shoots up his spine as he opens his mouth, voice hoarse. His answer requires no hesitation. “I’m not going. Help me sit up.”

“Rafe-“

But his body falls back against the floor as he begins to shudder violently. Rafe’s eyes flit around the room, inhaling deep breaths as he tries to find something to focus his attention on, but his brain is screaming for him to find his next fix. Words from Sarah and the EMTs go in and out of his hearing, and he flinches as two sets of hands hold down his arms and legs. The tremors explode through his body and Sarah covers her face, crying frantically into her palms.

“It’s alright ma’am. He’s just experiencing withdrawal symptoms. This usually happens after someone is given Narcan. He’ll be okay in a minute.” The male EMT informs, hoping to put Sarah at ease.

When the tremors dissipate, the paramedics assist Rafe to a sitting position. He’s weak, he’s tired, his throat is scratchy, and blood trickles from his nose. Rafe glances up at his sister, and his heart squeezes in his chest as he watches her cry. For the first time in his life, he feels guilty.

“We cannot take you to the hospital without your consent. So, if you’d like to go, it’s best we take you now.”

Rafe shakes his head and looks toward Sarah, but his words are directed to the EMTs. “No, I’m-I’m fine. I’d like to be alone with my sister.”

~

Rafe’s shoulders fall dejectedly as he huffs out a breath, watching as Sarah flushes the rest of the cocaine down the toilet. He’s seen his sister sad, angry, hurt, but never in full blown panic mode. Her cheeks are stained by old waterworks, and her eyes shine bright with unshed tears. Sarah’s lip trembles as she tries to keep from losing her cool, and Rafe worries if he’s made a huge mistake.

They sit across from each other on the bed, Sarah playing with her fingers as Rafe stares at his sister. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” his voice leaves in a whisper, and he reaches out to touch his sister’s arm, but she pulls away. “Sarah, please.”

“Don’t.”

He throws his head back. “That’s the first and only time I’ve ever OD’ed. It happens.”

Sarah’s face twists in disgust, mouthing hanging open. “What you should’ve said is that will be the last time you overdose, Rafe, as in you’re going to fucking quit.”

“Come on, Sarah-.”

“Why did you even start?” Sarah queries, hugging her arms. Her voice is small, timid, and she avoids looking at her brother. “Help me understand why people like you, who have everything they could possibly want, resort to drugs and throw their lives away.”

The question stuns him, but he won’t hide the truth. He owes it to her, even if it sounds pathetic. “Because of dad.”

“Oh, no,” Sarah breathes, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare blame your damn problems on dad.”

“It’s true!” He reaches over and grabs Sarah’s arms, holding her in place. “You don’t hear the shit he says to me when you’re not around. Worthless. Disappointment. Useless. Good for nothing. I walk on eggshells around him, Sarah. I can’t do anything or say anything without sparking some sort of argument. For the last three years, I have felt nothing. But now,” his laugh is deflated, shoulders slumped forward. “Now I feel alive.”

“Yeah, well guess what?” Sarah fires back, sliding off the bed. She glances back at her brother sadly. She doesn’t even know him anymore. “Tomorrow you might not be.”

I don’t wanna die

But I don’t, I don’t wanna hide

Or keep shit inside

Rafe finds himself barging into the worn out trailer, ignoring Barry’s protests for him to get the fuck out of his home. He beelines for Barry’s bedroom, tossing pillows, opening drawers and closets, until he finally spots the handgun poking out from underneath the bed.

It’s been two days since his overdose and Sarah’s words have been at the forefront of his brain.

Tomorrow you might not be.

Tomorrow you might not be.

All of the emotions he felt the previous two nights come rushing back, hitting him square in the chest, leaving him breathless. He was so close to death, so close. The cocaine had almost taken his life. He wouldn’t let it, though. Rafe would not let the thing he loved most be the cause of his death. He loved the drug, and the drug loved him back. It wouldn’t hurt him. Not again.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Barry’s voice rings out in his room, jolting Rafe from his thoughts. He grabs the gun from beneath the bed, eyes rushing from Barry to the weapon. “Bro put that shit back. That ain’t something to play with.”

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Angry tears fall from his eyes as he clutches the gun tight in his hand. His body begins to tremble. From rage? From withdrawal? Fuck. He hasn’t had coke in two days. Barry swallows nervously, afraid of what contemplations are going through Rafe’s head.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

The words are loud in his head, deafening, and for a second, just a second, Rafe believes them. He thrusts the gun into Barry’s hands and surrenders. “Kill me.”

Barry blinks. “Are you fucking with me, country club?”

“I said kill me!” His voice is piercing, laced with rage, hurt, despair, hopelessness. “I can’t-I won’t-I’m just a fuck up-He’ll never love me-I can’t-I just want-.”

Rafe sputters as he tumbles to the ground on his knees, body deflating. His sobs echo through the trailer, full of pain and devastation. No, he doesn’t want to die. He just wants the pain to end. “I just want it to go away, man,” he cries, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. “I just want it to go away.”

“A’ight bro, I get that. You good, you good.” Barry coaxes, setting the gun aside. He lowers himself to the floor, a good distance away from Rafe, but close enough to grab the gun in case he has any irrational spilt second choices. “You gave me a heart attack though, bro. Shit.”

Licking his dry lips, Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. I just-fuck. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What’s going on?” Barry asks, rolling his neck, cracking his knuckles.

Rafe releases a strangled breath. “I OD’ed man. I fucking OD’ed.”

“Shit,” Barry groans, hanging his head. “Look man, you gotta watch yourself. I ain’t tryin’ to be responsible for your death, you got me?”

Rafe nods. “I fucked up, bro. I’ve been fucking up for years.”

“Is this ‘bout your dad again? Bro, how many times I gotta say it? Fuck him. He ain’t worth getting this messed up about.” Barry answers, nudging Rafe’s leg with his foot. “He gets to you ‘cause you let ‘em. You’ll be free once you stop giving a fuck about him, what he thinks, what he wants you to be.”

And that’s all Rafe wanted.

To be free.

I wanna run away, yeah

I don’t wanna stay here

Rafe finds himself back in his room, head resting against the door as Ward bangs his fist on the other side. He’s persistent, pounding and pounding and pounding.

“I want you out of this house, Rafe!” Ward yells. “You hear me? Out!”

If only Sarah had kept her mouth shut about the overdose.

Rafe listens as his father’s footsteps disappear down the hall, and he puffs out a strangled breath. He’s entirely defeated. He feels nothing. Not pain. Not rage. He’s fully numb.

He wants to run, but where to? He can’t just disappear, no matter how much he wants to. There’s nowhere to go, but Rafe knows one thing. He can’t stay here.

His eyes flicker to the untouched vial of powder on his nightstand. It calls to him and he responds, heading in the direction of the stand. He kneels, opens the vial, and empties it onto the wood, dividing it evenly.

Rafe takes one look at the drug, the source of his happiness, the love of his life, and sighs. “I can’t stay here. There’s nothing left for me.”

And he doesn’t mean in his home.

No, he means on Earth.

For the last time, Rafe grabs the dollar bill, a single tear slipping down his cheeks. Bending down closer to the stand, he snorts a line, savoring in the instant high. He’d miss the feeling. Feeling happy. Feeling important. Feeling on top of the world.

He snorts three more lines easily.

But the last two he struggles.

The sensation overwhelms him and he pulls away from the nightstand.

Something drips from his nose.

Blood.

It slides down his lips, his chin, and he doesn’t bother wiping it away.

He can’t breathe.

He tries to swallow, but his throat is closing and his nostrils are clogged.

He’s dizzy, vision blurring.

He panics.

And then he cries.

But his cries are cut short as his chest constricts.

Rafe’s hand flies to his chest, attempting to clutch his heart through his sweat-stained polo, now gasping for air.

He collapses.

He tries to call out for help, but his voice is barely a whisper.

His back hits the floor and he lies there, helpless, crying, in pain, and alone.

Time passes.

The pressure in his chest surges.

But then it stops.

And just like that, he’s free.

Hi, Miss Quickspiner, umm please "you’re good enough" whit Lukanette? I think Lu need hear that so badly. Also I really love all yours art, you are amazing 💙

Thank you so much 😊I continued from this one, hope that’s okay.

When Marinette woke, she was alone, but it didn’t scare her. She was comfortable and more relaxed than she’d been in a long time, and the gentle rock of the Liberty along with Luka’s god awful wallpaper a few inches from her nose were more than enough to ground her as she clawed her way up from sleep. Music was playing from a speaker somewhere, which wasn’t surprising, but the song playing was. Not the usual Couffaine style. Her curiosity gave her enough energy to sit up, drag herself off the bed, and open the door of Luka’s room. 

