this is my last night as a free woman (aka i'm going to move back into college tomorrow morning pray 4 me i already cried 3 times trying to pack my car why do i have so many things) and i decided to give you this! it's another two parter even though it doesn't have to be, but i'm sort of attached to this and i want to make it longer than necessary. whoops.

here is me responding to your reviews: MOST OF THEM ARE SO LONG I LOVE THEM KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK 10/10 YES

no worries i got a lot of 1d things. i am not ashamed. i even got their new calendar. i am SET. and ofc i saw niall's ice bucket challenge it was clearly a present for me. the other ones sucked in comparison. also where is zayn? i want to see him wet. that sounded worse than i thought it did. i'm not erasing it. if curious about concerts (i will keep this short and sweet): i went to two this summer and i danced a lot at both of them and a lot of mothers/small children hated me but whatever i had more fun than you. and i went to one drunk which was even better and harry made fun of my dancing but i flail or whatever. but you know what? he's lame.

i need to stop talking about one direction i am so sorry

kk here's this! i am so tired.

warning: massie says oh my god a lot. and derrick's like weird for a super famous person. why did i do this to him? and chris is such a bitch i might want to marry him.

double warning: i made up lyrics for songs haha i am so not cut out to be a songwriter.. also skye reminds me of ariana grande like singing wise even though she's totes taylor swift? also is low state one direction or 5sos i don't know. who are these people. massie is me though. derrick is niall. i need to sleep. why am i still writing this author's note

.:. december 29th .:.

oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

Massie was positive she was about to explode—or her heart was going to break right through her ribcage and out of her body, beating hard and loud, escaping to some far off location because it couldn't handle her. She covered her face with her hands, breathing slowly and deeply, but found that only made her want to throw up even more. She pressed down on her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth (which was kind of sore), hoping, for the second time, she would suffocate and die. She didn't need to check to her body for clothes; the sheets were nice and silky against her very extremely totally absolutely one hundred percent naked body.

Did she mention she wanted to die?

How could she let this happen? What time was it? Where was she? Why—

She remembered bits and pieces, but she was positive she hadn't been drunk enough to black out. Like. The fern. And the pictures of Skye puking? Why? And. And. Derrick offering for Low State to perform. That one shot she didn't take. He kissed her. Or she kissed him? There was a lot of kissing. But this? Here? She had plans, goddammit. She had a pop star to blackmail. She had to make Skye cry. She needed her to agree to the Times Square show. She couldn't be here.

Worst of all, she couldn't just leave. She had no idea where she was. Or where her clothes were. Or what would happen once she left this room. What was on the other side of the door? Was the rest of the band here? Oh my god.

And the next thing she knew, Derrick was shifting, and that broke through her panicked thoughts. She tried to compose herself, adjust her face into one of utter coolness, like this happened all the time, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. She still felt like she wanted to throw up.

Derrick didn't seem to notice it, though, but that was mainly because he was yawning as he flipped to face her. Massie bit down on her cheek and stared up at the ceiling. It was painted white. It was rather nice.

"You know," he said sleepily, resting his forehead against her shoulder. Why was he so cuddly? Oh my god. "I think we could find a way to rearrange Broken Crown to have a five part harmony. Josh has a killer falsetto."

Massie was so taken aback by the mere fact that someone could sound so good right after waking up that she didn't answer fast enough for him.

And instead of him asking her what was up, he opened his mouth and out came: "…this crown may be broken but it still fits like a glove… you'll never knock me down—no, you'll never knock me down…"

"What?" Massie choked on her own tongue, giggles and all.

"I'm singing," Derrick answered. "Do I sound like Skye?"

"You sound like you're whining," she countered. His singing voice did sound nice though, maybe a little scratchy and rough due to just waking up, but… no complaints.

"Wow, rude. I should kick you out."

"You'd have to literally throw me out of that window," Massie shot back, which confused the hell out of her, because she was sure her feet were shaking. "I'm comfy."

"Mm," he agreed, furthering this point by nuzzling his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder. His nose grazed by her collarbone and sent a shot of heat down her spine. She gritted her teeth. "Did I do that?"

Massie frowned. "Do what?"

Derrick hoisted himself up and prodded at her skin with his fingers. "This."

