#when she showed up she had a travel mug full of alcohol. she drove herself. thankfully she hadnt drunk any before she first drove

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Me: I'll take a Vyvanse, nothing has ever gone wrong with that. And a quick soda. And a little bit of a shake. Surely today will not give me anything that will make me anxious, to which the stimulants will only make worse.

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TEN - illicit affairs 

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter 

word count: 2k

warnings: slight mention of alcohol as a coping mechanism

a/n: sorry about the glitch !! here’s the new chapter x

“take the road less travelled by, tell yourself you can always stop. what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.”

It had been one whole month since they’d first kissed. The working weeks had gone by slowly -the first few cases had been local, they had all night to spend wrapped up in each other. The smell of her perfume filtered through his apartment, almost as if it always belonged there. Her pillows smelled of his cologne. They belonged to one another. At last.

They hadn’t intended on telling the team, not until they’d actually considered the whole ‘what-are-we?” conversation. However, she was certain that Spencer was forever. He always had been.

From nights spent in both their apartments and small dates outside of town were all they ever needed. Less of a chance to run into anyone from work, he would assure her as they drove an into D.C. Soon enough, small restaurants around D.C became their safe haven when they got the chance. She knew Spencer preferred home-cooked meals though, but she never said anything when he would stop her before they left work to let her know he’d pick her up soon.

The cases away were harder - no chances to sneak from one hotel room into another, nor were there chances to grab dinner between the two of them. She was frustrated. This case in Tampa wouldn’t let up and all she wanted was to be around him.

That’s how she ended up in the parking lot of the Tampa P.D, her back pressed up against their SUVs, waiting for her coffee. He turned the corner and her whole body lit up, pulling the coffee cup out of his hands.

“Woah, someone’s eager then!” He laughed.

“Shut up. I’m tired - you have no idea what rooming with JJ is like,” giving him a dirty look, she continued, “Anyways, why did you call me out here?”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“Pardon?” She took a sip of her coffee.”

“I just missed you.”

Cupid pulled his arrow and fired, straight into her heart.

“Spencer…”

“It’s stupid I know but I-“

She goes to protest but he stops her.

“You know we could just ask Hotch if we could pair together on the next case?”

“Spencer, you know we can’t.” Her eyes are soft, not with pity but sadness. She just wants to hold him.

“Would it be so bad if they knew?”

She paused.

“So you think it would be a bad idea then?”

“No, god no. I just don’t want anything to change.”

He gives her a perplexed look.

“It’s just… the paperwork, the stress, long nights, HR, and the rest of the team. I just don’t want them to treat us any differently.”

He slips his arm around her shoulder and meets her gaze.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.”

She laughs, “Why are you quoting Robert Frost to me in a parking lot?”

“Because… this is not something that we can compromise on.”

There’s weight in his words.

“We either decide whether or not this, us, is worth fighting for. Sure, telling the team may be the road that few have decided upon but would you simply give up on us just because?”

She reaches for his cheek, brushing her fingers over his blush-stained cheeks.

“Okay. The road less travelled is our road then.”

He smiled and nothing in her life could ever compete with the beating of her heart and the happiness that followed them as they walked hand in hand.

He was forever.

“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs,

and clandestine meetings and longing stares.

it’s born from just one glance,

but it dies and it dies,”

It was cold when she started working at the Bureau, she could never forget it. She had wrapped herself up in her royal blue knitted scarf her grandmother gave her when she turned 16 - a small, juvenile good luck charm she kept close to her.

It also protected her from her new colleagues having to see her shiver from the cold.

Pulling it tighter around her neck as she walked into the conference room, she saw him. He sat around the roundtable, sat beside Morgan and JJ. He didn’t look up when she walked into the room but as soon as Hotch announced the newest recruit his head shot up.

His eyes met hers and her entire world shifted. Something inside her changed when she looked at him.

Her first thoughts were that he was beautiful, criminally so.

Then he started to talk and she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into wonderland.

She was sitting at her desk when he first directly introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” She looked up at the soft voice.

“Ah, umm, Garcia told me you were the resident genius. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She gave him a genuine smile, the first one she had given in a while.

“Well, I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. However, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately measured.”

She giggled at his deflection.

“Don’t deflect - you’re a genius. It’s cool.” She shot her hand out to shake his.

Watching him carefully, he hesitated and she knew.

“Germaphobe. I get it.”

His eyes brightened at her statement.

“How did you-“

“You hesitated. Most people would return the gesture. I understand though, handshakes pass twice as many germs as giving someone a high five. I only do it to be polite.” She explained

“Kissing is safer.” He blurted out.

She laughed, “What are you insinuating Spencer?”

