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sweetbuckybarnes · 4 months

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The Era Tour: 06. Act IV: reputation

Pairings: Colin Bridgerton + Penelope Featherington, Anthony + Kate Bridgerton

Polin Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Colin watched as Penelope's favourite artist disappeared from the stage. He didn't know what 'era' was coming next - just watched Penelope from the row above. He watched as she swapped places with Gregory - meaning she was standing next to two fellow Swifties. He was pretty sure that is what Penelope calls herself.

The sound of heels on the floor as well as the hissing of a snake nearly made the entire stadium erupt in screams.

Gregory must have said something to Pen because she leaned over. "Watch the entire stadium go absolutely feral!"

And feral did they go!

Colin could only watch in shock over Penelope as she pulled out body rolls and some kind of sideways hip thrust (somewhat similar to the moves Taylor Swift is producing).

"Knew he was a killer the first time that I saw him, wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted. But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom, holdin' him for ransom," the opening lyrics weren't as eye-opening as the pre-chorus and chorus were for dear Colin.

"I-I-I see how this is gon' go. Touch me and you'll never be alone, I-Island breeze and lights down low, no one has to know. In the middle of the night, in my dreams. You should see the things we do, baby (mmm). In the middle of the night, in my dreams, I know I'm gonna be with you. So I'll take my time, are you ready for it?"

It made Colin look at Penelope with a mix of awe, shock and even wonder. He shouldn't be pinning after his little sister's best friend like he is. But sometimes the heart wants what it wants.

Colin had heard rumours of chants at the concert. Turns out, this was one of them.

"This ain't for the best. My reputation's never been worse, so. You must like me for me. We can't make any promises, now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink!"

Which was quickly followed by "1, 2, 3! Let's go, bitch!"

The second chorus made Colin wonder who Penelope had been seeing, may possibly be seeing. She hasn't said anything to him, the often shared stories. If Penelope hadn't told me, Eloise would have (he remembered when Eloise had bragged about Penelope's date to their secondary school prom).

"Third floor on the West Side, me and you. Handsome, you're a mansion with a view. Do the girls back home touch you like I do?" Was sung, which made Penelope look over at the two other Swifties, and shook her head - then giggled when she realised that Taylor Swift was doing the exact same thing. "Long night with your hands up in my hair," Penelope ran her fingers through her hair. "Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs. Stay here, honey, I don't want to share. 'Cause I like you."

It was going to bug Colin, who the hell Penelope was seeing. Whoever it was, didn't deserve her. What if you're good enough for Penelope? A voice said in the back of Colin's brain.

Did he? Could he dem himself 'good enough' for Penelope?

The next song to play was Don't Blame Me, which as Colin listened to it - sounded very gospel-like. Colin watched as Penelope sang along at the top of her lungs, so much so because he was so close, he could only just hear her over the sound of the speakers.

"I've been breakin' hearts a long time, and, toyin' with them older guys. Just playthings for me to use. Something happened for the first time, in the darkest little paradise, shakin', pacin', I just need you," Colin couldn't believe the dance moves Penelope was pulling out, he looked over at Kate (who wasn't paying attention to Penelope), then he looked over at Eloise and his mother (neither were paying attention to Penelope either). "For you, I would cross the line. I would waste my time, I would lose my mind. They say she's gone too far this time."

Then the song hit its pinnacle. Heavily leaning into the gospel sound. "Oh, Lord, save me, my drug is my baby. I'll be using for the rest of my life," Taylor Swift's backup singers sang, as she looked down the stage and into the camera.

"Using for the rest of my life, oh!" She hit a very high note, then sang the higher notes as both the backing track and her backup singers sang the main track.

"Don't blame me. Don't blame me. Don't blame me for what you made me do," the third sentence made the fans in the stadium freak out. "Don't blame me. Don't blame me. Don't blame me for what. You. Made. Me. Do!"

The gospel sound of Don't Blame Me changed into the dark fantasy sound of Look What You Made Me Do.

"I don't like your little games, don't like your tilted stage. The role you made me play of the fool, no, I don't like you," Colin had watched as Penelope and the two Swifties exchanged bracelets much like she did with the little girl in front of her. "I don't like your perfect crime, how you laugh when you lie. You said the gun was mine, isn't cool, no, I don't like you. Oh!"

"But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time. Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time. I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined. I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!"

She walked down the stage very quickly, during the bridge. "I'm sorry. But the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, 'cause she's dead!" She jumped and landed on her shins then her knees

"Look what you made me do. Look what you just made me do. Look what you just made me do."

As soon as she disappeared into the stage, the reputation era was over.

#polin #polin fic #colin x pen #pen x colin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #kate bridgerton #violet bridgerton #taylor swift #reputation #...ready for it?#delicate #don't blame me #look what you made me do #Spotify

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unsaid-stardust · 3 years

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“Julie and The Phantoms” No Longer Phantoms as They Debut at #1

Only a year ago today, internet band “Julie and The Phantoms” took the world by storm when they posted a cover of Taylor Swift’s “You Need To Calm Down”. From there, the band, which consists of lead singer Julie Molina (16), guitarist Luke Patterson (17), bassist Reggie Peters (17), and drummer Alex Mercer (17), continued to post weekly covers which garnered an average of 3 million hits per video. Sure enough, the band got picked up by Hollywood Ghost Club Records and signed on to record a total of 3 albums.

It would be easy to see that such rise to greatness could cause some trouble in paradise, but the band told a different story when I sat down with them at a local diner.

I was quick to notice that Julie had looked to her bandmates, careful not to overstep anyone wanting to answer, but the 3 boys had all eyes on her. Luke had nodded and teased “all you boss”, seemingly some sort of inside joke, which prompted Julie to take the lead just as she does on stage.

J: Ah well, we’re not really allowed to give any details quite yet, but we can say that there’s definitely some discussion happening behind the scenes!

I: of course! That all must be very exciting considering only a year ago today you guys were posting covers on YouTube!

L: Yeah, yeah it’s all super exciting. The boys and I had talked about it long before we even knew Julie, so it’s just crazy to see it all happening and now with a wicked beauty of a singer to light up the stage every night? What more could we have asked for?

Luke winked and clicked his tongue towards Julie who’s smile got brighter than before. The shooed her hand at the compliment though, a teasing “oh, stop it” sounding from her.

I: You mentioned that you knew Alex and Reggie before meeting Julie. Can either of you tell us how you guys all met?