“The only way to live now is to know you’re gonna fly, don’t listen to the lying liars and there lies,” Luka’s voice rang out, and Marinette followed it to the main room. Marinette covered her hand to keep in her laughter when she saw Luka behind the galley counter, dancing in place as he put together two plates of snacks. Tikki sat on the counter beside him, munching on a cookie. Based on the crumbs on the counter, it wasn’t her first one. She smiled as best she could with her puffy cheeks and waved to Marinette. 

“I know she’s superwoman, I know she’s strong,” Luka sang, “I know she’s got this because she’s had it all along. She’s phenomenal, and she’s enough…” 

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggles anymore when she heard the way he altered the lyrics, and he stopped singing as he looked up. 

“Hey,” he smiled, not the least bit embarrassed that she could. “Feeling a little more rested?”

She nodded. She did, actually. Rested and...lighter. “Much, thank you.” She tilted her head slightly, indicating the music. “Really?” she grinned.

Luka shrugged. “I maybe needed to process a little, and well, if the song fits, it fits.” He winked at her. “We don’t music shame in this house. Probably listened to it a dozen times in the last hour.” He reached over and tapped something on his phone, restarting the song, and then held out his hands to her. When she took them, he pulled her in to dance with him, swinging their hands between them. “I might write a Kitty Section cover. I bet Rose would love it. Maybe we could convince Juleka to make it a duet. They’d be amazing.” 

“Rose would love it,” Marinette grinned, moving with him. Gosh, when was the last time she danced, just for fun? Was it really Clara’s video? “And that would be amazing, the two of them together. Although I like your version too.”

Luka grinned. “I know you’re superwoman,” he sang, as Marinette laughed. “I know you’re strong. I know you’ve got this cause you’ve had it all along. You’re phenomenal, and you’re enough. I don’t need to tell you who to be—” He cut off with a slight oof as Marinette threw herself into him and hugged him tight. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Oh, Marinette,” Luka sighed, slipping his arms out from where she’d pinned them and wrapping them around her. “I only wish I could do more. You’ve got so much piled on you.” He hesitated slightly. “Tikki and I have been talking, and we had some thoughts, if you want to hear them. It’s...it’s not much,” he admitted, blowing out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. “When I think about it it seems like practically nothing at all. I wish—” He broke off and looked away. 

Marinette leaned back a little, and took his face in her hands so she could make him look at her. “Luka. Even before you knew, nobody has done more for me than you. You’ve always let me just be whatever I needed to be, and that’s been so important to me. Now, just...just knowing that you know...that you see me…it’s enough. I feel so much better already.” She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, not quite able to look in his eyes, afraid that what she might see there would overwhelm her. “I don’t need you to be a hero or fix everything or come up with all the answers. You’re good enough, Luka, just like this.”

Luka let out a shaky breath, and then wound his arms around her, pulling her close, cradling one hand behind her head to guide it to his shoulder. 

“Unbroken and still beautiful,” he sang softly with the end of the song, and Marinette snuggled closer, holding him tight.

In a few minutes, they’d have to let go, and they would have to have that talk, and then she would have to leave, to go back to the lies and the secrets that she lived every day. 

But Luka would still know. And for now, that really was enough.  

So the song here is Kelly Clarkson, Broken and Beautiful, which I’ve probably heard a million times but only really listened to just recently. Of course I went looking for covers, because I love covers, and I didn’t find many, but I did enjoy this one and I keep imagining Rose and Juleka doing it this way together. (not really sure about the whole singing while driving while filming a video thing, but nobody died, so we’ll just ignore that) 

The Misery Men Invite Us to Dirge with the “Tardigrades”

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

I've always said that the test of an "authentic" doom composition is how well it identifies with what you're feeling. Coming off a 13-day battle with COVID-19, my mental outlook has been pretty dim but when I decided to audit the new single by THE MISERY MEN it was just what the proverbial doctor ordered. The Portland outfit has become a super group of sorts, featuring Corey G. Lewis (vocals, guitar), Rob Wrong (lead guitar), Billy Anderson (bass), and Ian Caton (drums) -- you'll of course recognize Rob Wrong from Witch Mountain and Billy Anderson from his engineering efforts on so many great records, including Sleep's Dopesmoker.

Now I sit here slowly headbanging to a vibe that seems to get where I am and say, "Life can be pretty shit, brother. Let's groove to this jam." And groove "Tardigrades" does. Frontman Corey G. Lewis can't help himself. Ever since I've known him and Misery Men, the band has had this underlying grooviness and penchant for simple melodic motifs that make every song distinct from the mass of sameness in the doom scene.

He was surely inspired, in this case, by the strange world of the micro-creature for which the song is titled. Tardigrades have been spotted far and wide in every conceivable environmental condition and location. These buggers can survive anything, and I do mean extreme conditions. Fuck yes, water bears (as they're bemusingly nicknamed) rule this doomed planet.

If you like this song, take a moment to get acquainted with the breadth of The Misery Men's output (including the recent single "Iron Front"). In addition to giving you a first-listen to "Tardigrades," Doomed & Stoned is also debuting the accompanying music video, which gives further insight into the song's lyrical thrust. Look for 'Devillusion' (2021) on Desert Records, releasing in digital and CD formats (pre-order here).

Give ear...

The Misery Men - "Tardigrades" (music video)

Some Buzz

I started writing Devillusion at the beginning of the Pandemic. 16 months of bloodletting 5 songs and 3 covers later we have an album. It was a therapeutic writing process to say the least. Inspired by the “Grunge” influencers in the PNW like Napalm Beach, Dead Moon, The Wipers, that definitely impacted TAD, Nirvana, Alice In Chains, Screaming Trees, Soundgarden, etc. I wanted to pay homage to the folks who laid the foundation and paved the path that we walk down. I’m humbled and grateful daily that I have found a vortex that aligns with my frequencies to allow me through great collaboration to tap into the ether, transmutating a Rock n’ Roll album I feel proud to be a part of and co-produce with Rob Wrong. We all had a good time making this album. It’s been challenging but ever rewarding.

I had asked Chris Newman to collaborate on something, maybe lay down a solo or harmonize on a song or write something together, and at first he was very interested and excited once he recovered from surgery. Unfortunately his health took a turn for the worse and Chris passed May 5th 2021. So Rob and I decided we needed to honor him and record a couple songs. We contacted Sam Henry (Napalm Beach, The Wipers, Jenny Don’t and the Spurs) to play drums and it just made sense to have Kelly Halliburton (Dead Moon, Pierced Arrows, Jenny Don’t and the Spurs) to play bass. We also recruited Jeffrey Larson (Lucky 13’s, Misfortunes of Mr Teal) to play rhythm guitar along with Rob Wrong on lead, plus me just on vocals. We recorded Cat With Nine Lives by Napalm Beach and The Reaper by Snow Bud and the Flower People. Both songs were Chris Newman songs, that turned out pretty damn good! Hell we didn’t even practice together before we recorded.

Devillusion by The Misery Men

Again I recruited Billy Anderson to play bass again on this album, because beyond his ability of musicianship and his legendary “enginear” status he’s also a pleasure to be around. Hilarious, kind, and smarter than your average Neanderthal bassist. Ha! He also studied anthropology so he knows a thing or two about humans. Not to mention he played Baseball growing up, so I figured he must really know what he’s doing with basses. Oh and he’s the master of Pun!

Once again Ian Caton of Breath is playing drums on this album. Talk about a Beast Of Burden, what an absolute animal! He usually doesn’t have a problem playing any style or tempo and is able to tap into the ether with ease!

Of course, Rob Wrong once again delivers some of the best solos he’s ever played. Not only that but he doubled the rhythm to give this album the full collective collaboration. I’m humbled to work with him and call him a best friend. It’s been a ton of fun making two albums with him at Wrong Way Recording.

Again I got Ben House to make some incredible artwork! It’s beyond expectations and couldn’t have been happier with the results!

Devillusion was also mastered by TAD, not to mention inspired by him as well. I originally wanted to call the album Devil’s Balls, but after watching the TAD documentary and the scene where he showed his mom the album and she said something like, “Tad you’re smiling…Tad God’s Balls? But Tad you have such a great smile.” Nevertheless, we have a song called Devil’s Balls and Werewolf that we’re most definitely influenced by some Tad. I’m forever grateful for his existence.   (Corey Lewis, The Misery Men).

