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im-not-a-l0ser · 6 months ago

Note

And now for the WIP. I do have to say, both that I've posted for ❓ have more to them. I'm only posting part of them, because they're so long. If someone wants me to post the full versions, like on AO3, I'd be up to it, but y'all'd have to know that it won't be finished for a while, if ever. They both are the sort of thing that round off the start to a story, so it's not like there's a cliffhanger on either (not in my opinion at least, and I hate cliffhangers— my last hyperfixation was Mighty Med and LREF if that tells you anything) but it's not technically complete.

Anyway, both this one, and the last one I've posted; they're both about half of the chapter I've written.

Steph and Pete, ever the pessimists, thought for sure they wouldn’t make it past graduation. Steph was going to University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee for a major in Engineering, also taking classes for feminist and gender studies, and Pete was going to Michigan Technological University for a Computer Programming major, with a double minor in Moral Philosophy and Literature.

They wouldn’t even be in the same state. And even if they were, Michigan is split in two anyway.

They didn’t really break up formally when Steph left for Wisconsin, but it was kind of implied that they weren’t together anymore.

That… didn’t end up happening.

Pete and Steph called while she was getting situated at her aunt’s house, where she’d be staying while she attended college and they fell asleep like that.

Happened back when they were in high school too. Except, they couldn’t see each other the next day.

They both expected the other to eventually forget their existence and not contact them for a while, but that never really happened.

Pete’s ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ didn’t really apply when Steph was his phone backdrop. Not to mention Ruth bothering him about her every so often.

Steph always found herself missing Pete. His energy was just so… complementing. Not to mention, she’d been hit on numerous times, including by clearly smart men, and she just found herself thinking about Pete and not-so-politely saying ‘sorry, I have a boyfriend.’

She always told Pete when it happened, mainly because she thought it was funny.

Except this one guy, who was extremely insistent and didn’t take her ‘I have a boyfriend’ comment seriously. He asked where her boyfriend was and she responded Michigan, where she was from. He both called bullshit, and said that it didn’t count if Pete didn’t find out. Steph immediately called Pete and demanded he make the guy go away.

He did. Mostly by being a stupid dork and annoying the guy until he walked away by complaining about his schoolwork. It was lowkey adorable.

Before they knew it, it was Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and Spring Break— All of which she visited for, spending most of her time with Pete and his friends, rather than her family.

They… made up for lost time.

Admittedly, at least once a week, their call consisted of one of them being aroused.

It was usually Steph, and it was often during a study night. Which, while it annoyed Pete greatly, it did motivate him to get done faster.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to return to Hatchetfield the same time as Pete for the next three years of their degrees.

Sure, she’d visit him for a day on the way there and on the way back, but that was about it.

Surely, that would end their relationship.

Still no. Apparently they were really good at long distance. They called and video called most hours of the day. Their longest call was 83 hours and it ended because Pete’s phone died.

They never really went very long without at least texting. They’d always at least text good morning, often with messages checking in on how they're doing and their eating/hydration status throughout the day. Then they’d usually call in the evening into the night. At the very least, they’d text each other goodnight.

The worst was the day after Steph’s 21st birthday. Her aunt took her drinking and she was left nursing her own mild hangover, and her aunt's major hangover, all day. It mostly consisted of watching Friends and eating buttered noodles. They did text each other goodnight, and Pete made sure she was drinking enough water.

Steph and Pete graduated around the same time. Steph had a grad party in Wisconsin, to her family’s insistence, but she was welcome and urged to join the nerds’ joint grad party.

It only had a few people in attendance: Richie, Ruth, Pete and Steph (obviously), along with some family that came and went, almost in shifts. The only consistent one was Ted, which wasn’t a surprise.

Richie’s brother took pictures of them all cutting a cake together, which he was constantly criticised by Richie for how he was doing it, but it turned out great.

Eventually, Richie went home to his family, Ruth went home to hers, and Ted went to a bar with the intent of lodging with a hookup.

You can probably guess what happened that night, much to both Ted and Ruth’s encouragement.

Steph started applying for low level jobs, while Pete nearly got a job in IT at the local courthouse.

Pete working in the same building that Solomon frequented gave Steph anxiety, but it was pretty much nothing in comparison to the anxiety of eventually needing to apply for apartments and stop the freeloading of her boyfriend.

Especially since that might come with the conversation about how they’d be going forward.

I.E: Asking Pete if they want to live together or not.

They did. They moved into the small apartment complex in Hatchetfield, paying rent with their shared paychecks, and eating most instant meals and cereal.

It was actually really nice.

Admittedly, Steph doesn’t even know how she got into architecture.

Okay, that’s a lie. It was Minecraft. She started drawing out Minecraft building ideas and then regular building ideas and before she knew it, someone had seen her silly little drawings and asked if she was interested in legitimately getting into apprenticing them. It’d be more like interning, to tell the truth, but it came with education and she was almost some sort of consultant too, since she was always asked what she thought of her boss’s designs, and he took her ideas into account most of the time.

Meanwhile, Pete continued doing his job. It was the higher paying of the two for a while. That would change, but first, something big would happen.

While Steph already had a degree in engineering, and that was really helpful in architecture, she’d need a Master of Architecture.

Her boss, who eventually started to feel more like a father than her actual father, offered to pay for half of her college run. He saw so much potential in her.

Steph left Hatchetfield again.

Richie moved in with Pete to cover the rent. Even if he hated his job, it paid well.

This was probably the most fragile that Steph and Pete’s relationship had ever gotten.

Steph would come back to visit every other weekend, which was much easier going to a college closer to Hatchetfield, but they didn’t call as often as they used to. Steph was stressed out more than before, there was more pressure now.

Her first run at college, she almost dropped out four times a year. But she didn’t. Now, it felt more like she couldn’t.

She felt worse about potentially disappointing her boss from wasting his money than she ever did about disappointing her father from wasting his money.

One random day, she said that she’d be coming to Hatchetfield that day to talk to him. She said it was important and that it couldn’t wait, but had to be in person.

She then went AFK.

Pete quickly spiralled after receiving that message.

Pretty much immediately, Richie decided he should probably go to the hospital, as he looked nearly sick— which usually didn’t happen— and kept clutching his face and hands as if they felt tingly— often a precursor to fainting.

Richie struggled to get Pete to the car, but once Pete was coherent enough to understand what had happened, he thanked Richie, right before he was asked to leave by a nurse.

Richie went home and waited for a text message from Pete to say that he was okay now, but needed a ride home.

Steph drove hours to get to the apartment.

She knocked on the door, since she technically didn’t live there anymore, but got no response.

She knocked again before trying to open the door herself. It was locked. She unlocked it worriedly, and rushed inside.

Richie was sitting at the table eating ramen, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, Richie,” Steph said. She couldn’t much hold back the anxious smile on her face. “Where’s Pete?”

“What’s it matter to you, temptress?” Richie asked bitterly, glaring at her.

“Okay, haha, I get it,” She laughed off. “Because high school— I’m serious Richie, I really need to talk to him.”

“He’s in the hospital, if you really care. I’m pretty sure he knows what you want to talk about. He’s not stupid, Stephanie,” Richie seethed.

“Holy shit, is he okay?” Steph asked, now terrified.

“He had a panic attack,” Richie responded. “Because you decided to basically tell him you’re going to break up with him in person, and then fell off the face of the earth.”

“Uh,” Steph hesitated. “What?” Richie finally put his phone face down.

“You need to talk about something important, in person? Stephanie. I say again, he’s not stupid.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Steph groaned, annoyed. “Why would I come down on a day I have class to break up with him, instead of waiting until Saturday?”

“Ultimatum,” Richie answered simply.

“Okay, well, no,” She said. She took a breath. “It doesn’t matter, it’s none of your business. But I’m not breaking up with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the hospital to visit my still-boyfriend and make sure he knows we’re still dating.”

She stomped off, absurdly annoyed at both her own and her boyfriend’s stupidity.

She got to the hospital quickly, obviously worried.

She got his room number and dashed there, even if she was sort of breaking the hospital’s rules.

She stopped once she got to the door, seeing Pete laying on the bed inside. He was looking at a wall, which probably had a TV on it.

Part of her wanted to run. She was afraid. Afraid of what he’d think. What he’d say. She fidgeted with the keychain on her bag.

“Excuse me?” She heard behind her, making her flinch.

“Jesus— What?” She asked.

“You can’t just stand here, it may block a necessary path.”

“Oh,” Steph breathed. “Sorry. I was just.” She pointed behind her to the door. “I’ll just…” She awkwardly opened the door and backed into the room.

“Steph?” Pete asked. He sounded… scared. Steph hated that.

“Hey,” She said, her voice trembling slightly with her own anxiety. “Is everything okay?” She asked, sitting next to Pete’s bed on the crappy, plastic chair.

“You tell me,” He said with a nervous laugh.

“Oh my goodness, Pete,” She said, “Of course everything’s okay. I just… I wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” Pete said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What?” Steph asked, a brick weighing down her throat. “Oh, uh.” She sniffled and cleared her throat. She reached down into her purse, searching. “I…” She paused, staring at her hand hovering over it. “I won a competition,” She said, pulling a paper from her bag and unfolding it. “A-And my design is going to be adapted by an actual architect to be built in Lansing.” She put the paper on Pete’s lap. “This is a copy of the external design, don’t worry. My professor still has the original and the… like the floors and stuff.”

“Oh,” Pete said, somehow both relieved and confused. “Steph, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” Steph breathed. “I-I found out today. And I… wanted to share it with you. It’s kind of a big deal, I guess,” She said with a nervous laugh, pushing her hair back.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked. He must’ve noticed her shaky voice and constant blinking to hold back tears. Not to mention that she wasn’t wearing makeup on her eyes.

“Hm?” She hummed, finally blinking out the drops. “Yeah, I’m fine,” She said with another sniffle, wiping the tears away. “I’m just happy.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Pete said with a smile. Steph smiled and gently kissed her boyfriend, almost as if a further reassurance that yes, they were still together.

“I have to go back later tonight, but. I dunno, we could watch a movie. Dinner?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Are you feeling well enough to leave now?” She asked.

“Yeah, definitely,” Pete said with a smile, handing back the building design.

She placed it strategically back into her purse.

The rest of the day was spent in their apartment, eating pasta and watching various movies, many of which Steph yelled at the screen about.

She got back to her dorm late that night, feeling guilty.

😂❓

- 🐦‍⬛

a funny or crack WIP snippet

So, uh. Here's the thing. I really don't write much comedy or crack. I don't write comedy because (as I've been told for the last 17 years of my life) I don't really think I'm that funny, and I try not to write crack because that's a pipeline to misrepresenting characters. The only one I might've had was Chapter One of Beanies, but y'know. That's already posted.

So, the only one I have isn't Hatchetfield, or even Starkid at all. It's Dear Evan Hansen. Kleinphy, to be specific. It's a 5+1, here are the first couple. I'll reblog with the other(❓) one momentarily.

Anyway, it is mildly nsfw, because that's the only way I know how to write crack apparently.

Most people knew that Jared could calm Connor down when he was angry, but a grand total of two people knew how, and that was Jared and Connor themselves.

The first time, it was a massive shock.

Third week of Junior Year, Connor was a bit up and arms at lunch. It wasn’t really his fault in all honesty, but he was the one that drew the crowd in, not that he meant to.

“I just can’t believe they even let guys like you into the school.” Connor scoffed.

“Me? You’re worried about me being in the school? You pay people to do your urine tests and you hit on every girl you see! Including teachers! And haven’t you been held back like seven times, aren’t you like legally allowed to drink now?” He was a super senior, but just the one year. Though, he drank enough that you’d hope it was legal. “But no, me, I’m the one that’s a risk to the school even though all I ever fucking do is mind my own business until someone gets into mine, you’re absolutely—”

“Hey, Murphy!” Someone suddenly yelled from the sidelines.

Even though other people were yelling both of their names, this person seemed to specifically get Connor’s attention. He was quickly approached by a short guy that only a handful of people in the crowd recognised.

He simply cupped his hands around Connor’s ear and whispered something. Then he walked away.

Connor’s body seemed to relax. He took a breath, pulled down his hoodie, and walked off. In a different direction than the kid, which was specifically interesting. It meant that he wasn’t trying anything, he just. Got him to stop somehow.

“Who was that kid?” The perpetrator asked.

“Jared something, I think,” Someone in the front row of the circle said.

“What the fuck is his deal,” He laughed. Everyone else laughed too.

Four rooms away, Jared was waiting for Connor to meet him in their designated place to be alone. Connor joined him not long after, where he was held until he didn’t need to be anymore.

The next time, it was actually in public. Connor was at the grocery store with his mom— he did not want to be— and he was getting sick of the whole thing.

“I swear, if you get another meat substitute and claim it tastes the same again, I will cut open myself and we can just eat that instead!”

“Connor!” Cynthia exclaimed, “That was extremely uncalled for!”

“Was it? I’m pretty sure I’m slowly dying because of the way you cook, what’s so wrong with speeding that process along then, huh?”

“Whoa, okay!”

Someone new had entered the conversation.

“Looks like someone needs to calm down!” He said, throwing his arm around Connor’s shoulder. Cynthia stared, confused, but her son didn’t look too shocked. More surprised that this person was here.

He used his free hand to cover the side of his mouth and whispered into Connor’s ear.

Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Connor’s face flushed ever so slightly. The guy pulled away.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” He said. He pat Connor’s shoulder before pulling away.

“Oh, you fucking asshole,” Connor accused as he walked off, but it didn’t sound nearly as angry. More annoyed.

“Who was that? Did you know him?” Cynthia asked. Connor crossed his arms.

“Some asshole from school,” He grumbled.

On Monday, Connor went straight to their closet, finding Jared on his knees, just as promised.

#wip #lautski #future fic #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #pete spankoffski #peter spankoffski

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

Text

Dreams, Chapter 17

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 17

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2203

Summary: Milwaukee’s finest African dream root gets put to the test.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing; it’s so nice to finally take angst out of these warnings

You’re walking up the stairs from the bar basement with a six pack in your hand—it’s a raspberry beer from a microbrewery you’ve only had once in Pennsylvania, years ago. There’s no way you’d be able to stock it in northern Wisconsin, and ironically that makes you realize you’re in a dream faster than hearing Sam and Dean talking at the bar top.

“Look who decided to show up!” Dean smiles, ready affection spreading over his face like warm butter. He’s sitting on a stool like a patron, a few fingers of scotch in a glass in front of him where Sam stands behind the bar. You can feel yourself beaming as you cross over to them, setting the cold six pack out between you. It feels natural to slip into the space under Sam’s arm like you do so often here serving customers together but you stop short of it, instead grabbing one of the bottles and pivoting so it looks like you were trying to grab the bottle opener out of his back pocket all along. He raises his elbow to give you better access, letting you slip it back into the denim without touching him.

When you look up, Dean still has those gooey caramel eyes trained on you. “You look good, kid. What’re you drinking?”

“What’re you drinking, that’s all you have to ask?” you giggle, hopping up to sit on the bar. “No ‘how are you both here, what’s going on?’ none of that?” For your part you’re practically exploding with gratitude that Sam’s long shot worked.

“We’ve been waiting on you for a minute, Jolly Green Giant over here gave me the scoop. So what’re you drinking?”

You hand the bottle you’ve opened to Sam and grab another. “It’s a raspberry lambic from Pennsylvania. From what I remember, it might’ve been my favorite beer ever.”

Dean raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, come toast me with that Juicy Juice.” You and Sam both touch the lips of your bottles to his glass, and the smile on Sam’s face is as smooth and effortless as chiffon floating off a tropical cabana. “I got my brother, my girl, my car, and a few fingers of single-malt, this is perfect. To Sammy’s big ole brain and the beauty of dream root.” Something about that rings a bell in an even deeper part of your mind and you don’t take a sip right away until a vision of Dean flashes, holding two plastic trays piled high with burgers and fries. Dean winks as he finishes his glass. “Did you two get any better at pool since I’ve been gone?”

Playing pool with Sam and Dean in a bar—in your bar, with the dent in the paneling behind Dean where the table is a little too close to the wall—is as comfortable as if you’d never stopped, that there isn’t this giant hole not being acknowledged. Sam ribs Dean when he makes a shot his big brother missed and blocks fast when Dean tries to jab him in the ribs with a pool cue in retaliation, smiling through the horse play. You wipe a stealthy tear out of the corner of your eye and take another sip of lambic; you can’t think of anything more beautiful than watching the Winchesters goof off like this, are already starting to miss it as it happens in front of you, and then you feel stupid and wasteful for being so prematurely nostalgic that you can’t enjoy it. When you look back up having collected yourself, Sam floats a delicate hand to your back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just all kind of got to me for a second.”

His eyebrows twist in concern and he looks over to Dean, exchanging a look you can’t quite read and even that you’ve missed so much you have to hold your breath for a moment to keep it together. “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” Sam suggests, laying his cue down on the felted table.

Dean nods almost imperceptibly before grinning wide. “Yeah, why don’t you knuckleheads show me the rest of this town?”

Sitting in the backseat of the Impala is just right for the mile or two it takes to get ‘downtown’—as far as those 7 businesses on a main street rural enough not to have curbs can be called a downtown—and when Dean opens the back door it’s with an outstretched hand for you to get out into the parking lot of the hardware store. “It’s not really going to be the same without all the people,” you offer, taking his callused fingers in yours and standing up.

“Babe, you have people in your dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, but not like real people, not like you or Sam.”

“You haven’t explained all this stuff to her yet?” Sam asks, incredulous over the top of the Impala as he walks around to you and Dean.

“We’ve been, uh, busy,” Dean says lasciviously, waggling his eyebrows and not reacting when you shove him in the chest.

“Dude, gross.” Sam’s little brother reflexes show themselves to be intact once again.

“That’s not what your girlfriend said last night.” It almost makes you panic with surprise, that blatant acknowledgement of the situation, but neither Dean nor Sam seem to pay it too much mind, already moving on to the next thought. You get the sense—as you always did—that they’re still able to communicate without speaking, but who knows? Their time together, Sam’s dreams, even the time that it took you to find them in this dream, is theirs. If they’re comfortable joking then maybe you should be also; you’re the one who gets to have your cake and eat it too. It conflicts with your current strategy of ignoring the deeper element to both your relationships, pretending like the present predicament is no different than before you started dating Dean, platonic and jocular all around. In any case you’ll be damned if you ruin the unbelievable joy of this moment by harping on awkwardness.

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and turns to you. “It’s about how well you know people. Someone you know really well, your mind will be able to project what they would or wouldn’t do in a given situation or context. If you only know them sort of tangentially it’ll be harder for your mind to guess, so you might start to get like, repeat phrases or whatever. Think animatronics.” You probably look as confused as you feel and you can see the cogs of Sam’s mind turning rapidly to try to find another way to explain. “Okay, so take Diane, right? You know her enough that she might show up in a dream, but you probably don’t really know her motivations or mannerisms really well, personal history outside of those pictures of her grandkids she’s always showing? In a dream she’d probably only be there for a while, to get you from one thought to another, so if we go in right now and talk to her for hours and hours, she’ll probably start repeating stuff: sentences, facts, whatever.”

“Sounds a little Island of Misfit Toys to me,” you grimace, beginning to feel a little queasy.

“More like Westworld,” Sam suggests, opening the door. “This is, uh, the hardware store? Not really sure what you’re wanting to see, Dean.”

Dean is strolling down the center of the small shop, head ducking into each aisle like he’s looking for something specific but doesn’t know where it is. He picks up a package of Red Vines, opens it, and tears into one like a lion with a chunk of sinew before continuing his walk. There’s a degree of wonder in his eyes that you wouldn’t have expected; the hardware store is just like any other you’ve ever been in except smaller and with more of the bits and bobs that shops in little towns tend to have.

“Sweetie, would you like me to ring those up for you?” The voice comes from up ahead, behind the cash register where Diane has appeared. It sounds entirely kind and helpful but you know she’s gently chastising Dean for opening the package without paying. Sam can hear it too and smiles conspiratorially at you before walking to catch up with his brother, grabbing the candy out of his hands and tossing it on the counter to get out his wallet.

“I can get them.”

“Oh, Sam, I didn’t see you there! Look at you, Johnny on the spot. How’ve you been, honey?” She’s ostensibly ringing him up but her eyes are roaming all over Sam’s body hungrily, enough to make him blush.

“Uh, fine. Just hanging around, you know.”

Dean sidles up next to Sam and shoots out a hand to Diane. “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Diane,” she answers, her handshake as warm and no-nonsense as she is, but she only takes her eyes off Sam for half a second to address him. It should be your first hint that something’s up when Dean seems smug at the almost-diss rather than annoyed. Sam finishes the transaction and presses the licorice flat into Dean’s chest as he turns back toward the two of you and the exit. You have to hustle a little to keep up with his long strides.

“Dude, come on, that’s hardly fair,” he says, low and trying for serious but there’s some playfulness in his tone.

“I just wanted to see what she was thinking,” he chuckles around a bite of licorice, following Sam down the road to one of the burger joints. “Lucky you.”

“Diane? Why do you care about the cashier at the hardware store?” you ask.

“Kid, I want to know everything about your lives. Hardware stores included.”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother again and smiles, annoyed and maybe a touch shy. “You, uh, you don’t know Diane well enough to recreate her in your mind, but you know that she, uh, she knows me, right? So the way she acts toward me in your dream is the way you think people must act toward me in real life.”

You’re getting tired of feeling confused and out of the loop. Dean interjects, “If your projection of Gramma Goodwrench has the hots for Sammy, then you must think chicks are falling all over him.”

The heat rising in your cheeks makes you sheepish for a second before you realize the futility of it. Yet again, if Sam and Dean are willing to treat this like something to be joked about you can let them lead the way. “Whatever, you guys are a pain in my ass. Are we eating or what?”

You end up walking through town for a while, going into all the tiny nooks and crannies of the places you spend any amount of time in, decidedly trying to keep the boys from talking to anyone for too long. Dean takes it in like it’s fascinating, a 6 year old at Disney World for the first time, asking all kinds of questions and doing goofy things like trying out different stools, looking into every bathroom stall to really understand the full scope of it all. After a while he gets hungry but wants to go back to the cabin, so you grab groceries that would normally be impossible to find in the local grocery store—there’s a perk—and head home. Sam gives Dean directions to your house, which feels odd, like some kind of reverse deja vu.

You have an idea. Tapping Sam’s shoulder and leaning forward to put your head between the boys’, you think maybe it’s not something you want to do, that you don’t want to share Sam and Dean together again. But if Dean wants to see your life, they’re the closest relationships you have. “Do you, um, do you think I know the Kaisers well enough that you’re not going to be able to Vulcan mind control me or whatever?”

Sam looks over his shoulder back at you, curious and sweet as a gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I bet you do. What’re you thinking?”

“Maybe we could go to theirs for dinner? If it’s a—”

He reads your mind. “They’ll have something, you’re right. Dean, what do you think?”

“Guess who’s coming to dinner! It’s just past you guys?”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 18

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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letswrites · 3 years ago

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what about feeling homesickness and Calum comforting her?

thaxxx! i changed a bit, hope you like ❤

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He was standing in front of her house, it's was a fresh end of the afternoon in LA, with a cool wind and a pink-shaded sunset. He had a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other one was resting at his side after he knocked on the door. She opened and locked it with her key "night" he checked his iPhone '5:57 pm' "almost night. And you are gorgeous. As always" "thanks, you are too" she directed her gaze to the cigarette quickly, but not quickly as he dropped it onto the ground and stubbed his foot in it. She hated when he smoked. "thought you were going to quit" "I will" "yeah and I will fly away from this damn city" "what is wrong with LA?" "It isn't home" he knew she missed her hometown, Milwaukee, and he also knew she had duties in LA and she knew that too "babe..." "It's alright" she breathed deeply before look at her boyfriend and smile "thought we were going, huh?" "Yeah, sure, let's go" "let's go" he took her hand in his empty one and they walked to her car. She had a glowing conversible candy apple red 1966 Ford Mustang that Calum was never allowed to drive "why I cannot drive?" "You know why" "oh, come on. It's old shit, honey" "no! Almost kill me isn't 'old shit'" "was an accident and you just broke an ankle" "A leg" she sat on the driver's seat and he watched how good she looked in the sunset "hey!" She snapped her fingers "aren't you coming in?" "fuck! Sorry. it's your fault!" he jumped into the car and put on the seat belt "I will not apologize for you having a terrible sense of beauty" she had low self-esteem sometimes "my sense of beauty is perfect" he leaned closer and cupped her face "just as you" "you are perfect" she smiled and pulled his neck to a passionate kiss. A calm and warm, but passionate kiss "but, seriously babe, let me drive" "no!" she turned on the engine, adjusted the mirror and backed up the car from the driveway without taking her gaze from the mirrors "that's how you back up the car with safety" he groaned, throwing his head back "It happened once! And it was an accident" "I know, just recalling" she winked and made the way for the downtown.

Last year, before they started dating, she asked Calum to back the car out of the driveway, but he did it without looking in the mirrors, according to himself "who the fuck know the right side of pen drives?" and ran over her. Accidently, of course. For luck, she just broke a leg and he took care of her, and due it, they become closer. "You know, there're some bad things that happen for good reasons" "I thought we were done with this subject" he squeezed her right hand "if I haven't given all my attention to the damn pen drive and ran over you, maybe we'd not become closer as we did" "yeah... fine, I will let you drive" she parked the car left the driver's seat "move on, Cal!" he stood up and gave her a deep and quick kiss before sat down in the driver seat and squeeze the beige leather steering wheel "I love you" "love you too, but now I'm fucking dying to know where we're going" "you were driving and I have to know?!" "yes, Mr. driver" she teased, he giggled "fine. Know a place" "good".

They were on a road that she didn't recognize "Calum" "my name" he loved when she said his name "where are we going?" "It's a surprise" "oh no. Please, don't do this to me" "sorry, babe. I didn't make the rules" "which rules?" they laughed together "okay" she turned on the radio and tried to connect with some decent station "fuck" "you know you can use your pen drive, right?" she had taken the pen drive off the car "not with you in the wheel" you know, just for caution. he rolled his eyes and she finally connected with some Latin radio station

'Once de la noche y todavía no contesta'

'Un de la mañana y todavía no hay respuesta'

"Oh, no! No way!" "What?" "I am not bilingual like you" "and...?" "Not listening to something I do not understand" "so are you graduated in Korean now?" "No..."

'Cómo hacerte entender...'

he swallowed dryly a little "don't know what are you talking about" "no? What about that time you got drunk and sang out loud BTS's songs, huh?" "Only the English parts! Now just change it" "but it's Maluma!" he looked at her without blinking and pouted "fine" he smiled like a kid

'... eres muy bonita pa' llorar por el...'