His touch was oddly ticklish and Massie swatted his hand away. He frowned, lips falling into a pout, and did it again, just to get the same response.

"I don't like that," he said.

"I don't like you."

"Hmm…" He quirked an eyebrow, let his gaze travel down the length of her body, despite it being covered with blankets, and grinned. "Looks like it."

"Go awaaaaaay." Massie shoved at his exposed chest, silently marveling over the muscle tone there, but he slid back only a little bit.

Derrick shot her a look pushed her back lightly, pressing her deeper into the mattress. She fought back, kicking her legs out, and he twisted his body out of the way. The sheets wrapped around him shifted downwards, barely clinging to him now, and Massie could see all of him if she dared, which she wasn't sure she did. But this change seemed to reflect in him, too, for his eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he gazed down at her, sitting back on his haunches.

Then he was kissing her, like this was something they did often, like they hadn't just met yesterday, and Massie was surprised at how quickly she responded. His lips were like fire, even if they were just connected to hers, and his hands were something else, controlling yet gentle, dominant yet unsure—and she liked the way he kept her down, liked feeling so out of her element in this way. It arched her back, and had her biting down on his lower lip, and he shuffled closer, and her senses were going into overdrive, and they were so close—

And then—

"Are you two ever not attached by the mouth?"

"Kemp," Derrick growled. "Go away."

"Nah, not this time," came Kemp's voice. "Management wants to kick your ass for being so stupid last night. Hey, Massie."

"Hi," she croaked, eyes shut. If she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her… right? Well, anyway, Derrick's body was still on top of hers so it didn't matter much.

"Cam did the same thing," Derrick argued.

"Yeah, but he wasn't stupid about it!" Kemp snapped. "He didn't even touch her at the club. He waited until after. Whereas you… you… I've never seen you like that before."

Derrick retaliated with a rather impressive "So?"

"What's gotten into, man? You know what they said—"

"Drop it, Kemp," Derrick said. "I'll talk to them. Are they here?"

"Of course not." Kemp scoffed. "They called and gave me an earful. Apparently there's some shit in the tabloids already."

"Fine." Derrick sighed. "I'll call them back."

"I hope they don't kill you. My ears are still ringing." Kemp was silent for a moment, then two, then three, then four. "As you were," he finally said, door shutting behind him.

But they did not continue where they left off. Massie opened her eyes in time for Derrick to kiss her again, this time lighter and ten times more chaste. Deflating completely, he curled up on her like a cat, head resting just below her chin.

Caught of guard, Massie mumbled, "Uh… you okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed, "just don't move."

"I can't," she said. "You're on top of me."

He chuckled lightly, curling his fingers around the side of her stomach. He hummed to himself, breathing slowly. Massie fought the urge to run her fingers through his hair until it felt like she wasn't doing enough to help him. Did he need help? She wasn't sure of that or even of what was going on, but her hands had a mind of their own and soon she was playing with his matted golden curls.

They stayed like that for so long Massie nearly forgot about Skye.

.:.

But she remembered eventually.

.:.

"She's staying at the Solomon," said Alicia on the phone, "which is where Low State is staying. Which is where you are."

"You were here, too," Massie shot back in a hushed sort of voice. She could hear Derrick's aggravation through the walls as he spoke to his PR team or whatever.

There was a pause as Alicia rolled her eyes. Massie could practically hear it happening. "Yeah, but I left. I also didn't fuck Derrick Harrington of Low State either, so."

"What did you do with Cam, then?" Massie hissed. "Did you play more pool?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Alicia responded airily, "but he is a very generous lover."

"Gross. I didn't need to know that—hey, how do you know about me and"—she mumbled this part very fast—"Derrick?"

"You're very loud."

"Oh my god," Massie exclaimed. As if this day could get any worse. "I can't—I didn't—"

Alicia chortled on the other end, furthering Massie's embarrassment. "I'm kidding!" she squealed, clearly happy with the other girl's reaction. "I didn't even know you slept with him, so thanks for sharing!"

"How could you not know?" Massie demanded. "Isn't it all over the tabloids? You run a gossip website."

