#and I got to see some sick local bands I’d never heard of so

[demon-princess13]

tonight was fun ✨

[ktheist]

take my whole life too | m

muses. jeongguk x heir!reader

genre. chaebol au. arranged marriage au. expecting parents au.

words. 5k

warnings. dad!jeongguk, house husband!jeongguk, simp!jeongguk, implied smut verging on actual smut, mentions of break up and arguments

x

you never gave much thought for jeon jeongguk - not for how he looks, not for how much he makes, not for how compatible you are together. nothing. so much for promising to stay together through health and sickness till death do you apart.

but that’s just the thing, you were willing to let go of your heart in exchange for the wealth of your family. which is inherently yours until the findings of your grandfather’s will appointing his administrators the task of safeguarding the billions of dollar estate against his unmarried granddaughter who to be fair, has always had her eyes on that bejeweled ring of his. it’s less about the diamond and more about what possessing - legally, of course - the ring could do. for one, nobody could challenge your legitimacy as the chairman of luxean. and boy, do your overbearing aunties like to nitpick every little thing you do at the board meeting just to put their sons and daughters in a better light.

so yeah, you would say sacrificing your non-existent possibility of falling in love would suffice. plus, jeongguk can go shopping for convertibles with a swipe of a card, fly from london to italy to greece and back to london within one night. heck, he can even have a steamy hot night with the locals and bring back a greek goddess of a mistress if he wanted to.

except for one problem: he wants to do all those things with you.

well, considering how he stripped down to just pants with the buckle undone and protrusion of well defined abs that leads to a tantalizing v-line beneath the contrasting black band of his calvin klein halfway to the bedroom of your suite after the ceremony, completely disregarding the fact you never spoke to him unless you were in the presence of other people - watching eyes - and the limited time you have to change into your second outfits, you figured he’d want more than just hot and steamy nights in paris and peaceful quiet mornings in athens in your sundress and off white spring hats.

he either hasn’t figured out that he’s just a tool for you to gain public opinion or he doesn’t particularly care as long as he’s getting some.

“you’re leaving?” the voice that asked the very obvious question bears a sort of despondency to it.

when you turn to face the man lying naked - and looking like a well sculpted greek god at that - in the bed, you curse yourself for forgetting the one simple thing that you promise yourself not to do: look at him in the eye. by god, you’ve never seen anyone -  any man - who could be so good at weakening your resolution and making you want to climb into bed and cuddle him like a puppy.

“didn’t soyeon tell you i have a meeting?” you manage to sound casual about it for the most part as you put on the earrings that lie abandoned on the vanity when jeongguk came in just before you were almost done with your make up and bent you over the vanity to fuck you once before carrying you to the bed and fuck you in your sensitive state.

“i know,” he mumbles.

and when only silence follows suit, you can’t help but let your hands rest on your hip as you raise your eyebrows, “but?”

it takes a moment of the man trapping his bottom lip between his teeth and leaving it with a sort of pinkish shine when he releases it, “can we have another go?”

“you’re hard?” this time, the surprise in your voice is unconcealable, “again?”

“i know - i’m sorry - it’s just... that dress looks really good on you,” he doesn’t even bother to hide his ogling.

so to answer the question of whether you fucked him that time at your suite when you were supposed to change, yes you did.

“sounds like a you kind of problem,” you wave with the hand that picked up your purse - all your essentials already there, “go out and have a look at athens before we fly for london tomorrow - oh and maybe grab some dinner for yourself.”

“when will you be back?” as much as you like to think you’re indifferent to your husband, you can’t help but think he looks endearing for shying away from your gaze and rubbing the back of his head hesitantly, “i thought maybe we could have dinner together.”

there’s a strain in his voice but you brush it off, shrugging, “what do you think meetings like this are held over? i am going for dinner,” you want to take that back as soon as it escaped your lips but instead, you turn around, “anyways, don’t wait up.”

that’s one habit that he seems to have - waiting for you until you climb into bed with him after long hours of frying your eyes in front of the laptop in the common area.

either way, you strut out of your suite, leaving your husband with a semi-hard cock, you didn’t miss the way it twitched at your blatant rejection just before you turned your back on him.

and so you go about your day, the meeting coming to a close flawlessly as with a signed contract and a meal worthy of the restaurant’s reputation. by the time you thought the approaching figure from the corner of your eyes is the waiter bringing your desserts, kim taehyung was in the middle of thanking you “for meeting me on such a short notice, on your honeymoon at that.”

“i should thank you for reaching out to my secretary when you heard i’d be here too,” you chuckle, hand pushing a stray hair to the back of your ear before your gaze travels up to meet the man’s, “my grandfather always says, there’s no security on this earth, only opportunity,” raising the wine glass mid air, you offer him a smile, “and god does not help anyone seize it unless they do so themselves.”

“the late chairman was a wise man,” he raises his own glass, only to freeze at an awkward angle when the waiter finally approaches you.

except it isn’t the waiter. 

it’s-

“___,” a voice fills your ears like velvet on skin, you already know who it belongs to before you even look up at the man whose out-of-character furrowed brows and pressed lips all but makes you want to shoot up from your seat and spout out explanations you don’t even owe him, “i thought i’d pick you up since it’s,” he checks his rolex - it was the first thing you bought him after assessing his lack of accessory after you’d both signed the contract, “half an hour till midnight and the polignotou isn’t going to wait for us.”

taehyung is the one to break the silence, “it seems i’ve taken up too much of your time.”

before you can even refute it, he’s already standing up and fixing his blazer before stepping to the side to properly face your husband. 

“congratulations of your marriage, mr. jeon,” then he turns to you, his smile just as excellent at yours when it comes to hiding your emotions and that could only mean that tonight is drawing to an end on a bad note thanks to your husband’s interruption, “mrs. jeon.”

and with a final words of ‘i’ll have my secretary send you the papers soon’, he’s gone like the wind.

“what are you doing here? i told you i had a meeting! not gallivanting with some greek men!” the words come out in a low hiss when he takes the abandoned seat across from you as you gaze around the vicinity in case there are other business acquaintances that happen to know you.

“i’m sorry -” he mumbles out, “i was walking down the streets and i saw you at the balcony of the restaurant and-” he stops short of his words, tongue darting out over his lower lip for the briefest moment.

“and?” you echo, brows arched.

“i got jealous of seeing you with another guy,” his voice is barely above whisper but you hear it loud and clear.

you’re almost sure that you’ve slipped but and let your eyes narrow at him like a puzzle that you can’t figure out but it’s gone in a heartbeat as you pick up your purse and clear your throat. possibly in search for the right words to say but perhaps also an admittance of your caught-off-guard situation.

either way you stand up, “let’s go, the street starts getting scarcer by 2 and i’d rather stay safe and walk with more people than less.”

x

you did end up walking.

it was a halfway walk but it’s still a walk, that was, until you saw jeongguk pulling on the material of his pants every two minutes. the lack of lights did well to hide it but even then, your eyes automatically pans towards the noticeable protrusion in between his legs. as if your body has completely adapted to his scent - that subtle but evident scent of masculinity, his gaze - the pure, unadulterated desire within the shadows in his eyes and his touch - the way his hand seems to inch lower down your ass before he traces back up to settle on the dip of your spine before it left you cold and unattended when he started to tug on his pants.

“jeongguk -ah, fuck,” you bite back the moan that spills over your lips, “you’re making too much noise.”

“yeah?” his voice bears a lull to it as he thrusts in and out of you in the way that makes your legs come together and your heart leap all the way to your throat as your hands grip onto the dampened cart jeongguk pushed you against in the closest alleyway you were walking towards before he bent you over, lifted up your dress and pulled your panties down.

not even a minute passed before you felt him inside you. and by god, did you feel filled to the brim. the sheen of sweat coating your skin is cold against the chilly night air, the sinful sounds echoing off the walls makes you pray for the first time in a long time that no one is nearby and the way jeongguk is hitting all your sweet spots has you gritting your teeth in hopes that it’d be one less sound to get you arrested for public indecency.

in a country that you’re not a citizen of, at that.

you’re not sure how you got back to your suite and how the hell did you switch into your night dress but you have an inkling that it has something to do with the man whose arm traps you against a hard, muscled body when you started shifting to wake.

his breath fans the back of your neck as he slurs his words but you can make out a ‘five more minutes’ after a grumble and a faint ‘chaeyoung’ at the end.

“no,” you’re not sure what or who you’re saying the words of rejection to, but you slam a fist into arm that’s holding you, “let me go! jeongguk! let me go!”

he finally does at the bloodcurdling scream that could wake up the whole city. but somehow security hasn’t come bursting through the door and the streets in front of your room hasn’t halted its hustling and bustling.

“wh-what happened?” jeongguk’s wide eyes scan the room for the one, solid minute before they rest on you but instead of settling with the deduction that your scream was caused by his own entrapment - possibly the unfamiliar name he blurted out - he crawls over to you, “are you okay?” hand on your cheek as he checks for something.

they return to your eyes when you slap it away though.

you’re not even sure why you’re seeing red but you attribute it to the fact that- “how did i get in this?”

he takes one look and blinks, “i changed you because you fell asleep in the cab and i carried-”

“why?” arms crossed over your chest, you speak over him.

“i... i thought you might be uncomfortable sleeping in that dress,” you can almost hear the screws in his brain turning in search for answers.

“stop, okay? don’t act like you’re some award-winning husband - you’re not, you were broke and was about to lose your only source of income when i came to you and asked if you wanted to not have to work a day in your life,” he must’ve not known that his eyebrows twitch at the words, “it’s always been about the money - i get it, so you can stop now. we don’t have to play house when no one’s around because this isn’t an actual marriage and we don’t even love each other.”

you expected the stars in his eyes to dim out, expected him to avert his gaze somewhere to the most random thing like the ugly vase next to the door or the phone on the nightstand or the window where the sound of kids laughing and vendors across the street obnoxiously greeting his neighboring competition.

but instead, he looks straight at you, “what is it then?” he asks, “what are we if those good night kisses, cuddling into each other in the middle of the night when we woke up briefly before falling back to sleep, holding hands while walking and making love every night-”

“i don’t know where you got that because i never kissed you, i never asked you to wait for me to go to sleep together and i never touched you first - they were all you,” your head dips to the side just the slightest bit, “and we had sex every night. that’s it - it’s just sex.”

the last thing you see before you climb off the bed and lock yourself in the bathroom, dialing up your secretary’s number to book a plane ticket for yourself, is what you’ve initially expected to see.

stars that don’t shine as bright as the morning they twinkle and greet for the first time of the day. brows that knit together but not because he’s anxious or nervous about telling you something.

when you stepped out, he’s gone and you don’t leave any notes. not even a text after you packed up your belongings, hailed a cab and went straight to the airport in your darkest shades and brightest dress.

and so it goes, not a single rumor about your early arrival in seoul and your lack of spouse with you. mainly because jeongguk and you have put up quite a show for those watching eyes. a love story worth spectating and an ending keenly awaited. but you’ve made it clear, during your about-to-hit one month honeymoon that you’re truly, deeply, madly in love with your chosen husband, so much so, that you’re willing to leave the chairman seat unguarded. 

it’s a gamble but it worked like magic. the board members welcome you back into the company without any inquiry even though you’re one week too early. mr. yoo even seems relieved to see you when you’re on your way to your office on your first day back.

“it’s nice to see you again, miss ____ -” he stops himself, “i mean, mrs. jeon.”

you shake your head, laughing, “miss ___ is fine for me, everyone’s known me as that for so long.”

when you reach the end of the hallway where you have to part to go to your office, and him to his, you tap him on the arm once with a hand that lacks a wedding ring but he doesn’t seem to care as he dips into a bow and bids you a good day.

and so it goes, you start burying yourself in your pending works while also juggling surprise visits from two of your aunts, to which each does not fail to not-so-discreetly give your left hand a once over. but you’re faster, having kept your ring in the drawer and pulling it out and slipping it on under the desk before standing up to greet the elder women both times without fail.

on the day jeongguk and you were supposed to return, you’ve debated on booking a hotel just because you don’t want to face him - soyeon briefed him about your sudden departure back to korea and that there was no reason for him to come back with you. and so he stayed. travelled to london and then to glasgow with a black card and unlimited possibilities - just liked you promised him on the day you signed the contract.

things might have gotten off track but coming back to the familiar scent of ocean from your candlewicks and the bonzai that belonged to your deceased grandfather in the corner of the room, you’ve found your purpose again - the reason you would go so far as to sacrifice your heart for this position.

you’re never going to lose sight of it ever again.

but when the door beeps once after you punched in the code, the smell of something delicious waft in the air after you stepped into your apartment and jeongguk greeting you with a pink apron with printed with hearts all over it, you feel yourself freezing in your spot.

“oh, you’re back?” his back is on you as he redirects his attention to the sizzling goodness in the hot pan, “i’m making fried noodles, it’ll be done it 10 minutes - why don’t you go and change first?”

it takes a moment of you staring at the black tresses of his head and the broad shoulders with a pink string hanging over the back of his neck before you actually take a step towards the stairs. once you’ve showered and dressed in your pajamas - you prefer those than the lingerie jeongguk has only ever seen you in - it takes another moment for you to stare at the golden strings layered with button mushrooms, beef slices and prawns and a fried egg over them.

“okay,” you shake your head, as if to shake away the trance that seems to come over you - jeongguk’s already looking at you with a curve on his lips, “what is this?”

“friend noodles,” he says simply.

“no,” another round of head-shaking passes, “i mean, what are you doing? i literally insulted you and called you a bum and a gold digger.”

he takes a minute to mull over the matter, bottom lip jutting out as if to say, “yeah, i kinda am.”

“you must also not realize that i only talk to you when we’re in public or when we’re having sex,” you point out, fork gripped tightly in your hand to which he gives a glance at before reaching to pull it out of your grasp and setting it on the napkin next to your plate.

“love making,” he reiterates but before you can even get a word out, he holds up a hand and tilts his head in a ‘wait’ kind of manner, “and a relationship is 50-50, you work and i cook and clean.”

your eyes narrow at him for the longest moment before you pick up the fork again, this time dipping it into the strands of gold and twirling it before directing it to yout mouth. an appreciative moan leaves you as the spice and sweetness spread over you like a whole new experience.

“good right?” jeongguk mimics your action, digging in and smiling proudly with the first bite.

it’s only when you’re done and loaded the dirty dishes into the washer, as you watch him take off the apron with his back on you whilst you lean against the edge of the counter, do you finally ask, “who’s chaeyoung?”

the way he freezes up with hands middair, in the middle of hanging the strap over the hook - isn’t the least bit surprising.

“wh-who?” the hesitant way he looks at you and then to his feet and then to the sink with a hand rubbing the back of his neck - is familiar. welcomed even but you don’t show.

“you tell me,” you shrug, “must’ve been someone important - someone who you’re used to having wake you up.” you let the silence hang in the air for several heartbeats, watching as his adam’s apple bob whilst his wide-eyed gaze shifts from the sink to the block of knives to the stool before they rest on you.

“maybe a girlfriend you left behind in exchange for money - the money i offered you,” and with that, you watch as his gaze shakes and his pink move but no words come out.

it’s only a long moment later, that he finally manages to find them, “i... i haven’t seen chaeyoung ever since we got married.”

“well, congratulations!” you bring your hands together in a crisp applause, lips curving into one of your schooled smiles, “soyeon contacted her and guess what she said? she said you told her you were going to the city to find a job and didn’t want her to wait on you which was why you broke up but poor little chaeyoung is still waiting for you on the country side - you can go see her and your parents.”

and with that, you turn your back on him for the first time since you left him to an empty suite and a cold bed. 

“why are you so...” but just as thought you could walk out of this like a winner, jeon jeongguk somehow manages to pull you several steps back with just words and eyes that bears more emotions than you can handle, “mean?”

“you’re always smiling and laughing with your secretary like you’re best friends, you always look sad when you talk about your grandfather and you always kiss your parents on the cheek every time you meet them... why-” he stops short when he meets your gaze - you’re not sure what he sees that makes him look like he’s been punched in the face with a wild ball. 

“i’ve always been mean,” you feel your eyebrows rising before you blink once, “you just had your head in the clouds, dreaming about how you can make a girl with a rotten attitude change and maybe fall in love with you along the way - well guess what? i’m not her,” and just like that night in athens, something in the way he stands, stiff like a rock and eyes darkened with a sort of desire, your eyes travel down to his pants where a painfully obvious erection protrudes against the fabric of his pants, “...and you like it.”

“no, i - this - it’s...” he fumbles on his words as he clasps his hands over his crotch, but the way his eyes seem to find solace at the sight of your cleavage screams desperation and agony.

“___... you don’t have- fuck,” the first moan falls out of his mouth when yours wrap around him. 

“only because i can’t have a proper conversation when all you’re concerned about is how to take my blouse off from all the way across the room,” you say after a delicious ‘pop!’ when your cheeks hollow out just before you pull away.

it takes only a few more pumps before he’s begging you to “wait- please - i want you.”

it’s the ‘please’ that gets you.

“fine but don’t come inside,” you relent, hands fiddling with the zipper of your skirt before jeongguk’s polite ‘let me’ as he bends you over the counter, chilly air kissing your skin as a tear echo against the wall and you wonder if you’re free in the weekend to go shopping for-

“oh my god,” the moan slips out of your mouth in a pleasured surprise - you didn’t expect him to get your pantyhose, panties and skirt out of the way that fast.

thought with the barely noticeable discomfort of your panties digging into your hips, you figure he opted for keeping them pushed to the side instead of getting rid of them completely.

they do come off anyway, left in the trail of clothes strewn along the way to the stairs where jeongguk decides to have you bend over because “it’s a perfect place for a doggy,” and you concur as you moan and whine while he fucks you like he owns you. hand keeping your hair in a lock whilst he holds your upper body up whenever you’re about to lose yourself and bury your face in the steps. 

but you do manage to get to the bedroom, just not the bed. you made a mess on the carpet - it’s going to stain an ugly shade of sex and lust but soyeon will probably not even bat an eye once you ask her to schedule an appointment with an interior designer. might as well give your room a make over.

so it goes, jeongguk likes to call your eye rolls and offers to lend him a driver to drive him to his hometown to meet the love of his life - cute. alternatively, jealousy. which you simply roll your eyes at, again.

at times, he comes over to your office - mainly to take you out for lunch but ends up fucking you over your mahogany table. and later in the car on the side of the road where an officer came knocking on the fully tinted window - you had at least 60 seconds to button up your shirts and pull down your skirt while jeongguk zips up his pants with a whine before you roll your window down.

how the rest goes, you rather not say.

but you’ve sworn against car sex - at least in daylight and in an open space.

so when you end up walking past a mirror in your room, just as you’ve donned an off white blouse and a grey pencil skirt, you find yourself freezing in shock. hands coming to cup your stomach, you squint at the woman who’s squiting back at your belly.

“honey, breakfast is ready,” jeongguk pokes his head into the room, the infamous pink apron tied around his front and a pair of light orang oven mitts on his hands.

“do you think I gained weight?” you quiz, knowing full well that he’ll spout a heartwarming but blatant lie about-

“no, i think you’re a healthy weight,” a man that looks like him comes to hug the woman in the mirror, kissing her head before glancing at his reflection once and turning back to it, squinting his eyes at the part where your hands are.

“uh,” he hesitantly starts, “how much chipotle did you have last night?”

“not enough that’s for sure,” you turn to him with an incredulous look, “i went to bed hungry,” a light smack lands on his chest - to which he doesn’t even bat an eye, “cause you keep stealing my food!”

“maybe we should book an appointment,” he suggests, voice smooth but the glint in his eyes and the suppressed smile on his face gives away his exitement.

“no, i can’t be pregnant,” you shake your head, walking over to the vanity to pick up your purse and keys, “it’s not the right time.”

“but what if you are?” you hear the hurt in jeongguk’s voice but your interest overrides your emotiones.

“i just can’t be,” and with that, you place a kiss on his lips, “i’m sorry, baby.”

and with that, you left for the kitchen when jeongguk still tried to reason with you. he tried again for the next few days until you set your food down and told him a baby is never going to be in the picture.

but two months down, you barely fit your clothes and jeongguk has been kissing you good morning before bending down and pressing his ear to your belly, “and good morning to you, my little blueberry.”

and he’s been kissing you good night before pecking your stomach and wishing the life form growing inside you a ‘come out fast so mommy and daddy can meet you, okay?’

“good news and bad news,” soyeon said exactly one month ago after you’d fainted in a middle of a meeting and woke up in a hospital room, “you can’t be pregnant but you are and you’re gonna need an heir soon anyway so...”

“it’s bigger than a blueberry now,” you point out  - jeongguk’s been calling your child a blueberry ever since he rushed to the hospital after getting a call that his wife fainted and once he was there, got flashed with a sonogram the size of- “the doctor said it’s as big as a blueberry, not chipotle,” you’d been indifferent, mainly because a child wasn’t in your plan and you’d been taking birth control since way before you got married.

but jeongguk had been overjoyed. taking care of you everywhere you go, he didn’t even let you drive and instead searched up for drivers with a long list of the lowest rates of accidents in their records. he gets into the shower with you because he “can’t wait to have a family shower together” and packages of baby clothes have been pouring in with matching shirts and ‘mom’, ‘dad’ and ‘baby’ printed on each one and he shows them to you after you got back from work.

his love for your child had made you fall in love with being a mother. with having a family of your own - the two notions you never thought you could wrap your head around as you made your vows to each other two years ago. 

and it’s somewhere down the line, as you watch jeongguk rock your baby in his arm as she sleeps soundly amidst the beeping of the heart monitor, jeongguk’s voice like a lullaby as he murmurs ‘you’re so beautiful, you have mommy nose, and my lips, thank you for being born,’ and when he twirls around, probably feeling the heat of someone’s stare from all the way on the bed, he looks at you with that lost, wide-eyed wonder before his lips curl into a smile, eyes disappearing into crescents.

-it’s then, do you realize that jeongguk has become the person you smile and laugh with, the person you greet with a kiss and the person your heart beats for.

he’s your husband, lover, soulmate.

x

note. i have another preview with the same title and characters but from a historical era which i haven’t managed to finish but if you see a marquis!jk and x heir!reader then yk hehe. also if you like arranged marriage au’s do check my masterlist! i have a lot of them apparently (i just realized while writing this fic lol)

i’ve been super stressed and feel like i haven’t actually been doing anything i really like in the weekend so i sat down and decided to finish this draft idea once and for all! 

first off, oc is a douche bag who cares about herself a lot but it’s written in her pov which i hope portrays a justification (which isn’t necessarily okay) to the things she do. but in other people’s story, she’s that woman who stole a person’s man, or she’s that hard ass boss that nobody really likes but pays good, or that graunddaughter that seems to think about her grandfather’s money only. but no one is easily good or bad, it’s more than that just like oc. and i hope to send at least that message through this story. not one can be just ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

in my opinion, there’s no development in her character bc of the word count and the fact that i didn’t plan for it to be long enough to include a development. i just wanted to write about an asshole who has feelings and can be nice to certain people. she’s probably still an asshole but her feelings for jeongguk changed and so is her treatment towards him (as per foreshadowed) and he became one of the people she loves - and i say probably because we’ll probably never know for sure and it’s also not up to my interpretation alone. you, the readers, may think she has or may think she hasn’t - either way, this is just a story about someone who you might know, maybe someone who you’d dupe as selfish. either way, i hope yall enjoyed it!