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

Big Time Rush X Singer! Female! Reader - Vocal Covers - Part 1 - * Not A Request *

Disney/Cartoon Network/Nickelodeon Oneshots And Imagines

Nickelodeon X Reader

Big Time Rush X Reader

Entire Band X Singer! Female! Reader - Vocal Covers - Part 1 - * Not A Request *

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Author's Note:

I don't own the series Big Time Rush hosted by Nickelodeon nor do I own any of the boys from the band BTR ( Wish I did though ;) ), I only own my creative writing skills.

Please enjoy this oneshot~!

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Normal POV:

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Logan, James, Kendall and Carlos walked into Rocque Records as they were called in by Kelly for vocal rehearsals. Kendall and James entered first through the doors and took a glance at the posters that were old and new.

" I still can't believe we finally have our own poster! " Carlos exclaimed excitedly.

" Yeah I know, maybe he should finally get rid of these older ones that have been dead to the music world for years, like Boys City for example. " James stated.

" And Boys In The-...Who's she? " Kendall asked glancing over to the direction of a powerful beautiful singing voice coming from the recording room. The boys then shot over quickly to the recording booth to see a beautiful dark haired beauty singing Blank Space by Taylor Swift.

So it's gonna be forever

Or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over

If the high was worth the pain

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane

'Cause you know I love the players

And you love the game

The boys stared at the unknown female singer with mouths agape, completely dumbfounded as to who she is and why she was there.

'Cause we're young and we're reckless

We'll take this way too far

It'll leave you breathless

Or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane

But I've got a blank space baby

And I'll write your name

Cherry lips, crystal skies

I could show you incredible things

Stolen kisses, pretty lies

You're the king baby I'm your Queen

Find out what you want

Be that girl for a month

Wait the worst is yet to come, oh no

Screaming, crying, perfect storm

I can make all the tables turn

Rose gardens filled with thorns

Keep you second guessing like

"Oh my God, who is she?"

I get drunk on jealousy

But you'll come back each time you leave

'Cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

So it's gonna be forever

Or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over

If the high was worth the pain

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane

'Cause you know I love the players

And you love the game

'Cause we're young and we're reckless

We'll take this way too far

It'll leave you breathless

Or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane (Insane)

But I've got a blank space baby

And I'll write your name

Boys only want love if it's torture

Don't say I didn't say I didn't warn ya

Boys only want love if it's torture

Don't say I didn't say I didn't warn ya

So it's gonna be forever

Or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over

If the high was worth the pain

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane

'Cause you know I love the players

And you love the game

'Cause we're young and we're reckless

We'll take this way too far

It'll leave you breathless

Or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers

They'll tell you I'm insane

But I've got a blank space baby

And I'll write your name

Gustavo and Kelly clapped for her as she finished her last verse of the song, she then took her headphones off of her head and placed them on the microphone stand.

" That. Was. Brilliant ( Y/N___ )! You were amazing in there. " Gustavo said to her.

" Yeah, that's some talented pipes you have ( Y/N___ ). " Kelly added on.

" Gee thanks guys. Is there any more rehearsing and recording that I need to do for you two? " She asked them.

" No not at the moment ( Y/N___ ) but later we will do some more cover songs and experiment with some of BTR's songs and go from there. For now, take a lunch break. " Gustavo replied.

" Okie dokie then. Oh hey, is that them over there? " She asked. Gustavo turned around and gave them a look as in ' Get out now! '.

" Yes that is them but they'll be right back. Kelly, keep her here! " Gustavo turned back around to the female singer and smiled politely and then quickly raced them out of the recording booth. Kelly nodded and smiled as well.

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

In the hallway:

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

" Gustavo, what is going on and who is the new hot chick in the booth? " Kendall asked Gustavo.

" Yeah and why is she going to sing OUR songs? Is this Kat Krew all over again? " Carlos asked Gustavo as well.

" No Carlos this isn't Katz Krew all over again, thank god. That TALENTED young lady in that booth is Miss ( Y/N___ ) also known as Angela Rose, she's my newly signed female singer who is now an official member of Rocque Records and there is just one thing I would like to cover with you dogs about her. " Gustavo stated.

" And what's that? " James asked him.

" STAY AWAY FROM HER FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME! " He shouted his reply to the four boys from Minnesota.

" Why? " Carlos asked.

" Because she is actually one of the rare good considerate people who DO NOT give me a major headache and I want it to stay that way! " He spat back towards the boys.

" But Gustavo we are both from the same record label and managed by YOU, we are bound to run into her at some point in our lives and you can't keep us from meeting her. " James pointed out.

" Maybe not me but Freight Train can. " Gustavo snapped his fingers and out popped Freight Train looking muscular and strong as usual.

" Woah!! " The boys shouted as they fell backwards a little, losing their balance.

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Your POV:

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" Hey Kelly? Is everything okay back there? " I asked while placing my headphones on the microphone.

" What, you mean Gustavo? Yeah he and everything is fine, he just had to take care of something in the hallway. " Kelly reassured me in her reply.

" With the Big Time Rush Band? " I pointed at the exit.

" Yeah.... " She smiled nervously and I could only smile nervously as my reply.

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

Some time later because for some reason I'm being a lazy idiot right now:

At the Palm Woods:

Still Your POV:

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

I walked through the doors of the infamous Palm Woods where the home of the future famous was at, I could tell already that this would be a very magical journey from this moment forward.

As I gazed at my new surroundings I saw the check in counter. I walked over to it and placed my phone down on the counter for a minute while I tapped on the bell ring a couple times.

" Hello? " I called out.

" Hello, Welcome to the Palm Woods and how may I help you? " An older man in business attire came and greeted me.

" Yes hi, my name on the lease is Angela Rose and I'm here to check in to my apartment. " I said.

" Ah yes, Welcome Miss Rose. My name is Mr. Bitters and here is your room key, you will be staying in apartment J1. " Mr. Bitters handed me my apartment room key.

" Thank you, have a nice day Mr. Bitters. " I smiled at him and took my key card and headed for the elevator with my suitcases and other luggage.

As I pressed the up elevator button, I was then greeted by four very handsome young men that were trying to catch my attention. To say that I was surprised was a bit of an understatement.

" Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! " They said in unison to me.

" Oh Hello. I'm guessing that you must be BTR, the group I've heard so much about and who I saw in the studio this morning. " I said while pointing at each member.

" You've heard of us?! She's heard of us! " Carlos exclaimed to Logan.

" Well heard as in everything I've seen from what the public teen news says on magazines and TV about the four of you. " I smiled.

" So Gustavo hasn't mentioned us at all? " Logan asked me.

" Nope, not at all. I've only heard that you were signed to the same label and manager. " I replied back.

" Oh well that's no surprise. " Kendall chimed in.

" Why's that? " I asked cautiously.

" Gustavo Rocque has officially BANNED us from even getting anywhere near you. "

" Again why? "

" You see, he considers us to be somewhat of um......troublemakers. " Kendall replied.

" So you're walking trouble and after you cause some chaos by accident you usually spend the entire couple days trying to fix all of it. Am I right? " I placed my luggage down on the floor and pressed the up elevator button again and placed a hand on my right hip.

" Yes just about. " James said.

" Well, walking trouble is something I can handle. I grew up in a house with 2 VERY annoying sisters and 3 dumb clumsy brothers so I can fix anything in an instant. Also..... " I walked over to each of the boys and they stared at me nervously.

" Noooo one tells me who I can or cannot be with in my life. Not even a person who can destroy my career in 20 minutes flat. " I waved my finger back and forth to them as I made my statement.

I headed back to the elevator and heard a bell ring as the doors finally opened. I picked up my stuff and headed inside the elevator. The boys followed me a little and stood outside.

" I look forward to being your future friend and neighbor, perhaps something more lies in the future for us. Who knows? " I winked at them as the doors slowly closed.

This was going to be so much fun~

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Maybe I should make a story out of this, let me know in the comments.

This fanfiction belongs to me so please don't steal it or I will report you.

space cake.

plot: being machine gun kelly’s personal assistant comes with some interesting experiences.

A/N: NON-CON DRUG USE!! this was loosely based off something irl LMAO, enjoy ;) v long oops 

please send in any prompts! 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​

Being Machine Gun Kelly’s personal assistant was a unique job. There wasn’t a clear line of duties, and often you would find yourself driving around aimlessly, waiting on a text from the man himself. You’d been hired a few months ago, and it had been so easy to fall into a routine with Colson. He was surprisingly cool for a talented musician, and you’d soon learned that he was looking for more of a chill vibe than the other artists you had worked for. 

