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starseungs · 2 years ago

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➳ cruel summer. lmh

• pairing: lee know x gn!reader

friendships can break. some even turn into enemies. that was a fact you unfortunately knew all too well.

• genre: angst with happy ending, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, college au, dancer!minho & y/n — 2.9k words

• warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, minho and y/n insult each other bcs its e2l

• note: #2 on your love through the ages series | i swear not all fics in this series are mainly angst;; anw if you havent already noticed from the title, yes this is inspired by taylor swift's cruel summer^^ a small spin on the lyrics if i must say... cause summer isnt even the main setting in this-

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Lee Minho was a menace in your life. You will never understand how he does it. Despite being a fairly normal (and by normal, you may or may not have meant that there was nothing going on for him) guy, he had a major talent for getting under your skin and igniting peeves you never even knew existed until he himself did it. At one point, you thought maybe your peeve was just Minho himself, instead of the actual action. After all, even the act of talking annoyed you greatly whenever it was his voice you heard echoing through the area. Fortunately, though, it wasn't like you were the only one being an absolute asshole—

—Minho disliked you with a passion as well.

If you were given a penny for every moment you both had some sort of argument, verbal or non-verbal, you'd surely be able to buy a house. And a penny isn't even that much to begin with. When asked, anyone who knows both you and Minho will probably give the same answer: put both of you in a room to do something, one says a single word, and hell breaks loose. The formula was pretty straightforward and simple, really. Everything was a fight between you two, and neither you nor Minho liked to lose. You'd think that being like-minded people would make you friends rather than enemies, and even you were surprised at first.

Because it wasn't always like this with Minho.

You don't exactly remember where it all went wrong, but all you do know was that somewhere along the way, Minho went from being your whole life to a person you could hardly stand to be in the same room with for more than ten minutes—constantly getting on each other's nerves; waiting for someone to break first and admit defeat. Making the whole thing even more frustrating was that the two of you knew each other a bit too well; a result of the deep friendship you both once cherished above all else.

Childhood friends. That was the category you begrudgingly acknowledged both of you fell under. What were once two inseparable children who refused to stay away from each other for more than a day. The friends who were seen as a package deal, even despite never being in the same class in the entirety of your elementary school years. Your families were even really close at one point—close enough where you could guess your mothers made a bet about the two of you's relationship. But just like an unexpected plot twist, all of those happy memories were washed down the drain along with your friendship with Minho.

You still remember how it started—a seven-year-old boy defending you from a rude classmate of yours back in first grade. It was when said classmate made fun of you for having cat-designed supplies (which, mind you, were actually really cute) that he considered was "lame" and "childish". As if he wasn't also a literal child at that time. Minho slid into the scene to show them a piece of his mind just before you were about to start crying, feeling humiliated and offended by the other boy's words. He defended you, or well, your appreciation for cats, with such conviction that you almost fell for him right then and there. You were really into the idea of romance back then. The whole thing was too petty for you to think of now, but back then, Minho was your knight in shining armor.

Friendship with Minho sailed smoothly from there. He approached you immediately after your rude classmate decided to leave you both alone, not seeing the fight as worth it anymore (good for him, you guessed.) Both of your interests in cats were something that bonded you two at the speed of lightning, earning you your first friend outside of relatives around the same age. He was your best friend for so long that the separation seemingly came out of nowhere, just the week before middle school started.

At first you didn't think much about it; you knew it was normal for childhood friendships to fall out around one's teen years, since it was the time where one would be meeting new people—but the more you thought about your everyday life without Minho, the more you missed him. Even more so that there was no actual reason for you two to suddenly act as if the other never existed, you just somehow came to the conclusion that this was supposed to happen one day. Who knows, it could have been teenage issues.

But then the radio silence turned into a chaotic battlefield in the blink of an eye. You got into dance around your second year of middle school and decided that your next course of action was to join your school's dance club. At the time, you were well aware that Minho was already a member of that club since his first year and thought it would have been great to reconnect with him there. Don't get you wrong through, you swore you didn't get into dance because of him. It totally wasn't because you loved seeing him have fun during performances that you wanted to try it out for yourself. Still, you had high hopes of joining this club—except that hope was shattered not even a week in.

"Look, we all know you're new to all this, but would it be too much for you to keep up?" You remember his harsh words like it was just yesterday. Oh, how you wanted to punch him so badly that day. The same week you joined, the club had an upcoming performance for the school assembly, and the current captain figured it wouldn't be a harm to add you in at the last minute. After all, they were still just in the middle of learning the routine and had about two weeks left until showtime. The other members seemed to agree too, seeing as you were the only new member and it would be such a waste to leave you aside. All except one person.

Now, you don't know what got into Minho's breakfast that morning during practice, but he targeted you throughout the whole day. It hurt your pride, of course—especially seeing that even the first years made mistakes during practice—but you were the only one he scolded. Sure, you had less experience than he had at this club and dancing in general, but you two were literally the same age! There was absolutely no reason to be this pissed, even if you did join a month after the year one recruits were brought in. Your dancing didn't suck either, you knew that much. As new as you were to the world of dancing, you knew you had good potential and a decent natural talent for it. How would you get into this club in the first place if you didn't? They had a whole screening process and everything. So there was only one logical reason for Minho's attitude towards you:

Hate. Lee Minho hated you.

Why? How would you know? But if he was going to be like this, then you surely wouldn't go down without a fight. If he thinks you're still the timid seven-year-old who couldn't even stand up for themselves at a mere childish insult, then your six years of friendship with him was a joke, because you've clearly changed since then. It was then that you swore you'd make him acknowledge it, even through the hard way. And you certainly did slap him in the face the following year when you became vice captain alongside him, despite the fact that it was only your second year. That wasn't good news to Minho, though—so as one would expect, your infamous arguments continued. The rest is history.

"If you're going to be like this, I'm asking for a new partner," Minho scowled at you venomously from the dance studio's speakers, pausing the song to rewind it back to the start. "Even if I have to beg our professor, it would be so much better than screwing up the final project because of you."

Wow, that one hurt. You inwardly winced at his ice-cold comment, feeling a small stab at your chest. His insults may have become dull to you over time, but that didn't mean you were unaffected by them. Never did you think you'd end up here: doing your semester's final project with Minho. Actually, you never would have guessed you'd go to the same college—let alone in the same major! As if enduring his presence for five years in middle and high school wasn't enough, he just had to still be there just when you thought you'd be able to turn over a new leaf. But no; along with his mere existence at your university was your thick tension-filled rivalry with him, and everyone was quick to catch on.

Never put Y/N and Minho, although both dance majors, in the same room.

Unfortunately, your professor seemed to have missed the memo—because he broke that unspoken rule when he announced the partners for the final project a week ago. Shameless gasps filled the lecture hall as all pairs of eyes snapped towards your and Minho's horrified ones. This was going to be a long two weeks, you remembered groaning in annoyance.

"Then do it," you spat strongly at him. "Tell him you can't accept it whenever shit doesn't go your way. Grow up, will you?" Minho only kept quiet and didn't say anything back to you for the rest of the day after that.

Thankfully, you two managed to complete the project with flying colours with the help of some heavenly deity (because there was just no way you two managed to achieve this much together on your own.) You stared cautiously as Minho handed you a bottle of your favourite drink. This was a new scene, his head hanging low in the glow of the vending machine underneath the dark sky. If you asked yesterday's you if there would ever be a time where you were caught in an intimate setting with Minho after all those quarrels, you would have said no. But here you were, facing him in the quiet of the night.

Vulnerable words were exchanged that night, minds finally understanding each other for the first time in years. Minho knew he was being a dick to you. He knew and yet did nothing to fix it. You were better off without him anyway. He wasn't a knight, and he would never be. Even if he saw himself through your eyes back then, his mind wouldn't change. Minho noticed early on that you were made to achieve heights he could only dream of—a fact he could never forget because everyone around him was saying the exact same thing. And as your best friend, that made him so proud. On the contrary, he was somewhat plain. At first he wanted to continue sticking by you because he thought he'd be influenced to do better; but the opposite happened and he was starting to influence you instead. That scared Minho, and the unknown pressure he personally put on himself made it seem ten times worse than it actually was—which, mind you, should not have been something he became anxious over.

He also knew it was stupid to cut ties with you so suddenly, but this was a chance for the both of you to start over a new life and live in the bubbles you both rightfully belonged to. That was why he felt like his perfect world was shattered when you found your way back to him through the dance club. What were you doing here? When did you even start liking dance? Was that because of him too? He wanted you to turn around and leave immediately. Yet the more he pushed you away, the more the thought of you kept crashing into his mind, not showing signs of leaving even in the dead of night. Minho was growing feelings, and he despised himself for it. So he did what he apparently was best at—continuing to make you hate him. His wishes for your happiness were the same reasons why you ended up having the worst time of your life with having to deal with his attitude towards you, all the while Minho was too busy trying to push you away to notice you were hurt by his actions too. Strong emotions can make you do idiotic things. He finally came to his senses on the day you filmed your project together, after days of thinking through what you had said to him back in the dance studio.

You didn't accept his apology. Even if he was sincerely sorry about it, there was no excuse for how he acted towards you. But that wasn't the reason why you refused to take his apology; it was because you had things to apologise for too. Minho wasn't the only one who had said and done less than kind things throughout this whole ordeal, so you agreed to be on civil terms. Your semester ended with a clean cut between the relationship between you and Minho.

Summer was boring, to say the least. You decided to go back and spend the break with your family in your childhood home. The neighborhood brought back fond memories; some of which were of little you and Minho hanging out after class. Speaking of him, you heard he came back home too—his house only a few down the road from yours. But it's not like you could just visit him anyway. You two were basically strangers now. Not even enemies or rivals. And maybe it hurt more than you thought it would because you found yourself missing his voice at random times of the day (even if his voice in your memories was mostly frustrated and annoyed.) In the living room, you often glanced at the door in hopes that maybe he would come and visit. It was driving you crazy.

You never thought of liking Minho romantically, but this cliched progression of events was seemingly proving you otherwise. To be fair, there's a chance that what you were feeling was just seeking for what was normal, but either way, it didn't change the fact that it still bothered you. Luckily, your high school class' get-together was the next day, giving you the chance to drink and forget, even just for the night.