[fandomlit]

hotch’s daughter (various!criminal minds x reader)

requested by anon “Hi lovey I loved your thing w/ the team and Rossi’s daughter and was wondering if you could do something like that but w/ Hotch’s daughter and they all try to flirt w/ her (girls included)? Thanks if you do”

summary hotch finally brings his oldest child in to meet the team, which starts a small rivalry for your affections throughout the day. but little did they know...

a/n for sure one of the longer things i’ve written but i promise, the end is worth it ;))

gif cred belongs to @toyboxboy​

rossi had been getting his ear talked off by spencer at the doctor’s desk when you walked in. he had been looking for an escape the last fifteen minutes without being too rude to the kid. then, he looked up and found the easy way out.

“hey, mrs. y/n,” he said, leaning away from the doctor to give you a smile. when the rest of the team looked up, they were met with the gorgeous sight of you balancing jack on your hip, your smile graceful and polite and stunning. 

“hello, rossi,” you greeted as he walked up to give you a kiss on the cheek. “any chance you can guide me to my dad?”

“of course,” rossi nodded, and you hooked your free arm with his as he started leading you up to hotch’s office while engaging in some small conversation.

“that’s hotch’s daughter?” emily said in partial shock, eyebrows raised.

“i didn’t know hotch had a daughter,” derek scoffed, eyes never leaving you.

they all watched you and rossi walk to your father’s office. you entered without knocking, giving your father a smile as rossi walked to his own office. “she’s incredibly beautiful,” spencer commented.

“that’s an understatement,” derek contributed.

“no doubt,” jj added. emily was still staring at the door with her mouth agape. jj looked over and scanned her friend’s expression. “you okay, emily?”

“i didn’t have enough time to profile her,” emily hummed to herself. “if i had a little more, i’d know if she was gay.” jj chuckled.

“well, let me know if you find out.”

after about thirty minutes of trying to get work done, the team all perked up when hotch’s door opened. he was chuckling at something you were saying, him now holding jack in his arms.

“team, this is my daughter, y/n,” hotch introduced finally. “and you all know jack.” you gave them a wave and a smile. “y/n, this is derek,” the man gave you a charming smirk, “jj,” the blonde smiled politely, “emily,” the girl wasn’t even attempting to hide her checking you out anymore, “and spencer,” the doctor gave you a shy wave.

“it’s lovely to meet you all,” you nodded. “good to know my father’s in good hands.” they chuckled as you gave them another smile. hotch’s phone rang and he sighed, giving you and them a nod before taking off down the hall with jack to a more private place.

“so, y/n,” you looked up to see jj had spoken, “why haven’t we met you yet?”

you gave them all a smile and leaned against an empty desk. “i moved out the second i turned eighteen and went to med school in california.” they gave you impressed looks. “yeah, full ride.” you gave them a wink that they couldn’t help but melt at. “but uh, after that i took an internship in san diego and didn’t move back until a month or two ago when i heard about the divorce.” they nodded with sympathy, but you simply shrugged in response.

“do you have a job up here yet?” derek asked politely.

you nodded. “oh, yeah. im a local m.a., not too far from where my dad lives. i figured it would be nice to be a part of my little brother’s life, you know?” they all nodded.

“how are you liking quantico?” emily asked, still giving you that flirtatious look that made you blush and smile shyly.

“it’s a beautiful town,” you nodded. “admittedly, i haven’t gotten to see too much of it yet, what with work and jack. but there’s plenty of time for that.”

“i’d love to show you around some time, if you’d like,” emily smiled. you blushed again, but before you could answer, hotch came back.

“all introduced?” he asked with a sigh. they all nodded. “great. get back to work.” he lead you back up to his office, where you gave emily a quick glance before shutting the door. the girl was biting her lip with a smile. she looked around to see the team all giving her incredulous looks.

“what? she’s cute.”

later that day, derek found you making two cups of coffee in the break room.

“someone’s got a sweet tooth,” he said, watching you pour a third packet of sugar in one of the mugs.

you giggled, looking up with a smile that he easily returned. “and that someone’s my dad.” he chuckled as you stirred the steaming liquid.

“so what was it like, growing up with aaron hotchner as your dad?” he asked, getting out a mug to make himself a cup. 

you shrugged, moving to pour some coffee in his cup without saying a word. he gave you a smile as thanks as you said, “he’s a good dad. little strict with all my high school boyfriends, of course, but otherwise he was comforting and very loving.”

“bet you had a lot of boyfriends in high school,” derek chuckled, taking a sip from his mug.

you gave him a smile. “bet you had a lot of girlfriends, derek.” something about the way you said his name made him feel cocky.

he shrugged. “what can i say?” you laughed with him before going to take your father his coffee.

“emily, right?” prentiss turned around to see you standing behind her desk with a small smile. she gave you a grin and nodded.

“prentiss.”

“emily prentiss,” you tried, walking closer to her. “i like it.”

she gave you a smile, leaning back in her chair as you perched on her desk. “has anyone told you you have very pretty eyes?” she inquired. you flushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ears. “i’ll be the first to admit, im a little curious of you, y/n.” you tilted your head. “i just think there’s a lot i could get to know about you.”

“well,” you drawled, “you are a profiler.” she let out a small laugh. “profile me, emily.”

she looked you over with a smile. “you wear a ring on your right ring finger. at passing glance, someone may think ‘sure, she’s taken’ but in reality, it’s common in people who are dedicated to their jobs.” you looked down at the small silver band as she continued, “and speaking of your job, i get the sense that you went into the medical profession because of your dad, right?”

“yeah,” you confirmed, still smiling gently. “got sick and tired of seeing him all beat up.”

“so when you felt powerless over that as a child, you wanted to make sure you weren’t powerless when you were an adult,” she concluded. she gave you a look. “good enough?”

“perfect,” you complimented. she was about to propose that date again when your father called you over.

“y/n, can you come watch jack?”

“yeah,” you said, standing from emily’s desk and smoothing out your skirt. “i’ll talk to you later, emily.”

she watched you walk away with a confident smile.

you had been sitting in hotch’s office with the door cracked, holding jack as he slept in your arms. you had a book in one hand and your other supporting your sleeping brother whehn jj had peeked in to give hotch some paperwork. with your father nowhere in sight, she was greeted by that pure sight instead.

“you know,” jj started, walking into the room and grabbing your attention, “they say there’s something to be said about women who are good with children.”

“do they?” you hummed as she placed a stack of papers onto hotch’s desk. she gave you a smile and a nod. “then im sure there’s something to be said about women who are communication liaisons, no?”

“im sure there is,” she hummed as she walked out of the room, leaving you with a smile as you returned to your book.

“i think im gonna ask her out,” derek nodded, sitting on the edge of jj’s desk near the end of the day.

“like hell,” emily scoffed, sauntering over with her arms crossed. “remember when i already did this morning?”

“and did she give you an answer?” derek shot back. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

“maybe we shouldn’t be trying to go for our boss’s daughter at all,” jj proposed. they all considered as penelope came walking up, a file in her hands.

“who? y/n?” the computer tech questioned. they all confirmed. penelope shrugged, “well, it’s too late for that.” they all gave her a questioning look. she simply pointed toward hotch’s office. they all followed her finger.

they watched reid walk up and give you a quick kiss and smile. their jaws dropped as he slid an arm around your waist and you lifted your purse onto your shoulder. you both started down toward the doors, where you would have to pass the team in the process.

“thanks for the warm welcome today, guys,” you said, giving them all smiles. spencer smirked unbearably at your side, absorbing the glares and shocked looks of his coworkers and friends. “i really appreciate it.”

they all nodded and muttered. spencer stopped right after you had walked past them. “oh, here, i forgot something.” he handed you the keys to the car. “you go start the car, i’ll be out in a second.” you nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

spencer turned around and quickly went to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out a small jewelry box, which they saw was fit for a nice necklace. as he walked past the team he said, “night, guys.” they were no longer looking at him. just as he passed them, he turned again, “oh, and one last thing.” they looked up to meet his smirk. “checkmate.”

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Chapter warnings: 18+ mentions of death, mentions of sex, cursing, Lee being an ass, angst, meninist behaviors

Chapter summary: You move back home after three years to find your heart still in shambles.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

3 Years Later

After moving a whole county away, Highland Ohio to be exact, you stayed for quite some time. Your aunt was amazing and the sweetest woman you’d ever known, and living with her was a breeze. She’d even gotten you a job at the auto shop her recently deceased husband left to her, which you loved. Life was good, for a while. You never had a reason to come home until your momma got sick.

For the past year you watched as your momma slowly faded away until the last week of April when she finally passed in her sleep. You were devastated, of course, but not only because of her death. She didn’t have much to her name besides a couple thousand in the bank and the house you’d left so long ago, which she left all to you.

The house was old. White paneling a faint tint of brown, grey shutters that were almost all off their hinges and rust anywhere you looked. It was a fixer upper and there’s no way you could sell it in its current condition. So, you decided to move back to Knockemstiff, just for the time being.

In all honesty, you’d grown to hate that town. Nothing but bad memories and any good memories you’d had were tarnished completely. So, once the house was decent enough to sell, you were out of there and back to the life you’d created in Highland.

Your aunt and you drove together in her pick up truck back to the house after your momma passed. She helped you unload your stuff and take things to the necessary rooms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can make my famous pancakes. I know you love’em.” She grinned.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m fine. Please, I insist you go now before it gets dark.” You pull your aunt into a hug, a tight hug.

“I’m gonna miss havin’ you around, kiddo.” She sighed, her breath fanning over your neck.

“It’s only for a few months. I’ll be back to annoying you in no time, oldie.”

“Hey, I’m not old.” She laughed and pointed her finger at you sternly but still in a lighthearted way.

“And I’m not a kid.”

She laughed a little more then sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll head out. Call me if you need anything and don’t forget to go down to Billy’s tomorrow. He’s excited to bring you in.”

You smiled, “How could I forget? I need some sort of income to fix this craphole up.”

You walked your aunt to her car and waved her goodbye as she drove way. Your eyes welled up but you made sure not to cry in front of her or she’d never leave.

Once you went back in, you immediately got to work. Starting in the kitchen, you didn’t have much but a few coffee cups. The house was still occupied with your momma’s things and you were already dreading having to go through it all.

Things started to come together room by room as you worked most of the day away. You cleaned and rearranged things to your liking now that it was your house. It felt almost empowering to do what you want. You’d never lived alone so, in a way, this was an adventure as well.

You took your old room instead of the master, since that’s where your momma passed. It gave you goosebumps just thinking about and you knew you’d never get any sleep if you stayed in there. Your room wasn’t big but it was good enough for now and much better than sleeping in your momma’s death bed, hard pass.

You’d taken a seat on the couch with some tea you’d brewed up earlier that morning. This was the first time you sat down since arriving, and of course there’s a knock at the door.

“Whatever you’re selling, I promise you, I ain’t interested.” You shout, too exhausted to even attempt getting up.

The knocking continued, “Oh, for fucks sake.” You groaned under your breath and stood on your aching feet to tell them to fuck off in person. You opened the door, “did you not hear me the first time. I said-“

“Hi, Y/n” Lee greeted as he removed his hat.

You scoffed, “Can I help you with somethin’, Sheriff?”

Lee stood there, fiddling with the bill of his hat. His belly had gotten a little bigger and his cheeks had gotten a little chubbier, but you couldn’t help the hitch in your throat when his wedding ring caught your eye. Just a basic silver band, nothing special. But it still left a hollow pit in your stomach.

“I-“ he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I heard you was back in town. Thought I’d come see for ma self if the rumors were true.”

“Welp, here I am. You can go now.”

“Y/n, I-“

“No, Lee, please. I’ve had a long day and I honestly don’t feel like talking to you right now. No, I take that back. I don’t feel like talking to you at all.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think, doll.” He grins.

“Goodbye, Sheriff.” You shut the door only to hear him holler at you from the other side.

“Still can’t say my name, huh, Doll? Boy, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” Your heart sank at his words. It seemed your pain was a joke to him this whole time. You’d always pictured him crying alone like you were but clearly that was never the case. Y’all’s relationship didn’t seem one sided until you were the only one hurt by the fall out.

“Welcome home, Y/n.” He said before you heard his boots click against the porch as he left.

You took a deep breath as you backed away from the door. Tears rimmed your eyes and you scoffed aloud to yourself. After three years you still weren’t over him and you knew that. You didn’t know, however, that he’d still have such a hold on you. And by the way he reacted to how sensitive you were towards the situation still didn’t help the ever growing void that ran through your entire loveless body. The only man you ever loved looked at you as if you were a quick fuck and a punchline.

A tear burned against your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. You swore to yourself that you’d never cry over that man again and you won’t, instead you decided it was time for a much needed bath.

The bath was scolding hot, just how you liked it, and you opened up a bottle of wine as a sort of reward for the work you’d done today. Once the water got cold and the wine ran out, you brushed your hand and teeth and went to bed.

//

The sun beamed down against your skin as you walked to the local auto shop where your aunt had set you up with another job. You were always good with numbers and they desperately needed someone on the books. Your job would be to look at their spending over the last few months and figure out some sort of budget. You did that for your aunt at her shop, so this didn’t worry you at all.

“Hi, you must be Billy.” You greet the owner, “I’m

y/n, Peggy’s niece.”

“Oh, yes. I’m glad you finally made it down.” He beamed, shaking your hand, “How long will you be here for?”

“I’m not sure, actually. Just until I get my house fixed up enough to sell.” You say, retracting your hand from his sweaty one.

“Ah, well as luck would have it, our secretary just quit on us last week, so there’s a position you’ll adjust to right fine.”

You scoffed, “Wait a minute. Did you say secretary?”

“Yeah. You need to get your hearing checked, Honey?” He grinned. What is it with the men in this town?!

“No, I heard you just fine. My problem is that I was supposed to be your Budget Holder, not a damn secretary.” Your face was turning a touch of pink as you became increasingly annoyed.

“That’s a man's job, sweetie. We don’t you blown a fuse tryin’ ta add up all them numbers, now do we?”

“You can’t be serious.” You say flatly.

“Look, it’s the only position we got. Take it or leave it.”

Everything in you wanted to March out of that shop and never go back again. A secretary's position is nothing to frown upon, but to only be offered it because you’re a woman was despicable. Sadly, you needed this job and it would only be for a few months. So, when you told him you’d take the job you swallowed every ounce of respect you had for yourself. Knockemstiff was truly the worst town in America.

“Sounds great. We’ll see you tomorrow for training. There’s no dress code but there are a few things you’ll need to know before starting. I’ll fill you in once we start your training tomorrow.” He shook your hand again, completely ignoring the furious grimace on your face.

“Great. See you tomorrow.” You mumbled, walking away so you didn’t ‘accidentally’ hit your new boss.

//

Before heading home you decided to stop and grab some things for the house. Being sick, your momma didn’t eat much besides soup, and there was an over abundance of vanilla flavored Ovaltine cans littering the kitchen counters, which you hated.

The second the doors opened, all eyes were on you. You even heard a faint gasp coming from the woman at the register. A smirk crept upon your face. These people's lives were so boring that they still aren’t over your breakup that happened so long ago. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a cart and headed down the produce aisle.

Once you grabbed the vegetables you’d need for a stew, you headed towards the baking aisle. You need the ingredients for an upside down pineapple cake your momma used to make for you as a kid. Your aunt was coming into town on Saturday to lend a hand and celebrate her birthday. You told her to go have fun, but she insisted on spending her special day with you.

As you searched for the baking soda, you heard your name.

“Did you see Y/n’s back in town?” A lady with a high pitched voice whispered.

“I did. I just saw her. Poor thing. She’s probably still caught up on the sheriff. Prolly wish it was her that was on his arm instead of Laura-Jean.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know it. Wouldn’t you, though? He’s so handsome.” The lady with the high patched voice giggled.

“Oh, hush! Don’t say things like that.” The other lady joined the high pitched one in whispered giggles. “Oh my goodness, here he comes.” She cleared her throat, “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

“Evenin’,Ladies. Y’all behavin’ yourselves?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

They both giggled and in unison said, “Yes, Sheriff.”

“Oh give me a break.” You grimaced to yourself.

“Heard Y/n’s back in town.” The high pitched one spoke up. Your face burned. Why would they bring you up to him so bluntly like that? Everyone in this town was so unbelievably nosy.

“I- I heard. Actually just went to see her yesterday.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Uh-oh, the misses didn’t like that, I’m sure.” They giggled.

“Oh, no. She didn’t mind. I was just droppin’ by to give her my condolences about her momma dyin’. Then, she slammed the door in my face. I guess she’s still pretty upset with me.” He was pouting, trying to get some sort of sympathy. If you rolled your eyes any harder you thought they’d pop out of your head.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is there anything we can-“

Suddenly the baking soda slipped from your hand and scattered all other the floor in a puff of dust. “Shit, shit, shit.” You whispered to yourself.

“What was that?” One of the ladies asked.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Lee said. You could hear his boots clacking against the floor on there way over to you.

Shit.

You desperately wanted to run away but leaving this mess for someone to clean up wasn’t right, not even with the predicament you found yourself in. “Well, well, well,” Lee mocked as he rounded the corner. “Only here for less than a day and you’re already causin’ trouble.”

“Stay out of this, Bodecker.” You huff, trying to scoop the baking soda back into the card box it spilled from.

“Was you eavesdroppin’, girl?” He asked, kicking the soul of your shoe.

You scoffed, “Oh, please. I could give two shits what you say about me, Bodecker.”

He leaned in close, hovering over your left side. You heard him chuckle which startled you. He was so close. You could feel the familiar heat radiating from his body and smell that familiar cologne. His lips came down close to your ear. He licked them and then whispered, “If ya weren’t eavesdroppin’, how’d ya know I was talkin’ bout you, hm?”

Your eyes shuttered closed as he spoke, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. His deep southern drawl always made you weak. It took you back to those times in the back of the cruiser. He whispered such dirty praises in your ear when you would ride his cock. Those dirty words that could make you cum in seconds.

“You still with me, doll?” You felt him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You flitched and stood up, “I- don’t touch me and stop calling me doll, alright? I really don’t have time for your games today, sheriff, and I’m not even really sure what you’re playin’ at in the first place.”

He smirked, running a thumb across his lip, “Darlin, I think the only thing I ever played was you..”

“I-“ your breath hitched in the back of your throat, “I have to go.” You turned to walk away, leaving the mess you’d made and your cart behind. Your eyes welled up with tears again. You didn’t know the man that stood in front of you. Lee was nothing but good to you when you dated and now he’s the most hateful man you’d ever met. The man you loved had disappeared and there’s nothing you could do to bring him back, no matter how bad you wanted to. A tear stained your cheek as you sped through the aisle. You could hear Lee hollering for you to stop but you wouldn’t this time.

All the heartbreak and sorrow that you’d left behind was creeping its way back in. The sooner you sold the house and got the hell out of there, the better.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime , @lady-loki-ren , @dime-piece-xo , @greeneyedblondie44

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[thatslikely]

Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.

Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]

Warnings: only occasional mild language

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s​

if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!

If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).

----

It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.

“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.

“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.

“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”

Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.

A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.

“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.

“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.

“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.

“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.

“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.

“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.

“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.

“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.

The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.

“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.

“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.

They bought it.

Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?

This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.

Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.

“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”

He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”

----

“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”

“Here!”

“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”

“Present.”

“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.

“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”

“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.

“No problem, whatsoever!”

----

A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.

“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.

“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.

“How do you feel?”

“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.

“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.

“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”

“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.  

“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”

George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.

“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.

“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”

Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.

“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”

Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”

----

“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.

“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”

“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”

“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.

“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.

“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”

“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.

“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”

“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.

“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.

“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.

“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”

----

Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.

After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.

You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”

Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.

----

The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.

“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.

“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.

“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.

“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”

“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”

“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.

“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.

“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.

“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”

“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.

She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.

“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”

The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.

The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.

“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”

“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.

“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.

“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.

“Call me sir, goddammit!”

“Yes sir!”

----

“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.  

A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”

George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”

“Impossible. You’re doing great.”  

The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”  

“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”

Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”

“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.

“Talk.”

“You!”

“Talk.”

“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.

“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.

He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”

Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.

“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.

“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.

“Where’s your brain?”

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Where’s your brain?”

“I asked you first!”

“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.

“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.

“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”

“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.

“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”

“No… I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.

“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”

“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”

“You serious?”

Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.

“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”

----

Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.

“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.

“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”

“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.

“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”

“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.

“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.

“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.

“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”

“It’s not a piece of scrap.”

Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.

“He knows the mileage, Fred.”

“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.

“How?”

“We’ll drive home backwards.”

“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.

“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.

With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.

----

“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”

The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.

You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.

“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.

“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.

The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.

A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.

“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.

“I guess that’s my dad.”

You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”

A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.

Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.

“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.

“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.

“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.

Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”

“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.

“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”

“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.

If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.

And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of my League [Part 5]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.1k

Summary: A night out with the team leaves you and Spencer with so much unsaid, despite how much he spills to you while you’re drunk and half asleep. 

Warning(s): Mentions of past addiction, alcohol consumption, some swear words, mentions of past bullying, EXTREME PINING

Author’s Note: I told yall this chapter wouldn’t take 10 years. just like... a week and a half. I promise I’ll do better lmao also enjoy the fluff cuz uh,, yall are gonna hate me next chapter oops

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Washington D.C., 2009

(Reader POV)

Rossi’s dinner party would not be the last time Spencer had to drive your drunk ass home. It happened two or three in the two years since that night. Dave meant it when he said you were one of them. Whenever they went out for drinks after a case, you would get a text from one of the girls asking if you wanted to come. Your mom living a few blocks away from you was helpful because you just needed to drop Jamie off and head over to O’Keefe’s. You very rarely went overboard because you normally had to drive home, but tonight was not one of those nights.

The team had just gotten back from a local case in Bethesda, so Emily offered to pick you up on her way back. Hotch gave them all the rest of the night off after they made the arrest, but Spencer, always the workaholic, still wanted to finish up his paperwork before going out. 

Your mom came to get Jamie and take him back to her house, so you were free to get all dressed up for a night on the town with your friends. You didn’t want to look too formal since most of them were still going to be in their work clothes, so you got out a cute green button-down blouse and tucked it into some high-waisted jeans. You put on your favorite locket and let your hair down. You went with a light makeup look, just brows, cheeks, and lashes. You were all set by the time Emily pulled up in front of your place. You strapped up your wedges and grabbed your purse, heading out the door, excited to see everyone after they’d been so busy.

“Hey! You look nice!”

“And you’re not so bad for fresh off a crime scene.”

“Should’ve seen me catch the guy, I looked amazing.”

“I’m sure you did, Em.”

Emily told you about the case, or rather just the ending. You only liked to hear her stories when they had happy endings. This one was pleasant enough, but you had a feeling that she was leaving some details out since it was apparently so bad that even Spencer would be tagging along for drinks.

When you got to the bar, Derek and Penelope were already sitting at a booth in the back with Aaron and Dave. Penelope hopped up from her seat to give you a hug as soon as you approached the table. 

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan smiled over his beer.

“Reid’s not driving tonight?” Aaron asked.

“He texted me, he’s on his way, he wanted to finish his paperwork back at the precinct.” 

“So what I’m hearing is you finally have time to tell us stories about Reid in high school,” Dave said with a smirk.

“No, come on, he’ll kill me,” you settled into the booth.

Emily snorted, “I’d be surprised if he even found it in him to be mad at you.”

“Oh, it’s happened before.” Your face scrunched up at the memory of what happened that day on the football field.

“Really?” Penelope seemed shocked.

“Yeah I’d… Rather not talk about it.” You didn’t know if Spencer had told the team about the Alexa Lisbon incident, so you didn’t want to talk about how he had been so angry with you for babying him. 

