A/N: Another Multi-Chapter fic is on the way! This was a one-shot request by @mpankey11, but when I heard it, I really felt it would work better as a multi-chapter! I hope you all like! And @mpankey11, I hope I do your idea justice. I’m sorry it took so long :) @coveofmemories
It was like a movie. Only in a movie did you find out your fiancee was cheating on you with one of your supposed best friends, leading you to dump his ass and need to return to his place of work to return the ring he’d given you. Technically, it was a gift - a promise from him that he’d be yours forever, but when you’d walked in on him with Stacy - that promise had been broken. Since it was a gift, your parents said you should keep it and sell it; it was worth a fortune, considering he came from a well-to-do background. However to you, all it represented was a broken heart, misplaced trust and two years of wasted time, so you headed out to the restaurant he owned to drop the ring off, maybe he’d give it to your back-stabbing former friend one day - all you knew was that you couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.
As you looked into the rearview mirror, you took in your makeup and demeanor despite the somber occasion. Had your relationship ended because of something neither of you could control, like an illness or an accident or a job transfer, you would’ve been sadder, but he’d brought this all on himself by dipping his wick in another woman who also happened to be a friend of yours. At nearly 30 years old, you were better off without the both of them in your life, so you were actually pretty happy. No more wasted time. Plus, you looked good. Whenever you went through a bad time, you always pampered yourself to make yourself feel better. Over the course of the past week, you’d gone for a massage and a facial, so your body was limber and your pores were practically invisible. Then you went to get a haircut; you went with an asymmetrical bob and dark brown dye (to cover the grays that had popped up in recent weeks), which really framed your face and brought out your eyes. Finally, you’d gone out for a bit of shopping, which was actually two-fold; one to make yourself feel better and two because you needed some new interview clothes. You had an interview much later in the day, about 2:00 PM, but you decided to get an early start on the day and return the ring to the one you now referred to as “the jackass of all jackasses” first thing in the morning.
After a short drive, during which time you admired the amazing makeup you’d done on the fly five minutes before you left the house, you arrived at the restaurant. Some coverup, a light coating of blush, light pink lipstick and some fierce eyeshadow and mascara later; you had to say it was probably the best makeup you’d ever done. You looked damn good. You didn’t want to admit it, but the makeup and outfit, gray pencil skirt and pink silk blouse, were designed to make the jackass of all jackasses instantly regret what he’d done.
Feeling at your pocket, you ensured the ring was still there before walking in the door. It was an enormous three karat diamond; he owned five diners in the area, so he was swimming in cash, but to you it meant nothing if he wasn’t faithful. You opened the door to the restaurant, but there were very few people there. A older couple, probably there for the early bird special, a couple of teenagers who’d undoubtedly skipped school to drink coffee and nothing else and a very good looking lanky gentleman, whose light brown hair and hazel eyes were hypnotizing. He looked the complete opposite of your ex-fiancee, but he was gorgeous. You could cut meat on his jawline, or just lick it. Mind out of the gutter Y/N, you thought to yourself. He seemed tall, considering his spindly legs were practically hitting the underside of the table, and he was neck deep in a book, an academic one at that. You’d always had a thing for intellectuals.
When you walked into the restaurant, you’d smelled the faint hint of smoke. The jackass had decided to pick up the habit in the last few months of your relationship, so you figured he was out in the back. You’d wait though; you had all the time in the world.
As you waited, you sipped at a hot cup of coffee. It was delicious. It should be considering the expense and freshly ground, locally grown beans. But as you neared the end, a group of pompous-looking douchebags and their fake ass significant others entered the restaurant - their gazes immediately resting on the good-looking gentlemen you’d been eyeing up earlier.
“Well, look who it is?” the blonde-haired tall one said, inching closer to the lanky man. “If it isn’t the loser Spencer Reid? You remember us from school right?”
