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streamafterlaughter · 2 months ago

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Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter IX: Want This Like a Cigarette

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: colorblind by movements (acoustic), guilty pleasure by chappell roan, grudges by paramore

chapter tags: yearning, angst, missed opportunities, miscommunication, all the fun stuff! drinking, smoking (weed, cigarettes), adult language and scenarios | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI each chapter will have its own content/trigger warnings

summary: you continue to piece together the mystery of your brother's sentence, learning little by little exactly what happened.

a/n: act I of god knows how many is coming to a close! things are about to get.... well. I don't wanna spoil anything. disregard!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r

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You arrive at Steve and Robin’s a few hours before you’re supposed to leave for the concert. You feel the giddiness in your chest, the looming excitement of finally seeing one of your favorite artists live. That feeling quickly fades when you see the van parked outside of your friends’ place.

Inside the apartment, Steve pours four shots, one for each of you, and Eddie who’s lounging on the couch with a beer in his hand. You try not to stare, but it’s difficult to look away from the display; Eddie dressed in leather pants and a cropped t-shirt, his battle vest draped over the arm of the couch. His hair is tied into a low ponytail, revealing a dangly earring swinging against his neck. You clear your throat, feeling suddenly claustrophobic.

“Bee! Come in! Have a shot, I call it the Pink Pony.” Steve gestures dramatically to the kitchen island.

You laugh, reaching to strip your jacket from your shoulders. “What exactly is a Pink Pony shot?” You humor him, knowing you’ll probably regret it.

“It’s vodka, pink lemonade, and glitter.” Robin deadpans, plucking one of the glasses from the lineup. “Steve found this drinkable glitter shit online. To me it just looks like Edward Cullen pissed in here.” She closes one eye, inspecting the drink, but ultimately decides it’s worth the risk and downs it in one gulp. Her face scrunches as if she’s in pain, and she shakes her head wildly. “Delish.” She gives an extremely unconvincing thumbs up, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. Here,” He hands another glass to you, “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

You gesture the glass to your friends before throwing it down your throat, trying desperately not to wince as it burns in your stomach. “This is…”

“Gasoline.” Eddie adds from the couch. “Jet fuel, even.”

You nod. “He’s right. Steve, where the fuck did you buy this shit?”

“I dunno! I got an ad on TikTok.”

There's a collective groan from the three of you, followed by various exclamations of Steve’s naive purchase. “It might actually be vampire piss!” You joke, earning a giggle from Eddie that makes your stomach flutter.

“You guys suck.” Steve pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Steve, baby, you’re good at so many things. Making drinks just isn’t one of them.” Robin gives her roommate a loving pat on the shoulder, and he surrenders.

“It is not that bad.” He takes his own shot, and fails miserably to hide his disgust. “Fine, I digress. Bee, you wanna make the next round?”

You sigh, approaching your friends in the kitchen, and feeling Eddie rise from the couch behind you. “You know I’m not working tonight, right?”

Robin juts her lip out. “Please, Bee? We can’t suffer through another round of Pink Pony farts.”

Steve gasps, but you throw your head back with laughter. “Alright, fine. If it means saving the lives of my friends, I guess I’ll do it for free. Just this once, though.” You snatch the glitter from Steve’s hand. “None of this shit, though.” And you dump it down the sink while Robin holds Steve back from lunging at you.

Once the damage is done, you turn to where Steve keeps his alcohol, on the rack by the fireplace. You peek through his half empty bottles, returning with a few you can use. “This, friends and Eddie, is the Bazooka Joe.” You place the Irish cream, banana liqueur, and blue curacao on the counter. “It’s supposed to taste like bubblegum.” You eyeball the measurements, filling each shot glass with the liquids, creating a milky teal color. Your friends each take one, throwing them down quickly. Their reactions are mixtures of shock and pleasant surprise.

Eddie is the next to speak. “I don’t have any drink recipes to offer, but if anyone would like to join me on the balcony for a joint,” He pulls one from behind his ear, “speak now or forever hold your peace.” His eyes meet yours then, and you can’t dismiss it as an accident. He’s asking you to come out.

“I’m good,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at Eddie. “Don’t like to smoke before going out in public.”

Steve starts, “Ooh, I’ll—,” but stops short when Robin shoves her elbow into his side. “I’m good,” he coughs, “You guys go ‘head.”

You frown. He knows your rule, but he makes that stupid pouty face at you anyway. “C’mon, Bee. Don’t make me smoke alone.”

Rolling your eyes, you secede. “Fine. I’ll make a one time exception to the rule. On one condition.”

“What's that?”

“No talking.”

—

He lasts all of five minutes. “This is stupid.” You shake your head, refusing to indulge. “That’s fine. I’ll talk. You can keep not-talking.” He hands you the joint, and you take it, inhaling sweet smoke as Eddie continues, disregarding your agreement. “I wanna apologize. For a lot of things, actually. Last night, that wasn’t cool. I shouldn’t have sunk to his level, I don’t know what came over me.” You sense him staring at you, but fight the urge to look at him. Instead you keep your eyes forward, staring into the darkness of your neighborhood. He sighs, and continues, “And I’m so, so sorry about everything with your brother. It wasn’t easy for me either, y'know. Chris and I were best friends. But I couldn’t not listen to him. He did it to save my stupid ass.”

You finally look at him, passing him the joint as you try to read his face. “What do you mean by saving your ass?” The riddles are tired, and you can’t stand the thought of never getting the whole story.

He inhales before responding, “The cops already had it out for me. Since the second I turned eighteen, they waited for me to screw up. Pretty sure they had a bet on when I’d get arrested.” His tone is light, but you can see the sadness on his face as he recalls it. “I begged Chris not to tell you. He told me he wouldn’t, but only because he wanted me to. He made me promise to take care of you, and I broke that promise. You already hated me so much when you found out I snitched, you couldn’t even look at me. We stopped talking. I didn’t think telling you would change anything.”

The information sinks into your skin, and you have to focus on a tree in the distance to stop the world around you from spinning. You cycle through the stages of grief on a loop, getting emotional whiplash each time you try to make sense of what Eddie’s just said to you. Finally, you land on anger and stay there.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shakes his head, bewildered. “What?”

“Eddie, if you had just told me all of this six years ago–”

“I couldn’t, Bee. I wanted more than anything to tell you, but I couldn’t get out of my own way.”

The buzzing in your head is loud, disorienting. “So you ran away instead?”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in concentration. “Bee, listen–”

“Eddie, please. Stop talking.” This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. You slide the screen door open, returning to the warmth of inside, trying not to let your friends read the shock and pain written plainly on your face. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

–

Lining up for concerts used to be one of your favorite hobbies. If a show had general admission, you’d park yourself outside the venue for hours, holding your spot in the hopes that the artist would sweat on you. As you’ve gotten older, you’ve realized it is definitely not worth the hassle of waiting outside all day, sitting on the concrete until your butt falls asleep. When you and your friends arrive at the venue, the doors are already open, and a bouncer is leading you to the VIP lounge, where you give them your names. It earns you a few glares from people in the general admission line.

“Swanky!” Robin exclaims when she enters the green room, which is actually pretty lackluster. The dressing room holds a long fold out table filled full of snacks and drinks, parallel to an old couch with garish print that you’re sure probably hasn't been cleaned in decades.

“Sure, if that’s how you wanna put it.” The giggling comes from behind you, where Macy is leaning against the doorframe. “Hi, guys! Really glad you could make it.” She approaches you first, pulling you into an unexpected embrace. “Hi, doll! So nice to see you.” Something about her disposition puts you off, her smile looks plastic.

Macy makes her rounds, greeting each of your friends with a hug before turning to her boyfriend. “Hi, honey.” She stands on her tiptoes to daintily plant a kiss on his cheek, and the grin he wears is wide. You squint at the couple, trying to read them. “Make yourselves at home, we go on in half an hour. See you out there!” She gives a wave in the general direction of the room, and exits back to what you assume is her dressing room.

“This is so cool. Eddie, hold on to this one, yeah?” Steve plucks a cookie from the plate, and Robin gives him an expression of disbelief. “What?” He asks, mouth full. She just shakes her head.

–

The lights dim a few minutes after eight p.m., and the incoming crowd cheers with excitement. You and your friends are lined up across the barricade, off to one side to avoid the screaming teenagers only here for Chappell. You’re between Eddie and Robin, Steve on Robin’s other side yelling something in her ear you can’t make out.

A backing track fades in as the band takes the stage, and Macy approaches the mic stand. “Welcome to the show, everyone! We are Statuesque Dolls, from Hawkins, Indiana!” Zoe clicks her drumsticks together, and they start in on what you can only describe as a pop rock power ballad. Macy’s voice is stunning, you have to admit, reaching octaves you could only ever dream of reaching. The audience gets into it, swaying and dancing along to the rhythm, heads nodding to the beat. Some kids in the front are even singing, never missing a word Macy sings, and she points them out with a beaming grin on her face. Though you try, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy the set. The music is right up your alley of taste, and the band’s stage presence is nothing short of incredible, but the feeling of Eddie’s shoulder rubbing against yours as he belts out the words makes your chest tight, and every time Macy smiles at him you feel a throbbing in your temples.

Finally, they end their set, waving to the crowd before stepping off stage. Eddie announces he’s getting a drink, and nudges you. “Come with me?”

You glance at Robin, and swear you see her nod, as if giving you permission. “Okay.” You follow Eddie out of the crowd, over to the bar where a mass of people have gathered to attempt getting a drink.

“That was good, huh?” You ask feebly, trying to make small talk.

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, they’re really good.” His tone is flat, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What’s up with you?”

He shakes his head, causing his already frizzy curls to fly around his face. “We uh, broke up. Me and Macy, I mean.”

You can’t help but drop your jaw, quickly shutting it when, even in the dim room, you see him blush with embarrassment. “Oh, shit. Eddie. I’m sorry. Wait, but she kissed you like, an hour ago?”

“Yeah, it was pretty amicable. I’m not, like, hurting over it. The band is going on tour after this, and I have, like, no interest in a long distance relationship.”

For some reason, it pisses you off. “But you still love her?”

“Whoa, Bee. Who said anything about love? I told you, it was pretty casual to begin with. What’s got you freakin’ out?” You think you sense teasing in his voice.

“I’m not freaking out, I guess I’m confused. You don’t think she’s worth the effort?”

He chuckles lightly as you approach the bar, ordering a cider for yourself and a beer for Eddie. “Of course she is. I’m not, though. She deserves better than that. Does it bother you?”

You roll your eyes, handing the bartender far too much cash for just two drinks. “You just said it wasn’t that serious, why would you care what I had to say about it?”

“Do you have something to say about it?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounded hopeful.

You pretend to ponder his question, then deadpan, “No. Believe it or not, I don’t give a shit about what you do with your dating life. You might break Steve’s heart if you tell him, though.”

Eddie visibly deflates as you hand him his drink. “Fuck, you’re right. You tell him.”

“No! I’m not doing your dirty work for you, Munson. Time to grow a pair.” With that, you breeze past him, back into the crowd.

–

“Thank you, Indy, I have been Chappell Roan!” The redhead onstage is a dream, absolutely stunning in a sparkly, pink, and complicated outfit. The fan blows her curly locks around, and you’d been so mesmerized that you’re only now registering the show is almost over.

She ends with pink Pony Club, causing Robin and Steve to jump around, screaming their voices hoarse, and you join them. By the end, you’re sweating bullets, makeup practically sliding down your face.

When she leaves the stage, you feel the relief of the crowd leaving, their weight that had been pressed to your back for hours finally fading. “That was insane. She’s incredible. Ethereal, really.” Steve is raving as you follow your friends out of the venue and into the cold of the night. “Eddie, man, you gotta go on tour.”

Eddie shrugs shyly. “Yeah, I’m workin’ on it, man.”

“No, man! With Macy, be the tour wife! You’ll get to see her all the time, and Macy! Her band is awesome, I can’t believe–”

“Steve, Macy and I broke up.”

He stops in his tracks. “What? Why? What did you do?”

“Why do you always think I did something?”

“Because you always do something. Remember in high school when you wanted to ask-”

“Okay! Enough. For your information, I didn’t do anything. I just don’t want anything serious right now.”

It barely satisfies Steve, but he backs off with a huffed “Okay, whatever!” You look from the boys to Robin, who’s already staring at you, seemingly studying your reaction.

“What?” You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“Anyone want food? I’m buying.” Steve offers, earning collective nods and mumbles of affirmation. Eventually, you end up at a late night diner, and Eddie holds the door open for the rest of you.

–

You arrive home past midnight, eyes and limbs heavy with sleep. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right Bee?” Robin asks. You nod, only just now remembering you promised to help Steve set up his and Robin’s new entertainment center. “Okay, cool. I’ll get us coffee!” Your friends and Eddie all say goodbye, and the car pulls away as you enter your house, foregoing the shower you’re definitely going to need in favor of sleeping longer.

When you’re finally cozied up in bed, your phone buzzes.

Eddie (block later): Thx for listening. Gn bee.

You decide against a real reply, instead tapping the Thumbs Up reaction, and locking your phone before rolling over. Sleep doesn’t come, though, despite how physically tired you are. Your brain is wired, thoughts racing by too quickly to focus on. Every thought you’ve shoved aside, rushing at you at once. Most of them are questions you can’t answer on your own; Why did Eddie tell you about his breakup? Why is he suddenly being so fucking nice to you? Has he always been this goddamn pretty?

You groan, shoving your face into your pillow to stifle the noise. Unfortunately, that telepathy you share with your brother hasn’t gone away, even after six years apart.

“Hey,” Your bedroom door cracks open to reveal Chris’s forehead, illuminated by the hall light behind him. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head before remembering you’re in the dark. “No. You?”

“Nah.” He opens the door fully, stepping into the dark of your room. “How was your night?”

“Really… good?”

“You sound unsure.” He throws himself down on the end of your bed, bouncing you up and down with the mattress. “What happened?”

You pause, unsure of how much Chris needs to know. Ultimately, you know you can’t hide anything from him, even though he’d spent the last six years pretty much conspiring with Eddie against you. “Nothing, really. We went to the show, it was fantastic. I had a really good time.”

“And…?”

“And nothing!”

“Then why are you groaning into your pillow like a child throwing a tantrum?” He snickers, and you whack his arm. “C’mon, something’s bugging you.”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna sound stupid.”

“You’re my little sister, everything you say sounds stupid.”

“Wow, Chris. Thanks, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.” You sit up, tucking your comforter into your waist. “Seriously, you’re gonna think I’m insane.”

“Well, I already do, so you got nothing to lose.”

“It’s something Eddie told me.” He doesn’t speak, waiting for you to continue. “He said you told him to rat you out. That’s not true, is it?”

Your brother sighs, bringing his legs up onto your bed to mirror you. “Would it change anything if I said yes?” You huff, waiting for him to continue. “Bee,” Chris flops onto his stomach. “You ‘hate’ Eddie for something I told him to do. You iced him out because of me. I know you probably don’t want to admit it to yourself, but I am the reason you and Eddie don’t get along. I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d up and leave you, I never would have expected that from him. He lo–” He stops himself short, then continues instead, “He cares about you so much, kid. I feel awful for ruining that.”

It hurts your brain, hearing Chris confirm that gnawing feeling you’ve had for days, since Eddie blurted out the same truth in a fit of anger. Now it washes over you like a tidal wave, suffocating you under its weight. “It’s not too late to fix things with him, Bee. I know he’s been a little weird lately, but I can understand why. Just, give him a chance to redeem himself. For me?”

“Chris, why the fuck would I do anything for you after you told me all that? You basically just admitted to ruining one of the closest friendships I have ever had, and six fucking years too late. I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen! Eddie fucking left because of it! I thought he’d betrayed you!”

“In all fairness, I told him to tell you, begged him even. I figured he had, until I got out. I had no idea he’d kept that part from you. I told you that.” He argues.

It’s too much at once, you can feel your skin burning. “Get out, Chris. Please.”

He doesn’t argue, rising from your bed and walking to the door before turning. “I can take the heat, I’ve been getting it from you my whole life, but the kid did nothing wrong. It was stupid of him to run instead of telling you, but he didn’t screw me like you’d thought for so long. Don’t hold that grudge, Bee, it’s not worth it.” Before you can respond, Chris closes the door behind him, leaving you to be swallowed by the dark of your room.

#st #fics #munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson x fem!oc!reader #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #modern au #strangerthingscentral #stranger things fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #best friend!robin buckley #best friend!Steve harrington

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sugar-plum-writer · 1 year ago

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The Serene Peony Of Winter

Paring: Sukuna!King of Curses x Fem!Geisha Reader

Tags: Slight! mention of violence; Fem!reader; Sukuna!imagines; will be 18+ as more chapters come; slow!burn, [I want to have a good build up!], an ancient Japan romance through time with darling reader~, A chapter by chapter series, It will be a bit long maybe 10 chapters. So~ enjoy~

[If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

New chapter update! @naoyagasm @janeaugustine @teonawrites @periwinkless-universe

CHAPTER - 2

The array of lamps and candles illuminated the beautiful room, like the night of a banquet, the wooden carvings engraved the room-like the hand bearing a legacy of love. Silk scrolls, delicate picturesque vases sat. As the scent of rosemary lingered, in prayer.

He sat as he gazed at you, looking into your eyes into your soul

Suddenly snapping back to reality― You closed your eyes and bowed your head, looking at him as if you just weren't about to run out screaming

"You, flatter me", a soft smile donned your face as your sleeves rustled― the grinding of tea leaves resounded― a perfect tea ceremony, it had been ingrained into your bones, even in death you could do it flawlessly

"I pray you like the tea I have prepared, especially gotten from the first harvest my Lord", placing the piping hot porcelain cup of tea in front of him as you looked him in the eyes

It is okay, it is fine, I will be fine, deep breathes, Y/n, treat it as any other, oh god why can't my heart calm down- oh how hard you tried to convince yourself

"Flattering?"― he laughed, taking up the cup of tea in his hands- holding it near his face, inhaling the aroma as his lips touched the rim

"You know, for a mere human, you sure look quite calm― by now 1 out of 2 would have fainted" he placed the cup down, and before you knew it―

you felt a great force grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look up, eyes widened in terror as you looked into the blood-red eyes illuminated by evil, fueled by desire, and― living in a world beyond yours

"Look me in the eyes when I speak to you woman, it's your face I want to look at"― devilish grin dripped from his eyes to his lips, forming a smirk on his face, a color― unfamiliar

Pulling you close― his hot breath on yours, Inches away― the poor porcelain tea splattered across the mat, spanning to the silks drenching the precious fabric― leaking to the tatami mat― As a gust of wind made all candles fade out not daring to light up.

Eyes locked into yours― burring holes into your skin, so deep your heartfelt dug out from the depths of your chest―

"I have been very patient", his hands going down from the wisps of your hair to your earnings brushing it― untangling it, as his lips kissed the lock of your hair

"Tell me, what's your price woman?"