Yeah, that party did not go as planned.

What was up with everyone looking for Minho? You weren't even in the same class back then! He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. Frustrated, you decided to take a shot every time someone mentioned his name in front of you and ended up fairly drunk out of your mind. That must explain why you found yourself sitting in front of Minho's family house in the middle of the night with blurry vision, either from the tears that were threatening to spill or the alcohol. A click from the front door took you out of your thoughts, only to see a shocked Minho staring at you with wide eyes.

"Why the fuck are you here?" He asked, rushing over to lift you up from the ground. "Are you drunk? You smell like alcohol! Let's get you home." Minho placed your arm behind his shoulders and moved to drag you back to the sidewalk. You kept your feet glued to the ground as firmly as you could.

He looks at you with expiration. "Come on, Y/N. Don't make this difficult for the both of us, yeah? Your parents must be looking for you too." You kept quiet, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, unable to spill out although you really wanted them to. "Y/N? Did something happen?"

Fuck it.

"I miss you, Minho," you said in a whisper, feeling too weak to go any louder. "I missed you back then, and I still miss you now." Your soft cry froze him in his tracks. His silence was deafening, and you were left assuming the worst. It wouldn't be wrong for him to reject you like this. After all, you had just decided on closing your friendship for good around a week and a half ago, and what you've been feeling for him was still relatively new. Bracing yourself for the words that would probably leave you moping in your room for the remainder of summer break, you opened your eyes to look back at him.

And there he was, staring at you with so much emotion you couldn't take in.

"And so you do," he says back, just as softly. "If I say I missed you too, what would you want me to do?"

You felt the sharp shards of ice that were stabbed in your heart from the years of fighting with Minho slowly melt away. There was only one answer to that question.

"Kiss me." He sighs in content at your answer and pulls you closer, lips so close yet barely touching.

This little shit.

You grabbed his collar to close the gap, your lips crashing together as you felt sparks fly, illuminating the place in a light only you two could see. He pulls away slowly after a few seconds, grinning at you like a devil.

"Don't you dare regret this in the morning."

What a cruel summer.

taglist 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon @starzzns @lhskokoro @bookishcalls @lilydaisyyy | let me know if you want to be added or removed^^

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wonwooslibrary · 2 years ago

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wonwooslibrary has hit a milestone!

Dear Readers, Fellow Writers, Mutuals, Members of Caratblr, and anyone else who may stumble upon this,

Wonwooslibrary has hit a milestone I never expected to reach, and I would like to celebrate it with you all, by sharing a probably-too-in-depth story: Why did I create my blog? Well, let’s begin! (I’ve been watching a bit too much of How I Met Your Mother recently lmao)

Back in about 2015, I read the first book I truly fell in love with: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. This novel is what developed my love for reading and English, later becoming something that would completely take over my life, and my future career. From becoming a member of the PJO fandom, I began venturing so far into the internet that I became a “fandom stan”...that name still haunts me. Since 2015, I have been reading and writing...and reading more and writing more. Of course, the beginning was horribly written sentences with no commas, like the word version of drawing the sun in the corner of the page. I began writing fanfiction in 2015, too. Naturally, it started with Percy Jackson, then Harry Potter, oh and of course 5 Seconds of Summer and One Direction (I’ve always been more of a music-based fanfic writer!) But 2020...that year really changed it all.

In 2020, I found something that really changed my life. Caratblr. The Seventeen and Carat side of Tumblr, an app I thought everyone except me stopped using in 2016. At this particular point in time, I honestly was just looking for a very specific gif of Junhui from Seventeen (center Jun from the DWC mv in the rooftop scene lmao). Thanks to this gif, something amazing happened: I found the wonderful creators associated with caratblr here on Tumblr.

At this time, I was not writing on Tumblr. In fact, the account I was using is hopefully hidden in the depths of the internet, because I really never want to look at it again. Using this Tumblr, I found some of the most inspiring people (and their content). These amazing people inspired me to create what is now one of the most cherished things in my life:

wonwooslibrary.

I made this blog at 8:29pm on December 23rd, 2020, EST. My first fic, a horribly written Joshua fanfic that I will NEVER read again, currently has 35 notes. I am not going to lie, I only posted that fanfic because of one thing: caratwritersclub’s open member applications. Freshly 16-year-old me was desperate to do something with the one thing I actually enjoyed doing. So, I wrote that Joshua fic. I posted it ONLY to be able to become a member of caratwritersclub. And on January 8th, 2021, I was officially a member of caratwritersclub. Here, I met these aforementioned amazing people within caratblr, and I would love to say a couple of things to them right now.

@gallivantingheart ♡ taylor. oh my god. you are literally my best friend. i could not ask for anyone better than you. from everything we have in common: our biases, our favorite colors, our sun, moon and rising signs, our love for miraculous and stationary. i love having a friend that is on the complete other side of the word (rip 14/15 hour time differences) but still loves to talk and yell about every small detail in our lives, whether it is a bit too personal or not. you have been such an inspiration to me, and i love you so damn much. i am proud of you for everything you have done. ps. i miss your cats xx they’re cute.

@seokmingiggles ♡ lannie!!!!! i don’t even know where to begin. you’ve been here since the VERY beginning and i just. i could sob. we have so many inside jokes and fun memories (like samanter, the popcorn-eating cat emote, the like. 10 hour discord call with ven, or even lawn). the fact that you read Baby, I’ll Be Right There, all the way through, like 4 times??? insane. i am extremely proud of you for everything you have done recently. even though i might not say it a lot, i love you and you’re still one of my best friends, even if we don’t talk nearly as much as we used to. everytime i see seokmin or hobi, i still think of you. even forks make me think of you sometimes (rip fork mf). please, feel free to reach out at any time, and i cannot wait for our next conversation (ps. #lisslansam)

@sansang ♡ liiiiissssaaaaaa <3 I cannot believe how much we have grown!! i know we haven’t talked in literally forever but...you were my first friend not only in cwc, but also on caratblr in general. i owe so much to you. you’ve believed in me and cheered me on so much, i don’t even know where to begin with making you feel as encouraged as you have made me. i love you, and i am so proud of you, especially for making important decisions like deciding to make gifs instead of writing, and i know that you are going to be amazing. the future would not be the same without you in it, and i hope we can talk more :D ps. every time i see jihoon or san, or anything abt swimming, i think of you <3 oh and also wav by ateez :3 it’s still your brand in my heart <333 (also #lisslansam)

There are, of course, a couple others who I am not close to/am not close to anymore who definitely need a huge thank you for everything: ven @heartshxkr ; alexis @woozisnoots ; eun @bermudas ; jo @ahloveisboo ; vic @svtskneecaps ; fel @minghaofilm ; meraki @merakiiverse ...I have no idea what I would do without you all!

These wonderful people, as well as other readers and creators on this hellsite have made me want to continue my writing journey here. My biggest accomplishment so far, has been the LONG process of writing, rereading, and editing my Jihoon/Woozi fic, Baby, I’ll Be Right There. This fic is almost 11,000 words long. It took me three days to write, and with the help of Lannie (@seokmingiggles), six and a half months to edit. Lannie reread this fic and helped me edit SO MUCH, that this fic is just as much hers and it is mine. (Lannie, if you’re still reading this, I’m a bit too emotional lol I’m tearing up :EUWAH:). It currently has !! 197 !! notes. Writing BIBRT has made me realize that I love writing. No, it’s not what I’m doing as a career (I’m an education student lol), but I want to keep this blog around for as long as possible.

And with wonwooslibrary, I want to encourage all those writers who are just as young as I was reading fanfics on Wattpad. I repeatedly posted and deleted fics because I thought they weren’t good enough, but here is some advice for you: you write for you. You should write because you enjoy it, not because people make you feel like you have to. Write what you enjoy, what tropes you like. Don't let people tell you what to write, that’s what takes the fun away from it.

To end this unreasonably long, sappy, over-emotional post,

Thank you to EVERYONE who has supported me this far. I am excited to take my writing blog to the next steps and continue writing and making friends with the wonderful people in caratblr.

And for the actual milestone: HAPPY TWO YEARS TO WONWOOSLIBRARY!!!

Thank you, once again, for everything, lovely readers, fellow writers, mutuals and patrons of caratblr. Thank you.

Love,

Your friendly neighborhood huihui, Samantha Jayn (wonwooslibrary)

#💫sam’s life #happy TWO years besties

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guess-my-next-obsession · 3 years ago

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To celebrate hitting 800 followers this week, I will be doing a fun little series of oneshots inspired by various songs from the incredible Taylor Swift (since she is the QUEEN of angsty/fluffy fic inspo)!

All I want you to do is to read through these categories, pick your character, category and song number, and send in your request!

Also—thank you all so much for your support/reads/reblogs/comments/follows/literally everything. I’m flabbergasted by the fact that 800+ of you like me/my content enough to press follow. genuinely. you’re all the best. i love you, truly. sincerely. forevaaa.

(Prompts crossed out have either been posted or are WIP)

Characters:

Pedro Pascal

Din Djarin

Javier Peña

Javi Gutierrez

Robb Stark

Sebastian Stan

Angst Inspo:

Last Kiss — “All that I know is I don’t know how to be something you miss. I never thought we’d have a last kiss.”

I Knew You Were Trouble — “I heard you moved on from whispers on the street. A new notch in your belt is all I’ll ever be.”

I Almost Do — “And I confess, babe, in my dreams you’re touching my face and asking me if I wanna try again with you. And I almost do.”

All Too Well — “You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine, and that made me want to die.”

Right Where You Left Me — “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Breakups happen every day, you don't have to lose it. She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy, and you're sitting in front of me.”

Illicit Affairs — “And you wanna scream don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby": Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else.”

Dancing With Our Hands Tied — “And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis. People started talking, putting us through our paces. I knew there was no one in the world who could take it, I had a bad feeling.”

Back To December — “Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind. You gave me roses and I left them there to die.”

The Way I Loved You — “I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It’s 2 a.m. and I’m cursing your name. So in love that I acted insane, and that’s the way I loved you.”

