#i do not want to write dickinson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmiclily · 18 days ago

Note

heyyyyy🫶 idk if your vi asks are open but just in case, i was wondering if maybe you would want to write a fluffy modern!uni!au with jock!vi who has soft spot for poetry and she and EnglishLitMajor!reader are a couple and have like regular picnics where reader reads vi like dickinson or plath or rich or something, while vi is laying with her head on reader's lap. i hope this is not too niche or too specific! (sidenote i feel like vi's favourite poem would be wild nights by emily dickinson wink wink) anyway i hope this makes sense and thank you in advance if you decide to write it!!🥰

like the poems

✰Jockey!Vi x English Lit!reader

wc:2.2k

notes: hope you enjoy it!! 😚

I wouldn’t say no one saw it coming when you and Vi started dating. I mean, sure—it was a bit of a surprise, considering Vi’s reputation. She was that girl: the hockey player with bruised knuckles and a cocky grin, who somehow managed to be just smart enough to breeze through exams but never aimed for anything higher than the bare minimum to stay on the team. The type who was at every party, always with a drink in hand and someone trying (and usually failing) to flirt with her.

And then… there was you. The English Lit major who spent most of her time reading under that one tree by the quad, or curled up in the farthest corner of the library, or sitting in the campus café with a stack of books taller than your coffee cup. You were the girl who had to be dragged out of her dorm whenever there was a party—the one who only went if your friends guilt-tripped you into “being social for once.”

No one really expected your worlds to collide like that.

And yet… they did.

It all started with a Literature class project. (A class Vi swore up and down the dean forced her to take. Total lie, of course. She’d enrolled voluntarily and regretted it exactly never.)

The assignment was simple—or, at least, Professor Mayer made it sound simple as he stood at the front of the lecture hall, clutching a cup of coffee that had definitely gone cold hours ago.

“Pick a poem,” he said, waving one hand like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Any poem. Doesn’t matter how old or how new. Your job is to give it a modern interpretation. But”—he raised a finger, pausing dramatically—“it has to be something that makes you feel something. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

There was a shuffle of notebooks, the click of pens, and someone sighing dramatically in the back. Vi sat next to you, chewing on the end of her pen, looking… surprisingly thoughtful. You’d noticed her before—it was impossible not to. She was Vi. Loud, chaotic, impossible to ignore. But you’d never really seen her like this—quiet, focused, like the words on the syllabus actually meant something to her.

Then, under her breath, barely loud enough for you to catch, Vi muttered, “Guess I’m doing Wild Nights, then.”

Your head snapped toward her before you could stop yourself. “Dickinson?” you blurted, incredulous.

Vi blinked, caught—but recovered fast. That trademark grin curled at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. Problem?”

“Not a problem,” you stammered quickly, cheeks heating. “Just… surprising.”

“Didn’t peg me as the poetry type, huh?”

“Well… no.”

She leaned back in her chair, tapping the end of her pen against her lip, her smile turning smug. “Yeah. No one does.”

And that was how it started. A conversation that turned into exchanging notes. Notes turned into sitting together during lectures. Sitting together turned into partnered projects. Partnered projects turned into coffee breaks that had technicallystarted as study sessions… but somehow never involved much actual studying.

If you were feeling dramatic about it—and, honestly, as an English Lit major, you absolutely were—it was like Professor Mayer himself had played Cupid, unwittingly orchestrating the entire thing.

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Mayer declared, clapping his hands like he was about to deliver a monologue. His scarf flared dramatically behind him as he paced. “For this next assignment, you’ll be working in pairs. Since we’re focusing on Women in Literature, I want you to choose a female author and reinterpret a central theme from her work through a modern lens. You can do this through a visual project, a short film, a podcast, a series of essays, a staged performance… whatever you think brings it to life. Surprise me. Engage with it. Make it matter.” He spun on his heel, waving a hand as though the very fate of literature rested on this group project. “And before anyone asks—no, you cannot work alone. Literature is about connection. About conversation.”

The second the words left his mouth, Vi was already turning toward you, that familiar grin creeping onto her face like it belonged there.

“Wanna pair up?” she asked, casual, but the way her blue eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes gave her away. There was a challenge in it, sure—but also something softer. Something curious.

Your heart did that ridiculous little flip again. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure,” you managed, trying—and failing—to sound normal. Cool. Totally unaffected.

“Cool,” she replied, biting back a smile, leaning her elbow on the desk like she suddenly had all the time in the world. “Kinda already had someone in mind anyway.”

You ducked your head, pretending to focus on your notebook. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice dropping lower—like it was a secret meant for you and no one else. “Definitely.”

You scribbled absolute nonsense in the margins of your notebook, doing everything in your power not to look directly at her. Your fingers were practically trembling.

Vi tapped the edge of her pen against your notebook, right next to your hand. “So… Mirror or Lady Lazarus?” she asked, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. But her tone was laced with something deeper—something thoughtful. For someone who pretended not to care about school, she was suspiciously invested.

You glanced at her, lifting a brow. “Going full Sylvia Plath this time?”

Vi grinned, resting her chin in her hand. “Kinda fits, doesn’t it? The whole rebirth thing. Burning everything down and starting new.” Her grin faltered just a bit, softening around the edges. “It’s… kinda cool. Powerful.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile. “Lady Lazarus,” you echoed. “Dramatic.”

“I eat men like air,” Vi quoted under her breath, winking. “Total girlboss energy.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Dangerous.”

“Damn right,” she shot back, nudging your knee under the desk.

And right then, in the middle of a cluttered lecture hall filled with shuffling papers, lazy chatter, and half-awake students, you realized something—this was the beginning of something that was going to ruin you in the best possible way.

──────────────────────

Your dorm room was quiet, your roommate was at someone else’s place, the coffee machine was brewing another cup of coffee and your indie playlist played in the background. You sat cross-legged on your worn leather couch, laptop open, notebook resting in your lap. Vi lounged next to you, arms sprawled across the back of the couch like she was familiar with your place, like she owed it—like she owned you, frankly, with the way her knee kept brushing against yours.

“Okay,” you started, clicking open a document. “So… Lady Lazarus. What are we thinking?”

Vi tapped her pen against her lip, pretending to think—though her gaze was unmistakably more focused on your mouth than the Google Doc in front of you. “Dramatic as hell. Depressing. Kinda hot.”

You snorted. “You’re impossible.”

“Not denying it.” Her grin was sharp, teasing. “But seriously. The whole rebirth thing. She’s basically like, ‘I’ve been torn apart, burnt down, but guess what? I come back. Every time.’” She gestured vaguely with her pen, like that explained everything. “It’s punk.”

Your lips twitched. “Punk poetry. You should trademark that.”

“Totally should,” Vi agreed, nudging your knee with hers. “But seriously. I was thinking… what if we did, like, a visual project? A short film. No dialogue, just visuals that follow the themes. Death, destruction, transformation… and then—boom. Rebirth.”

Your brows lifted. “That’s… actually kind of brilliant.”

Vi’s grin softened. “Yeah?” she asked, just a hint of surprise in her voice—like she hadn’t expected you to actually like the idea.

“Yeah,” you said, nudging her back. “You’ve got range, hockey girl.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She leaned in, resting her chin in her palm. “I contain multitudes.”

“Oh my God, did you just quote Whitman?”

“Damn right I did.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

Your heart did a very stupid, very inconvenient little flutter. “I should be concerned.”

“You should,” Vi said, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you. Her fingers drummed lazily on the couch between you. “So what’s the shot list, Lit Girl?”

You cleared your throat, trying—failing—to stay focused. “Um. Maybe… we show the character going through, like, different versions of herself. Layers. Peeling back everything people expect her to be. Burnout, breakdown, but then—she comes back stronger. Maybe it’s symbolic. Fire. Water. Ash.”

Vi nodded slowly, biting her lip in thought. “Could end with her walking away from the camera. Alive. Changed. Not for anyone else. Just… for herself.”

You blinked. “Vi… that’s actually—”

“Deep? Yeah, yeah, I know.” She shrugged, but her smirk was proud. “Guess hanging out with you is making me smarter.”

“Or I’m corrupting you with literature.”

“Same difference.”

Your gaze caught hers, and for a moment, the teasing faded. Her blue eyes softened—curious, careful. There was something heavier in the air now, something unsaid but loud all the same.

“You know,” she murmured, fingers twitching like she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure how, “it’s kinda weird.”

“What is?” you asked, barely a whisper.

“How easy this feels. Being with you. Talking to you.” Her voice dipped, quieter now. “Doesn’t… usually feel like this.”

Your breath caught. “Yeah,” you admitted. “Me neither.”

For a second, neither of you moved.

And then Vi shifted, closing the tiny space between you like it had never been there at all. Her hand cupped your cheek, tentative at first—like she was waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

So she kissed you.

Soft, at first—gentle, like a question. Her lips were warm against yours, tasting like coffee and something sweeter, something entirely her. And when you didn’t pull back—when you kissed her back with just as much softness turning fast into something breathless—her hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer like she never wanted to let go.

Your notebook slid off your lap, forgotten.

She smiled against your lips. “God… you taste like cinnamon,” she muttered, kissing you again before you could even reply.

“Focus, Vi,” you gasped between kisses, even though you were absolutely not following your own advice.

“Focusing,” she mumbled. “Focusing on you.”

Your fingers fisted in the collar of her hoodie, pulling her impossibly closer until you were on her lap, like you belonged there, like you’d always belonged there.

And maybe you did.

When you finally broke apart—foreheads pressed together, breath shaky—you laughed. “So… about that project.”

Vi grinned, thumb brushing your hip bone. “Yeah, yeah. After this study break.”

“Study break, huh?”

“Mhm.” She tilted her head, smirking. “You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

And just like that, she kissed you again.

Honestly? The project could wait.

──────────────────────

Fast forward a few months, and here you were—on your usual Thursday afternoon picnic in the park.

Vi lay stretched out on the blanket, head comfortably in your lap, hair fanned across your thighs like silk. Her hockey jersey was tossed somewhere into the grass, replaced by a soft white tee that hugged her frame just a little too well for your sanity. Her legs were lazily crossed at the ankle, one arm flung over her face to shield her eyes from the sun, the other lazily twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.

“You paused,” she mumbled, nudging your knee with her temple. “Keep reading.”

You smiled, running your fingers absentmindedly through her pink-streaked hair, thumb grazing the curve of her temple. “Impatient,” you teased, flipping the page back. “‘Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee…’” Your voice softened, the rhythm slipping easily off your tongue. “‘Wild nights should be our luxury.’”

Vi sighed—long, content, a little dreamy—and tilted her head back just enough to look up at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Still think Dickinson had it bad for someone,” she mused, that lazy grin tugging at her lips.

