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captainelsaeverdeen · 5 years ago

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I like me better when I’m with you ~Part 3.

It’s heeeeeere! Yay! I started thinking about making an another blog to upload my imagines about this pretty boy you see up there, to not upload them here, on my main blog, but we’ll see! I hope you will enjoy this as much as I do writing it!

summary: based on ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’. Y/N Henderson used to be in love a couple of times. This time she’s sure it’s something bigger, something serious. Her love for Jonathan Byers is unlimited, untamed and endless. At least she thought so. Read Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Calm down. Just calm down.

With each step, your heart was beating harder. Although it was pretty cold at home, you could feel yourself sweating under your shirt. Your best friend was waiting in the living room, talking to your mom when you stopped on the stairs to save time. But he noticed you. He smiled politely and came closer, licked his lips nervously.

“I think we should talk” he whispered. “Can we go upstairs?” “Of course” you murmured, leading him down the way that he knew so well. Dustin looked curious from his room, but you locked the door as soon as possible. “I... I don't even know what to say” Jonathan whispered so quietly that you could barely hear him. “You don't have to say anything” you laughed awkwardly. “It... I don't know what it is. I probably wrote it a hundred years ago. Maybe in high school. I was cleaning up the attic, maybe Dustin and Will found it and wanted to have fun by pissing me off”.

“You believe that Will... or your brother would have been able to do it?” Jonathan asked slowly, his fingers clamped on a thin envelope. You ran away with your eyes, your tongue burned you from your lies. “They're just kids. I once hid his Jedi figures when he broke my walkaman”.

“But we're not in kindergarten anymore, Y/N” your friend insisted, coming closer. He raised the letter to the height of your eyes so that you could see exactly all the words you wrote just yesterday. “I can't believe it's just a stupid joke. You wouldn't write it that way. You wouldn't put so much heart into it. So please don't be afraid to tell me it's true. I'm sure Nancy...” “You told Nancy?” you asked. You were so scared, cold shiver ran down your back.

“No. Not yet. And I'm probably not gonna do it” he was squeezing his nose in two fingers. “She's your friend. She'll understand. I'm sure she won't be mad. Y/N... I'm sorry, but I don't... I love you. But... I love Nancy too, in another, deeper way...” “I told you it was a joke” you broke it off, feeling your voice shaking. You heard the floor creaking in the hallway, and you clenched your hands on your shirt, hoping it wasn't Dustin. “I found an old letter and I don't know how it got to you, but it doesn't matter because... because...”

“Because?” Jonathan insisted, coming closer. The answer would be a lie, another lie. It's different to tell a teacher that you didn't do your homework because your brother vomited all day and you had to take care of him, and it's different to look into a friend's eyes and tell him that all the love, all the admiration for him described in the letter is not real. It would be easier with Steve. You'd tell the truth there. You didn't like him, not anymore. With Steve...

“Because?” Jonathan was growing impatient. His pupils dilated, his eyes were stuck only in you, his friend, his confidant, his advisor. If you confess, and he says again that what you dream of will never happen, your heart will be in a terrible condition. “Y/N?”

“You don't have to worry about that because I'm in love with somebody else “you said quickly, suprising him and yourself as well. Jonathan was shocked, the letter finally disappeared from your eyes. “What... in who? You have... you have a boyfriend and you didn't tell us anything?” “I didn't tell you because... I was afraid of your opinion. Especially Nancy. It's new, fresh, I didn't want to jam, I was afraid it wouldn't work, so...” “But who is it?” Jonathan interrupted your rambling and sat on the bed. “Do I know him?”

“It's Steve” you said, blinking fast. Jonathan looked like you hit him with a chair. He opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say. If you were a cartoon character, there'd probably be a lot of smoke coming out of his head from thinking hard. “You're serious?” he finally got out of his mind. “But... when did this happen? He asked you out?”

“I did” you said smiling. Funny. Once you start lying, the rest of lies start coming so easy, you don't even have to try. “A few days ago. I figured Nancy wouldn't mind. I just told Robin. Dustin... Dustin doesn't know anything about this”. “Oh my freaking god” Jonathan sighed in disbelief, and then he finally smiled for the first time since he went into his room. “So this is really just a stupid joke?” “Yeah” you laughed but really you wanted to cry out of stress. “But don't tell Will about it. I don't want him to have problems because of something like this... irrelevant. I forgive them.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” Jonathan smirked. “I know you feel like killing them.” “Not them. Just myself” Jonathan smirked, but it wasn't a joke. “It's even flattering, you know” he shrugged his shoulder. “That you liked me in middle school. You wrote pretty mature for a little kid.” “I've been able to get out of English class with honors” you said dreaming of getting him out.

“I'd love to tease you more because of this, but I promised my mom I'd only go for a while. If you don't mind...” he stopped talking when you opened the door. “No, I don't mind” you smiled a little bit. “I'm sorry I ran away then”. “You were afraid I'd catch you with a new boyfriend, I know. Nancy will be damn surprised.”

“Don't tell her” you told fast, too fast not to arouse a suspicion. You swallowed seeing his surprised look, his eyebrows wrinkled in misunderstanding. “I want to do it myself. I should've done it before, but since the boys have found out that way...” “I'll be silent as the corpse” Jonathan smashed your hair and pretended to lock his mouth with his hand. And he left. The whole scene, the show the show you played for him lasted only a few minutes , and you felt like it was dragging on for hours. The pressure in your chest eased, you breathed deeply, hearing Dustin already moving into your room to ask what was going on.

You and Steve Harrington. That's ridiculous.

The food was disgusting. Steve usually loved Thursdays, Thursdays were the only day when Glory, the cook at school, was up to the task and cooked something that he really could eat at least once a week, but just looking at a dry turkey made him sick.

“Take as much as you want. I won’t eat that” he was disgusted, looking at his basketball teammates he's been sitting with since lunch with Carol and Tommy became an anguish. “You've got to keep in shape, man. You can't just drink chocolate milk.” “Well, that's what I'm gonna do. It's the only thing I don't throw up from” he shrugged, taking a straw between his teeth.

“Hey, Steve” he heard someone behind him and almost choked on the milk. His friends were snorting laughing, revealing the rest of the food in their mouth. Steve coughed and turned around, seeing you in the middle of tall, muscular boys, plucking the cuticles at your nails out of stress. “Here comes the meat” one of his friends laughed, slicing turkey. ”Are you lost, babygirl?”

“Choke on this trash” Steve threw a napkin at him and stood up. “Yeah, Y/N?” “Can we talk? Somewhere where you'll finish your dinner and where will be quiet?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “I... yeah, yeah, of course. Let's find an empty table” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Loser” he heard passing by Carol, who was scanning Dustin's sister, walking ahead. He showed her the middle finger, hoping that the girl ahead of him hadn't noticed anything.

“Listen” Y/N sat opposite him at the table under the window. Someone spilled a Coke on it trying to wipe it off with a ton of napkins. “I'm sorry I ran away last time you wanted to talk to me. It was inappropriate, childish and impulsive. So... I'm sorry”.

“You've already said you're sorry” he said, leaning more comfortable in the chair. “I'm sorry” you said again, wanting to smash your head against the table. “Look... I want to make this clear. I'm flattered, but... I just broke up with Nancy.” “I see you're trying to reject me, but that's not what I want to talk about, and I certainly don't want to hear it for the second time this week” you sighned, running your hand through your hair. “I did... something stupid. And I don't mean to send you a letter. Stephen Harrington, I don't want to go out with you. But... I told somebody that I want to. That we're dating”.

Sometimes in difficult situations, his brain couldn't keep up with what was going on, and so it was this time. Her words didn't seem to reach him, he needed a moment to understand them. “If you'd like to continue your thought, I'd be very grateful” he said, so freaking confused. “I don't like you” you got him distracted even more. “Oh, God, that was rude, I'm...”

“Please, don't say you're sorry” he asked, wanted you to tell him what you mean as soon as possible. “I like you, but not in that way. But I had to say something, anything to make the boy I really like think I don't like him. I panicked and somehow you were the first person I thought of. I know I shouldn't have. I know I did wrong and I know I'm gonna burn in hell for it, but I did”.

“Who's so perfect that you had to lie instead of tell him the truth?” he asked, drinking the rest of his milk, making annoying noises. “And why did you think of me first?” “I don't know” you groaned, being super embarrassed. “I was thinking about our conversation on the field, how terrified I was that you really had that letter... And I won't tell you who I'm talking about now.”