Sad Beautiful Tragic — “Distance, timing, breakdowns, fighting, silence, the train runs off it’s tracks. Kiss me, try to fix it, will you just try to listen? Hang up, give up, for the life of us we can’t get back.”

Fluff Inspo:

Begin Again — “And we walked down the block to my car and I almost brought him up, but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas, and I will talk about that and for the first time, what’s past is past.”

Ours — “Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. They'll judge it like they know about me and you, and the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury's out, but my choice is you.”

You Are In Love — “You kiss on sidewalks, you fight and you talk. One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, “you're my best friend,”. And you knew what it was, he is in love.”

Gorgeous — “You should take it as a compliment that I'm talking to everyone here but you, and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in the darkened room.”

New Year’s Day — “There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor—you and me, forevermore.”

Lover — “We could let our friends crash in the living room—this is our place, we make the call. And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all.”

Paper Rings — “The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met. Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed.”

Love Story — “I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air. See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns, see you make your way through the crowd and say, "Hello".”

King Of My Heart — “Late in the night, the city's asleep. Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. Change my priorities, the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury.”

Mine — “Do you remember, we were sittin', there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time. You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. You are the best thing, that's ever been mine.”

Smut Inspo:

Dress — “All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

Cruel Summer — “Killing me slow, out the window. I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes. What doesn't kill me makes me want you more.”

Style — “So it goes…He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm. Takes me home, the lights are off, he's taking off his coat,”

Wildest Dreams — “I said, "No one has to know what we do". His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room, and his voice is a familiar sound. Nothing lasts forever but this is getting good now.”

False God — “Religion's in your lips, even if it's a false god we'd still worship. We might just get away with it, the altar is my hips. Even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love.”

‘Tis The Damn Season — “We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, write this down: I'm stayin' at my parents' house and the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you in my hometown.”

Cowboy Like Me — “Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon. With your boots beneath my bed forever is the sweetest con.”

Treacherous — “Put your lips close to mine as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, ‘til the gravity's too much. And I'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands, and I'd be smart to walk away but you're quicksand.”

I Think He Knows — “I think he knows his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine.”

I Know Places — “Baby, I know places we won't be found and they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down. 'Cause I, I know places we can hide.”

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasebana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @nightlockcornucopia @vanemando15 @vinaispunk (sorry if i forgot you, or your tag isn’t working!)

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier peña x reader #din djarin fic

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thebigoblin · 3 years ago

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about 5.07

yes this is about 9 1 1 show, and yes I did write this in a reblog to one post that was one more too many (the post I am talking about), but I just wanted to reiterate my love for this episode, even if most people did not like it.

This is an exact copy/paste of what I said in the reblog:

Buck and Eddie are not the only characters in the show.

Listen. I, too, kept wondering where Eddie was (most probably with Chris, after Bobby/his therapist forced Eddie to just take a day for himself, given his history), and felt rather bereft without that weekly dose of Buddie DumbSassery, but it isn’t a Wrong Move on the show’s part. It’s pretty clever actually to focus on the other characters, other plots (like the Jeffery one) while still moving forward in the most in-character way they can manage.

We see May handle her own, without Claudette coming to her “rescue”.

We see Harry’s trauma get resolved, and in a rather satisfactory way as well. Harry believes no one else has gone through what he has, that no one understands him, but the Detective talks to him, and wow I hadn’t thought of that parallel before, but that makes so much sense. Harry getting to see the Detective be at work again is the inspiration for him choosing to go back to his childhood home.

Honestly, I loved the Grant Family moments this episode. (Not adding Nash because tbh Bobby was just… there, this episode, nothing more).

Hen and Eva’s storyline got wrapped up. Yes, it seemed so out of the blue, but Eva has been a ghost to Hen and Karen for years now, in fact through Karen’s own admission Eva’s very existence haunted her. Confronting that fact this episode was a pretty neat, the theme fit, plus now we can be 99% sure Eva won’t be back! Plus this gives closure to them all.

We also see Chimney talking to Hen, and we get the confirmation that Chimney has forgiven Buck to some degree—"Buck said [Maddie’s location]“ is a clear indication that they talked to each other, that Chimney chose to finally answer Buck’s calls, was ready to face his friend after their last meeting (even if that was through a call).

Chimney is still connected to the 118, even as he chases after a ghost—Maddie. He hasn’t gone "off the rails” in his pursuit (which is a Very Real thing that can happen, and is a somewhat famous trope I believe, except Chimney has Jee-Yun, (and distantly Hen) to ground him) and is very much capable of logical thinking (proven by the fact that Chimney saved that baby).

What I’m trying to get to is this: We see Chimney’s progress in his goal. Literally. The show gave us Chimney’s progress in his own sub-plot. (And the ghost theme worked well with a blast from the past, aka Chimney’s former mentor, Eli).

Then there’s Maddie. She’s making progress, too, even if it’s off-screen. But we learn another vital thing here: she is where she had been once, with Doug, arguably her biggest demon (I’d say her Postpartum Depression is an even bigger demon, because this is internal, she has to get better and that is all she can do here, she can’t run away from her demon this time) and that just, again, fits with the theme. She’s chasing her worst memories to remind herself that she has faced worse before, that she has come up on top even then.

I’m sorry, but despite Buddie being one of my favorite ships too—because of the fandom, really, and the amazing metas I get to see, because let’s be honest there is a lot of jumping jacks of the brain needed when it comes to this show—I can’t get over how the fandom has been after this episode. 5×07 is definitely not a filler episode (unless your sole purpose for watching the show is Buddie only), it has great substance if you look for it, if you can get past your vehement need of having your OTP be in all the episodes. Season 1 wasn’t so bad, was it?

And oh, lest I forget, Taylor Kelly. We seem to be heading towards a “Taykay Begins” sort of episode, and I’m excited. She’s going to be given some backstory, something other than a “Career Focused Individual” and “Buck’s Red-Headed Hot Girlfriend.” Remember when y'all complained about Ana Flores just being a prop? Yeah, I think the show writers heard you. (Actually not, since changing scripts so fast would be hard I imagine, but still, you know what I mean).

So, yeah. 5×07 wasn’t a bad episode, it wasn’t a filler episode, and it wasn’t a flop. It just focused more on the other people on the show, and I for one loved it. 9 1 1 show is about humans and their path to healing and contentment even after the worst of tragedies have hit, it’s not a Romance show, even though romance does weave itself beautifully in the narrative that is the 9 1 1. So yeah. Good Episode.

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awesomephd · 2 years ago

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Dude, I once binged two weeks of shark documentaries. I don't know why, honestly. Good background noise? Pure interest? It wasn't even my first time doing a similar thing but this year was a lot more prominent than prior. Despite the legitimate days worth of information I consumed, I only tell you a few things without having to fact check myself again. 1) Sharks don't make noise, unlike how some horror films want you to think, except they can "bark" by expelling water out its gills really fast. 2) So the Bull Shark is the easiest to piss off - they are very temperamental, while the Tiger Shark is the trash disposal of the sea - will literally eat anything including tires, and The Great White is often blamed for both their attacks more than their own regular attack percentage. Why? Mainly due to the movie Jaws that almost made the Great White instinct due to a 'man hunt' like scenario on the poor species. Which that book/movie was inspired by a true incident of a Bull Shark being found up river that attacked some kids. Leads me to 3) Bull Sharks are one of the very few that can alter between salt water and fresh water for a short period of time and have been found 500 + miles inland - this includes their choice of birthing grounds too. Since baby Bull Sharks will flourish better in mixed waters (where river mouths meet ocean). The only thing they have to worry about are Crocodiles —

4) Ummm, what else can I pull out of my head...OH! Back on the Jaw's bit, the couple who helped film some of the scenes were actually historical in their own way. Especially the lady, Valerie Taylor. There is a whole documentary based around her and I highly recommend it! She is a leading factor to a lot of marine studies back in the day — adamant on showing proof that sharks don't want to eat you. Often free diving with them! This is waaaay before 1980s, mind you. So she was asked to assist in the Jaws film, and was proud of it at the time. That is until all the fear mongering happened, hunting sprees, and just bad repetition toward sharks. Afterward her and her husband worked hard on changing it. Loads of talk shows, videos of her with sharks, doing fundraisers/charities/donations to shark studies and safe havens. Seriously, if you haven't seen the document "Playing with Sharks", it is amazing and I can't recommend it enough!

OH HELL YEAH! I love shark facts thank you! tiger sharks are my favorite so I didn't know all that about bull sharks but I'm gonna be thinking about sharks vs crocodiles at work all day I can feel it

I'll also definitely check out that documentary. I haven't sat down and watched a documentary in a long while but I'm crocheting my sister-in-law some pajama pants so this is the prime time to fill up on shark documentaries thank you!

#sharks #nick is a dangerous man

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thebigbadbatswife · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

Summary - Y/N starts wondering if she dodged a bullet or just lost the love of her life.

Warnings - Please only read if you’re 18+, angst, smut, make up sex.

[A/N] - Inspired by the song ‘I Don’t Wanna Live Forever’ by Taylor Swift

Word Count - 2.9k

The sky was covered in pitch black clouds, completely blocking out the stars. Lightning danced through the clouds and thunder shook the heavens, as rain poured onto the world below. A bright white flash briefly illuminated the old gothic manor that had weathered storms far worse than this one. Inside, the manor’s owner sat alone in front of a fireplace, a glass of bourbon in one hand, his phone in the other. He was so lost in his own thoughts, he barely heard the storm raging outside.

Bruce scrolled through his contacts and only stopped once he had reached her name. He clicked on her contact and his thumb hovered over the call button. After about a minute, he switched the phone off, set it on the nearby table and downed his drink in one. For the past six months, either when he wasn’t going out on patrol (which was rarely), or he had just gotten back from one, this was his ritual. Ever since she walked out of that door, cursing his name and the day they’d met, he found himself back here.

He wanted to call her. God above did he want to call her and make everything alright again, but she had made it extremely clear she never wanted to hear from him ever again. So Bruce didn’t call. He respected that she didn’t want to talk to him.

