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alltooreid · 3 years

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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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omegalomania · 3 years

Note

I think tumblr ate my ask or it just didn't sent but what are your favorite Bastille songs / what are some songs you recommend?

i did NOT get this ask im very sorry anon.

it's genuinely hard for me to narrow down cause bastille is pretty up there in terms of favorite artists. i love all their shit, but a special mention goes out to their second studio album wild world since it's the one that made me a Fan

uh so here's a primer i guess i spent too much time on this lmao.

if you wanna listen to their big hits:

flaws - their first single in the uk. if you ever listened to ship playlists on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 then you've probably heard this song or a variant on it at some point.

pompeii - this is the song that really put them on the map and you definitely know it. it dominated the charts all over the place.

happier - the marshmello song that you've definitely heard before too. i think bastille wrote this for justin bieber or some shit but then decided they liked it too much to give it to him? lmao. anyway if you're not digging the version you hear on the radio all the time i recommend trying the stripped down version

good grief - their big hit off their second album. big in the uk, didn't really make as many waves elsewhere, but it's a really solid song anyway. one of those "upbeat tunes that's actually really fucking sad" ones

things we lost in the fire - another one off their first album. if you live in a wildfire area this might not be one to turn to. or maybe you'll find it cathartic idk i certainly do!!

quarter past midnight - a song about escapism, as was fitting when it was released in 2018 and equally fitting now. running away for a night of fucking around with friends, craving any kind of brief departure from the chaos of the modern world

skulls - this one was not a hit or a single and is technically a bonus track but i'm including it because once again if you ever clicked on a ship playlist on 8tracks in like 2013-2015 you've heard this one. and you know what that was justified this one is also good

if you wanna feel existentially depressed:

their whole discography. i mean i kid but i also don't. that's just kind of how bastille does it. BUT IN ALL SERIOUSNESS ones that hit me in particular would beeee

two evils - kind of a grim, haunting one introspecting about morality of the self.

oblivion - musing about the afterlife, love, and how time changes all of us.

those nights - contemplating what it is we seek when we plunge into reckless escapism, and the inherent loneliness of it; how even when surrounded by people there's still the pressure of the world outside, continuously coming to pieces

the draw - this one was written about the pull of pursuing a career in music vs. staying home with family and friends. in a broader sense, it can apply to a lot of things. i always felt it resonated with feelings of paranoia and displacement

winter of our youth - discusses childhood, nostalgia, and regret. if it feels like everything's slipping away, is it easier to relive the past, especially if the past is tinted rose?

sleepsong - loneliness, desperation, and the cyclical, abyss-like nature of all it encapsulates

if you want discussion of serious topics:

final hour - a bonus track off their second album that also became a bonus track off their third album? anyway this song talks about climate change and gun control. happy stuff

doom days - this one talks about, uh, everything! doomscrolling, political divides, escalating national tensions, climate change again, etc.

the currents - a song centered on political rhetoric and the power that figureheads have over the masses, the way they can orchestrate hate. basically it's not so subtly aimed at donald trump lmao, dan's literally sung it as much in a few live settings

WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? - social media addiction and the way capitalism and corporate interests have annexed our online experiences, fighting desperately for our attention as they seek to monetize every available aspect of our lives

four walls (the ballad of perry smith) - well this one is about uh. perry smith. who was charged with the death penalty for killing 4 people in the late 50's. but it's less directly about him and more a discussion of the morality of the death penalty and capital punishment

snakes - burgeoning anxieties and the impulse to turn to easy outs, like ignorance or alcoholism, to escape the world's global problems

if you want some pop culture sprinkled on top:

icarus - greek mythology. i like this one because it addresses something that i feel isn't addressed enough in discussions of this myth, which is that icarus is a very young lad. less about the pride of the fall, and more about the inherent tragedy of that.

laura palmer - the whole song is a david lynch shoutout. i've never seen twin peaks myself but the song still slaps.

daniel in the den - christian mythology. discusses the biblical tale of daniel in the lion's den and links that up to themes of betrayal and family.

poet - this one's a double feature, referencing both william shakespeare's sonnet 18 and edmund spencer's sonnet 75. also one of my favorites.

send them off! - this is another one of my favorites of theirs. it's also been described by dan as "othello meets the exorcist" and it very much delivers there

if you want something uplifting:

joy - while bastille (understandably) has a bit of reputation as a band that makes sad music about sad things, they've definitely got some happier songs in their catalogue. pun intended cha ching. this one's one of their more straightforwardly happy tunes

survivin' - this was a song they wrote while they were touring and then felt weird about releasing once the panini hit because it felt a bit on the nose. they ended up releasing it anyway and i am so glad they did cause it's a mood

act of kindness - the "happy" part here is debatable but i'm gonna include it anyway. it’s when someone does something nice for you and that impulse Changes you way down deep you know???

warmth - one of those "the world's going to shit but at least we have each other" kinds of tunes

the anchor - one of those "the world's going to shit but you're the one fucking thing that's still keeping me here" kinds of tunes

give me the future - their latest single as of this writing and one of the more optimistic tracks in their catalogue imo! it's yearning, but it's also with a genuine hope for the future.

and LASTLY. because im going to take every chance i can to plug this band. im going to throw some collabs and covers at you because there's one thing this band does SUPER well and it's collabs and covers.

of the night - this is the big one. it mashes up rhythm of the night by corona and rhythm is a dancer by SNAP! and it's so good they still do this one live and it goes off every time.

no angels - a mashup of "no scrubs" by TLC and "angels" by the xx, poured into a strangely mournful tune with clips from the hitchcock movie psycho. doesn't sound like it should work but it does. kinda really does.