In past jobs, you were required to constantly attend to any needs. With Colson, it was more of having your phone on and being in the area in case of emergencies. There were always those days where he would send you a grocery list, and then an hour later, you’d be standing in his kitchen with a mixture of vegetables making dinner. Other days, he’d send you an address, and you would pick up his weed for the week. Sometimes, he’d ask for your help with his room, but you would always grimace and he’d wave it off, knowing that his room was a disaster zone. 

A couple of times he had hit you up to just sit on his couch while he played new songs on his speakers. Those days were your favorite, because you’d both sit in silence, him blowing smoke from his joint and you sipping on whatever drink you’d created in his bar. He would always wait for the song to finish, and then look over at you and raise an eyebrow. You relished in his music, and it was easy for you to tell him any opinions you had. He’d always take them seriously, scribbling notes down. After a good music session, you always felt a little bit closer to Colson, slow electricity building in the air. But you would always remind yourself to shake it off, bringing back distance between the two of you. This was a job, and even if he couldn’t tell, you needed this and you weren’t going to risk it for just anything.

-

You were standing in line for hot dogs when your phone buzzed twice. Both messages were from Colson, the first one had a list of ingredients and the second one had an address with a few leaf emojis. You sent him back a thumbs up before ordering your food and googling the random address he sent. It was a ten minute drive from the grocery store and you climbed into your car, eating one of the best hot dogs they offered in LA.

Grabbing the ingredients Colson had sent you, you pieced together his plans for the night. He was gonna bake a cake? He wanted a shit-ton of eggs, a few tubs of frosting, and boxes of cake mix. A part of you wanted to try and see if you could bake with him, but professional boundaries existed and you needed to maintain them.

- 

A few minutes later, you knocked on the door of the other address, “Hey, here for Kells,” you said to the man standing there. He nodded over at you before walking into his house. You stayed in the doorway as he walked back up to you, giving you a large cardboard box. The box was heavy, and you huffed as you balanced it in one hand before getting in your car, driving off. 

Parking in Colson’s driveway was difficult. There were cars filling up the space, and you could already hear the music coming from inside. Sighing, you decided to open the cardboard box to try and put some of the groceries inside of it. Right off, you regretted opening it. Packets of weed stared right up at you, and your eyes widened at the amount of drugs you’d been carrying. You quickly closed it back up and stacked a few cake mix boxes on top of it. Grabbing everything in your hands, you tried to efficiently close the door, determined not to make a second trip. 

Kicking the front door open, you waddled over to the kitchen counter. It was already covered with solo cups and alcohol bottles and you grew more confused about why anyone wanted to bake in the middle of what seemed to be a party. 

“Hey, Y/N! You’re back,” Colson shouted from across the room. 

You waved him over and started moving all the empty cups into the trash. Coming up behind you, he grabbed the box over your head. 

“Fuck yeah. This is gonna be the best night ever,” he muttered as you turned around to face him. 

“What’s all this even for?” you questioned as he giddily moved around the ingredients on the counter. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’re good to leave if you wanna,” he waved it off and you side stepped as he tried to move closer to the counter. Giving him full access, you grabbed your jacket and turned around to view the scene unfolding in front of you. 

The guys were all in various states of drunk, fumbling around the living room. Slim and Rook were assembling the frosting tubs in a line and you could tell it was going to be a night full of antics. A part of you desperately wanted to stay, to play along with the guys, knock a couple of drinks back and help them bake this disaster of a cake, but messing around with your employer’s friends wasn’t going to do you any favors, so you waved goodbye and walked out for the night. 

-

Two hours later, you were sitting in a bar. Your friends had set you up on a blind date, eager to get you back on the playing field. You didn’t have time in your randomized schedule to go out and dates always made you a little uneasy. 

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Y/N? Hey, nice to meet you,” the guy reached his hand out. You shook his hand, but already could feel yourself grimacing internally. It wasn’t that this guy was unattractive, it was more like he just wasn’t your type. He was dressed in a button down and khakis at a bar, it just didn’t work for you. You braced yourself for an evening of careless small talk and grabbed your drink as he led you to a table. 

Half an hour into the date, which was as boring as you’d anticipated, your phone buzzed. At first, you reached for it, but your date threw an unkind glance, so you brushed the notification off. A few minutes later, you got a few more buzzes and then a phone call. Your date threw another look at you. You smiled sweetly before picking up the phone. 

“Y/N! I need you to come over now,” Colson shouted over the noise through the phone. You pulled it back from your ear, before bringing it back. 

“Is everything okay?” you mumbled into the phone. 

“Yeah. Nooo. We’re out of alcohol,” he whined on the other end. 

You rolled your eyes, and spared a glance at your date who was picking at his teeth. Maybe this was a good thing, an excuse to leave this terrible date. 

“Sorry, something’s come up at work and I gotta head over,” you reached for your bag. Not particularly waiting for a response, you pushed in your chair and walked out of the bar. 

-

Walking to the corner store, you purchased a few bottles of Jameson and ordered a Lyft to Colson’s house. 

People were dancing all around, and you spotted Colson sitting on his kitchen counter. There was an impressive looking cake placed next to him, covered in different colors of frosting. You placed the new bottles next to the cake. 

“Fuck yeahhhh!” Colson fist bumped you as you hid your purse under the counter. Grabbing a cup you decided to get a little more drunk tonight. Honestly, you deserved it after sitting through that hellish date. 

Rook cut the cake into pieces to much celebration and soon enough, you had a fork in your hand. Reaching over to share with Colson, he snatched his plate away. 

“Hey no, I wanted that,” you grabbed for it. 

“No cake for you,” he responded and walked away. You stuck your tongue out behind his back before taking your fork and reaching into someone else's plate. 

Taking a few bites, it hit you that the cake tasted terrible. The flavor profile was just off. Everyone still seemed to be eating it, so you brushed it off and took a couple more bites for good measure. 

-

Half an hour later, you bumped into Colson as you walked up the stairway. He looked over at you, grinning until he caught sight of your face. “Y/N? Oh fuck, did you eat the cake,” he rushed out as he grabbed hold of your wrists.

“Yeah, haha. What gave it away?” you responded as you swayed a little. He cursed under his breath before looking around at the swarm of people moving around his house.

“Is there frosting on my mouth? What,” you started as he pulled you along. Following him upstairs, you smiled at the people dancing alongside his walls. Tripping over your own feet, you snatched back your wrists from his grip. 

“Dude, where are we going?” you asked as he moved people in front of him. 

“My room,” he answered and you hadn’t been this confused in a while. Colson knew you hated going into his room. He looked a little frantic, so you brushed your disgust off and stood behind him as he pulled the key out from his pocket. 

Moving into his room, you heard the music muffle itself as the door closed. There were clothes strewn everywhere, and you could see his luggage opened in a corner, things spilling out of it. Grimacing, you kicked a couple of things aside as you walked over to his bathroom. You didn’t feel too good. 

Splashing your face with cold water, you gasped. Everything around you was looking sharper, and you felt your heartbeat rabbiting as you gripped the sink. Your mind was racing, and you tried to take a deep breath as the world tilted just a little.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathed out as you closed your eyes. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Colson called out from behind the door. You looked back up in the mirror as your heart continued thudding against your chest.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled out. Your eyes looked hazy, and you touched your cheek, trying to feel your face. 

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. Open the door yeah?” you heard him say and you closed your eyes again. You couldn’t really walk, so you sat down on the floor. You shifted yourself to the door and reached up to turn the knob. He stumbled in and saw you on the floor, eyes shut. 

He sat across from you, legs crossed and you could feel his fingers run over your hands. “Hey, hey I’m here,” he murmured. 

“Colson, what’s going on?” you whispered. 

“So, um that cake you ate? It was laced. We wanted to make a space cake,” he responded and you opened your eyes. 

“A space cake, what the fuck is that,” you bit your tongue as your hands shook a little.

“Weed. A shit-ton of weed in that cake. I know you don’t smoke, it probably hit hard,” he explained.You exhaled, and took your hands out of his. Placing them on your thighs, you pushed down a little.

 “Let me get this straight, you made a cake edible, which I ate. And now I am high,” you muttered out, staring at his hands across from you. 