“N-nothing!” He stumbled over his words. “It’s just scientifically proven that kissing does not pass as many-“

“Don’t worry about it! I was only joking.”

A moment of silence as he lets his eyes trail up and down her body, almost as if he was assessing her.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I wanted to tell you that you can bring your own mug for coffee or tea and to not take mine. They’re labelled, see?” He holds out his Star Trek adorned mug.

Her heart swelled thinking about his labelled coffee cups - ‘who is this man?’ she thought.

“Well, the more you know! Thank you, Spencer.” He turns to leave. “Although,” he turns back, meeting her eyes once more, “I have to say, I do prefer Star Wars myself.”

Derek passes as she says it, muttering a small “Here we go again…” before Spencer launches into the scientific inaccuracy of Star Wars.

As he spoke so passionately, she knew from that moment she had found her kindred spirit. She wanted to know how he took his coffee, his favourite meals, where he goes when he wants a moment alone, what his favourite constellation is, where he grew up, what his family was like. She wanted to know everything. Everything and more.

She could feel the school-girl crush rise within her but this time it was different. It wasn’t juvenile nor naive, no writing his name in red hearts at the side of her work planner. It was pure and sweet, the sound of his voice was a symphony she had never heard before and one she didn’t want to stop hearing.

For the first time, she felt it. That yearning to be close to someone, to hold them, to know them. For the first time, she wasn’t scared of it.

Weeks went by and she started to write down all the little facts he would drop, sometimes half facts if the team stopped him. She wanted to remember them all, even though she knew one day she would forget. The same with his notes, she kept them stored in a memory box she had been keeping since she was little.

Full of little mementos of her life as a child, seashell necklaces and keychains from her trips to her grandparents at Christmas, to her life as a teen, the band of her prom corsage and photo-booth pictures of her and friends from her past. It hadn’t been touched since she had graduated but something told her to store them away, keep them for a rainy day, for when she needed to smile.

One day her crush on Spencer was small, minuscule, telling herself not to hope for it to be returned and the next she felt herself falling.

She was in the middle before she knew she had even begun.

“look at this godforsaken mess that you made me, you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else.”

She felt like a fool, an idiot, to even believe he would come back.

Flicking through the notes he had written her, she knew she had burnt too many bridges. She smiled at the memories of her first days in the Bureau. She wonders about that scarf. Last place she remembers seeing it was in the back of her closet. She’d practically replaced it with the Doctor Who scarf Spencer had knitted and given her.

Looking down on the rest of the box, forgotten memories of her life pass her by like flickering candles in a dark room. The memories exist in her consciousness but they are not vivid. They are not as painful or as bright as the memories she shared with Spencer.

Her life shifted when she met him, she became Dorthy walking out of Kansas and into Oz when she was with him. The world was in bright technicolour. The world was her canvas and he was her paint, colours she had never seen before.

He was her muse. He was the blues and the purple-pink sunrises and sunsets. He was soft jazz playing on a late, misty Sunday afternoon when the sun is still in the sky but it’s low down, getting ready to melt into a dark night.

There was an unspoken element to their relationship, their own language; how he would drape his jacket over her on the rare chance she slept on the jet, how they would squeeze each other’s hands under the desk when a case hits home, or when he would squeeze her thigh when they drove back to either of their respective homes. It was the brush of his hand on the small of her back when they cooked together. It was the soft, longing looks that caught and knew long before she could ever call him, hers.

Her only regret was how the life they were building together ended. She can’t remember when the language they shared was forgotten but she wishes she could go back and change it. Everything else, however, she wouldn’t change for the world.

Her second glass of wine sat on the cabinet beside her. Untouched and completely still. She had drunk about half the glass. More than she would care to admit to anyone.

Alcohol was supposed to make her brave, fearless. Now, it only makes her feel numb. Something to ease the pain of watching him almost every day. She knows better to not make a habit of it. So she stops.

There were very few cars that passed by her apartment late at night. The hum of an engine pulling to a stop was familiar to her. Although, she knew it was probably just the young guy who lived in 2C. He was almost always coming home late but she wasn’t at her apartment long enough to know the patterns of her neighbours - duty always called.

She let Joni Mitchell’s sweet voice wash over her and took a sip of her wine.

‘Maybe I should look for that scarf.’ She thought.

Getting up for the first time in an hour or so, her legs creaked as she walked with the bottle of Rose and her glass in search of that scarf.

---

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[the-borhap-boys]

Bruises Fade: chapter four

 Slow Burn Ben!Roger Taylor X OC

Summary: Amelia Mcallen, an old friend of Freddie Mercury’s tries to fit in with his friends while still living her own life. Her only issue. One blond asshole

Warning: Language, mention of abuse

Word count: 4673

Note: sorry it took so long but here’s a nice long chapter and i’ve already started working on the next one!