"Afterall I didn't expect- to see such a beauty tonight"

Heart pounding― breathing shaking, not an inch of your muscle moved because of the sheer terror you felt, a terror digging― clawing deep into your very bones, you felt you had 1000 swords around, glistening, near your neck, threatening to perforate it mercilessly

"I-"

You dug out from every nook and cranny of your existence― Every ounce of strength you had― and looked him in the eyes

"I, Y/n do not offer such services Ryomen Sukuna-sama, for I am a Geisha"― freeing yourself from his grasp, you lowered your head onto the ground, joining your hands in front― you bowed deep on your knees, head lowered enough to snap your neck

"I have no price- for, the Sakura have not bloomed yet, and my Peony's have not wilted-,

Taking a sharp breath- piercing your lungs, your voice louder

not wilted enough to be thrown away as an arrangement of a Higanbana", with a solemn tone, the last words rolled out your tongue- into an air sharp enough to cut lives, you raised your gaze again looking into his

Silence

Utter suffocating silence

Chuckle― no rather a cackle echoed throughout the room

"Really? How amusing, even after knowing who I am, How I can rip your skin to shreds, dig out your pitiful guts, and throw them to dogs", his sharp nails grazed your cheek, and it stung as crimson blood dripped down your cheek to your chin

A crimson rouge of a unique kind, a rouge he loved to see, a rouge of death- as red as death

"Yet, you said no, not screaming, rather, in a way I Sukuna have never been spoken to, quite a woman you are", resting his chin on his hand, his legs crossed

"Is that mere dignity of yours― worth more than that pathetic life of yours woman? Should I call you a fool or an insane fool", looking down at you condescendingly, how pathetic you are

"For too many―their lives sure are worth it, but to me"

"Is life worth living as a person with no dignity? Even if I die, it is fine, for, I think― I have lived long enough. I don't wish to give away the last part of me that I have left", voice cracking as a stream of sorrow started to roll down your cheeks, only it knowing the pain― the horror you bear

"My face, my voice, have already been tailored, my Lord. Who am I? I do not know, but, until my dying breath I wish to keep this pathetic dignity of mine, I am foolish, maybe the biggest fool in the world"

The sadness in your soul, the tragedy in your heart, that circulated through your veins, all black like ink dripping from your eyelashes down your cheek gently falling down your neck

"Please, if you wish― if it will satisfy you", taking the last hairpin from your hair, raised it holding it between your palms as you lowered your head

"End me"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Your mind does not remember what happens next, for your emotions were too much all over the place, but what you do remember is― the words that shook you to your core

"Didn't you say- you aren't to be thrown away as a dry arrangement of Higanbana? Raise your head"

Vision hazy, clouded by tears, not even able to make out your own hands, you looked at him

"You won't be, For I Ryomen Sukuna, am interested― what your story is woman, I will make sure―

His devilish eyes glistened as if he found a new toy

"To taste the tragedy in your heart, the piercing pain― Let me eat it, swallow it down my throat into my veins, into my brain forever as I live Y/n, to make it mine"

Footnotes:

>Peony: It means bravery and honor. Today it is used in decorations at weddings to promote good fortune for the bride and groom. It is referred to as "the king of a hundred of flowers"

>Sakura: It represents a time of renewal and optimism, as in Japan during the blossoming of Sakura- it marks the end of winter and beginning of a new start.

>Higanbana (Red-Spider Lily): A flower of death and sadness

Hence-

"I have no price- for, the Sakura have not bloomed yet, and my Peony's have not wilted-

not wilted enough to be thrown away as an arrangement of a Higanbana"

Means:

"I have no price- as, happiness has not bloomed, a new start has not arrived, my dignity and honor have not wilted- not wilted enough to be thrown away as an arrangement of death and sadness."

I hope you like the explanation~ <3 Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

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wide-nose-and-wonderful · 8 months ago

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SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin. (Finale!)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Hurt, Comfort, Brief Elements of Fluff, Soft Smut.

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.

Word count: 7,832k / Please leave a Comment to show some love and let me know what you thought. Like this story? To read other works please check out the Masterlist.

Your lungs burned, your legs screamed for mercy, but you pushed on, fueled by the image of your brothers smiling face suddenly gaunt and despairing behind rusted bars, only to fade. A victim of inequality and a faulty justice system by the America you were thrust into. It was never great, and those who tried to convince you otherwise were liars. Pretty soon the heaviness in your joints stopped your sprint and those thoughts collided as a pounding in your head. Settling behind one of the parked vehicles that lined the edge of the sidewalk, you tried to catch your breath, keeping an eye out for any unwelcome police cars that might ride by. City lights twinkled in the distance. Their bright glow, a stark contrast to the darkness that consumed you.

Ronnie’s public defender, a distant thought. You recalled how his face contorted in trivial shock, hands clutching his stomach. You hadn’t meant to. Not really. More like you surged forward on the wings of anger propelled by this unseen force in which you held no control. The burning injustice, it all poured out in that single shove, and never intended to stop. Hurt might have you beat him to a pulp, if allowed.

The distant hum of traffic stole your attention. A stale stench of popcorn had latched onto your clothing to remind you of the night’s events. You felt a hand on your shoulder and noticed Franklin. His face etched with worry. He seemed to be breathing just as heavily as you were when he’d finally caught up.

“You okay? Hell happened back there?”

Gasping for air, you could barely speak. The weight of your decision crushing you.

“Ronnie… wanted me to fight… but to fight.. with reason… with law, not blind rage… He’d want me to find the truth… expose this corrupt place, not become the thing I despise!” You rubbed at the sides of your arms. The L.A heat made no effort of comfort. “What's wrong with me…” You muttered. “I mean. Am I having some kind of mental breakdown or something?”

“No. It's just sad. You're not crazy...”

His voice sounded so soothing then. You brought your knees up to your chest and lowered your head. His hand reached your shoulder again, and through a tearful blindness you latched on to his arm. Perfect brown hues lifted and rolled over his form and you studied him. Not wanting to say it, but never being able to stay quiet on something pressing, the reserve faltered.

“Franklin. You killed somebody.”

The words rushed out, clung to the air and created a distance that separated you and him instantly. The whole world could have broken under both of your feet with the tension that arose. Your eyes met. It was a hushed exchange, a flash of recognition and fear. He took a step back as if he sensed the imminent storm.

“What? What would make you say some shit like that?”

To you, he’d been different that day. Something became off about him. His movements, the way he laughed, tone, everything. An unspoken nervousness stayed. Secrets piling up all at once.

“Come on.” Weakly, you let your hands fall and hit your sides. “You don’t think I know you?”

“No. I did not kill anybody, okay.”

There it was. A bleakness locked into his stare. Something about Franklin's eyes. No matter how he tried, the truth of whatever he faced lived there despite what came out his mouth.

“My God. You did. You did, didn't you?”

You held a place on your stomach and forced out a breath. A thought flashed. Franklin holding a gun to someone’s head just before, BAM! It almost felt like it had to be someone else. The image repulsed you. Could he? Could he really do that to another human being?

“F-fuck.”

“I didn't!” He shouted, then gritted his teeth after. “I didn't fuckin' kill anyone.”

You searched his features as you looked at him. He said it in a way that felt like he was trying to convince himself, rather than you.

“But you were there, right?” you said, disappointed in him, in the situation. In everything. You were fishing ofcourse. You knew he wouldn’t tell you the truth, but the gut feeling just wouldn’t let up. Franklin's dusky hues, opposite your sullen browns, hardened, then all together presented as a finished frown. He took a step back and raised his chin to look down at you. Now that you had his undivided attention, you smiled, but it seeped in a bitter melancholy. You shook your head.

“Can't you see? Can't you see where this path is leading?”

You were beating a dead horse, but you'd make his ears bleed with your pleading, if it meant he'd survive. The only path you could envision for him was either prison or death.

“You've never even held a gun let alone shot anybody wit’ one. Now all of a sudden your fuckin' scarface!”

Franklin stood still. You shook your head, got to your feet and turned your back with a fierce walk.

“Just enough okay, stay the hell away from me. I don't even recognize you anymore, and I can’t deal with it!”

Within seconds he'd caught up. His legs were longer. He reached out to grab your arm.

“Just stop this shit, come here.”

He'd been mad more than a few times, but Franklin always had a way of leveling, bringing ease to an already overly tense situation. You on the other hand were another story. You almost welcomed the pressure. With a snatch of the arm, unwilling to bend to his reason, you pivoted on your heels and pushed him away, refusing his attempts.

“Move, get off me! Turn around. Go back to that movie. You don't gotta follow me. I know my way from here.”

Your chest rose up and down. Another attack on the brink, only this time without the anxiety that followed with the phone call that shattered your world. Not panic like before, only pride and stubbornness would choke you. The annoying sounds of a wheezing breath filled in each of your ears. You ignored it for as long as you could.

“What the fuck!” Franklin shouted.

You never heard his voice get so loud. Maybe once or twice when you were younger playing catch at the park and everyone was so far apart in length that yelling became the only option, but not like this. You froze, and turned to look at him. Glare shaking with a fury you hadn't known before, he approached, closing the space between you.

“Stop the bullshit alright! You wanna go back to the hospital?”

He reached out and grabbed your hand, his own trembling with a mix of anger and desperation as he sat in your palm, the inhaler.

“Here stupid!”

Your lips parted. Definitely a look of surprise. But how did he get it? Ofcourse. It must have slipped out of your hoodie during the point where you'd decided you were gonna go all out and catch a charge for the first time in your life. Or, maybe it had been before that.

“Told you about this. How many times?”

He'd closed your hand around it and pushed away.

“You don't pay attention to shit, that’s your problem!”

How was that for irony? The bottom part met your lips and with a press your lungs had opened to receive a small gust of air. You figured you wouldn't push your luck this time and wait just to fuel your own ego. Frustrated, and embarrassed, you sniffed back angry tears.

“Well then what Franklin, what!”

You found that was the only thing you could say. A few steps and he towered over you. A hand on each cheek.

“I care about you! Okay. I care,” he empathized.

It was your turn to be silent. Your eyes grew wide and you stared, damn near bound to his soul. Your faces were so close. Lips barely inches.

“Now. Whatever else you got going on has nothing to do wit’ me. Ronnie is gone. And I get it. Believe me.”

You wanted to shake your head. Tell him no. That what he said was bullshit, and only lies, but you couldn't get loose from his gaze. So much sensarity rested in those words that they almost made your knees go weak. The truth was paralyzing. You sucked in your lips at another attempt to stifle tears and you raised your hands to sit over his wrists, daring, but unable to pull them away.

“I know you're hurting, I know and I wish. I wish I could take just an inch of that pain to free you, but that wall you keep tryna put in front of me.”

Franklin took a breath. He lowered his head which broke the gaze that held you in place. For a brief moment you felt like you'd hurt him in some way and that made an uneasy feeling in your stomach rise up as he went on speaking.

“That wall. It's getting higher and higher, and I'm tryin’.” He lifted his eyes and finally let his hands fall. “Because, I don't give a fuck how strong you wanna walk around and pretend. Everybody needs somebody.” He paused, as if to let that shit sink in. “You need that too. You're not exempt even if you might have somehow convinced yourself. You need that too. And I know you'll never admit it, but I'm here. I'm here,” he said with a small shrug. “So. Don't push me away.”

The space he'd made between you both gave way for the heat of L.A to create distance. Although the temperature stayed consistent, you could swear a chill hit you unexpectedly, and without being fully aware in the moment, you weren't too far from your house.

“I don’t understand. Why do you keep tryna push me away?”

You took a deep breath and let your shoulders sink. “Because it's better like that. The less I have. The less there is to lose.”

Franklin shut his eyes briefly.

“What?”

Your features blazed with righteous indignation, while his expression etched with a mixture of determination and bewilderment. You heard them before you saw them, turning just enough to catch a glance. Not anyone you knew, personally. But you always likened to Malcolm X’s words, or maybe it had been some Marcus Garvey said, or Assada Shakur. Someway, somehow you were all brothers and sisters.

The distraction left Franklin without a response from you. The city lay in a state of disarray, even if neither of you could see it. A calm before the perpetual decline, no doubt.

The presidency of Ronald Regan would mark the beginning of the end. Yet, you only cared for your own oncoming destruction. You should be out, marching with them, but your mind was already clouded with your own messy business.

The atmosphere cracked with tension, not just from the oppressive weight of your brother's murder, but from the clashing chants of the protestors. You and Franklin stood amidst the swirling chaos of the demonstration.The protest was a sea of angry brown faces, banners, and slogans, demanding change for a city drawing in corruption. Banners proclaimed ‘DUMP RAGAN!’ and ‘THE PEOPLE SHALL GOVERN!’ Why had it all seemed so familiar to those pictures littered in the history books? A brief thought you had, caused you to wonder if you and Franklin would have your picture added. The two of you were immersed between two battles standing at the heart of each.

The world would only remember one.

Your voice, trembling with emotion, got around to answering him. “Franklin, don’t you get it?” A pause before shaking your head. You had finally found the right words as the protest began to fade. The streets, returning to their uneasy appease. “I don’t have a say in a motherfuckin’ thing. Nothing. Don’t matter what the I do.”

Franklin stood unmoving. So you went on flaying your hands as you walked from one side of the street to the other.

“This world just gonna take and take from me so what’s the point tryna hold only to anything.” You looked up. “I loved him too much. That was the problem. I shouldn’t have given a damn. Then maybe he would still be alive.” You chuckled, realizing how all that sounded. “It's hard to explain but,” you threw your hand in his direction “Same with you. But you know what, I'm not gonna wait around to lose you.” You nodded, but didn't look at him when you did it. Your face might have conveyed a realization, or an epiphany, just then. A conclusion to the whole matter. You and Franklin, once intertwined like the vines of an ancient tree. Now you were both torn apart by a chasm of conflicting circumstances. With nothing more to say, you left him there and turned in the direction of your house. It might have taken about fifteen minutes to get there. When you hit the corner you took off in a run until you made it to your front door, which you were surprised was already open. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed Lloyd’s 85 lexes in the driveway. Something you would have noticed had you paid attention. What you did see was Franklin down the street, running, eyes on you. You didn't wait for him. Instead, you entered the house.

…

Your fist shook seeing Lloyd with some of Ronnie’s clothes in hand. You had uttered something like; “The hell do you think you're doing with my brother's stuff!” Lloyd, your mother’s current boyfriend, held a look of shock when you decided to take it a step further and snatch the articles of clothing.

Your mother rushed to his defense, and just like you had done to Lloyd, snatched the clothes from your hold.

Before long you had both started off in a shouting match.

“Why mama. Why are you letting him take his stuff?”

“Because! Ronnie won’t be coming back for them anymore. Lloyd’s son can put these things to good use. Pretty soon it will all be gone outta here. I can’t carry around his belongings forever!”

“You are such a heartless woman. He’s not even warm in the ground and you wanna get rid of all his stuff? You don’t give a damn about my brother. About neither of us. You never have. Some fuckin’ mother you are!

Too late to take it all back, her feet moved before your brain could process. She was up, pushing past Lloyd, and Franklin's stunned face, propelled by a primal fury almost identical to your own. She reached you, her hand connecting with your right cheek. The sound was sickening, a crack that sent tremors through the room. You staggered back and your face contorted in a pain you’d never experienced before that night. You thought you might even taste a little blood. She held tears in her eyes, and so did you.

“Since I don’t do nothin’ for ya little girl. Find ya’ way outta my house.”

Then she turned and stormed out the front door. The screen slammed against the wall, she had pushed it with that much force. Lloyd scrambled behind, throwing a quick glance your way before he took exit from the door.

“I’ll try and talk to her. Just don’t go anywhere tonight, okay.”

When he left you released the breath you were holding. Ronnie’s clothes were laid out carelessly on the arm of the sofa. You gathered them like precious artifacts avoiding Franklin's eyes as you walked until your gaze fell upon your bedroom door, the threshold of your sanctuary now a symbol of shattered hope.

With a surge of fury, you flung it open and stepped inside, sitting the clothes atop one of the chairs. Walls adorned in framed diplomas, motivational posters. All these things seemed to mock you now.

Seizing a pile of law books, you hurled them with all your might against the wall. Pages tore, spines crumbled and scattered across the floor. Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed uncontrollably.This wasn’t the first time. There had been a constant cycle of arguing, or explosive emotions. A familiar dance you both danced for your years as mother and daughter. This time, it felt different. This time, the slap had been a physical manifestation of the simmering resentment that bubbled beneath the surface.

The books had been companions, trusted guides through the labyrinth of legal complexities. Now they represented everything lost: Idealism, confidence and your belief in justice. As the last book shattered, you slumped to the floor, body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The walls of the room closed in, becoming suffocating with their weight.

Franklin stepped through the wreckage and made his way over to you. “Hm. Let me see…” his voice was soft, laced with concern. One of the washrags from the bathroom with ice he’d taken from the freezer, held up in one of his hands. A thoughtful gesture that warmed you in a way nothing else could. He held it gently against your cheek, the cold a welcomed reprieve. You hissed briefly, then settled into the sensation.

“I shouldn’t have said all those things to her.”

Franklin didn't say anything. It was the kind of silence that echoed in the aftermath of a storm, vibrating with a residual tension. The slam of the door still rang in your ears, a thunderous punctuation mark to the end of the fight. Your cheek burned, a hot, stinging reminder of the slap your mother had delivered.

Franklin moved the ice pack to a different area. “Everythings gonna be okay. It’ll work itself out.” His touch, gentle yet commanding.

A thumb began to circle softly on your skin, this silent apology. Slowly it all started to melt away, anger, confusion. Both were replaced by a vulnerability. As he pressed close to place a light kiss onto your forehead there came this yearning for connection, for solace.

“Everythings gonna be okay…” A whisper of repeated words.

His thumb brushed over your cheek and the tenderness that he applied when he did it made you realize something. You loved him, fully and completely. Part of you still wanted to remain tough and guarded. He’d been right about that wall you were building. This otherwise persona you’d claimed for yourself. The one who thought she didn’t need anybody. The one that felt like she could take on the whole world all alone. Franklin liked calling you on your bullshit. The world was out there, not inside your room where you and Franklin sat. You wanted to ignore that urge in your belly, respect that even though you cared deeply for him, loved him, you two were very much broken up, and maybe he had already moved on emotionally. Sure he cared, but he'd always cared way before you both crossed the line of friendship. As friends, he might have done the same thing. But you could never know. Why not instead seize the moment, before it passed by? You moved your head and pressed your lips against his. The very thing you’d wanted to do when you saw him in Cho’s Grocery store. Practicality had stopped you then. Coming for cigarettes only to end up in the back room fucking Franklin Saint at his job wasn't exactly candid, but you wouldn’t miss another opportunity. Worry brought on a realization that this time might be the last time, and you prayed silently that he wouldn't pull away.

Franklin’s hand, tracing the outline of your cheek, found its way to your hair. His long fingers teased the idea of moving further betwixt the coils and beautiful tangles of tight ebony strands, reminiscent of thick cotton. If he entered you thought, he might never return. But Franklin was fearless, his fingers proceeded and pretty soon you felt he’d taken for himself a light grip. This was only for control. A way to bring you closer. Deepen the kiss. So you began to kiss him. Soft and gentle at first as your tongue explored his mouth, then with increasing urgency. Franklin responded, meeting you with a yearning you could feel deep in your bones. Time slowed, you urged forward, bold to collide your bodies in an embrace. The passion that once fueled your relationship erupted with an intensity that consumed you. Franklin too. He seemed just as eager to remove his articles of clothes as you were to rid yourself of your own while lips met and battled for dominance. They would bruise and sting when it was all said and done, but neither of you seemed to pay any mind to anything other than the present moment.

You grabbed the ends and pulled off your Malcom X hoodie and the shirt underneath then threw both in the corner, undid the back of your black lace bra and tossed it in the same direction. The only thing remaining with the quickness of your hands were your black panties. You weren’t sure why you didn’t remove them after your pants came off. You had this thought that it would be sexier if Franklin took them off you. Electricity hit in places in your stomach and You didn’t wait for him to remove the shirt, you only grabbed a section and pulled until the burnt orange cotton fabric freed deep mahogany skin for your viewing.

A sensation hit your panties. Franklin's masculine, lithe and slender frame made you hungry with desire. It must have been his uncle's constant encouragement that had gotten Franklin to lift some of those weights he kept in the front yard. Whatever method used, you were grateful for the result. You'd thank Jerome when you had the chance. T-shirts hid that his arms gained strength and muscle for the little weight he had on him. All you could think was how much you’d enjoy seeing his arms on either side of you with sprouting veins. More clothes fell away, discarded on the floor. Lost in your thoughts, you hadn't realized he'd taken the liberty to rid you of the panties. They too were lost, somewhere…..

The scrambling of you both trying to navigate your way to the bed ultimately knocked over a stack of law books that had taken a few minutes to finally collapse on themselves. Ones that hadn’t fallen in the path of your rage. You ignored the mess they made in covering parts of the rug. The whole room was riddled with torn documents.