He set the empty glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes closed and he imagined that, by some miracle, she walked back in through that front door. That she’d see him standing there and would run into his arms. Bruce would wrap his arms around her, bringing her close to his body. His lips would gently brush against hers before he kissed her passionately. He’d lift her up and carry her to his bedroom. Then he’d lay her on his bed before quickly removing both of their clothes and they would stay there for hours on end.

An involuntary sigh left him as he imagined her skin against his and his eyes snapped open because, no, that wasn’t going to happen. The logical part of his brain knew that. It reminded him constantly, but the part of his brain that dared to dream the impossible? The part of his brain that only existed because of her? That part was still convinced that somehow, someway, that would happen. Because it had to. It just had to… right?

He leaned back in the armchair he was sitting in and a heavy sigh left him. Bruce felt like he was going crazy. Every other relationship he’d had, he had never gone through this before. Even when he wasn’t the one to end it. What was it about her that made her so different?

A voice in the back of his head, and in his chest, told him exactly what made her so different, but he was quick to silence it. He didn’t want to think about that. Especially when she was no longer his. Bruce was brought out of his thoughts from a knock at the doorway. He looked over to his shoulder to see Alfred standing there.

“Master Bruce, may I suggest you get some rest so that you’re ready for that meeting tomorrow morning?” Alfred asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Bruce chuckled and shook his head and turned his attention away from the older man. “Sleep? That’s the last thing I need, or want, right now, Alfred.”

His dreams had been all the same since she left. They were always about her. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. She was the main feature in all of them and he always woke up calling her name. It wasn’t bad enough she infected his thoughts during the day, non, she had to infect his subconscious as well. There was a small part of Bruce that wondered if perhaps she had similar dreams, but since she was the one that had left, she couldn’t be. Could she?

You were sitting up late on your windowsill seat, looking out over the city. For reasons you couldn’t fathom, Bruce was on your mind tonight and he refused to leave. You were slowly running through everything that had happened between the two of you and there was a part of you that was wondering if leaving had been the right decision.

When the two of you had finally gone public with your relationship, the paparazzi had constantly invaded your privacy. It had gotten on your nerves, as well as made you a little scared. Not to mention that your life had been threatened by Bruce’s enemies and those threats had increased after you had learnt his secret. It certainly hadn’t helped that every now and then a particularly crazy ex of his would show up out of the blue, nor the fact that you knew that one of them was literally an assassin.

However, even with all of that, yours and Bruce’s relationship had been one of the best things to have ever happened to you. All of your past exes, at some point, had ended up either getting aggressive with you or lost interest and left. Never Bruce though.

When you’d been together he had always made it a point to ask you about your day or how you had slept. If you’d had a bad day or dream or whatever, really, then he would do what he could to try and cheer you up. When he was away on business trips and couldn’t take you along with him, he always made sure to either text or facetime you before you went to bed, no matter what the time it was for him. And if he was ever forced to cancel a date or accidentally missed an anniversary he would always make it up to you in the best possible way.

It was memories like these that had you wondering if you truly had dodged a bullet by leaving Bruce or if you had just caused yourself to lose the love of your life.

You wanted to scream! Why were you thinking about all of this now?! You could understand thinking all this before you had made the decision, but afterwards? After it had all been said and done? It made no sense!

You ran your hands through your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. You eyed your phone sitting on the other side of your windowsill seat. Should you call him? Let him know you had made a mistake? You knew he would probably still be awake at this hour… That’s when you remembered the article you’d seen a couple of days ago where Bruce had been pictured at a gala with a rather beautiful woman on his arm. It could just be for show…

‘Or he’s already moved on,’ you thought sadly. It didn’t matter if you had made a mistake or not, it was far too late to correct it now. With that thought, you got up from where you were sitting and made your way to bed.

A couple of nights later you found yourself in the exclusive nightclub, The Sirens. Your best friend, Tracey, had dragged you here saying it was about time you found someone else. And this club was the perfect place to do exactly that!

You really hadn’t wanted to go, but since she was your best friend, and you didn’t want to disappoint her, you agreed to go.

You were wearing a short low cut black dress, that perfectly highlighted your assets, with matching black heels. As for your makeup, you had gone for a dark smokey eye and a red lipstick. The lipstick had, of course, been Tracey’s idea. As she had applied it, she had enthusiastically claimed that men would not be able to keep their eyes off of you. And she had been right.

All night men had been coming up to you, trying to flirt, bought you a couple of drinks and you had turned them all down. There was only one man that you wanted to be paying attention to you and you were now the last thing on his mind. You inwardly laughed at yourself. Here you were in one of the nicest places in Gotham City (and that was saying something since this was Gotham after all), and you were standing around, turning down perfectly good hotties and looking sad because you couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce fucking Wayne! It was pathetic.

As you turned down yet another perfectly suitable one night stand candidate, Tracey came over to you, annoyance sparkling in her emerald eyes.

“Seriously? What was wrong with that one!” she exclaimed as she gestured in the direction the man had gone. You leant an elbow on the bar's surface and ran your hand through your hair.

“Nothing,” you replied quietly. Nothing had been wrong with the five before him. Well, nothing except for the fact that none of them were him.

“Fuck, you’re really not over him,” Tracey stated when she saw your expression.

“No, Tracey, I’m not. I thought I was, but...” you trailed off as you turned your head to meet her gaze. She shook her head which caused her blonde ringlet curls to bouncy slightly. Tracey then grabbed your hand.

“Come on,” she said as she started to pull you away from the bar and outside the club.

As soon as you were outside, she let go and quickly hailed down a cab. As one pulled up, she tugged you over to it.

“What are you doing?” you asked as she did so. She stopped and turned around and faced you, placing her hands on both of your shoulders.

“You are getting into that cab, you are going to Wayne Manor and you are going to tell that billionaire playboy you ain’t over him. Then you’re going to have a fan-fucking-tastic night, which you’re going to tell every single detail of to me, tomorrow. Understood?”

“But Tracey, what about that picture?” You didn’t need to elaborate as Tracey had been there when you’d come across the article.

“Right, I can’t tell you how I know this, but from what I heard, Brucie boy didn’t say a word to her after that picture was taken. Hell, apparently he just left her there at the end of the night! Which means, he’s probably moping over you like you’re moping over him,” she replied as she continued to drag you over to the cab and basically pushed you inside. “Now go and make sure you have fun!”

Before you were able to protest further, Tracey was already walking away.

“Where to, miss?” the cab driver asked. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

“Wayne Manor, please.”

The drive to Wayne Manor was far longer than you remembered it being, which meant that you had far too much time to think about what you were doing. Was this really such a good idea?

As the cab started up the driveway and eventually came to a stop right outside the Manor, you knew there was absolutely no turning back. There hadn’t been the second you had told the driver to bring you here. So you paid the cab driver his fair and got out.

As the car drove away you looked up at the Manor before beginning to slowly make your way up the front steps. Nervously, you rung the doorbell. A few minutes past and the door opened, revealing a very confused Alfred.

“Miss Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to talk to Bruce. Is he home?”

“Of course,” Alfred stood to the side to allow you into the Manor. Once you’d entered and he had shut the door, he began to lead you through the halls to the room Bruce was currently in. “Right this way.”

When you got there, Alfred bid you good luck and then left off to get back to whatever it was he had been doing before your arrival. Taking a deep breath, you entered the room.

Bruce was pouring himself a drink when you walked in. The sound of your heels on the polished wood floor made him stop and he looked over his shoulder at you. His eyes were wide like he had just seen a ghost.

“Y/N…” your name was barely a whisper as it left him.

“Hi,” you replied timidly. You realised that you had no idea what you wanted to say to him.

He abandoned his drink and approached you slowly, like if he moved too quickly you would sudden evaporate before his eyes. He came to a stop before you and his hands came up and cupped your face. One of your own hands came up and rested over the top of his. His blue eyes swirled with too many emotions for you to make out clearly what they were. One of them, however, you saw just long enough for a warm feeling to start flooding through your chest.

“You came back.” The disbelief was more than evident in his voice as he spoke.

“I did. Bruce I’m so sorry, I…”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” he replied, cutting off your apology. “Just kiss me.”

You leaned up and kissed him, putting all of the passion you could behind it. It wasn’t long before the kiss turned heated, your tongues quickly slipping into each other's mouths and you found yourself pushed up against the wall. To make it easier on the both of you, Bruce hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and your arms around his neck.

Bruce was soon kissing and biting at your neck as one of his large hands slipped into your dress and began to fondle one of your breasts. A moan left you as he gently tweaked your nipple. He trailed kisses up your neck, along your jawline and back to your lips. As you kissed and he continued to fondle your chest, you decided you’d had enough of the foreplay and that you wanted, no you needed, him inside you.

You pulled away, breathing hard and trying to return some oxygen to your brain. “Bruce, I need you. Now,” you said in between pants. He answered by pulling you away from the wall and carrying you through the Manor, toward his bedroom. As he climbed the stairs and walked through the hallways you resumed kissing and began to unbutton his shirt.

Once you reached his bedroom, you were both quick to remove your clothes and settle on the bed. Bruce hovered over you as he aligned himself with your entrance. Then his blue eyes were meeting yours and he silently asked for your permission. You answered with a small nod and then he was slowly pushing his cock into you.

You let out a pleasure filled cry as your walls stretched around his cock. A low guttural groan left him as well. Fuck, you had forgotten how good he felt. When he was fully in, he stilled and ducked down and captured your lips with his. Once you had adjusted to him, you let him know with a small roll of your hips and he began to move. He started off slow, drawing out each of his movements, before picking up speed.

“Fuck… Bruce!” were the only words you could coherent form as he slammed into you and stole the breath from your lungs. The grip he had on your hips was sure to leave bruises there, not that you cared. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud and obscene in the room and nearly drowned out the moaning mess Bruce had turned you into. As always, other than the occasional grunt or groan, Bruce was mostly silent.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he managed to say as his thrusts were starting to become more erratic.

“Me too…” you managed to reply in between your moans. No sooner had the words left your mouth you suddenly felt his thumb against your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. Suddenly the pleasure was all too much and you came crying his name. Then Bruce was pulling out of you and spilled his seed across your stomach.