You laughed, brushing your thumb over the edge of her jaw. “Mhm. Terribly scandalous.”

“She probably wrote that in the middle of the night. Lying awake, thinking about her crush.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Funny. Sounds familiar.”

Vi reached up, catching your wrist in her hand, thumb brushing against your pulse. Her grin softened, faltered into something more vulnerable. “You’re my luxury, y’know,” she murmured. Quiet. Honest. Like the words were something delicate and sacred.

Your chest tightened—full, achingly full of her. “And you’re my wild night,” you whispered back, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, letting your lips linger there like a promise.

Vi squeezed your hand, eyes fluttering shut. “God… you’re such a nerd.”

“You’re literally the one begging me to read you poetry.”

“Yeah, well…” She cracked one eye open, grinning. “I like the way your voice sounds when you do.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

“Completely,” she agreed, tugging your hand toward her chest, holding it there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Wanna hear another?” you asked, voice softer now, like the question itself was something sacred.

“Yeah,” Vi breathed, melting further into your lap. “Always.”

So you read. You read Plath. You read Adrienne Rich. You read until the sun dipped low behind the trees, until the sounds of campus faded into something distant and unimportant. Until it was just the two of you, tangled in words and sunlight and something that felt an awful lot like forever.

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes #request ♡

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yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

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your vocab is really rich, what's ur secret

Vocabulary Tricks & Tips

Excellent request!

♡ Read!

And every time you stumble upon a word you've never noticed before or know but don't often use, put it in a list, write down its meanings, and try using it the next time you write!

I'll put my list at the end of the post!

♡ Read Different Things!

Different authors and different styles, especially poetry! I mean, if you're looking to fatten your vocab, reading poetry is one of the best ways to do it. Poetic writers must search far and wide for the perfect words to create rhymes and rhythms and audibly pleasing sentences---they practically do all the work for you! Honestly, I am so serious about this. One of the best things you can do is buy a fat compendium of poetry with all different authors and eras. Get you some Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare if you want to hurt your head.

Also! The same goes for music! Try listening to the lyrics---you'll probably hear some words you've never thought of using in your writing.

♡ Cheap Trick for Bilinguals~

Write something in your own language and put it through Google Translate. Honestly, I've found so many words just by doing this.

♡ Synonyms!

Every time you feel you've used a word too much, or anytime a word bores you to read, search up its synonyms and try using something you've never used before---don't stop the search until you're satisfied. Sometimes, it takes me more time to find just one word than it takes to write an entire post. Not only does this enrich your vocab, but you've probably just written a whole other sentence with newer meanings and more nuance

Make your own synonym lists! Seriously! Because you can only find that many creative synonyms by searching up "word+synonyms.

Additionally! Think outside the box! Often, the best synonyms are those words that aren't actual synonyms at all. If you read poetry, you'll see poets use unorthodox words in place of something all the time---it's called a metaphor. Take flesh, for example---you can use fat, meat, muscle, brawn, beef---but you can also use cake, down, plume, pillow, softness, etc...

I find this one especially useful for writing erotica, as you have to describe a lot of the same actions and body parts over and over and still make it interesting. (I'll add my synonyms list at the end of the post)

♡ Showing vs Telling

Also! This one is trickier, but instead of using words and synonyms, try making sentences that can replace the word instead---such as longer metaphors and fuller descriptions!

This aligns with the literary device of "showing vs. telling." Of course, outright telling has its uses too and should not be disbarred entirely from writing, but often, it's showing that persuades the reader more.

For example, instead of saying nervous, make sentences that describe how the character in question showcases nervousness---does their throat close up, do they sweat, do their eyes go wide, do they stutter, do they fiddle with their fingers, pick their nails, bite their lip, kick the ground, hunch their shoulders, look away, blush, flush, cry, run away or do they feel stuck?

Describing these things helps the reader better understand the type of nervousness the character is experiencing. Hence, it makes for not only more interesting writing but also clearer writing!

♡ Focus & Expanding

A similar literary device is "focus and expanding," which slows down the reading or puts focus on certain aspects of the text by describing something to a great extent. If, say, this nervousness the example character is experiencing is of great significance, then that's what the readers' takeaway should be. But the reader won't think too much of it if the text simply states that they're nervous without underlining it.

Luckily, there are plenty of ways of doing that, firstly through showing vs. telling, such as in the examples above, then metaphorically, such as:

The ground seemed to swallow him up, down the guzzle of a monster with an appetite for disaster---darkness ensued like a storm cloud, cold and clawing with a weight heavy enough to nail him to the spot---all eyes were on him, unblinking and all-seeing, no matter what, he couldn't escape, he was stuck, glued to the ground by the soles of his shoes.

I mean, the options are truly endless.

These metaphors piled together are also a form of focusing and expanding, but you can take it even further than that by focusing on a small detail and giving it significance.

For example, say the character is sweating because he's so nervous---you might focus on a single droplet of sweat instead of everything else:

A chill ran down his back. No, not a chill--sweat. Cold and creepily tracing the rigid bones of his spine. He can't move--if he moves, then they'll see. The sweat will seep into his shirt, and everyone will know what a sweaty and pathetic wreck he is. So, he can't move. No, yes, leave it alone. The droplet continues, running down the cold skin of his clammy back, sliding undeterred until meeting the band of his boxers and disappearing in the fibers. He swallows thickly and sighs with relief--only for another to pill at his nape, tracking the same course as the former. A vicious cycle is forming. He needs to get out of there!

And that's focus and expanding, folks! Focusing on something minuscule and expanding it by using it to describe what the character is feeling. It's a way to have a fresh take on something that's been written a thousand times before, such as "he was nervous."

♡ Lastly~

Anyway, I might have gone a little above and beyond, but really, all these literary devices are ways of "expanding vocabulary" or at least giving an impression of it.

♡ NEW WORDS!

Manically---like a maniac

Despotic---like a dictator, having unlimited power over someone, often using it unfairly and cruelly

Chasm---a deep fissure, like a ravine, wound, or metaphorical rupture

Shunts---track-change basically, scoots to the side

Dearth---a scarcity or lack of something, a shortage

Raucous---making a harsh or loud noise

Innocuous---not harmful or offensive---harmless and safe, but also bland and unremarkable, maybe even a little boring

Lanyard---the woven necklace of a festival pass

Gossamer---fine spiderwebs, almost mesh

Cossetted---care for and protect in an overindulgent way

Beribboned---decorated with many ribbons

pupil-fat---cool way of saying enlarged pupils

Chitters---snickers, like a bird

Decadent---corrupt, depraved

Blotting---either soak up and absorb, or stain, or obscure

Barbell---a bar “pole” with attachments on each side

Bunting---of animals, when they butt or rub their head against you

Garnet---red

Cherubic---angelic, plump cuteness, quality of a child

Haunches---hips

Sodden---soaking

Waxing poetic---speaking in a flowery or poetical fashion

Inkwell---a container for ink---a dark well

Rend---tear in two, or more pieces

Ebb---recede, go back, like a tide wave

Webbed---like a duck's feet

Cloying---sickly sweet

Saccharine---oversweet

Apple of your cheek

Swathes---wrap, swaddle

Shroud---obscure something

Moonstone---to describe something grey and dusty, but pretty

Kinked---tangled, messy

Leaden---heavy, dull, slow or the colour of lead, grey

Stygian---devoid of light and brightness, hellish

Flaxen---of hair, champagne colored---ashy blonde

Tepid---lukewarm

♡ SYNONYMS!

Related to sucking cock:

Swallow

Glug

Drink

Eat

Guzzle

Receive

Take

Suck

Suckle

Slobber

Gargle

Gurgle

Drool

Gulp

Gobble

Stuff

Glut

Choke

Gag

Lap

Lick

Kitten-lick

Slurp

Allow entry

Related to kissing:

Kiss

Lock/brush lips

Tongue-feed

Suck faces

Smooch

Peck

Snog

Canoodle

Related to biting:

Bite

Graze

Nip

Nibble

Sink teeth into

Chomp

Related to crying:

Whimpering

Mewling

Bleating

Whining

Snivel

Sniffle

Cry

Sob

Bawl

Hiccup

Spluttering

Blubbering

Coughing

Croaking

Related to pre-cum:

Ooze

Leak

Weep

Well

Drip

Dribble

Flow

Drain

Bleed

Sweat

Seep

Pill

Pearl

Cry

Related to fear and panic:

Hysterical

Wild

Manic

Uncontrolled

Unrestrained

Frantic

Frenzied

Restless

Hectic

Sporadic

Swivel-eyed

Related to screaming:

Scream

Yell

Wail

Yelp

Yip

Yammer

Squawk

Howl

Squeal

Shriek

Related to moaning:

Moan

Whine

Yelp

Purr

Hum

Croon

Related to overstimulated moaning:

Mumble

Croon

Warble

Quaver

Burble

Bumble

Hum

Slur

Ramble

Mutter

Whisper

Stammer

Stutter

Scramble

Jumble

Muddled

Babble

Blubbered

Splutter

Blurt

Related to groaning:

Groan

Grunt

Growl

Grumble

Grouch

Hiss

Guttural

Feral

Rusty

Throaty

Wet

Sloppy

Related to angry noises:

Howl

Roar

Bark

Grizzle

Grump

Related to surprise or fear:

Gasp

Gulp

Choke

Suck in a sharp breath

Flinch

Jump

Jostle

Wince

Hiss

Pull back

Related to comforting:

Coo

Fuss

Comfort

Hush

Shush

Tsk

Mollycoddle

Nurse

Cuddle

Babying

Consoling

Soothe

Loving

Smothering

Hug

Hug tight

Cocoon

Snuggling

Swaddling

Rock back and forth with

Cosseting

Petting

Overwhelm

Related to begging:

Beg

Pleading

Pray

Bargain

Related to soreness and pain:

Ache

Sore

Throb

Swollen

Fattened

Welted

Related to taking cock inside entrance:

Swallow

Receive

Take

Suck inside

Stuff

Fill

Allow entry

Submit to

Ease inside

Bully inside

Squeeze inside

Force inside

Push

Pry

Tear

Related to how the hole squeezes:

Kissing

Fluttering

Hugging

Pressing

Squishing

Squeezing

Tightening

Pulsing

Related to a wet hole:

Slush

Squelch

Squishy

Creamy

Sloppy

Wet

Soaked

Slosh

Sop

Cry

Slick

Weep

Drool

Gush

Swollen

Velvety

Gummy

Cotton

Silken

Satiny

Related to thrusting:

Squeeze into

Pound

Jam

Ram

Rut

Loll

Rock

Thrust

Stuff

Bottom out

Fill

Fit

Nestle

Cram

Prodding

Poking

Kissing

Hammering

Jack-hammer

Smack

Slap

Ream

Tear

Related to pleasure:

Ecstatic

Opium-eyed

Euphoric

Elated

Thrilled

Blissed-out

Rapturous

High

Cloudy

Numb

Related to overstimulation:

Overstimulated

Outdone

Aching

Burning

Sweating

Feverish

Delirious

Febrile

Numb

Immobile

Dazed

Dull

Related to being dumb, high, or overstimulated:

Ditzy

Dumb

Clumsy

Silly

Foolish

Giddy

Brainless

Dizzy

Fuzzy

Dopey

Whimsical

Fickle

Featherbrained

Daft

Hare-brained

Awkward

Graceless

Blundering

Bumbling

Klutzy

Clueless

Cloddish

Dense

Related to the body and the flesh:

Tender

Supple

Soft

Creamy

Plush

Doughy

Cakey

Downy

Pillowy

Malleable

Squeezable

Biteable

Pliable

Touchable

Putty

Plume

Related to cuteness:

Cute

Cherubic

Adorable

Sweet

Soft

Precious

Darling

Lovable

Endearing

Baby

Related to weak or smallness:

Breakable

Brittle

Weak

Fragile

Dainty

Delicate

Frail

Flimsy

Vulnerable

Petite

Small

Little

Tiny

Feeble

Defenseless

Powerless

Helpless

Worthless

Hopeless

Related to struggling:

Struggle

Winding

Striving

Straining

Toiling

Playing

Wriggle

Wiggle

Twist

Shake

Tremor

Shiver

Quake

Related to men:

Vulgar

Loud

Oafish

Rough

Rude

Rustic

Gruff

Gross

Doltish

Barbaric

Bearish

Beastly

Churlish

Coarse

Swinish

♡ NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK

#nightmare's helpdesk #writing advice

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atrologynuances · 1 year ago

Text

Astrology observations pt2 || Planets in their detriment

NOTE: the interpretation of these are solely on the planets. harmonious/inharmonious aspects can change the translation of these planets.

these are based on personal observations as well as acquired knowledge from books, websites, and other observation posts.

𓋼𓍊 Aries/Scorpio Venus- may struggle maintaining a harmonious relationship which can lead to them changing their relationships quite often. aries venuses might posses an either fiery or more grounded energy thanks to the cardinal energy. scorpios on the other hand might be emotionally reserved, and only truly love very few people around them if any, the rest they keep around depending on what they can access from them (very manipulative). Given their possible relationship insecurities these two venus signs will seek for someone going at the same pace and someone with the same mindset, which realistically is hard to find. when they do think they’ve found it, they might later find out they were in fact wrong. When they do get in a relationship they might become possessive as a result of possible insecurities.

𓋼𓍊 Taurus/Libra Mars- these natives might need extreme motivation to get things going, like a 9-5 they don’t like, but the security and responsibility of it keeps them on their toes. these mars signs could also lack sense of security in their actions, which could leave them wondering whether they were right or wrong and as a result they might not fight for themselves as hard as they should. it is important for them to have a big support system that reassures and validates their actions when conflicts arise.

𓋼𓍊 Gemini/Virgo Jupiter- these natives have a hard time seeing beyond logic explanation, they could experience something and until they don’t find logic behind it they won’t be satisfied. get fixated on many things but never seems to finish or find a final answer to any of them. is not that they’re unable to finish them, they’re just no longer interested to. closed minded towards otherworldly subjects, or tries very hard to understand it.

𓋼𓍊 Cancer/Leo Saturn- these natives lack discipline but want it. they might vent to you that they do not like their current monetary situation and are looking to make some changes in that aspect of their life, but the next day you see them spending all their money on clothes. they know this is wrong but will still do it. they may be prone to control people and situations because they think they know what’s best for everyone. however, they do not like people telling them what to do lol. they might be prone to burnouts easily and immune system problems.

𓋼𓍊 Sagittarius/Pisces Mercury- struggles to find something that feels “right” for them, when they do find it they mostly have to work harder than everybody else to catch up. problems with communication; either started talking late or have problems expressing themselves as they get older. prone to saying things that don’t make sense upfront which will make them have to explain themselves often. this might create insecurities that will lead them to express themselves less. this is the reason why I think so many great writers have these placements, they can just erase and reword their writing without being judged for it.

- fyodor dostoevsky, jane austen, james joyce, victor hugo, emily dickinson

𓋼𓍊 Capricorn Moon- find it difficult to be vulnerable, this translates to needing or wanting material security to make sure they won’t need anyone. do not like to rely on anyone for emotional/financial support even if they really need it. despite all this, they are very emotional. the difference between them and their sister sign cancer is that they are not expressive with their emotions or act on them. something I have noticed is that they are not as workaholics as people might expect them to be, however when they work, they splurge on the money they make or might be stingy with it, as either one of these actions brings security to them. most of the times they don’t feel loved by either one of their parents even if they’ve both always been present in their lives.

𓋼𓍊 Aquarius Sun- natives are hard to describe for me because I have not met many of them, I feel like most hideaway at home lol. one thing i’ve noticed is that they cry a lot and are unapologetic about it. these people shine bright like their sister sign leo, the difference is they don’t want to so they avoid situations where they have to or when they are put in these situations they have to make sure their presentation is flawless. however in day to day life they do not really care how they’re perceived. they’re the ones that go to school in pijama pants. they also oftentimes seek some form of validation with other people, which is why they change partners often. very physically beautiful, but doesn’t seem to know or act on it.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope y’all have a wonderful day.

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melancholicstation · 7 months ago

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GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ALL THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN IT —HUSBAND!JACK SCHLOSSBERG COMFORT HEADCANONS 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

jack schlossberg fan fiction is for the lovers

WIFE!READER returns and is the orion carloto archetype, who balances modelling and writing, and i imagine her making tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce on tiktok.

taglist: @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

no matter the stressor husband!jack literally treats it as a top-priority emergency

immediately goes to start a bath for you in your gorgeous copper bathtub (cause of course you have a copper bathtub ... duh) with some suzzane kaufman bath salt's that he picked up down in greenwich after a meeting with vogue's magazine department.

husband!jack is a freak for baths and it's rubbed off on you ... seriously like that man takes baths multiple times a week, on top of daily showers

if he had to be out on a day you were particularly anxious for whatever reason he would come home with a laundry bag of new tasteful yet cute stuffed animals from loewe and never tell you the prices cause he knows you'd crash out

is great at being a body pillow and has no shame just laying in silence together for hours

would try to make you feel better by getting the overpriced (not in your opinion) criterion subscription just so you could watch vintage halloween movies without running a risk of getting hacked on some third-party sketchy website

would 100% let you live in his clothes while he was out of the house so you could feel comforted even if he wasn't physically near

would absolutely try to distract you with light comedy, despite his cockiness he is indeed a funny guy so it helps slightly

husband!jack would be such a proponent of a healthy mind is a healthy body so he'd make you go do jump rope with him (cause why does jump roping have to be so humiliating) or even worse takes you out to paddle board, like imagine your knee-deep in that melancholic state where you only read plath novels and listen to unreleased lana and your boyfriend drags you out to go paddle boarding???? like cmon now

you do feel better afterwards but you would never tell him that

if you guys owned any pets together he would without a doubt tell you he's going to be out for a couple of hours and come back with one of those portrait paintings of house-pets to cheer you up (editors note: vang olsen mimi does the most delightful pet paintings if your in greenwich!)

he would absolutely NOT be above trying to self-medicate your problems (within reason) by smoking w*ed with you or sharing a cigar being the chicest couple ever!

would 100% smother you in delightfully soft cashmere blankets in the pattern of gorgeous tapestries

would earnestly read poems (robert frost, emily dickinson, and shakespeare) to you to get you to sleep on the especially hard days

is a devout optimist and routinely talks you out of your doom scrolling

always holds space for whatever emotions you are feeling but always wants to provide solutions to your problems

and when he encounters a problem he can't so easily fix he invests time into getting your mind off it and plans steps you can take to lessen the hold whatever your stressing about has on you

writes mini impromptu love letters/pep talks on the empty spaces in your agenda notebook (wife!reader would totally own more than 1 of these louise carmen organisers in an apropos shade of autumn scarlet )

encourages you to do self-care rituals with your staple skincare products by letting you do the exact same steps on him

while husband!jack cooks for you both you read him your favourite chapters of "democracy" by joan didion in the kitchen every night and it remains a pillar in your routine despite the tumult

during your hard times jack is serving peak husbandry doing the washing, cooking and cleaning

when he's on his lunch break at the office you get text messages like this:

always makes sure that you take your medication (if you take any) at the exact times its supposed to be at and has little alarms on his phone

husband!jack would increase his acts of service to 1000% like that man would be taking your row boots into the cobbler for a new sole

would bring home flowers without a special occasion, just cause

would without a doubt bring out those STELLAR accents just to see you smile

disclaimer: this is all obviously fiction and i do not know this man nor how he calms anyone down, this is all for some fun distraction in these trying times.

to anyone struggling with the results and its ramifications (same here) i would really encourage you to read this beautiful (free) essay from alanabanaxox on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/i-miss-dancing-115580140?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_fan&utm_content=web_share

#jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg fanfiction #jack schlossberg imagines #jack schlossberg fanfic #kennedy fanfiction #kennedy fanfic #x reader #my headcanons #melancholicstation pilled #melancholicstation writes #melancholicstation

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melrodrigo · 1 year ago

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friends? p.2

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A rivalry between you and Cairo has been going on for several months…what does it take for her to finally break?

Warnings: there r literally none they bicker like an old couple and cairos mean

Word Count: 2k+

A/n: helloooo i’m not sure abt this chapter but lmk what u thought, i cranked this out in its entirety last night, enjoy!

part 1

Friendship was not Cairo Sweet's strong suit. Ask her about Dickinson or Austen or Shakespeare—these were all things she could answer. But the ultimate question of friendship was not something hot on Cairo's mind.

She didn't need it, that was her take. And why would she waste time on something she didn't need?

Friends, much less a partner, was something she never saw for herself. The thought of being a housewife, living in a picture-perfect picket fence house, appalled her. The only things that mattered were her, her writing, and Yale.

So when a certain girl had entered her life, she hated it.

You.

You with your stupid face, and pretty hair, she hated you. A burning passion so intense it heated up her heart and made it race. So intense that she wanted to punch you in the face whenever you passed, only to bandage it up with feather light touches so she could punch you again harder.

At first it was nothing; she didn't have a thing to worry about. A blushing face while you stammered and fumbled around trying to give Mr. Miller an answer, she disregarded you as someone she could respect immediately.

But obviously she had caught you on a bad day, because after those first few weeks, you managed to present yourself in a less idiotic way.