torn apart - with GRADES and lizzo no less!!! it's got two parts but they're both excellent listen to them both

weapon - collab with angel haze, dan priddy, and F*U*G*Z and one of my absolute favorites

remains - remix of their song "skulls" but featuring rag'n'bone man and skunk anansie that adds an entire new dimension to the song, really fucking excellent

old town road mashup - lil nas x's old town road meets lizzo's good as hell meets radiohead's talk show host meets talking heads' road to nowhere meets the osmond's crazy horse. "what the fuck that shouldn't work" i KNOW and yet here it is!! BLATANTLY BANGING!!!

we can't stop - one of the few times dan smith subtly changes the lyrics of the song he's covering (most of the time he opts to keep the original pronouns and the like, which is very nice to see). anyway this one mixes miley cyrus's we can't stop with eminem's lose yourself and billy ray cyrus's achy breaky heart. and also the lion king's i just can't wait to be king is there. yes i know it sounds batshit especially because the whole thing is surprisingly melodic and heartfelt and you know what it works.

anyone but me x nightmares - mashing up joy crookes' anyone but me with easy life's nightmares and absolutely one of my favorites.

bad guy mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "bad" in the title? we've got bad guy (billie eilish), bad decisions (bastille), bad romance (lady gaga), and bad blood (taylor swift). bastille even has a song called bad blood and they didnt use it. they used taylor swift's version. also the distinctive guitar riff from dick dale's misirlou is there.

somebody mashup - how many songs can they include with the word "some" in the title? someone like you (adele), somebody told me (the killers), somebody to love (queen), use somebody (kings of leon), and someone you loved (lewis capaldi). seriously these guys take mashups to a new level.

final song - this is a cover of MØ's final song. it also adds in craig david's 7 days and, impossibly enough, europe's final countdown. how does it work. how.

ALL RIGHT. THATS ALL IVE GOT IN ME. HOPE THIS HELPED ANON AND IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH

#askin hours #anon #bastille #ill put this in the bastille tag why not #this is predominantly a fall out boy blog but if any bastille bloggers are out there....all like 20 of you....#i see the work u do in this fandom and i love u for it

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ricksbowen · 4 years

Text

one more time | pt. 6

IN WHICH: y/n goes out with ej, ricky’s feelings are too much to bear, y/n goes back to the root of her fear of love.

INSPIRATION: everything has changed — taylor swift ft. ed sheeran, atlantis — seafret

WARNING: this has implications of sex. this series is usually heated, but this part has no smut in it. but i will say that everyone here is 18+ and in their senior year.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

i need help asap. come over

You sent Ricky that text an hour ago. Usually, he’d be at your house the moment he read it, willing to help out with whatever you needed help with. Usually, he read your texts with a hint of a smile gracing his lips, replying back with some stupid reaction meme he screenshotted off of Instagram.

But when Ricky read your text, his heart plummeted and his mood deflated.

He knew what you needed help with. You had told him everything about your date with Ej, from the time to the places he was bringing you. Dinner, then the movies, then to some of the rarest views in Utah. It sounded like a date that would’ve fallen out of a coming-of-age movie, and Ricky felt like the teenager who got screwed over in every corner.

He didn’t respond for an hour. Ricky kept his mind off of you by writing lyrics in his notebook, guitar in hand as he tried to sort his emotions out. He didn’t want to know what he was feeling, but he wasn’t stupid. Ricky wasn’t blind to the way his heart rate picked up when you laughed, or how an unstoppable smile lifted his lips when you told a terrible joke.

He wasn’t blind to the way he looked at you in a new way when you laid in front of him. You didn’t see it, thank God, but Ricky knew you were going to figure him out at some point.

Ricky prayed that when that day came around, you wouldn’t cut him out of your life.

It took an hour for him to finally drop his things and grab his skateboard. You didn’t live next door, but you lived in the same neighborhood as him. It was helpful for times like these, when one of you needed the other in times of toil ( though this was probably the opposite ).

Ricky walked up to your door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He raised his fist, knocking at your door twice. He heard you cursing from inside, your footsteps loud at you practically tripped down the stairs. You threw open the door, and Ricky suddenly couldn’t breathe.

The black slip-on dress you wore fit you perfectly, gleaming against the setting sun from outside. Your hair was clipped back with two red clips, and the dangling earrings you wore matched the two necklaces that adorned your neck. Your face was only half done, the powder white against your cheeks as you gaped at him.

“Holy shit, what took you so long?” you asked with an exasperated look, unaware of his lovestruck expression. You reached for his hand, the simple action sending lightning running up and down his arms, and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I needed help with what I was gonna wear,” you explained nonchalantly, walking up your stairs. The lack of Ricky’s footsteps following yours made you turn to look at him with a frown. “Are you coming?” you asked, worry glazing over your eyes. “You’re being weird.”

The worried tone in your voice made him snap back into reality. He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly kicked his shoes off and leaned his skateboard against the wall. “Right.” Ricky followed you up to your room, regret filling his stomach for even coming over in the first place.

“Anyway, I needed your help for what to wear,” you repeated, sitting in your chair and leaning forward to continue your makeup. Your room was a mess, with your clothes strewn every which way and shoes scattered on the colorful mess.

“Obviously,” Ricky murmured, observing the mess and making you snort.

“I found what I was gonna wear though,” you continued on, occasionally looking at him from your mirror. “But since I like you, lover boy, I’m letting you stay.” You grinned at him through the mirror, smile dropping at the disappointed look he had as he sat on your bed. Something was up; normally, he’d respond with his nickname for you, paired with a witty remark. But Ricky Bowen was being quiet, seemingly deep in thought as he stared at your floor.

“What you said that night when I called helped me out a lot.” Nothing. That didn’t get him to respond. “My parents don’t know I’m going out, so this night may be my last.” Nothing. “A girl asked me if you were single today and I said yes.”

Ricky frowned. But the girl wasn’t you.

You resorted to silence, your theories running wild in your head as you finished your makeup. You stood up, brushing off your dress and walking up to Ricky. Wordlessly, you took his hands into yours and held them. “Whatever is happening to you,” you started, making him look up at you. If you didn’t look beautiful before, you looked like a goddess now. “I hope you know that I love you. A whole fuckin’ lot.”

