#do i think he looked so much happier when he was with taylor (and miles)? yes 100% ofc

[yellowloid]

what do u think about louise

LMAO i knew this would happen

i don't really think that much about her tbh. i mostly think that as every other girlfriend she gets a lot of hate for literally just existing which is mostly rooted in misogyny. you have to be deeply delusional as a fan to believe you could ever have a chance with your fave lmao and just because she managed to do it thanks to the right connections it still doesn't mean you get to hate on her just because she's your celebrity crush's girlfriend. be so for real and touch some grass

of course she did some problematic stuff in the past (though still """less""" problematic than what taylor did, at least from what i know), but that still doesn't justify people going on her socials and bashing on her every chance they get. you are entitled to your own opinion about her and obviously you can dislike her - but still, without sending her hateful comments/messages.

personally i don't really love her, but i don't hate her either. as i said, she did some problematic stuff in the past - although cancel culture is a problem in and of itself; she deserves at least a chance to redeem herself, and i want to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe she understood what she did was wrong and learnt from her mistakes. still, that doesn't mean we should forget about her wrongs and defend her at all costs like cringe amtwitter does

but strictly speaking of her relationship with alex... the reason i don't like them that much is that from what we've seen of their relationship it doesn't exactly seem to be the healthiest thing. first of all because of the nasty way it started, and by that i mean him cheating on taylor - which i think is safe to say is probably what happened, and if it is, then that was very very yikes of both alex and louise. also the fact that she used to be a fan and idealised him as well as his relationship with alexa (huge power imbalance + her most likely trying to hide her true personality to fit his "aesthetic") and in general the fact that they really... don't seem to have that much chemistry with each other? they look cute together, sure, but they really don't seem to bring out the best in each other, if that makes sense. there are like three (3) pictures of alex where she's in close proximity and he doesn't look like he wants to be kicked in the balls and die on the spot. they just seem very... boring. and bored with each other, also.

but then again, we really don't know what they're like in private. we don't know them personally so we don't know how their relationship with each other works. maybe it's perfect and straight out of a fairy tale! maybe they're actually in love even if they usually look miserable when close to each other! who knows, right? my point is: alex is a grown man and if for whatever reason he chooses to stay with her, then so be it, regardless of what we as fans might think. if she makes him happy, then as a fan of him that's all i care about.

[alittlefrenchtree]

Curious Anon again! Sorry to send you so many asks but your mind is so interesting! You also said this on that ask about Taylor acting: "Taylor was so organic as Alex I was almost immediately on board with him. For me, it was everything to do with the sincerity and heart with which he played him, rather than being an award worthy performance or not. It wasn’t perfect but it was perfectly Alex so it was good. And I suspect the very few of my issues with it would fall on the directing and the editing of it rather than Taylor’s work". Could you please elaborate on how you suspect the few issues you have with Taylor's performance as Alex could fall on the directing and editing of the movie rather than Taylor's work please? I have my suspicions cause I've thought the same as well, but I would love to hear what you think.

Please don’t apologize I love these kind of questions 🙏 Thank you for asking them 💜

[yes, I did take photos of my screen with my phone because you can’t screenshot on prime video and I’m too lazy to find a cleaner solution]

The main moment I had in mind when I wrote this was the "Alex is so in love he could die" shot. Yeah, yeah I know. Let me explain before y'all jump in my inbox.

First time I saw this shot, I knew what the movie was trying to tell me but the message never reached me. And it was so weird because I was very much in tune with with Alex’s feeling at the moment. Karaoke!Henry was my Oh. moment about Henry and the moment I, too, fell a bit in love with him as well. So I was very much on board with the projet. And the worst part of it is I see everything Matthew and Taylor have done and why it has worked on most people.

I know how it supposed to contrast with how animated Alex’s face is in every other scene of the movie. And there, everything slow down, quiet down and he’s stunned by the weight of what he just realized. I know, and it’s there and yet it didn’t work on me. It never does actually. And to be honest, I don’t know what could have been made differently to reach me. But I think my issue isn’t with Taylor’s acting because, making Alex’s feelings for Henry very visible on his face isn’t an issue for me anywhere else in the movie. My best guess is that there is another take of this shot that was made for me but has been cut off and left on the floor of the editing room. But I don’t know what the directions given by Matthew were and sometimes, a scene doesn’t work also because of this. And given how many times I disagree with Matthew’s directing over the course of the movie, it wouldn’t be really surprising. 

Like in this?

Who even did the blocking of this scene? Why nobody saw this and said this look ridiculous? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

Same vibe for the reunion hug at Kensington. As soon as I heard "I’m coming to London tonight" I was SO HYPED. I wanted to feel everything with them and— the camera was set a million miles away from them in a very awkward angle and an unpratical setting that deflected most of the intensity of the scene for me?

I’m not sure what was the intention here. I guess there was the symbolism of the stairs with Alex climbing them and Henry running down to him and the parallel with the KP night scene and the idea of being a distant (un-allowed) witness to something very intimate and maybe the idea of making it a bit messy and not hollywoodish for realism? I also imagine Henry collapsing on Alex made more sense on stairs but— I don’t know. I would have been happier with a different setting.

So yeah, these are a few moments I didn't get the feeling(s) the movie was trying to make me feel but didn’t quite succeed certainly because of elements that weren’t related to the cast's work.

Anyway, thanks again for reading my posts so throughtfully and sending these asks, it was fun 💜

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

My Girl

A/N: SOOOO obviously Y/N is very heavily based off of the queen herself, Ms. Taylor Swift, just in terms of being incredibly famous, a singer, recording albums to own her own work like she should... ya know, the typical things. So basically, you’re Taylor Swift in this story, but not really. But kind of. Pairing: Chris Evans x Singer!F!Reader Word count: 1,447 words Warnings: Swearing, some angst, fluff

It was your official last lazy Sunday with Chris for at least the next four months.

If there was one thing you were thankful for, being a recording artist, it was the flexibility in your schedule unless you were touring. Every major city you had a home in had dozens of recording studios, and in your main-stay locations you had actually created make-shift studios at home so if a really promising idea came to you in the middle of the night (which happened far too often) a full, spacious, recording area was right in your house.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend had a completely different set-up. Flying out to various film locations for months on end called for a lot of time apart, and 12-hour-days. Sure, you felt bad when you answered the phone after a long day of filming and you could just tell by the slight slurs in his voice he was on the edge of falling asleep, but on the other hand he also loved it so that those exhausting days didn’t take that much of a toll on him.

As you whisked around the eggs in your ceramic bowl, you felt his heavy arms wrap around your waist, his chin placing itself on your shoulder. You smiled. “I’m gonna miss these so damn much.” You lightly laughed.

“I will, too.” You looked up at him for only a few seconds, your noses almost touching. You took one of your hands to run them along his cheek, where his beard was in full swing considering this role allowed for it. “We’ll figure out FaceTime or something. And, when you’re filming in LA, I’ll just fly out and stay there at my place.” He huffed.

“I don’t want you changing your schedule and all for me-” “Chris, I work from wherever I am.” You reminded him, “All I need to do is strum a few guitar strings and sing-” “And then you win yourself another Grammy.” He kissed your cheek, pulling away now to lean his body next to where you worked on the counter.

“Well, we’ll see.” You lightly smiled, “Not sure how well rerecordings will go over with the committee.”

“I find rerecording your own art to be pretty fucking cool.” You smiled to yourself. Since you announced you were planning to do so, Chris had been your number one supporter. He gave you the freedom to visit your past loves and heartbreaks, all those prior relationships that seemed to be the forever one that ended like the rest, and he did so with absolute grace.

“I just can’t believe I have to work with that motherfu-” “Chris,” You looked up at him with a chuckle, “Our relationship ended over a decade ago. I was young, and naive. And sure, he was manipulative. But that’s far in the past. Don’t let that blindside or gray your judgment of him. Although I doubt he’s changed much.” “Old habits die hard.” He responded, “And judging by the current 23-year-old he has- I mean, he’s fucking older than me!” “I know,” Your softly responded, “But it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks. So please, no punches thrown or harsh words. He’s not worth it.” You walked over to him, standing on your tip toes to give him a kiss. “Because I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” So much so that I’ve forgot everything heartbreak before you.

“He is a dick!” You heard Chris rant over the phone, his voice still managing to echo throughout your kitchen despite him being a thousand miles away. “Why would you ever date him, Y/N/N?” “Because I was 22, Christopher, and obsessed with the fact that I thought I was mature enough to have an older man.” You responded, an odd silence brewing, “And no, our nine year age gap does not count. Considering I’m in my thirties now, I think I can make a damn decision for myself without being completely blindsided by manipulative men.” “Fair point.” He responded, “He just walks around with a god complex like he owns the fucking place. And he’s a good actor, sure, but he’s not amazing or anything-” “Chris, babe.” You stopped him with the softest voice you could use, a smile growing on your face. “I dated him. I know.” “Now I know why all the songs you write about him are shitty.” He said, to which a confused look painted your face, “Wait- no, I meant, like, they describe him as shitty. The songs are amazing, ya know? But it’s the lyrics that make him a dick and I get it now.” “Alright, babe.” You laughed, “Your movies are pretty shitty too.” “I promise, I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N.” He groaned, “You know I love your music!” “Mhm.” You sarcastically grinned.

“I promise.” He replied. “I’m not gonna win this am I?”

“Nope.” You said, “Glad you’ve picked up the cues. Maybe you’ll be the next breakup song.” “Please,” He scoffed, “You couldn’t get rid of me after four years if you tried.” “Hmmmm-” You hummed questionably, as if actually pondering it.

“You wrote three different songs about our sex life.” He reminded you, “We are forever attached and together whether you like it or not.” “Fair enough.” You lightly laughed. “Just remember, no punches thrown.” “If that does happen, it won’t be for me. It’ll be for you, baby.” You could practically see his wink as you rolled your eyes.

“Alright big man, keep telling yourself that.” You smiled, “I love you, though, and I promise I’ll call you tomorrow again.” “Okay, hon, love you, too.”

“He did WHAT?” You asked into the phone, your eyes growing wide. “No he didn’t.” You gasped out loud, cursing both yourself and him under your breath, “I’m gonna call you back, I need to talk to him before this shit gets out to people it shouldn’t. Which it will, eventually.”

You hung up immediately, dialing pressing Chris’ name. The heart next to it was meant to be there, but sometimes he was just insatiable- “Hey.” He answered, acting surprisingly happy given the current situation.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You asked, your teeth seething together, “You fucking punched him Chris! How may times did I tell you not to punch him?” “Hold on, sweetheart, hear me out-” He tried to explain.

“Hear you out?” You mocked with a deafening scoff, “After you fucking punched my ex? This is going to be on every gossip magazines headline tomorrow!” “I know, hon, let me explain, please-” “Explain my ass!” You exclaimed, “You are so-” “Honey, stop.” He said calmly, and you reluctantly obliged, his voice doing this to you. You hated it sometimes, and loved at others. “It was a fight scene, supposed to be a fake punch. I swung a little too close and hit him.” “Hard, apparently.” You replied, “I cannot believe you Christopher!”

“It was an accident!” He explained.

“Really?” You replied, “I’m your long-time girlfriend, you can tell me if it wasn’t.” There was a long pause.

“Okay so maybe I took an opportunity-” “Christopher.” You sighed.

“You told me I could tell you anything, so here I am telling you what happened.” He said. “It was just there, and he was annoying today, and ya know- I gave him what he deserved. On behalf of both you and me, may I add.” “I cannot believe you!” You wanted to scream but you couldn’t, wanting to laugh a little but only knowing it would add fuel to the fire. “And the rerecorded album about him is coming out in a month-” “Perfect timing.” You could see his stupid grin over the phone, despite this being merely a voice call.

“You really are something else.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “But don’t expect to get away with this completely, your mother’s gonna find out soon. And you know her views on violence.” “So? We tell her it’s an accident.” “And lie?” You asked, not believing he would imply such a thing.

“It’s a white lie.” He sighed, “Those are acceptable on occasion.”

“Chris-” You sighed again, not even sure what to say anymore.

“Just think about it,” He replied, “I punch him, you drop a bombshell of some new songs about his manipulative ass. Maybe he’ll hide under a rock and go away for a bit.” “Christopher!” You shot him a shout with venom, “You’re supposed to be the gentle, teddy bear one here in situations like this. Not the antagonizer!” “He deserved it,” He insisted so casually, “Doesn’t matter if that shit happened a decade ago, no one hurts my girl.”

[harrisonarchive]

Heyla!! I was reading some Beatles stuff and found out Paul sued the other three, do you have any quotes from George or anything about that time? If not dw abt it!

Ps. I love your acc!

Hi there! The quote that came to mind as pertaining, at least somewhat, to this time period, is the following. There might be more tucked away in other interviews, but for now, here's:

"I [Al Aronowitz] ask George what he wants to say about Paul.

'I don't want to say anything about him, really,' he answers.

At the Brasserie, the tables are all empty except for that handful of fortunate who can afford the leisure of sitting over lunch at 4 p.m.

'The thing about Paul,' George says, 'is that apart from the personal problem of it all, he's having a wonderful time. He's going riding and he's got horses and he's got a farm in Scotland and he's happier with his family. And I can dig that.'

[...]

On the radio, they're playing Paul's album now.  George may be the youngest of the Beatles but his attitude toward Paul is the same as a big brother trying to wait out a kid's tantrum because the kid can't get the candy he wants. He talks about the last time Paul spoke to him on the phone.

'He came on like Attila the Hun,' George says.  'I had to hold the receiver away from my ear.'

It was as if the whole world was waiting for Paul's album and George was standing in its way.

'I don't want to say anything bad about Paul,' George laughs, 'but I can be egged on.'" - The Blacklisted Journalist, Column no. 62, 2001

The following is from Many Years From Now by Barry Miles (1997):

"PAUL: [In 1970] I was going through a bad time, what I suspect was almost a nervous breakdown. I remember lying awake at nights shaking, which has not happened to me since. One night I'd been asleep and awoke and I couldn't lift my head off the pillow. My head was down in the pillow, I thought, Jesus, if I don't do this I'll suffocate. I remember hardly having the energy to pull myself up, but with a great struggle I pulled my head up and lay on my back and thought, That was a bit near! I just couldn't do anything. I had so much in me that I couldn't express and it was just very nervy times, very very difficult. So I eventually went and said, 'I want to leave. You can all get on with Klein and everything, just let me out.' And they said, 'No, we're not going to let you go.' Because Klein had said, 'Look, he produced "Those Were the Days" and stuff.' Like James Taylor, same idea, 'Why let him go?' I remember having one classic conversation with George Harrison, I said, 'Look, George, I want to get off the label,' and George ended the conversation, and as I say it now I almost feel like I'm lying with the devil's tongue, but I swear George said to me, 'You'll stay on the racking label. Hare Krishna.' That's how it was, that's how the times were. I was having dreams that Klein was a dentist. I remember telling everyone and they all laughed but I said, 'No, this was a fucking scary dream!' I said, 'I can't be with the guy any longer. He's in my dreams now, and he's a baddie.' He was giving me injections in my dreams to put me out and I was thinking, Fucking hell! I've just become powerless. There's nothing I can do to stop this rot. So I decided to just get out, but they wouldn't let me out, they held me to that contract.

[...] Paul's lawyers began building their case for the dissolution of the Beatles as a financial entity. Paul had finally decided to sue John, George and Ringo. Preparation for the case took almost a year. Paul was in Los Angeles recording Ram when the case was finally given a court date. PAUL: They called me and Linda back from LA: John Eastman said, 'You've got to be there every day in court.' I said, 'Whaaaat?' But I realised it was make or break. And it was, it really was. The Beatles fortune was on the line. Not just mine, but theirs as well. Which is now how I can look back at it and think, Thank God I did that. If I had not had the nerve to sue them, none of us would have anything now. [...] Even after the other three Beatles changed their minds about Alien Klein and sued him themselves, they did not apologise or express any regrets for all the unpleasantness they had directed against Paul.

PAUL: In one meeting George did say, 'Well, you know, thanks for getting us out of that.' It was just one little sentence recognition of that hell I'd been through. It was better than nothing. But they never said, 'Hey, man, you really stuck your fucking neck out there. You had to sue us!' Anyone else suing the Beatles would have been immoral but for one of the Beatles to sue them, It was almost as if I was committing an unholy act. And I felt very much like that. I'd say it was probably the most difficult period in my life so far. So they didn't actually ever thank me and it would have been un-Beatle-like for them to thank me. Looking at it from the perspective of my age now, we were young. I would say we were children. We were the age of my children now, massively inexperienced in these dealings.

It took another six years fully to disengage the Beatles' affairs from Alien Klein, by which time he and the other three had sued and counter-sued each other, ending in January 1977 with Apple paying Klein $4,200,000."

* * *

Also, thank you for the kind words about this page. :)

[alltooreid]

Clean

As Spencer struggles to overcome his dilaudid addiction, Y/N is dealing with an addiction of her own, to her toxic, manipulative boyfriend. This is an account of a full year, following their joint journeys to sobriety and new love.

A/N: Hi!! I have another Taylor Swift inspired Spencer Reid one shot (but of course you do not need to know the song to understand the one shot). Although originally I was going to write something more fluffy, I switched to this song to write something more angsty and interesting. However, to change pace from my last one shot, this one has a much happier, hopeful ending. However, it is very triggering so please read the trigger warnings before you start. Also, if you have any songs you want to read please let me know!! Also, if you just have a general request please send it my way! Thank you so much for the love on my All Too Well one shot, I never thought my first fanfic on here would be so well received!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentally and physically abusive relationship, relationship cheating (ie, reader is being cheated on), blood and cuts description, drug addiction (these parts are kept short purposefully), lots of fighting and yelling both in reader’s relationship and between Spencer and reader, however, there is a happy and hopeful ending. Reader is struggling to get out of her toxic relationship, please no comments about her being stupid. If you are in a situation like Y/N, please don’t use this fic as a guide. Get help immediately. https://www.thehotline.org/

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments, the time and date headers serve as time skips :) let me know what you think! Please request any songs you would like to see be made one shots!

“You're still all over me Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore Hung my head as I lost the war And the sky turned black like a perfect storm”

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You have known Spencer for a long time. In fact, you’ve known him longer than you’ve known Randall, and you’ve felt like you’ve known Randall your entire life.

Maybe that’s because you let him become your entire life.