When you finally made it on the bed, the ice pack long forgotten, Franklin pinned your wrist with one wide hand and grazed the other between your thighs. Your body reacted to the light brush at your slippery folds. A moan escaped. You lifted your head just enough to bite at his mouth from the tease, either intended or unintended. When you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and felt him breathe out a sigh from the pressure you applied, you grinned. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to say you wanted him to fill you up sooner rather than later, so you pulled at the skin a bit. Then you released him and your lips attached to his neck. In the midst of all this you felt one of his long fingers begin to move inside of you. With applied pressure you sucked at the skin to stifle a whimper when he inserted another finger and then another. You could hear how slick and wet you were by the way he played and explored around.

Curious, you moved your face to allow your eyes the chance to look down. Franklin knew what he was doing. Those sounds weren’t just of you, but him taking from your core more and more sweet fluid to run over and coat his shaft. You opened your legs further apart for him to get a better view. This time he grinned. “Damn.” The first thing he said, the entire ordeal. He pushed you deeper into the bed. You bent your knees and moved them up toward your chest. Franklin’s eyes lowered. His length sprang free once he got rid of his boxers, already leaking with that precious pre-cum. That beautiful work of art that had the ability to destroy you. Make you crazy with jealousy and bring about this funny sense of possession. The sight of his erection made your inner walls tingle. Just seeing him hard and glistening under the low light in your bedroom drove you insane.

“Fuck me.” You invited. “Fuck me Franklin. Like you still love me.” There was some pain in those words, and you hoped he wouldn’t scope it out. Eyes closed, you hissed, then arched underneath him to bring your bodies together. His fingers twisted inside you, and in response your walls clenched around them. Franklin sucked another bruise on your skin pulling his fingers free. Grabbing your hip with one hand, he guided himself toward your entrance with the other.

Your grip on the sheets tightened in anticipation.

Without warning he slammed into you. The feeling being so sudden, it left you wide eyed and breathless, gasping for air unable to emit any noise whatsoever. Waves of hot pleasure rolled from your core to your most outer nerves, that shook you from head to toe. You wanted him to fuck you, and he seemed to be taking the statment in all seriousness. A month had been far too much time without him. Maybe you both were starved and tortouched. You had not let anyone else touch you, and while his hands were busy caressing the sides of your bouncing breasts, all was quiet in the house save for the sound of skin slapping along with the labored breathing from you and from him. Like water, your bodies flowed in a silent symphony of desire.

You lifted your chin. He changed position.You could feel his smile against your neck, his grunting was a combo of that and moans. Your name mumbled and heated crossed your ear before he slid his tongue over the hollow of your throat and trailed a wet path down to your breasts. He bit down and claimed you with his teeth, no doubt to repay your bite from earlier. Your gasping breath punctuated with thirsty noises of animation as you writhed beneath him and he took your nipple into his mouth to suck sharply, drawing out from you, another loud cry of his name. You tossed your head back and dug your nails into his arm. He pinned your wrist. One wide hand held them in place over your head.

He loomed over you. You watched his leering gaze. He appeared to be taking in every curve and contour of you. Like a mental picture of some kind. You understood it only because you were doing the exact same thing. That feeling you thought you forgot had returned again in all its prestige!

Franklin moved rhythmically, pulling out before pushing back in, digging into more sensation, hotter territory. His thrust increased in power. His hands were rough and calloused and he ran them over your smooth skin with no intention of being gentle, but neither of you were.

As you made love on the rumpled sheets, the heat and the friction between both your bodies blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Each thrust and caress became a testament of an unbreakable bond. A reconciliation that transcended words. You released a long moan that dragged into a high whimper with labored breathing as you rode out an electrifying orgasm. Your name slipped from his lips as he fucked you relentless. You screeched huskily as yet another euphoric release came upon you just seconds later.

The low husky moans from Franklin graduated to a labored and strangled groan of unexplainable pleasure. And mid- another groan he’d become coherent enough to let you know he was almost there. You reached up and threaded fingers around his neck to hold on. He slid a hand forward and began rubbing your clit in sync with his thrusts. He claimed your lips, slid his tongue in during the half cry you let out and provided you with the last hard erratic thrust that united your bodies and brought him to climax. The warmth of his seed rushed through you and he let out a tired breath before he rested between your legs.

When the intensity had abated, Franklin stood to pull out and moved a finger down your body, rubbing his thumb over the spots he’d chosen to leave his mark.

“Did I hurt you?”

You had your eyes on his length. Your fluids and his seaman coated on it, thick. The combination remained inside you too and you closed your legs tight to let it dwell for a little while longer although some managed to run down your leg. Leaning over, you reached down and opened a drawer. Pulling a long white t-shirt free you shook your head, moving your hand to reach out for his arm.

“Not at all.”

You sat up and pulled him closer, taking in the other hand, the T-shirt which you had begun to clean him off with.

“You gave me what I needed. Like you always do.”

You were careful, minding the sensitivity that possibly remained. When you were done with him, you opened your legs to wipe yourself off before you balled the t-shirt and threw it, making way for Franklin to join you on the bed. You rose up partly to kiss him and pull him down with you. Franklin sucked air through his teeth almost in a wince and you moved to peer over his shoulder. Fresh red lines decorated parts of his back.

“Oh my Gosh. Better question is, did I hurt you?” You leaned down to kiss over the damage you’d left in the midst of being utterly and completely consumed in him.

Franklin smiled. “Naw,” he said with an accompanied chuckle. “All that tells me is that I did a good job.”

A good job was an understatement. You rolled your eyes. “No Franklin. Seriously. I think I broke the skin.”

“Stop.” He’d grabbed the hand you moved to touch one of the red markings. “You good. I promise.” He kissed the top of your hand.

And you were…good. You felt lighter, although somewhat sore. You'd walk differently the next day. Never had that been a real complaint when it came to Franklin though. You found yourself relishing in the intimate ache of the aftermath and whatever pain associated itself. Battle scars. That's how you chose to refer to them. It happened every single time you had sex with him. Without fail.

Franklin gazed at you, sweat gleaming on his chest. He pushed himself up with one of his elbows so he could kiss you. His blunt fingernails scratched over the small of your back and he drew you closer to pull you down over his chest while bringing the thin bed sheet over your naked bodies. You slumped against him, listening to his heart thunder. You both were still trying to catch your breath.

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“We forgot to use a condom.”

You decided to sigh when you found he wasn't going on about anything serious. “Oh. Don't worry about it,” you then encouraged. “Trust me, we won't have any little Saint's running around any time soon.”

Franklin shifted in his place on the bed. “Well, hold on now. Who said that was a bad thing. I mean you don't wanna see lil copies of me everywhere?”

You gave another roll of the eyes. “Honestly I don't think the world would be ready.” Sarcasm decorated the statement.

Franklin huffed. “Shoot. What you talkin' bout. I'm handsome.”

You lifted your head and omitted a short laugh. “Oh, wow okay.”

He smacked his teeth, but grinned. “Am I not handsome?”

A light shrug and you buried your face into his arm. “Em. You look aight I guess. Don't got nothin' on what's his name.” You whispered the last part.

Franklin rose his head, one brow high and looking at you. “Who,” he exclaimed.

A casual giggle had you biting your bottom lip. “Billy D. Who you think?”

Franklin smacked his teeth for the second time.“Maaaaan. Girl. Stop playing wit’ me.”

“Okay okay alright. Yes Franklin Saint you are a very handsome young man.”

He took on somewhat of a dream-like expression, one that made him seem as though he was contemplating something magnificent in the inner workings of his brain. “If it was the end of the world, and it's just between me and Bill D Williams. Who you gon’ choose?”

With the same expression, a smile fashioned. “You know. Crazy as it sounds. I think I’d take my chances with Franklin Saint.”

He pushed forward only to press his lips ever so gently over yours. A smirk began to spread over them long before he pulled back. “Hm. Alright now.”

You hit the side of his leg, a playful gesture you were eager to administer. “Nun uh. Not you sounding like Jerome.”

“And you're beautiful.” He said, almost as a challenge. “What you say to that?”

You bowed your head. “I thank you. But back to the other thing.” You pat his chest. “No babies for you Mkay. Least not right now. You have years of great things to do before then.”

Franklin pulled on the sheet. “Oh yeah. Like what?”

You tugged against his pull. “Like getting your ass back in college for starters. Away from South Central. Out in the world to different places.” You shrugged carelessly. “Travel would be fun I think.” You closed your eyes. “Then you're so smart. I can see you being a professor maybe.”

Franklin chuckled.“A professor?”

You threw him a serious look.“Yeah, a professor. Why not? Professor Saint. That actually sounds kinda intriguing. Now, I don’t know exactly what you would be teaching but.”

“A professor,” he said this time reluctantly.

You opened your eyes again and rolled them. “Okay, fine, then a scientist, astronaut. Hell, maybe a builder of some sort!”

Franklin laughed. “Okay, now you're just throwing out whatever.”

“And. That's the whole point.” Your voice had faltered from its early tone beginning in light joviality, and you'd shut your eyes to him playing all these different occupations. “Skies the limit,” you encouraged. “Our people don't dream big enough. That's the problem. You could do anything Franklin. Anything you want. Anything. And be, anything. You were always someone bound for greatness. I could believe in that. I do believe in it. In you...”

Your voice had trailed off. Never had you an opportunity to compliment him in such a way. Franklin wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against the top of your head to press kisses to your brow. Pretty soon the beating of your hearts slowed.

…

A warmth you craved was missing once you realized the room you were in had gone dark. Your eyes began to struggle to adjust, but not before you found the empty space where Franklin had been. You peered off in the direction of the clock. Not much time passed although it had grown late. You couldn’t recall when you’d drifted off to sleep. Your main concern became his absence.

“Franklin!” you called out sitting up as the sheet no longer covered you. The whole house was dark. You heard footsteps as you called his name a second time. The bedroom light flashed on and there stood Franklin fully clothed. You looked at him for a second.

“Oh. Are you leaving?”

He shook his head and stepped around at the mess on the floor to find your shirt. Taking it up along with your pants, he offered them to you.

“Someone’s at the door. A few people. They said they know Ron.”

…

Jabari Afia. His Mahogany skin was even more tinted in hue then Franklin’s. He still had those big bright eyes, eager for a new life in America. He’d been an exchange student for a while until Ronnie told you that he somehow got himself permanency in the states. Be it through a scholarship or work visa. You weren’t certain. You were, however, surprised to see him. Despite that, you greeted all the men who stood at your doorstep with a hug. A Lot of sorry’s passed through them. Condolences and good wishes. Behind them were two more cars of people, women and men. It might have been Ronnie’s entire dorm.

“I really hoped to get here sooner to do this in the day, but we got a late start driving out so it took a little longer than expected.”

Some familiar faces and some not so familiar had gathered on the street holding silver balloons in their hands. A bittersweet scene. This time, a send off you were fully aware of. Franklin took hold of your hand and applied some pressure.

“No. Thank you,” you managed to say, “Really. It’s very considerate of you. Of all of you.”

“You don’t gotta thank us for this. Ronnie was a good friend. Probably the best one I've ever really had. He was one of the few who took me under his wing and um-”

You watched him stop, try and keep his composure as he appeared to brave through the rest of his words.

“We need to do this for our brother. Pay our respects to him.” Jabari looked around before his eyes settled on both you and Franklin. “Is your mom here? I really wanted it to be something you could both do together. If she’s up to it. I can’t even imagine what she must be going through.”

You shook your head. “She had work tonight,” you lied.

“Okay. That’s okay. I don’t wanna take up too much of your time. Are you okay doing this now?” Jabari lifted one of the strings from the bunch that attached itself to the balloon, and extended it out to you.

“Yeah, yeah sure.” You took it and the black marker he provided you.

Franklin let go of your hand for his own balloon and marker, and the two of you made your way down the steps to the street to join the crowd that had gathered. The news of Ronnie’s passing had spread like wildfire through the neighborhood. He’d been a kind and loving young man, always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone in need. His sudden death had left a void in the hearts of everyone who knew him. You observed how they diligently wrote their messages. How some hesitated, or paused only to resume their writing. You looked down at your own Balloon. Three simple words was all you had left to say.

There under the big street light, the crowd gathered in a circle. Each person took a balloon. One by one they were released. The wind caught them, carrying them higher and higher into the sky. Some drifted gently upwards, while others darted and danced like celestial fireflies until the last balloon disappeared in the darkening expanse. You thought of the place where you’d seen Ronnie adorned in the most beautiful blue. You liked to think that those messages would reach him somewhere in the heavens.

Afterward, the crowd slowly dispersed more and more until only you and Franklin remained, all the more like it never happened. There was no remnant of the balloon release done for Ronnie. The black sky had swallowed everything up by the time Jabari gave his farewells. Franklin pulled you closer, drew his arm around you and settled his sights in the direction of the twinkling city lights. “You alright?” He asked, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You nodded, but a serious concerned look within deep brown hues locked onto yours.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You good?”

It took you swallowing down the lump in your throat to answer. “My heart hurts, but I'm good. I think this was what I needed and didn’t even realize it.” You cleared your throat. “And thank you...” You didn’t express exactly what you were thanking him for. A number of things. The number one being, he was there, and you didn’t have to feel like you needed to deal with your grief all alone anymore. Franklin stayed fighting for you. That meant the whole world. When you took hold of his hand, you squeezed and intertwined your fingers within his. The atmosphere was somber, but you made yourself a memory of it.

“Hey. Um. I need to tell you somethin’.”

He tilted his head eagerly. “What?”

“My aunt called today. The one who lives in North Carolina.”

“Yeah.”

You peered down and with an index finger began to move over the pads of his deeply melanated skin. “Well,” you continued. “She wants me to come stay wit her.'' That on its own had taken so much out of you to say. You weren’t going to bring it up at all, but after the past few hours, you knew he deserved to know the plans you had. “She says I'm welcome, and with everything going on with my mama right now, that might be the move.”

You turned your head to gather his reaction. Franklin sat silent before a slight tilt of the head and furrowed brows pressed forward to completely change his once understanding resolve, to one of utter confusion.

“What you mean?”

You had to turn away from his gaze to focus on something less intense. That happened to be the sidewalk and then some partially dead grass you’d pulled and began to rub between your fingers. “It means I'm really considerin’ it. Leaving.” You shrugged your shoulders as if to brush it off as no big deal. “Who knows. Could be better for me to be away from all this. A new start.”

“But. What does this mean for us?”

You understood where he was coming from. The entire situation spelled out that you both had settled whatever pulled you apart in the first place. The intense session of love making in your bedroom, to his unyielding support. Deep down none of that held any weight to the real issue you’d never gotten the opportunity to figure out. But there would be no more begging, or persuading. You decided to leave it alone. Accept his choice, with every ounce of peace you could dig up.

“I can’t answer that.” You said with a faint sigh. “That’s up to you. Sure, a lot of us ain't got no power. I learned it myself the hard way. One thing we do have is choices. Free will.” You ran your tongue over your lower lip wishing you had some carmex on hand, but a funny sort of peace had found you. “Like I told you. You can be anything Franklin. Even a drug dealer.” Slowly, you began to unbind your fingers. “All I know is. I'm choosing me this time.”

Franklin nodded then lifted his chin. He appeared to be taking it all in, watching as your hands separated. “I hear you.” A silence found its way in. He threw you a glance. “That's what that was back there. Goodbye?”

That word hit like a dagger to the heart. Standing to your feet you stretched your arms high and let the warm air fill you up. “You should get back. Heard Cissy at the hospital. She doesn't want you out too late. Remember.”

Franklin got up and brushed his pants off. “Yeah. Yeah, course. Gotta meet up wit’ Lee first.”

The two of you stood facing each other. You took your thumb and trailed the cut on his face as you raised your head and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I do,” he said, then pulled away to take a few steps toward the gate.

You folded your arms slightly taken aback by the random words. “You do what?”

“In your room. You said fuck me like you still love me.”

The boldness of the statement surprised you coming from someone else. Words that should remain rather private. A heat of the moment type thing. You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Well I was kinda just-”

A small shrug met his shoulders as he cut you off. “Well I do. Love you.” He offered a small grin that lasted a brief second before he turned and made his way down the three steps to the street.

Your eyes burned but you held back the emotion in them. “Get home safe, Franklin,” you murmured into the night.

…

He hadn't asked how the movie ended when he met up with Leon later that night. Trading Places. The film from what the trailer described had mirrored his life in a lot of ways. The bottom, striving for the top. Hungry for a taste of a life not filled with the miseries of reality.

Maybe by some small hope he'd gain the kinda freedom he desired one day.

He’d left Leon behind with the promise of calling him later to make his way toward Avis on his own once they'd sold both the car, and the bike he'd become fond of. Too much had already consumed them both. Far too many secrets. Separation and contemplation was necessary.

It was beyond late and he'd have to be extra careful not to wake Cissy once he completed what he’d put his word on. Another day of hard work would find her within a few hours that night held up. Sunrise always brought a new challenge, but Ronnie's balloons were somewhere kissing the stars floating above in a place he couldn't see. Still, he felt a sort of comfort knowing they were over him, making their way toward a new journey.

The dark and quiet that surrounded him during his walk had been what Franklin needed. The only time to be completely alone to think. Compare, analyze, process.

He thought about Lenny. Hoped Karvel’s soul would rest. That he would forgive him, Leon to, for having to be the one to deliver the bullet when he couldn’t.

By the time they'd let him pass security and he'd handed the half naked Jew by the pool the brown paper bag filled with money, the choice was clear as day beating against honeyed words.

“Should invest in your own shovel if you're in it for the long haul. Always keep plenty of heavy duty garbage bags in the trunk of your car. And rubber gloves. Rubbing alcohol. Air freshener. Yo’ Ohmay. Set the kid up with three more kilo’s.”

“Uh. Actually um….I’m good.”

“What?”

“I’m out. Thank you.”

Maybe. Just maybe he'd gain the kinda freedom he wanted someday. Just, not this way……

“Whelp. You lasted longer than I thought you would kid. This isn’t for everybody.”

THE END.

A/N: And we have made it to the ending readers. This was really an emotional piece to write and I'm glad that I was able to see it to its conclusion. Grief is a monster and you never really understand how much support means to a person in those times. I’m really proud of this work and I hope that whoever lays eyes on it enjoys the reading as much as I enjoyed the creation. Not only that, but this was my way of making peace with what happened to Franklin. For my own sanity I needed to give him a way out. And this is where he will stay for me. It’s been my pleasure. Thanks for reading.

#franklin saint #franklin saint fan fiction #black!fem!reader #franklin saint fanfic #damson idris #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #black!reader #black reader x franklin saint #black!writer #snowfall fx fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black fandom #black coded reader #black reader fan fiction #Mrs. Saint Writes

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ourtearsofrain · 2 years ago

Text

Greek God (D.R.W)

Summary: You get home from a stressful day at work to find your boyfriend troubled by some negative comments on the internet.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader

Genre: Fluff, little angst, mutual hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.1 k

Warnings: small mentions of negative self image, mentions of working customer service, other than that nothing

Walking into yours and Danny’s apartment, you set your keys down on the small table next to the front door and kick off your shoes, discarding them in a messy pile under it. You make a mental note to clean them up later; your shift at work was long and stressful, and the only thing on your mind is finding Danny and cuddling up with him. He had been home on a break from tour for 3 days, yet you still felt like you hadn’t seen him in months. You found yourself wanting, needing, to spend as much time with your boyfriend as you could before he left again for weeks on end. You call out for Danny, and begin to walk towards your living room, looking for him. You find him sitting in the middle of your couch, staring at his phone screen, body tense with a frustrated and almost hurt expression.

“Are you ok love?” you ask as you make your way towards him. When he doesn’t respond, you gently take ahold of his chin, tilting his head back to look at you now standing in front of him.

“Danny, are you ok?”