Not in the way he wanted you to.

“Really?” Ricky forced out past the dryness in his throat, the beaming smile you made making him turn into a puddle of feelings.

“Really. And you know I don’t like saying that, so,” you shrugged. “You must be pretty special.”

Ricky couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head to himself as he stood up. Your hands still held his, his warm ones clashing with your cold ones. “You’re something else, L/N.”

You shrugged yet again, the cheeky smile on your glossed lips bright. “I try. Hey—“

Your doorbell rang. You and Ricky sucked in a breath, both for terribly different reasons, and you pulled your hands away from his.

“Oh, God he’s here.” You rushed for your jean jacket, throwing it over your shoulders. “Fuck, I was so confident until I realized this is actually happening— can you get the door, please?” you asked, not looking up at you rummaged through your closet for your handbag.

The walk to your door felt like a walk straight into death, and Ricky found himself silently encouraging himself before he opened your door. Ej stood outside, a bouquet of crimson roses ( Ricky knew you preferred white ones ) in his hands and dressed in a simple white button-up and black jeans.

“You’re not Y/N,” Ej stated, making Ricky grin and shrug his shoulders

“No shit,” Ricky remarked, reluctantly opening the door wider for Ej. “She’s upstairs,” he said curtly, words short and cold as he let Ej in. Ricky shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it with a small sigh.

The sound of your bedroom door closing made both of the boys look up to your stairs. A grin appeared on Ej’s face at the sight of you walking down. Ricky only stared, mouth slightly agape. He saw you while you were getting ready, sure, but you still made him breathless. You had never radiated so much beauty, nerves, and excitement in your life.

“Wow,” Ej said, making you smile sheepishly as you pressed a small kiss to his lips. His arms snaked around your waist despite the flowers he had in his hands, smiling against your lips.

That hurt Ricky on a whole new level.

“Not too bad yourself,” you murmured, hiding your nervousness behind your confident comments. You looked at Ricky, smiling gratefully at him, yet not getting one back.

“I gotta go,” Ricky mumbled, words quick as he pulled his shoes on.

“Why?” you asked, still in Ej’s arms as you looked at him. “Ri, are you—“

“I’m fine,” Ricky snapped, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he grabbed his board. He saw the way your excited look dropped into hurt, but Ricky shoved off the guilt and opened your door. “Have a good time,” he forced out, slamming the door behind him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧⠀.

The sight of your profile picture asking for FaceTime yet again made him gulp nervously.

Ricky knew his outburst would raise your suspicions. He regretted it the moment he left, the image of you kissing Ej replaying over and over in his head like a movie. He knew he had to pick up the phone; not picking up would only make you question him more.

He pressed the green button, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the screen. Your face came up, your makeup still on your face and your dress replaced by a sweater and sweatpants. The usual smile didn’t appear on your face like it usually did; you were staring at him with worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked, gazing at him through the screen. “You kinda left in a hurry, and I thought—“

“I’m fine,” Ricky interrupted, knowing fully well that he was the opposite. He couldn’t let you know. He knew the way you’d react, how you’d cut all ties with him in fear of getting hurt yet again. “How was the date?”

“Pretty good! It felt good being out there with him,” you said with a slight smile, and Ricky immediately knew what came next.

“But?”

“But,” you drawled, shaking your head to yourself. “We both agreed that we were better off as friends. It felt weird,” you scrunched your nose in slight disgust. “Like, we were siblings. It just felt wrong.”

It was almost ridiculous how regretful Ricky felt for feeling relieved.

“I guess I’m a little happy. I mean, if it went somewhere it’d probably just end up broken,” you rambled, eyes set on the sleeve of your sweater as you picked at it.

Ricky frowned. Was this how you thought of every relationship? He never saw you as the pessimistic type ( in his opinion, you were more of a realist ), yet hearing you say that every relationship went downhill surprised him. “You can’t think of every relationship as that.”

“I’m not wrong,” you protested, eyes snapping up to him. “It always goes that way. Someone either falls out of love, break up, or they..” your voice trailed off, eyes blanking out for a second as you went into a ‘stare.’

“Cheat?” Ricky finished softly, making you tune back into reality and nod.

“Yeah. Cheat.”

“Luka! I got take out!” You set the food on his kitchen counter, looking down at your phone and laughing softly at the texts from the theatre group chat that you were added to ( despite the fact that you didn’t join the musical ). Luke gave you a key to his house ‘just in case,’ and while you normally didn’t use it, you only used it for surprises like this one.

The silence that followed after your yell made you furrow your brows. Normally, he’d come down the stairs at your voice, saying something along the lines of, ‘Wow, I love you,’ that would make you blush like a schoolgirl. But there was nothing that followed, and you found yourself walking up the steps of his stairs to try and find him.

“Luka?” your voice was hesitant as you peeked into the rooms leading up to his. But as you neared his door with each step, you heard a sound that made your face contort in confusion.

Moaning.

“Dear God, if he’s watching porn,” you muttered to yourself, walking up to his room and slowly opening it. You expected better, the belief of Luka being the perfect boyfriend strong in your mind as you opened his door.

The sight of Luka kissing another girl, her blond hair splayed all over his pillow as his hips moved from under the sheets sent your idea of him crashing down. He didn’t even see you, too engrossed in the beautiful girl he was hovering over as his speed picked up. Her perfectly manicured hand ran through his black hair, the action making you feel sick to your stomach as you watched. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, disbelief, shame, sadness, and anger washing over you in hard waves.

Luka saw you when you gulped. The girl below him let out a loud yelp, her hands rushing at his sheets to cover herself while Luka stared at you.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, your hands making no effort in trying to wipe them off. You didn’t even realize you were crying, your eyes dead set on Luka’s shirtless form. He didn’t even try and protest.