“Oh, come on, the kid was in love with you,” Derek prodded, “What’d you do?”

You elected to ignore his comment, “No, it was just stupid.” You could still talk about Kyle, though. The team knew the story of how you’d met Spencer, they just didn’t know about how upset he was when he found out you got back together with Kyle just a few months after you dumped him.

“We love hearing about the stupid things you did!” Garcia squealed.

You stared at the table and fiddled with a napkin to avoid eye contact as you said, “I dated one of his bullies.”

Dave was the first to break the silence, “But Reid said you broke up with him when you found out.”

You bit your lip and hesitated before owning up to it, “Did he tell you that Kyle is Jamie’s dad?”

Emily gasped, “No way!”

“We barely spoke outside of tutoring after that between him being scared of Kyle and basketball season. We were both busy with our teams.”

“Reid played basketball?” Aaron asked, amused.

“He was the coach.” You managed to crack a slight smile, “Budget cuts. But, hey, it was for the best, that was our best season in years.”

“Hard to believe he could focus on strategy with you cheering from the sidelines.” Derek wiggled his eyebrows and took another sip of his beer.

You were quick to change the subject, “So is JJ coming?”

Emily shook her head, “She went home after the case cuz she missed Henry.”

“Oh that boy is the sweetest little thing, I miss when Jamie was that little.”

Aaron sipped his whiskey, “How old is he again?”

“Ten. I’m old, don’t remind me, it’s fucking me up.”

“Ah! Language, bella.”

“Sorry Dave. But speaking of getting effed up, I’ll go get the next round.” You stood and took everyone’s drink orders: Dave and Aaron were sharing an expensive bottle that Dave had already paid for, Emily wanted a martini, Derek just asked for another beer, while Penelope ordered the most elaborate cocktail on the menu, but luckily it was her usual, so you had it pretty much memorized by now. 

You strolled up to the bar and gave the bartender the order, which he got right on. He started with giving you Derek’s beer, then Em’s martini, then your rum and coke, before getting to work on Penelope’s ridiculously fruity drink. An older man stalked into your field of view with a beer in his hand, grinning dumbly. 

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You snorted, “Has that line ever worked?”

“Truth be told, I’ve never used it.”

“Well you don’t have a great success rate right now, bud.” You looked over the man’s shoulder and made eye contact with Penelope, who turned to Derek and gave him a heads up.

“Well let me buy you a drink, maybe it’ll work better the second time around.”

“Oh, no, thank y—”

“No, come on, what’s one drink?”

You grabbed the tray with everyone’s drinks and started to pass him, “I should really get back to my friends.”

“Hey, I won’t keep you long,” He caught you by the arm and the last thing you saw before he turned you to face him again was Penelope leaping up from her seat to let Derek through, “what are you drinking?”

“Babygirl, how long does a beer take?” Derek stepped up behind you and placed a delicate hand on the small of your back, “This guy bothering you, doll?”

The man dropped his hand from your arm, “We were just talking.”

“Really? ‘Cuz to me it seems like you were trying to put the moves on my girl.”

“Babe, it’s fine,” you caught on quickly, placing a hand on Derek’s chest to keep up the ruse of holding him back, “I’m just waiting for Pen’s drink.”

“Get the hell out of here, man.” Derek glares and the other man leaves reluctantly. “You okay?”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem, sweetheart.” He withdrew his hand from the small of your back, “Wouldn’t want Pretty Boy to get jealous.”

You felt your face heat up as your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you can’t seriously tell me you don’t see it.”

You played dumb, “See what?”

He sips his beer, “You don’t need to be a profiler to see the way he looks at you, Y/N.”

“Oh, god, first my mother, now you too?”

“I’m serious, I’ve only seen him like this one other time.”

“When?”

“On a case a few years ago. There was this actress we were helping out, Lila Archer.”

“Lila Archer? The Lila Archer?”

“Yeah, she had a little crush on Reid for a bit. They made out once.”

“They what?”

He laughed, “What’re ya jealous?”

“No!” Maybe? “It just seems so unprofessional, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a guy who would--”

“Hook up with a movie star? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. It didn’t work out with them, obviously, he said she only felt that way about him because he saved her life.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Ever thought about how you protecting him his whole life may have had a similar effect?”

“Showing him basic human decency didn’t make him fall in love with me, Derek.”

“No, but saving his life did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that’s more of a question for Pretty Boy himself.” Derek nodded his chin over your shoulder. You followed his gaze and saw Spencer coming up behind you, grinning as he neared the bar.

“Hey.”

“Hey, haircut! Lookin’ good!” Your fingers laced through his shaggy locks and messed up his new boy band-esque style.

 A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he fixed his hair, “T-Thanks.”

“When you lovebirds feel like talking to the rest of us, I’ll be at the table with the rest of the team.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the lanky boy next to you, “Lemme buy you a drink, Spence.” 

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving. And also did you know--”

“You can just say you don’t want it.”

“No, I do. That’s the problem.”

Your face contorted with confusion until it suddenly clicked, “Oh… Has that ever been a problem for you before?”

“Not anymore, and not alcohol, but yeah.”

“Wait, Spence, why didn’t you tell me? I-I’m not mad, it’s your choice, obviously, but I could have helped.”

“You did.”

“I did?”

“Remember that one time I was too sick to talk on our Saturday call?”

“Yeah?”

“I had just gotten back from a case in New Orleans. Remember Ethan from school?”

You nodded, holding onto every word.

“He’s in a jazz band down there now. He talked me into getting help. When you called, I was at the lowest point of withdrawals, shaking so hard I couldn’t sleep, and completely alone. I almost didn’t pick up, but I knew you wouldn’t accept that,” he laughed nervously, “and when I heard your voice…”

He trailed off, finally meeting your eyes.

“When I said I wasn’t feeling well, you said ‘I’m putting Jamie down for the night, wanna hear his bedtime story?’”

You both found yourselves smiling slightly at the memory. 

“Not once, during any book I’ve read, had I fallen asleep so easily as I did when you read me The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

He took a deep breath, almost shuddering, “It was the first time I slept without nightmares since Tobias Hankle.”

You remembered that name. He’d come up in conversations from time to time but you never heard anything about his case. He was always a touchy subject for the team, and now you knew why.

“How long ago was this?”

“Almost three years ago.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

“Spence, you could have told me. You can tell me anything.”

“Anything?” He gulped.

You reached for his hand on the bar and felt it tense under your touch. You’d think after how long you’d known him his touch aversion wouldn’t be an issue with you anymore, but apparently not. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you withdrew your hand as if you burnt your hand on a hot stove and let out an awkward scoff, turning away to look back at your friends, who tried and failed miserably at making it look like they weren’t watching you and Spencer. 

“We should…”

“Yeah… w-we should.” Spencer passed you and sat down next to Derek in the booth, leaving you in your usual spot next to Emily with your first of many drinks that night.

            3 Hours Later

(Spencer’s POV)

I helped her into my car and buckled her up after she couldn’t find the seatbelt. When I got into the driver’s seat, I glanced at her to see if she was still conscious, only to see her dopey smile directed at me.

“What?” I laughed nervously.

“Nothing,” she slurred, dragging out the ‘ing’ and turning her head towards the window.

“You okay?”

She nodded and leaned her head against the glass as I pulled out of the parking lot. She was quiet for the most part during the drive, so I assumed she was asleep, so imagine my shock when she piped up as soon as I parked in front of her place.

“Can you walk me in?” she asked as if I could say no to her.

“Of course.” I was going to regardless. I helped her out of the car and she stood on wobbly legs. She groaned and looked at her feet. 

“Hold this.” She shoved her purse into my arms and placed a hand on my shoulder and hopped up to take off one of her heels, tossing it onto her seat before repeating her actions on her other shoe. She grabbed the pair and marched up the path to her front door. I trailed close behind, just in case she stumbled, which she did. 

She fumbled for her key when she suddenly remembered that I had her purse. I dug through the pockets and fished it out, tossing it to her once I got close enough. She instantly giggled as soon as I met her eyes.

“What’s so funny now?”

“Nothing, Spence,” she failed to stifle a smile as she tried to open the door, “You have nothing to worry about.”

I stepped in beside her, “Well you’ve been awfully quiet since we left and now you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m just thinking!”

“That can’t be good,” I joked, prompting her to lightly slap my arm, “Kidding! What are you thinking about?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“No, now I’m curious!”

“Just something stupid Derek said before you came tonight.”

“Oh jeez, now I have to know.” She climbed up the staircase and down the hallway in front of her bedroom. She twisted the knob and pushed open the door. I stepped in after her and placed her purse down on the dresser. She flopped down on the bed, shuffling under the covers, not even bothering to change out of the clothes she wore to the bar. I grinned down at her. She looked like an angel snuggled up in the sheets.

“Comfy?”

“Very.”

“Good. Call me if you need anything, Y/N,” I started to walk towards the door.

“Did you have a crush on me in high school?”

I paused.

“W-Where’d you get that from?” Nice job, genius, that doesn’t sound guilty at all.

“That’s what Derek said.” She was now sitting up in bed.

Okay, but how did he know that?

“How did this come up exactly?”

She explained how the team was trying to get her to tell them embarrassing stories about me as a kid (sidenote: not cool, guys) and my dear old friend Kyle came up. She said that Morgan brought up transference, where a person experiences something traumatic and associates their “hero” with safety and feelings of relief after being helped.

“He said one girl you helped in a case had feelings for you and the way you explained transference to Derek sounded like you were speaking from experience.”

Great. This is what I get for only having friends on the team. My best guy friend is also a profiler who can read me like a book. Awesome.

I let out a deep sigh and sat down in the chair next to her bed, “I was.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah. Because that’s where it all started for me. A pretty girl told off one of my bullies and showed me basic human decency--”

“Aw, Spence, you thought I was pretty?” She teased, eliciting a chuckle from me.

“Of course I did. Y/N, you were the head cheerleader that came to me for help with chemistry and tousled my hair and bought me McDonald’s whenever our study sessions ran late. To twelve-year-old Spencer you were this perfect, unattainable princess--”

“Princess?” She giggled and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, “I like that.”

“Yep.” I laughed with her, “A princess who lived in a beautiful castle with posters on the walls and sparkly beads on the curtains and Doctor Who playing on the TV and a mom that always invited me to stay for dinner and I’m rambling again but that’s perfectly fine with you because you actually cared��about what I had to say, especially when I would talk about Shakespeare because A Midsummer Night’s Dream was your favorite assigned reading and--” I stopped myself before it slipped out. 

I love you. I’ve said it a million times to her in a million different ways but I knew at that moment that if I said the actual words that I wouldn’t be able to take them back, not that I would ever want to, I just want her to be present when I told her the first time. If I said it now it would be the first time she’d hear it from me and she wouldn’t even remember it when she woke up.

“And what?” She still smiled at me so brightly that the dimly lit room was lit up by the gleam in her eyes.

I smiled back, “You’re my best friend.”

Her grin somehow grew wider, her eyes scrunching up, but the sparkle was still there, “You’re my best friend too.”

If I hadn’t already decided against it, I would have said it then. I would have repeated those words over and over again until the words lost all meaning, only they never would because they felt like they meant the world to me. But I wouldn’t let myself start. Instead, I just looked at her like she was the moon and stars and all the space in between and said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Spence, wait,” she murmured, further burying herself in her covers.

“What now?” I whined, the smile still present on my face.

“I think you’re pretty too.” 

It had never been harder for me to resist the urge to kiss her than in that moment. Every fiber of my being screamed to sit back down, lean over her pillow, take her face in my hands, and crash my lips to hers. And for a split second, I thought I would. I almost did. I almost gave myself everything I had ever wanted for sixteen years, four months, and eleven days, but I couldn’t.

“And I think you’re drunk.”

“Spencer Reid!” She squealed, “Just cuz I’m drunk does not mean that you aren’t pretty!”

“Oh really?”

“Yep! ‘Cuz guess what, genius?”

“What?”

“I think you’re pretty when I’m sober, too.”

If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was trying to drive me insane. And you know what?

It was working.

While I was lost in my thoughts, no doubt staring at her, she let out a tiny yawn and snuggled deeper into her pillow. A piece of hair fell in front of her eyes, hooded yet still shining. I brushed the hair out of her face and told her to get some rest.

“Good idea. I’m sleepy,” she dragged out the e and yawned again, “Goodnight, Pretty Boy.”

“Goodnight, princess.” I chuckled softly. My fingers still lingered just behind her ear, so I stroked her hair once more and pressed a small kiss to her forehead once I was sure she was asleep. Her cheeks twitched in a barely conscious smile, making me grateful for my eidetic memory again. I went to the kitchen and took a glass from the cabinet, filling it up in the sink and placing it on the nightstand with some aspirin.

I took a sheet of some stationery and scrawled out a note for her in the morning:

Make sure you stay hydrated. There’s more aspirin in your cabinet but wait a few hours to take it. Call me if you need anything. -S.R.

            The Next Morning

(Reader’s POV)

The coffee machine made too much noise. Your head was pounding despite the fact you took an aspirin a few minutes ago. Now you played the waiting game, hoping it would kick in soon. When the pot was finally done, you poured yourself a cup, hoping it would help wake you up. You normally wouldn’t drink coffee this late, but you needed it. Just as you took your first sip, your mom came through the front door with Jamie in tow carrying his pajamas in a shopping bag. He said good morning to you and ran upstairs to his room.

“Did you just wake up?” 

“Yes.”

“Y/N, it’s almost noon.” You could hear the judgment in her voice.

You took a sip of coffee, “It’s 11:05.”

“I take it you had fun at O’Keefe’s last night?”

“Yeah,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“How’d you get home?”

“Spence drove me.”

Her eyes widened, excited. She lowered her voice to ask, “Is he still here?”

“Mom!” You whisper-yelled.

“I was just checking!”

“No, he’s not, he dropped me off and went home.” You decided to leave out the whole “putting you to bed” part.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Better with aspirin.”

“Have you been drinking water?”

“A little,” you lied.

“No more coffee until you finish a glass.” She took your mug and dumped its contents down the drain.

“Wh—” You start, “Mom, I’m not a kid.”

“Just drink your damn water.”

“Jesus,” you groan, still making your way to the stairs and heading up to your room, where your water had been put on your nightstand the night before. Under the glass was a note that you didn’t notice when you first woke up. You recognized the chicken scratch handwriting immediately: Spencer.

“Make sure you stay hydrated. There’s more aspirin in your cabinet but wait a few hours to take it. Call me if you need anything. -S.R.”

You smiled as you read the words over and over. You put the note down and took a sip from the glass. You reached over to your phone on the nightstand and dialed his number. It rang twice before Spencer’s voice crackled over the speaker, “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.”

“Of course. Did you drink the water I gave you last night?”

“Some of it.”

“Good, did you eat?”

“No.”

“I’m going on my lunch break in a bit, wanna meet up?”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a small grin tugging at your lips. You nodded, unable to find words enthusiastic enough to express how much you’d like that, before settling on “Yeah! Sounds good!”

“Perfect! There’s a new thai place downtown I’ve been meaning to check out, how about there?”

“Sure! I’ll meet you at Quantico?”

“See you then!”

“Bye,” you all but sighed into the receiver before snapping out of it. You always tried to keep that part of you beneath the surface, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. You didn’t remember much from last night, but you did remember calling him pretty boy and making him blush. You remember him tucking you in and calling you princess and brushing your hair out of your eyes. You remembered how your chest swelled with light as he pressed his lips to your forehead, and the soft chuckle he let out seeing you smile against your pillow. 

You hopped in the shower and got dressed, fixing yourself just enough to pass for a functioning adult who did not get sloppy drunk in front of her best friend’s coworkers last night. You told your mom you were going out for lunch, and she happily agreed to babysit for a few hours while you were with Spencer. 

“Have fun on your date!”

“Not a date!” You almost couldn’t tell who you were talking to, her or you.

You got to Quantico about a half-hour later and were met by Dave in the bullpen.

“Oh, look who’s joined the land of the living!”

“Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad last night. I could have been Penelope.”

“That is true, bella, but it was still a Thursday,” Dave chuckled, “The kid’s in Aaron’s office, he’ll be out in a sec.”

“Thank you,” you said and walked over to Spencer’s desk, sitting down in his chair and making small talk with Emily while you waited. A few minutes later, you saw him walk out of the office, eyes immediately landing on you.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @purelyprentiss @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez​ @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash @carlgrxmes​ @collectiveuniverses​ @annesauriol​

[rpf-bat]

Celebrate The End Of Things With Cheap Champagne

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Angst 

Summary: @sirloin-steaks requested a Frank story based on the song “New Year’s Day” by Taylor Swift. 

It’s December 31st, 2006, and My Chemical Romance are ringing in the New Year, performing live in Times Square. Frank invites you to come out, and see the show. But, an after-party at the band’s hotel, takes a turn, that nobody saw coming.

Trigger warning for substance abuse. 

You stood on the deck of the ferry boat, watching the bright lights of New York City draw closer and closer. You used to take this ferry every day, from your hometown in New Jersey, to your job in Manhattan. But, that seemed like so long ago now. 

Once upon a time, your friend and former coworker, Gerard, would catch the morning ferry with you. But, after the September 11th attacks, he’d quit his job at your company, and started a band. His decision had puzzled you at first. But, the first time you saw My Chemical Romance perform live, you had understood. 

That was also the night that you met Frank. His guitar playing was electric, and you told him as much, after the band finished their set. It had been at some shitty dive bar - the only venues that would take them at the time. But, he’d told you that night, that he, and Gee, and the guys, were going to make it to the big time. You’d admired his ambition, and the two of you became fast friends. And he’d been right. 

Now, four years later, My Chemical Romance was one of the biggest bands in the country. Their album, The Black Parade, had just dropped two months ago, debuting at #2 on the Billboard charts. They had gotten popular enough, to receive a prestigious offer. Ryan Seacrest had asked them to play New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, tonight, in Times Square! 

Millions of Americans tuned in every New Year’s Eve, to see the concert broadcast, and watch the ball drop at midnight. It was crazy to you, that your dorky friends from back home in New Jersey, had gotten “big” enough to perform alongside glitzy pop stars, like Christina Aguilera.

You were so psyched for them. It would also be the first time you had seen them in a while. Frank was the only one of the guys who still technically lived in New Jersey. When he was home, and off the road, he would come over to your house all the time, to watch movies, or play video games, just like in the old days. But, the last time that had happened, had been months ago. He, and the rest of the band, had been traveling around nonstop, doing radio and TV interviews, to promote the new album. In February, they were supposed to embark on a world tour. 

“But after tonight’s show, we’ll have a little bit of time off, before the tour starts,” Frank had told you excitedly on the phone, yesterday afternoon, when he’d invited you to the gig. “I really hope we get to spend more time together, Y/N. I missed you.” 

You had missed him, too - more than words could describe. Your heart ached whenever you drove past his house, knowing that he wasn’t in it. You had things you wanted to say to him tonight - things you’d been waiting to tell him for a long time. 

Your heart hammered as you stepped off the ferry, and began walking towards Time Square. The streets were packed with people, all rushing towards the same place you were. You knew some New Yorkers had started camping out at three o’clock in the afternoon, to get the best seats. If Frank hadn’t sent you a VIP pass in the mail, you’d surely have ended up in the way back of the crowd, nowhere close to the stage. 

You showed your pass to the security personnel, who were looking through peoples’ bags at a checkpoint, near the entrance to the Square. They waved you through to a special designated area, in the front row, for friends and family of the performers. You were pretty sure the kid on your left was the fourth Jonas Brother. You felt remarkably out of place. 

But, then your phone beeped, alerting you that you had a text. A smile crossed your face, when you realized it was from Frank. 

We r about 2 head onstage, he said. I will see you after our set, I promise! There’s nobody I’d rather ring in 2007 with :)

You heard the crowd start screaming, and your head whipped around, as you watched the announcer stroll onto the stage. 

“Please welcome our next musical guest - My! Chemical! Romaaaaance!” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Their performance was amazing. They were one of a dozen artists performing tonight, so they only got to do three songs, before they had to get offstage and make room for the next act (Gwen Stefani, apparently). But, they put their whole hearts into those three tracks. Frank was jumping around like a maniac with his guitar, despite the freezing cold. Ray even had a pair of “2007” sunglasses on. 

You screamed for them, like every other girl in the crowd. At this point, you thought with a frown, there’s probably ten thousand people, with a crush on the same man, that I’ve been pining for since 2002. 

...Then again, you considered, the ten thousand other girls, don’t have backstage passes. 

Your frown disappeared, when you walked backstage, and a pair of arms immediately circled you. 

“Y/N!” Frank grinned. “Thank you so much for coming out and seeing us tonight!”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you grinned, hugging your friend back. “You were amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Frank said sincerely, releasing you from his grip. “Are you ready to get out of this cold?”

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

“Back to the hotel,” he explained. “Ray’s not feeling so good.” 

“Oh, no,” you frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Hi, Y/N!” Ray greeted, waving at you with one hand, while he pulled a tissue from his pocket, with the other. He blew his nose loudly. “....Sorry,” he muttered. “How are you?”

“It’s okay!” you assured him. “I’m fine...I’m sorry you’re not doing so well, though. You sound awful.” 

“It’s this East Coast weather,” he shrugged, throwing the tissue in a nearby wastebasket. “I hate doing outdoor shows, in the wintertime.” 

“You sounded great onstage,” you reassured him. “Nobody could even tell you were sick.” 

“The dorky sunglasses conceal how puffy his eyes are,” Frank confessed. “Poor guy didn’t sleep at all last night.” 

“Well, hopefully, I’ll sleep better tonight,” Ray chucked. “We’ve got two rooms at the Knickerbocker Hotel - one for me and Mikey, and one for Frank and Gerard.”

“Speaking of which,” you asked, “where is Gerard?” 

“Here I am!” chuckled a voice behind you, and you turned and saw your old friend Gerard, beaming at you. “Sorry, I was busy calling our cab. It’s so good to see you, Y/N! Thank you for coming.” 

“Thank you for inviting me!” you smiled back. “I’m really proud of you guys, getting to be part of such a major event.” 

“Oh, it’s surreal,” Gerard confessed. “I used to come up here with my mom and dad, and Mikey, every New Year’s Eve, to watch the show live.  I never thought I’d be in the show.” 

“We’re really lucky,” Mikey smiled, appearing beside Gerard, with a glass of champagne in his hand. 

“Ooh, where’d you get that?” Frank asked. 

“They’re giving them out to all the VIPs,” Mikey explained. “Would you like one, Y/N?” 

“I don’t think I qualify as a Very Important Person,” you confessed. 

“Nonsense,” Frank shook his head. “You’re very important to me.” 

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded. “You’ve been good friends with all of us for a long time. You can have whatever you want.” 

“No time for that,” Gerard shook his head. “Our cab’s here.” 

“C’mon,” Frank said, lacing his fingers with yours. “We have to go out through a secret exit, so that the fans don’t mob us.” 

“Oh, shit, really?” you chuckled. “I feel like a secret agent.” 

“Our lives have gotten so weird, honestly,” Gerard confessed. “I’m kinda glad that we’re gonna put some distance, between us and these crowds.” 

“Yeah, it’ll just be five of us, once we get to the hotel,” Mikey nodded. “Well...four. Ray is gonna go to sleep in our room, as soon we get there. But, the rest of us can party in Frankie and Gee’s room til midnight.” 

“Or later,” Frank grinned mischievously.

You smiled at your four oldest friends. “I can’t wait.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Ok, question,” you asked uncertainly, staring at the yellow cab in front of you. “How are we gonna fit five people in there?”

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Frank chuckled. 

