#i could be wrong but wouldn't someone have called the fashion police | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thursdaygrl · 1 year ago

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It took Ivy aback when Farrah insisted they stick together, as if this was a haunted house. In a way she supposed if the other girl was superstitious it wouldn't be such an absurd thought. They were in her dead lover's house, snooping through his things in order to take the proof that he'd been sleeping with one of his students before someone else could find it. Idly, Ivy wondered if he had a family, if they would be the ones to come and pack all this shit up and then where would it go? She wasn't unnerved by the thoughts for more than a second before she was nodding at her assessment. "Okay, so no need to go through his prescriptions or cutlery drawer, noted." Ivy's hand lifted in a gesture to indicate as such. Really there was no reason to take anything that wasn't Farrah's anyway, but she was curious, admittedly. Prior to finding out that the other had been sleeping with him she really hadn't given much thought to the person he was outside of their weekly classes. Professors were barely people to Ivy, just obstacles. To find out he'd been having some torrid affair with someone who came across so sweet... and who also happened to be top of the class. Well, she was connecting some tentative dots, but not quite finding herself ready to ask about it, because that might further torpedo this whole plan not to talk to each other.

As they slipped into the study, again her eyes searched the room, following behind the other as she surveyed the room, noticing the laptop propped on the desk a moment after Farrah did. Surprise flashed across her features and she pursed her lips. "Well, shit. Guess I was wrong. They must have taken the suicide thing and ran with it... or we have a stunningly incompetent police force in this town." She quirked an eyebrow, smirk suddenly playing on her lips. "More so than usual, anyway." As someone who regularly bent and broke the law like it was nothing, it wasn't like Ivy didn't benefit from said incompetence. She was swiftly distracted by the mention of a book containing photos. "Photos?" A look of recognition took over quickly after she asked, nodding as she lifted her gaze to the ceiling. "Got it, no perving on your nudes." She said, slipping over to the bookshelf to scan through the shelves until her fingers were plucking out a particular one, Dante's Inferno sitting in her palms as she turned the front cover for a second and then decided against it. "S'kinda fucking on the nose, y'know..." She was muttering until her attention was called over to Farrah by the laptop. Making her way over, she placed the book down beside the laptop and leaned in next to her, not really noticing the closeness as she squinted at the screen, face screwed up in confusion. "What the fuck?" She muttered, hand snaking between them and gently brushing Farrah's hand away so that she could click the trash icon, but as it loaded it revealed nothing, yet again. "Why would this..." She frowned, swallowing as discomfort crept in. Ivy lifted her gaze, eyes searching the room suddenly in a paranoid fashion. "Let's take it with us. I... I know a guy." Was Farrah sick of hearing that yet? It was an uncomfortable deja vu. "I mean, if you wanna know, that is? Shit, maybe we should leave it?" Why did Ivy suddenly feel more urgent? She stood up straighter, hand finding Farrah's arm, trying to prompt her. "What else are we looking for?" She asked, before beginning to tug open the desk draws, giving in to impulse.

At first sight, it seemed easy to assume no one had come to the house yet. No tape from the police that would make it look like an investigation was ongoing; no chaos either; no mess of papers on the floor or furniture moved out of its usual place; nothing to suggest that someone had been here looking for something. Except them. “Let’s keep that pessimism to a minimum,” Farrah asked, a soft smile directed towards Ivy. Maybe they’d used their bad luck quota already; perhaps now the odds would be in their favor. “Everything looks the same, I think.” She guessed it should make her feel more at ease, but instead, Farrah couldn’t help but wonder if there was any detail she was missing. “No, let’s stay together." Her reply came embarrassingly fast, without any rational explanation that she could offer to justify the decision. It was just an indulgent move to keep Ivy by her side, but even if it ended up being completely unnecessary, she didn’t regret making that call. “We won’t have to check the entire place, just his bedroom and the study.” Motioning for the other girl to follow, she began walking towards the latter. She’d been walking around the place many times before, curiously snooping before the professor came looking for her, growing familiar with those two rooms in particular; yet, the house felt cold and unwelcoming, lacking the kind of comfort she felt when she was in her room or the warmth she’d felt back at Ivy’s.

Opening the door to the study, Farrah’s gaze moved immediately to the wooden desk. More specifically, at the laptop that was placed in its center. “Bingo!” Rushing to sit on the chair, her gaze moved to assess her surroundings, an imponent bookshelf she’d always liked being a reminder of how silly she’d been. That’s why she looked almost apologetic as she asked Ivy, “There’s this copy of Dante’s Inferno he borrowed; it has my name on it. We need to take it.” Her friend—well, no… her recent partner in crime had already assured her she didn’t think Farrah was coldhearted or untrustworthy, but god, she’d probably think she was stupid after that. “The photos should be in there, so maybe, like… don’t drop them.” Her attention moved back to the screen, trying to ignore the way her face had heated up as she typed in the password. There was a rush of joy for a moment as the screen unlocked; then, there was nothing. The laptop was completely blank. No apps, no files, not even a fucking desktop background; the default navy blue color taking over the screen instead. “Shit, Ivy, look at this.” At least she wouldn’t have to worry about those chats or those emails now. Unless, of course, someone copied the information before deleting it. “This was completely wiped out—isn't that weird?”

#ivy threads.#ivy feat. farrah #musingmixtape #me in the midst of all of this: so how are they touching at this particular moment... why is ivy even touching her? cause she must

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thiserichann · 4 years ago

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cookies and cream - lee jeno

reader x jeno

genre: smut, strangers to fuck buddies, humor if you squint hard enough

word count: 4k-ish

warnings: recklessness (she met with a stranger online, don’t do it kids) excessive lying, 18+ scenes that includes: oral (f receiving) face riding, soft dom!jeno?

This is merely a work of fiction and is not meant to hurt the image of Jeno and NCT. Again, don’t be as reckless as OP. This was just a fantasy of mine that I’ve been dying to get out of my system.

Holy fuck.

That's the only word that you've managed to utter when you decided to check your messages that morning.

You got bored in the middle of the class and decided to sneak a peek on your phone to pass the time. The class is recorded anyways so you can always just go back to the parts of the lessons that you've missed.

But holy fuck.

You never expected to see THAT so early in the morning.

"Miss Y/N?"

You snapped back to reality and stopped malfunctioning for a second when somebody called your name. Everyone including your professor remained quiet and all eyes are on you.

"Oh. Sir what’s the question again?"

You answered nervously as you tried to review your notes and backtrack on what he is discussing a few moments ago.

"I see that you're distracted in the middle of my class again. Mind sharing what you're occupied with?"

"Uhm. I was watching KPOP fancams, sir."

"Fancams won't get you into law school, Miss Y/N. Phones off please."

You tucked your phone back to your pocket and never picked it up again since. The professor started blabbering again but no information is being retained on your head. It stayed that way at your other classes.

You wished you were looking at some KPOP fancams earlier. You’ve watched fancams at class before and got away with it unscathed.

Oh no. It was a goddamn dick pic.

A good one, too.

It was from a guy that you met in a kink site a few days ago. You created the account out of boredom and expected nothing to come out from it. It’s all the flirting and sexting without all the unnecessary commitment

It only took you a few minutes to set up an account. For some privacy, you made a random birthdate and a random nickname, because like hell would you share your real information to these people. You also picked a racy picture of a lady that looked a bit like you and passed it off as your own.

Within minutes, your inbox is flooded with messages. Most of them, however, are from men who are old enough to be your father.

Well, you were bored, so you entertained everyone and then went on back to your boring, vanilla life. A few political history and theory books later, you went back to see which ones messaged you on the site.

And that's where you've met him.

The most gorgeous piece of meat alive.

He seems like a nice guy. He introduced himself as LJ and your age aren’t that far off from each other. LJ is the only one who actually engaged in conversation besides "want to fuck?" or "are you horny?"

As soon as you started messaging back and forth, you scrolled on his profile to see what he looks like. The only thing is, his profile looked a whole lot like those high fashion male underwear photoshoots.

It was an array topless pictures (presumably his, you just can’t be bothered to check if it is actually his). It featured his sculpted abs and biceps, cropped up all the way to his full lips. Despite not seeing his whole face, you knew very well that he’s a hunk. To say you were intrigued is an understatement.

Since then, you've been talking back and forth through Snapchat (your secret one because you're not stupid) and sent him actual pictures of yourself, completely omitting the face. You took one from your bed, your bathtub, and probably every part of your house that you felt is sexy enough to be included on the pics.

You can't tell him if it's him or the repressed sexual urges finally manifesting itself after more than a year of not getting laid, but every text to and from him made your heart race. It was something that you looked forward to every hour everyday.

Hours went by that you totally forgot leaving him on read. You climbed up to your bed to rest your back to the headboard and opened your unread messages.