"Yeah, but." Alicia shrugged. "Speaking of that, actually," she changed course, all business here, "none of the pictures show it's you. Just your hair and your dress. Not your face. I think you're in the clear, but obvs not Derrick. They have this agreement not to bring girls home or to be, like, real sneaky about it because—"

Massie interrupted her, "Don't care. You said Skye was here?"

"Yes," grumbled Alicia, not fond of being cut off. "I don't know where, but… she's there."

The brunette in the hotel room rubbed her face tiredly, smudging the mascara that somehow still clung to her lashes. "How am I supposed to find her before she leaves? What if she already left? I don't want to sit on all this blackmail for no reason. I feel bad enough as it is."

"Stop that right now," Alicia ordered. "Do not feel bad. This is the girl that's singlehandedly ruining your life. If you start acting like this now while we have the upper hand, you'll get fired for sure. The entertainment industry does not care about your feelings."

Massie frowned, picking at the fruit bowl on the table. "Okay. So, like… how do I go about this? They're not just going to give me Skye's room number because I asked nicely."

"Yes, I know." Alicia hummed, milling about. "You know what? I have a plan. I can get to the Solomon in thirty, if you're willing to wait that long."

"I mean, yeah. I don't have any idea what to do, so…"

"Kay, but you gotta do some things for me."

"Name it."

"There are three," Alicia said. "One: Make me coffee, two: tell the security guards I'm coming up, and three: find Chris."

The first two were reasonable. Alicia's body was ninety percent caffeine, had been since they were fourteen, and she'd never be able to get to where Massie was if she didn't tell one of the guards about it. But Chris? What role did he play? Didn't Alicia spend the night with Cam?

"Sure… what's Chris gotta do with it though?"

Massie could hear Alicia's front door close, and then the elevator doors. She should've lost the connection once that happened, but the gods were shining down on her, it seemed.

"Chris used to be photographed with Skye all the time," Alicia explained. She greeted her doorman enthusiastically and stepped out into the New York City morning. The traffic hit Massie's ears at full force; she could hardly hear it in this hotel room. "He's gonna be my Plan B. Y'know, or Plan A, since I don't think the original Plan A even qualifies."

"Sure, yeah. I'll look for him. He's gotta be around here somewhere."

"Is Cam there?" Alicia asked suggestively.

"I don't know," Massie said, "and you better not get all weird with him near me."

"As long as you don't get all weird around Derrick near me."

"Why would I be weird with—you know what? Just get here."

"Like that wasn't suspicious at all," Alicia sing-songed. "Be right there."

.:.

Chris was frowning across the table at the two of them, three cups of untouched coffee sitting in front of him. Apparently this was his thing. Another one of this things was not being up before noon. The interviewers clearly didn't ask the right questions when given the chance. "What," he started, "is so important that you two need to wake me from my beauty sleep?"

"Operation: Skye."

"That's the worst name for a plan I've ever heard. I want no part in it."

"You're the backup plan," Alicia said, tying her hair up. "Plan B. The second plan if the first one falls through."

He brought the middle cup towards him, adding the necessary amount of sugar. He also didn't like milk, if you were curious. "What is the first one?"

"Um, distracting the guy at the front desk—preferably with Massie breaking her leg or faking a seizure—"

"—what—"

"—and then hacking into his computer to find out where Skye is staying, and then getting there, past her security, but that part of the plan is still a little iffy because I'm not sure how well I can do that while Massie is pretending to die downstairs… And then I'm gonna need her anyways because she's the one who has to do all the threatening and blackmailing—my job isn't on the line here, y'know?"

Chris stared. Massie glared. One of the security guards, who was making his one cup of coffee, laughed in the kitchen.

"There is no possible way the two of you can pull this off," Chris decided grandly. He took a large gulp of his drink as he mulled it all over, ignoring the deadly looks Alicia was sending his way. "First off, neither of you are particularly good actresses. Or spies, come to think of it. You both got distracted last night"—a pointed glance in Massie's direction—"and I'm pretty sure the only way you got any good pictures is because Skye was sloppy as hell."

"You have no faith in us. Why is that?"

"I don't know you."

"You just criticized us!"

"You don't have to know someone to judge them."

"Christopher—"

"I'm going to lose my job," Massie wailed, as per usual. Alicia didn't even spare her an odd look, she was so used to this by now. It was like Massie had a daily quota of complaining and crying about her job this week. Chris, on the other hand, was mildly alarmed. "I'm getting swindled by an eighteen year old and I'm going to lose my job!"