She changed the radio station once more and found a random one

'Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment

I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?'

"You got to be kidding me" she giggled "I hate this song!" "I know" she kept laughing

'You got to keep me focused, you want it? Say so'

"Just turned it off" "oh, but I like it" Calum turned off the radio "no songs for you" "hey, that's my car! Spent lots of money on it" "But I am driving" "don't make me feel more regret than I already am" he laughed and leaned quickly to kiss her cheek "hey, Cal" "hum?" "I am bored" "you're acting like a fucking kid" "no. I am a fucking kid" "well, it's not a long ride. We'll be there soon" "where is 'there'?" "Nice try, nice try" she pouted and laid her head on the window so she could stargaze and think about how lucky she is to had been run over by the man driving at her side. She was so so in love with him.

Flashback:

Some friends had texted her. Bon Jovi was going to be in town and they have two tickets more. They gave it to her of course expecting she'd invite that guy she hanged out a few times, definitely her new crush. Calum. Such a beautiful name 'thanks Roy' he had introduced them. For some miracle, she got the guts to invite him.

[4:28pm]

'Be here at 6pm'

[5:17pm]

'Your place is so far from where I am now'

'You can drive my car'

'will be there in 40 minutes'

She grinned, shook her head lightly and blocked her phone to finish her makeup 'he will never desire me' she thought even knowing she will try to impress him anyways. Was 5:55pm when he arrived "I have exactly 2 minutes in advantage" "you made it, next time I will let you have a rest" "thanks" he pecked her cheek out of breath "are you ok?" "Yes, you are just breathtaking" he laughed "oh, I am not" "yes, you're. Always" she blushed "thanks" "you're welcome. Can I have a glass of water? The bus stop is far from here, you know?" "Yeah, sure come in". She gave him a glass of water and dropped on the sofa "thanks" "how can I refuse water for someone? Especially someone like you" he arched an eyebrown "someone like me?" "Yeah" "how is someone like me?" he dropped next to her "ridiculously healthy" "oh" he giggled "thanks. I really appreciate" "so, where were you?" "someone is interested in where I was" he teased, she rolled er eyes "you love annoy me, don't you?" "And you still have to ask? Anyhow, I was hanging with a friend" "'hanging with a friend' means banging with a girl?" "What?!" He started laughing "are you jealous or something?" "No..." She blushed "just trying to know you better" "so why are you blushing?" "I..." "Relax, I was with Luke. He is planning a trip to our home country with Ash and Mikey too. So we went out to lunch, but he lives far from here..." her body relaxed and she smiled "Australia is very nice" "is the best place in the world" "yeah, except the fact that is not Minnesota" he laughed "keep dreaming, kid" "I am two months older than you" "whatever, ms. jealousy" "'m not jealous!" "you looked so relieved when I said I was with Luke" "I didn't" "it's ok, I already admitted to myself that my love life is a joke anyways" "I bet it's not true" "trust me, it is" "thought you were the kind of guy that spent the night in 3 parties and in this 3 parties, hook up with at least 2 girls. At the same time" he laughed out loud "oh, honey, I used to be that guy, and now I am feeling very proud of myself" she giggled "why you are not that guy anymore?" He cleaned his throat "well, I met this lady, some months ago, and now all I do is think on her. I made out with someone a few days ago and couldn't finish the job, because was thinking on her" 'wow that hurted' "wow... You should be with this girl right now, not with me" he looked at her, 'unfreakingbelievable' "I literally made an hour and a half trajectory in 40 minutes to go in a concert just to be in your company cause' honestly I am not going to this concert because I want to see old Jon Bon Jovi sing 'bed of roses' and take ladies to Heaven..." she giggled "why do you think I did that?" "'Cause you're an idiot" he grinned "you are right, I should be with the my romantic interest" she frowned a little and they just stayed looking inside each other's eyes for a minute "I-I think we should go" it felt like he raped her with his gaze "are you ok?" "I dunno" "alright, tell me if you will need an ambulance" "okay" "so, where is that bad boy keys?" she chuckled "here" she gave to Calum the key "please, be careful" "my middle name is safety" "really? I thought was Tomas" "details, details". They were on the driveway ready to go when she saw Ginger, her cat, with the paw stuck in the water drainage grid "oh! wait a minute" she left the car "what's wrong?" "My cat. you can back the car while I help Ginger?" "no problem. Am I allowed to listen some music, too?" "Sure. The pen drive is in the glove compartment" "'kay". she ran to Ginger to help her little baby "my God, love, I am here" Calum grabbed the pen drive in the glove compartment and started back the car slowly without looking in the mirrors "well, it's done, Ginger. You are free now" she freed her cat that ran back to the roof. Calum was fighting with the pen drive's USB entrance "why I never put that shit on the right side?" and he forgot that he was backing the car. She turned to went back to the car or they would be late and all she could see was the car's trunk colliding with her hip. When he stopped the

car she was already on the floor. She definitely needed that ambulance now.

He took her to the hospital and then back to her place. He locked the front door and she dropped onto the sofa, now with a broken leg "that was the last time you drove my car" "you're sure?" he joined her on the sofa "you will need someone to help you during the next two weeks" "I have other friends..." "So we are still friends?" "Yes" "I am sorry for ran over you" "yeah, be mad with you will not change what happened" "it's because of this that I will be the one who will take care of you. Remember? My middle name is carefulness" "Wasn't safety?" "Is a long full name, see? Calum Safety-Careful Tomas Hood" "hum, I don't think so" they laughed "sorry, again" "stop apologizing and start looking for a driver costume" "I will not do that" "why not? Would be so sexy" she bit her bottom lip "you think?" "You are already sexy so..." "I'm" they laughed "okay, you don't need a costume, but I will need help in the shower, instead" "I will love to help you with the shower" "I was thinking in call Roy" "call Roy?!" he looked a little angry "you should see your face. And I am the jealous one here" "well, I just maybe, just very very maybe am into you" she smiled and blushed a little "I am into you too" "you are saying that only because do not get turned on by Jon Bon Jovi tonight" she laughed "And you are saying this only because you ran over my leg" he turned his grin to a line "No. I really mean it" "me too" she bit her bottom lip and he smiled again "but… unfortunately, you are not literally into me" "not for too long" soon the distance between them became minimum and in a blink of eye, they kissed. They kissed like already did that for years, like their lips met each other already before, even being the first time. Calum laid her back on the sofa and things started to get hotter, soon her Bon Jovi's tank top flew across the living room. She broke the kiss "what are you doing?" "I am trying to make up, because of the concert. Do you mind?" she smiled "you really know how to fix up the things" and they kissed again, now his black tee was off and...

"Honey, 're you alright?" Calum took her off the flashback "oh, yes. Was thinking in the first time we fucked" he laughed "so delicate" "sorry, the first time we 'made love'" "uh, that was bad" she laughed "thanks for ran over me, by the way" "only you for thanks the idiot that ran over you" "well, you are an idiot, but you are my idiot" "possessive" but he was hers and he loved that "oh, shut up" he laughed "so, was thinking in the week after your leg was better, huh?" "That wasn't the first time we fucked" "It was" "no, we fucked after you took me home in the night it happened" "no, no. I fucked you that night and I thought we had fucked, but three weeks later I discovered that I was wrong" "I am not..." "The way you move, babe, when you were with the broken leg wasn't sex with you, was sex for you" she laughed "It should be a compliment?" "Yes. And a good one" "well, in that case, thank you very much" she directed her gaze back to the sky and he looked at her, he was so in love

About 30 minutes later, Calum was taking the exit on the road to Santa Monica, she had read that in a sign. "Santa Monica!" "yup" "the pier?" "Yes" "oh, you know I love a pier, is…" "…so romantic" she laughed at him pretending to be her "but, we are not here specifically because of the pier" "so why?" "You will see" "please, stop. It's killing me" "oh, you're such a drama queen" he parked the car and turned off the engine "let's go". He tugged her to the amusement park "that's so exciting! what are we gonna do?" "fucking kid" she giggled "we'll play hockey" "what?!" he guided her to the Playland Arcade "that's..." she was confused that couldn't even talk "there's a lot..." "air hockey tables? yes" "but..." "Look, I know that do not have ice and is not real hockey, but I thought you'd enjoy" he rubbed the side of his neck "hockey remembers you home, right?" she had some water on her eyes and a true smile "I would like everything since it came from you" he smiled and flipped the disk "so, let's see if the Milwaukee girl still in flames" "you definitely know nothing about Winsconsin"

She won, of course "Badgers rocked your ass Aussie boy!" as she said, and they decided to rest on the pier, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her body "that was lovely" "me losing or your very kind comment about it?" she giggled "no. You remembered the air hockey here and tried to diminish my homesickness" "I understand how bad it is" "thank you" "no, thank you" "for what?" "To be with me, to love me, I was taking the wrong way before met you, you know?" "Well, shout out to Roy" "shout out to Roy" he repeated and they laughed "I was thinking in buy a ticket for you. To go home for a few days..." she looked into his eyes "what do you think?" "don't" she said smoothly "you sure? I have been saving money to paying the first tax to a car mortgage, but it can wait..." "No, Cal. Buy your car" "but you miss home" "yes, I miss it, but..." she cupped his face "I have you here and I realized... my home is you" he smiled and dipped to kiss her. She rested her head back on his shoulder and watched the moonlight reflecting in the ocean "and you are mine" he whispered against her hair. she smiled and enjoyed his company, she was so in love with him and he was so in love with her.

suggested playlist:

#anon #request #5sos imagine #calum hood blurbs #calum hood #calum 5sos #5sos fluff #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see.

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

****

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job.

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills.

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning.

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.”

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it.

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers.

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker.

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around.

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head.

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office.

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit.

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand.

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick.

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning.

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.”

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift.

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it.

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out.

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster.

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest.

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen.

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified.

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard.

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands.

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut.

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,”

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing.

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done.

You killed her.

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you.

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie.

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great.

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life.

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins.

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed.

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room.

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship.

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own.

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try.

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.”

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face.

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today.

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ.

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of.

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera.

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough.

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked.

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you.

“What?”

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.”

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew.

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did.

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had.

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career.

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer.

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine.

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground.

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out.

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner.

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with.

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps.

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him.

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there.

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #jules writes shit ??

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

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Better Than Revenge | (2/?)

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.6k (this chapter) | ~5.3k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

TW for this chapter: implied domestic abuse, attempted sexual coercion of a minor, deadnaming/transphobia

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Nicky, Jan, and Mik's revenge origin stories

Milwaukee, WI - 2007

“I think my parents are starting to get suspicious,” Jaida quietly confessed, her gaze downcast to the floor while Nicky sat behind her, braiding her hair.

Nicky frowned, her brows furrowed as she tied off the braid she’d put Jaida’s hair in with a hair elastic. “What is making you say that?” she asked, moving so she was facing the other girl and taking her hands into her own.

She shrugged, fumbling with the hem of her shirt until Nicky’s grasp stilled them. “Just feels like they’re snooping around more, suddenly real interested in my life. And you know they’re always acting weird whenever we’re at my house together. Last time they made us keep the door open, remember?”

“I had assumed that was an American thing,” she confessed. She had only moved to the states a couple of months ago, at the start of her and Jaida’s junior year of high school, and she was still learning how to differentiate cultural differences from people behaving unusually to her specifically.

“You think everything you don’t understand is an American thing,” Jaida rolled her eyes with a fond smile, “though I guess you’re right most of the time,” she conceded.

Nicky shrugged it off, redirecting back to the topic at hand. “But you’re worried they’re going to find out about us and poop will hit the ceiling.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” she corrected, then sighed. “I mean, think about it — my mom’s a Sunday school teacher and my dad’s the son of a preacher, they take ‘traditional family values’ very seriously. And I don’t know how things are in France but there’s nothing traditional about this,” she explained, gesturing between the two of them.

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But we are happy together, surely once we graduate, we can—”

“It’s not that simple, Nicky!” Jaida tossed her head back and groaned. “I love you, but in a place like this, sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

And maybe it was denial, or maybe it was blind optimism, but Nicky had refused to take that answer lying down. She fought for Jaida and fought even harder to keep the relationship away from her disapproving parents. For a while, it seemed to be working, they had their beautiful, fleeting moments that let them believe that everything would be okay.

It was the first day back after spring break and Nicky immediately noticed a change in her girlfriend. It was like the life and light had been drained from her like she was only present physically. And despite the warm weather, she was dressed for late fall. She rushed towards her, taking her hand. “Ma chérie, what’s wrong? You look so unwell.”

Jaida hesitated before pulling her hand away. “I can’t hang around you anymore,” she replied. “Though I’m not gonna see anyone around here for a while starting real soon,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents found out, Nicky,” she choked out, forcing back a sob, “and they were mad, I ain’t never seen them so mad. They’re sending me to military school… well, they gave me a choice between that and conversion therapy… seemed like the better option.”

Nicky bit down on her quivering lip. “But you can find me when you are done, right?” She reached out to her again, but Jaida backed away to step out of her grasp.

“I can’t. Besides, you won’t want me anyway, I won’t be the same person.”

She tried to grab for her once more, desperate to keep her, looking at her with watery, pleading eyes. “Jaida, I can’t—”

“Please,” she sniffled, “don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

And perhaps Nicky should have let it go, accepted losing her first love, and moving on with her life. Sure, she would eventually. She would move around for school, for work, meeting many beautiful women along the way, but none of that happened until she made sure Jaida’s parents experienced at least a fraction of the hurt they had caused the both of them.

Her plan had been elaborate and convoluted and would require a heavy amount of stealth work and computer literacy to pull off. But as it turned out, her plan of convincing the two parents that the other was cheating on them was quite easy when her snooping unearthed the fact that both of them already were. All she needed to do was bring it to light.

Present Day

“When you think about it,” Nicky mused, “I did them a favor. There are worse ways they could’ve found out than having an envelope full of proof dropped off at your workplace. At least no one made a scene… as far as I know, at least.”

“Does Jaida know?” Rosé asked. “Now that you guys have reconnected, have you caught her up to speed? Because it seems like something you should tell her.”

Nicky winced and looked away. “It… has not come up yet,” she murmured. “There is no easy way to inform someone that you were the catalyst in their parent’s divorce. Unless you have a way, in which case, feel free to share with the class.”

She shrugged, putting her hands up in surrender. “I got nothing, but my point remains. It’s gonna bite you in the ass badly if you wait too long to say anything.” When Nicky shrugged it off, she decided to move on. “What about you, Bubbles?” she asked, looking towards Jan, “what sort of scathing revenge does someone as bouncy as you come up with?”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line, holding back what was either a smile or a grimace. “Well, this also happened in high school, an all-girl Catholic school, of course…”

Old Bridge, NJ - 2009

Jan was nothing if not brave. Coming out in tenth grade, especially considering the environment she was in, was a choice that couldn’t be taken lightly. While she had the support of her family and closest friends, the school environment had been a different story.

“Janice, could you stay back for a moment?” her math teacher, a conventionally attractive man in his early thirties, prompted as the final bell rang.

With math being her weakest subject, Jan was instantly concerned and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is something wrong?” she asked as she walked over to his desk.

“I think something is very wrong,” he replied as he got up. “Janice, I am highly concerned with your mental wellbeing.” He stopped in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. “You’re such a bright, beautiful girl. It would be such a shame for you to throw that away because you’ve chosen to shun God and live in sin.”

Jan felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and her throat tighten. This was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. She started shaking her head. “N-No, I’m… I’m not, I—”

“Shh…” he pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her, then swiped it across her bottom lip. “Part of being a good Christian is overcoming temptation. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it what your parents want for you?” His hands move to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “God gave you this body to lay with a man, you just need to be put in the right direction before it’s too late. I could help you, I could save you.”

Jan felt sick to her stomach. She hated every moment of the interaction; she hated the feeling of his hands on her, the way he was leering at her body, undressing her with his eyes. But at the same time, it was hard to lean into that hate, because he did pick on every insecurity she had in regards to her faith. But her sense of self won out and she was able to free herself of his grasp and run out of the room as fast as her legs would take her.

Any shame or guilt she might have felt was quickly replaced by anger and a desire to stop the man that tried to rob her of her innocence from harming anyone else. But she was still cautious, she knew there was a risk of retaliation if she spoke out alone, that was when her plan formed.

She created a fake Facebook account of a fifteen-year-old girl who was ‘planning on transferring to her school’. That was why she messaged the teacher, and after a few days of exchanging messages, ‘Samantha’ had agreed to meet up with him, the conversation in no uncertain terms making his intent clear.

Now, the obvious path from there would have been to go to the police, but that wasn’t good enough for Jan. Instead, she went to her godfather, who had promised he’d always help her ‘by any means necessary’. So, it was neither the police nor ‘Samantha’ that met the teacher at the park. Instead, it was two burly men who drove home a rough lesson that he was to turn himself in the next day, lest he face even worse consequences. He’d been given a flash drive with a copy of the whole exchange and was told he had exactly twenty-four hours and that the police would be expecting him.

Of course, those details weren’t in the subsequent news story of the teacher’s arrest. The conviction, however, was disappointing to Jan, as it was only two years and a thousand dollar fine, as well as losing his teaching license and having to register as an offender.

Present Day

“But rest assured, people are keeping an eye on him these days. You know, should he ever try and act up,” Jan explained with a shrug.

Rosé’s mouth was hanging open by the time Jan had finished her story. “So, you put a hit out on a pedo. I mean, shit, color me impressed,” she chuckled softly, then quickly followed up with, “I’m so sorry any of that happened to you, though. I’ve had people in my life try to weaponize religion against me after I came out. It’s never an easy pill to swallow.” She then looked at the group curiously. “Are you all…”

“Mik’s pan but yeah, the rest of us are gay,” Gigi confirmed with a nod. “At first, I thought that’d be the only thing we all have in common, but here we are now.”

“Chosen family is super important,” Mik agreed, “you never know who you can’t trust in your bloodline.”

Rosé quirked her brow. “That what happened to you?”

Scottsdale, AZ - 2015

Mik had been sitting across from his parents in dead silence for the past five minutes. There was no easy way to break it, let alone a correct one. On the coffee table in front of them were printed pictures of screenshots from his private Twitter account, where he presented himself as his true identity, but the precautions he took weren’t enough.

“Kady, sweetheart, I’m sure Uncle Joe brought this to our attention with your best interest at heart,” his mother said in as sweet of a voice as she could muster, which only served to sound fake to her son.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that. If it was ‘concern’ he would’ve told you privately. He sent it to the family group chat then told you that, and I quote, ‘your daughter thinks she’s a tranny’,” he struggled to keep his tone even, but he knew he needed to coddle his parents’ feelings if he wanted a chance of being taken seriously.

“I’m sure it just caught him by surprise,” his father offered.

Mik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if he did, he wasn’t treating it like a fun piece of gossip, he hunted down my private account and outed me to humiliate me, and it would mean a lot if you guys had my back on this.”

This brought another wave of silence upon his parents. He couldn’t get a clear read on them, but they seemed stressed, confused, and most painfully, they seemed sad. His mother slowly picked her head back up. “Kady, I—”

“My name is Mik.”

“Listen, honey, you’re going to have to give us some time to adjust,” his dad tried to ease the tension, “you’re still our child, but this isn’t an easy thing to process, your mother especially is mourning the loss of her daughter.”

Mik felt his chest tighten in anger and hurt. “But I’m not—” he got up, shaking his head. “Right, fine,” he mumbled and escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Left alone with his thoughts, the anger he had towards his parents dissipated and the rage shifted solely onto his uncle. After all, this was his fault. He was the one that robbed him of the opportunity to come out on his terms, and with the active intent to cause harm.

The anger didn’t go away over the following weeks. Instead, it built up, it festered inside of him as the summer after high school began. He had downloaded Grindr out of casual curiosity, and it was only a matter of minutes before a profile caught his eye. “No fucking way,” he grinned.

Of course, it was Joe, Mik realized how much of a cliche it was, but that didn’t change the fact that his bigoted uncle that tried to ruin his familial relationships was soliciting male escorts on a gay dating app. The opportunity for revenge essentially fell into his lap. He made a fake account and exchanged messages with him, just enough to get the evidence he needed.

The last step was simple, he dropped the screenshots into the same group text without any comment and removed himself from the group chat right after. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfold, Uncle Joe’s absence from the next family gathering was all he needed.

Present Day

“Just to be clear,” Mik added as he finished the story, “I’m against outing people, for the most part, obviously it should be something done on your terms. But shit, sometimes it’s gotta be an eye for an eye, you know?”

“Wait, I have a question,” Jan chimed in, “is he out now? Do y’all even talk to him anymore?”

He shook his head. “He moved to Alabama, I guess he wanted to go somewhere to double-down on the bigotry. No idea what happened after that. But, you know, good fucking riddance.”

“Amen to that,” Rosé agreed. “I don’t know how you guys have figured out that line of deciding what’s morally sound and what’s ethical enough. It seems to work, but it seems hard.”

“Jackie helped a lot with that,” Jan told her, her face lighting up and her smile broadening as she continued, “she has this pragmatic take on these things while still understanding that there’s so much ambiguity and morally gray areas. She’s honestly the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Rosé nodded as she listened. “I’m glad you guys have someone like that on your team. How long have you two been dating?”

Jan turned bright red, worsened by the way the rest of the group laughed. “Oh, um, we’re not dating. She and I are… very close friends,” she explained.

“Ah,” the corners of her lips tugged into a smirk, “you’re just fucking, got it,” she observed, causing another eruption of laughter from the others, much to Jan’s chagrin. Once it died down, she redirected her attention to the half of the group that had yet to recall their stories. “Alright, who’s next?”

#halldoll #jankie #rpdr rpf

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years ago

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A Long Way Back - Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader

Rating: General

Requested By: Anon

Word Count: ~7,900 total, ~3400 in part 1

Author’s Note: This request asked for current Gerard with a singer who is younger and to be honest, I started this request immediately when I got it, but I’ve been picking it up and putting it down on and off since then. I was inspired by His Smile Will Keep You Safe by @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx and I Know I’ll Lose by @sunsetinmyvein and while this story is nowhere near as long as their stories, I hope that you guys enjoy it regardless. I’ve also thrown together a playlist if you’re interested as well

“We are Garden of Woe and don’t you ever forget it! Thank you Milwaukee!” (YN) shouted as the band hit their final notes and the lights went out. The crowd was cheering and (YN) felt that addicting mix of adrenaline and exhaustion that she always felt after an amazing show.

“That show was sick!” Liam the guitarist raved and (YN) nodded enthusiastically as she took a swig from her water bottle on the way backstage.

“Hey guys, great show as usual,” their manager Clark grinned when they walked in the dressing room. “Can I get your attention for a second?”

(YN) looked at her bandmates, a look of confusion shared amongst them. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t wanna tell you guys before the show and have yall be in your heads, but” he paused. “You’ve been asked to open for My Chemical Romance on their US reunion tour.”

(YN) thought she was about to either faint, puke, or die on the spot. “Clark don’t fuck with us.”

“I’m not fucking with you.”

“Oh my god, this is, oh my god,” Jake the drummer muttered, a far away look in his eyes as Rebecca the bass player just stood there with a shocked look on her face.

(YN) sunk down on the couch, legs unable to support her anymore. “I had just hoped to get tickets to one of those shows,” she said with an astonished laugh, holding her head in her hands.

“Well if you accept, you’re gonna be going to every show, getting paid to be there, and getting more exposure than you ever could dream of,” Clark replied.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say hell yes!” Liam exclaimed, the rest of the band agreeing instantly.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll get in touch with their management tomorrow morning and you better get ready because you’re about to go on a wild ride.”

To (YN) it felt like an instant and an eternity at the same time before Garden of Woe departed for the first stop of the MCR reunion tour. A lot of buzz had been building around their band since it was announced that they, along with Taking Back Sunday for the first half of the tour and Crystal Lake Cemetery for the second half, would be opening the shows.

“Are you so stoked Becs? Are you? Are you?!” Liam shouted, shaking Rebecca’s shoulders excitedly as their bus rolled down the highway.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to barf on you,” Rebecca snapped back.

Everyone’s nerves had been on edge since Clark had told them the news and arguments had been erupting about things like the setlist, or what their merch would look like, and the tension only seemed to grow the closer they got to the start of the tour. Rebecca wouldn't even return (YN)'s calls for a week over a debate about what they should be wearing on stage.

“Oh my god Liam, I say this with all the love in the world, but please shut the fuck up,” (YN) muttered.

Liam, with his endless energy, bounced across the tour bus to where (YN) was sitting and climbed onto her lap. “You! This is literally what you’ve been talking about since you were 16 years old! This is why we formed Garden of Woe, why we’ve been struggling and starving for a decade!”

“I know, but you’re never gonna see the stage if you keep bugging everyone like this,” (YN) retorted to her friend in her lap.

“What are you gonna say when you finally meet them?”

“Will we even meet them?” (YN) asked, trying to sound aloof. She had been trying not to think about actually meeting the band that she had been obsessed with and saved her life when she was a depressed teenager back in 2004. When she and Liam founded Garden of Woe, she modeled her stage presence on Gerard’s after watching hours of live performance videos. When My Chem announced they were getting back together back on Halloween 2019, (YN) cried tears of joy for hours and they did an extra encore of just MCR covers at their show that night.

“We’re gonna be on the road with them for two months, of course we are,” Jake replied.

(YN) groaned. “I can’t deal with this right now,” she grumbled, pushing Liam off her before climbing into her bunk.

A while later Clark was calling her name to come out as they had arrived at the first venue. “Alright, here is the itinerary: you guys have soundcheck at 5:30, doors are at 6:30, you’re on at 7:30. After your set, you should get to the main merch booth to sign things for the fans, but you can watch Taking Back Sunday and My Chem if you’d prefer. Then two hours after My Chem finishes, we load back in and it’s on to the next stop.”

(YN) glanced at her phone, it was just before 2 PM, which meant they had hours before their soundcheck. Hours to build up more nervous energy, to possibly run into My Chem or Taking Back Sunday, another band she’d looked up to for just as long.

The bus rolled to a stop and they grabbed the things they’d need for the show that night and headed inside. There were other big black busses already parked outside and roadies moving things around.

“This is real, this is really real. This is the biggest thing we’ve ever done and we’re really here,” Rebecca said, totally astonished as (YN) linked arms with her.

“I’m really trying not to think about it,” (YN) replied. Even from the back of the stadium they could hear the crowd already waiting out front. When they got to the door, they flashed their badges and were escorted to their dressing room.

“Do we just wait here? Can we go walk around? I wanna go check everything out,” Liam babbled excitedly.