“Well, hey, we’ve managed to fit in smaller places before, right?” Gerard pointed out. 

“True,” Ray laughed. “Remember when we were traveling around New Jersey, in our shitty little van?”

“We were all practically right on top of each other,” Mikey recalled. 

When the band had first started, you had gone with them, on weekend trips, to play a gig, in the next town over. You’d squished between the boys, somehow, and helped them carry their equipment into the venue. Watching them rock the faces off the local kids, had been so much fun. 

But, as time went on, they started getting offers to play at clubs across state lines. Day trips turned into months-long tours. You couldn’t commit to that - unlike Gerard, you still had a day job. And so, you started seeing the guys less and less. Then they’d gotten a record deal - and everything had gotten even more complicated. 

“That was….a long time ago,” you frowned. 

“Yeah,” Frank said wistfully. “I wish we had the chance to do that again.” 

“Well, now, most of the time, we don’t have to squish,” Ray pointed out. “We have a nice, roomy tour bus, with bunks and everything.” 

“You’ve come a long way,” you smiled weakly. 

You were quiet as you piled into the car. As the taxi started driving down the street, you stared out at the night sky, and the city lights flying by. Suddenly, Frank gently touched your hand, making you turn, and face him. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving your hand a squeeze, “are you alright, Y/N?” 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” 

“Tonight’s supposed to be a party, remember?” he teased. “So, try and smile for me, okay?” 

“I’ll try,” you promised. It was far easier to smile, with him around. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You could tell as soon as you walked into the lobby, that this was a five star hotel. A crystal chandelier, cast a soft glow over the pristine decor. 

“We already got our room keys earlier,” Gerard explained. “So, we can go ahead up.” 

You nodded, and followed him and the guys to the elevator. 

“I think I’m gonna crash as soon as we get upstairs,” Ray confessed, sniffling into his tissue again. 

“I don’t blame you,” you said sympathetically. The elevator dinged, as you arrived at your floor. 

“Since I won’t see you guys until tomorrow,” Ray sighed, “Happy New Year, alright?”

“Happy New Year, Ray,” you waved, as you watched him unlock his hotel room door, and head inside. “Feel better soon!”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ray wheezed, closing the door behind him. 

“Alright, let’s head into our room,” Frank grinned, opening the door to the adjoining room. “What do you want to do first?” 

“Let’s turn the TV on,” Mikey suggested, immediately looking for the remote. “I wanna see the other performances. They’re still broadcasting live right now.” 

“Oh, true,” you nodded. “We can still watch the ball drop tonight, on this flat screen!” 

“I wanna look at the room service menu,” Gerard grinned. “Y/N, you can have anything you want. Just let me know.” 

“Thanks, Gee,” you grinned. “Should we get champagne to toast with, at midnight?” 

“I’ll get it for you three,” Gerard shrugged. “For me? I guess I’ll order a club soda. If they put it in a fancy glass, I can still clink it with yours when the clock strikes twelve.” 

“Yeah, that works,” Frank agreed. “Looks almost the same.”

You frowned. That’s right, you remembered. Gerard is about two and a half years sober now. 

You remembered going to see them, at their Englishtown show, during Warped Tour ‘04. Gerard had been a mess. You hadn’t seen him in two or three months, and you were shocked how much he’d deteriorated. You’d felt helpless. If you’d had more time, maybe you could have talked some sense into him. But, the very next day, he had to get back on his bus, and head to another gig, in Pennsylvania. 

Frank had called you on the phone, maybe a week later, and told you Gerard had decided to get clean, on his own. You didn’t know how, or why. You didn’t know fifty percent, of what went on in your friends’ heads anymore. 

“.....Y/N?” Frank called, his voice stunning you out of your thoughts. 

“Sorry,” you blinked. “Did you say something?” 

“Yeah, I said I’m going out to the balcony, to have a smoke,” Frank replied. “I asked you if you wanted to come with me?”

“Oh….yeah, sure,” you nodded, and followed him out. “Got a light?” 

“Here,” Frank said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket, and handing it to you. 

You took a pack of Marlboros out of your purse, and lit one. “Thanks,” you said, handing it back. 

Frank lit his own cigarette, and took a drag. You glanced over at him as you inhaled the nicotine, watching how the cool night breeze tousled his hair. 

“I thought you said on the phone, that  you were trying to quit,” Frank raised an eyebrow. 

“I should,” you sighed, exhaling smoke. “I know it’s bad for me.”

“Sorry for being a bad influence,” Frank laughed. “I know I got no room to talk.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shrugged, taking another puff. “I guess I’m just stressed tonight.” 

“About what?” Frank asked, looking at you curiously. 

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled. 

“Tell me,” Frank insisted, taking his free hand in yours again. Your heart raced at his casual touch. 

“I just…,” you sighed, unsure how to begin. “I never see you guys anymore.” 

“I’m sorry,” Frank frowned. 

“No, don’t be,” you shook your head. “I’m being selfish. I should be happy for you, right? It’s a good thing, that the band has gotten so successful, that you have fans in practically every city in the world, that want to see you.” 

“Yeah, they get to see me,” Frank groaned. “But, I don’t get to see my friends, or family - any of the people I love most - for months at a time.” 

The people he loves most. Your face reddened. Did you really fit into that category? 

“After tonight,” you asked, “how long will you be in town?” 

“The first night of the tour is February 22nd,” Frank explained. “The gig’s in New Hampshire, so we’ll be flying out the night before.” 

“So we have….slightly less than two months, to spend time together,” you calculated. “And after that, the next time you’ll be in my neck of the woods is…?” 

“Bamboozle Festival,” Frank replied. “That’s in May.” 

“Wow,” you frowned. “Are you playing all three days of the festival, or…?”

“Nah, just one,” Frank said sheepishly. “We’ll be in Jersey for a night….the very next day, we’ll be playing a gig in fuckin’ Maine.”

“The fun never stops, I guess,” you deadpanned. 

“I mean, it is fun,” Frank admitted. “I love being a musician. Playing my guitar, onstage, is all I’ve wanted to do, my entire life.” 

“Yeah, it’s your dream,” you said quickly, “that’s why I should just shut up, and let you…”

“You don’t have to shut up,” Frank interrupted. “Y/N, I want you to tell me how you feel.” 

“How do I feel, Frank?” you repeated, your emotions starting to get the best of you. “I feel like I don’t even know my friends at all anymore! I don’t want you to turn into a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. I’m still working the same dead end job I had the day I met you….but your life has completely changed. You’re gone 80% of the year, and yeah, I know you text or call me whenever you can, but when I’m not there face to face, I still miss so much of your life! You used to be just….a guy next door, that I could listen to records and smoke with. Now you’re some….millionaire rock star. That coat you’ve got on right now is probably worth more than my first car, and you’ve probably got girls in every town, throwing their panties at you…” 

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t look twice at any of those girls,” Frank said, looking you in the eye, “if a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

A certain someone….? you gasped. Did he mean…?

“Hey!” a voice interrupted, and you jumped, as the sliding glass door slid open, and Gerard stepped onto the balcony. “There you guys are!” 

“H-hey,” you stammered, taken aback. 

“Everything alright?” Gerard asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s cool,” Frank mumbled, not looking at you at all, as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What did you need?”

“We’ve got about five minutes til midnight,” Gerard smiled. “Figured you guys would want to come back inside, so we can count down the last seconds of 2006 together.” 

“Oh, right, of course,” you blinked. “Did room service already bring up the champagne flutes?”

“Yeah, they’re ready to go,” Gerard nodded. “....Wait. Where’s Mikey?” 

“We thought he was with you,” Frank said, looking confused. 

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “I went to the bathroom, and when I came back out, he was gone. If he’s not on the balcony with you guys, where did he go?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe he went to his and Ray’s room?” 

“Oh, yeah, that would make sense,” Gerard nodded. “Let’s go get him.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard knocked loudly on the hotel room door. 

“Come on, Mikey!” he called. “We got three minutes til midnight, you’re gonna miss the ball drop, dude!” 

The door swung open, but instead of Mikey, a sleepy-looking Ray answered. 

“Mikey’s not in here,” Ray said with a yawn. “It’s just me.”

“Oh, sorry for waking you up, man,” Gerard apologized. 

“Wait,” Frank realized. “If he’s not in either hotel room, then, where is he?” 

“Maybe he went to go get ice?” Ray suggested. 

“Or maybe he went downstairs, to ask the front desk guy something,” you guessed. 

“Let’s split up,” Frank suggested. “You guys go down the hall and see if he’s by the ice machine. Y/N and I will look for him downstairs.” 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Gerard agreed. “Hopefully we’ll find him before the end of the year!” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“This elevator’s taking too long to get up here,” Frank said impatiently, hitting the down-arrow button a second time. 

“Wanna just take the stairs?” you suggested. 

“Works for me,” Frank shrugged. 

You followed him into the stairwell, your heart still pounding from the conversation on the balcony. What would have happened, you wondered, if Gerard hadn’t walked in when he did? 

Frank kept his eyes on the flight of stairs in front of you, not saying a word, as you walked past the sign, indicating that you were now on the second floor. 

“Maybe he didn’t go this wa...oh, fuck,” Frank gasped, coming to a sudden stop.  

Your blood froze, when you saw what he was looking at. Mikey’s unconscious body, lay sprawled across the bottom steps. He was face down….he didn’t even look like he was breathing. 

“Mikey, oh my god!” You ran to his side, flipping him over, so that you could see his face. “Frank, we have to help him!” 

The bassist looked deathly pale, and his lips had turned a horrifying shade of blue. You felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was disturbingly weak.

“Come on, Mikey, wake up!” you pleaded, shaking his shoulders. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!” 

“I think he’s overdosing,” Frank realized, kneeling by your side. 

“On what?!” you gasped. 

“On whatever he went downstairs, to pick up from his dealer,” Frank growled. “Goddamnit! We need to call 911.” 

“Mikey!” a familiar voice called, and Gerard and Ray burst into the stairwell. 

“Oh, god!” Gerard gasped, when he saw his brother, lying eerily still in your arms. 

“I’m trying to wake him up!” you explained. “It’s not working...fuck, what do I do?” 

“He needs a doctor,” Ray realized, whipping out his cell phone. “....Hello? Yes, we’re having an emergency…...the Knickerbocker Hotel….umm, Six Times Square….please hurry….my friend isn’t breathing…” 

You shook Mikey’s shoulders again. His eyes fluttered open, but his pupils were like pinpricks. He gasped and choked, like he couldn’t get air into his lungs. 

“Come on, Mikey, hang in there!” you begged. Oh god, what if he died?!

You could see the headlines now. World Tour Canceled After Bassist’s Hospitalization. You’d wanted more time with Frank….but not like this, damnit! 

Since when did your oldest friend’s kid brother do smack?! 

I really don’t know anything about them anymore, you realized, tears clouding your vision as you listened to him wheeze. Minutes felt like hours. 

“Out of the way!” called an unfamiliar voice, and you gaped as two paramedics dragged a stretcher down the stairs. 

“Ma’am, we need to move him,” a uniformed woman barked. “Time is of the essence.” 

You let the EMT scoop Mikey up, and load him onto the gurney. 

“What did he take?” the second paramedic asked. 

“I….I don’t know,” you stammered. “We just found him like this.” 

“Ma’am,” the man pressed, “we’re not here to judge anybody. But, any information you have, can help us figure out what antidote he needs…”

“Here,” Frank said. “I found this next to his body.” 

He handed the paramedic a needle. Oh, god. 

“I see,” the paramedic nodded grimly. “Judith! Get this man two milligrams of naloxone, stat!” 

“Is….is he gonna be okay?!” Gerard gasped, tears in his eyes. “That’s my baby brother….”

“We’re going to try our best to save him, sir,” the female paramedic (Judith) promised. “We need to move him to the hospital, as soon as possible.” 

“We’re only going to be able to fit two extra people in the ambulance,” the male paramedic warned. “Who’s going?” 

“Me,” Gerard said immediately. “He’s my family!” 

“Who else?” the paramedic demanded. “We don’t have time to waste.” 

Mikey gasped for air on the gurney, his face growing bluer by the minute. 

“I’ll go,” Ray decided. “Frank, you stay here with Y/N, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Frank stammered. You clung to him,shaking, as you watched the paramedics drag your friend out of the hallway, to the ambulance waiting outside. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“.....Happy New Year!” the oblivious voice of Ryan Seacrest rang out from the television screen, as you walked back into the hotel room, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

Confetti was falling in Times Square, as the credits rolled. You’d missed the countdown. There had been no toast, no midnight kiss (although perhaps, the latter had been foolish to even hope for.) 

“This wasn’t how 2007 was supposed to start,” Frank sobbed, sinking down onto the bed. “Fuck!” 

“H-he’s gonna be okay,” you stammered. “The doctors are gonna save his life…”

“You don’t know that!” Frank cried, kicking a bottle of Dom Perignon off the coffee table. It shattered, sending broken glass and alcohol all over the floor. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N,” Frank apologized, kneeling to pick up the shards. “I shouldn’t have done that…”

“Ssh, stop, you’re gonna cut yourself,” you warned, grabbing his hands. “We can clean that up later, okay? I understand that you’re only lashing out, because you’re scared…” 

“Of course I’m scared,” Frank wept, burying his head in your shoulder. “That’s one of my best friends.” 

“He’s my friend, too,” you said softly, stroking Frank’s hair. “I’m scared, too, but there’s nothing we can do now, but pray.” 

You sat down on the bed, and Frank sat with you, still sobbing into your shirt. You were choking back tears yourself. 

“I….I didn’t know he was doing that stuff,” you said guiltily. “I’m never around you guys anymore….I….”

“I didn’t realize the extent of the problem, either,” Frank confessed. “And I’m with the kid almost every day. I should’ve noticed, but I was too self absorbed, doing my own dumb shit…” 

“Ssh, it’s not your fault, Frankie,” you soothed. “We got him, to the people that can help him. That’s all we can do.” 

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Frank sniffed, still clinging to you tightly. 

“No,” you agreed, your heart aching, “it doesn’t.” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke the next morning, to the feeling of warmth against your side. Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that Frank was sleeping next to you. What?!

Your cheeks reddened as you stared at his sleeping face, so close to your own. “...Frank? Why are you…?”

Reality filtered back into your head, slowly, as you recalled the events of the previous night. Oh god….Mikey! 

Was he okay? You still didn’t know. You and Frank had sat beside each other on the hotel room bed, crying, clinging to each other for comfort. You supposed you had fallen asleep like that. 

“.....Huh?” Frank groaned sleepily. “Y/N…?” 

He shot up, jerking away from you, almost as soon as he realized, that your bodies were touching. “I...I’m sorry!”

“N-no, it’s fine…” you stammered. 

“Fuck….I need to check my messages,” Frank realized, groping for his cell phone on the bedside table. He sat up,and put his feet on the floor. “Owww!”

“What’s wrong?” you gasped. 

“I just stepped on a shard of the bottle I broke last night...fuck!” Frank swore. 

“Oh no,” you winced. “Is it bleeding?” 

“No, it’s just cut a little,” Frank shook his head. 

“Do you want me to call the front desk,” you offered, “and see if they can bring up some Band-Aids?”

“No, it’s not that serious,” Frank insisted, opening his flip phone. His eyes widened, as he clicked through his inbox. “Oh….oh, thank god…” 

“What?” you demanded. 

“Ray texted me, around like two in the morning,” Frank explained. “He said Mikey’s gonna make it. The doctors were able to reverse the overdose in time, and he’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” you cried, tearing up from sheer relief. You had been so scared, that Ray’s text, would say that Mikey hadn’t survived. He’s gonna be okay. He’s alive. 

Frank, however, didn’t share your grateful smile. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry that you had to see that, last night,” Frank frowned. “We ruined your New Year’s Eve.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I’m glad I was there, to help you find him. I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through this alone.” 

“I hate to ask you for even more help,” Frank grimaced, “but, we need to clean this shit up.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, leaning down to help him pick up the glass shards. “It wouldn’t be fair, to leave it for the hotel staff to pick up.” 

“Some bands dig trashing hotel rooms,” Frank sighed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom, to mop up the puddle of champagne. “Not me, though. I feel bad, making a mess, that some housekeeper is gonna have to deal with.” 

He’s a kind person, you thought to yourself, as you carefully placed the pieces of bottle into a waste basket. Not everyone would take the time to do this, after the night we had. 

“Shit, look at this,” Frank sighed, pointing down at the hardwood floor. “Nobody blew out the stupid scented candle, that Housekeeping lit before we checked in, to make the place smell pretty. Now, there’s dried wax all over the floorboards.” 

“You had bigger things to worry about last night,” you reminded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice the candle was still burning, with everything else going on. I would’ve reminded you to put it out.” 

“That’s not your job,” Frank said, pulling a guitar pick from his pocket. He tried to use it to scrape some of the wax up, but it didn’t seem to want to budge. “None of this is your job.” 

“What do you mean?” you blinked. 

“You said last night, that you don’t see us for months at a time,” Frank reasoned, scraping harder with his pick. “And then...last night, you finally see us again, and this happens.”  

“You couldn’t have predicted something like that,” you assured him. 

“We complicate your life, Y/N,” Frank frowned. “I complicate your life. You don’t need this fucking drama. The best thing I could for you, is probably just leave you alone. Stop inviting you to see us when we’re in town. I’ve grown apart from a lot of friends since I left New Jersey. Why can’t I just let this relationship go, too?” 

“I don’t want you to do that!” you protested. “Frank, our friendship is really important to me. I would be miserable if you suddenly stopped inviting me to hang out.” 

“I don’t just want to hang out with you,” Frank mumbled. “I want more than that.” 

“....Huh?” you cocked your head. 

“But it’s not fair, for me to ask you for that,” Frank signed. “Not when I know damn well, that I’m about to spend the majority of 2007, hundreds of miles away from you.” 

“Ask me for what?” you demanded. You suddenly remembered the words, he had spoken to you on the balcony, before your night had gone straight to hell. 

“I wouldn’t look twice, at any of those girls, if  a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

“Nothing,” Frank murmured, picking fruitlessly at the wax on the floor again. “It’s stupid. Ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore it,” you insisted. “Frank, what were you going to ask me?” 

Frank looked at his shoes. 

You sat down on the floor next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “....Frank?” 

“I was going to ask you...to be mine,” Frank confessed. 

You gasped, audibly. No way….he really felt the same way about you, that you did about him?!

“But, it’s not right, for me to ask you, to make that commitment to me!” Frank said miserably. “Not when I’m just gonna disappear on you again. And...you saw, last night, what my life has turned into. What my band has turned into. I’m a mess….why would you want to be with someone like me?” 

“Frankie, I love you,” you said plainly. Now that you knew he returned your feelings, there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I’ve loved you for years.” 

He raised his head to look at you. His hazel eyes, swimming with tears again, stared into yours. “You….you mean that?” 

“Yes,” you said emotionally. “I’ve been in love with you for so long….but, you’re a famous rock star now. I’m still just an art school dropout. You can do so much better than me.” 

“Funny,” Frank chuckled bitterly, “I was about to say the same thing, about you.”

“Frank, there isn’t anybody better than you,” you sighed, and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a searing kiss. 

His lips met yours, hesitant at first, but then suddenly you were toppling to the floor, as he pressed himself against you, with four years worth of buried desire. 

Life was so short. You realized that now. 

His hands tangled into your hair as he kissed you over and over. “Be mine,” he gasped, coming up for air. “Please be mine, Y/N….even if it fucks up everything…” 

“Frankie, it’s okay,” you assured him, as you gazed up at him tenderly. “I don’t care if you’re gone a hundred nights. You’re worth waiting for. Just promise me, that when you do finally come home, I can….have you.” 

“Oh, you can have me any way you want me,” Frank breathed, leaning down to kiss you passionately again. “I won’t touch anyone else while I’m away on tour….nobody else is as beautiful as you. You’re the only one that I want.”

“You’re the only one that I want, too, Frankie,” you promised him, claiming his mouth once again. “I want you every day. Not just when you’re the toast of the town. Not just when times are good. I want to be there with you, through the bad times, too. I want to help you when you’re scared, or even when something fucked up happens, like last night... because I love you. I’ll stay with you, no matter what….even when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or you’re making mistakes. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.” 

“I want to be with you, too, Y/N,” Frank vowed, kissing your eyes, your nose, your mouth. It was like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re the woman I choose….because, hey, there might be lots of women who’d love to be my New Year’s Eve kiss. But, you’re the only woman I know, who would stick by my side, helping me clean up bottles on New Year’s Day.”

[dexmonheart]

Hell in Castle Park // Calista x Myles x Stella

Location: Castle Park.

Time: Middle of the evening.

TRIGGER WARNING: death, gore, bodily fluids, body parts, murder.

@myleshcrt , @suspixiions

CALISTA.

Calista never really found herself moving outside of her social circle, yet somehow, she felt comfortable around Myles. He didn’t judge her, nor did he judge all she had to go through with her dad. Their common love of music had assisted in blossoming a beautiful friendship. This night in particular, Calista had been asked to try some new guitars. Of course, she invited Myles. She could invite Fin another night: new friendships took time and Calista really wanted to see this one succeed.

“Is it really that smart to cut through the park at night?” She asked once they reached its entrance, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. Regardless, she followed him in. At least they weren’t alone. While it still wasn’t that safe, there was more safety in numbers. The darker it got, the more her fear increased. The woman could feel herself sticking closer to him, just waiting for something horrible to pop out of the shadows. “I feel like I’m in a horror movie... please tell me somethings not going to jump out at me in the next ten seconds.”

And then, it did.

Out of the shadows, came something terrible. Something that Calista never thought she’d have to see not just in her twenty-six years of living, but in the life she had ahead of her.

Calista was more so fueled by curiosity than anything. “Yo, what the hell?” She exclaimed, motioning for Myles to follow her. The closer she got, she could feel her stomach contents begin to churn.

“What the fuck is that?! Is that a fucking torso?!”

MYLES.

Myles was more than happy to meet with Calista. He welcomed the very few actual friendships he had in town when it felt like he was going up against the locals. He couldn't blame them when he was seen with Frances McBride a lot for the past year. Her brother didn't like him, her friends didn't trust him. And he was only trying to survive each day she was gone.

Walking besides Calista, he let out a soft laugh. "Probably not, but if it makes you feel better, I'll sacrifice myself so you can go on." Even if it was in a joking tone, there was truth behind his words.

Myles gave his friend a look. "You freakin' jinxed it, Calista," he said as an attempt to keep the mood light, but he was quickly becoming nervous. Following closely behind her, the view of a torso became more visible. "What the fuck..." A chill ran down his spine, his throat suddenly becoming dry. "Calista...Calista, the-the tattoo, it's--"

Frances. He recognized that butterfly tattoo. "N-no...no, no, no, no, no..." He got closer, hoping that he was only seeing things, but it was clear under the nearby streetlight. It was her. "Fuck...I--" Myles moved away quickly, falling onto his knees as he vomited. He couldn't believe it. His head was empty, only thoughts of Frances and her smile and the sound of her laugh playing in his mind.

Glancing up, he noticed there was someone nearby, and he called out at them. "Help..." His voice croaked. Getting himself up, he waved them down. "Help! Help, please!" he cried.

STELLA.

Stella was never really one for late night walks, at least not until recently. Where crime scenes were suddenly a thing again, and a violent thing at that. She frowned as she walked, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket as she glared at the sidewalk. Typically, she would be listening to music, but there was a serial killer on the loose after all, and she wasn't about to make herself an easy target.