“I,” you forced out, swallowing down the lump in your throat as tears pressed hard against your eyes. It was all too much, the want to cry and scream and hit him too much to bear, yet there you stood. Frozen like a deer in the headlights. “I wish you the best,” you muttered past your tears, turning away from them and slamming the door behind you.

You drove to Ricky’s that night. You were sobbing, tears falling down your face like a never-ending stream. You hit your hand on your steering wheel angrily, the realization that he never loved you back hitting you over and over. It had to be a joke to him. The days you spent in bed with him and out, laughing and kissing and playing around as if you were both the perfect couple. Everyone else thought you were.

If only they could see you now.

You rang Ricky’s doorbell, the wind blowing hard against you as you stood outside. The sun had already set, 11 PM hitting the clock as Ricky opened the door. His smile dropped at your tearful eyes.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t say anything, only falling into his arms and letting out a sob. You were a mess of tears and cries, your face buried into Ricky’s shirt as you let your emotions out. Ricky brought you up to his room, laying down on his bed and letting you move into his side, your head on his chest and his hands running through your hair.

It was 12 when you calmed down, the tears still falling yet no sound leaving you other than your sniffles.

“He cheated,” you mumbled, sniffing yet again and feeling Ricky tense up. “I saw them and— and heard their moans and I can’t get them out of my head,” you whispered, voice breaking as you spoke. Your arms were wrapped around him, holding him close to you as if your life depended on it.

“What’d you do?” Ricky murmured, silently scheming a revenge plan in his head. He looked down at you, heart breaking at the hiccups and sniffled you emitted.

“Wished them the best,” you replied. “Trash belongs with trash.” You felt a chuckle rumble up in his chest, the sound making a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. Silence washed over you both, the only sound being your small sniffles until you broke the silence. “Is this what love is?”

You sounded so innocent, so heartbroken asking the question, and Ricky quickly shook his head as he leaned down to press a kiss onto your head. “No. Love doesn’t leave you like this.” He sounded so sure of himself despite his past, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

You gazed ahead of you, sniffing again.

You changed that night. Your mindset on relationships, on feeling, on love changed that night with one broken relationship, and a new fear bloomed. You were never the same after that night.

Ricky knew that.

————————— 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ————————

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo, @particularcth, @lifes-a-party-youre-a-boy, @paniniirae, @supersouthy, @jointherebellion215, @gabyer0309, @hannarudick, @broken-from-fandoms, @complete-trash-101, @ssprayberrythings, @raven-waheda, @timelordtardis, @chubby-cheek-calum, @nicole-lynne, @loserr-likeme, @whoseblogsthis, @stxfxniexreads, @cherrydolan, @allaroundaddict, @of-outerspace, @blueevelvt, @kitykatnumber, @rocketdolans, @givemebooksorgivemedeath, @80sthottie, @lawstudentbydayfangirlbynight, @cynthia060, @hollandary, @kitykatnumber, @hueycat2004

#joshua bassett #joshua bassett angst #joshua bassett hcs #joshua bassett imagines #joshua bassett x reader #ricky bowen #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen hcs #ricky bowen headcannons #ricky bowen imagines #ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen x reader #joshua bassett smut #joshua bassett imagine #ej caswell #hsmtmts #high school musical: the musical: the series

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httpsfelicity · 4 years

Text

“In a black dress, she's such an actress” - Harry Styles × Model Reader AU

Summary - Harry meets a model downtown and falls for her quickly, leading the public to think that it’s a pr stunt. Unsure of what to think, the reader plays along, not knowing that Harry is unaware of the rumours.

For @cruizmanadu! Xx

A/N - Okay, this is my first official request type thing so please tell me if it’s good or not! Ignore any mistakes, thought I think I looked over it pretty well. Also, if you’d like a part 2 / have suggestions / ect, just send a DM or ask! Here you go babes, hope you like it x

“If I don’t get coffee right now, I’m going to pass out on this sidewalk, I swear,” moaned Ella.

“We’re almost there, calm down,” you responded as you adjusted the shopping bags in your hands quickly. You and your best friend Ella had decided to go out in NYC for the day, which of course meant loads of shopping. Hell, half of the bags you were carrying weren’t even yours - Ella had a shoot the next day, and insisted that she couldn’t carry her bags out of fear that she’d mark up her hands. So you were carrying enough bags to “Mark up your hands”, according to Ella. Which, to be fair, was quite unfair, because that girl shops a lot.

“Hey, can you take some of these, just until we get there? I’m getting kinda-”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She lowered her voice and leaned in towards you. “Don’t look yet, keep walking, but some guy is totally checking you out.”

You sighed. “How could the paps have found us? I thought we covered our tracks nicel-”

She cut you off once again. “No, no, not a pap. This guy, he’s, well - okay, look to your left riiiight... now.”

You quickly glanced over to see a guy in his 20′s wearing a multicoloured knit sweater with messy brown hair, looking in your general direction. He quickly looked away when he saw you. You looked away, which was unfortunate, because you would’ve seen him gathering up the courage to walk over to you two.

"He's pretty fit," you whispered back quickly. "Do you think he recognizes me?" It sounds very stuck up, but often times people tried to hit on you solely because you model for the big brands, so you had to be careful. Being in the industry had a lot of pros, but a lot of cons as well. Not knowing who your real friends are were one of the cons.

"I'm not sure," Ella replied.

Just then, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw that you were face to face with the boy.

"Hello," he started nervously. He had a charming British accent, you noticed right away.

"Hi!" You replied, waiting for him to say something totally obnoxious or fan-like.

"This probably sounds weird, but I couldn't help but notice you."

"Oh, why thank you!" You laughed. "He doesn't seem too creepy or weird or stalker-ish," you thought to yourself.

"Yeah, so, um... This is weird as well, I'm sorry, but could I get your number?" He smiled weakly.

"No, absolutely not," said Ella, grabbing you by the arm and starting to drag you away. "C'mon."

She only walked a few feet until you broke away and went back over to him. "I'm sorry about that - of course you can."