“How much coffee did you drink today, dude?” (YN) asked, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

“None. Come on, let’s get out there and meet our tourmates! Who is with me? (YN), Jake, Becs?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna try to calm down and center myself and not piss off the people who are employing us.”

“I’ll go,” Jake replied.

“Yea me too, get it over with,” (YN) mumbled. She’d met so many people touring and opening for bands she looked up to that it shouldn’t make her nervous, but Gerard, Mikey, Ray and Frank were legendary. The three bandmates started to wander the halls, peeking in doors until they heard people talking.

“Is this happening? Are we about to meet them?” (YN) looked at Liam, her heart hammering.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her elbow and leading the way. “‘Scuse me, sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to introduce ourselves. We are Garden of Woe.”

“Hey, nice to finally meet you guys, I’m Gerard,” Gerard said, getting up to shake their hands. Jake and Liam introduced themselves like normal humans, but (YN) was screaming internally.

“I’m (YN),” she squeaked, and Gerard gave her an amused smile and she was certain her brain melted. Then all the sudden she was introducing herself to Mikey, Frank, and Ray as well and it was as if she had transcended to another plane of existence. She listened as they easily made conversation with Jake and Liam, but she couldn’t put together a coherent thought to join in.

“Are you ok?” she heard someone asking. Shaking her head to pull herself out of her thoughts, she realized it was Gerard.

“Yea, yea, thanks, just kinda overwhelmed by everything that’s going on,” she admitted.

Gerard nodded. “Yea, being back in the tour life has been kinda weird. Overwhelming, like you said.”

“For sure. And I don’t wanna seem like, I dunno, a crazed fan, but I have to tell you, I’ve been listening to you guys since I was 16 when Three Cheers came out. It got me through so much and your performance style inspired me so much and how I perform and yea. Sorry to ramble, I just had to get that off my chest, I won’t bug you about it again,” (YN) said with another shake of her head as she put her hands over her face. She didn’t know why, but tears were stinging at her eyes. “So sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied and he reached out and rubbed her arm. “We saw you guys performing and that’s why we asked you to come out with us. You have a lot of talent.”

“Well thank you, this is literally a dream come true,” (YN) blushed. Receiving a compliment like that from Gerard Way himself was mind blowing.

“My Chem, you’re up for soundcheck,” someone with a headset called from the doorway.

“We’ll see you around,” Gerard waved as they made their way out the door. After the band was gone (YN), Jake, and Liam stood alone in the dressing room silently for a moment.

“Holy fucking hell we just met My Chemical Romance!” Liam shrieked.

“I know!” (YN) shouted in reply, throwing her arms around her friends in a celebratory hug.

"(YN). Earth to (YN)," Liam said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You ready?"

"No, not at all," she replied and Liam could see the fear in her face. It had been a long time since he had seen her that nervous before a performance.

"You got this," he said to (YN). "We all got this, come on!"

Just then the stage lights dimmed and the crowd roared like she'd never heard before. The other three took their places on stage. "Fuck it," she muttered to herself and ran out on stage.

45 minutes later Garden of Woe was taking their bow and hurrying off stage so the roadies could switch out their equipment for Taking Back Sunday’s. The four bandmates were wrapping each other in sweaty hugs and jumping up and down, as the set had gone better than they ever could have hoped. After cleaning themselves up a bit, they went to the merch booth and signed autographs and took photos for a while, but the line cleared out again once Taking Back Sunday went on. After they finished, there wasn't much time before MCR were going to take the stage, so (YN) hurried backstage and found a crate to sit on and watch while the greatest band of their generation took the stage.

The show was absolutely awe inspiring; to watch the way Ray shredded on his guitar, the way Frank and Mikey moved around the stage, but most of all watching Gerard. He was a natural on stage, even after all this time away from it. While she had watched enough interviews on youtube to know that he was soft spoken, the way he turned that off and started to just command the stage and the crowd was incredible. What she couldn’t believe was that no one else was with her watching the show. Did they not realize what an opportunity they were missing she wondered.

"Enjoying the show?" Gerard asked when they came off stage before the encore.

"So much! You're kicking so much ass out there!" She beamed and the guys all laughed in appreciation.

Once the show was over and everyone was cleaned up, the bands all came together to celebrate a little before it was time to reboard the busses. The drinks were flowing for everyone that partook as people talked happily, but (YN) found herself without a place to sit until she decided to crash on Liam's lap.

Ray smiled as he walked over to them. “Hey, how’d the first show go?”

“Amazing!” Liam grinned.

“So amazing, but you guys, holy shit!” (YN) gushed. “I suppose when you’ve played together for so long you don’t just lose that, even after a break.”

"That’s true,” Ray nodded. “How long have you been a band?”

“About ten years,” (YN) replied. “We talked about it in high school, but neither of us could play an instrument, and life was so hard back then. We couldn’t get our shit together until after he graduated from college. It's only really been in the last few years we've been able to find some success with it.”

“So are you two together?" Ray asked, looking between the pair.

"Oh nooo," (YN) laughed. "Liam's practically my brother."

"And I'm gay," Liam interjected.

"And there's that," (YN) nodded.

“Well you guys have a real dynamic that works,” Ray shrugged. The way he treated them as if they were equals to everyone else on the tour was exactly the confidence boost (YN) needed as the tour got started.

The next few days of the tour were very much the same. Rolling into town, hurry up and wait, getting to know the guys in the other bands, and then finally getting on stage. After signing for fans, (YN) would rush backstage to watch MCR perform, and after that everyone would gather again until it was time to load back into the busses to the next town.

Each day was a little less nerve-wracking than the last and (YN) finally felt like she was coming out of her shell. She’d hoped that Rebecca would be her right-hand woman, since there were so few other women out on the tour, but Rebecca had been heading straight to the busses after the shows, instead of hanging out with everyone else.

“Do you have any idea what’s up with Becs?” (YN) asked the other two members of the band after their soundcheck.

“Nope,” Jake replied quickly before heading back behind his kit again.

“Just go talk to her,” Liam suggested.

(YN) grumbled before nodding and heading back to the dressing room. “Hey Becs!” (YN) said as chipperly as she could muster. “Are you gonna hang with us after the show tonight? I miss hanging out with you, and the guys are all super fun to talk to.”

“I dunno, maybe,” she replied, but (YN) couldn’t get a read on her mood.

“What are you gonna wear tonight? I was thinking my Mikey Fuckin Way shirt that I cropped,” (YN) said turning to their wardrobe rack.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Rebecca said before quickly turning and almost running out of the room. Moments later Liam came in.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I have no idea dude, I tried though, I really did.”

Despite the weirdness between Rebecca and the rest of the band, the show went well. (YN) again ducked out early from their signing to catch the MCR show from her favorite spot at the side of the stage. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was imagining things, but it seemed like whenever Gerard looked her way, he’d always smile just at her.

“Still enjoying the show?” Gerard asked when he came off stage before their encore.

“I’ve got years of not seeing you guys live to catch up on, I’m never gonna get sick of it,” she laughed.

Gerard nodded. “I caught your show tonight, you guys are really killin it.”

(YN) could have sworn her soul left her body for a moment. “R-really?”

“Yea, I really-”

“Gee, we’re back on,” Ray said tapping him on the shoulder.

(YN) waved him off as he went back on stage and the crowd roared again. She tried to keep from screaming herself, but for an entirely different reason.

At the end of the show, everyone convened as usual for the post-show celebration. (YN) was glad to find that Rebecca had joined the group, even if she was mostly just talking to Jake. She had meant to talk to her, but got pulled into a conversation with Adam instead.

“Ok, but can you teach me to swing the mic like you do and not kill someone?” (YN) asked with a laugh.

“Sure thing, how ‘bout after your sound check tomorrow?” Adam offered.

“Perfect, can’t wait!” (YN) grinned, but in the corner Rebecca was rolling her eyes.

From the other side of the room Mikey was trying to talk to Gerard, but he was noticeably distracted. Following his brother’s line of sight, realized Gerard was watching (YN)’s animated conversation with Adam. He bumped his shoulder into Gerard’s.

“You really are into (YN) aren’t you?” Mikey asked with a knowing smile and Gerard just shrugged dejectedly. “Why don’t you just ask her out or something?”

“I can’t,” Gerard replied.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why? Why? What good reason do you have?” Mikey argued.

“Because I’m older than her, because I don’t want her to feel obligated to spend time with me just because we’re on this tour together. Because I’m not… I’m not the Gerard Way I used to be.”

"What the fuck does that mean?" Mikey asked sternly.

"I know I'm not a sexy rock star anymore, I'm a divorced dad with grey in his hair and," he sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Gee, you know you're in a better place now in so many ways than you were before. Stop talking yourself out of it.”

Gerard just grumbled in response. He knew his brother was right, he was better off now than he was ten years ago, worlds better than he was even longer ago than that. But he couldn’t help but worry that (YN) wouldn’t be interested in him. At least not the current version of him.

But that didn’t change how he felt about her

The next stop on the tour was Riot Fest, but Garden of Woe would not actually be opening for My Chem and Taking Back Sunday. They had been relegated to one of the smaller side stages earlier in the day. (YN) and Liam were hanging out on the curb outside their bus in the warm, mid September Chicago air when Frank and Gerard came by.

“Hey, when are you guys on today?” Frank asked.

“At 4:30, why?” Liam answered

Frank climbed in between the two and pulled out his phone. “Gerard is always talking about how awesome your show is, so I was gonna promote you guys.”

(YN) looked up at Gerard who smiled shyly. “Well Gerard, why don’t you get in on this too then,” she smiled.

“Sure,” he nodded and sat down next to her as Liam took Frank’s phone and held it out so he could get everyone in the shot.

“Hey guys, we’re at Riot Fest, and before we play tonight, you gotta go check out our friends Garden of Woe," Frank said to the camera.

“4:30 on the Riot Stage,” (YN) added, flashing a peace sign before Liam finished recording. “Thanks guys, we really appreciate it. I don’t know how many people would be stopping by our set without the promo.”

“Well they should be, like I said before, you’re amazing,” Gerard replied as (YN) looked over at him with a soft smile. Over (YN)’s shoulder, Liam and Frank were exchanging knowing looks.

Hours later the band was waiting off stage, a few minutes before they were due to go on for their set.

“Holy shit, I didn’t expect the crowd this big,” Jake said after peaking out.

“I guess Frank’s post worked,” Liam shrugged.

“What post?” Rebecca asked.

“This one,” (YN) replied, pulling out her phone and pulling up the post she’d bookmarked. She let the video play, smiling happily at the four of them on the screen.

“Look at you all cozy with My Chem, what a surprise,” Rebecca deadpanned.

(YN) shot her a confused look and was about to open her mouth when Liam interjected.

“Ha, look at these comments,” Liam said, snatching the phone away. “People are totally shipping you and Gerard, (YN).”

“Shut up, no they aren’t,” she replied, but could feel her cheeks burning red.

“Yea they are, look!” He said pointing them out. (YN) scrolled through and couldn’t help but feel honored that people would think that she and Gerard made a cute couple. She could only imagine what it’d really be like.

“Don’t we have a show to play?” Rebecca asked snidely, snapping her from her thoughts.

“Becs is right, come on let’s get ready.” (YN) nodded, putting her phone away.

The energy of the crowd was great, and the fans that were up front were actually singing along, which brought a smile to (YN)’s face. An even bigger smile crossed her face when she glanced at the side of the stage and saw Gerard and Frank were there watching the show too.

Part 2

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

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The Radio Station - Chapter Two - I’m So Excited

21st of August, 2013

The email had come in from her boss about a week before the interview was scheduled – next Wednesday, Mathew Healy was going to be back on her show. A part of her felt kind of anxious about this fact. Since the last time they had met, the band had indeed taken off as she predicted. Their popularity was only snowballing and the man that she had the pleasure of knowing for a brief while was revelling in it (from what she had seen in other interviews, anyway). She tried to remind herself that he was very easy to get along with the last time, so this should be no different. And she had met some substantially larger names than The 1975 in her time at the station. So, her anxiety was therefore fairly unwarranted. Which begged the question about why she felt those nerves sitting at the pit of her stomach in the first place, just from knowing that he was coming back into the studio. However, there wasn’t any point in stewing over it, nor was there time to, because he was knocking lightly at her glass door before she knew it. His mohawk had grown out a bit since she’d last seen him eight months ago, but otherwise he looked largely the same. She had a feeling he was even wearing the same black jacket he’d been wearing before. Looking behind him, it would seem that he’d brought one of the guys with him that she had seen him with after their last interview. If she recalled correctly, he was their drummer.

“It was Matthew, yeah?” She asked, trying to play it cool as she ushered the two of them inside. She hoped that it wouldn’t be apparent too quickly that she had been watching The 1975's movements closely since they’d met. Though, if Matthew was as clued on this time as he was the last time they’d spoke, she likely wouldn’t be able to hide it for long.

“Yeah, but Matty’s better.” He grinned. There was a short pause as he stopped for a beat and maintained eye contact, before remembering that he had someone else to introduce. “And I don’t think you guys formally met last time, but this is George. I dragged him along, hope that’s okay.” He added as he gestured to the man standing behind him.

“Good seeing you again.” George nodded politely.

“You as well.” She replied. “Take a seat you guys, there’s still a couple of songs that have to play through before I introduce you.” She said as she gestured to the other side of the desk. Matty gladly took the usual guest spot as George dragged across the smaller chair from the corner of the room.

“How’ve you been?” Matty asked eagerly, shuffling around in his seat as he tried to get comfortable.

“Yeah, good. Pretty much the same as usual.” She chuckled as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I’m surprised that you’re still running the lunchtime shift and they’ve not bumped you up to some prime time, peak-hour traffic slot.” He said casually, earning an incredulous laugh from her. The morning and afternoon shifts were the most coveted positions at any radio station, let alone one as big as this. She was pretty happy that she’d managed to land a job that gave her hours during the day as opposed to a midnight shift.

“Ah, I think I’d need a bit more of an audience before that happened.” She replied.

“I dunno, from what I’ve heard you seem to have a decent following.” He said with a shrug.

It was quiet for a moment as she processed that. She was pretty certain she could hear the clock hanging above the door ticking quietly as her brain tried to catch up. “You listen to the show?” She asked eventually.

“Whenever I get a chance, yeah. Or just catch a few highlights here and there on social media.”

That truly caught her off guard. Matthew Healy was out there writing albums, playing shows, and listening to her radio show? Why? Surely, he had better things to do in his downtime? “Uh, so what about you guys?” She asked, clearing her throat and trying to change the topic before he took note of how flustered she was becoming at this knowledge. “How’s things?”

“Really good!” He grinned. “We had Glastonbury recently which was amazing, and have Reading and Leeds coming up this weekend, and-” He started rattling off, quickly stopped by George as he put a hand down on the singers’ shoulder.

“Don’t wanna give too much away before the interview starts, Matt.” He laughed softly.

“Well, no, but-“

“You have to save the stories or you’re just gonna end up repeating them.”

“I can tell different ones.”

“You’re gonna tell the same ones that you tell every time, I know you are. And you won’t wanna tell them in the interview because you already said them now.”

“You don’t know that.” Matty frowned, clearly keen to push the point.

They continued this back and forth for a while before she intervened, “Anyway,” She sensed she had to diffuse this argument before it progressed into teenage bickering. “let’s do an interview.”

The two of them instantly tuned out of their conversation and back into the matter at hand as she began flipping switches. She pulled her headset on as she gave them one last cursory glance to make sure that they were ready.

"Hope you’re all having a pleasant afternoon out there, folks.” She spoke into her microphone. “As per usual on our Wednesday shows, I do have some special guests here in the studio with me to have a chat.” She said, nodding across to Matty to introduce himself.

“Hey! It’s Matty from The 1975.” He said with an excited grin.

“And George.” His friend added, leaning across to be closer to the mic. “Great to be here.”

“So, it’s been about nine months since you were here-”

“Entirely too long, if you ask me.” Matty chimed in casually. She pressed on, trying to ignore the charm that seemed to radiate from just about everything this man said.

“-and all of the EPs are out now, correct?” She continued.

“Yep.”

“Your album comes out in just under two weeks?”

“That sounds about right.”

She glanced down at the notepad in front of her, but she was pretty sure that over the last week she had memorised these questions front to back. “Are you excited for the album to finally be out? You were saying last time that it was practically already written back when you started the EP concepts.”

“We're definitely excited to finally hear people's reactions after how much traction we've gained from the EPs.” George began.

“It's been sitting in our heads for so long, it was almost hard to postpone it, but we wanted it to be perfect.” Matty threw in. “We didn't really expect to have such a positive reaction so soon, so it'll be interesting to see what people do with the main event.” Matty answered with a daydreamy look flashing in his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve really been enjoying the EPs.” She added, which instantly caught Matty's attention.

“Have you?” He asked instantly.

“Yeah, they've had a fair few spins through my playlists.” She laughed, suddenly making him grin ear to ear.

“You mentioned the positive reaction, Matty. With how fast you guys have taken off, I've heard a lot of people out there referring to The 1975 as an overnight success.” She prompted. “But you guys have been working on this since you were teenagers.”

He let out a sigh. “There is so much stuff about us being an overnight success…” He pulled a hand through his hair as he looked over at George. “It’s been ten years, actually.” He chuckled.

“Was the ten years worth it when you got the call to open for the Stones?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” He almost shouted, now letting out a full laugh. “it’s stuff like that, that really makes you appreciate it.”

George nodded along with him. “I think this whole year’s been worth it. Not just the Stones show, we’ve had a lot of great festivals and great sold out shows. It’s been strange. Surreal telling people about those events.” He elaborated.

“We didn’t mean for any of this to happen, really. So, it was a bit daunting initially.”

“You guys are still on tour?” She asked, moving along to the next topic.

“Yeah, have been since we last spoke.” Matty said with a nod. “Not really getting off tour until...” He seemed to be counting in his head. “December next year.”

“Next year?” She asked in surprise. “That's quite a long tour.”

“We are just… constantly on the move now.” He shrugged.

“That's for sure. It’s been a big year for The 1975. You guys had Glastonbury in June.”

“Yeah! That was amazing. It was incredible to play at a festival that we all grew up going to.”

“And have Reading and Leeds coming up this weekend with some big names.” She reminded him.

“Crazy…” He agreed. “We haven’t really been in the country for a lot of it. When Chocolate went so mental, we’ve been in America and Europe and just touring. We’ve just seen each other every day, it’s not really been that different for us. But the shows are getting bigger, people are really investing in the band, so it’s an amazing time.”

“You guys also did South by South West, which was eleven shows in five days.”

“That was mental.” George scoffed.

“Yeah! We were quite surprised to see how many people came to all of those shows. Chris Martin said the most perfect thing ever - of all people - if you throw a party and like 50 people come up, so imagine doing that for twice, three times the amount of that, every night, in cities you’ve never even really heard of. We turned up in Milwaukee and 350 people came to the show. We had a sold-out show in new York.” He rattled off, seeming slightly bewildered at the memory.

“That's pretty crazy to be making such big waves in a different country like that.” She concurred.

“I think it’s a testament to the internet, really. How far we’ve come from Manchester all the way across the world.” The drummer offered.

Matty instantly took that thought and ran with it, “God, I could talk about it for ages. It’s strange to go somewhere – when you go to places, and you realise you have a following there… your identity, your sense of self, almost feels slightly diluted? Because you’re in somewhere so unfamiliar, but witnessing the most familiar parts of your life. Your material, your art. It’s weird, man.” He said, shaking his head slightly.

“Does it intimidate you guys at all?” She questioned.

“No.” He instantly answered. “It’s amazing, a very humbling experience. It’s just very odd, the power of the internet? It’s kind of unsettling, but not intimidating. Kind of feel like you’ve lost a part of yourself a little bit.”

“How so?” She urged him to continue.

“Well... that’s when you’re at your most honest, isn’t it? When nobody knows who your band is. Now people know who we are. I’m the protagonist in every song I write. Which means every time I put stuff out there, it's putting out a part of me. Every conversation in a song is me and a normally female counterpart.” He tried his best to explain. “But that’s a subconscious thing.” He added as an afterthought.

“So it's like you're a little too transparent putting that much of yourself out there to such a large group of people?”

“Well, yeah. Your identity becomes kind of vaguely diluted because it’s not as embedded in what you’re familiar with anymore. Your identity kind of extends to places that you don’t really understand. It’s quite an unsettling thing for me.” Matty looked like he was struggling to find the right adjectives to describe the feeling. “It’s interesting. It’s cool.” He eventually settled on.

“Does that sort of feeling ever bother you when you're on stage?” She asked.

“Not at all. Performing is one of the only times I feel satisfied.” He laughed. “I just love it. It’s like putting on a party every night.”

“Would you guys ever do another big supporting tour like The Stones?”

“Probably not right now.” George supplied, before Matty spoke over him.

“There’s been a genuine investment from our fans. Every show we put out sells out really quickly now. We’ve not been able to meet the demands of the amount of people who want to see our band. As much as going off and playing with popstars in arenas would be fun, I think that would be an indulgent decision. It wouldn’t be for the right reasons. We need to play our own shows… we’ll have the opportunity for all that later.” He answered decisively. George seemed happy with this. “I don’t want us to get too big too quickly, you know? A lot of people feel like we’re their band. 'You’re my kinda band.' That’s how I always used to fall in love with bands. I don’t wanna lose that. I want that to remain, because it really is important to me that every single person gets the band.” It wasn't hard to believe that Matty meant what he was saying with the amount of conviction in his voice as he spoke into the mic in front of him.

“We have quite a strict door policy on our band. We don’t want idiots gettin’ in.” George threw in to try and lighten the mood.

“Back to Reading and Leeds, then. You're playing with the likes of Fall Out Boy and Green Day. Those are some massive names that'll be bringing in big crowds.” She started her line of questioning, waiting for them to respond before she continued.

“Yeah... We haven’t played to that many people.” Matty wiped his hands down his face as he took in a deep breath. “But it’s a real validation of all you’re doing. It’s not something we’ve ever craved, but it’s something we’ve really, really embraced and something that pushes us forward as creative people. It's cemented our identity as a band.” He replied.

“Are you nervous?” She asked with a smile.

He chuckled slightly, “Yeah, a little bit, but not really. What’ve we got to be nervous of? If people are there, they’ve already made that investment in us. We’ve just gotta show up and provide what we are.” George nodded. “And we can do that, so let’s just do it, d’you know what I mean?”

“All right, we're gonna play a couple of songs and then we'll be back with some questions you guys sent in earlier in the week.” She spoke into her microphone before cutting away.

“Fan questions?” George asked in curiosity as he took his headset off.

“Yeah. The station told people to text stuff in through the week and I've picked a few to ask.” She said with a nod as she took a swig from her cup of coffee.

“Hopefully you picked good ones.” Matty said with an eyebrow raised.

“You'll just have to see.” She shot back, earning a grin from him.

“You do brilliant interviews. I can't imagine you'd give us shitty questions.” He added. She tried her best to make sure he wouldn't see the slight blush on her cheeks at the compliment.

“You know, you should come out to a show sometime.” He segued. She was all too happy for an out from that conversation before it progressed.

“You guys hardly ever play here.” She pointed out.

“Come see us at Reading.”

“I hardly think you guys are high enough up on the bill to be offering to get me into a major festival for free.” She tried to sound accusatory, but couldn’t stop herself from cracking a small smile.

“Ask the station to get you in.” He suggested. She noticed that he seemed… rather eager about this idea.

She sighed deeply as she mulled this over. It would be nice to see them play live. It would be nice to see Matty again. Seeing him at a show counted as work, right? She could use that as a loophole in her own rules. “I’ll see what I can do.” Matty’s eyes practically lit up at her words.

“Okay, we're back with Matty and George of The 1975, here to answer some questions sent in by you lovely listeners.” She started, flipping over her notebook to the scribbled fan questions. “First up we have Louise who wanted to know, what's your highlight been so far?” The two men sitting across from her both let out a groan.

“So much has happened...” George mumbled.

“The whole thing has just become a bit of a blur, to be honest with you.” Matty answered. “It’s just loads of surreal situations strung together by doing interviews. I’d like to be in that place of having that much foresight – that much retrospect and hindsight. Everything’s happened so quick… I don’t know how I’m gonna feel about it. I can’t imagine things can continue being this intense in another year.” He paused for a moment, before pulling himself back on track. “Having a genuine connection with people who I never would’ve thought had even heard of our band every night, just that kind of…extended feeling… is the highlight of every night.”

“That's quite a nice sentiment.” She nodded.

“When we were a lot smaller in the UK, like January, a couple came up to me after a gig in London. And said that they’d fallen in love with each other through our EP – the Sex EP. They’d started speaking about it when they were out with a group of friends. They’d met and said ‘you know this band The 1975’ and they fell in love with that record and now they’re getting engaged.” He looked absolutely astounded by this, looking across to her to make sure she understood how crazy that was. “And I love that. It nearly made me cry. Because that’s it. That’s all we wanna do. For our music to affect people emotionally. If you have an artistic expression that does that… there’s nothing more beautiful, really. And if that’s your job, how can you get any better than that?” He finished with a shrug.

“Next we have Sam who's asked could you guys imagine doing something else instead of being in the band?” She questioned, crossing it off her list.

“We can’t do anything else.” George said with a laugh, instantly making his friend do the same.

“The band is the only expression we have. That’s bought from being complacent on working for anything else, and being totally, totally narrow minded and blind. We’ve never thought of the idea of this not happening.” Matty said.

“David has asked, how do you keep going?”

“Alcohol.” Matty instantly laughed. “Not really.” He quickly corrected. “It’s been the only thing we do, y’know? It’s not like we were in a band and had other interests. As soon as we became consumed by this band, we just stuck together as individuals. I think also because our social group has always orientated around us as a four, there’s never been any reason for us to not make music. It’s almost as if someone said ‘yeah, all right’ and then we got embraced by lots of different people and institutions.” He explained.

“Have there been any bad times?” She asked. “That was from Anna.”

“Not really?” George frowned. “I suppose when we were being wined and dined by the labels and then everything kind of fell apart? But it ended for the better, because we then signed a great deal on an indie that allowed us to have total creative control. Retrospectively we wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He answered.

“But it wasn’t that bad!” Matty chimed in. “Getting’ flirted, y’know. We were really young when all these labels were going for us. We were always quite fortunate as a band to have a lot of foresight.”

“Right, on that note, Jessica has asked how hard is it to stay true to your original ideas when speaking to labels?”

“You get really excited for the first few encounters, then you quickly learn to tame yourself and not get excited until you’re physically doing what has been said that they’ll do for you. You’ve gotta keep your head.” George answered.

“We just prided ourselves on our conviction. The only reason we wanted to do was this because it was on our terms.”

“Okay, Brian has asked if you guys ever fall out?”

“No.” Both of them instantly answered.

