#But of all the people I ever expected to show up in my dreams Bobby Rood was not one

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Thank you to everyone who prayed for a good night for me; I had weird dreams but not bad ones, and I got to hold a tiny baby, which I would say even counts as a good dream. 🥰

[henswilsons]

to love you, for god’s sake

buck/eddie | 4k+ | ao3

Mr LAFD Updates Man meets a popstar. aka bad s6 spec. aka im so sorry.

“Wait, the Palladium?” is the first thing Buck says when Bobby gets off the radio. “As in, the Hollywood Palladium?”

“I can imagine so,” Bobby says, as he starts the firetruck engine. They hadn’t even gotten back to the station before they’d been radioed for an extraction in the local area; next to Eddie, Chimney is frantically guzzling the coffee Ravi had fetched for them only seconds before. “Why, are you familiar with it?”

“I wonder,” Buck starts, and then nothing else, ears flaming red. Eddie touches their knees together. It’s mostly grounding, the way he always does whenever Buck gets cagey, but also—he knows that look.

That’s the I think we’re about to bump into an ex type look.

Eddie normally tries to pretend that Mr LAFD Updates Man is one extensive bad dream, but when he’s dating the most good-looking man in America, who has also probably hooked up with half of millennial Los Angeles, sometimes the fact he’s a semi-famous public figure comes in handy. Namely in that he watched a TED Talk about powerposing and is not necessarily above evoking the Wonderwoman stance at Buck’s shoulder if someone ever gets a little too familiar.

(Besides. He did not suffer through multiple shirtless of pictures of himself being memorialised on what Ravi has explained to him is gay Twitter for people to think his boyfriend is on the market.)

“You wonder?” he prompts mildly.

He’s expecting Buck to maybe shyly duck his head, admit that he once dated a concession girl who worked at the Hollywood Palladium, or maybe even that he hooked up with a roadie in one of the bathrooms there—but then fucking Ravi looks up sharply, too. “Did you say Hollywood Palladium?” he says.

Bobby frowns in the rearview. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

“No,” Buck and Ravi say, at the same time. Then they both wildly hold each other’s gazes like they’re daring the other to say anything.

“Wait,” Lucy says. “Isn’t that country guy doing a show there tonight?”

“Country guy?” Chimney says.

“Yeah, you know him. What’s his name—Gary something? He’s the one with the…” She does an ambiguous gesture, snapping her fingers to remember. “Glitter. And cowboy hat. Right?”

The image vaguely rings a bell in Eddie’s head. To Buck, he says, “Don’t you listen to a singer who wears glitter and cowboy hats?”

Buck’s face has steadily gone redder and redder and he’s stoutly avoiding eye contact, and oh, yeah, he so does, and yeah, this is so him. “…No.”

Eddie is delighted. “Yeah, you do. He sings that one song about moonlight, right, that you always play when you’re cooking dinner?” Cowboys Don’t Dance, is what it is. Eddie will never forget it—it’s the song they had their first kiss to, over a half-greased muffin tin and an attempt at bran cupcakes. “What’s it called again… Dancing Cowboys?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Buck says, cheeks scarlet. “You know what it’s called.”

“You’re right,” Eddie says, to be an asshole, snapping his fingers. “Cowboys Do Dance.”

“Cowboys Don’t Dance,” Ravi blurts, and then claps his hands over his mouth. Lucy looks like the cat who just got the cream. Chimney is glancing between everyone like he’s watching a ping-pong match and grinning maniacally. “It’s called Cowboys Don’t Dance and it’s by Gerald Rhinestone and he’s literally my favourite singer of all time and he’s got a show at the Palladium tonight.”

Everyone stares at him. Buck points a shaking finger at him. “You’re a Rhinestone?”

“Of course I’m a Rhinestone,” Ravi snaps. “I have a Twitter account.”

“His name is Gerald Rhinestone?” Chimney says. He looks like he’s trying not to burst into laughter. “Is that a stage name?”

“Yes,” Buck says, “obviously. His real name is Dom Simmons.”

Eddie is so, so fucking charmed. “Obviously.”

“Don’t even start with me,” Buck says to him. “I know you know what that song was called.”

“Now, I’m not insinuating anything,” Chimney says, “but all I am saying is that that name sounds like it belongs to a gay pornstar.”

“Are we about to meet Gerald Rhinestone?” Ravi says, panicked. “Cap, did they say anything?”

Bobby’s voice is bubbling with laughter when he says, “No, dispatch did not let me know if there was a popstar there as well.”

“He’s not a popstar,” Buck says, “he’s a country star.”

“There’s a difference,” Ravi says.

“Man,” Lucy says. “I did not think the inside of his firetruck could possibly get any gayer after Buck and Eddie got together. And yet here are.”

Ravi maturely sticks his tongue out at her, and she sticks hers out in return. Hen says, “Oh, Karen loves Gerald Rhinestone. She always plays his music around the house when she’s cleaning.”

“What does she listen to?” Buck says.

“Her favourite is that one about horses. What’s it called—Ride?”

“Ride Until We Die,” Buck says. To Ravi, he mouths, basic, and Ravi nods gravely. Hen catches him and kicks him. “Sorry, but it is!”

Before they can start squabbling, the truck comes to a stop. “Okay, we’re here,” Bobby says, and then, before any of them can get out, he turns around in his seat, hooking an arm over the back of it, and looks at Buck and Ravi. “If—and I mean if—your Gary Rhinestone—”

“Gerald,” Ravi mumbles.

“—is in there, I want you to remember that we’re professionals and we have a job to do. I understand being starstruck—goodness knows when I met Scott Hamilton I blacked out—but we’re going into an active medical scene here, and I need you to keep your heads on. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Cap,” Buck and Ravi say. Eddie squeezes Buck’s knee.

“Who’s Scott Hamilton?” Chimney says.

Bobby frowns at him. “You don’t know Scott Hamilton?” Chimney shrugs. Bobby looks at everyone in the truck, and is greeted by blank faces. “Scott Hamilton? He won the Olympic gold in the 1984 Winter Olympics?”

There is a pause. “Oh, that Scott Hamilton,” Chimney says, feebly. Bobby just huffs a laugh and climbs out the truck.

Everyone follows suit, Hen and Ravi still hotly debating at how many songs and which ones they are can someone claim themselves a fan, but Eddie lingers to the back, with Buck, whose feet slow on the sidewalk outside the truck as he gapes at the big neon GERALD RHINESTONE sign across the front of the venue. He looks completely awestruck, and even though they’re at work, Eddie can’t help but nudge their hips together, just a little, coming to a stop beside him: Bobby’s at the front, anyway.

“You doing okay?” he teases, softly.

“I think I’m about to die,” Buck says. “God, Eddie, what if he’s there? What if I meet Gerald Rhinestone?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “You really think he’ll be there this early?”

“I don’t know! Maybe!” Buck presses a grieved hand to his forehead. It’s kinda hysterical how nervous he looks. If Eddie were any less secure in their relationship, he might have started getting jealous. “How’s my hair?”

“It looks good,” Eddie says; means it, because of course it does, because it’s Buck, who’s beautiful even when it’s curling and hanging over his forehead, but who also takes care to gel and comb it into place every morning. Buck smiles, a little surprised, anyway.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Of course. You always look good.”

Buck’s smile comes a little softer. “You knew the name of the song, didn’t you? In the truck?”

“I’m not going to forget something like that.” He means that, too, because it’s not every day you kiss the love of your goddamn life for the first time, yanking open the front door, still in his dispatch uniform, Buck having beat him home by twenty minutes and stress-baking muffins for Christopher’s bake sale that Friday, barely getting a “hey” out before Eddie had strode across the kitchen, taken his face in his hands, and kissed him fucking silly—but also because the song is called Cowboys Can’t Dance. That’s the name of the song they had their first kiss to. Cowboys Can’t Dance.

It could have been worse, is how he comforts himself. He knows Buck unironically has Wonderwall on that playlist.

“Buckley! Diaz!” Bobby calls, halfway up the steps to the entrance. “You coming?”

“You’re a romantic piece of shit sometimes, Diaz,” Buck says, but he gets in an ass-pinch before he’s dancing up the steps, laughing delightedly as Eddie chases him up. “Hey, this is workplace harassment!”

It appears he’s mostly forgotten about Gerald Rhinestone, but it doesn’t last long. Someone harried greets them in the foyer, leading them into the mostly-empty auditorium, which is predominantly populated by venue and tour staff carting around wires and roadcases. “He must have completely misjudged the end of the stage,” the woman is explaining as she hurries down the aisle, the 118 close at her heels. “They were just rehearsing for the set tonight and then he fell into the orchestra pit. He’s okay, I think, he’s talking and awake and lucid, but I think he’s done something to his ankle.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bobby says. “We’ll take it from here.”

She nods gratefully, clasping her hands into a worried knot beneath her chin, and steps back, allowing them to all peer over the edge of the orchestra pit.

To Eddie, it just looks like a regular guy on the floor, surrounded by people all still carrying instruments, but from beside him Buck lets out a squeak and Ravi mumbles something that sounds like a prayer for help. Eddie glances at them, but then Bobby is calling down, “LAFD, sir, just hold on for us a little longer,” and is herding them all down staircase on the side of the pit to enter in.

“How are you boys doing?” Hen teases as they descend.

“I think I’m about to die,” Ravi says faintly.

“I heard you praying,” Chimney says. ��I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I was blaspheming and hoping God would just kill me.”

Eddie hides a smile. “There’s something kinda wrong with both of you.”

“Okay, funny, Mr Breakdown,” Ravi snits, and Eddie says, mostly on instinct, “LAFD Updates Man, actually.”

Ravi glowers. “I liked you better when you were straight.”

Buck lets out a hysterical giggle.

Eddie’s eyes adjust when they get to the bottom of the stairs. He’s never been one for live theatre—why see people from far away onstage when you could just watch a movie?—but he had definitely misjudged how big orchestra pits are. In his head, they’d always been huge, but this one is small, and crowded—both enough so that there’s really nowhere for Buck to escape to, though Eddie can tell he wants to as they all shoulder their way through what presumably is the band, still holding their instruments and looking worried.

And then—

“I told y’all,” says the man, still on the ground. He looks relatively okay, aside from his ankle, which is twisted at a nasty angle and beginning to go purple. Someone’s elevated it on a chair, and there’s a person behind him helping him sit upright. “You didn’t need to call 911.”

“Were you expecting to play the set with a snapped ankle, Dom?” a lady holding a banjo says to him.

“Well, no, but we could have just driven me. I’m so sorry about the inconvenience,” the man adds to Bobby, at the front of the group, and though he’s not talking to him directly Buck goes a pretty pink all over. “Thank y’all for coming all this way.”

“Not a problem,” Bobby says. “We were in the area.” He nods behind him. “Hen, Chim, can you check his ankle? Eddie, check for any head injuries.

“Cap, yes, Cap,” Chimney says, because he likes to think he’s funny, and then they’re swanning over, Hen and Chimney settling beside his elevated ankle and Eddie crouching next to him, pulling out his penlight.

“How’s your head, sir?” he says. The man turns to look at him, and—yeah, okay, Eddie gets the hype now. He’s more into the stocky guys himself, hence Buck, who is built like a barn, but he can’t deny that this is a beautiful man in front of him, all green eyes and dark hair. He can imagine this dude probably makes a killing on dating apps, especially if he looks at people the way he’s looking at Eddie. Damn, Eddie can’t imagine what he’d be like if he actually turned it on.

“Oh, all good,” the man says. He does a once-over of Eddie, probably verifying that he’s LAFD. “I didn’t hit it when I fell.”

His banjo player sighs somewhere above them. “Yeah, because you landed feet-first like an idiot and crumpled like a Coke can.”

“I’m just going to check your pupils, to be safe,” Eddie says, and flashes the penlight at the man’s eyes. (Or—he’s not really the man, considering Eddie knows who he is, but what does he call him? Gerald Rhinestone? Dom? Just Gerald? He feels as though Gerald Rhinestone must be in all capitals whenever he says it in his head.) The man’s eyes look more than fine, though his pupils are a little dilated. Eddie frowns, putting the penlight down. Maybe it’s just a little dark in here. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Gerald,” the man says, which at least saves Eddie the panic of deciding what to call him in his head. He holds out his hand, even though Eddie hadn’t been introducing himself. “And yours?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “I’m Eddie.”

He shakes his hand. Gerald holds on for a little long. There is a choking noise behind them.

“Say,” Gerald says, finally. “You look kinda familiar.”

“Just one of those faces, I guess,” Eddie says. “Can you tell me the date?”

Gerald ignores him, squinting. It’s not until his friend holding him up sucks in a breath and says, “Holy shit, are you that Twitter guy?” that he seems to land on where he recognises him from.

And of course, it’s Twitter. It’s always fucking Twitter.

“Yes,” Eddie says, a little resigned. Whichever influencer slid into his DMs to reassure him that the internet’s memory was fleeting and he’d be back to his normal life in a manner of weeks was talking from their ass, because it’s been nearly a year and he’s still getting this sort of shit. (He supposes it doesn’t help that Josh is apparently still milking his likeness all over Twitter for dispatch interaction. Not that he knows this, because he deleted Twitter.) “Can you tell me the date, Gerald?”

“November twelfth,” Gerald says, and his eyes do another deliberate drag down Eddie’s body. It’s not until what definitely sounds like Buck from behind him makes a wheezing sound that Eddie realises, with a sudden start, that he thinks he might be getting hit on. “You’re impressive up close, Mr LAFD Updates.”

Eddie cannot be getting hit on by the man who wrote the song he had his first kiss with Buck with. This can’t really be happening.

“You should see him from far away,” Chimney jokes, from still beside his ankle. “Gets so much more handsome when you can’t see his face properly.”

Eddie is a professional, so he doesn’t flip him off, but then Gerald says, “Mm, I don’t know about that,” and he nearly chokes.