“Yeah, basically,” his hands twitched and you reached over for them again. Your heart seemed to relax when you could feel the weight of his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t smoke because the last time I did, I got crazy paranoid. Bad trip,” you whispered as you played with his hand. Continuing, you blurted out, “I didn’t want you to see all that.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am really high right now,” he whispered back and you laughed a little. It did help, Colson could handle his weed better than you, but at least you weren’t the only one tripping. 

“Can I hold you,” he murmured, “you’re shaking.”

You looked up at his face and he looked so sincere. Nodding, you leaned in closer as he scooted over to where you were. You turned around, facing the wall as he wrapped his arms around you. His heartbeat was steady, calming, and you felt it against your back. 

“I didn’t want this to ever happen,” you mumbled as you stared at the chipping paint on the corner. 

“I can leave,” he started and you felt his arms move from around you. 

“No!” you shouted a little, and he paused. 

“Shit, I- okay look. I just didn’t want to get this close to you. You’re my boss and I need this job and I can’t actually like you,” you stumbled out. 

He was quiet for a beat and then he whispered, “You like me?” 

The tone in his voice was softer than you’d expected and his arms relaxed against you.

“No, never pfft. Why would I? You’re annoying and you never actually eat any fruits and you’re just terrible,” you rambled on and you could feel him laughing behind you.

“Oh, you totally have a crush on me,” he barked out between his laughs. 

“Shut up,” you felt hot all of a sudden and you closed your eyes again. 

“It’s all good. Honestly, I might like you too. There’s just something about you. It’s why I always wanna hear your thoughts on my stuff. You matter to me,” he said as he moved his thumbs over the back of your hand. 

You didn’t respond. Trying to get his words out of your head, you focused on the feeling of his thumb. After a few minutes of silence, you spoke out.

“Is there anyway I can sleep here tonight?”

“In my messy bed? I thought you hated this room,” he said, leaning his head against the back of yours. 

“It’s disgusting here. I just- I don’t wanna go back out there,” you sighed out. 

“Yeah, of course you can stay here Y/N,” and you turned around to see his grin. 

Even though you were tripping on some serious space cake, you found yourself smiling back. You’d deal with this in the morning, right now all you wanted was a warm bed and Colson Baker’s arms around you.

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 2

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,129

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Your father, Negan, chuckled as you got off the golf cart in front of the trailer you’d be celebrating Christmas in again, like you had for three of the past ten years, at the Los Angeles County State Prison.

“Hi, daddy.” You breathed in relief, grateful to spend any amount of time with the only family member that you could completely trust. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Princess. Fuck you, give ‘em.” He barked as he pulled the bags of food and your clothes off the back of the cart before you could even think to reach for them. You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed your guitar case before thanking the officer and heading inside the family visit trailer. “So what kinda trouble did you get into this week?”

“Well…” You sighed as you sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “… I went to Cleveland on Saturday and flew back yesterday morning. Pretty sure I got pregnant, too.”

“You fucking what?!” Your dad roared as he slammed a box of Mac and Cheese down on the counter. “Fucking Henry?”

“Henry is not coming back!” You shouted back, defensively. “And does it fucking matter? I made a choice, two choices actually, to sleep with some douche bag and not take Plan B after. It is what it fucking is.”

“So what, you're just gunna throw away your fucking life…” He started as he went back to throwing groceries in the cabinets, angrily. 

“No, I made the choice to not be fucking alone any more!” You interrupted as you looked over at him. You couldn't hide the hurt in your eyes when he turned around to stare at you, shocked that you were actually talking about your emotions.

“Sweetheart…” He breathed as he abandoned his task and came over to sit down in front of you. “You are not fucking alone…”

“I am alone, daddy.” You nearly whispered as you put your feet up on your chair and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Mom’s dead, and you're in here for who knows how much longer. And Henry…” You scoffed and shook your head. “Henry isn't coming back. He loves being some hit shot doc the Army more than he ever loved me. So other than my research, which I've all but abandoned anyways out of sheer boredom, I have nothing. I have no one, daddy. Just the occasional visit from Ashleigh and some of the harlots from the club. Maybe a once a month lunch date with some of the people from UCLA. But that's it. So I made a choice not to get the morning after pill after I stared at the box for over an hour and weighed out the pros and cons. And I would much rather raise a sperm donor baby than be alone in that house anymore.”

“OK.” Negan whispered with a nod as he rested his hand on your bent knee. “OK. I don't fucking like it, but I will get on that train all the fucking same.” Tears welled in your eyes as you rested your cheek on the back of his hand, and you closed your eyes to hide them. “So I'm gunna be a grandpa?”

“Maybe.” You choked the slightest bit as you opened your eyes to look at him again. “It just happened but I know I'm ovulating…”

“Eww fucking gross.” He fake gagged to get you to smile as he pulled his hand free and got up to finish putting groceries away. “I don't wanna hear that shit.”

“That's what you get for raising a daughter with no filter.” You pointed out as you propped your chin between your still bent knees.

“Fucking gross.” He repeated with a laugh. “So the fuck was in Cleveland? This fuckin guy?”

“Ashleigh’s client. He’s a rock rapper that needed someone that could learn music fast and played the guitar well. So Ash landed on me. But dude is a total self absorbed prick. B minus in… well in the broom closet.”

“I'll have Simon kill him.” He said almost 100% seriously.

“You are not going to kill this idiot for being bad at sex.”

“No, I'm gunna fucking kill him for laying a Goddamn hand on my daughter.” He responded with a smile as he balled up the last empty grocery bag and put it in the recycling bin.

“You're an idiot.” You laughed as you grabbed your guitar and got up to sit outside for a while.

“Hey, be nice to your old man.” He huffed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches off the table and followed you out front to enjoy the California sun. “And go easy on me today.”

“Yea fucking right.” You laughed as you sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and pulled out your guitar, which took you almost a year of bribery to be able to get it into the jail it now lived in in the first place. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Pain in my Goddamn ass.” He grumbled around his cigarette as he moved his chair out off the shade and pulled off his blue prison issue shirt for as long as he could get away with it. “Alright… rock music from the 70’s.” You nodded at the category and tuned your guitar before picking an easy AC/DC song to start with. Which is pretty much how you always spent your days when you visited your father in prison.

——

Your office hadn’t looked so chaotic since you were working on a regular basis, but as of that morning, every available surface was covered in every single medical textbook, (with a focus on pregnancy and pediatrics) and motherhood book you could get your hands on. The dry erase board that usually had your equations to see if your Milky Way black hole theory was a possibility, had been wiped clean and replaced with columns upon columns of notes, to separate the ridiculous from the actual facts you would need to go through a pregnancy and raise a child.

You were blazing through the ‘Essential Neonatal Textbook’, when your house phone rang, startling you the slightest bit and forcing you to pull your attention away from a long list of the benefits of cord blood. You sighed and snatched up your headset as you set the book down to work through all of the information and pick out the more important bits and pieces to make the best informed decision.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)? I have a Colson Baker here to see you.” Your fingers froze with the cap of the marker in one hand and the marker itself in the other.

“You can let him in.” You sighed as you took a step forward and started a new list under the newborn column in the middle of the board. You heard the line click in your ear and you wrote quickly, trying to get some of the information down so you knew where to pick up when you came back inside. You got a short start and reluctantly forced yourself away from your research  to let your guest in. You started to work out your ideas vocally as you opened up the two gates and watched his purple Lamborghini pull into your driveway. You waited just long enough for him to make it half way to you, before you turned and headed inside to add more to your cord blood list with him following behind you.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?” Kels asked as he looked at the board over your shoulder in shock.

“Did you vaccinate Casie?” You asked as you continued to write.

“You’re fucking pregnant?!” He shouted over you as you capped your marker and set it back down on the easel.

“I am pregnant.” You said evenly as you walked over to find the ‘The Umbilical Cord Blood Controversies in Medical Law’ book to cross reference the former textbook. “Did you vaccinate Casie?”

“Were you gunna fucking tell me?” He shouted as you flipped through the pages, easily reading 20,000 words a minutes despite the distraction of your visitor.

“I was neither planning on telling you, nor keeping it from you.” You said simply. “I want nothing from you, Mr. Baker. I don’t need money, and I don’t need you to step up to be a father. You were a one night stand that I chose to not take Plan B after. My choice, my child, my body, my life.” He looked at you completely lost for words as you set your finished book down and headed back to the white board to add and change notes. “I would like your family medical history, though. I could easily do a diagnostics test and an MSS while I’m pregnant but…”

“Oh, I’m gunna be fucking sick.” He groaned behind you as you finished your idea and turned to move on to the next section. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him on the way past as you tried to keep your thoughts as straight as possible, relatively unsuccessfully.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You sighed as you looked over at him for a moment. “And after the way you treated me that night, the way you just used me and threw me away like I didn’t mean a Goddamn thing…” You exhaled through your nose and shook your head as you looked away from him and out the back door to the ocean. 