It took a second for the yelling to shake her from her thoughts, brows furrowing as Stels started to move towards the pair that waved her over, walking at first, then breaking out into a run once she realized the panic in their tone. "What the hell is going o-" She all but slid to a stop, eyes wide as she started at the body, once upon a time, this would have shocked her, but she'd seen many a body by this point.

"Step back-stay away from the body!" She was quick to pull them further away, last thing she needed was any additional DNA samples from some kids. "Fuck...it's-" It was her. Franny. Shit. Her teeth ground together and she scrambled for her cell phone, quickly detailing their location to the police. After pocketing her phone, she turned to the others. "Listen, I know this is hard right now, but can you tell me if either of you saw anything before you..." She swallowed hard, a feeling of failure washing over her. They hadn't caught the killer in time. "...before you found her." She would have time to investigate the surroundings soon enough. As soon as the question left her lips, she paused, expression shifting to a sympathetic one. "I'm sorry you had to see this."

CALISTA.

Calista was beside herself. Once another person had arrived she was at Myles side. Her first instinct had always been to make sure that everyone else around her was okay. “Myles... you don’t have to see this. Please.” Her arm was around him, tears absolutely streaming down her cheeks. Calista looked to the other woman, completely at a loss for words. How was she possibly going to get over this? How was she going to tell her dad that she found the body of another victim?

“No, we didn’t see anything.” She eventually shook her head, looking up from making sure her friend was okay. “W- We were on our way to the music store. Sometimes they let me come in and try out some new instruments. We were on our way there, I usually cut through the park...” Her voice was cut off by a strangled sob. “I invited Myles. We’ve been together the whole time..”

Of course, she knew that the police were going to try to account for her whereabouts for the past couple hours. It certainly did look suspicious, seeing them out here in the dark of night. At least they could account for each other. They had even jammed earlier with a couple of other people.

MYLES.

Myles stood away from the body as the other woman ordered, sinking under Calista's touch, his body shaking. He barely just processed what she and the other woman were talking about, glancing up to finally meet their gazes. "Y-yeah. Yeah, it's true. We just...came upon the body." The body, the words repeated in Myles' head. It wasn't even Frances' whole body, and he felt sick again. "It's...it's Frances McBride," he said to confirm before he felt tears running down his face. The rest of the night would've passed in a haze for him.

STELLA.

She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, but it wasn't their fault. The killer had been clever up until now, to think that they slipped up now was just...wishful thinking. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." Her eyes dropped to the ground before raising to glance at the two. "Here, let's go over here. I'm Stella, I'm a crime scene investigator." She shrugged off her jacket and held it out to the one who was shaking. This was never really her forte. It certainly wasn't usually part of her job, this was pure chance that she was here. And while she longed to actually do her job--she was more worried about these two.

"They're gonna ask you questions when they get here." She explained, running a hand through her hair. Hell, Stels wanted to ask questions, but there was protocol to be followed. "You knew the vic, I take it?" It seemed like everyone heard of her, but these two seemed to know her. Damn. That was some shit luck. "I'm sorry for your loss. Do you guys have someone you can call? Someone you can stay with for the night?"

CALISTA.

Calista could still see Frances’ face in her mind. How could someone do this? What reason could someone have for wanting to kill someone so kind? She followed Stella wordlessly, clinging to Myles not just to support herself, but to support him as well. They both needed it. “I’m Calista. This is Myles..” The woman murmured, wrapping Stella’s jacket around her friend.

“Understood.” She nodded. While she wanted nothing more than to just curl up and forget everything that happened, she’d do anything she could to put away this sick fuck. Calista just couldn’t stop looking at it.. the torso of someone she had once called a friend. “We both did.” Calista spoke once again after a period of silence. “Frances and Myles both came to my band’s shows. That’s how we met. We all became friends.” She gave her friend a squeeze, as if to remind him that she was there. “We can go back to my place in Castle Bay. I live with my dad, Bill Yates.. my aunt was one of the original victims, Kimberly.. I’d rather he hear what happened from me than some newspaper article. He hasn’t been the same since my aunt disappeared.” She looked to the person in her arms. “Is that okay, Myles? Maybe an officer can take us to my house?”

MYLES.

Myles was nearly startled when he felt the jacket being wrapped around him, but he took it wordlessly. The voices around him were coming muffled as he was unable to focus on what was happening. The only lifeline he had was Calista and her touch. He gave Stella a slow nod. "Frances and I were...a thing," he said. "It wasn't romantic. I mean, it was one-sided. We've been seeing each other for a year." Fuck. And the last thing that happened was when Myles broke things off with her, because she wouldn't commit. God, how was he so selfish? When his friend mentioned her aunt being one of the original victims, Myles quickly looked up at her. "You...you never told me that," he said, his voice low and soft. But he nodded at her, taking a deep but shaky breath. "Yeah, that's fine." The worst thing he could do was be alone right now, so he was grateful to have at least one friend on his side.

[narutowtfareyoudoing]

Hi! I'm the anon who sent the message abt Tenten and Sakura. I think it's injustice that Tenten barely has any fics so could I request a scenario where Neji and Lee are desperatly trying to help get reader and Tenten together because Tenten felt mopey after hearing a false rumor that reader had a boyfriend?

Hey sweet anon! 💖💖 This is an adorable idea and I love it. It feels like one of those filler episodes (that I love by the way, fight me, there’s nothing wrong with filler)  Hope you enjoy this!  ---

   “Let’s go train somewhere else.” Tenten pitched.    She just couldn’t stand to be within eye shot of watching you ‘train’ with Kiba. If what you two were doing even counted as training, actually it barely counted as training, it shouldn’t count as training! You shouldn’t be able to ‘train’ like that on the training grounds, you two were just taking up space at this point and it wasn’t fair and Kiba was an as-- “You could just go say something instead of staring kunai’s at them.” Neji said point blank.     “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snapped back.    She refused to be bothered by the news she heard from Ino, you could date whoever you wanted. It wasn’t her business and it shouldn’t bother her--no scratch that it didn’t bother her. “Great idea Tenten! Y/N and Kiba are training over there, lets join them! The more, the better!” Lee chimed in happily.     “No!” Tenten gasped loudly.    “No?” Lee asked visibly confused.     She hated how volatile her own response was, how instantaneously her gut had twisted, she crossed her arms and looked away from Lee. “That’s what I said.” She said clearly.    She wasn’t going to back down even if she hadn’t meant for it to come out the way it had she wasn’t willing to budge on her stance. Her completely logical stance. Nothing but unquestionable Kunoichi logic. “But you love training with Y/N and sparring with Kiba has been great for my own tra--” Lee started to rush out, his words getting faster as he got more excited at the prospect of training with others.     “I don’t love Y/N! Where’d you even hear that?!” She snapped.    Staring daggers right into him as she waited for an answer, her heart racing with panic at the idea that anyone knew her feelings. Lee shied away from Tenten’s intense gaze, shrinking into himself a little as he tried to process her question with a mind that had no malicious intent. “I just--you usually--Y/N is a great sparring partner.” He struggled.     He wasn’t wrong, that was one of the things Tenten liked so much about you was that you were an incredible Kunoichi, you were smart and fierce on the battle field but when she looked over to you and Kiba laughing any praise she had twisted into anger. A Kunoichi shouldn’t be playing around, letting a boy turn your sharp mind to mush left a vile taste in her mouth. “He didn’t say you loved her, he said you love sparring with her.” Neji pointed out.     It was like being dowsed in cold water as that overstep hit her. She looked over at him equal parts horrified and angry, horrified he’d caught onto her and angry that he was so calm about it. “Wait-...” Lee said.    Lee might be the second to last person to realize Tenten liked Y/N, the very last person to have yet to recognize it being you. He gasped as it dawned on him, excitement replacing any fear he had. “Tenten! You love Y/N! How beautiful! Incredible! Two extraordinary Kunoichi in l--” He started loudly, nearly in tears at this beautiful declaration he was making.    But Tenten hitting him stopped that. “Lee! Quit it!” She demanded.     “But Tenten love is one of the most beautiful and youthfu--” He started again.     And again she hit him. “I don’t! Why would I be stupid enough to have feelings for someone who’s already got a boyfriend?! What do you take me for? Some kind of drooling idiot?” She demanded.     Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes as she yelled, she was too smart for this! Too smart to think like an idiot and she refused to let anyone else treat her like she was one, not even her own teammates. “Boyfriend?” Neji asked bewildered.     But she didn’t want to talk about this anymore, it all made her feel so sick, so frustrated with the seemingly unchangeable circumstances. “I’m going to go work on my scrolls for our next mission.” She decided nodding to herself.    “Tenten wait pl--” Lee started.     But she was already gone. “Neji we have to do something! We just can’t sit by and let love die like this!” Lee stressed.     Neji may not have the same view as Lee but he gave a nod as he thought everything that

had happened over, the words ‘someone who’s already got a boyfriend’ playing over in his head until it clicked as he looked up at you and Kiba. But something about that just didn’t add up...you and Kiba? Sure you’re friends but anyone who’s got eyes knows your romantic interests aren’t there...right? “We should talk to Y/N.” Lee said and before Neji could object to trying to come up with a plan he was already shouting. “Y/N!” Waving his arms as he walked over to you.    Neji sighed and followed him over. “Hey Lee, Neji.” You greeted smiling briefly looking at them before around, your eyes clearly searching for their missing member. “Didn’t I see Tenten with you?” You asked.    “Yeah, I could’ve sworn I heard her yelling at you Lee.” Kiba snickered.     “That’s why we came over Y/N, on behalf of Tenten I wanted to tell you th--” Lee started.    “That she wanted to surprise you with dinner tomorrow.” Neji interrupted pointedly.    It wasn’t their love to confess to you, it was Tenten’s and it didn’t feel right to speak her feelings for her. Plus his head ached with just the idea of how hard she’d deck him if he let Lee confess her feelings. “Why didn’t she just come over and ask me herself?” You asked confused.     It wasn’t like Tenten at all have someone talk for her, just thinking that didn’t even feel right. “She had to go get ready.” Lee came up with.    “For tomorrow?”     “She wants to be really ready.” He tried. “Tenten is bursting with Youthful spirit and wants to get ready properly for your date.”     “Date?! It’s a date?! Oh, Gods I gotta go get ready!”     You ran off and both Kiba and Neji were both giving Lee a look of disapproval, at least Neji’s assumption was right you weren’t dating Kiba. “There’s no date is there?” Kiba asked.     “No” Neji sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.     “What’s the big idea then?! You know Y/N likes Tenten! If you’re trying to mess with her--I swear to the Gods!” Kiba said getting defensive.     “We’re not!” Lee insisted.    He would never do that to either of them, Kiba relaxed a little but his face stayed scrunched up as he tried to understand what these two numb skulls were up too. “So you’re setting them up?” He asked.     “Looks like it.” Neji sighed.    “Yes! Yes we are! We are going to be the two to unite youthful and beautiful love!” Lee said happily as it dawned on him that was something they could do.     Kiba couldn’t help but to smile at Lee’s unbridled excitement. “Do you two need any help?” He offered.    “Ye--”    “No.” Neji interrupted Lee.    If Tenten got sights of Kiba he knew she’d march off so having him help was out of the question. “You say so.” Kiba scoffed.    “I do say so. Come on Lee.” Neji said walking away.     Tenten tried everything she could to try and get you out of her head but nothing seemed to quiet her loud thoughts. Not sleep, not training, not writing scrolls, nothing seemed to quell the bitter ache in her chest, it all brought her to thoughts of you and the time you’d spent together. You’d spend hours helping Tenten write out her scrolls and you were the only person other than herself she trusted to do this, you’d just sit and talk and it just felt like you got her like no one else ever had. So that’s how Lee found her, laying on the ground outside, half finished scrolls surrounding her, clearly defeated by the task and her emotions. “Tenten?” He asked carefully.     “What Lee?” She asked not opening her eyes to even look at him.     “Come train with me!” He pitched.    “Why don’t you go train with Kiba? Everyone else seems to love him so much.” She muttered rolling so her face was in the grass.    “I’d rather train with you Tenten! You’re a great adversary!” He insisted just trying to follow the plan he and Neji had laid out but she didn’t say anything back. “I’ll even buy you dumplings from your favourite dumpling house! Please Tenten!” He said going off script.     But it seemed to rouse her a little as she thought it over. “You never buy lunch...what gives?” She asked turning her head to look at him and it was obvious to see

something was up, he was trying something, his body language completely gave him away. “What are you doing Lee?” She asked.    “Nothing! I just want to spar with my teammate!” He insisted.     “Are you pitying me?” She asked as it seemed to click in her head. “I don’t need your pity! How dare you?!” She demanded getting up. “I am not some sad child! I don’t need you to try and treat me like one!” She yelled before storming off.     How dare he treat her like that? Like a child that needed their parent to put a band-aid on to a scraped knee. As she walked through the city trying to rid her mind of angry thoughts Lee was racing to get to Neji who groaned at the news. “Maybe we should get Kiba if Tenten is avoiding him maybe we can get her to duck down into the dumpling shop.” Lee pitched.     “We don’t have time to get Kiba but we can use the transformation Jutsu.” Neji said and Lee shrunk down into himself a little. “I can use it, she’ll likely be avoiding you too. We’ll work together to get her into the shop.” He corrected himself.     “Right! Lets go!” Lee said excitedly.     Tenten thought maybe buying some new weapons might cheer her up and help uncloud her mind but as she went to reach for the handle to the local weapons shop she heard your voice. “Thank you so much! Have a nice day!” You said cheerily.     And without knowing why Tenten was overwhelmed with the need to hide so she ducked down by the trash cans in hopes you wouldn’t see her. You came out and she’d never seen you dressed like that, prettied up like-...she sighed, like you were going on a date. She was sure that’s what the small black box in your hand was...a gift for your date, maybe even an anniversary, how long had you been dating Kiba? How long had she not known about it? Maybe that’s why you were dating Kiba because she didn’t pay enough attention to you, I mean how blind did she have to be to not know your feelings towards him? “Tenten! There you are!”     She nearly jumped out of her skin from Lee’s loud joyous voice. She quickly looked over to where you had been but you were long gone she sighed in distress about this whole situation. “I don’t want to train right now Lee!” She said heatedly as she got up.     “Tenten--” He started going over to her but she got up and started walking the other way. “Alright, Neji your turn.” He said smiling to himself.     She shuffled her feet as she walked barely looking up until a grey coat caught the corner of her eye: Kiba. Gods, she just couldn’t catch a break! He looked over at her and she quickly cut down the next ally not wanting to even give him the chance to talk to her. He’d probably ask her about what to get her best friend as an anniversary gift cause he wasn’t thoughtful enough to know. What’d you even see in him? What’d you see in him that you didn’t see in her? She was every bit as good as Kiba! She was---looking at Kiba again? Wait, what? There was Kiba with Akamaru walking down the street with Naruto. But--hadn’t he just been--what was going on? She turned back around and went down the same ally she’d come from and there was Kiba but without Akamaru. With frustrated determination she marched over to Kiba and there was clear surprise on his face. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing?” She demanded.    Grabbing the impostor by the scruff of the collar and quickly dragging him away from the crowded street. “What do you mean--Hey! Tenten let go!” He said.     But she refused and grabbed a kunai from her shuriken holster and putting it to his neck. “You’re not Kiba, I just saw him. You are an impostor trying to infiltrate the Hidden Leaf and I--”     “Tenten! Wait!” Lee said rushing over.    “Lee this is an impostor it’s not Kiba this is a Shinobi trying to infiltrate the--” Her words died on her tongue as a puff of smoke went up in front of her and revealed the true culprit. “Neji?!” She demanded.    “We can explain.” Lee insisted.     She let go of Neji and stared them both down, blood boiling. What were these two even trying to do tricking her like that?! “Uh.” Neji started

uncharacteristically at a loss for words.     What was he even supposed to say? The more he thought about it the more ridiculous he realized this whole plan was, how had he let himself get so caught up in this. “We just wanted to help Tenten!” Lee tried to explain, fire burning in his eyes for the passion he knew she had for you. “We set you up on a date and we were trying to get you to the dumpling house for it.” He completely confessed.    “A date?! I can’t believe you’d think I’m so pathetic and sad that you two needed to set me up on a date! Do you think so little of me?!” She demanded.     It cut deep. The idea that her two teammates, her friends thought so little of her integrity and ability to haul herself out of a bad mood that she needed them to get her a date. “We couldn’t just let that passion die! You two love each other! Tenten maybe we didn’t do this the right way but--” Lee started.     “I don’t like anyone! I don’t love anyone! I don’t need someone to complete myself! There’s no buts there Lee!” She shouted.     “It’s with Y/N.” Neji added.     And suddenly the thudding in her head that felt like it was going to cause her head to split in two stopped. “What?”     “The date is with Y/N. She’s at the dumpling house.” He said hoping that was enough to get her to go.     And it seemed to be because her feet were moving before her mind was, racing down to the dumpling house. It felt like she nearly broke the door down as she flung it open to see if you were really there and sure enough there you were, sitting down in the booth you two usually get. Everyone inside stared at her loud intrusion “Fell as I opened the door.” She tried to pass off with an embarrassed laugh.     She walked over to your booth and you were all smiles, eyes beaming and it made her stomach do back flips. “Hey, I ordered your usual.” You said.     “Thanks.” She managed as she sat down with you.    She was unsure of everything that was really happening, she didn’t really think as she ran over and now that she was here things just felt so jumbled in her head. “I got you a gift, sorry it’s not the best. This was all kind of sudden but I wanted to make our first date memorable.” You said trying to ease the tension you can see building in her shoulders.     You get the black box from beside you and offer it to her and with shaky hands she takes it and looks it over but she can’t will herself to open it as she looks at you. “I thought you were---aren’t you dating Kiba?” She asked needing to hear the answer...no matter how much it would hurt.     But the only thing she heard of you roaring into laughter. “What? Me?! Dating Kiba?!” You barely got out between your fit of giggles.     “Aren’t you? You two have been spending so much time together lately and-and Ino said-...” Tenten drifted off unsurely.     “I’ve been spending time with Kiba cause I was thinking of adopting a Ninkin, he’s been helping me with all the training I’m going to have to do.” You explained.     Oh...oh that made a lot of sense. She felt so stupid, the more she thought about the situation the more it made sense, you had been talking about getting a Ninkin for years. Her self depreciating thoughts were interrupted by your pushing your gift closer to her and offering her one of your smiles. Your beautiful warm smile. She tore her eyes away from your face down to the gift and opened it and there was a new three-section staff with the inscription of today’s date on it and as she read it, it finally hit her that this was happening. She was on a date with you. A smile made it’s way onto her face and pushed away all the negative thoughts that had been plaguing her. “I love it.” She said.     And those words ate away any self doubt you’d had about all of this, the uneasy tension leaving the both of you and being replaced with a warm bliss. She got up and shimmied into the booth beside you and with bravery it felt like she’d only had to show on the battlefield she took your hand in hers and as you laced your fingers with hers you swore you could hear a cry from somewhere outside,

something along the lines of. “So youthful!”  --- ~Admin Coral. Buy Me A Coffee?

[thirstyhellfirenacht]

Quiet Hours 2: The Angstening

Quiet Hours

Angst, voyeurism, no happy ending/ambiguous ending, SMUT

Dewey Finn x Reader (Fem)

Beetlejuice x Reader (Fem)

Summary: Dewey Finn realizes he messed up, and continues to mess up.

Dewey Finn was no stranger to screw-ups. It was a running theme in his life, though most of the time he did manage to come out on top. With his luck it was very All-Or-Nothing; he either won or he lost. When he was in high school he met Ned Schneebly and started Death Maggot, that was a win. When they played the school talent show, that was a loss. Getting into community college after high school was a win, but dropping out had been a loss. Moving in with Ned was a win, but when he started dating Patty, that was one of the biggest losses.

The past year had been the biggest in terms of winning and losing. Last year he had been at his lowest; he lost his job, his band, his self-esteem and thought he would lose his best friend and a place to live. Then things turned around, he won so much more than he ever thought he deserved. He landed a job that he never considered but felt so fulfilling that he felt like he found his calling. He became part of a new band that rocked harder than any band he’d ever played with. His friendship with Ned was stronger than ever, even Patty seemed to have a begrudging respect for him now. He started dating again. Rose Mullens was so out of his league, she might as well have been playing a completely different sport.

And then he met you. It was karaoke night at a local bar, and when he saw you on stage singing your heart out, he knew he had to talk to you. The friendship between you to was nearly instant, each of you excitedly asking questions about the other’s music. As the months passed and you two became closer, he felt as easy around you as he did around Ned. No one else listened to him like you did, no one else checked up on him in the same way. Ned was his brother, but as the months passed he knew that you were special.

Who else would have stayed with him for a week after Rose broke up with him? Who else would have given him a spare key for whenever he needed to get away from everything? Who else would have dragged him out of bed and surprised him with a concert at a local bar? Ned was a good friend, but you always managed to go above and beyond for him. Your friendship meant the world to Dewey, and he never wanted to screw that up.

But this was reality, and reality said that Dewey had it good for too long.

When Dewey woke up the next morning, and you weren’t there he didn’t think much of it. He was used to being alone at your place. You had no problems leaving him alone in your small apartment, and it wasn’t the first time he had crashed with you after a drunk night. It had been the first time that you two had slept in the same bed together, usually he passed out on the couch. Another first was the sticky feeling in his boxers when he woke up.

It took a moment for him to remember what had caused the reaction. He shifted to sit up as thoughts of his dream last night passed through his hungover brain. There wasn’t much that he remembered, only a pair of amazing breasts and the feeling of his face against his ex-girlfriends hair as they had sex. The reminder of it caused him to get half-hard again and he shook his head, trying to snap out of it. He felt dirty having had that dream in your bed when you were right there next to him. He hoped he didn’t do anything inappropriate last night.

Still, his heart sank back in his chest as he thought of Rose. He was thankful that the break-up had happened at the end of the school year. That would give him at least 3 months to try and get over her before it was back to seeing her everyday. Right now though, the wound was still fresh and he reached for his phone pulling up your name in the contacts list.

“I had a sex dream about her... I miss Rose.” he typed. The response was almost instant.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He really was an idiot looking back on everything.

As present as you had been in those first few weeks of the break-up, you were just as distant now. Dewey didn’t blame you, after everything you had done there were other things you needed to do. You had a life outside of him, and he knew it. He knew that you couldn’t always drop everything and run to his side every time his thoughts started to become too much.

Still, there was something different now. In the time you two had known each other, there had been hours on the phone, talking and texting each other. It had been like you two had been having one long conversation since you two met so many months ago. Very rarely were you two not talking, but now... you weren’t there. You had taken a huge step back and you didn’t know why. He still heard from you every once in a while, still keeping each other up to date but...

Dewey couldn’t put a finger on it.

It wasn’t until he got a message nearly three weeks later that he put the pieces together.

“I’m going on a date on Friday!”

Dewey had never seen you date before. In the months that he’d known you, you never once expressed interest in dating anyone. Though he felt happy for you in a way, there was something sad about it to him as well. He’d hope the two of you would stay single and keep each other company. But he guessed that was just one more loss for him. The hits really did just keep coming.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he texted back.

The words felt empty as he hit send.

He missed you. He missed you and it was driving him crazy that you weren’t there.

Friday came and something in him snapped. He grabbed the key that you had given him so long ago and made his way to your apartment. Dewey needed to see you, to talk to you, to make sure things really were alright between you two.

It was still fairly early in the afternoon when he let himself in, and was surprised that you weren’t home. He wondered if you had already left on your date, and thought about going home, but not before heading into your room to use the toilet.