“Uh,” he says.

Thankfully, Bobby, his guardian angel, unknowingly descends on them, placing a hand on his shoulder. “How’s our friend, Eddie?” he says.

Eddie bluescreens for a second longer, Gerald still smirking at him, before he remembers, oh, yeah, technically in a workplace, and snaps back into action. “Doesn’t look like he obtained any head injuries—I think it may just be the ankle that got injured.”

“Good,” Bobby says. To Gerald, he says, “Our paramedics are just splinting your ankle so we can lift you onto a stretcher—you’ll be out of here in no time, sir.”

“Thank you,” Gerald says, though this is more of a leer to Eddie than anything.

To Eddie’s surprise, Bobby doesn’t move away at this; he stays, hand still on Eddie’s shoulder, as if deliberating something. Then finally, he leans forward a little furtively. “I have two firefighters behind me who are big fans,” he says, lowly. “Do you mind terribly if they come say hello? I think they’re both jumping out of their skin.”

Gerald laughs. “Of course. I love meeting fans.” He winks at Eddie, who feels himself traitorously blush a little. (Look, he can’t help it, okay? Gerald Rhinestone is a handsome dude.)

Bobby hasn’t even properly straightened before Buck and Ravi are making beelines, Lucy swaggering behind them, snapping at her gum with her arms folded. Eddie feels Buck’s hand dust across his shoulder, and he reaches up to smooth a hand over it before it then basically pushes him out the way and Buck settles in next to him, eyes huge and wide. “Hi, Mr Rhinestone,” he squeaks. “I’m a huge fan.”

He holds out his hand. Gerald laughs warmly and shakes it. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Buck evidently did not anticipate getting this far, because he just kind of gapes. Eddie magnanimously steps in.

“This is Buck,” he says, and Gerald’s smile gets a little smirkier. “And that’s Ravi.”

“Hi,” Ravi manages, still stood. “I really like your vest.”

Gerald looks down at himself like he’d forgotten what he was wearing. For the first time, Eddie properly registers the pink sparkly waistcoat, unbuttoned to show off a lot of his tanned hairless chest. “Oh, thank you,” he says. “I like your… gear.”

Ravi giggles. (Fucking giggles!) Buck just keeps kinda gaping.

“I was just getting acquainted with your coworker here,” Gerald continues, and oh no. “He was just telling me about his stint as Mr LAFD Updates Man.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eddie says, but it falls on deaf ears.

“I have to say, I’m a big fan,” Gerald says. “I turned on post notifications and everything.”

“Wow,” Ravi says, dreamily.

“That’s nice,” says Eddie.

“And when I saw him today,” Gerald continues, “I almost couldn’t believe it. It’s not every day you meet a celebrity.”

Buck and Ravi are nodding so intently Eddie’s a little afraid for their necks. “Sure isn’t,” Buck agrees, as Ravi says solemnly, “So true.”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Ah, well. I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity.”

“Mm,” Gerald says, still smirking. “Say, Mr LAFD Updates Man, I don’t suppose I could get a photo?”

Eddie—blinks. “Of me?”

“Well, sure,” Gerald agrees easily, “but I was hoping with you.”

Eddie glances at Buck. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for Buck to be looking at him like he’s stupid. “It’s rude to keep someone waiting, Eddie,” he says.

And—okay. Well, then. “Uh, sure,” Eddie says, thrown. He’s had to get good at selfies, unfortunately, considering after the first one was posted online he has been exponentially accosted with more people asking for them, and due to the nature of his job this wouldn’t be the first that’s been taken on a medical scene—his personal favourite was with the girl who had accidentally been shot in the leg with a crossbow—but it is the first that he can see, in his peripheral, Buck and Ravi desperately trying to get in the frame of in the background. Gerald leans a little too close as he takes the picture—Buck’s eyebrow and birthmark makes it in, as does the flick of Ravi’s hair—and then, to Eddie’s surprise, passes the phone to him.

“To put your number in,” he says.

Eddie gapes at him, and then turns to frown at Buck. Buck prods, “Eddie, give the man your number.”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, but does as he’s told. He doesn’t put a name, which maybe was a bad idea, because Gerald does so himself when he passes it back, as Mr LAFD Updates Man and a—Christ alive—eggplant emoji—yeah, after dating Buck for a year Eddie now knows what that means.

“I’ll text you, cowboy,” Gerald says, with a wink.

“…Okay,” Eddie says. This is bizarre. This whole day is bizarre. Buck vibrating next to him is absolutely bizarre.

“Can we get pictures too?” Ravi pipes.

And so Gerald fucking Rhinestone takes photos with both Ravi and Buck, and then also Hen for Karen, and records a video for Ravi’s Twitter followers, and then his manager asks if they want to take a group picture for his social media and Eddie somehow ends up between Buck and Gerald—who is still on the floor with a broken ankle, may he add—and feels like he’s stepped into an alternate dimension.

This is the weirdest fucking day of his life.

Finally, Hen and Chimney help him onto a backboard, and Buck and Chimney carry him out the auditorium and into the ambulance. By now, they’ve garnered company, and Bobby as well as the venue staff are standing shoulder to shoulder trying to keep the fans back. Gerald doesn’t help, waving to them from his backboard like a king on a dais, and then someone shrieks, “That’s Mr LAFD Updates Man!” and Eddie pretty much makes a run for the firetruck.

“Holy shit,” Ravi says, once they’ve all climbed in. “What just happened. I think I blacked out.”

“I cannot believe you got his fucking number,” Lucy says, with a laugh.

“Yeah, neither can I,” Eddie says, and knocks his knee pointedly into Buck’s. Buck is still vibrating a little—it’s kinda adorable, how fucking psyched he is, like a kid with an ice cream, but also Eddie needs some clarity here. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Uh, because Gerald Rhinestone was hitting on you?” Buck says. “Baby, I wouldn’t even be upset if you left me for him.”

Eddie gapes. Fucking gapes. Ravi says, “Word,” from behind his phone, probably live-Tweeting this whole conversation. Eddie wonders if it’s worth it to fall out the truck into moving traffic.

“What?” he says. “Why would I do that?”

He’s dismayed, actually, that Buck would say that, and Buck must notice, because he quickly takes his hand. “Hey, I’m kidding,” he says. “If you left me for him I’d be fucking devastated. Like, the kind of devastation I don’t think I could ever recover from.” The rest of the truck are politely pretending not to hear this. “It’s just… you know. He’s Gerald Rhinestone. I’d let you.”

Eddie is so, so confused. “Let me what?”

“You know. Have sex with him.”

Chimney barks with laughter and Hen elbows him. She is looking so pointedly out the window that her neck is almost at a full one-eighty turn. Eddie repeats, “Have sex with Gerald Rhinestone.”

“I’d be ashamed of you if you didn’t.”

“What the fuck,” Eddie says. “Why would I want to have sex with Gerald Rhinestone?”

Buck owlishly blinks at him. “Did you not see him?”

“I mean—yeah, I was there.”

“He’s hot like burning.”

“I mean, I guess,” Eddie says. “But why would I want to have sex with anyone who wasn’t you?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lucy mutters, and Chimney starts rolling down the window, probably to make his escape, but all Eddie can focus on is Buck, the way his face softens, eyes growing soppy—but also so in love Eddie aches a little.

“You sweet-talker, you,” Buck says, softly.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, and I’m mad, because if our positions were swapped I probably would have sex with Gerald Rhinestone.” Eddie elbows him. “I’m joking!”

“You’re so not,” Eddie says, and Buck grins at him, kinda guilelessly. Big burly overcoats and seatbelts be damned, Eddie throws an arm around his shoulders, and Buck obligingly tips, head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’d probably have sex with Ryan Reynolds if he asked.”

Buck bites a little at his shoulder. “Asshole,” he says, but his fingers find Eddie’s anyway, link together even when he sits up. They don’t hold hands much at work, at most just a quick squeeze, but here, neither of them let go.

Bobby says, from the front of the truck, “That was information I didn’t need to know about either of you.”

“This whole thing is going on Twitter, by the way,” Ravi says. “So you know.”

Buck squeezes his hand and smiles at him, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked. For the first time, Eddie can’t say he cares.

[lemotmo]

I love that we're all just spiraling into AU theories 🙃

Q. I'm nervous about the fact that they have clearly added several Lonestar writers. That show is so ridiculous and all the BTS stuff coming out is making me more confused, haha. Because what the actual hell is happening?? Hello magazine cover!

A. Okay it's time for some truth. Is Lonestar a ridiculous show? Yes. But 911 is not free of its own ridiculous choices. I watch Lonestar. And it's nothing but mindless television. It's pure fluff. It's wacky and over the top and does certain things that are absolutely ridiculous. But so does 911. We just tend to give it more of a pass because it's the show we prefer, and overall it is the far superior product. Overall it has better characters. Overall it has better acting. Overall it has better stories, but they're still capable of telling absolute garbage. The entire back half of last season proves that. The first half wasn't without its flaws either. For starters spending three episodes on the sinking ship was definitely one episode too many, in my opinion. Especially when you account for the fact that a great deal of that time was spent on that ridiculous Norman and Lola plot. It was stupid and was allowed to take up way too much time. Was anyone dying for an update on Norman and Lola? No. Literally no one cared if we ever saw them again, but there they were front and center for three freaking episodes. Let's move to the wedding episode now. Was that much hallucinated Doug necessary? Nope. Again, way too much screen time devoted to a part of the story absolutely no one wanted to see again. The episode was excellent overall but there was way too much unnecessary Doug. Then we spent the rest of the season with Bobby and the cartel, vigilante Athena, and Eddie dating his dead wife's twin. Utterly ridiculous television. We have to call a spade a spade.

If they really are doing an AU everyone will need to understand that a storyline like that comes with a certain built in level of ridiculousness. All of the speculation is fun and interesting, and some of it probably way better than what we will actually get, but people need to acknowledge parts of it will most likely be ridiculous. It's called fantasy for a reason. We can't automatically expect it to play like Buck's coma dream. We're most likely going to have to suspend reality for a bit. Especially considering the BTS stuff we've gotten so far leans more satirical than dramatic. Obviously we have no actual details but I just don't want people raging if it goes more camp than serious. That doesn't mean the events that lead up to the AU or the parts that come after the AU can't or won't be serious. I just think people should have the expectation of at least some of it being ridiculous. And that's okay. It's okay to have a bit of fun with it. And yeah the magazine was odd, lol. I have no idea what's happening. He does look like Eddie. Kind of. So who knows. The big thing for me was that he was hiding his hand, again. So that's clearly going to be something. Hopefully he does get to punch Gerard. But I doubt it. That would just require makeup for bruising, unless he breaks his hand doing it, but the cast would just slip on and off, so there would be no need to keep it on when he wasn't filming. Then again this is 911 so anything is possible. They're clearly reading our theories though so I'm not even sure if everything we're getting can be taken seriously. This got long, anon. I'm mostly just trying to tell you to not overthink everything. Which we're all going to do anyway so......

Thank you Nonny!

I have never watched Lone Star beyond episode 2, so I can't really comment on the first part of this ask.

As for the possibility of an AU episode? It's been done successfully before in other more 'serious' shows, so it can be done. I do think the 911 writers are clever enough to pull it off.

That magazine article is probably nothing. Someone over on Twitter found the stock picture that was used for that magazine. You can find it here. So in all likelihood it was just a prop magazine and the guy on the cover happened to look like Ryan. Who knows?

I agree that Ryan hiding his hand each time was very interesting. And the magazine picture was taken in the emergeny room. So, that might be something.

But yeah, we don't really know anything at this point. It's just a guessing game. Let's just enjoy the speculating and theorising and hopefully we'll get some good new bts content this week. Then we can obsess over something else yet again. XD LOL!

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

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If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove and I felt like some public masochism so here we are!

Edit: Holy fuck this got long, putting it under a read-more.

How many works do you have on ao3?

258 although I orphaned 100 works back in 2020.

What's your total Ao3 word count?

Why. Why would you ask me this. Why would you do this to me.

4,578,245 - although I shudder to think how much it will have gone up by the end of the year.

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly 9-1-1, but I took a nosedive into Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves last year and still have one more fic I'm writing for it. I tend to have quick little detours into other fandoms, which I think is overall a good thing since it helps me flex my writing muscles with different characters and settings. I'm currently working on a fic that is from a show where the main characters are all constantly sassing each other and bickering, and it's pushed me into being witty and sharp with the dialogue and humor in a way that I don't think I have been in quite some time.

Top 5 Fics by Kudos:

Even Steel Blades Need Fire - that's right, a WITCHER fic. HA. You all weren't expecting that!

Leading with the Left - yeah yeah we all knew this one was coming.

Drowning in Dreams (You're My Raft) - I'm constantly surprised this little oneshot I wrote post-tsunami is so popular.

Footprints are More Easily Seen in the Snow - my first Witcher fic I ever wrote and might still actually be my favorite.

Sometimes a Hammer, Sometimes a Lockpick - another Witcher fic! I had a lot of fun with this one.

Do you respond to comments?

I do! I try to respond to every comment I get. I know not everyone can but given the anxiety I know readers have around giving comments I try to show how much every comment is appreciated by me.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I do happy endings, overall, but every once in a while I decide to be evil, so it's a tie between the two fics that are about a character dying:

The Soft Goodbye - a Timeless fic that focuses on the idea that time travel, like being in space for a long time, wreaks havoc on your body.

Full Circle - a Doctor Who fic written years ago speculating about the Doctor gifting a dying Donna her memories back so they can say goodbye.

For those of you in the 9-1-1 fandom however, since I'm sure everyone's looking at those two fics going "wait what," the fic with the angstiest ending is:

I'm Not Breathing Unless I'm Giving You CPR - spoiler alert, but I end this fic on an angsty and purposefully ambiguous note. It's up to the reader to decide what sort of ending they get.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh. All of them, I'd say? With the exception of the two MCD fics above, I deliver happy endings. However based on reader feedback, I think I'll go with...