After you two had cleaned up, Bruce gathered you up in his arms and maneuvered you under the covers with him, before pulling you in close. You were both silent as you laid there, you both felt as if you had gotten out everything you needed to say through your lovemaking. Well, almost everything. There was the big question of whenever or not this meant you were back together.

“Bruce?” you called out softly as you pulled away just far enough so you could see his face. He brushed an errant strand of hair away from your face.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Does this mean… I mean, are we…?”

“Back together?” Bruce asked as he finished your sentence. You nodded and he smiled. “I fucking hope so.” You chuckled a little at that.

“So, this means you still want me?”

“Darling, of course I still want you. I will always want you,” he replied before kissing you gently. When the kiss ended, you snuggled in close to him. “And I’m sorry about what happened. I’ll never be that reckless again. I promise.”

“I should hope not and, for the record, I’m always going to want you as well.”

#batman smut #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagines #reader insert #dc imagines #dc smut #bruce wayne #batman #my writing

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alltooreid · 4 years ago

Text

Clean

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

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

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

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

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

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

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

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

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

And every time he did he called you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

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

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

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

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

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

Spencer.

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

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

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you thought about it now.

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

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

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

It’s scary.

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

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

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

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

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

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

“What did you just say?”

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

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

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

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

You shake your head.

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

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

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

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

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

You nod quickly. He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer am I going insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

“That's not fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ponder it, “Okay.”

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

You smile at him.

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

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

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

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

And it made you feel like shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“No?”

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

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

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

“Just an old friend,” you say.

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

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

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

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

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

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

He isn’t there.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

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

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Randall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so too Y/N.”

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

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

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

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

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

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

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

He hums and waits for the answer.

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

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

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

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

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

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

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencerreidxreader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #reid x reader #criminal minds reid #reid fanfic #reid #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds angst

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broadstflyers · 4 years ago

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A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #mat barzal x reader

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harryskalechips · 5 years ago

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Illicit affairs

A/N Hellooooo! I haven’t written in a while but enjoy this little sad piece inspired by Taylor Swift! Thank you for all the love! I hope you guys are doing well! Feel free to leave a kind message in my inbox ❤️

Y/N was a new intern at Colombia records when she met Harry Styles. Their relationship takes a turn however, when they start an affair.

Tw: Cheating

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! For any writers out there who want to give it a go make sure to check it out! I would love to read some new work.

Prompts:

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

“I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Leave.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 5k / Masterlist

Y/N never knew she was going to be in this type of predicament. Falling asleep every night in a man’s arms, only to wake up alone in her cold sheets at dawn. For some odd reason, his vanilla scent smothered her atmosphere every time, leaving her in a subspace-like condition. She found her thoughts easily shifting to him or feeling the need to touch him. She’s whipped but sadly also clingy.

Does she have an excuse to feel this way? She was only 21 when she began working as an intern at this man’s record label. He was her first serious relationship and although he was married -there always seemed to be a weird tension between them.

It all started when she was assigned to follow Rob Stringer through his meetings in 2017...nonetheless she met Mr. Harry Styles. One of the members of the biggest boy band, One Direction. She knew exactly who he was, especially since he was sexualized by the media too often at an early stage of his career. She knew his first solo album was a hit and that in her job description, she had to be present at every interview he had. She also knew that the ring on his finger was a symbol of love for his wife that he married a year ago.

Months on end, she barely spoke to him. She was shy -feeling as if her personality would bore Mr.Styles. One night however as the team went out to celebrate his last show for live on tour, he himself invited her.

They were at a club in New York -A very private one to be exact when Harry found himself too interested in the quiet intern. To be honest, his life at home (when he was there) wasn’t what he planned for. His wife was too busy, only fighting him whenever he stepped foot inside. She barely had any more interests in his music or his life -and suddenly, it felt like two strangers living in that mansion. It wasn’t an excuse for him to keep glancing at the girl as she danced with her co-workers nor was it an excuse for him to buy her a drink. Funny enough, he always thought of himself as a hopeless romantic since he was waiting for that particular someone to love him back once again and save his marriage. But before he could stop himself, he was already walking towards the girls dancing on the floor and getting to know them.

After that night at the club, Y/N felt different towards Mr. Styles. Of course, she was still intimidated but she now knew him on a more personal level, leading her to call him Harry instead. That night as they sat in one the booth upstairs, she listened to his jokes and stories and it made her start to have a little crush on him. But hey, he was married and she would never want to ruin a relationship.

As her days became busier at Columbia -sorting papers and running for Coffee, She always glanced at the elevator hoping Harry Styles would come out and was in need of a conversation with Rob in person. She knew he probably called her boss though the phone but her brain was rummaging for ideas why he would start appearing in her life once again. That was until one day she heard Gina and Louise in the staff room during break talking about Harry coming in tomorrow. Boy, did her heart began to beat fast. Maybe, it was manifestation but she was a bit too excited to see him again as it’s been a couple of months since she last saw him.

“Y/N,” Rob calls out for her as he plays with a pen in his hand. “Meet me in the main conference room in five minutes. I need you to note down my meeting today.” He gives her a small smile and quickly walks off. She knew full well that this meeting was about Harry Styles.

As she sat beside Rob at the long table, she realized that the whole table was filled with people from publicity and other departments. Right in front of her was the man she’s been thinking of, beside him was his manager. It’s not like she was deeply infatuated with him but she did love thinking about his pretty eyes.

Matter of fact, as she first glanced at him, her eyes already met his. He was smiling and staying quiet as the meeting immediately began but his fingers played with his pen as he watched her. She was too focused on the shittier details of what they were discussing. He wanted to tell her so badly that she didn’t need to write some things down but he was having fun watching her bite her lip in stress. He wasn’t smooth though. Since she was already feeling his gaze burning through her.

As the meeting went on, Harry became a bit more serious about why he came into the office. They were in the talks of his new second album and now, they had to plan publicity and tour. Some of the staff even asked how his trip to Japan was and although he was so excited to share his fantastic experiences, it was sad to mention how his wife didn’t even bother coming along.

“Are you not going to say hi to me?” Harry teases Y/N as they’re the last ones to leave the conference room after their long meeting. She had to clean up the table while he chose to sit in his chair, pretending to do important things on his phone. When he waved bye to everyone as they left the room, he pointed at his phone, explaining he needed a few minutes to send “important emails” -he just wanted to catch up with his new friend, Y/N.

“Hi.” She tries her best to act normal and unaffected by his presence. “Sorry, I couldn’t say hi earlier. When Rob said five minutes, I didn’t know the meeting was already taking place.” Harry laughs at her apology since he wasn’t petty at all for her lack of greeting today.

“I was just teasing. How are you?”

“I’ve been good.” She smiles back at him as she tosses the last remainder of paper cups in the bin. “I think the last time I saw you was last year. Where have you been?”

“Why did you miss me?” He raises his brow as he spins his chair a bit. He gives her a smirk as he watches her lean herself on the table.

“Just a bit. I loved watching your interviews.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “At first I wanted to sleep through them but now I rather go through those back and forth instead of, filling random sheets out for Rob.”

“Heyy, I think I’m pretty interesting during interviews.”

“Oh no! Don’t get me wrong you are! It’s just you have such a raspy voice and you talk so slow! You can literally put me to bed anytime.”

“Am I talking slowly right now?”

“Just a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while. I kind of forgot!” She laughs. “ What else did you do other than Japan? Spent some time with your wife?” Y/N wasn’t going to lie… bringing up his wife kind of made her uncomfortable but she knew this was a good way to get to know him in a friendly way.

Harry couldn’t help but give out a humourless scoff as he rests his head back on the chair. His eyes, however, meet her’s again. She couldn’t help but watch his adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Marriage is hard you know. If I’m being honest with you, I haven’t spoken to her in a week. She’s been on vacation, travelling in Europe I think with her best friends.”

“She’s a model, right? She must have a lot of free time. I’m sure she can make space for you.” Harry slaps his knee in sarcastic humour as he shakes his head at Y/N’s innocent idea of who his wife truly is now. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s more complex than I thought. I haven’t really been in a relationship at least a long term one.”

“Are you free tonight?” Harry asks her out of the blue.

“Yes.”

“Can I come over? We don’t need to do anything but I would love to hang out with you and I don’t know... forget I have all these responsibilities.”

“Sure.” What Y/N didn’t know that this night would forever change her relationship with Harry.

It was late in the night as Harry sat on Y/N’s couch talking to her about everything. His life, his career, his marriage. Usually, it wasn’t easy for him to open up so quickly to a stranger but for some odd feeling, his gut was telling him that he could trust this pretty girl beside him. It’s like he knew she was trustworthy and non-judgemental.

Ever since he first noticed her during his meetings, he found himself involuntarily glancing at her. That was until he grew some balls and invited her to his after-party. Maybe, He did find her pretty and a bit too hot but even if his marriage is going through the rocks, he did not want to cheat. He didn’t want to be that type of guy. Yet during his time in Japan, he found himself thinking of what would happen if he was single right now? Would he actually make a move on her?

“What are you thinking of?” The same woman calls him out as she takes a swing of the wine bottle into her mouth.

Yes, the found themselves enjoying Harry’s expensive red wine so now they’re passing the bottle.

“You.” He was a bit tipsy and so was she but they were still sober enough to choose their words properly.

“Me? Why me? Why not that hot model you call your wife.”

“She left my mind before I even met you.”

“Yet you’re still with her. Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her as he takes a sip of wine.

“Okay, so why are you thinking of me? Are you happy you have a new friend?” Her cheeks were very red at his confession but she was trying to make herself believe it was because of the alcohol.

“I’m happy that I finally got to know the girl who sat quietly in the corner during my interviews.” He smirks at her as he watches her try to hide a smile.

“I was intimidated by you!”

“Why was that, love?” Y/N was not expecting him to call her that. She places the almost empty wine bottle on her coffee table and sits back in her same position as she’s wrapped in the same blanket Harry is.

“You’re Harry Styles. Every woman is head over heels for you and Every man wants to be you.”