“I don’t care that you’re not happy here, Mr. Baker. I don’t care if you want to be in this child’s life or not. I don’t care if you see me or this child as a mistake, or what you see us as at all. I just don’t care. What I care about is having a calm, healthy pregnancy, and becoming a mother. And I will not tolerate having someone come into our lives to walk in and out of it because he never wanted us in the first place. Nor will I tolerate someone treating me like I’m worthless trash in front of my child.” Kels didn’t say a single word as you shook your head and turned back around to go back to work. “Stay as long as you want. I have work to do.” 

As Colson sat and thought, you went over to find a book about banking cord blood so you could round out that column. The next column was pros and cons of breastfeeding verses formula, which was a lot more extensive than you originally expected due to the varying opinions on length and benefits, but after reading through seven different books, and writing and erasing conflicting notes, he finally spoke up.

“Breastfeed for a year.” He almost whispered as he watched you work. “That’s what we did with Casie. And yea, we vaccinated her.” You nodded your head as you erased the idea you were writing and stood up to make a note in the vaccines column. “I don’t turn my back on my kids.”

“OK.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued as you capped your marker “It’s no excuse but I was high as fuck and running on adrenaline. I used you and that was shitty as fuck.”

“Yes it was.” You agreed with a nod as you leaned against the front of your desk and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I’m fucking sorry.” He said a little harshly. “And I’m sorry for knocking you up.”

“Pregnancy happens, Colson.” You breathed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m obviously a little more prepared since I actually made the decision…”

“Yea, that’s a fucking understatement.”

“OK, you can fucking leave and I can file a restraining order.” You snapped. “What’s done is done. I’m pregnant, you’re the father, your kid and my kid have a new sibling. You’re not going to have to pay child support, I’m taking primary custody with open visitations. And no, I am not going to date you. Not now, not ever. You left a sour taste in my mouth and I want nothing to do with you or your crazy lifestyle.”

“You’re just making this super fucking easy, aren’t you?” He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here. I’ll get your number from Ash and I’ll be in touch.” You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the door behind him.

“You can see yourself out.”

“Such a fucking bitch.” He muttered as he stormed out the doors and through the atrium to leave. You let out a huff and shook your head as you went back to your research.

“Idiot fucking sperm donor.”

Part 3

Heathers | Sweet Pea

A/N: Part three! 

Act one - Act two 

Words: 2622

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Warnings: angst, fighting, cursing

Act three: Fight For Me 

Another day, another rehearsal. Today, we’re mostly revising the things we’d already done. Like Beautiful, Candy Store and Freeze Your Brain. Mostly Candy Store since Cheryl didn’t know we’d changed the choreo a little to have both of Cheryl’s and Toni’s in there. “Thanks a lot, Y/N,” Cheryl had attacked me viciously. “Don’t blame me, Cheryl. You should’ve been more professional.” Sweet Pea had glanced back at me with a smirk on his face, agreeing with my statement. The redhead scoffs, but then focuses on my mixed choreo anyway. I could tell Betty and Veronica had a lot more fun on stage since I did the number with them the other day. It’s fun to see everyone getting better every single time. “Let’s take five, guys, and then we’re doing Our Love Is God,” Kevin tells us when the Heathers have finished their Candy Store rehearsal. “Hey, Y/N,” I hear Sweet Pea’s voice behind me as I’m searching for my water bottle in my bag. “Hey,” I greet back when I’ve found it and stand up straight to face the tall Serpent. “I think I could get some pointers on Meant to Be Yours and I am Damaged. Would it be okay to rehearse together tonight?” I can feel my face heat up as a smile finds its way back to my face. “Yeah, sure! Your place or mine?” I ask and sip from my water. “Mine, if that would be okay? My auntie is dropping off my little cousin after school and I need to watch him for tonight,” he explains. “He’ll probably be in bed when you arrive though.” He adds it quickly as though that would be a reason for me not to come. I love watching children. And I love it when guys are good with kids too. Due to the gender roles and double standards, you wouldn’t think guys were good with kids and only women are meant to be gifted in that department. “Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I’ll swing by after school? We could order some pizzas for dinner?” I suggest, making it an entire date. His eyes widen a little at the realization. “If I’m giving you some pointers, I’ll probably be there all night long,” I say in a teasing tone, and it makes him chuckle. “Yeah, after school it is,” he nods and gets to his spot so we can start rehearsing Our Love is God. I’m reminded of Friday night when we were at Pop’s and I’d started singing it softly, only to him, and then he’d continued singing. That was one of my favorite moments I’d ever had with a co-star. “Yeah-lo?” Archie says as Kurt Kelly on the other side of the stage, holding a vintage telephone horn to his ear. “Hi, Kurt. It’s Veronica… how did you guys know it was always a fantasy of mine to have two guys at once?” I ask in an innocent voice as Sweet Pea snickers beside me as JD. “Wow, uh… Lucky guess?” he exclaims, punching Reggie in the shoulder. “Well, if you want it to come true, meet me at the cemetery, at dawn,” I say and then hang up the horn. Archie does the same as he looks at Reggie in absolute merriment. “Free pussy!” he yells, and Reggie suddenly mirrors his expression. “And we don’t even have to buy it a pizza!” Reggie exclaims excitedly and the two boys fist bump, saying “Punch it in!” before heading into the wings, laughing, leaving Sweet Pea and I alone on the stage again. “We can start and finish wars We're what killed the dinosaurs We're the asteroid that's overdue The dinosaurs choked on the dust They died because God said they must The new world needed room For me and you” Sweet Pea and I sing the lines together, moving towards the center of the stage, staying close to one another. Then, Sweet Pea turns me, so I face him, and he keeps his hands on my hips while mine grip at his long trench coat. “I worship you I'd trade my life for yours They all will disappear We'll plant our garden here” Then I echo, “Plant our garden here,” after which we leap into a couple of “Our love is God”. I’m weirdly comfortable in Sweet Pea’s arms. I’ve only met him a couple of weeks ago when we started rehearsing and only really got to know him a bit better on Friday night. It does freak me out a little bit. But for now, it’s only a benefit to our acting performance that I feel this comfortable. I listen to him sing as I’m kneeled down next to Archie, who had been ‘shot’ first, as he’s keeping Reggie at gun point. For some reason, he looks hot when he’s about to fake kill somebody. He then ‘shoots’, and Reggie falls on the floor. “What the fuck have you done?!” I shout at him and get up from my spot on the stage to walk over to him. In the process of doing so, I slip on one of the boys’ shoes as they had to strip for this scene. I prepare for the fall, but it never comes as a hand grabs me by my arm and holds me up. When I turn my head, I’m face to face with Sweet Pea, who simply keeps going like a true theater professional. “I worship you I'd trade my life for yours We'll make them disappear We'll plant our garden here” Then, we leap back into the Our Love is God’s until the song finishes and Reggie and Archie get up again from their death-spot. The others from the cast in the audience, applaud for us, even Cheryl who didn’t used to do that last week or even earlier today when we did Freeze Your Brain. “Are you okay?” Sweet Pea then asks when he finally lets go of my arm. “Yeah, I just tripped over a shoe,” I reply with a smile, “Thanks for saving me though.” Sweet Pea opens his smiling mouth to say something back, but Kevin interrupts him. That’s also when I get snapped into real life again and out of my bubble with Sweet Pea. “That was amazing! Let’s do Blue now, and then we’ll wrap up for today,” he says, “Anyone who isn’t in this scene can go home if they want.” Sweet Pea turns his head to me, his face in a pained expression. I give him a smile. “You can go. Just text me your address and I’ll come over when we’re done here.” He nods his head, grabs the pistol prop from me and puts it in its place, so I can do the scene with Veronica, Betty, Archie and Reggie. I was kind of hoping I could go home with Sweet Pea instead. The ride on his motorbike on Friday was so amazing and so freeing, that I’d give anything to do it again. There was just something about holding him by his torso and feeling the wind whoosh on my face – I was wearing his helmet, so no wind through my hair. Or maybe it was just being so close to him that made it so much fun and easy. Oh no…