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows Like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) - the amount of angst in this fic, especially the Bobby and Buck relationship, seems to hit readers extra hard and so the happy ending, especially Buck's reunion with his father figure, is extra joyful and cathartic.

Do you get hate on fics?

I have once in a blue moon gotten "flames," as we used to say. Writing fanfic since I was thirteen, I don't think it's possible to fully avoid a few cranky people with nothing better to do than go around and shit on people's beds. But I've been extraordinarily lucky in the love and kindness I've gotten from my readers.

Do you write smut?

Baby, it's what I'm known for. Honestly sometimes to my chagrin - I hope people enjoy my worldbuilding, characterization, and plots as well - but overall I have a lot of fun writing smut and I love reducing people to slack-jawed water-chugging babbles.

Also someone had to bring the monsterfucking around here so by golly I'm reporting for duty.

Craziest crossover?

I don't do crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup! Someone stole my Budde Porn Star AU and turned it into a Rooster/Hangman from TG:M fic. Someone kindly alerted me and I was able to report it to Ao3. Truly a surreal experience.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Multiple times. It's deeply flattering and I really admire translators who put in the work to take something from one language and convey the same meanings, flow, and story in another. Translation is a genuine art form, if you ask me.

Have you co-written a fic before?

Yes! A few times, all with my beloved @extasiswings. We did one Timeless fic together whispers like poetry and we had such fun that when I started my first long, plot-ty Buddie fic I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) and panicked, I roped her into finishing it with me.

We also co-wrote Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me because I was in a bad writing slump and she graciously made everything better, and then A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words (But Love is Undefinable) because she uno reverse'd me.

All time favorite ship?

I've been shipping for so long it's incredibly hard to pick just one, but I think given the sheer depth of my insanity, I have to say Buddie. I haven't had a ship grip me like this in... ever, actually. Honestly after being burned hard on some previous ships in my time, names redacted to protect the guilty (me), I didn't think it was possible to love a ship this much, and yet here I am.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I plan to finish all of my WIPs. Once I start a fic I'm committed to finishing it. I do however have a couple fic ideas that I don't think I'll ever actually write.

What are your writing strengths?

Um. Smut, apparently. I also seem to do well with fusions; that is, taking one trope or setting and fusing it with another in a sort of plot mash-up. And people seem to really like my world building.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm a hyper-sexual person who is very casual about sexual relationships and so sometimes I think as a result I have characters think with their cocks a bit too much and jump too quickly into sex, and sometimes there's more smut than plot. Run-on sentences, my beloved (and my editor's beloathed). I tend to write out-of-order and so sometimes little plot details can contradict, not be followed up on, or get lost in the shuffle.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't really write dialogue in another language in most of my fandoms, but in a few it's come up and I've approached it in different ways.

In Timeless, the character Garcia Flynn's first language is Croatian, so I would have him sometimes speak in it. In my dragon!Jaskier series, I was able to bastardize some of the Draconic from D&D (mixed with some Germanic root languages) for when he was cursing or communicating with his draconic family. In both cases, the other language was limited to only a line or two of dialogue, or perhaps a single word, so I wrote the dialogue in that language, and then had a translation guide at the bottom of the fic.

This tends to be my modus operandi, an exception being Xenk speaking Thayan, because I couldn't find any actual Thayan for the life of me, so I just describe how the phrase sounds or allude to him muttering something/swearing/etc. Since Ed, a former spy, also speaks Thayan, he can then inform the reader through his thought-process what the Thayan meant.

Occasionally, I will have two characters speaking in another language and simply italicize their words and have a line of description saying "they switch to French" or something similar, since I don't want readers to have to scroll up and down to understand an entire conversation.

In my original novels, however - the Horsemen quartet specifically - the characters communicate about fifty percent of the time through sign language. It's become the lingua franca, because noise alerts zombies and ASL is a silent language. In the books, I write the dialogue as I would English, and simply have the dialogue tag "she signed" instead of "she said."

As someone who speaks other languages but for whom English is their first, I'm not sure I get to really speak on how and when one should use other languages in one's predominantly-English fic in a predominantly-English-speaking fandom and online space. All I can say is that I listen to what others say in regards to what is most respectful and comfortable, and I don't have any personal preference in how a writer handles the use of secondary languages in their writing.

First fandom you wrote in?

I'm not sure which came first since they were right on top of each other, but Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Favorite fic you've written?

Well that's just mean. How dare you. I don't have one favorite fic, that's like asking me to choose a favorite child.

I will say I am particularly fond of In the Gray You are Golden. I banged it out in a day in some kind of fugue state and I do think it's one of my best works.

Someday when I am filthy rich I will commission someone to draw it as a comic, especially the reunion scene between Buck, Eddie, and Christopher.

Tagging, with no pressure:

@princessfbi @buckttommy @extasiswings @kitkatpancakestack @gracieryder (once again I typed your fucking old url like five times...)

aaaaaaand @givemeunicorns.

[my-shields-are-down]

You’re allowed to feel however you feel, and watch or not watch. Everything is valid.

But what Melissa said Eric was pushing for and what Eric himself has been open about wanting since before the season started, was for Chenford’s relationship to be messy. He didn’t want it to be smooth sailing and he wanted them to face struggles like a real couple. Melissa said they were surprised the writers took it that far.

But no one has ever said that Eric specifically wanted a break up. Nor has there been any implication that it’s what his wife wanted. You’re putting words in real people’s mouths.

There’s also no implication that Chenford won’t work their way back together. All Eric said is that he and Melissa still have fun scenes together and that there isn’t a ‘guarantee of anything, but it leaves it in a place where there’s stuff to talk about’ in the finale. That in no way sounds like the door is shut on Chenford. Obviously I don’t think they’re going to get back together by the end of the season, because there’s only 4 more episodes and they have a lot of work to do. But assuming the show is renewed for season 7, I can pretty much guarantee Chenford isn’t done.

Side note— If Eric or Roselyn truly did have a problem with Chenford and brought it forward to the show, The Rookie instagram page wouldn’t still have ‘#Chenford stan account’ in its bio.

++++++++++

Hello Anon - thank you for the message.

This is the first tv show that I’ve ever actively participated in the online fandom side of things. I never knew all of this existed until I stumbled upon a critique of an Arrow episode on Twitter that led me here to tumblr.

I grew up before streaming existed. I’m older than Google and MTV and cell phones 🤭. I took a typewriter to college. 80s new wave music speaks to my soul - Top Gun came out my senior year in high school, not long after the Challenger Space Shuttle exploded. I also have an MBA in Marketing so I get how tv shows and cast members market the shows to get people in the seats.

Why do I mention this? Because my perspective is different than yours.

Oh my god, between here and Twitter, IG, tiktok, etc. I’m exhausted. I rage posted for almost 48 hours straight because of a fictional couple on a tv show. I have never been so intensely angry in my life - ever.

The show and Chenford have taken over my life and not in a good way.

At this point, I am unfollowing the fandom in Twitter, I’ve unfollowed the cast on TikTok and IG. I unsubscribed from podcasts that don’t get me to a better me.

I don’t want to see any bts, read any more interviews, see any more cameos. It’s all noise to me and I need to focus on me and get back to being excited about the show. Going in blind with no expectations, excited to see new stories (well, not Nolan being a dad again 🤢).

Back to your post - I read the same interviews you did. The cast comments about Chenford were all past tense. I didn’t see any sorrow or regret about the demise of the couple by either Mel or Eric. They both prefer angsty scenes. I didn’t see ANY hope expressed by either that their individual stories would lead them back to each other. Alexi has been silent - and I have never trusted him to do right by Chenford.

Eric has repeatedly said this was never planned for - meaning in the whole overall arc of the show this fan based couple threw a major wrench into the original story arcs for both characters. With Tim reverting back to tough guy Tim from the early seasons, I take that to be like a do over to redo the show the way Alexi intended WITHOUT Tim and Lucy as a couple.

So no, I don’t think they will get back together. Definitely not by the end of the season. I don’t believe Alexi - who was very vocal during the early seasons about never putting these two characters together - has any intention to bring them back to each other. Hopefully, he won’t treat Chenford like Dallas treated the whole Bobby Ewing death thing (making a whole season a dream).

Maybe I’m wrong, I’ll find that out by watching the show.

- Andrea

[rifter-pride]

how to make aurboborbo lore actually good:

aurboborbos live in a separate chronopunk society atop the behemoth. bc the behemoth is canonically too damn tall, no flighted dragon has ever seen their society from the air and all risks can be mitigated by the aurboborbo's possession of the loop, which they can just pocket sand at people in a pinch.

(however pocket looping people is something frowned upon in aurboborbo society so it's only for emergencies and not all willy nilly whenever)

aurboborbos derive some kind of macguffin thing from the behemoth, or else cannot travel far from the behemoth's canopy bc ancient magic reasons. maybe both.

our story POV should be an aurboborbo and not a modern dragon, because fish out of water stories are inherently better than some crusty nigel thornberry knockoff. sorry juniper but zzz.

so our POV should be like idk bobbi the aurboborbo who dreams of the ground below and they build a chronosuit or whatever to help them leave the canopy to expand aurboborbo society/knowledge and/or the canopy macguffin has stopped working (remember when the ancients and tidelord and everything were all down to the bounty of the elements lore 100 years ago? why not bring that back for a change) and bobbi volunteers to leave aurboborbo society to figure out a solution.

the story should be chiefly about bobbi pretending to be a coatl while stuffed into a trenchcoat and loathing the feeling of apparel, bc i think it would be funny to have this kind of nod to on-site mechanics. bobbi also keeps a log of all the weird shit they learn about modern dragon societies and a list of questions they plan to someday ask a modern dragon whenever this whole isolationist society gig blows over, which bobbi is increasingly sure/hopeful it will, because modern dragons have french fries or w/e and bobbi thinks those are just great.

there should be 1 modern dragon who has some knowledge or ability relevant to bobbi's situation who is able to detect when some time magic fuckery is about and they get interested in trying to figure out why their "coatl" neighbour weighs 126 tons and speaks fluent draconic (2 things none of their OTHER coatl neighbours have ever done). there should be at least some tense journal entries from bobbi about their cat-and-mouse relationship to this friendly modern neighbour involving casserole. (bobbi loves this casserole. yet another reason to dissolve the wall between the two societies.)

anyway bobbi gets into hijinks and tries pocket looping people to resolve the hijinks, which either a) gets them in trouble with the time guardians (guardians of time) in the greater aurboborbo society or b) just happens to coincide with a great report bobbi sends back to HQ which results in a small delegation of aurboborbos showing up while bobbi is in the penultimate hijink. either way, the penultimate hijink should end with modern breeds and aurboborbos doing this but with various kinds of magics

because this is funny.

anyway this is just some shit that got blasted into my brain pan after reading this lackluster lore and contemplating how to do a "2 separate societies meeting for the first time" story in a way that is fun and inverts some expectations and was not already tired all the way back in 1995.

[mrsbsmooth]

Aww you’re all so sweet 🥺 I didn’t expect anyone to actually like that little Bobby thing! I’m really not a good writer (I never know when to use past and present tbh, especially in English bc it’s not my native language!) but thank you everyone!

And anybody is more than welcome to build onto it and create something actually good!

I didn’t really think much further than that tbh haha! I was just thinking, he would definitely flirt with her (in his cute clumsy Bobby way) and MC would definitely be into it. But MC is definitely guarded because of all the shit she’s been through, she doesn’t really trust it 100%. And who could blame her? And Bobby notices and just can’t help but give her a hug and, so that nobody hears him, whispers to her that she’s strong but she doesn’t have to deal with this shit if she doesn’t want to. Not for a tv show that only cares about her drama and her being miserable for views. Nobody, especially not her, should destroy their self worth and mental health for this stupid show. (Because let’s be honest.. they have it out for MC! Someone was so excited for Gabi to come in because that would hurt and cause drama. And being in a situation like that could so easily destroy someone! It’s been so cruel..)

And he would tell her that he would love to get to know her, trying to not sound too pushy and make her uncomfortable. But he can’t just leave without shooting his shot! And he joked that if he could, he would take her with him right now! (“Joke” sure Bobby..) And MC does flirt back so that has to mean something? But then the camera is fixed and he has to leave (it would be too suspicious to break another one… right?) and it breaks his heart to leave her there, with all these people who don’t really give a shit about her. But he leaves, with one last look and smile at her and then he’s gone.

And he’s sitting in his hotel room that night, beating himself up for not trying harder. She shouldn’t be in that villa with no one to care about her. With her life only being used for drama and views. It makes him sad to think of her all alone in there…

But he doesn’t know that MC is really thinking about leaving. It was always on her mind, since the first time she saw Suresh. But for some reason, she stayed.. but now? She might actually be finally done. And the production people could tell something was off and are trying to convince her to stay but why would she? She thought she could find love here again but after Bobby’s words to her.. she’s realising that they never wanted her in the Villa for that. They just wanted her hurt and the drama that would come from it. And god, it has been hurting. She constantly feels like breaking down, everything is just getting too much. And she doesn’t feel like she has an ally, an actual friend, in this damn Villa. Everyone always has an ulterior motive, she couldn’t trust any of them.

So why would she stay? Like Bobby said, why should she destroy herself for this? She doesn’t want to see any of the people here ever again after this is over. So why not end it early? She hasn’t been happy here anyway. It’s just been feeling miserable and uncomfortable the entire time she’s been here. So she’s going to leave. And production is trying to stop her, telling her to think it over but she’s packing her bags. Throwing her clothes into her suitcase, grabbing her toiletries and shoving everything that’s hers into her bags to leave this god damn villa. Even if she has to walk all the way to a hotel, she wasn’t going to stay here another night.