“I love you no matter what you do,” Louis said as he climbed off the bed he and Millie were curled on and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Love you too,” she murmured, a stiff smile plastered painfully on as she watched him button his shirt and leave the room.

When she heard the door slam behind him, she climbed off the bed gingerly, being careful not to put too much pressure on her right leg. She pulled off her joggers and glanced down at the slowly fading bruise. It had been a few days since he had pushed her into the coffee table and the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been but the bruise was terribly ugly.

She gingerly pressed her fingers into her thigh, a soft groan slipping out as she touched the purple and blue mottled skin. She pulled on a strappy sundress hoping the light fabric would keep her legs from aching any more than they already did. As she placed a few bangles on her wrist she prayed they would distract from the ugly purple fingerprints from where he had yanked her off the floor. At least this time he was mindful of her face and there were no obvious bruises above her chin. The few on her neck she could pass off as hickeys hopefully.

At least these bruises weren’t as bad the ones she had after quitting. She hadn’t been able to leave the house for nearly two weeks for fear someone would know what happened to her. The boys had called her every day checking on her and the lies she had to tell had been almost more painful then the bruises littering her body.  Now she could at least go into the studio and do the job she had been hired to do.

_

As she pulled up to the studio a few hours later, Brian rushed out the door and stopped her from walking inside.

“Hello Love,” he said with a huge smile, wrapping her in a tight hug. She relished in the feeling of security, her cheek pressed tight against his chest, the cotton of his shirt rubbing comfortingly against her face, until he let her go.  “Listen, I know you and Rog aren’t on exactly the best terms but we’re behind schedule and he isn’t answering his phone. Could you run over to his flat and check on him?”

His smile dropped slightly as she sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over her face.

“What is an assistant for,” she groaned before trying to walk back to her car. He scooped her into another hug lifting her off the ground as she squirmed at the pain that ran through her ribs.

“You are an absolute darling,” he said dropping her back to the sidewalk. She stumbled slightly as pain shot through her leg, her jaw clenched tightly, trying to hold back a groan.

As she drove towards his apartment, she muttered to herself, clenching her fists on the wheel tightly.

“Of course, he can’t show up on time to one thing. Honestly, it’s almost two. How drunk did he get last night? That little self-centered prick. Uggh I’m so sick of him”

As she spoke to herself her anger dissipated slightly but she was still prepared to give the little blond shit as she so affectionately called him a piece of her mind.

_

After knocking three times on his door she pulled out the key Freddie had given her a few weeks ago. As she stepped in her nose wrinkled at the dirty dishes and empty liquour bottles scattered across every available surface. Womens clothes were tossed throughout the living room, leading down the hallway, showing evidence of whatever happened the night before.

She stepped into the hallway and was met with a leggy brunette clad in a pair of boxers and a button down shirt stepping out of Rogers room. The two girls stared each other down for a moment before the brunette began stumbling towards Millie angrily. “Who are you and what are you doing in Roger’s flat?” the girl hissed.

“I’m the girlfriend of the boy you slept with last night,” Millie lied. She stared into the girls face expressionlessly, her arms crossed over her chest as the other girls jaw dropped.

“That bastard! Boys are the worst! He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” she cried, yanking Millie off her feet and into a hug. The putrid scent of vomit and day old alcohol invaded Millie’s nose before she pushed the girl back gently. “I’m so sorry! I really am,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Millie mumbled, shaking her head and steadying the taller girl gently. As she helped the girl gather her clothes which were spread all across the living room she continued berating Roger inside her own mind and letting out little huffs of anger.

As the door slammed behind the girl, Millie filled a glass with water and grabbed some pain killers before stepping into Roger’s room. He laid on the bed shirtless, eyes open, smirking at her, his hair splayed in a halo around his head.

“So, girlfriend?”

“I just wanted her to get out without having to deal with whining,” she grumbled slamming the cup on his bedside table and thrusting the pills into his hand. A few droplets of water splashed onto his chest and goosepimples arose across his skin. He sat up, resting on his elbows. “Take your medicine. You were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago,”

He stared after her as she stormed out of the room and back into the kitchen. His arms flopped back onto the pillows surrounding him as he fell backwards, closing his eyes for a few moments.

After putting the kettle on the stove, she plopped onto a chair at the kitchen table. Her head rested in her hands and her feet drummed the floor impatiently. When he stepped into the kitchen, he leaned against the door frame, watching her for a moment. The sun shone through the open window onto her face, hitting her eyelashes so they left tiny shadows across her freckled cheeks.

“Are you pissed at me?” he questioned softly.