You were, surprisingly smart.

Almost too smart, she pondered. It was getting in the way of her own studies. How could it be, that someone was on bar (never better) than her?

Often she found herself seething at you, arguing at every chance she had with your answers; but, you had given her the same treatment as well.

It wasn't strange for your classes to end in heated debate, both sides failing to yield. It bothered her greatly. She went back home and read more than she'd ever read before, studied just a few minutes longer because she could feel you taunting her.

"Sweet." You nodded, as she pushed open the doors to Millers class. You'd made it a habit to arrive early, leaving only you and her for a good thirty minutes before everyone else arrived.

It was infuriating. To have you so close, open, ready to harm, yet she could do nothing. She'd been having a particularly grueling week. Her parents had just come back from Brazil; and, always seemed to be ready to go at her throat. Gone were her lonely but comforting nights on her bed, candle-lit. Now it was just fights and condescending jabs.

"What did you get on the paper?" Your voice piped up, breaking her from her train of thought. You were referring to the paper Mr.Miller had given back last week, one that counted for forty percent of the grade.

She felt a swell of pride. Scores were something she could argue about. This would take off the stress she'd been building.

"99." She smirked, cocking her head to the side.

You whistled approval, nodding adamantly. Even though there was nothing to suggest so, she could swear she felt condescension in your tone.

She was good at picking out stuff like that. The roll of someone's tongue, the way they smack their lips—it all meant something to her.

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "What did you get?" She asked, brows furrowed.

You didn't say anything, simply holding up a finger and mouthing 'one hundo' and watched as disbelief took over her features.

"You're fucking lying." She seethed. Her good mood had suddenly disappeared just as fast as it had appeared.

You spun around in your seat, stupid smile on your face. God, she wanted to jump at you and claw it off.

"Hey, hey, it's okay to be mad. You can't be the best at everything." You told her, hands behind your head.She gripped the desk harder, knuckles turning a faint white.

She stood up, walking over to your desk."You little shi-"

"Good morning, the both of you!" Mr.Miller interrupted, cheery smile. His enthusiasm radiated off his body like rays radiated from the sun. He stopped short when he saw Cairo stalking close to you, a clear pout on her face.

"What are you doing?" He asked, question directed towards her, voice sickly sweet. He had grown fond of Cairo since the beginning of the term; she was his favorite student.

"I'd like her to be removed from the class. Can't you do that Mr.Miller?" She avoided his question, tilting her face at an angle where her chocolate colored eyes shone bright.

His white brows furrowed, not quite comprehending. "You mean," He started, "right now...?"

Bless him, he had no clue how manipulative Cairo was.

She doesn't let up, doesn't let her disappointment show. You notice it in the slight clench of her jaw--she's annoyed.

"I meant for the rest of the term, I can't stand being in the same class as her." She emphasized her words with a glare in your direction. You send her a sweet smile back.

"Please, flattery will get you nowhere." You winked, smile turning into a real one when you see her get visibly agitated.

"Please, girls. Let's be civil here all right?" Mr.Miller pipes up, trying to stand in between Cairo and you. It does nothing to lessen the tension in the air.

He turns slightly to Cairo, voice firm. "And no...I won't kick Y/N out."

The childish part of you desperately wants to fist pump the air; but, the more serious side of you decides maybe you shouldn't do that in the company of your arch nemesis.

Class turns weird fast. Cairo—normally quick and adamant—stays quiet, seemingly distracted by the simplest of things: a bird singing softly from a window, the great big forests where her house stood, the sound of your feet continuing to scrape against the carpet.

It irks you a little. It has you not listening in class, wanting to focus on the girl in front of you.

You almost don't hear it when Miller announces that you'll be working in pairs for the midterm project, preoccupied with her bobbling head, moving as if she were listening to some imaginary music.

"You will not be able to pick your own partner, that's already been done for...by me." He adds, after hearing the onslaught of voices from the students. It's clear he's not changing his mind.

"Alright. When I call your names, go sit with your pair and discuss how you'll do the assignment. Olivia, Taylor." He calls out the first pair, going down (what seems like) an endless list of names, never quite getting to yours.

You watch as countless people move around, silently looking out for who hasn't been called yet. You needed to get a good grade on this, and a lazy partner was going to be a nightmare.

You strain your ears to hear Mr.Miller over the commotion of students moving, but when you turn to squint at him you're surprised to see he's already looking at you.

A sinking feeling eats your entire being whole as you watch his mouth move. He points his finger at you, then someone in front of you.

Cairo Sweet.

Fuck.

Even though you loved to tease her, you did not need to have Cairo Sweet as your partner. She was likely to ruin you before you even got to starting the thing.

You don't make the first move to get up, instead you sit dumbly in your chair, bracing yourself.

Your peace is disrupted by a huff from above you. There she is.

"Move over. I need a seat." She says, something in her voice making you oblige. She pulls over an extra chair and sits by the other end of the table.

"You can come closer ya know." You say, unsure of how friendly to be. You'd only ever really spoke with her from a distance, a comfortable distance. Now that she's up in your personal space you feel ike you're going to suffocate.

She ignores you, pursing her lips as she listens to Miller explain the project.

You inch your chair closer, prepared to make a sly jab at the way she's being a teachers pet, but her stare—which has now been redirected on you—stops you in your tracks. She looks scary.

Lips downturned, nostrils flaring, you're a bit taken aback.

"Okay jeez. You don't have to be such an ass about it." You mumble, distancing yourself a great deal further than you already were. The mood, if it weren't enough already, turns more sour.

She ignores your suggestions and remarks on how to do the project, scribbling something down on to her notepad every now and then.

"Earth to you, Sweet. Are you listening to me?" You press, starting to feel those tendrils of annoyance grabbing you. It was one thing to be an ass, but to put her own feelings above doing good work was low, even for her.

Especially for her, you think.

"Do you ever shut up?" She growls, biting her cheeks so hard you could see the indent it was making on the outside.

"Okayyy...someone's obviously going through something, but can we just-" You gesture to the sheet of paper on the table, you haven't even been allowed to look at what she's written yet.

"I am NOT going through something." She says again, voice cracking. The sound brings forth a peculiar reaction in you, your mouth hanging open. Her eyes look...watery.

Before you can utter a word she's getting up and storming out the classroom, making heads turn left and right at the loud noise.

"Um...I'll be right back too." You say, sending Mr.Miller a cheeky smile and a wink, hoping that'll lessen his curiousity enough to not come out after the two of you.

You push open the doors, call Cairos' name a couple times.

You eventually find her outside, back pressed against the brick wall. She's lighting up a cigarette.

Her body language looks more calm now, but you're not sure what to do. You shuffle on your feet, twiddling your thumbs.

"Sorry I did that." She speaks, not turning to look at you. It startles you a bit, you hadn't realized she saw you.

"Cairo Sweet saying sorry? I must be dreaming." You try, although you're not smiling and she doesn't laugh. Humor seems to be sucked away in this little bubble belonging to only the two of you.

You move a little closer, then even closer when Cairo doesn't object. Even though you did hate her to the bone, you wanted to make sure she was okay.

"Are you...alright?" You ask softly, watching her face for an answer. She seems to be deep in thought.

She takes a swing from her cigarette and blows. "I don't like you." Is what she says.

The ice breaks. You no longer feel like you're supposed to pity her. This was Cairo Sweet, her heart was made of coal.

"Yeah I think we established that. Anything else?" You sigh, leaning back so you're also pressed up against the wall.

She turns to you, and for the first time, she doesn't seem very mad.

"I don't like you." She says again, moving closer. It's in your natural instinct to step back, why was she being so weird? Was she going to hurt you?

She grips your shoulder lightly, enough for you to get the message to stay still.

"I don't like you." Cairo mutters for the third time, eyes piercing into yours. She seems to be speaking a little lower, a little raspier than normal. Cogs seem to be turning in her head, debating and debating and debating.

Debating on what you can't be certain.

"I get it, you don't like me. So what?" You mummur, voice lower than normal. The proximity is making your mind feel a little clouded.

You try not to let your gaze drift down to her lips, but when there's nothing around to distract yourself with, they do.

Her freckles, the ones that litter her face. You get the disgusting urge to touch them.

"So...don't get the wrong idea." She says before taking your lips in a kiss.

It takes you a second to comprehend what's really happening. You stand frigid, mouth parting to gasp. You're gasp is swallowed by her own lips, soft and supple.

Once Cairo feels that you aren't responding, she pulls away, frightened look on her face. Pink lips downturned, her cheeks a rosy red. You don't have time to process what the right move is. For now, you don't need Cairo thinking you didn't like whatever that was.

You reach for her neck, pull her in for a second kiss. It's somehow better than the first. She responds quick, hands wandering to cup your face, then down to circle your waist, then up to tangle in your hair—like she's changing her own mind too quick.

You let her take the lead, pressing you into the wall with a strength you didn't know she possessed.

You're too lost in it all, the smell of her shampoo, the feeling of her teeth scraping your lips, biting down only the slightest, her fingers burning traces wherever they go.

"Sweet." You breathe, coming out more like a soft moan than you would've liked.

She breaks apart from you, a wild mess. You think she's never looked prettier, hair everywhere, lips torn from your heated kisses.

Her eyes are soft until they flash and something else takes over. It's as if your voice had brought her back to life.

"I don't like you." She snarls, and promptly turns on her heels, just a slight increase in speed than her normal strut.

You're left breathless, staring out into the green plains. Mind and heart racing, you're not sure which organ you should listen to.

The implication of what you did hits you like a freight train. You groan and press your hands to your head, willing and willing and willing for a solution to come out of it.

Not to anyones surprise, nothing comes. A magic fairy doesn't tell you what to do, and you're still standing behind school panting.

"Oh god."

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #melrodrigo #mine #enemies to lovers

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1mnshw · 5 months ago

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out with lanterns | s.r.

wc: 1.3k

category: angst

spencer reid x reader

content: breakup, no happy ending, reader hates themselves, i project on reader

this kind of sucks a little but i wanted to write something before i went to sleep! enjoy it or don't! love you nonetheless.

-----

"I am out with lanterns / looking for myself" - Emily Dickinson

-----

The afternoon sun spilled through the windows, striking his brown eyes and turning them into molten pools of honey that seemed to seep into your very soul, warming every corner of your being. The way his button-up shirt clung to his broad shoulders, perfectly tailored as though it had been made for him, sent a pang through your chest—a reminder of all the ways you wished you could hold him instead. His scent lingered in the air, a warm mixture of faded cologne, old pages of treasured books, and something ineffable—something so uniquely Spencer that it left you breathless.

These details—these little, inconsequential details—were carved into your memory like ancient scripture, as though he were the only thing you'd ever truly seen.