Sweet Pea had texted me the trailer number he lived in at Sunnyside, so I drove my car there and parked just in front of the park before getting out. Just as I shut my door and locked the car, I hear smacking and grunting and groaning. With furrowed brows I walk towards the sound, only to find Sweet Pea fighting some Ghoulie – another gang we should definitely steer clear from. Rumored cannibals. “Hey!” I shout and run up to the two. “Stop it! Stop it right now!” I yell, capturing both the boy’s attention. Sweet Pea’s face is almost covered entirely in blood and it pains me to see him like this. “Ah, Sweet Pea, don’t tell me this is her…” the Ghoulie says with a bemused smile on his face. “A Northsider, really? Out of all the people… I—” before the guy can even say another word, Sweet Pea lashes out and his fist hits the Ghoulie’s jaw, sending him to the ground. “Holy shit!” I yelp, bringing my hands up to cover my mouth. “Sweet Pea, come on!” I grab his arm and pull him away from the Ghoulie. Reluctantly, the tall Serpent backs off and follows me to his trailer. “I can’t believe you fought a Ghoulie,” I mumble as he unlocks his door and lets me in first. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he points to the door on my right, and when I walk through it, I find myself in the bathroom. It’s small. Really small. I doubt you could even move in here when there’s two people inside. Without judging it any further, I open the mirror-cupboard and grab the small red box with the cross on top. If this isn’t it, he needs to sort out his life. “How was the rehearsal?” he asks, hoping for the subject not to be his fighting. “Don’t,” I reply curtly, “Don’t pretend you’re not nearly bleeding and bruising to death, Noah.” I use his real name to get the point across right while wetting a gauze with disinfectant. “Don’t call me that,” he sneers, then hisses when I dab the wound on his forehead from the Ghoulie’s ring. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” I sigh deeply, then grab another gauze since the first one is now covered in blood. He hisses again as the wet gauze comes into contact with the injury. “It’s not that bad.” “Why were you fighting that Ghoulie? And where is your cousin?” I ask two questions in one go. “My cousin’s in my bedroom, playing a game on my phone. I was just going out to get some apple juice for him from the supermarket when I bumped into the Ghoulie. He started bashing me about the musical and …” he trails off a little before adding, “you…” “So, then you decided to punch him in the eye?” I ask whilst covering the wound with a plaster. “Don’t give me shit about this right now, Y/N. Everything kind of hurts and I’m really regretting doing it all.” My lips pull into a pained grimace as I start on his bloody knuckles. I can’t really tell if it’s his blood or the Ghoulie’s. Maybe both. “Could you…” he starts, but then stops. “Never mind, it’s going to sound stupid.” I stop what I’m doing and look up at him instead. “No, tell me. Nothing you ever say would sound stupid. Anything Reggie says, however…” I trail off suggestively and earn a chuckle from the boy. “Just tell me, Sweets.” I encourage him before going back to cleaning his knuckles. “Could you sing for me? It always soothes me when you do,” he asks sheepishly, and when I look up again, he’s staring at his hand in mine. I take a deep breath before leaping into the first song that pops into my head. Which is also vaguely appropriate for this situation. “Hey, Mister No Name Kid So who might you be? And could you fight for me? And hey, could you face the crowd? Could you be seen with me and still act proud?” I glance up at him, shooting him a small smile. “Hey, could you hold my hand? And could you carry me through no man's land? It's fine if you don't agree But I would fight for you If you would fight for me” I bandage up his knuckles then, whilst still continuing the song. “Let them drive us underground I don't care how far You can set my broken bones And I know CPR” He chuckles a little at my suggesting expression, just as I would during the show.

“Well, whoa You can punch real good” I place a soft kiss on his bandaged fist. “You've lasted longer than I thought you would So hey, Mister No Name Kid If some night, you're free Wanna fight for me?” The next thing I do is grab a salve that I know also works for bruises. So, I put a dollop on my finger and begin to softly massage it into the spots that are already bruising and turning blue. “If you're still alive I would fight for you If you would fight for me!” My hand lands on his cheek and stays there as I finish the last high note. For a moment after, we stay like that; staring in each other’s eyes with my hand on his cheek and panting a little from the endeavor of singing.   “Thanks,” Sweet Pea whispers, and I catch him glancing from eyes to my lips. This can’t happen. I need to stay professional in this. So, I cough and snap both of us from our trance. “No problem. Let’s rehearse now, shall we?” I say and reach for my bag to grab my script. “Let’s order some pizza first, I think Jordan might be hungry or getting bored. Or both,” he chuckles a little while grabbing his phone to call the closest pizza joint. “Hey, why don’t we play some games with him instead of rehearsing? We’ve done plenty of it already and we can get back to it tomorrow. Let’s just babysit your cousin for the night, keep him entertained.” He nods his head with a smile and dials the pizza guy first before getting Jordan. The rest of the night, we spend playing games, eating pizza, and finish by watching one movie with Jordan together before we put him in his bed. “Will you be here again next time I stay here, Y/N?” Jordan asks when I tuck him in bed with Sweet Pea towering over me from behind. I smile at the little eight-year-old and push a strand of his long, curly hair out of his face. “I can’t promise you that, big guy. But I’ll try, okay?” He nods his head in response before wiggling down a little and snuggling into his pillow. “Shall we watch one more movie, and then I’ll get going.” “Or you could stay?” the tall Serpent suggests with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sweets, I—” before I can finish my sentence, he’s already cut me off. “Come on, Y/N. Please, stay?” he steps closer to me, and places his hands on my hips like he does so many times during the musical. “Besides, Jordan will love it when he sees you at breakfast?” he tries, hoping the mention of his way too adorable cousin will win me over. It does. My willpower isn’t that strong. I groan, rolling my eyes. “Fine.” Sweet Pea lets out a ‘yes’, “But we’re watching Heathers the movie tonight.” I point my finger at him as if telling him that would be my one condition to doing this. He nods his head in agreement, and the two of us settle on the sofa as I text my mother I’ll be staying over at Margot’s. If she finds out I stayed over at a Serpent’s house, she will kill me, and him. Even though I have a ‘I don’t care’ attitude towards them, my parents do not share the same morals. So, the rest of the night is spent like that; cuddled up on the sofa whilst watching Heathers until both of us fall asleep. I didn’t think I would have so much fun with Sweet Pea or feel so comfortable around him. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that it scares me a little.

bad things one shot [raleigh carrera x marina cortez]

This is the first fic I’ve written in god knows how long. I’ve been feeling very anxious lately and I still do, but I’m trying my best to get through it and be positive. 

This is not one of my best writings, not by a long shot. But I wanted to write again and so this is what I’ve ended up with. 

The song Bad Things by Machine Gun Kelly & Camila Cabello inspired this fic and the lyrics are also in this. In this fic, just pretend that Marina sang this song instead of Camila :)

Warnings: NSFW. References to drugs. Raleigh x Marina are not a wholesome couple..

@ibldw-main​ @pug-bitch​ @omgjasminesimone​ @raleighcarrera​ @mvalentine​ @vaginas-lost-baguette​ @katedrakeohd​ @emichelle​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @gardeningourmet​ 

*******************************

Raleigh lit another cigarette as he listened to Marina curse under her breath. Paper covered with her loopy handwriting scattered the floor around her; she held her pen tightly, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as her eyes scanned the latest lyrics she had written. She was sat down on the floor with her legs crossed and her rising frustration was becoming more evident. 

‘This is fucking shit,’ she muttered. ‘What the hell is that supposed to even mean?’

Raleigh sighed and moved to sit down beside her. ‘Do you need help?’ he asked.

‘No..’ Marina said unconvincingly. ‘Maybe.. Yes.’

Raleigh chuckled and slung his arm around her shoulder, bringing her in close to him. As he rested his chin on top of her head, Raleigh read the lyrics she had written so far. 

Marina was recording a song with the rapper Machine Gun Kelly and had been put in charge of writing it. Although it was MGK’s song and Marina was only featuring, she was the artist who could write magic on a page. Marina Cortez was the whole package: beautiful, talented, creative, hardworking. She was the most in demand singer in America right now.

But for some reason, the lyrics weren’t coming easy to her. 

‘This is good so far!’ Raleigh told her honestly. ‘What’s the problem?’

Marina bit her lip. ‘It feels.. Fake.’

Raleigh frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Marina sighed and ran her hands through her raven hair. She leaned into Raleigh and examined her fingernails. ‘Usually, I write from the heart,’ she told him. ‘Personal stuff. Like how much music drives me, how alone I used to feel, you know? Songs for a lonely girl who spends all her time in her bedroom. I want my fans to be able to connect with me and feel like I’m there for them. But I don’t know what this song is supposed to be. MGK has given me free rein but I can’t find inspiration. So this song is gonna tank, his reputation will be ruined and everyone will hate me-’

‘Mari, you’re spiralling,’ Raleigh interrupted. He took the paper and examined it in more detail before picking up her pen. ‘You gotta relax,’ he continued. ‘You’re too close to this. Let me help.’