A: Well Reggie, Luke, and I actually all knew each other since the 2nd grade. We met in the music room and the rest was history. With Julie though, Luke actually had seen one of her original songs--which was “Wake Up” I know that for a fact because you can’t forget the first time you heard a voice like that--floating around on YouTube at the time. Reggie and I had just been chilling in our studio and Luke came running in with his laptop and said-

R: Wait-wait! I Wanna take this one I do a great Luke impersonation

A chuckle escaped from Julie’s lips and the two boys in question had shook their heads.

A: Do you...? Okay.

Reggie then began to pretend that he was preparing for an acting gig, his thumb pressed to his two fingers as he brought them in front of his face, releasing a breath of focused air.

R: guys guys you have to check out this insanely talented wicked beauty. Her pipes are just insane

L: I did not say that

R and A: Yeah you did.

Julie took the reins then just as natural as she were taking the reins on stage.

J: Well, even if you did or didn’t say that, that is how you guys found me. They emailed me after that and they invited me over to their studio where we had a impromptu jam-sesh. We didn’t even have a song planned to practice which is how “Bright” was actually born. So, after copious amounts of begging and begging and begging-

Luke playfully punched the lead singer in the arm and as Alex and Reggie threw out objections.

J: ok ok, I said yes to joining the band right away and as Alex said earlier, the rest is history

I: Oh, you guys for sure were meant to make this history together. You just have this natural chemistry with one another. I mean just from hearing how you guys met and then from seeing you guys today--you guys have been so in sync this whole time. I mean Reggie, you and Alex answer the same. And Luke and Julie, you two have moved the same the entire time. It’s just amazing watching you all here and on stage. But speaking of Luke and Julie, I have to ask...are you two dating?

The two shifted in their seats, but they never took their eyes off of the other, which is not the only time that Patterson had been the culprit of doing so. Both took the time to answer giving Reggie the leeway.

R: They’re not, but they should be

It’s hard to tell if the sun had just hit Julie and Luke at the wrong time or if the L.A temperature had suddenly gotten to them, but Julie was quick to respond to the bassist.

J: A-ha you’re so funny Reggie. No, no we um....we aren’t dating. I love all the guys right here next to me and I feel like I’ve bonded with them so much over the past year; they're pretty much my family. Alex and I have dance parties in my room and paint each others nails and Reggie and I gush over Taylor Swift’s newest albums and Luke and I...we just have a different bond from songwriting, you know? So I really just take that speculation as having great chemistry with my band which is definitely needed when you spend hours locked in a studio trying to get an album done.

I: Speaking of the album, can we talk about the album cover for a minute? It’s just so unique and eye-catching! Can you tell us what inspired you to choose this for your debut album cover?

Alex: Our really good friend and PR assistant Flynn actually designed it. She said that she took into consideration all of our personalities and what made us “Julie and The Phantoms” and went into photoshop and designed this masterpiece. The colors behind us our each of our favorite colors and the space background kinda comes from the idea that all of us feel like something fated us together. The universe maybe, but whatever it was we were meant to play together. And the font is a homage to Star Wars for Reggie!

I: that’s amazing! So what you’re saying is, I need to contact Flynn for all my graphic designing needs?

The band immediately nod their heads in agreement.

J: yeah she’s amazing. She’s actually my best friend too and she was the one who really got us going. We wouldn’t be here without her!

I: Sounds like a true friend! Alright, well, thank you guys for letting me sit down with you guys. It was a pleasure, one more thing to ask though--if you could have written any existing song, what would it be?

R: ooooo definitely ‘home is where my horse is’ that one is a masterpiece

The band, excluding Julie, groaned at the title.

L: Reggie stop trying to go country it’s not gonna happen

A: and that isn’t answering the question since it doesn’t exist!

J: hey, hey, it exists in Reggie and Me’s heart ok.

The bassist reached over to high five the lead singer.

A: I wish I would’ve written “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” by the icon that is Whitney Houston.

J: ooo that’s a good one. Anything by Alicia Keys for me. Or Aretha Franklin. Those two were definitely my idols growing up

L: oh “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day for sure. The lyrics in that one hit hard man I'd love to just write a song that does that to people one day.

I: Well, looking at the charts, it appears like you might have already! Thank you so much again for sitting down with me today. Hopefully we’ll get to talk sometime soon and I look forward to seeing what you guys get up to in the future!

You can now stream “Bright Forever” on Apple Music and Spotify!

#Julie and The Phantoms #Jatp #julie molina #Luke patterson #Alex Mercer #reggie peters #jatp au #jatp edit #this is sort of an au I guess #literally dont know how this happened lmao #sakljdfh #bree edits jatp

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dieuquilafait · 4 years

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The Final Days of the Hero of Kvatch

Contains major spoilers!!!

Many years had passed since the Oblivion Crisis, but in the dream’s eye of the Hero of Kvatch, it was all happening for the first time. The dead, charred bodies of soldiers and civilians alike strewn in the street of the temple district, killed indiscriminately by daedra and even Mehrunes Dagon himself. Daedra in numbers she had never seen pouring from the great gate at Bruma as she slashed her way through to stop the siege machine, her body shuddering on the impact of weapons and spells. The Amulet of Kings resting on the accursed and unworthy neck of Mankar Camaron as she cut him down in his own Paradise.

The old Dunmer woman leaped from her bed, ready to defend the heir to the Septim throne with her life before her waking eyes finally cleared. She exhaled a slow, tired breath and lowered her fists. She rubbed her shoulders, aching from a night of thrashing in bed and dressed slowly. It was still far too early in the morning to truly start her day, but whenever she had these nightmares, and she found them growing more frequent of late, she would walk to the nearby chapel of Akatosh, which she herself had helped to rebuild.

She stepped out of her small home just as a watchman on a horse was passing by, holding a torch aloft. “Everything alright ma’am?”

“Of course, Darmir. Just making my way to the chapel.” He nodded kindly.

“Stay safe.” He continued on his way and she smiled to herself. Young men like him always made her think of her son. He and a few of the other Blades would be coming by to visit that afternoon. She had planned to make them some sweet rolls, but that depended on the state of her arthritis.

She came to the chapel doors and slowly pushed one open to enter. The chapel was empty save for the priest, who was knelt in morning prayer before the Altar of The Nine. She approached the smaller Altar of Akatosh and carefully, but still not without pain, lowered herself to her knees there to pray. In recent years, she began to hear a distant, familiar voice calling to her and the whisper of a hand resting on her shoulder when she prayed here. She knew the voice and that its slow approach meant that her time was drawing near. She told no one, though. She saw no reason to worry those around her. This morning was no different. She heard his voice, as if submerged in water from across the room and felt the light brush of finger tips on her shoulder, lifting away her pain. She closed her eyes.