“We Just avoid that stuff and let other people deal with it. It’s too much of a personal endeavour to let the small stuff get to you. It’s not like we’re four boys who started a band because we wanted to be in a band, we’re four mates who ended up in a band by accident. So, pfft, whatever.” The singer scoffed.

“We’ve not focused on the financial stuff or anything like that. The only thing we have maintained is to have the final say and total creative control, and we all agree on that so there's not been any arguments to have.” George said.

“Last serious one and then we have some quick fire stuff.” She said as she scribbled out the last question. “Brendan wanted to know what your biggest accomplishment is so far?”

“Just making the record.” Matty said with a shrug. “I don’t really care how that record’s perceived or embraced, because it’s such an honest record - it’s such an honest depiction of who we are and where we’re from. It’s so uncompromised. The fact that a band like us managed to make a record like that without compromising at all… I’m just proud of that as an idea.”

“Okay, some short and sweet ones to end out the interview.” George and Matty sat up a little straighter in their seats. “Who's the best behaved?” She asked.

“George is tidy, I guess?” Matty seemed hesitant as he glanced at his mate. “He’s quite well behaved but we’re all quite well behaved because we’ve been in a band for a long time. This a very… kind of pursuit for music for us. A lot of our partying doesn’t actually happen when we’re on tour. We try and be as good as possible. All of us have our moments? We’re in a rock band, y’know what I mean?” He chuckled, running a hand through his mohawk.

“These are meant to be quick, Matty.” She reminded him with a smile. “If you could pick one person dead or alive to be stuck on an island with, who would it be?”

“Musically? Michael Jackson – just to go through musical ideas. But I think he’d get on my nerves after a couple of days.”

“Yeah, same.” George agreed.

“Can you moonwalk?”

“Yes. Very well.”

“Which celebrity do you think would have the best banter at a party?”

“Anyone from Geordie Shore.”

“If you could swap wardrobes with anyone, who would you want it to be?”

“ASAP rocky. For sure.”

“Write us a poem.”

“That's not quick fire!” He scoffed with a laugh. “And that's not a question!” He added, now properly laughing. “In an interview, the idea is to ask questions that I can answer. You’re giving me all of the work.”

“Ahh, I thought you'd be able to churn out something instinctual like those people who spill the truth after a bunch of quick questions.” She grinned.

“Well, that's all we have time for.” She sighed, leaning back a bit in her chair. “Thank you guys for coming in to the studio to have a chat.”

“It's no problem.” George smiled sweetly.

“We'll be here any time you want us on.” Matty replied.

“That was Matty and George from The 1975, and a track from them is coming up next.” She finished up as she set Chocolate up to play next. The two boys started getting up from their seats, grabbing their stuff and straightening out their jackets. As they were about to leave, she heard Matty tell George to go on ahead and he'd catch up. She spun in her chair to face him as he walked back over to her.

“I was serious , by the way.” Matty said, leaning back against the desk. “Any time you want us on the show, or if you wanna come out to see us play, just let me know.” He said as he held out a piece of paper. She took it from him, realising it had his number scrawled on it.

“Is this meant to be a subtle way of giving me your number?” She frowned up at him, but he definitely caught on to the excitement she was trying her best to hide.

“It can be whatever you want it to be.” He shrugged with a smirk as he followed after his friend.

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

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officialsimppage · 4 years ago

Text

-Hospitality-

Request: Spencer reid a reader where the reader gets poisoned by an unsub. Like in the hotel room the « staff » left chocolate on the bed for hospitality. Spencer has to save the reader when the poison starts to take effect at the precinct. Confessions of love later in the hospital?

Hi! Thank you so much for requesting! I really liked this idea and I hope my writing fulfills your spencer reid dreams! <3 This takes place around s4!

Warnings: Mentions of poor living, poison, and some sad vibes.

“Ok, so there have been 4 mass poisonings in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The first was at a winery, which killed 13 people, the second, at a bar, which left 5 dead, the third at a restaurant which left 20 dead, and the fourth, at a hotel bar which left 3 dead. The last two were only 2 days apart.” Garcia says, showing us images of all the crime scenes. “They are testing for poisons, but they are thinking it’s arsenic. Since they died very quickly.” she says with a grim face.

“He’s obviously escalating, but why is the body count going up and down?” I ask looking at Rossi and Hotch.

“That’s what Milwaukee police want us to find out. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says looking at all of us. I get up and walk out into the bullpen with Spencer right by me. He tries to say something but then I cut him off by asking,

“Hotch I forgot some stuff for my go bag so I’m going to run home quickly and I’ll meet you guys at the airport ok?” I ask Hotch.

“Yeah sure that’s fine.” he says.

“Ok thank you!” I say walking out of the BAU,waving at him.

“Be quick!” he yells back at me. I don’t have to grab anything. I just have to hide from Spencer. I can barely handle being around him alone. I can’t even look at him without wanting to jump his bones right then and there!

We hop off the airplane and head to the hotel before we head to the precinct. There were little rooms so I had to double up with Spencer. Great. I have to be sleeping with the man I have been in love with since I joined the BAU. Which was 3 years ago. That’s always fun, being in love with someone who is completely oblivious for 3 years.

“Ok Spence, here's home for the next however many days.” I tell him to show me the hotel room. It isn’t the greatest, but it isn't the worst. I run to the the bed by the window and I yell,

“I CLAIM THIS BED!” I say running and jumping on the bed. I stuff my face in the sheets and inhale the linen smell. It's nice, comforting.

“Omg Y/N you are one of a kind. I like that about you.” He says chuckling looking at me. Even though I’m not in front of a mirror, I know I am blushing. But I know it means nothing, so I brush it off my shoulders, but at the same time I hold it close. Hoping it means something. I get a text message from Hotch saying there was another poisoning so I get up and walk to Spencer and I say,

“Spence we should get to the precinct, there was another poisoning.” I say with a sigh. I get up, grab the case files and start to walk out . I stand in front of the door and I think ‘why isn’t he coming?” I turn around and,

“Spence, are you looking at my ass?” I ask laughing a bit. He looks up with scared puppy eyes quickly trying to think of an excuse.

“I uh- no actually, I was uh- not doing that! I promise! I- was-” He says stumbling quite a bit.

“It’s ok Spencer let’s just get to the precinct.” I say laughing a bit.

“Yeah right lets uh let's go!” he says quickly walking ahead of me obviously embarrassed. It’s cute, actually. I follow him into the elevator and down to the car.

“Ok Spencer I’m driving. And hey if I catch you looking at my boobs-”

“Y/N!” Spencer says obviously annoyed by my joke. I laugh and start the car and start heading to the precinct.

“Finally you’re here!” Emily says walking up to me. “Hey, sorry about you being paired with Spence, I know you love him, it's just I needed me some lady time. I just needed a break from doubling up with Spencer.” She says with a sorry face.

“No it’s totally fine Emily! I get it and I’m sorry about always asking you to double with Spencer.” I say no realizing how much she must have dealt with. I mean what the rest of the group sees as annoying when Spencer rambles, I think it’s cute. “Let's go find out about what happened.” I say to her. She nods and we walk over to where everyone is sitting. Apparently, 4 people were in the hospital from a different poison. I guess it was slower. Way slower. She didn’t feel anything for 1 hour!

“ So why would he give someone poison, that gives them time to be saved? Is this like a god complex sort of thing?” JJ asks.

“Maybe. Or it could be a sign of remorse.” I say. Maybe this son of a bitch feels stuff. Like actual feelings. Not ‘Oh! I want to kill people today!’ sort of feelings. I look up around the room to see everyone thinking. I accidently came into eye contact with Spencer. ‘Oh god, was he actually looking at me?’ No not possible. He was probably looking at the pamphlets behind me and accidentally met my eyes. Yeah, it was that.

“Well we need to figure out what exactly she ate. Y/N, Emily, go visit Ms. Quirte in the hospital.” Hotch tells us and I nod and walk to a SUV with Emily.

Were halfway to the hospital and Emily asks,

“So you are in love with Spencer.” She looks at me with sad eyes. Knowing how I feel. Being in love with someone I have no chance with. You know, when you are in love with someone you think it will pass over in a month. Then it becomes 3 months, then 6, then a year. Then three. Three years and I still can’t get over him.

“Yeah, yeah I really am. It’s unexplainable. You know like I thought this would all pass over put here I am. Still stuck on him. After three god damn years.” I say with tears in my eyes, looking out the window. “Did you know I’m from Milwaukee.” I say as we drive by my old neighborhood. “ That was my neighborhood.It wasn’t a good one, my family was really poor. I had rough grades before. The only smarts I knew were street smarts. Then I picked up my grades and got a full ride scholarship to UW Madison.” I say looking at Emily, wiping my tears.

“Wow Y/N, that’s, that’s horrible. But amazing. I admire you because of that. You know my mom was an ambassador so I never really worked my way up. I respect you for putting in all of the hard work you have put in to get into here.” She says looking at me with proud eyes. Almost like a proud sister.

“Turn here.” I say coldly. Wanting to stop talking about Spencer and my past life. She nods, knowing I just need some time for myself. Time to think about my future and what i'm going to do to make up for my shitty past.

“All we got is that she took a mint from her hotel room. He was here for her sister's wedding.” Emily says as we walk into the police station. We put our bags down and look up at the time. It reads ‘8:30” but it feels like 2 am. “Hey did you guys also know Y/N was from here? Like this is her turf.” Emily says acting all Spencer Reid smart.

“Really,” JJ says.

“Wow this must have hit hard little lady.” Morgan says.

“Where ya from?” Rossi asks.

“Of course I knew it was on her resume.” Hotch says coldy.

“I also knew as well.” Spencer pipes up from the back of the room.

“Spence! You scared me!” I say walking to him, distracting me from answering everyone's questions. . “Hey do you think we could get out of here, I’m beat.” I say whispering to him.

“Uh yeah of course!” Spencer says in a high pitched tone. “Hotch, me and Y/N are going to go.” he says grabbing his stuff.

“All right, just be here by 8 am.” he says, walking back to the geographic profile.

“Ok!” I say walking out with Spencer right beside me. We get into the car and I turn to him and I say,

“Please don’t say anything about my life here. I sorta want to forget it. All of it.” begging him with sad puppy eyes. He looks at me for a couple seconds. And says,

“Of course Y/N. Anything for you.” He says putting his hand on my cheek. I quickly pull my face away. That had to have been a friendly gesture. Right? I looked out my window to see that it had started sprinkling. Great, some sad weather to add onto my sad mood. Just what I need.

When we get into the hotel room I turn on the lights and flop onto the bed. Then I feel something hard on my thigh. I look down and see a bar of gourmet chocolate with a ribbon saying ‘Enjoy your stay!’ Huh. I don’t see any on Spencer's bed. Well, all I know is that I’m eating this tomorrow morning. I could seriously use some chocolate. I change into my pajamas and turn to see Spence already laying down in his bed. I turn off the lights and I hear,

“Goodnight Y/N.” from Spencer. He says it in a quiet voice, like he's trying not to disturb me if I was sleeping. Even though I was awake.

“Goodnight Spence.”I say, making it obvious I’m tired. I turn around in my sheets and fall asleep quickly. Dreaming not of Spence, but of that chocolate. Oh how will I enjoy it tomorrow.

I wake up at 7:30 and get up to go wake up Spencer.

“Spence, we have to get up. It’s 7:30, Hotch told us to be at the station at 8.” I say shaking him a bit. He stirs a bit in his sleep and then opens his eyes. He looks dazed and confused.

“Wha- What? Oh yeah right the Hotch thing. Ok I’ll get up. I’ll use the bathroom while you change.” He says slowly sitting up and stumbling to the bathroom.

“Ok sounds good.” I say before he closes the bathroom door. I put on a white blouse with a black pencil skirt. I brush through my hair a bit and look at my night stand. I lean over and grab the chocolate and open it and take a bite. ‘God this is so good!’ I have three more bites and I look over and Spencer has come out of the bathroom.

“Where’d you get that?” He asks, walking to his bag for clothes.

“I don’t know. It was left on my bed last night that said, “Enjoy your stay!’” I respond.

“Can I have some.” he asks, hoping to just get a nibble.

“Nope, it’s all mine.” I say walking into the bathroom taking the last bite of the chocolate. I put on my makeup, curl my hair, and brush my teeth and I walk out to see Spence ready to go. I put on my heels and we walk out of the hotel feeling better than ever.

We get to the station at 8:05 and set up in the conference room where all of our stuff is. We look over and we see there are more crime scene photos on the board. Crap, another poisoning.

“Good you’re here. You missed a doozy. 18 victims in the hospital.” Rossi says looking up from his newspaper.

“Gah, really?” I say with an annoyed look on my face. Rossi gives me an understanding smile and chuckle. I turn to the board and decide to get to work. I think, why is he now not killing them, but giving them time to get to a hospital and be treated? Why is there such a crazy victim count? It’s all over the place. As I ask myself these questions, I feel some heartburn and my throat feels tight. I dismiss it and pop some heartburn relief, blaming it on the crappy coffee. As I look on the board I see Morgan and Hotch walk in with a serious face.

“Guys, we need to deliver the profile.” Morgan says with an urgent look. I look at Spencer and Rossi and walk out to where JJ and Emily already are.

“Our unsub is a white woman in her mid 20s to early 30s. We have reason to believe she suffered some sort of poison event as a child, or it happened to her own child. Which has caused her to suddenly feel the remorse kick in.” Hotch says looking at the officers. I start to feel a little dizzy as Emily talks and I feel my throat tighten even more. Spencer is standing right next to me and looks at me when it’s my turn to deliver.

“Our uh, ahem, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat trying to talk then I feel my throat tighten all the way. I can’t breathe. “ H- Hel- I ca- can- brea-'' and that's the last thing I say before I black out.

*SPENCERS POV*

I turn and look and notice Y/N say she can’t breathe and pass out. Oh god no! I immediately catch her in my arms and lay her down. Everyone looks over and gasps. But they stay frozen.

“SOMEBODY CALL THE PARAMEDICS! QUICKLY!!” I yell for everyone to hear. JJ quickly picks up her phone and calls them right away. Everyone tries to crowd around her and I push them all back trying to give her space. The only thing I can think of is to perform CPR. I start doing chest compressions looking down on her.

“Y/N you have to stay with me. Come on not now. Not happening not today!” I say speaking down to her. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You can't go. Not until I tell you I've been in love with you ever since you said hello to me.” That's the last thing I say to her as I see the paramedics rush in and take her to the hospital.

*Y/N POV*

I wake up to beeping and bright lights above me. I turn to my right side and see a heart monitor and IV drip. I look ahead of me to see ‘ICU ROOM 2’ on the window. What happened? I look over and I see Spencer resting. I look at him and say,

“Can we get these lights off?” I barely say since I’m so weak. He looks up with a happy expression and starts tearing up.

“Y- Y/N! You’re awake! Oh god I thought I lost you! You were out for a day! Turns out the chocolate was poisoned since the unsub who we caught by the way, didn’t like the FBI being brought in,” Spencer says rambling a bit he then stops and says, “I’m just glad you're ok. And since this happened I am obligated to uh say this but. Y/N I have been in love with you since you walked in. Your voice, laugh, smile, lights up my world. It is my world. You are my world. I love you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same-”

I cut him off with a kiss. A soft one, because I’m weak. But it means everything to me. He loves me back and it’s not just 1 way.

“Spence, I love you too.” I say crying and looking at his beautiful, soft eyes. I slide over and usher him onto the bed to cuddle me. He sits up so I can put my head in his neck. He looks down at me and says,

“I’m so glad I can call you my girlfriend.” he then leans down and kisses my forehead.

“And i’m excited to call you my loving, caring, amazing boyfriend.” I say with a chuckle. We lay down for a while until he pipes up,

“That was some great hospitality wasn’t it Y/N.” looking at me.

“Spencer I love you and your voice, but please be quiet.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer #reid

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dp-marvel94 · 5 years ago

Text

Missing Persons

Summary: A halfa is half human and half ghost. Danny learns the dark truth of how Vlad created all of those fully grown clones.

Word Count: 11025

Also on AO3 and ff.net

Note: For the Phic Phight- prompt by @hpwot. This turned out really long, going to several directions I wasn’t expecting so took forever to write. I also referenced some things that happened in my stories Angst Day and Candlelight, but you don’t need to have read those to enjoy this. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: ANGST, lots of angst, self-depreciation, crying ect.. There’s a nightmare scene about the ‘clones’ destabilizing featuring a fair amount of ectoplasm, blood, gore, torture, and human experimentation.

It started with a flyer on a corker board in a random gas station. Danny walked right by it the first time, in a hurry to get to the restroom after spending way too much time in the RV. As fun as this trip had been, he was really happy to be heading home. After using the toilet and washing his hands, the boy walked out of the restroom. He stretched, intent on walking around for a bit, and grabbing a soda and some snacks before having to be trapped in the RV for another six hours.

Walking past the board again, Danny paused, staring at the flyer- a missing person’s poster. The boy frowned; that was really sad. The protector in him, that part of him that had grown into and worked in harmony with his Obsession after becoming a half ghost, ached a little at the sight. Just enough for him to take a closer look. Tilting his head, the boy took a step closer. The picture showed a preteen girl, about 12 years old with blue eyes and unruly black hair in a ponytail. Feeling a tinge of familiarity, he grabbed the paper and pulled it free.

Looking down, Danny’s brow furrowed in thought. He scrutinized the picture: the narrow nose, a splash of freckles, and chubby cheeks. The girl looked a lot like Danielle, his female clone who went by Elle. He scanned the information, his eyes widening.

Missing Since: February 18th 2019

Missing from: Milwaukee, Wisconsin

D.O.B: November 4th, 2007

Age Now: 12

Sex: Female

Race: White

Hair Color: Black

Eye color: Blue

Height: 4’ 7”

Weight: 85 lbs

Danny’s eyes tailed over the name: Danielle Anne Martins. His jaw dropped looking at the picture again. The girl stood in front of a tree wearing a light blue blouse and grinning brightly in a smile Danny knew he recognized. She didn’t JUST look a lot like Danielle.

“What are you looking at?” Jazz’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

She stood beside him and looked over at the paper. Her eyes widened, taking in the picture. Danny looked at her. Was she seeing what he was?

Swallowing, the boy found his voice, quietly saying “She looks exactly like Elle.”

“She does.” Jazz nodded, voice rising in amazement.

The two siblings looked at each other. Danny felt certainty rising at Jazz’s agreement, though his mind swam with new questions. Why was her picture here, on a missing person’s flyer under a false name? His younger clone, created and then thrown away by Vlad Masters. Vlad….

Anger flaring, Danny gripped the paper tighter. “I can’t believe this.” He looked side to side, making sure no one was listening. Seeing everyone, especially their parents, were well out of earshot, he hissed. “The freaking froot loop. He’s still trying to find her. He must have made this.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“So people will be on the look out for her.” He pointed at the paper. “And look here, it says to call this number if you have information. And I bet that’s not actually the number for the Milwaukee Police.” The boy huffed.

His older sister hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense. Although….."

Jazz was cut off by her mom's voice. "Kids." Danny looked up as the woman walked around the corner. "Are you ready to check out? We need to get going."

Jazz's mouth snapped shut as Danny shoved the paper in his pocket. Trying to look casual, the boy said. "Yeah. Give me a minute. I'll meet you at the register. "

With a nod, their mother walked away. Heading toward the cooler for a soda, Danny paused as Jazz put a hand on his shoulder. "We should talk about this more when we get home. " She whispered, gently.

The boy nodded. "Yeah. And figure out what to do about it. Maybe ask Tucker to look into it?"

"That sounds like a good idea." Jazz agreed, moving her hand. "Now let's get moving before Mom gets suspicious."

Agreeing, Danny picked his drink and some snacks. After mom paid for his rootbeer, cheese-its, and candy bar with the other family members’ choices, everyone returned to the RV.

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

For a while, Danny distracted himself with a game on his phone but the folded paper in his jean pocket seemed too heavy, keenly reminding him of its presence...and this picture of Elle it held. Shaking his head, Danny tried to turn his attention back to the normally addicting game but his clone’s bright eyes and wide smile flashed in his mind. Worry churned in his gut as he wondered where Elle was and if she was okay. The paper in his pocket just served to increase the ever present, though subtle anxiety. His clone… his little sister …...no matter what, a part of his family struggling on the streets without regular food and shelter, running from the police and ghosts hired by Vlad, the thought made his stomach churn. She didn’t need this complication, this additional target on her back. His core and heart ached; Danny wanted her safe and protected. Really he wanted her off the streets and with a stable home and family. You could give her that if you weren’t too much of a coward to tell Mom and Dad. A small guilty part of him snapped.

Danny pushed the thought down. Elle could take care of herself and he and his friends were already doing what they could to help her. And figuring out about this missing person flyer and erasing any evidence of it on the internet would ease up some of her burden, giving the girl back her anonymity and making it harder for Vlad to get his claws in her again.

The half-truths didn’t really help Danny’s conscience as they continued towards Amity Park.

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

Danny, Sam, and Jazz meet at Tucker’s house the next day.

“It does look like Elle.” Sitting on the bed, Tucker furrowed his brow, handing the flyer to Sam who sat on a beanbag chair beside him.

“It does.” Sam nodded. “And the timing matches up, February of last year. That’s three months before we met her when Vlad kidnapped you.”

Danny agreed from his seat on the other bean bag. “Yeah. And all the other information lines up. Man, Vlad did a good job of making this look official.”

“He really did.” Tucker turned his computer around. “Her poster is on the website for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”

“Really?” Danny leaned forward. “Huhh… all of the information’s the same. Even the phone number for the Milwaukee Sheriff's Office.”

“Do you think that’s the actual number?” Jazz asked from her seat on the floor.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What? You want to call it?”

The red-head rolled her eyes. “No. We can just google it.”

A few clicks on the computer and Tucker nodded. “Yeah. It looks like the legit number.”

Well, his previous idea that the number would contact Vlad or someone working for him was false.

“Huhhh” Danny frowed. “Why would Vlad use the actual police phone number though?”

“He probably had to, to make it ‘official.’ It’s not like he couldn’t get the information from the police if they do find her.” Sam said.

“But why the fake last name? I figured Vlad would want to call her Danielle Masters.” Danny shivered at the thought.

“Well Vlad is very famous.” Jazz crossed his arms. “Him suddenly having a daughter would be very suspicious.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. Especially if he plans on hurting her again.” Danny balled his fists, remembering Vlad’s sneers about how he would melt Elle down to figure out why she lasted so long.

Jazz put a gentle hand on his arm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and make sure that doesn’t happen, Danny.”

The halfa couldn’t help but subtly smile, comforted at his older sister’s understanding. All of the insanity of his life since becoming a half ghost and his sister and two best friends were always by his side. Elle and the situation that led to meeting her was definitely one of the weirdest things that had happened since then. And Sam, Tucker, and Jazz had taken it in stride, loving the younger girl like Danny did, even if the older halfa was closest to her.

“Guys.” Tucker’s voice interrupted Danny’s thoughts. “What if it’s not a fake last name?”

The techno-geek’s unusual seriousness gave the other boy pause. “What?”

Not answering for a moment, Tucker moved from the bed to the floor with his laptop. He took a deep breath, motioning Danny over. “Take a look.”

Something like dread balling in his stomach, Danny walked forward to sit on Tucker’s left. Sam joined from the other side with Jazz beside her.

“There’s a lot of information about the case.” Tucker said, as Danny took in the search results. “There’s a Facebook group, a website, and news reports.”

Tucker clicked on a link, an article from the Milwaukee news station about the disappearance of a local middle schooler, featuring a smiling picture of Danielle. Danny perused the words, heart sinking.

“This looks real.” Jazz quietly commented.

But Sam shook her head. “Vlad still could have made up the report and a news station picked it up.”

“But the date is from before we even meet Elle.” Tucker pointed.

Sam’s mouth snapped shut and Tucker hit the back button. He clicked on another news report. This time, it showed a video of a man and woman a few years younger than Danny’s parents. The barrett-wearing boy clicked play. A banner ran across the bottom, with the names Joshua and Sarah Martins.

“Are those…” Jazz started.

But Danny shushed her, waving his hand.

The woman, Sarah, held up a picture of Danielle, the one from the missing person’s poster. “This is our daughter, Danielle. She never came home from school on February 18th.” Tears started falling down her face. “Someone...someone took her. Our Elle was taken from us.” She sniffled. “Please, please. I just want my daughter back.”

The woman’s voice broke into a sob. The man, Joshua, took her hand and squeezed it. He continued, voice shaking. “There’s no ransom note and no more leads. Please, please. We need information. If...if you see Elle or have any information about her...her kidnapping please...please call the police.” The man started crying too. “To the person that took her, please we’ll do anything. Just give us our daughter back.”

The video ended, leaving the room in silence. Danny fixed his eyes on the floor. That….that couldn’t be real...no. Sam and Tucker looked at each other.

Sam crossed her arms. “Vlad could have paid them to pretend to be her parents?”

“I don’t know…..” Tucker shrugged uncomfortably.

“We should keep looking.” Jazz added.

Danny said nothing, dread still growing.

Tucker clicked on a few more web pages- another article, Facebook posts, a blog about the investigation. Danny glanced over, taking in the pictures and words. His mind barely registered his friends and sister’s conversation.

“There is no way this is actually her.” Sam argued.

“But it looks like Elle.” Tucker said

“Well, maybe it’s doctored. Or it’s a coincidence.”

Danny’s mind focused on the pictures, each one pricking his heart. A baby in a pink dress. A three year old girl at the beach. A five year old hunting for Easter eggs. A smiling girl blowing out birthday candles, showing the number 6.

“So this is a real kidnapping but the girl isn’t our Elle, just happens to look like her?”

“I don’t buy that explanation.” Jazz added.

Danielle with the two adults from the video in a family photo. Opening Christmas presents. Swinging at the park.

“So this is our Elle? But Vlad said that she was a clone of Danny. There’s no way this can be her.” Sam spread her arms.

A school photo, showing Elle in a red shirt and black pants. An eleven year old at an amusement park with her parents (?)

“But don’t you think it’s weird that Vlad managed to make half human clones in a few months?”

The pictures look so real. The expressions so like the Elle he knew and loved….but they couldn’t be real. Elle was his clone, created by Vlad. Not...not...

“Jazz is right.” Tucker said. “Even if Vlad could make a clone of Danny, they’d be a few months old at the most now. Not a preteen like Elle. It’s not possible. ”

Danny shook his head. No. No. Tucker was right; it shouldn’t be possible. But this, what the evidence implied, wasn’t either. Vlad couldn’t have, he wouldn't have done that. The fruit loop was crazy but he wasn’t this demented. Was he?

Then again, that asshole gleefully tried to kill a little girl who called him Daddy. Why wouldn’t he resort to kidnapping and...?