"Um. Um. Um." Chris flapped around like a bird, almost knocking over his drinks. "Are you gonna cry? I'm not good with crying girls. Like. At all. I stay far, far, far away from them. Please don't cry. Oh my god. Please."

Alicia pursed her lips, watching him thoughtfully.

Massie continued to have a mental breakdown.

"Listen. Listen," babbled Chris. "I'll. I'll—what's Plan B, which is now Plan A? I'll do it. Please don't cry. Can we change the name of the operation while we're at it? Please don't cry."

Alicia clapped. Massie felt a wave of relief flood over her, but she was still aware of her shaking hands. It was Wednesday. Two days were left. She was running out of time. This had to work, but none of the other plans worked, so…

"Okay, here's the deal…"

.:.

Operation: Destroy Skye Hamilton and Her Stupid Animal Sweaters (And, Y'know, Get Her to Perform at Times Square, I Guess), as Chris so aptly renamed it, had three separate parts.

A: Get information from the guy downstairs.

B: Get inside the hotel room.

C: Blackmail.

.:.

The two followed Chris downstairs, waiting the appropriate amount of time so it didn't seem like they were with him. But once they were in the lobby, all hell broke loose. Massie had no idea that cliche even existed, but it did. It really did.

Some girl screamed so loud it ruptured Massie's eardrums—again—thus alerting other fans that Chris arrived. How they got there in the first place was a mystery, seeing as this place was always super against allowing fans inside. One of them must've been staying here (but it was expensive as all hell, so how?) and made friends with others who liked Low State as much as her; they banded together in hopes of spotting one of them, or all of them, and now, life changed for them. Chris was right there, in plain sight, looking soooo good.

At least that's what some preteen said. Not Massie. She did not care about Chris' outfit. It was subpar at best.

He was distracted from their plan before they even had a chance to get it going. Massie was going to scream just as loudly as that girl did, but with more of a murderous note to it. Not that of ultimate jubilation.

The crowd thickened the more time passed and it seemed that Chris was never getting out of this mob. Security was in its way, naturally, but he still had time before that happened, so it was autograph and picture taking left and right.

All around Massie, the clocks changed to read one, mocking her, taunting her with their hands and their numbers. She could see the future in the glass of the one on the table. It was Griffin, firing her, telling her how much she disappointed him. Oh my god.

Alicia noticed this, and quickly she hopped to her feet, pulling Massie along with her. "Okay, Plan B."

"This is Plan B."

"Plan C, then. C'mon. Follow my lead."

She did so, weaving through the crowd and ignoring Chris' desperate plea for help. Absolutely not. He deserved it.

Before long, they were at the front desk and Alicia was wearing her most charming of smiles. Massie knew she looked bored and anxious, which was an odd mix. Alicia rang the little bell on the counter. Not even three seconds went by before a man was standing before them.

"How can I help you today, ladies?" he asked. "I'm sorry about the disruption." He eyed the teenage fans as they cried, squealed, screamed, laughed, etc. etc.

"Oh, it's fine. We're used to it," Alicia responded.

We are? Massie wanted to ask.

"You see, we work for Low State, the boy band," she went on, "and that's Chris. From that very boy band. He came down here to find out where Skye Hamilton is staying. You know, the pop star? They've been a thing for a while now. I'm sure you've seen the magazines. He just wasn't expecting this sort of reaction when he came down to ask. Would you mind giving it to us so we can give it to him? It would save a whole lot of time."

"If he's with her, wouldn't he know the room number?" The man asked suspiciously.

"He did," Massie jumped in. It would look rather silly if Alicia did all the talking, right? "It's just that he misplaced it when they got settled yesterday, and they have a date set up in about fifteen minutes, and it would be really great if you could tell us where she is. She's all about punctuality, especially when it comes to him. You wouldn't want to be the reason they break up, do you? They're practically America's It Couple. I mean, your security isn't doing the best job right now…"

Anything he was going to say could not match up to Massie's jib on the hotel and he nodded, searching up the girl. "Right, yes. I am so sorry," he said quickly, as if they were the ones getting attacked by rabid fangirls. "Skye Hamilton… she is on the seventh floor. Room 20. Please don't tell my supervisor about this. We were not expecting…"

"If Chris gets to his date on time, we won't," Alicia cut in.