The others are shocked when she’s coming down the staircase with all her bags and production members running after her. They’re confused, trying to ask her what’s going on? Why would she leave, being here is an absolute dream?? (More like a nightmare for her)

And MC is so done with them. They’re (almost) all terrible people. So she goes off on them. Listing off all the shitty and terrible things they’ve done the last few weeks, giving them a nice little reality check bc god, they’re all assholes.

And then she grabs her bags and leaves and everyone is yelling after her, asking her to wait and to stop. But she’s done and she’s walking. Pulling her suitcase behind her and juggling her other bags, she’s walking down the road to get away from the villa. And it takes a bit until a car catches up to her, the Villa already a bit away in the distance. They drive her to the hotel, still trying to convince her to think about it and stay but that’s not gonna happen. She finally had the guts to leave, she’s never going back there. And it sounds so easy to say “just leave” but it really wasn’t. Being in the villa is like living in a bubble that’s impossible to escape, with people always manipulating you into staying.

And then she’s finally alone. For the first time in weeks it’s just her and the tears start and they don’t seem to ever stop. But it feels good to let it out, to just cry and sob into a pillow and to not worry about cameras and other people. And she falls asleep, tried and exhausted and feeling so worn down. But she’s out and she’s going to go home and continue with her normal life. It’s going to take some time to built up her confidence and self worth again and she definitely needs a therapist.. And the next morning she wakes up, tired and with red eyes, but her heart doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It’s been weighing her down the last few weeks, without her even realising it until now.

And after a nice long (private!) shower, she goes down for breakfast. And there, at a table in the corner, looking tired and a bit sad, she sees him. Bobby. Something about him gave her the strength to finally stand up for herself, his gentle but firm hug and the words he whispered against her ear. His kind eyes looking into hers and his cute freckled nose that scrunched up when he grinned down at her.

And so she goes over to him but he doesn’t look up, not even when she’s standing right in front of his table. So she clears her throat and his head shoots up to look at her. His eyes widen when he sees her, his jaw going a little slack. And the cool line she thoughts off while walking to his table gets stuck in her throat and all she can do is smile at him. It’s awkward for a second, he clearly didn’t think he would see her again like this. At breakfast the next morning! And to break the silence, MC says that she’s hoping he was serious when he said he would take her with him if he could because otherwise this is really awkward… and Bobby snaps out of it, and a smile grows on his face, he gets his confidence back and asks her to sit down for breakfast, so they can plan an entire day full of dates. So that he show her how she should’ve been treated by these stupid guys in the Villa. And they have an amazing day, ignoring their ringing phones of LI people freaking out about where they are and if MC is going back.

And obviously they’re gonna have to show MC leaving on TV and the fans are absolutely rooting for her and some people saw her and Bobby out that day and it’s everywhere online. And people love it! They’ve been wanting better for her and who would be better than Bobby McKenzie??? And they tell the LI people to fuck off, fly back together and continue dating. And everyone is rooting for them and loving them together and the press is going crazy because this has never happened before! And the Villa is still a mess because all the people in it suck. But MC and Bobby don’t care anymore. They’re getting to know each other and falling in love, slowly but surely..

The end! lmao

I’m so sorry this is so super long but then I couldn’t stop! If anyone wants to actually take this and turn it into an actual fic or one shot or whatever, please do! I would absolutely love to read it fully fleshed out, with great dialog and everything! And thanks again for being so sweet everyone 😭😭🥺

THEY REPLIED THEY REPLIED EVERYONE THEY REPLIED AND ITS EVEN BETTER THAN I IMAGINED AAAAAHHHHH AAAAAAHHHHHHH I LOVVE ITTTTTTT!!!!!!

[lagroupie]

Interview: Bad Nerves

Bad Nerves at the small football field in Etagnières, shot with my Nikon. This was about a month after our interview at Tropical Riot.

Back in September, I went to the great Tropical Riot festival in Ullastrell, near Barcelona, to watch awesome local and foreign bands play. The main reason for my presence was Bad Nerves - who are still one of my favorite bands ever since I saw them play live at the Old Blue Last back in 2017. This time, the band had some time for an interview before the show, so we took a stroll around the catalan village of Ullastrell while catching up. They were headlining that night and the crowd went wild (see my photo below).

Join us as Bobby and Jon tell me about their lives in Essex, their live record Alive in London, getting by as a band, meeting Green Day and more.

Many thanks to Bad Nerves and the team at Tropical Riot Festival for their kindness!

Are you guys still living in London ? I remember you told me so back in 2017.

Bobby: I actually lived in London for a year, in 2017.

Jon: Now we live in Essex. It’s east London-ish.

Bobby: Just slightly outside of it ! We all come from Essex.

Jon: London is just not cool anymore. During the pandemic, so many venues shut down. What little scene we had really suffered. Now I never go there really.

Bobby: It’s very expensive.

What’s your life like when you’re not touring ?

Jon: It’s so boring ! We have quite normal lives I guess.

Bobby: I spend a lot of time writing and recording. We do go in the studio and rehearse.

That sounds amazing. Do you guys manage to make music full time now ?

Bobby: Not really. Financially, definitely not.

Jon: We all have other jobs, apart from some who lost them recently because of doing the band.

Bobby: I haven’t had a job for about 10 months now.

Jon: This is like, the crunch time where we have to make it work, because all our jobs are getting fed up with us going away all the time. There’s still bills to pay.

Bobby: It’s a different thing when you’re a bit older trying to do a band, because you don’t live with your parents. If you’re fortunate enough to live with your parents when you’re younger, like we were – we don’t have that privilege anymore. A band is not the easiest way to make money !

Jon: There’s a bit of a myth about our band at the moment. I read online that people are saying ‘they have loads of money !’ It’s so far from the truth !

Bobby: Yeah, and some deal with an american label. What the fuck are they talking about ?

Jon: That’s not how it works. We haven’t seen a penny.

Bobby : They are helping us with tour support, to go to America.

Jon: Or else, we wouldn’t be able to afford to go there.

Bobby: We don’t make any money personnally from this band. Not yet. We hope it’s going to change. We’ve been at this our whole lives and we have yet to make any money. It would be nice to make enough money to pay our rent. That would be a dream.

Jon: Money has never been the motive though. We’ve been doing that band for six years and never really bothered about money up to the point when we needed it to play shows.

Bobby: We break it even for the most part, but the whole band/business side of it is just waiting for money to come in from shows, because there’s a huge delay. You don’t get paid straight away, months pass and you need that money to buy the plane tickets to the next show, and sometimes you haven’t been paid for these shows. And then you’ve got no money, and you have to pay for those plane tickets with whatever you have.

I expected it to be bad, but not that bad.

Jon: We sound really depressing ! (laughs)

Bobby: We’re not depressed. It’s fucking great ! It’s not easy, but it’s fucking fun and worthwile.

Bad Nerves' set at Tropical Riot festival. As you can see, it was a happy chaos.

Can we also talk about your latest releases, like Alive in London ?

Jon: That was recorded at the end of our first headline tour, in a funny bar in London called The Basement. It blew us away, because up until that point – we played England a bit, but no one ever really seemed to care that much. And then we did a run of our own shows and a bunch of them sold out. We decided to record the last one because it was in London.

Bobby: We didn’t even really know it was being recorded. Our manager said ‘I’ll record it !’ and we replied ‘yeah, whatever.’ I didn’t even remember !

Jon: It was the most insane show, in a tiny pub in London. The recording cuts out because all the recording equipment overheated. That’s why the record is so short. You can hear it break halfway through. I’m surprised no one died at that show to be honest ! (laughs)

Bobby: It’s the hottest show we have ever played ! I remember seeing Sam coming off stage – he had so much steam coming off of him, and he was just sitting hunched over. I didn’t know if he was alright !

I also wanted to talk about how you said in an interview that you wanted to bring rock and roll back to the masses.

Bobby: There’s loads of bands that we love who have scrappy recordings. We’re trying to do more modern-ish and powerful recordings, but with that scrappy character in it. In that sense, that is what we’re trying to do. Because mainstream radios don’t really play this scrappy punk. So we’re trying to get some of that scrappy stuff and give it a more modern recording.

Jon: We’re trying to influence younger bands to play a style that’s a bit forgotten. You don’t see a lot of kids doing it. Now, we’ve seen a few bands pop up who play this style. That’s the reason we do it, passing the torch !

I think we’re from the same generation – growing up, rock and roll was still on the TV and on the radio. We had bands like Green Day, Oasis, The Strokes, etc. Those bands introduced us to rock and roll. I share your vision, we have to bring it back, even if it’s-

Jon: -Just guitar music ! Going to festivals as a kid, it would be all guitar bands. And then that just died out and it started being, I don’t know, Beyoncé or something.

Bobby: It’s nice having a mix of genres in music, but it seems that rock and punk are shut out of a lot of mainstream. Is that because rock and roll is more prone to being protest music and half of the corporations that control this industry don’t want that shit playing ? I don’t know.

Jon playing during Tropical Riot Festival in Ullastrell.

Could you guys also tell me more about Green Day ? Have you met them in person ?

Jon: It’s funny, because they say you shouldn’t meet your heroes. I started playing bass because of Mike Dirnt from Green Day, and they are the nicest people ! They’re lovely. I’ve met a lot of bands, and they are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

Bobby: We played a festival in Czech Republic, Rock For People, and they were headlining. We watched them play this crazy healine set. Afterwards they invited us to come and meet them backstage. It was just us, them and maybe one or two roadies just sitting there and talking about music. Billie said he really loved the record !

Jon: It was surreal. Billie has been super supportive. He messaged us all the time. He truly cares about the band, posts our stuff. A true legend.

Bobby: You’d expect these rockstars to be ego maniacs, and a lot of them are. But not those cunts ! It’s funny because they’re one of the last bands around from our generation still going, that we genuinely like. We met Green Day’s manager and he said that Billie sent our record to him. The thought of him sending our record is surreal.

What can we expect from Bad Nerves in the future ?

Bobby: We’re just going to keep writing songs, playing gigs until… we die ? (laughs) We’re going to keep putting out records that we like, which is hard to do. It takes time.

Jon: We want to make our stand on this kind of genre in years to come.

Bobby: It would be nice to be able to look back and think ‘we had a good go at it.’

https://badnerves.co.uk/

https://www.tropicalriot.cat/home/

[abbatoirablaze]

Sentimental Me, Chapter 9

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings:  mentions of spousal abuse, slight angst, slight manipulative relationship, mentions of prostitution.

Lee was quite taken back when his sister-in-law had asked him that question. She held her wine glass in her hand and looked at him with an expectant look.

"Wouldn't know personally," he shrugged, coming into the dining room, "only been married once, and it's to Flo..."

She nodded, turning around and grabbing the wine, "do you want some?"

"Flo buy me any beer when you ladies went out today?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. Lee let a chuckle out as her curls bounced around her, "but the wine goes well with the roast, I promise."

"A glass couldn't hurt, I suppose."

She smiled, setting her own glass down. As Lee walked around and sat down at the table, she poured him some. Then she grabbed his plate and began fixing it up for him.

Lee was nervous until he saw that she was giving him a healthy portion of everything. He inwardly smiled as he thought of the conversation that they'd had this morning, but it must have come across as something else because she looked at him worriedly.

"What?"

"I made something you don't like, didn't I?"

He shook his head, "no. I love roast. I just-"

"It's too much?"

"Florence would have a cow."

The two laughed and she placed the plate in front of him anyways, before taking her place on the other side, and fixing her own plate, "well Florence isn't here...and anyways. I stand by what I said earlier. You're a working man, with a stressful job, and you provide for my sister. Men like that deserve to be treated like kings and come home to a well-cooked meal, Lee..."

"Your sister says I eat too much."

"My sister clearly doesn't know how to take care of a man."

"And you do?"

While the two of them had been joking, Lee's last line hit a nerve. It could have been taken out of context and used to reference how she'd been smacked around frequently by her husband, Bobby. But she chose to take it in the way that Lee meant.

"Well, he never complained about those talents."

She didn't venture to look at him while she mumbled her response, and lord if she'd tried, she wouldn't have been able to stop the blush from coming across her cheeks. Lee, meanwhile, had dropped his fork.  It clattered loudly onto the plate.

His body frozen as he stared at the woman in front of him, he began to question everything he'd thought of.  He'd never cheated on his wife or smacked her around. He always tried to be good to her, and show her that he could provide, but she would only ever nag him.

And here this angel was, seemingly dropped out of thin air and right into his lap. Sure, she'd always existed, but he never looked at her in such a way until last night when they were singing in his cruiser together where he’d had less than innocent thoughts about her.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he said simply, picking up his fork, "I don't want you going on an apologizing while you didn't do nothing wrong."

"But I did, Lee," she said with a laugh, "I'm a married woman, flirting with my sister's husband. I-I'm all dolled up, made him dinner and a spiced peach cobbler for dessert. Already keepin secrets from my sister bout him...this doesn't feel like a chaste kind of thing, does it, Lee?"

He nodded.  She was right.  There were certain feelings attached to her already that he couldn't ignore.

"Dotty, can I be honest with you for a minute?"

She nodded, "of course."

"I do feel something for you," he admitted. Dotty's heart swelled as she looked up and into Lee's brilliant blue eyes, "now I don't know if it's because you're kin, or you remind me of my momma, or I just want to take care of you because I have some deeper unexplored feelings...but I feel something. And I have since before all this…honestly, since you married that asshole. You know, all my life, I had this idea of what life should be like. I had these dreams. These goals. I knew what I wanted."

"And what was that?"

"I wanted to help people," he said simply, putting his utensils down, "I wanted to get my momma out of a bad situation. I tried to steer my sister away from the same direction my momma went in...I pulled your sister from it....I spent so much time trying to help everyone else."

"Well, you're sheriff, so you had to help yourself to get there."