“Are you head over heels for me?” Harry squints his eyes as he says the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with her but they both knew they had overpowering chemistry. The only thing holding them back is well… Harry’s marriage.

“No.” She bluffs. He continues to look at her. “Fine, a bit but you’re married so I know how to control myself.”

“What happens If I can’t?” his tone drops as he mumbles to himself. “I’m sorry what?” Y/N chokes as she looks at him.

“I know I’m married fuck.” He sits up and rubs his face in frustration. “It’s just I never wanted a girl so bad after my marriage. I shouldn’t! I should be happily married but for some shit reason, I can’t get my mind off of you.”

“Harry, there’s consequences about what we’re talking about right now.” Y/N sits up as well as she watches him. Does it still count as cheating if his wife is barely in his life anymore?

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t that type of girl. I would never disrespect you like this. I should leave.” He begins to stand up immediately. Y/N says nothing as she follows him to the front door of her apartment.

“Thank you for coming, Harry.” She opens the door to let him out. He simply nods as he walks past her through the door. As she watches him walk down her hallway, she closes the door. How was she feeling? Well, she was trying her best to not feel regret but instead relief. She leans her body on the wooden surface, trying to make herself feel happy that nothing happened between them -Yet her heart was beating too fast for a guy she had just met.

The loud pounding on her door, however, makes her head shut up. She immediately opens it to find no one other than the curly-haired man who had just left her apartment a minute ago.

He immediately grasps her face into his hands as he kisses her eagerly, making her shut the door behind him. His body quickly pushing her’s against the wall, as his lips attack her jaw down to her neck. Her hands resting on his shoulders as she leans her head back to give him more area to leave his soft licks and kisses.

“Shit Y/N. You’re making me go crazy.”

“Harry.” She moans as he rubs himself against her centre. He whispers a command to her, making her jump and wrap her legs around his waist and he carries her to the first surface in his line of sight, which is her dining table. It was a dark wood wooden table that was meant only for eating purposes.

He helps her take off the sweater she was wearing as she throws it behind it her without a care. With her hand, she guides his mouth back to hers, making them both moan as this sexual tension is finally being relieved. Her nipples became hard in an instant as they felt the cold temperature.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He pulls away as he’s unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth was open a little bit from their heated makeout and his lips were juicy pink after kissing her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You want to fuck me right here?” Y/N blurts. She wasn’t the type to have sex with a new partner for the first time on her dining table but her room was a mess and she was a bit shy letting him in there.

“Are you that eager baby?” A smirk plays on his lips as he tosses his shirt. “Well If you’re that needy, why won’t you take off my pants?” Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she reaches forward to unbuckle his jeans. “You know, how fucking long I’ve been jerking off with my right hand?” Harry asks as his hand runs through her soft hair, letting his thumb rub against her pink plump lips.

“For a long time, Daddy?” She murmurs against the pad of his thumb as she lets his thumb enter her wet mouth.

“Look at you, you’re a little devil.” Harry pushes his pants off until they reach mid-thigh. He quickly helps her out of her tights, pulling them off her almost instantly that she had to hold onto him. “Should I get a condom?” He pants as his hands involuntarily run themselves against her soft thighs.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too.” He looks down at her closed legs as he pumps himself a bit. “I promise.” Y/N nods as her hands guide his body back closer towards her.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He whispers as he watches her show him her wet needy sex. “Fuck, you look so good right now.” He leans in to kiss her more. His mouth going south as they reach her breast. His mouth sucks on her nipple as the other grabs and rolls her the other one.

“Fuck stop teasing me. I need you.”

“Beg for me, Y/N. I know you want to.”

“Harry please!” She feels his hand directing his wet cock to her centre. Teasing her and playfully slapping her entrance. “Daddy!” His eyes immediately stop looking down as he grabs her hair, making her look at him.

“You okay with this love? Do you like it rough?” Y/N nods her head as she stares into his eyes.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, I want it rough.”

“What did you call me earlier?” A cheeky smile forms on his face as he watches this little girl about to crumble in his hand.

“Daddy.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that or what?”

“Only if you want me-” Harry inserts himself in her, making her choke on her sentence.

“What do you call me?” He leans a bit further downs so their bodies rub against each other as his arm supports her back while the other hand chokes her neck.

“Daddy! Fuck, I call you daddy!”

“I know I’ve been deprived of some good sex but you feel so fucking tight! Do guys not know how to fuck you?”

“Only you can.” Harry pulls his hand away from her neck and instead grasps her face so she can watch their centres connecting.

“You like that view? Is it turning you on? You’re fucking clenching me, baby!”

“Harder, daddy.” Her arm wraps around his shoulder as he pulls away and turns around, making her bend on the table.

“You want it harder baby? I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never be able to sit at this table without remembering how I fucked you so good.”

~ The day after their first time sleeping with each other scared Y/N. As much as she tried to avoid letting Harry see her messy room, they ended up in there anyway. They participated in a couple more rounds and a deep conversation too until they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

What Y/N was scared of was how Harry would react when he woke up in her sheets. Of course, they weren’t too drunk last night but the alcohol did give them a confidence boost. Now it’s the day time and they have to deal with this new boundary they had just crossed.

“Good morning.” A raspy voice speaks up as she sets her head on her hand. Her elbow putting all its pressure on her pillow while she watches the man who’s laying on his stomach smile at her.

“Hi.” She gives a soft smile back. Harry immediately notices the hickeys on her neck, making him not guilty but a bit more proud.

“I marked you.” Y/N’s eyes widen as she sits up and wraps her hands around her neck. “Why you don’t like them?” Harry fixes his position too so he can rest his back against the headrest. He rubs his eyes for a few seconds before helping her straddle his waist. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“You’re married.” Her finger mindlessly traces one of the sparrows on his chest.

“I know.”

“You think she’ll get mad?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares.”

~ Y/N and Harry’s affair went on for months that they even reached his tour and new album reveal. Although they never said the three most important words, Y/N already knew it was there.

What she loved the most these past months with Harry was their privacy. The secret hookups in changing rooms, the knowing glances in a room full of strangers, and their affectionate touches when they had to pass things to one another in front of her boss.

She knows he’s married and there was no doubt, they fought about his relationship status. But Harry explained that divorces in Hollywood were more complex than for a regular couple. And while Y/N pretended to understand, she truly didn’t. She didn’t understand why he had to keep up this act of being in a happy relationship when he can simply leave his wife -not for her benefit but for his own happiness. Still, every time this fight occurred, they chose to sweep it under the rug. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to lose him. He had always been so persistent on his reasoning why he’s been delaying that action. She was scared that he would leave her during another fight only to run back to his wife. What she didn’t know was that she may be a bit too right, after all, he wasn’t ready to admit that his marriage was over.

“Hi, Baby!” Y/N opens her door to find her “boyfriend” with a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi!” She wraps her arms around him in a hug as she lets him enter her apartment that they know too well. If she had to be truly honest... despite having so much alone time with Harry, she’s never been on a date with him but you know -that’s something she had to let go when she decided to get involved with a famous married man. Yet it still didn’t stop her heart from feeling envious when she would be in the restaurant with her friends watching a random couple have dinner together.

Harry takes his hood off and hands her the flowers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t text you this past couple of days. You know that woman who lives with me.” He sighs and gives her a kiss on the lips before continuing on, “We were having lunch together and she noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring anymore so we fought.”

“So you’re wearing it.” Y/N places the flowers on the table and crosses her arms.

“I have too.”

“No, you don’t Harry. She’s only wearing her’s for show. You’ve been cheating on her for seven months!” Y/N snaps at him. She hated it when he wore his ring. It was just a real sign that maybe he was lying to her during the times, he said he was over their marriage and he was going to leave her when things become less complicated.

“Baby, hey stop yelling.” He walks towards her so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry. You know I care so much about you. Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t stand that you’re married to another woman. Please leave her Harry.” Y/N pulls away as she holds onto his shoulders, begging him. “Please.”

“I’ll try.” He breathes out.

“You’ll try?” She pulls away immediately looking at him. “What do you mean? Have you not been trying to do that these past few months!” He rubs his face in frustration.

“It’s hard Y/N. I told you countless times.” “I know it’s hard but what’s stopping you from doing it! You told me that you don’t want to lose me but for some odd reason, it seems like you don’t want to lose her!”

“She was my first love Goddammit!” He finally yells back at her.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

They both found themselves caught off guard as the silence screamed in their ears. How could this safe space where they spent their nights rolling in the sheets feel so… indifferent? “Harry please be 100 percent honest with me.” Y/N backs away slowly as she reaches a few feet apart from Harry. “Do you want to leave her?”

Silence.

“You told me you did? Did you change your mind?” Her eyes widen as she watches the man in front of her absolutely speechless. “I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He stares at the ground with his hands in his jeans. “Of course, I want to leave her! It’s just-”

“Leave.”

“What Baby no!” He quickly looks up and tries to make his way towards her.

“Harry, stop. What we have is over! I’m not going to let you use me until your stupid sick marriage fixes itself!”

“Y/N that wasn’t my intention I swear! You know what marriage means to me! I can’t simply-”

“Fuck what you think of marriage! You don’t want to leave her but you rather continuously hide me while you go to awards with her -While you go on fucking dates with her!”

“It’s for publicity-”

“I don’t care!” She screams. “I realized that this isn’t working out and we should stop!” The pressure in her chest was making her hyperventilate. “We should have stopped months ago!”

“Fuck I don’t want to lose you, please. You’re the only thing that’s been making me so happy.” He reaches out to take her hands but she simply pulls away.

“Harry! Listen to yourself! You’re married! I’m starting to think you have a fear of having a failed marriage like your mom and dad! But please for the love of God, don’t drag me around because I won’t let you!” Harry’s faces change into anger as he gives her a cold look.

“Well don’t drag my parents’ marriage into this! I told you that because I trusted you not so you can use it against me!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Y/N pleads. “You won’t lever her Harry! You won’t!”

“How do you think people will react!” He gestures with his hands. “ After three years of marriage, Harry Styles is getting divorced!” He mimics a random news reporter.

“So-” “I’m not going to let myself be categorized under Hollywood’s failed marriages!” “It was already failing before you met me! Can’t you see I just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy when you’re with me!”