His nervous expression eased away the tiniest bit. "Oh, that's great."

He handed you his phone, and you typed in you number."

***-****-****

"I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Styles."

"Oh! I'm y/n."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"I work in the modeling industry. You might have heard of me from that?"

"I should've known you were a model - you've definitely got the looks. And I'm sure the personality as well."

You grinned.

"I'm a singer," he continued. "I used to be in a band - now I'm solo. So that's one thing we have in common, I guess. Well, not really. You know what I mean."

"You're right!" You laughed. "He's pretty easy to talk to," you thought. Even though you didn't want to, you could feel Ella staring at the back of your neck impatiently, so you decided to wrap up the conversation. "Well, I've got to go, but you'll message me later, yeah?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Well, goodbye for now, y/n."

"Goodbye, Harry Styles."

"What was that?!" Ella asked once he was out of earshot.

"What? He's polite and cute. Of course I have him my number!"

"He could be a creepy obsessive fan! Or a perv! Or a crackhead! He's just some random guy on the streets, for all we know!"

"Would you calm down? He's so nice - I just know he wouldn't do that. Plus, that sweater is awfully expensive. Almost 2k."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure."

"Oh, and he's a singer."

Ella snapped her head to look at you, clearly very shocked by this statement. "He's what?"

"A singer, apparently."

"What's his name?"

"Harry Styles."

"Oh. My. God. My friend had a shoot with him once! He's popular, y/n. Really popular."

"God, you sound like a middle-schooler."

"I'm just sayin'! But now that I know this information, I've changed my opinion on him. GO FOR IT."

"I was already planning on it," you laugh, walking past a group of starstruck thirteen year olds quickly. "Although I'm not so sure. I didn't get his number - it's up to him to message me."

"He'd better," Ella replied as the two of you walked into a local café. You nodded in agreement, and you both walked up the the register to order.

The rest of the day was a blur - you went to a few more stores, and then eventually hailed a cab and went back to your apartment. You were so exhausted that you kicked off your shoes and flopped into your couch, too tired to even eat. As you lie there, you felt your phone vibrate in you pocket. Reluctantly, you pulled it out slowly, and clicked it on.

***-****-**** - Hello.

Your first though was, "It's Harry!" Your second thought was, "That's a very ominous introduction." Nonetheless, you typed up a response.

Y/n <3 - Who's this?

***-****-**** - Harry, from earlier hahah x

You let out a sigh of relief - he had messaged you back, and it hadn't been some rando. Things were working out nicely.

Y/n <3 - Well, hello!

While you were waiting for a response, you set his contact name up. You hadn't gotten a photo of him yet, so you decided one from Google would do. You typed up "Harry Styles", and the search results shocked you. Ella was right - he was popular. And cute (But you already knew that.) You got a notification from him, so you screenshotted the first photo to come up (Him in a very nice pink top), set it as his photo, and then went back onto messages.

Harry Styles - Hi! I'm sorry if the whole encounter earlier was creepy. Your friend seemed quite worked up over it.

Y/n <3 - She's had bad experiences like this in the past.

Harry Styles - I've had quite a few myself, honestly. Don't blame her. Anyways, how are you?

Y/n <3 - Exhausted. All that walking must've worn me out, hahaha

Harry Styles - Hahah, that's New York for ya.

Harry Styles - Would you happen to be free tomorrow?

Harry Styles - I'd love to get to know you.

You grinned at your phone screen. This could not be happening.

Y/n <3 - Nope! Free all day. I'd love to get to know you too!

Harry Styles - Does 1pm at the Beachwood Café work? :)

He sent a location along with it. It was the same café you and Ella had gone to earlier.

Y/n <3 - Sure!

Harry Styles - Alright, talk then?

Y/n <3 - Yes!

Harry Styles - Goodnight.

Y/n <3 - Goodnight!

Seen - 11:34pm.

The next day you woke up at 10 so you would have time to get ready. You got a quick shower, did you hair, makeup... By 12:30 you were dressed and ready to go. Casual, but not too casual was what you were going for. You were pretty sure you had the look down pat. You grabbed your stuff and made your way downtown, sunglasses on.

You arrived early, 12:48pm, but luckily Harry was already there, waiting at a table near the back with two menus. He waved once he saw you, and jumped up to pull out your chair.

"Hello," you smiled.

"Hi!"

"I adore your outfit," you said as you sat down. He was now wearing a white and blue striped shirt and tan jeans. Somehow he made it work.

"I love yours as well! The skirt brings out your eyes."

You tried hard not to blush. "Thank you!"

"So, I guess we should start getting to know eachother, then?" He grinned.

You nodded. "20 questions?"

"Sure. Full name?"

"Y/n."

"Harry Edward Styles."

"I like that middle name. Very sophisticated." He laughed at this. "Age?"

"26."

"23."

"Favourite movie?"

"Clueless."

"Back To The Future."

You continued asking questions until the waiter came over to your table.

"I'll have the chicken sub," he said politely.

"I'll have a medium lemonade."

"Is that it?" Harry asked.

You sighed. "And a blueberry muffin, I guess."

The waiter wrote it down and walked off.

"I'm on a diet," you explained.

"Still," Harry shrugged. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I started modeling at about age 8, for this clothing bran-"

"No no no, I meant about you."

You gave him a confused look.

"Not about your job, you!"

"Okay, well, let's see... Uh..."

"I'm 26, but you already knew that. I live in New York, obviously. I used to work in a bakery, even though I just told you not to talk about your job. I like playing football, I write, and I enjoy baking bread. See? Easy."

You laughed. Why did he have to be so... Charming?

"I'm 23, but you already knew that. I've lived in New York my whole life. I read a lot, and I mean a lot. I have a ton of plants in my apartment, since I can't really have a garden here. I like Taylor Swift's music."

Harry nodded. "See? That wasn't so bad."

You laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Just then the waiter placed the food on the table, and you took a sip of your lemonade while Harry dug into his sub.