She turned quickly to look at him in surprise. The bags under his eyes showed evidence of little sleep the past couple nights and his hands barely peeked out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt he had tugged on. She rolled her eyes at his pitiful expression and stood up to get two mugs.

“No, I’m not pissed.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t mean the boys aren’t,”

“Fuck em. You are mad.” He stepped forwards and leaned his back against the counter, staring at her quizzically. “Why are you always mad at me?”

She felt his eyes boring into her back and couldn’t face him. Her hands clasped the edge of the stove as she stared down at the kettle. Her head seemed to whirl as she tried to respond.

“I’m just said I’m not mad at you,”

“prove it,”

She turned around, mimicking his position on the opposite counter.

“How do I prove I’m not mad?”

He stepped forwards slowly and grabbing her hands in his. “Have a full conversation with me,”

The callouses on his palm scratched against her smooth skin and she yanked back roughly, bumping her elbow against the hot kettle. She jumped forwards slamming into his chest and cradling her elbow.

“shit! Did you burn yourself? ’m sorry!” he hissed, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to the sink. He turned on the faucet and she quickly stuck her arm under the running water, her teeth clenched in pain.

“I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to! Shit shit! I’m so sorry Millie!” he babbled on and on.

“Just shut up for two seconds,” she said calmly. The pain from the burn was slowly fading but his crowding over her was not helping her.

He stepped back and watched carefully as she took a deep breath.  Her eyes closed for a moment and her fists unclenched.

“Why are you like this?” she questioned, taking her arm out from under the faucet and turning to face him, her hand cradling her elbow

“Like what?”

“One second you’re an asshole and you’re trashing me to any person you can and the next you’re all soft and flirty. It’s confusing and I hate it.” She stated emotionlessly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Either be my friend or be an asshole. You don’t get to be both,”

He blinked a few times and his breath caught in his throat as he tried to think of a response. She watched him quizzically, her head cocked to one side as he stumbled over his words.

“I tried to be your friend but I fucked that up so I don’t know what to do around you. You get so pissed with me and then you’re so sweet with Brian and John and I just wa-“

“You’re jealous?” she questioned a smirk playing on her lips.

“No! I just want you to like me and I don’t know how to make you like me,”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes before throwing her hands in the air.

“You could start by not trash talking me to all your little leggy friends who come prancing through the studio,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Oh yes I’m so jealous!” she threw her head back, laughing exaggeratedly. Her brunette curls bounced around her face and he couldn’t seem to rip his eyes away from the way they brushed against the hickeys on her neck “I wish I could come out of your room in your dirty boxers and sweaty shirt. The epitome of romance,”

He chuckled leaning back against the counter. They were both grateful for the easy banter instead of ripping each others throats out.

“Alright, alright. Neither of us is jealous. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole. Can we be friends and put all the childish fights behind us?”

The kettle began to whistle and she reached to take it off the stove. As she poured the steaming water into the mugs her dress rode up her thighs. His eyes traveled up her leg to the creamy skin just below the hem of her dress and he couldn’t seem to tear himself away.

She passed him a mug of tea, tearing him out of his thoughts.

“I forgive you,” she smiled softly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the mug. “Now do you want something to eat before we go to the studio?”

“Are you going to make me something?” he smirked, his fingers reaching up to fiddle with the strings of his sweatshirt. “You going to put on a little maid costume and everything?”

“I was but just for that I’m not,” she said with a sly smile, placing the mug on the counter before striding out of the kitchen. His face broke into a wide smile and he wrapped his arms around her waist swinging her around to face him.

“Come on Millie,” he whined. “I’m starving and I’m just far too dumb to know how to cook,”

She flicked his forehead and pushed off his chest, spinning around so her dress flared out around her.

“Fine, you spoiled brat, what do you want?”

“First, I would like you to apologize for calling me spoiled because I am not,” he said, yanking one of her curls. She glanced back at him in shock before quirking an eyebrow

“Oh really? Then what is it called when you get whatever you want because you whine?”

He threw his head back in shock and placed his hand on his chest. “Excuse you, I do not whine,”

She pinched the bridge of her nose in faux exasperation and glanced over her shoulder at him. He had stepped a bit closer and a few tendrils of his hair were brushing against her bare shoulder. Their noses were nearly touching and she had to turn around abruptly so they didn’t bump into each other.

“I’ll make you some toast, Roger,”

“That is Mister Taylor to you and I did not ask for toast. I would like some-“ he mused, tapping his finger against his lips.

“Want to know something?” she asked with a mock serious expression. “I don’t care what you want, you’ll eat what I give you or you’ll starve,”

They continued teasing each other as he ate his toast and packed his things. When they finally climbed into her car, he reclined the passenger seat back and crossed his arms over his chest, placing his feet on the dash.