“I am grateful for your blessing and guidance,” she murmured. “I will see you again soon.” She prayed for several more minutes before gripping the edge of the altar and beginning the arduous process of lifting herself back to her feet. The priest, noticing her struggles, rushed over to help her up.

“Ma’am, please let someone know if you need help. I hate to see you like this.” She smiled.

“Thank you for your help, brother.” She patted his hand and walked towards the door. He watched her leave with pity, imagining how mighty she must have been in her youth.

She made her way home in the pale blue light of dawn. Her part of the city was still mostly quiet, but a few homes had lit candles and the sound of the slow, thumping footsteps of people barely awake.

At home, she rubbed her hands gently to assess their level of pain. There was none, and she glanced with a smile at the small stone statue of a roaring dragon with outstretched wings in the corner of her kitchen. She began to make dough for sweet rolls.

The rolls were nearly done when there came a knock at the door. She could hear the voices of a few men talking quietly on the step. She set aside the glaze for the nearly cooled pastries and hurried to the door. She threw it open to embrace her son. “My boy! How I missed you!” Martin Talos smiled sheepishly.

“It’s good to see you, Mama.” She stepped back, looking up at his face for a moment before glancing at the other two men, a Redguard and a Wood Elf, standing behind her son.

“Come in, come in! Introduce me to your fellow Blades while I finish the sweet rolls.” The three men followed the Hero of Kvatch inside and sat at her kitchen table, looking positively enormous compared to the small, round slab of wood between them. She poured each of them a glass of ale and listened to them talk as she iced the rolls. She served them and sat beside her son at the table. She listened to their conversation but didn’t speak often, merely enjoying their company. She was reminded fondly of her days as a knight sister of the Blades and her serene smile grew wider for a moment.

The afternoon passed quickly and soon it was time for Martin Talos’ fellows to find a place at the inn nearby. The Hero of Kvatch and her son bid them farewell for the night and she went to the spare room to ready her son’s bed. She returned to the kitchen shortly and sat at the table.

“Son, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“I would like you to accompany me to the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. I’m too old now to make the journey on my own.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t been in years. You said it’s too painful.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I feel called there, and it’s time I paid my old friend a visit.”

“Then I will. I’ll send the others back with the message to the grandmaster that I’ll be back later than expected and we can leave whenever you want. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She smiled and kissed his forehead.

“I am truly blessed to have such a good son. Get some rest now, I’d like to leave as soon as possible.” They both rose and he embraced his mother before retiring to his room. She quietly cleaned up the kitchen before going to bed herself.

In the morning, Martin Talos went off to the inn to give his message to his friends while his mother readied a small bag to take with her. He returned just in time to see her strapping her old katana from her days as a Blade round her waist.

“Mama, you don’t need to bring that. If we meet trouble along the way, I’ll protect you.”

“Don’t write me off as some defenseless old woman yet.” She smiled wryly.

“You’re not defenseless. If you’re in danger, you have a defense. Me.”

“Oh let me bring it. It’ll make me feel better.”

“If you insist. Are you ready?” She nodded and he picked up her bag. Together they walked outside and he helped her onto an old paint horse before lithely lifting himself onto his own.

They took the journey at a slow pace. What might have taken him alone a day at most took them three, but neither seemed to mind. They talked along the way, she recounting her stories of old and he sharing his new tales. They stayed at inns at night and ate well as a small family.

On their last night, the Hero of Kvatch had a nightmare. It was the same as always, but when she leaped out of bed and didn’t recognize her surroundings even when she became lucid, she screamed. Martin Talos was out of his bed in a flash.

“Mama, what’s the matter?! Are you hurt?” She stared at him for a moment, wide eyed, fists still at the ready. She lowered her hands gradually, exhaling through her nose.

“Yes... I’m... I’m fine.” She sat down on her bed, but her son’s concerned gaze was still on her. “Go back to bed.”

“No. I’m worried about you. Is there something I can do to help?”

“Pray with me.” He quickly sat beside her and took her hand, bowing his head. That familiar voice she heard was now closer than it had ever been, as if the speaker was at the end of the bed. She opened one eye to confirm that her son heard nothing. She closed her eye and felt a phantom touch on her shoulder. She slowly relaxed and kissed her son’s cheek. “Thank you.” He smiled and rose, returning to his own bed. She laid back down herself and went to sleep once more.

They arrived in the temple district around sunset the following day. With their horses stabled outside the gate, Martin Talos and his mother walked slowly towards the temple with the massive stone dragon protruding from its still shattered roof. The sunset bathed the dragon in a brilliant orange light, almost as if it was still a burning avatar. They entered the temple and the Hero of Kvatch walked forward to kneel before the dragon. Her son followed her.

“Let me help you.” She eyed him with a stern, motherly look.

“No, Martin Talos, I will do this myself.” He smiled good naturedly and kissed her forehead.

“Alright. just don’t hurt yourself.” She squeezed his hand lightly and slowly lowered herself to the ground, bending her aching body forward so her forehead touched the dragon’s inexplicably warm claw. Martin Talos stepped back, watching. In his eye, he only saw his mother kneeling, but in her soul’s eye, she saw something different. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but now it felt just as real and present as anything. She looked up to see a familiar man in priest’s robes, the Amulet of Kings at his throat.

“Martin...” He smiled kindly at her.

“My friend, Champion of Cyrodiil... come with me. Akatosh calls your name.” He offered her his hand and helped her soul to rise from her body. Together, they tread air into sacred ground, leaving the temple, the city, and the world behind them.

#hero of kvatch #tes #oblivion #martin septim #the elder scrolls #skyrim #im actually really proud of this one tbh

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years

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Drake's Diary ch.23 -The Billiard Room

The Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Drake x MC (Emma Rose)

Words: 3020

Warnings: NSFW

After the opera, Drake and Emma head out to play an innocent game of pool...but is it really so innocent?