Still, although you had known Spencer for 7 years, 2 years longer than the entirety of your on again, off again relationship with Randall. You still felt weird calling him. He was going through a lot right now, not that he wasn’t normally. Spencer had one of the most difficult jobs you could think of. You know Spencer has shot and killed people before, and you know every time he did it ate him up inside.

And every time he did he called you.

You also knew that Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met, you struggle to imagine him wielding a gun on a daily basis. He just seems too sweet, too perfect.

Yet there was a lot you didn’t know about the young genius.

You have no idea that as you stand in the street, contemplating whether you should call Spencer to come and get you, Spencer is making a difficult decision of his own. As you worry about the possibility of waking Spencer up this early in the morning, Spencer sits wide awake and ponders if he has enough time to get high before he has to leave for work in 3 hours.

As you sit on the side of the road, debating between your very few options, Spencer leads up against the side of his bathtub tears pouring down his cheeks, tears that he doesn’t even register as being there.

Fortunately for the both of you, at the same time Spencer reaches into his bag to search for that tiny glass bottle, his phone begins to ring.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You sigh, “He kicked me out again Spencer, is there anyway you can come get me?”

Spencer looks around his apartment, frantically hiding the belt and the needles he had gotten out for the events he was anticipating. “Yeah, of course I can come get you, um, just give me a couple minutes and send me your location.”

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of Spencer’s car, both of you sitting in silence. This situation isn’t new to either of you, Spencer has picked you up plenty of times before, in fact he’s done it for years now. One time, about 3 years into your relationship with Randall, you were permitted to go out by yourself with Spencer’s team, they wanted to meet you, apparently Spencer talked about you all the time. While you were at dinner with them, Morgan asked you if you had a car of your own. You explained that you did, but that your boyfriend had it a majority of the time, and that when he didn’t he hated you using it because you always had to mess with everything. He hates you touching his stuff. Morgan made a weird face about that answer, so you quickly followed up, explaining that you didn’t mind.

You do mind though. You hate how he never lets you touch anything or go anywhere, and you hate how much he despises your only form of transportation.

Spencer.

Randall hates everything about Spencer Reid, and he especially hates seeing his car pull into your driveway. That’s why after the 8th time he kicked you out, you started walking half a mile to the nearest gas station before calling Spencer.

The first time Spencer came to get you Randall came out to talk to you before you left.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“It’s Spencer, he’s gonna take me to his apartment.” you explained, confused why Randall was so angry you were leaving when he was the one who had kicked you out.

“Oh so just because I don’t want to look at your bitchass all night that means you can go sleep with another man? I knew you were a whore Y/N. You know him and his stupid fucking car aren’t going to be able to deal with you the way I can. How old is that thing anyway?”

“Randall, calm down, I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I love you, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. But I’m not gonna sit out here all night, where else should I go?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to whore yourself out to the easiest man you could find I would invite you back inside,” he said before slamming the door in your face.

So you got in Spencer’s car, the one Randall would grow to hate so much.

“Are you okay Y/N? He didn’t hit you did he? You know you can come live with me, you should really get out of that house, I can get Morgan tomorrow and we can go get your belongings. I have plenty of-”

You snapped at him, “No Spencer he’s not hitting me! Why do you always jump to that conclusion, Randall is a great guy! I would’ve never called you if you were going to jump to conclusions like this. You’re supposed to be a genius, yet you’re acting like such a dumb ass right now.”

Spencer looked at you, and immediately you regretted your words. You knew Spencer was just worried about you and with his line of work he had reason to be. However before you could apologize he spoke again.

“I’m sorry Y/N, forget I said anything.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you even knew what to say, and yet all you could think of was, “Hey Spence, what kind of car do you drive?”

He smiled, “It’s a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S, it’s horizon blue, that’s the color they refer to it as. Did you know they’re known as so reliable that the 4 door models are still used as police vehicles in some places. This one’s a two door, but still runs great. . . “

You smiled, how fitting a man as reliable as Spencer Reid had the perfect car to match.

When you get to Spencer’s apartment something seems off. Spencer has always lived in organized chaos, but this just feels different. Unlike his normal mess, this one feels like a blatant disregard for his things, even some of his most prized possessions. His books are strewn across the floors, his clothes overflowing from his laundry basket, which was a mix of both folded, clean, yet to be put away things and worn items. Weirdly, the one place that looks untouched is his kitchen, as if he hasn’t used it in months. And you mean that in the most literal interpretation, his counters are covered in visible, undisturbed dust.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He smiles, but his eyes look so tired. “Don’t worry about it Y/N.”

And at 4:47, you finally fall asleep in Spencer’s bedroom, which he insists you take, and he stays awake until he leaves for work just a few hours later.

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

You leave Spencer’s apartment the following night, after an unfortunate screaming match with him. You have never seen him so angry, so easily ticked off. Yet as soon as Randall called you Spencer became aggressive.

“Yeah babe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll take a cab and be home within the hour. Of course I’m not mad at you sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, see you soon.”

Spencer exitted his kitchen in a huff, and opened his mouth to start talking before you spoke up.

“I’m sure you’ve overheard already, but Randall’s letting me back in the house. Thank you so much Spence. I really appreciate everything you do to help me. Call me soon please, I definitely owe you lunch,” you said, grabbing your coat and your phone, the only things you had managed to grab from your home before your unplanned eviction.

“Why do you even stay with him Y/N? Why do you keep going back there?” Spencer yelled. You had never seen him like this before, so livid and irritable.

“I love him Spence, and he loves me,” you explained, and you were telling the truth. You do love Randall, and you know that in his heart he loves you too, even if he got a little angry sometimes.

“If he loved you he wouldn’t treat you like this Y/N! Don’t you think I would know? I see this everyday! It’s my job! And yet my best friend is too stupid to realize she’s been in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years!”

You were just as angry now, “You’re wrong Spencer, I don’t wanna hear this okay? I love Randall and he loves me. We deserve each other.”

Spencer’s face softened before growing angry once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you Spencer, I’m going home. I don’t need you and I don't need your help,” you said, grabbing your things and slamming the door open. You were lying, you need Spencer and you need his help more than anything, but you didn’t want to admit that while he was being such a dick.

“Fine!” he yelled, “Go run back to him then, but you better not call me when he kicks you out again. I don’t care anymore!”

And so you left, Spencer slammed the door behind you as you stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t stop to think about the fact that Spencer never acts like this. He has never lashed out at you, never questioned your relationship with Randall to your face, let alone scream at you and insult you because of it. You didn’t stop and think about what Spencer was on, or not on, that was making his act like this.

But you thought about it now.

You want to get home before Randall starts to get upset and suspicious, but now after your fight with Spencer you have to walk home. You couldn’t ask him to borrow cash for a cab, let alone ask him to drive you there. You were stuck walking, which also meant you were stuck with Randall’s wrath when you returned.

You already feel terrible about the way you treated Spencer. You think about going to apologize, and stand in front of the door for a second, weighing the pros and cons of doing so. Eventually, you go to turn away, ultimately deciding that you both needed to calm down before speaking to each other again.

Yet as you turn, the door opens. Spencer stands right there, strangely calm, seemingly out of it. All fury and anger you had seen just minutes before gone. In this moment he resembles Randall, and it's the first time you’ve ever been able to draw any comparison to the two.

It’s scary.

“Spencer I-” but you get cut off, not by words, but by an object. Before you can even register what was just thrown in your face the door is closed again. You duck down to grab what was thrown.

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

You light the final candle on your dining room table, before stepping back to admire your work. Randall always came home so late from work, so you rarely ate dinner together. But today was your anniversary, so you stayed up late, prepared his favorite meal and set up all of your fancy dinnerware so that you could have a very late dinner together before he goes to bed and you go to work. He should be home any minute now.

Yet 3 hours later Randall is not back. You’re just about to cut your losses and call it a night, and start to clean up the melted down candles and cold steak dinner as you hear your front door open.

“Y/N! What are you doing still awake?”

“Do you know what day it is Randall? Because I do.”

He looks down at his watch, checks the time, and looks back up at you, “Well it is now 3:57 AM, meaning it is now Monday. Which is why I’m curious as to what you’re still doing up sweetheart, you have to be at work in 3 hours.” “There’s something special about THIS Monday Randall,” you sigh, you’re disappointed but not surprised, this has happened for the past 3 years.

“Do you have a project going on at work baby? You know I can’t keep track of all that crap, your job is so silly and easy to lose track of. You have to remind me of these things if you actually want me to care about them.”

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

He stops, but instead of looking guilty or remorseful (like you secretly hoped), he gets livid, “No it’s not, are you stupid or something?”

“Randall, baby it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! You stupid fucking bitch, are you trying to make me look bad, cooking this stupid fancy dinner and staying up late. Trying to lie and act like I forgot our five year anniversary?! Stop playing the victim Y/N. So tell me, are you lying to make me feel bad, or is your brain really that fucking empty?”

“It’s our six year anniversary,” you whisper.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I was just being stupid Randall. You’re right baby, I forgot the date of our anniversary.”

He snarls. “I don’t think so Y/N, I think, actually I know that not only are you stupid, but that you’re a liar. I know that you just want to make me look bad by preparing our anniversary dinner a week early. And you have to push it by claiming we’ve been together for six years. I know it’s five. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” he yells, pushing his plate of steak and mashed potatoes, letting your parent’s wedding china shatter on the ground. You cry harder. “You’re a stupid, waste of my time Y/N. Five wasted years I’ve spent on you. Do you know why I do it, huh. Do you know why I stay with you when I could have one of the beautiful, rich, successful, truthful women I’m fucking?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I feel pity for you. No other man would want you. I’m the only one that will ever love you. You know that right Y/N?” He picks up a piece of your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “Tell me that I’m the only one who will love you, you know it’s the truth right?” You nod your head. In a swift motion Randall turns, grabs a glass full of red wine and chucks it at the wall, narrowly avoiding your left ear.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

“You’re the only one who will ever love me Randall,” you croak out in between sobs.

He closes the distance between you two once more, gripping your chin and jerking your face so that your eyes meant his. It hurts, and makes you cry more, but you don’t say anything.

“Don’t you know it sweetness,” he lets go, delivers a sharp slap to your check and grips your wrist. “Now clean your mess up, and then I think it’s best if you get out of the house for a little bit, don’t you agree?”

You nod quickly. He smiles.

“Good girl, now I would normally be worried about you going to hook up with that string bean you’re always all over, but according to the last time I went through your phone, he isn’t in your recent calls. Glad to know he’s finally done with your bullshit. I’m sure a nice long walk alone will do you good. You can think about what led you to lying tonight, and then maybe you can come back in time for our real anniversary.”

He slips upstairs, so you clean up the rest of the uneaten meal and the broken wine class, cutting up your hands severely in the process. You spend at least an hour in a futile attempt to get red wine stains off of your wallpaper, before grabbing your phone and purse and running out the door.

Even after what Randall says, you still think about calling Spencer. Your thumb hovers over the call button for a minute until you switch the contact, phoning your boss instead. You inform her you need a personal day, and that it’s a family emergency.

You check the time, 6:53. Spencer is almost definitely on his way to work right now. You want to call him so bad, but the things he said you ring through your mind. You can’t ask for his help anymore.

For the first time, you are truly on your own.

Until a familiar horizon blue Volvo pulls up next to the curb you’re sitting on, and Spencer Reid sticks his head out the window.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Get it the car, come on I’ll drive you to work with me.”

Confused as you are, this is your best option right now. So you climb into the passenger seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him, instead looking at your bleeding hands. “Oh my god, Y/N. You’re bleeding. Did Randall do this to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, Spencer, Randall didn’t do this to me. He dropped a wine glass and I helped him pick it up. Now just drive.” And he does, drive that is. But you can feel his stares, on your cut up hands, and you forming bruises. You can feel him profiling the signs of abuse on your body.

But more than that you hate that you can feel he’s upset with you. Upset because you didn’t call him. Does he not remember screaming at you not too?

He pulls into the parking lot, parks the car and finally turns to make eye contact with you. He has tears in his, “I really wish you would’ve called me Y/N. If it’s getting this bad I want you to stay with me.”

“Spencer am I going insane?”

“Of course not, what do you mean?” he looks so gentle, so kind and you’re so confused.

“Do you remember what day me and Randall started dating?”

“Yes, it was April 23rd, 2001. 6 years ago today actually. Is that why he did this to you? Does it have anything to do with that?”

“How can you remember that but not our screaming match a week ago?” you laughed, your hands burned now, there’s definitely glass in there, you swear you can feel the tiny little shards in your blood.

“What do you mean, Y/N? We didn’t scream at each other? I haven’t even seen you in weeks. How long has he been hitting you? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Spencer, on the 16th you picked me up and took me back to your apartment because Randall kicked me out. On the evening of the 17th I went to leave because Randall told me I could come home. You said I was being abused and called me stupid for going back to him. When we fought about it I stormed out and you told me not to call you if he kicked me out again because you didn’t care anymore. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

You look up at Spencer, and nearly start crying yourself when you see his crumpled face. Tears are freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t remember that,” he pushes his long hair out of his face, clearly frazzled, “I- I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

Before you can say anything, Spencer pulls out his phone. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. I can’t come in today. I need to use a personal day. . . I’ll tell you later. Okay, thank you” He angrily pulls out of the parking lot, and you can tell he’s headed back to his apartment.

“Spencer it’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

“No Y/N, it’s not okay. I said all those terrible things to you, of course you were scared to call me after them. The worst part is I was too high to even remember it all. I- I just can’t believe I helped him do this to you,” tears still freely flowing down his face.

“Spencer what are you talking about? I was with you all day, you weren’t high. You don’t even drink, how could you be high?”

He sighs, “do you remember when I was kidnapped by that unsub, Tobias Hankel? About 2 months ago?” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Well, I told you about his multiple personalities, how one beat me to death and then Tobias resurrected me, how  I had to kill Tobias in order to survive, even though Tobias himself did nothing to me. Well when I was in the barn, Tobias would give me drugs, dilaudid, in order to cut the pain of his other personalities’ abuse. When I killed him, I took the drugs he had one him with me, and I can’t stop Y/N. It’s affecting my life, my work, and now it’s affecting you.” He parks his car in his apartment complex’s lot and turns to look at you. “Hotch has never said anything about it, so even though the team knows I have no reason to quit, I think I do now. Y/N, I think we need to get clean together.”

Suddenly that night made sense, Spencer was irritable and strange, he wasn’t high, he was going through withdrawal. But when he threw the money at you, so loopy and out of it, he was on it. He was so high he didn’t remember the moments before.

“Spencer, I don't know what to say. I want to help you get sober, I want that more than anything, but I’m not addicted to drugs, I rarely even drink.”

“I know Y/N, you don’t have a drug problem like me, but you are an addict. You need to leave Randall. You know it, I know it, but you can’t.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Spencer continues to speak, “It’s okay, I understand why. But we both need to quit, and I think it’s best if we do it together.”

“Well how are we supposed to do that,” you whisper.

“Come on, let’s get started,” you and Spencer exit his car, he loops your hands together, leading you up to his apartment. When you get there, he digs through his messenger bag and grabs a couple of tiny glass bottles and a syringe. He throws them into his garbage can, and turns to look at you.

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to block Randall’s number.”

You want to fight him on it, but you know he’s right. You need to leave Randall, and now’s as good of a time as any. Yet, you can’t forget the things he’s said to you. “I can’t Spencer, he’s my boyfriend, he loves me.”

“Y/N, please, please do this with me.” You shake your head, he sighs. “Okay, I get it, this is going to take time. Just, um, stay with me for a couple days. Please. We can go get your stuff tomorrow night.”

You think about rejecting Spencer’s offer, but you really don’t want to go back there. More than anything, you want to stay right here. You try to tell yourself it’s because you’re worried about Spencer, but deep down you know it’s more than that. So you nod, and Spencer wraps you in a hug, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now let’s go get your hands wrapped up.”

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

You’ve been staying at Spencer’s for just over a week now. You haven’t seen Randall since your anniversary, and Spencer hasn’t taken dilaudid while you’ve been here. Things are going well. You’re watching a lot of bad reality TV, and Spencer has gone through about 7 packs of Gatorade, but you’re both doing okay.

Now you were just waiting for him to come back from his case in Idaho, you knew this one was pretty bad. They were searching for a woman in the middle of a huge forest, as she was being hunted and chased down. Spencer called you right before getting on the jet, and told you he would be home soon, so now you were just waiting for him.

While doing so however, you found something. A lump on Spencer’s side of the mattress. Under it, were two small glass bottles and a syringe. The same ones you had seen Spencer throw into the garbage days prior.

Now you need to talk to Spencer, so you sit on his couch, and wait for him to come home. When he comes through the door, he immediately sees you and smiles. “Y/N! I’ve missed you.” He hugs you, and for a second you forget why you’re even mad at him in the first place.

“Spencer, I need to talk to you. I found your bottles.” The mood in the room instantly shifts, but you don’t care, you need to get your words out. “You told me you were quitting, I watched you throw them away.”

He brushes his hairs through his hair, and begins to mess with his hands. “I am quitting Y/N, I haven't taken any, but. . .  I just need them to be there.”

“Spencer, please, throw them away. I’m trying to help you here.” Suddenly he grows very angry, and you can tell you said the wrong thing.

“Well I’m trying too. To me it seems the only one not trying is you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you still haven’t blocked Randall, he still calls all the time! Why do I have to throw my addiction away if you can’t even do the same to yours?”

“That's not fair.”

“How so?” he yells. “How is it that you can’t block your abusive, no good piece of shit boyfriend but I have to throw away the things I enjoy? That doesn’t feel like trying to me.”

“I’m not addicted to Randall Spencer, I just love him. I don’t want or need to quit him.”

“Oh really? Then why are you even still here? Why haven’t you answered his calls? Or gone to see him? I think you know exactly why.”

And you do. You don’t want to go back there, but what Randall says is true. He is the only one who will love you, and you’re not ready to lose that yet. You’re not ready to cut off all contact with him.

“I can leave if that’s what you want Spencer.”

His face softened, “no, that’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I want.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If you block Randall I’ll throw away my dilaudid.”

You ponder it, “Okay.”

He breaks into a wide smile. “Really? You’ll do it?”

You smile at him.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll block Randall.”

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

Even after watching Spencer pour out his bottles, breaking up the glass and tossing it away for a second time, you couldn’t. Even after seeing him snap his syringes in half, and feeling him kiss your forehead, after seeing how happy and excited he was for your fresh start together, you just couldn’t do it.