"Yeah," he nodded, "A little bit. But in all of that, I started ignoring me. I wanted so much more in my life."

"Like kids?"

He chuckled, "no...I uh...I never saw kids in my life. Because of how my daddy was I always had a fear that I'd turn up like him if I ever did..."

"Just because your daddy did something doesn't mean you will, Lee."

"When I got married, I wanted a wife who would love me for me," he said softly, "a woman by my side that would appreciate and respect what I do. Sometimes I think your sister only loves my position in town."

"I'm sure she loves you, Lee."

He nodded, picking up his silverware again, and he began to eat, "maybe."

"Lee?"

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Are you alright?"

Lee stopped eating once more. He didn't look at the woman across from him, but he knew that she could see the pain that he tried to hide on a daily basis, and she hadn't even known him for a day.

"Right as rain, peaches."

"You know, my momma used to say that it was best to keep it inside," her meek voice began, "that you can feel whatever you want on the inside, but don't you dare let that devil out."

"I think that's the first smart piece of advice I've heard from your momma."

"Lee, I don't think I want to keep it all in anymore," she said softly, "I don't want that devil to stay inside me. After I found out I lost the baby, I felt like a robot...and when Doctor Jenson left me alone for a bit, I cried...I cried so hard. The nurse tried to be nice about it, but there's nothing you can do in that kind of situation...so I told myself to put on a brave face and get my shit together. Then I heard you singing with me in the cruiser, it's like something came to life. I've always wanted to be a momma, and I was so happy that Bobby knocked me up...but maybe it was meant to happen this way, you know. Maybe I had to go through all that. It led me to you and my sister..."

"Trust me when I say you don't want to be in Knockemstiff, peaches."

"Peaches," she laughed, "that a new nickname or something?"

"You're sweet like peaches," he smiled, licking his lips, "and I like peaches."

"I'm trying to be serious with you Lee."

"So am I."

"By calling me names?"

"By telling you I like you."

Her heart stopped.

"You like me?"

"Yeah."

"I-I like you too."

Lee moved to the chair beside her and took her hands in his own, "listen, I can't promise you anything...I'm a married man. And you're a married woman. But I want you to know, I'm serious. I do feel a certain type of way about you, Dot. You make me want to be open and honest with you in a way that I've never been with anyone else in this world."

"I feel the same way," she admitted slowly. Lee smiled and she leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek, "you're a good man, Lee Bodecker."

"And you're a good woman, peaches." 

Nothing happened that night.

Dorothy and Lee went back to dinner after that conversation, as if nothing had happened, but the bond they shared was now stronger than either of them could imagine. A new level of intimacy existed between them that Lee didn't even share with his wife.

And after dinner, she made sure that Lee had a good sized serving of her spiced peach cobbler.

His belly and his heart had never felt more full as she began to clean up while he worked on his cobbler.

"I can help," he offered, attempting to stand once she reached past him to put away the remainder of the roast. She let go of the platter and put her hands on either sides of his shoulders and pushed him gently back into the chair, "come on Dot."

"You had a long day," she reminded him. She began softly rubbing his shoulders, working on the knots that had accumulated, "let me get dinner put away. You just worry about relaxing. If you want, I can get you some coffee, or another glass of wine."

Lee shook his head, and she kissed his temple before going back to tidying up.

Lee felt something in his soul as he finished his dessert and watched her scurrying around in the other room.

He wanted to admire the woman in the kitchen.  Praise her for how well she was taking care of him.  For the first time ever, he really thought about what a true domesticated life would be like.  And part of it included children.

Standing up, he brought the cobbler into the kitchen, as well as his dirtied plate and fork, and set them both on the counter closest to her. However, while she was wrapping up the leftovers, he'd made his way to the sink and started working on the dishes.

Her eyes shot up to his.  She'd never seen a man wash dishes in all her life.  Not even her own daddy had offered to help her momma.

"What are you doing?"

"You made dinner," he chuckled, glancing at her, "Figure I'd wash the dishes. I'll leave em in the next sink and you dry em off."

While she wanted to fight him on it, deep down she appreciated it. While it wasn't ladylike to make a man do housework, she knew that on some level he must have appreciated her enough to do it.

"You could go relax in the living room," she offered, placing the soiled platter next to him, "you don't have to do that. I'll take care of it."

He stared her down purposefully as he took the platter and began to rinse it off. The two didn't need words in that moment. She blushed and looked away as she closed the refrigerator. Her fingers reached delicately to the dry towel that hung over Lee's shoulder, and his breath hitched as he felt the warmth of her hand and the tips of her nails graze over his peck.

When he looked back at her she was beside him, focused on drying the dishes that he'd already washed.

"After my daddy left, my momma would have me and my sister wash dishes like this," he admitted after a second, "We'd switch off all the time on who did what, but one of us would wash and the other would dry em."

"What is your sister's name?"

"Sandy," he said simply, "she married some guy named Carl. He's a bit weird, but he takes care of her...for the most part.  They do a lot of traveling."

"You're either lying or you don't like him."

His eyes flickered to hers, "how can you tell?"

"Your jaw gets this tick in it, right here," she giggled, pointing to the corner of his jaw. He licked his lips and nodded, admitting that she was right, "so what's so wrong with him?"

"He lets her do what our momma did," he said, sniffling, "when a man marries a woman, he's s'posed to take care of her. Provide for her. He's a bum. Let’s her go off and whore herself out to any man that's got two dollars to rub together."

"I'm sorry Lee."

"Don't be," he shrugged, "Sandy is a piece of work herself. I try to protect her the best I can, but she likes doing it."

"Well still," she muttered, as Lee turned the water off, "it shouldn't happen."

He leaned against the counter and watched her. Her delicate hands made quick work of almost anything they'd touched, and they also made amazing food. He watched as she went over to the washing machine and threw the damp cloth in.

"Can I ask you something, Dot?"

"Of course, Lee."

"Why'd you marry him?"

She looked at him, and bit the corner of her lip, "you mean why'd I marry Bobby?"

"Yeah."

"That's what was expected of me," she said simply, "I didn't really have a choice."

"What you mean, peaches?"

She wrung her hands nervously as she looked at him, "The Briscoes are a very well-to-do family in Manhattan. Well, Florence was supposed to marry Bobby's older brother, Jack. But she ran away a few weeks before the wedding...and their daddy was real upset about it. Momma told her if she didn't come back, she'd have daddy write her out of the will...but daddy would have never done it...even if momma tried to force him. Daddy said that she was an adult, and it was her choice. She didn't come back...so momma told Mr. Briscoe that I would marry Bobby. Daddy wasn't very happy about it, but he agreed. He'd already given daddy close to ten thousand dollars for Jack to marry Flo...and well instead of giving it back, he put it towards me. Kind of like a reverse dowry."

"So, you were forced to marry him?"

She nodded, "yes. When daddy died, momma said that we should push the engagement up. Bobby agreed, and by the time I was freshly 18 I was married."

She watched as Lee's jaw ticked and he took a deep breath.

"Would you have had to marry Bobby if she married Jack?"

"I-I don't know," she admitted. When she saw his jaw tick again, she put a hand up to his cheek. He fought the urge to lean into it, "hey...don't get upset. Okay? I'm away from that situation. I'm not going back to Manhattan. And if I am, it's to sign divorce papers. You hear me?"

He smiled, trying to be supportive of the woman who felt such a strong urge to protect, "okay."

"Now come on," she smiled. She reached up and kissed his cheek, "let's get you properly relaxed. If you sit on the floor in the living room, we can turn on the tv and watch the Ed Sullivan show, and I'll massage out the rest of those knots."

And Lee smiled as she took his hand, leading him wherever she wanted him to go. 

Chapter 10

Tag list:  @krissy25, @lohnes16, @terrormonster55, @potato-with-hair, @infatuatedjanes

[goldenraeofsun]

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

[expectingtofly]

i got a comment on one of my fics saying "dean is a being of love" and guess what—theyre right! dean is love <33

Cas once told him that he was defined by love. That everything Dean had ever done had been for love.

It didn’t seem true, at first. Not in a life defined by violence, by pain, by fear and grief. Dean acted on instinct, honed over years. He acted on self-preservation, selfishly. He acted on guilt, to atone for his sins.

Not for love. Love made you weak, made you reckless, soft.

His dad taught him that, but Dean loved him. No matter how many times Dad screamed at him or hit him or put him down, Dean loved him. Even when he was screaming back or shoving or cursing his name, he loved him. Because he was his dad.

His dad despised love, but he loved Dean’s mom. He preached the worst side of love because he lived it. He loved Mary and so he hunted to avenge her death, became reckless and selfish.

Sometimes Dean wondered if his dad truly loved his mom. Or if he only felt guilty.

But Dean wondered if, put in his dad's shoes, he wouldn't do the same. Because he loved his mom. He held tight to every memory of her, imagined the scent of her hair and the taste of the pies she cooked just for him. He loved the way she had stroked his hair while tucking him in, her reassurances when he confessed being scared of the dark. Angels are watching over you.

He loved her even when she came back to him and he was confronted with the truth that the woman he loved in his memory was not a complete image of the woman in front of him. He hated the way she left him, but he loved her because it wasn’t her fault. He hated her inability to be the perfect woman his dad created fantasies of, but he loved her because she was real.

Love made you wake gasping from nightmares, images of people you loved turned bloody and torn, seared into your eyelids. Love didn’t stop you from making mistakes. No matter how much he loved his brother, he couldn’t always save him. Love was a responsibility, a burden. Maybe his dad made it seem that way. Because Dean would spend sleepless nights saving strangers from the things that went bump in the night even if no one made him. Would care for Sam even if no one left him with fifty bucks and instructions to keep the kid safe.

Love meant sacrifice. He hated love, sometimes. Because he loved, he couldn’t be selfish. His life given up for Sam's. Over and over, no end in sight. That was love—never-ending. He knew that. Once it got a hold of you, it didn’t let go. Maybe he loved too much, maybe he didn’t know where love ended and some twisted dependency began. The distinctions between love and its ugly distortions had never been marked for him.

But Dean loved. He knew that, even if he tried to hide it, suppress it, narrow it. Romantic love wasn’t for him, he said. He couldn’t be tied down. And yet he loved Cassie and Lisa and Rhonda, fell asleep to dreams of a home with a fence and a yard that needed to be mowed.

In a life where you could lose anyone in the blink of an eye, he learned he must love sparingly. The less he loved, the less he stood to lose.

He never could follow the rules.

If love was only for family, no room for anyone else, then he widened his definition of family. It didn’t end in blood, it included a grumpy old man and a rebellious teen with too much eyeliner and a vampire and a straight A student and a geek with red hair and a nephilim child… love never ran out. He always had room for more.

He loved and loved and he didn’t ask for any back. He was weak enough to love, not to ask for it.

But he was loved anyway.

Everything you have ever done, you have done for love. In nearly the same breath, the angel told Dean, I love you.

His mom said angels watched over him—he didn’t know they could love him too. He didn’t expect it and when given it, didn’t know what to do with it, overwhelmed by it.

But Cas had loved him a long time. Every touch of healing grace, every rebellious act, every word of protection written into ribs, every long, watchful night—love in all its facets.

And he realized love had surrounded him his whole life whether he noticed it or not, like a worn, warm flannel fresh from the dryer.

Bobby had loved through games of catch and fond idjits, through lessons under the hood of a car, through twin-sized beds always ready to be slept in.

Sam learned love from him, it seemed. Because he too loved through sacrifice, painful to receive. But sometimes love was easy, movie nights and pranks and long talks over miles of road.

And he was lucky that so many of those he loved, loved him back in their own ways, and he’d never been good at accepting it because he knew he didn’t deserve their love, no one's love.

Cas told him he did. Told him love ran through his veins and rested in his touch. Showed him love was powerful, freeing, joyful.

Cas had learned a little too much about love from him, though, it seemed. Too willing to give and not receive. Not a fault, but Dean was tired of not asking for love, of denying himself something that he needed like oxygen. He thought Cas might be too.

Something about love he didn’t fully learn until he finally said the words: it felt like a miracle when it was received in the same manner and weight and extent and force as it was given. It was overwhelming in its depth, bewildering in its complexity, frightening in its hopefulness.

But thrilling. He’d never felt less weak, never felt more empowered.

He wasn’t a killer or evil or a failure or ruined, like he told himself and like he heard. He was loved and he loved. He liked to think he was made of it.

[roy-kents]

eddie and chris and grief

okay i wrote this post last night after the episode and i reread it this morning and had no idea of the point i was trying to make (in my defense it was like 3:30 and i'd been up for 21 straight hours after a full day at college) so! i'm simply redoing it!

here's my takes on eddie, the diazes and grief, and where i think this wild train is going in 5B. it's gonna be a ride, so buckle in.