“Hey, hey, hey! Get your feet down!” she squealed, batting at his ankles.

He shifted his legs over slightly and raised his eyebrows. “Make me,” His fingers tapped a beat against his arm as he watched her for a reaction.

“Roger! Get your feet off my dash! Feet are gross!” she whined, trying to make him bend his knees.

He laughed at her pathetic attempts and stretched out even further before shifting to put his feet in her lap. “Are these feet gross?”

She pinched the tops of his ankles making him wince and kick his heels against the top of her thighs.

“Roger Taylor! Get your nasty, sweaty feet off my legs this instant!”

“Ooh, you pulled out the last name,” he chuckled, rubbing his heels harder against her thighs.

One heel brushed against her bruise and she hissed in pain and shoved one leg off. His leg hung awkwardly over the console as he stared at her in confusion. They both sat in uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds.

“sorry,” she mumbled halfheartedly. “I don’t like feet,”

He pulled both his legs back onto his side of the console and tapped his fingers anxiously against his jeans. “yeah, I figured,”

The rest of the ride to the studio was filled with tense silence. His fingers tapped a continuous beat against his leg and hers were clenched tightly on the wheel as she never took her eyes off the road, afraid to look over at him.

When they pulled up Roger grabbed Millie’s arm before she could open the door. She glanced down at his fingers clenched tightly on her forearm before looking at his face, her eyebrows pinched together nervously.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I really didn’t realize my teasing would hurt you,” a light blush covered his cheeks and neck as he ducked his head, his hair shielding his face.

“Is the great Roger Taylor apologizing to little ole me?” she asked with a smirk.

He lifted his head quickly at her teasing, furrowing his brows.

“Hey, I’m pouring my heart and soul out here and you’re making fun of me. How is that fair.”

“all’s fair in love and war baby” she said, patting his cheek and hopping out of the car. She straightened her skirt and flipped her hair over her shoulder confidently before walking towards the front door.

He stared after her as she sauntered into the studio, her dress swaying back in forth in time with her hips.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” he whispered to himself.

_

A few weeks later the band was back in the studio, Millie alongside them like usual. She was stretched out in her usual spot on the floor, reviewing a few show contracts as Brian recorded the guitar for Seven Seas of Rhye. Roger was flopped in a chair by her head, nudging her every so often with his foot, trying to tease a reaction out of her. Deaky was on the couch dozing off as Freddie hunched over the control panel, correcting Brian over and over.

“I have no inspiration here,” Freddie finally groaned turning around and stretching his arms towards Millie. She glanced up from where she had been nodding off on the floor and placed her hands in his letting him pull her to her feet. “We should go on a picnic,”

“Fred, we have a gig tonight and we need to finish this song,” Brian piped up as he stepped into the control room.

Millie nodded as she let go of Freddies hands and gathered her papers off the floor.

“But if we get out of this stuffy studio we would be inspired and could finish this song,” Freddie whined

“He’s right,” John chimed in, pointing towards Freddie.

“Yeah, I agree with Fred,” Roger said, standing up and stretching slowly.

“You only agree with him cause you’re pissed at me,” Brian grumbled, placing the red special down and rifling his fingers through his curls angrily.

“That’s not true. I agree with him beca-“

“Because you’re mad at Brian,” Millie mumbled, her back turned to them as she continued cleaning up her papers.

“Oi! You shut your mouth or I’m going to stick one of these in your ear,” Roger threatened, waving a single drumstick around.

“Do it, I dare you,” Millie said calmly, turning back around and arching an eyebrow.

Roger surged towards her playfully and she shrieked, jumping behind Brian and grabbing his shoulders as protection. He rolled his eyes but let her use him as a shield against the blond.

“if this tree wasn’t in the way you know I would,” Roger snarled, gesturing towards Brian.

“Come at me Blondie!” Millie giggled, jumping out from behind Brian and lunging towards Roger. He wrapped his arms around her torso, spinning her around. Her feet grazed the floor and she threw her head back on his shoulder as she laughed. Her curls tickled against his neck and her hands were clenched tightly over his, pressed against her tummy.

“Put me down you big lug,” she giggled, batting at his hands.

“You attacked me first,” he accused, setting her gently down and steadying her as she stumbled.

“You threatened me first,”

“Alright children, calm down,” Freddie said placing his hands on their shoulders. “What do you say Millie? Shall we go have a picnic? I can invite Mary so it isn’t only a boys club,”

“I think that would be lovely,”

The boys packed up their things and Freddie called Mary, asking her if she would bring some lunch for everyone. They all piled in Roger’s van in a tangle of sweaty limbs, loud music and laughter. When they pulled up Millie was the first out of the car. She was racing across the grass towards the waters edge before Roger had even put the van in park.