“Well, I’m not!”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry scoffs as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration.

“How can I not? I’m hearing stories every day about your fights at home. This isn’t even a relationship Harry! It’s an affair! An illicit one! And I-I’m a secret!”

“I don’t want to share you with the public! They will judge us and they’re going to ruin you as they ruined me!” He rambles on. “I’ve been stalked and judged for things I didn’t know matter!”

“I would rather go through that with you -than to watch you from far away and only have you with me when we’re here inside this apartment.” She points at the floor.

“I can’t Y/N. I can’t let that happen and I won’t.”

“Then this is over then.” She quickly wipes her tears as she notices Harry doing the same. The yelling seemed to die down as they finally realized that this problem they tried to ignore wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know… for some reason, you taught me a lot of things.” Harry clears his throat as he wipes his wet palms on his pants. “Despite only letting you have one half of me. You somehow took over my whole mind. God, I would love to fight for you Y/N.” He looks at her as he feels tears forming in his again. “I do - I truly would.” A pause happens before he continues, “ For you, I ‘d ruin myself a million times but I would never let you do the same.” He emphasizes to her. “ I don’t want to let you go but I know I should because even if I go get that divorce, I’d still want to keep you as my secret -and that’s not what you want.”

“I-” Y/N stops herself. She wanted to tell him that she loves him but she knew it wouldn’t help them at all. “I’ll still see you for a while. After my internship though, I’ll be gone.”

“Do you think we’ll stay in touch.”

“I don’t think we should.” She blurts it out as her eyes glance at the fresh bouquet sitting on her table.

“Alright. I guess that’s it.” Harry sniffles a bit before walking to the door. “I’ll see you.”

“Goodbye.”

And Y/N thought she wouldn’t have to see him again after her internship. Although her heart was broken, she found herself counting the days until she can find a new job. After their unexpected ending, she no longer found herself lonely in the mornings but during the nights too.

The days he came by the office were more difficult than she thought. She would still feel his gaze on her during their meetings but he no longer greeted her nor gave her any attention. He would walk right past her desk when he visited the office but he would act as if he never knew her in the first place - Not a glance or a wave.

And that was fine with Y/N, at least she tried her best to think it was. Until her meeting with Rob a week before Harry’s album release.

“Y/N, I would love to offer you a job here at the company. I will give you a position in Marketing for Harry Styles.” Rob hands her a manila folder across the table. “ You know a few months ago, he spoke about your hard work and how much potential you have and he’s right. This would look great on your resume and the pay will be better here than if you were to start off at another company.”

Days of thinking and non-stop anxiety flooded Y/N’s mind. She knew her plan was to cut all ties with the pop star but the career that had just been handed to her had so much potential. Potentiality can help her with her student loans and give her a more comfortable life. She would be stupid if she passed the offer because of him. So with no more hesitation, she took her phone and called Rob.

“I’ll take the job offer.”

Part two here!!

#zoeyswritersappreciationwc #Harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styes imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles smut #harry styles stories #harry styles fanfic #one direction #solo harry #husband!harry #harry styles fluff #affair #one direction one shots

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bisluthq · 3 years ago

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I don’t like 1989 either, I don’t get the music industry’s obsession but jfc. It is truly not worth getting this unhinged about. Unless it’s for attention then go off I guess.

I mean it sure as shit isn’t because I give a fuck about any of this like who cares about Taylor Swift or her music dude like it’s some artist?

What am I meant to write when y’all ask me?

“This entire album is lyrically uninspired. It opens with a repetitive synthy song that is 2 years too late on gay marriage at the time of being penned, and just repeats itself over and over. Taylor Swift is not from New York, nor is she gay, nor should she have been this excited about any of this. The one interesting image in this song is the idea of broken hearts being in a drawer but Ms Swift does not expand on it because she’d rather sing about gay marriage - I suppose - and a city she has no discernible connection to but shortly after producing this song took a multi million dollar deal to promote. For clearer skin stream Empire State of Mind.

The album then proceeds into Blank Space which is Gd tier. It is hilarious as satire, it is incredible as a chaos anthem, it is witty. 10000/10. Outstanding.

Next, we have a song Taylor wrote from a track that reminded her of Daft Punk which had beaten her in the previous Grammys. She liked said track and with Max Martin proceeded to write lyrics that played on her ex fling’s name and an anachronistic haircut in order to sell it because she had “publicly sworn off dating” so she couldn’t exactly write on the name of a contemporary boyfriend so Harry Styles it was. As Sophie Turner would say, it’s not not a bop.

We then go into Out of The Woods which contains one of my favorite Taylor images - “we moved the furniture so we could dance” - unfortunately this is never expanded upon and the rest of the song is just her repeating herself. A pity because we came close. This too was written to track, unsurprisingly.

I do not want to talk about AYTHDWS which is a song where Taylor just yells and is somehow less hated by her fans than Stay Stay Stay from RED despite having the identical concept and clearly being inspired by similar fantasies. One is expressly framed as fantasy and so is hated and the other is supposedly about the time a teenager played her and so is Art. Keep up!

We get to Shake It Off. This is, as I’ve previously mentioned, a song so deeply uninspired and derivative that when it went to copyright court the defense was “hey hey hey you cannot copyright stupid!!” and I am on the defendant’s side because you cannot, in fact, copyright stupid. Weird hill for Taylor Swift to die on since she’s copyrighted her birth year and name and the term “Taylor’s Version” but since I don’t believe she should’ve been copyrighting that shit I am on her side in the trial.

IWYW is actually not a terrible song aside from being dull and repetitive. It is just ruined by fans figuring out who it’s about as though the song doesn’t clearly deal with a fantasy (ie the narrator is in her house and the person is driving around and shit). I’m gonna give this song 6.5/10 for objective reasons like it’s not terrible but -1/10 for what it inspired in her fandom.

Bad Blood is a fight club situation where we shouldn’t talk about it.

Wildest Dreams is a cute concept but the “standing in a nice dress” brings us back to the uninspired and unoriginal and frankly tired core theses and themes on the album. We could’ve had literally ANYTHING else here. Red dress? Black dress? White dress? That would be a better description than “nice dress” but we live in the darkest timeline so whatever.

HYGTG is actually peak camp I am actually gonna defend it - not because it’s clever or interesting but because people think this song, which rhymes rain and insane unironically, is an important klue for Taylor’s sexuality and I find that funny. Also rhyming rain with insane is funny.

This Love is a terribly written song which uses 8th grade imagery (THE SEA!!!!) and repeats the line “this love is good this love is bad”. It has no excuses since it started as a poem. It just shows that when she says, earlier in this album, that people say she has nothing in her brain they have stronger klues than Gaylors tbh.

I Know Places lives in the group chat with Style and OOTW and actually IWYW like it’s not horrifying like This Love but it’s very fucking repetitive. She described it as a fantasy and I do get her need for that so respect it but again have my personal thoughts marred by the fact that in fandom it is a klue even though the lady has said it’s not. If it is a klue, it’s a bad one because she did NOT appear to know many places in this era.

Clean is a decent song. I accept it.

Wonderland is an okay song only if it’s about her apartment. Again, camp. If it’s about Harry Styles ew like why are you in Wonderland with a child and if it’s about Dianna Agron why were you taking breaks for children? I belieb it is about her home and so I’m okay with it although I do not like it because once again it is very repetitive.

YAIL is very cute. Sad for Jack and Lena but what a cute song! I like it. Maybe not as much as Blank Space or the line in OOTW about the furniture but as much if not more than Clean.

New Romantics is adorable. Love friendship songs.”

Okay so those are my thoughts on the album. Thoughts on the era: fake, chaotic, unhealthy and over reliant on substances. A bad time and not something we should revisit. When we factor that in to how the music was underwhelming idk why we’d be tempted to. Idk why we’d watch her parade random models on stage and be like “🥺🥺 how fun” like said the narrator: “it was not fun, it was pathetic af and she knew it - she said she felt she had to do gimmicks because otherwise people wouldn’t come.”

Now my thoughts on the relationships that allegedly inspired it: Dianna and Skarsgard didn’t happen, Harry was unimportant, the “publicists call you” song might be Douglas but so fictionalized that like who cares if it hadn’t been him it’d have been someone else and like girl y were u still hung up on that ain’t shit Gyllenhaal chap? Ouch. I don’t want to think about that!!!!

In conclusion: let’s collectively pretend this era never happened.

As pop fans you are welcome to love the bops but then call her Saylor Twift or something because it sure as shit wasn’t indicative of the rest of her work or discography.

#nat talks 1989

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ificanthaveu · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Rings || Shawn Mendes

Description: After a little too much procrastination, your boyfriend helps you learn a craft to teach your students. Very loosely based off Paper Rings by Taylor Swift.

A/N: I have had just “paper rings” sitting in my notes literally since Lover came out. Then I added a quick one line of what I wanted to happen a few months later. And FINALLY the other day, inspiration struck and I came up with this cute lil thing. ALSO the fact that there’s absolutely no angst in this??? who am i??? Hope you love it anyway :)

Word Count: 2.6k

“Have you chosen your activity for the Fall Festival next week?” The principal of your school asked as she poked her head into your room.

You looked up from the dense pile of worksheets you were grading before you looked at your calendar next to you to see that the due date was tomorrow.

“Shoot, no, I haven’t,” you said through a sigh as you set your pen down and leaned back in your chair, cracking your knuckles and stretching out your back just to glance at the time and see it was already after 5:00.

She walked in and sat at the chair next to your desk and glanced down at the papers.

“Are you doing ok?” She asked with a small smile. “I know the first year teaching can be hard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you said with a quick head nod. “Guess it’s my fault for assigning so much work.”

“It happens,” she said with a shrug as she picked one of the worksheets up to look at the math you were teaching your second-graders.

“I guess I just got caught up in things at home and got distracted from the many things I hadn’t graded yet,” you explained.

“Everything ok at home?” She asked hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah! I didn’t mean to sound like that was a bad thing. My boyfriend just travels a lot, so I get caught up in it every now and then,” you said as you glanced down at the framed photo on your desk from a vacation you took the summer before.