Later the next night is the opera. Drake did everything he could to arrive separately from everyone else. He made sure he was running late, he made a big deal about where his white shirt was, he couldn’t find the right shoes, his pants didn’t look right. Finally, Maxwell left him alone and Drake breathed a sigh of relief. There’s no way in hell he’s sitting through hours of screeching voices. He had a headache just thinking about it. The only thing was…Emma would be there. She would definitely be there looking all glamorous and beautiful, and also confronting Queen Mother Regina about her role in the plot to destroy her reputation. She needed him tonight, and he would never let her down. When he finally managed to arrive at the opera house, all was quiet. Everyone was inside. Using that to his advantage, Drake slipped inside Emma and Maxwell’s limousine.

Good place as any to hide. Don’t want to run into anyone during intermission. And oh look, Maxwell stocked my favorite whiskey. Damn right he did that, it’s the least he can do to make up for hiding my sister from me.

After a couple glasses, Drake started to doze off. Sitting alone in a limo is so boring. I should have just stayed on the damn train. It’s not like she won’t return to the train after. Unless…unless she goes out with someone after…someone like Liam. He mentioned Madeleine wouldn’t be here tonight.

When he finally saw guests leaving, he exited the limo and went inside the opera house. Walking into the house atrium, Drake couldn’t help but feel a bit in awe of it. It was a gleaming chamber of elaborate marble and gold. There was large ivory staircase, the kind that took up an entire room it was so big. The atrium is alive with activity. Servers buzz about, holding trays laden with wine and champagne. Emma, Hana, Olivia, and Maxwell cluster at the base of the stairs. He debates on going over there, but he really doesn’t feel like dealing with Olivia. So, he went to the bar and he waited again, getting more impatient by the minute. Finally, his opening arrives. As Olivia departs, Drake approaches the group, drink in hand. “Finally, she’s gone.”

Emma looked at him in surprise. “Drake, I didn’t know you were here. Where were you in the audience?”

“I wasn’t. There’s no way in hell I was going to sit through that. I’m just here for the free drinks.” He raises his glass as if making a toast, then takes a sip.

A slow smirk started to cross her face. “Drake does that mean you were just sitting out in the limo for the last three hours?”

He sputtered “What? No! I was…you know, walking around. And stuff.”

Damn it! Why didn’t I do something? I should’ve known she’d bring it up!

Hana looked at him curiously. “Walking around the opera house?”

“Neither seen nor heard?” Maxwell piped in.

“Almost certainly scowling and brooding?” Hana continued.

Oh no, what did I just walk myself into? “I have a feeling this is going somewhere I’m not going to like….”

Waggling her fingers towards him, Emma announced, in what Drake guessed was her ‘spooky’ voice, “I guess you say he’s like… a Phantom of the Opera.”

“Ugh, no.” He rolled his eyes. I knew it. How does she manage to come up with this stuff? She literally has some kind of response for everything.

“Come on, Drake, you can’t deny it. The Phantom of the Opera is there…inside your mind.” She teased.

And then she doesn’t know when to stop. Because she always manages to come up with even more. And damn it, how does she know I’ve seen that? “I’m…going to grab another drink.”

“Ooh! I’ll join!” Maxwell exclaims.

Drake levels him with his stare until he finally slunk back.

“…I mean, I’ll go write down the plot for my breakdance opera before I forget. Promise you won’t tell anyone my idea, though, okay? I don’t want someone else to get there first…”

“Cross my heart!” Hana promised.

“And hope to die before you force me to watch it.” Drake finished, departing in the opposite direction of Maxwell, leaving Emma and Hana alone.

He stood at the bar, watching as Emma left the opera house and walked outside. He sighed. You idiot. You didn’t even ask her how her talk went with Queen Mother. He started walking after her. At least she’s alone and not with Liam or Hana, or even worse, Maxwell.

Back at the train…Emma is about to reach her room, when she runs into Drake heading in the opposite direction.

“Hey Rose.”

She rose an eyebrow. “Where are you headed? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Eh, I couldn’t sleep after I got back to my room.” Except I didn’t make it to my room and instead found myself walking towards yours. “Thought I might as well have some fun.”

“As in have a drink?” She guessed.

God I’m so predictable. “I do have other hobbies besides whiskey you know. Like pool.”

She looked at him excitedly. “There’s a pool room on this train? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Heh. As if anyone would want to play on a moving vehicle. I’ve been frequenting this hotel a few blocks from here, and it has a private game room. It’s quiet, it’s open late, and no one bothers me.”

Her face fell a bit. “That must be your idea of paradise. Solitude, a few drinks, a manly game of billiards.”

“Heh. It’s close. Although to be honest, playing solo gets a little boring after a while…” He trailed off. I do want to spend time with her…but we always end up kissing and we really shouldn’t. But then again…it’s too late to go back from it now anyway. “Do you want to come play a game or two? Some competition would make things more interesting.”

She broke out into a slow smile. “Oh, I see. You’re looking for a rematch after our game last night”

He tried to hide his own smile. “….Maybe.”

“You’re on.” She full on grinned.

He couldn’t help but grin back. “Alright but be warned. I won’t go easy on you.”

“If you did, I’d be disappointed.”

She follows Drake out of the train car, and a short walk brings them to a modest-looking hotel. Drake leads her through the lobby to a back room where the doorman bows and waves them both inside.

Emma laughed. “Wow, you must be a regular.”

“Well…When I told Liam about finding this place, he spoke with the owner to make sure I’d be taken care of.” He told her sheepishly.

“I think I could use a private getaway like this.”

“You do have a private train cabin.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Er…doesn’t everyone? Don’t tell me you’ve been sharing a bunk with Maxwell.”

Drake scowled. “He calls us ‘best friend roomies’, and I’m very close to throwing myself off the train.” He walks over to the pool table and begins setting up the game as she looks around.

“So, have you been coming here every single night?” She asked.

“Only a few times. Whenever I can’t sleep.”

She catches his eye. “What’s keeping you awake? Is it…scandalous thoughts about me?” She flirted.

He meets her gaze for a moment, saying nothing, only giving a hint of a smile before he turns back to the pool table. Now there’s an obvious question with an even more obvious answer. “I didn’t come here to talk about my sleeping habits, Rose. I came here to show you up at pool.”

“Bold words, Mr. Walker.”

He finishes arranging the balls in the rack and pulls it away. They pick up cue sticks. “Are you up for some house rules?” He asked.

She shrugs. “That depends on the rules.”

“Okay. After the break, we each get one shot per round to sink a ball into a corner pocket. Each ball gets you one point. Best of three rounds wins.”

“I think I can handle that.”

Drake steps aside, gesturing towards the table. “Then go ahead and break.”