“That child is going to get herself killed,” Brian muttered as they all stared after her fondly.

The men followed behind her slowly, finding a spot on the grass and settling down to wait for Mary and their lunches. Freddie stretched out, arms behind his head, basking in the sun as Brian leaned against a tree, reading, his long legs crossed with his elbows resting on his knees. John and Roger decided to take a walk through the park, discussing the gig that night.

When Millie came skipping back over to Freddie and Brian her face was flushed and her curls were windblown. She plopped down on the grass beside Brian, watching his face as he read. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the way he would mouth the words every now and then or how his eyebrows furrowed when he got to an interesting paragraph. She bit her lips gently as she stared into his face.

“Like what you see, Love?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the book but surprising her from her reverie.

She glanced down at her jeans and began picking at the fraying hem. “Sorry, you just seemed so interested. What are you reading?”

He placed the book in his lap and gave her his full attention. “Death On the Nile, Agatha Christie.” Millie gasped excitedly snatching his hand up. “Isn’t she so talented? I wish I could write the way she does!”

Brian cocked his head to the side slightly as she spoke. “Since when do you write?”

A faint blush covered her cheeks and ears as she dropped his hand slowly. “Oh…. It’s just a hobby. I’m not very good.”

“well I guess I’ll have to read some for myself,” he said with a shrug, placing a bookmark between the pages and closing the book.

“No really it’s not good at all. Its just for fun.”

“I will expect some of your writing the next time I see you, Miss Mcallen,” he said mocking seriousness, grabbing her hands in his.

She shrugged and squinted her eyes. “I’m very sorry Mr May, you will be sorely disappointed.”

He shook his head as he laughed, making his curls bounce wildly.

“Millie! I’m here!” Mary’s voice rang across the grass and Millie whirled around wildly before leaping to her feet and sprinting towards her friend.

Mary opened her arms wide, bags in either hand and Millie ran straight into her, wrapping her own arms around the blonde’s middle. The girls fell to the ground giggling, in a tangle of limbs and bags of food.

“Someone rescue the food, please!” Roger yelled as he watched the fiasco from afar.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Millie gushed, standing up and brushing off her jeans, before gathering up one of the bags.

“I know! Freddie invites me to recording sessions but I’m just so busy at Biba now.” Mary said as the girls began to walk over to where the boys were lolled out. “I’ve been trying to pick up a few extra shifts here and there. Fred wants to move in together but we’d have to get a new apartment and he isn’t really making much at the moment,”

Millie could tell from the tone in her voice this wasn’t berating Freddie, she was just worried about her boyfriend and how they were going to survive.

“It’s Freddie, he’ll figure out someway to make it work,”

“What will I make work darling?” Freddie questioned as he sat up. The girls glanced at each other suspiciously before looking back at him.

“It’s nothing dearest. Just girl things,” she said sweetly, patting his cheek before she began to lay out a picnic blanket.

“Sex, they were talking about sex. Mary was definitely telling Mils what a great shag Fred is,” Roger stated matter of factly from where he was seated beside John.

Mary’s face burned bright pink as her eyes widened. She tried to ignore his crude joke and began setting out the sandwiches she had made. John snickered and Brian rolled his eyes as Freddie smirked.

“How would you know about Freddie’s shagging skills unless you had experienced them Rog?” Millie countered quickly, resting her chin in her hands.

“Maybe I have,”

Millie threw her head back in an over exaggerated laugh before staring him dead in the eyes. “Freddie has higher standards than you,”

Brian choked on the sip of beer he had taken and John smacked him on the back as his own smile crept on his face at Millie’s comeback.

“Alright darlings, can we stop talking about my magnificent shagging skills and eat the delicious sandwiches Mary made us,” Freddie interrupted, wrapping his arms around Mary’s waist and pulling her into his lap.

She giggled softly, kissing his cheek as he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, we can eat. If you two can stop being so bloody cute and making us all want to vomit,” Roger groaned, reaching for a sandwich. Millie grabbed two sandwiches and settled in beside Brian.

After finishing their lunches all six of them stretched across the grass staring into the blue sky, pointing out clouds. They were quite the motley crew. Mary and Freddie were intertwined in each others arms and Millie couldn’t help but feel jealous. She rested her head against Brian’s chest and his fingers carded through her curls gently, lulling her almost to sleep.

It was comforting to have someone be so gentle with her even if it was just a friend.

Roger kept glancing over at her and how her hand rested on Brian’s stomach, playing absentmindedly with the button of his silk shirt. A hot burning grew in the pit of his stomach every time Brian would make a stupid joke and she would burst into a fit of giggles.