Spencer thought you did, and it was easy to hide the truth from him. Randall hadn’t called since then, so you and Spencer continue to spend time together, last week you celebrated one month of sobriety. You got an ice cream cake and little, silly party hats and exchanged gifts.

And it made you feel like shit.

Spencer was so happy, so proud that you had both been clean for a month, but you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to be clean at all.

You still can’t decide if you should block Randall’s number.  

You try not to think about it, instead focusing the energy into making you and Spencer virgin pina coladas, he was currently out picking up burgers from your favorite restaurant. When he returns, you were going to watch one of your crappy reality TV reruns, and then an episode of Doctor Who. It was Spencer’s idea a couple days ago, and quickly it became a regular occurrence.

Faintly over the loud whir of the blender you can hear your phone ringing. You run  quickly to go grab it, just in case Spencer needed your help with something, but your heart drops when you see the caller ID. It’s Randall, trying once again to contact you.

Your thumb hovers over the accept button, but before you can make a decision, the call times out and sends Randall to voicemail. You let out a breath and set your phone down.

But then something possesses you, and you snatch your phone and dial Randall’s number. He picks up on the 3rd ring.

“Baby, oh my god baby is that really you?”

He sounds so excited to hear from you, how could you have stayed mad at him for so long?

“Yes baby, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls at all. I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t worry sweetness, I’m so so sorry for the things I said to you, I need you to come home. You missed our anniversary you know? But it’s okay! We can celebrate now! I got you a really beautiful gift, one we can definitely experiment with tonight.” You could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to come back right now, maybe later baby, but not right now.”

You hear his breathing pick up, and tense. You can tell he’s getting agitated. He wasn’t expecting you to answer like that, you always come home as soon as he tells you you can come back. “What do you mean? You’re being ridiculous, I want to see my girlfriend. I’m sure you want to get off of the streets too, you’ve been squatting for over a month now.”

“I’m not squatting Randall, I’m living with Spencer.”

“What!?” he yells. “I thought I told you not to stay with him. I hate that guy, you know that.”

“Would you rather me be on the streets Randall? Spencer’s a great guy, and I want to stay here.”

“Frankly, yes I would. But don’t worry, you can still come home. Just send me the prick’s address and I’ll come pick you up. We can enjoy tonight together.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to send you Spencer’s address. I’m staying here. I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone Randall. I’m done.”

Before he could say anything, you hung up. As you did so you heard the front door open, and Spencer made his way to the bedroom.

“Hey! I got burgers! Ready to eat?” he looks down to see your phone still resting in your hand, stuck on the phone app. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you say.

“Think you’ll be talking to them again anytime soon?” you can tell he knows, and you’re surprised he isn’t lashing out at you. You’re so used to how Randall reacts when you go against his wishes, Spencer’s calm, understanding presence is like a breath of fresh air.

“No, I think I’m ready to leave them behind,” you smile at each other. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a sec okay?”

He nods, and goes to set up the food and TV.

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

You haven’t gone out with your coworkers in months, you forgot how good it feels to just be present with people. You didn’t even drink tonight, wanting to remember every second of this time out with friends. You were beaming when you unlocked the front door.

Yet your smile slips when you enter what had become you and Spencer’s shared bedroom.

He isn’t there.

You pull out your phone to call him when you hear a thud coming from the bathroom door. You hesitate, scared of what you know you’ll likely find. When you finally throw the door open you’re already teary eyed, and these sobs escalate as soon as you see Spencer, tipped over, lying on the bathroom floor, the needle still sticking out of his arm.

You’re sobbing as you rip it out, hastily undoing the belt wrapped around his upper forearm. He looks up, even in his groggy haze you can see the guilty look in his eyes when they made contact with yours.

“Y/N. . . I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I just couldn’t stop myself . . . I-”

“Shhh, It’s okay, just breathe,” you whisper through your tears. “It’s going to be okay Spencer, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay. I’m staying right here.” You pull his head into your lap, stroking your shaking hands through his hair.

His head begins to shake, and you can feel his tears on your dress. You rest your head on his, and for a few seconds you just sit there, crying together.

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

Your head is buried in his chest, you need to be able to hear him breathe. You need to hear his heart beating. You need to be as close to him as possible right now. He stirs as he wakes up, and wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize Spencer, this is a part of recovery okay? You’re still in recovery, just because you relapsed doesn’t mean we have to start over. You’re so much stronger than you were before. So much braver. So much better. You can do this.”

He smiles at you, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, now withdrawal is going to be even harder this time. I’m going to the store. We’re going to need plenty of Gatorade and water. We have to flush everything out of your system. Do you mind if I take your car to the store?”

He beams, even in his groggy state he manages to look so perfect, “You know my car is always yours to use Y/N.”

“I’ll be back soon okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you grab his keys and head out the door. And you really do mean it, you fully intend this to be the shortest grocery trip of your life. You’re terrified of leaving Spencer alone long enough to get high again, even though you spent all day yesterday searching for drugs and throwing anything you found in the garbage, taking it out the main apartment dumpster that night. 

You get to the store, grab everything you need, 3 packs of blue Gatorade, 6 cases of water bottles, and the store’s entire stock of Jell-O and rush back to Spencer’s car. You were only in the store for 17 minutes, the majority of which was just check-out time. You smile, thinking of how excited Spencer will be when he sees all the Jell-O in the fridge, but feel your stomach drop when you see a familiar face examining Spencer’s car.

Randall. 

Before you can decide what to do, he turns and sees you. 

“Y/N! I was expecting Spencer, but this is even sweeter. I knew I recognized this hunk of junk. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, I’m kind of on a tight schedule here. I really need to get going,” you say as you load up your groceries into Spencer’s trunk. 

“That’s a lot of Jell-O sweetheart, you hate Jell-O.” That’s not even true. You hate pudding, you love Jell-O.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for calling you sweetheart, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. You still missed him. Blocking him helped, but you still felt strong urges to call him sometimes. “It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer.”

“I thought I told you not to stay with him anymore.”

“What part of that conversation would make you think I would listen to you?” you say.

“You should always listen to me Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, we’re not dating anymore. I’m done.”

“You don’t mean that you’re just being irrational. Are you on your period? I bet that’s it. Come get breakfast with me. You probably just need chocolate, and the place down the block has incredible chocolate waffles.”

You open your mouth to reject him, but you can’t. Part of it is because you know if you do then he’ll follow you back to your apartment and the last thing you want is for him to know where you’re living right now. But the other part is much worse. A big part of you wants to let him try again. You can’t explain why, but you really want for him to redeem himself as your first love.

“Ok, you have 20 minutes, let’s go get breakfast.”

The walk there is silent and awkward. Randall grabs your hand, too tight for you to do anything about it, and keeps this grip until you sit down in your booth. 

You don’t get chocolate waffles. You really don’t even like chocolate all that much. Randall knows that, or at least you thought he did. Instead you get cinnamon french toast, and within minutes it’s at the table. 

“You know baby, Spencer doesn’t love you.” He says halfway through your french toast.

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been with him in that apartment for a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you the boot.”

You sit in silence, Randall takes this as a sign to continue. “We’ve been together for five years, sweetness. No one can love you the way I do. That’s just a fact. Spencer fucking Reid can not replace me, no one can replace me.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate that I can’t breathe when I’m not with you Randall. I hate that you’re stuck to me. You’re this god awful stain on my life. I hate looking at it but no matter what I do I can’t wash it off.”

He smirks. “You’re not gonna get rid of me Y/N.” He pays the check, and gets up from the table. You go to get up too, but notice he didn’t tip your waitress, so you leave another five bucks on the table. 

When you get outside he grasps your shoulders. “I knew you would come around Y/N, I knew you would get it. Now come on, we can go collect your stuff from that prick’s apartment and get you home. I know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

You pause, “I don’t think so Randall. I’m not ready quite yet, but I promise I’ll call you.” You meant it, you had already unblocked him from your phone.

“Oh absolutely not, you’re going home with me now.”

“No I’m not.” As you were yelling at each other you notice a strangely familiar face standing nearby, just in ear shot. You can’t place him, but you know you’ve met before.

“Yes you are! We’re happy together and you’re coming to live with me again!”

“We don’t love each other, Randall! Not right now at least!” 

He’s livid, and once again you feel that scared, indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “That’s not true! I’ll prove it to you.” He grabs your chin and pulls your face to his.

You feel as if water is filling your lungs, you’re drowning and no one is around to save you. Randall is physically stronger than you, you’re stuck in his grasp. It’s like you’re screaming and no one can hear you. 

And yet, this flood of emotions you’re feeling is the first time you realize something. 

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

After what feels like minutes (but is actually about 3 seconds) of being unseen and vulnerable, you discover you’ve been protected the whole time. The man you can't place rips Randall off of you, “What’s wrong with you? Get off of her!”

It’s his voice that lets you place him. Derek Morgan, Spencer’s closest friend and coworker, punches Randall in the face. “Get out of here!”

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU? That’s my girlfriend! Sweetheart, tell him to leave us alone!”

They both turn and look at you, with tears in your eyes you look at Morgan and shake your head. “Please, get him to leave.”

And Morgan does just that, with a little yelling and a flash of his FBI badge, Randall is running for the hills.

“Come on baby girl, let’s get you back home. Did you walk here?”

You shake your head, “No, I drove Spencer’s car here.”

“Well, how bout I drive you home, and then afterwards I swing back and get Spencer’s car and drop it off?”

So you do just that. After profusely thanking Morgan, and him insisting that it was nothing, and also insisting to carry your groceries in from the car, you and Spencer are together once again. 

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I didn’t believe you before. I was going to go back to him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t talk like that Y/N, you said it best yourself. Just because you relapse doesn’t mean you aren’t trying, and it most certainly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I think it’s time we get clean Spencer. Both of us, once and for all.”

“I think so too Y/N.”

He pulls you into a hug and in between sniffles you manage to choke out what you’ve been wanting to say since you got into Morgan’s car. “I love you.”

He looks at you, and the look in his eyes almost makes you cry out of pure joy. He looks so happy, as if he’s been waiting for you to say that for years. 

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

You press your lips to Spencer’s, you know he has just woken up, but you know it’s a big day for him. 

You both have been sober for over ten months now. Today is the day of his first group meeting. He found Beltway Clean Cops recently, and has been so excited to go. You’re excited for him. You know how proud he is of you, and you want to show him in every way possible that you’re proud of him.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you. “What did I deserve to get a wake up like that?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re incredible, and an incredible boyfriend deserves an incredible morning. Do you know what else he deserves?”

He hums and waits for the answer.

“An incredible breakfast! That’s why I made blueberry pancakes. Now hurry up and come eat. You should  leave soon if you want to make it to your meeting on time. Have I told you yet how incredibly proud I am of you?”

He smiles, “Only an average of 15.6 times a day since I told you I was going.”

“Well that’s not nearly enough, now come on, get up. It’s pancake time,” you say. “Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

You ate breakfast together and then forced Spencer out the door, making sure he had plenty of time to get to his meeting. You knew he would regret it if he was late. 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you still thought about Randall a lot. You still missed him. You still love him in a way. But now that you had Spencer, now that you were clean together, you would never risk going back to him. 

That day where you agreed to go to breakfast with him, Derek asked you if you wanted to press charges. You didn’t, you don’t regret that either.

You’re even more proud of yourself this way, because you know he’s still there, still accessible and available to you, and still didn’t run to him. You know that any trace of Randall in your future is gone. 

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

“Ten months sober, I must admit Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it Ten months older I won't give in Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[mobagehelllocal]

“you are the best thing, that’s ever been mine”

Hi! If you could can you write the dorm leaders squishing/reacting to their s/o’s soft and adorable cheeks, or just them cupping their cheeks in their hands (like those vids with the dogs fitting themselves in their owner’s hands)

- from Anonymous

A/N: Hi Anon~! Thank you so much for this! I listened to Taylor Swift’s whole Speak Now album to get into the vibe... and “Mine” seemed to suit it... so that’s where the title is from! ... This almost got called Chubby Bunny but... I never liked that game xD

--

"Uwawa~ Riddle this is delicious!” You had hummed, a fork pressed against your lips, and a hand on your cheek as you chewed happily. Riddle was torn between being incredibly pleased or embarrassed at the amount of praise that you were casually throwing at him. 

“Of course!” Riddle decided, as he puffed his chest out and straightened his back. 

“You definitely learnt from last time.” you giggled, as you remembered how he had actually taken Trey’s statement seriously about the oyster sauce...

“That was Trey’s fault.” Riddle defended himself and you giggled again. 

“Either way, this is delicious~” you pop another slice of it into your mouth. “Ish really good~” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He scolded lightly, as he brushed a gloved hand at the corner of your mouth to remove pie crumbs. At the action, you beamed at him brilliantly, and his heart melted at how adorable you looked. 

Unconsciously he found himself cupping your cheek as you chewed your pie. You blinked at hm in surprise, and as you swallowed, you closed your eyes and leant your face into his palm. He felt his face flare up in response.

Under the light of the hot afternoon sun, surrounded by the red roses of Heartslabyul and the colorful tea set prepared for the Tea Party...

You--serene, eyes shut, and the way you leant into his touch so naturally--his pulse leapt in response. 

Resplendent.

“You...”

When Riddle began to speak your eyes opened to peer at him curiously. 

“...” 

“Riddle?” 

“I’m glad I met you.” Riddle said, his heart pounded in his ears. 

“Hrm?” 

“If it weren’t for you... I don’t think I could be myself.” 

“You give me too much credit... Ace, Trey, everyone... they were there too.” you laughed lightly, but he shook his head. 

“Yes but... you’re here right now.” he said very quietly, as he reached his other hand to lace with your own. “You’re by my side. You’re my friend, and also my...” here he paused as his blush brightened, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face in response. “My lover...” he whispered.

“Thank you.” he smiled gently, “for helping me find who I want to be... and for accepting me as myself.” 

“Silly Riddle.” you giggled as you leant forward to press your forehead against his. “That’s not something you need to thank me about!” 

“So you say but...” 

His eyes fluttered shut, and his heart might be beating fast--but he was at peace with you by his side. 

‘Thank you, [Name]... for being mine.’

--

Leona felt something tickle his nose, which made his whole face twitch. As he jerked his head away from the ticklish sensation, the light of the morning sun hit his eyes, and he blinked rapidly. 

‘Morning.’ he sighed, already exhausted just at the thought of it. When he looked away from the wide windows of his dorm room, he glanced down to see your head lying on his right arm. ‘No wonder I couldn’t move it.’

Since he couldn’t move (not that Leona wanted to move), he decided to watch you until he fell asleep again. He raised a hand and began to brush it through your hair--aimlessly choosing to untangle your hair. He snorted softly to himself as you let out a particularly loud snore against his arm.

He resolved to tease you about it later... but for now.

He spent the morning admiring the way you looked in his arms, in his bed--in his room, greeting the dawn of a new day by his side.

To be honest...

‘It’s not a bad look on you.’ he decided, ‘it’s something I can get used to.’ 

His tanned hand trailed down, from your hair, and cupped your cheek gently--brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. 

Your cheek was soft against his touch, and from this close he could see the way freckles dotted your skin. He loved to nap in patches of sunlight, and since you constantly spent time with him--he had, on more than one occasion--dragged you to lie with him under the sun. When his thumb brushed underneath your eye, your lashes twitched.  

“Mhm... Leona...” you muttered, and his ear twitched in response to that. 

“Are you dreaming about me, herbivore?” he asked lowly, at which you didn’t respond. You did however turn your head. Originally you had tucked your head underneath his chin, and had tangled your legs with his at some point in the night. You turned your whole body so that all your back was pressed against the bed--your head still on his arm. 

As the light of the sun illuminated your whole form, he could see the way your eye lashes twitched, but determinedly stayed shut. He chuckled at that. He slowly slid his arm out from underneath your head and moved to straddle you. 

His other hand still cupped your cheek, and he leant down to brush his nose against yours.

He cherished this quiet moment. 

He knew he wasn’t the best person at expressing his happiness with you being by his side. It was just... difficult for him. 

You--ever so kind, and understanding--you knew these things without prompting. You had never demanded more of him than he was comfortable giving--even if (and this is something he would never tell anyone--) he would push himself--if it was something you truly wanted.  

“When did I become so smitten with you?” he asked, underneath his breath as he stared at you--as if your sleeping face held all the answers to his problems.

And wasn’t there a sense of truth in that? 

When he had asked the universe for a mate who would see him--

The universe had delivered you to him. 

Under the morning light of the sun, as he pressed a brief kiss against your forehead, he renewed his promise.

‘You will never be left wanting,’ he thought, ‘you are mine.’

--

You had been standing with Azul next to the huge window of Octavinelle’s Mostro Lounge that peered into the depths of the sea when you feel something enter your eye. 

“Ack--!” Azul’s head whipped in your direction when you start making uncomfortable noises.

“[Name], are you alright?”

“Hngh... Yeah--just--something got in my eye.” You rapidly begin blinking, but the irritation causes you to start crying. Azul twitched at that--he hated seeing your tears. So he reached forward and gently cupped your face in his hand before he leaned in.

“Which eye?”

“This one.” you point at your left eye as you rapidly blink. “Blow please?” 

“Of course.” Azul gently brushed the tears away, as he raised his lips to gently blow at your eye. “How’s that, my love?” 

“Still there.” you said as you blinked again. Azul repeated the process until you finally confirmed that it was gone. 

Azul had chosen not to let you go though, and as you blinked your tears away, he would gently swipe them at them with the pads of his fingers. In the process of that, Azul began to grow lost in thought.

Azul hated your tears as much as he hated his own.

He had always hated that he was quick to cry about almost everything--especially about anything that made him feel upset.

He hated your tears because it meant that you had been hurt. He (and the twins really) always fell into an overprotective state whenever your eyes would turn glassy. 

You--who had chosen him despite all his flaws...

Despite all of his mistakes, his faults, his imperfections...

He had long accepted that he wasn’t worthy of your love, to have your presence at his side.

But for some reason you chose him--you had still chosen him.

It’s because of that, that he was so grateful you were willing to stay by his side. 

The least he could do is make sure you will never cry. 

The least he could do is be the best person he can be, so you would be proud to call him your lover. 

And if in your future you would cry--then Azul will do everything in his power to at least make them tears of joy. 