She picks up the cue and faces the triangle of pool balls at the center of the table. With one strike from her pool cue, she sends the balls scattering across the table and bouncing off the sides. After a few moments, they roll to a stop.

Huh. Impressive. “Good break.” He studies the layout of the table before striking the cue ball. It glances off a purple ball, which rolls neatly into the corner pocket.

“That’s one.”

“Smooth! Where did you learn to shoot like that?” She asked.

He blushed a bit. He can only imagine what she’ll say to this. “From my mom. She taught me and Savannah all the tricks she knew.”

She dramatically pressed her hand to her heart. “All those lessons must’ve been adorable. Baby Drake trying to hold a cue stick…”

“Adorable probably isn’t the word my mom would use. I was a handful.”

“And teaching you to play a game with giant sticks made that…better?”

“Eh, it kept me occupied. And it made me pretty damn good at pool.”

Emma smirked. “That remains to be seen.”

Drake steps back from the table, giving her room to line up her first shot. She looks back at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you mind giving me a hand with this?”

He looked at her doubtfully. “You want me to help you win?”

“Just give me a few pointers?” She asked, innocently.

Mmhmm. Pointers. Right. I’ll be pointing something but it’s not going to be a cue stick. “…oh, fine.” He stands behind her and gently wraps his arms around her, so he can place his hands on the cue stick. “You’ll want to hold it here and here.”

“Like this?” She deliberately moves her hands away from where they should be, and he couldn’t help but smile at how obvious she was being.

He presses into her harder and moves one of her hands slightly closer to the end of the stick and the other back towards her. The callouses on his hands linger a moment on hers, until he feels his cock stirring against her ass…and he pulls quickly away.

“There.”

Following his lead as she aims, she uses the cue ball to send another ball spinning into one of the corner pockets. “Yes!”

“There you go.” Drake leans on his cue stick as he squints at the table, visualizing his next shot. Then he steps up and takes aim…knowing he’s going to nail this shot.

Her voice cut in. “You know, you get this little wrinkle in the middle of your forehead when you concentrate. It’s cute.”

“Wha-“ His shot goes wild, the cue ball rolling around the table without knocking any others into a pocket. Well played, Rose. Well played. “I…that was a freebie for you, Rose.”

“I thought you weren’t going to go easy on me.”

“Maybe I’m feeling charitable.”

“Hmm, there’s that wrinkle again…”

Drake rubs his forehead, not quite meeting her eyes. “You’re up.”

She lines up her shot…and easily knocks a ball into a center pocket, but Drake chimes in from behind her.

“Hey, center pockets don’t count! Remember, house rules!”

She frowned. “Oh. I totally forgot. Can I try again?”

Yeah right, I already gave you a freebie. “Sorry, Rose, but that’s it for this round. Which means it’s my turn.” He slowly begins lining up his shot…

Slowly, she begins stripping down to her underwear. First her shirt, then her pants. Drake glances up from his shot and his eyes go wide. “Rose, what…what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Drake swallows hard, still staring, as she removes her bra next, her eyes never leaving him.

“Tick tock, Walker.”

He shakes his head and leans back down over the table, lining up the shot. His eyes keep wandering over to her as she sways her hips around the table, one of her fingers grazing the felt as she went. He fumbles with the cue stick, and the cue ball rolls to a stop without sending any other balls into a pocket. “Damn.”

“You’re supposed to watch the ball, Drake. Isn’t that like billiards 101?”

There’s a longing look in his eyes as he studies her. Wow, that body…her breasts…she’s so perfectly made, she’s exactly what I’ve wanted my whole life. “Guess I got distracted. Last shot, Rose.”

An idea formed in his head. If she’s going to play dirty, so am I.

She studies the table, and just as she begins sighting along her cue stick, Drake starts unbuttoning his shirt. She stares as he discards the shirt, drops to the floor, and begins doing push-ups.

“Uh, Drake? What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me. Just gotta get the rest of my nightly workout in.”

“Shirtless?”

“Just borrowing a page from your playbook.” She turns back to the pool table, but Drake switches to one-handed push ups, smiling to himself that she can’t help glancing at him as she lines up the shot. The cue ball bounces off of a green-striped one, but it doesn’t quite make it into the pocket.

She pouted. “No fair. I was trying to concentrate over here.”

He smirked in satisfaction. “Sorry. Couldn’t skip the nightly workout.”

She sighed. “I guess that’s the game. Which means…” She counts up the points on her fingers. “It’s a tie.”

He nodded. “You’re pretty good at this, Rose. I don’t tie a lot of games of pool.”

“Maybe you should play with other people more often.”

“Heh. I’ll consider it.” If it’s you and you keep stripping…abso-freakin-lutely

“But right now, we need to decide what we both won.” She continued.

What? There’s no prizes for a tie. Who the heck has she played with in the past that allowed this rule? Oh no…no I get it. This is exactly like the last time we were in a bar. “For…a tie? This is starting to sound familiar…”

Emma laughed. “Drinking game, pool game. Where’s the fun without any stakes? I say the prize is…a kiss.”

Son of a… “Are you trying to torture me, Rose?”

She sauntered up to him until she was only a breath away. “Is kissing me torture?”

He brushes his thumb across her lips…and then leans in to kiss her, gently pressing his lips against hers. When he finally steps back, his voice is slightly hoarse. “The kind I’ve been hoping for all night.”

She smiled softly. “Then why didn’t you kiss me sooner?”

“You know why, Rose.”

“We’re alone, Drake. How often does that happen?”

Drake’s breath hitched. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you could kiss me again. If you want to.”

If I want to? In what universe would I not want to? He hesitates only an instant, then pulls her close to him. His lips find hers as his hands tangle in her hair. “I always want to.” He murmured.

She kisses him again, pulling him back against the pool table. Slowly and deliberately, he towers over her, kissing and nipping down her neck. He shivers as she wraps her arms around his waist. He’s only in his boxers, and he grinds himself against her panties, letting her feel how hard he was for her. He felt a bit of wetness penetrate through and he moaned at how soaking wet for him she must be. He starts trailing his hand from her hair, massaging her breast, then lightly continuing towards her center. He was dying to touch her in the most intimate of ways, then wanted to kneel before her and fuck her pussy with his tongue. He needs to taste her, needs to make her fall apart around him. His other hand gripped her skin harder with his thoughts and she arched her back with a moan, realizing where he was heading and encouraging him along.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door to the room. His hand froze just above her clit and he sighed in frustration, yet knew it was for the best to stop. After another lingering kiss, he pulls himself away with obvious effort. “That’ll be the staff letting us know it’s closing time. We should head back.”