SPOILERS FOR 5A!

my thing is, because i've been dealing with it myself for so long, i can recognise the grief, the mourning so well. eddie's been grieving since we met him, but i don't really think he's given himself the chance to sit with it.

when we first see eddie and chris in s2, they've left their life behind in texas, the only life either of them have ever known. eddie's still reeling from shannon leaving, and trying to put the pieces back together. even there, there's some degree of loss, of mourning. i think it's really important to note at this point that grief doesn't have to be over some gigantic, significant loss. that's what a lot of people think of when it comes to grief, but it's so much more complex. you can mourn over the little things - it's subjective and people react to situations in different ways. that being said, i absolutely believe that in the early stages of s2, we see eddie in a state of grieving. we only get a hint of it here and there, but we see it occasionally. then, shannon comes back part way through s2, and eddie's world turns on its axis.

it's something he never really expected to happen and you can tell. he is so, so hesitant to let her back into his life, into christopher's life again because he remembers how much it hurt them both. he eventually opens up enough to let her back in, and we see...a lighter version of eddie, one we haven't seen since he joined. he takes shannon out to dinner, asks her to officially be a family again, and she tells him she's leaving, again. watching that scene every single time breaks my heart because you can see the moment all the emotions that eddie had boxed up after she left resurface. the hurt, the anger, the confusion (was i not good enough?). and then shannon dies.

now, another important point about grief is that it manifests differently in literally everybody. for me, it was practical problem solving until there were no more problems left to solve, and then it was avoidance. in eddie? obviously i'm not a psychologist and everything i'm saying is purely speculation. but eddie's a soldier, right? he keeps looking for a way forward, a way through. then chris is in a tsunami, and there's the nightmares he has after the event, and the moment that eddie realises that chris has been dreaming about shannon drowning. this is where we see a crack in his facade, and once again, all the emotions he'd carefully put away regarding shannon's death came bubbling back to the surface, because he never properly dealt with them.

and then, eddie gets angry. and that's a really understandable part of grief because you get angry at the world, at the circumstances, at yourself even, for not being able to do anything to stop what's happened. i remember some days feeling so angry that i might explode. and i think for eddie, maybe anger's an easier emotion to deal with than sadness and/or anguish. it's more recognisable, an easier demon to co-exist with because he's never let himself sit in the pain before, the upset, the devastation of what he thought his life was going to look like being snatched away from him. now do i hate the fight club arc? detest it. do i think it tracks for eddie character wise? absolutely. i think he knew he couldn't afford to explode at home in front of chris, so he needed an outlet and he got handed one on a silver platter.

next, i want to touch on the conversation between bobby and eddie in 4x06. easily, hands down one of my favourite moments in the show. "i know what it's like to be stuck inside the worst moment of your life." i think bobby, because of his experiences, can tell that eddie isn't really dealing with what's happened to shannon. and i think this conversation is such a pivotal moment to touch on because for the first time we've seen, someone gets it. someone's been where eddie is, felt the pain he's feeling all the time, the guilt, the longing for what he knows he won't get back. and bobby acknowledging to eddie that he doesn't have to forget shannon to start moving forward ("i'm still not over it. over her."/"and you never will be.") is the first kind of lightbulb moment we see for eddie. in this moment, we see him realise that he can sit with his grief and sit with the emotions it makes him feel without letting it consume him.

jumping ahead to 5A, obviously we've all seen eddie's been spiralling for a long time now post shooting. the panic attack, the almost breakdown at the hospital, even his reaction when he was being held hostage screams i need help. i think for the first time in a long time, eddie isn't able to neatly box up his emotions and tuck them away. compartmentalization has been somewhat of a fail-safe for eddie for years now. eddie the dad and eddie the firefighter and eddie the friend almost exist as completely different entities at this point. he tucks away his emotions, especially the ugly ones into the furthest corners of his mind because he'd rather do that than confront them up close and personal. however, one thing i learned in therapy is that the longer you ignore a problem, usually, the worse it gets. and even though we got a sniff of eddie acknowledging his feelings in 4x06, he quickly tucked those away and labelled them 'for another day'. now, how does this tie into 5A and consequently, 5B?

5x10 is key. first of all, massive shout out to gavin mchugh who utterly acted his ass off in this episode. but he portrays through chris so well that the idea of grief and grieving isn't linear. first, the christmas decorations, then the gingerbread house and then the nightmare. i know these aren't in order, but just hear me out. let's start with the nightmare. kids having nightmares about losing a parent, especially after having lost one already is extremely common. i know when my dad died, i had nightmares frequently for well over a year. when you add into that the fact that eddie got shot and very well could've died? chris has had a lot on his little shoulders the past few years.

a big thing when anyone goes through a bereavement for the first time is the idea that they get confronted with mortality. i think, especially with kids, they tend to look to their parents like they'll never die, like they're untouchable, but when a parent dies or gets seriously injured, the metaphorical rug is snatched from underneath them and they're left floundering. now chris is canonically a very intelligent kid, and i think he connected the dots a lot earlier than any of us would like in terms of just how close eddie came to dying. but because eddie hasn't been talking about it, chris hasn't either. and then christmas made everything come to a head. hearing chris scream "you could be dead next year!" sent chills down my spine, and in that exact moment i could see what eddie was thinking; the regret, the loathing.

his conversation with carla is where the fissures start to show fully and truly, and we get a true glimpse into eddie's brain for the first time this season ("bullets don't bounce off me carla. i learnt that the hard way."). it's the first time he has admitted to anyone, maybe even himself that he's not okay, that there is something bothering him. it's been bubbling under the surface for a long time now and a lot of us have been saying chris was going to be the catalyst, i just don't think any of us knew in what way. i definitely wasn't expecting that episode ending, but i do think it's a necessary step in the diaz boys' journey. i think everything eddie does is for chris, and he's doing this because he thinks it's best for chris. this sets the stage, at least in my opinion very well for 5B.

i think in 5B, the diaz boys need to establish open communication, both between themselves and with others. i seriously think they could both do with some therapy. i think they both have a lot of complex thoughts and emotions they need to work through. i think eddie needs to do this completely away from the 118 because, as we saw from defend in place, how he's feeling is beginning to affect how he is on the job, and when you're a first responder, i think eddie knows that you can't really afford for that to be the case. i think he needs to get some therapy, i think chris needs to get some therapy, but i also think eddie needs to have an open and honest conversation with chris; he will always do his best to avoid getting hurt no matter what he's doing, but there's no guarantees. it can be a hard pill for a child to swallow, but children do tend to appreciate when adults are honest with them, because it can cause a lot more problems down the line if they're not.

bottom line is, i think this is a necessary (but painful) step in the right direction for both eddie and chris. they need to do this so they can both heal and begin to move forward, but i have every faith that eddie will be back in the job at some point.

[juniorgman187]

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 

My eyes. 

“Here, take my jacket.” 

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did. 

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 

“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 

“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 

“Next time?” 

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 

But that’s not the worst part. 

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that. 

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.” 

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.” 

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 

I love Spencer. 

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?” 

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 

I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him. 

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory. 

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 

I was pregnant. 

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 

“Well, have you taken a test?” 

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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[ghostiewriter]

AJSKDJLES you’re so nice!!! I was 100% using my birthday to manipulate you into giving us more headcanons lol but I wasn’t expecting you to actually get to it today! 🥺🥺🥰 take your time and no pressure but I definitely wouldn’t say no to hearing more about them making wild melodramatic accusations to make each other laugh in public because I can 100% see it. And I can totally see it starting on the surf trip because no one knows them so they’d just like try and embarrass the other? Amazing.

Sorry it’s a day late but I hope you had a great birthday bestie and enjoy the chaos of this wee blurb😂tbh I love this headcanon for them because it’s something they would totally do! But happy late birthday and I hope it was an enjoyable one!!❤️

Word Count: 1.6K

It started of a silly little game.

Keeping true to their word, the second they had graduated from high school and had those diplomas in their hands, JJ and Kiara wasted little time in planning the logistics of their surf trip around the world. So many places to go, waves to surf, sights to see—it was impossible to choose a place to start. However, thanks to Pope and his intense need to create a plan so his two best friends wouldn’t be thrown into the world as they “go with the flow”, he had organised a proper scheme.

JJ didn’t think it was necessary, and Kiara knew they wouldn’t stick to it. But they let Pope continue with it regardless.

Against their better judgement, his route and itinerary around Europe was insanely helpful for the couple as they ventured through the countries, excited to see places they could only dream about. Especially for JJ, it felt absolutely surreal that he was leaving the island, let alone travelling the world with the love of his life at his side. It was something he would never fully believe, but cherish in fear that he would wake up from this perfect dream and return to a shitty life in reality.

But as he turned to look at Kiara, her hair swept back by the breeze and her eyes watching the glittering city below in awe as they stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower, JJ knew that no matter how many times he pinched himself that this was his reality.

“If you’re about to make some cheesy joke about how the view is pretty but you’re prettier, I will throw you off this tower.”

JJ only grinned in response, shaking his head as he finally shifted his attention to the city view. They had just witnessed the sunset and it was one of the most breath-taking views either of them had seen, without a fucking doubt.

“Well now that you’ve stole my thunder and ruined it…” He trailed off with a sigh, but his smile only widened when he heard the soft giggle that escaped her lips.

“Whatever.” She muttered, her features softening as she leaned against the railing and took in the sounds of the streets of Paris.

“I can understand why so many people propose up here, it’s beautiful.” He admitted after a few moments.

Kiara only scoffed.

JJ turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You don’t agree?”

“Because there is nothing more romantic than having a bunch of other tourists watching one of the most intimate moments of your life whilst horns are beeping down below and the wind is blowing hair into your lip gloss.” She deadpanned.

Kiara was a romantic person when she wanted to be, but some gestures were even too much for her.

“Well when you put it like that, it’s no fun.” JJ muttered with a small chuckle, though he could see her point. “Does this mean I should keep the ring in my pocket and scrap the proposal?” He asked with a grin on his face.

Kiara rolled her eyes but she smiled. “Sorry to break your heart, babe, but if you got down on one knee right now, I would have no shame embarrassing you in front of all these people.” She said with a brief glance at the other tourists standing up here with them.

But JJ’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the challenge.

She didn’t have time to question him when he slipped one of the rings off, holding it in his palm before he cleared his throat and got down on one knee.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at him in confusion. “Jay, what are you doing—”

“Barbra Gertie Stonehend,” He started in a loud, boisterous voice to (successfully) catch the attention of the other tourists. “We have spent years together, helping each other through many hardships. I have been there for you since your bed wetting days when you were twelve, I have been there for you since you got your braces stuck in the railing at the zoo, and I have been there for you since your pet piggy was tragically knocked down by a bike. But now I ask that you do me the honour of being there with me at the end of the aisle by the alter?”

He finished his obscene speech, now holding his ring between his fingers and looking up at her with a faux hopeful expression. She pressed her lips together to hold in her snickers as she glanced around, seeing all eyes on them as they awaited her answer. And when her gaze returned to JJ, there was something quite smug shining in his eyes.

JJ had always been the best liar from them all, the way he would so easily be able to spout out nonsense at the drop of a hat. But she was just as competitive and determined as the blond, and willing to challenge him at his own game.

“Oh Bernie…” She sighed, hand placed on her chest as she looked down at him. “How could I ever marry a monster like you! Marge told me everything, I cannot believe you would expect me to marry you after you were the one that killed my pig!”

A few gasps could be heard from the crowd around them.

JJ urged himself not too laugh, though his eyebrows were raised in silent appreciation.

“Boo-Bear, it’s not what it seems! I didn’t mean to kill Vincent!” He urged, reaching out to hold her hands in his own. “I am more than a cold blooded pig murderer, please give me a chance!”

“I love you, my snookums, but I cannot!”

“Please, honey-bunch, don’t listen to Marge!” He cried out as she ripped her hands from his. “She is just jealous of what we have!”

“Then why are you having a child with her?!”

Kiara could’ve sworn she heard someone utter ‘holy shit’ under their breath but urged her face to remain neutral.

“It’s not mine!”

“Then who’s is it?” Kiara demanded, her hand clutching her imaginary pearls.

“My twin brother’s!”

“No!” Kiara gasped, feigning utter shock as she took a few steps back. “It cannot be Bobby’s…because he is the father of my child!”

Another series of gasps echoed amongst the landing.

“You…you were cheating on me with my twin brother?” JJ asked, finally standing up as he looked at her with a look of betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Bernie…” She whispered but JJ dramatically turned away.

“I can’t believe this,” He muttered before heading towards the exit. “I’m taking the dog and going home!”

“BERNIE, NO—”

“Goodbye, Barbra, enjoy your life with Bobby and his stupid exterminating company!”

Whispers murmured around the group and Kiara urged herself to keep a straight face as she waited a few moments before following him down. Once they reached the bottom, it took one glance at each other before they burst out laughing, tears streaming down their faces as they clung onto each other and walked back to their flat.

It was the start of an odd game they played for the rest of their trip. In the most random places they would play out insane scenarios, the aim to be as dramatic as they possibly could until one of them had to physically leave the scene before they burst out laughing. It was just a wee game to spice things up when they were out in public, plus it helped knowing they would never see any of these people again.

The word ‘Eiffel’ just had to be said and the game would begin.

And boy, was it entertaining.

There was the time they were in Austria visiting a vineyard, when suddenly Roberto was just sick and tired of holding back his secret affair he had been hiding behind his wife’s back. Little did he know his wife, Carla, had been sleeping with his secretary too.

Or the time they pretended to be spies on a mission whilst walking through a museum in Australia, pretending to mutter things to one another and even went to the extent of buying walkie talkies so they could suspiciously communicate from opposite sides of the room. That one kind of backfired because they did end up being thrown out by security.

Or the time they were in a small village in Turkey when it was suddenly revealed that Topanga would be leaving her fiancé, Johnny, for a prince that promised her wealth in power. However much to her shock, the prince she had been talking to was actually Johnny catfishing her.

Or there was the time they decided to re-enact the whole plot of Mamma Mia in Greece to see how long it would take people to notice how familiar the whole situation felt. It turned out it took people a tragically long time.

It was a stupid game that they adored and it followed them through the extent of the surf trip and even sometimes when they would returned home. Not to the same extent as they did in the past with fake identifies, but sometimes just odd scenarios to really fuck with their friends’ heads and keep them on their toes.

There was just something so satisfying about turning to each other, matching grins on their faces as they sat at the kegger and listened to some random touron talk about how nothing interesting ever happened on this island whenever she would visit her grandmother.

Ideas racing in their minds and all the possibilities of how they can make this night one to remember were jumping at the possibility to put on a show. With his eyebrows raised, JJ turned to his girl.

“Eiffel?”

“Eiffel.”

“HOW COULD YOU?! THAT GOLDFISH PIZZA MEANT EVERYTHING TO ME AND YOU JUST ATE IT AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH?”