As he was just about to leave your room, he heard the door open and close and voices coming from the living room. Fuck, you had brought your date here?! It looked like the two of you were just now coming back home. Still, curiosity got the better of him and he peaked out the door, curious about the man you had brought back.

The man was a little taller than Dewey, with messy green and brown hair and wearing stripes everywhere. The word “gremlin” popped into his head, looking at the strange man you had invited into your home. Was this guy really your type?

You and your date sat on the couch, facing each other. From here it was easy for Dewey to watch what was going on. He told himself that he should leave, escape out the window and use the fire escape to make an exit but he couldn’t. Some sick part of him wanted to see where this was going- for your safety of course! This was all about your safety and your safety alone. This guys was clearly kind of weird and he was just looking out for you! Who cared if he’d seen weirder looking guys in his old band days?

“So, theater huh?” you asked your date, a smile on your lips.

“I tend to dabble. I do love me a good musical.” the man replied.

“Me too!” you replied excitedly. “Favorite and least favorite?”

“Favorite, gotta go with Repo the Genetic opera.” he said. “I have a thing for shows about death.”

“Oh, I love that one!” your date seemed pleased.

“Least favorite, it’s a dead tie between The Music Man and Brigadoon.”

“FUCK Brigadoon!” you laughed in delight.

A weird feeling spread through Dewey. You and him used to talk about music all the time, how come you’d never brought up that you like musicals? As he watched the two of you enthusiastically talk about different shows, he felt something in the pit of his stomach. It almost felt like-

“Jealous?” the man asked, snapping Dewey back into reality. He had zoned out and that single word made him jump. Him? Jealous? Of what?

“Very.” you nodded. “I haven’t had sex in... weeks.” you hesitated slightly at the word and Dewey was suddenly very curious. You always joked about being constantly horny but you never talked about your sex life- hell he assumed that you didn’t actually have one. Who had you been having sex with?! He thought you two told each other everything!

“Something wrong, Doll?” the man asked, and you seemed to shift nervously. What was going on in your head?

“It’s probably not good first date talk but I guess I’ll tell you.” you started. “I’ve only had sex once in the past few months and the last time it happened it... wasn’t exactly the best.”

“Yeah? What happened?” your date pressed on.

“I had sex with my best friend.” you admitted, playing with your hair nervously. “But he didn’t realize it was me.”

Dewey’s entire body went stiff and his eyes widened. What the fuck were you talking about?

“I- we went out drinking, and passed out in my bed.” you explained carefully. “And we woke up in the middle of the night and he said he was feeling much more sober and one thing lead to another and...” you took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes with the palm of you hands. “He thought it was a sex dream.”

“That’s rough.”

“He thought it was a sex dream with his ex-girlfriend.”

“Yikes.”

Dewey stared at you as everything fell into place. The distance between you two, the lack of interest in dating, the fact that you would barely talk to him. Guilt clenched at his stomach, and he felt awful. Had he really done that to his best friend? Was he really still that selfish and self-serving after everything that had happened?

The answer seemed to be yes.

“It wasn’t even good sex.” you laughed, a tinge of sadness in your voice. “I didn’t even get to kiss him- and I definitely didn’t get to cum.”

Dewey winced at the words. How had he managed to fuck up this bad?

“That’s a shame.” your date said, a devious smile crossing his lips. “Because if I had the chance to see you naked, I’d make sure you were more than satisfied.”

Kick him out. Dewey’s mind suddenly screamed. He’s just a horny bastard. He just wants sex! Come on, I’ve seen you turn down guys, kick him out. He was a hypocrite and he knew it but dammit, he wanted this new guy gone. He had to talk to you, he needed to apologize to you and every moment that this douchebag was here was a moment that he had to live with knowing that he hurt you.

To his dismay, you smiled back at him. “Oh yeah?” you asked. “And what exactly would you do to me?” The air in the room shifted, and Dewey knew he had to leave. He knew he needed to back away and climb out the window and get down the fire escape. He needed to leave, he should leave-

Bright green eyes met chocolate brown ones and his body suddenly felt frozen in place. Your date was looking directly at him. It was only for a split second, but it was enough to send a message; I’m going to fuck your best friend, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The other man leaned in and whispered something in your ear that made you gasp. You whined as he kissed from your ear to your jaw all the way up to your lips. Dewey couldn’t pull his eyes away as you let out sounds of pleasure as your date started kissing along your neck. Had you made those kinds of noises when it was Dewey? He racked his brain trying to remember anything of that drunken night.

The two of you continued to kiss, and Dewey continued to be unable to look away. He let out a shuddering breath as you willingly removed your shirt, tossing it off the side of the couch. From this angle he couldn’t see your chest, the back of the damn couch was blocking most of the view. He never hated a couch so much, especially one that he had been lucky enough to crash on so many nights before.

“Beej...!” you gasped out as the man seemed to focus on kissing down your body. What kind of a name was Beej? What was that short for something? An unpleasant feeling was spreading through Dewey’s chest.

Beej sat back up and moved you so that you were sitting on the arm of the couch, giving Dewey a perfect view of your bare torso. Your eyes were closed in pleasure as Beej stared at him again with a smirk before cupping your breasts in his hands and carefully teasing your nipples. As he watched from the sidelines, Dewey remembered the night of his “dream” and the pair of tits that he remembered seeing. Fuck, those had been your breasts. How long had your chest been that perfect looking?

Between your moans and your bare chest, Dewey felt his cock start to stiffen. He tried to will it away, but with every whimper escaping your throat his cock grew more needy. This was wrong, this was so wrong but he still found his hand slowly rubbing at the bulge in his pants.

He watched and Beej kissed his way down your body, biting and sucking different places. You let out an especially wonderful noise when he left a hickey on your side. One of your hands was tangled in his hair while the other was keeping you steady on the couches arm.

Beej sat back up, smirking at you. Dewey couldn’t see what his hands were doing, but whatever it was, you were enjoying it. Your nipples were hard and your whole body was shivering slightly in pleasure. He squeezed himself through his pants, his thumb circling the button on his jeans. Was he really thinking about doing this...?

Holding you steady, Beej moved your leg over the back of the couch allowing Dewey to get a look at the panties hanging from your ankle. Beej then disappeared on the other side of the couch, but by the loud whine escaping your lips it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on.

You threw your head back as Beej ate you out, and Dewey bit his lip and fumbled with his pants pulling his needy cock out. It felt disgusting, it felt amazing. It was clear that this was a power play that Beej was pulling, but at the moment Dewey didn’t care. Fuck, how had he never noticed how sexy you were?! As he stroked his cock he wondered what Beej was doing to be making you moan like that. Were his fingers thrusting inside you, or was your clit so sensitive that even a few soft licks were enough to have you a quivering mess? He stroked the head of his cock at the thought, unsure of what idea he liked more.

Dewey bit back a groan as he stroked and watched your face in pleasure. When was the last time he felt this turned on? His cock was throbbing in his hand, needy and pulsating. Every inch of his body was telling him to run over there and shove your date out of the way. He needed to prove to you that he wasn’t useless in bed and could absolutely make you cum if he’d just have one more chance...!

“Oh... oh fuck I’m so close....!” you gasped out, you leg twitching so much that the panties on your ankle fell to the floor. “Oh please don’t stop... please don’t stop.... Plea- oh fuck BEEJ!” Dewey watched in awe and jealousy as your whole body seized up and you came with a scream of the mans name. Dammit, that should be his name on your lips...!

Beej sat back up, making a show of licking his lips. That bastard. You smiled at him, face flushed red from pleasure.

“That was amazing.” you said quietly. “I haven’t come like that from someone else in a long time.”

“Anytime, babes.” Beej purred and pulled you into a long slow kiss that you melted into.

Dewey still couldn't look away as he took in every inch of your post-orgasm body. It should be him kissing you and comforting you right now, but it wasn't. He wrestled with his feelings, trying to decide if this was real. He was sexually attracted to you; that much he understood. That was easy. But what else?

Was this jealousy just because you weren't at his every call anymore? Was it because he always had a need to prove himself in everything he screwed up? What did he actually want? Did he want you because he actually wanted you, or did he now want you because he was alone and you weren't?

He watched as you crawled on Beejs' lap, straddling him. In this position it would be so easy for you to look over and see him peaking at you and your date. Dewey really should leave, he should turn and not risk getting caught-

A long moan escaping your lips stopped him in his tracks and made him squeeze his cock again. He could tell that you had settled on your dates cock and started riding him. You looked so damn beautiful when you were in so much pleasure. Beej leaned in and his lips pressed along your neck again, and by the sounds of your whimpers he was going to leave some marks.

Dewey wished that it was him leaving the marks on your body. The hand on his cock started stroking again as he watched you. He couldn't see much other than a little below your shoulders, but God was it enough to drive him wild. The head of his cock was growing more and more sensitive as he edged himself, he knew at this rate he wouldn't last much longer, especially if you kept moaning like that. Your moans were like music to him, sending electric sparks through him and giving him the same feeling as when he played an amazing show. The sounds you made could make anyone feel like a rock star.

"P-please touch my clit...!" You begged quietly, and a shift of beej's hand signaled that he obliged. You were going faster on him, riding him as if you're life depended on it. From what Dewey had seen earlier, it was clear that you were getting close again.

Dewey hand sped up as he watched you with hungry eyes. God he wanted to be the one making you moan, he wanted to be the one eating you out and worshiping your body the way it deserved to be worshiped. He bit back a groan as he spilled all over his hand, his knees going weak from the force of the orgasm that had snuck up on him and crashed over him like a wave.

He shivered as he looked back up at you, guilt soon washing over him as the lust faded away. Guilt and jealousy and hurt. He really was a screw-up.

You looked so beautiful and you were right on the edge of orgasm again. He carefully tucked his cock back into his pants and wiped the drying cum on the inside of his pants pocket. It was gross, but he needed to do laundry anyway.

He couldn't watch you cum again with a stranger. There were too many feelings in his brain, and he needed to sort himself out. He was about to take a step back and sneak out the window when a loud gasp from you prompted him to glance at you one last time.

You were looking directly at him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. The jig was up. You were looking at him and we're going to be so mad at him. This was the end of your friendship, he just knew it.

Still, you didn't break eye contact with him, and to his surprise you opened your mouth and let out a scream of pleasure as you came again. Dewey’s eyes widened as you never broke eye contact through your orgasm and had he not just came moments before he would have probably jizzed his pants from the site alone. He watched as you collapsed on your date and he took that moment to make a run for it.

As quietly as he could, Dewey slipped away from the door and moved out the window, praying to God/Satan that you wouldn't come after him. Or maybe he wanted that? Fuck, he had no clue anymore. He had no idea what he wanted.

You.

He wanted you. He wanted you but he was too late. He screwed up harder than he'd ever screwed up before and he couldn't take it.

Dewey Finn was no stranger two screw-ups. And this time he wasn't sure if he could ever make it right.

Quiet Hours 3: The Third One

[lornahansonforbes]

Prologue

If you’re reading this today, then you know I’m dead, dead to you as you are to me, and that should make you so very happy.

I gave it all up sitting at a red light.

This last piece is the final chapter of “The Emesis Tray of Feelings,” it’s a trilogy.

The trilogy contains one play, “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge,” which is a series of monologues and now this, “It Didn’t Happen,” a one act play.

The first installment, “Hot Neon Lights,” tells the story of two events. Act One is a very messy breakdown followed by the fourth and final attempt of my taking my own life. I failed four times. Act Two is about six to weeks later and the family meeting with the psychiatrist where they decide if I should be locked up in hospital or go cold Turkey. There was no option, no Grey area, only black and white.

“Patina on the Edge,” is a series of monologues that highlights moments of grand and glorious to being a homeless junkie who was sucking dick, meanwhile being a thief and a shitkicker was a great way to being truly infamous. Lofty goals. It parallels the story that’s laid out in “Hot Neon Lights.”

“It Didn’t Happen.” is a one act play with four scenes. Scene one, the night of the breakup and a month after the breakup. Scene two, a phone call about the breakup. Scene three, a group of friends who just saw the two aforementioned plays and are in a bar talking about what The New York Times will say about “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge.”

As you read this, do know that this is like Ivory Soap, ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredth percent (99 44/100%) true.

Several people have been merged into one character and not vice versa.

You should know that I died alone and bitter that I was never truly loved by anyone except by my dogs, Zoey, Chase, Auggie, The Brother Levi, CoCo and Harry; and my three cats, Rasselas, Othello and Belle Kitty.

I sadly cannot think of one person, past or present, who ever truly loved me.

I suffered with Bipolar Depression and Anxiety for a large portion of my life. The three guys who I stupidly referred to as my boyfriend, I see now that they barely tolerated me as did my family.

I don’t give a shit. You and whomever can say what you want about me and pepper it generously with Drama Qween. You do know that but I can only tell you what my perception was and how I saw things, but as usual, you’re right and I’m wrong. Fuck you, your opinion is paying for my funeral and you had the option not to read this.

Lastly, all the things I’ve written starting in the 1980’s and in between has been thrown out and erased etc. Yeppers. All gone. I kept it all but as of this entry, I threw it all out.

Since I’ve submitted to various outlets and people yet only to learn I’ve been ignored.

But you can find me on Tumblr and not on Tinder. Good luck with that.

Post Script:

I’ve told stories about how I lived and how I overcame. “You should write a book.” Motherfucker, don’t play with me. You ain’t gonna fucking read it. Why even bother existing? I’m done. If you really want to know, actually pick up the phone and call me. Bye, Felicia.

I forgot to tell you that someone asked me not to give up writing. Sorry but I’m not gonna change my mind about cutting off my nose to spite myself.

Scene One

The late summer sun was slowly going down as we approached the corner of Melrose and North Robertson.

Granted it was nearly 8:00 PM, the sun was still blazing away. I turned to look from the passenger seat to see people milling about waiting to go inside but also the paparazzi was there gawking and snapping pictures.

She slowed the car down for just a millisecond and then took a sharp left turn. Then Sister Mary of the Perpetual Parking Spot smiled down upon us and she pulled in and parked the car.

The restaurant sign read Ty’s Thai Tie Dye, an Indochina Conglomerate. We went inside and were seated way in the back. It was a jungle, flowers, potted trees and Passion Flower vines everywhere. The sun broke through like mosaic tiles.

Dinner was delicious and uneventful. She was now pulling up in front of my modest flat.

“Darling, I’m sure we’ve had a wonderful evening but I feel that my husband is all over us these past few weeks. I’m just so sick and tired of seeing his Gold Audi here and there every time we go out. Why can’t we agree to disagree with the fact that I’m who I am and you are you we aren’t able to carry on like this anymore. I know that I should break it to you gently, but let’s rip the fucking Band-Aid off, it’s over. Don’t speak. Let’s go our separate ways with our splendiferous memories and as the cliché states, when you do speak of me, be kind,” she blurted out without looking at me.

It took me a moment and then I watched her Black Jaguar Vandam Plas glide away and disappear. Nearly comatose, I fumbled for my keys and took those first tentative steps towards the front door. I saw my cat in the window and her deep gold eyes. We looked directly at each other. I got in my car only to pound the steering wheel with tears in my eyes.

“You ungrateful bitch,” I screamed so loud that my ears were ringing worse than being a rock concert.

I drove into the night with flashes of our tongues lashing about like in some porn as we tore our clothes off each other. She was moist. My turgidity.

I landed at Pfeiffer Beach and I saw a Sandpiper. Fuck my life. The sound of the crashing waves and the sun rising. Stumbling back to my car I spied that CHP had paid a visit with a bright orange parking ticket tucked neatly underneath the wiper blades. God damn it to hell.

When I turned the car over, the radio was blaring, some static but nonetheless it jangled my nerves.

“Now, I am strong enough. Now, I’m strong enough to accept change. Yes, my darling, if you want to live in another place, I can understand it. It’ gonna hurt for a little while, but I can understand it, but before you walk out that door, touch me in the morning,” this woman’s anger and hurt were front and center. We were simpatico at that moment. We were both in a world of hurt and she like me, we were not feeling it.

I tapped a button on my car radio and my playlist replaced her voice as I pulled into traffic on Route 1 South heading home leaving Pfeiffer Beach in my rear view mirror.

Whoever that female voice was previously on my radio, I felt like Kathy Bates and I was swinging that sledgehammer and I left her there to suffer.

Normally I’m not that guy who “gets in touch with their feelings.” It’s just not in my DNA and when I do “get in touch,” it’ll be like a Gatling gun. Crumpled up like a wad of paper, riddled with bullets and left to die gasping for breath in a pool of blood.

This morning I got up and was meandering around my neighborhood. I have absolutely no idea how it happened but I stopped into a local coffee shop and got a Chai Latte. I usually get a green juice with pomegranate and Acai.

I was in a deep, deep funk since I had dinner with my friend and she dumped me. Who was she to me? My girlfriend; friend with benefits: fuck buddy; mistress or just another conquest? Whatever it was, it was good and it lasted but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before and so this came to pass and now in my mind I heard Louis Prima singing, “…everywhere I go.” If I really wanted to hear that song, I’d rather find the David Lee Roth remake.

Apparently I got my steps in this morning without some contraption attached to me or some app on my phone. I plunked my narrow behind down on a concrete Jersey barrier and I looking at the waves crashing onto Dockweller Beach. I know it’s not Malibu Beach just a short drive North and it certainly wasn’t Malibu Beach in Boston. From that vantage point, you’ll see the highway and Sister Corita Kent’s artwork in the distance.

Seriously what the fuck, yo? Processing, tabulating, analyzing, and parsing the events of being dumped. I know I saw the data, but what did it reveal? Was it actually that simple or was I looking at the galley’s for the unabridged Cyrillic version of Tolstoy’s tome with copious notes in the margins. Could I decipher The Daily Jumble? Was I looking at some foreign language? Was I experiencing some sort of dyslexia? Sigh! Could I really clean this mess with a piece of used snotty paper?

I’m solving Pi!! Yeah, yeah!! That’s the ticket!!

I clenched my hand around my paper cup and almost spilled my Chai latte. I was fucking pissed.

“Ungrateful BITCH,” that right I said it and I said it with such furious anger venom was dripping of my fangs.

What a difference a day makes. Bull-fucking-shit. Something felt dissimilar yet had I seen the same thing from a different vantage point?

At that exact moment I heard one of those thumper cars approaching blaring something I didn’t understand  anything but I did hear, “Baile, baile con El General” and just like that the car was gone. Was Joy Division only for headphones? This is Los Angeles not Colby College.

Perched on the Jersey barrier, I wasn’t contemplating why lint gets in my navel.  I couldn’t dodge raindrops. Had I tabled my ego? Were my expectations quickly quieted? Was it like that thumper car; was I blaring or amplifying some sort of acceptance of defeat? The hounds had been released at the same time as I gave up my control? I can be that Type-A personality, driven and getting in touch with my feeling resided in an abyss somewhere, but the fuck if I know.

I felt dampness. Where am I now? Am I on the Maid of the Mist or standing underneath Niagara Falls? God damn it to hell!! I was crying. I normally don’t do that. I clenched my jaw so tightly I had TMJ.

“Mission Accomplished,” I think was actually the last time I did cry, but that was for my furry friends, Mickey & Minnie and then it was Stanley & Blanche. Do I get ahold of the anger in me? What the fuck? Maybe a word, a smile, an hour of happiness? NETX??!! I picked up my phone. I scrolled through my contacts. In a parallel universe, I called you a thousand times when I know I did not and I never will call you.

A boisterous and vociferous colony of seagulls appeared just a few yards away from me. Fuck. Hitchcock.

My paper cup is empty. I knew I had to dispose of it. Recycle, reuse, repurpose or like this affair, would it end up in a landfill? Just another thing to be unceremoniously and recklessly tossed away. It’s just a thing.

With a great exasperated sigh, eight months, two weeks and a day. That’s how long it lasted without me actually keeping track of it. Don’t go there. Don’t judge me. Men and women silently judge me and you but I can only assume they leave something on me so I don’t catch cold. Oh, shit. We had seen other naked. She fucking hurt me. Okay, I’m not that person, who’d scrawl, No Sale, on a mirror if I found a check and a note that read, “Last night was dope.”

My phone beeped, a text message letting me know I had to drive to Pacoima.

Gotta bounce. Later. Onto embrace the new challenges ahead and channel them into existence.

Scene Two

Part Three.

A Hello, bleep.

B How did you know it was me?

A I’ve known for a long time and plus it’s out there.

B Why did you say that?

A What did I say exactly?

B Don’t give me that bullshit. I saw it.

A I told you about how I felt but then I felt around in the dark and I didn’t know how that single cell actually started to feel like encouragement.

B What I said was to do it for yourself and not me.

A I did it for you first and then afterwards I got to me.

B You took more than you should have and you took it to another place. Also that’s not how it went down.

A It’s how some people work. As I told before, give me a thing to work with and I can easily create from there.

B I only told you about a sixteenth of what happened.

A But that was enough for me and those three sentences told me everything I needed to know. Fuck bleep, I told you recently about my Bipolar Depression and how I grapple with it hour by hour and mostly by myself with no assistance or guidance from anyone.

B I appreciate that and your candor but it makes me crazy. But fuck bleep, I know how mentally exhausted some people feel being in your orbit.

A Bleep, dude, we’re trying to get to that place in the day where we can say, I’m still here. First we get out of bed unassisted and the rest is gravy.

B Why such labels? I mean I know most of the names but you know I’m a tee shirt and jeans.

A Without inferring or intimating the slightest thing, I had a good feeling that who she is and most likely she has her own money but she doesn’t dismiss her husband’s money.

B I have my own money too but I’m not going to be seen eating on North Robertson.

A Possibly I’d see you at one place on Melrose or on Alameda and they’re not that far from where I put you. Then again, there’s a place around the way and you can walk there. I pay attention to things like that ever since I saw Russell Simmons ex wife Creamora eating at raw restaurant in LA a few years ago.

B Wow. How did find that out?

A She had a reality show and they showed her eating there and as a woman of color, she nearly lost her mind. One of things they served was a pizza but it wasn’t a New York pepperoni pizza all hot and gooey with cheese. I yelled at the TV, Gurl, I’ll take a slice. I’m in.

B Wait a minute, bleep. You told me you have issues with food.

A I do but sometimes I’ve got to throw caution to the wind and suffer with each delicious bite.

B So that’s why you fabricated that restaurant.

A Well, kinda sorta. When I was in LA, I found a great little Thai place a few blocks away from The Dolby and if I remembered the name I would’ve told you about it. They’ve got some amazing vegan options.

B This is one of the things I find about you, you know some of the most trivial things and it’s fucking scary.

A Bleep, I just hope I don’t actually lose my mind. I’d hope that you or someone else would put me down if dementia or Alzheimer’s effected me.

B Don’t say that. I sometimes like it when you remember what happened way back when.

A I’m not sure what’s going to happen but I’m still here regardless.

B I’ve got to ask why you said I cried.

A Bleep, you are but one of many Taurus men I know and if they do actually cry, it’ll be in the shower and they’d never admit to knowing how to cry. They might well up with tears but never cry in front of anyone ever.

B That’s fucked up.

A Taurus men do write but never about their feelings nor do they own a diary or journal. If that April born man exists who shares their feelings, they are a very rare breed of man.

B Well writing isn’t my thing.

A You sound exhausted.

B I had to compose myself and all the while I cursed your name.

A Oh it’s because I hit a nerve?

B You’re the last person I’d ever, of course, I think of to wax philosophic and then admit it to someone else let alone admit it to myself.

A Bleep, motherfucker, I’m completely aware and yet I’m not living under the delusion by pining away waiting for you to ask.