You stared into Azul’s eyes. You could tell he was a million miles away, deeply reminiscing... 

“See something you like?” He flinched at you suddenly speaking, and realized he’d been holding your face for a socially inappropriate length of time. 

“Sorry I’ll--”

“You mean you don’t like what you see?” 

“That’s-- of course not!” His face brightened, going from the lightest shade of pink to a brilliant shade of red. You giggled in response.

“You--why must you keep teasing me like this?” he sighed, as he rubbed his fingers against your cheeks. “You didn’t use to do this.” 

“I got it from Jade and Floyd.” you chirped back, and you giggled at his angry mutterings of ‘corruptions’ and ‘why I oughta--’

He’s distracted from his ramblings when he felt you lace your fingers with his hands. 

“Such gentle, caring hands.” you hummed. “the hands of the one who makes me happy.”  

You thought it was impossible for his blush to intensify--but it did. 

The way your eyes fluttered close in bliss, the happy smile on your lips and the way that the ocean’s waves illuminated your skin made him think--

‘You belong here, right by my side.’ 

“I’ll,” he paused as he cleared his throat, He blinked rapidly, and hoped that he wouldn’t start crying. “I will do my best to be someone who can make you even happier.” 

“I’m already happiest by your side Azul.” you beamed up at him, your eyes contained the endless depth of your love, and he felt like he could drown in them. “Just never let go.” 

“I have no plans too.” He said, serious, at which you giggled.

“I think this is the part you kiss me.” you said, all cheeky, and though the red on his cheeks flare up again, he leant down to kiss you.

If Azul used contracts to make a deal with other people--what you had were his kisses. 

Azul’s tender kisses were his promises to you--of never letting go, and of happiness in your relationship. 

--

"Do you like the food [Name]?” Kalim beamed at you, and you couldn’t help but beam back--your cheeks filled with tasty treats from the Land of Hot Sands.

“Mhm! Kalim ish good!” Kalim only laughed at how adorable you were when you spoke with a mouth full. 

“I’m glad you like it!” Kalim nodded happily as he too began to eat, “Jamil cooks very well after all.” Jamil twitched as he was mentioned, and when he looked up from his meal, he’s instantly blinded by both of your brilliant smiles.

“Jamil! Thanks!” Jamil felt his brow twitched as the both of your spoke with your cheeks filled with food.

“Stop talking with your mouths full.” he reminded, while he thought ‘these two were made for each other.’ You both simultaneously swallowed your food, cleared your throats and spoke in unison again--

“Jamil!~ Thanks for the food~!” you both beamed. 

‘Ugh, bright.’ he thought, as he sighed and looked away, his hand tugging at his hoodie. “Yeah yeah, just eat already.” 

In response the two of you promptly dug in and kept eating. 

“Mhm~ I really love the spices used.” you hummed. 

Kalim couldn’t help but just smile at how much you enjoyed spending time in Scarabia and taking a part in his culture. He wanted to bring you home with him for sure during one of the breaks--he would love to share with you the culture of his home. 

You were adorable already in your enthusiasm for his culture, he can’t wait to write a letter off to home to ensure that you would have clothes from his culture too. He was sure you would be thrilled with it. 

You chewed happily, but when you looked up you noticed that Kalim was looking at you with a really goofy grin.

“Hrm? Is something up Kalim? Do I have something on my face?” 

“No, you’re just really cute.” he said with a grin (a few seats away, Jamil thumped his head against a table and groaned in disgust). 

You felt your cheeks flare up in response.

“Aw! You look even cuter with red cheeks!” Kalim declared as he reached forward to cup your face in his hands. You swallowed, nearly choking in the process as you felt your face become hotter.

“Ungh! Kalim! Don’t embarrass me!” 

“But I can’t help it! I adore you!” he said, with a wide grin and your heart pounded in your ears because this boy was going to be the death of you. 

“Kalim is cuter than me!” you protested, as you reached forward to press your hands against his cheeks.

“No, you are!” he mushed your cheeks together, and laughed as you struggled against his hands.

“No you are!” you pinched his cheeks in response, and when both of your gazes meet, you shared a giggle at how silly you two probably looked like. 

“You two...” you both flinched as you see Jamil give you both a death stare. “Finish your food or so help me...” 

“Sorry Jamil!” you both yelped as you dug in back into your meals--though that didn’t stop the two of you from sharing a glance, and giggling to yourselves. 

--

"Hold still, my sweet potato.” Vil ordered with a roll of his eyes. “I need to put this eyeliner on you.” 

“I just don’t like things close to my eyeballs.” you tried to defend yourself. “It scares me.” 

“I’ve been doing make up for a long time, sweet potato.” Vil chided gently. “Do you not trust me?”

“Yes?” you would’ve shrugged if Vil would’ve let you but he didn’t. “No? Yes? It’s me? It just... makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say you didn’t trust me.” Vil huffed, before he quite literally used his other hand to keep your face still by cupping your cheek. “Do not move, or we’ll have to start from the top.” he threatened, you let out a whiny sound.

“I mean it, sweet one.” Vil said, “I’ll have to reapply the moisturizer, the foundation--” 

“Alright, alright.” your fist clenched as you tried to hold your position.

“Close your eyes.” you obeyed, and you caught the satisfied smile that spread on your lover’s pink lips, before you completely closed your eyes. 

Vil leant in as he began to line your eyes with a deep violet color. He could see your eyelids quiver at his movements, and the way your lips twisted downward in discomfort. Despite that, you put up with him. It made his smile slip into a much gentler one. When he pulled away, he immediately warned you not to open your eyes yet so that the liner could dry. You mumbled out a protest, but kept your eyes shut. 

Vil couldn’t help but chuckle underneath his breath.

You were truly--

peculiar. 

His hold on your face slackened, and though you twitched in response to that, you didn’t open your eyes. He leant forward, and began to gently blow over your lids so they’d dry faster. He could see the minuscule twitch of your eyes, and nose at the sudden sensation. He pulled back a little to admire your face against his palm. 

Don’t get him wrong--you were always going to be splendidly beautiful in his eyes--whether he was waking up in the morning to see you snoring away, or when you were busy stuffing yourself away with your favourite food but--

But because he was a social media celebrity, he knew that some people didn’t like you. There were people out there with ugly hearts who refused to acknowledge your relationship because of it.

You always told him you didn’t mind, that what mattered was that you both loved each other.

While that placated Vil, there was just one thing he wanted to do.

He wanted to show you off.

He was very happy to be taken, and proud that you were his partner. 

He wanted people to realize how amazing you are.

He wanted them to realize that you were a steal--and that you belonged to Vil as much as he belonged to you. 

So when he’s painting your eyelids lavender to match the tips of his hair, and your lips the matching pink shade on his own lips--he’s declaring that to the world--

‘This person is mine. Just as must as I am theirs. They are the best thing I have and no criticism you throw our way will get in the way of that.’ 

“Vil, are you done?” you asked.

“Let me just put the finishing touch.” he said, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and leant in to press a soft kiss against your lips.

A soft one, just so he doesn’t have to redo anything.

When he pulled back, he’s delighted to see the red tint rise to your cheeks.

“Beautiful.” he smiled, “you can open your eyes now.” 

Your eyes fluttered open, and his heart leapt--

you looked so good in his colors. 

--

You eagerly stared up at the monitor, back at Idia, and repeated this several times before the Ignihyde dorm leader finally gave in.

“Alright.” he sighed very deeply as you cheered. “I’ll help you make your character.” 

“I want them to look like me please!” you requested, and Idia nodded. 

It was easy enough for him to maneuver the mouse around to make sure that the character model had your hair, and body type. Then he zoomed in on the face.

“Come closer.” he instructed with a tone of confidence that you normally didn’t hear from the Ignihyde dorm leader. You blinked in surprise, but shrugged. Once you had pulled your chair closer to him, Idia wasted no time and cupped your face with his hand. He brought his face close as he began to customize the character’s face to look like yours.

“[Name]’s forehead is small, but cute...”

“Their brows should be like this...” 

“[Name]’s eyes are sparkly, I can get blinded by them...” 

“Cute. Nose.” 

“I love kissing their lips... The shape are like this...” 

“The jawline--yes, soft and adorable...” 

You could feel your face heat up as he muttered all this lovingly underneath his breath--as if that would make it so that you couldn’t hear it. 

“Alright, I’m done.” Idia’s smile was wide and pleased as he turned back to you. 

Your face was red. 

“Are you okay, [Name]?” he tilted his head in concern.

“That is...” you muttered as you lowered your face to hide your expression.

That’s when it hits Idia that he’s holding your face in his hand.

“Eeek! Sorry!” he yelped as he pulled his hand away from yours. 

“No--no it’s fine.” you squeaked in response as your hands flew to your face, as you hoped you can get the red flush on your cheeks to calm down.

“I’m sorry! I held your face without permission!” 

“No--no it’s not that Idia!” you protested.

“Then--what, what was it?” he asked, his own hands covered his face. He felt his heart get hit by a bunch of arrows when you shyly look up at him through your lashes. 

‘Cute! You were so cute! If he had just a bit more confidence, he’d tell you that everyday and kiss you!’ 

“I...Idia... did you...” you glanced away awkwardly at the monitor, and he followed your gaze to the 3d model of a character made to look like you. “Do you... often, mutter under your breath?” 

“Uh well--Ortho tells me I do it a lot but I normally don’t realize I...” Idia froze in response.

“[Name]...?”

“Yeah?” 

“You mean I... was I thinking out loud?” 

“Um. Yeah.” you squealed lightly, and his whole body turned red. 

“Oh no! Ortho! Your brother is on fire!” 

--

Malleus stared expressionlessly up at the sky as he waited for you.

“Tsunotaro!” you had greeted when you had seen him earlier in the halls. “Are you going on a walk tonight?” 

“I will.” He nodded, beside him Sebek bristled at the nickname.

“Cool~ Wait for me okay?” you beamed, before you skipped off. “See you Tsunotaro!” 

“Lord Malleus,” Sebek hesitated. “If I may be allowed to ask...?” 

“You’re already asking.” Malleus arched a brow as Sebek sputtered quickly.

“My apologies.” he said, as he quickly jerked down to bow, “but I must ask--why do you let that person call you nicknames?” 

Malleus stared down at Sebek who began to sweat at the intensity of the young Lord’s stare. Malleus sighed, and he looked up in the direction you had left. 

Truthfully it was because...

(”Who are you?” an innocent question, and the curious face of a person who didn’t know him.

I didn’t want this person to realize who I was because--)

“Who knows?” Malleus hummed, before he turned away. 

A faint sound disrupted his thoughts.

Malleus blinked, and turned his head to see you creep up on him. You were hidden behind a tree, the shadows overwhelmed your form. (He frowned--you did not belong in the shadows.) 

“Ah, you heard that?” Once you made eye contact, you stepped away from the shadows, and walked right into the moonlight. Malleus could feel his face smoothen at the way the iridescent, soft glow of the moon kissed your features. (’Better,’ he thought to himself.)

“Were you attempting to sneak up on me?” Malleus asked, a smirk grew on his lips. Ah, weren’t you just so adorable and amusing? 

“I tried.” you shrugged, before you finally paused to stand before him. “Hey, why is it that even when sitting down, you’re still taller than me?”

“Perhaps you should sleep early.”

“Eh? Then won’t that mean I can’t accompany you on your walks?” Malleus stood slowly, and carried with him such elegance that makes your breath catch in your throat. Malleus was just too pretty.

Your thoughts halt when Malleus reached forward to cup your face with a hand. Instinctively you lean in, and pressed your cheek against his large hand. 

“You are not afraid at all.” No matter how much Malleus knew this, it never ceases to amaze him. 

He--is a dragon fae. 

He--is the fifth strongest magician in this world.

He--is the heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns. 

He is a terrifyingly powerful immortal--and you were a soft, delicate mortal with a body that could break and a spirit that could be lost if he is not mindful of himself. 

Yet you let him touch you like this.

He stared into your eyes, tiny windows to the galaxy of your soul. He wished he could read your mind, spend time exploring all of which that made up every facet of you. 

You were so dazzling. 

Your fingers laced with his, as you pressed his cool hand against your warm cheek. 

“How could I be afraid?” your eyes flickered upward shyly as you look into Malleus’ bright ones. 

“This hand could kill you.” 

He said, as nonchalantly as he would speak about the weather.

“No,” you disagreed. “this is the hand of a kind person.”

His eyes widened, and he felt his heart skipped a beat at that. 

“This is the hand of a person who helped me despite not knowing me,” you continued. “this is the hand of a lonely man, who has a pretty smile when I make him laugh.” 

He could feel his face heat up at that. 

Malleus Draconia--blushed.

“I’ve never been called kind before.” he commented idly. 

“Well, people should see that you’re a kind person, Tsunotaro!” you exclaimed, as you puffed your cheeks in frustration. 

He only laughed in response, as he gently squeezed your cheeks. 

“I don’t think I need anyone else to know that.” 

“Huh? but why?” 

He hummed and chose not to answer you. Instead he leant down to pull you in a warm embrace, his hold on you tightened as you tentatively wrapped your arms around his body.

‘That’s because... I need only hear it from you, my bright light.’ 

--

[undyingskies]

With You

request: yes,

“hi okay so i was wondering if when you write more requests and have the time(so no rush whatsoever) if you could write a fic based on i'm only me when i'm with you by taylor swift? in my head it seems like a very owen vibey song BUT write it with any of the JATP cast or character you see fit! thanks! love your work, keep it up!”

a/n: it took me a little to be able to write this but once I got into it I really loved it! I hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

tagged: @mah-gah-lee​ , give her blog a look she is amazing!

___________________________

It was like any other Friday night; you and your best friend Owen were hanging out as usual. He had dragged you along for one of his last minute adventures, deciding that he refused to do it alone and that you had no choice but to come with him.

It’s not like you would refuse anyways but watching the blonde boy on your porch explain to you why you had to go was too entertaining so you let him go on for a few minutes.

That’s how you ended up driving on the highway to god knows where, with a bag packed in the back seat of Owen’s trunk and driving under the night sky.

You have your leg stretched out against the dashboard, your window open and arm stretched out enjoying the summer air breezing by.

The radio was softly playing in the background as the two of you just enjoy each other’s company, making small talk here and there.

Your heart full and happy, you would be forever grateful for the small town boy that wiggled his way into your life and heart.

After months of Owen being gone, filming his Netflix show you were scared that he would forget about you. You were just a girl from a small town, like him, but you didn’t catch the big break he did.

You smile over at him, grateful that he didn’t forget about you, grateful that he was still your best friend the one you knew everything about . The months and distance between the two of you made you realize your feelings for him and that you never wanted to live without him.

Nobody gets you like him. You don’t know why it took you so long to realize that.

“We’re here.” Owen pulls you from your thoughts, the goofiest smile on your face.

You look out your window to see where you guys were, your jaw drops in awe of it.

Owen had taken you to this lake that you had been talking about for weeks now. You had never been but the moment you found out about it you wanted to go.

You had found it a few months back but refused to go without Owen so you waited until he got home to tell him about it.

Down the bank there was a dock that sat in the middle of the lake. It was decorated with tiny lights; the light was bouncy off the water making it feel like you were in a fairy tale. It was beautiful.

“Ready to go down?” He breaks your trance from the scene in front of you, you nod yes in response.

You hop out of the car, the warm summer breeze feeling like a blanket around you. You stand there for a minute letting the breeze flow by you as it lifts your dress a little, a smile gracing your face.

Owen stands by a few feet away from you smiling at you in admiration. He had loved you for some time now.

He walks up beside you, taking your hand in his and begins to walk down towards the dock.

When you reach the end, Owen pulls out a blanket, some snacks, and a speaker. He sits down and pats the spot beside him, smiling.

You follow his lead and sit next to him. You lay on your back, looking up at the night sky, enjoying the light all the stars provided.

The best part about the small town life is that you can actually see the stars and they lit up the sky.

You smile softly as you hear the song that’s playing through the speaker, “This is my favorite song.”

Owen turns to face you a smile on his face, “I know.” You smile wider at his words.

“You remembered.” You can feel your heart swell at your own words and the thought of Owen thinking of you and purposefully putting this song on the playlist.

“Of course I did, I remember everything about you!”

“Oh really? Everything?” You laugh, “even my secrets, or my deepest fears?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him laughing.

“Oh of course, I have to remember so I can protect you from any Ferris Wheels.” You both laugh and you lean over to smack his chest playfully.

“You better watch it Joyner, don’t think I forgot about yours.”

A comfortable silence follows the end of your conversation, both of just enjoying the warm air and the sound the crickets chirping.

You spend the next few minutes quietly connecting the stars, making pictures out of them.

“You see that one right there?” You point to a section of the stars to the left of you guys, “they kind of look like a heart.”

Owen follows your hand and looks to where you’re pointing. “Dang, you’re right they do!”

“Wait look, that one right there!” He’s the one pointing now, “I think that one’s the big dipper!”

He’s very excited about finding it and you can’t contain the smile on your face watching him.

He turns to look back at you, catching you staring at him. You can feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that he caught you.

“You know, I feel like you’re the only person I can be myself with.” His confession not helping the pink tint on your cheeks  fade.

“This may sound bad but I can tell when you’re around other people.” Owen feigns a shocked face, laughing at your confession.

“It’s just nobody gets me like you do Y/N.”

You knock your shoulders into his, smiling.

“I can say the same thing about you Joyner.”

He smiles at you, another silence falling over you. As much as you two can enjoy the silence, you can see the wheels turning in his head. His forehead wrinkled in between his eyebrows.

“I don’t think you get what I’m trying to say here Y/N.”

This time you’re the one with the wrinkled eyebrows.

“What do you mean then O?”

“It’s just...” He starts to fumble over his words, nervous at the thought of finally confessing his feelings, “It’s just that I mean it, you’re seriously the only person in this world I feel safe around. You’re the only person who I feel like I can be the real me around and still be loved, I can tell you everything my secrets, my fears, it all. I even cry in front of you without hiding it Y/N. You’re just my person ya know? No one gets me like you.”

A smile makes its way onto your face, his words warming your heart.

“I know O, you’re that same person for me too! That’s why we’re best friends!”

Your words cause Owen to let out a frustrated sigh. He’s pushing himself up to sit, he’s now turned away from you. You can see how tense Owen is, and now you’re confused.

You sit up and sit criss cross just like Owen and place your hand on his back trying to help calm him down.