“Well, I guess you'll have to, because I don't think you just came to admit what you did. You need my help. Otherwise, you wouldn't want to talk to me” he noticed and he was absolutely right. You sighed in and looked for Jonathan, who embraced Nancy's arm and offered her cookies. Steve turned around the same way. “Nooooo. There's no way in hell that all of this is about Jonathan Byers” “Why not?” you moved your shoulder. “Jonathan is a wonderful guy”.

“Yeah, but he's dating my ex” Steve sighned. “And you're in love with him. And I'm...” “I know how complicated it is. I know. He got a letter too” “Woah, woah, woah, hold on, hold on, stop” Steve squinted his eyes. “I'm not the only one who got the letter?” “I was sure I mentioned that it wasn't just one” you bite your lower lip once more. “No, you didn't” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “You think you're special, and the second letter comes out.”

“And the third one” you added, drumming your fingers against the table. “And the fourth one. And even a fifth”. “Five love letters?” Steve couldn't believe it. When was the last time he saw you with a boy who wasn't Jonathan or your brother? “Damn it, Henderson, you're a player”. “And who says that” you muttered. Steve stopped talking. He realized he shouldn't have said anything about it. “Steve... if I confess, I'll lose him and her. And I can't allow that. That's why I'm asking you for help. I'm asking you to... a month, two months to pretend that... that you're my boyfriend.”

“Pretending?” Steve got lively, couldn't believe his ears. He wanted to help, even very much. He wanted to compensate you for those years when you had no contact. But so many things could have gone wrong. So many things could have screwed up. It was never your style. “We don't have to exaggerate” you said quickly. “We can... just be sensitive at school, hold hands, walk to class. Besides, we don't have to convince everyone that our relationship is real. All we need is Jonathan and Nancy to believe us. That's all I ask”.

Steve didn't know what to say. What's the worst that could happen? He liked you. You used to be his friend. He'd have a chance to help you. He knew what it's like when rejection hurts so much that it's all over your mind. He'd make it easier for you. You could have suffered less than he suffered. “I'm sorry to have bothered you at all. That's ridiculous” you sighned, getting up.

“Wait a minute” Steve leaned over in the chair, grabbing your wrist. You turned around, looking at him with such hope in your eyes that he knew he would agree before he even said so. He was watching people in the canteen. Not everyone noticed them, but he saw some jealous looks from other girls, whispers from his teammates. And most importantly, he saw Jonathan and Nancy. He was smiling, she didn't know what was going on and you could see how much she wanted to ask her boyfriend about it. People will finally stop talking about how she broke his heart. And he'll finally have a chance to heal from her.

“If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right. and absolutely everyone will believe us” he said with a smile, getting you out of the canteen by the hand.

The sports hall was empty at lunchtime. You sat down crossing your legs on the blue mattress, taking out page from your notebook and pen, while Steve threw the ball into the basket, humming "I'm So Excited" by The Pointer Sisters under his breath.

“We need to set some rules” you said. Your voice echoed from an empty room. Steve threw the ball back in the basket. That's why we're gonna make a contract. “First of all... Steve, I don't want you to kiss me”. “No shit” Steve stopped bouncing the ball off the floor. “Who will believe this relationship if I can't kiss you?”

“I'm sure it would be just as uncomfortable for you as it would be for me. Don't get me wrong... I'm sure you're doing it right, but I don't see the point.” “Henderson, are you even going to high school?” Steve groaned and sat next to you on a mattress, pressing his knees to his chest. “Those people are hungry wolves. From now on, they'll analyze our every move, they'll talk about it here and then in their homes. And we don't want anyone to have any doubts, right? We're supposed to be credible”.

“Like I said, I just want Jonathan and Nancy to believe us”. “Yeah, but if I'm not mistaken, you need me for that, and I should have something to say” Steve pointed out a contract with only your names written on it so far. “And I want at least half the school to believe us. Unfortunately, you have to make a compromise”. “I hate compromises. No one is fully happy” Steve woven his hands behind his head and lay down on the mattress next to you. “But okay. I'll think about it”.

“But fast. Write” Steve got up. He seemed so excited, he couldn't sit still. “As your boyfriend, I have the right to walk you for any lesson and wait for you at your locker. And I'm taking you to school. With my car. And you sit with me during lunch”. “I'm always sitting with my friends. Mostly with Robin” you said. “I'm sure she'll be thrilled” Steve moved her arm. “What else... you can wear my sunglasses”.

“I won't need them inside of the building” you frowned your eyebrows. “That's not what wearing them is about. It's about looking good” Steve said, as if it was obvious. “And... I can keep my hand in the back pocket of your jeans. That's it.” “It's... those are your terms?” you made sure, while you read what you wrote quietly. “Is the pocket necessary?”

“If we don't have to kiss, or do it quite rarely, then yes, it is necessary”. “Let it be” you nodded your head. “My turn. No one can know we're pretending. Except for Robin”. “Why is Robin different than everyone else?” Steve squinted, raising his head to look at you. “I lied to two of my best friends, so she needs to know the truth. Even if I tried to lie, she would know it wasn't true. She knows me too well. And horror movie nights”.

“Horror movie night” Steve repeated slowly. “Will we go through Hawkins and murder innocent people?”

“You amaze me, Steve. Sometimes I really have to sit in silence for a while to be able to answer you” you've twisted your head. “We watch scary movies every week. Either with Dustin or Jonathan and Nancy, unless they're playing something new in the cinema. You have to start doing it with us.” “Everything for my girlfriend” he said, shaking his shoulder. Something warm was spreading through your cheeks. It couldn't have been the blush. Steve is not the boy who makes you blush. He embarrasses you, that's all. You're not the only girl who works like that.

“Oh, one more” Steve smiled. “You have to come to my matches. And parties.” “I saw it coming” you nodded your head. “I have no problem with that. There's something else... when you said you were gonna drive me to school, you'd have to take Dustin too”. “I thought you wouldn't want him to know.” Steve said not understanding. “I don't know if I'm gonna tell him yet. But until I do, he'll never forgive me for driving a BMW, and he's still getting to school by bike. I'll have hell at home.”

“Yeah, no problem. Sure. That bastard's pretty cute” Steve agreed. You signed the contract with your name, then you gave him a pen. The boy ran his eyes over the page again, his long eyelashes were sweeping through his brown irises like a fan. He breathed deeply and signed himself, smiling at one corner of his mouth. “And this way, we have a deal.”

“We have a deal” you nodded, hearing the bell ringing which was the sing that your lunch break was over. “I have to find Robin. And tell her about it as soon as possible.” “From the tone of your voice, I guess she won't be delighted” Steve got up from the mattress. You moved your shoulder, looking for a walkman in a bag. You put the headphones on your ears, seeing Steve look at you with curiosity. So many years. Why didn't he ever talk to you before? Why did you only start talking now that you had to save your friendship with Jonathan and Nancy? Maybe if he hadn't broken contact with you, it wouldn't have seemed so awkward, so weird. He didn't even know how to talk to you. Does this Y/N still like the same things she liked when she combed her hair into two ponytails and ate breadcrumb-free sandwiches?

“Robin will understand. She usually does crazy things and has crazy ideas. She'll understand that there was no other way out” you said. Steve licked his lips and nodded his head. He put his arm around you and took the headphones off your ears to take your hair out and be able to kiss your cheek. A sudden touch of his lips made your heart go down your throat, your body reacted faster than your mind. It's just Steve. It's just a harmless Steve. It'll be over in a month.

“Let's show them how much we love each other” the boy smiled, leading you out of the gym, straight into the jungle of bodies, gossiping girls and stupid boys. Before you got to your locker, his hand was already in the back pocket of your jeans.

Taglist: @krazykatkay456 @mochminnie @ghostineleven @the-almond-dinger @art-flirt

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Four, “Never Again”

* FIND OLD CHAPTERS HEEEEEERE! *

Warnings: Mentions of blood and physical assault

Music Inspo: Goodbye To You by Michelle Branch (click to listen)

“His name leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, almost a question. But he doesn’t reply. And I don’t know what to say. I never thought this day would come. I hoped for it and I dreamt of it and I longed for it. But I never thought that he’d learn the truth, and not like this. I didn’t think that it would feel like this.

Disgusting. Heart-wrenching. Regrettable. Stinging. I wanted more than anything for him to know, but not like this. Never.

“‘m so so sorry,” he sobs from below me. I feel his body shudder under my fingers.