You: Hey svlr. School stuff.

He opened the chat and started typing right away.

LJ: Oh good. I thought I did something wrong to upset you.

You: Not at all. I loved the pic by the way. It literally knocked my socks off.

LJ: Just the socks?

You: You can take the rest of it off yourself ;)

You scoffed. The flirty banter has always been there ever since you started talking but nothing really came out of it.

LJ: If only I could :(

You: I know. Covid’s a bitch.

You set your phone aside for a second to go to the bathroom. On your way, you picked up some snacks at the fridge and sat back down to your bed, only to find your phone blowing up.

LJ: If you're down maybe we could meet

LJ: It's totally fine if you don't want to

LJ: I just made it weird, didn't I?

LJ: I'm so sorry I brought it up in the first place

LJ: I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable

LJ: Hello?

LJ: I'm really sorry

You: Chill. I'm right here

You: I just went to the bathroom

LJ: Oh

You: I'd be lying if I said I don't want to meet you as well

You: Well... I wouldn't write off the idea

You: But with the Covid

LJ: Thoughts?

You: I don't think it's a great idea

The screen says Seen right at the bottom but it took him a couple more minutes before finally replying.

LJ: I understand

LJ: But in case you change your mind, I'll leave the time and place up to you

LJ: I’ll take care of the rest

LJ: Deal?

You: I'll sleep on it.

You: Speaking of sleep, I gotta go. Morning class.

LJ: Okay. I guess this is good night then

You didn't, in fact, talk to him the day after.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't want to see him and his abs in real life. But as someone who overthinks a lot, you just can't shake off the risk.

You: Good night. Talk to you tomorrow.

What if he's not really the guy in the pics? Or he’s psycho in real life? What if he's infected the virus?

You sighed.

Why must some global pandemic ruin your sex life?

You waited until the end of the day before you finally replied to LJ. The last thing that he texted was a brief good morning from earlier in the day and nothing else. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy, totally not worth ghosting, and you actually liked talking to him as a friend that you can share your sentiments with.

With your guilt finally eating you up, you took a break from your assigned readings and sat back at your bed to rest for the day. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute, thinking of something to say to him. It took you a few tries before finally hitting the send button.

You: So, I thought about it

LJ: And?

You: I need to know I can trust you

LJ: Okay. How?

You: I don’t know. Send me a proof that you’re real. Get tested?

You: Is that fine with you?

Within a split second, he sent his reply.

He actually did it.

You couldn’t believe it but he actually did it.

LJ: Consider it done.

He got tested for physical, including the virus test, and passed with flying colors. He even sent you a vid of him inside a medical clinic.

He just sent the uncensored results this morning where you can clearly see his real name.

Lee Jeno.

LJ.

Seems legit.

Well, the uncreative nickname shouldn’t matter now because the results meant only one thing.

You’re gonna have to push through with your promise.

You got ready around noon that day. You can’t remember the last time that you actually got ready to meet someone that’s not a delivery guy or a relative passing on something to your family.

As someone who overthinks a lot, you actually got everything covered. You picked a place near a restaurant to eat. The police station is just a few blocks away just in case something happens, and right in front of a library…

“Where’re are you off to?”

You raised your backpack to show to your mother.

“I’m off to the library. I needed to get these renewed. Maybe pick up a novel or two.”

She looks at you from head to toe, eyeing that incredibly loose hoodie, faded denim jeans, some worn out sneakers that looked like it’s supposed to be thrown away years ago and a medical mask that covers about ¾ of your bare face. It’s just your usual attire whenever you go out for errands.

She just nodded and went back to watching her favorite soap opera.

“It’s nice that you’re out of your room for once. Take some cookies from the kitchen so you’ll have something to eat in case you get hungry.”

… as an alibi to get away from your strict parents.

As soon as you left the door and made sure that you’re out of sight, you found the nearest public toilet and grabbed a whole other outfit from your backpack. The hoodie is replaced by a white, ruffled see-through blouse and you ditched the jeans for a tight skirt that’s at least four inches above your knees. You tousled your hair a little bit and put on some powder and tiny hint of lipstick before putting your facemask back on again.

It’s been a while since you’ve done an elaborate scheme like this. Your skills got a little bit rusty, but they always work.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re really meant to be lawyer or a criminal instead.

You stepped out of the toilet and blended right back into society.

Now all you have to do is find wherever the hell LJ is.

Jeno sat anxiously as he waited for you right inside the café. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee but it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves down (geez I wonder why).

You: I’m almost at the café.

He’s been staring at his phone the whole time. Once he received your message, which is a pic of you in the bathroom after the outfit change, he almost choked on his drink.

This message sent him on a panic as he turned his camera on to see how he looked. He did some minor adjustments to his hair and he wiped off his eyeglasses clean with the sleeves of his hoodie (which did nothing for him by the way) and then casually sat down and played it off cool like he hasn’t been waiting for you for over an hour.

On your perspective, you walked inside the café and looked around for LJ. Fortunately, there was only guy inside the café, twiddling with his phone on his hands and as he kept on peeking through the glass windows as if he’s looking for someone.

From afar, he actually looked really cute. His appearance, a shy, nerdy dude with glasses, looked way off from the fuckboy image that you expected him to have in reference to the messages that you’ve been getting from him.

It’s always the quiet ones that are kinky. You should know, you are one.

You walked over to his table and tapped his shoulders to get his attention.

He froze for a moment before he finally managed to turn around and face you.

“You’re actually here.”

“I know. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

tap tap tap tap

The room is so quiet that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heels tapping against the tiled floor. You can say that that is one of your observable annoying habits tapping your foot on the floor when you're a nervous wreck.

Sighing in retaliation, you removed your hoodie, fanning yourself as you tried to relax and get comfy on the hotel couch (which should be comfortable enough since you paid a shit ton of money on that room), switching the TV on to get your mind off of things. The lackluster array of shitty sitcoms didn’t distract you at all, but it instead reminded you of the reasons why you’re in that room in the first place.

Having nothing to do to pass the time, you paced back and forth in the room, finally sitting down once you realized that it looks way worse than you just tapping your foot. You folded your arms right across your chest, looking at the watch from time to time but the hands of the clock seem to be moving slower the more you stare at it.

Quarantine started almost a year ago and it's been very hard for you. Sexually. It's been almost a year since you've been touched by a man and you’re more than ready to jump on anyone’s dick at any this point,

Too bad that that dick is taking his sweet time in the bathroom.

tap tap tap tap

Your foot found its rhythm once again, only this time, you’re not nervous anymore. Your patience is wearing thin.

As if summoned by the constant tapping, the guy comes out of the bathroom, just casually drying himself while wearing nothing but the towel dangerously hanging on his waist and a boyish smile on his lips.

No biggie.

"Hey."

Suddenly, you’re not tapping anymore.

Head empty, just thoughts of a hot guy patting down a towel all over his toned body.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”

He spoke, tossing aside the towel on his hands on the sofa, finally giving you a full view of him and all his glory.

You must admit, you’re skeptical at first. The guy that’s been sending you faceless thirst traps just days ago, telling you how he’d fuck you senseless looked a lot different from the guy who entered the hotel room just a moment ago.

He came in wearing those black oversized hoodies that did a great job in hiding his best features. His hair was a bit long for your taste, covering half of his face while the face mask hid the other.

But this man right here in front you, he’s Adonis.

You unconsciously bit your lower lip, earning a chuckle from the guy.

“I’m guessing that you’d like to start now?”

You nodded, the tension and awkwardness rendering you unable to speak.

He smiles as he takes the remote from you, turning off the television because the main show is about to start.

You started to tense up again, eyes wide as you realized that he’s now right beside you, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he sat down. He leans over, soft lips coming into contact with your exposed neck and shoulders, landing small pecks all over.

You sat there breathless as he slowly ran his fingers to the side of your thighs, tracing circles at it while giving small, reassuring kisses on your neck and shoulders. It’s as if he’s asking you for your consent, waiting for you to open up to him before he makes a move.

He got his answer when you turned around to face him, running your fingers into his cheeks before cupping his face, your lips finally touching his. He moved in the same pace as earlier, slow and calculating. You got a bit impatient once again, biting his lower lips gently to let him know that he can do more.

He grabbed you by the waist and successfully placed you on top of him. The kiss got even more sloppy as you ran your hands through nape, then into his soft locks. His hands travelled once again, finger running through legs again, stopping as soon as he reached the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to reveal the thin lace material that barely covered your core. You took that as initiative to remove the towel on his waist and grinded against his growing member, the friction and heat enough to earn a groan out of him.

He held your waist once again, firmly this time, halting your movement completely.

You broke away from the kiss, staring him in the eyes to read his face.

“Something wrong?”

“Hold tight.”

You were about to ask about what hold tight mean, but your arms cling unto him involuntarily as he lifts the both of you out of the sofa.