Marina sighed. ‘Thank you.’

Raleigh smiled. ‘How do you feel right now? Like, in life. How do you, Marina Cortez, feel?’

Marina’s red knit sweater was too long for her arms. The material covered her fingers. Marina played with the sleeves as she thought to herself. ‘I feel good,’ she finally said. ‘Accomplished. I have everything I ever wanted..  I have you.’

Raleigh felt a blush creep on his cheeks. He and Marina had been dating for the past four months and everything was good. Sure, they had their moments. Moments when they argued passionately and fiercely after too many drinks. Moments when things got too heated in a smashed up hotel room and they swore they would never speak to each other again. Magazines and paparazzi lapped it up. Many nights photographers captured images of Raleigh and Marina that should never have made it into print; but that was what the couple had signed up for. Their lives were no longer private. But god, they tried hard to keep it so. 

Raleigh was happy. He got to wake up beside the most beautiful girl in the world. He got to kiss her whenever he wanted, feel her skin against his whenever he wanted, feel her fingernails against his back whenever he wanted. He remembered one night when Marina had gently grazed her finger along his cheek as she whispered in a drunken haze, ‘I want you forever even when we’re not together.’

‘Wait,’ Raleigh said suddenly, his fingers tightening on the sheet of paper. He crossed out a lyric and wrote, muttering under his breath, ‘I want you forever even when we’re not together..’

Marina turned pink now. She remembered that night. ‘You want me to write about us?’ she asked, her voice cracking. ‘Do you think MGK will stand for that?’

Raleigh smiled. ‘You said you write about personal things,’ he explained. ‘So write personally.’

*******************

Over the next few hours, Raleigh and Marina wrote together until they had the bare bones of a song. Raleigh ordered pizza and found bottles of beer; Marina snuggled into him as she wrote, occasionally stopping to sip her beer and ask for his opinions.

‘Am I out of my head?

Am I out of my mind?

If you only knew the bad things I like

Don't think that I can explain it

What can I say, it's complicated’

Marina sang softly, her voice hesitant as she tried out the words that rolled like silk from her tongue. 

‘Bad things, huh?’ Raleigh asked. ‘Care to elaborate?’

Marina laughed and covered her eyes with her hands. ‘Noooo!’ she protested. ‘The words just came to me, don’t ask me what they mean!’

Raleigh let out a deep chuckle and tried to prise her hands away from her eyes. ‘Tell me!’ he said. ‘I won’t laugh!’

Marina kept her hands clamped to her eyes, refusing to look at Raleigh. Raleigh rolled his eyes and kept trying to prise her hands away, wanting to see the girl hiding herself. As he pulled at her hands, Marina shuffled away from him. Raleigh followed, not relenting. 

‘You know I love the chase,’ he teased. His fingers wrapped gently around her wrists. ‘I can do this all day, Mari.’

Marina giggled and scooted away from him, enjoying their little game. Raleigh pulled her back, tackling her to the floor, laughing as she screamed in surprise. His hands held her wrists above her head as he pinned her down. ‘Raleigh!’ Marina cried. ‘Get off!’

‘Nah babe,’ Raleigh said, smiling down into her brown eyes. ‘You’re mine now. So, bad things. What bad things are you talking about?’

Marina’s eyes glinted mischievously. She brought her legs around his waist and pulled him further down onto her. ‘What do you think?’ she murmured. 

Raleigh let out a low growl. He knew exactly the kind of bad things she was meaning. The bad things they performed in the dark. The bad things that nobody in the world would think Marina Cortez enjoyed. To the outside world, Marina Cortez was the innocent pop princess who was dominating the charts. Only Raleigh knew what she was really like. Only Raleigh knew the hidden side of Marina, the one that came out when they were alone. The Marina who liked to be pinned down by Raleigh’s tattooed body. The Marina who liked to be fucked hard against the wall. The Marina who left scars on Raleigh’s back. The Marina who screamed his name as he ravaged her on a nightly basis. 

But he also knew the Marina who told him her deepest fears. The Marina who was terrified of being alone. The Marina who felt inferior to everyone in the music industry despite her incredible talent. The Marina who was vulnerable and scared in this shiny, glimmering world of trophies, accolades and red carpets. Raleigh loved that Marina. His Marina. 

‘I like bad things..’ Raleigh murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against her neck. As he pulled away, he gently nipped at her skin with his teeth, causing her to let out a gasp. Marina’s eyes darkened as she looked into his; both of their pupils were dilated and their hearts beating an extra beat inside their full chests. 

‘I like bad things too,’ Marina whispered, her hands reaching out to slide under Raleigh’s t-shirt.

Raleigh let out a chuckle as he felt her fingers graze his skin. ‘So you’ve said,’ he replied in a low voice. ‘How about you prove it?’

*******************

Marina’s fingernails dug into Raleigh’s tattooed back as he fucked her hard, just the way she liked it. She didn’t care that the hardwood floor and the impact of Raleigh on top of her was hurting her spine. She didn’t care that her cries echoed around the room, probably disturbing the occupants of the neighbouring apartment. 

All she wanted was to feel Raleigh Carerra inside her. 

‘Oh god, Raleigh..’ she groaned, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth. 

‘Mari..’ Raleigh whispered, his breath hot against her ear. ‘You like this?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered back, digging her nails into his skin harder and scratching down his spine. ‘Keep going.’

Raleigh began to move against her more rapidly, his pace increasing as they gathered momentum. Without warning, he reached down to gather her up so she was straddling his lap as he sat on the floor; Marina instantly took control. 

She was on fire. Her black hair was a tousled mane down her back. Droplets of sweat trickled down her temples as she moved her hips, grinding against him hard and deep. She held onto Raleigh’s shoulders for dear life as she ground into him, letting out husky groans as she enjoyed the feel of him inside of her. 

Raleigh’s fingers tangled in her hair as he kissed her hard. Their sex was always like this; passionate, all encompassing, volcanic. Pure fire.

*****************************

Later that evening, as Marina and Raleigh wrote together, they remembered nights where they inhaled white powder chased down with vodka. Nights where memories blurred together, things were said, hands touched, clothes stripped. 

I can't explain it

I love the pain

And I love the way your breath

Numbs me of novacaine

And we are

Always high

Keep it strange

Okay, yeah, I'm insane

But you the same

The night where Marina only wore a white vest top and lace briefs, her dark hair tangled down her back as she danced around the living room with a bottle in her hand. Raleigh watched her from his position on the couch, his eyes dark as he took in the way her hips snaked and rolled as she moved around the room with the lights of Los Angeles lighting her up like the star she was. 

Marina reached out to take the paper that was now strewn with lyrics. With her eyes glinting, she smiled to herself as she scrawled more words. She felt adrenaline as the song began to come together. She sat back and started to sing softly. 

The way we love, is so unique

And when we touch, I'm shivering

And no one has to get it

Just you and me

‘Awww, Mari..’ Raleigh joked, pulling her in to press a kiss on her forehead. ‘You’re so sentimental!’

‘Shurrup!’ Marina protested, laughing as Raleigh began to press quick and tiny kisses all over her head. Unlike their sex a few hours previously, this time they were playful with each other. The two sides of Raleigh and Marina that nobody else got to see. The sides that they only showed each other. 

**************************

Nails scratchin' my back tatt

Eyes closed while you scream out

And you keep me in with those hips

While my teeth sink in those lips

While your body's giving me life

And you suffocate in my kiss

Marina watched with wide, nervous eyes as MGK read the lyrics out loud. She had arranged to meet him in a recording studio in downtown LA and she was feeling apprehensive about the entire situation. She still felt like an imposter when she met these established musicians, even though she was now one herself. Any minute now, she was waiting for someone to find her out. Tell her to pack her shit and go home. 

‘Marina, this is awesome,’ MGK finally said after a long moment. ‘Jesus. I mean.. I knew you were good but this is fucking the SHIT.’

Marina exhaled, relief flooding her veins. ‘Oh my gosh, thank you!’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t all me; Raleigh also wrote. He’s due a writing credit.’

MGK eyed her and looked back down at the lyrics. ‘Is this about you guys?’

Marina tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. ‘So, when do you want to start recording?’