Owen moves making your hand fall off his back, his actions really confusing now.

“What’s wrong?”

Owen sighs at your words again, he knew sometimes you could be clueless to obvious things but he just hoped this time it wouldn’t be the case.

“You know you drive me crazy like half the time?” He asks turning to look at you, he catches you scrunch up your face at his words, which causes him to laugh softly. “I’m here trying to tell you how I feel and you just think I’m talking about us being best friends.”

Again he lets out a laugh, it’s almost comedic how hard he was trying to tell you about his feelings and how clueless you were about them.

“Your feelings?” Owen turns to look at you again, rolling his eyes at you.

The two of you just sit and stare at each other, the only sound coming from the speaker. It seems like the world around you froze in time with the two of you as you just look at one another.

Owen starts to lean in closer to you, your knees now knocking into each other. You take a breath in and he is so close now that you can smell his cologne. You feel your eyes close for a second enjoying the moment.

Your eyes open though when you feel two warm hands move up and cup your cheeks. Your eyes make contact with his blue ones, you watch as he continues to lean in closer slowly. Your breath catches in your throat as he stops just centimeters from your lips.

Your eyes drop from his to his lips and then back up to his eyes. That’s all it took.

His lips are then on top of yours, moving softly against them. Sparks flying everywhere.

You pull apart softly, your eyes opening slowly as his hands drop from your cheeks and land on your thighs.

“Those feelings.” He whispers out.

You just stare at your best friend shocked. You didn’t expect this or even except him to reciprocate your feelings back. You feel your hand move up to your face and your finger softly trace your bottom lip, basking in the feeling of remembering his lips on yours.

Owen smiles at your actions.

“So?” He says, “Anything?”

Your brain is moving a 100 miles a minute, not knowing how to formulate a sentence. All

your feelings are running through your mind and you can’t seem to get a word out.

Your next move shocked you as much as it did Owen, you lean forehead a little harder than you intended and knock Owen down. Owen on his back and the two of you chest to chest.

Owen let’s out a huff and a laugh at your actions, confused but also entertained.

Then your lips are on his this time. You taking lead this time around, letting your lips move in sync with one another.

You pull apart smiling.

“I’m only me when I’m with you O.”

His smile grows at your words.

“And I’m only me when I’m with you Y/N.”

Then yours lips are pressed together again, the two of you enjoying the moment, enjoying your time together, and enjoying the fact that you both were able to confess your feelings for one another.

You two were meant for each other, like two puzzle pieces that fit together. You were your truest forms when together and you could not be happier being with one another.

[mediocre-writerr]

supermarket flowers [jamie taylor]

Jamie Taylor x fem reader

Requested:  We all know flowers are one of Jamie’s love languages so she likes giving the reader flowers as gifts to tell her things and to mark points in their relationship (bonus if one time it’s the reader that gives jamie flowers)

*not my gif*

Saying that Bly Manor is beautiful would be an understatement: the amazing architecture, the people, but especially the gardens. 

But you maybe a little bias on that front because of Jamie...the beautiful beautiful gardener and your beautiful wife. 

And it all started when your sister Dani got the au pair job. Obviously, you had to get a job there as well, you couldn’t live in Bly without having a job. So you took up an apprentice job with Owen as his little chef in training. That’s how you two met. 

“You see we don’t use a hand mixer in this house because of the glucose levels in the dough. They need to be in tip top shape or else they won’t taste as good.” Owen explains and you’re about to respond when a beautiful brunette walks into the room. 

Your eyes never left her figure as she walked into the kitchen, barely acknowledging your assistance, “What is that?” she asks. 

“We’re making dough for our pizza tonight!” Owen exclaims, “I was just giving Y/N here a quick lesson dough chemistry.” 

She finally locks eyes with yours and you’re drowning in them. Her beautiful brown eyes were captivating. And it was up to you if you decided you wanted to sink or swim. There was a spark there and she had to have felt it too. 

“Although, I’m sensing this dough is not the only thing that has chemistry.” Owen says with a little smirk on his face. 

You laugh nervously, speechless as what to say, “I’m Jamie,” the gardener says extending her hand out and you gratefully accept it.

There were sparks, electricity coursing through your body at this point and Jamie releases a deep breath, “Y/N Clayton, Dani’s little sister.” 

“Oh so you’re Little Poppins.” she says with a smirk and you chuckle at the nickname, “Or should I call you Chef Poppins?” she adds on.

“Either one is fine with me thank you.” you smile at her and she nods her head.

“Alright then, I have some more flowers and bushes to tend to.” Jamie says and leaves to go back to the garden.

You turn back to look at Owen and he’s smiling at you, “Awe you’re still blushing.” he says poking your cheek before getting back to kneading the dough. 

Flash forward to five years later and now you’re married as happier than you ever thought you could be despite everything that happened. 

Bly was an interesting case to say the least. The whole Lady in the Lake situation was quite a scary scene. We lost Hannah and day by day Dani is losing herself. But you still have her here, your sister is still here with you and that’s all the matters right now. 

You found yourself at the farmer’s market. Jamie was back at The Leafling helping everyone who wants flowers. You had big news for her and wanted to give her a flower to show your love. You just had to find the perfect one. 

All of your relationship Jamie has taught you so much about flowers. The most intriguing part of it to you was all of the various meanings. 

You stood in the kitchen as you began to cut the pizza you and Owen made for everyone into slices. Owen was tossing all of the salad together as Hannah was making the tea. 

Flora, Dani, and Miles were setting the table up. Jamie comes walking in with a handful of different colorful flowers. 

“Flowers for delivery!” Jamie announces and Flora squeals in excitement, “Here ya go Flora.” 

Jamie hands her Flora’s own flower before giving one to Miles. You though it was sweet that she was giving the children flowers. But your joy turned into a quick confusion when you realized that she was giving everyone one. 

“Is this still a gerbera daisy?” Flora asks putting her flower in a vase. 

You saw small little vases lined up along the window sill with everyone’s names on it. You didn’t notice until now that both you and Dani have your own little vase. A small smile started forming on your face. 

“Yes it is, do you remember what it means?” Jamie asks staring at Flora intently.

“Of course I do! It means innocence, cheerfulness and joy!” Flora exclaims and she smiles at the young girl before giving a nod.

“Nice job little rascal.” she says booping her nose before handing you your flower. 

You are presented with a beautiful flower they were pink and very swirly in the middle of it, “What kind of flower is this? And what does mine mean?” you ask realizing that everyone had different flowers probably all meaning different things. 

She smiles to herself before putting a bite of salad in her mouth and eating it. After she finished eating she clears her throat, “It is a ranunculus, also known as buttercups. It symbolizes charm, radiance, and attraction.” she whispers the last part, but everyone at the table heard.

You smile to yourself looking into those beautiful brown eyes before looking down to take a bite of pizza. Dani nudges you and mouths the words ‘Oh my god!’ as you smile at your sister. 

“Seems like Jamie pepper-only has eyes for Y/N.” Owen murmurs and the whole table groans in response, but as you catch Jamie’s eye she sends you a wink. 

You’ve searched this whole farmer’s market twice to try and find the flower you’re looking for. But none of them seemed to be the right match. How hard is it to find daisies? It’s not that hard they’re in season and they’re all over The Leafling, but I can’t take it from the store. 

However, you did come across pink carnations. A flower you know very well and is embedded deep into your heart.

You and Jamie have been dating for about six months now and each day your relationship is growing stronger and stronger.

“Someone looks excited for their date tonight!” Dani teases as she walks into your shared bedroom.

You look over yourself in the mirror and show her your outfit, “Yay or nay?” you ask as you do a little spin.

“You look beautiful Y/N!” she says as she embraces you in a hug, “Well you always look beautiful, but Jamie is gonna love it. If she breaks your heart, I’ll end her.”

You pat your sister on the shoulder, “Dani I love you, but we all know that she will beat the living shite out of you.” you say trying mimick Jamie’s British accent.

She laughs and nods, “Yeah you’re right! But still!”

There was a knock on the door and Dani let out a little squeal. She opened the door and revealed the beauty that is Ms. Jamie Taylor. 

“Hello Poppins, is Little Poppins here?” she asks and you smile at the nickname. 

“Yes she is right here.” Dani opens the door a little wider and Jamie steps in with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. 

She looks at you up and down before smiling at you, “You look absolutely beautiful. These are for you.” she says and you smile taking them from her.

“Thank you. What’s the story behind these?” you ask sniffing them before placing them in a vase that you always keep by your bedside now. 

“The story is for a later time, in more private.” Jamie says sneaking a glance at Dani who was still standing there with a big smile on her face. 

“Oh me! Right! I’ll see you when you get back!” Dani exclaims as she pushes you out of the door. 

You get into Jamie’s car as she drives you into the little village of Bly. She knows a nice little restaurant that she has grown to love. As she parked the car she leans over the middle console and places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Wait here, I’m gonna grab our food.” Jamie says.

Before you can ask her what the plan was for tonight she left the car and went into the restaurant. Your head was spinning from the kiss. It may have been a short and sweet kiss, but it was still intoxicating. 

Every kiss with Jamie no matter how short or soft it was, it still had so much passion and love behind it. Every day you find yourself falling more and more in love with the gardener. You haven’t told her yet, but gosh you loved this girl more than life itself. 

Jamie came back into the car with a bag full of food. She placed it into the back seat and started the car back up again, “Where are we going love?” you ask her.

“Back to the manor of course. I know a little spot we can eat there.” she says before intertwining your fingers together. 

The two of you made it back to Bly and you went to the greenhouse. You meet there every morning and share a small coffee before you have to get to work. You placed yourself on the couch as she sat down next to you placing another kiss to your lips. 

The two of you started eating as you embarked on the most simple yet beautiful conversations. As you two finished eating you look at her with a smirk on your face.

“What?” she asks smiling back. 

“The story behind the flower you never told me.” you say sitting criss-cross applesauce on the couch and turning to face her. 

She laughs nervously, probably the first time you’ve ever seen her nervous, “Carnations, a lot of people don’t like them and I don’t know why. In my opinion, they’re beautiful. But they mean fascination and new love. Which is what I feel about you. However, it’s not new love. It’s love that I’ve felt since the first time I laid eyes on you. I love you Y/N Clayton.” she says and you smile at her widely.

“I love you Jamie Taylor.” you whisper back.

You didn’t think her smile could widen even more, “Fuck yeah.” she whispers. 

She crashes her lips onto yours as you thread your fingers through her hair. You place your hand on the back of her neck pulling her as close to you as possible. Her body pressed against yours and you were drunk off of her love and kisses.

Your big brick of phone began to ring from your purse. You took it out and answered it already knowing it was one of two people, “Hello?” you ask as you pull out of your parking spot in the farmer’s market.

“Hi darling,” you hear Jamie’s voice fill the phone. 

“Hello my love, what’s up?” you ask as you begin your drive to your little apartment about The Leafling. 

“Are you still at the farmer’s market?” she asks.

“No why? Do you need something?” you answer. 

“Yes unless you got more cereal at the farmer’s market.” Jamie replies.

You chuckle slightly at the sarcasm, “I’ll stop at the supermarket and grab a couple boxes. How’s Dani?” you ask.

Dani has been living in your guest bedroom of the apartment. Jamie doesn’t mind knowing how much she means to you and how much Dani means to her. Whatever the hell went down at Bly was really taking a toll and you just want to be there to take care of her and keep an eye on her as much as you can. 

“She’s having a good day today. She has helped out with the shop, there was a little jump when she looked into the window, but I helped her out.” she explained and you nodded sighing a little bit, “She’s gonna be okay.” Jamie reassured you already reading your mind.

Your sister mentioned that something was gonna take over one day. And it already started back up again. She’s scared and so are you. She was the only family you have ever known and you don’t know what you’re gonna do if she goes. 

“I hope so. I’ll see you when I get home.” you say.

“Okay love, drive safe. I love you.” she says and you smile at those three little words.

“I love you more.” you respond before hanging up and making your way to the supermarket.

“Jamie, baby, where are we going?” you ask as her hands covers your eyes guiding you to a small little place in the gardens of Bly. 

“Shh-it’s a surprise love. You’re not supposed to know that’s the whole point of a surprise she expresses and you internally roll your eyes, “I can sense that eye roll.” she says and you giggle lightly. 

“How did you know?” you ask laughing.

“Y/N, we’ve been dating for three years now. Of course I know when you’re rolling your eyes.” she explains and you laugh even more.

She releases her hands from your eyes to see a beautiful secluded area with a beautiful flower growing on the bush. The moonlight hitting it just right causing to have this sort of glow effect. 

“That right there is a moonflower. It’s a lot of effort, but it’s worth it.” she explains from behind you as she’s sitting on a small bench. 

There’s a nice little picnic basket set on the ground in front of her. You go and sit down next to her, the cool air brushing against your skin causing goosebumps to form on your arm.

Jamie immediately notices your chilliness and wraps her arm around your waist. She pulls you deep into your side and you smile softly, resting your head on her shoulder. Jamie reaches down slowly to open the picnic basket revealing another bouquet of flowers.

“Hey I actually know these ones!” you exclaim as she pulls out the bouquet of tulips. 

She laughs before handing them to you, “Yeah a little too cheesy for my taste, but I thought it was fitting for this.” 

“For what?” you ask and she smiles shyly.

“This.” she says softly before getting on knee in front of you and pulling out a ring.

You release a small little gasp before a huge smile breaks out onto your face, “Tulips mean true love, never in a million years Y/N did I ever think I’d find someone like you. My life has been filled of exhaustive people, but you made all this effort and time worth it. And I want it to last longer. I want this feeling to last a lifetime and even after. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Small tears were falling down both of your cheeks. Nothing sad, but everything happy. You cup her cheeks wiping away the falling tears and smile at her. 

“It would be my honor.” you whisper to her and she nods. 

“Yeah?” she asks smiling so wide and it’s so bright you think you might go blind.

“Yeah.” you let out and she immediately crashes her lips onto yours. 

When you pull apart she slides the ring onto your finger. The two of you rest your foreheads together, the smile never fading. 

You reach the supermarket and immediately go to the cereal aisle. You reach up getting Dani’s favorite cereal and Jamie’s favorite. When you’re about to check out your eyes are caught by a bouquet of flowers. 

The white little daisies that you have been looking for were right there. Jamie always rants about how much she hates supermarket flowers since they have loads of bad things, but you need these flowers to surprise her. You also see anemones, something that would be perfect for Dani. 

You grab both of those bouquets and place them in your basket. After you checkout you make the drive to The Leafling. Opening the door of The Leafling you see Dani standing there, sweeping up the floors. 

“Hi welcome to The Leafling!” Dani says with some enthusiasm and you laugh.

“It’s me Dani.” you say and she laughs.

“Oh hi Y/N!” she says embracing you in a hug. 

She takes some grocery bags from your hand and helps you bring them upstairs, “Where’s Jamie?” you ask.

“She went to go grab something from the hardware store. Something about not having the right screwdrivers.” she explains and you nod. 

The two of you proceed to put all the groceries away. Once you’re finished you grab the blue anemones from the bag you had and gave them to her.

“These are for you.” you whisper and she smiles widely.

“Thank you Y/N! They’re beautiful! What do these ones mean?” she asks and you chuckle. 

You take Dani’s hand in yours and give it a small squeeze, “I know you’re struggling Dani. Everything that happened at Bly, what happened to you. You’re my best friend even if Jamie is my wife you will always be my best friend. I don’t want to lose you Dan.” you whisper tears glistening in your eyes, “These mean protection against evil. I can’t lose you.” 

She takes you into a big tight hug. Dani holds you close as she rubs your back, “I’m gonna be okay Y/N/N. I promise.” 

“Good because you need to be here to meet your niece or nephew.” you whisper and she pulls back from the hug staring at you. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape in shock, “Jamie and I tried the IVF thing that came out. It was a lot of money, but it was worth a shot. I went to the doctor’s before the farmer’s market and it worked Dani.” 

Dani immediately hugs you again before letting out a squeal, “No way!” she exclaims, “I am so happy for you!” 

“Thank you!” you say smiling and letting out a small chuckle. 

The front door unlocks and you know that Jamie is home. She notices the two of you sitting on the couch as she proceeds to wave at the two of you. Jamie puts away her bag of department store gear into the respectable places before noticing the supermarket daisies on the counter.

“Love, how many times do I have to tell you about supermarket flowers?” she asks finally coming over to sit with you guys.

She gives you a chaste kiss and you smile into it. Then she makes her way to Dani before ruffling her hair, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find them at the farmer’s market. Plus I couldn’t take them from the store. They are for you.” you mention and she smiles. 

“For me?” she asks intertwining your hands together and you nod, “What’s the story?” 

“Well I remember you telling me that daisies mean innocence, purity, new beginnings-” you begin before she cuts you off.

“And motherhood.” she whispers barely audible and you nod a huge smile on your face.

“I’m pregnant Jamie.” you say and she looks at you like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. 

“Baby really?” she asks her voice breaking a little and her lips quirk up into a smile.

“Yes really. You’re gonna be a mom Jamie.” you say nodding and she immediately kisses you deeply and passionately. 

She places her hand gently on your stomach before leaning down to talk to him or her, “Hey little fella. I’m your other mom. I can’t wait to meet you.” 

8 - m o n t h s - l a t e r

You found yourself at the farmer’s market yet again, your baby bump now visible and you were due any minute now. 

Your phone began to ring and you immediately answered, “Hello love?” you ask.

“Y/N...” you hear from the other line, Jamie’s voice was somber and you can tell that she has been crying. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” you ask. 

“I think we need to drive to Bly.” she whispers into the phone.

“What? Why? Jamie what’s going on?” you ask frantically making your way straight to the car, whatever you needed to buy was long forgotten. 

“It’s Dani.” she whispers on the other line and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. 

So the two of you found yourself at Bly once more. The lake looking more and more ominous as you stared at it. Jamie kicks off her shoes and starts making her way into the lake. 

Jamie shouldn’t have to do this. It’s you. You’re the one who needs to do this, but you can’t. The lake is far too cold and the weather outside wouldn’t help the baby’s health either. 

A few moments later Jamie resurfaces from the water. She finds herself on the shore as you immediately wrap a towel around her. Tears flowing down her eyes before she shakes her head. 

You let out a sob as she hold you tight. Your sister was gone. 

Two weeks later you found yourself at the cemetery in Bly. It was small, but the two of you thought it was fitting. Owen, Henry, Flora and Miles were all there with you. 