"Of course, of course!" He was visibly sweating now. "Apologize to him for me, please. I'll have these girls out of here in no time."

They left him freaking out by the desk, dialing a number on the landline. Behind them, the girls had quadrupled—if that were possible—and Massie, yet again, wondered where they came from. They were like an army. A screeching, teenage army. Did Low State have any other fans? Ones older than these? They had to, right? There was Alicia, who seemed to dig their music, and she was picky as all hell…

Shaking her head, because this was not the time to contemplate Low State's success, fan base, and demographics, Massie followed Alicia's lead. She wished she knew what was going on in her Latina friend's head, but it was better to ask questions later. They all learned that the hard way once.

It was a little bit terrifying entering the mob surrounding Chris. Massie had to make sure she kept an eye on Alicia's swaying ponytail, for the girl was marching on through like she did this on the daily. Massie wanted to retreat, escaping back to her apartment and keeping her distance from the Solomon and all of its inhabitants. She never understood the way people flocked to celebrities like this; back in the day, she had her fair share of boy band crushes, bedroom walls covered in their faces, but she never had this much audacity. But it seemed like Chris thrived on it, though, despite his previous plea.

Back and forth he spoke to girls, signed his name, took pictures. He was terribly polite and nauseatingly charming. Not once did he seem to make fun of any of them, even when one girl all but fainted after he told her he thought her hair was cool. He was an absolute professional, acting like he was surrounded by maybe ten people, not the fifty that were giving Massie heart palpitations with their squealing.

"All right, big boy," Alicia said, coming up on Chris' right. "We've got Skye's room number for you. Don't want you to miss the big date."

The scene suddenly stopped. Everyone froze, including the very boy Alicia was speaking to.

"Date?" he asked slowly.

"Yes." Alicia nodded. "Remember? Skye's expecting you…" She smiled at all of his fans, most of which were looking at her with dumbstruck faces. "I'm sorry, ladies, but if Chris wants to make sure Skye doesn't write another song about him…"

"I knew it!" one girl whisper-giggled to her friend. That very cluster was right at Massie's side. "'Boy' is definitely about Chris. I told you!"

"Not 'Boy'," someone else hissed back, not part of his friend group. "It's 'Underneath My Skin'."

"God, no, I hate that one," someone else piped in.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's about Chris—"

"It's not—"

"Here, I'm gonna get the lyrics up…"

"…Look, right here: I'm not good for him, he's not good for me—"

"No—

"These are the lyrics about him… maybe we could have tried a little harder, held a little tighter, trusted a little deeper… we could have been forever, we could have been forever—"

"That is, by far, the saddest song on this album, are you kidding—"

Alicia's hand wrapped around Massie's wrist and she tugged, pulling the latter out of the chaos. The fans weren't paying attention anymore, and if they were, they were all for Chris going to find Skye. It seemed they liked this coupling, though they were the only ones. Chris looked absolutely livid, only noticeable by his tense jaw. None of the overly excitable girls saw this, and as he was pulled into the elevator, he went off.

"DATE?"

"I had to get you out of there," reasoned Alicia, fixing her lip gloss.

"You couldn't have figured out a different way?" he seethed, leaning up against the wall. "You know what's going to happen now, don't you? They're going to talk. It's going to be everywhere that I want to get back together with that lunatic! I'm twenty three; she's eighteen!"

"No one cares about age differences." Alicia waved him off. "And this isn't even about you, it's about Massie."

Chris met the brunette's eyes in the mirror. "I hate you."

"You can… write a song about it?" she suggested rather pathetically.

"I'm going to write a song about you crazy people and call it 'Psycho'—and it's going to be such a club banger that you will hear it constantly and remember just how much I hate you."

"I'm honored," Alicia replied as the doors opened. "Just… if you use my name, make sure to pronounce it right."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Bye."

"Nope. You're coming."

"What? No."

"How are we supposed to get into Skye's room without you?"

"Drug the guards! Kill them! I don't want to be anywhere near her."

"Too bad. You're going on a date. Come on."