After all, it started as a silly little but it always ensured chaos.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART SEVEN

:Masterlist:

Warnings: none, I think :)

A/N: ahh we’re getting dangerously close to Unsaid Emily territory, folks. Also idk if I’ve said this before but feedback is always welcomed and appreciated! <3

-

“This isn’t gonna work.”

You said as you watched the boys practice their apology song for Julie for the dozenth time. Alex just glared at you in response as he crouched behind Luke, and you tried to contain your laughter as the side gate clicked open and Julie walked into the studio.

Reggie immediately burst into song and Luke followed, then Alex popped out from behind Luke’s back. Once the song was over, Julie stared at them with a blank expression.

“In case you missed it,” Reggie said. “We’re really sorry.”

Julie sighed. “Yeah, I got that part.”

“Look, it wasn’t okay that we flaked on the dance,” Luke explained. “We know we let you down.”

“Yeah, we never wanted to disappoint you.” Alex said. “You’re the best thing that happened to us since we became ghosts.”

“In hopes that you’ll rejoin the band,” Luke pulled the poster out from behind his back. “We booked a new gig.”

Julie didn’t say anything as she ran her fingers across the paper. You could tell that she was still upset by the way she kept her eyes trained on it. 

Reggie cleared his throat. “It’s a mind-blowing, life-changing gig.”

“There’s going to be all kinds of managers there. All we gotta do is blow their minds and we’ll be living the dream.”

“So this is important to you, huh?” Julie said, finally looking up at them. “Like the dance was important to me?”

Alex stepped forward. “We know we messed up.”

“But we need you in the band.” Luke finished and Julie rolled her eyes.

“Of course you do. Because without me, no one would be able to see you play.” Julie said, turning to Luke. “I thought the music we were making was special, but you’re too obsessed with your past to even care.”

“I do care!” Luke insisted. “We have a chance at greatness. I don’t want it to slip away from us again.”

“So then why did you bail on me and (Y/n) to get back at Trevor?” Julie crossed her arms as Luke stared at her with sad eyes. “I’ll tell you why. Because the only thing you care about is yourself.”

Luke glued his eyes to his shoes and Julie whirled around and marched back towards the house with the flyer still clutched in her fist. 

“Luke-” You stepped towards him but he phased away, leaving the studio clouded in sadness. 

“Where do you think he’s going?” Reggie asked.

“Where do you think?” Alex sighed. “Remember what today is?”

Even though Luke had never really cared about birthdays, you knew that his eighteenth was one he had been looking forward to all his life. Your heart broke for him when you realized that this was the way he would have to spend it.

You tugged his old jacket over your shoulders and looked towards the house. “We need to tell her.”

“About his mom?” Alex asked and you nodded.

“He can’t spend his birthday like this.”

Alex and Reggie both looked a little hesitant but nodded, following your lead as you poofed into the Molina’s living room.

Julie was on the couch, pouring over a textbook. She didn’t even look up when you all phased in front of her.

“Hey.” Alex approached her carefully. “Got a second?”

Julie kept her focus on the book and you sat next to her, using your best pleading look. “Julie, please.”

She finally looked up at you. “(Y/n), I already told you, I can’t be in the band.”

“I know.” You said. “But just, listen to us for a second, okay?”

Julie closed her book and set it on the table before looking at you all expectantly. 

“Luke isn’t as selfish as you think.” Alex said and Reggie nodded in agreement.

“You remember that song in his journal? About Emily?” You asked and Julie’s eyebrows furrowed. “We wanna show you who it’s about.”

 -

The Patterson house was almost exactly like you remembered it.

Dozens of memories swirled around in your mind as you walked up the pathway to the patio and crouched behind a chair. You could see Emily and Mitch in the window, Emily blinking tears out of her eyes as she frosted a triple chocolate fudge cake, Luke’s favorite. 

And as if that wasn’t enough to break your heart, Luke sat on the counter with his head propped up against his knees.

“Emily is his mom?” Julie asked, her voice light.

“Yeah, he comes here a lot.” Alex said. “He thinks we don’t know, but we’ve been following him.”

You close your eyes as a pit of guilt opens in your stomach. You had been so wrapped up in your stupid feelings that you didn’t notice how much Luke was hurting.

“All he does is sit and watch them.” Reggie explained. “They don’t do much though.”

“They’re eating cake. That’s something.” Julie said.

“It’s a birthday cake.” You managed, avoiding everyone’s eyes as their heads snapped towards you. “For him.”

“And it’s even harder for him ‘cause he left on bad terms.” Alex said. “His parents didn’t want their seventeen year old in a rock band. So he ran away.”

You watched as Mitch lit a candle in the center of the cake and gripped Emily’s hand across the table. Luke leaned forward and blew it out immediately, making them share a look of confusion.

“That’s why Luke was so mad.” Reggie twisted his fingers. “If Trevor gave him credit for the songs, then they would’ve known that it was all worth it.”

“That his dreams were worth chasing.” You finished, another wave of guilt washed over you. You hadn’t been thinking about Luke’s parents when you fought with him about the old songs, and now you wished you could take everything back and haunt the hell out of Bobby.

Emily and Mitch blew out the candle again and Luke sank back into his chair, staring at his parents as tears streamed down his face. Julie sniffled next to you and more than ever, you wished you could hug your friend.

Alex stood up. “We all know how much it hurts when someone who should’ve had your back completely lets you down. We never meant to make you feel like that.”

“We love our band, and Luke does too.” Reggie said. “Please give us another chance.”

Julie took one last look into the window before she nodded. “Okay.”

You all shared sad smiles and you cleared your throat. “Well, then I think we have a gig to rehearse for.”

 -

As you walked back into the studio, you couldn’t stop thinking about your fight with Luke.

How it must’ve felt for him to feel like you weren’t on his side when he was just trying to make his parents proud. You had been so caught up in your feelings of him ignoring you and being late to the dance that you didn’t stop to think about how he was feeling.

“Actually, guys,” You walked over to the couch and shrugged Luke’s old jacket on your shoulders. “Start without me. There’s something I have to do.”

“Oh?” Alex teased. “I wonder what?”

“And if it has anything to do with our birthday boy.” Reggie finished, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Do you guys want to die again?” You said and they both raised their hands in surrender. “I’ll be back soon.”

They just smirked at you knowingly as you felt yourself poof away into your old bedroom.

It was exactly the way you had left it.

Old pictures and countless band posters plastered all over your walls, a messy bed, and clothes everywhere. It was like time had been frozen in here, and as you looked around, it almost felt like you were alive again. 

Like at any minute, your mom would walk in and kiss your cheek. Or there would be a soft knock at your window and it would be Luke sneaking over for movie night.

But then reality came crashing back in when you looked over to your dresser and you spotted the thing you had come for. 

It was a small, dirty shoebox covered in faded stickers. You were thankful that your mom must’ve recognized it as something important and didn’t throw it away. No doubt she remembered helping you dig it up in 1995, just days before the Orpheum show.

You looked down and smiled at the words carved on the surface of the lid in Luke’s handwriting, 

Luke and (Y/n)’s Time Capsule!

Open on 18th birthday :)

You snorted, realizing his writing was exactly the same as when he was six. You wiped the surface of the box off with your sleeve and tucked it under your arm. Technically, you weren’t meant to open this until you were eighteen, but also, you were technically dead, so you figured your six year old self would forgive you.

With one last look at your old bedroom, you poofed away from your house and into the studio’s loft where you quickly tucked the shoebox behind an old guitar case before making your way down the ladder.

Julie’s voice floated through the air and you joined in, taking your spot next to her on the piano bench. She gave you a teasing look and you jokingly glared at her as the song ended and Luke suddenly phased into the chair across from you.

“Julie?” He asked, stunned. “What made you come back?”

“I realized that music is important to all of us.” Julie shrugged. “We’ve already lost so much, we can’t lose this too.”

Luke nodded, a trace of a smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and happy birthday, by the way.” She said and Luke smiled as he grabbed his guitar. “Let’s go from the pre-chorus.”

Alex started the countdown.”1...2...3...4!”

You looked over at Luke, expecting him to be looking down at his guitar as he played but his eyes met yours. He winked as he came closer to sing with you, making you laugh. As he stopped in front of the piano, you realized that while it sucked, being a little distant from Luke had it’s advantages. 

At least then, you didn’t have to pretend that every little thing he did made your heart skip a beat.

 -

“Knock, knock.” You called out from behind Julie’s bedroom door, pulling Reggie’s arm back from inside the room.

“Come in.” She said and you all walked through the door. 

“What are you still doing up here?” Luke asked when he saw her snuggled up in her bed. “We go on in like twenty minutes.”

Julie sighed. “I lied to my dad so I’m stuck in here all night.”

“But we were just at the venue.” Alex said. “It was packed with people and managers. It’s kinda crazy.”

“My aunt is right downstairs.” Julie crossed her arms. “There’s no way I can get past her.”

Luke scoffed as he walked over to the window and pulled it open. “Well, it’s a good thing that you’re not taking the stairs.”

Julie’s jaw dropped, looking at you all with wide eyes. “I can’t sneak out!”

You sat down on the bed across from her. “C’mon, Molina. Live a little.”

Her eyes went back and forth between you and the boys hesitantly but she eventually gave in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

-

By the time you all got to the venue, it was even more packed than before.

Every table was full and you could tell by their clothes that they were definitely in the music business. Your attention was pulled to the stage when upbeat music started playing as Carrie started to sing.

You turned to talk to Julie but then there was a bright flash on stage and Alex landed in the middle of the dancers. Julie looked around confused, but you just laughed as he followed Carrie around the stage and copied her moves.

You laughed and cheered for him. “Woo! Go, Alex!”

As the song ended, he posed and bowed before poofing back to your group with a pink tint on his cheeks. “I was just doing that for you guys.”

Reggie snickered. “Uh-huh. You can stop smiling now.”

Julie watched Carrie leave the stage with a conflicted look on her face. “I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty good.”

Flynn nodded. “Yeah, I kinda forgot why I hate her so much.”

As if on cue, Carrie came strutting off stage and laughed as she looked Flynn and Julie over. “Hey, girls. Isn’t past your bedtime?”

“Now I remember.” Flynn said with a stiff smile.

Carrie looked over at Julie. “If you’re looking for Nick, he didn’t come.”

More than ever, you wished someone could see you purely so you could give her the finger. Being a jerk for no reason was bad enough, but taunting Julie about Nick was unfair.

“Actually, that’s not why I’m here.” Julie said as she took a step closer.

On the stage, the accouncer spoke into the mic. “Alright, looks like we have one more act tonight. ‘Julie and The Fat Ones’.”

Carrie and her group laughed and you turned to Luke, dropping your voice to a whisper. 

“Okay, I know it’s not the right time. But I totally told you that would happen.” You teased, thinking back to that morning when you filled out the sheet and Luke insisted that his handwriting would be legible enough.

Luke scrunched his nose at you. “Shut up.”

You snorted as Julie walked up to the stage and sat in her spot behind the piano. She put her mic in the holder and took a deep breath. “It’s actually ‘Julie and The Phantoms’.”

When the crowd quieted down, Julie started to play the opening. The gentle piano bored some people and you watched as they turned back to their conversations. But then Julie started to sing and caught everyone’s attention.

“Hearts on fire,

We’re no liars,

So we say what we want to say.

I’m awakened,

No more fakin’

So we push all our fears away,”

You felt yourself getting more excited as it came closer to your cue. You hadn’t played for this many people since you died, and even though you were a little nervous, you were filled with a need to perform again.

“Don’t know if I’ll make it cause I’m falling down under,

Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder,

I wanna fly, come alive,

Watch me shine!”

You all appeared on the stage and if people weren’t paying attention before, they definitely were now. You heard shocked gasps over the music and smiled, grabbing your mic and joining in on the chorus.

“I got a spark in me,

Hands up if you can see,

And you’re a part of me,

Hands up if you’re with me,

Now till eternity,

Hands up if you believe,

Been so long and now

We’re finally free.”

You watched as Luke walked over to Alex’s drum set, playing along with Reggie as you and Julie made it to the front of the stage.

“We’re all bright now,

What a sight now,

Coming out like we’re fireworks,

Marching on proud,

Turn it up loud,

‘Cause now we know what we’re worth,”

Luke settled back behind his spot and smirked, his hair falling in his eyes as he shook his head to the beat. You kept your eyes on him as he played, and Luke winked at you in response. Even though you hadn’t done it in forever, your on-stage flirting game was like muscle memory.

Before you knew it, the bridge came and Luke abandoned his microphone to share yours. You took it off the stand and leaned towards him. Behind you, Julie dropped out and your and Luke’s voices filled the venue.

“I got a spark in me,” You sang and Luke echoed your words.

“And you’re a part of me,

A part of me,

Now till eternity,

Now till eternity,

Been so long and now we’re finally free!”

Just like every other time you sang with Luke, the air disappeared from your lungs and someone hit the pause button on the world. Luke’s eyes never left yours and your skin tingled under his intense stare. You lightly shoved his chest and winked back at him as he went back to his microphone.

The bright lights flashed as Julie’s high note rang out and the song ended. The crowd instantly erupted in cheers and almost everyone gave a standing ovation as you bowed and phased away, making another wave of gasps and cheers run through the crowd.

You landed next to the coffee bar on the far side of the room and instantly saw Teddy, who was leaning on the edge of the counter with a smirk on his face.

“What, you’re stalking me now?” You joked.

“It was a complete coincidence, Gorgeous.” Teddy came closer and nudged your shoulder. “But a great one. Why didn’t you tell me that you could sing like that?”

“Like you’d believe me If I did.” You said as you laughed, still a little breathless from the performance. You could feel your friend's eyes on your back and you turned around. Alex and Reggie were standing there awkwardly while Luke crossed his arms.

“Ah, the famous bandmates.” Teddy smirked. “You guys were great.”