“He experimented on her.” Before Danny really registered what he said, the words poured out.

The other three teens stopped talking to look at him. Jazz’s expression fell. “You think so?”

“We know how desperate and crazy that bastard is. If he wanted to make a half ghost that badly, why wouldn’t he just kidnap and experiment on someone to do that?” Danny shrugged, numb mind failing to process the weight. “I mean Jazz has a point. Halfas are half ghost and half human. You need a human body for that….and you can’t just make one in a few months.”

Sam put her hand on her head. “But….what about her parents? If Elle really was kidnapped, wouldn’t she have said something to us, so we could help her find them?”

“She obviously doesn’t remember.” Jazz’s voice wavered. “Whatever Vlad did to her must have made her lose her memories.”

The pain in Jazz’s voice pricked Danny’s heart. His fists balled.

“Oh God.” Jazz’s hand covered her mouth. “I mean...we already knew….he...he tried to melt her. But he tortured her. He messed with her mind and made her think she was a clone.”

Danny’s blood ran cold. There were ghostly things that could mess with people’s minds; Clockwork told him about them. Plants that grew near the River Lethe, even the water itself for a more permanent erasure. Without his mind’s permission, Danny imagined.

Vlad strapping Elle to a table as she begs him to let her go. Pining electrodes to her forehead. Feeding her glowing purple leaves until she threw up. With gloved fingers, pouring Lethean water down her throat.

The horror on Sam’s face steadily grew as she paled. “What...what did that bastard even do to her to turn her into a half ghost?”

Elle screaming as Vlad electrocutes her with his own powers. Injecting her with ectoplasm, the green ooze bubbling up through her skin. Throwing her into an inactivated portal and starting it. Vlad grinning as she stumbles out...until her feet start melting and she screams.

Danny wanted to scream too. Gritting his teeth, he transformed. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

Rising from the floor, the half ghost phased through the window.

“Danny! No!” “Come back, Danny!” “Danny! Please!”

He ignored the calls behind him.

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

Luckily, Danny’s brain caught up with him before he got to Vlad’s mansion in Amity Park. He couldn’t fight Vlad, not right now. Growling, he turned away. The boy flew aimlessly, stewing in anger.

How could he do this?! How could that bastard kidnap a twelve year old to experiment on her?!

Danny came to the woods just outside Amity Park, a familiar place he had visited to train with Sam and Tucker. Floating a little ways above the ground, the half ghost lit his fists with ectoplasm and he shot at a tree. The blast hit it, blacking the bark with a hiss as Danny imagined shooting a smug look off of Vlad’s face.

That son of a bitch.

Darting forward, the half ghost punched a tree. He imagined Vlad’s face, ectoplasm leaking from his nose, as the wood creaked but didn’t fall. Danny was already so angry, pissed off, over how Vlad had treated Elle earlier. Anger burned through his veins, as he remembered glaring at Vlad in hatred after Valerie and he saved his then cousin. “Don’t come near her again.” He’d demanded, baring fangs.

And now he knew all of the other shit Vlad had done to his clone! With a raged yell, Danny shot out another ectoblast. Except Danielle wasn’t a clone at all. She was a formally human, normal little girl!

Suddenly something swished through the trees. With a yelp, Danny ducked just as it flew over his head. With a metallic thud, the object lodged itself in a tree.

He turned, finding the Boo-merang in the tree beside him. The boy pulled it out, studying it thoughtfully. He figured Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were looking for him, probably to stop him from doing something incredibly stupid.

"Danny!" Several voices echoed through the trees.

"Over here!" He called with a sigh.

"Danny!" Someone called again, the subtle relief indicating they heard him.

Floating towards the voices, Danny paused as his friends and sister appeared through the trees. The three teens spotted him and ran forward.

“You’re okay!” Sam exclaimed.

“Dude. We thought we were going to have to save you from Vlad.” Tucker gave a subtle smile. “Or save Vlad from you.”

“That’s not funny.” Jazz elbowed him. Then she glared at Danny. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s fine.” Danny scoffed, lightly. “I stop before I did anything stupid.”

“I guess we got lucky for once.” Jazz crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I’m not a complete idiot, Jazz! I wasn’t going to go off half-cocked against Vlad! He’d cream me if I don’t have a plan.” Danny gritted his teeth, aura flaring. “And then how are we supposed to make Vlad pay for what he did to Elle?!”

Jazz looked at him, worriedly. “Believe me. I know that you’re angry but…”

The floating halfa cut her off. “I’m not angry. I am PISSED OFF. I have never wanted to beat Vlad up more. That bastard….he...he kidnapped Danielle, took her away from her parents, her friends, her whole life.” He waved his arms. “He brainwashed her. He tortured her, almost killed her so many times.” His eyes flashed, as his volume increased. “He...he turned her into the same kind of freak as me!”

“Danny….” Tucker started.

“No! She was normal! Now Elle thinks she’s a freaking half ghost clone of me! So yeah, I want to make Vlad pay!”

“Danny!” Sam’s angry bark silenced the half ghost. He floated back, expected to be yelled at for wanting revenge on the older halfa. But the girl surprised him. “I’m with you.”

“What?” Danny’s eyes widened, his fury lessening into a simmering rage.

“That man needs to be stopped.” Sam’s eyes burned with anger.

Tucker nodded. “Yeah. He can’t just let him keep doing shit like this.”

“You guys agree with me?” The halfa raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” Jazz spread her arms. “Vlad kidnapped and experimented on someone. With all the other shit he’s done, this is the last straw. He’s done.”

Danny studied his sister, at once surprised and encouraged that the normally clean mouthed girl agreed with him to the point of cursing. The boy floated down, feet coming to rest on the forest floor. He crossed his arms. “So what do you guys want to do about this?”

Tucker furrowed his brow. “Man, we don’t know yet.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “We just need to be smart about it. Whatever plan we come up with needs to absolutely work and for the long run.”

“And we need to tell Elle.” Jazz frowned.

Danny paled. “Tell Elle…?”

“Yes. If we’re permanently dealing with Vlad, she needs to be involved.” Jazz bite her lip. “And we need to get her back to her parents after Vlad is dealt with.”

Danny remained silent, looking down. Her parents. The thought of that was so foreign, he could hardly believe it. A confusing mix of emotions swirled in his gut. He should be happy at the thought of his clone… sister…. Err… whatever they were now, having a safe home and family. But he wasn’t. Anxiety over how she would react spiked. Would she be happy, upset, angry at Vlad? Or at him, for not figuring this out sooner? For being the only reason Vlad did this to her in the first place. A small vile part of himself hissed. He pushed that thought away.

“Let’s go home, little brother.” He looked up, finding Jazz in front of him with her hands on his.

“Yeah.” Tucker came from his left, putting one arm around him. “We can figure all of this out later.”

Jazz stepped back and Sam stepped forward to hug him quickly. “And it’ll be okay. No matter what.”

“Thanks guys.” Giving his best, though uncertain smile, Danny returned to his human form.

The four teens started walking out of the woods, back towards Jazz’s car.

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

After dropping Sam and Tucker off, the two Fenton siblings started heading home. Danny stayed quiet throughout the ride, still not talking once they arrived home. At dinner, Danny picked at his food while Jazz was also unusually subdued.

“Are you two okay?” Their mother asked, with raised brow.

Jazz sighed. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“I’m tired too.” Danny said and it wasn’t a lie. With his previous anger spilled and morphed into anxious guilt, the boy felt emotionally drained. “Can I be excused?” He asked, pushing his still half-full plate away.

Maddie frowned. “Alright.”

The boy stood up and forced himself to walk calmly out of the room, though he could feel his family’s worried gaze burning into the back of his head. Making it up the stairs and into his room, he closed the door and slumped sadly onto his bed.

Not five minutes later, Jazz knocked on his door before opening it at Danny’s permission. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny shook his head. “No.”

Jazz’s face softened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jazz. I promise, we’ll talk about everything soon. I …. Just need to be alone right now.”

Though her mouth was set like she wanted to argue, the older teen closed the door and went to her room.

Danny couldn’t help but stew in his thoughts. Furry at Vlad still raged below the surface but guilt also threatened to overwhelm. As did curiosity about who exactly Danielle was before Vlad took her.

Despite the wavering guilt, Danny opened his computer and looked up Danielle Martins’ kidnapping. Like before, dozens of results appeared and he looked, heart sinking at every picture, every article, and every video.

Danny returned to the photo album on Facebook. Years worth of pictures. A record of Elle’s life. A life she didn’t remember because Vlad took it from her. But she looked so happy and so loved in those photos. He clicked back, finding the video they first watched earlier.

I just want my daughter back. Sarah Martins words rang in his head after he rewatched the video. She and her husband sounded so desperate, so heartbroken. There were other videos too, months worth of them longing for their child to return. Their child. The reality really hit him again. Those were Danielle’s parents. Two people that loved her and wanted to see her again more than anything else in the world.

And she had been ripped away from them, because of Danny. No, no. It wasn’t his fault. Vlad’s the one who did this….except….the older halfa wouldn’t have tried to make his own halfa child if Danny had just joined him. If Danny had just given him what he wanted, Elle wouldn’t have been taken and tortured. Her terror filled face as she destabilized flashed through his mind. That wouldn’t have happened, if it wasn’t for him.

The guilt lodged in his stomach, heavy like he swallowed a bunch of rocks. Would Danielle hate him after this? Would she blame him? Before this he knew she struggled with her identity as a clone of him. He’d fought to show her that she wasn’t just a copy but a real person. That he loved and valued her but sometimes he still wondered if she still felt bitter towards him because of her status as a clone.

Except, she wasn’t a clone. She was a twelve year old who'd had her identity stolen. Would she hate him for his part in taking that away? Or maybe even worse, would she want nothing to do with him? His heart clenched painfully. He felt so selfish but tears pricked his eyes as he realized, they weren’t actually related. It was so stupid, such a dumb thing to worry about but she was his family and just this afternoon, he would have happily called her his baby sister. But that wasn’t actually true. Before when she’d been his ‘clone,’ they had a blood connection to link them, even if they were upset with each other. But now that connection was just gone. And it would crush him if she wanted nothing to do with him.

Letting a tear fall, Danny closed the computer a little harder than he intended. He huffed feeling slightly angry with himself; he was being so selfish. This wasn’t about him; it was about Elle. So what right did he have to feel like this? Maybe Elle should hate him. Putting his laptop on his desk, Danny laid down and cried until he fell asleep.

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

Danny floats in Vlad’s lab. In the blink of an eye, Elle appears in front of him, her arms crossed. “Why didn’t you find out about this sooner?”

“I’m….I’m sorry Elle.” He stutters.

She just glares at him, baring her teeth. Then there’s a yelp and she’s on the floor, her leg melting. “This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you!”

“Elle!” He darts forward to help her.

But in a blink, she’s gone, not even a puddle of ectoplasm left. And he’s staring at asphalt, not the concrete of Vlad’s lab. Suddenly something burning hits him in the back. Danny whipped around. Ten feet from him stands a boy a few inches taller than him, his skin grey and covered with sores. He flexes muscular arms….no, not muscular but swollen. Like his throat’s closing in an allergic reaction but it’s his whole body. Somehow the boy still speaks. “Why did you kill me?”

“I….I didn’t….” Danny tries to argue.

But the boy shot Danny again. With a pained scream, the not-clone dissolves into ectoplasm.

Danny screams as someone slams into him from behind. A figure under a bedsheet, red eyes glowing under the fabric. A hand under the sheet whips the fabric away, revealing….a human looking boy with black hair. “Why Danny?”

“I don’t….” The halfa stutters.

The other boy doubles over in pain, screaming bloody murder. His skin runs, turning soupy and sloshing off his body. Blood and muscle, wet flesh and organs pour off of him, sizzling with the smell of old pennies and the sickly citrus of ectoplasm. Danny jumps back, eyes wide with horror. The boy is left a burned, black skeleton with unnatural red eyes still in sockets.

The skeleton moves. Oh god, oh god. He’s still alive. “Why did you let him tortuture me?” An echoing voice hisses.

Suddenly, the two are somewhere else. The mini golf course. The skeleton sits against the windmill. “Change.” It demands.

Without his mind’s instruction, Danny’s hand raises, lit green with ectoplasm. “No! No! No!”

The energy surges forth, the ghostly figure burning to cinders with a shriek.

Danny falls to his knees, stomach heaving with disgust. Then he’s in Vlad’s lab again, in front of a metal table. The half ghost stands and his heart drops. A boy is chained to the table with an IV in his arm. 14 or 15, blue eyes, black hair. Nose a little wider than Danny’s, eyes a little closer together, jaw a little more defined. But Danny and the boy still look like they could be siblings.

The blue eyes fall on him. “Oh, thank god. Thank god. Are you here to save me?”

“Ummm.” Danny stutters.

“Please. Please let me out of these. Before it happens again.” The boy begs. Suddenly, the sound of machinery whirling starts. “No! No! NO!”

The boy screams as glowing green liquid- ectoplasm- flows through the IV line. “Let me go! Let me go! Please.” The ectoplasm enters his veins and the boy screams. His chest heaves as ectoplasm bubbles up through his skin. He arcs back in pain but his body suddenly sages, strangely deflating like his bones are melting. “Please! Please! It hurts.”

Danny stares in horror, wanting to move forward but frozen in place. The boy’s voice gargles, sounding wet as his skin oozes, becoming green and sticky. His gooey body wavers strangely like a jostled waterbed. “No! NO! Not this. Anything but this!”

Impossibly, the boy’s body stretches like puddy. Before…..compressing. There’s a crunch as he shrinks, voice becoming higher and higher as his whole body grows smaller. The tiny voice weeps, joining Danny’s cries as his body finally unfreezes.

Danny stumbles forward, gentle hand picking up the tiny body. “I’ll….I’ll figure out how to….”

The tiny ghost disappears from his hands with a shriek. Then there’s a pained cry behind the halfa. He whips around, running forward as the same boy as earlier, full sized but with white hair and green eyes, starts melting into ectoplasm. Danny runs forward, hoping to do something. But with a gurgle, the boy becomes a puddle of ectoplasm at his feet.

Danny covers his mouth, feeling sick. He blinks and he’s standing in front of an ectoplasm-filled tank. Another boy floats in the tank, in a black and white suit like Danny’s, his white hair floating around his head, and a face so very like Danny’s. There is a beat of stillness, of quiet. The only sound is the soft swirling of liquid inside the pod. Taking a deep breath, Danny puts one hand on the glass.

Startled, ectoplasmic green eyes pop opened. With a roar, the glass breaks, shards and the watery-ectoplasm soup cascading down onto Danny who hisses as the glass digs into his raised arms. Then a solid, heavy but freezing cold body falls onto him. The figure crashes onto Danny, who falls knees buckling. He hits the ground with a thud, the pounding of his heart ringing in his ears. The boy, still immobile in shock from the sudden wake up and fall, starts hacking. It takes a few moments for Danny to register when the boy starts talking panickedly.

“What… where am I?” Neon green eyes meet Danny’s as the not-clone struggles to push himself off of Danny with shaking arms. “Who are you? How did I get here?”

“I’m...I’m Danny.” The half ghost’s voice shakes, answering the only question he knows the answer too.

The other boy moves off of him, sitting on his knees and Danny manages to sit up. The boy stares at his glowing hands, eyes wide with shocked fear. “What...what did you do to me?”

“I...I didn’t….” Danny starts.

Then the boy screams. “Oh my god. My hands!” His hands start melting, oozing with viscous ectoplasm. He waves the limbs as if trying to shoo it away. His face scrunches up in pain and he shrieks again. “Oh god, oh god. My legs! What’s happening to me?!” He falls forward as the ectoplasm spreads to his knees.

Danny catches him. The other boy….the other halfa’s weak core vibrates against Danny’s chest. A core very much like his, likely made with his ectoplasm. Danny’s arms wrap around the other boy’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

“It hurts. It hurts.” The boy begs.

Danny’s body responds automatically, reacting to the other’s distress. His core reaches out, his energy trying to stabilize, to heal the other boy. But nothing happens, the ectoplasm spreads. “No. No.” Danny whispers.

The not-clone sobs. “Please make it stop!”

Desperate, Danny tries again. “Come on! Come on!”

The destabilization spreads, eating the other boy up to his elbows. His chest heaves against Danny’s. “Please help me! I don’t want to die!”

Danny shakes, pushing energy out of his core but it just hits a wall, the boy in his arms still suffering. “No. Please.” The halfa cries, sobbing. Not again. Please not again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Still melting, the boy’s arms and legs disappear. Danny still holds him. “Please. I don’t want to die.” He sniffles. “I just want to go home.”

Danny’s heart breaks and he rocks back and forth, maybe to soothe himself, maybe to soothe the dying boy. “Just….just hang on.” Maybe if Danny can just move, just get the boy in a thermos, he can buy some time to figure this out. But he's frozen.

And Danny’s pleas are no use. The viscous liquid hungrily eats the boy to his waist and inches higher. “I just want to go home.” His voice breaks. “Tell them I love them. My…..my….my….my…..tell my….”

“Who?” Danny asks, whole body shaking. The ectoplasm drenches his clothes.

“I….I can’t….I don’t remember.” Somehow the sobs grow even louder. “I can’t remember my name. My name.”

“I’m sorry.” Danny whispers again.

“What’s my name? My name. Please Danny, what’s my name?”

“I...I don’t know.” Danny squeezes tighter, feeling the body under his arms turning squishy and wet.

“Please. I don’t know who I am!” The dying boy screams, painfully. “ I don’t want to die!”

His own heart clenching in pain, Danny forces his head up so he’s looking in the other boy’s eyes while still holding him to his chest. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them, okay.” A green tint travels up the boy’s face, the skin turning gooey. “I’ll figure out who you are and tell your family what happened.”

“Thank you.” A wet voice whispers, as the ectoplasm consumes the boy’s ears and nose.

Then the boy's mouth is gone, his hair no more than streaks of green. For a moment, a head shaped glob of ectoplasm hangs in the air, two neon green eyes staring into Danny’s soul. The halfa’s stomach flops queasy, before the globe….. The boy’s remains…. His corpse….losses form, splashing onto Danny’s chest. The eyes fall onto his lap and fizzle away. Drenched in ectoplasm, Danny turns to the side and vomits.

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

Danny woke up in his bed, stomach heaving. Springing up, he barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. He wiped his mouth with his hand and cried, his stomach settling but the disgust, the pain, the guilt remaining. Shaking, the boy made it to the sink and spit. He stared down at his filth covered hands. His mind rang with pain. Elle….Elle hadn’t been the only clone. There were others. Oh god….and they all died. All of them. Danny killed the other clones with his own hands, except they weren’t clones. Those were real people with families and lives. And he killed them. He was a murderer.

Distantly, he registered the bathroom door opening. A soft voice talked to him, his older sister. But he didn’t understand the words, still sobbing. She rubbed his back, muttering to him. Her gentle hands wiped his hands and mouth with a wet cloth but he didn’t move. Why was she being nice to a murderer like him?

The toilet flushed and a cup of water appeared in front of him. With shaking hands, he took a sip and spit it out before drinking some. Jazz’s hands gently grabbed his elbow and she walked him down the hall. He blinked and he was sitting on Jazz’s bed with a water bottle in his hands.

“Danny.” She touched his face, repeating. “Danny.”

A little clarity entered his eyes. “Jazz.”

His sister smiled kindly. “Are you okay?” The boy shook his head, looking down. Jazz sat down beside him. “Did you have a nightmare?”

The understanding tone prompted him to look up, nodding.

Jazz frowned. “About...what we found out today.”

“Yeah.” He said defeatedly, tears renewing..

Jazz also rubbed her eyes and Danny looked over, passively noticing her slumped shoulders and red rimmed eyes. “I’m shaken up about it too. If you're ready , we can talk about it.”

The boy sighed, the haunting images from his dream flashing through his mind again. All that pain, all that torture, all that death and it was his fault. The words forced their way out of his throat. “I….I killed them Jazz.”

“Danny…” Jazz started.

“No. The others, I killed them.” He looked down at his hands. “I shoot them, Jazz, with my own hands. And I killed them.”

“The other clones.” His sister said, voice understanding.

Danny shook his head. “They weren’t clones. They…..They were kids that Vlad kidnapped and tortured and I….I killed them.” He sniffled. “And even the ones I didn’t shoot, I just stood there and watched. I just….just watched them die and did nothing.”

A sob rose from his throat and more poured out. Collapsing in sorrow, Danny leaned into Jazz’s side as she put an arm around his waist. He wept and Jazz cried with him until his tears slowed.

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

Sometime later, Danny sniffled, feeling marginally better though he remained heavy with guilt. He glanced over at Jazz and frowned, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

She straightened, turning a little to look at him directly. “It's okay. I am always here to listen and cry with you. That’s what big sisters are for.”

Danny blushed. If he had been more awake or less upset he might have whined at her sappiness. But right now, it was nice to have her here, though he felt guilty.

Jazz continued. “And I wasn’t asleep anyway. I couldn’t after everything” She bit her lip. “….so I started looking up other missing person’s cases.”

“Oh” Danny paled.

Jazz nodded. “I found several cases of boys your age with black hair and blue eyes. I think you’re right about the others being kids Vlad kidnapped.”

Heart sinking, Danny clenched and unclenched his hands. He had already suspected that. No, he already knew it with certainty. Tucker was right; you can’t just create a teenager in a few months. And unless you were creating the most rudimentary of blob ghosts, something….or someone had to die to make a ghost.

His stomach churned. “So they died...twice over. First Vlad killed them to make them half ghost. Then….I...I just watched them...die again.”

Danny trailed off, the confirmation stinging as he realized more. Jazz had found posters….meaning those previously nameless not-clones had names he could learn. Real human faces, underneath the twisted ghostly vestiges that haunted his dreams. He stood up, suddenly not ready to face that. “I…..I should let you sleep.”

“Danny, Wait.” Jazz grabbed his wrist. “You know it’s not your fault, right? What happened to Elle and the other kids, those were Vlad’s choices. He did that, not you.”

Danny couldn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He weakly said, though he didn’t mean it.

“Danny.” She pulled him closer and he sat down, realizing from her tone she wasn’t going to let him go until she talked to him. She sighed, expression softening. “Do you remember when you finally told me everything that happened when Vlad kidnapped you, when you first met Elle?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, not sure where this was going.

“You’d had a nightmare and woke up crying. You told me how guilty you felt about what happened to the others and that you blame yourself for their deaths.” She took his hand. “And I told you it wasn’t your fault. That you didn’t mean to hurt them and what happened is on Vlad’s head, not yours. I said that Elle doesn’t blame you and the others wouldn’t either.”

Danny furrowed his brow. “Yeah, you did.”

“And we know Elle doesn’t blame you. And I thought you had stopped blaming yourself?” There, she paused, voice not accustory or annoyed but compassionate and understanding.

He turned forward, thinking intently. After that, he had stopped blaming himself as the guilt lessened. But it had been difficult. Weeks of talking to Jazz and Elle, actually acknowledging what happened and working through his feelings. Weeks of mourning and choosing to remember and honor the ones they’d lost. But it was so easy for that shame to rear its head again and him to fall to it. And….

“But…..things are different now.” Danny finally said, meekly. The boy put his head in his hands. “Those weren’t just mindless clones, Jazz. They were actual real people. With friends and families and lives to go back to. They had hopes and dreams, memories, personalities.” The boy feels water collecting in his eyes again. “Vlad took all of that away from them, because of me. Because he wanted me…. and I….I did nothing to help them. I just let them die.”

There was silence for a moment as Danny trailed off, his throat feeling tight with emotion. He swallowed. He didn't want to cry again but the thoughts and guilt still stung.

“That’s all true. Vlad did take teenagers away from their families. But....” Jazz sighed. “This doesn’t change everything.”

Her voice was earnest and kind, not belittling but Danny’s jaw still dropped. “Yes Jazz, It does.”

She tilted her head. “Yes, It does change their identities and what Vlad did. It changes who is actually affected by this. But does it actually change what happened to you? What you did or didn’t do?”

Danny wrung his hands. “Well….no. But...”

“Everything that happened is still Vlad’s fault. He’s still the one that decided to experiment on people to get what he wanted. He still used those kids against you and made them attack you. He still made you fear for your life and defend yourself like anyone would. And they still were in a weak, unstable state because of Vlad. So them destabilizing is still Vlad’s fault not yours.”

“I know that. I do.” The half ghost felt a little annoyance flare. “But real people still died.”

Jazz straightened ever so slightly. “Were they any less real when they were just clones?”

The question startled Danny whose head popped up to look at her. “What?”

“Is Elle anymore real to you now that you know she was born to human parents 12 years ago and not in Vlad’s lab a year ago? Was she any less valuable before?”

“No! Of course not!” Danny snapped. “I still care about her no matter what or who she is!” He shook his head. “I can't believe you would ask me that.”

His sister didn’t snap back in response, instead she smiled kindly. “You have such a big heart, little brother. I know how much you cared, how much you mourned when you thought the others were mindless clones.” She frowned slightly. “Now you know the whole truth and you still care so much. And that is wonderful. You can care and still be angry at Vlad. You can still mourn. But you don’t need to blame yourself.”

“But…” He tried to argue.

“The boys that Vlad took, they do not need you to hate yourself.” She took his hand. “This, blaming yourself, it won’t help them or Elle. It will not make things right. It’ll just tear you apart.”

Looking down, Danny felt another tear start collecting in his eye. “You...you’re right. Jazz, I know you are….but it still feels like it’s my fault.”

“I know it does, I know. But that’s why I’m going to keep saying it until you really believe it. It wasn’t your fault.” With that, Jazz leaned forward and hugged Danny, who gladly accepted.

“Thanks, Jazz.” He whispered.

“Of course Danny.” She pulled away.

He wiped his eyes, actually feeling somewhat better after that talk. Though sorrow and some guilt remained, Danny did believe his sister and could believe that those emotions would lessen over time.

He gave Jazz a fond half-smile. “You’re a good big sister.” Her eyes widened slightly before she smiled cockily, clearly planning to respond. But he interrupted. “You better not give me a hard time about saying that tomorrow.”

“I would never.” She gaped, faux offended. Then her expression fell into sincerity. “In all honesty, I wasn’t planning to. But now….”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.”

He braced his feet on the floor to stand but she put one arm around his shoulders and started ruffling his hair. “Not so fast.”

The boy phased out of her grip and stood. “Good night Jazz.”

Jazz frowned. “Well good riddance, you poltergeist.”

With a quick wave of telekinesis, the half ghost knocked her plastic pencil holder off her desk, the pencils and pens spilling across the floor. His sister blinked at the writing instruments for a moment before shaking her head.

She flopped down onto the bed with a huff. “Good night Danny.”