“That one looks like a dick,” Roger chuckled pointing towards one cloud.

“You say every one looks like a dick,” Millie groaned, before whispering something to Brian. He snorted and whispered something back before glancing over at Roger.

“You’re right, he can be a bit -,” Brian mumbled the rest against Millie’s ear.

She giggled loudly and smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t say that,”

The fire in Roger’s chest grew hotter and hotter and it seemed to be creeping up his throat. His jaw clenched tightly as he sat up and glared at them, even as they continued staring into the cloudy sky obliviously.

“Could your laugh be any more annoying, Millie,” he growled.

She sat up quickly and stared at him with huge eyes. The pain in her face was obvious and everyone grew silent as she blinked slowly. She tore at the dry skin on her lips as she continued staring at him with those doe eyes. Before she could say anything, he jumped up and stormed away.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Brian asked softly, his hand rubbing against her back softly.

“No, it’s fine. Just leave him be,”

She settled back on Brian’s chest and his fingers tangled in her hair gently tugging and playing until she closed her eyes and sighed softly. They could hear Roger muttering to himself as he kicked at clods of dirt and bushes as he began to walk to the van.

“He’s going to leave without us,” John muttered as he began picking up trash and folding the picnic blanket.

“Damn him,” Freddie growled, pulling Mary closer, kissing along her neck. “Why must that bloody git ruin our lovely day?”

Millie sat up, blinking in the sun, her skin felt warm and a smile played blissfully on her face as she attempted to forget Rogers comment.

As they walked to the car, Brian’s arm looped lazily over Millie’s shoulders, his hand playing with the collar of her shirt. They all bid their goodbyes to Mary and piled back into the van. Roger sat in the driver seat, face sullen as one arm dangled out the open window, a cigarette balanced between two fingers.

Millie tried to ignore the pouty blond and continued laughing and teasing Brian and John as Freddie climbed in the passenger seat.

“Doesn’t all this hair get hot?” she questioned, flicking gently at Brians curls.

He batted her hands away, rolling his eyes. “I have no more hair than you do, just because mine looks better is no reason to be spiteful,”

“Since when is looking like an ungroomed poodle a good look?” she raised her eyebrows, shrugging with a slight smirk.

Brian wrinkled his nose and poked at her side, forcing her to squirm into John on the other side. He snickered at their antics.

“Well you look like a-“

“Goddess?” she supplied quickly.

“I was going to say-“ “I’m sure whatever you were going to say wasn’t too important,” she interrupted again, raising her eyebrows and smiling at him innocently.

“She’s probably right,” john jumped in.

Their giggles and jibes faded in Rogers head as he glared at the road ahead of him, clenching the wheel tightly in one fist. Her tear filled eyes were plastered in his brain and he couldn’t seem to get them out no matter what he did. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to produce those tears, he was supposed to wipe them away.

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↪ b a s i c s ;

N A M E: Teagan Sanford A G E: 22 P L A C E   O F   O R I G I N: Tazlina, Alaska G R O U P: None F C: Dominique Provost-Chalkley

❝ there was a war in your childhood home, and you can still remember the fires, how the blood was pretty and sick on the bathroom’s pristine tiles, your mother’s still warm body limp in the tub. breathe in through the mouth: in, out, in. you are not guilty. ❞

↪ p e r s o n a l i t y ;

P O S I T I V E   T R A I T S: passionate ; tireless N E G A T I V E   T R A I T S: meddlesome ; aggressive

↪ b i o g r a p h y ;

L I F E   B E F O R E   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

     no one expected her mother to die so young. as teagan remembers her, she was beautiful, and happy, and full of life, and she was that way until she WASN’T. it’s a mystery what drove her to it, one that kept teagan awake late into the nights and that drove her sister to rebel, and shout, and kick and scratch and push them all away. they were a good family before. they went to church, they did the grocery shopping together, they ate at the table instead of behind closed doors and alone. teagan tried, she did everything she could to get things back to normal, but she was only a kid, she wasn’t nearly old enough to deal with alcohol and crime. still, she ate at the table alone, hoping someone would join, she cooked their moms recipes, she TRIED, okay? and however much she did, teagan never even fooled herself – she still cried, she still clung to boys years down the road like they could fill an emptiness. daddy issues? yeah, she guesses. he wasn’t present after her mother died. or, he was. he was a around, but not truly with them. he told teagan to take care of her sister like he was actually gone, or planning to leave.