“Are you sure you want to?” She questioned breathily.

Hah. Literally the last thing I want.

“No. But I’d rather end tonight on a high note, and getting tossed out by the closing security shift would be a low.”

She bit her lip, contemplating. “Not exactly the ending I had in mind.”

He leaned forward and took her bottom lip between his teeth, biting it gently. “Watch what you do around me, Rose.”

She looked at him seductively. “Trust me, I’m well aware of what I’m doing around you.”

He groaned and reached for his clothes. They both get dressed and quickly tidy up the pool table. The hotel’s doorman gives them a slight bow as they leave. Drake walks Emma back to the train, and when they reach the door to her cabin, he stops outside.

“I had a good time tonight.” He admitted.

“Me too. Next time we should go on a real date.”

His jaw dropped. “That wasn’t…I mean, not that I wouldn’t, but…Wait. You’re teasing me, aren’t you.”

She chuckled lightly. “Only a little. Be honest. If we’d called it a date, would you have taken me anywhere else?”

“Tonight? No.”

“How about on another night?”

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “We’ll have to see. Sleep well, Rose.”

“Goodnight, Drake.”

Waving, Drake heads off toward his own cabin, hoping Maxwell is nowhere around so he can relieve his throbbing cock, realizing again he didn’t ask her about Queen Mother. Oh well. I’m sure she’ll tell me, if Maxwell doesn’t beat her to it. She’s so damn distracting, I can’t think clearly around her. I can’t believe we stripped down together. I can’t believe I was so close to tasting her. Fuck me, I gotta get under control.

@annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @zigortega4life

@hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-miss-trr @noey718-blog @snyggflicka @rhymesmenagerie @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @crookedslimecreatorpasta

@notoriouscs @agent-bossypants @flowerpowell

#drake's diary #drake x emma #drake x mc #drake walker fanfic #drake walker #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #trr fanfic #trr drake #choices trr #trr #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #fluffy-marshmallow-heart #sorry this is late #ns*w

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veronicatalyst · 3 years

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Let us hear the confession of an old friend in Hell:

"O Lord, O Celestial Bridegroom, do not turn thy face from the confession of the most pitiful of thy handmaidens. I am lost. I'm drunk. I'm impure. What a life!

"Pardon, Lord in Heaven, pardon! Ah! pardon! All these tears! And all the tears to come later on, I hope!

"Later on, I will meet the Celestial Bridegroom! I was born to be His slave. - That other one can beat me now!

"Right now, it's the end of the world! Oh, girls... my friends!... no, not my friends... I've never gone through anything like this, delerium, torments, anything... It's so silly.

"Oh! I cry, I'm suffering. I really am suffering. And still I've got a right to do whatever I want, now that I am covered with contempt by the most contemptible hearts.

"Well, let me make my confession anyway, though I may have to repeat it twenty times again, - so dull, and so insignificant!

"I am a slave of the Infernal Bridegroom, the one who seduced the foolish virgins. That's exactly the devil he is. He's no phantom, he's no ghost. But I, who have lost my wits, damned and dead to the world, - no one will be able to kill me! - How can I describe him to you! I can't even talk anymore. I'm all dressed in mourning, I'm crying, I'm afraid. Please, dear Lord, a little fresh air, if you don't mind, please!

"I am a widow... - I used to be a widow... - oh, yes, I used to be very serious in those days, I wasn't born to become a skeleton!... He was a child or almost... His delicate, mysterious ways enchanted me. I forgot all my duties in order to follow him. What a life we lead! True life is lacking. We are exiles from this world, really - I go where he goes, I have to. And lots of times he gets mad at me, at me, poor sinner. That Devil! He really is a Devil, you know, and not a man.

"He says: "I don't love women. Love has to be reinvented, we know that. The only thing women can ultimately imagine is security. Once they get that, love, beauty, everything else goes out the window: all they have left is cold disdain, that's what marriages live on nowadays. Sometimes I see women who ought to be happy, with whom I could have found companionship, already swallowed up by brutes with as much feeling as an old log..."

"I listen to him turn infamy into glory, cruelty into charm. "I belong to an ancient race: my ancestors were Norsemen: they slashed their own bodies, drank their own blood. - I'll slash my body all over, I'll tattoo myself, I want to be as ugly as a Mongol: you'll see, I'll scream in the streets. I want to get really mad with anger. Don't show me jewels; I'll get down on all fours and writhe on the carpet. I want my wealth stained all over with blood. I will never do any work... "Several times, at night, his demon seized me, and we rolled about wrestling! - Sometimes at night when he's drunk he hangs around street corners or behind doors, to scare me to death. - I'll get my throat cut for sure; won't that be disgusting." And, oh! those days when he wants to go around pretending he's a criminal!

"Sometimes he talks, in his backcountry words, full of emotion, about death, and how it makes us repent, and how surely there are miserable people in the world, about exhausting work, and about saying goodbye and how it tears your heart. In the dives where we used to get drunk, he would cry when he looked at the people around us - cattle of the slums. He used to pick up drunks in the dark streets. He had the pity of a brutal mother for little children. - He went around with all the sweetness of a little girl on her way to Sunday school. He pretended to know all about everything, business, art, medicine. - And I always went along with him, I had to!

"I used to see clearly all the trappings that he hung up in his imagination; costumes, fabric, furniture... It was I who lent him weapons, and a change of face. I could visualize everything that affected him, exactly as he would have imagined it for himself. Whenever he seemed depressed, I would follow him into strange, complicated adventures, on and on, into good and evil: but I always knew I could never be a part of his world. Beside his dear body, as he slept, I lay awake hour after hour, night after night, trying to imagine why he wanted so much to escape from reality. No man before ever had such a desire. I was aware - without being afraid for him - that he could become a serious menace to society. Did he, perhaps, have secrets that would remake life? No, I told myself, he was only looking for them. But of course, his charity is under a spell, and I am its prisoner. No one else could have the strength - the strength of despair! - to stand it, to stand being cared for and loved by him. Besides, I could never imagine him with anybody else: we all have eyes for our own Dark Angel, never other people's Angels, - at least I think so. I lived in his soul as if it were a palace that had been cleared out so that the most unworthy person in it would be you: that's all. Ah! really I used to depend on him terribly. But what did he want with my dull, my cowardly existence? He couldn't improve me, though he never managed to kill me! I get so sad and disappointed; sometimes I say to him: "I understand you." He just shrugs his shoulders.