All six of you stared at the grave before placing flowers onto the tombstone. Jamie thought we should put crocuses onto the grave. It means hope after darkness. After struggling for so long, hopefully this allows her to find rest. 

She was buried right by Hannah. Two people you lost to weird place that is Bly Manor. 

1 - m o n t h - l a t e r

You sat on the hospital bed holding your newborn baby in your arms. Jamie is standing there smiling at you widely. 

After all the darkness and craziness that has been happening, this was the first time you felt hope in a long time. Even though your sister isn’t here physically, you know she’s always here. 

“Welcome to the world Danielle Hannah Clayton.” you and Jamie whisper. 

The name seemed fitting and you couldn’t help, but feel lighter. She leans over and gives you a small kiss to her forehead. 

White jasmine flowers in a vase by the window sill. It means unconditional and eternal love. Jamie picked out the flowers yet again.

It had to be your favorite of all.

The unconditional and eternal love that you and Jamie felt towards each other. The unconditional and eternal love you felt towards your newborn daughter. And the unconditional and eternal love that you, Jamie, and now your daughter Dani felt for the two people you lost. 

They aren’t here physically, but you know they’re always here besides you. 

[josephinemoore]

I saw JOSEPHINE MOORE at a coffee shop in QUEENS today. I forgot how much SHE looks like CANDICE KING. They are a THIRTY-TWO year old WEDDING PLANNER who’s been in NYC for A MONTH now. Every time we run into each other, they are always KIND-HEARTED & BUBBLY but I’ve heard people say they can also be STUBBORN & SUSPICIOUS. FIGHT SONG BY RACHEL PLATTEN reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.

hello my loves , it’s caroline again and i’m here with another blonde ! this is josephine aka alexander warren’s long lost sibling dun dun dunnnnnn. as always , if you would like to plot , all you gotta do is like this post and i shall appear in your ims as soon as possible.

trigger warnings :      mentions of child neglect , domestic violence , substance abuse , overdose , infertility & miscarriage.

BACKSTORY.

born josephine briar warren , daughter of robert warren and alycia reynolds , she was the youngest of two kids. the family lived in hermosa beach , california during all of josie’s childhood. 

she was basically raised by her older brother , alexander , since their parents were too busy with their drug business to care for their children. 

josie worshiped the ground alexander walked on. he was her very best friend in the whole wide world and she was fascinated by everything he did.

abuse tw :     her father’s alcohol and drug problem became worse as the years went by and soon he began abusing josie’s mother and sometimes even alexander. the little girl , however , was lucky enough not to receive any of the physical abuse. she’d learnt to run and hide whenever her father went on one of his rampages.

everything changed when she was nine years-old :     alexander wasn’t home when a particularly bad fight broke out between their parents. a concerned neighbor called social services and they ended up taking josephine away. she kicked and screamed for her brother but it was in vain , they took her away and she never got to say goodbye.

josie was put in foster care and spent most of her time holed up in her room , crying herself to sleep for a full month. more often than not , she’d wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares of her father beating her entire family up or of the day she was taken away. 

vivian and jeremiah taylor appeared in josephine’s life nearly three years after she was put in foster care. the couple immediately fell in love with the bubbly yet spunky blonde-haired girl and decided to adopt her.

it took josie some time to warm up to her new adoptive parents. they spoiled her with things and , more importantly , love and affection. but since that was something she never experienced coming from a parental figure , josie was reluctant and suspicious.

with time , she grew to accept the fact she was wanted and loved. josephine’s name was officially changed to josephine briar taylor when she was sixteen and it was a day filled with warm hugs and happy tears.

her parents encouraged her to follow her dreams. she was enrolled in the best school , as well as dance class so she could have something to unwind after a stressful day. since education wasn’t a priority during her childhood , it took josie a while to get the hang of things in school. thankfully , she managed to catch up and graduate in time.

her mother worked in a bridal boutique and sometimes josephine would stop by on her way home from school. she’d always her mom interact with brides-to-be , the way they all got teary-eyed whenever they found the dress of their dreams. the aura of the place made josephine happy and excited , so she’d ask to help her mom carry dresses and find acessories whenever possible.

she quickly realized that the wedding industry is where she wanted to be. but instead of being a bridal consultant , she wanted to plan entire weddings. so when graduation rolled around , josephine sent out college applications with her major set in mind :     event planning.

josephine was accepted into university of central florida and , while it pained her to leave her parents behind , packed her bags and flew out across the country to start the next chapter of her life.

in college she found herself. maybe it was the fact she was miles and miles away from her birth parents drama, or maybe it was simply the new environment. josie became chattier & happier , making friends wherever she went.

during her second year of college , she met the man who’d later become her husband. the two ran in the same social circles and quickly became best friends. they were there for each other during stressful times such as finals or when one of their flirtationships fizzled out. the two would only get together , however , a short few months before josephine’s graduation. 

they both knew they were it for each other and didn’t waste time moving into a small apartment after graduation. the couple ended up staying in florida since he got a job offer that he couldn’t possibly pass on. however, josie flew out to california to visit her parents whenever possible , or they flew in to visit the lovebirds.

josephine’s boyfriend got down on one knee when she was twenty-five. he proposed on christmas morning , in their living room in front of their tiny but filled with presents christmas tree. 

being a wedding planner , it took josephine nearly a year and a half to plan the wedding of her dreams. she obsessed over the tiniest of details and had quite a few breakdowns whenever a deadline approached. in the end , it all paid off. she had a picture perfect summery wedding surrounded by her parents and friends. the one thing missing was her big brother , alexander.

josephine always knew she wanted kids , even if the thought of being a mom scared her. she was terrified of being a bad parent like her biological ones had been , but at the same time she wanted to prove to herself that she’d be nothing like them.

infertility & miscarriage tw :     getting pregnant was a long , exhaustive process for the blonde. it took her an entire year to feel ready to start trying for a baby , and then month after month after month , the countless pregnancy tests she’d take would turn out negative. when she finally fell pregnant , she ended up having a miscarriage around nine weeks along.

the loss devastated josephine , who retreated into her shell and became distant. the two months following the miscarriage were hard on her marriage since she barely spoke to her husband , thinking he saw her as a failure.

slowly but surely , she went back to the person she used to be before and , much to her surprise , found out she was pregnant only six months after the loss.

josephine gave birth to a gorgeous , chubby baby girl named olivia grace moore. the baby stole her heart as soon as their eyes met and josie swore she’d do everything for her and never let her down.

having her daughter only made her miss her brother even more. she’d tried to find him throughout the years but never managed to. that is , until she got a lead. somehow she managed to locate alexander , who seemed to be living in new york for over a decade now. 

before josephine could share the news with her husband , he gave some of his own :     a big promotion in which he’d have to move to new york. it all seemed too good to be true , like something that would only happen in her dreams. josephine packed up her things and moved to new york with her husband and daughter , ready to start a new chapter of her life and , hopefully , find her older brother. 

PERSONALITY.

despite everything she’s been through during her childhood , josie is probably the bubbliest person you’ll ever meet. she’s always got a smile on her face and a positivite outlook on things.

she loves meeting new people , though underneath her bright smiles and sweet giggles , she’s internally side-eyeing you until she forms a strong opinion on whether or not she wants to be friends with you.

she still has nightmares about her childhood. though they’re not as frequent as they used to be back when she was nine , they still happen. when they do , josie is usually a bit quiet and distant in the days that follow. she knows she’s safe now but she can’t help but be overly alert of her surroundings.

more will be added when my brain isn’t mush

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

husband (major wc , will probably send something to the main later)

college / florida friends

good influence

bad influence

party friends

mom squad

josie’s full wanted connection list is here

EXTRA.

she wants another kid but she’s scared to go through what she did when she was trying to get pregnant with olivia

would love to open up her own wedding planning business

pls don’t ever call her josephine unless 1) it’s a professional conversation or 2) you want her to think you’re mad at her

(  @villagestart​  )

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet. 

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

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Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

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TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson @mellamolayla

Next chapter

[queenmendes]

cloud nine

shawn mendes x reader

Summary: Shawn thought nothing was going to make him happier after playing at Rogers Centre. You prove him wrong. 

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I wrote this based on this post and thought it was semi decent! Some cute, fluffy Shawn that we all need in dark dark times like this. Let me know what y’all think! xx 

To say the day was hectic is a complete and total understatement. There isn’t a proper word to describe the nerves everyone was feeling as they rushed around to make sure everything was perfect for tonight. Shawn was performing in front of 53,000 people tonight at his first ever stadium, Rogers Centre. Everyone was feeling the nerves and pressure of wanting this to be the best possible show.

“Y/N!” You turned around to see Cez running to you. “Hey, have you seen Shawn?” Cez asked, looking slightly frazzled. Shawn had been whisked away when you two arrived at the stadium earlier and you haven’t seen him since.

“I haven’t seen him since we got here.” You informed. Cez lightly cursed.

“We don’t know where he went. I think he is feeling anxious about tonight.” Cez said. Shawn has been stressing the last few days as he waited for this night. He has been dreaming about this since he was on Vine. “Do you know where he could be? You have been dating him for over three years.”

“I don’t know where he cou-“ You paused, thinking about the first time Shawn played his first concert. “I’ll be back.”

You immediately began speed walking down the hall of the backstage. This stadium was huge and had a million twist and turns it seemed like. It just made you realize how many people are going to packed in here in less than 4 hours. Shawn’s back came into sight as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He was leaning forward against the railing of the second level, looking down at the mass of chairs and the stage.

“Figured you would find me.” Shawn said, not turning around to face you. You smiled lightly as you step right behind him, wrapping your arms around him; hands resting on his stomach.

“Well, your hiding spots haven’t gotten better.” You teased. Shawn laughed as he pulled you around so he could face you properly. His first concert ever, Shawn hid away in the arena and just looked out at everything. No one knew where he had gone but you found him and just sat with him, letting him soak it all in. His dreams were coming true and continue to every day, even three years later.

“It just doesn’t seem real. Like my entire career is a big dream and after tonight, I am going to wake up.” Shawn confessed. Every day, Shawn still couldn’t believe that he got to do what he loved and that he had the most passionate fans and family to support him.

“It is real.” Those simple words from you send a tear down his cheek. You cup his face with your hands, gently wiping away the tears. “It is completely real, baby. Tomorrow, next week, a year from now. You are going to keep living your dream as long as you want to and tonight, your biggest dream is coming true.” Shawn smiled down at you before placing a quick, sweet kiss on your lips.

“Guess I owe 20 bucks, huh?” Shawn said after a moment. You looked at him confused. “Remember when I was on the way to the airport before I went on tour with Taylor? You pointed right to this stadium and said, “I bet you 20 bucks, one day, I am going to watch you sell out that stadium.” “ Shawn reminisced. You laughed at the memory.

“How about you repay me by getting ready for the best show of your life?” You smiled big.

“C’mon.” Shawn lead you away but not before looking back one more time; anticipating the screams that will be filling the stadium.

++++++++++

“Shawn.” You squeal as the sweaty rockstar crashed into you. Shawn swung you around, his adrenaline pumping through his veins a hundred miles an hour. This was easily one of the best shows of his life. The fans were breathtaking and gave off the best energy.

“Hi baby.” Shawn greeted you as he wrapped your legs around his waist, making it easier to hold onto you as he walked down the hallway to a more private place. He wants a few minutes alone with you. His chest swelling at the proud smile you were giving him. Shawn loves everyone that came out to support him tonight, but your opinion mattered the most to him. “What did you think?”

“Words can not even describe how amazing you were. God, the energy you gave off tonight and the fans.” You praised and Shawn was loving every bit of it. “I am so proud of you.” You softly spoke; eyes shining with so much pride for the love of your life.

“This night can’t get any better.” Shawn said, pecking your lips. “Well, actually.” He gave you a knowing look, wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You lightly smack his chest as he laughs but still smile at him. Shawn’s heart stopped at the look you gave him; it was filled with so many emotions. Pride and love but he could see an anxious look in there as well.

“Baby?” When he noticed you getting fidgety. “What’s wrong?” He expression turning into a worrisome one.

“Nothing. I just think I can give you some more news to make this night better.” You began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; trying to calm your nerves. Shawn nods at you to continue. “I wasn’t going to tell you. This was supposed to be your night baby, but you are so happy and soft right now and I feel like it’s a good moment.” Shawn stops your ramble by kissing you. He figured out long ago, kissing makes you quiet and calm.

“Baby, tell me. You are freaking me out.” Shawn said once his lips left yours; his soft lips moving perfectly in sync with yours for a gentle, sweet kiss. You nodded and took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.” You confess, a soft smile on your lips. Finally, getting to say the words out loud. Shawn’s eyes immediately begin to water as his hand moves to your stomach. Despite the tears, you could see the utter look of love and adoration in his eyes.

“Really?” Shawn asked, his voice barely heard from the lump in his throat. You nodded as tears of your own slide down your cheeks. Shawn lets out a happy, loud laugh as he spins you once again. His face buried into your neck; taking in this moment. “I love you. so. so. so. much.” Shawn said, kisses your lips in between words.  

Shawn is completely on cloud nine tonight and he doesn’t plan on coming down for a while.

[yellowloid]

In my opinion, Louise is a very down to earth girl, she's not flashy like Taylor was, but she's not a very party person. Surely is a very mysterious girl, it is not perfectly clear what her job is even if many have opted for her as an influencer, she tends to copy what many influencers do and many times she has copied Alexa and recently also Taylor. She has little personality and is inspired by others but there is nothing of her own that can be said to be interesting. I hope her lack of personality hasn't affected Alex because honestly he's changed a lot since he's been with her

tbh i don't really want to compare them as people (taylor and louise) because i don't want to pit them against each other looking for the "better" one. they're obviously very different people and their dynamics with alex are obviously very different.

i agree on the fact that she doesn't really look like that much of a party person, but i don't find her to be very mysterious either - and that's because she tries too hard to be. the fact that she takes inspiration from alex's exes (especially alexa) isn't exactly ideal, no - but let's not assume she "lacks personality", we literally don't know her!! we don't know how she behaves irl!! i think the problem with her is, again, the fact that she probably thinks/thought that in order to fit into alex's "type" she has to copy his exes (or at least take great inspiration from them) and hide her true personality by doing so. which is just… kinda sad. like girl. for a man???? hell nah. you can do so much better than that.

especially considering it doesn't seem to work that much. he's always away, he barely appears on her socials, they don't even officially live together, sometimes it feels like the furthest she is, the happier he looks. sometimes it also feels like he purposely ignores her (remember back in june when she had her first gig in literal YEARS and he couldn't even be there like. alex. come on)

so yeah he doesn't exactly win the Best Boyfriend award. back to louise, though, i really hope the whole "mysterious 60s/70s french girl" aesthetic is just an ig façade. i hope she's a bit more natural in private and that she's able to actually be herself with the man who's supposed to be her boyfriend, you know? for her own sake. and the other way around too - i hope alex is able to be genuine with her. we don't know how they interact in private, so we can't really tell.

also i don't think he changed because of her. he already had his issues to work through pre-louise. what happened in 2018 with her/taylor/miles probably made everything worse but she's not the devil lmao she's not the cause of all his problems just like she's not some salvific angel making everything better as amanda has been promoting her on her ig during the last few months shfgsksdk

she's just his girlfriend. let her be that if that's what they both want

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 13 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go to the temple of mammon, Studio 54.

“You look,” Gene said, throat drier than sandpaper, “really good.”

Good was an understatement. Paul looked hot. The light blue of the dress made a good contrast against his still-suntanned skin. The neckline made up for the dress length, providing more cleavage than Gene had seen out of Paul since he’d first met him on the front porch in the bathrobe. The heels accentuated his legs—even as a guy, Paul had always had nice legs—but for maybe the first time in three days, Gene was paying more attention to Paul’s face than his body.

It wasn’t like he’d done anything wild with makeup. Blush, red lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara. Except for the eyeliner maybe being a bit heavier, it was about the same look as the night prior. But Paul seemed happier. Relaxed. There wasn’t that tightness to his jaw anymore or that tension to his mouth. And that was a surprise, given the stilted way their dancing earlier had ended. Gene thought Paul might have been sore or tetchy, or at least awkward, but he’d just carried right on. Those sad brown eyes of his didn’t look sad at all, for once, and if Gene were sentimental, he would almost have said they were sparkling.

Maybe he’d just liked sharing a few dances with Gene. And maybe tonight really was the night that this would all be over. Every bit of it. Back to normal life for them both, touring and signing and interviewing. Back to life a hotel room away from each other. He’d be stupid to regret the change. Just stupid.

“You’re not half so bad yourself, Gene.” Paul crooked his head as if he hadn’t seen variations of his outfit at least a dozen times over just this year. As if he hadn’t been suggesting half of it while Gene had asked for the clothes to be sent over. Black leather everything, including the pants—something he already was regretting bitterly. Silver accessories. A belt with a spider encased in enamel as the buckle plate. The public demanded a monster movie out of Gene even when he got off the stage.

“That’s generous.” The limo was already idling in Paul’s driveway. “You ready?”

It took a few seconds for Paul to answer. He wasn’t looking at Gene, at least, not directly in the face; it almost seemed as though Paul was scoping him out, assessing him like there was something new to assess. Gene would have called him out on it, except during times like this, he never was sure if it was Paul’s hearing or Paul’s daydreaming to blame.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The limo ride was uneventful. Gene decided he didn’t care for Studio 54 long before they pulled up to the VIP entrance. He decided that through the line wrapping around the building for what seemed like miles, the garish outfits of the wannabes begging for admittance, and the weird air of desperation mixed with eagerness that seemed to permeate through the limo windowpane. It made him feel itchy. Beside him, Paul had spent a bit of time doodling peace signs and dicks in the misted-up windowglass like it was a school notebook. His good mood didn’t seem to dampen until the limousine stopped, and he saw the press, out there already, all cameras and notepads.

“Gene—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got my bandana.” He’d forgotten to ask for it over the phone, but it’d been in the box of clothes for him anyway. A couple of them, actually. “Do you want one?”

Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Switch spots with me, would you?”

Gene swapped obligingly. The limo wasn’t roomy enough to avoid Paul brushing up against him as they traded seats. He caught the woodsy scent of Aramis cologne in Paul’s hair, just another indication of what he’d spent three days pounding into his head now.

“Want me to hold the door for you, too?”

“God, no.”