He was perfect. Perfect in ways that made your chest ache. You told him as much during the quiet moments you shared, wrapped in the cocoon of his apartment walls. When the soft glow of his bedside lamp traced his jaw like a lover, and you felt the whisper of his eyelashes brushing yours as he leaned in, lips soft and searching, you often wondered how the universe had granted you the privilege of him.

But you didn’t deserve him. Not really.

You were a mess, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. Spencer deserved someone better—someone unbroken, someone who wouldn’t weigh him down with their chaos. Someone who could love him without reservation or fear.

This was why you had to leave, no matter how much it hurt. You were doing this for him—because you loved him. So fully. So completely.

But God, it was so damn hard to force the words past your lips with him standing in front of you, that familiar crooked smile on his face—the smile that made your heart stutter every time.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. But I don’t, um…” Your voice wavered, and his face shifted, his smile falling as your meaning began to take shape. You looked down, unable to bear the confusion darkening his honeyed gaze. “I don’t think I can be with you anymore.”

Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat quickly, desperate to make this as painless as possible. A clean break—a shot instead of a stab. But the moment his brows furrowed, and he took a hesitant step closer, you knew it would never be that simple.

“What?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I—did I do something?”

He sounded as if you’d ripped the breath from his lungs, and his eyes searched yours with a desperation that made your resolve quiver.

Spencer loved you unfathomably, with a depth that scared you. You were his solace, his refuge, his everything. More than books, more than reason, more than life itself. He loved you in ways that made the air feel heavier between you now.

And he couldn’t understand—why were you doing this?

You cleared your throat, swallowing the lump threatening to choke you. You had to hold yourself together.

“It’s not you, Spencer. It’s nothing you did—I swear.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, your fingers instinctively brushing away the hot tear slipping down your cheek. Spencer moved as though to reach for you, his hand stuttering midair before retreating, the hesitation breaking your heart all over again.

Spencer’s hand fell to his side, his fingers curling into a trembling fist as though trying to anchor himself in a reality that was slipping away. His eyes, wide and brimming with a tempest of confusion and hurt, held yours with a desperation that pierced straight through you.

“You can’t just say that and expect me to understand,” he said, his voice rough and uneven. “What do you mean, you can’t do this anymore? You—we—” He paused, his breath hitching, as though even forming the words was a betrayal of the time you’d spent together. “I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy.”

Your chest tightened painfully, each word striking like a blow. “I thought I was too,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look away. If you met his eyes any longer, you’d break entirely. “But I’m not, Spencer. I can’t—I’m not the person you think I am. I’m not someone who can give you what you need.”

His laugh came sharp and bitter, so unlike him that it startled you. “You don’t get to decide what I need,” he said, taking a step closer. “And you’re wrong, you know. I do know you. I know how you push people away when they get too close—how you think you’re protecting them from something. From you.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through you like a blade.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continued, his voice softening but losing none of its weight. “Every time you start to believe someone might actually stay, you convince yourself it’s only a matter of time before they leave, so you push them away first. But I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’m here. Why can’t you just let me stay?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. “It’s not that simple,” you choked out. “You deserve someone who isn’t—who isn’t a mess. Someone who isn’t broken like me.”

“You’re not broken,” he said, his voice trembling with urgency. “And even if you were, I’d love every broken piece of you. I do love every piece of you. Don’t you see that? I don’t want perfect. I just want you.”

You shut your eyes against the tenderness in his words, against the tears welling up in his eyes, against the unbearable truth of his love for you. The dam inside you threatened to give way, but you couldn’t let it. Not now. Not here.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said, your voice breaking like fragile glass as you stepped back, putting the final distance between you. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what you need.”

“Don’t do this,” he begged, his voice splintering into shards that cut through the silence. A single tear broke free, sliding down his cheek, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Please. Don’t walk away. Please, Y/N.”

But you had to.

If you stayed, he would tether himself to you, never letting go, even as the weight of your brokenness pulled him under. He would give himself over to your pain, let it consume him, and you couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Not to Spencer.

Your hand found the doorknob, your grip faltering as you hesitated, a war raging in your chest. You turned your head slightly, not enough to see him but enough for the words to escape like a prayer you didn’t believe in.

“I’ll always love you, Spencer,” you said, the confession splintering under the weight of your voice. “But this is goodbye.”

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound so soft and final it felt like the end of the world.

Inside, Spencer stood frozen, staring at the door as if sheer force of will could make it swing open again. The silence was deafening, the space around him cavernous and empty, echoing with the ghost of your absence. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor, his head falling into his hands as sobs ripped through him, raw and unrelenting.

Outside, each step away from him felt like tearing yourself apart piece by piece. The stairwell stretched endlessly before you, the weight of the air pressing down on your chest. By the time you reached the street, your tears fell freely, hot trails cutting through the cold sting of the wind.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But Spencer did. For hours, he sat by the door, his gaze fixed on it, waiting, hoping, silently pleading with the universe to send you back.

But the universe didn’t listen.

And in the quiet of his apartment, where your scent still lingered like a ghost and the memories of your touch haunted the air, he felt himself unravel.

You were gone.

And for Spencer, the world didn’t end in fire or ice. It ended in silence, in a love too heavy to hold and too beautiful to forget, and in the hollow echo of a goodbye that would never stop reverberating in his soul.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #fanfiction

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idksmtms · 3 months ago

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Silver Springs (Rockstar!Harris Dickinson x Rockstar!Reader)

A/N: I know I should be working on my Poseidon series but I saw this moodboard by @24kmar (I’ve screenshotted a portion of it for the thumbnail image) after watching Babygirl and I just needed to write this. Plus I’ve been listening to a lot of Fleetwood Mac recently sooooo. Anywayssss! I hope you enjoy it! I was trying to capture like IDGAF-esque vibes for Harris in this. (And yes, I thought I was being clever by putting Drew Starkey in the band and calling them Not Twins). Also, I love MARINA and I love that she used to be called Marina and the Diamonds so that is officially Reader’s band. I make the rules so… deal with it.

Summary: Filming has begun for a new documentary on the members of the band ‘Not Twins’. Everyone is particularly interested in the tumultuous relationship between their leadsinger Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, the lead singer of ‘Marina and The Diamonds’. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, mystery, love, and intrigue of the highest order. The hottest documentary to hit the screens for a long time…

Note: This is written as mostly just dialogue so I have listed the different fonts/formats for the different people -

Reader Harris Dickinson Drew Starkey Reporter/Interviewer

Word count: 8,425

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, depictions of mental health issues, depression, slight mentions suicidal thoughts/ideation, slight Drew Starkey x reader (I’m sorry, I couldn’t control myself and the self-indulgent + horny thoughts came out), characters + reader smoking, angst, toxic jealousy with hints of possessiveness, cheating allegations, hint of cheating thoughts, anger issues, anger issues related to toxic jealousy, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario.

I also reference some real songs in this, a comprehensive list will be provided at the bottom.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

“Could you say a few words into the mic? Just to test the sound.”

“Testing, testing, Universal Studios are wankers, testing. All good?”

“Hahaha, yup, all good, thanks. Ok, so… are you alright to talk about Y/n?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you really want to know about.”

“Well, your relationship was a huge influence on your music - for both of you. It’s been plastered all over the news and social media. If you’re ready to talk about it, the people are willing to listen.”

“Yeah, I have nothing to hide.” … “Are you interviewing her for the documentary as well?”

“...Yes.”

“Cool.”

“Are you alright to talk about you and Harris now?”

“Yeah, I guess. Might as well talk about the guy in a documentary about his band.”

“Heh, yeah, probably. Alright, so, let’s start at the beginning I suppose. How did you two meet?”

“It was the 2nd of February.”

“It was the night of the Grammys.”

“We had been making music for a couple years but we only started hitting the spotlight that year. It’s funny thinking about it now, that Marina and the Diamonds and Not Twins were gaining popularity around the same time. Anyway, it was our first year actually being recognised as musicians and going on our own tour, everything suddenly moving fast, you know?”

“Both the bands were nominated for best rock performance that night. It was the first time either of us had been nominated for anything. We were doing our first international tour, but we were already famous. Sold out venues, adding extra shows and then selling those out. A couple of our songs go viral on TikTok and suddenly we’re sensations.”

“It’s a room full of the top artists in the world. These are the people you’ve looked up to your entire life, and now you’re in the room with all of them at once, trying to act like you belong there and that you have somehow reached their level by being nominated. The girls and I weren’t important enough to have a central table or anything of course, we were off to the sides somewhere, which made it easy to slip in and out even when the awards were being given out.”

“You’ve just been on this red carpet, showing yourself off, giving interviews and trying to act like you give a shit about any of it. We were excited at the time but it’s fucking exhausting. We were led into the hall and to this table off to the side. It was still, like, visible enough, but we obviously weren’t the most important people there. Which was really good to be honest. Meant the cameras weren’t hovering around us all the time and the spotlights stayed away. I found this door a little closer to the back. It led to like some service corridor or whatever and then straight out to the back of the building that was totally desolate. I think I went out that door like 10 times that night for a cigarette.”

“I found this door in the back of the hall when I was coming back from the restroom like a quarter of the way through the event, and I was feeling so overwhelmed and in desperate need of a cig, I just followed the hallway until I was like spat out into this little brick loading bay type thing. It was bordered by the backs of other buildings, so it was all very industrial, and it was night time after a rain so the tarmac was all black and shiny and a little yellow from the street lights outside. I was rummaging around in my clutch for my cigarettes and my lighter. I managed to find the cigarettes and get one out, but I almost hurled the stupid purse onto the floor because it was somehow so full but so small and useless at the same time. I still hate clutches.��

I didn’t even realise it but then I saw this shadow come up behind me and I hear this click, like one of those old fashioned type lighter clicks? You know the sound I’m talking about? The little metal click as the lid comes up and the flick as it lights? That. And suddenly someone’s just pressing this lighter to the end of my cigarette and I’m whirling around just to end up staring at this guy’s bow tie.”

“I was just leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. I was trying so hard not to untie the bow tie and throw it away in the bin. Our manager had gotten us the suits and told us we had to wear them and Drew had to do up my tie for me. I’m more of a jeans type of person, so that was physical torture for me to be honest. Anyway, I’m trying not to scuff up my shoes too much or undo the bow tie or get rain water on the fabric or basically mess anything up in any way, when the door just flies open and this girl walks through, hand shoved into this tiny little clutch bag thing. She’s cursing like, every living creature on the planet earth, cigarette dangling from her mouth. She’s literally starting to lift up the bag to heave it across the road and I’m a bit shocked from this sudden entrance, and then just thinking about how I felt the exact same way about ten minutes ago, so I just walked over and lit it for her.”