His gaze softens as he turns his phone off and lightly tosses it to the end of the couch. “Uh yeah, I’m fine. How was your day love?”

Remembering the events of the day, you move onto his lap, facing him with your thighs on top of his own, your calves on either side of them. You wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his fancy hair products and cologne. A wave of comfort rolls over you, allowing you to relax into his arms. You feel him relax as well, the tension slowly leaving his body.

“Not great. It was especially busy today, and it felt like every other customer that walked in wanted to start an argument over the smallest things. One lady full on yelled at me ten minutes before my shift ended because we didn’t have this specific product or something, I don’t even remember what it was. And I was on my feet all day, so I’m tired and sore.”

He moves his hands to your hips, massaging gentle circles into them, soothing the ache. “Aw sweetheart, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, s’ok though. This is helping. Been waiting to get back into your arms all day.”

You pull away from the warmth of his neck to look at him. “What about you, are you alright? You looked upset when I came in.”

“Yeah, I’m ok.”

“You didn’t look ok love… talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

He looks down at his hands, still working gentle but firm circles into your hips. “I… I just spent too long on social media today. Sort of fell into the black hole of comments that I know I should ignore.”

You let concern flood your features as you bring your hands up his sides to rest on his shoulders, gently giving the muscles there a comforting squeeze. “Oh honey… I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about them?”

Letting his head fall forward against your shoulder, he lets out a deep sigh, and you can feel the speed of his thumbs still rubbing small circles into your hips quicken and become more erratic, the pace of his thumbs matching his mind as his thoughts race, fueled by nerves. “I don’t know, I just…”

The movements of his thumbs halt to a stop as he trails off and brings his head back up slightly, eyes refusing to meet your own.

“Do you ever… do you ever think it would be better, that I would look better, if my nose was smaller? I know I shouldn’t care but… I’ve seen so many comments about it, and not just today. Comments saying I should get a nose job or just negativity in general… I feel like it gets in the way sometimes you know? That must be annoying right? You have to be constantly bumping into it when we kiss. I don’t know, like I said I shouldn’t care, it’s stupid.”

Still refusing to meet your gaze, you move your hands to cradle the sides of his jaw in both hands, leaning forward and gently kissing the bridge of his nose. You lean back, and he finally looks you in the eyes again as he becomes visibly bashful, a slight blush beginning to creep into his cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I adore your nose. It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful. Just the way you are. There’s a reason that renaissance statues of Greek gods have a nose like yours. Its unique, its powerful, and it’s gorgeous.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, I promise sweetheart.”

Burying his face in your neck, he brings his hands up your back and draws you into him, holding you flush against him. He nuzzles his nose into you, his breath warm against your neck. “Thank you honey.” he mumbles against you.

You plant a kiss to the top of his head. “Of course, my love.” You rest your cheek against the side of his head, once again feeling comfort and relaxation seep into you as you breathe in his scent. A yawn from you causes him to sit upright and take his head away from your shoulder where it was resting.

“Are you tired sweetheart?” You rub at your eyelids and meet his warm gaze.

“Little bit. Like I said, long day.” A soft, slight smile dances on his lips.

“How about we go take a nap? Curl up in bed together, and when we wake up, we can order takeout and cuddle on the couch watching whatever we want. Just relax for the rest of the night; how does that sound honey?”

Thinking of spending the rest of your day with your boyfriend, you let out a content sigh. “That sounds amazing, Danny.”

A full smile breaks onto his face then, and he brings his mouth to yours, kissing you softly. Moving his hands down from your hips to the tops of your thighs, he lightly motions for you to stand up, following close behind when you are off his lap. You take his hands in your own, and begin to walk backwards, leading him in the direction of your bedroom. “One thing,” he starts quietly, causing you to stop and stare expectantly up at him. “Can I be little spoon?”

You laugh lightly and stand on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss to his lips. “Of course. Anything for my Greek god.”

#greta van fleet #danny wagner #fic #greta van fluff #greta van angst #danny wagner x reader #gvf fic #daniel gvf #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction

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espressorry · 2 years ago

Text

somebody else

our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else

................................................................................................................................

The pictures had destroyed you.

The breakup had been messy. Tears streaming down both of your faces as you had screamed at each other until throats turned raw, all emotion sucked out of you. Between the touring, the rumor mill, the hateful comments on the internet, and his unwillingness to be fully vulnerable with you, it had all grown to be too much. You loved him so much, more than the whole world, and all you ever asked for was him - but that was too much to ask sometimes.

So to see him out with a beautiful blonde girl on his arm, leaving the yoga studio you two frequented - and you now avoided for fear of running into him - it destroyed you. A mutual friend gave you the heads up to avoid social media, but you, of course, had to seek it out to cause even more pain to your already shredded heart.

You hated to think about him with somebody else - anybody else. Even if your relationship had gone cold towards the end - the spark and ultimately lively flame that fueled your relationship had gone out - you couldn’t bear to think that he had found somebody else already.

Your shaking hands closed out of Instagram before you could do any more damage to your already bruised ego, and before you could think better of it, you were opening your messages to your text thread with him. Tears were coming out of your eyes before you could control it as you read through his last message to you, telling you he still loved you and that he wanted to make this work. His promises meant nothing after the past several months of them ultimately being empty.

Before you could stop yourself, you were typing out a message to him.

So, is that it then? You’ve moved on?

Send. You threw your phone across the bed and slammed your face into the pillow. Fuck breakups. Fuck him for making you feel like this. The more time went on, the more you began to feel regret creeping into your mind for sending it. He’s moving on, you should be too.

Your phone buzzes to indicate an incoming call, and low and behold, it’s him. You debate declining the call. You should decline the call. It would be easier if you didn’t hear his voice.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Harry.”

“So you saw the pictures, then?”

“Of course I saw them. They’re all over the internet. Not like you were trying to be subtle.”

“Would you believe me if I said that we were friends?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt tears welling up in your eyes again. You wanted to believe what he was saying but you didn’t know how anymore. “I don’t know, Harry.”

He sighed into the other end of the phone, and you hear a sniffle echo through the receiver. “I didn’t think so. I deserve that,” he says with a wet chuckle.

You stay silent, knowing that he doesn’t need to hear your confirmation of his thoughts.

“Listen. I know this was my fault. You think I don’t know that? God, Y/N, you were everything good that ever happened to me and I don’t know how I fucked it up. I swear to you, if you just give me one more chance, you won’t regret it.”

You sigh up at the ceiling, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “You say that, but I just don’t know how to believe you anymore. I trusted you so much. I loved you so much. Do you know how it feels to have the one person you love more than anything else let you down over and over again?”

You can hear as he chokes out a sob and tries, fails, to contain it. “I know. I know that and I am - fuck, I am so sorry. Please. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry fic #harry styles angst

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spin-birdie · 5 months ago

Text

kinktober day 9: spanking

prompt list

word count: ~680

pairing: tav/astarion

rating: explicit

additional tags: generic/unnamed tav, cam streamer au, premature ejaculation, a bit of humiliation kink peppered in there

"How many was that? I need a number, Astarion."

Tav's voice is firm and uncompromising, but it's hard to conjure a number when their palm is caressing his battered, oversensitive ass. The stinging pain coupled with the soothing pattern of Tav's fingers is a sensory cocktail that'll be his undoing sooner rather than later.

"How many?" Tav repeats impatiently. "Don't keep the viewers waiting."

Astarion stutters and squirms, trying to get his brain to reboot. "T-T-Twenty…four?"

He knows he got it right when Tav spanks him again. The slap itself is drowned out by Astarion's scream of pain, and he can't contain the whimper that slips out afterward.

"Twent-ty-five…"

Another slap, harder than the last. "Very good," Tav purrs.

"Twenty-six!" Astarion gasps.

His erection, trapped between his stomach and Tav's thigh, is starting to get painfully hard, now. Every slap jolts him forward, which causes his cock to rub against Tav's trousers. The friction is painful, but he's drooling precum regardless. His body shakes from the strain of staying still.

Tav reads a message from the live chat, but it goes in one ear and out the other. He's too strung out to chance a look at chat for himself. With their audience, it would either be a lust-destroying bad joke or a lascivious comment that would make him come too soon.

"Almost there, are you ready?" Tav asks, kneading Astarion's buttocks with their nails until he chokes on a sob. They don't get any kinder; one, two, three, four heavy smacks. Too fast to even try to count aloud. The second makes him gasp, the third makes him scream, the fourth comes this close to buckling his elbows.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-- Gods, nhhuugh…"

Tav chuckles wickedly. "Those aren't numbers, darling. How many are we up to?"

"T-Twenty… Uhh… Twenty…twenty-- no-- Thirty…o-one?"

He feels a hot flash of shame as the words leave his lips. He's completely lost count, and the way Tav tuts with disappointment is the only answer he needs.

"So close, my love," they tease. Their nails dig into his bruised flesh hard enough to make him shriek, hips bucking involuntarily. "You know what that means…"

Astarion's resolve cracks, and he releases a broken sob. "No, please, I can't… I ca-an't last that long," he begs. Tears finally fall from his eyes when he blinks, which only fuel his humiliation.

"Colour?" Tav whispers.

"Uh…g-g… Green," Astarion replies, almost too quiet, even to his own ear. Tav has to repeat him, but his nod of confirmation assuages their concerns.

Their dominant mask slips back on effortlessly. "Then it's a shame it's not up to you, darling. Let's get a poll rolling; chat, what punishment does he deserve? Reset the count? Maybe…cage him?"

His cock throbs hard enough to force a grunt of pain from his lips. Tav's fingers toy with Astarion's ass, caressing, kneading, parting it to run a delicate finger over his entrance…

"Maybe slip a toy inside this time around?"

Tav's suggestion is enough to make him writhe uncontrollably, embarrassingly wanton noises tearing themselves from his throat.

"Oh?" Tav grins. "Maybe not. Our dear pet seems to like that idea far too much," they giggle.

With a frantic "Fucknonononnnnuuughhh!" Astarion loses all control. Humiliated tears pour down his face as he comes, grinding helplessly against Tav's thigh. He sobs openly, muffling himself in the bedsheets, and sounds as ruined as he feels.

Tav, the smug prick, just laughs when they realise what's happened. When they speak, even without looking up, Astarion can hear the sharklike grin on their lips.

"Okay, okay-- new poll. Cancel the other one. New poll: how do we punish our dear pet for coming without permission?"

When Astarion risks a glance at the livestream, chat's moving too fast for his eyes to catch any one message. The viewers who aren't just meming on him are shocked and delighted at his pathetic display, and each suggested punishment is crueler than the last.

"I don't know about you guys," Tav continues, "but I'm thinking a new count, the cage, and a prostate toy would be a delight to watch…"

Astarion can only weep.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #kinktober #bg3 kinktober #astarion x tav #lemon #fanfic #original

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 years ago

Note

Hioooo!, I've been thinking if you could write about Laurel's perspective of how little by little she falls completely in love with reader-teacher. One day, the reader does not visit her in the greenhouse, as always happens. Marylin (laurel) worries. She looks for it and finds a reader nearby Long devastated. Someone rejected her and laurel comforts her

Lots of fluff. Please.

Yesss!!! Here it is!!!! I hope you like it!!! Sorry about the delay and the language mistakes!!! :)))))

I can't love an outcast (but I do)

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem Teacher! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, slightly smut mentions (implied), Laurel’s POV

Word count: 6,470

Summary: I’m Laurel Gates, but she doesn’t know it, I love her, but she’s an outcast, it’s supposed to be forbidden…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

The alarm clock rings and another day begins. I get out of bed, take a shower and look myself in the mirror. Getting psyched up for another insufferable day teaching those monsters was getting easier. I only have to think that soon it will end, that they will disappear.

When Larissa Weems hired me to teach at Nevermore it was a relief and a disgrace. Inside the school things would be much easier, but also stressful. Every day I live with all my enemies, with people who were involved in my brother’s death, in my family’s death. Weems herself witnessed his murder, and here I am, ready to make all outcasts pay for her unforgivable mistakes. I know it's a matter of time, I just have to hold on for one more day, one more week.

It hasn't been hard to fool everyone. They don't seem to care about anything about other things than themselves. I feel like a kind of test, a test to see if normies and outcasts can really live in peace. No, I don’t think so. When Larissa explained to me how good it was that I was there, I could see a pathetic attempt to cleanse her reputation, to put Nevermore as some kind of coexistence paradise.

I don't mind being the only normie on staff. The dismissive looks and inappropriate comments from the rest of the teachers only fuel my thirst for revenge, my desire to see them all burn.

In the mirror there is only a blurred reflection of what I really am. Marilyn Thornhill, the sweet and innocent botany teacher. Everyone treats me like an idiot, but that's because they don't know what I'm capable of, that just means I've done a good job. In the mirror I see Marilyn Thornhill, the poor little orphan girl who some people found wandering in the woods. But I know that I can never be Marilyn Thornhill, because I’m Laurel Gates.

I leave my room and start walking through the halls, oblivious to the looks of contempt from what were supposed to be my co-workers. I will never understand why they think I’m an intruder, an enemy. They are evil, they were born of sin, they only serve to harm. They believe their very existence is a miracle, a divinely bestowed power from some kind of mighty god.

They were just lies and falsehoods invented in order to explain their own existence. I know it, they don't.

Students disgust me, they feel immune, victims of a system that doesn't want them. Perhaps if I told them about my childhood they would realize that they are the executioners, that they are the ones who cause suffering. I can't do it, I'm just Marilyn Thornhill. When the bell rings, the class ends and I can finally breathe.

I have a plan, one that I've been thinking about for over ten years, when I decided that revenge was the right thing to do, that it's what my father would want, what my mother would want, just like my brother. Debating with myself about whether it is what I truly want was a matter of seconds. "Duty is not questioned, it’s fulfilled," my father used to say.

Once the conservatory is empty, I can start working. I have spent half my life studying plants, I was always an exemplary student, the best young scientist in the town where my adoptive parents raised me.

Knowledge is might, and with that I could make my dreams come true. I already knew where to find it, the essential tool I need to resurrect my ancestor. He’s going to be the purger of all that scum. I don't like getting my hands dirty, that's why the Hyde idea was the best one.

Unlocking it was going to be tricky, but not impossible. That boy, Tyler Galpin, was perfect for it.

“Hello, hello, hello,” a voice that came from the door interrupted me.

It was not a student who had forgotten his belongings, but one of my co-workers, (Y/N). She was the young literature teacher, and an absolute pain in the ass.

“(Y/N)…” I answer, with a hand on my chest. She always had a habit of turning up in the conservatory by surprise. As much as I knew, I've never gotten used to it.

“Hey, Marilyn, how about the beasts? Did they behave well?” She asks, with that damn smile.

I smile, I can't do anything else, I'm Marilyn Thornhill.

“As always, at least today I've been able to talk for more than five minutes without interruptions,” I say, setting aside the chemical that would make the sheriff's son obey my orders.

She laughs, like always, and she watches what I'm doing curiously.

“What are you doing? Homemade tea?” Funny question.

I don't understand how such a happy person can exist in that horrible place. (Y/N) is not like the other teachers, she is full of vitality.

There has to be an exception, and in this case, the exception was (Y/N). From the first day she came to Nevermore, she was interested on me. She is not like the other teachers. It seems that she didn’t care about my normi condition. It was strange, that girl was strange.

She came to the conservatory everyday to chat about classes, or about personal stuff. She seemed to have no filter, maybe she was just a confident girl.

I don't prefer the contempt of the other teachers, but her attitude wasn’t good to me. She’s beautiful, the most beautiful girl I have ever met. She is funny, smart, cheerful...

Under normal circumstances all those attributes were good ones. But I'm on Nevermore she's an outcast, and I'm Laurel Gates. That she was that way just made me feel weird. I'm not made of stone and I always liked girls. But she couldn't attract me, she was an outcast.

My heart pounds when she appears, contradicting my own thoughts. If she's not there, it's easy for me to dream of the destruction of that abomination of an academy, of seeing the faces of all the outcasts screaming in horror, of seeing my ancestor taking revenge on everyone, of avenging my family.

If she is present, those thoughts become complicated. My head is not capable of imagining her face terrified. At first it was just a fleeting thought, now (Y/N) is able to distract me so much that I even forget who I am.

“Well, you can make tea with this, but I don't guarantee that you will continue to keep your eyesight,” I say amused. She nodded, waiting for me to tell her what I was doing. She was always insistent, she wanted to know everything. “It's for the aphids plague,” I'm lying. She is too innocent, she believes everything I say to her.

“Oh… Okay…” she sighs with a mocking tone. I raise my eyebrows and smile, removing my gloves.

“How are you? Did you get them to read Beowulf?” I ask, pretending to be interested in her. At least I'm holding on to the belief that I'm really pretending. Pretending to be pretending is a mental storm which makes me feel dizzy.

She sighs, leaning against my desk and shaking her head.

“Only two have read it, the rest have said that they preferred to watch the movie. You know, they do whatever it takes to see someone naked on TV,” she answers amused. I let myself go and laughed sincerely, leaning next to her.

“Teenagers,” I say, sighing too. She looks at me and nods effusively.

“Were we so obsessed with sex at their age?” (Y/N) asks. That kind of conversation made me somewhat uncomfortable. (Y/N) always said what was on her mind. I know I shouldn't worry, or start shaking at those words, but I do, my body is weak.

I open my mouth to say something, but I don't quite know what. Joking has always been an easy way out for me.

“I don't know, you're closer to their age... Maybe you can have a better point of view...” I say with a mocking tone, giving her a nudge and taking the tray with the herbs out of her reach. I know she doesn't have a clue about botany, but it's better not to take risks.

“Hey!” She protested. I smile, knowing that this was going to be her reaction. “Well, I guess you're right…” She sighed, bowing her head. “I can confirm that I'm not like that, I don't know how long I've been without...”

“Well, well, I don't need to know, (Y/N),” I say, preventing her from saying something that would make me even more nervous. She smiles mischievously, she knows that those conversations aren't my favorites. It's not that I don't like talking about sex, but with her I feel incapable, I start to sweat and my thoughts get confused, imagining aberrations that would never happen.

“Hey, Mari, I have a plan that you can't refuse for tonight,” she says, radically changing the subject. I cover the plants with a cloth and look at her with interest and a little fear.

“A plan?” I ask, crossing my arms.

(Y/N) always had a plan, something to do together. Having coffee in Jericho (which is especially useful for me when analyzing Tyler), watching a movie in her room, or sitting on the roof drinking a bottle of wine, usually looted from the principal's office.

I can't say I don't like those moments, in fact, I wish they would happen. The problem is that laughter and alcohol make me forget what my duty is, what purpose I have. My mind is clouded when I'm alone with her, talking, laughing, and drinking. We have so many things in common that, even seeing how she uses her ice powers, I doubt she's an outcast. If she really is, why do I think she's just an ordinary girl? Why don't I see evil in her actions? That only happens to me when I’m with her, no one in the academy can make me forget what they are, and what I am. Only (Y/N) can.

(Y/N) reaches into her bag pulling out what looks like a videotape. I frown and take it from her, looking at it curiously.

“Is that a VHS?” I ask, hiding my laughter. She nods amused.

“Yeah, oh, sorry, I forgot that in your time they didn't exist yet,” she says, mocking. Well played, (Y/N), you always know how to counterattack.

“How funny you are, aren't you?” I answer, causing her to stick out her tongue in amusement and wink at me. “Planet of the Apes?”

“Yes, it’s one of the cinema’s masterpieces. I thought you might like to watch it with some popcorn, we can even order some sandwiches at Andy's and skip the dining room. Really, if I hear those beasts yelling again while I'm eating, I don't know what I would do…” (Y/N) answers.

I shake my head slowly, agreeing with her. She wasn't the only one having such thoughts.

“And besides…” she says, putting her hand back into her bag. “Tadaaa… Haverst of 84,” she says, showing me a dusty bottle of wine.

“Oh, my God, (Y/N), don't tell me where you got it from,” I say amused, imagining the answer.