Suddenly, the moisture leaves my throat and detours to my eyes. I gulp hard and wonder what words I could get out if I even knew what to say. Is it okay? It’s not, but what he just did for me surpasses that entirely.”

“These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”

- Shakespeare

“Becks!”

I can’t tell what hurts me worse. The licks of fire spreading on my face, or the look I see on his.

Harry.

Wait, is he really here or am I imagining it? I wonder to myself as the world in front of me starts to spin.

I don’t have much time to think about that, because I feel something warm trickling down my chin. I watch as it slowly falls off my skin like a cliff and plummets to the floor. A shiny scarlet drop embeds itself in his floor, and all I can think of is how badly that will stain. In a flash, it’s covered up by something else shiny - a black leather boot.

Then a leg in flowy black slacks.

A torso in a satin mustard button down.

Black ink scattered over skin.

I don’t see his face until it pops into view, his body bending to look up at me.

“Becks, are you okay? Oh god, yer really bleedin’,” he panics, the words dipped in sugar rushing out of his mouth. I almost don’t feel the fiery pain stinging my face or the warmth on my chin. The worry and hurt consuming his face make it all feel like a dull afterthought in comparison.

I can’t tell who’s in more pain - him or me.

I watch in disbelief as his thumb brushes the skin next to my nose and I wince at the tenderness. Okay, so that answers my question of if he’s real or just a figment of my imagination, I conclude inside of my head. He gives my arm a squeeze with an audible ‘sorry’ and places a tissue in my hand.

“S-she hit me first!”

Oh great, I was hoping to continue to forget the fact that she’s still here.

The disgust lacing itself into Harry’s features tells me that I’m not the only one thinking that.

“Ya can’t do anythin’ but lie, can you?” Harry retorts, slowly turning around to face her. His girlfriend.

“I’m not l-lying,” she sputters, redness filling her cheeks. An alligator tear spills onto her cheek, and Harry huffs.

“Ya just showed me that ya’ve been lyin’ t’ me fer months, Amber, maybe even longer!” Harry yells, his voice carrying around the room. It makes me remember the pounding inside my skull.

I wince and readjust the tissue under my nose, wondering how much blood you can lose from a nosebleed. My footing becomes unstable and I step forward, running right into Harry’s back. He turns to look at me and his bewildered expression softens as I grab hold of his shirt to anchor myself.

“You okay?” Harry murmurs, turning again to face me. He cups my arm and squeezes it gently.

I answer his question with a nod and feel his hand rub up and down in my arm in response.

“Why don’t you believe me, Harry?!”

“‘Cuz I believed ya dis whole bloody time, Amber, and look wha’s happened!” he exclaims, turning around, throwing his hands up and letting them fall with a sigh. “Ya lied t’ me ‘bout everything! Our relationship, who you were textin’ all those times when ya said it was yer friends, where ya were those nights ya didn’ come home ‘til 3 in tha bloody morning! Ya lied ‘bout Becks, Amber! Ya fooked with her work, harassed her, ya fookin’ assaulted her not jus’ once but twice! She’s my assistant, o-one of my best friends, an’ you hurt her again and again! I gave up so bleedin’ much fer ya. I cancelled plans with friends, with Becks, to make time fer ya, and tha whole time ya were fookin’ another bloke behind me back. Maybe even more, who knows, ya probably coulda gotta ‘round to fookin’ all o’ London in our time togetha . . ,” he trails off.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel my heart break any further today. It does when he’s facing me again and I see the first tear paint his cheek. Then another, and another.

The pain worsens when he looks to me and his cherry lips part for his syrupy voice, “C’mere, ya should sit down, Becks,” Harry coos, flipping the switch to return to himself. Soft and sweeter than he’s ever been before. And selfless.

He guides me over to the couch we’ve played Scrabble on more times than I could count. He doesn’t turn around after he helps me sit down, but instead kneels in front of me.

“Harry, I-I’m sorry-.”

“No, yer not bloody sorry. I don’ believe that fer a second . . . . Now leave,” Harry retorts, cutting her off. He looks up at me as his hand brushes against my cheek, tucking my bangs behind my ear.

“I want to fix this, Harry,” Amber continues with a sob, possible regret, and apology in her voice. I’ve never heard it before, so it’s hard to place it and its authenticity.

“Ya can’t, Amb, ya ruined it- ya ruined everything. Ya know that. I loved you once, ya know, a-and . . . ‘s gone. It has been fer awhile,” Harry mumbles, tears flooding his eyes that only I can see. “W-we’re done . . Leave . . ,” he says, emotion consuming his voice. His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. New tears paint his cheeks as the walls shake with a slam of the door.

His chocolate curls are rearranged with his hand as he looks to stare at the floor. I hear him whimper. I lift my hand and place it on his knee that remains up. It wavers there for a second before it takes a daring risk, and does what I’ve always dreamt. His locks feel like butter between my fingers as I push them back, and catch his stubbly cheek with my thumb. I feel the warm wet tear under its pad and anticipate seeing several more if he were to look up.

But he doesn’t.

His name leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, almost a question. But he doesn’t reply. And I don’t know what to say. I never thought this day would come. I hoped for it and I dreamt of it and I longed for it. But I never thought that he’d learn the truth, and not like this. I didn’t think that it would feel like this. Disgusting. Heart-wrenching. Regrettable. Stinging. I wanted more than anything for him to know, but not like this. Never.

“‘m so so sorry,” he sobs from below me. I feel his body shudder under my fingers.

Suddenly, the moisture leaves my throat and detours to my eyes. I gulp hard, and wonder what words I could get out, if I even knew what to say. Is it okay? It’s not, but what he just did for me surpasses that entirely.

“It’s not your fault,” I say shakily, combing my fingers through his shiny curls, back and forth.

“It feels like it,” he sniffles, both hands grabbing his hair and pulling it.

“Harry, stop, you can’t change what happened. Please,” I urge him, trying to pry his hands from his precious head of hair. It takes a few tries, but suddenly he relents with a loaded sigh.

I sit there as the seconds tick by, still holding the tissue to my nose. Head throbbing. Cheek throbbing. Nose throbbing. And my heart. Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are wrapping around his bicep and pulling him towards me. Or trying to.

“Come here,” I coo, tugging and tugging until I succeed.

It’s an earned feat when I finally pull him up off of his feet, and I wonder if I’ll regret it when suddenly all of his weight is on top of me. But when those arms go around me and his warm face is tucked into my neck, I know that I never could. And I can’t decide if it makes all of this harder, or easier.

“‘m so so sorry, Becks, ya have no idea how sorry I am. If only I had believed ya when ya told me, all o’ this coulda been stopped. I dunno how ‘ll ever forgive myself. I shoulda believed ya and I dunno why I couldn’. I’m a terrible person and ‘m just so sorry, Becks. I-.”

“Harry, stop. It’s over. She’s gone, and I’m okay,” I interrupt his rambling, and lose my words. His hot breaths into my neck are distracting, and so are his fingers drawing circles on my back.

“But yer hurt, and I coulda stopped it, Becks.”

“And you did, Harry! You did stop it. Y-you stopped anything more happening, and I am so grateful,” I share, raking my fingers up and down his back.

My fingers fall from their sudden familiarity and find his shirt in my hands. It feels as if cement is being poured into my heart as his weight leaves me and I look into his tear-stricken eyes.

“Ya are?” he grumbles, another tear falling with his blink.

“Yes, of course,” I reply, feeling my effort failing at the last syllable. “You came in and saved me when nobody else could, Harry. You stopped it. You stopped her from hurting me anymore,” I confess with tears weighing down every word.

His tears mirror mine diving onto my skin, and now he’s pulling me into him. And there’s nothing I’d ever do to stop it.

“Becks.” My name leaves his lips in a struggled whisper, anointed by a hiccup. The letters making up my name settle into my hair followed by his lips kissing the crown of my head.

My lips echo his name in the same fashion, coated with tears.

“‘m sorry I didn’ believe ya, Becks, I hate myself for that.”

“Harry, no, don’t. You don’t need to do that,” I say curtly, shaking my head into his warm chest. I remember the other liquid leaving my body. As much as I hate to, I bury my head in his neck instead so his shirt isn’t ruined.

“But afta alla that . . . I want t’,” he mumbles, each word weighed down even more than the last. Another tear to my heart right there.