“Well, I know everyone is going to tell you to keep those two things separate, but it’s hard not to. As long as the two of you understand that you both have your own things to take care of, the rest falls into place. He seems like a really great guy,” she offered.

“Thanks, Beth,” you responded as you started packing up some of the papers in hopes of finishing a few more tonight once you got home.

She stood up with you, handing back the worksheet and giving you one last smile and wave before heading out of the room.

You let out a sigh as you checked your phone to see a few messages from Shawn asking when you’d be home. You sent him a response that you were on your way before locking up your classroom and going home.

You could smell the pasta coming from the kitchen the moment you opened the door. John Mayer was playing through the speakers as you walked through the dining room, instantly feeling relaxed.

“Hey,” you said softly as you walked up to Shawn stirring the sauce on the stovetop.

He looked up at you and smiled before leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek before turning off the burners.

“Just a few more minutes, and dinner will be ready,” he said before straining the pasta.

“Sounds good,” you said before setting your stuff down in your room and making your way back to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind as he rested one of his hands on top of both of yours, your cheek pressed firmly against his back.

“You ok?” He asked cautiously, craning his neck back to get a peak of you.

You let out a sigh and nodded your head as best you could.

“Yeah, just a long week,” you mumbled.

Shawn’s grip tightened against your hand as he mixed the pot once more before turning around and placing his hands against your cheeks.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, his breath fanning over your lips.

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “Yeah.”

So Shawn scooped the pasta on to two plates and poured two glasses of wine (“I know it’s a Thursday, but you can’t have pasta without wine. That would be a crime,” he claimed when you fought him on opening a new bottle) and met you at the table where you now sat in running shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

“It’s my first year teaching, and I get that they can’t teach you everything in college, but shit, I feel like I know nothing sometimes,” you ranted as you poked at your food. “And then on top of the actual teaching, you have to make sure the kids are ok mentally and everything is ok at home and they have materials outside of class to work with and now I need a craft for the damn Fall Festival.”

“A craft?” Shawn questioned after setting down his glass.

You sighed before leaning back in your chair.

“Yeah, there’s a day in the fall where the kids do a different activity in each room. I was told about this weeks ago, and I still don’t know what to do,” you said.

“Any ideas at all?” He questioned.

“I’ve been thinking we can just meditate, so I can sit in silence but something tells me elementary schoolers wouldn’t think it’s that fun,” you said.

Shawn stifled a laugh as he nodded his head, “Personally, I would be in, but I do realize I’m not seven.”

“Every time I thought I came up with something unique, I’d check the sheet and someone else already took it, so I’m open to absolutely anything you have,” you said as you set your fork down.

“You could just turn on music and do a dance party?”

“Taken. The music teacher came up with that one at lightning speed.”

“Hm, ok. What about just coloring? Do fall themed coloring pages?”

“Taken.”

“Friendship bracelets?”

“Taken.”

“Oh, huh, well…” he trailed off as he stared at the ceiling with a crease in his eyebrows. His hands flew up and back down to his legs dramatically. “Paper mache?”

“Yuck, way too messy,” you said with a nose crinkle.

“Origami?” He said with eyebrows raised.

You cocked your head to the side and studied his excited expression as you thought about it.

“That could actually work,” you said quietly as you grabbed your laptop from the counter to look at the sign-up sheet. “And no one has it!”

“Perfect! Easy! You can do those little fortune things!” He said, making the back and forth gestures with his hands to get his point across.

“I feel like I could tailor it to the grades, too. Like the Kindergarteners could do something easy like a basic paper airplane, and the fifth-graders could do something more complicated like those little swans,” you said as you started to pull up instructions.

“Do you know how to do any origami?” Shawn asked as he peered over at your screen.

“No, not at all,” you said. “Well, I used to be able to do it when I was younger. I was actually pretty good, but I can only remember how to make a heart now.”

“Well, you’ve got some learning to do,” Shawn said as he grabbed your plate and glass.

“We have some learning to do,” you corrected him as you shot him a sweet smile.

He leaned against the counter and looked at you from across the room with a deadpan look on his face.

“We?”

“We.”

He sighed and hung his head before looking back up at you.

“You know I’d do anything for you, and you take advantage of that a lot,” he pointed out.

“I know,” you returned as you continued opening up new windows to look for new shapes.

“And to think if you didn’t procrastinate, we could’ve just made a child-friendly playlist to dance to,” he whispered in your ear as he leaned on the back of your chair, looking over your shoulder.

“Don’t talk about it,” you squealed as he pressed kisses down the side of your neck.

The next night the two of you had patterned origami paper and instruction sheets scattered across the kitchen table as you both attempted to learn how to make a chair for the chair and table set you were going to have the third graders make.

“I’m confused. What does this arrow mean?” Shawn asked you as he pointed to one of the pictures.

“You tuck it into the slot,” you said as you showed him yours.

“I don’t have a slot.”

You looked up from your nearly finished chair to see that he was right. He had no slot.

“How did you manage to do that?” You asked him as you studied his shape.

“I have absolutely no idea,” he said as he stared at it with you.

You tossed it in the trash bag before either of you could think about it any longer.

“Hey,” Shawn said softly as he stared at the trash bag.

“I already have it figured out, so you don’t have to keep struggling,” you said as you placed your small chair in front of him.

“It’s so cute,” he said quietly as he placed it by the table he had figured out a half-hour ago.

“Ok, now let’s work on this jewelry set for the fifth-grade girls,” you said as you placed a packet in front of him.

He flipped through it and scanned over the directions.

“A packet?” He questioned as he gave you a look.

“Yep,” you said through a yawn.

“I think we should call it a night,” he said as he pushed the pages toward the center of the table.

“No, let’s just keep going,” you said as you widened your eyes for a second as you stared at the directions.

After a few moments of silence and Shawn waiting for you to buckle, you finally did.

“Ok, let’s go to bed,” you finally mumbled after crumpling the half-done charm.

“That’s what I thought,” Shawn said as he stood up and held his hand out for you.

You gripped onto his hand as he pulled you to your room, pulling you under the covers with him immediately. You landed on top of him, your legs settling on either side of his waist as you buried your head into his chest and his hand ran up and down your back.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shawn whispered as his other hand tangled into the ends of your hair.

You adjusted your head so you could look up at him.

“Thanks, bub,” you said back just as softly.

“I could just never do what you do,” he started, shaking his head for a moment before continuing. “Like, the stories you tell me and the kids you’ve bonded with and the influence you have on them. You’re really making a difference in these kids’ lives. I don’t think you notice that as much as other people do.”

You stayed quiet as you mulled over what Shawn had just said.

“I just feel like sometimes I’m still not doing enough,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” Shawn whispered harshly, tapping your back to get you to look at him. “It’s your first year, and you’re doing the best you can. The kids love you and feel comfortable with you and they’re making progress and that’s all that matters.”

You stayed quiet, choosing to stare at your dresser instead of Shawn,

“[Y/N],” he mumbled.

Before you could answer, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you as you looked up at him.

“You’re an amazing teacher, and you’re only going to get better and better. I love you, and I love what you do,” he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, too,” you said as he smiled down at you. “And I am a good teacher.”

He laid back down next to you, pulling you against his side before you looped one of your legs around his.

“The best teacher,” he repeated. “And soon the best teacher who also does some decent origami.”

The next morning, the two of you dove into the jewelry packet as you drank your coffee. Shawn figured out the star charm pretty quickly as you worked on a heart version. Shawn eventually moved onto a ring as you folded small pieces together to make a bracelet.

“This is stupid,” you mumbled as you added the last piece and throw it in the middle of the table.

“I think it’s gorgeous,” Shawn said as he picked it up and tried to slip it onto his own wrist.

“It was made to fit a fourth-grader,” you pointed out.

“Are you saying I don’t have the hands of a fourth-grader?” He said as he gave you a pointed look.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you said as you flipped to the ring instructions as well.

“Done,” Shawn proclaimed as you barely made your first fold.

You glanced up at him to see him proudly holding out the ring in front of him.

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you tried the next step.

Shawn grabbed your hand before you could make the next fold and slipped the ring onto your left ring finger. You looked from him to the paper ring as he just stared at it.

“It looks good there,” he said softly as he ran his thumb along the top of it.

“Yeah, it does,” you replied as you looked back up at him.

Comfortable silence flowed between the two of you as Shawn continued to hold your hand in his. After a moment he cleared his throat and pulled away, moving to work on the final piece and leaving the ring on your finger.

You didn’t take it off.

And it stayed there as the two of you finished learning all of the steps and packing up the paper and instruction packets to bring to school with you on Monday.

After spending the rest of the day cleaning up the house after a long week, Shawn laid in bed and waited for you, scrolling through his phone.

You shut the door behind you before you crawled in next to Shawn and buried your head in his shoulder with your arm draped over his middle.

“You’re still wearing this?” Shawn asked as he fiddled with the paper ring still on your finger.

“Mhm,” you mumbled as you held it up. “I always wanted a pink paper ring.”

“Think we can switch it out for this one?” Shawn said as he pulled out a black velvet box.

Your breathing stopped as he opened the box to show you your dream ring.

You shot up as your hand flew to your mouth. Shawn slowly sat up as well, holding the box tightly in his hands.

“Will you marry me?” He asked with a genuine smile on his face as tears streamed down your face.

“Yes,” you choked out as you lunged on top of him, wrapping yourself around him as he held you tightly.

You leaned back in his lap, holding your shaking hand out as he removed the paper ring and slipped on the new one.

“Much better,” he whispered before finally pressing his lips to yours.

“I would’ve married you with the paper one,” you whispered against his lips as he smiled.

“I’m well aware. That’s why I had to switch it out as soon as possible,” he said through a laugh before you pressed another kiss to his lips to shut him up.

“I think I like this one a little better,” you said as you leaned your head on his shoulder and looked down at the ring.

“Only a little?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I have to keep you humble.”

You could feel him laugh against your shoulder before the two of you moved back to laying down.

“Do you want me to make your wedding band out of origami?” You asked him after a moment of silence.

“Absolutely not.”

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