“Come on, try it,” she says excitedly, waving her arms.

She is sometimes so childish, and other times so adult. She is in the limbo of maturity. She surely is not clear what her future would be. I know what it would be, and it's not a good one. Thinking about it should make me smile, enjoy the ignorance of those poor fools. But with her I can't do it, I can't think straight when she's next to me, with that damn smile.

That's a very bad thing, something I've been avoiding ever since I met her. Sometimes I wish she was just another stupid outcast, that she ignored me, that she didn't even know my name. Many of the teachers don't even know my name, but no one really does. My name is not Marilyn Thornhill, my name is Laurel Gates, and you are all going to die.

But I can’t do it. My thoughts are unable to ignore her looks, her smiles... It can't be anything more than simple curiosity or interest. I have been fighting against my heart for a long time, silencing the screams that keep me awake at night, when I dream of her. No, I don't love her, I haven't fallen in love with that silly girl. It is impossible, something unacceptable, a sin with terrible consequences.

“Let's see…” I say, pretending to think of an answer.

“Come on, come on, tick tock,” she says impatiently. Is she never going to stop putting on that smile?

“Weems’s office,” I say, sure of what I say. She stops smiling and her face becomes that of a little girl, almost pouting.

“You're always right…” she sighs, picking up her bottle again and putting it in her bag.

“Because you always steal Weems's wine. If she catches you, rest assured that you'll be left without a salary,” I say amused, patting her on the shoulder.

“Oh… is she going to freeze my salary? You get it, freeze… Badum tss…” She says, moving her fingers, emphasizing her pathetic joke.

I laugh without feeling like it, but the more I think about it, the more funny it makes me. She doesn't have the power of ice, she has the power to make people laugh, to make people feel good next to her. Yes, it has to be that, that's the reason for my ramblings. She's an outcast, and she uses her charms to persuade people, just like that girl did to Garrett.

“You're the queen of comedy, (Y/N),” I say laughing, trying to pretend that her joke didn't make me so funny.

“So? Do you want a night of classic movies and some insane barbecue sandwiches?” She asks enthusiastically. I think so, I really think so. Laurel Gates' answer was always a resounding no. But now I'm not Laurel, I'm Marilyn, and she would always say yes.

“Sounds good to me, (Y/N), but I don't want us to stay up all night like last time. It's hard to handle poisonous plants when you're sleepy,” I say, with a warning face. She smiles and nods.

I don't know what I'm thinking. Fraternizing with the outcasts was a red line for me. Their hatred and their resentment towards me was the perfect excuse to live a solitary life in Nevermore, so no one would pry into my affairs. Naturally, (Y/N) was not in my plans.

What am I doing?

The sound of the video running brings back memories to me. Memories of when I was just a happy and studious girl. The pride of Ansel and Nora Gates. I remember watching movies with my brother, when we were just kids. But not everything was happiness. My brother used to turn up the volume when he heard my parents screaming downstairs.

My parents often yelled at each other, I never knew why, until Garrett was old enough to do "what he was supposed to do." Then everything changed. Movie nights ended and they were replaced by fanatical sermons from my father. In them he made us see the danger represented by the outcasts, the injustice they committed with our family. I didn't think things were as dire as my father wanted us to see, until Garrett died. Then I saw it clearly. He was right, the outcasts had to disappear.

“Here, your double of meat with salad,” (Y / N) tells me, taking a sandwich out of a bag, while the movie began.

“Where's the salad?” I ask, looking at the food and thinking about my health.

“Oh, I think I saw a piece of lettuce at the bottom of the bag, wait a minute,” (Y/N) says, reaching into the bag. I gesture for her to stop her disgusting feat.

“Okay, okay, it doesn't matter,” I say amused. She shrugs, and finally, silence falls.

It could be another night like others, but there was something different. (Y/N) was as usual. I know that she is an inveterate cinephile, and she takes advantage of any situation to tell me some curious fact about the film. That was always so. Also her erratic and disastrous way of eating and drinking, as if she had been starving for a month. I should find it disgusting, worthy of what is expected of an outcast. But I smiled when I saw her, her nonsense amuses me, I’m enthralled with her gaze.

I can't stop thinking that there was nothing different that night, that it was simply me who had changed. My body is touching hers and that no longer made me nervous, I felt comfortable next to her.

A sob interrupted my ramblings. (Y/N) had tears in her eyes. I look at her confused.

“(Y/N)? Are you crying?” I ask with a certain tone of irony in my voice.

She wipes away her tears and shakes her head.

“No,” she answers with a sob. “Well, yes… It's just that the main character's love story is so beautiful…”

I look at her strangely.

“You mean the relationship with the slave?”

“Don't you think it's super romantic? She doesn't even know how to talk, but she still loves him. Can't you see, Mari? They are from completely different worlds but the love is the same…”

I open my eyes wide. I don't want to get into a debate about love stories in movies. My mind is too busy fighting with love.

“Actually, they are in the same world, (Y/N),” I say funny. She crosses her arms with a smile.

“Great, Mrs. spoiling movies, thank you very much,” she says, pretending she didn't know the ending.

“How many times have you watched that movie?” I ask, taking a sip from my glass of wine.

(Y/N) looks at the television, as if she was waiting for something.

“I can't count them, but…” She says, getting up from the sofa. “Oh my God... I'm home... I'm back...” She begins to say, synchronizing with Charlton Heston’s voice. “I have returned to my home… I was at home the whole time… So they finally managed to do it… You maniacs! They blew it all up! You maniacs! Go to hell! Does that serve as proof?

I look at her and laugh at her interpretation, closing my eyes. She is silly, childish, cheeky, but so funny. I wonder what a life would be like with her constant jokes, her jokes and her smile. What it would be like to wake up every morning and see that smile in my bed, next to me. I shake my head, embarrassed by those thoughts that flashed through my mind.

She sits down again, as the credits begin to appear on the screen.

“Well, as I was saying…” She says, sighing, exhausted by such a dramatic performance. “It’s not that they are not from the same planet, Mari, but that within the same planet, they belong to totally different worlds.”

I listen to her with interest. I want to know what she is talking about.

“What I want to say is that… Well, do you think that love can arise between two totally different people?”

The million dollar question. It might seem like a hint, since she looks at me almost without blinking. I can't find the answer. I have always been in love, but never with someone so different, someone forbidden to me, my enemy, the reason of my miserable life.

“I don't think so, (Y/N), surely the differences seem absurd, but in the long run they only create problems.” That is my cold and meaningless response. To agree with her would mean accepting my feelings, accepting that I like her, that I’m in love with her.

Denying it is nonsense. I've been repressing those feelings for a long time, pretending that I don't think about her at night, that I don't say her name when I caress myself. It's just a passing sin, or so I think, but the idea of her unconditional love opened a very deep hole in my barrier, a barrier that stood firm, overshadowing any feeling that wasn't hatred towards her.

She no longer smiles, her gaze drops to the floor and then I realize the mistake I've made. If it wasn't a hint, maybe it was a doubt she had due to her youth. She will suffer the same fate as all outcasts, but in the bottom of my heart, it pains me to have let her down.

“Well… I guess you're right…” She says, getting up to turn off the video.

I look at her and notice her lack of a smile. It should amuse me, but no. Seeing her sad confuses me, makes me feel bad, guilty.

Back in my room I keep reflecting. Everything is ready, the serum for Tyler is ready. All my plan is about to start, but I don't think about it. I think about (Y/N), about how an outcast makes my nights an ordeal. She is an outcast, a monster born of sin.

I wasn't a novice when it came to loving an outcast. My brother Garrett fell into the same trap. That girl, Morticia, had him crazy. He was no longer the same. My father would beat him and yell at him for being soft, for having fallen into what he called demonic temptation.

He was only 17 years old, but for my father thought he was already a man capable of fulfilling his duty. The punishment for falling in love with an outcast was not whipping with the belt, not a week of punishment in the dark closet, but something much worse. He would have to be the one to finish off the outcasts, he would kill the girl he was in love with.

I can't think of a worse punishment. But once again, love was to blame for his misfortune. He only had to do one thing, poison the punch. An easy task in my opinion. If I had been older, I would not have hesitated. Of course I didn't feel anything for an outcast, as he did.

Instead of carrying out my father's orders, he went to kill his enemy, this Gomez guy, Morticia's boyfriend. That led her to his death. Love only served to confirm the innate wickedness of the outcasts. They were not capable of loving, only of harming. I should have learned that lesson, but little by little, I've been falling into the same trap.

I feel love for (Y/N), and less and less anger. I wish I hadn't met her, I wish I didn't make the same mistakes as Garrett made.

The days are passing and I’m beginning to accept my feelings. She seems a bit more distant. I wonder if that's because of the comment I made that night. Deep down it's still the same, but she doesn't get so close anymore, as if she were afraid of me. She should was, of course, she wasn't talking to Marilyn Thornhill, she was talking to Laurel Gates.

It's seven in the evening and there's no sign of (Y/N). I move around in the conservatory, watering the plants, reading some of the students' works... But she doesn't appear.

She can't be mad at me, I'm the one who's mad at her for making me feel love for an outcast. Still she worries me. A habit as common as going to chat in the conservatory was something that I already took for granted. I don't understand why she doesn't come, and above all, why I'm mad about it.

I jerk, bang my fists on the table. I'm nervous. I don't understand what I feel, I don't understand why I want her to come to talk to me, why I want so much to see that smile, why I'm so crazy about her.

An hour has passed and (Y/N) has not come. I can't wait any longer, I must accept that the outcasts will always play with you. Once I have accepted that I love her, she has moved on from me. I wonder if Garrett went through the same thing.

Maybe my father was right after all.

I close the conservatory door and go into Nevermore’s building. I want to forget everything that has happened and get used to the idea that this foolish crush has only been a temporary temptation, an attempt by the outcasts to dominate me and subjugate me to their charms. Typical of them.

I go down to the library, I have to look for necessary information for my plan. I try to keep my legs from shaking and my hand from picking up the phone and writing her a message. The room is empty, but a sob scares me, catches my attention. It directed me to the source of the sound to make a disturbing discovery.

(Y/N) was there, sitting at a table, discreetly crying. I look at her, she still hasn't noticed my presence. Seeing an outcast crying should be pleasurable, but it wasn't. It was painful, my whole body trembled and my chest contracted.

“(Y/N)?” I ask whispering. She looks at me with teary eyes, but she looks away.

“Mari…” She whispers. “Go away, I want to be alone,” she tells me. I frown, but I ignore her, I go to sit next to her.

“What's wrong ?” I ask with the purest innocence. It's Marilyn who asks, not Laurel.

“Nothing,” she says. She is lying to me, I know.

“You don’t know how to lie,” I say smiling. She also smiles and nods.

“I had a date…” She says, looking around her in case there were any unwanted ears.

My soul collapses in that instant. She has been on a date, with someone else. Definitive proof that she was just playing with me, even without realizing it. Poor things, they can't help it.

“A…? A date?” I ask, my voice shaking and fighting the rage building inside me.

“Do you remember Mindy? The girl from Jericho…” She tells me. I nod. According to (Y/N), Mindy was a waitress who seemed to have generated an interest on her. But she told me that she didn't like her. Now I don't understand anything.

“What happened?” I ask again, clenching my fists tightly under the table.

“Well, I told her that I wouldn't mind if we tried it and the stupid girl tells me that I've been confused, that she only wants us to be friends,” (Y/N) says, sobbing.

The pain I feel at this moment prevents me from seeing things as the way they are. She didn't feel anything for me, and probably she never did. I was so convinced that there was something between us, partly because of that I didn't feel so guilty for loving her. My hatred for outcasts grows to the point where I wants to have a button to kill them all in that instant. But no, I have to remember who I am. Marilyn Thornhill, not Laurel Gates. Marilyn Thornhill is good, Marilyn Thornhill is not in love with (Y/N), or so I think.

“Oh, honey…” I say, hugging her lazily, feeling how contact with her body was not a good remedy against my disease. “I didn't know you had feelings for her...”

“Well, it's not like I have feelings… It's just…” She says, holding on to my clothes, resting her head on my shoulder. She hugs me out, soaks my clothes with her tears. It is not pleasant to see her suffer, it is heartbreaking.

“Is it just what…?” I insist. I want to know why that stupid Mindy was so important to her. I need to know, it's something I'll remember when Crackstone is resurrected.

“I thought there might be someone who loved me, who felt something for me, but now I see that no. I don't understand why no one likes me...”

I open her eyes as I rub her back.

“That's nonsense, (Y/N),” I say involuntarily, cupping her face with my hands, looking directly into those beautiful eyes. “Listen to me, you are a pretty, smart, funny girl. If that Mindy doesn't love you, she's losing it. I’m convinced that there are a lot of much better girls wanting to have something with you,” I say with a smile. Inside I'm dying, but not me, but Laurel Gates. Marilyn Thornhill is good, understanding, she is not a murderer, she is not a woman who has lost her mind over an outcast.

“Do you think so?” She says, sobbing, letting my hand caress her cheek. I feel her tears on my skin and they don't burn, it's not acidic, as my mother used to say to scare me. They are real tears.

I nod, pulling her back into a hug. I can't help but close my eyes and feel guilty for believing that her body’s heat is pleasant. She cries inconsolably, not letting me go, just saying stupid things, like she'll never find love, or that she's ugly. Stupid outcast, you're devilishly beautiful.

The time she was crying on my shoulder flew by like a rush of air. Soon her movements changed, shaking her body and… Laughing?

“(Y/N)?” I ask surprised, moving away from her a bit. Yes, she was laughing out loud. I look at her blinking rapidly. Now I'm confused, I admit it. “But hey, can you tell what makes you so funny?” I ask somewhat annoyed by that change of attitude.

“It's that if you knew…” She says, stopping laughing, with tears in her eyes. “I'm not crying for Mindy, Marilyn, I'm crying because she wasn't the indicated one…”

“The indicated one? Indicated for what?”

“To forget about you!” She shouts nervously. I step back, open my eyes. I’m speechless.

“About me?” I ask, feeling a lot of emotions building up in my guts.

“Yeah, fuck!” She snaps. She seems angry with me, and I don't know why. “I like you since the day I arrived at Nevermore!”

It wasn't a tender confession of love, it was a desperate cry, a call for attention.

“Didn't you realize it?” She asks, pushing me angrily. “I'm in love with you, Marilyn, I don't care to say it, since I know you would never be able to reciprocate.”

“But, but…” I say, almost out of breath. That was not the direction the conversation should take. She shouldn't feel anything for me. She was just playing with me, tricking me with her cheating and outcast machinations. She couldn't feel love, she couldn't feel anything, I knew it, my parents knew it.

“You idiot…” She says quietly. I lower my eyebrows, not because of the insult, but because of that unexpected revelation. Outcasts didn't love, she had to be lying and I'm willing to find out how.

“But, (Y/N), I, I'm older than you… I couldn't imagine that…” I say, overwhelmed by that information. I cannot tell her that I am Laurel Gates, that my family and my duty prevent me from loving her, because they could not. I love her, much to my regret.

“Is an age thing? Or is it that I’m an outcast and you are normi?” She asks, getting up from the table. She is very nervous, it starts to get cold in the library. “You said it the other day, different worlds cannot come together, you made it very clear to me.” The question on the movie day was serious, she was testing me. I don't know if I feel relief or discomfort.

“(Y/N), calm down, let's talk things over,” I say, moving my arms up and down. She turns and has her back to me. She must have been feeling a terrible shame, but she was firm in her words. She wasn't lying, she wasn't trying to fool me.

My world began to blur and my legs moved by themselves. I walk towards her, sighing, feeling a strange emotion. I lift my arm and put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around so I could look into her eyes.

(Y/N) cried, sobbed, but she didn’t take her eyes off me. I bring my hand to her cheek, wiping a tear from her face. I don't talk, I don't say anything, I just struggle to breathe. Having her so close to me overwhelms me, overwhelms my senses and nullifies my thoughts, my conscience and all my values.

I will not have another opportunity to find out, to know if her lips are fire, if my skin would burn to make contact with hers. She is beautiful, I’m an idiot. I sigh, moving closer to her until I feel her ragged breathing. She looks at me and I close my eyes. My lips kiss hers and nothing happens. I'm not burning, I'm just shaking.

I've been trying to suppress these images in my head for so long that I couldn't imagine feeling this good. Her lips are soft, tender. Her hands go directly to my waist, hugging me, preventing me from moving away from her. I don't want to do it either.

I caress her, looking at her with pity, but not for her, but for me. I have fallen into her trap. I'm kissing my enemy and I like it, it just confirms how in love I’m with her.

The kisses deepen and she stops crying to smile against my lips. I smile too, enjoying her kisses. She kissed me slowly, enjoying the sensation. I let myself to be caressed, I hug her, I kiss her neck, I run my hands over her chest...

(Y/N) pulls away, looking at me lovingly, like she's feeling the same thing I am.

“I love you…” She whispers in my ear. Her happiness is evident, her radiant smile and her increasingly effusive kisses. She loves me, now I know. I love her, and I've always known it. There were no ghosts in my thoughts, no Ansel Gates yelling, threatening, forcing me to hate her. It's just her and me, no one else, no witness to my profane act, to my loss of judgment.

I nod and look at her closely. Up close she is even more beautiful, more tempting. At that moment there is no Laurel Gates, she does not love Laurel Gates. Her hand moves down to mine and she drags me toward the stairs.

I don't say anything, she doesn't say anything.

We walk through the halls, dodging students, teachers, and kissing at every corner. I didn’t know the destination, but she did. The door to her room creaked open and the slam resounded throughout the school.

There was no reason to hold back anymore. I had already sinned, there was no solution.

I go crazy with her kisses, with her caresses. Her gasps intensifying as she removes her clothing. I admire her body as if it were that of a goddess, that of a divine being. She wasn't, she was the devil, an evil creature.

I pray for her bed breaks when we both fall into it. I dream that somehow something would interrupt our passion. I couldn't stop kissing her any other way. Her kisses were addictive, her touch was hot and her gasps kept me steady in what I was doing.

There was no hate, no rancor, just love, just desire.

There were no explanations, only moans, kisses, hugs.

I feel guilty when my kisses cover her chest, her stomach, her belly…” She moans, moves, growls, screams. She's releasing a tension I didn't know existed, a desire I wasn't supposed to have.

I no longer listen to the voices in my head, the ones that threaten me with a punishment from God. I only have her body under me, away from it there is nothing, nothing that makes me change my mind.

I moan when she touches me, like my skin really burns from her touch. It's a nice, cozy, warmth. Desire had gotten out of control. I no longer had my plan in my mind, I just wanted to be inside her, and her to be inside me.

We both scream, kiss, and finally collapse on the bed. She hugs me, she lies on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, hold her tight against me. I don't want her to leave, I don't want to stop feeling her body.

It hadn't even been ten minutes and (Y/N) had already fallen asleep. It must have been a difficult day for her, and I don't blame her, mine had been even worse.

An unconscious fear begins to invade me. I'm afraid of burning, of consuming myself right there for my sins. I tremble and hug (Y/N) even tighter, closing my eyes, waiting for a punishment that never came.

I feel stupid, but still I can't help but think that this could have consequences. It was like those people who don't believe that an evil entity appears in your bathroom at night when you say its name three times, but still refuses to do so. It was the same feeling.

Nothing happens. There is no divine punishment. I sigh and look at the sleeping (Y/N). Her face is peaceful, calm. There are no regrets, no guilt. She is free because she is (Y/N), she is not Laurel Gates.

I need to refresh myself, clarify my ideas. I get up, careful not to wake her up, and go to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and stare at the water. My mind is blank, I’m unable to think of anything else than her.

I had gone to Nevermore for revenge, with a specific purpose, to kill all the outcasts. That includes her, that's for sure. I can't help but have doubts, feel like I'm not doing the right thing. That I could lose her even if I saved her life. No, she could never love Laurel Gates.