With a wave, the boy returned to his room. As hard a time as he gave Jazz, she really was a good sister and talking to her definitely helped. Although his heart remained heavy, he soon fell into a deep, dreamless, and restful sleep.

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

The next morning, Danny called Elle. Luckily she answered on the first call, blessedly having charged the prepaid phone the older halfa had bought to keep up with her.

“Danny! What’s up, bro?” She answered cheerily.

The boy’s heart clenched at the familial nickname but he tried to reply with the same happy tone.“Hey, Elle.”

It clearly fell flat; Danny could hear the frown in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

His forced smile fell. Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t talked to Jazz about his fears regarding telling Elle. But he wanted to believe things would be okay; Jazz was right when she said that what happened to Elle wasn’t his fault (even if he was struggling to agree). All they could do now was try to make things right and telling the younger halfa the truth was the first step.

After a too long pause, Danny finally responded. “I...found out something yesterday that you need to know.”

“What did you find?” Her tone turned wary.

The older halfa swallowed. “I don’t think telling you over the phone would be a good idea. Do you think you can come to Amity Park? My parents will be out of town next week so you stay with Jazz and me. And we can talk about everything.”

There was a pause. “I think I can do that….but are you sure you can’t just tell me now?”

Danny shook his head. “I really want to tell you in person.”

Elle sighed. “Alright. I’ll be there in about four days. See you soon.”

From the subdued tone, he could tell she was about to hang up. “Wait, Elle.” He said to stop her. “Try not to worry too much, okay? I promise everything will be okay.” Despite really wanting to comfort her, the words felt hollow.

“Okay.” She softly replied.

“Okay. Be safe and call me if you need anything at all.”

“I will.” The girl sighed but sounded sincere.

“I love you, Elle. See you soon.”

“Love you too. Bye Danny” There was a beep as Elle hung up, leaving Danny clutching the phone.

His stomach still churned with worry. That could have gone better. Putting the phone down, he put his head in his hands. Well, he messed up again. Elle was going to be freaking out for the next few days until she got to Amity.

“Great job Danny. Just great. That’s really going to help her take it well.” He sarcastically whispered to himself before sighing.

It would be fine. It would be. No matter how Elle took it, he’d do his best to be there for her if she’d have him. And once this was over and they figured out how to deal with Vlad, he’d take Elle home to her parents. He briefly imagined the joy on the Martins’ faces as they hugged their long lost daughter. Elle’s happiness at knowing she was loved and wanted and finally had a stable home. It would be worth it, even if the girl wanted nothing to do with him after this.

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

When Elle arrived at Fentonwork on a Friday night four days later, she immediately demanded Danny and Jazz tell her what they needed to tell her.

With the three sitting on the couch, Danny pulled the missing person flyer that started it all out of his pocket. “I found this at a gas station when we were going back from family vacation.”

Elle’s brow furrowed. “That looks like me.”

“We think it is you.” Jazz quietly said.

The younger girl grabbed the paper, her confused expression just deepening. “But….but I don’t….I’m just a clone.”

Danny frowned, putting an arm around her. “You’re not just a clone, Elle.”

“But...you mean…” She looked at the paper again, eyes hungerly taking in the words.

From Elle’s other side, Jazz also put an arm around the girl. “Even if we’re wrong and you’re not the missing girl on this poster, you are not and have never been just a clone.”

The younger halfa didn’t say anything, remaining frozen between the siblings.

After a moment, Danny coughed. “We found some other evidence, if you wanna see it.”

Elle nodded and the boy pulled out his laptop. He found the much perused search results and clicked on a news article. As the older halfa showed the younger girl the articles and videos, the confused furrowing of her eyebrows lessened and lessened as her frown deepened. The tension, the stiffness in her posture increased. Then he showed her the photo album, the pictures of Danielle Martins and her parents. Danny could feel her starting to tremble beside him as her eyes started looking wet. His heart sank.

“Do you recognize them?” Jazz said, quietly breaking the silence.

Elle quickly glanced between the older girl and the picture of her supposed parents. She reached a hand forward as if to brush the image. “I….I don’t….I don’t know.” Her lip quavered. “I don’t know.”

“Elle….” Jazz rubbed her back and the tears finally exited the younger girls eyes.

Danny frowned, his heart clenching at the other halfa’s pain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it….”

The twelve year old suddenly stood, ignoring the boy’s words. “No. It can’t...He couldn’t…”

Danny grabbed her hand. “Elle, it’s okay.”

She shook her head. “No! No it’s not.”

With that, Elle pulled her hand out of his and ran up the stairs, ignoring Jazz and Danny’s calls. The boy jumped up after her, getting to the top of the stairs just as she slammed the door to the guest bedroom. Walking forward, he jiggled the door knob.

“It’s locked?” Jazz walked up behind him.

The boy nodded. “Elle?”

Only the sound of sobs can through the door. Danny frowned. Part of him wanted to phase through the door and try to comfort the younger girl but his knees wobbled. Would that help or just make everything worse? He looked to his older sister, wide eyes begging for advice.

Jazz bit her lip, her face betraying her own uncertainty. “I think...we should let her cry for a little bit. I don’t think she’s going to run off.”

Danny nodded. As much as his heart ached hearing Elle cry, maybe it would be better to let her be alone for a bit. “It is already late. We can talk to her in the morning.”

With an agreeing hum from Jazz, the two returned to their rooms presumably to get some sleep. But Danny didn’t sleep much that night. Elle’s reaction had his stomach in knots and while that lessened as she quieted, presumably falling asleep, his mind still swam with thoughts of what exactly Vlad did to Elle and the other kids. There was a lot they didn’t know, like how exactly Vlad took away Elle’s memories and if that could be reversed. And how did Vlad make her into a halfa in the first place? He probably should ask Tucker if he could hack Vlad and find any files he had on the ‘cloning’ experiments. The bastard probably had copious notes, praising how cutting edge and forward thinking his efforts were. How he would finally have his perfect half ghost son- by kidnapping a teenager, erasing his mind, and replacing it with some twisted, ‘perfected’ version of Danny. All the while, torturing him and horribly mutating his body. Danny shivered; that was all too much and maybe he didn’t really want to know.

But if he didn’t know, then how could they make things right? He needed to find out who the other boys had been, which led him to looking into the other cases Jazz found.

James Smith

Eli Barnett

Wiliam Brown

Thomas Harris

Those were the four names, as far as he and Jazz could tell. If they could get Vlad’s files, they should be able to confirm but even without the files, the resemblances were very clear, enough so that Danny wondered if he wasn’t distantly related to any of them or Elle himself. And how had someone not noticed the pattern before? But then again, with Vlad’s powers and wealth, he could easily dissuade anyone asking questions.

Danny glanced at his computer, looking at the pictures again. He didn’t know who was who but these were the four he’d fought and watched die. He remembered his dream, seeing them all die again. The end, holding the ‘prime clone’ as he died and promising to find and tell his family, particularly stuck out. In a way, it had felt like he actually had been there, comforting a dying boy and making a promise he intended to keep.

Eventually Danny gave up looking at the computer and laid down. He might as well try to sleep.

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

The halfa managed to get a few hours before waking up much too earlier. Not because he had to, but because he woke up to pee and then couldn’t go back to sleep without talking to Danielle. His heart heavy and the nervousness returning, he hesitated outside her door for a moment before phasing through.

He quietly padded to the bed. Elle laid on her side, face streaked with dry tear tracks. He watched for a moment, biting his lip. He should just let her sleep. Yeah, she was physically okay and this could wait. But his instinct to make sure she was okay, argued for him to stay.

Elle blinked awake before he could decide. “Danny?” Her sleepy voice whined.

The older halfa rubbed his neck. “Sorry, I just wanted to check on you…..I can go.”

Slowly, she sat up. “No, you don’t have to. Thanks for checking on me.” She rubbed her eyes with her palm. “I guess I shouldn’t have ran out on you last night.”

“It’s okay. I get why you reacted like that. I got upset too, after finding out.”

Elle finally looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “You did?”

“Yeah.” The boy nodded, not wanting to elaborate. He glanced at the bed and the girl scouted over making room for him to sit.

The younger halfa rubbed her eyes again. “It’s just…. a lot. You know.”

“It is a lot.” Danny agreed.

Elle moved her head out of her hands, looking at the boy. “Vlad kidnapped me.”

Danny’s stomach churned. He raised a brow. “He did. Do you….remember any of that?”

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Sometimes….sometimes I have dreams, nightmares about stuff I can’t quite remember and not just about destabilizing.”

“Oh.” Danny paled.

A tear started forming in her eyes. “I think he brainwashed me and….and experimented on me.” Her breath started quickening and Danny wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I promise.” He rubbed her back while she cried.

“You promise?” She asked through the tears.

“Of course.” He said. “Vlad still never hurt you or anyone else again.”

She pulled back. “How do you know?”

“That’s one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you. Me, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and you are going to find a way to make Vlad accountable for his actions.”

Elle raised a brow. “How?”

“Clockwork’s been teaching me about the Ghost Zone. History, culture, science stuff, even how the government kinda works. And there’s court systems in the Zone that try ghosts for breaking taboos against ghosts.”

“Like Walker?” The younger halfa wrinkled her nose skeptically.

Danny shook his head. “No. More official and fair. And from what Clockwork’s taught me, Vlad experimenting on and destabilizing- or trying to destabilize- sentient ghosts and half ghosts, breaks multiple taboos. I have to check with mentors and friends in the Zone to figure out the details but we can report him and have him tried.”

The skepticism left Elle’s face, replaced with hopeful understanding. “So he can be put in ghost jail or something for the rest of his life?”

“I don’t know exactly how it works. Clockwork says there’s a lot more variety than the court system here but when Vlad gets declared guilty, his punishment will keep him from hurting anyone again.”

That was a simplified version but Danny was sure, with help from ghosts friendly to him, they could put a stop to Vlad’s travisties. The younger halfa nodded in understanding. “What happens after that?”

“Well. Jazz and I found out who the other kids Vlad kidnapped were and I was going to” Danny bit his lip. “….find a way to tell their families and give them some closure.”

Elle paled. “Oh. I thought about them a little last night too.” She looked up. “Can I come with you when you do that?”

Danny gaped slightly, shocked at the question. “Yeah. I guess you actually met them when you were at Vlad’s.”

“I mean...I only remember them as ghosts. I tried to talk and play with them though...but I don’t think Muscles, Bones, or Tiny could talk really well.” Her eyes got a distant look. “And Daniel, I talked to him a lot. He couldn’t talk, ‘cause Vlad had him in the chamber. But I could always tell he was listening.”

Danny’s heart clenched sadly, like it always did the few times Danielle had talked about the other, especially the ‘prime clone’ who Vlad and her always called Daniel. Except…. “I guess his name wasn’t actually Daniel though.”

“I guess not.” Elle frowned. “But you said you and Jazz found out who the others were so I guess, we can figure out his real name.”

“All of their names.” Danny added kindly. “Maybe you can help me figure out who was who.”

“Yeah.” Elle nodded, sadly. “I can do that.”

Danny put one arm around her and squeezed. She leaned into the touch. The two sat there for a minute before Danny realized that one last important thing hadn’t been mentioned. The boy took a deep breath, stealing his courage. Though the thought brought him an odd mix of happiness and fear, he needed to address it with Elle.

Though he closed his eyes and worried his lip, Danny kept his arm around the younger halfa. He took a deep breath. “And after we talk to the other’s families, I’m going to take you home to your parents.”

She looked up with wide eyes. “My parents?”

The odd mix of confusion and warriness in her voice gave him pause. “The woman and man from the pictures with you. That’s your mom and dad.”

“My mom and dad.” She repeated with a little amazement. Clearly that part hadn’t sunk in last night.

“Yeah. I’ll find out where they live and take you back to them.” He gave her a half smile. “They’re going to be so happy to see you.”

The awe dripped from her expression, replaced by doubt as she moved out of his side hug. “Are you sure they’re going to be happy?”

Danny’s jaw dropped. “Of course they are. Their daughter is still alive.”

Her frown deepened. “But….are they going to want me? I mean...I don’t remember them and might not ever…..and…..and I’m part ghost now. And do they know anything about ghosts? Or will I scare them?”

Danny’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even thought about that, about how two probably normal parents who know nothing about ghosts would react to having a half ghost kid. He felt Elle tense beside him at his silence so he forced a smile. “They love you Elle. And are going to want you no matter what, ghost or not.”

Elle frowned, crossing her arms. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course, Elle. They’re your parents.” Despite trying to sound sincere, his stomach flopped.

“Then why haven’t you told your parents?” Elle raised a brow.

“I….But….umm.” Danny stuttered for a moment before snapping his mouth shut.

What could he say really? Because they hated ghosts. Because they hated Phantom. Because he thought they wouldn’t believe him. None of those were true. They had started working with Phantom and admitting they were wrong about ghosts, that many of their theories needed to be revised. So… he was afraid of hurting them, of all the secrets that would come crashing down and change everything.

But everything was changing already. And how was he supposed to help Elle if he didn’t believe his own platitude? That her parents would love her no matter what, if he didn’t believe his own parent’s love was also strong enough to deal with his secrets.

He glanced at Elle, who was studying him with her mouth pinched closed. “Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll tell my parents.”

Her expression softened. “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve put it off too long. They deserve to know, especially since Vlad has wrong them too.” He sighed. “And I know they’ll love me no matter what. It’s just…..it’ll be hard coming clean.”

Elle nodded. “That’s good. I’m happy you're telling them.”

“Yeah. So this means you’ll let me take you home to your parents, right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah. I guess. But…..what happens after that?” The younger halfa then studied him intently for a moment, the corner of her lip turning down. “ Will I see you again?”

“What?” His mouth fell open. That….that question shocked him more than anything she’s asked this morning.

Elle wrung her hands. “I’ll live with them and you’ll be here and I don’t know how far away that is. And well…” Her shoulders fell as she seemed to shrink in on herself. “We’re not really related and once you get me back to my real family, I won’t be your problem anymore. And I get it, you never asked to deal with me but….”

Danny, who had been listening with his heart breaking, interrupted her by turning so he could properly hug her with two arms. He could hardly believe this; earlier he’s been afraid Elle would want nothing to do with him after learning the truth but she had the same fear. “Elle, Elle, Elle. You are not and have never been my problem.”

“But…..” She stammered. “We aren’t related. You...you shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

Danny pulled back so she could see him, but she looked down. “Do you really think I care whether or not we’re family by blood?” She didn’t respond so he pleaded. “Danielle, look at me.” She did, her blue eyes meeting his. “I will be your big brother as long as you want or need me. I promise, I’m not gonna abandon you. Never.”

“Really?” Her eyes glistened with hope. “But what if my parents don’t want you keeping up with me?”

“We’ll deal with it.” He shrugged. “But I don’t think they’re going to have a choice. You’re half ghost. Who else is gonna help you with your powers?”

“You have a point.” Her lips turned up in a half smile.

“And even if powers weren’t an issue, I couldn’t stop being there for you after everything we’ve been through together.” And Danny meant it completely. She’d saved his life and changed it in many ways.

The smaller halfa leaned into him for a hug. “Thank you. You’re a good big brother.”

Danny smiled, noticing the similarity to what he told Jazz a few nights before. It did make sense; he guessed he did learn it from her, not that he would ever tell Jazz that. He ruffled Elle’s hair. “You’re a pretty good little sister too.”

As he leaned into the hug, Danny felt Elle’s core purr in time with his. A core that felt a lot like his, and not just because both of them were halfas. As painful as it was to think, that core felt like his because in Vlad’s obsession with him, he had used Danny’s ectoplasm to make Elle a halfa. Though they weren’t related by human means they were by ghostly means, the same ectoplasm running through their veins. Danny hummed happily, debating telling her. But chances are she could feel it too. And that could be a conversation for another day.

What mattered now was, though the road ahead was unclear with many uncertainties and potential pitfalls, they, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker (and hopefully his parents), were on the way to making things right and would stick together, no matter whether or how they were related.

#Danny Phantom #dani phantom #poor dani #poor danny #Elle Phantom #jazz fenton #phic phight #phic phight 2020 #My fic

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thestupidhelmet · 5 years ago

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How do you think season 8 would have gone if Sam hadn’t come in at that moment? What if Hyde and Jackie talked it out on the couch and reunited and then Sam came into the picture weeks later?

There would be hell to pay. If Hyde genuinely didn’t remember marrying Sam and told Jackie only about hanging out with some people she wouldn’t like for two weeks -- and then Sam shows up claiming to be his wife?

That’s actually an interesting angle.

Jackie would be furious that Hyde could marry a stranger after knowing her two weeks and not Jackie after, “supposedly being in love with me for years!”

Hyde: Come on, man. I was so drunk I’ve got no freakin’ memory of it.

Jackie: That makes this so much better. You got drunk at a beer warehouse when I gave you that ultimatum, and you couldn’t even propose to me.

Hyde: ‘Cause you made me think you’d left before the time limit you put on me.

Jackie: You waited until fifteen minutes until the time limit! I wrote that note to you fifteen minutes before that. Anyway, not the point. You married a stripper! A stranger. How do you expect me to feel about that?

Hyde: Uh ...

Jackie: Uh ... isn’t gonna cut it, Steven.

---

Hyde would ask the Formans how to get a quickie divorce. Sam might object, but Hyde would explain, “Look, we had a cool two weeks together I barely remember. I’m sure it was fun, and thanks for your ... service? But I was already in a bind before you showed up--

Sam: You do remember something about our time together!

Hyde: What? No, I -- crap. That’s where those bruises on my wrist came from. [Sighs] Look, I’m in love with another girl, and I got a lot to make up for. My chances went from slim to you’ll-be-lucky-if-she-kicks-you-in-the-’nads because I’m damn coward. So we’re getting this marriage axed.

---

Hyde manages to get Sam to look over the divorce papers, but Sam won’t sign. She knows Hyde’s father has money -- something he told her during those drunken two weeks in Vegas. She wants him to pay her for her signature.

Hyde: You’re blackmailing me? Man, I used to find that hot in chicks, but now it’s aggravating. I don’t have any dough. My dad does.

Sam: So get it from him. I’ll wait.

Hyde: He’s in Milwaukee.

Sam: Like I said, I’ll wait. If it’s an hour or a year--that’s up to you.

---

Hyde goes to W.B., who tells Hyde he needs a lawyer. Sam is extorting him. W.B. offers to help him with that, and Hyde asks if paying Sam off would be cheaper.

W.B.: Maybe, maybe not, but on principle we can’t let her get away with this.

---

Meanwhile, Jackie is fuming over Hyde’s drunken marriage. The last she heard, Hyde said he’d take care of it, but he hasn’t shared anything about what he’s doing to fix the situation. Angie overheard one of the conversations Hyde had with their father and shares the info with Jackie.

Jackie: A divorce won’t change the fact he married that big-busted tramp. Angie, when this started, I asked him to give me a glimmer of hope. That’s all, and he couldn’t even do that!

Angie: Because Steven is emotionally immature and afraid of commitment.

Jackie: He is!

Angie: Even though you’re the only long-term girlfriend he’s ever had, right?

Jackie: Right...

Angie: And you were together for three years before you got the offer to work in Chicago.

Jackie: What exactly are you saying?

Angie: He sounds pretty committed to me

Jackie: Are you on my side or his?

Angie: Both of yours. My brother made a mistake -- a huge, boneheaded one. But so did you.

Jackie: Excuse me?

Angie: You gave him an ultimatum with a set of rules you didn’t stick to. A midnight deadline doesn’t mean half-past eleven. It means midnight. If he had to give you an answer before then, you should’ve told him that.

Jackie: I shouldn’t have needed to give him an ultimatum in the first place.

Angie: I agree, but what do you think he would’ve done if you’d told him about the job opportunity in Chicago and just let it lie instead of also forcing him to make the decision for you whether to take it or not?

Jackie: I don’t know.

Angie: Sound familiar?

Jackie: You tricked me!

Angie: No, I’m trying to give you a different perspective about all this. My dad says only make decisions driven by fear if your life’s at stake. You both obviously felt that way, but you made dumb decisions because of it.

Jackie [anguished]: I don’t know how to trust him anymore! Okay, let’s say he gets that divorce, and we never see his stripper-wife again. Then what? He proposes to me and leaves me at the altar? Or we do get married, and he leaves me when I get pregnant? Or he’s gone the second life feels a little too tough for him? Or I blink at Michael, and he accuses me of having an affair?

Angie: If you think that poorly of Steven, then your relationship’s already over, and you should tell him. Then you can both move on to futures that don’t include each other.

Angie’s last sentence hits Jackie hard. While Hyde works on getting Sam to sign the divorce papers, Jackie thinks and talks (to many people) and thinks some more about what a Steven-less future might be like.

---

The lawyers W.B. hired find Sam’s other husband, Larry. She’s already married. Her marriage to Hyde is null and void. Hyde tells Jackie the news, but by her demeanor toward him, he can call the game.

Hyde: It’s over, huh?

Jackie: Yeah.

Hyde: Don’t blame you. I didn’t give you a chance in Chicago -- hell, I haven’t given you one since Christmas. I’m sorry I screwed us up.

Jackie: You’re an idiot, and I’m furious with you. But you didn’t screw us up. We did ... which means we can fix it.

Hyde: You sure?

Jackie: If you want to.

Hyde: Yeah, I want to. I freakin’ wanna go back six months and kick my own ass.

Jackie: So do I -- kick your ass, not mine.

Hyde laughs.

Hyde: I deserve it ... and, gotta admit, I’m not sure I deserve you.

Jackie: You do. You just made a dumb choice, driven by fear. Like I did. But I’d rather make mistakes with you for the rest of my life than make none without you. Am I making any sense?

Hyde: Scary to say it, but you are. Jackie ... I didn’t want you to go to Chicago, but I didn’t want to stop you if that’s where you thought your future was, man. And I couldn’t get to marriage. I just couldn’t, so I didn’t have a clue what to tell you.

Jackie: So I said, “Give me a glimmer of hope,” and you heard, “Propose to me”?

Hyde: Yup.

Jackie [sadly]: And then it became propose to me or lose me. I’m sorry, Steven.

Hyde: Don’t be. I married a stripper.

Jackie; You did.

Hyde: I should quit drinkin’.

Jackie: You should.

Hyde: In my two-week drunken haze, got a glimpse of my future without you. It ain’t pretty.

Jackie: No one’s future is pretty without me. I’m the definition of pretty.

Hyde: Right. So ... when I eventually propose to you, I’m gonna be sober.

Jackie: You will?

Hyde: And when we get hitched, I’ll be sober.

Jackie: And during the marriage?

Hyde: Sober -- and sticking around. No other place I want to be but with you.

Jackie: I feel the same way.

Hyde: About yourself?

Jackie: Yes, but about you, too.

They share a hesitant kiss before embracing and holding onto each other for dear life. But their lives together, though not perfect, are perfect for them. They continue to grow and change together, not apart.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Jackie Burkhart #Steven Hyde #Ficlet #Ask #Anon

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rustbeltjessie · 4 years ago

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Diary of an Emotional Masochist, Chapter One: Dignity and Shame

I am an emotional masochist. I’m the kind of person, who, when I’m already going through a bout of nostalgic melancholy, will decide to read old journal entries or look through old photographs. The kind of person who, when it’s three a.m. and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about what loves have come and gone (to borrow a phrase from Edna St. Vincent Millay), will get up and Google search those loves. I am the kind of woman who, when I’m already sad, will listen to an album that devastates me. I have a long list of albums that it’s almost too painful to listen to, albums that remind me of such specific times in my life that listening to them takes me right back to where I was then. A different person would purge their record collection and iTunes library of such albums, but, like I said – I am an emotional masochist. On lonesome evenings, after a couple glasses of whiskey, nothing sounds better to me than spinning one of those records (or queueing up one of those playlists). This is one of those lonesome-whiskey evenings, so won’t you join me in indulging? We’re listening to Crooked Fingers’ Dignity and Shame.

From the first sparse, haunting notes of “Islero,” I am transported back in time to the summer of 2005. God, that summer. That terrible, wonderful summer. I’d fucked up my life the year before, and I thought that would be the summer I’d fix it, except all I did was fuck it up even more. God, that summer. That March, I moved away from Chicago after living there for five years. I planned on moving to Milwaukee come autumn, to start fresh in a fresh town. In the meantime, I moved back in with my parents. I wasn’t home, much. Nights, after work, I went to one of the two bars in Kenosha where all my sad drunk hoodlum friends hung out. On days off, I walked in the woods – the heat was relentless, and the canopy of trees offered cool green comfort. Or I drove to Chicago to see shows and drink with my friends and try to remember why I’d left; drove to Milwaukee to scope out neighborhoods, sit for hours at the Hi-Fi Cafe, go record and dress shopping. On one of my record shopping expeditions, I bought Dignity and Shame. It was on the Staff Recommendations shelf, and I liked the cover art, so I took it home with me – and it was serendipity, it was exactly the album I needed at the time.

As soon as I got home, I set it spinning on my turntable, and the first track – “Islero” – gave me goosebumps. The second track – “Weary Arms” – made me cry. It had sad cellos and a lonesome cowboy guitar, and Eric Bachmann’s voice was a raspy baritone: Beware of strangers knocking at your door. Old lovers, too. Don’t think for one second they’ve forgotten you. Oh, oh, oh. By the time the final, hidden track played, I’d melted into a puddle of tears and goosebumps on my bedroom floor. The album destroyed me, and it spooked me because so many of the stories sounded like things right out of my life, both from that year and six or so years before it. It was like Eric Bachmann had read my diary and set it to music. I wanted to write him a letter and say: “Get out of my head, god damn it! Get out of my aching heart.” It’s impossible for me to write about Dignity and Shame, or about the summer of 2005, without descending into hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. My God, that summer was hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. I was still young enough that it was acceptable to feel things that intensely, acceptable to talk about a sunrise over Lake Michigan by saying things like: “When the light shot through the horizon in streaks of peach and gold, it was the most god damn beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Dear diary, listen to me.

My “Weary Arms” wrapped tight around so many lovers, that summer – four of them, plus a handful of brief flings. Later that year, I lamented that I hadn’t had as many wild love affairs as I’d had in years past, which, yes, says something unflattering about me. And Eric Bachmann sang: You have many enemies, for reasons no one’s certain of.