“What’d I just say?” my lips move against his neck, in a way opposite than I thought it’d happen. “I just told you how you saved me, Harry. You stood up for me. You fought for me. You took care of me when I was hurt, and-. You did everything I wanted you to do, Harry, and more.”

His chin brushes against my hair as he nods in response. And that’s all I need. I relax against him with my other half curled against the couch, him sitting opposite me. My hands clutching the tufts of his blouse relax. I lay my cheek on his neck, and relax to the feeling of his pulse against my skin. Me. I never thought that this would happen, either.

Today is just full of surprises.

A couple sniffles and me almost falling asleep in the crook of his neck later, he pulls away. I whimper in disappointment and open my eyes to find him wiping his, sitting across from me.

“We should get ya cleaned up and get ya some ice,” he murmurs, flitting his eyes to me. I follow them to my hand that hasn’t left my nose since he handed me this very kleenex. Yuck.

“Yeah,” I reply with a disgusted look at my own hand. “I can do it, I’ll just go to the bathroom. I should probably fix my makeup in there, too.”

“I’ll order us somethin’ t’ eat while yer at it, maybe some churros and gnocchi soup,” he suggests, and I smile in response.

I get to my feet and watch him do the same. He squeezes my arm with a warm smile stuck to his lips before he turns to his desk. “Don’ be gone too long now. I know how girls can get when it comes t’ fixing makeup,” he quips, giving me a toothy grin as he picks up the office phone.

“I won’t,” I reply, watching him shoulder the phone and dial the buttons by memory.

His eyes play on the screen of his iMac as my feet drag themselves to the door. He doesn’t see me stealing glances at him over my shoulder on my way out the door.

“Yeah hi, ‘d like t’ place an order,” Harry begins, pulling over a notepad and a pen. I watch his lips move with every syllable, and the way his eyes crinkle with a laugh. Redness still rimming them, and leftover tears leaving them glassy.

His raspy drawl tickles my ears as my steps echo down the hall. The pounding in my head becomes harder, and so does the pounding in my chest. I almost stop when I hear his happy giggle, but I keep walking. I keep walking when I can’t hear his voice anymore, and my heart wants to leave me. I keep walking past my desk that’s littered with somebody else’s things.

The heels of my shoes echo in the empty bathroom. They stop in front of the sink, but I can’t look in the mirror.

I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I can’t look back at my broken reflection. Again.

The tears come again, fast and hard, and will me to slowly look up. I stop and have to start over again. Once or twice.

Splashes of purple and red shock me, and my chest is racked with another sob. I hate her. I hate myself. I hate that I let this happen. Again. I hate that I couldn’t stop it, or stand up to her. I pull the crumpled kleenex away from my nose and watch as a tear mingles with the blood. The old and the new.

My knuckles are white as they claw at the edge of the sink. Because I don’t know if I can hold on anymore. Drops of red splash into the sink in front of me, and I breathe in shakily. I close my eyes hard and try to take another. I blow it out with a shudder and whimper as another sob racks my body.

My eyes snap open and I rip a paper towel from the dispenser. I watch myself wet it under the tap, wring it out, and wash my face without deciding to. I go into autopilot, watching my own hands clean the streaks of blood from my face, the lines of mascara under my eyes, and the blood caked into the lines of my hands. I roll a piece of paper towel up and shove it in my nose, instantly forgetting about the nosebleed. I scrub my skin until it starts to hurt, but I almost don’t feel it.

When I look into the mirror again, I see the splotches of purple and red painted under my right eye. The red rawness around my nose, and the shininess of my eyes. And their emptiness.

Why did I let it get this bad?

How could I have ever let it get this far?

Why didn’t I leave sooner?

Why did I keep letting her hurt me?

And him?

Tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, I bend my head and pump the soap dispenser. I watch the last drops of blood disappear down the drain, and take today along with it. With one last breath, I dry my hands and leave the bathroom.

I walk and I don’t stop. I don’t turn around.

I keep walking into the elevator. I only stop when I reach the back of it, and I don’t turn around. Because I know if I did, I’d keep walking.

I’d keep walking and go back to him. I’d let him hurt me again.

“Whiskey coke, please,” a voice murmurs beside me.

“What d’ya think, Becky?”

I blink hard and lift my eyes to the inquisitive ones staring back at me.

“W-what do I think of what?” I reply, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Of shots?” Asher continues with a funny nod of his head.

A laugh sputters from my lips, and warmth fills my cheeks, “No, Ash, we’re too old for that.”

“No we’re not!” he argues and another laugh of mine fills the air.

This feels good. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at something that wasn’t on my tv.

“Come on, Becky, a few shots never hurt anybody,” he quips, shrugging his shoulders clad in a hoodie.

“Yeah, not until tomorrow morning, Ash,” I reply and he deals me another shrug. I watch him turn to the bartender with a contagious smile and order a few shots.

“I can’t believe you still haven’t let me get you drunk, it’s what you do when you leave a job,” Asher comments, turning on his barstool to face me once more.

“I think the window of time to do that has kinda passed, Ash,” I comment, flicking my eyebrows up. He shakes his head with a chuckle as I move the ice around in my cup.

“Window schmindow,” he counters, batting a hand at me with a toothy grin. Now it’s my turn to shake my head. I uncross and recross my legs, watching the black fabric dance against my skin. “You can celebrate leaving a shit job anytime, even weeks afterward.”

“If you say so,” I reply, running a hand through my wavy curls. My eyes flit to the lines of Christmas lights strewn around the pub. The decorated Christmas tree in the corner adds to the atmosphere. I suddenly curse myself for the tenth time for wearing a dress in the middle of December.

Brown liquid sloshes onto the table in front of me, and I turn to find Asher picking his shot up and downing it. I close my eyes hard and can’t resist shaking my head at him, but my hand ventures to touch the cool glass. I bring it to my lips and choke down the volatile liquid.

“God, can you get anything more appetizing than that? Perhaps that doesn’t look and taste like shit?” I cough, setting the glass down with a clatter.

“Fine, you whiner. Can we have a Pornstar shot next, some Blue Kamikazes, and those Cotton Candy shots you got advertised?”

My cheek meets my hand and I lean on it as my eyes dance around the room. Bright neon lights shine behind the bar, and the bartender tosses the towel back over their shoulder. The hum of loud voices around me grows in volume. I hear laughs, glasses clinking, and 80s music from a speaker somewhere. The song ends suddenly and a Christmas jingle comes on. Soon, a bloke is singing along to it loudly and then his mate joins in too.

“Here,” Asher says, pulling me from my thoughts. He sets a blue and red shot of something in front of me. “Cheers to uh . . . leaving that shit hole of a job that I’m uh still at, and uh moving onto better things and new coworkers who will never be as great as me,” he smirks, clinking his glass with mine before knocking it down.

“Yeah, I think I can drink to that,” I titter before the liquid smelling of cherry cough syrup meets my lips.

Alcohol I can’t even pronounce the name of passes my lips in one shot after the other.

The volume in the pub rises and smothers my ears with incessant buzzing.

Christmas jingles fill the cracks of the room, and Ash and I can hardly resist singing along to them, badly.

The alcohol warms my cheeks and negotiates laughs from my lips.

A basket of fries falls in front of us and is only crumbs minutes later.

Glasses of water soon adorn my grasp and slowly the pounding in my temple falls away.

“Stop drinking water, you woose. That’s not how you get drunk,” Asher slurs with a whine, playfully shoving my shoulder. His spiked blonde hair is now a mess atop his head, pointing in different directions. The collar of his flannel no longer lays flat and points to the sky with flare.

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t wanna get drunk?” I reply, trying and slightly failing to keep my words in a straight line.

“You’re no fun,” he replies, shaking his head as he grabs the Guinness the bartender just poured for him. He sips at the frothy foam and licks it from his blushing lips.

“Yeah I know,” I mumble, looking around the room and suddenly wondering why the hell I’m even here. I’ve been putting off getting drinks with Asher for weeks, and somehow I finally gave in tonight. But why? Probably because I was feeling sorry myself, and sorry for turning him down time after time.

“I know what could be some fun,” he announces, standing from his chair and teetering a bit. He almost grabs the counter for support, but he’s only buzzed. I’ve seen him far more pissed than this. “I love this song, it’s a real ballad. I’m pretty sure it played at my parent’s wedding or something. And don’t ask how I know that if I wasn’t there, because I dunno,” he rambles, stepping away from his beer to my surprise. I’m stolen away from my water when he tugs on my hand.