“I mean, obviously I was shocked. This random dude - in like the creepiest setting ever by the way - has just come up almost from behind me to light up my cigarette without me asking. I almost hit him at first, just for having way too much audacity, but then I had like a drag or two and started to calm down so I just said thank you and moved with him to lean against the wall and just kind of stare into space and ignore the thumping music from behind us. Someone had been performing so I knew no one would freak out that I wasn’t there.”

“We were both just kinda leaning against the wall, smoking our cigarettes in silence. Hers is burnt like halfway through when she lazily turns her head to me, kind of just letting it drop to the side so she’s looking up at me, raises her eyebrows, and says “so you’re the competition.” I just burst out laughing. Like, folded in half, wheezing laughing, because what was I supposed to say to that? I feel like no one ever acknowledges the actual desire to win. Everyone is always all like “oh I respect the other people in my category so much, we’re all winners, bla bla bla.” You may respect them, but you also want to beat them. You want to win. Plain and simple. So her just being there, like, calling me the competition… I don’t know, it just made me laugh. And she started laughing too and-”

“And he just stopped laughing and was like ‘can I record your laugh for a song?’ I mean what the fuck dude? So random. I kinda just stared at him and was like, “are you serious?” And he just nodded, no smile, nothing, just focus. It’s the look he always gets when he’s building music in his head. There’s a couple pictures out there you can find on the internet, just google pictures of him in the studio or something. He gets this hyper focused look on his face, like his mouth is set straight and his jaw is just shy of being clenched and his eyes are so sharp and like you can almost see his pupils just dilate on command or something. It’s kind of a scary look, I won’t lie. Anyway, he had that look and he just goes ‘yes. Can I sample you laughing for a song?’”

“I don’t want to say some meaningless shit like ‘ohhh I’ve never heard a laugh like that in my life’ because maybe I have, I don’t know. She laughs really loudly and fully, like it comes from her chest and her throat and it makes her entire body shake. And her face scrunches up a little, like, like she can’t control herself or something. And in that moment, it was the perfect laugh. In that moment it was… inspiring. So yeah, I asked her if I could use it for a song because suddenly I had all these ideas for music that started with that laugh or matched that laugh or even used that laugh and I just wanted to be in the studio writing and crafting.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t know. I said yes, of course I said yes. It’s flattering to inspire someone just by being yourself. There’s something special, almost magical, about being yourself and someone seeing that and feeling the need to create art. I guess that’s how past boyfriends must have felt when I told them I wrote a song about them. Well, until we break up and I write a song calling them dickheads of the highest order.”

“Yeah, anyways, so I finished my cigarette and gave her my phone so she could give me her number and then I invited her down to the studio like two days later so we could sample it. She just nodded and smiled at me, crushed her cigarette under her heel and went back inside. I still remember the shoes she was wearing that day. They were these blood red stilettos, like bright, fresh-blood red, and the heels were so sharp. They were basically knives she was standing on. It’s kinda funny when you find out how much she hates wearing heels ‘cause she has the balance of a baby deer.”

“Neither of us won that night. Can’t even remember who won it to be honest with you, because by the time I came back in I was focused on something else.”

“Do you guys know who won in our category that night? I won’t lie, I did not pay attention at all after.”

“Hahaha, we can find out for you.”

“Did you go to the studio to record your laugh?”

“Heh, yeah I did. I felt really stupid, but we had started texting already beforehand. He even called me a couple of times, and it was… really nice. People I know who are watching this are probably gasping in shock right now. I would do anything to avoid a phone call. But… It was nice to talk to him. I liked his voice, even when he wasn’t singing. Especially when he wasn’t singing. Everyone loves his singing voice and, yeah, it’s absolutely amazing, but when he speaks… yeah. Anyway.”

“How did it go?”

“It was really fun. The first twenty minutes were just me trying to fake my laugh for the recording but it always sounded wrong and artificial. Then for the next forty minutes he did literally every single thing he could to try and make me laugh. At first I was too conscious of it to be sincere, but then he told me we would stop recording for a bit, to just sit around and relax, but he had the sound tech still keep the mics on. We just talked for a while, and… he’s always been good at making me laugh. I was just giggling and cackling and… just laughing really. He got the recording he wanted.”

“People have always wondered if it was your laugh at the beginning of ‘i hope that you think of me’.

“Yeah… it is. I didn’t know which song he was going to use it for. I was happy to give him the sound bites and move on. He didn’t even tell me he had written it. When it came out, we had already been dating for a couple months. He just sent me the Spotify link in a text that just said ‘listen’. I still love that song. I listen to it pretty frequently actually…”

“Had you heard her music before you two met?”

“Yeah. Drew was a fan from their early days, so he played their music sometimes. I won’t lie, I didn’t really give it the time of day until ‘Messy’ came out. I fuckin’ love that song. Still do.”

“What was it like to be in the studio with her when you were recording the laugh? Did you guys play or write something?”

“Recording the laugh was really fun. I wanted it to be authentic, I wanted the real sound, but we obviously couldn’t get it on command. It was a good excuse to just hang out together, get to know each other better. After we got the recording, the sound tech left and it was just the two of us. We just sat around strumming the guitars, playing the piano, just fiddling about really. She had brought her guitar with her. It was a present from her grandmother, getting kind of old, even back then, but she loved that thing. It was precious to her, she wouldn’t even let me touch it.”

“Is that the guitar you were using on the tour before it ended?”

“...Yeah.”

“She hasn’t used that guitar since the tour. Did you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Di-

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“So when did you actually start dating then?”

“I mean, we never made any official declarations or anything. One day we just… were. I guess you could count the first kiss as our start.”

“What’s the story behind it?”

“We didn’t call them dates, but we would spend a lot of our spare time together. Between travelling and days in the studios and commitments and stuff, any spare moment really when we were in the same city, we would find a way to spend time together.” … “Anyway, it was this one night. Probably a Sunday. It’s like 2am, it’s just rained, no one is out and about. One of those slow and quiet nights where no one had bothered to leave their house even before the clock had hit twelve, let alone after it. I was feeling a bit restless. I wanted to go out and walk or something but like, I’m a girl on my own in the city. Can’t really do that. Suddenly my phone is ringing and he’s asking if I wanna go walking around the city. Says he’s been sitting and staring out of the window for the past hour and he desperately wants to go out for a walk or something. I still remember the way he asked, it was so serious, like he was asking me to marry him or something. He said that he really just wanted to be with me then, and… it just made me feel really special. I felt giddy too, like I was back in school and my crush had asked me out for the first time.

So I said, yeah, of course, and then he showed up at my building. He smiled when I opened the door, this soft, small smile that was like… I don’t even know, it was like soft yellow light, and I felt my entire chest just fill up. It felt like my ribs were going to slowly curl open then pop out. He reached out and waited for me to grab his hand and then we walked like that for a while. Just through neighbourhoods and past shops and restaurants and just wherever we wanted really. Holding hands.

It was like an hour into the walk, we’re just leaning against a wall by this alley, sharing a cigarette and just resting for a little bit. I was standing so I was basically pressed into his chest. I was cold and we were sharing one cigarette between the two of us, so I was just like curled onto him. His jacket was open so I wrapped my arms around his torso and just laid my head there. He was really nice and warm and smelled really clean. He always smelled really clean, like freshly showered and fresh linen, even when he didn’t wear cologne.

He would bring the cigarette down to my lips, wait for me to take a drag, then pull it away and bring it back up to his own lips. We were stood there like that for like ten minutes when he flicked the cigarette away and pushed my chin up so my head tipped back. I was just staring into his eyes. It was weird, it wasn’t like the world had gone silent or anything, but it felt like I was suddenly… lifted into a different body. I could hear him breathe, soft little whooshes, and I could feel the skin of his hand on my face like I had never felt another person’s skin before. And he just kissed me. Full on. Just closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to mine. I could feel the tip of his nose press into the crease between my cheek and my nose. We were literally wrapped around each other like those hugging salt and pepper shakers.” … “It… it was nice.” … “I don’t know. Maybe it was the undiagnosed depression, but for a week after that night I used to think “this can’t last, this is going to ruin my life.” And… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like my thoughts were right and I was wrong to ignore them because if I had listened to the darkness I would have saved myself a bunch of heartache. But other times… other times I’m really happy that it happened because regardless of everything else, I knew love.”

“I think that was the happiest I’ve ever been. Those moments with her.”

“Was that inspiring for you? Finding her?”

“Are you joking right now? Of course it was. Every sappy lovey-dovey song I’ve ever written came out around that time. I was surprised people didn’t seem to notice the sudden tone change.”

“Is ‘Must Be A Dream’ about her?”

“Yeah, of course. I… every time I woke up beside her, I would say ‘this must be a dream’. She always used to laugh, her super duper tired, ‘I can’t believe you’re joking with me at 8am’ laugh. I was in love with that laugh.”

“So, how did you two meet?”

“Yeah, uh, Harris and I met when we were both already kinda on the music scene. We were trying to start solo careers and this tiny magazine, I’m pretty sure they’re out of business now, that interviewed independent and kinda indie artists had us both for an interview to promote new artists. We did this interview together and people kept commenting on how similar we were and laughing that we were just the UK and USA versions of each other, heh.” … “We got along pretty well at the interview and decided to book some studio space and just play some stuff together, you know? Like just bounce ideas, get some vibes, and just kinda enjoy music with someone else who enjoyed it. It wasn’t supposed to be anything big. We went and got coffee together before going to the studio and like three different times we had to be like “we’re not twins”. Anyway, we played some music and we just got each other. Like he would play something and I would know exactly how to continue it. Our minds just worked really similarly so like an hour into the session ‘Not Twins’ was born.”

“When did you first meet Y/n then?”

“Uh, lemme think for a minute. I think it was a couple weeks after Harris first asked her out. I knew she had been by the studio to work on some stuff with him, but I hadn’t ever been there at the time. He had written some songs that were tinkering around with, just trying to get some melodies going, see what notes might go where, you know, just rough stuff. Anyway, he told me he invited her around to just hang out for lunch or something. I thought it was cute. He wasn’t really someone who acted like that about his relationships. He wasn’t really someone to get into relationships anyway, if you know what I mean… but it was obvious he liked this girl. He wasn’t like a nervous jittery virgin or anything, I think he has too much confidence for that, but he was just like, I don’t know, smiling at his phone all the time or like going out for hour long phone calls, always face-timing and stuff. It was obvious he was invested in her.”

“So she came by the studio?”