Jeno laid you gently in the bed, making sure not to break eye contact as he does so. He looked like he's about to eat you alive, which is enough to send flush to your cheeks.

“I would’ve loved to bend you over that sofa, but I think it’s just proper that our first time will be on the bed.”

"God. You're beautiful."

He then ran his fingers towards the thin fabric of your blouse, feeling every part of your torso like he's memorizing every detail of it. His hands then travelled in your chest, squeezing the swell of your breasts on each hand, fingers shaking as he does so. It felt like an artist admiring his delicate work of art.

He situated himself between your legs, taking a moment to admire you first before doing anything else.

He started to run his hand on your cleavage and stopped on the uppermost button of your blouse, taking his time to remove all of them and placing a kisses at the exposed skin. After all of the buttons are taken care of, you lifted your body up and slid off the fabric. Your black lacy bra finally made its appearance. You took the liberty of taking that off too, as slow and as you possibly can.

Jeno just stared at your body in awe, breathing heavily as his eyes scanned your naked glory.

"Gorgeous."

He said under this breath before leaning down to claim your lips once again. You're turned on by how much attention he's giving your body now. You're usually loud in bed but his gestures are making you bashful. You've never felt this beautiful before.

You can feel his hands trembling as it travels all over your body, his kisses getting even more needy. There was moans of satisfaction every time he would lick your lips. Jeno was kissing you like you were oxygen and he needed to breath.

His hands travelled south, running across your thigh and your now aching core. You're about to remove your skirt and underwear but he stopped your hands midway.

"Keep it."

He took your hands away from your skirt and placed them just above your head.

"Just sit there and relax baby. Let me treat you."

You did just like he told you and gave him full control of your body.

"Good girl."

His lips brushed your ears, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful you are under him. His kisses then went down to your neck, using his tongue and teeth, marking everything he can get his mouth on with his saliva. Meanwhile, his hands finally touched you down there, massaging your still clothed wetness.

His middle and index finger felt your slit, moving it in swift motion in search for your clit.

"Oh my god. That's it."

You gasped as his fingers finally hit the right spot, tossing your head back as his fingers made circles at your bundle or nerves.

You opened your legs more, leaning on your arms on your back, head tossed back and eyes closed as you feel your impending orgasm.

He dipped his hand inside your underwear and collected some of your essence with his fingers. The mental picture of him licking his fingers deliciously is enough to get you off for weeks.

It didn't take long before he took your panties off and his ducked his head down. He opened your legs once again and licked one long stripe on your core, making sure to taste all of you. You sat there and watch as he hungrily takes all of you in his mouth, acting like your pussy is a full course meal and he's been starving for years.

Within moments, you've become a moaning, toe curled mess. You ran your fingers to his blonde hair, guiding him on how to move his tongue and fingers on you. At one point, he bit some of your sensitive skin, making you scream a string of curses under your breath.

"Stop stop stop."

You grab a fistful of his hair and he paused from what he was doing. You pushed him gently away from you, leaving him staring at you confusedly. The confusion didn't last long when you flipped your current position, you're now on top.

"Can I ride your face?"

At this point, you're bold and horny enough to use your words and ask him. He just nodded, sliding himself from underneath you and went back to eating you like a champ. You grabbed his hands and placed them across your chest, squeezing your breasts to send him a message. He was quick to pick up and followed suit, pinching your nipples right in between fingers while your ride his face to orgasm.

"Shit. I'm coming..."

You writhed from above him as you come undone. Your body felt cold all over. Your eyes are ringing, feeling dizzy as you almost passed out while you bucked your hips a few more times to milk your release.

You didn’t have time to recover when you heard your phone ringing from outside. Your legs felt a little shaky and you almost tumbled and hit your head in the wall if Jeno didn’t help you get up. You sat down on the floor, butt-ass naked as you frantically searched for your phone from under all of your stuff before you finally pressed the answer button.

“Yes mom?”

“Where have you been? Your father’s been looking for you at the library. He’s picking you up on your way home.”

You buried your head on the couch to shake off the buzzing feeling on your head. You placed a pillow on your body while you searched for your discarded clothes all over the hotel room.

“Oh yeah. I went to the café and got something to eat. Tell Dad I’ll meet him outside the library.”

“Okay sweetie. Can you pick up some groceries on your way back? I’ll text you the list.”

“Yeah mom. Bye.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as you started putting on the outfit that you wore when you left home.

“Where are you going?”

Jeno reluctantly got dressed as well, his shy demeanor came back as soon as he wore his glasses and fixed his hair.

“I got to go, Jeno. I’m sorry that I’m leaving in such a bad time…”

You went over to him and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I promise to make it up to you next time, okay? I’d love to meet you again.”

You grabbed a paper bag from your backpack and handed it to him, waving as you bolted out the door.

After fixing his things, he sat down for a moment and took a quick peek inside the package that you left him.

It was a ziplock bag of full of cookies and a whole other treat.

You left him your two-piece lace lingerie.

To be continued.

#nct #nct dream #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct jeno #nct hard hours #jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno au #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno imagines #jeno x reader

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uncloseted · 3 years ago

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Why is it that so many famous people turn out to be horrible people? I feel like most of the time irl I meet people and they are fairly normal, albeit flawed but not dangerous. However, I feel like a majority of actors, musicians, and famous influencers regularly are exposed for doing really heinous illegal things. Is there some kind of correlation between fame and feeling more inclined to do wrong? Are morally flawed people more likely to gain fame and notoriety because of the way they are?

I think the premise you're starting with here is a little flawed. Of course, some actors, musicians, or influencers do illegal things, but I definitely don't think it's "a majority", or even a sizable minority. And I'm not convinced that famous people are statistically more likely to commit a crime than normal people. I mean, think about it- the majority of criminals are totally random individuals. And even amongst celebrities who have been arrested for a crime, they're mostly drug related or DUIs, which I wouldn't describe as "really heinous".

We can actually run some (unscientific) math on this. As of 2013, about 0.00041% of all English-speaking people worldwide are famous enough to have a Wikipedia page. That includes all celebrities- scientists, fashion designers, news presenters, social thinkers, sportspeople, tattoo artists, etc. If we assume all of those people are American (which we know they aren't), that would work out to about 41 celebrities being arrested each year.

Now let's look at a list of celebrities who were arrested in 2021 and what they were arrested for:

Yella Beezy: weapon possession, sexual assault

Fetty Wap: drug trafficking

Alyssa Milano: protesting outside the White House

Flavor Flav: domestic battery

Hayes Grier: violent robbery

Andy Dick: assault with a deadly weapon

Alex Caruso: possession of marijuana

Polo G: battery on a police officer

Drake Bell: endangerment of children

Bonnie Somerville: DUI

Joshua Duggar: child porn

Jen Shah: telemarketing scam

Johnny Damon: DUI

Adam Jones: misdemeanor assault

Silento: murder

Chad Wheeler: domestic violence

Trey Songz: assaulting a police officer

Jussie Smollett: disorderly conduct

Joanne Horowitz: assaulting a police officer

Cecil Ray Baker: burglary

Ronnie Ortiz-Magro: domestic violence

Bill Hutchison: sexual assault

T.I.: texting while biking in Amsterdam

Nicholas Brendon: prescription fraud

Luke Petitgout: assault

Jason Alexander: security violation

Joe Don Rooney: DUI

Jason London: public intoxication

G-Eazy: assault

Tyga: domestic violence

Matthew Gwynne: breaking and entering

DaBaby: gun possession

Pooh Shiesty: armed robberty, battery, theft

Zack Scott: DWI (asleep behind the wheel while stopped at a traffick light)

Norman Reedus: assault

Marcus Maye: DUI

Danny Carey: assault

That's only 37 celebrities that I could find who were arrested (not necessarily changed with a crime) in 2021, which is actually a few less than we would expect. And of those arrests, at least a few aren't really what I would call "heinous", although some definitely are.

Which kind of lines up with what I expected. My experience with the celebrities I've met in real life are mostly like the experiences you've had with people in real life. They're fairly normal people just kind of living their lives. If anything, Most of them are nicer than they need to be given how many random people they interact with every day.

That said, there are a few reasons why celebrities may seem more likely to be bad people, or to commit crimes that are more high profile.

I think the largest factor is just that celebrities are being scrutinized all the time by everyone. If you or I have a bad day where we yell at someone, it's likely that nobody will see it. But if you're a celebrity, the chance that someone will record you yelling is much higher, and that moment in your life becomes very hard to erase. Every time you do something else that people deem "bad", that moment will also resurface. And if you're a celebrity, you're disproportionately likely to have frustrating interactions with other people, because people are constantly approaching you all day long and treating you like a commodity instead of a person.