I still have time to disobey my family's orders. I've been postponing the Hyde stuff for several days, always with poor and meaningless excuses.

I turn off the faucet and sigh, leaning over the sink. There is no answer in my thoughts, just love, just pity, compassion and redemption.

I look in the mirror and finally realize it. (Y/N) loves me, but she doesn't love Laurel Gates. I love her, being Marilyn, being Laurel, that doesn't matter, what matters is that she loves Marilyn. The small detail is that I want to kill them. There's no difference between Marilyn and Laurel. But, the more I look in the mirror, the clearer I have my decision. I no longer see Laurel Gates in the reflection, I only see Marilyn Thornhill.

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #laurel gates #fluff

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roomsofangel · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER NINE

even the stars can be hollow .ᐟ

wc 1.4k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

chapter warnings acts of violence. mingi is playing darts with organs as the target. overall, a more heavier chapter

a/n this chapter starts with seonghwa’s pov and a flashback with him and san! but more exposed lore? 👀

things like him will never have a happy ending.

seonghwa always replayed those words, they echoed in his head for all of his immortal life — the damage being ripped open by the very person who sought after you for the same amount of centuries

choi san.

seonghwa humors at times about it, when he isn’t grieving the amount of times he lost you. the moment he and san shared, still achingly vivid.

“they’re mine, san. their love for you is witchcraft.” seonghwa spat, holding the other who held the same animosity in his gaze, by the throat, fist wrapped and clenching around his windpipe, “let them go.”

san let out a half restricted laugh, “oh seonghwa,” he bitterly replied, finding the opportunity to knee the other in the stomach.

seonghwa groaned, hand going towards the impact that made him wince for a moment before he found himself being shoved onto his knees by a human. how pathetic in his eyes.

“you’re death himself, they were never going to stay with you, seonghwa,” san followed along with venom in each word, amused at how the god of death was kneeling, head tilted back by a human’s hand using harsh force

seonghwa’s adam’s apple bobbed while he swallowed down his words, biting down on his tongue as he listened to the words san spewed. sure, it must be divine for a human to have a being like him in this scenario so effortlessly

he coughed up the metallic from both the impact and from the way his teeth sunk down into his flesh, the weak state of his body only fueling san to hit seonghwa right where they both knew would hurt more than any physical wound,

“things like you, seonghwa,” san bitterly laughed, “never get happy endings.”

seonghwa stared out the window, it seemed cliche to him but the rain hitting the glass soothed him. he waited for you to get out the shower, hoping to share more of his side. it was something he desperately wanted to give, but he wasn’t a hero in this story of yours. he could be the villain. it all depended on how you saw everything.

it all came down to if you still were going to look at him with those eyes if you knew how many lives it took just to get it right this time because san was always good at conning — the best poker face there was, and seonghwa was just as good at placing bets but even he couldn’t sit and deny that choi san was right, things like him will never have a happy ending.

“it’s pitiful.” yeosang groaned, throwing his head back into the cushions, tilting to look at the company he had in his room who threw a dart that pierced another body organ. the lungs this time.

“ah! bingo!” mingi’s voice erupted, laughing before he turned to meet yeosang’s gaze, replying in a huff and eyeroll

yeosang propped himself up using his elbows, leaning back on them, “were you even listening?” he deadpanned, “or were you too busy doing your makeshift war?”

mingi nodded his head, “too busy,” he shrugged before aiming the last dart towards the now pierced heart that used to belong to one of the other deities — taehyung was nice. it was a bummer that he now was added to the collection of disobedience.

climbing into bed, mingi laid on his back while he stared at the ceiling, “i’m listening now, your majesty,” he teased

yeosang scoffed, “it’s pitiful how y/n is so persistent on getting answers,” he shook his head, “you know seonghwa won’t do shit and i’m just trying to help the poor bambi.”

mingi hummed in response.

“or are you trying to clean your guilty conscience after what happened that night?” mingi voiced

the bed dipped down, yeosang leaning to grab the cup of tea he had on his nightstand, chucking it at the wall and watching it shatter into pieces

“i’m taking that as a maybe.” mingi humored

and yeosang didn’t reply after, only thinking about how he could tell you no one is who they truly say they are.

looking down at your half eaten croissant, stomach grumbling but not being able to handle more than just a bite while you leaned on your hand for support, chin resting on your palm while your mind wandered, things were oddly calm during this moment

during your shower, the water soaking your hair as you stood underneath it — the steam clouding the room, all you had in your mind was questions that all pointed back to the root of what you deemed to be the problem. park seonghwa.

the more you looked into his eyes, the more the ache you had in your chest tightened and worsened. maybe it was all in your head. you wanted to convince yourself.

glancing at the ring that condemned you to the madness on loop again, a soft scoff escaped your lips. what a twisted fate.

nose twitching, you heard the door open and shut before faint footsteps turned louder and closer, seonghwa standing in the doorway with a frown, “you okay?” he asked, starting the conversation which made him shake his head in disbelief to his own attempt

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding your head and using your hand to wave him off slightly, “don’t worry about it, i’m fine.”

seonghwa shifted his body, trying to test the waters first it seemed when he took a step closer. you didn’t react, which he took as a sign that it was okay to take a seat next to you, “you do realize i know when you’re lying, correct?”

sighing, you nodded, “sadly.”

seonghwa hummed, “you must be tired, your thoughts are loud.”

resting your head on his shoulder, seonghwa let out a gentle gasp from the sudden action he didn’t expect, body tensing at first before he relaxed, “what does me being tired have to do with that?” you quietly asked

seonghwa rested his hand on your thigh, caressing as if you were made of glass and he was afraid his touch would cause you to break, “blocking out your emotions and thoughts from deities can be exhausting,” he humored, “i know you’ve been doing that, y/n, and its okay.”

“have you been trying to read my mind?” you questioned, curious rather than upset and seonghwa took note of that

shaking his head in response, seonghwa watched as your fingers messed with his, the metal of your matching rings brushing against each other, he needed to hurry up. he didn’t have much time. he couldn’t lose you again—

“hwa?” your voice broke his thoughts and he blinked himself back into reality

“yeah?” he cleared his throat, saddened by the frown on your face

“you zoned out when i asked my question,” you tried to come off light hearted, but your mind was racing the more seonghwa stayed silent and his own head ached from the sound

kissing your temple, seonghwa replied with a gentle tone, “i trust that you will be honest with me and i don’t need to read your every thought.”

your face scowled unconsciously, the urge to call him a hypocrite due to his own dishonesty far too strong, yet you refrained. for now.

in the position you and seonghwa were in, you wouldn’t have minded it. if the two of you didn’t have your past lives, if seonghwa wasn’t the literal god of death, if he was just honest and told you everything — you would’ve saw this as something you wanted forever.

you flinched at your own hesitation and second guessing, feeling something unrecognizable in your chest.

lifting your head, seonghwa calling your name suddenly became muffled and white noise while you gasped for air into heaving lungs

the picture you swore you saw in your eyes flashing for a mere second when you lifted you head, made you tremble, gripping onto seonghwa’s shirt who had concern overwhelming his face

“y/n!” his hands cupping your face as you locked eyes with him, coming back to your senses and you tried not to jump back and shove him away, “are you okay?”

you wanted to scream at him, but no noise came out, mouth agape as you tasted the salty tears you weren’t aware were streaming down your cheeks while he brought you into an embrace for you to sob. because what you saw you couldn’t explain. you don’t think you want an explanation either. not yet.

what would be the reason you saw seonghwa holding your lifeless body with his hands covered in the crime?

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stpauligirl · 1 year ago

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athens and florence please 😊

athens: favourite greek myth?

Ariadne and the Minotaur.

The Minotaur is her brother -- did she love him at all? And then she helps Theseus (whom she's known all of a day) kill Minotaur -- did Theseus even love her? Guess not, because he abandons her on an island. Lucky girl is discovered by the god Dionysus and they lived happily ever after in an immortal wine-fueled orgy party. Damn, this myth has everything.

Thank you Jennifer Saint for your novel Ariadne.

florence: how did you discover your favourite artist’s work?

How else but via tumblr, baby?

I had seen (and loved) a lot of photos of his work but somehow never clocked it was all by the same person. Then I was out with my hiking group one day and noticed a formation of leaves that had been pressed into a spectacular pattern by the recent rains, and one of my hiking companions commented "it looks like an Andy Goldsworthy work."

So I looked up Andy Goldsworthy when I got home and, lo and behold, he was an artist I already admired!

#thanks for asking

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babymetaldoll · 2 years ago

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Baby, I'm yours - Chapter three: "To die by your side"

Summary: The team is doing its best to find Emily. Spencer is struggling with the fear of losing his friend and the thought of not being enough to keep his girlfriend safe.

Word count: 11,5K

Warnings: Lots of angst, Criminal Mind classic and painful canon, smut, mention of drug addiction and drug use.

'A/N: Hey guys!! Thank you for reading! And sorry for the angst! Tumblr didn't show last week's chapter in the tags 😔 I don't know why. Remember feedback is more than welcome if you are enjoying this story: Like, reblog and comment if you can.

Next update: February 1st

Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel Masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

(Y/N)’s point of view

I was having an awful flashback. I was again outside Tobias Hankel’s house and Morgan was telling me Spencer was nowhere to be seen. It was the same feeling of fear and panic that didn’t let me think straight all those years ago, and that ended up making me yell at JJ.

The fear of losing someone you love can be the fuel you need to bring them back or a paralyzing energy that restrains each and every one of your thoughts and movements. At that minute, it was the second.

I walked to Penelope’s office to tell her we were ready to take off to Boston and didn’t even knock on the door. She was talking on the phone with someone, and soon I realized she was leaving voicemails in every phone number that had ever belonged to Prentiss.

- “Hey, it's me. Hotch asked me to try all your numbers, and I have this as an old listing, and you probably don't even use it anymore, but if it is you and you're out there, come home, please. God, Emily, what did you think, that we would just let you walk out of our lives? I am so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you're in some dark place all alone. But you're not alone, ok? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can't, then..”- I rested my head on her shoulder as I heard her sobbing- “Then you stay alive. 'Cause, we're coming!”

- “We love you, Emily! We are your family”- I added and broke into tears as well. Garcia hugged me and we cried for a few minutes. I needed to let it all out before I put on my BAU profiler mask and hid every feeling I had.

- “We are gonna bring her home, and we are gonna get so wasted!”- I whispered and chuckled between sobs

- “Oh, we are gonna get so drunk after this!”- Garcia agreed and wiped off her tears- “Let’s save our friend, munchkin.”

We were on a plane to Boston. Emily had been captured by Doyle, Garcia had shown us the footage and for a second, we all thought the worst. Also, the police had detained Clyde Easter in that city and we needed to talk to him as soon as possible. He had to give us some more info about Doyle and his relationship with Prentiss. Anything that could help us find them.

- “Emily walked into a trap. It looks like Doyle got into the SUV, but from this angle, you can see that he didn't. Which I wished Boston PD would have told me before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.”

Penelope showed us again the footage of the incident, and we analyzed it frame by frame.

- “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She's lucky the 3 people inside didn't die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”- Morgan was clearly upset, he had been angry for the last 10 hours, after Prentiss’ disappearance. I had been upset when we discovered she had slept with Doyle, but at that point, I just wanted to bring my friend safe. I didn’t care what she had done.

- “Well, three bad guys.”- Rossi gave him a sarcastic remark and shook his head.

- “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.”- Hotch pointed out and I nodded in support as I sipped my tea.

- “He's come to the US to wage a public vendetta and hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.”- Reid added with a voice that showed how deeply concerned he was. I wanted to hold his hands the entire time to show him I was there with him, but I knew I couldn’t at the time.

- “So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?”- Rossi asked and JJ answered.

- “ Well, the mole must have told him, right? The same guy who's been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents?”

- “And our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash. How do we get Easter to talk? He won't cooperate willingly.”- Seaver questioned and I knew Hoth was going to handle the asshole himself.

- “I'll handle that. The rest of you focus on Doyle's location.”

- “I hate to be the one to ask this, but how long does Emily have?”- Garcia’s question was in fact the same we all shared, but no one had spoken about it in fear of the truth. Hotch’s voice was soft and kind as he explained the situation in the most positive way possible.

- “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. Which means he'll take his time.”

We all looked down and stayed in silence for most of what was left of the trip.

The Boston police station felt like a prison. I wanted to get out of there and find Emily. I knew walking around with no clue and no idea of what was happening would be useless, but waiting felt like torture. I just hoped Em wasn’t going through torture herself.

- “Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I'm the man!”- Hotch and I turned to see the man walking in cuffs to the station.

- “Who's that?”- I asked Rossi, who joined us with more info

- “Jack Fahey, Irish mob. He called Easter's cell phone 12 times in 6 hours.”

- “Any connection to Doyle?”- Hotch looked at Rossi as he waited for an affirmative answer.

- “Boston PD says he's low-level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA”- Rossi explained.

- “You two and Reid, see if you can get anything out of him.”- Hotch said and the three of us nodded before we started walking away.

I had questioned witnesses and suspects many times with Reid before. But never as a couple. I had wondered how that would be, but under those circumstances, I didn’t have much patience to play any kind of game.

- “Why were you calling Clyde Easter so much, Jack?”- Rossi asked right away, as we stood in front of Fahey, but he decided to ignore him.

- “Anybody got a smoke? How about you sweetheart?”- I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms on my chest, not saying a word back to him- “How about you, beanpole?”

- “What do you think?”- I asked my boyfriend as he made eye contact with Fahey and whispered his answer, making sure the suspect could hear us.

- “Narcissism masking deep-seated insecurity.”- Rossi and I nodded at his description.

- “So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.”- David added, just to toy with him.

- “Hey, hey, hey, I ain't no hood rat. You take that back.”- Fahey freaked out immediately, as predicted.

- “Well, you look like one. You smell like one. You smell that?”- Rossi walked to Fahey as he spoke, and Spencer and I sniffed and answered at the same time.

- “Hood rat.”

- “I am not! Take it back!”- Fahey looked funny when he was mad, I give him that.

- “Hey, Jack. Do you know what a hood rat is?”- I walked over and stared at the suspect right in the eyes. He couldn't even answer my question, so I looked at Spencer and shook my head- “You see what I mean? He's just gonna have to learn the hard way.”

- “All right, all right, look, Clyde was gonna pay my medical bills, all right? This ear, it ain't growing back.”

- “What happened to it?”- Reid crossed his arms on his chest and looked at him with a severe glance.

- “This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning. Thought she could take on this IRA big shit named Doyle. So I told these...!”- but the poor bastard couldn’t keep talking ‘cos Rosi kinda lost it. He squeezed his shot ear, making him cry and twist in pain on his chair. Blood came from the wound through the patch and soaked Rossi’s hand.

- “What the hell, man?! Jeez!”

- “Where's Prentiss?”- I shouted and hit the table, trying to get his attention.

- “Who? I don't know!”

- “Lauren Reynolds. Where is Lauren Reynolds?”- Spencer asked with the same urgency and somehow Fahey chuckled through the pain.

- “Oh. Friend of yours, is she?”- suddenly I realized we had lost our upper hand with him. And all just because of our feelings for Prentiss.

- “You tell us where she is right now, or I swear, I'll send you to a prison where they'll teach you what a hood rat is.”- Rossi threatened him, but it was too late, the bastard just chuckled.

- “And by the time you do, she'll be in pieces. So, uh... my price just went up.”

If he hadn’t been our only lead, I would have killed him right there and no one would have missed him. But we needed whichever piece of information the bastard could give us.

- “200,000?”- Seaver asked underneath, pretty shocked as we all stood at a side of the station. Fahey was sitting a few feet from us, waiting for our resolution.

- “What other leverage do we have?”- Hotch asked.

- “I just wanna beat the shit out of him until he speaks”- I confessed and sighed- “But I know it won’t take us very far, and there is not enough time.”

- “Is he an addict?”- Seaver asked, taking a second look at him.

- “He's having a nicotine fit. We wouldn't let him smoke.”- I explained and even cut her an evil grin.

- “We could use that. He’d relax, open his big mouth.”- Seaver suggested, and surprisingly it wasn’t a bad idea.

- “Is that enough?”- Hotch questioned and she cut him her sweetest smile.

- “Well, I'm pretty good with narcissists.”

- “Please don’t tell me, your dad was a serial killer and you know everything about narcissists”- the words slipped my lips, I couldn’t help it and I knew Hotch was gonna make me pay for it.

- “Well, I also dated a few.”- she answered and I sighed. We were going to go through Seaver’s plan. God help me.

For security reasons, we took Fahey to the rooftop. Hotch thought having two girls would help him feel more relaxed and so it was just me and Seaver with him. Well, if you ignore all the officials waiting for us at the door, including Spencer who insisted on keeping a close eye on what was happening.

- “You know when a cigarette is best? After sex with me.”- that bastard joked as he took a long drag of his cigarette, winking at Ashley.

- “Mind your manners, asshole.”- I commanded and kept my serious look on him. Clearly, I was the bad cop in that situation- “You're already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

- “So, just out of curiosity, what's it like working for Doyle?”- Seaver asked with a sweet tone of voice.

- “Eh, he's not so tough.”

- “Wow. I bet you're his hookup, aren't you? I mean, after all, you're the man.”

- “I could show you how much of a man I really am.”- I clenched my knuckles and took a step closer to Fahey, ready to smack those dirty answers out of him. But he raised his arms and took a step back.

- “All right, all right, all right, jeez. What's with the sexy good /sexy bad cop routine? What do you two think…”- a shot came from a window nearby, all of a sudden.

- “Down!”- I quickly wrapped my arms around Seaver and the two of us kneeled down as we heard a second gunshot and our only lead dropped dead right in front of us. Seaver started shaking, Fahey’s blood damping her white sweater. I kept my arms around her for a few more seconds, trying to comfort her as the police force surrounded us, working to find the killer.

- “Are you ok?”- I whispered and she just nodded.

- “(Y/N)!! (Y/N)!!”- Spencer showed up running and cupped my face in his hands- “Are you ok? are you hurt?”- I just shook my head and looked into his teary eyes, feeling like the most loved human on earth.

- “I’m ok, it’s ok honey. They got Fahey, we are ok. Right, Ashley?”- I rubbed my hand on her back and she nodded.

- “Yeah, but now we are back to square one”- she whispered, still shaky.

- “Come on”- Spencer helped us stand up and quickly walked us in.- “It’s not safe out here.”

After Spencer made sure I was safe, his fear of losing me (or any other member of the team under those circumstances) hitting hard for a moment, I grabbed a clean shirt from my go bag and walked to find Seaver. The poor kid was trying to wipe off the blood from her sweater with a napkin. It was sad. I knew without Prentiss, she didn’t have anyone close inside the team but Rossi. And I also knew it wouldn’t kill me to be nice to her for once.

- “That's not going to come out.”- I announced as I walked toward her.

- “Yeah, I know.”- I gave her my shirt and she looked at it in shock for a moment. Yeah, apparently it was that hard to believe that I could be nice and human with her- “Thanks.”

- “It’s ok. Actually, I needed to talk to you”

- “About…”- I don’t know what she wanted to say ‘cos I started talking before she could finish her idea.

- “Ashley, we have a problem. Without Fahey, there's not much left. We all want to save Prentiss so badly that we can't see this case straight.”

- “Ok. What do we do?”

- “Something that terrifies me: we depend on the team member with the freshest eyes.”- Seaver looked at me in shock and shook her head, honestly scared to carry such a burden on herself.

- “Oh, no. Not me, no.”

- “Believe me, this hurts me too. But the truth is you haven't worked with Prentiss for five years. You're unprejudiced.”- I sat next to her and maintained eye contact the entire time. I didn’t mean to make her nervous, I just needed her to focus.

- “Now, what's been bugging you since we left Quantico? How about the affair? That bugs me, you saw me, I yelled when I found out what had happened. Now tell me, how does the two of them sleeping together change Doyle's profile?”