“Asher!” I groan as he pulls me along with him. I try and fail to free my hand from his grasp that’s even stronger when he has alcohol in him. I’ve never understood why or how. “I don’t dance!”

“Yeah, ya do. Anybody can bloody dance. Ya just put a hand here and a hand there, and move your feet back and forth,” he instructs, placing his hand on my waist and taking my other in his right. “Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“You’re really going to owe me after this one,” I moan with a shake of my head. Looking away with blushing cheeks, I cast my eyes downward and find my legs swaying effortlessly with the rock ballad. The cream stars on my black dress dance along with the music. To my surprise, my heels don’t crush his feet.

“Oh you have no idea,” he whispers, turning away from me and looking at the other few couples dancing on the floor.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just I’m a terrible dancer, you’ll see soon enough,” Asher says quickly, biting his lip and refusing to make eye contact with me. I watch his eyes jump when there’s a crash and the bartender is shouting. Oh boy.

The last notes of the song float into a soft 90’s love song. Asher sways with me and I guess this dancing thing isn’t too bad. Rom-Coms with prom scenes always made it seem more romantic, but those movies were never realistic for their love stories, anyways.

There’s a jingle of a bell when the front door opens, but it’s melted into the background the last half hour we’ve been here. I continue to sway with Asher and watch the other couples folded into each other’s necks, talking and laughing. My attention is grabbed when I hear Asher sigh and look up to find him staring at something behind me across the darkly lit room. His expression suddenly changes and I see his adam’s apple bob. Surprise paints his face when his eyes flit down to me.

“Now don’t be mad at me, okay?” Asher mumbles quickly, eyebrows touching the ceiling.

“What, why would I be mad at you?” I reply in a rush, looking at him with pure confusion. “Asher, I don’t-,” I begin, but he falls away from my grasp when he steps away from me.

“Oh,” the letters trip off of my lips when my eyes see what now stands in front of me. Or who.

Long legs clad in skinny blue jeans.

A tie-dyed Beatles shirt under a red and black flannel.

A black peacoat draped over his arms.

Saint Laurent brown leather boots donning his feet.

Rings layering his fingers.

And those moppy brown curls I loved so much.

“Harry,” I say, his name easily rolling off of my tongue.

His chest rises with a breath, “Hi, Becks. C-Can I interrupt and steal a dance?” he murmurs in his molasses-like drawl.

I can’t find any words, but he takes it as a ‘yes.’ Instead, I soon find my hand in his and his on my waist. The song pouring from the speakers guides our lazy movements and soon enough I’m slow dancing with Harry. His hand is clammy in mine, or maybe it’s mine. I’m not sure.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” I mutter, locking my eyes on a patch of twinkling lights in the corner that no longer twinkle.

“Asher told me you an’ some o’ tha blokes from tha firm were gettin’ togetha fer drinks,” he replies in a hushed whisper.

I shake my head and can’t hide the sigh that’s building inside of me. “Yeah, if he means just him and me.”

“Oh.”

“Harry, why are you really here?” I respond, finally daring to look him in the eye. I think it catches him off guard, and it takes him a second to collect his thoughts in front of me.

“Cuz ya didn’t lemme finish tha otha day, Becks,” he finally says. I continue to sway with my hand enveloped in his. The music fills the silence between us as words fleet me, and my anger grows.

“Then finish,” I retort.

A sigh, or a deep breath follows. I don’t know which. “I thought I fixed things or that ‘d started t’, Becks, and then ya just ran away. How many times do I hafta say ‘m sorry?” Harry says, locking eyes with me and holding me there. Too long. Longer than I want to be there.

“You can’t, Harry. Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore,” I reply curtly, dropping my hands. I turn around and walk away, with the door in sight.

“What, are ya gonna run away from me again?!”

“Yeah! Apparently, I’m getting really good at it!” I reply over my shoulder.

The door is only ten steps away when I feel his fingers coil around my arm. He gently pulls me into a corner by a deserted table and spins me around to face him.

“What was the point in staying, Harry?” I announce, throwing my hands up in question. I wonder if people are watching us, but they aren’t. They’re too preoccupied with their own problems, their beers, and The Spice Girls song that somebody chose to play.

“What? What d’ya mean?”

“Why should I have stayed the other day?” I respond, enunciating every single word.

“I dunno, to hang out and talk and eat dinner togetha. Like old times.”

I can’t resist laughing, and the effect it has on him is immediate. His already sullen expression falls just a little deeper into despair.

“Harry, I quit! It was my last day! Your girlfriend just punched me in the face in front of you. Why would I want to stay there with you?!” I chuckle, my hands helping me talk once again.

“Becks-.”

“No, y-you don’t get to keep calling me that after everything that’s happened,” I stutter, feeling the emotion play tug of war with my words. His lips part again to speak, but the alcohol makes me faster. “I quit, Harry. You have a new assistant now, and I’m sure she’s great. She is, isn’t she?” He nods after a stubborn second. “See! You have a new assistant who can put up with your shit. So why did I need to stay, and why do I need to be here right now?” I retort, letting my hands hit my thighs with a slap. My head shakes in annoyance before I put my back to him once again.

“Ya were more than just an assistant t’ me, you know that. We were friends, Becks,” he blurts out from behind me. The words stick to my feet like glue, and suddenly I can’t move another step.

“Yeah, I think that was the problem,” I say slowly, unsure of if I can face him. “We were friends one day, and then we weren’t the next day. What do you want me to say, Harry?”

I give up and turn to look into his watery green eyes. No, you don’t get to do this to me. Not again.

“Being friends didn’t work, Harry, and neither did being your employee. So that’s where we are. And I don’t want to try and be friends with you after leaving. We both know it won’t work, and don’t say that we don’t know that,” I continue, the words falling from my lips one after the other.

“I want ya t’ come back, Becks. I want us t’ try again. Ya had potential for law, and ya were learning so much,” he continues emphatically, pulling words out of his ass. I think he is, but the expression knit into his face refutes that. There are words etched there into the lines of his skin, but I don’t want to read them. I don’t want to go back on that roller coaster and feel all of that again.

“And where would I go, Harry?! Huh? You have a new assistant, so I can’t go there. Hmmm, where else . . Well, I’m not a lawyer, since I dropped out of law school . . And I’m not interested in being anybody else’s personal bitch, or doing whatever the hell The Cubiclers do . . So that leaves me out of the game. Sorry, better luck next time,” I tease, feeling the alcohol rush through my veins. They don’t call it liquid courage for nothing.

I try to leave, as I have so many times since I met him. But like all of the other times, he pulls me back in. This time, I can feel the cold metal of his rings as they encircle my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and for some reason this time it yanks at my heart worse than the others. I swallow past the lump rising in my throat. No, you don’t get to make me feel this way again when I was just starting to get back to feeling normal.

“It’s too late, Harry. The other day . . it didn’t change anything. I-I have a new job, and there’s no place for me at your firm anymore,” I declare softly, venturing a look into his eyes. The color of the ocean on a stormy day. Much like today. “And there’s no place for you in my life anymore.”

My fingers slide from his warm grasp, and I rip my shoes from the floor with each step. But this time he doesn’t run after me or pull me back to him. And unlike all of the other times, I don’t want him to. I’m not sad or confused about wanting him to follow me.

This time, I’m relieved. My heartbeat slows as I walk over to the bar, grab my purse, pay my tab, and walk out into the crisp winter night. The further I am away from him, the better I feel. And the smaller his voice and his face become in the back of my head. Snowflakes fall heavy and fast from the gray sky above me. They mingle with the warmth of the bittersweet tears painting my face.

Emotions mix up inside of me, growing stronger with every step I take.

Sadness. Fear. Doubt. Relief. Anger. Excitement.

Each step I take is a step I take into my new future. A future full of unknowns and doubts. But bubbles of excitement fill me with that thought.

Excitement for finding a new me.

END OF PART ONE

#the assistant #pa harry #harry styles #harry au #harry styles au #lawyer au #assistant #one direction #fanfiction #wattpad #fanfics #1d #harry #writing

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writing-s-kills · 6 years ago

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Oh boy! I never thought I would be tagged on one of this!!

Tagged by @thedestinystar , thank you!

Rules: answer the questions and tag 15 people you want to know better

1) relationship status: I’m super duper single

2) lipstick or chapstick: well I kinda hate make up, somi’m going with the chapstick

3) three favorite food: oh boy this is easy, sushi, spaghetti with tomato sauce and a good barbecue

4) song currently stuck in your head: well, I just saw the phantom of the opera, so I guess the main song is kinda in my head right now (I just keep repeating “the phaaaaaantom of the opera is heeeeeere inside my mind). But also, I’m in love with living on a prayed again for some reason?