"I dated Taylor for a pr stunt once."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She got a few songs, I got a new story to tell during interviews."

"Oh. Did you like her?"

"Nah."

You laughed again. "Oh, my."

"Yeah. I haven't had many actual relationships. 3."

"I haven't had any."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not many guys are interested. Or, well, interested in me, you know?"

"I find that hard to believe."

You tried not to blush once again as you took a sip of your lemonade.

"Well, it's true."

"Personally, I think you're great."

"You are too!"

The two of you continue eating. After two minutes, Harry speaks up.

"Want to go back to my apartment and watch a movie? In a non weird way, of course."

"Okay, that sounds good. Which movie?"

"Clueless?" He winked.

You grinned. "Of course."

You get up and walk out into the streets of New York, leaving your blueberry muffin on the table.

The walk to Harry's is very short. You two talk the whole way there, mainly small talk, but it isn’t awkward at all. You feel like you can be yourself around him - whatever that means. To put it into words, you feel comfortable around him. Which is weird, because you just met him a day ago, but it feels right for some reason.

Eventually you arrived at the door to his apartment. While he was busy digging his key out of his pocket, you took a glance up and down the hallway. This place was much fancier than you had expected. It made your apartment complex look cheap. Everything seemed so... posh. Harry pushed open the door, and you stepped inside. His apartment was decorated with art; albums of artists you’ve never even heard of were hung on the walls, and potted plants were everywhere. It was messy, but in an organized way.

“I just need to run to the washroom, make yourself at home,” he said as he kicked off his shoes.

“Alright,” you replied. You put your coat on a coat rack (Obviously) and walked over to the couch. Unsure of what to do, you decided to check twitter. After a few seconds of contemplating if checking your phone right now was rude or not, you decided to turn on your data and do it, since he was in the bathroom and you were bored. You looked over you shoulder, then hit the trending page. Politics, Ariana Grande - she must be releasing a new album - #TGIF, and... Harry Styles? Without thinking twice, you click on it. Immediately, photos of you and him pop up from when you were walking back to his place. That was only a few minutes ago... how did these photos get out so soon?

“You ready?” Harry asked as he entered the room, holding up a DVD case with an excited look on his face.

“Yep,” you said, putting down your phone. A second later, you picked it back up. “Did you see twitter?”

“No, I don’t go on social media much,” he replied as he popped the disc into his bluray player.

“You’re trending.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean... we got papped on the way back here. Look.” You turned the phone so he could see it.

He took a glance at the screen, then grabbed a remote and flopped onto the couch next to you. “It doesn’t really bother me. Happens far too often. I mean, unless you have a problem with it. I can get them taken down, if you’d like.” Suddenly, his usual relaxed self has replaced with a worried one.

You shook your head. “No, no, I... just letting you know. I don’t care. Besides, I didn’t see many people talking about it, just sharing the photos.”

“Oh, well, if you change your mind, just let me know,” he concluded as he turned on the TV.

You nodded, and then focused on Cher Horowitz on the screen. You didn’t watch much of the movie, because you and Harry kept on cracking jokes and telling stories, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Eventually, it was time for you to leave, since it was nearly 5pm.

“Do you want me to walk you back? Or, I could call you a cab,” Harry asked as you slipped on your shoes.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, I’ll walk you back,” he insisted as he grabbed his coat.

You weren’t about to argue with him, because, let’s face it, you secretly wanted him to walk you home. So you followed him out the door and to the elevator.

You talked the whole way there, but you were distracted just a tiny bit - you wanted to keep an eye out for paps. Eventually you decided that it was difficult and pointless, so you fully engaged yourself in Harry’s conversation on how to make a mean loaf of bread.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your place.

“Well, this is it,” you grinned sadly.

Harry nodded. “I’ll message you later?”

“Of course. We have to do this again, you know.”

Harry smiled wide. “Sure. I’d love that.”

“Well... goodbye, Harry.”

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, y/n.”

You stared back at him, starstruck, but he turned and started walking down the hall before you could say anything. “Love ya!” You called out quickly before you shut the door behind you, unsure if he even heard you. Oh, well. He’d message you later, anyways.

You were quite hungry by this point, so you decided to order Chinese food off of Postmates. Once that call was made, you sat down and opened Twitter again. You noticed that you had way more notifications than usual, but you decided that could wait until after you checked the trending topics once more. “Harry Styles” was still trending, but even more surprisingly, “Y/n” was right underneath it. You decided to hit Harry’s topic first - MORE pap photos came up, this time from when you were walking home. Wow.

“We do look like a proper couple.” You thought, though you quickly shook it. You’d just met - although you know what they say, “Love at first sight” and all that crap.But no.

You decided to scroll down even further, past all of the photos and to the actual tweets.

@Harryscherry77: Is @ yn Harry’s new girlfriend? If so, she’s soooooo lucky.

@Y/nsclouds: Why is y/n being papped with Harry Styles? She can do much better. His music isn’t even that good.

@Lightsuplouisx: I ship it, tbh {Insert photo here}

@TaylorxxxTea: Oh cute, another pr stunt :/ #HarryStyles IsOverParty

@GalacticY/N26: Ugh, Harry? Really? I’m seriously gonna unstan Y/n, I’ve been considering it but this is just the last straw for me.

@HarryIsUpAllNight: Did you guys know the girl Harry was papped with is a model? She’s absolutely gorgeous, I wouldn’t doubt it.

@Stylesfangirl49: Y/n is honestly so ugly. #RunHarryRun

@SummertimeNewsOfficial: Has Harry Styles been spotted with yet another woman, months after his breakup with Camille? {Insert Link Here}

@Larry2020xxx: Another beard LMAOOO c’mon. PR STUNTTTT.

@Lola33smith: They haven’t even been confirmed dating yet, calm downnnnn.

“Wow,” you thought as you continued scrolling. “This is not what I was expecting.”