The same goes for social media posts- I think most of us have probably posted a bad take online, or complained about something out of frustration without thinking it through. Those tweets are unlikely to resurface for someone who isn't famous. But if you're famous and someone is looking to "cancel" you, they'll dig through tweets from before you were famous, looking for "evidence" of your wrongdoings. So any "bad take" is impossible to erase, even if you delete it from your account. These types of celebrity scandals are also more likely to be reported on in the media, to be commented on by everyone you know, and to be taken out of their original context, sometimes making the celebrity look worse than they actually are.

The type of person who can become a celebrity may also contribute to their behaviors. Many famous people come from famous families, which both provides them a certain amount of privilege when it comes to the consequences of their actions but also makes them more likely to come from a situation that's in some way dysfunctional. The combination of those two factors may make them more likely to act out without believing that their actions have real-world consequences. Some celebrities develop a condition called "acquired situation narcissism", where they develop traits of narcissistic personality disorder as a result of the lack of social norms and controls in their lives, as well as continually being told how special or important they are and being surrounded by "yes men". For celebrities who became famous as children, I think this is especially true because they've never really known a world where they can't do whatever they want, but they also often have the pressure of being the breadwinner for their families. The type of pressure that comes along with being famous is also too much for people sometimes, which can lead them to developing mental health issues. When every action of yours is monitored, reported on, and criticized by the world, it makes sense how you might act in desperate ways to deal (or to get people to stop paying attention to you, or to regain control of your life).

Coupled with that, much of the time, celebrities are also people with other levels of privilege- they're beautiful, wealthy, connected, etc. - which means that they are more protected from consequences in certain situations. And I think there's also a personality type at play; entertainment is a very competitive industry, so many of the people who make it have a certain amount of ruthlessness to them, which can manifest in bad behavior in other ways.

Finally, I think it's just power. People who have enough fame, money, and connections can get access to pretty much anything they want, legal or illegal, and I think some of them are curious how far that can be pushed. And I think others are kind of on a version of the hedonic treadmill, where they can get whatever they want at all times, so the things that are novel or interesting to them become increasingly dangerous or difficult to obtain.

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fangirl-everythang · 4 years ago

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Happy Father's Day Part 3

Summary: 3/3 Well, its the last part.

Warning: Sad, Mentions Death.

Word Count: 2269

"Harry? " I answer the phone.

"It's not Harry but glad you know your numbers." that high pitch annoying ass voice squeals. Rubbing my stomach, the baby's in go position and any day now my oven will be done baking. And of course, this bitch is answering his phone.

"Well bye-bye just thought you should know where he was at. " In the background, I hear Harry's voice going on about something so it must be true. Hanging up I sigh letting the hot tears roll down my cheeks. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I blame myself really, I let him back into my life and this doesn't surprise me. I gotta pee.

Waddling over to the bathroom door a gasp leaves my mouth feeling the surge of liquids fall between my legs. Holy shit. My water broke! Fuck gotta go. Thankful my bag was already in the car. Harry had insisted once I hit the 36-week mark claiming Styles's are either early or fashionably late.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. My knuckles turning white as I grasp the wheel. Nope, I'm not pushing anything out of my vagina. Can't do it. I refuse.

The contraction going away after a few brief moments of completely unreasonable pain. Dialing the numbers, I know by second nature, thankfully she picks up on the fourth ring.

"I don't think you should drive y/n"

" Just call 911. I'm almost there! " Gemma ecstatically shouts. She's just like her brother, "Where's Harrold? "

I put the seatbelt on and wince. It's just 28 minutes I can do this. "He's with his whore."

I can hear an audible gasp, "he wouldn't he's so excited for Athena"

"Well I just called him and she answered. " I grunt keeping my eyes on the two lanes ahead of me. Fuck I hate merging lanes people don't know how to drive.

"I'll be at the hospital as soon as possible but my phones gonna-" the line went dead. She did say she was on like 10% oh well.

I can do this just focus y/n. "Hear that baby girl we're almost there, hang on okay Hunny. " I say as a reminder to myself that soon I'll be leaving with another human with me.

6 miles to go that's what I'm talking about, another sharp pain spreads throughout my abdomen while waiting for the light to turn green. "OH COME ON. FOR FUCKS SAKE!" they're getting closer by the minute. Shit. Arriving at a four-way intersection. I'm relieved to be at a red light, the contractions are longer and much more frequent. "Almost there Athena, this is the last light and a straight shot from there."

Abruptly my car is jerked forward with a sharp impact pushing to the oncoming lights. All I see are lights from both directions colliding with my 3,000-pound piece of metal. Sounds of shattering glass and sirens are the last thing I hear before it all fades to black.

||||||||||||||||

Harry's POV

"Has anyone seen Mr. Style's phone?" The helpful aid asked around the dressing room. I could've sworn I put it down for a moment. Y/n could go into labor any minute now and how I am supposed to know. Fuck. I'm stupid.

I was supposed to be here to perform and list nominees and then go back home to y/n. I can't wait to propose to her, she's all I could ever want and she's giving me the most wonderful gift I could ever ask for. Running a hand through my damp hair, the lights really build a sweat, I hear a familiar voice. "Looking for this lover? " she asks slipping my phone into my pocket.

"Good luck at home. " she smiles and winks. Before I could question it she walks away.

Looking down at the device my heart skips a beat, I have 146 missed calls. And I've been gone for 5 hours. Seeing Gemma's name on the screen again I swipe to answer.

"Hell-"

"Harry," she says sniffling.

"Gemma what's wrong? did I miss it? Oh my god I hope not"

"I think it would be best if you came now Harry." she breaks her voice cracking.

"Gem what?"

"Listen Harry, she needs you right now so please." she cries. Not needing another word, I tell Jackson the address and that I need to be there as fast as possible, 45 minutes later we're pulling into the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital.

"Congrats Harry!" Jackson says letting me out at the door. "Thank you!" I beam back at him.

Seeing Gemma, her eyes are puffy with tears still flowing. "Gem what's wro-," a sharp pain to my right cheek stings. Never has Gemma hit me like that, well not since I cut her prom dress. "How could you Harry? Cheat on her again WITH TAYLOR for Christ sakes!" She yells.

"I didn't cheat," I explain to my sister as calm as I can.

She looks at me with wild eyes pulling me into a hallway with fewer people, "Then what happened Harrold?" I clench my jaw instead of speaking, how dare she accuse me of cheating on my pregnant soon-to-be fiancé. Y/n Styles has a great catch don't you think?

"Is she here yet? Gem where are they?" I ask ready to see my new family.

She begins crying again "Harry there was an accident." Those five words make my breathing come to a halt. My heart shatters in a million pieces "Is Y/n okay? What happened?" She begins walking me to a door. "This one," she points. Looking through the glass I see y/n with bruises and cuts to her beautiful face, her stomach nearly deflated from when I last saw her this morning, a cast on a swollen leg of hers, and a sling holding a very damaged arm. Tears brim at my eyes looking at my love on that hospital bed. "She's awake." Gemma walks past me running to the outside.

I gently knock on the door, waiting for a response which I don't get. "Y/n?" I approach her almost as If I were going to help an injured puppy. "Hey love" I smile at her which she glares at me and then turns wincing in pain. "You wanted this didn't you Harry?" I look at her confused. "This is probably great for you, a way out. Well leave." She states using whatever energy she can find.

"Baby I didn't want- I want you and Athena" She breaks down in uncontrollable tears.

"You were with that her and couldn't even bother to pick up your phone!" she screams. "Y/n I wasn-" a knock at the door interrupts my sentence, "Come in" She says glaring at me as a nurse opens the door.

"Hey there Mama, we have a visitor." the nurse wheel in a tiny cart that has a bunch of equipment coming from it. She looks at me and asks Y/n, "Is this dad?" she nods and rolls her eyes. "About time you made it!" She smiles my way. Placing the beautiful baby in front of us. She's so small and fragile. "The doctor will be in shortly to talk to you." She states picking up the tiny child and putting her in Y/n's arm.

"Hi pumpkin," Y/n coos into her ear. "Guess who decided to show?" She smiles, a tear falling from the corner of her eye. She nods her head towards me as I go to hold her. She's so soft and precious. Her small eyes have a gorgeous mix of both mine and Y/n's. She has such a cute round face, I couldn't imagine her looking any different.

"Hi there angel, I'm so sorry I was late." I see a spot dampen on her blanket that surrounds her, knowing that I'm crying. Her small eyes shining like twinkling stars. So small I can feel her fragile body between my large hands.

Another knock before the door opens when several doctors walk in. "Mrs. Y/ln, unfortunately, we have some bad news,"

"Oh, hello there Mr. Styles." They state acknowledging my existence. One of the female doctors places a black and white image on the lighted board illuminating the small figure.