Gene laughed, and got out first. The bandanas always made him feel like he was about to rob a bank. Every so often, they’d get goofy with it, find weird headgear—knight and astronaut and football helmets—but for the most part, bandanas and scarves were enough out in public, real public. Places where they wanted to be seen, under normal circumstances. The first half-dozen camera flashes were blinding as always. He helped Paul out of the limo, hovering over him as he stepped out. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring a jacket, but maybe that would’ve made it worse, provoked the paparazzi more, if he’d tried covering Paul up too much.

“You okay?” he asked, as the crowd shuddered and swarmed around them. A horde, just a horde, worse than the CBGB crowd ever considered being. Fans would want an autograph or a lay. The press only ever wanted blood.

“I’m fine, I’m—”

“Mr. Simmons!” A woman reporter called out, touching his free arm. “Can I have just a moment?”

“No,” he said, brushing past, his hold on Paul’s arm only getting tighter. Walking quickly, not making eye contact, until the line—there was a line, unbelievably, for VIPs—forced him to stop. Paul had his head half-buried against his shoulder for the whole duration of their wait, tensing with every camera flash and intrigued leer. Gene realized, offhand, that the attention wasn’t pissing Paul off the way it had at CBGB. Instead, it was scaring him.

It made sense, he supposed. CBGB wasn’t nearly important enough to have reporters and cameramen about. They didn’t have big names there, either, no one that Paul would’ve really worried about bumping into. Paul had said earlier that he didn’t think he could pull off talking to someone that knew him, and Gene suspected he was right. Gene suspected an interviewer was even further beyond him at this point.

He’d expected to just be let in once they arrived at the velvet-roped entrance, not really believing Paul’s claims about exclusivity, but instead, a broad-shouldered kid with a grin held them up at the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gene echoed, and shoved down his bandana. On wry automatic, he held up his free hand—full of rings, including the skull one that the teenyboppers seemed fascinated by—as if it was a secret signal. The doorman blinked, unconvinced. Gene could hear Paul snort beside him. “I’m Gene Simmons from KISS, and the—lovely Miss Eisen and I would—”

Still smiling, the doorman pointed at his own tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” But Gene stuck it out anyway. The kid’s expression didn’t change much as he opened the door to let them in. Gene pocketed his bandana, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Paul until they were on the VIP floor, and hopefully beyond the bulk of the press’ touch, and even then, he didn’t let go. Paul looked a little shaken up, anyway, though Gene couldn’t blame him. It was a different beast from last night, for all their objective hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry. They won’t have gotten any good shots,” Gene said.

“That may not matter. Depends on who else is here.” Paul sighed, worming his arm out from Gene’s, shifting to hold his hand instead. No hesitation. He was getting accustomed to it. So was Gene.

Gene stole a glance Paul’s way before really taking a look at the scene, trying to absorb New York’s hottest discotheque, decide if the interior impressed him any more than the exterior. He decided it didn’t. Maybe too promptly. But the flashing lights, the blaring music—all that was ostensibly no different from CBGB, or any other bar or club; it was just a matter of size and budget and spectacle. It didn’t matter if someone was worth ten bucks or ten million; they all looked the same passed out on the floor. Enough of them were already that Gene couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten to Studio 54 on time.

“What do you think, Gene?”

“You liked it here?”

The VIP floor was covered in lounge furniture, long couches and glass-topped tables. The carpets were dirty, and the smell of booze was heavier in the air than Gene had experienced in years. Probably not since that ill-fated Hotter than Hell shoot when they’d first started off, the one that had very nearly ended with—well. Gene wasn’t in the mood to consider that one, not given Paul’s current shape.

But almost every square inch of the place was smothered in people. Hollywood giants, of vintage and modern flavors. He saw Liz Taylor—wild, to see Cleopatra in the flesh, nearly fifteen years out from the role and easily fifty pounds heavier. He saw Michael Jackson, making moon-eyes as usual at Diana Ross. Poor, hopeless kid. He could’ve sworn he saw Truman Capote, hitting on a well-muscled, shirtless bartender. And all around the giants were the hangers-on and the hopefuls and the arm candies of the duration. Transvestites in g-string bikinis, lesbians in suits. It was viscerally strange, the sheer variety. No one was paying them much mind yet, aware, somehow, that they were too sober to be worth noticing. Paul cleared his throat, defensive.

“Well, yeah, I like it. It’s kind of wild, yeah, but—”

Three feet from them, a producer was puking straight onto the carpet, while a Playboy bunny rubbed the top of his head. On top of one of the tables, a guy was snorting a line of coke straight down a naked girl’s breasts, and as he kept sliding, Gene realized that the powder ran all the way down, bisecting her torso.

“Paul, this is a cesspool.”

 “C’mon, you’ve seen this shit before.”

“Not all at once.” Gene shook his head. “You’re not even into it. Why would you go here?” He understood it for Ace and Peter, as drugged-up as they’d get. He didn’t understand it for Paul. What was he trying to accomplish? What would it really matter, getting with the big names right in their stomping grounds, when those names were so trashed that they were useless? I want to belong somewhere, that was what he’d said. But this somewhere wasn’t it.

 “I just—”

“Mr. Simmons!” came a voice out of the din, eager and excitable. Not a VIP. The tone was too innocent, too close to admiring. Gene turned around.

“I’m not doing auto—”

“Mr. Simmons! I work for Mr. Rubell! I’m one of the doormen!” The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, blondish and broad-shouldered. “Sorry I didn’t get you at the door, we’ve got a couple new guys, they don’t know—but listen, we’re all looking for that Carol chick!”

“Good.”

“We’ll tell Mr. Stanley when we see him, too.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman nodded, making an awkward salute before heading back. Obliquely, Gene wondered if Bill and Sean had checked Studio 54 out yet. Rubell seemed to have a hiring preference in line with their tastes. He turned to Paul again.

“Looks like they got the memo. You wanna sit down?”

“I… maybe for a minute.” Paul’s eyes darted around, searching for an empty table. Gene looked, too, but he didn’t see one. No corners they could tuck themselves into—not that a corner would’ve been great for keeping a lookout for Carol. Gene felt Paul squeeze his hand. Shot nerves already. Gene could tell that much before Paul spoke again. “If I can keep from talking to anybody, that’d be great.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky,” Gene said dryly, spying a tall man getting up out of his chair and waving them over.

“If it isn’t Gene Simmons!” the man called out in a distinctively non-American accent. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the feathered brown hair and bright smile would’ve made it obvious. It was Barry Gibb, holding a glass of champagne. “I thought your band was back on the road!”

“Barry, hey,” Gene said, sticking out his hand on automatic. Barry shook it exuberantly. “You’re a few weeks early for that one. How are you?”

Paul looked a bit like he wanted to die on the spot. Barry didn’t seem to notice.

“Great, great. My little brother, Andy…” if possible, Barry’s beaming increased, “he’s just released a single. It’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Really? I think I’d heard he had his own group in Australia—”

“Zenta! You do keep up!” Barry clasped his shoulder. “No, that’s done with now. He’s doing some fantastic solo work…”

Despite the meaningful, sour glances Paul kept throwing his way, Gene’s interest was piqued enough at the thought of a hit, and the thought of a worthwhile contact—the time or two they’d met in passing prior, Barry had been just about this congenial, so Gene didn’t think he was drunk—that he accepted Barry’s invitation to sit down. The next twenty minutes were filled with shop talk, Barry sending off for a Coke for Gene and a whiskey highball for Paul (Gene suspected Paul took Barry up on the offer as payback rather than an actual desire to drink, since he barely touched it), and praise Gene had a hard time fully enjoying.

“My son loves KISS, you know,” Barry said at one point. “He’s never gotten half so excited over our albums.”

“Really? How old is he?” Gene took a sip of his Coke, leaning forward. “We’ll have Casablanca send him something. We have a whole catalog of new merchandise in the works.”

“He’ll be four in December.”

Paul, who had stayed mostly silent up until that point, looked mortified.

“Four?” he almost wailed. Barry seemed amused.

“Oh, love, it’s not an insult. I wish we had that kind of mass appeal behind us.”

“Gene, this—we’ve got to talk to Bill, Gene, we just can’t—I know we don’t get taken seriously, but for God’s sake—”

Under the table, Gene nudged Paul’s bare ankle with his boot. Paul flushed and cut himself off abruptly. Barry glanced over at Paul, then took a swallow of champagne.

“The youth market's the best one to be in, Polly. I've been in this industry long enough to promise you that."

“What, ten years?”

“Next year it’ll be twenty.” Barry got up, shaking both their hands. “I hate to leave you too abruptly, but I’m to meet up with Maurice in a bit. Great to meet you, Polly, great to see you again, Gene.”

“Yeah. And I do mean it, about the merch. We’ve got dolls—”

“Oh, Steve’d love them. Thank you.” Another bright smile, and Barry headed off. Paul let out a groan as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Twenty years,” he mumbled, slumping forward, propping his head up with his hand. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Bee Gees have been at it for twenty years?”

“I didn’t, either,” Gene admitted.

“Fuck, how old is Barry, anyway? Peter’s age?”

“I have no idea.”

“At least he’s not gonna see me again like this. God, he thought I was a jackass…” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t take it personally. Barry’s a good guy.”

“Twenty years stuck with his brothers. I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other.” Paul got up, stepping away from the table, and Gene followed suit. “Think we can get a better look around without getting interrupted? I couldn’t see anything from here.”

Just from a cursory glance, Gene doubted it. Most of the other tables were full or near-full, and no good for people-watching. They’d be better off on the floor.

“We’re going to have to stand to see.” Gene started to take Paul’s arm again, almost on automatic, but a glance at his shoulder stopped him. “Did you get another bra?”

“What?”

Gene pressed a finger against the purple strap hanging past Paul’s sleeve. Paul shook his head, looking abashed.

 “No, this is… this is just the nightie.”

Paul’s cheeks were going a little pink. That pink went straight to red when Gene tugged the strap back into place for him. He had to push Paul’s hair back and turn up his sleeve in order to fix the strap up again to his shoulder, under the dress. His skin was soft, dotted with a handful of moles Gene hadn’t ever really noticed before. There was the pitted smallpox vaccination scar, and the tattoo, of course, the green stem peeking a little past his sleeve. Gene’s fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his arm before he remembered himself enough to pull back.

“The nightie? Why are you wearing that here?”

The redness in Paul’s face wasn’t anywhere near abating.

“Because I didn’t buy a slip. This dress is thinner than I thought.”

“I bet it looks cute on.”

Paul fidgeted, starting to adjust the strap himself, fiddling with the slider.

“Thought you said you just liked what was underneath.”

“Well, that’s the main event, but you’ve got to say something for packaging—"

“Keep pushing it and you won’t find out.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Gene grinned. “Dance with me.”

 He said it on impulse, almost airily. The song blaring through the speakers—some new funk bit from Marvin Gaye was already midway through. Paul put one hand on Gene’s shoulder. Still worried about what people thought of him, even in a place like this. A place where no one would’ve even given much of a shit about them dancing if Paul was like he ought to be. And yet here Paul was, thinking anyone’d care about a girl leading a guy. Gene shook his head, taking Paul’s arm and moving it to his waist.

“No, you lead.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The driving, pulsating bassline and wailing saxophone were such a far cry from the CSNY album they’d danced to in Paul’s basement. There was a flippant, overly sexual air to disco that was kind of fascinating. More marketable than their own sordid stuff. Gene didn’t know if KISS would try and ride the wave—they’d talked about it, and Paul had tossed around a few song lyrics—but it hadn’t come to much yet. Might ruin their image. Might solidify it.

Step by step. Paul was stiffer on the dance floor than he’d been in the basement. Partially because of how he had to keep shifting them both around, to avoid dancing into other couples, or stepping on passed-out partiers. But there was more to it than that. His lips were pursed, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the song. Maybe, for once, he was listening to the lyrics.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A little sweat was clinging to Paul’s brow, and a little more to Paul’s palm, enclosed in his. He hadn’t tried anything close to fancy, not even any turns or spins. He’d seen Paul do better than this just a few hours ago. Nerves. Except the only time Paul didn’t nerve out was in front of an audience. And this audience was too wasted to care if the two of them were tearing up the dancefloor or stumbling through each step. Paul’s tongue was poking out between his teeth again, and he wasn’t looking Gene in the face, and he wasn’t looking around the room.

Something warm was spreading in Gene, the longer he looked at Paul, the longer they danced. Stepped in time, more like. That concentration made his features seem almost sweet. Paul’s hand on his waist was fidgeting, like he’d forgotten how to hold it. Gene squeezed his shoulder, and Paul raised his head, finally, as Gene cleared his throat to speak.

“Hey. What’d you say dancing was earlier?”

Paul blinked, caught off guard enough that he stopped moving.

“Getting a feel for your partner. Mirroring them.”

“That’s right.” Gene exhaled. His fingers inched up past Paul’s shoulder, touching his cheek for a brief second before returning to his shoulder again. “Could you mirror something for me, then? Right now.”

“Yeah.” Paul had turned his head towards Gene’s hand. Was looking right at him, all big dark eyes and red lips. Red lips that were twitching up, suddenly, in the faintest ghost of a smile. “What do you want to—"

Gene inclined his head and met Paul’s lips with his own.

Paul kissed back instantly. Greedily. Gene was almost taken aback. It wasn’t ferocious so much as desperate, as though all his pent-up energy was suddenly given just a single release. Paul’s tongue licked across Gene’s lips for entrance before Gene could even get there first, hot and overwhelming. Gene dropped his hold on Paul’s hand to cup his smooth, soft jaw, fingers careful not to brush too far past it. His fingertips caught onto Paul’s curls, stiff with hairspray, yet they still somehow felt good against his fingers. The scent of his cologne, emanating off his hair and neck, was almost overwhelming, cologne and sweat and something else; for an insane moment Gene felt like he could almost smell the want on him.

Paul tightened his grip on Gene’s waist, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush. Gene’s hard-on was getting unbearable, pressing up against Paul nearly worse than no relief, because of all the things wasn’t. Gene couldn’t think straight. Could barely let himself remember who was kissing him so ardently, who he was kissing back, whose lipstick was smearing against his mouth and jaw and neck—

Gene only pulled back to get a breath in. Paul’s hand had sunk below Gene’s waist, groping at his ass through the leather fabric. Paul kept shoving his hips against him, friction that didn’t really quite manage to hit its target. Too much of a height difference. They could fix that. Fuck, they could fix that right here in the disco, in one of those basement rooms—he could fuck Paul there, against the wall, or on the floor; he didn’t care, anywhere. He murmured against Paul’s neck, lapping and kissing, not quite daring to leave a mark against his skin. Gene barely felt Paul’s ankle latch around his boot, almost as if he was laying claim, but it warmed him, nearly as much as Paul’s little hitches for breath, the needy press of his lips against his skin. Gene grunted, fingers tightening on Paul’s hair, intending on tugging him back in for another kiss when Paul’s expression shifted, dilated, glassy eyes suddenly going wide, whole body tight as piano wire. His foot went back into place on the floor, stiff as a soldier, hands seeming frozen on Gene. The color was starting to drain from his face.

“Paul? What’s wrong?”

It must have hit him. His brain must have caught up with his libido faster than Gene’s had. Gene started to let go, feeling his brow furrow, a little, hopeless shame twitching in his gut, but then Paul grabbed onto him harder, shaking his head.

“It’s not you. It’s not you, I swear.” One hand withdrew, just to point. Gene couldn’t follow Paul’s finger at first, with the slew of people, but finally he caught sight of the blond doorman from earlier, ushering someone forward, towards them. Someone cute, but not beautiful. Not a VIP. Someone he knew wouldn’t belong on her own here, any more than Paul did.

A small young woman with light brown hair.

“She’s here.”

[2am-theswifthour]

My Teenage Love Triangle Timeline

@taylorswift​ said she referred to 3 songs as the “teenage love triangle.” I think that there story extends beyond those three songs. This is my head canon.

seven-Takes place when they’re, well, seven. This is the tale of two good friends, Betty and Inez. Inez is the narrator of the song. She remarks that she thinks Betty’s house is haunted because her dad is “always mad.” This is before her father left the family, as noted in cardigan (”leavin’ like a father, running like water”).

cardigan-This song is told with a future perspective on past events. Betty of the future looks back on how she felt about James’ infidelity. She knew (or at least strongly suspected) that he was being unfaithful, but she still clung on for those weekends. She knew him well and knew that he was going to crawl back to her “standing under [her] porch light.”

august-It’s the summer now, and the affair is in full swing. Inez is hooking up with Betty’s boyfriend James. James could’ve picked someone that didn’t know he wasn’t single, but he picked someone in her friend group. That’s why Inez sung so confidently “you weren’t mine to lose.”

illicit affairs-Inez is feeling dismayed and depressed over this “relationship.” What once started with gorgeous beach days and the bedsheets in “august” turned into “meetings in parking lots.” He’s not proud to be with her. He’s busy thinking about someone else (Betty). She has been giving alibis to those close to her and withdraws, opting out of leaving a trace behind “like [she doesn’t] even exist.

hoax-Betty has fallen into a depression because of the affair. She’s sad, but she’s not quite ready to leave yet, because she doesn’t “want no other shade of blue but [him], no other sadness in the world would do.” She knows he isn’t faithful, but she decides that his, “faithless love’s the only hoax [she] believe[s] in.”

my tears ricochet-Betty’s had enough. In “hoax” Betty noted that she is, “ash from [his] fire.” In “my tears ricochet” she said, “if I’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too.” In other words, if she has to deal with the pain of losing a partner, then so does he. He killed the relationship, this is the wake. My assumption is the final straw was realizing it was Inez he was hooking up with. In “Betty” James said that when he slept next to Inez that he was still dreaming of her. Well, forget that. When James can’t sleep at night, Betty proclaims, he will be hearing her stolen lullabies. He isn’t getting off the hook for it this time. She’s out.

mirrorball-Betty is dancing with a new guy at the school dance. She doesn’t feel confident in herself after getting burned so badly by James. She attempts to overcompensate, giving her all in hopes that he sees a version of himself with her, that he laughing and looking at her. She remarks that, “she’s still a believer, but [she doesn’t] know why.” She’s still trying to find something special, but all her masks are gone. Her desperation is honest and forthcoming. Maybe this guy will turn into something special. Maybe he won’t. But she’s not willing to go into a relationship playing pretend with her emotions anymore.

betty-James is having his first song everybody. He knows that Inez was the one that spilled the beans on their relationship. He says, “You heard the rumors from Inez, you can’t believe the words she says most times, but this time it was true. The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.” He’s apologizing, but he also assumes that everything can be resolved with a big romantic gesture. However, he thinks that what ultimately caused her to officially break them up was another guy. He thinks it all went wrong when, at the far side of the gym, “[he] saw [her] dancing with [him].” By not gathering what their breakup was about, he’s ultimately going to fail. This is especially true because his fantasy of kissing her on the porch was seen a mile away by Betty in “cardigan.”

exile-Justin Vernon and Taylor Swift sing as James and Betty. James remarks that, like in mirrorball, Betty is in her new boyfriend’s arms laughing away. (This makes it clear that James never found her funny, can you say “Begin Again” anyone?) Betty remarks that he had plenty of chances to make things right between them, but he never did. James says that she, “never gave a warning sign” for terminating their relationship but she fires back with, “I gave so many signs.” After months of desperately trying to cling to him, and falling into a depression, all of the things he could’ve seen but chose not to add up. She notes that he is looking down on her new boyfriend, “like he’s just [his] understudy” and that he’s ready to get his, “knuckles bloody for [her].” The possessiveness, the aggression, the infidelity, she’s done with him and all of it. Now she’s at a point where she can be angry on her behalf and sure of herself.

the 1-Betty has cut off all ties with James. She remarks that she’s, “been saying yes instead of no.” Because of the theatre references in the 1 and exile (side door=side entrance) I’m interpreting this as a reference to the “yes and...” rule of improv. In an improvised scene, one of the key rules is that you say “yes” to the scenario happening on stage and build up on it. Saying “no” kills the scene, because it has nowhere to go. Betty has somewhere to go. Are you done with the relationship? Yes, and I’m ready to move forward. Yes, and I’m feeling much happier now. Yes, and I’ll have the decency to wish him well. She remarks that, “the greatest films of all time were never made.” In “exile” she said, “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.” This is her way of saying her relationship with James was predictable in its sadness and inevitable downfall, but that she has something more to come in a new relationship that needs to bloom before she can see it through. She’s staying in the matinee to watch, not leaving the side door. She has grown to share some of the fault in their downfall, proclaiming that she didn’t leave “well enough alone” and remarks that if something had been different, they might’ve grown into something special. It’s a bittersweet song to close out their love story.