“Yea, you made my life miserable,” she heard him sigh. So he was made fun of in school - you could relate to that, but probably for a different reason.
“Still a complete dork. You still single, you fucking loser?” the dark-haired one said, his girlfriend snickering in his ear. Bullies at what had to be 30 years old? Seriously? Goddammit, people sucked.
They continued to pick on the tall gentleman sitting at the table just trying to enjoy a cup of coffee. It was really bothering you. You knew they hadn’t seen you when the walked in…and you still had the ring in your pocket…
Time to help out the man they’d called Spencer. When you’d been in school, you’d been made fun of as well, but unlike him, who was seemingly made fun of for being geeky, you had been deemed the school slut. Apparently, if you were beautiful, that meant you were sleeping with everything that moved - and kids always heard what they wanted to, so no matter how many times you’d tried to dispute you reputation, everyone still called you a whore.
You took the ring out of your pocket, slipping it back onto your ring finger. It practically burned; it didn’t want to be there, but you wanted to make bigger assholes out of these already pretty big assholes. With a shining smile, you walked over to the table, sitting down next to Spencer. “Sorry I took so long baby,” you said, looking right into his eyes. From his split-second look, you knew he was perplexed, but his body language didn’t show it. You leaned in, grabbing the hair at the back of his head and biting at his lower lip. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the mouths of the bullies drop one-by-one, so you continued your ministrations, slipping your tongue into his mouth and pulling him into a passionate and lengthy kiss.
After you released him from the kiss, you looked toward the group of morons. “Spencer’s never mentioned you. You are?” You hoped that by saying they’d never been mentioned, you’d bruised their egos. They could stand to be taken down a few pegs.
“Old friends of Spencer’s,” the blonde who’d initiated the conversation said. “And you are?”
“I’m his fiancee,” you smiled, flashing the three-karat diamond in their faces. They looked dumbfounded.
IMHO, Slide is about having too much money, meaningless sex, diamonds & drugs. Frank Ocean’s Intro boasts about having enough money to buy a Pablo Picasso painting titled “Boy w/ a Pipe” that last sold at auction for $140 million. Then he sings in a bored jaded voice about going to a bar where his diamonds don’t shine in the dark & having a casual hook-up. He asks his partner does s/he “slide on all your nights like this”, meaning does s/he always slip over the surface & never emotionally connect.
Given this thematic concept, Quavo sings about a woman’s face, doing drugs, having $100,000 in cash, wearing so many diamonds they do shine in the dark, cruising, & her friends wanting to break them up—probably because their relationship is shallow as fuck.
Not to be out-done, Offset sings about his diamonds, getting sucked off while getting high, & his girl even went to college but he’ll make more money “ridin’ with no brain”.
Calvin Harris’ musical genius is taking these bleak lyrics & making a song that makes the listener feel good. He’s done this repeatedly. Florence Welch wails about having her heart broken & John Newman pleads for forgiveness but the music says, “hey, let’s dance” and we do.
I’ll admit I’ve been going a little crazy on A3! to get all my hoarded diamonds from unread stories to roll as many times as possible, because all of the new SR cards this event count to give you extra points.
Sadly I have three Comedy (Yuki, Kazu, Juza) and one Serious (Citron) at this point so I’m going to keep cashing out diamonds to get me Action Itaru or Action Omi. Of course the two characters I like best are the ones that come to me least.
On my last 10-pull from the Spring/Summer banner, I got 5(!!) gold stagehands which got me super excited, because that meant literally half my cards had a chance to be the new SR ones.
Except one of them is an SSR and it’s an SSR that I have most definitely already maxed out (Water me! Muku) and I honestly can’t tell if Gacha God Sakusaku is blessing me or Gacha Devil Itaru is laughing at me.
Salesmen at Manny’s on 48th Street. An amazing music store, but the salesmen were pretty much all douchebags, unless you walked in there wearing diamonds and carrying big bags of cash. So fuck these guys.