“Yeah, sorry, got side-tracked, heh. Yeah, she came by the studio and it wasn’t like one of those awkward introduction moments where he’s standing next to her and just gesturing between us two. It was like we clicked right from the start. We just chatted about music and made stupid jokes and just got along really well.” … “I think we’re pretty similar, you know? Her and me? Well, not a lot, we do disagree about stuff, but like… I don’t know, is it stupid to say we live on the same wavelength? We just understood each other without needing to explain anything or do anything. She would strum on the guitar or hum a melody and I knew exactly where to go on the bass. It was kind of like how I worked with Harris but it was also different. I don’t know, I’m kind of shit at explaining this stuff, but it was just something different… something softer.

I mean, even aside from that, she’s such a sweet person, so smiley and just easy to get along with that if those elements hadn’t existed, I’m sure we would have been good anyway.”

…

“Had you listened to her music before?”

“It’s funny, I was actually the one that introduced Harris to Marina and the Diamonds. I had known about her and the band for a little while, I liked their music, and I thought their live band interactions, the way they worked together on stage was awesome. Like, have you seen some of their performances? Her stage presence is just immaculate and then just the music itself is so good that it was a recipe for success from the beginning.”

“So you were a fan before they even met? Did you ever feel… I don’t know, regret, I suppose, that they met before you two did?”

“I, uh, I haven’t really talked about this before, to be honest. I don’t know why I’m even telling you guys this, Harris’ll never forgive me when he watches the doc, but like, fuck it, I guess.” … “Yeah. I was a bit sad that they met before she and I did. It was childish to be honest with you. It was one of those things of like “I was a fan first!” you know? It felt like a sick joke that I had been a fan for a while and he just kinda bumped into her and managed to shoot his shot. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t resent him for it or anything, and it wasn’t even like I knew her well enough to be that annoyed or anything. Plus, after meeting her, we had such a good friendship and like… everything that happened, and I don’t know. I guess… for me, it was the right person, wrong time. For her, it probably wasn’t anything…”

“Are you alright to talk about when everything started, uh, I don’t know, going ‘downhill’ I suppose?”

“Yeah, I mean, fuck it why not? I’m already exposing my entire life to the internet, might as well keep going.”

“Well, thank you anyway, hahaha. So, well, I mean, before we get into that, why don’t we talk a little bit about the good times? Just before the issues started appearing, what was it like?”

“I… It’s weird, the way I view it. It’s not like the issues just started appearing or anything. I just think there were things we didn’t know about each other that were only revealed with time and we weren’t really ready for it. I don’t think he and I were wrong for each other. I don’t think we even found each other at the wrong time. I just think we hadn’t reached the same place in life at the same time. Like- ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying. I think we both should have worked on ourselves a little more before committing to a relationship.” … “Sorry, wait, you asked about the good times. Of course there were good times, we wouldn’t have been together for as long as we were if there hadn’t been good times. I don’t really know how to pick out specific ones. I guess I remember the bad times a lot better…”

“What’s your best memory with Harris?”

“It was the album release show we played in London. It was a very small intimate venue, the audience was basically sat on the stage with us. Harris came down and played a bit of guitar for some of the songs, and… it’s difficult to describe the memory even though I remember it so vividly.

We had just finished playing ‘Your Best American Girl’. The lights were dipped down to this dark pink with these really soft yellow spotlights on us. I was at the standing mic, and he was somewhere on my left. The music began for ‘Pink in the Night’, it’s probably the slowest and softest song we’ve ever recorded but at that point it was the song that best expressed the emotions I felt being around Harris. It was this fearful declaration of a desperate love. I loved him so much but at the same time it felt like I was constantly doing something wrong or something.

Anyway, the atmosphere was just so heavy and quiet, it was like everyone was holding their breath as I sang, and I couldn’t help but watch him. The music just poured out of me like breathing and my eyes were so focused on him, the way he was strumming the guitar, the way he was standing. And I looked at his face and he was already watching me, like he knew the song off by heart and didn’t need to bother looking at the guitar, and it was this intense moment of just… being connected to each other. We just looked into each other’s eyes for the entirety of the song, felt the music through each other, just… I don’t know. It’s as close as humankind can get to magic.

“Wow. That’s… intense.”

“Yeah… it was. But, I don’t know, I guess we didn’t know how to be anything other than intense.”

“The first time the public became aware of the… tumultuous aspect of your relationship was when you were arrested. Could you tell me about how that happened?”

“It was the stupidest shit ever.” … “We were at a club, it’s a saturday night, everybody’s at their fullest shithead behaviour, you know? I won’t lie, I was probably on something by then, aside from the alcohol, maybe ket or even coke if Lenny - uh Lenny, the bassist for Marina and the Diamonds - was there.

Anyway, I was at the bar trying to get a drink, just chatting to some random man nearby, when I look over to the crowd, and I see some fucker trying to dance up on Y/n. I just… I stood there and I saw red. I couldn’t even tell if she was in distress or not, if she even noticed or not, but I saw him trying to press up against her and I… I won’t lie, I went feral. I left my body. I was controlled by the blood rush and the anger.

I flung him off her and shoved him through the crowd. I was trying to get him to the door because I knew they wouldn’t let me fight him in the club, but obviously he began struggling back. I just punched him in the face. Full on. It hurts like hell by the way, if you were wondering, but… I won’t lie, it’s also kind of satisfying when you’re angry.

The bouncer came in and tried to separate us but I just shoved him off and kept on going after the idiot. Eventually the other bouncer came back from the bathroom and they hauled us outside and held us there until the police got there. The man, bless him, wasn’t even going to press charges. I was gonna get away with assault, but they searched us and they found a little baggy of coke in my pocket and hauled me off to the police station.”

“So you weren’t actually arrested for the fight?”

“No, the man didn’t press charges. I was taken in for minor drug possession.”

“How did Y/n react?”

“Well, right after the fight, when we were sitting on the pavement waiting for the police, she called me a twat, a wanker, and a right cunt. All well deserved. She couldn’t believe that the reason I was fighting was because of some petty jealousy. She told me she hadn’t even noticed the man.”

“Are you the kind of person that gets jealous easily, then?”

“I don’t know, maybe. All I know was that back then, despite everything, over and over again, I couldn’t believe she had chosen me. I could never quite believe that I was worth the love she was willing to give me. I guess I was always paranoid it wasn’t real. Or that she could be easily pulled away by someone else.” … “No wonder she was upset. I was basically telling her I didn’t trust her.”

“That wasn’t even the first time he had gotten jealous. It was just the first time he had gotten into a fight over it. I always knew he had a little bit of a possessive streak. I didn’t mind, I kind of liked it actually. Made me feel like he really loved me if he was that protective over me. Like it was some twisted way he showed he cared about me. But when he attacked someone… Now I think it was just because he was so insecure about himself that he couldn’t trust I wouldn’t leave him for someone else. That’s shit only therapy can fix, though. I know. I speak from experience.”

“You were arrested once yourself, weren’t you?”

“Yeah… um. Yeah. That was… that was bad. It was… I’m actually insanely embarrassed about that. It fills me with shame when I think about it now. I don’t really want to talk about it.” … “I’ll give you the quick run-down version. This is like night three of the tour. Basically, we had gotten into some stupid petty argument about something or other. He was down at the bar for a bit while I was slowly working my way through the entire mini bar in my room. I went downstairs to get hammered at the hotel bar when I saw him and Lenny sat together. They were both at the bar, on swivelly bar stools, turned towards each other, and their knees were touching. I don’t… I felt this anguish in my chest, like someone was reaching through the gaps in my ribcage and squeezing the flesh of my heart until it squelched out between their fingertips.

He was smiling at her the way he smiled at me. The really pretty smile where his eyes look all mischievous and the right corner of his mouth lifts up a little. It’s his flirting smile. And seeing him direct it at Lenny…

Anyway, long story short, I got super duper wasted, caused a bit of a ruckus, refused to return to my room, and was arrested for being drunk and disorderly.” … “Harris came and bailed me out at like 3am and… I literally sat on the street and heave-sobbed for like fifteen minutes.” … “Sorry, can I just… can I have a quick break? Just to run and get some water?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“Was there ever a moment where it hit you that something was wrong? A moment where you could feel everything tip over?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, actually. The first time it really hit me that ‘something is wrong here’… Like a month before the tour, Drew and I were in the studio working on some new music. Nothing big, we just had a bit of free time and were fiddling around with some ideas and tunes. I invited Y/n around to just hang out, you know? She could just sit and read if she wanted, but I knew she would end up joining us. She could never help herself. And I wasn’t going to deny any ideas or help, I appreciated it, she has a good ear.

Anyway, she told me she was on the way, and I realised I was out of cigarettes. I thought I might as well run down to the off-licence, grab some snacks as well. Drew was in the studio, he could let her in if she got there early. She must have arrived just as I left. When I got back in, just humming along down the corridor, feeling a little jolly or something, I got to the door, and I heard her laughing. I paused there, hand on the door knob, and looked through the little glass window in the door.

She had pulled one of the stools up close to Drew’s, and they both had guitar’s on their laps. Realistically they couldn’t have gotten that close together, but… I don’t know, every time I picture it, they’re sat as close as humanly possible, even with guitars on their laps. Both of them had their heads leaning forward, so close to each other, and they were smiling. They both had on this smile like they were sharing a moment no one else was a part of. Like… I don’t know, like it was just the two of them and the world was secondary. It… felt horrible.

I mean, it was just dreadful. For like, five whole minutes, I hated Drew. I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to kill him. He was my best friend, and that’s how I was feeling about him… I never wanted to feel that way again, but once that seed was rooted in my mind, it always came back up. Any time they were alone together, even for a moment, I couldn’t help but think they were just creating more connections, sharing more secrets, and soon, I wouldn’t have those with her anymore. They would all go to him…” … “Nothing had ever felt that wrong at that point.”

“It was a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy thing, I think. It was only after he started mistrusting my friendship with Drew that I started, I don’t know, feeling kind of interested in him. Nothing ever happened, and the little crush fizzled out but… I don’t know, funny, isn’t it?”

“Alright, so it was kind of a steady downhill climb until the tour?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we were just so shit at communication and we felt too much. I felt like we were partying too much and he was too into it. He loved partying but didn’t want to do it without me. Neither of us actually talked about why we felt these things. And eventually we felt like we couldn’t trust each other about anything, but we were also too selfish to let each other go. That’s why I was so shitty about Lenny. That’s why he couldn’t handle me being friendly with Drew.”

“Let’s move on. Let’s talk about that last tour.”

“Yeah.”

“Sure”

“What happened?”

“By the time the tour started, we had entered this vicious cycle of horrible, unhinged, scream-fighting, just to slam the doors and walk away, only to get drunk or high, get depressed and lonely, just to crawl back to each other and have these intense reunions. It was… frankly, it was sick and twisted.”

“I was a piece of shit.”