"Unfortunately, due to the accident, Athena has suffered from what we call a fetomaternal hemorrhage."

"What exactly are you saying?" Y/n ask looking at the child still in my arms.

The slightly shorter male doctor points to the image. "This is an abscess of blood in the brain. Unfortunately, the risk is too large to operate. I'd give her another day at most."

"You m-mean," Tears start pouring down her face" I was so scared she was hurt. I-I promise I saw the light it was red, and I-I stopped but," She began heaving losing more air with each word. I gently rub her back as I cradle Athena with one arm.

"She's still being monitored but I'm afraid she won't have much longer." The first doctor breaks the silence. "According to the police report the car that struck you from behind happened to be a drunk driver, Gage Joyce." I can feel the anger surging through me. "I remember the clashing of metal, glass breaking, the sirens but it all went b-black." She mumbles, seemingly remembering the awful experience. I grab her hand in hopes of comforting her but it doesn't seem to work.

"After striking your car at 72 mph it had ample force to push your vehicle into the opposite traffic. Your vehicle took the most impact and was hit by four other cars. On scene, EMT's said you were in and out of consciousness mumbling about a baby. Taken and brought to the L&D." he finishes.

"Fetomaternal hemorrhages are often caused by trauma and sometimes can be revered but in this case, we've done all we can do." They all frown looking at the small girl still in my arms.

"No, there's got to be more you can bloody do! We're in a hospital for Christ sakes!" I exclaim, passing my daughter to the love of my life. She gently caresses her soft skin. She's literally a perfect combination of us. I cannot lose my family.

"You can leave, thank you all for your help." y/n says quietly, they oblige by her wishes and leave us with our daughter.

"Harry," she wipes a tear from her face cautious of the IV placed on her hand, "If what they say is true, I just want to spend time with her." She sniffles. I nod understanding. She looks back at the small being in her arms, "Hi pretty girl, Mommy's so happy to meet you," she unfolds the blanket from her. I sit next to her on the small bed in the room that smells of sterilization. Placing my finger near hers' she wraps her small hand around my thumb, her grip so tight for someone so small. Y/n kisses her forehead, "Harry," she runs her finger along her small legs.

"Can you sing the song?" nodding and softly singing Isn't she Lovely by Stevie Wonder, in the small hospital bed as our new life falls asleep. All night I watch her little chest rise and fall allowing y/n to get some rest soon following my two loves.

By the early morning, nurses are rushing in because of the loud beeping from the monitor, waking y/n and I. It feels like everything is happening so fast but in slow motion right in front of me. Those three words are the ones I didn't want to hear. "No! no. I have to take her home. She's gotta go home..." Y/n screams, not being able to see her face due to the tears in my eyes falling and rebuilding themselves faster than the speed of light. "Call it." One of the nurses shouts.

"Time of Death 6:18 am March 7th, 2019"

As they cleared out the room, I see her small lifeless body curled into a blanket, almost as if she were sleeping, but no longer do breaths fall from her small heart-shaped lips.

//////////////////////////

Y/n hasn't said a word since we got in the car. It's been four days since we lost Athena. She slowly climbs into the car, still sore from the accident and birth. I go to the backseat holding back my emotions and putting the empty car-seat in the trunk of the car that should have been holding three of us.

Starting the silent journey back home she continues to look out of the window, a frown etched on her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks as she instinctively touches her somewhat deflated stomach. What kind of sick joke is this?

"Harry why were you with her?" she asks me looking down at what used to be her baby bump.

"I wasn't love, she took my phone while I was on stage." She just nods and remains silent until we pull up to the flat. She begins walking up the stairs as best she can. "Y/n wait, let me help."

"No Harry!" She yells. Pain evident in her voice, ignoring her I open the door and help her inside. "Harry I can't do this." I stare at her confused, "What can't you do y/n?"

"Us Harry. I can't look at you and not think of her." She sobs.

"Y/n we can-" I try to reason with her.

"No Harry, please just go." She whispers.

"I'm not losing both of you," I state holding back my own sobs. I feel like everything feels like it's getting smaller around me, suffocating in grief.

"You already have."

A/N: What can I say I have a thing for dark endings. Anyways I really appreciate the support loves. I hope you enjoy these! Right now I've been working on a Loki piece, I'm so excited for it. I changed the writing style tho, so it's not 1st person per usual. I think it's going pretty well so far.

xoxo Janelle

#harry #harry styles #harryx reader #y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #writing #imagine #oneshot #smut #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

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north//chapter one

here she is!! after the long wait, here is the first chapter of north! I hope you all like it. let me know what you think. more chapters to come soon🖤

also i dont have a tag list for this but if anyone wanted to be tagged in this fic then let me know and I’ll create a tag list

genre: fluff

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: very basic troupe that I’m sure some people are tired of lol but other than that, none!

word count: 3k

SPENCER

Being late to work is not something that I tend to enjoy. I hate it, in fact. I feel like I'm letting my team down if I'm ever late to round table meetings or if I miss a briefing. But these days, sleep is rare. And if I do sleep, it's not uncommon for me to sleep over the array of alarms I have.

Coffee is a must have for me at all points of the day. No sleep means exhaustion and exhaustion means my brain doesn't work as quickly as it could and that means we don't solve cases and not solving cases means more people die. I can't have more people die on my watch so I drink as much coffee as I can. But the coffee in the bullpen isn't always the best so if I ever have time, I stop at a cafe on my way to work. I take the extra five minutes to walk there before hopping on the metro.

I mumble off my coffee order to the tired looking barista and she scribbles down my name. I hand over a few stray bills to pay and get some change in return, tucking it in my pants pocket. I give a tight lipped smile to the barista before moving to a table in the corner of the cafe, pulling a book out of my messenger bag and starting to read, crossing one of my legs over the other. I don't look up while I wait for the barista to call out my name, not even when two people bump into each other in front of the door or a tourist asks someone else for directions. I just read my book and chew my lip, tapping my fingers against the hardcover.

"Spencer," I hear my name being called and finally allow myself attention to be lifted.

I stand quickly, tucking my book in my bag and closing the flap before heading back to the main counter. But the buckle of my bag gets caught on the button of my sleeve when I try to close my bag all the way. I pull at my sleeve, trying to get the buckle unlooped. But in this tussle with myself, I don't even realize that I'm still walking until I bump right into someone. I move my attention from my bag and catch the person's shoulders so I don't completely knock them over and make not only a fool of myself, but of them too.

"Oh my gosh," I say immediately, my eyes widening, "I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay, it's okay," the girl laughs, her hands squeezing my arms as she regains her balance, “didn’t even fall. You caught me. I didn’t even break a sweat!”

My eyes finally find the girl's face and I'm rendered absolutely speechless. I somehow notice everything about her right away and I memorize her beauty. Her eyes are a bright, beautiful shade of ocean blue and her eyelashes cast shadows over her perfectly pink cheeks. Her hair is wavy and blonde with brown roots, but there's a yellow and blue patterned scarf tied around the front of her head like a folded bandana with pieces pulled out to frame her face. Her nose is small and I can only liken it to a button. Her lips are full and plump and a pretty light pink color and her Cupid's Bow is one that Cupid himself should be jealous of. Both of her ears are full of different types of piercings, and her nose even has a hoop in her right nostril.

She's wearing a light blue knit sweater tucked into a tight denim skirt, along with a pair of short black boots with small heels on them. Her nails are painted white and her fingers are full of rings, each of them different styles and various shades of silver with yellow gems. I notice a tattoo on one of her fingers but she moves and I can't make out what it is. I wonder if she has more tattoos. I find two straps around her shoulders and realize she's wearing a leather backpack, one probably very similar to my own bag. The last thing I notice is the old fashioned camera hanging around her neck, resting just above the waistband of her skirt.

I've seen my fair share of pretty girls. I've seen girls that I wouldn't mind getting to know better. I've met girls that have caught my attention. I've even been in what I believed to be love. But what is this? If I thought I'd seen a beautiful girl before, I clearly hadn't met this girl before. She looks like an angel sent directly from heaven. She looks like she was crafted by God himself and put on this earth to grace mankind with her beauty. Is it fair for one woman to be this beautiful? Is it even possible? I didn’t think that one woman could possess such beauty.

What the hell is wrong with me? I can barely even breathe. I’m just staring at this gorgeous specimen, admiring her smile and trying to memorize the way her fingertips feel on my forearms. I quickly try to think of something to say, another apology for running into her, but I can barely even breathe when I stare at her, much less speak.

"Spencer," the barista calls out my name again, setting my cup down on the counter before walking away. Saved by the barista.

The girl smiles at me and her face lights up, only further illuminating her features. She's got two dimples on her cheeks, bringing out a childlike spirit in her that I pick up right away. "Um," she says with a laugh, "is that yours? You should probably grab it before someone else steals it,"

Okay, Spencer, breathe. You can do this. You’ve spoken to pretty girls before. Sure, it’s hard and it’s scary, but you can do it. Just say words. Preferably, coherent words. Preferably, maybe, a full sentence.