- “I don't know.”- she mumbled, frustrated

- “Come on, Ashley. It's textbook!!”- I raised my voice ‘cos though I was trying to be nice at her, I was also aware we were running out of time to find Prentiss safe.

- “I haven't read every textbook! You always complain about that!!”- Ashley yelled back at me, so I moved closer to her and ket pushing her.

- “You want me to hold your hand? Fine! See? I'm holding your hand and giving you all my moral support. Now tell me, honestly: What doesn't fit? Just say it! What are you thinking? Spit it out!”

- “Why families?!”- she finally shouted and I nodded, excited pushing her had actually worked.

- “Keep going.”

- “Prentiss is Doyle's stressor. He wants revenge on the woman who betrayed him, and I understand that. But why kill that child in D. C.?”

- “Finally! You just gave me a reason to love the fact you are on the team.”- I hugged her and she widened her eyes- “Now throw away that awful sweater, put on the clean shirt and never wear white to work again, got it?”

Spencer’s point of view

There were too many stressors. Way too many for me to handle properly under that amount of stress. First, Prentiss runs away from us, hiding information from the team. Then, knowing how far she had gone with Doyle, faking a relationship with him and even sleeping with him. I’m not a prude, but even I know that can mess things up in the field. Now how did that change Doyle’s profile and how was he going to act with Emily? We had nothing.

And the fact a sniper had shot Fahey on the police station’s roof and might have killed (Y/N) instead was eating me alive. Of course, I always knew there was a risk in doing what we do for a living. And yes (Y/N) had been shot before (by far, the worst day of my life). But that day, on that rooftop, it affected me on a completely different level. I wanted to protect her no matter what, and I hated feeling I couldn’t do it properly.

I don’t think it had actually hit me until that day, but I wanted to marry her. I wanted to have babies with her. And soon. We had waited so long to confess our feelings I didn’t want to wait another five years to commit. I knew we had been dating for less than a month, but I knew she was my forever. I knew it since the first time I saw her.

But at that minute our job was to bring Prentiss home. Then I could take care of the rest.

Hotch got Prentiss' ex’s unit chief, Clyde Eater, to collaborate with us and the entire team got together to finally make some progress.

- “Ian Doyle's a power-assertive psychopath, highly controlling and very explosive when something doesn't go as planned.”- Clyde explained. We knew he was a psychopath and a serial killer. But his M.O and all the intel the CIA had on him were extremely useful to profile the bastard. And most important: to know what he was doing with Prentiss.

- “Ok, so how does this fit in with who he is as a family annihilator?”- Seaver asked and (Y/N) added

- “And Prentiss’ role in it.”

- “Annihilators have a romanticized view of who their family is.”- I looked at Clyde, but he shook his head at my words.

- “Well, actually, he was an orphan.”

- “Well, they think of family as their possession, until some law shatters that and starts them killing”- Morgan added.

- “But Doyle was never married.”- Clyde kept dismissing all of our contributions to the profile.

- “Children?”- Rossi asked, but we all guessed it was negative.

- “No.”

- “You run your profile that he carried out his murder with surgical-like precision.”- I continued talking as (Y/N) grabbed the picture of the kid Doyle shot from my hands, trying to find anything on that image that we could use as a clue.

- “Yes.”

- “With no collateral damage.”- Morgan added.

- “That's right.”

- “Perhaps this child was a surrogate for one he had.”- (Y/N) suggested

- “Say Doyle had a child and you didn't know about it. Is it possible that Prentiss did?”- Rossi asked the million-dollar question, and Clayde shook his head.

- “Then why would she keep it from me?”

- “Who else was in the compound the day that you arrested Doyle?”- Hotch asked and looked at the list of names.

- “Just his staff.”

- “All Irish?”- Hotch raised an eyebrow going through the names again, and Clayde nodded.

- “Yeah.”

- “That's a start.”

Thirty two minutes later we had an address and we got ready to rescue our friend. We knew Prentiss discovered Ian Doyle had in fact a son hidden, who had been raised by one of his maids as her own, to keep him from any danger. When the CIA got Doyle, the maid and the boy made it to America, and a year after Doyle’s imprisonment, Prentiss faked their deaths and relocated them, saving their lives from him. We didn’t know how or where. We just knew she made sure she did everything she could to save that kid’s life. Because that is how amazing Prentiss is.

We were on a rescue mission for Emily. The entire team, plus the special forces, got to an empty warehouse. We all walked in, and the first thing I did was to keep (Y/N) close. I couldn't focus on anything if I didn’t know she was close enough for me to save her. Morgan’s words kept spinning in my head: Our only advantage in that mission was stealth. Once Doyle knew we were on site, nothing would stop him from killing Prentiss. Or anyone on his way.

Derek was leading the mission, and after a few minutes of the most nerve-wracking silence, he announced he had Emily.

- “I got her!!”- his voice nearly pierced my ear as he shot into the earpiece- “I got her in the basement on

Southside! I need a medic!”

I stopped in my tracks and grabbed (Y/N)’s arm, who had just started running towards Morgan.

- “We don’t know where Doyle is! Stop! (Y/N)!”- I looked into her teary eyes and felt her struggling to let go.

- “But she is right there, Spencer! She needs us!!”- she begged as we heard Derek’s voice in our earpiece again.

- “Prentiss. Hey, it's me, I'm right here. You're gonna be alright. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me.”- the officials cleared the room as we all continued to move, being extra careful in case Doyle was still in the area. I surely doubted it. He just wanted to hurt Emily and he couldn’t do it with all of us there and all his men down.

- “Clear!”- we heard that word, and (Y/N) ran from my side until she got to Prentiss and Derek the minute the ambulance reached the perimeter. I caught her and held her as we watched the paramedics checking her vitals and quickly moving her into the ambulance and to the nearest hospital.

Honestly, it all happened too quickly and I almost didn’t register it all. The way Prentiss looked when we reached her side, pale, almost dead. How Morgan kept holding her hand and refused to move from her side, getting into the ambulance with her, even against the paramedic’s will. The way (Y/N)’s tears soaked my shirt when I wrapped my arms around her, and how her hands grabbed my arms and nearly hung from me, not letting go until Hotch said we had to go to the hospital.

Everything will be engraved in my memory forever. And I wish I could just forget it all. It was all too much. And it just kept getting worse.

We waited over five hours in that visitor lounge, in the hospital. (Y/N) sat next to me, shaking most of the time, though I gave her my jacket, and wrapped my arm around her to keep her warm, and Rossi kept getting us coffee and snacks from the closest vending machine.

- “She is gonna be ok, right?”- Penelope whispered and waited for our answer. Derek just wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple. (Y/N) looked at me for a moment, with pleading eyes. She wanted to hear it too, she needed to hear Prentiss was gonna be ok. I cut her a short smile, though my eyes were filled with tears, and snuggled closer to her.

- “Of course, she is gonna be ok”- I whispered to her and she just nodded, resting her head on my shoulder.

I think that’s the first time I knew I was lying to my girlfriend. But I was too scared to tell her I didn’t know. That I just wasn’t sure what was gonna happen. I wanted to be her rock, the man she needed. But I was so scared. Petrified at the thought of losing my friend. Of failing to the team.

We all raised our eyes when we heard footsteps coming over, and JJ walked slowly over us. Her eyes were red and she couldn’t even speak. We all turned to her and waited if she had any update on Prentiss’ condition. But her tears stopped our hearts. (Y/N) held my hand and squeezed it tight. I just opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. It couldn’t be right. There was no way that was actually happening.

- “She never made it off the table”- JJ confirmed and for a moment, time stopped. I refuse to believe what she had said was true. My friend couldn’t be dead. My last conversation with her couldn’t be that random exchange of words. Emily Prentiss couldn’t be dead.

I looked around and watched how all of our friends were breaking apart. Rossi was sobbing, Garcia was in shock. I stood up and tried to run away, though I didn’t really know where I was planning to go. But (Y/N) grabbed my hand and stopped me. I turned to look at her and saw the tears falling down her cheeks as she bit her lips, trying her best to contain her emotions. I knew she hated crying in public, and I also knew she couldn’t really control it at the moment.

- “Hon…”- she whispered and grabbed both my arms, maybe scared I would actually run away from her. But instead of fighting her touch, I melted into it, wrapping my arms around her body and sobbing against the soft skin of her neck.

- “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye”- I mumbled and felt her arms trying to hold me together. I let my tears run as she hugged me and caressed my back. She was crying too, as well as everybody around us. That couldn’t be happening. Emily couldn’t be dead. That couldn't just be it. We were the good guys, and the good guys always win. We couldn’t lose her, we couldn’t lose Emily.

But we did.

(Y/N) and I held each other the entire flight back home. I don’t really know if we were trying to console one another, or just trying to stay together to keep each other sane. I didn’t follow any of the PDA rules Hotch and Strauss had been nagging us about. I held (Y/N) in my arms the entire trip. I sat her on my lap and wrapped a blanket around her, ‘cos she kept shaking.

No one said a word the entire trip. The only sound around us were grieves and sobs. There was a deep feeling of loss. Not only we had lost Emily, but we all felt lost. It seemed unreal.

(Y/N)’s hands were clinging to my sweater, and every time I moved on the seat, she tightened her grip on me. I kissed her forehead as I snuggled her closer.

- “I’m not going anywhere”- I whispered and slowly leaned it to kiss her hands. She sighed and looked into my eyes with tears.

- “I’m so scared, Spencer.”- she called me by my name as one of her hands let go of my sweater and moved to my cheeks, caressing me- “I don’t wanna lose you too.”

- “You won’t, I swear. I am not going to leave you, and nothing bad will happen to me.”

But the truth is, I was petrified too. And I held her even tighter until we got home, ‘cos I was also scared to lose her. We did everything we could to keep Prentiss safe, but we failed. The same way we failed to protect Elle, and Garcia. We failed to protect Hailey and Jack. We were a failure, the entire BAU. And it scared me to death to think something bad could ever happen to my girl.

We got home that night and just sat on her couch. We talked about having a cup of tea, but neither of us moved. We just sat there, crying and holding each other until the sun came out.

I smelled her shampoo all over me as (Y/N) let her hair loose and for once, it didn’t make me feel better, protected or loved. If anything, it made me more anxious. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel losing her. And the fear kept crawling down my skin like a disease that spread all over my body.

And there was only one thing I knew had helped me get rid of that fear and pain: Dilaudid.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I stood outside the car and took a deep breath. We were at the cemetery, ready to give Emily her final resting place. It wasn’t right. The last few days had been the closest I had ever been to hell. We had to present our reports on what had happened the day Emily died. Then Hotch gave us the day off to rest and process what had happened. And now we were at a cemetery. No, it made no sense.

I had cried my eyes out in the last 48 hours. Life had changed completely and I felt lost. I refused to admit the fact my friend was gone. That had to be a joke, a very bad one. But I knew we couldn't function as a team without Emily. She was our rock. She was the one who always managed to keep her cool, even during the worst times. She was the one I turned to for advice since she joined the team, ‘cos we both had a rough start with Gideon, and Hotch wasn’t a big fan of women’s work when we first started.

- “Ready?”- Spencer held my hand and took me from my thoughts. I shook my hand and bit my lips, making my best not to cry anymore. I’ve always hated crying in public. He kissed my hand, and his lips lingered on my skin for a second before we started walking to meet the rest of the team.

Penelope was already there, with Morgan. I rested my head on her shoulder not saying a word, as I felt her caressing my hair. We just stood there in silence until Hotch and Rossi walked over. Aaron hugged us all, as I kept fighting the tears back.

- “It’s time.”- that was all he said, and we just nodded.

Spencer kissed my cheek one more time before walking with Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch to hold Prentiss’s coffin and carry it to her grave. Penelope held my hand as we walked behind them, along with JJ and Seaver, carrying some of Prentiss’ favorite flowers. Everybody was there, but I didn’t register much. A priest talked about loss and how we shall overcome it. But it was all a blur. I just remember standing in front of the coffin, fighting the tears, holding Spencer’s hand tight.

JJ walked and left her flowers on the coffin, and Penelope followed slowly. Then Seaver, Rossi, and Morgan. Spencer looked at me and I did my best to walk. But I swear, I felt my knees were going to betray me any minute. My boyfriend held my arm tight and helped me make my way to say my last goodbye. I still don’t know how he had the strength to do it if I knew he was hurting too. But at that minute I knew I was more thankful to have him than ever. I never wanted to lose him.

- “Come on kid, let’s go to my house for a drink”- Rossi whispered after the ceremony was over.

- “No, thank you. I wanna be alone”- I whispered, knowing he wasn’t going to let me go, but still trying to see if he could get I didn’t want to deal with people.

- “Kid, this hit the entire family and it’s time for the family to be together. Come. Both of you can not lock yourself to grieve all alone.”- Rossi was right, I just didn’t know how to deal with everything that was happening with all those people around me.

- “Do you wanna go?”- I asked Spencer, who kept holding my hand, his eyes glued to the ground.

- “It’s gonna be good for all of us”- Rossi added and Reid nodded. I sighed and gave up. I knew it was gonna be worse not attending, and maybe Dave was right and some time with family would be good for all of us.

Of course, spending time with family, under those circumstances, was painfully hard, because though all we wanted was to support each other, all our emotions were on the surface, and I don’t think we knew what to do with them.

We drove in convoy to Rossi’s and when we got there we realized he had prepared a little get-together. He had some food, some wine and a table in his backyard ready for us. Spencer poured a glass of wine for me, grabbed a juice for himself, and stood by my side as the rest of the team gathered around for a toast. I didn’t feel like toasting for Emily. Not that I didn’t want to honor her, but I wanted to do it on my own. I didn’t feel ready to share my feelings with my friends just yet.

- “To Emily”- Rossi raised his glass and his voice broke immediately- “A tuff rock, the smartest woman and one of the best friends we’ve had.”- we all raised our glasses and drank a sip.

- “Emily is my… was my best friend”- Garcia started, but tears stopped her speech. Morgan wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead, in support. We weren’t ready for this. The wound was open and bleeding. This was basically just twisting the knife inside the wound.

- “I remember when she first joined the team ‘cos Stauss pushed me to accept her. Erin thought she could use Em to control me and get some info about our work. And instead, she gave us an invaluable team member, and a friend that will live in our hearts forever.”- Hotch’s words started with a light chuckle and ended with tears. I knew he wanted us to remember the good things, but we couldn’t just forget that she was dead, and we would never see her again.

- “I just can’t believe she is gone”- Spencer whispered and I wrapped an arm around him immediately- “I mean, if we can’t protect each other, what can we do? how can we do our work?”

No one could give an answer to that. I know I didn’t have comfort words for Spencer ‘cos I felt broken inside as well. I hugged him tight and felt how he soaked my neck with tears, as he made an effort to cry quietly.

- “I just wish she would have trusted us from the beginning.”- Derek took a sip of his wine and stared at us, fighting the tears- “I mean, we could have helped her! we could have caught Doyle and killed that son of a bitch!”

- “Derek”- Hotch tried to calm him down, but we all had to express our feelings somehow, I guess.

- “Why did she do this alone?! I told her we were there for her! I knew she was hiding something from us! And now she is gone!”

Morgan was angry, and I got it. I had noticed Emily was acting strange but didn’t do anything either. I was too busy being happy with Reid. And in a way, I blamed myself as well.

- “Emily locked us out of her life. She decided she was better on her own.”- JJ argued and Will held her hand, ‘cos it felt as if her words came out harder than she had initially intended.

- “We are all fucking profilers! We all knew there was something going on and we just decided to overlook it!”- I argued and let Spencer go ‘cos I needed a refill of my wine already.

- “Kid, we all feel guilty. Trust me, I hate myself right now and I know there are a lot of things that we could have done to help her. But we didn’t, and it’s done. Regret won’t take us anywhere but feeling even more miserable!”- Rossi raised his voice but didn’t try to lecture me. He followed me to the bar and wrapped an arm around me, pouring me a second glass of wine.

- “But we have each other, ragazza. And we are gonna overcome this together. Trust me.”

My BAU family is so different from my real one. I could get away from my blood relatives, I had a million excuses I had certified were adequate to stay away from them. But I could never get away from my BAU’s kin. They were harder to keep away.

Spencer excused himself and walked to the bathroom for a moment. I looked at him and realized he had been trying to be strong for me, and be my rock. But of course, I knew he needed to process the whole situation his own way. I knew he wasn’t afraid to cry in front of me or anything like it. But he would never want to feel like he was a burden for me. And he would want to process his sorrow alone.

I just hoped this whole thing wouldn’t affect our new relationship. All I actually wanted was to curl into bed with him, hug him and get some rest. It felt like the weight of the world was on our shoulders and there was no escape from it.

- “I didn’t get to know Emily very well”- Seaver started talking and for once, I didn’t really care. I was so sad I didn’t even want to argue with her- “But she was the first to open her arms and give me a chance. Teach me some of the things she knew and just… help me be a better profiler.”

- “My baby was like that”- Garcia whispered, trying her best to stop sobbing- “She would always go an extra mile for someone she knew deserved it.”

- “She also had the better comebacks. I learned so many curse words from her”- I sipped my wine after my words and heard Rossi chuckle.

- “You can’t say she was a bad influence. You two together were an accident waiting to happen.”

- “Remember when she picked up that guy at the bar?”- Garcia looked at me and JJ, and we both knew exactly what she was talking about.

- “What guy?”- Spencer walked over and stood by my side. I turned to him and cut him a shy smile, holding his hands. His fingers were cold and I felt like kissing them, but it felt weird doing that in front of the team.

- “A random asshole that flirted with her at a bar one time when she first joined the team. We had one of our first ladies' nights and she walked to our table with a guy that told her was an FBI agent”- I explained and Garcia shook her head.

- “No, but he was a loser, he was so pathetic. He kept saying everything we asked was “classified.”

- “Worst was when she said “affirmative” instead of yes!”- JJ added and I chuckled.

- “Oh my god! I had totally forgotten about that!”

- “The best part was when she asked him to see his batch and he argued he couldn’t show it ‘cos it was classified”- Garcia smiled at the memory and Rossi looked at us with wide-opened eyes.

- “And what did you guys do?”

- “We asked him if it looked anything like ours, and he turned around and left completely humiliated”- I finished the story with a big grin on my face, thinking that was the kind of thing that happened when Emily was in charge of getting the next round of drinks.

- “I remember when I hit her with my rocket on the head”- Spencer said and smiled as he remembered what happened that day- “And she didn’t even get mad at me, she just asked me to show her how I had done it”

- “And you didn’t, ‘cos a magician never reveals his secrets.”- I turned to my boyfriend and smiled. I remembered that day so well. He looked so cute and concentrated on preparing his tricks.

- “Remember when we asked her to flirt with that lousy guy to get a better profile?”- Morgan added with an evil grin.

- “¡Viper!”- I nearly jumped when I said his name- “The level of bullying I gave her for doing that…”

- “You flirted with him too!”- Morgan argued, and Spencer frowned, totally confused.

- “I did not, I was just mean to him as Emily worked her magic on the poor bastard. You on the other hand”- I turned and looked at Reid, who opened his eyes innocently, giving me his baby look.

- “What did I do, chipmunk?”

- “Morgan taught you how to flirt and you got that waitress’ phone number.”- Morgan laughed at the memory, and Spencer looked at me with his Bambi's eyes not knowing what to say- “And she sent you that stupid card you gave her”

- “Em said your anger was epic that night, so epic indeed, that you drank half a bottle of tequila and rambled for two hours about how much you hated Spencer flirting with other girls and how he never flirted with you.”

I opened my mouth to argue Garcia’s words, but I couldn’t. Instead I smiled, and a lot, ‘cos it was a beautiful memory with my friend. A friend I knew I was never going to see again.

Spencer’s point of view

That night I had to drive (Y/N) back to her place ‘cos she had way too much wine. It wasn’t a crappy evening after all, all things considered. We had a nice time remembering all the fun things we did with Emily, all the jokes, all the laughs. All the nights out. I know I have an eidetic memory, but there was no way on earth I could ever forget a second of all the moments I shared with Prentiss.