"And so my heartaches kept growing and growing, and I saw myself going more and more to pieces - and everyone else would have seen it, too, if I hadn't been so miserable that no one even looked at me anymore! and still more and more I craved his affection... His kisses and his friendly arms around me were just like heaven-- a dark heaven, that I could go into, and where I wanted only to be left - poor, deaf, dumb, and blind. Already, I was getting to depend on it. And I used to imagine that we were two happy children free to wander in a Paradise of sadness. We were in absolute harmony. Deeply moved, we labored side by side. But then, after a piercing embrace, he would say : "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore. When you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes. Because I will have to go away someday, far away. Besides, I've got to help out others too: that's what I'm here for. although I won't really like it... dear heart..." And in that instant I could feel myself, with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death. I made him promise that he would never leave me. And he promised, twenty times; promised like a lover. It was as meaningless as my saying to him: "I understand you."

"Oh, I've never been jealous of him. He'll never leave me, I'm sure of it. What will he do? He doesn't know a soul; he'll never work. He wants to live like a sleepwalker. Can his kindness and his charity by themselves give him his place in the real world? There are moments when I forget the wretched mess I've fallen into: he will give me strength, we'll travel, we'll go hunting in the desert, we'll sleep on the sidewalks of unknown cities, carefree and happy. Or else some day I'll wake up and - his magic power will have changed all laws and morals, - but the world will still be the same and leave me my desires and my joys and my lack of concern. Oh! that wonderful world of adventures that we found in children's books, - won't you give me that world? I've suffered so much, I deserve a reward. He can't. I don't know what he really wants. He says he has hopes and regrets: but they have nothing to do with me. Does he talk to God? Maybe I should talk to God myself. I am in the depths of an abyss, and I have forgotten how to pray.

"Suppose he did explain his sadness to me, would I understand it any better than his jokes and insults? He attacks me, he spends hours making me ashamed of everything in the world that has ever meant anything to me, and then he gets mad if I cry.

"- Do you see that lovely young man going into that beautiful, peaceful house? His name is Duval, Dufour, Armand, Maurice, whatever you please. There is a woman who has spent her life loving that evil creature: she died. I'm sure she's a saint in heaven right now. You are going to kill me the way he killed that woman. That's what's in store for all of us who have unselfish hearts..." Oh, dear! There were days when all men of action seemed to him like the toys of some grotesque raving: he would laugh, horribly, on and on. - Then he would go back to acting like a young mother, or an older sister. If he were not such a wild thing, we would be saved! But even his sweetness is mortal. I am his slave. - Oh, I've lost my mind!

"Some day maybe he'll just disappear miraculously, but I absolutely must be told about it, I mean if he's going to go back up into heaven or someplace, so that I can go and watch for just a minute the Assumption of my darling boy!"

One hell of a household!

#Arthur rimbaud #a season in hell #i can recite this blindfolded #foolish virgin #celestial bridegroom #paul verlaine

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mbmrocks · 5 years

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Ready Or Not - Chapter 2: Trouble In Paradise

Prologue Chapter 1

Darcy understood how important Spencer's job was, that it took him always from home a lot; it was the kids who were the most disappointed, which was why she was so grateful that even while on a case he seemed to put them first. Calling them every morning before school and every night before Mia would go to bed. No matter what there wasn't a day that he didn't call, making sure that he caught up on what was going on.

Still, in a way, she was kind of glad that when Spencer got back things would be different. Despite her anxiousness about meeting the team and being comfortable with the situation, there was still a part of her that felt like a dirty secret. How could you not when your husband had kept you and your kids from some of his closest friends for the last eleven years. For her after this case, it felt like a huge weight would be lifted off her shoulder.

"I'm really sorry guys," Spencer sigh could be heard through the cars Bluetooth system, "I wish I didn't have to go."

"What about my prize giving for soccer," Elijah frowns, feeling slightly upset.

"I'm really sorry Eli you can call me and tell me everything about how it went," Spencer suggests trying to cheer him up a little. Although it didn't seem to really work.

"Yet another missed event by super dad," Charlie mutter under his breath next to her. Unfortunately for him, Darcy heard, earning an irritated glare. Not seem to care Darcy watches him roll his eyes out the corner of her eye, before turning to look out the window.

Honestly, she had no idea what to do with him. Nothing she did make any difference. He was still sneaking out, shutting himself in his room. Both she and Spencer had tried to talk to him, but neither could get through to him. Things had been so much easier when he was younger, he had always been a mummy's boy but that had changed, especially after Eli was born. It just got worse and worse as he got older, I guess he felt like he wasn't a full part of the family. Darcy couldn't figure out why they always made sure he was ok, Spencer thought of him as his own son. The two of them did everything they could to be there for him

"It's fine honey," she attempts to reassure her, obviously upset husband. "No get off the phone and help your team."

"Alright, I'll miss you all and I will call you tonight," he tells her "Love you guys."

With that, he hangs up leaving a tension in the car between Darcy and Charlie as they continued to drive towards the local elementary.

"Bye Mummy."

"Bye Mum."

Both Mia and Eli wave goodbye, before Darcy drives off towards Charlie's high school.

"Could you have been any ruder," She shakes her head in disappointment eyes fully focused on the road.

"Well it's hard to respect someone who's hardly here, he's not even my father anyway," Charlie mutters, bitterness clear in his voice.

"You know that isn't his fault Charlie and at least he checks up on us while he was away," Darcy tells him feeling fed up, "there's more to being a father than sharing blood. Spencer has been more of a father to you than your biological father ever was. Next time you feel like saying that again, think about what you're saying."

"Whatever," he brushes it off as they reach the front of his school. No sooner had Darcy driven to a stop was Charlie out of the car slamming the door behind him.

Things hadn't been great from the start when she went to confront him for cursing at Mia after the wake-up call, plus the fact she caught him sneaking home. It had only gotten worse since especially after the argument that had started after Spencer had left. He didn't need to be bothered by that yet, she would tell him later.

She hoped he had a better start to his day since she had.

After hanging up Spencer runs his hands through his hair, before heading out of the office and gathering his things. He needed to focus on the case, but somehow this time he couldn't. Maybe it was the hostility he had felt before he hung up or the fact that he had to leave his family again. Honestly, it felt like the hundredth time in the last year.