"Right," I finally force out, dropping my hands from her arms. I hadn't realized until now that I was still holding onto her and she was still holding onto me. I reach over and grab my steaming coffee, almost wincing at the heat under my fingertips.

The girl still hasn't moved when I turn back to her, but now she's fiddling with her camera. "Are you," I start to say before hesitating. Her head pops up and she smiles again, letting her camera fall against her stomach. I gulp, shuffling my feet against the floor as I attempt to speak a full sentence. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that,"

"Oh, it's totally fine," she waves her hand at me casually. "I wasn't paying attention either. No harm, no foul. Like I said, I didn’t even break a sweat,” The girl pushes her hair behind her ears and places her hands on her hips. With the confident way she speaks, I almost expect her to keep speaking, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me with the cutest smile, even baring her teeth, waiting for me to say something else.

So I clutch my cup of coffee and swallow thickly. “I-" I hesitate yet again, but when the girl's eyes scream for me to continue, I do. "What's your name?"

She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, another cup of coffee is placed on the counter. "Amelia," the barista announces before walking away.

Amelia laughs, taking a step over to grab her cup, which I immediately notice is tea and not coffee. "Took the words right out of my mouth,"

"Amelia," I repeat as if testing the way the word rolls off my tongue. It tastes sweet. "You heard already, but, um, I'm Spencer,"

"It's nice to meet you," Amelia holds her hand to shake mine, and the panic starts to set in. For a moment, I debate on actually just shaking her hand so I don’t seem like a total freak to this girl that I seem to have a massive crush on. But the prospect of shaking a total strangers hand is repulsive and when I find myself looking at her hand for more than two seconds, I’m starting to count up the amount of germs that would be present there and I have to force myself not to make a face.

So of course, while my hands get clammy and my heart rate speeds up, I do what I do best. I spit out a fact that Amelia didn't ask for. "On average we carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species on our hands,"

Amelia's fingers curl into her palm and she retracts her hand, looking down at her palm and smiling just a tiny bit. "You know, I don't blame you for not wanting to shake hands. It is kinda gross anyway,"

"Sorry," I blurt out immediately, still shuffling on my feet. "That was rude of me,"

"It's not rude," Amelia counters, sipping her tea without so much as grimacing at the inevitable heat. "Are you in a rush?" I glance down at my watch and see that I still have ten minutes until I should be getting on the train. I relay this information to her and watch as she smiles again. "Would you like to sit with me then?"

"Oh," my eyes widen slightly and I squeeze my coffee cup so hard that I think I might poke holes in the sides, "y-yeah, sure,"

"Cool," she breathes out, waving me on and leading me to a booth on the other side of the cafe. I'm far too anxious with this situation and by Amelia's beauty and her comfortability around me to even think about relaxing, or drinking my coffee, or taking my bag off from around my shoulder. I definitely can’t remember any of Morgan’s advice on how to chat up girls or any of the conversation starters I’ve memorized for social situations like this. My mind is completely empty, just when I need it to be full and plentiful. How lovely.

Amelia sits across from me and grins, and every time she does, I swear my heart skips a beat and another butterfly breaks through its cocoon in my stomach. "So where are you off to this morning, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Work," I answer, and then realize that's an incredibly vague answer. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she lounges back against the booth, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. "Uh, I work for the FBI, actually. More specifically, the BAU- the Behavioral Analysis Unit,"

"You're a profiler!" Amelia perks up again, sitting up straighter with a huge grin on her face. "That's super cool! My dad is a police officer, sheriff actually, back home in Texas and I'm pretty sure he's worked with the BAU before and he says you guys are awesome. You catch serial killers, right?"

I'm almost stunned by her reaction. Most people don't believe behavioral profiling works, and most people resist the practice, especially local police. But her acceptance of it is incredibly refreshing, and it's welcomed. Honestly, any type of excitement from this Amelia girl is welcomed. It’s a beautiful sight.

I can feel my cheeks turn bright red as I nod, still clutching my coffee cup. "Yeah, we do. And um, what about you?" I hate talking about myself so I change the subject. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm actually meeting a friend of mine to go shopping a few blocks over," Amelia gestures out the window. "But since we're talking about your job, I'll tell you about my way less cool job, which is an artist. I went to Carnegie Mellon and then moved here and I’ve been here ever since. My preference is canvas painting but I bring my camera around a lot, hence," she holds up the camera around her neck, "the camera now. I try to capture spontaneous moments for when I do exhibits and galleries and such,”

"I've always loved art. Never been talented at it, but I like it." I shrug nonchalantly and sip my coffee, trying to divert my eyeline down to the table, but when Amelia smiles at me, I can’t find it in me to break our eye contact.

Something about Amelia's smile brings me in. Every time she flashes her teeth, I feel myself sink further into my seat and I feel my head get fuzzier. I almost forget that I have to get to work in just a few minutes. But I don't want to go anymore. I want to stay here and keep talking to Amelia. I want her to keep going on and on about canvas paintings and her education at Carnegie Mellon, or even just tell me why she likes tea over coffee, if that’s even true. I don’t know anything about this girl but I want to.

"Nobody is technically good at art," Amelia responds. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses in the arts, everyone sees art differently, and that's okay. I'm sure you're not horrible, I'm sure you just haven't found your strength yet, Spencer," She enunciates my name with such beauty and grace that I almost ask her to say it again. I'd do anything to hear her say my name again.

"If-" I'm cut off when my phone rings in my pocket, so I lean over and fish it out. I read a text from Garcia that tells me we have a case, meaning we'll be briefing for a new case this morning. I sigh defeatedly, wishing I hadn't just gotten a text that usually piques my interest. Today, it makes my heart drop.

"You have to get to work?" I look back up at work to see yet another smile on Amelia's perfect face. "Go ahead, it's okay," I’m so used to seeing disappointed faces when this text comes in, not a smiling face. It’s odd, somewhat confusing.

I grab my coffee cup and stand as Amelia does the same. She holds her cup to her chest, looking down at her feet. "Will," I chew on the inside of my cheek when she looks up at me, ocean eyes wide with anticipation as I struggle with my words for the umpteenth time, "can I see you again? We barely got to talk and you-"

"Yeah," Amelia nods before I can even finish my sentence. "Can I give you my number?"

I have to hold myself back from jumping up and down in excitement. "Y-Yeah, sure, of course," I pull my phone out yet again as she does the same. She tells me her phone number slowly so I can get it down, but of course, it sticks in my brain immediately.

"Just text me," Amelia murmurs, looking over my shoulder at my phone where my shaky thumbs press against the buttons on my phone to type out- hi, it's Spencer. She waits until her phone rings and then she smiles at me. "Great, I've got it. Now, um, go. Don't let me be the reason you're late in helping people. You don't have to text me if you don't want to," she pauses for a moment, and I wonder what she's waiting for. Is she waiting for me to confirm or deny that statement? Is she waiting for anything at all? Is it an open-ended statement? Where have all my profiling skills gone? Forget profiling- where is my common sense? "But if you do wanna text me," I'm thankful when she starts talking again, "don't until after you've solved your case. Don't worry about me until you've saved lives. But like I said, if you don't wanna text me, you don't have to,"

My phone buzzes again and I can only imagine it's someone from the team asking me where I am, hurrying me along so we can get started on our briefing. I ignore it for now. "Well," I have to clear my throat to be able to speak again. I give Amelia a bashful smile holding up my phone for her to see, "I'll text you when I'm back home,"

Amelia blushes, her bottom lip being pulled between her teeth. She breathes out a tiny laugh, nodding. "I look forward to it, Spencer,"

I take a step towards the door and feel my body grow cold at the distance starting to increase between us. "I'll talk to you soon, Amelia,"

And with that, before I have it in me to take one more look at the angel standing in the corner cafe, I hurry out the front door. There's a dumb smile on my face as I rush down the stairs to the train platform, struggling to swipe my card and respond to Penelope's text at the same time, all while running to catch the train at the platform. I'm somehow successful at all of this and only manage to breathe once I'm inside the stuffy car. Amelia's face is stuck inside my head and I can't get it out, and I'm positive that I never want to.

///

"Reid? Reid!" My head pops up as Morgan forcefully says my name, catching my attention and bringing me out of my daydream.

When I look up at him, he's already staring up at me with his eyebrows raised, clearly expecting an answer out of me about something. I have no idea what that something is, but he’s wanting an answer about it. I clear my throat, placing my cup of terrible police station coffee on the table and running a hand over my face. "Sorry," I apologize half heartedly, "I was thinking,"

Morgan sits across from me at the table and folds his hands. "Case related?" I glance up at him before deciding to completely ignore him, standing and walking up to the board, returning to examining the geographical profile. "Reid, come on, we've been on the case three days. You've been distracted ever since you walked in for the briefing. You can talk to me," I keep ignoring him. I stare at the map in front of me. "Is something going on? Is it your mom?"