5) the last movie you watched: annihilation

6) top 3 shows: at the moment Bojady horseman, disenchantment aaaand Boku no hero cause I love my Kacchan

7) current book: I read now a book about a guy who travels from Netherlands to Japan at the time of the colonies and stuff and I just don’t know the name in English sorry

8) last thing you googled: phantom of the opera tumblr meme, not even kidding

9) time: whAt is TiME

10) dream trip: oh boy I reeealy want to go to Japan! Like there’s no explanation, I guess it’s probs because ogival my anime/manga reference. I want to go to those little village that no one speaks English you know? Or maybe Iceland! That would be cool too

11) favorite smell: baked cake and coffee (although I hate coffee)

12) what do you want: by now just to settle things up. Finish my degree, start a new one, cause I’m hating what I’m doing right now. Get some stability and maybe a romantic partner, who knows. But mostly, finish my stuff so I can start new stuff hahah

Tagged: so, I basically don’t know many people here, but there’s a lot of OPs that I would like to know better. Hope is okay to tag you here!

@thejennire @stop-the-damns @toyfuneral @etherealpath @melancholy-hills-citizen @aizawashoutta @ihopudie @matchadoobles @animentality

#about me #me #quewtions #this was nice

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lilwaynelighterflick-blog · 8 years ago

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Criminal Minds se12 ep9

I watch a lot of Cinemasins 0:11 I bet it's a black guy 0:20 Kachow! 1:00 This better not be a Rossi episode 1:17 fuck 1:58 They showed the unsubs face. Must be a simulation. 1:59 Guns are used for personal crimes and botched robberies, not serial murders. 2:30 I knew it 2:57 she's too eager to be correct. 3:31 I watched 11 seasons of this show in 1 month. You can't get nothing past me. 3:46 Is that Pooch? From The Game? 4:45 The Womb Raider 5:07 If it *is* Pooch, it's a damn shame. 5:14 It's free liqour, shut up and take it. 5:28 She's pretty 5:43 I remember 6:05 blah blah blah 6:25 Unknown Caller = Yates 6:30 I am a boss 7:07 Oh shit 7:18 This whole, catching escaped convicts shit is boring. 7:26 I love the intro 7:53 Eight is too much 7:55 Was the loss of Hotch/Thomas Gibson so bad that they had to bring back an old character AND add two more? Ans: Yes! 8:12 CLEARLY! 8:20 Yes, it is Pooch Hall from The Game. It is also a disgrace. 9:00 Payback 9:39 He's a monster, Rossi end of story. 10:46 Probably using a burner phone. 11:52 What she means is, Prentiss was worried about you. I still can't believe PRENTISS is in charge. 11:58 I should be a writer on this show. It's so predictable. 12:45 It's the same bs every time. All she wants is for you to catch the sicko that killed her daughter. 13:06 The answer is no. 13:15 She found a man, who was probably Yates. 14:13 DO NOT SHOW HER THE PICTURE, YOU SICK BASTARD! 14:30 Heeeeeere's Johnny 14:46 So was Jody 14:55 I miss Spence 15:28 He probably liked Jody or he probably wants to be normal for a bit 15:50 He's looking for another victim, stupid 16:04 *Dj Khaled voice* Another one 16:15 Where you at Penelope? 17:17 She looks a little young for his normal vics 17:35 ...so close....yet so far 18:03 Damn it, Yates 8:13 Say he didn't profile ONE more fucking time JJ. I fucking dare you 19: 14 Yes bitch, fight. 19:15 🎶I had the time of my life...and i owe it all to you🎶 19:48 He's probably dying 19:51 OH MY GOD! he's going on spree 20:32 Cancer? 20:36 I am so damn good. 20:48 Oh great, a big inconspicous van *eye roll* 20:49 I'm going to start driving a huge murdery van around and when the police pull me over, instead of dead bodies, they'll find art supplies and pizza boxes. 21:50 Probably his daughter. Who was played by the chick from 22 Jump Street. 22:41 She's your boss now. Put some Respeck on her name. 22:57 Rossi the barely Italian Reject. 23:23 You're a prostitute, isn't there a word on the street to not get into big creepy black vans? 23:55 She might live...they're giving her lines. 26:01 I can imagine the talk with his agent. Pooch: I was the star of a hit BET show! I am not some guest star with a total of 10 mins of screen time! Agent: Isn't your rent due? Pooch: .....It's not about that! It's about my dignity! Agent: They'll pay you 5,000. Pooch: I'll take it. 26:36 I watch Criminal Minds 26:51 que the relaxing cooking show music 27:26 Imaginary Yates is gonna be in that chair. 29:27 Do all old Harvard coots have a fondness for cigars? 29:39 Oh they will lift it 32:01 Why do I find this funny? 32:25 .......His backyard? 35:02 Y'ALL DON'T FUCK WITH ME! 35:42 Sucide by cop is how this Psycho is gone die. 36:39 I should call my mom 37:13 So so pretty 37:42 stupse 38:07 He's gonna catch up with him after class. 38:11 Bitch, I said don't fuck with me. 38:44 You a punk 40:28 Magestic speech and magestic music 41:26 I hope Pooch isn't his real name.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #pooch #dontmesswithme #i am so lonely #why did i do this

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romancevsreality-blog · 8 years ago

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vanderpump rules, season five, episode nine: THIS IS A HOSTAGE SITUATION.

I feel duped and lied to.

I got my hopes high as hell for two hours of Vanderpumpy goodness this week, instead, they did us dirty by transitioning without our permission into Summer House. I am not interested in watching Summer House, no thank you1. Bravo, why do you think you can do things like this and we’re just going to go along with it? You are not my dad, you can’t drag me into situations just because you need to look good and you’re afraid of being alone (hint: it’s probably because you’re gonna die alone). Enraged does not even begin to cover my feelings.

Stassi is dealing with a delayed hangover - you know, you wake up feeling hunky dory and think it’s all cool and then two hours later your body is like HA HA HA YOU WERE JUST STILL DRUNK HEEEEEERE’S YOUR HANGOVER. Katie is physically incapable of using a lighter to open her bottle of Corona they’re enjoying in their hotel room, and managed not to get full on Tequila Katie, only halfway. I wonder which half - it appears the un-abusive half is the one she was last night. Katie just wants Stassi to find a man because of course, Katie is the type who thinks Stassi’s happiness revolves around having a man in her life. I hate you, Katie. Katie tries to coach Stassi, who’s showing all of the worst sides of herself - she’s into murder, she likes online shopping, she only cares about getting blowouts and poor spray tans - because she realizes a woman is only worth something when she’s in a relationship with a man.

Just kidding, it’s because she wants Stassi out of her face.

Back in Sonoma, the RV is a mess, and it’s only day two. The place is a pigsty that smells enough to make someone gag, Brittany and Jax are bickering about repacking their bag, and it’s hilarious. Brittany cannot stop flipping out and Jax cannot stop gaslighting. Ariana’s concerned that they’ve lost any sense of humanity they had and that joke is far too easy for me so we’re just going to moooooove right along. The water isn’t working and Brittany is freaking out, and Jax is a terrible boyfriend. He hands her water bottles and talks down to her constantly. Ugh, Jax.

Kristen has never heard the term WASP. In case you were wondering what a WASP is, it stands for White Anglo-Saxon Protestant - according to Wikipedia, it means “an informal, sometimes disparaging term for a closed social group of high-status and influential white Americans of English Protestant ancestry. It is also sometimes applied to those of Scottish Protestant and Irish Protestant ancestry. The term applies to a group who control disproportionate financial, political and social power in the United States.” Basically, Kristen has probably met a ton of WASPs - Irvine, Laguna Beach, Orange County and Newport Beach are the hubs for WASPy behavior in California - but she probably just thought “wow, what an icy bitch.” Kristen, you know what a WASP is. Don’t be an ignoramus.

Then again, every time there’s a bee around Kristen’s probably like “god damn WASPs, Montauk is full of them!”

In front of the pool, Stassi tells them that the twins from Summer House have invited them to a clam bake, and none of them know what a clam bake is. Y’all, it is INHERENT IN THE NAME. Stassi googles it, but none of the girls are really hyped about it because they’re from California. Scheana is the worst kind of person because she doesn’t like seafood2 because when you have witch nails it’s hard to eat food. This is her actual logic for not liking seafood, that and she doesn’t like “cracking things open”.