“The tour had your two bands scheduled for almost 50 shows over 5 continents. You played 5 shows before the tour was cancelled. Neither of you have spoken about what happened, and to the general public, it still remains a bit of a mystery as to why the tour was cancelled. Are you willing to share the story?”

“...”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t ever look at him again, let alone speak to him again after night five.”

“Night five of the tour… I will never forget that night. It was the worst moment of my entire fucking life.”

“In an attempt to, I don’t know, somehow salvage our relationship, I wanted to show him I trusted him, so… I offered to let him use my guitar during the shows.”

“I… I hope she knows how much I appreciated that gesture. Regardless of anything else, I hope she knows how much that meant to me… that she trusted me to use it. I know how precious it was to her.”

“That guitar was my single most prized possession. I protected that thing with my life. It got its own seat on the plane next to me. It was my everything.”

“Why was that guitar so special to you?”

“That guitar used to belong to my grandmother, and she loved it. She had once wanted to be a musician herself but she always said she wasn’t good enough to actually get anywhere with it, and her family wanted her to get a real career or get married and have a traditional family, bullshit like that. But every time we had a big family gathering, she would break it out and play music for us. Anything, everything, but… you could see the joy on her face, the way she felt the music. Her not being able to pursue music was one of the greatest losses of the world, I think….” … “Anyway, um, where was I? Yeah, so, when I started pursuing music seriously, she gave it to me, she said I would at least be able to use it. She always told me to chase my dreams, to never let myself think I wasn’t good enough, to never let anyone stop me. It was the thing that connected us, you know? As long as one of us played on that guitar, we would be alright.”

“On the fifth night of the tour, we got into an argument backstage. It was the worst argument we’ve ever had. I accused her of having an affair with Drew, I told her she was ruining everything, her career, our relationship…”

“I told him he was crazy. I called him pathetic. It was… it was ugly. Every possible horrible thing we could have said to each other, we did. And we refused to stop. We were just up in each other’s face, screaming. And… and I said ‘maybe I would be better off with Drew.”

“When she said that… my entire world felt like it had collapsed around me. The very thing I had been trying to avoid, her seeing that she would be better off with someone else… it was happening in that moment. I felt everything. Every possible emotion, but… I chose anger.”

“He was seething. I could see it. It was almost like his eyes were actually on fire. Harris is not someone you want to see angry. It’s like a forest fire, it’s frightening.”

“And I turned away from her. I started walking away when I saw the guitar sat on its stand in the corner. I turned back to look at her, and then the guitar. I think she could almost tell what I was thinking.”

“I saw him looking at my guitar with that blazing anger and everything was suddenly closing in on us. I put up my hands like some fucking hostage or like I was trying to calm down a bear or something. I was just whispering, ‘no, don’t you dare’.”

“I just reached over, grabbed the guitar from the stand, lifted it over my head, and I smashed it against the floor. Again. And again. And again. I could hear her screaming, but it was so far away. Like I was underwater. The only clear sound was the smashing of the guitar.”

“I was screaming at the top of my lungs. I was on my knees, head in my hands, absolutely wailing. I began grabbing for the pieces and he only stopped when he saw me there, crawling in the wood chips.”

“She looked so small. She was curled up on the floor, her hands shaking, picking up all the wood in her little fists, trying to put the pieces of the guitar back together.”

“I got so many splinters, I cut up my palms horribly. I screamed so much I basically shredded my vocal chords and lost my voice.”

“She looked up at me, her eyes all puffy and red and full of tears… her hands were bleeding… and she just whispered ‘I hate you’. Over and over again.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I’ve ever felt hatred like that for someone before or since. In that moment… I loathed him.”

“I’ve never forgiven myself for doing that. I never will. I fucking… I fucking hate myself for doing that. I hate myself for taking her trust and shattering it like that. I hate myself for hurting the one person I ever loved like that…”

“He walked out of the room after that, just left me there on the floor. My manager came in a little while later, we sweeped everything up, didn’t talk about it. I don’t think anyone else knows what happened in that room. Not Drew, not Lenny or anyone else in Marina and the Diamonds.”

“I walked away. I couldn’t face it.”

“After that you refused to finish the tour?”

“Yeah.”

“I couldn’t even look at him, let alone stand next to him on stage and be all happy. I told my manager I was dropping out, I refused to do anymore shows. I told them I would pay for anything that needed to be paid for, whatever needed to be done so I could fuck off back home and never think about that stupid fucking tour ever again.”

“I couldn’t believe I had done that, I was in a deep pit of self-loathing and I knew I couldn’t face her. I told my manager that I quit, that I was going home. He didn’t know what was going on. I think he probably spoke to her manager later. But… yeah, I was a coward. I couldn’t face her so I ran away.” … “I… like a week later, I tried to write her a letter. Tried to say sorry, just… anything. It was so shitty, but I sent it to her anyway. No response.”

“Yeah, I… I got the letter.”

“You didn’t respond?”

“No. I wasn’t ready then.”

“Has… that changed?”

“Well, must have done if I’m participating in this, heh. I… yes. I don’t hate him anymore. I mean, I might have hated him in that moment, but… it didn’t last. I don’t know if I can ever truly forgive him for destroying the guitar, but… I’ve forgiven him for everything else. Too little time on earth not to, I suppose. ”

“Let’s talk about everything that happened, Drew.”

“How much capacity does that camera have? If we talk about everything that happened, we’re gonna be here a long time.”

“We have backup cameras as well.”

“Then I have all the time in the world.”

“You and Y/n…”

“...Are you trying to ask if she cheated on Harris with me? Or if we ever dated after they broke up or anything like that?”

“...Did you?”

“No. Look, I won’t lie, I… I did have feelings for her, even when they were dating, and even when all that shit was happening. I was in love with her. I won’t ever deny that. We never talked about it, sometimes I thought she might have feelings for me too. But nothing ever happened. Those two had other problems to deal with, more than any jealousy or possible feelings between her and me.”

“Did Harris know you had feelings for her?”

“No.” … “I never wanted to be the reason they imploded. It was incoming anyway, but I didn’t want to be the reason. Cheating is… that kind of break of trust is something you don’t come back from… At least, to me.”

…

“You said you were in love with her?”

“Yeah… I was. It… that was probably the best and worst time of my life. The good moments were so good. I got to write ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ during that time of my life.”

“You wrote ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ about Y/n?”

“Have you ever felt that? Being in love with someone who’s so wrapped up in someone else?”

“Can’t say I have, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, no need to be sorry.”... “It… it sucks man. It’s the worst feeling you could experience, I think.” … “Yeah… I, uh, never told her either.”

“You never told her how you felt? Never?”

“Never. She didn’t even know the song was about her.”

“Silver Springs is one of the most successful pieces of music ever released. I mean, it’s still breaking records. Despite all of this, you barely ever talk about that song. You haven’t told anyone about the writing process, the idea, the inspiration, nothing. But everyone has speculated that it was about your relationship with Harris. Is this true?”

“I… I don’t really like talking about ‘Silver Springs’.”

“Why?”

“I was in a horrible place when I wrote that song. I was… I was feeling every bad emotion you could possibly think of. I was filtering through all these different emotions. I mean, one minute I wanted to end it all, and then the next I was filled with this all-consuming, fire-breathing, rage where I wanted to smash everything around me.” … “I wrote Silver Springs in one of those in-between moments. I was so… angry, but I was so tired of being angry. I didn’t want to be angry but I didn’t know how to stop. And… in my head, at least, I blamed him for everything. Everything.” … “Look, now I obviously know I wasn’t some innocent victim in that relationship. I could be just as horrible as he was. I gave as good as I got. But in those moments I was so angry and feeling so selfish and… I don’t know, I guess I wanted him to know. Without telling him, I wanted him to feel my rage. That’s why I wrote ‘Brand New City’. Why I wrote ‘Dreams’ and ‘The Chain’. I guess I also wanted to somehow confirm to myself, truth or not, that I had affected him just as much as he had affected me.”

“You had a minor style change at one point, after that era.”

“Yeah, I was listening to a lot of old music, just trying to like mentally transport myself to anywhere other than where I was, I suppose. We recorded ‘Silver Dagger’, it was just a Joan Baez cover, but it… weirdly it was another perfect song for the anger I was feeling then.” … “It’s funny, so many of my favourite songs that I’ve written have been inspired from that period of my life. I wrote ‘Guy on a Horse’ when my friends were trying to hype me up and the only thing they could think to do was say how much better I was than him. And later, when I started feeling more… ok, when the hate and anger simmered out and I began to, I don’t know, heal? ‘I Don’t Want to Know’ was born. If nothing else, all that pain was good for music, heh.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure.”

“I noticed you haven’t said his name once during this interview.”

…

“Is that the question?”

“Was it a conscious choice?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s still a little difficult to think about it all. If I say his name, he becomes real. It’s not just some insane dream I once had and can’t get over…”

“In her interviews, Y/n spoke about how a lot of her songs have been inspired by that period. Can you say the same?”

“Yeah, of course. The album we released a little while after the tour fell through? ‘Prisoner of Desire’ and ‘True Love’s in Decline’ are basically the exact words to describe how I was feeling. Lyrics wise, they probably capture the hopelessness and agony the best, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her then?”

“That night. I mean, I still see her on social media and stuff. Can’t really escape that. But, uh, we haven’t seen each other since… haven’t spoken to each other since…” … “Still listen to her music. Might be a form of self-torture or something. After the breakup, I couldn’t listen to anything from them, it just hurt too much I suppose… Now I guess I like the fact that it hurts…”

“Can we take a break for a bit?” Harris asked, rubbing at his face. His hands were itching and he got up without waiting for an answer, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. Just as he began walking to the door to leave the studio they were filming in, the door flew open and someone rushed in. He flicked his eyes up, a cigarette already pressed between his lips, and paused. His mouth dropped open a little more but the cigarette dangled precariously off his lip, stuck with the saliva.

He was staring at a whirlwind of a human being, her head turning this way and that. She finally spotted him and halted, like someone suddenly pressed pause on a tornado. Her chest was heaving, all visible skin slightly shiny with sweat. He could see her hands shaking at her sides. She was staring at him. He wasn’t surprised, his own eyes were rather unabashed in their assessment of her.

“Harris…”

Song List: I hope that you think of me - Pity Party (Girls Club), Lucys - it doesn’t start w/ a laugh tho lmao Messy - Lola Young Must Be A Dream - Tempesst Your Best American Girl - Mitski Pink in the Night - Mitski Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac Brand New City - Mitski Dreams - Fleetwood Mac The Chain - Fleetwood Mac Silver Dagger - Joan Baez Guy on a Horse - Maisie Peters I Don’t Want to Know - Fleetwood Mac True Love’s in Decline - Tempesst Prisoner of Desire - Tempesst

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