I put (Y/N) to bed and then sat on the couch, staring at the wall. I thought about reading for a while, hoping to get sleepy soon, but honestly, I couldn’t focus.

I wrapped my arms around my body and laid on the couch. I felt empty and useless. Sadness was just part of it all. Fear was consuming me. The agony of losing someone and the angst of the imminent loss of the person I loved the most.

The team had been blind to all the signs Emily needed help. I never saw or even thought any of this could ever happen. What could I do if anything like this ever happened to (Y/N)? I was powerless. I needed to find a way to keep her safe and happy. ‘Cos that’s what she deserved. Happiness, nothing less than that.

There was a hole in the middle of my chest and that void was eating all my thoughts, all my knowledge. All my sanity. I grabbed one of (Y/N)’s pillows and covered my face with it as I started crying. I didn’t want to make a noise, she had to rest and get some sleep. Besides, I didn’t want to look weak in front of her. I wanted to be a rock for my woman, a shoulder for her to cry on. I wanted to help her and be there for her. If she saw me crying, she would get worried, and she had enough on her plate. Our friend died, it wasn’t wise to add a weak boyfriend to that mix.

The next day was a blur. Hotch gave us a week off to gather our thoughts and process what had happened. (Y/N) said there weren’t enough days to deal with what had happened, and I completely agreed. The first day we spent it in our pajamas, basically doing nothing but hunting her apartment like a couple of ghosts. I did my best to stay strong and hold (Y/N) every time she broke into tears. But after two days, I needed something to help me cope with my feelings. Or more likely, to avoid them.

Yes, having my girlfriend there for me was incredible. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel alone under such bitter circumstances. She made me feel safe and secure when she held me close at night. But I didn’t want her to think I was a burden in any way. I just wanted to make her happy. Besides, my head was driving me mad. I needed something that could make me stop thinking and feeling for a moment. Just once. One time was all I needed.

- “Do you have to go?”- (Y/N) whispered and hugged me as I stood by her bed, folding my clothes and putting them into my go bag. I really didn’t want to be apart from her, but I needed to cave in. I was trying to be strong, but one last Dilaudil shot could help under those circumstances, right? I couldn’t shake that thought off my head.

- “I will come back tomorrow, chipmunk. I just need to go to my house, grab some clean clothes, a few books, and pay the bills.”- I felt like crap knowing I was lying to her. I was really just going to get Dilaudid and get high.

- “I’m gonna miss you, Batsy”- (Y/N) mumbled against my sweater, as she kept her arms around me, and her face hidden against my back.

- “I’m gonna miss you too. But hey, we have to go to see my mom in a few days, so maybe we can use these hours apart to prepare our bags?”- I turned around and caressed her arms, trying to be positive and cheerful for once.

- “Ok…”- her reply was short and muffled against my chest.

- “If you don’t wanna go to visit my mom…”- but before I could tell her it was ok to postpone the trip, she looked at me and shook her head frantically.

- “No hon, I wanna visit your mom. We have rescheduled this visit for too long, and I wanna see her. I know she is gonna be happy to be with you, and I am also sure you need to hug her right now.”- I smiled and sighed, resting my nose on her head and letting her smell invade every inch of my body. God, I didn’t want to leave that night, ‘cos I knew I was giving up. But I needed to do something to avoid the pain.

- “I don’t deserve you”- I whispered and she shook her head slowly.

- “Never say that again, honey bunny. I love you because you are the best man on earth. I am proud of everything you do. I am lucky you are mine and I’ll always do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Those words froze me. There I was, packing to go back to my apartment, call my dealer and get high after years of being sober. I was ready to ditch happiness over weakness without actually giving a fight.

Wanna know the worst part? None of that stopped me. I hugged her one last time and walked to the door, promising I would be back the following day. I kissed her and felt her lips lingering on mine for a little longer. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers playing with my hair. I sighed and smiled, pecking her lips one more time as I stared into her eyes in adoration.

- “I love you”- I whispered and she smiled sweetly.

- “I love you too, batsy”- she replied and kissed me one more time- “Now go before I regret it and force you to stay with me on that bed.”- I chuckled, but my heart was just breaking, and it continued breaking as I moved apart from her and walked out of her door.

I actually walked out of her apartment (I still can’t believe I did it), and after a few blocks, I stood in front of a payphone, grabbed a few cents and dialed a number I knew by memory, even though I hadn’t called in years. The same old voice answered and after I presented myself with the same old alias I used back in the days, he chuckled.

- “I knew you’d come back”- the statement felt like a slap of reality. I should have stopped right there, hung up the phone, and gone back to (Y/N)’s. But I did none of that. Instead, I ignored the comment, asked for a dose and my former dealer told me where to go. As simple as that. That’s how I ruined everything I had worked for so hard in my life.

Later that night, I sat on a couch, staring at the Dialaudid bottle on my coffee table. I stared at it, feeling it was actually staring back at me, judging me. I deserved it though, being judged. I was being weak and a liar. And if my girlfriend ever caught me doing drugs again, she would never forgive me, that was a statement.

The phone ringing nearly made me jump off my chair. I grabbed the Dilaudid and hid it in a jacket hanging on a chair before picking up the phone, which made me feel stupid. Whoever was calling would never see it. But I was paranoid and I didn’t want to get caught.

- “Hello?”

- “Hey doc, how are you, it’s Frank.”

- “Hey Paco, nice to hear you.”

- “Likewise. I just wanted to call to tell you I am very sorry for your loss, and that I am here whenever you wanna talk.”- I froze and for a moment, I couldn’t even answer. Not that I was surprised that Frank would give me his support during a hard moment like that, but because I was still surprised I actually had friends. And good friends.

- “Doc? Are you there?”

- “Yeah, sorry. I’m just…”

- “Don’t worry, I totally get it. I was talking with (Y/N) earlier and she gave me the whole story. It’s pretty fucked up”

- “It is”

- “Do you wanna grab a beer? Nugget said you had been spending time with her, but maybe a night with a friend could do you better than being alone.”

- “I... don’t wanna be… a burden”- I simply confessed and closed my eyes.

- “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be there in ten.”

After I left the phone on the table, I stayed still, sitting on the couch, knowing there was a bottle of Dilaudid in my jacket. I couldn’t use it anymore, not if Frank was coming over. Maybe that was a good thing, I didn’t have to fail that night. I could fail the following day, or maybe late that night after Frank left.

Maybe I could tell (Y/N) I’m gonna get to her apartment after lunch, and use it in the morning. No, that was too risky, she might have noticed. I needed a whole night to recover.

My eyes were glued to my jacket. I had Dilaudid. What the hell was I thinking??! I couldn’t do that! not to me, not to (Y/N). After everything we went through those days she locked me in her apartment to get me sober, after all the times I thought about using, but my will was strong enough not to give up. Why was I quitting then?

The knock on my door took me from my thoughts. I jumped from the couch and took a deep breath before answering. Frank stood in the hall with a sick pack and a pizza.

- “I was in the neighborhood.”- he grinned and walked in.- “I didn’t know if you had dinner so I came prepared. Pizza, chips, and beer. It’s dude’s night.”

I smiled and nodded. Hanging out with Frank wasn’t that bad. It was way better than falling into Dilaudid again. I wondered if (Y/N) asked him to call me. Maybe she suspected something when I left earlier. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.

- “So, before you start over analyzing it, (Y/N) didn’t ask me to come or to check on you. I just thought you might need a little company. Someone who is not your girlfriend or any coworker.”- Frank opened a beer and grabbed a slice of pizza, sitting on the couch, on the same exact spot he always sat on when he visited.

- “Thank you, that means a lot.”

- “Don’t sweat it, doc. So… (Y/N) told me you already told her dad about your relationship. How was that?”- I chuckle and grab a beer for myself.

- “Terrifying”- I confess and think of Chief (Y/L/N)’ face when we told her we were together- “For a moment I was sure he was going to kill me. But everything ended up well”

- “He would have killed you if you never confessed your feelings for his daughter. That man really loves you. He has been telling my dad how great you are ever since he met you!”

That made me feel worse. Using Dilaudid again would never look good in front of (Y/N)’s parents, and I wanted to marry her. What the fuck was I thinking calling my dealer again?

- “So, when are you gonna ask her?”- I widened my eyes, shocked. Was Frank actually a mind reader? That would explain a lot. I just stared at him, still sipping my beer and he smiled- “Ok, I was kidding before but now clearly you were thinking about it.”

- “What are you talking about?”

- “I’ve always teased (Y/N) telling her you two are gonna get married, ever since the first time we met you. Now that you are dating, it’s just a matter of time”

- “We haven’t been together for a month yet!”

- “So? you love her, she loves you. What else do you need to know? You’ve known her for years! and you’ve loved her every day of those years. I support you if you wanna do it, and I could be your best man if you need me. I’m guessing Lu is gonna be her bride’s maid.

- “I don’t even have a ring yet”

- “As your best man, I could go with you to Tiffany’s and help you pick one”- I opened my mouth to answer, but no word came out for a few seconds until Frank burst out laughing and chewed his pizza.

- “I’m just kidding doc, I don’t mean to push you. It would be awesome if you two get married and have a lot of kids so I can spoil them and teach them all the bad words, though.”

Surprisingly, Frank had our life planned. I could only think about how disappointed he would be if only he knew I was planning to throw that future off the window when he called. Instead of saying anything else, I kept eating in silence and focused on not making a mess with the cheese in my pizza.

- “Mikey says hi by the way. I saw him earlier, I would have told him to come but he had a date.”

- “A date? wow, that’s new”

- “Yeah, the kid doesn’t date much, but when he does, it’s usually epic. Last time he dated a girl, they got matching tattoos.”- Frank started chuckling and nearly chook with his beer.

- “I remember, I was there when he showed us”- I raised an eyebrow as I reminded him I was actually part of that story. I was the one who told Mikey about all the infections he might get getting a tattoo in a random place, and also reminded him of the statistic of couples breaking up after getting one.

- “Right! sorry, I don’t have an eidetic memory”

- “And you were probably stoned”- I added and Frank grinned.

- “I don’t talk about drugs with the feds, doc.”

- “I don’t see any fed in the room. I’m home, Frank, not at work.”- and I also had drugs in the apartment. Shit, every second made me regret more my stupid decision of getting Dilaudid.

- “I know, I know, but I like teasing you two.”

- “Did you already have this talk with (Y/N)? the whole marriage thing?”- Frank nodded, chewing his pizza- “And did she freak out?”

- “Not really, so I would take that as a good sign.”

We ended up playing poker and drinking beer. Frank told me about a girl he had just met, and who seemed to be nice and fun to date. He also told me about how tired he was of his work, but he couldn’t quit or find anything new until the end of the year. He said he was planning to start a master's in psychology the following year, so he needed to save some money. I told him about our trip to visit my mother, and how excited I was to tell her (Y/N) and I were finally dating. We also talked about music, the piano lessons (Y/N) was giving me, gambling, and the first time I got kicked out of a casino.

We talked about anything and everything, except Prentiss. And it felt good, for once. It was an escape from reality, from feeling miserable and crying. It made me feel guilty for a moment, ‘cos I was having a lot of fun, but I figured if it included cards and booze, Prentiss would approve.

- “I was shocked when nugget told me you came home tonight. I had the feeling you two were way too entertained physically to bear a night apart”

- “I am not telling you about our sex life”- I raised both eyebrows as I continued dealing the cards.

- “Trust me, I don’t wanna know. I love my friend and I respect her intimacy.”- Frank made a pause and looked at me, trying his best not to burst out laughing.

- “I don’t need to use any profiler’s skill to know you are lying!”- and so he started laughing.

- “Sorry, sorry. Just… one question”

- “No, Frank!”- I frowned, but chuckled, ‘cos the fact he wanted to ask about our sex life was weird and I didn’t get why he was trying to do it.

- “I just need to know something!”

- “No!”

After we switched to whisky, talked more about music, specifically Johnny Cash, and ended up singing along with a vinyl I was playing, Frank came back with the sex questions.

- “Come on man! I am not a perv or anything, I just…”

- “No!”- I nearly shouted, chuckling.

- “But I need to know how the fuck can you be here with me getting drunk if you waited forever for her and didn’t fuck with anyone else that I know in like five years… did you?”

- “No”- if I hadn’t been half drunk, I wouldn’t have answered, I know that.

- “Ok, so if you didn’t fuck with anyone for five years, not even freaking Lila Archer! why aren’t you catching up with all the years of missing sex?! And how do you even manage to get out of bed to work every morning? I mean, you two have so much fucking pending!”

I just laughed for a moment, until Frank’s words made total sense. There I was, originally alone to get high, and then with Frank getting drunk, when I could be with the woman I loved, making love to her. What the fuck was I doing?

- “Now you wanna go and have sex with her, don’t you?”- Frank asked and finished his glass. I just looked at him, knowing I was blushing and finished my drink as well.

- “Oh shit you do. Fine, let’s share a cab.”- Frank stood up and grabbed what was left in the bag of chips.

- “Wait!”- I ran to my room, grabbed my bag, and filled it with clean clothes in less than two minutes- “Ok, now I’m ready”

- “Got enough condoms?”

- “She is on the pill”- again, things I would have never said if I hadn’t been half drunk.

- “Nice! Let’s go.”

And somehow, after a pizza, poker, whisky, and rambling, Frank accidentally stopped me from using Dilaudid and sent me back to (Y/N)’s arms. I still wonder if that was his plan all along.

I opened the door quietly. It was nearly two in the morning when I got to her place. The lights were out, so I took off my shoes and quietly made it to her room. There she was, laying on the bed, softly snoring. A book still on her lap let me know what she was doing before falling asleep. I left my bag on the floor, took off my pants and shirt, and got into bed with her. I carefully grabbed the book from her hands and put it on the night table, turned off the lights, and wrapped her in my arms.

- “I am so sorry, love. I promise I will never be that man again. I don’t wanna disappoint you.”- I mumbled and felt her breathing against my skin, as she fluttered her eyes and smiled.

- “What are you doing here, honey?”

- “I realized sleeping without you was a mistake. I don’t ever wanna be apart from you. Never.”- she smiled and snuggled closer.

- “You are welcome to stay forever, honey bunny.”- (Y/N) whispered, wrapping her arms around me - “Were you drinking?”

- “Frank brought beer… and I had whisky”- I kissed her neck and my hands roamed her body as I heard her chuckle. I hadn’t heard her laugh in days, that sound really made me feel happy.

- “I see, well, sleep that booze off and tomorrow you’ll have a nice breakfast for the hangover.”

- “But I don’t wanna sleep, ma cherié. I wanna worship you and love you like I always dreamed of doing”- I attached my lips to her neck and started sucking on her soft skin, to refresh the marks that claimed her as mine.

- “Worship me?”- she questioned and giggled. I don’t know why she found that amusing, I was completely serious.

- “Yes, like a goddess, the sun of my life, the light of my eyes”- I mumbled and made a trail of wet kisses from her neck to her chest, but she stopped me before I could reach her breasts.

- “Spencer, you are drunk!”

- “Yes, but not really that drunk. Consider myself uninhibited.”- I rolled on the bed and positioned myself on top of her. She looked at me confused.- “I am not intoxicated, pumpkin. I just had a long conversation with Frank that made me realize I wanted to be buried deep inside of you instead of being home alone.”

- “Spencer Walter Reid, you are being very honest!”- she made a pause and gasped- “Oh my god! were you talking about sex with Frank?”

- “What? No! I swear! he just started asking things and that made me think I wanted to be with you and love you all night long.”

And without giving her time to reply or even react, I crushed my lips against her and kissed her so deeply I nearly felt dizzy. I didn’t stop kissing her until I felt her hands on my back, holding me closer to her. That’s when I moved my lips from hers and heard her soft whimper of disapproval. I would have stopped myself and continued kissing her, I just wanted to do what made her happy, but… I knew what I had in mind was gonna be so much better for her.

I kissed her jaw and neck as I removed her pajama top. Then I continued my way down her body, playing with her breast for a long while, licking all over and pinching her nipples as she twisted underneath me, whispering my name. The delicious moans coming from her were the encouragement I needed to continue. So I moved my hand underneath the waistband of her cotton pajama shorts and slid my fingers between her wet folds. Even I let out a groan when I felt her so ready for me, it made my cock even harder, confined inside my boxers.

- “Spencer, please”- I heard her whisper and I looked at her, while I continued licking her nipples and she moaned even harder as we made eye contact.

- “Let me love you”- I murmured and resumed my task. I toyed with her clit, rubbing it slowly and teasing her entrance a few times, licking my fingers just to show her how much I liked her taste.

- “Honey, please let me touch you”- she begged and I shook my head, moving my lips from her breast and down her stomach, as I also tried to keep my erection away from her hands.

- “Not yet. I wanna please you first.”

I slowly moved until my face was perfectly located between her legs. My own piece of heaven. Her breathing was already shaking and I hadn’t even touched her yet. That felt like a good boost to my ego. I wanted to be able to please my woman, literally worship her. Frank was right, I had wasted way too much time before and I couldn’t continue on that path. I needed to enjoy every second with her, ‘cos I loved her. And I knew it was forever.

I wrapped my tongue around her clit, sucking it lightly and she twisted in pleasure right away, a soft moan leaving her lips. I grabbed her tights and kept her still in front of me. My tongue ran through her folds and two of my fingers made their way slowly into her entrance.

- “God, honey”- she twisted and I tried to hold her in place.

- “You taste so sweet”- I murmured against the inside of her thighs- “I could eat you all day, every day. I love you so much, so, so much.”- I looked at her for a moment and she smiled at me. But before she could reply, I started lapping her again, eating her like a hungry man. Her body trembled underneath me and her hand quickly found my hair, fingers entangled in it, trying to guide me to her release.

- “You are gonna make me cum already”- she said after a few minutes and bit her lips- “I don’t think I’ve ever cum this fast”

- “Cum for me, ma cherie. Let me make you feel good.”- she let out a groan as I felt her wall tighten around my fingers. Her moans were more intense until she reached her peak, nearly yelling.

I didn’t des attack my lips from her cunt. Instead, I kissed it slowly as she rode her high, and I didn’t stop until overstimulation made her jump. That’s when I kissed my way up to her breast again, then to her neck, and finally her lips.

- “You really are a genius”- (Y/N) chuckled and kissed me. I ran my hand down her face and lingered my fingers on the few bruises I had left on her skin earlier that week.

- “You are my everything”- I confessed feeling my cheeks turn pink. My girlfriend smiled and kissed me again- “And I am so scared to lose you.”

- “You won’t lose me, honey. Never.”- I felt a knot in my throat thinking she didn’t know what I had done. And she should never know either. So instead of drowning myself in depressing thoughts, I decided to continue with my task and worship my girlfriend. I kissed her slowly as I got rid of my underwear and aligned my cock against her entrance.

- “Please Spencer”

- “What do you need, ma cherié?”

- “You, just you.”- her request was more than I could take and I had to fight the tears back for a moment. But it wasn't time to think, it was time to act and show her just how much I loved every inch of her.

- “You have me, always.”

With a slow movement, and looking into her eyes, I slipped inside her. She gasped and scratched my arms as I did, adjusting to the intrusion.

- “You feel so good, honey”- I heard her whisper as she smiled for a moment before I leaned over and kissed her. I could still taste her juices in my mouth and the mix in her lips was fueling me. I slowly started moving inside her, as she moaned into my mouth.

- “I could live like this, buried deep into you, fucking you slowly, watching you cum.”

- “You are very uninhibited, honey”- she giggled as I kissed her neck.

- “I did warn you that”

- “Yes, and I’m loving it”

- “Good, ‘cos I think we wasted too much time being just friends and now I want to tell you what I feel for you all the time. And right now, ma cherié, I wanna make you cum and scream my name again until you can’t feel your legs anymore.”

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