At NASCAR, they drink a lot, eat poorly3 and Tom Sandoval asks a NASCAR driver to sign his flat iron because of Traditional Masculinity Reasons. I will never understand the appeal of watching a car go in circles over and over again. Even the Monte Carlo Grand Prix seems like it’s just a place for rich people to go and be seen and not give a shit about cars going around and around and around. BOOORING. Then again, most sports bore me. Is NASCAR a sport? This seems like it’d be a debate between two people I hate. Tom Schwartz asks if either Ariana or Brittany would be willing to flash anyone so they can get other stuff, and Jax is basically like “BRITTANY WILL BECAUSE I BOUGHT THOSE BOOBS.”

Jax Taylor is unequivocally a piece of fucking shit.

We’re reminded of that clip from last season when Brittany’s talking about her boob job, and she only wanted a large C, small D, and coked-out, crazy-eyed Jax wanted TRIPLE-D BOOBS4 and rants about how he’s paying for them, so he should get what he wants. I never mention Brittany’s body on this blog because she does get body shamed a ton, particularly over social media - but her having those huge fake boobs (Didn’t she wind up compromising and getting DDs?) isn’t making her look any smaller, particularly on top. Those boobs are too big for her body, and she was probably right to want a large C, small D cup. But how like a man to a) want huge boobs without considering the actual physical ramifications of them5 and b) to insist that because he paid for something, he gets to show it off. Yes, that’s true, Jax. But that’s like giving a dress as a gift to someone and getting angry if they don’t wear it every time they see you. You gave it to them, which means you reneged all rights to comment on what they do with them. Jax needs to learn the word “Agency”, the one that isn’t preceded with “modeling”. Ariana is horrified by this behavior and tells Brittany she needs a new boyfriend. She’s right.

Back in Montauk, Kristen doesn’t know if it’s a “black-tie clam bake”, four words that have never been used together, and Stassi and Katie are being the sad married couple they’re going to be in a few years when Tom Schwartz leaves Katie. Katie calls Lisa because she’s still Lisa’s “assistant”, and Lisa gets her dig into Stassi early. Lisa needs paint, dress samples, and Stassi can only focus on the fact that Lisa didn’t wish her a happy birthday.6

In Sonoma, The Group is on a Ferris wheel, Tom and Ariana are making out, and they’re all kind of like “this trip is the best!” I literally am terrified of Ferris Wheels, the idea of being that high up and going SLOWLY scares me. I’m okay with rollercoasters, but fuck Ferris wheels.

In Montauk, the girls show up for a clam bake, and even I was like “Oh. Wow.” It’s on a beach with lanterns and all sorts of fun time goodness, like a gorgeous table, and champagne, and I want to go to this party. Stassi, in a talking head that I can only hope was filmed after Katie’s wedding, calls it “the prettiest wedding she’s ever been to.” I have this feeling it was, and I’m fueled by this level of shade. Is it bad that I want Stassi and Katie to have another falling out but this time it’s Katie’s fault and her life becomes a shambles? Is that too much to ask for?

They meet the cast of Summer House - Cristina, Kyle, Carl, the twins, et al - and Stassi’s thrilled because it’s attractive, well-dressed young men, which is the opposite from the old guy who tried to buy her a shot last episode. All the Montauk people talk about how despite it being Sunday, they all have to work the next day and are having Sunday Funday Better Than A Monday Can Only Do It One Way And That Is The Drunk Way7 and Scheana’s like “what? You guys have 9-5s? That suuuuuucks for you.” Scheana, you’re a 30-year-old waitress still holding onto a pipe dream of either becoming a pop star or Instagram famous, you literally could not get a job like these people. Don’t get me wrong - there’s great money in the restaurant industry and seasoned servers are to be respected... but I feel like that’s the wrong thing to be morally superior about.

The food is served buffet-style and it all looks delicious - one of the twins is horrified when Scheana admits she doesn’t like fish - and they all sit down to dinner outside on the beach. Stassi gets my dream birthday gift, a magnum of rosé8, and Stassi’s never felt more at home. I really feel like Stassi should have tried harder in New York - I get it, she got wrapped up in her boyfriend during cuffing season - but had she stayed, she probably would still be there and still be the Stassi we loved. Go baaaack, Stassi, go baaaack. I'll be your friend here, I don't have any! Scheana and Kristen sit at the table and turn their noses up to the seafood - Kristen doesn’t know the difference between clams and mussels - and Stassi is rightfully offended. My favorite part is when Scheana’s talking about how you should never eat something with claws and CLICKS HER NAILS TOGETHER because Scheana is a lobster. Nah, lobster is great and Scheana is terrible, Scheana’s like my old roommate’s shitty dog that pooped on my carpet twice, was mildly racist (as was my roommate) and was spiky and not fun to pet. That’s Scheana.

This episode keeps bouncing back and forth between Sonoma and Montauk, but basically, the RV’s full of shit. They overloaded the RV with their clogged toilet. According to Schwartz, it was probably Jax, because he doesn’t know what the “three-sheet-rule” is. If you’re using more than three sheets of toilet paper to wipe yourself, I’m really concerned. Both for you and for your septic tank. The group all jokes about how combative Jax is towards Brittany - they all make fun of him for being a dick and Brittany’s just happy that her feelings are being recognized as valid by others. Brittany is too good for these people and this show and sometimes it makes me sad.

Hot Carl tells Stassi her eyes are gorgeous, and they start talking about: Carl not liking blondes, pubic hair, and whether anyone in the group is dating or has slept with each other. Kristen just goes “so who here has banged?” and for the first time, I may... love Kristen now? Two people are dating, Katie, Scheana, and one of the twins are the only ones that are married or close to it. Stassi’s break up with Patrick is brought up and she starts crying again. Basically, Stassi’s living in fear that if they break up permanently, she might wake up in a year and regret it. Jesus, Stassi. Yes. That could happen. But is it worth the turmoil and the on-again, off-again mishegas? I don’t think so. If you wake up in a year having been separated and want to give it a chance, try it if you’re both single. But don’t let it cripple you. Stassi can’t even bring herself to swipe on anyone on a dating app, that’s how crippled she is. Katie suggests that she just needs someone to grab her boob or needs to give an OTPJ (over the pant hand job, which I had no idea existed until just now).

They’re still happy they don’t have normal jobs so they can’t afford to rent houses in Montauk, though. They feel great that they can’t rent a summer house for their lives. Katie asks who she’s interested in - Stassi rejected Carl because he made fun of her for being on a dating app, but is considering Kyle because he’s cute. And he is. Which means this will end well.

In Sonoma, Brittany’s learning what “charcuterie” means - I guess Sexy Unique Restaurant doesn’t have a meat and cheese course - and Ariana orders pasta and everyone’s thrilled for some reason. Ariana thinks Jax gets off on annoying Brittany, and Tom Sandoval brings up the fact that Jax really just wants Brittany to sit at home, pregnant and barefoot, making him sandwiches. Well, not exactly. He brings up the fact that Jax complains about expecting a sandwich waiting for him.

Jax is supporting Brittany on his own (even though she has a full-time job and says she gives him money) so he feels like he’s allowed to treat her whichever way he wants. Jax was born in 1937 so of course, he has archaic ideas about gender and relationships. Tom Sandoval makes a great point, the same one I made before: you can’t talk to your girlfriend like that, and gifts are not leverage. Jax cannot get over the idea that he deserves a sandwich and says if someone was doing for him what he was doing for Brittany, he’d give them whatever he wanted.

Dear Jax,

Brittany moved from Kentucky to be with you. She had nothing, no friends, no life in Los Angeles, and gave it all up to be WITH YOU. Without you, she’d be nowhere. You made the decision to support her and she’s doing all she can - we see her doing housework constantly while you sit around and bicker with her.

She’s not becoming “one of these LA girls”, like you said. She’s just not letting you treat her like shit anymore, and neither are the people around her. You can’t make her feel bad when you opted to do something. You made the choice to support her, that doesn’t mean she has to be under your thumb all the time.

Love and hate,

Amanda

Jax thinks Tom Sandoval is trying to give him relationship advice when really, Tom’s just calling Jax out for shitty behavior. Jax is forever the victim and doesn’t understand why he’s the jerk right now. Really, Jax? You’re bringing up issues in your relationship with Brittany in front of a table of your friends with the intention of making her look bad. He’s bothered by her becoming “an LA girl” because he thought he was getting a Southern Belle he could just walk all over like it wasn’t anything.