"My mom is fine," I spin around and cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my heart starts to speed up when Amelia’s face resurfaces in my brain. “Can we just solve this case so we can go home?”

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler #mgg #gublernation

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shall-we-imagine · 6 years ago

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Scaredy Cat. (Badboy!SigurdxReader)

Bet you weren't expecting this, huh.

Requested: 26. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap." From the prompt list.

A/N: Badboy!Klaus was quite popular so why not try this? 🤷‍♀️idk how to write proper bad boys so spare me I'm trying 😂 this is also a bit of an idol AU? 😂 you can call me artist; you can call me idol sorry I'm actually loving the BTS comeback even though a lot of people don't...aannd that's not the right place to discuss this I'll shut up. Moving on.

Genre: Fluff.

(Second Person Point of View)

Being friends with an idol had its pros and cons. On one hand, it led to you being friends with all his group mates, and it also scored you dates with other idols. On the other hand, you barely get to even see your friend; it's always video calls, and even those aren't as often as you'd like. But what can you do? As long as he's following his dream, you're happy for him.

Sometimes, however, you wish you could just have him around whenever you need him. He's always very caring towards you, but he can't help it that he's busy. So, sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal with your own problems yourself. Or do you?

Pacing around the living room, you contemplate calling Serge. If he was sleeping, you really didn't wanna disturb the tiny bit of sleep he gets. What if he was busy doing something else? He usually calls when he's free anyway..

"It's okay; I'll be fine." You whisper to yourself reassuringly, even though your voice came out filled with uncertainty. As you approach the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you flick on as much light switches as possible. There ain't no demon attacking you tonight, nope.

You down the refreshing glass of water. "There. That's not so bad. I can do thi-" your sentence was cut off by your own squeal. What was that noise?

You hesitantly inch closer to your open kitchen window. As you were scolding yourself for leaving that window open, you peek into the back yard of your house. There it was. The source of the noise.

You could see the bushes shaking violently, indicating something or someone was in there. Trembling hands reach to quietly shut the window and blinds, as you tip toe away from the window. Maybe it was the fact that you were home alone getting the best of you, but you were terrified to the core. Someone might be lurking around in your backyard, and that would explain the odd noises you'd been hearing for the past hour or so.

You rush back into the living room. What in the world were you supposed to do?

Call your parents? They're thousands of miles away; they can't particularly help.

Call the police? Okay, you're not actually sure someone is out there, and you don't wanna just call for nothing..

The only person left to call was Serge..

You promised yourself that you'd call one time; if he doesn't pick up, you have to try to ignore the noises.

Please, for the love of everything good, pick u-

"Hello?" A voice deeper and more calm than Serge's booms through the phone.

You frown. "Um, isn't that Serge's phone?"

"Yes, darling, but Serge is shooting for his up coming drama right now, so he can't respond to the phone he forgot at the dorms." Darling? Oh, it's him. "Figured you might need some company, though, so I replied." You could almost see him smirk.

Now, when you say you're friends with the group Serge belongs to, well, there's an exception, and that's the one and only Sigurd Curtis. Fans love him for his 'mysterious charms', but all you could see is an irritating jerk. And now was really not the time for him.

"So? What did you call for?" His question reminds you that you hadn't replied to him earlier.

You sigh. "I called for Serge, but he's not here, so I'm hanging up."

"Oh, come on, am I not good enou-" you hang up before hearing the rest of his teasing and whining.

You couldn't really understand him much. He was generally quiet, but somehow, when it comes to you, he becomes the most talkative person on the planet. Which would've been fine if he didn't use all his power to tease you and flirt with you for no reason.

Well, there's no other choice but to deal with the unreasonable fear yourself.

#####

"This is not working." You huff, unable to stop thinking someone might break in. Your house didn't have a single light bulb turned off, which was probably going to be a pain when your parents receive the electricity bill, but you didn't have any plans of turning any of them off for now.

You stare at your phone, as if silently willing it to start ringing and showing Serge's picture. Of course, that didn't happen even after you stared for a full minute.

"Should I try calling again?" You sigh.

You took your heart thumping in fear as a yes. You prayed with all your power the idiot would respond, but once again, you were greeted with the flirtatious tone you feared hearing.

"Missed me already?"

A loud groan sounds across the empty room. "When is Serge coming back?"

"I don't know, cupcake." Knowing he specifically uses this to make you uncomfortable, you try your best not to cringe. "I've just been informed you're home alone. Is that why you want Serge? You're scared?"

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Usually..when my parents go on trips for work, Serge spends his time talking to me to get my mind off of the fact that I'm home alone." You admit sheepishly. "Sometimes he even sings me to sleep." You add in a quieter voice, part of you hoping he didn't hear it. You didn't even know why you were telling him this; maybe sleep-deprived you was extra friendly and liked over sharing.

"Oh." A pause was followed by a confident statement, "I could do that!"

"W-what?" However, there was no response. "He hung up? What in the world is wrong with that guy?!"

No longer than 2 minutes later, you were jumpscared by the doorbell. You silently approach the door, unsure who would be at the door. Of course, there was a face that popped into your head, but you somehow still couldn't be sure if it was really him.

"Sigurd?" You eye the taller male. His hair was freshly dyed black; he was even given an undercut while the hair on the top of his head was styled in a messy quiff. His attire was black as usual. Of course, as an idol, he had to switch colours, but when he got to wear what he wants, he'd almost always dress in black, to add to his 'mysterious' aura- you assume. He wore a black tank top with random scribbles on the front, matched with black skinny jeans that had some chains hanging from them; you never really understood that odd choice of clothing, but you didn't question it. What you did question, however, was the choker he wore.

"Sharing closets with your dog or something?" You point at the strange accessory. It was adorned with spikes and a few silver chains intertwining with each other; the best way to describe it was that it looked like a dog's collar.

"Ha ha very funny. It's called fashion, pancake, you wouldn't understand." Wearing a sympathetic smile, he pats your shoulder, allowing himself inside.

"Are you hungry or something? Wasn't it cupcake at first? Now it's pancake? What's with that?" You roll your eyes. Nice sleep-deprived you was nowhere to be seen, apparently.

He glances at your chest before looking back into your eyes and giving an innocent smile. "Nothing." He walks further into the house, not waiting for a reaction from you.

"You little-" you bite back an insult, knowing he just enjoys pushing your buttons. You had to stay calm. "Why are you here? I didn't even invite you. Plus don't you have work or something?!"

"You implicitly invited me." He points out, "And, no, we're on a break, remember?"

A sudden knocking noise makes you jump before you could even respond to the dork that made himself comfortable on your couch.

He stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "that was a branch hitting the window.."

"I knew that." His intense stare doesn't waver. "Okay, fine. It scared me..a little! I'm scared of being home alone, and there's a person lurking outside the house and-"

"There's a person lurking outside the house?!" He hops off the couch, his expression -for once- not smug or playful but concerned. It somehow made your heart skip a few beats. Surely, you were overreacting, though; there's no way he just looked attractive because he seemed concerned. There's no way you suddenly noticed how well black contrasts his skin tone, making it suit him beautifully. Nope.

"Well, I'm not very sure it's a person.." you explain shyly, "I just heard some noises and saw the bushes moving.."

"Man, you freaked me out for nothing." He runs a hand through his visibly soft hair. "Where was it you saw the bushes move?"

"Okay, stay here and keep the door locked; I'll take a look outside to ensure nobody's out there." He instructs, after you show him to the back door.

"Sigurd, you don't need to do this. What if someone dangerous was out there?" You attempt to reason with him.

He chuckles, "you worried about me, cupcake?"

You pretend to gag. "You might as well find yourself a ride home cuz I'm not gonna be opening that door again."

After a few moments, you hear Sigurd call out for you, claiming you should come out. He has teamed up with the serial killer outside and plans to trick you into getting murdered?

"Oh my god stop panicking; just come out! It's a puppy for God's sake!" He shouts, even though he really couldn't see you or your desire to ignore his request to leave the safety of your house.

"Fine!" You shout back, as you reluctantly pull open the door. The view beyond the door certainly made you glad you complied with his request, though.

Sigurd was crouching on the grass rubbing a small Pit bull's belly. It wiggled its tail happily, as he continued to shower it with affection. You almost let out a small awwhh. You almost forgot that this was the same guy you threatened to not let back into your house.

"I think that's my neighbour's puppy." You muse, as you approach Sigurd and the pit bull. You check the red, spike-filled collar. "Look. It's matching with you." You tease.