[cloudyhyunjin]

Therapy Pt.6, End

You were in love, and for one the thought of that didn’t terrify you. 

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Song: Dear John/Lover-Taylor Swift

A/N: Tying up some lose ends with this one. For all the people that cared about this story or me. From the bottom of my heart thank you. 

~

You sat on a blanket on the ground. It was small and thin and didn’t do much to keep the grass from leaving marks on your legs. The space around you was quiet, so quiet that it should’ve made you uncomfortable but it didn’t. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were so comfortable with your current situation, but you took a guess that it was probably the man searching through the trunk of his car to try and find the bottle of wine that he swore he didn’t forget. You turned your head around to the old red mustang that sat at an awkward angle behind you. Thank god for emergency brakes because you were sure that the car would roll towards you and push you off the cliff without them.

You looked out at the view of the skyline that your late night picnic spot had given you. Thoughts of the past few years raced through your head for a few minutes until you finally settled on the current moment. You were content with life. You didn’t think about the past often, and when you did your boyfriend made sure that you didn’t get too wrapped up in your thoughts and start thinking that everything wasn’t your fault. He drilled the idea of self love into your head so often that at some point you actually started to believe him. Sure, maybe you fucked up here and there, and there were certainly times where you could’ve or should’ve done something different, but you weren’t the only person who ever fucked up. And you shouldn’t treat yourself like you were.

Sometimes your thoughts circled back. Sometimes you started thinking about how you got here, to a moment that seemed so perfect and so indestructible that no one could mess it up. Not even an asteroid coming down to earth and killing everyone, because in the end you would still have him. You would still have your boyfriend. And even thought you had always thought that romantic love was overrated and that no one needed a relationship to be happy, you couldn’t deny how happy you felt when you were with the person that you loved more than anything in the entire world.

Weird to think about how the reason your happiness would never fade was because of one night in a coffee shop.

~

“So,” Chan starts “how do I look?” He smiles. And you smile back at him. He looked like home. Like a house that was built on an unstable foundation, but that you somehow found safety in. He looked like somewhere you could find comfort and love. Like a place where you could build a life. He looked like a home, but not your home. A place that was meant for someone else to find safety, for someone else to build their life. As much as you believed that you didn’t deserve Woojin, you also believed that Chan didn’t deserve your shit.

“You look like I’ve put you through hell and back.” You both quietly laughed at the remark. “You look like I’ve hurt you too much at this point. And that it would be selfish to keep you around me, even if it’s going to hurt to finally lose each other.”

“Why do I feel like I knew that was going to be your answer?” Chan joked with you. “I’m okay with that. I’ll be over it some day. It might not come soon but it’ll happen.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at you, his disappointment could be spotted from a mile away. It made you feel bad; like you made the wrong choice and that you should take everything back and start over. Then you remembered Woojin, how much you loved him and how much he loved you. And suddenly, you didn’t feel as bad. One day he would be okay. He would move on from you and he would find someone that made hims happier, whether that was a good group of friends or a partner, you knew he would feel better some day. You stood up from your spot at the table, making sure to leave the jacket.

“Now,” You adjusted the scarf around your neck so that it was more comfortable. “You should hurry up and finish here. Don’t you have someone to get home to?” You started to pull out your wallet but Chan waved his hand to stop you.

“That’s not needed. It’s probably our last hot chocolate together, think of this as a celebratory drink.” You tilted your head and pulled your eyebrows together in confusion. Chan noticed the expression and stood up, grabbing the two cold, almost empty cups and handing you one of them. “To the end of us.” He put up his drink as a sort of cheers. You smiled at him and looked down at your drink before copying the motion.

“To the end of us.” You said quietly before downing the rest of the drink. It left a weird residue in your mouth and you shook your head at the feeling. Chan laughed and did the same.

“Now,” He reached over to you and grabbed your mug. “Don’t you have someone to get home to?”

~

The loud sound of the trunk closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned your head away from the skyline that had kept your attention and looked back at Woojin. You couldn’t see much of him in the little amount of light that the city gave you, but you knew that he was smiling. Fuck you loved that smile so much. He walked towards you with two small objects in his hands and you couldn’t make out what they were until he sat down next to you. Juice boxes.

“Okay so, He started. “Maybe… I did leave the bottle of wine at home. But I found these juice boxes in the trunk and I don’t think that they’ve expired yet so we should be able to-“ You cut him off and grabbed one of the juice boxes from his hand, smiling widely at him the entire time. You unwrapped the straw and pierced the piece of metallic material on the top of the box before taking a long sip. You swished it around in your mouth a little bit for dramatic effect before loudly swallowing it. Woojin looked at you while you debated if the drink had expired or not.

“Tasted like it expired before the first world war but I’ll still drink it.” You joked with him. He laughed at your statement before placing his own drink on the ground. He dramatically threw his hands up and feigned offense.

“How dare you! I looked so hard for those, do you not appreciate my effort?” You giggled and took another sip. He looked at you with a fond smile before moving closer and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Whispering a small “Come here” while he moved. You scooted closer to him and let your head rest on his shoulder. Both of you looked out at the city for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. Ever minute felt like a lifetime with him, everything felt so perfectly on time whenever you were around him. Almost as if the universe had a plan for you, and that you were finally seeing it through to the end. Woojin placed a small kiss to the top of your head before whispering to you. “I love every single part of you. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you.” Your heart swelled at the words, never having felt so full before. You turned to look up at him, a soft smile placed on your face. You placed your drink on the ground and moved to sit on his lap. Your hands found the sides of his face and you put your forehead on his for a few seconds before pulling away to just look at him. He looked like your whole world. You could take any plane to any country, you could sit on and mountain in the entire fucking world, but nothing would look or feel more like home than he did.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky either.” You gave him a gentle, slow kiss before pulling back again. “I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

                end.

[oh-ranpo]

please don’t leave.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader AN: If you’re here for heartbreaking angst, you’ve come to the right place. This piece is based off the song “Flicker” by Niall Horan. Seriously, if you want the full emotion of this story, listen to the song either while you’re reading this, or before you read it! This is pretty much from Roger’s point of view instead of reader’s. You’ll get more of Roger’s emotions in this one. This is a work of complete fiction! Let me know what you think!

When you feel your love's been taken. When you know there's something missing. In the dark, we're barely hangin' on. Then you rest your head upon my chest, and you feel like there ain't nothing left. I'm afraid that what we had is gone.

Something had been wrong for a while now. Roger didn’t want to admit it, but he knew that things between the two of you were different. You were tired all the time, and you weren’t as responsive to him as you once were. You still came to his shows and put on a front for all your friends, but once the two of you were alone, you would shut down. Roger could feel you slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Roger asked you, his fingers brushing through your hair and gently trailing down your neck. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, your eyes not meeting his. Roger felt his heart sink as he reached down to wrap his hand around yours. You didn’t pull away, but the way your gaze fell down to where they were entwined, he knew you had thought about it.

A slow song started playing over the bar’s PA, and Roger smiled brightly as he pulled you onto the dancefloor.

“Roger, what are you doing?” you asked tiredly, your gaze finally lifting to meet his.

“I just want to dance with my girl,” he replied, pulling your hand up to his chest, and placing his other hand on your waist. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as he gently swayed you back and forth to the music, and his heart lifted. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was genuine, and he would take what he could get.  

The slow song continued on, and after a few moments of swaying, you leaned forward and rested your head against his chest. Roger’s heartrate increased as he gripped you tighter. It was the closest the two of you had been in quite some time, and Roger had missed the way your body felt pressed up against his. Even in such an innocent setting as this.

A light sigh fell from your lips, and Roger craned his neck downwards so that he could see your face. Your eyebrows were scrunched together and your eyes were screwed shut tightly, as if in deep contemplation. A frown formed on Roger’s lips as he desperately wished that you would share what was wrong. You had been so distant and sad, but he couldn’t get you to open up.

Before long, the song ended and you pulled away, much to Roger’s dismay.

“I need to use the restroom,” you said quietly, as your eyes dropped to the floor and you hurried away. Roger didn’t even have time to reply before you had disappeared. He stood in the middle of the floor for a few long moments, wondering what had happened, his heart breaking at the distance that you had put between the two of you.

When you lay there and you're sleeping. Hear the patterns of your breathing, and I tell you things you've never heard before. Asking questions to the ceiling. Never knowing what you're thinking. I'm afraid that what we had is gone.

That night, you fell asleep before Roger had a chance to talk to you properly. At the bar, once you had returned from the bathroom, you had stuck close to the rest of the band, which Roger knew was on purpose. You knew that hanging around the other guys would keep him from bringing up an important conversation, and he didn’t want to be the one to sour the mood that the rest of the guys were feeling.  

Now, he lay next to you, watching the even up-and-down movements of your chest as you slept peacefully. His eyes trailed down the side of your face and all the way down your blanket-clad body, a tightness in his chest forming as his mind ran a million-miles an hour.

“I miss you,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to gently brush against your cheek. “I know these tours and albums are hard on you just as much as they are on me. I know that you don’t like me being gone for so long, but I couldn’t do this without you.”

Roger took a deep breath, feeling himself being overcome with emotions quicker than he intended. His fingers lightly danced over the exposed skin of your arm, but you didn’t seem to notice. You were sleeping heavily now, and as much as he was dying to have you respond, he didn’t want to disturb you.

“I never told you about the time on this last tour that I almost bought you a ring. Freddie and I were out shopping on one of our days off, and we walked past this jewelry store. Well, you know how Freddie is with brilliant, shiny things,” Roger paused, a small laugh falling from his lips at the memory. “Well, he made me go inside with him, and I was walking around and it just jumped out at me. This beautiful diamond ring that I knew would look perfect on your finger.”

Roger stopped again as his hand founds yours. His thumb brushed across the top of your ring finger, and he felt his heart swell at the idea of seeing that ring on your finger now.  

“Freddie told me I needed to get it, but I didn’t think you would be ready. I didn’t want to scare you off, after all. But it would have been perfect.”

Roger could feel his hands start to shake as he lightly moved his hand away from yours, an empty feeling filling his chest when he thought about how much things had changed since then. He felt completely powerless not knowing how you felt.  

“What can I do to keep you here with me, forever?”  

Then I think of the start, and it echoes a spark, and I remember the magic electricity.  

When you and Roger first met, all his friends joked about how whipped he was. Roger had never found himself so caught up in a girl before. The sound of your laugh filled his head and made his heart soar. He would have done anything and everything to just get you to smile at him.  

To you, he was this wild and crazy drummer boy who was so unapologetically himself that he had you captivated. You had met him right before Queen had really taken off, but you knew from the first moment you saw him play that they were going to be huge.  

“So, how long do I have your attention before you swing off on tour and I never hear from you again?” you asked the morning after the first night you and Roger spent together. Your fingers trailed down his chest as your head rested on his shoulder. Your eyes lifted slightly so that your gaze could meet his, and he was smiling down at you, his lips curling around his first cigarette of the day.  

“Darling, there is not a woman in this world that could take my heart away from you.”

It had been true then, and it was still true now. Roger Taylor was not the ‘settling-down' type, but when he met you, everything changed. You had giggled, burying your face in his chest at his words.  

“That’s good,” you responded after a few more minutes of content silence. “Because I really do love you, Roger.  I always will.”

He had quickly stubbed his cigarette out when you finally uttered the words, and he leaned down so that the two of you were face-to-face. His blue eyes searched yours for any sign of a lie, and he found nothing. A giant grin slowly spread across his lips as he cupped your cheek in his hand.

“I love you too.”

His body felt electric when he kissed you and he felt you smile against his lips. He had never been happier than he was in that moment. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Then I look in my heart. There's a light in the dark. Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep.

Roger woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes and bacon. He groaned as he stretched and rubbed his eyes, immediately noticing that you were no longer lying next to him. The memory of his ring confession from the night before re-entered his brain and he felt his heart drop. He wanted so badly to tell you while you were awake, but he was afraid.  

He slipped out of bed, grabbing a shirt out of his dresser drawer as he made his way out to the kitchen. He could hear you humming lightly, the tune undiscernible, when he entered the room. He leaned against the doorframe, admiring the way you strolled around the kitchen. You looked happier than you had the night before, and Roger’s spirits lifted. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe it was just because you were tired.

“G’morning,” he greeted, after watching you for a few more minutes. You jumped slightly, your hand falling against your chest as you turned to him. You gave him a wide-eyed look, a nervous laugh falling from your lips.

“You scared the hell out of me, Rog.”

Roger smiled at you as he pushed away from the wall and started walking towards you.

“Breakfast smells delicious. What’s the occasion?”

It was no secret that you weren’t a very good cook. Bacon was your specialty, though, and you always made it when you had news. His arms slowly slid around your waist, and he rested his head on your shoulder as you continued to cook.

At first, Roger didn’t notice the way you tensed up under his touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that you were no longer smiling, and that’s when he noticed the mood of the room had changed completely. Hesitantly, he pulled away from you, his head turning so he could get a better look at your face.

His brows creased in confusion, but then something on the bar caught his eye. He hadn’t noticed it before because he was too busy watching you, but now it had captured his attention. It was your duffel bag, the one that you often used when the two of you took weekend trips together.

“YN, what’s going on?”

The unease in his voice seemed to break you as the first tear slid down your cheek. You reached forward to turn off the stove burners, and grabbed the tongs to place the sizzling bacon on two different plates.

“Here, Rog. You should eat,” you sniffled, but Roger’s appetite was gone. His eyes kept flickering between you and the bag, desperately hoping that his assumptions were wrong.  

“YN...”  

Before he could finish his thought, you were thrusting a plate into his hands, a fake smile adorning your lips.  

“Why don’t you take this into the dining room and I’ll grab us some tea?”

Realizing that he didn’t have much of a choice, Roger nodded and slowly padded into the dining room. He set the plate down on the table, and pulled out his chair. He stared down at the bacon on his plate, leaving it untouched.  

When you joined him, he looked up and his stomach dropped even further. Tears were steadily slipping down your cheeks now, and he feared the worst. At first, you sat down next to him without a word. You had left your plate in the kitchen, and only brought one cup of tea. Roger watched you intently, waiting for you to tell him exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

“I need a break.”

It hadn’t been exactly what Roger was expecting, but the words still cut through him.  

“What... what do you mean?”

Your eyes were already red-rimmed as they met Roger’s, and he had to swallow back tears of his own.

“I think it’s best that we spend some time apart. I... I’ve felt different for a while, and I need to figure some things out.”

It hadn’t been all in his imagination. You really were pulling away, even though he had been fighting to keep you close.  

“Did I do something?” he asked, the blood rushing in his ears so loudly he could hardly hear himself think. You shook your head violently, your gaze falling to the table in front of you.

“No! No, Roger, you didn’t. I just... I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

Roger’s own gaze fell back to the plate in front of him. Your answer was almost worse than the one that he had been dreading to hear. If it was nothing that he had done, then there was nothing that he could fix. If there was nothing that he could fix, then he was going to lose you.

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours before you stood up from the table. Roger’s head jerked up at your movement, and when you moved to grab your bag from the bar, he quickly moved to his feet.

“YN, wait. Please. Is there anything that I can do to get you to stay?” he pleaded, the first tear sliding down his face. Your eyes met his for one painful second before you looked away. You shook your head again, and Roger felt his world start to crumble as you walked towards the door.

“I’m sorry, Roger. I... I do love you, but I’m not sure that’s enough anymore,” you whispered, as your hand hovered over the doorknob.  

Roger wasn’t sure if he should chase you. He didn’t want to make things worse, but the thought of you walking out that door with no promise of returning broke him. He was telling the truth the night before when he told you he couldn’t do this without you.

You sighed shakily, your hand finally coming down and pulling the door open. Roger felt his breathing stop as you paused one last time in the doorway, but without looking back, exited the apartment and closed the door behind you.  

You were gone. The only part of you that was left behind was the breakfast you had prepared, that Roger knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach. In the blink of an eye, his worst nightmare had come true, and he didn’t know where to go now. He watched the door for a long time, praying that you would rush back in and fall into his arms, but you never did.

You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Please don’t leave.

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