     teagan never expected him to. through the loss of it all, she thought he’d stay. and he did, until the car wreck took him. it was no one’s fault – the roads were icy, of COURSE they were, it was alaska. through all the rebellion, there was no chance in hell her sister actually wanted their dad dead, right? she just happened to be in the other car. bad timing on their part, if nothing else. teagan must have told herself this a thousand times while sitting by her sister’s hospital bed. for all her devotion, she was rewarded with – he sister leaving town? of course, no, that seemed fair. teagan helped her sister pack, the pure exertion of keeping her tears down made her feel nauseousness. no more crying, her boyfriend told her that when he came to sit with her in the cafeteria of the hospital. she wouldn’t really be a tragedy if he didn’t leave her too; he got sick of waiting for her to come home  (  there was a new movie out, he REALLY wanted to see it with her – she kept shooting him down  ).  

    she finishes high school under a family friend’s care, and they try to  make the transition easy. they give her a job fresh out of school, and she holds onto it. her mom always insisted on working, she said it made her feelgood, and teagan understands. she had never been too sad, no. just during the aftermath of the tragedy, but she always bounced back, or at least tried to. the job, the family she stayed with – they helped her get to a place where she smiled daily. though she knew what people were thinking; shouldn’t she be upset? it’s UNNATURAL how happy she is, and maybe it was. maybe they were right, and it’s not until teagan meets herthat she feels more than ‘happy’.

    she’s pretty is the first thought to cross her mind, followed by ‘impure’, ‘sin’, and ‘WHO CARES’. well, the answer to that one is obvious; less than 300 people live in tazlina, they all know her for the passion in which she serves their breakfast and for the tragedy that lived in her  (  some people liked to say death followed her  ). they all care, everyone cares about everyone’s business. it’s sort of a thing. if you asked teagan, she could tell you pretty much anything about anyone – she worked in the only place to eat out in town, after all. but teagan loves her, and they spend two years with their relationship under wraps. she’s nice, isn’t she? for putting up with it, even though she’s not from the town and doesn’t really get it.

L I F E   D U R I N G   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

     her girlfriend must have been psychic, because she kept talking about how something felt wrong. of course though, she was a cop, she had every write to feel suspicious of, like, everything. it takes some time for tazlina to really be hit with anything. they’re isolated, there aren’t many of them. but when the infection does make it’s way there, she’s hauled out of the diner and shoved into the back of a police car. really though? teagan would have preferred the front. things weren’t AWFUL to begin with. they were just travelling, just seeing things – she thinks it was her girlfriend’s way of trying to keep things normal  (  and teagan appreciates the effort, she does but … normal was never easy to acheieve  ). they’re in idaho when death catches up to them. he must have been on vacation, or busy with everyone else, because for some time, things were GOOD, and idaho seemed fun. it’s not until they’re on the state line that he stops stalking and steps out to take a swing.

    teagan’s experience with hordes? some are pleasant. one lead her into cheyenne where she ended up with akind group, one chased her out when the raiders came in. all the rest? they’re poor. they separated her from the only person she really knew, they kept her from getting back to the people she used to know, they walked her into the arms of the raiders. though, maybe she did that herself? it gets cold, and she gets into a tussle with men much larger than herself, and, well, it ends with her waking up in their camp. were the people she ran into with them? well, no, not according to the people in the camp. defectors or something of the sort. it only serves to humanize them that they picked her up off the ground and took her home instead of mugging her and leaving her for dead. teagan feels something akin to grateful.

L I F E   A F T E R   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

     seven months? six? teagan forgot to keep track. she stays in for the majority of it anyway. she must not hold much value to them, but they keep her around anyway. maybe it’s so the men have company, or so the clothes get washed. whatever, it’s nothing teagan doesn’t offer to do; sticking around is something of a puzzle, a challenge. she wants to know why, and she wants to figure them out. she’s always been this way. late nights worrying over what happened with her mother lead her into overthinking and trying too hard to figure things out. it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she can’t rest easy around criminals and murderers.  and, you know, around the people who RUINED her camp. it’s been a long process.

     there’s only so much you can do when your shoulder has been separated and everything in it seems fucked. that, on top of some knee injury. teagan doesn’t know, she doesn’t ask. the doctors only serve to remind her that there are people she should get back to. she doesn’t bring up going back into cheyenne until it seems like everything has cleared out. she doesn’t get the go ahead until all the walkers show back up. if the raiders were playing at something with their timing, teagan doesn’t know what it is. she just knows that the period of time the walkers are gone, the raiders are busier. they seem like quite the opportunists. had she followed their lead, she would have bashed her company’s head in with her shotgun instead of asking to wander.

     back in cheyenne? everything is different. some buildings are burned down, some previously occupied are abandoned. she doesn’t know where anyone is. she can find them though, it’s the type of person she is – asking around is her THING, or, it’s more like snooping? she’s had a knack for it since she dug through her mother’s  things in search of answers.