B No, it’s not that but does fall in the same zip code and then I used one word, empath. You dug as deep as you could and I’m like, fuck, man, I’m on the phone with you.

A Bleep. Bleep. I’ve known ever since your old EarthLink email and I never and I wouldn’t unless you asked. I told you before I see things that I don’t necessarily understand and with each message, I just end up seeing something.

B I gathered as much. There’s my Nou-Nou. Come up. It’s okay. Come on, Nou-Nou. Move your lard ass, Janx. There you go. All better. Rumple, not a word. You stay right there and let Nou-Nou get some.

A The kittehs!!

B Don’t distract. I’m not sure if you have a malignant will or you gave me something to think about.

A I can’t apologize more. I’m truly very sorry. I riffed on an idea and here we are.

B Life isn’t over as you think of it just because you’re alive. There’s more.

A That’s why I told you that I wouldn’t write again. Stirred the pot.

B You’re a dick.

A And your point is? A cunt? I’m The Dowager Empress and that’s all there is to that.

B You’re so full of shit.

A We’re not going to snap at each other like two terriers.

B Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Bickering just for arguments sake?

A You’re the one with the brown eyes, so you could possibly be full of shit. I’ve got green eyes, pea green with jealousy.

B You said some shit and it hit me. What’s that thing you usually say? Oh yeah, it’s a punch in the face you can’t take back.

A Bleep, dude. Most people want that moment in life where someone grabs ahold of you and pleads with you not to leave. It’s been played out in the movies, but not in our lives, right? I don’t know the life you led but I’ve had three boyfriends and each one of them dumped me. I’ve cried and played all the sad songs. You could have possibly done the same thing but let’s face it fucking Cher said it best, we all sleep alone.

B Whitney clapped back and said I’d rather be alone than be unhappy.

A True. But I had the near perfect relationship with The Beast. More than 40 years together. We both had separate lives and we were celibate lovers. We had each other’s back we did everything for love but we never did that. I knew that he wasn’t some Sir Galahad to love from afar, motherfucker was two legged boa constrictor. I’m okay with dying alone and unloved.

B That’s really a fucking bleak future. Well insert a happy go-lucky cliché here followed by Shady Pines. I can’t with you, bleep.

A I know that we’re estranged but don’t divorce me or fire me just yet.

B Okay.

-The curtain comes down and the audience breaks out in an uproar of applause and cheers-

Scene Three

E What was that we just watched?

CI wish I knew.

E 90 minutes of a conversation that never happened?

D Clearly you’ve missed the point of it. Two guys who knew each other since high school and they meet up years later. One guy had a bad break up and the other guy was now, as he said, a widower.

C Excuse me?

E Yeah excuse me. I don’t see it. Okay high school is one thing but forty years later, they’re talking like that?

D Okay let’s go for a quick pop at The Stone and we’ll go home afterwards.

E Which stone?

C I think that the closest one is Rosetta.

D No. That’s by Park Avenue. I think this one is Killarney but is it Kilkerry? Fuck. It’s right here at 8th Avenue.

C Don’t make thing of it but look over getting of that cab, Miles Silverberg.

E I know that name.

D Murphy Brown.

C It is him. Not bad looking but not my type.

D Bitch, your type is anyone who can make the letter O.

C You should talk. You’re still paying off that asbestos abatement from the last one.

D The two of you are practically virgins again, but then again Father Frank doesn’t give confessionals.

C/E Fuck you.

D Oh look, we’re here.

E I’ve always wondered exactly how many bars in Manhattan are actually Irish bars.

C Probably a few but I’m not sure. There’s only one Blarney Stone and I think it’s in Lower Manhattan not here in Midtown. I’m thinking that anything above 23rd Street is either owned by The Vara or Lyons’ Brothers.

E Damn.

D Hello, Merrick. We like a bottle of your best Shiraz and three glasses. We’ll be over here. Thank you. Yes, Merrick, yes you’re all that but put a ring on it.

E Why won’t you just fuck him and get it over with?

D We like this game. We just love to flirt with each other. No harm, no foul.

C She’s been playing with Merrick for years and he loves the attention.

E I wonder what The Times says tomorrow.

D This is the the last chapter of the trilogy. Uh…

C First was Hot Neon Lights, second was Patina on the Edge and now, It Didn’t Happen.

D I can’t get it out of my head that one scene with the mother fighting with the dad. She was so mad at him, she put out a cigarette in her hand.

C Oh fuck yeah, that was fucking brutal.

E Can someone get that mad?

D She’s his mother and momma bear wasn’t having it.

C True but I’m not sure about the pretentious names. Trenton Burroughs English and Daniel Charles Snyder. But you know what? They’re actual people. I found out that Trenton is some how many times removed from the Queen of Norway and Daniel is a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. AND the most fucked up thing is that they don’t know each and have never met.

D You know what’s even more fucked up than? There’s an actual family here on the social register here in New York with the last name, Frankenstein. Google that.

E Thank you, Merrick. Ladies, a toast?

C Yes please and don’t be stingy.

D Miss Thing, leave some for the rest of us.

ALL 3 Cheers! Give my regards to Broadway!!

E Hot Neon Lights was excellent, though I thought the two fantasy moments were beyond me.

D Why?

E Is that what you’d expect from dropping a hit of acid?

C Not all the time. It’s different from person to person. I did it once and I had goosebumps most of the time and I saw these white penny tiles dance like waves and I was surfing.

D I went to see a midnight showing of Eraserhead in college and I hate that fucking movie. Sigh. I cringe whenever I hear, Eraserhead is dead. I wanna punch someone in the face.

E Damn and I said I was traumatized by seeing Gina Gershon’s pubic hair in Killer Joe. I’m sorry but on the silver screen in a crowded theater. I shudder to think.

C A straight guy cringing at the mound of Venus? What happened? Did you see your mother in the shower?

E It’s not that deep. My face is one thing but on a forty-foot screen? Shit was scary.

D Yeah that is unforgettable. Besides that, was the movie any good?

E I don’t know. I mean William Friedkin directed The Exorcist. Both are going to fuck with your head, period.

D Oh yeah he did but what was really fucked up was in Patina on the Edge when he told us how his father and stepmother thought that they were watching his life story on the silver screen.

C What fucked with my head with my head was when he told us that he actually went to M Street and those stairs. I saw the picture and it was daytime and the caption read, Here laid Father Merrin’s body. Regan MacNeil astro-projected his priestly self right out the window. Rest in Power, Mercedes McCambridge.

E What?

C Yeah. Gimme a second.

D You’re obsessed much?

C I couldn��t believe it myself and I took a screenshot. Look.

E Damn. That’s really fucked up. Here.

D Oh my God! That is fucked up.

C I know reality stranger than fiction.

E It wasn’t science fiction or was it tonight?

D Whatever it was, it was some great writing. He can tell a story.

C What did you get out of it?

E I’m thinking that after seeing Hot Neon Lights, Patina on the Edge and tonight’s It Didn’t Happen, I think they should have a face to face and make a decision if they’re going to be actual friends and figure out if they want to be celibate lovers and in a platonic marriage.

D Fuck that bullshit. It’s obvious that they are actually going to have a contentious relationship and they’re not going to find each other sitting together chatting it up in Shady Pines. The only thing that they can have is a hidden mutual respect for each other and the rest of us can only imagine that since neither one of them will admit to anything. He’s a whore and he’s a prude. They don’t know what they want, but can they be friends in any iteration of the meaning. We’ll never know.

C Well…unrequited love can keep you going. Okay I’ve got unrequited love too but I see mine as that song, All American Boy by Steve Grand. I just love that song and I’m obsessed with the media calling it Brokeback Breakout and he’s like the Gay Cowboy. That’s really a bad cliché but it’s even worse to know that not every fag wants to suck the quarterback’s dick. Yeah let that big man on campus get a pot belly and go bald, and at the 40th high school reunion you’re still in a size seven like me and what’s even worse is that all the girls want to kill me.

D Do let me know when old and bitter arrives.

E Oh c’mon. It can’t be all that bad. You’re supposed to live off a compliment for two weeks, but I always hope for the best. I mean I like my family and we all get along.

C Well how nice for you but I doubt it. It’s like Homer isn’t going to strangle Bart for the umpteenth time.

E Back to the other moment in Hot Neon Lights, what was up with that Diana Ross scene?

D That was explained in Patina.

C Yeah. He went to the Diana Ross Live at Caesar’s Palace show on two hits of mescaline but I think the point was like she said, I am and I’m going to be.

D Powerful.

E Didn’t he also explain how he could actually touch the guy on the flying trapeze at the circus. Apparently he likes dropping acid.

C Patina had that whole conversation about “Gee whiz. Boy I was drunk last night.”

D Yeah it was consensual but I’m not sure if they were that drunk or that high.

E I know right but he did fuck that girl after an eight ball.

C Oh yes! He was up to THANGS!!

D Indeed he was but that failed threesome was even funnier.

E Give the guy a break. I’m not sure if he wanted to fuck the husband in front of his wife or fuck the wife as the husband was going to fuck him.

C YES!! The bamboo chair hanging from the ceiling. If I was in that same situation I have no idea how to proceed.

E True, true, but I’m glad he told us from the jump, we’d never believe it actually happened. My mind hurts.

D Look gentlemen, the bottle is empty and we all have to go to work in a few hours. Let’s table this for the next time. Until then.

E Okay but it’s Romeo & Juliet with social media at The Public.

C That’s got to be something else. We’ll text after we read the review in The Times.

ALL 3 Good night, Merrick!!

[purplesurveys]

1012

survey by chasingghosts

If you have a job, who's your closest friend at work? I wanna say it was Justine at first, but it will probably shift to Angel in the near future because we were recently put in the same team. Our little intern family was adorable though and I hope we’ll all always stay friends.

Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? Yes, my mom has a rowing equipment thingy and a pair of dumbbells. I know she was also thinking of getting a bike, but that plan never panned out.

Were your parents born in the same country they now live in? Yes. We’ve always lived here and never migrated. Though I wish we did.

How did you celebrate New Year’s last year? Playing Mario Kart on the Switch with my cousins the entire evening and then going up on the rooftop at midnight to have a 360º view of the fireworks, which always makes me happy. And of course, deleted social media to avoid everyone’s wholesome family posts.

What would you do if you found a wallet containing $100 on the street? I think I’d be more concerned about whether there are IDs inside or not so that I could locate or contact the owner. I never really think of stealing.

Have you told anyone you love them today? Angela. I had also gone back on Facebook to share recent life updates and several relatives sent their congratulations. I replied today, thanking them but also telling each of them that I love them.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 4, I think. I fell asleep at 4 AM, woke up at around 7:45.

Are you in any physical or emotional pain right now? Ugh, both. Today I stubbed my toe so hard on the last stair going up and the nailbed ended up bleeding so much, so apart from it hurting like a bitch I also had to concentrate on not throwing up or fainting altogether because of the blood. And of course, emotional pain is always lurking around.

What's the time right now? 6:07 PM.

Is the sun still up, or is it dark?  It’s completely dark. My only light source at the moment is my laptop screen and the backlight on the keyboard.

Have you seen all The Hunger Games films that have been released so far? I’ve only seen the first one because they aired it so many times on one of the local movie channels here at one point. But since I was never really a fan, I didn’t go out of my way to see the next two that came out.

Is there an automatic fog light in your yard? No. But we do have a motion sensor light.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? Around 45 minutes ago to get Band-Aids for my toe.

How many living grandparents do you still have? Three. I’m grateful that they are all still super healthy, but I also always miss my grandpa. The four of them were really close in-laws, and I miss seing them as a complete set.

Are you currently in a relationship? Not anymore.

Have you ever heard people having sex in the next room? No, actually. If anything, we’re probably the ones who were heard in the past.

What are your plans for the rest of the day? Have dinner with my family, eat and savor the rest of my Monte Cristo sandwich (I made my first one today!); maybe take a few more surveys because it’s my last weekend being unemployed and my plate will for sure get very busy in the next few days; and try to avoid the sads by watching Good Mythical Morning.

How many times have you been sick this year? Once, which is usually the case every year.

Is there a garage or carport attached to your house? We do have a carport, yes.

Were you born somewhere other than a hospital? Nope, you got it at hospital.

Do you fold or scrunch? Man I thought you were talking about poker until I Googled what the hell this was referring to. I use a bidet, man. Then I fold to dry the area off.

Have you ever been on a strict diet and exercise regime? No. I never really needed to, so I’ve never felt like getting on one.

Who did you text today, and what did you talk about? I messaged Andi because I saw a Facebook post that reminded me of them and our thesis. That’s pretty much it for today, at least so far. 

What colour is your toothbrush? Maroon and white.

Do you have a favourite author? Not really.

Is Christmas a joyful time for you, or just plain stressful? Stressful because of the triggers, and I imagine it’d even be sadder this year since our extended family can’t be together. My mom already mentioned we'll most likely settle for a family reunion/party on Zoom, so we’re definitely not meeting up and relatives living in different countries won’t fly here. I will start earning my first salaries in time for Christmas though, so I can’t wait to get things for myself(!!!) and my family. I’m already thinking of getting Super Smash Bros. Ultimate for the Switch so I’m crazy excited to get my hands on that.

How long do you usually take in the shower? 3-7 minutes. I don’t like taking too long.

Have you ever worked in an office? I did during my first internship. But my second one was a WFH situation and my upcoming job will be the same. Impossible to tell when we can be able to report to the office.

Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Dad or mom, whoever’s free to do so.

How many times have you been out of state that you can remember? Yeah, definitely answered this before...thanks Bzoink for promoting the same few surveys every few months, lol. I kinda do it all the time, actually. I live right on the border of Metro Manila and my home region.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel without your parents or older relatives? Yes. But the one time I did had still been paid for by my parents.

Do you prefer margarine or butter, and why? Butter. We don’t buy margarine, so I simply don’t get to have it a lot.

What time do you plan to wake up tomorrow? Idk, depends on what time I’m going to fall asleep tonight. 

What is your favourite way to eat rice? Anything but rice cakes. Rice is...life lol

Have you ever been in serious trouble at work or school? Nah. I hate the idea of getting in trouble in any situation or getting reprimanded or punished, so I’ve always followed rules.

Do you have any strange fears or phobias that you're embarrassed of? I’m not embarrassed by it, but I prefer not to watch TV advertisements at night lol. Some effects or jingles can be spookier at that time.

Can you smell anything right now? I can faintly smell my sandwich, but that’s it. 

Would you be scared if you saw 5 missed calls from one of your parents? Only if it’s from my mom. I wouldn’t worry too much if it came from my dad.

Have you ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe? No.

Do you own a pair of gumboots or wellies? Nah.

When was the last time you watched a movie? Around two weeks ago, but I didn’t finish it because I started crying too much.

Do you know anyone who struggles with a mental disorder? Yeah, a number of people.

What's your go-to activity when you're bored? Surveys.

Have you ever been vegan or vegetarian? No, but I opt for vegan dishes whenever there’s an available option.

Are you tired right now? A little bit, but I don’t want to sleep because it’s the weekenddddddddd. Might make myself a second cup of coffee to keep myself up.

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

Blurb: No Glove, No Love

prompt from this list

In which Harry and Y/N’s roommates are fucking, and so they must spend time with each other at two in the morning. fratboy!harry

“We both got kicked out because our roommates are having sex so now we’re playing scrabble”

—

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Y/N hissed as she rolled her eyes, pressing her ear against the door to her dormitory, face crumpling in disgust when breathy moans, animalistic grunts, and the distinct slapping of flesh could be heard through the barrier.

“You, too, Juliet?”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes physically into the back of her head, once she heard the familiar deep, teasing voice and irritating nickname. Auditioning for that stupid play had never been the plan, but their English Lit professor had thought it would be a splendid idea for the first years to do ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for seniors planning to be freshmen next year who were touring their university. He had begged for Y/N to take the role of Juliet, and once he’d offered extra credit and given her that hopeful, ‘I see potential in you, you’re my best student’ glance, she had reluctantly obliged.

“Don’t call me that, Styles,” she warned, sighing a bit in exasperation at a particularly loud moan. Daddy. “What do you mean by ‘you, too’?”

She faces him, unable to stop herself from glancing over him. He’s wearing a jersey with his ‘STYLES’ written in bold ink on the back, stripes on his face stretching from his cheeks to where curls frame it to show team spirit, courtesy of the football game today. And, of course, he’s wearing his signature smug smirk, one dimple poking out of his slightly tanned face, jawline sharp and green eyes brighter with dilated pupils from what she guesses was drinking alcohol during the post-game victory frat party. His intoxicated eyes were trained intently on her, also swooping over in a way which left her slightly dizzy for reasons she didn’t understand.

“M’ roommate’s fuckin’ someone as well,” he nods, y/n trying not to flinch from how brass the thickly accented curse words sound coming out of his mouth. Everything sounds sharper and more meaningful out of his mouth. It bothers her.

“But Layla’s doing it with Zayn...”

“Niall and some girl from the party,” he explained, her nodding brisquely in understanding. They both leaned against the wall, on opposite sides from each other in silence for a few moments.

“Speaking of, why weren’t you at the party?”

It sounds careless coming out of his mouth, as if he’s speaking just for the sake of speaking, but Y/N can’t help but think of how he had noticed she wasn’t there.

“Didn’t feel like it,” she confessed. “It was loud and crowded. Not really my scene, today. Didn’t feel like having someone slip something in my drink.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you,” he frowned, eyebrows pinching together. She shrugged.

“I watched the football game, because my friends dragged me, but that’s it.”

He recalls looking for her in the stands, and smiles teasingly.

“Very strong school spirit, Juliet. One day, you’ll be wearing my jersey in the stands and screaming my name.”

She ignores the second half of the comment.

“I like to go to the games, just wasn’t feeling it today. I have to tutor some students tomorrow, and needed to save my energy.”

“Well, I wish you were there,” he said, a sincere look in his drunken eyes, wincing as Zayn started screaming Layla’s name for the fifth time. She scoffed, and he snapped his gaze back to her defensively.

“What?”

“I mean, you’d want me there for what? To set fire to my hair?”

“No,” he denied with conviction, emotions Y/N couldn’t quite decipher flashing in his darkening jade irises. “Why is it so fucking hard for you to believe that I want you there?”

Did she really think he did all of this, because he wanted to trick her into something or use her? He didn’t admit it often, but he cared for Y/N. He looked out for her during every party, read the books she read to understand her mental environment, and even if she didn’t want to be with him or share the future he’d dreamed of having with her, despite his dark playboy reputation, it would be okay if they were at least on speaking terms. She seemed to despise him. He’d grown fond of her wit and fiery nature, how she always blew strands of hair falling in her eyes as she was knees deep in some research papers or reading Nietzsche in the library. She was everything: smart, hilarious, very pretty, empathetic, and she managed to get his heart to skip a beat every time, without fail. When he’d refused to let her ever walk alone to her dorm after late hours, helped her with notes when she’d missed a class, brought her her favorite order from the local cafe when she was sick.. He’d thought she would have gotten the hint that he liked her. More than liked her. She would look down and keep walking away, thinking he was mocking her, and it hurt his heart more than he’d let on. He wanted to wake up and make her breakfast in the morning, kissing her after a game while she was in his jersey. His reputation kept that from happening, and it haunted him.

“What are you trying to say, Styles?” she asked tiredly.

“I’m saying that I want you there,” he said importantly, searching her eyes. She was confused. Why was he being so intense? “I need you to know that. I’m not mocking you. I don’t know why... I just want you there. I don’t hate you.”

“Okay...” she trailed off, unsure of where this conversation was going. As the groaning from inside her dormitory grew more frequent. “Oh, God.”

Harry’s eyes widened dramatically, and she had to laugh a bit, because of how comical it all was.

“Why’s your face like that?”

“Do you think..” he paused. “They’re using a condom?”

“Of course, they are,” she exclaimed. “They both know better.”

“Yeah, but maybe they’re drunk.”

She nervously laughed.

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“You’re right.”

A few seconds passed. Y/N groaned.

“You’re stressing me out,” she pointed an accusative finger at him, to which he raised his arms in defence. “What if they aren’t? The world can’t handle another Layla.”

“Should I go in there?”

“Gross, Harry!”

“I wouldn’t look,” he snapped. “I’d just give them a condom and leave.”

“Fine,” she bit her lip, him getting up to go and fetch a condom from his dormitory. “Wait!”

He turned after halting his light jog, glancing at her quizzically. She reached under the elastic band of her skirt, and pulled out a condom. His jaw dropped. Harry gaped at her, and she felt a light blush coming onto her warm cheeks.

“Why do you have that?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her, a scary blend of jealousy and betrayal and hate for his fate concocting in his chest. She rolled her eyes.

“Just go!”

He huffed a bit, grabbing the plastic wrapper and then took a deep breath. He twisted the door handle and she watched him, grimacing. He opened the door, closed his eyes, and threw the condom where Layla and Zayn connected.

“AH, WHAT THE FUCK?”

“NO GLOVE, NO LOVE.”

“We had a condom, asshole!” Layla shrieked.

After a few moments of her trying to hold in laughter and Harry cradling his face in his hands, regret and faint nausea visible on his face, she spoke up.

“So... Scrabble?”

MASTERLIST | Requests are open!

[lovemesomesurveys]

“The rest of your life” Are you independent or dependent? Both, but definitely more dependent. Even more so these past few years.

If you could put your life into a category, where would it go? I feel like this would be easier to answer if you gave a list of categories. I don’t know what kind of insight you’re looking for. <<< Yeah, I have no idea how to answer this.

How many animals do you have? I have one doggo. <3

Are you popular? Nope. Never was and that’s perfectly fine.

What time were you born? Around 430PM.

Have you had any candy this week? Nope.

Are you more afraid of tornadoes or hurricanes? I’ve never experienced either one, but they both sound terrifying.

Do you like those nerd glasses? I don’t know what “nerd glasses” you’re referring to.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? Nope. Or any kind of physical fight.

What color is your house? Beige.

When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Hmm. I don’t remember.

Have you ever ate a crayon? Nope.

Ever rode in a helicopter? Yes, after my accident I had to be flown to another hospital.

Do you like rabbits? Sure.

Do you like mushrooms? Nope.

“It’s like you step into the room and just press play” What was the last movie you cried at? On Halloween I rewatched It Chapter 2 and the ending always gets me in the feels with what happens to Eddie, when it shows the loser’s club as kids and then adults, and the letter from Stanley.

What ice cream flavor best describes your personality? Vanilla cause I’m plain and simple and “innocent”, ha.

Would you rather work for a small or large company? I don’t know.

Where's your favorite place to buy clothes? Boxlunch and Hot Topic.

How many languages do you speak? Just one fluently. I can speak some Spanish, though. 

What was the worst movie you've ever seen? Hm. There’s been several wtf movies, but I don’t know what I’d say was the worst. I don’t feel like thinking much about it.

What video game have you played the most? Mario bro games and most recently Animal Crossing: New Horizons. I’ve been playing that just about everyday for a lot of this year.

What was your favorite TV show as a child? Nick Jr shows, Playhouse Disney shows, Arthur, The Big Comfy Couch, Tiny Toon Adventures, Animaniacs, Bobby’s World, some Cartoon Network cartoons, and Saturday morning cartoons like Recess and Pepperann.

What's your favorite sport? None.

If you were given a brand new yacht, what would you name it? I have no idea. 

Do you believe there’s life on other planets? Not in the form of ugly green creatures with odd shaped heads.

What was the worst place you ever traveled to? Hm. I haven’t been anywhere I didn’t really like.

What is one thing you’re really bad at? Life.

Do you believe in angels? Yes.