It seemed like the whole internet had something to say about a few lousy pictures of you and H. There was good and bad, though it felt like the bad outweighed the good. An alarming amount of people seemed to think it was a pr stunt. Wow. Your notifications weren’t much better - loads of people had followed you, dm’ed you, called you worthless, called you amazing. It was a lot to handle. Just then the doorbell rang - your Postmates. How long had you been looking through all of that? It didn’t matter now. You went to get your food, then sat back down and began to text Harry. Suddenly, you stopped. If he got so worried about the first set of photos, not to mention you walking home by yourself, how would he react to this? He had said he doesn’t go on social media much, so you figured that as long as you didn’t tell him, it would all blow over quick enough and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. You didn’t want to stress him out. Instead, to take your mind off of this chaotic day you turned on The Office and tried to regain a sense of normalcy.

Although the more you thought about it, the less and less you wanted Harry to message you.

“PR stunt.”

EDIT: CHAPTER TWO IS NOW OUT! CLICK HERE

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paths-of-my-childhood-candid · 4 years

Photo

OH, TAYLOR! Taylor Swift On Side-Stepping Into Acting, Owning What You Make & Loving The “Weirdness” Of Cats

On a grey London afternoon in late September, Taylor Swift slips quietly through the doors of a north London recording studio. It is an auspicious moment: the queen of confessional pop has come to meet Andrew Lloyd Webber, the king of musical theatre. Together, Swift, who turns 30 this month, and Lloyd Webber, 71, have written “Beautiful Ghosts”, a new song for the soon-to-be-released film adaptation of Cats – Webber’s 1981 extravaganza, which ran in the West End and on Broadway for a combined total of almost 40 years. In it, Swift plays Bombalurina, and like her co-stars – Idris Elba, Judi Dench, Francesca Hayward, Ian McKellen, Jennifer Hudson, Rebel Wilson – appears in full, furry CGI glory. Track finished, these two titans of the music industry sit down to talk…