"You ok Spencer," Emily asks as they enter the jet. Being one of the people who had known Spencer the longest it wasn't a surprise she could see something was bothering him.

"Yeah just thinking," he replies as he takes the seat across from Rossi, Emily taking the seat next Rossi also.

"Ok Garcia what have you got for us," Emily asks as Garcia's face appears on the computer screen where everyone could see.

"The rest stop victim Rebecca Strong was a sex trade worker," Garcia's voice echoes through the laptops speaker system.

"High risk, like the early victims Ferrell preyed on back in 2007," Emily shakes her head everyone else just listening in, her words seeming to confirm the worst.

"After that, he graduated to low-risk victims," Rossi continues looking at the photos clipped to the file in his hands, "like Sheryl Timmons, who's also the only known survivor."

"What was Rebecca like as a person?" Luke asks once Emily had told Garcia to track down Sheryl.

"She's described as strong-willed, determined. Working to support her two kids," Tara answers reading from her own file.

"When was Rebecca last?" Matt asks.

'Well, her boyfriend, and by boyfriend, I mean pimp, Jason Carlsbad, reported her missing when she didn't show up and donate to his college fund. I'm sending you deets right now." Garcia informs the team.

With every question and piece of information, Spencer minds became a whirlwind of theories and his own questions.

"Normally, I would want to look at him. Pimps hurt women they exploit to gain control, but an M.O this complex doesn't add up.

"Yeah, the cannibalism angle wouldn't make sense either," Luke agreed to try to piece it all together.

"Eroticizing the consumption of human flesh is a pretty specific fetish. Are we sure he's copying that from Ferrell?" Spencer asks hoping the answer would shed some more light. A complex case like this was going to a lot to piece together

"We need to nail that down. Dave, Tara, go to the M.E.'s office. Matt and Spencer head to Hazelwood State. Notorious criminals have fans who might want to copy their work. Luke, you and I will head to the PD and set up a base of operations with Detective Russ," He tells Spencer before giving everyone their assignments. They need to be ready to roll when they landed, to get ahead of this unsub whoever it turns out to be.

Once landed the team split off into their assignments, Spencer and Matt both making their way to Hazelwood. However, when they arrived, they got a bit of a surprise.

"Ferrell's been out on weekend home visits, so it is possible he's killing again, Spencer informs the team as he bursts into the investigation room feeling frustrated. How could a hospital for the criminal insane be so stupid?

"I can't believe they would that reckless, how did this happen?" Emily questions completely gobsmacked.

"Oh, it happened with Hinkley and Vince Li, the cannibal who killed and beheaded a guy on a bus." Rossi sighs. Sometimes even a team of profilers couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"And what's worse, cause this is a mental health issue, not a criminal case, they had no duty to tell us or any of the public," Matts words seemed to make an already hard case seem worse.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Ferrell's lawyer, Billie Williams is here," Detective Russ enter the room, the look on his face seemed to signal bad news. "You're gonna want to hear what she has to say.

Without wasting any time Emily and Rossi follow the Detective out of the room to be greeted by the lawyer, a professional woman in her early thirties. You could tell just by the look of her she meant business and was sure to cause some trouble. Which was ultimately true, from what Emily and Rossi had recited back to the team, she was trying to pull a lawsuit against the FBI, had submitted a motion to drop all charges against Ferrell and was petitioning for his unconditional release. All on the ground the Ferrell was innocent and was under the influence and being framed by the real killer. Even though Ferell had been found with one of the victims.

"Well, we've got our work cut out for us now. We need to attack this on two fronts," Emily tells the rest of the team. As much as she hated it, they needed to work carefully. "One, find out is Pharrell is killing, two, look into his lawyer's 'he was set up' theory.

"Are we really buying that Ferell had an accomplice and the team missed it before?" Matt asks annoyance lacing his voice.

"No matter how confident we are in our past work, we need to look at all the possibilities. Let the profile decide," Rossi assures him, hoping that might a leave some of the frustration that filled the room.

And let's find out if some phantom manipulative killer exists," sarcasm filled Emily's final words as everyone exits the office.

Later that night Spencer and Matt find themselves staking out a house.

"I'm sorry, but I gotta ask," Matt turns to his fellow agent. "Did you guys eat the tainted chilli?"

"I have issues with group food," Spencer explains hoping that would answer the question. "That must be Lori, Farrell's sister."

"Apparently he's had a lot of home visits in the past few months, so it's unlikely she's in any danger," Matt voices his voice as they both look at the house once again.

"She has a nine-year-old son, though. It's a risk having Ferrell around someone so vulnerable," concern flooded through Spencer as he thought of Eli who was around Lori's son's age. If he had been in her position there was, he would let Ferrell into his home, even if it was his brother. Yet again he wasn't but it still made him uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, he hadn't had the time to call Darcy and the kids yet so the first chance he got during the night he jumped for it. Knowing it was past ten at home he hoped he hadn't missed his opportunity.

Back in Quantico, the sound of her phone ringing pulled Darcy away from the TV show playing on her computer screen. Seeing Spencer's name appear on the screen a grin appears on her face.

"Hey honey," Spencer's tired sounding voice calls through the speaker after a few rings.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Darcy answers already missing the sound of her husband's voice.

"Well we're on a stakeout at the moment, so I thought I would ring and see how everyone was," she could hear the smile in Spencer's voice.

"You sure you want to talk I wouldn't want to keep you from the case?" Darcy asks worriedly she was distracting him, especially on a stakeout.

"Don't worry Matt and Luke are still watching the house," she let out a sigh of relief at Spencer reassurance. "Plus, they think I'm taking a bathroom break."

"Oh really," she let out a quiet laugh at the humour in her husband voice.

"Yes really, how are the kids?"

"They are amazing, although Charlies, still being Charlie."

"What happened this time," Spencer sighs hearing this.

"We got into an argument after you left and things haven't settled since, but don't worry it's nothing I can't handle," Darcy assures him knowing he was going to ask if she needed him to go home. Spencer couldn't just drop a case because Charlie had started to cause some trouble, Darcy knew that which was why she was going to deal with Charlie's behaviour herself. She wanted Spencer full attention on the case.

"If you're sure," Spencer tells her no completely convinced and before she had a chance to reply he spoke again.

"Hey sorry to cut the conversation short, but Matts calling for me."

"It's fine, go save the world one psycho at a time," she tells him before the phone clicks dead before the darkness of sleep takes over her.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfic #secrets #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #fanfiction #bau #ocappreciation

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