Jax clearly knows nothing about the women of the South, and what they’re capable of. I don’t doubt Brittany’s the girl who puts a smile on when something bad happens and then behind closed doors is like “THE FUCK WAS THAT SHIT?” Brittany is great. Jax is terrible.

They all cheers to the great weekend, and of course, Lala comes up again. Basically, they all think she sucks out loud, and Ariana mentions that Lala unfollowed her on social media. OH NO. Ariana decided to be Petty LaBelle and unfollows her right back. This right here? It’s happening. Get into it, drama.

Back at Sexy Unique Restaurant, Lala came to talk to Lisa. Lala turned her phone off all weekend and go radio silent, and also refers to herself in the third person. Lala, stop making it so easy to not like you, I want to like you so much. I do understand this, though. There have been days when I put my phone on airplane mode, silenced everything, and laid in the dark for a while. But I also was massively and cripplingly depressed at the time, not trying to get out of going to a NASCAR race. Lisa’s pissed that she gave Lala time off for vacation but she didn’t go to the vacation, which is none of her business. Lala ditched the vacation because she didn’t feel comfortable around Jax and the fact that The Group cannot keep her name out of their mouth. Lisa, who is a grown ass adult woman, is like, “I hope Lala’s not dating a married man because I feel bad for his wife and she’s better than that” instead of being like “As her employer, it is none of my business whether Lala is dating married man or not.” She feeds into the scandal but doesn’t even give consideration to the fact that it could be untrue. Lisa is a queen but a terrible, terrible boss. Wasn’t she sued by a former employee for creating a hostile work environment? Lala has grounds for a great lawsuit on her hands, considering it all was caught on camera. Lala maintains it’s no one’s business because it isn’t. Lala thinks that because people don’t believe her, it’s better to be aloof than to engage, and pretends it’s an acting job. Girl, this is your life, though.

Lala’s basically going to Lisa, saying “I need to be able to work without people calling me a whore,” and Lisa’s all but saying “I could if I wanted to, but didn’t you bring this upon yourself?” Lala tries to quit, thinking it’s best for her, and she’s right. Lisa’s like, “when you’re a queen, people are trying to bring you down.” Lisa basically reminds her that if she leaves, she’s letting all the shit-talkers win, and she’s better than that. She needs to go out there, stand tall, and not give AF. Lala decides not to quit and isn’t quitting today, but that’s not to say much about tomorrow.

Back in Montauk, Kyle9 keeps calling Stassi “Saucy”, which I think is hilarious - her name is short for Nastassia, which he wouldn’t be able to pronounce either - and they’re staying at this gorgeous, huge house in Montauk. It really is gorgeous. Like, a multi-million dollar house. Katie, Stassi, Scheana, and Kristen all arrive and start drinking watermelon margaritas (with a straw for Scheana) and the girls are straight gagged. Kristen thinks she could go into “business” to be able to afford a house like that. Kyle is interested in Stassi.

Back in Sonoma, we find out that Tom Sandoval and Ariana had sex on the trip and the boys go to join them, leaving Ariana and Brittany alone together. They’re both drunk and talking about Jax being a misogynistic asshole. Brittany gets her second vocabulary lesson of the day when she learns what “misogynistic” means - she thinks it means getting massaged. God, by that logic, I wish all men were more misogynistic. I’d be so relaxed all the time. Brittany doesn’t feel appreciated and doesn’t know what to do if he doesn’t change and change soon. What will happen? Jax is gonna get dumped. Brittany eventually calls him out for not feeling appreciated, and Jax wants a turkey sandwich and Brittany makes ham sandwiches and he views that as being underappreciated. Oh, just come the hell on, Jax. He basically just wants her to make him lunch once in a while - and while yeah, I get that, it’s nice, you didn’t have to berate her and talk down to her like she was nothing in front of your friends or make it seem like it was a guilt thing or hold things over her head.

I mean, Jax. She came with you to your surgery and took care of you. If she didn’t appreciate you, she could have just gone to work.

Everyone back in Montauk is changing into their bathing suits, which of course, prompts a discussion about boobs, fake vs. real. Stassi’s high-neck one-piece is my favorite of them all - it’s sexy while literally being covered up and I want it. The married twin tells Stassi that Kyle is into her, and Stassi gets nervous as hell. I would be too, Kyle is going to chop up your body and put it in a freezer. Kyle is wasted in the indoor hot tub and Stassi’s trying to talk to him. It’s not going well - Kyle mentions that he’s trying not to get a boner - and everyone gets up and leaves Kyle and Stassi alone together.

Tequila Katie is out in full force tonight, blowing people with fans, giving Scheana an icing mustache. She literally looks so wasted and Scheana’s upset because her makeup was messed up by her, and I laughed. So hard. She’s like “I even told Shay not to do that at our wedding!” Scheana is so superficial and vain. Back in the hot tub, Stassi’s pumped because this guy is cute and good looking.

AND THIS IS WHERE THE TRANSITION HAPPENED AND THEY FORCED US TO WATCH SUMMER HOUSE. We get a talking head of Kyle talking about how they’ve been drinking all weekend or something. I was too blinded by rage. Kyle’s wasted, though, and couldn’t remember her name. He literally calls her Steve Jobs for wearing a turtleneck bathing suit. My favorite is that you can see Stassi lose interest so quickly and revert to classic sarcastic Stassi. She loses interest quickly and gives him advice as to how to talk to women because the only way this conversation could be worse is if he was literally Patrick Bateman.

Stassi’s Tips:

Remember girls’ names

Listen when they talk

Don’t compare them to Steve Jobs

Do not tell girls you’re excited to see their nipples

They play rosé pong, and Stassi rejoins everyone and recounts the entire conversation about what an idiot he is. He gets called out by Kristen for offending Stassi, and Kyle’s just a drunken asshole. He tries to apologize, Stassi calls him a douchebag and wants him to remember her name.

He literally can barely say it, he’s so drunk.

See you next week!

Random Assessments From The Desk of Amanda:

IT WAS SO HARD TO CONCLUDE THIS EPISODE BECAUSE IT TRANSITIONED INTO SUMMER HOUSE SO SEAMLESSLY. SORRY ABOUT THE WEIRD ENDING.

Kristen looked the best she ever has in this episode. Actually, everyone looked gorgeous on the beach, even Katie. Less makeup works so well for these women.

I still feel like this Summer House seamless transition is like an IRL hostage situation.

Scheana says “I hate girls’ trips” but she was dying to go on this one. She literally will do anything to be on camera and get attention. Even her mom was like “make sure you’re still a bridesmaid!” when anyone else’s mom would have been like “GET BETTER FRIENDS.”

Katie being like “What would Lala do, Stassi?” is so rude.

I love that the Summer House Twins are “married twin” and “single twin”. The misogyny is real.

THE FIRST EPISODE OF MY PODCAST IS UP. Listen, tell me what you think! Join Hillary & I as we watch ANTM from the very beginning!

I wound up watching fucking Summer House. ↩︎

Yeah, I said it, and I’m sticking to it. If you live on a coast and don’t like seafood, just move to Chicago or something. There is nothing as good to me as Prince Edward Island mussels and a glass of champagne. Unf. now I want to go to Flex Mussels. ↩︎

This food does look like it tastes amazing, though. ↩︎

That’s traditionally known as an “F cup”, in case you were wondering exactly how big those are. ↩︎

looking top-heavy, back pain, skin irritation and rashes, fear of toppling over because you’re so top-heavy, etc, etc. ↩︎

This comment is so early Stassi it made me miss her. ↩︎

Quit reading this blog and go watch You’re The Worst, the best depiction of depression and modern relationships I’ve ever seen. Aya Cash is golden. ↩︎

My actual dream gift would be a magnum of rose champagne. Seriously. I’m very easy to please when it comes to gifts - is it alcoholic or can I write on it? Donzo. Notebooks and wine, that’s the kind of gal I am. My brother gave us beer for three Christmases in a row, so there’s where it comes from. ↩︎

Kyle seems like the type who watched American Psycho and thought Patrick Bateman was a good guy. ↩︎

#vanderpump rules #lisa vanderpump #nascar #sonoma #summer house #I HAVE BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE #why are all of my blogs late #why is my life so difficult #jax taylor #jax is the worst and brittany is the best

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