One night, while I sat at one of the bars and waited for my friends to arrive, a girl approached me. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She sat down across from me and lambasted me for sleeping with a guy she’d been dating at the time…two years before. She called me a slut, and some worse things. I wanted to buy her a drink, to appease her. I couldn’t understand why she hated me so much. When I slept with that guy, I had no idea he had a girlfriend. So many enemies, so many lovers, but could a jaded girl like me heed an uptempo “Call To Love?” In that song, Eric took the role of a particular one of my lovers, and said: Won’t you hear my heart? I’m transmitting a call to love. On a night when the moon was orange-red and luminous, that lover said: “The moon is the color of your hair.” Another night: “You were born in the wrong era, Jess.” And, though I was a sucker for sentimental poetry, my guard was up. Lara Meyerratken answered for me: Don’t need my heart kicked ‘round the block no more. You may be smooth-talking, daddy, but I’ve heard it all before. I traded gossip with the “Twilight Creeps.” In this sweet-sad song with the bright piano and the shimmering backup vocals, I was both the singer and the sung about. I could have sung it to one of my lovers, should have said to her: Flower, don’t dig so deep so you don’t go anywhere. But the words were also about me: You say someday you’re gonna float away. Take yourself some kind of holiday. I often told my sad drunk hoodlum friends, the twilight creeps, that I needed to get the hell out of town. “If I could just get gone for more than a few days, go somewhere more than a few hours away…there ain’t no use in trying to make me stay.”

My lovers all wanted to make me stay. The flower-girl, I’ll call her Valerie. The one who spoke poetic words to me, I’ll call him Jack. And there was Lon, and Carmine. In different ways, for different reasons, they each wanted me to choose them over all the rest. Even a few of the week-long flings and one-night stands, older punk guys or younger hippie girls, said things to me like: “How did I get so lucky as to meet a girl like you?” Or: “So, are you my girlfriend now?” And when I said no, they called me a heartbreaker. A “Destroyer.” It’s a woebegone cowboy of a tune. Doleful drums, piano that tinkles like ice cubes in a bar glass, and a lap steel guitar – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the aural equivalent of an anti-hero walking off into the sunset. The song is all about how the singer is going to make someone his, and then he’s going to leave them behind. When they called me heartbreaker, I wanted to sing it: Lay down, just let it come, and resign your heart, today, to get blown away. “Valerie,” well, that’s why I’m referring to that lover as Valerie. Much like me, she was a punk rock girl turned heroine of a Tom Waits song (heroine of a Crooked Fingers song). She had thriftstore dresses and jailhouse tattoos and self-inflicted scars. “Valerie,” the song, has a sanguine strut, is a besotted love song, and I thought of Valerie, the girl: Red roses, silk, you in your sleek summer dress. You were light, revelation, oh, I love you the best. But she and I kept our love unspoken. We both had other romantic complications, and only touched each other on long hot nights after too many bottles of wine and too many pills. “Sleep All Summer” was my song for Jack, the young ex-goth whose mouth was pink and pouty like he’d been sucking on a strawberry popsicle. Our love was either all the good songs and kissing ’til our lips were raw, or it was screaming matches and hangover headaches. What bliss is this, and then he’d get attention-starved and whiny, and I’d burn hot and cold and say nasty things, and we’d say: “This is it, we’re through.” But – There ain’t no way we’re gonna find another, the way we sleep all summer. Why won’t you fall back in love with me? And we’d run into each other at the bar, and faster than our friends could say I told you so we’d be tangled up in the backseat of his car or rolling around by the lake, and the whole thing would start all over again. He’d play the martyr, and I’d say: I would change for you, but babe, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be a better man.

And “Coldways” kill cool lovers. Lon was a folk singer from the north woods. He’d been one of my best friends for years already, and when we started dating I was so tired of complicated, fiery relationships that I mistook comfort for True Love. My heart still hurts when I think of how I hurt him. He wanted me to marry him and I just wanted to be drunk and in love, to listen to “Coldways”’s thrumming, swelling sound. To sing along: Come out, come on, tonight the city’s alive. “Wrecking Ball” has a jaunty, punchdrunk piano, and the piano had been drinking, but so had I. God, I drank so much that summer. On the rare night I spent at home, I holed up in my room, wrote long, sad, tales of people in the legend of my life, and drank blackberry brandy mixed with Sprite. Something like that would taste over-sweet to me now, make me shudder, but maybe the same part of me that craved sentimental poetry also thirsted for sugary drinks. And most nights, I wasn’t at home. Most nights, I changed clothes in my car after work. I swapped my reeking-of-pizza button down shirt and black slacks for one of my vintage dresses. A mint green confection, or a pink and white sundress. Something from the ‘50s, blue with red and white polka dots, or a slinky black number that a ‘30s jazz singer would have worn. And I sat at one of two bars, drank whiskey and Coke, or brandy old-fashioneds, or gin and tonics all night long. I waited for my friends to arrive, and I drank and smoked and entertained myself with one of the items I always had in my bag – a book of poetry by Dorothy Parker or Edna St. Vincent Millay, a deck of Alice In Wonderland tarot cards. And sometimes, someone would find me intriguing. I swear, I wasn’t a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but… I was a redhead in a retro dress (usually with a strand of fake pearls, too) sitting in a dive bar, smoking pastel-colored cigarettes, reading sonnets and tarot cards. Christ. Often, someone found me intriguing, chatted me up, and I wound up with yet another lover. I was a destroyer, destroying myself with booze and love. I was a wrecking ball. Eric Bachmann, accompanied by that barroom piano, sang: And you laughed and you danced, and it let you feel fine for a while. Hanging out with the kids who you knew soon would fall out of style.

I’ve left two songs out, dear diary. I did it on purpose, because they are the two that hurt the most. They are also the two that heal the most. The kind of songs that make me weep, then tell me to dry my tears. “You Must Build A Fire,” oh, it is one of the saddest songs. It begins with only two guitars (a finger-picked lead and that god damn lap steel again), and Eric’s voice is so plaintive, sounds like it’s about to crack, and he sings: Oh, gracious love, you were so kind to me. You only broke my heart, let my arms and legs stay strong. So I could swim upon the open sea, searching for another love. Floating along aimlessly. I haven’t told you about Carmine, yet. Carmine was a musician who looked like a magician from an old-time carnival. The year before, he’d ruined me in a worse way than any other lover ever had. (As a friend put it, he was one of the ones who fucked me up so bad I was pretty much ruined for anyone else.) He ruined me, but I let him back into my life. That summer, we got together. It was supposed to be closure, but of course it just opened everything up again. He said: “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” I said: “Okay, yes, let’s start over. I want to be with you.” He said: “Only if you break things off with all your other lovers. I want to be your only.” The nerve, giving me an ultimatum like that when he was even more of a notorious libertine than I was. And the song sang: I had someone, a love I thought was true. But sometimes you just get tired, and you must try not to die. And give your love, though no one may receive. You must build a giant fire, for the whole wide world to see. It sounded like that whole heartbroken, hot summer. Oh, where are you, love?

The title track, “Dignity and Shame,” is a piano ballad that told me: To be sure, there ain’t no cure. There could be no one to save you. It is the track I return to over and over, more than any other track on the album. Though my life has calmed down a lot in the decade since that summer, sometimes – that feeling comes, you’ve been here once before. That wicked feeling you don’t want to feel no more. And then, Eric Bachmann (get out my head, god damn it!) sings: You’re not the same as the day that you came. You can choose dignity, or shame.

I choose dignity. I carry my broken heart like a torch in the night. Little keeper of light, burning deep, burning bright in the dark.

[originally appeared in Witchsong in October 2015]

#jessie lynn mcmains #my writing #music #memoir #crooked fingers #dignity and shame #2015 #2005 #love #lovers #heartbreak #panic attacks #drugs #alcohol #lyrics #this is still one of my favorite pieces of music writing i've ever written #and since witchsong has gone dark i thought i'd share it here

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thefallennightmare · 5 years ago

Text

Hesitate

Pairings: Joe Jonas x Reader

Warnings: major angst, fluff, some swears here and there.

Words: a lot. 8,252.

Summary: Being the Jonas Brothers photographer had many, many perks. But the lows? The lows were way worse; like watching the man you’re in love with being in love with someone else.

A/N: My love for the Jo Bros have resurfaced with such force after seeing them in Milwaukee that this idea for a Joe fic came to mind and I had to write it. Please let me know what you think. I’ve very torn on this fic.

The happy chatter and laughter bounced around the small space of the jet and I sulked farther into my seat, the volume of my laptop increasing. There were only ten people on the jet, me included, but it sounded and felt like there were at least fifty. My eyes landed on the team of people I worked for and had to tear my gaze away before he noticed. I forced myself to continue to edit the same picture I had up on my screen for the last hour. Rubbing my palms into my eyes, I let out a groan that was silent to me but was not to others

“Kevin, stop! That tickles!”

I slammed my laptop shut with a little too much force and stood with the hope that I could find a quiet, secluded part of the jet to continue my work. It was nearing two a.m and we had another long day tomorrow that consisted off photo shoots, interviews, and another sold out show. I also had to find time to sleep during all of that.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Turing to the soft voice, I felt my heart hammer in my chest while my stomach flipped three times over. The perfect smile that stood out from the rest caught my eyes immediately as I found myself staring a little too fondly at the man in front of me.

Joe Jonas.

“Y-yeah. I’m just really tired and I want to get the pictures from tonight posted before sunrise. I just started working with you guys, don’t need to give you a reason to fire me,” I cringed at the way I stumbled over my words.

Joe gave me a small wave, “We’ve seen your work, Y/N. When we decided to go back on tour and needed a photographer, we had to hire you.”

“Thank you,” I gave him a small smile.

“You should get some sleep,” he mentioned after taking a drink of his beer.

“I could say the same thing about you guys,” I nodded towards his brothers and the other members of the team.

“We can quiet down if the noise is too loud?” Joe suggested.

I gave him a stern shake of my head. “Do not stop having fun because of me. I can always find another way to the next city.”

It was Joe’s turn to shake his head. “Fuck that. You’re part of the team so you ride with us, like everyone else.”

My heart warmed at his comment of part of the team.

“Well even if I wanted to go to sleep, I couldn’t. Flying really freaks me out.” I admitted.

Joe set his empty beer bottle on the table to the right of him. He pushed a few loose strands of hair from his face and I had to force myself not to do it for him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Honestly? I didn’t think we were at the part of this relationship to let each other know our deep, dark secrets,” I shrugged with a small laugh.

Joe’s lips twitched at the mention of relationship but couldn’t respond as a blonde came up from behind him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. My heart fell into my stomach with the way Joe looked at her, wishing it was me.

“Babe, we’re all ready for another round of drinks,” She smiled at Joe before sending the smile my way. “Get any good shots, Y/N?”

“Yeah. You’re going to love the ones of Joe, Sophie.” I gave a forced smile in return to Joe’s fiance.

“Can’t wait. C’mon babe,” Sophie tugged on Joe’s hand, ending the first solid conversation we shared in the few weeks I had been on tour with them.

A soft tune left my lips as I wandered the back halls of the arena, eyes glued to my camera as I went through all of the pictures I got tonight and deleting the bad ones; however, when it came to the brothers, there weren’t any bad pictures.

We were in a new city, Boston, and we were nearing the end of the first month of tour. We thankfully had a small break after tonight for a week and I was so giddy to return home, to sleep in my own bed.

My feet came to a halt a few feet in front of the two figures, locked together in a kiss. Swallowing the jealousy, I wanted to turn my back on them but the longer I stared at the two in love, I realized that he would never be like that with me; he was married now.

Joe and Sophie had decided to get married after the show in Vegas a few days ago. Thankfully I hadn’t been there but found out about it from Instagram. I was completely wrecked. I knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell that Joe would want to be with me, he barely knew me. To him, I was just the photographer for the Jonas Brothers.

“Y/N, wait up!”

Biting my lip, I turned on my heels and gave a small smile to the newlyweds.

“What's up?”

“The jet is leaving in a few hours.” Joe informed.

“Uh, actually I’m taking a flight straight home,” I admitted.

Sophie’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not coming to our party?”

“I’ve got some family issues to take care of, I’m sorry,” I lied.

They were throwing a Just Married party at their home in Los Angeles and I tried to think of any excuse at all to not show up and I gave them the oldest one in the book.

“Everything okay?”

My lips curled into a smile at the concern in Joe’s voice.

“Yeah, just have to take care of some things. But I really should get going, I’ll see you guys next week.”

Giving them a small wave goodbye, I ignored the want of being in Sophie’s place and walked farther and farther away from the one who held my heart.

The wind blew softly through my curls as I walked the strip of the airport towards the giant jet waiting for me. A cold breeze brushed past my bare shoulders and I cursed when I realized I should have left my sweater unpacked.

The week off came and went in a blink of an eye. I sat on my couch in my oldest pair of sweats watching terrible romance movies, finding myself wishing I had that life. The night before, however, was the worst. I had seen so many pictures from Joe’s and Sophie’s party that my heart had shattered and the only way I found a way to pick them up and glue them back together was with a large bottle of vodka.

It was a great idea at the time but now? With the sun just beginning to rise, my head felt like it was two thousand pounds due to my hangover.

“Y/N’s here!”

“Oh god, Nick. Not so loud.” I groaned once I entered the jet.

Nick laughed. “Someone had a good night last night?”

“Soo great,” I joked after tossing my bag on the makeshift couch of the jet. “No wives?”

“Nope. Just you and brothers. No one else can make it out till tomorrow,” Nick shook his head.

“If I’d known that, I would have asked for another day off,” I muttered while rubbing my temples.

“Who’s the guy?”

I blinked towards Nick. “What?”

He shrugged. “I figured you had a good night last night.”

“Yeah, it was so great. My ass on my couch watching terrible rom-coms.” I admitted.

“You could have came to Joe’s party,” Nick suggested.

“No thanks,” I groaned.

If Nick had picked up on any hint of jealousy, he didn’t say anything because a round of laughter erupted from the back of the jet. My tired eyes landed on Kevin and Joe, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Damn, Y/N. You look like hell,” Kevin joked as he took a seat on the other end of the jet.

“Fuck off, Kevin,” I smirked.

“Give her a break,” Nick placed an arm around my shoulder, “She had a hot date last night.”

“You did?”

Joe’s voice startled me at how deep it was and that was the first time I saw the lines in his forehead deepen in what I’ve only known as one thing; jealousy.

“Yeah, with my couch,” I joked to lighten the sudden tension.

Joe continued to stare at me, his eyes burning into the side of my head and I shifted in my seat, my body feeling like it was just ignited in fire. Clearing my throat, I motioned towards the back of the plane.

“I’m going to go try laying down for a bit.”

Joe remained in his spot; in the middle of the doorway to the room. I avoided my gaze from his as I squeezed past him, our bodies softly brushing against one another. I could ignore his stare as long as I wanted. I couldn’t, however, ignore the way my body felt against his.

Smiling at the other behind the scene members of the band, I made my way towards the stage with my camera hanging low on my neck, the brothers were set to go on in just a few minutes.

After the questionable tension between Joe and I on the jet, I had decided to take my own flight to the last couple of cities, to avoid any other tension. Kevin and Nick questioned my actions, all three of us growing close in the last month, so I gave them the best lie I could think of; “I’ve got so much work to do that I need some time alone.”

They never caught on, thankfully.

Now, here I was almost a week later since I had seen any of the brothers, besides during concerts, I found myself missing them. I wouldn’t call us best friends but we were close.

“I don’t know what else to do. You complain when I’m home too much so I try and go out but then you complain that I’m never home. No matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to make you happy.”

My feet came to a sudden stop when I heard hushed voices coming from behind a closed door.

“I’m sorry that I’m not a perfect wife for you!” an accented voice shrill.

Sophie.

“That’s not what I’m saying. Fuck, do you ever listen to me?!”

Joe.

I knew I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on their private conversations but curiosity got the best of me as I leaned forward towards the door.

“I’m trying not to let her get under my skin, I really am Joe but it’s so fucking hard being compared to her.”

“No one is comparing you two, Sophie.”

The softness in Joe’s voice made my heart yearn for him. He sounded so broken.

“You are! I saw you the other day looking at her pictures! She goes or I do.”

“Sophie, I can't-.”

Suddenly the door was thrown against the wall, a heated blonde emerging. We locked eyes for a split second and Sophie scoffed before stomping down the hall.

My mouth fell open as I watched her disappear around a corner then finally my eyes landed on the broken figure in the doorway. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his once styled hair now a mess due to most likely running his hands through it.

He still looked like a fucking dream.

“How long have you been standing there?” Joe’s bottom lip trembled as he let out a large breath.

“The whole time.”

I didn’t bother to lie to him.

He nodded before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s just a little fight.”

“It didn’t sound little.” I observed. “Want to talk about it?”

Joe’s sweet lips opened to protest but he pulled them in a tight line.

“Sophie’s been under a lot of stress lately. We’ve been trying to plan an actual wedding in Paris but she thinks I’ve been to busy.” Joe defended.

“You’re going to get married again?” My heart sunk to the bowels of my stomach.

“Vegas really wasn’t our dream wedding. We just did it for laughs,” he shrugged.

“Who’s the girl?” I questioned.

Joe blinked, a bit taken aback. “What?”

“The girl Sophie is making you choose between.” Curiosity got the best of me, I couldn’t help the words as they were leaving my mouth.

Joe pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, boring his eyes into mine. “You.”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered.

Never in a million years would I have thought that they would be fighting about me. I had no clue they knew about my feelings for Joe. I hadn’t told anyone.

“I was on your Instagram a few days ago saving some of your pictures for your birthday present. Sophie found the pictures on my phone and took it the wrong way.” Joe spilled.

“My birthday? It’s not for another couple of months.” I reminded him.

He nodded. “I know but the guys and I were working on putting a portfolio together for you. You’re amazing at what you do, Y/N. You need something to do after the tour ends.”

If I didn’t hate crying in front of people, I would have broken down in happy tears at the sweet gesture the team was doing for me.

“Did you tell Sophie that?”

“Yeah,” Joe ran a hand over his face, “But it didn’t help that when she asked if I thought you were attractive, I didn’t lie.”

“What did you tell her?” I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat.

“Of course you’re attractive. But I’m in love with Sophie.” Joe admitted.

“Right.”

The venom that slipped through my voice surprised the both of us. But I couldn’t believe how naive I was thinking that Joe would leave Sophie for me only because he thought I was attractive.

They had a life together now, I wasn’t the one that Joe wanted. The mere thought of them having an actual wedding in Paris was the weight that the scale in my heart needed to tip towards ‘he will never love you.’

For the last three months I had been torturing myself by watching Joe and Sophie together, wanting to be in her place. I knew it would never happen but I continued to allow myself to fall for him.

The way that he put EVERYONE before him, no matter what it cost. The way he could make anyone laugh, me included, on their worst days. And the way he radiates light on that stage, giving everything to the thousands of fans that came out to see him, love him, and follow him through his own ups and downs.

Blowing out a large breath, I let the heartbreak finally knock me down. On shaky legs, I motioned behind me.

“I just remembered, I wanted to get some shots of the stage before the show.”

“Y/N, I didn’t-.”

“Don’t, Joe. Please don’t make me feel even more pathetic than I do now,” I held up a hand, ignoring his pleas while walking away from him.

“Chris, stop,” I giggled while trying to push away the fingers that reached for my camera.

“C’mon, I want to see the pictures from last night.”

I smiled while shaking my head. “I don’t show anyone my pictures until they’re edited. That’s the most fun.”

“We’ve been dating for a month and I still haven’t seen any of your pictures.” Chris pouted.

“I wouldn’t call casually hooking up ‘dating.’” I admitted.

Chris held a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“So that’s all I’m good for is sex?”

“Pretty much,” I lightly tapped his cheek with a loud laugh escaping my lips.

Chris was one of the light techs for The Jonas Brothers and we had only started talking over a month ago when I started taking my own flights to the next cities.

After the conversation between Joe and I, we had decided to keep our relationship strictly professional. I would arrive right before the boys would get on and stay back after they left, which is how I met Chris.

It wasn’t anything serious; us just using each other for sex. I was still head over heels in love with Joe but needed a distraction from the unwanted feelings.

“So did you want to meet at my room after the show?” Christ questioned, his fingers running up and down my bare arm.

“Are you going to make it worth it?” I flirted while running my hand through his hair.

“Don’t I always?” Chris’ breath brushed against my ears, sending shivers all over my body.

Licking my lips, I pressed my palms into his chest, trying to give us some space. “You know I hate PDA.”

“No one is watching,” Chris breathed into my neck.

Feeling someone’s gaze burn all over my body, I peeked over Chris’ shoulder and my eyes immediately connecting with a pair of brown ones.

Joe watched with a clenched jaw as Chris’ hands moved lower, ghosting over my ass. His lips continued to brush the sensitive part of my neck but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Joe.

“Chris, stop. I’m serious,” I tried to push him off again but failed when he hit my sweet spot with his teeth.

Joe’s eyes fell as he continued to watch Chris leave his mark on me. I felt regret fill my veins when he looked down at the ground trying to avoid my gaze.

Nick, who was standing next to Joe, must have caught onto his brother’s feelings so he called over to me.

“Y/N! The show's about to start. You should head to the stage.”

Chris pulled away with an annoyed groan, reluctantly allowing me to remove myself from his grasp.

“I’ll see you after the show.”

Giving him a small kiss on the cheek, I walked over towards Nick and Joe, ignoring the later hard gaze.

“How long has that been going on?” Nick nodded towards Chris.

“Not long. We’re just hanging out; it’s not serious.” I informed.

“Looked pretty serious to me,” Joe spat.

I sliced my eyes over to him. “So what if it is? It’s none of your business.”

“Guys, let’s not do this now. Save it for later,” Nick suggested.

“Gladly,” I pushed passed the brothers, purposely slamming my shoulder into Joe’s.

“Y/N, do you need anything?”

Looking away from the screen of my laptop, I shook my head at Kevin. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for letting me catch a ride with you guys tonight. I can’t believe I forgot to buy a plane ticket.”

He shrugged before sitting on the other seat of the jet. “You’re always welcomed.”

“Can you believe the tour is more than half over?,” I breathed, “It’s flying by.”

“I know. I love being on stage every night with my brothers but damn, I can’t wait to be home again,” Kevin laughed.

“I bet your girls miss you.” I smiled.

The grin that came to Kevin’s lips warmed my heart. “I miss them more. I’m thankful that they’ve had the chance to see me on stage, with my brothers, doing what we love.”

“I’m thankful you guys gave me the opportunity to do what I love,” I beamed.

“Hey, thank Joe. He’s the one that found you on Instagram,” Kevin stated.

At the mention of Joe, my heart nearly busted through my chest. We all were coming back from another week long break and there had been rumors that Joe and Sophie had been fighting constantly. The paps snapped pictures of her leaving their Australia home while Joe was photographed at their LA home during the same time. My fingers itched wanting to text him to see if he was alright but I knew it wasn’t any of my business what was going on between them.

“It’s ridiculous. I can’t even bring her up in a conversation without Sophie freaking out.”

Joe and Nick walked onto the plane, their private conversation came to a halt when their eyes landed on me.

“What are you doing here?” Nick questioned with a small smile playing at his lips.

“Kevin said I could catch a ride with you guys. I’m an idiot that forgot to buy a plane ticket.”

“How’d you forget to buy a ticket?” Nick laughed, sitting down on the couch.

Joe silently sat down on the opposite end of the couch I had been lounging on. I pulled my knees to my chest, allowing him more room to sit comfortably.

“It’s been a rough week,” I defended with a laugh.

“How are things with Chris?” Kevin asked.

Joe’s body went stiff and I tried my best to ignore his gaze.

“That’s over as fast as it started,” I admitted.

“What happened?”

Looking at Nick, I shrugged. “We both wanted a relationship, just not with each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin sympathized.

“Don’t be. It made me realize that there is someone out there that wants to be with me, I shouldn’t have to settle for what I think I need or want.” I smiled.

Joe cleared his throat while shifting in his spot. “Can you guys give us a minute?”

Confused, I watched as Nick and Kevin retreated to the back of the jet, leaving Joe and I alone.

I could hear my heart in my ears as I waited for Joe to speak; to say something, anything.The silence was deafening and I opened my mouth to say the first word but Joe interrupted me.

“I’m sorry for distancing myself from you.”

“I’m just as guilty as you,” I admitted.

“I thought that if I spent time away from you, it would fix things between Sophie and I but it only made me realize something I never wanted to admit outloud.”

Licking my lips, I swallowed. “What’s that?”

“I missed you.”

Joe looked into my eyes for the first time and the sparkle behind them brought goosebumps to my skin. He moved closer to me, fingers brushing against my leg, and I fought the urge to leap over to him and attach my lips to his.

“I love Sophie,” Joe continued, “But when I saw you with Chris, there was this burning rage that I’d never experienced with anyone. Not even Sophie; my wife.”

“That’s called jealousy.” I tried to joke but bit my lip when I noticed the serious look on Joe’s face.

“I’ve been torn on what to do that it’s put a stress on my marriage. I haven’t seen Sophie in almost two weeks.” Joe played with the ring on his left hand.

“You’re married, Joe. You shouldn’t let me get in between you and Sophie. I can forget how I feel about you if it means you’re happy with your wife,” I choked out, holding back the tears.

“Can you?” Joe questioned.

The air around us suddenly thickened, the desire burning bright in Joe’s eyes as he stared directly into my own before they fell to the top of my chest, which was peaking out of my tank top. Adjusting my position on the couch, I cleared my throat hoping that would break him from his intense gaze.

“Y-yeah,” I nodded.

Joe raised his eyebrows, slowly inching closer to me. “Are you sure?”

My mouth ran dry when I felt his fingers trace small circles on my bare thigh, Joe wearing a smug smile as he closed the small space between us; inch by inch. My fingers itched, wanting to run them through his hair, but reality struck when I felt his breath fanning over my lips. I had realized how close Joe was and how bad it would look if Kevin or Nick walked in.

“Joe,” I breathed while placing my hands on his chest, “We can-.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Joe mused.

Silence.

That’s what came out of my mouth.

I couldn’t tell Joe I didn’t want his lips on mine because that’s all I wanted. All day, every single day. I knew, however, that it would be completely wrong on both of us if that happened.

A small whimper slipped passed my lips when I felt Joe’s fingers under my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes. He sucked in a large breath when I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to feel his body against mine.

“Y/N,” Joe’s breath was warm against my neck.

“Please, Joe. I can’t wait any longer.” I dug my finger into his lower back.

“SURPRISE!”

Pushing away from one another, we both looked to the entrance of the plane as Sophie walked into view. By the smile on her face, we knew that she hadn’t caught us. My heart rate had tripled and was slowly getting back to normal as Joe stood, walking over to his wife.

“What are you doing here?”

There was an unreadable tone in his voice.

“I thought I would surprise you. I got the next few days off so I thought we could spend time together while you were on the road!”

It was how happy she was I realized that she hadn’t seen me yet, Joe’s body blocking me from her line of sight. Biting my lip, I tried to avoid my gaze moving any lower than his back.