"Hey! How many times do I have to explain-"

You cut him off to add in a mocking tone, "it's fashion!!"

He merely glares, to which you laugh. It was your turn to tease him for once. "Anyway, we need to take it back to its owner." You state.

"Can't we keep it for a bit longer, please?" He pouts, catching you off guard.

"U-uh, um, we can't!" You begin to object, but all you could think of was how cute that was. Looking at this guy, with at least 2 sets of ear piercings and a hair cut to display a rebellious aura, just sit there pouting at you because you told him to take the puppy back to its owner- it was so strange yet so adorable.

You do your best to ignore the red adorning your cheeks, as you stand your point and demand he takes it back.

"No fun." He grumbles, as he lifts the puppy and holds it to his chest. "Fine; where's the house? At least come with." He gets off the ground. That's when you first notice some minor details of his tank top. The sides were sort of see-through, allowing you glimpses of his toned body underneath.

"Whatchu starin' at?" Your eyes meet with the smug male's. His smirk just never left his lips, as he continuously wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Nothing!" You push past him, giving yourself a way to hide your burning cheeks. "That's the house; just follow me." You announce, mainly to change the topic.

After doing your duty as a noble neighbour and returning the puppy to its owner, you head back to your house, Sigurd following behind- obviously.

"I'm so tired." You yawn.

The dark haired male gives an excited grin. "Time to sing you to sleep!" He claps happily. Mysterious charms they say. That guy is the biggest dork you've ever seen. You are friends with Serge, though, so maybe second biggest dork.

"You really don't have to-"

He cuts you off, "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap. I want to do it, and you want me to do it too." Well, he wasn't wrong. Sigurd's voice is really unique; it's one you really enjoy listening to. This would pretty much be like a private show..how can you say no?

"Well, get comfortable cuz I'm not gonna strain my precious vocals just for you to not fall asleep." He informs, earning an eye roll from you.

Once you place yourself in relaxing position and pull the covers up to your chest, Sigurd begins singing quietly and soothingly. His voice was so calming and gentle, urging you to throw away your worries and let the sweet melody carry you to the land of dreams. Which you inevitably did. Your eyelids had already gotten too heavy for you to keep them open; therefore, it took no time for you to drift into deep sleep.

######

An annoyingly loud ringtone disturbs your comfortable sleep, and you force your eyes open.

You hear a groan coming from the edge of the bed, almost giving you a heart attack before you remember last night's events.

"Hello?" Sigurd grumbles into his phone. As it was a video call, you could see the caller- Serge.

"Sigurd, wher- wait a minute; is that (Y/N)?! Why are you in bed with (Y/N)?? (Y/N), why are you in bed with your least favourite member of the group??" Serge cuts off his own speech to begin yelling about the situation he misunderstood.

"Wait; what do you mean least favourite member?? Why am I your least favourite?! Who's your bias then??" Sigurd complains. What made it funnier and cuter was the fact that you could tell he was genuinely offended by him not being your bias.

"Guy." You confess, "or Joel."

"I spent the night here and sang you to bed; don't I at least get an upgrade??" He whines.

"Hey, why am I not your bias?" Serge joins in, also visibly offended.

"You're my friend. it's weird to have you as a bias." You defend.

"Joel and Guy are your friends too!" Serge just isn't having it, clearly.

"Oh my god, Serge, just let it go, please?" You plead. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll discuss this later." He states. "Anyway, Sigurd, where did you leave my phone? I don't wanna keep using Guy's! Well, not that he would let me, but yeah."

"Your pho- oh." Sigurd's confused expression switches to an embarrassed one. "I might've taken it with me?" He pulls a second phone from his pocket.

"Sigurd, I've been calling since morning! You better bring it back right now! I can't believe you-" Sigurd cuts off Serge's rant by hanging up. "Well, I guess I have to go. Man, I'll never hear the end of it!" He groans, to which you giggle lightly. "I mean it is your fault for taking his phone." You point out.

"I was comforting you!" He defends. He looked so hurt you didn't appreciate his 'efforts', which made you want to pinch his cheeks or something. His hair had gotten messier, somehow making him even more attractive, yet you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Well, in your defense, he was acting like a child.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get going now." He pushes himself off the bed. "If you ever need someone to spend the night again, always call me." He winks. "You're an idiot." You shake your head.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." He smiles. (Y/N). This was the first time he calls you with your real name ever since you met.

"You just called me (Y/N)." You grin victoriously.

"No, I didn't, cupcake." He yells, disappearing into the hallway. You throw your head back in frustration. He just won't stop being his annoying self, huh? Sadly, you felt yourself liking it and waiting for another meeting with him.

"I'm getting bias wrecked, aren't I?" You sigh.

#yes i'm still alive #i think #i still hate the 100 block limit #sigurd curtis one shot #sigurd curtis imagine #sigurd curtis #wizardess heart sigurd #sigurd curtis fluff #shall we date imagine #shall we date wizardess heart #shall we date #shall we date fluff #wizardess heart one shot #wizardess heart imagine #wizardess heart fluff #sigurd curtis x reader #reader x sigurd curtis

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jsnorcross · 8 years ago

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In 2007 my ex-wife and I split up after seven years of marriage. That wasn't counting the 3 years we were together before we tied the knot. I am thinking about this because I care a great deal for keeps running into what I have learned is called a "Situationship." For those that don't know what this is, it is basic when a couple are together, in a noncommitted or declared established relationship other than they hang out, maybe do stuff together, and of course the ever popular have sex. Let me clarify, there is no "making love," "having fun," "friends with benefits" going on... it is what it is... straight fucking! Yes! I said it and I am allowed to because I've done it and had it done to me! It isn't cool unless that is what you want, but it should be well established and made clear so that both parties can agree or get out. I thought about my first marriage... The first 2 years we were together, it was all situationship. I was trying to work towards something; I was in love I wanted marriage and a life together. I found out she just enjoyed having someone around that was cool to talk to, do some stuff with, had a penis and a paycheck to contribute to life. It wasn't until I was deployed for a month, that she freaked out and realized that I was someone worth keeping around. The last year we dated and lived together, finally marrying... I never believed that she would take me forgranted, but she did and soon our marriage was a marital situationship. She had flings and steady things on the side... I was ignorant. Then one of my best friends told me that she got naked right in front of him and tried to go to town. I know the integrity of my buddy; he said he shoved her off and left immediately (he was happily married and devoted at the time to his cheating wife). He told me about it; I got pissed and it all came into realization! So what did I do; the absolutely wrong thing! I had a nextdoor neighbor that was a MAJOR "Badge Bunny." (for those that don't know, they are women who like to have sex with any police officer that will have them - married or not; and I was a cop at the time). It just so happens the "Badge Bunny" had my phone number and as I typically give to friends and neighbors for anything... She called becaused she was Drunk and needed a ride home to avoid a DWI. I was setup from the get go, I knew it and I didn't care... Needless to say it happened as you would imagine and I used all night to repeatedly "work out" my frustrations of my failed marriage. After that, I was disappointed in myself because of any response that would happen from the ex-wife; she had been doing this for years! I was disappointed in myself; I had dishonored and destroyed myself out of revenge (blood stupid). Needless to say, that was the top of it all for me and I terminated marriage and she did not oppose it. After a few months I went back on the dating scene. The first date I had (I was 36 at the time) was 22 years old. I said what the hell, this was a "safe" date; nothing would come of it but a friend I had been a role model for since she was 15 in the local high school that I patrolled as a cop. First date and she wanted to hook-up. She said we don't have to be an exclusive item; she just wanted a "safe" situation with a guy that she knew wouldn't want a commitment and we could just have fun together - basically, a situationship. I declined and told myself to not deviate more than 7 year in age difference down, 5 years deviation up. Next woman I went out with, I went out with a few times. Around the 4th date, it got physical and I thought that meant we were heading somewhere. Nope, needless to say another Situationship. I had 4 Situationship "occurrences" before I met my current wife. Date number 1, lunch at Bennigan's in Carrollton, TX. I laid out there; I told her I was interested in a fling or friends with benies, etc... I enjoyed being married and wanted to find a good woman to have a long life together with... period. If she was even remotely thinking in that direction, then we can be friends, nothing physical and we can enjoy lunches together occasionally. Fortunately for me she was "husband-shopping." If you're looking for a situationship, fine; you're an adult, go for it. But if you're looking for more, I say lay it out there by no later than the second date. Get old-fashion in your dating attitude; if they can get what they want and lead you around in a situationship, there are plenty of men and women who will do that to you. Be hard-headed and mean about it; do not compromise no matter what. I don't care if she takes your breath away or he throws money away on you like it's going out of style. YOu make them work emotionally and relationship-wise. Commitment or friends only, period... make no compromises... The best for you will come along and then everything will be as it should...

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