Chris stood stubbornly, glaring at the tiny people in front of him. It wasn't exactly like they were small, but he was almost larger than life, and having him look at them the way he was made Massie a bit nervous. Or that could be because she was down the hall from Skye and so close to fixing everything… or, you know, fucking it up.

At the last second, Chris shot forward and pressed a button. The elevator doors started to shut, Alicia screeched, Massie cried (just a little—don't tell anyone), and then the door was no longer moving.

"Let's go—"

Alicia, who had somehow gotten in between those closing doors, wrenched Chris through them as well. Massie was torn between kissing her and killing him, but she ultimately decided to send Alicia a fruit basket—strawberries covered in chocolate; she really liked those. And maybe she'd kiss her later. And then kill Chris. If she could get away with it. Someone would notice. Actually, a whole lot of someones would notice…

"Massie, are you coming or not?" Alicia called over her shoulder. "We've got things to do!"

"I… uh… yeah. I'm coming. Yes."

She scurried after them, trying to meet their strides, but they had more of a head start. Skye's hotel room was just ahead. There were two guys standing outside dressed in all black—was that the unspoken uniform? Why did they look like ninjas? Or serial killers? They gazed upon the three of them wearily, faces hard. Chris gave them a jaunty sort of wave; one of them nodded. They must've recognized him.

Alicia and Massie hung back as Chris went to work, warming the cold exteriors of Skye's personal bodyguards.

"Anthony, Gerard," he greeted smoothly. "How've you been?"

"Well," Right Guard said. "How about you, Chris?"

"I mean." Chris shrugged. "As well as you can get, I s'pose. Didja hear the girls downstairs?"

Left Guard snorted. "That was you? I thought for sure it was Harrington."

"I don't know if I should be offended or not," Chris shot back. Alicia nudged Massie hard at the man's comment, as if that meant anything. Still, the latter's cheeks reddened. She wasn't sure why. "But anyway, is Skye around? I was hoping to talk to her."

"Yeah," Right said, "but they can't come with."

Chris looked back at them. "Dude, they work for us. They… have to come with me wherever I go."

"What happened to your security detail?" asked Left. Right looked just as suspicious as he sounded.

"Um, they're with Derrick and Josh," answered the boy, scratching the back of his head. Massie cringed—for a famous person, he was pretty shit at lying. "They went out somewhere and you know how people get around them these days. It's wild."

"So you have two girls with you? Your fans could squish them with their pinkies. No offense."

Offense was taken, but neither girl let them know. Instead, Massie blurted, "We're not—we're part of the hair and makeup team. I know Chris looks awful right now, but he was insistent on coming here first…"

"I look fine!"

"You need a haircut, honey," Massie retorted, taking a step forward and playing with the long strands falling in his face. Chris glared at her.

"And a new shirt, honestly," Alicia whispered to Right, who clicked his tongue in amusement. "All those holes are so unflattering."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so. They're annoying and I need them with me. I just want to talk to Skye real quick about… about…" He frowned, unable to come up with a reasonable excuse.

Massie felt her heart beat faster until she was sure she was vibrating with pure anxiety. He couldn't fail her now; the door was right there! Oh my god, oh my god—

But Chris said the one thing that changed her entire life. She didn't want to kill him anymore, she wanted to kiss him. And Alicia. And the bodyguards for believing him.

"It's a secret, but… we wanna collab," Chris said, hushed, like someone was about to jump out of the potted plants by the elevator. "You know, on her next album, or her on ours… all of us, some of us, one of us… get a new sound goin', y'know?"

"Huh." Alicia cocked her head to the side. "I'd listen to it."

The guards would, too, it seemed like, and they were quick to let Chris—and Alicia and Massie, oh my god—by.

Absolute euphoria had Massie imagining the hotel room to be that of a palace, even though it looked just like Low State's, only switched around. Where the kitchen was in theirs was the living room in Skye's, and right there on the couch, with a tall glass of water and a plate of French fries, was the girl herself. No one else seemed to be around, but that was just with one quick glance around.

It was proven that she was, in fact, alone, when she called "Mom?" as the door shut behind Alicia, and that one word had the two girls sharing a triumphant look. Just like they hoped, Skye was without her biggest defense. They might just be able to get away with this.