“Yeah, of course. Uh, why don’t you set your bags in the back room. Nick and Kev may be back there,” Joe nodded behind Sophie.

“Perfect! I’ll go say hello,” Sophie smiled.

She peered over his shoulder, her eyes finally landing on me. I had brought my legs closer to my chest, trying to hold my emotions in. She had nearly caught Joe and I, and now she was going to be on the road with us for the next few days.

“Y/N! How are you? It’s been awhile!”

I could tell in the way that she smiled that she was not happy I was here.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’m only riding with them tonight. I just needed a way to the next city,” I nodded, trying to reassure her.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, we should get some rest, love. You’re looking exhausted.” Sophie ran her fingers through his hair.

“Can you give me a minute? Y/N just needs me to look over some pictures before she posts them.”

I marveled at how easy Joe had just lied to his wife.

Sophie opened her mouth to protest, so I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. You guys should spend time together.”

My lip quivered as I let out a shaky breath, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Joe.

“No it’s fine. I’ll be waiting, love,” Sophie smiled.

My heart shattered as I watched her pull Joe into a very heated kiss. Her hands pulled at the ends of his hair, deepening it. Joe’s hands wrapped around her lower back to pull her body more close to his, obviously needing to feel any type of friction.

Their kiss went on for a few more moments before Joe pulled away, his eyes watching her closely as she disappeared towards the back of the jet.

“Y/N, I had no clue she was going to show up,” he defended.

Shaking my head, I kept my gaze trained to the ground.

“She’s your wife. You need to be with her; not me.” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“I know I should but I can’t help it that I want to be with you too.”

Finally allowing myself to look into his eyes, they looked broken just like my own, I gave him a small shrug.

“It’s not going to work between us, Joe. You’re married! I won’t allow myself to get in between you two again. As long as you’re with her, there will never be an us. If it’s harsh, I’m sorry but I won’t let myself get my hopes up for us when clearly it will always be Sophie,” I insisted.

“So I’m just supposed to pretend that never happened?!” Joe pointed to where I was sitting.

“You know for a fucking fact that wasn’t supposed to happen!,” I snapped, “I let myself get lost in lust. It won’t happen again.”

Joe’s eyes sliced into mine, a scoff leaving his lips. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want!” I yelled standing to my feet. “I don’t want to be this pathetic little girl that sits around and waits for a man but I’d be lying if I said I won’t wait for you; you’re perfect Joe. I can’t help but fall more and more in love with you every night I watch you on stage, performing your heart out. The heart I wish had my own!”

Rage boiled in my blood as I continued to stand there, staring at Joe. He knew how I felt about him, hell everyone knew at this point. I only thought that if I kept it bottled in that the feelings would slowly dissipate by seeing how happy he was with Sophie. But what I didn't expect was Joe feeling the same. Yes, he hadn't came out and said the exact words I love you, Y/N but his actions proved otherwise.

Or maybe he was horny.

Shaking the thought from my head, I continued to stand my ground against Joe.

“As long as you're with Sophie, there will never be an us,” I repeated.

Joe, who clearly looked like he had given up, nodded before giving me a broken smile, walking in the back of the jet.

My body shook with sobs as I collapsed on the couch, the reality of what I had said finally setting in. I told Joe we were done and meant every word so why was I wanting to chase after him and say I was lying; that I would be fine waiting for him.

How had I become so low of a person? Getting in the way of a marriage? Allowing myself to fall in love with someone who never was available to begin with?

“Everything alright?” Nick asked as him and Kevin appeared, almost out of nowhere.

Hasty wiping away my tears, I nodded while avoiding their gaze.

“Yeah,” I choked out.

We all sat in silence, Kevin and Nick clearly understanding everything was not alright but deciding not to press. They played quiet chords on their guitars while I clicked over and over on my computer as I edited pictures I had taken during my break. But no matter how much noise we had made, it did nothing to drown out the moans coming from the room in the back.

Three.

There were only three more shows left on tour.

Everyone was relishing in the bittersweet memories. We all were happy to go back home to our regular day to day lives but we all were going to miss everything about this tour.

After the show last night, I was more than ready to get away from Joe. We still hadn’t said a word about what happened on the jet and the sexual tension was thick. During last night's show, they played Trust and I couldn’t stop the burning gaze coming from Joe no matter how hard I ignored it.

My heels clicked along the long abandoned hallway of the arena as I looked around for the brothers. I wanted to get some solo shots of them on the final days of the tour. A smile played at my lips as I found them leaning against a wall, deep in their own personal conversation. They hadn’t seen me yet so I snapped a few pictures of them. I was about to leave them but Kevin’s question stopped me in my tracks.

“When are you going to tell her?”

I leaned closer against the wall and strained my ears to hear better.

“I think I should do it before the tour ends,” Joe shrugged.

“Are you sure that this is what you want? Nick questioned.

Joe nodded without an ounce of hesitation. “She’s the one I’ve always wanted. I hate that it took a broken relationship to realize that but in the end I have to stop thinking about how others will feel; I need to put my feelings first.”

Kevin wrapped his hand around Joe’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Just know that we support your decision. Your heart will hurt for losing someone you’ve cared about for awhile now but she’s going to help you heal.”

“I’ve always loved her. It’s always going to be her.”

“How do you think Sophie will take it?”

Joe looked at Nick. “She’ll be thankful. Eventually we’ll be able to move past everything and be happy.”

White clouded my vision, body going limp against the wall, as I replayed the entire conversation in my head again.

He chose Sophie. He was always going to choose her. I was a fucking idiot to think that it would ever be me. It was pathetic, really. To think that we could ever have a perfect, suburban life together with three kids, a dog or two, and a damn white picket fence.

My bottom lip trembled as I sucked it between my teeth, a broken sob escaping; a little too loudly.

“Y/N?”

Teary eyes locked with Joe’s, who was just as surprised as his brothers were that I had been standing there. The look Joe was giving me was the type of look that made you want to break down and cry. Not a normal cry; no, it was those types of cries that made you want to fall to your knees in pain, tears falling fast from your eyes.

“How-how long have you been standing there?” Joe stuttered.

“I’ve got to go,” I drank in the saltiness of my tears, slowly backing away.

“Wait, Y/N. Please.” Joe begged, reaching for my hand.

Snatching away from his fingers, I shook my head. “I didn’t hear anything. I was never here.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as I stumbled over my feet to get away from them. The pain was unbearable, shaking me to the bones, and I would have given anything in my life to never see Joe Jonas ever again.

“Man, I can’t believe that this is our LAST show tonight. We cannot thank each and every one of you guys enough. You have been with us from the start, through our ups and downs, and we can never repay you for the love and support you have given us.”

My eyes watched with a smile as Kevin talked to the crowd, quietly tuning his guitar. It was the very last show of the tour tonight and the brothers had given it their absolute all. They had only a few songs left, Burning Up and Sucker, but there were rumors that Joe has something else planned.

Oh, Joe.

I hadn’t seen any of the brothers the last couple of days, opting to stay farther back when taking pictures. I was too embarrassed to face them and see them after they caught me listening to their conversation. I traveled alone, driving from city to city, so I was beyond exhausted. With the last show, however, I didn’t want to miss a thing. So here I was, standing at the bottom of the stage, the brothers a few feet in front of me, snapping away with my camera. All feelings aside, I was determined to get the best pictures tonight.

“You know,” Joe spoke up next, his voice causing my body to tingle all over, “One of our team members also has a birthday tonight.”

My palms began to sweat, knowing what Joe was about to say next.

“Have you guys seen our pictures from every show on our Instagram?” Nick yelled into the microphone.

The crowd screamed and cheered, the profoundness beaming through my smile.

“All of those pictures were taken by our very good friend, Y/N L/N,” Kevin pointed down towards me. “C’mon Y/N, give a small wave!”

“I hate you!” I screamed, smile clear on my face.

“It’s her birthday tonight and she has spent every single night watching us perform and capturing those moments that we all cherish the rest of our lives. So, please join us in signing a very happy birthday!” Nick boomed!

Red flushed my cheeks as the boys and the crowd all sang happy birthday and I tried to shrink in size. I absolutely hated being in the spotlight but the rather large gesture from my best friends brought a warm smile to my face.

As the song faded out, the brothers lead right into their last two songs. I snapped away with my camera, getting lost in the moment that I hadn’t realized that Joe was kneeling at the edge of the stage just a few inches in front of me.

“I’m a sucker for you,” Joe’s voice sang through the arena.

Our eyes locked and he placed his hand in front of me, palm facing the ceiling. Confusion filled my eyes as I looked from his hand to his face.

“Your camera,” he mouthed.

Licking my lips, I hesitated for a split second before I placed my camera in his hands.

Setting his microphone to the side, the camera lens now faced me and I could see Joe’s small smile on the other end of it.

“Smile,” he cheered.

“What are you doing?”

No matter how upset or sad I was about the situation between us, I still found myself smiling at the way his eyes danced under the stage lights as they raked over my face, taking in my appearance.

I was mesmerized by the way Joe was drinking me in that I hadn’t realized he already snapped a few pictures of me and was handing my camera back, completely unaware he had slipped the small memory card into his pocket.

“Y/N, we need you for this picture!”

Zipping up my camera bag, I looked to my left smiling at Kevin.

“Let me just get my camera!” I called back.

“No, we need you in the picture!” Nick chimed in.

I looked at the whole family of the Jonas’ feeling out of place. It was just a mere few minutes after the show had ended, all of us on a high and we were dragging our feet because we didn’t want the night to end.

I hesitated only because I was afraid of being too close to Joe.

“I don’t want to impose,” I spoke.

“Get your ass over here,” Kevin demanded while grabbing my hand, pulling me towards the group.

While the family finished their pictures, Nick waved me over as I stood next to him while everyone in the band/crew piled in for a group pictures.

“How about one of us three and Y/?” Kevin suggested.

Him and nick stood next to each other while Joe looked into my eyes, nodding to the space next to him.

Gnawing on my lip, I slid next to him and gently laid my hand on his back. As we waited for the boys mom to fix her camera, Joe’s fingers wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer into him.

Tingles spread through my body when I felt the heat radiate off his body onto mine. I couldn’t ignore how good it felt being wrapped into his arms, a sense of safety engulfing me.

“Say cheese!” Momma Jonas smiled while taking a few pictures of us four.

After suggesting that I get a picture with each of the boys, I smiled brightly during my pictures when Kevin and Nick.

“My turn,” Joe mused.

With my bottom lip in between my teeth, I walked back into Joe’s arm, his left slinking around my waist once more. His fingers had slipped underneath my shirt and even that slight touch of skin on skin was enough to have visions of us in bed together playing in my mind.

“Oh shoot, my phone died.”

Joe fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it to his mom.

“Use mine.”

As we waited for his mom to take the picture, Joe looked down at me and I was sure that my heart soared into my throat at the look he was giving me. Leaning closer to my ear, I felt his breath against against my neck.

“Come by my room tonight?”

“Are you sure?” I stammered.

He nodded, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. I have to give you your birthday present.”

Joe’s voice was hoarse with lust and the pressure I felt from down below was enough to make a small moan leave my lips.

My knuckles tapped against the wooden door in front of me and I waited in the silent hallway for the door to open.

I had arrived to Joe’s hotel room way later than I had originally told him so I was afraid that he had fallen asleep.

The door is unlocked.

After reading the new text message from Joe, I quietly entered his room, my voice coming out hushed.

“Joe?”

A small gasp erupted from my throat when I took in the scene in front of me; lit candles were littered around the room, a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice with a small chocolate cake on the counter in the makeshift kitchen, and a black box with a large white bow sat safely on the bed. There was a soft tune playing in throughout the room that I smiled fondly at.

Love Her by The Jonas Brothers

My name was scribbled on a small envelope that I immediately recognized as Joe’s handwriting.

Y/N

I know I’ve been a real shitty friend to you these past few months but I had been dealing with a lot of personal things in my life that made me push you away. You didn’t deserve that and I’m so sorry.

But that rough path I had been on led me to you. I will never forgive myself for breaking your heart but if you trust me, I will never break it again.

You saved me, Y/N. Now it’s my turn to save you.

Happy Birthday.

Joe

Wiping away the tears, I paced the card on the bed and gently began pulling away the bow on the box.

Inside was a thick, black book and a large yellow envelope that read ‘read last.’

I set the envelope next to the card and started flipping through the book, choking out a small laugh.

Inside the folder were pages upon pages of all of my favorite pictures I had taken; before the Jonas Brothers and during. I laughed at all of the goofy memories I captured of the brothers but when I reached the last couple pages to the book, my heart doubled in size. They were pictures of me, ones that I had never seen.

Joe trying to teach me to play the guitar, which failed miserably, but we both had the time of our lives.

My head against Joe’s shoulder, fast asleep, while we were traveling to the next city on the jet. His eyes were glued to his phone but the look on his face, the way his lips pulled up into a smile said everything words couldn’t.

Me setting up my camera equipment before one of the shows, the light emanating from the stage casting an aura of light around me, almost as if I was an angel sent from above.

And the last couple pages were pictures from tonight; Joe stealing my camera, all of the group ones after the show, and the last picture is what broke down the last hesitant wall I had up. It was of Joe and I, his mouth brushing against my forehead while his hand was wrapped protectively around me. If the picture could talk it would say that it almost looked as if Joe was afraid that I would disappear in front of him.

A door clicked behind me and through teary eyes, I watched as Joe emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but black sweat pants that hung dangerously low on his hips. Suddenly, the tears had vanished and I groaned to myself as I took in each and every line of his abs.

“Happy Birthday.”

Snapping out of my naughty thoughts, I grinned over to Joe. “Thank you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

He shook his head while sitting on the other edge of the bed, giving us a reasonable amount of space.

“You deserve all of this and more,” Joe admitted.

Nodding, I placed the folder against my chest, holding it close. “I will cherish this for the rest of my life. Joe, I cannot thank you enough for this.”

“I told you; anything for you.” Joe’s hand rested on my thigh, giving it a slight squeeze.

Smiling at the feeling, it was then that I noticed the faint tan line on his finger.

“Your ring?,” I gawked at him.

I was lost in the romantic gesture of all of this that I had forgotten the most important part of all of this; Sophie.

A tiny smile pulled at Joe’s lips and he simply nodded to the yellow envelope.

Following his silent request, my shaky fingers pulled out a stack of papers. Dread filled me, the last thing I wanted was to read a giant packet of whatever this was, but it was the two bold words at the top that caught my attention.

“Divorce papers?” I muttered. “Who’s getting a divorce?”

Joe laughed and told me to go to the last page.

My eyes scanned the two signatures over and over again, burning it into the back of my brain.

“You and Sophie?” I asked.

“It’s been finalized for a few weeks now. We’ve been separated for months before this,” Joe admitted.

“Wait, so what happened between us on the jet?” I pondered, mostly to myself.

Joe answered my question with a simple nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think at the time, I still wanted to make it work between us but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were always on my mind, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It wasn’t fair to Sophie, or you, that my heart wasn’t completely with either of you,” Joe has scooted closer to me, our knees brushing against each other.

“I wish my feelings were more clear in the beginning; before I got married. You’ve always been the one I wanted, I knew that, I was just afraid to let Sophie go. I was afraid of what people would think. What they would call me, or you,” Joe continued.

“But when I saw you with Chris, I wanted to be in his place. I wanted to be the one by your side. I wanted to be the one you called when you had a bad day. I wanted to be the one you shared your bed with.”

“Joe,” I breathed, “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what I needed at the time to get over my feelings for you. But it only made me realize that no matter who I date, they would never compare to you.”

Joe raised his hand hesitantly before he cupped my cheek and I whimpered at the warmth. His thumb brushed my cheek and my hands gripped his arm, afraid to let go. Our eyes locked and Joe’s tongue brushed over his lower lip causing me to nearly jump into his lap.

“I want this if you do,” he breathed against my lips.

“More than anything,” I begged.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it but I promise I will live the rest of my days showing you how much I love you,” Joe proclaimed.

Not wanting to wait any longer, I finally closed the distance between us by softly pressing my lips against his. They felt full and plump against my own as I wrapped my arms around his neck, him pulling me with ease into his lap.

I never wanted to believe those stories I read as a little girl about kissing someone you love for the first time. I always thought the fireworks and the heat were all lies but now, feeling Joe’s lips move in sync with mine, I felt every last firework deep in my bones and in between my legs. My vision went white when I felt him slip his tongue past my lips, gliding against my own.

“I love you too, Joe.” I mumbled into his lips.

“Did you want some cake or wine?” Joe questioned in between kisses.

“Later,” I groaned, pressing my hips into his.

The cake and wine were the last thing on our minds as Joe’s fingers snaked up my back, gliding my shirt off with ease and tossing it on the other end of his hotel room.

#Joe Jonas #Joe Jonas fanfiction #Joe Jonas x reader #jonas brothers #kevin jonas #nick jonas

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chey-fey-ma · 4 years ago

Text

Some of the events I’m about to address will be extremely triggering for some people. Please proceed with caution. This has to deal with the protests and police brutality.

I was arrested.

I was arrested violently. I was pushed to the ground and arrested with my hands behind my back and guns pointed at my face. My boyfriend and good friend, both of whom are men of color were also pushed to the ground with guns in their faces and not a single right was read to us.

To emphasize my point, the three of us weren’t anywhere NEAR a protest. We had heard screaming and calls for help and sirens down the street and knowing that people we all loved and cared about could be in danger, we decided to suit up and brace ourselves to offer medical supplies and a place to stay for anyone that was hurt by the awful acts of brutality by police that we had been witnessing for the past couple nights. For the past year Brady Street had been my home. It was where I went to get a latte at Rochambo and tell jokes and draw pictures with friends and family alike. But last night, it was the most unfamiliar place I had ever been to.

As we were making our way back down the street to go into our house that was less than 15 feet away, we were ambushed by an all black cop car taking us from our left flank. We knew we were caught but we didn’t expect to be in trouble for being right outside our own home, the same home my boyfriend had for the past 5 years without a single problem. Four cops come out with guns in their hands and ready to shoot. It was in that instant I felt that my life was over. Everything I had dreamed or ever wanted was out of my reach. I would never perform on Broadway. I would never move back to NYC. I would never get married or raise a family with the man I love, even if I was to not get shot, he still could have and that dream would still be out the window in a blink of an eye. Without a second thought, a person— another HUMAN could decide that my dreams were unattainable and take my boyfriend away from me for the rest of my life; however long that could be since I have no clue how I could recover since he is my lifeline and has my soul.

In an instant our lives could be deemed worthless only because of a curfew that was haphazardly placed on a day to day basis; and for a moment, we were deemed as worthless. In total there were well over 50 police officers all in squad cars and even the SWAT team pulled up to the scene. All for three peaceful people trying to get home from making sure no one was hurt. As they saw me lay helpless on the ground, crying with fluid draining from my nose, they pulled out their cellphones and took pictures and recorded. “Oh this ones going to Ashley” I heard one say and talk about how they were going to send it to a family member or friend.

While I was thinking these moments could be the last time I ever saw my boyfriend alive, these cops patted themselves on the back for a job well done and circle jerked to a young woman crying thinking that she would never get to say goodbye to the man she loved or to her mother and brother.

After being arrested and our possessions taken forcefully from us, we were separated. My friend and boyfriend in one car and I in another. There I was paraded around the city as I cried not for myself but for the fear of losing my loved ones. Finally I was taken to a dark area under one of the freeway bridges were about 60 other police officers were standing around waiting for something to happen. After about an hour of doing nothing, I was finally put in the back of a high security bus all by myself and three armed cops driving the bus.

I opened my eyes and I was suddenly in a new place with people I have never seen before. All the people being detained looked at me and suddenly I felt a sense of comradery I had never experienced before. I was finally able to stop crying as I realized almost all the people held here looked like they were just trying to get home. One by one I listened to their stories and I realized this was the most disgusting act of power I had ever seen. I felt violated and like I was suddenly non human by the way we were being treated.

What I witnessed was illegal and breaches human decency on every level imaginable. There were two healthcare workers in scrubs being detained with me who were literally on their way home from their clinic that was 45 minutes away. They were arrested at about 9:45. Just from coming home from potentially saving lives. There was a new mother who just had a cesarean section only less than 2 weeks previously. There was an expecting mother with her arms tied behind her back who looked like she could pass out at any moment. The new mother actually did at one point pass out after throwing up and an ambulance was called about two hours later. TWO. HOURS. LATER.

Outside of the Milwaukee section 2 prison facility I was stored in there were military personal with loaded machine guns who kept staring at us like we were nothing more than vermin on our way to be exterminated. As if we were bred for the slaughter of their injustice.

I was taken in at about 10:45 with a lot of my colleagues taken in at around 9. One by one slowly they took us in the back to book us. I can not stress enough how unprofessional and how awful most of the cops were, with many of them admitting they had no idea what was going on or what they were doing. One cop taunted us asking if we learned our lesson. “Yeah” I said. “I’ve learned to never trust cops again and that all you guys are pigs” I muttered, a stance I hadn’t taken before this night. It really was all or nothing, and if I was going to be treated with no regard, why should I care for a second about a cop’s life. They clearly didn’t care about ours. Mine. My friends. My boyfriends. People I love and care about.

Slowly I watched my new friends disappear and finally taken to a holding cell for the information on them to be processed. I was going to be one of the last ones and the officers admitted they were taking a long time on purpose. I mean, they’re getting paid TAX DOLLARS to sit on their asses all day, so I suppose they were trying to milk out that few extra dollars by tormenting and traumatizing us.

For 14 hours I was never read my rights, never given anything to eat, never got to make a phone call, never told I had access to a lawyer, and only reluctantly given water because some of the people I was with threatened to sue. They told us because it was a temporary facility that it didn’t count as being normally arrested and so none of our rights were actually ours. Once again, everyone that was detained with me were ALL heading home. No exceptions. Some people were driving home when they had their tires blown out by police. One woman told me her boyfriend (who is black) was tased for stepping out of his car once his tires were blown up. It was only when she begged them not to shoot that they put down their weapons.

At about 7 hours in, I was exhausted and sweating profoundly and I started to cry from anger and once again wondering if my friends were safe. I kept saying that over and over again. That I just want to know if they are okay. One girl stood up and yelled at a cop asking if they cared that I was sobbing begging to make sure my boyfriend was alive. We were all met with shrugs and a woman officer (she was medium built and blonde with her colleague being another woman officer with dark brown hair with the last name of Sanchez) telling us that she didn’t care. The two woman officers just gossiped and looked at us with disgusting faces. Perhaps they were just doing their job. But that just speaks even more about what kind of job being a police officer really is. Apparently to do your job right you have to have no regard for human life and for the actual safe keeping of the city. As long as you get the arrest numbers, you’re golden to keep terrorizing marginalized communities and people.

There was one point in the night that I had a trans man and another non-binary individual (like me) being detained with the group. After he told them that he was trans, he was brought to the back to be berated and made sure that he REALLY was trans and not just trying to get attention. I don't know what happened to him behind those closed doors since I never saw him again, but I can't imagine it was anything short of horrific.

The rest of the night was a blur and I was labeled as a rioter and my possessions labeled as riot gear. This was my only offense. I had on a helmet and some padded protection on my body since if there WERE shots fired, I wanted to try to lessen the impact. The woman took out my piercings and my hair ties and Bobby pins. I was left only wearing my oversized Star Wars t-shirt and some athletic leggings. In a cruel act of irony, one of the officers pointed to my shirt and said “looks like we got another fan”. I just stared at him and he said “smile it's a good thing”. This was already 10 hours in. I grunted and spat back, “one would think, right”. I’ve never talked back to a police officer in my life, but I was tired, angry, upset, and in pain. I was fighting for the resistance. They were on the side of the Sith.

We were then placed in individual cells for holding. It was unsanitary and period blood filled the toilet I was given as well as urine from whoever was there before me. At this point I needed to pee and I told everyone to look away. They did as I, as safely as possible, hovered over the toilet seat to finish my business. I wasn’t given toilet paper or anything of the sort; instead I used my sock that had been on my foot this whole time. It was actually one of my boyfriend's nice fuzzy black socks. Male cops were able to walk in and out as they pleased and could see females trying to relieve themselves. It was the most dehumanizing experience I have ever had.

Finally I could hear freedom ringing in my ears as I was approached and told that I was free to go. I tried to thank the officer but I couldn’t find the words after being treated so horribly. I was given my stuff back in a large bag and then thrusted out into the sunlight after being held for again, 14 hours (need I remind you this was all for just a ticket too). My eyes began to tear up as I realized I had no idea where I was or how I was going to get home. I looked around, and since we were thrown out the back, I didn’t see a single person. I cried as I picked up my ALMOST dead phone and saw my boyfriend tried to call me several times. For the first time the entire night, I was extremely relieved to see that he was alive and well. I saw his messages saying he and our friend were alright and got out and the only way they were alright was all thanks to the neighbor who saw the WHOLE thing and recorded it too. He saved our lives. Full stop, HE is a hero. He was recording and on our side and trying to get us home safely. Our neighbor picked up my boyfriend and friend from section 4 where the men were held. For those who don’t know, it's right in a super dangerous neighborhood and we live on the East side.

Once I called my boyfriend he told me he was out front and I shakily told him that I thought I was on the side of the building but I would head that way. Finally I saw him and he saw me and it was as if we were the only two people on the planet. Yes, it is just like in the movies when you have someone really love and care about you. He first waved to me and I hung up the phone to make my way towards him. He started running and then finally we were in each other’s arms hugging on for dear life. He placed his hands on my head and looked me up and down while saying that he was sorry over and over and over again. But I wasn’t even a tiny bit angry with him, I was the most relieved and content I had ever been in my entire 21 years of living. After our tearfilled reunion, I got the names of some of the other people that were with me and I gave them my contact information as well.

I have a lot to say… A lot more to say about what I felt and what I still feel. The 700 dollar fine is almost nothing compared to the emotional trauma that I felt and went through. All for just being a decent human being and making sure people were alright from protests that were happening. We were arrested for caring and arrested for essentially the color of our skin. Well, not so much me, but it was the fact that I was with two males of color— the most gentle and kind males anyone could ever hope to encounter. I know it was this because I saw other white people walking around and they didn’t get arrested, just told to go home. My stance is now clear to me. There ARE no good cops. There never were. They hold up an institution of racism and fear. That same racism and fear that was so very real to me and not just a concept like you are likely to be reading about just now. Please know I am very angry and heartbroken, but we are safe and right now I’m just thanking my lucky stars that we weren’t slaughtered like George Floyd. It is a predicament that no one should have to experience and no one with a human heart should perpetuate.

#blacklivesalwaysmatter #blacklivesmatter #support blm #blm movement #protest #politics #fuckthepolice #fuckthefeds #police #police brutality #black lives matter #fuck cops #fuck 12

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