“Thanks.” Luke smiled stiffly at him before turning to you and gesturing over where Julie was talking to her dad. “Sorry to interrupt, but (Y/n), we should really go check on Julie.”

You tried to ignore the way that he was already wanting to get back to Julie made your heart sink into your shoes but you nodded and turned back to Teddy with an apologetic smile. “Bye, Teddy.”

You turned to leave but Teddy’s hand came up to grip your wrist. “Hey, uh, come to the diner tomorrow. There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Something bad?” You asked and Teddy sighed. 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay.” Despite the pit of worry in your stomach, for some reason, you trusted Teddy. “See you then.”

-

After you watched as Julie got steered out the doors by her dad, you phased into her room and waited for them to get back.

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Sure, it was all of your idea to sneak her out, but you definitely encouraged her and now she was in trouble. As you waited, you looked around her room, admiring all the pictures and colors.

There were little paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling and you went to touch one, but then the door swung open and Julie came in.

She yelped but relaxed as soon as she realized it was you.

“I’m sorry.” You said. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or get you in trouble tonight.”

Julie shook her head. “Hey, it was my choice to sneak out. Besides, I’m not in trouble. I mean, I have to focus more on school and stuff but I’m staying in the band.”

“Thank god. I definitely couldn’t go back to a band of all boys.” You joked and Julie laughed before wiggling her eyebrows.

“Speaking of boys, don’t you have one to go give a birthday present to?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay first.” You said.

“Thank you, (Y/n). But I’m good.” Julie smiled warmly. “Now go get your boy.”

“He’s not my boy.” You protested but Julie just rolled her eyes and threw a pillow through your torso. “Hey!”

Julie laughed as she picked up another pillow. “Get out of here or else I’ll do it again.”

“Okay, okay!” You giggled as you poofed away.

You landed in the middle of the studio and frowned when you realized that it was empty. You assumed that Alex was probably out looking for Willie and Reggie was probably with Ray or Carlos, but Luke was usually hanging around the studio this late.

“Hey.” A voice called out from behind you and you whipped around to find Luke leaning against the railing of the loft.

“Hi.” You cleared your throat. “You okay?”

Luke nodded and gestured to the empty air next to him, and with a flash, you poofed to his side. You could tell that he was still thinking about his parents from the way that his eyes lingered on the studio doors and the guilt you felt earlier returned in full-force. You wanted to say something, do something to make him smile.

“I got you something.” You said, trying to put on a bright smile as you crossed the loft and pulled the box from its hiding spot. “You probably don’t even remember this thing, but we did say we were gonna open it when we turned eighteen.”

Luke knitted his eyebrows in confusion but a look of realization flashed across his face when you handed it to him. Just like you were hoping for, he instantly brightened as he read the carvings on the top of the lid.

“Oh my god...” He said. “I can’t believe you dug this up.”

For some reason, you didn’t want to tell him that you really dug it up twenty five years ago back when you stopped being friends. It seemed almost too sentimental, and after finally getting Luke back, you didn’t want to scare him away again.

“All it took was an hour, and technically some property damage if you count my mom’s rose bushes.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Luke threw his head back as he laughed. “Oof, be thankful that you’re already dead or else she would’ve killed you.”

You snorted as you gestured from him to open the box. He carefully pulled the lid off and slid a little closer to you so you could both see inside. There were some random drawings and toys, but what caught your eye was a box of crayons in the corner.

“Wait,” You gasped as you picked them up. “Are these the crayons?”

“The ones that you stole from me on the first day of second grade?” Luke said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from laughing. “Yeah.”

“Excuse you, they were mine to begin with.” You reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Luke smirked.

You cleared your throat as you stepped away from the railing and faced Luke. 

“Hey, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for not listening to you about Bobby. I just got so caught in up in memories of how we all used to be and stuff that-”

“(Y/n), hey,” Luke chuckled lightly as he reached over and grabbed your hand, the gesture immediately stopping your ranting. “Don’t be sorry. You were right. I mean, I’ll always be bummed that our old music is gone, but a friend helped me realize that we should focus on the future.”

He gently squeezed your hand and you laughed. “This friend of yours sounds pretty smart.”

Luke hummed. “The smartest.”

You could feel his calloused fingers on the back of your hand and it felt so familiar and warm. For once, the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Luke said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath before responding with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Lu.”

 -

September 1994

“Sweetie, your shift is over.” 

Cece said with a raised eyebrow as she watched you pour creamer and sugar packets into cups of coffee. 

“I know and I know that I shouldn’t be behind the counter when I’m not working.” You smiled up at her before placing the coffee pot into its holder, practically shaking with excitement. “But I have band news and the boys will be here any second.”

You put lids on the drinks and set them on the counter just as the bell on the door chimed and Alex and Luke strolled in, followed by Bobby and Reggie.

“Okay, what was so important that you had to wake me up and drag me down here?” Alex complained as soon as he saw you.

“It’s barely ten, Al. When did you turn eighty?” You teased as you handed him a paper cup of cocoa. Alex just grumbled at you under his breath as they all sat down in front of you. “I’m sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep, but this couldn’t wait.”

“We’re listening.” Reggie said as he grabbed his coffee.

“Okay, so you remember that guy who saw us play at the beach a little while ago?” You asked and they all nodded. “Well, I called him and it turns out that he owns a club downtown.”

“Wait.” Luke perked up and Bobby leaned forward in his chair. “A club club?”

You nodded. “And he wants us to play there every weekend next month.”

Alex choked on his cocoa. “The whole month?!”

You nodded again and there was a minute of stunned silence as they all exchanged looks. You smirked as you took a sip of your coffee. 

“Oh, and also, he knows the owner of the Orpheum. Apparently they used to go to college together or something. And he said that if we impress him next month, that he could maybe pull a few strings.”

There was another moment of silence before Bobby turned to you with a serious look on his face. “(Y/n), I could kiss you right now.”

“Gross.” You scrunched your nose and the rest of the boys laughed.

Luke, who had been bouncing in his seat a minute ago, suddenly looked serious as he jumped up and grabbed Bobby’s shoulder. “C’mon, Casanova. I’m starving.”

Bobby rolled his eyes but followed Luke over to the counter and started scanning the menu. Reggie whistled quietly, making you frown in confusion.

“What?” You asked.

“I think Lukey boy is a little jealous.” Reggie said and Alex hummed in agreement.

“What?” You asked. “He’s definitely not. But even if he was, it’s just Bobby. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“That doesn’t matter when you’re in love.” Reggie sang and you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna give you three seconds, Reginald.” You warned and Reggie scoffed, but then got wide-eyed when you started counting.

“Uh-oh.” Alex snickered and Reggie scrambled to get up from his chair and run across the diner just as you got to three. You caught up with him in seconds and jumped on his back, making him sigh in defeat.

But before you could brag about winning, Reggie suddenly bolted towards Luke and Bobby with you still on his back. The action caused a surprised laugh to bubble out of you making Bobby look at the two of you in confusion.

“What did Reggie do now?” He asked.

“All I said was that (Y/n)’s in lo-” Reggie started but you quickly slapped your hand over his mouth.

“Nothing!” You said quickly.

Once everyone got their food, you all sat down and started scribbling ideas for the setlists. You could hardly focus with all the excitement coursing through your veins. Ever since the day you formed Sunset Curve, you dreamed of playing at the Orpheum with your best friends and you were finally almost there.

You looked across the table and smiled at Luke, knowing that he was thinking the same exact thing from the way he was beaming back at you. You just had to impress one club owner, and you could live out your dreams.

Together.

-

In Life, In Death Taglist: 

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath​ @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[parkerslatte]

Finally Got The Girl

MASTERLIST

Reggie Peters x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k+

Summary: After years of liking (Y/N), Reggie gets the courage to tell her, but it didn’t happen the way he planned.

*****

Reggie had liked (Y/N) for years, the two having known each other since they were children. He always wanted to confess to her, but the one time he actually had the courage to - she came to him saying that the guy she had liked for the past couple of months had asked her out. Reggie was of course heartbroken, but he acted happy for (Y/N). Luke, Alex and Bobby could see right through his facade. Whenever Reggie saw (Y/N) and her boyfriend together, his heart broke a little more each time - he wished it was him making her that happy.

However, one night (Y/N) had turned up at the studio where the boys rehearsed crying her eyes out. Reggie immediately went to comfort her, Luke, Alex and Bobby tried to help but all she wanted was Reggie, so they left leaving the two alone. (Y/N) revealed to him that her boyfriend cheated on her. Reggie wasn’t an angry person by any means, in fact he was the complete opposite of angry, but once the words left (Y/N)’s mouth, he was beyond angry. All he wanted to do was march over to her boyfriend's - ex-boyfriend’s- house and demand to know why he would cheat on such a wonderful and beautiful girl. (Y/N), of course, wouldn’t let him leave, she just wanted him by her side.

The next time Reggie had the courage to tell (Y/N) he liked her was when they were playing the Orpheum. He had planned out that after the show, he would take her on a date and tell her. Of course, they never had that date and Reggie never confessed. Luke, Alex, Reggie and, reluctantly, (Y/N) all went for street-dogs before the show. The four of them ended up passing away and Reggie’s plans were ruined.

It was now 2020. The four ghosts had met a girl named Julie, who could make the band be seen. The band that was formerly known as Sunset Curve was now Julie and the Phantoms. (Y/N) was ecstatic that the boys could finally live out their dream - even if she couldn’t be seen by people herself, she was so happy and proud of the boys. 

Even if it had technically been twenty-five years since Reggie had promised himself he would confess to (Y/N), he still hadn’t done it. He felt like it wasn’t appropriate as they had just died. It had been a few months and Luke, Alex and even Julie were trying to get him to confess. The three members of the band couldn’t take anymore of the incessant talking about (Y/N) when she wasn’t there. The three band members loved (Y/N) of course, they just didn’t need to hear about her every single minute of every single day.

“Reggie, come on man, just confess already. What’s the worst she can say?” Luke said while lightly strumming his guitar.

“No,” Reggie answered, “But that’s why I don’t want to confess. What if she does say no?”

“She won’t. Trust me.” Julie spoke up. 

Julie knew (Y/N) wouldn’t say no to Reggie because she had admitted to Julie herself that she liked Reggie. Julie encouraged her to ask him out, but she refused, afraid of rejection. That was one thing both Reggie and (Y/N) had in common.

“How do you know that?” Reggie questioned.

“I just do.” Julie stated.

Reggie sighed, “I want to. I really want to. I’m just afraid.” 

Alex placed his hand on Reggie’s shoulder, “Reg, just confess, you’re a great guy. If she doesn’t want to go out with you, then she’s missing out.”

Reggie gave Alex a small smile, “Thanks Alex.”

“Now go and tell her, I don’t know how many more of these talks I can take.” Alex said before sitting behind his drums.

Reggie sighed before standing up, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Finally,” Luke mumbled under his breath before speaking louder, “We have band practice later so be back by then.”

Reggie nodded before poofing away. He knew exactly where (Y/N) would be. There was a spot on the beach where the two of them would go all the time as children. (Y/N) would sometimes go there to just sit and think. Reggie appeared just a little bit away from (Y/N). To him she was beautiful. He always knew she was pretty but once he began liking her, that’s when he began to notice how beautiful she really was.

“(Y/N)?” Reggie called out.

She turned to look at him before a wide smile stretched across her face, “Reg!” She stood up from her position on the sand and walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug. 

Reggie hugged her back, a smile stretching across his face from their contact. (Y/N) had always greeted Reggie with a hug ever since they were children. Reggie would always blush when she hugged him and that didn’t change. Once she pulled away, there was a slight red hue to his cheeks. 

“I thought you were with the band?” She asked. 

Reggie gulped, “I was, but I needed to tell you something.”

“Okay...what is it?” She asked happily.

“Um, well, I…” Reggie trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it. He had come here to confess, but he just couldn’t get it out. 

“Reg? You okay?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Reggie said, “Just nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” (Y/N) questioned, concern lacing her tone.

“Um,well I…” 

“Reggie, you’re acting strange, are you sure you’re okay?” (Y/N) asked placing her hands on the sides of his face, making him look at her.

“I…” Reggie trailed off once he noticed how close their faces were. His eyes flickered down to her lips. (Y/N) doing the same to Reggie but he didn’t notice. Reggie wanted to confess but he couldn’t do it with words. He impulsive pressed his lips to hers, locking their lips in a kiss. (Y/N) was surprised at first so she didn’t do anything to either stop or encourage it. Reggie took this as a sign to stop. He pulled away and looked down avoiding eye contact, he was prepared for her to turn him down.

(Y/N) removed her hands from his face and took a small step back from him. Reggie fiddled with the zip on his jacket, wanting to poof out of there but it felt like he was rooted to this spot. After a few moments of silence, he finally looked up to face (Y/N).

“Look, (Y/N), I’m sorry-” 

Reggie was cut off by (Y/N) throwing her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a tight hug, “I’m so glad you just did that.” He heard her mumble against his neck.

To say Reggie was shocked would be an understatement. He was expecting his friendship with (Y/N) to be ruined after the kiss. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. He buried his face into her neck and smiled. 

(Y/N) pulled back from the hug slightly, still keeping her arms around his neck. Her face was lit up like a child on Christmas morning. Before Reggie could even process it, her lips were on his. Reggie felt himself blush as she kissed him. (Y/N) pulled away from the kiss, resting her forehead against Reggie’s. The blush on his face was prominent. (Y/N) let out a small laugh. Her laugh was a thing Reggie loved about her. It suited her just right, every time he heard it he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re blushing.” (Y/N) mumbled.

“No I’m not.” Reggie denied even though it was glaringly obvious.

“You’re adorable,” (Y/N) said and Reggie blushed an even deeper shade of red, “And that proves my point.”

Reggie just connected his lips with hers once more. He was happy. He was kissing the girl he had liked for, technically, over twenty-five years. He had finally gotten the girl.