Would you rather be a famous actor or musician? Neither.

“where have you been all my life?” If you could have invented one thing, what would it have been? I don’t know.

What's your favorite exercise workout? I don’t have one. I don’t exercise :X

What's your favorite thing to do? Some things I like to do include surveys, reading, watching YouTube, scrolling through Tumblr, and checking my social medias.

What did you do for your 17th birthday? I’m sure dinner with family. Probably invited my aunts and cousins over.

Does your local Wal Mart have benches in them to rest? Yeah.

Was your favorite stuffed animal really a teddy bear growing up? I got more into stuffed animals as I got older to be honest when I started collecting giraffe stuffed animals.

If your house was haunted, what would you do? Uhh I don’t know.

Are you crazy in love currently? No.

Are you good at swimming? No, I can’t swim.

What's worse: Slow internet or slow walkers? Slow internet is suuuuper frustrating.

What is the rudest thing a guy has ever done to you? Use me and play me.

Do you sleep with the sheets tucked in or out? Out.

What do you do to fall asleep faster? I don’t have much say when I fall asleep, but to try and help with that I listen to ASMR.

Do you carry a bottle of water wherever you go? No.

Ae you afraid that one day you might get cancer? It is something I’m afraid of. I’m someone who tends to think it’s always a possibility whenever something is wrong or I’m really sick.

“Letters to Juliet” Are you a fast or slow walker? I’m a fast wheeler.

Do you usually have to wear a belt with your pants? I never wear a belt.

Does it bother you when people's underwear hangs out? Kinda cause as someone in a wheelchair I’m at the level of a lot of people’s behinds lol and yeah, I don’t particularly want to see their underwear. Even worse if their ass is hanging out.

Are you usually the person to try new things with your hair? No.

When's your birthday? July 28th.

Do you own a bobble-head toy? Yes.

What color was the towel you used to dry off with today after a shower? I haven’t showered yet today.

Has anyone ever walked you home? Yeah.

Have you ever liked someone and they were taken? Yes.

When was the last time you went fishing? I’ve only tried it once, briefly. It wasn’t my thing.

True or false: You've read the book Lord of the Flies? True.

Have you heard of the band Yellowcard? Yep. 

Have you ever seen the show Teen Wolf? I never got into it.

Do you have any quotes, lyrics etc on your walls? No. Are you a fan of Star Wars? Yes. I finally caught up on season 2 of The Mandalorian so far last night.

“Our parents never let us cross the street, but we did it anyway” Has anyone ever told you that you have nice hair? Yes.

What brand of camera do you own? I use my iPhone XR.

Is there something you're not looking forward to? My next doctor appointment.

Have you ever read the book Thirteen Reasons Why? Yep, back when I was in high school.

Do you wear white pants? No. I avoid wearing white cause I’m a slob haha.

When was the last time you were really angry? My doctor pisses me off. I don’t know why it’s so hard to get a call back regarding some lab results. I call and they say they’re waiting for the doctor to look over them and they’ll call me back to let me know but ugh it’s been taking days.

Have you ever made a 3 pointer in a basketball game? I’ve never participated in a basketball game.

Do you think you look better with your hair up or down? Down, but I always throw it up because it’s easier to deal with. I don’t have the energy or motivation to style or do anything with it.

Do you warm up before you hardcore exercise? I don’t hardcore exercise. Or exercise at all.

Do you want a pair of Converse shoes? Not currently.

Are you more of a studs or hoops type of person when it comes to earrings? Studs.

How many shirts do you have of your favorite band? Two.

Turn on the TV. What channel are you on? It’s already on, it’s currently on The Hallmark Channel. 

Have you ever wore a tie before? No.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? I haven’t ate anything yet today, it’s only 5:28AM.

“For the Krusty Krab” Are you good at art? Nope, not at all.

How many times have you read your favorite book? I don’t reread books, actually. 

Name one thing that you really hate. My health.

Have you ever tried walking on stilts? No. That would be impossible for me.

Is there a war that you find interesting? I’ve read the most about the Civil War and Abraham Lincoln. Especially for one of my community college history classes because the professor was a big Lincoln buff and I did a paper on Lincoln and the war.

Would you rather live in the city or country? City.

Do you think $7 is too much for a movie ticket? $7 is okay, but our movie tickets are more than that.

Would you like to be a newscast person? No. Fun fact: I was one of the newscasters on my elementary school’s news program when I was in the 7th grade, though. I enjoyed it, it was fun. It was nerve wracking, too, cause I went to a k-8th grade school and the news program played in every single grade/classroom. 

Do you like word searches, coloring or crosswords better? I enjoy word searches and coloring.

Close your eyes and press a random key on the keyboard. j

How many William’s do you know? I don’t know any.

What time did you wake up this morning? It’s 5:34AM, I haven’t gone to bed yet.

Do you enjoy crutches? I’ve never used them, but does anyone actually enjoy them? They’re beneficial and necessary for some, so it’s great that they exist, but I don’t know if anyone actually enjoys them.

What's better: Snapple or Arizona tea? I used to love Arizona teas when I was a teenager. The green tea and the watermelon flavors were my favorite.

Make a word out of the word: Dinosaur. Sound.

“she said I love this song, I’ve heard it before” When you were younger, did you play with legos? Yeah.

Do you like Trix cereal? Yes. I haven’t had it in several years, though.

Do you get nervous easily? Yesss.

How long is your Facebook password? Uh, I’m not sharing that.

Do you like the movie Mean Girls? Yes.

How do you want your wedding to be? I don’t plan on getting married.

Have you seen the movie or show Catfish? Both. I love the tv show.

Do you hate it when you arrive to something early? No, I hate when I arrive to something late.

Have you ever been on Omegle? Yes.

Are you still in love with one of your exes? Nope. I moved on years ago.

Do you think it's attractive when guys wear beanies? It can be, sure.

What's something that makes you feel shy in public? Being in crowded places is one.

Do you like the shows on MTV? I like Catfish and the Teen Mom shows.

If you could go back and relive one day, what day? Hm. I’d have to really think about that if it was just one day.

What's one word you hate to be called? Sensitive. I know I am, but I hate being told “I’m too sensitive.” Plus sometimes it’s like, “no, maybe you’re just mean?” 

[vivilove-jonsa]

The Field Where I Died

Jon watches over Sansa even in death...

@jonsa-week  Day 1 Prompt-Present

A gift for @chocolateghost because he likes pain please don’t hate me

Read below or on ao3

***

The field where they were to meet was off Highway 11. It was a large field but surrounded by trees. He didn’t like the isolated feel of this but his informant had said it was someplace he’d never be spotted. Edd had berated him about going, saying he shouldn’t go alone but this guy was nervous enough without pulling his partner along. This was also the break they needed.

Three months, Jon and Edd had been working this case. Three months of chasing leads and this was the best one yet. Organized crime would feel the ripples of this bust from the local thugs all the way up to the capos and the boss. Jon figured it’d give him a little more cred in the department, from detective to sergeant probably, maybe lieutenant in another five years if he was lucky.

That was good. The school year would end soon and Sansa had already said she wanted to stay home with the baby the first year. Four years they’d been married. They’d been together since they were kids other than one stupid fight first year of college that had busted them up for six miserable months. When he’d won her back, he’d sworn to himself then he’d never let her go again. Even if someday she didn’t want him anymore, his heart would always be hers. So many guys in the department wound up divorced but he could never imagine that for him and Sansa.

On the perimeter of the field, he spied a white shape moving along the tree line. It was dusk out already and it gave him a chill. But soon he realized it was just a dog. He whistled and the animal stopped, its head tilted to the side.

“Hey, boy,” he called. “Thought you were a ghost.”

The dog approached him, wagging its tail in a friendly way. Oh, to enjoy the carefree life of a dog.

Jon checked for a collar. There was none. “You’re a sweet boy. I’d take you home if I could. Sansa would spoil you rotten. Not sure tonight’s the best night though,” he said as he heard a car pulling off the road.

The dog slunk off towards the trees as the car pulled to a stop. His guy on the inside was running a few minutes behind, not abnormal for him. The guy was always so twitchy.

The doors opened, both driver and passenger side and too late Jon realized it was not his guy. His arm already felt heavy when he started returning fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how dark it was growing when he saw a flash of white moving through the trees again. He needed to get home. Sansa would be waiting.

 *****

Jon was working late. The doorbell was not expected at this time of night. She’d been a cop’s wife for nearly four years now. She’d told herself detective work was less dangerous than being a uni. But dread filled her in a heartbeat with the dying echo of that doorbell.

She glanced down at her left hand. The diamond ring and gold band Jon had given her winked at her under the light of the foyer. She had her hand poised protectively over her rounded belly when she opened the door.

Edd was standing behind Chief Mormont and another one she’d never met. A chaplain, she realized. Her blood seemed to freeze inside her. There were tears in Edd’s eyes. The chief was choking on his words.

The white stray she’d found sitting outside their home this evening when she’d returned from Jeyne’s nuzzled against her leg and whined. She’d brought it inside to feed and wondered how Jon would feel about keeping him if they couldn’t find the owner.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Snow,” the chaplain said.

****** 

 He’d come home to her. He’d never made promises about those things because it seemed like a foolhardy promise for a cop to make. But he’d raced across the field and through the woods and back home that night to find her. He couldn’t leave her. He loved her too much to leave her alone.

But she wasn’t the same with him…or he wasn’t the same. Things were different than they’d been somehow. She still loved him, he knew, and he loved her so much. His whole world lit up when she walked in the door and would be cast into darkness when she went away. But she’d come back. She always did and his heart would soar when he saw her.

She would touch him but not like before. She said she shouldn’t let him sleep with her. He didn’t understand. Because of the baby? Was she upset with him? But they were just sleeping, just lying together and that was enough for him. And in the end, she’d always call him to bed when she turned out the lights at night.

Her kisses were different. His were, too. She’d run her fingers through his hair and murmur things to him but it wasn’t intimate in the same way. It was affectionate but not intimate.

She was sad, very sad. She cried a lot. She told him the Celexa was considered safe during pregnancy but she couldn’t take the risk. She poured the bottle’s contents down the toilet. He didn’t understand. She said the baby was all that mattered now. Didn’t she know that she mattered too?

He’d do whatever he could to comfort her, to express his own grief, to show her he was by her side. And he knew she got it. She told him she didn’t know what she’d do without him. Her salty tears wetted his tongue and after a while she’d give him something to eat.

Edd came to visit often. They didn’t talk to each other like before but Edd would reach out and touch him. He hated seeing his partner and friend so sad.

“He came to you that night?” Edd asked, mystified.

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ghost.”

 ******* 

Even though school wasn’t out just yet, she was already off from work. She didn’t go many places but when she did, she took him with her.

“I need you with me,” she told him. “You make me stronger.”

He wasn’t going anywhere without her. She could have every ounce of his strength if she needed.

When the time drew closer, he heard her talking with her mom. They’d laughed at the idea of a home birth before but now Sansa was insistent. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. I want to be home. I want Ghost near when he comes,” she told her mother who didn’t understand.

Something could go wrong and it worried him but it was ultimately her body that would be giving birth to his son. He would trust her judgment.

Then one night, he sat at the end of the bed, frustrated that he couldn’t see better and couldn’t understand it all. Her strained grunts and stifled cries made him feel sick, made him feel shaky, made him feel like pacing. He paced. Didn’t expectant fathers do lots of pacing?

“Go lie down!” her mother barked at him.

“He’s fine,” Sansa told her mother through clenched teeth.

The cry of their child was heard an hour later, just as he’d finally laid down with fatigue. He could only imagine how tired she must be.

He didn’t get to hold him but he saw him, grey eyes blinking at him with a scruff of dark hair. He smelled funny but he already knew he’d do anything for him, do anything to keep him safe just like Sansa.

“Darling,” his mother-in-law said, “Have you decided for sure about the name?”

“Yes. His name is Jon.”

******* 

At first, it was a never ending drudgery of forty-minute naps and feedings and diaper changes and crying, an endless cycle. He followed them everywhere around the house and, when Sansa would start to cry too, he’d be there to comfort her.

“Ghost watches over us both, Jon,” she’d say.

But soon, time had a way of speeding up on him. Little Jon would smile so big when he saw his mama or his daddy, those genuine social smiles that parents await so eagerly. Then, before long he was sitting up and soon he was crawling, it seemed.

He followed him everywhere. He’d curl up and nap by the crib if Sansa didn’t need him.

He’d watch over his son by day and lay by his wife at night. She’d caress his neck and shoulder until she’d drift off to sleep.

One night, a prowler came around. He could hear him outside. Sansa heard him, too. She grabbed the baby and was afraid, reaching for the phone. But he was there. He didn’t even need a gun, just his voice. He’d always protect them. He scared the prowler away.

****** 

Edd came over regularly to check on his wife and son. He was a good friend and a good partner. They’d always said they’d look after each other’s family no matter what. Edd had an elderly mother. Jon had a wife and son.

He wasn’t jealous that Edd could pick his son up when he couldn’t. He enjoyed watching his friend lift the baby up high in the air, getting belly laughs that would put a smile on that dour old face.

Some nights, Edd would stop by for coffee after Jon had been put to bed and they’d talk. He’d listen to everything they said but not all of it made since.

But one time, Edd took Sansa’s hand in his, speaking earnestly and he didn’t like that.

“Ghost, no!” Sansa said sharply.

He was angry and confused. He backed away at her command all the same. He always did what she told him. He loved her and wanted to please her.

But she turned to Edd the next minute, gently pulling her hand away from his. “I’m sorry. I can’t…I can’t think of such things yet. Maybe not ever.”

 ****** 

Today was important somehow. He wasn’t sure why but Sansa had asked Edd to drive them somewhere. He enjoyed getting out once in a while. He got tired of always being at the house or in the yard.

He climbed into the back next to Little Jon and laid his head over the boy’s lap. He was nearly two now. He would giggle and tug at his ears. He didn’t mind.

“Are you sure, Sansa?”

“I just want to see it. I want to know where it happened.”

The car stopped and he got out. Sansa reached for their boy.

It was sunny out, not dusk like before. But he knew the smell of these woods. They woke something within him, some old hurt or fear, something bad had happened here.

Edd stood back a respectful distance with his hat in his hands and tears in his eyes again. He loved Edd and hated for his friend to be sad like this. But Sansa could never love Edd the way she loved him. They were meant to be together always.

Sansa was carrying their son, saying words the child didn’t understand. She just needed to get this out of her system. She needed to see it for herself.

“I know you don’t understand,” she whispered to the boy. “But this is where your father…”

She stopped speaking, too choked up with emotions, but Ghost understood at last.

 This is the field where I died.

***

{And then Sansa woke up from that awful dream, right?}

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Real Housewives of Storybrooke (16/?)

A fic based on this premise here, following the lives of Storybrooke’s elite wives, with all the scandal, bitching and backstabbing that goes on behind the scenes of high society…

This verse is open for prompts!

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [Thirteen] [Fourteen] [Fifteen] [AO3]

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BELLE

Belle turned this way and that, looking at herself critically in the full-length mirror. Her morning sickness had finally managed to get itself under control and she was feeling well enough to head out to the gala with Cameron tonight, but she couldn’t help feeling like her pregnancy was suddenly obvious to the world at large, despite her not being anywhere near close to showing. She felt as if there was a huge sign hanging over her head announcing it to everyone.

Perhaps it was just because she knew that she was much paler than usual due to a lack of regular diet and she was wearing more make-up to cover it, but hopefully the atmospheric lighting in the ballroom where the party was taking place would help with that. 

Cam slipped into the room and came over to her, putting an arm around her waist and leaning in to kiss her forehead gently, not wanting to ruin her make-up or coiffeur. 

“The taxi’s here,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She gave a twirl, the skirt of her golden silk gown flying out around her legs. “I’m not sure I’ll be up for much more dancing than that this evening, but do I look all right anyway?”

“You look perfect, as you always do.” Cameron took her hand but made no move to leave the bedroom. “You know that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to; if you would be more comfortable staying here.”

“No, I’m definitely going after putting all this work into getting ready.” She smiled. “Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to this occasion. Well, I was looking forward to it until I started throwing up all the time. Since then all I’ve been looking forward to is not throwing up. Still, it’s always nice to be able to go out and show you off. I like having my dapper husband on my arm. Especially when he’s wearing a bow tie.”

She let go of his hand in order to adjust the tie, not that it really needed it. Cameron was always impeccably turned out whenever he left the house, which was why it was so much more exciting when she got him hot and bothered and dishevelled. She had not been in the mood for much of that lately, but she was hoping that it would come with time. Mary Margaret had commented on the middle trimester of happy hormones when she had been expecting Neal. 

“Come on,” he said. “We’d better go or else we’ll end up being unfashionably fashionably late. I know you’re not one who likes to make a big entrance.”

The taxi ride to the venue wasn’t all that long, but Belle wouldn’t have liked to walk it in her dress and heels. She hadn’t been all that involved in the planning, needing to focus on doing her day job when she could and taking care of herself when she couldn’t, but Ariel had been giving her regular updates, and as she and Cameron stepped into the ballroom, she could see that Regina had once again outdone herself when it came to presentation. She really should set up a sideline in party planning, and Belle wondered how she’d ended up working in local government in the first place when she had such artistic and organisational flair. 

“Belle! I’m so glad that you came!” 

Ariel was the first person in the crowds who noticed their arrival, and Belle was glad of it. She wondered if Ariel and Eric had been hanging around by the entrance all evening for the express purpose of catching her on the way in. 

“Mr Gold, I’m going to have to borrow your wife for a moment to tell her just how ravishing she looks.” Without any further comment, Ariel hooked her arm through Belle’s and pulled her away in the direction of the buffet table. Cameron was happy to let her go, accepting a glass of champagne from one of the waiters circling unobtrusively. 

“You really do look wonderful,” Ariel said. “Now I see what they mean about pregnant women glowing.”

“I think that’s probably more to do with the lights reflecting off the dress,” Belle said. “I feel about as far away from glowing as it’s possible to be at the moment. You look amazing too.”

Ariel swished the skirt of her mermaid tail dress, completely covered in sequins that faded from purple down to green. “I know, isn’t it shiny? It’s super-heavy though, you wouldn’t believe how much tape I’ve got holding it up. Anyway, that isn’t why I cornered you.”

“No, I kind of gathered that much. You’re about as subtle as a brick. What do you need to warn me of?”

Ariel pointed to the left in the direction of the bar where Zelena was entertaining a crowd of hangers-on. 

“Yes, well, I know we all hoped that she wouldn’t come, but it was really wishful thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Ariel sighed. “Still, she seems to be on a roll tonight. I’m half-expecting her to start charging for gossip.”

“Well, I know to steer clear of her at the best of times, but thanks for the warning.”

Ariel patted her shoulder. “Any time. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“I’d kill for a triple vodka and tonic but somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a good idea, so I’ll settle for orange juice. I need some sugar and food probably isn’t a great thought right now.”

Ariel grabbed a waiter and sent him off to source some orange juice, and in the meantime they turned to speak to Robin, who was, as expected, trying to hide behind the buffet table. 

“I don’t even have the excuse of needing to watch Roland, because he’s with Marian this week,” he lamented. “I’m beginning to consider texting her to make up some kind of fake emergency to get me out of this, but at the same time, I want to stay and support Regina. I just don’t like wearing the penguin suit.”

“You look very dashing in it. Who knew that you scrubbed up so well, Robin?”

“I did.” Regina came over and kissed his cheek. “Hello Belle. It’s good to see you; you haven’t been out and about for a while. Is everything ok?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, it’s fine, thank you. I’ve just been a bit under the weather, that’s all.” She wondered if Regina had already put two and two together.

“Uh oh.” Robin took a step back behind Regina. “Here comes trouble.”

Belle looked up to see that Zelena had shaken off her hangers on at the bar and was coming over to them. 

“Let’s hope that we can make her go away quickly.” Cameron had come over, slipping his arm around Belle’s waist. “Can we just pretend that she’s not here and that she’s not speaking?”

“Hello, everyone.” Zelena had reached them. “Belle, it’s so good to see you, you’ve been lying low recently. I do believe congratulations are in order.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Yes.” Zelena nodded in Belle’s direction. “She’s finally managed to get herself knocked up, haven’t you, dear? Got your claws in good and proper.”

All of a sudden, despite the music from the band and the general chatter of all of the other people around them, Belle was certain that she could have heard a pin drop. Everyone in their circle was looking at her and Zelena, and Belle felt her face begin to drain as her stomach rolled. 

“Oh, sorry, was it a secret? Oops.” 

Belle just felt sick, and something in the back of her mind weighed up the pros and cons of the mortification of throwing up in public versus the satisfaction of throwing up all over Zelena. No one was speaking. Everyone was just looking at her. 

Then she heard Cam’s voice, low and quiet and so very, very dangerous. 

“Never speak to my wife like that. In fact, never speak to me or my wife again.”

“Get out,” Regina said. “Leave. Now. Go. You’re the vilest and most revolting person I’ve ever had the displeasure to know. How dare you?”

“What, tell the truth? Look at her, she can’t deny it. I saw her coming out of the maternity clinic at the hospital looking very pleased with herself.”

“Mom, that’s awful.” Robyn peered into the circle from behind her father’s shoulder, her face stricken. “God, I knew you were catty and mean, but that’s something else. So what if Belle is pregnant? It’s not for you to tell the world that.”

“Darling, I was simply concerned…”

“Like hell you were,” Robyn snarled. “No, you just wanted to cause a scene at someone else’s expense like you always do. You’re pathetic.”

Belle’s nausea was gradually subsiding, and all she felt was anger, an icy ball of fury building up in the pit of her stomach and bubbling there. 

“You know, Zelena, I pity you. You’re so sad, and so lonely, and you’re so unable to find happiness in your life that you’ve decided that everyone else in the world has to be unhappy alongside you so that you can feel superior. You’ve been determined to punish me for being the one that Cameron chose over you, ever since we first became a couple, and for the most part, I’ve never fought back against you. I’ve never felt the need, because I know that Cameron loves me, and I love him and his feelings towards you… Well, there aren’t any. No matter the amount of mud you sling my way, you’ve never succeeded in making me feel insecure in my marriage. You’ve made me sad, you’ve made me angry, you’ve made me so enraged I hit you round the face, which I’m sure you don’t want a repeat of. But ultimately, you’ve always failed, because every time you try and come between us, it just makes us stick together even more. And now we’re having a child together, one that we have wanted and planned for over six months, and you can’t stand that all your efforts have failed. You’re a sad, pathetic little creature and you’re lashing out in your pain. I’d feel sorry for you if you weren’t such a horrible human being.”

She turned to Cam, who was looking at her with awestruck admiration. “I don’t think we need to stay here any longer, Cam. Will you dance with me?”

Cam offered her his free arm. “It would be my pleasure, my darling.”

“Not too fast and twirly,” Belle muttered as they made their way through the dumbfounded crowds towards the dancefloor. “I still might throw up at any second and I’d rather projectile vomit over her than you.”

Cam just kissed her, long and deep and in a way that could leave no-one in any doubt as to the solidity of their relationship. 

“Belle, you are a wonder, and I think I may just have fallen in love with you all over again. That was masterful.”

“I’m shaking like a leaf, but it felt good to say it. Everything just became clear. It was like a veil had lifted. She’s cowed me one too many times before, but suddenly, I just stopped feeling that way.”

As they swayed softly to the music together, Belle looked over Cam’s shoulder to see Robyn dragging her mother towards the exit, both looking absolutely furious. Despite everything, she smiled, resting her head against Cam’s neck and feeling his arm warm and solid around her back. 

Nothing was going to bring her down now.