Andrew Lloyd Webber: Well, the first thing we have to clear up is that we both love cats. Taylor Swift: [Laughs] We do! One of the first things you said to me when we met was that you’re president of the Turkish Van Cat Club. ALW: Professionally, there is nowhere I can go to top this, as you can completely understand. TS: I have three cats. How many do you have now? ALW: I have three, too – they are all Turkish Vans. And you’ve got a Scottish Fold I believe. TS: I have two Scottish Folds, we think the third is a Ragdoll mix. ALW: You’re probably never going to talk to me again, but you know I’ve got a puppy? He’s called Mojito. TS: I heard about this! How does he get along in the hierarchy? ALW: Well, he believes he’s a little bear actually. He’s a Havanese dog, which I got because Glenn Close has one. TS: I’ve met that dog, he’s really good. ALW: You come from Pennsylvania. TS: I do. People seem to think I was raised in the south, but I’m from the north – grew up on a Christmas tree farm, then moved to Nashville when I was 14. ALW: And you wanted to move to Nashville for the songwriting or the singing? Or both? TS: Both – I was just obsessed with Shania Twain, Faith Hill, Dixie Chicks, and the thing they had in common was that they had gotten discovered in Nashville. So I had it in my head that this is a magical place where discoveries are made and people are able to do music as a living. ALW: Was it the storytelling side of country songs that you liked? Absolutely. It reminded me of the ’90s, when you had these amazing female singer-songwriters like Alanis Morissette and Sarah McLachlan; incredible female writers like Melissa Etheridge, Shawn Colvin; and these types of Lilith Fair women. Then you started to hit the 2000s and the only place I could find real confessional storytelling was country music. ALW: Did you know anybody when you got to Nashville? TS: No, we didn’t really. I’d been going there on vacation with my family, and my mom, my little brother and I would stay in a hotel and try to meet people. Eventually, after several trips, I got a development deal – it’s a non-committal record deal, like, “We’ll watch you develop for a year and then we’ll decide if we sign you.” That was grounds enough to move the family. ALW: Presumably you were in school in Nashville as well? TS: Yes, I was going to high school during the day and doing my songwriting sessions at night. It was a double life. I’d be writing notes in class, and my teachers never knew if they were notes for my class or if I’d gotten an idea for a song. ALW: How many songs would you write in a day? TS: Usually, never more than one. I had these sessions every day, and if I didn’t come in with a good idea, I’d get stared at. You’re not inspired every day, as you know, but you have to show up and treat it like a job. That’s where I learned the craft of songwriting. ALW: I’ve never worked like that, because I’m so story driven. What interests me, though, is how Nashville works. How did you get your foot on the performing ladder? TS: It was really writing first. At the same time, I was singing the national anthem every time I could – at festivals and fairs and bars, anywhere I could get up on stage. I was trying to hone both sides of what I was doing, but I’m very well aware that I would not have a career if I hadn’t been a writer. I wouldn’t have just been a singer, it wouldn’t have worked. ALW: I guess that, today, very few people have a major career unless they write. TS: Yeah, I agree. I think it’s really important – also from the side of ownership over what you do and make. Even if you aren’t a natural writer, you should try to involve yourself in the messages you’re sending. ALW: How does a young country artist get their first break? TS: I worked as hard as I could, reached out to as many people as I could to make sure I got meetings with publishing companies and labels. They didn’t come about very easily, but once I got in the room I’d just get out my guitar and play for them. ALW: Do you have to sing in a certain club to get to the next stage? TS: Everyone does it a different way, but the Bluebird Cafe is a place where everyone was discovered – from Garth Brooks to Faith Hill to, arguably, me. I remember being at your house after we’d written a song, and you telling me you’d bought it when you were 24 or something, that’s when I realised just how young you were when you had a vision to be doing this at such a high level. ALW: I was writing for the theatre when I was eight-years-old. I had a little toy theatre and did dreadful musicals on terrible subjects. Then, when I was about 13, I met a boy who wanted to write lyrics, and we did a couple of musicals at school. TS: So from the beginning you would pair up with a lyricist? ALW: One of the things I worked out very early was Lloyd Webber and lyrics are not a good idea. TS: Wow. It is a good alliteration, though. ALW: You were 19, weren’t you, when you had your first big hit? TS: I was about 18 when “Love Story”, a song I’d written alone, was a worldwide hit. I was lucky enough to work my way up in country music, for new artists nowadays, it feels like the trajectory of their career is like being shot out of a canon into a stratosphere they could in no way be prepared for. I got to sort of acclimate to every step of the path I was on, and by the time I had a massive hit I’d been working since I was 14. Moving from country music to pop was a crazy adjustment for me. ALW: And now we’ve written “Beautiful Ghosts” together for Cats. TS: I remember the moment. I went over to your apartment to rehearse “Macavity” and you sat down at the piano and started to play this haunting, beautiful melody, and I think I just started singing to it right away. ALW: You wrote the lyrics more or less then and there – it was fantastic. TS: It’s a different perspective on the song “Memory”, too, and the character of Grizabella [played by Jennifer Hudson], who used to have majestic, glamorous times and doesn’t anymore. On the other side of it, you have this little white cat [Victoria, played by Francesca Hayward] who’s been abandoned – she’s afraid she’ll never have a chance to have beautiful memories. So that’s where she’s singing “Beautiful Ghosts” from, to counter Grizabella’s idea of tragedy. ALW: I’d like to come back to something I thought when I heard your album, Lover – which is really absolutely brilliant. Am I right in thinking you approached its recording just as though you were giving live performances? TS: I did. I was really singing a lot at that point – I’d just come from a stadium tour, and then did Cats, which was all based on live performances – so a lot of that album is nearly whole takes. When you perform live, you’re narrating and you’re getting into the story and you’re making faces that are ugly and you’re putting a different meaning on a song every time you perform it. ALW: That’s the point isn’t it. TS: Yeah. ALW: Does that ever make you feel you want to be an actress? TS: I have no idea. When I was younger, I used to get questions like, “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?” I’d try to answer. As I get older, I’m learning that wisdom is learning how dumb you are compared to how much you are going to know. I really had an amazing time with Cats. I think I loved the weirdness of it. I loved how I felt I’d never get another opportunity to be like this in my life. ALW: It’s weird, what I’ve seen of the movie. TS: It’s decidedly weird [they laugh]. ALW: I think Tom [Hooper, the film’s director] has really tried to make something original. And I agree, I think as you get older you do become less sure of yourself and start to question what you can do. Would you consider doing a musical? TS: A musical? Absolutely, absolutely. ALW: Or writing your own? TS: That is way up there on my list of dreams. ALW: You should. TS: Was it really wonderful for you when you got the news that Judi Dench had accepted the role of Old Deuteronomy? ALW: Judi was in the original version in 1981 but she snapped her Achilles tendon and had to withdraw. Then I had this idea, which I ran past Tom, that we could make Old Deuteronomy a woman. Seeing her perform this time was quite an emotional thing for me, because it was a very, very sad day when she had to leave the original show. TS: She’s lovely. I remember being on set, and there is one scene that Idris [Elba, who plays Macavity] and I do with Judi, and someone walked up to me with this kind of gummy candy and I was like, “Oh, I’ve never had this before, this must be British candy, this is amazing.” I was raving about this candy so much, and Judi must have overheard me, because the next day I got to my dressing room and there was a signed photo from Judi and, like, six bags of it [they laugh]. Andrew, we both started young. What do we have in common from our experiences? What do you think was hard about it? And what was great? ALW: I suppose what was hard for me was that I was a fish out of the mainstream water. In the 1960s, to love musicals was as uncool as you could possibly be, and kids in my class at school would laugh at me. TS: I was the same. I loved country music and, where I was in school, the kids were just completely perplexed by that. It’s gotten more mainstream, but when I was a 13-year-old in Pennsylvania, I got similar reactions. Do you feel like you’re glad you were really young when you started? ALW: Yeah, are you? TS: I’m really glad, even though there are challenges to it – like you’re not allowed to make the same mistakes as everyone else because your mistakes are a commodity. ALW: And your mistakes are made in public. But we share something in common, in which we are extremely lucky. We both knew at an early age what we wanted to do, and most people in life don’t have a clue. TS: That’s very true. I think, also, a lot of the time when people see a career that they want it can be results-based. Rather than wanting to write musicals, they want to be a person who has written musicals. But when I see you work, I see you consistently creating and being curious about the next idea. You relish in the process even more than the rewards, which is the advice I would give anyone who wanted to do anything remotely close to this job. It cannot be about the results. ALW: It’s the process isn’t it? TS: It has to be. It’s supposed to be fun!

MEET & GREET: Introducing the faces behind this month’s issue

When it came to interviewing Taylor Swift about her musical-movie debut in Cats, there was only one man for the job: Andrew Lloyd Webber, composer of the original West End and Broadway mega hit. The two colossi of songwriting had plenty to discuss at a recording studio in north London – art, ambition and authenticity, plus what we can expect from the soon-to-be-released film.

Vogue: What was it like to work with Taylor? Andrew Lloyd Webber: She’s supremely professional and very charming with it. In my view, she could go far. Vogue: What was your first impression of her? ALW: She’s a lot taller than me, and a lot more attractive. Vogue: What’s your favourite Swift hit? ALW: “Blank Space” from the album 1989. It’s a great pop song with great lyrics.

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stillsearchingforsomething · 3 years

Text

And isn’t just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string

November 2019

When Taylor wakes up she’s alone and even though she knows Karlie is working all day, she can't help but pout softly in disappointment at the sight of the empty bed before her.

She rolls over onto the cool sheets and snuggles into Karlie’s pillow breathing deeply, when her gaze is caught by the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table.

Taylor shuffles up into a sitting position and leans over to pluck the small white envelope out of the sea of red flowers.

"My darling Taylor, happy November 13th! I know it’s not technically the day we met or even our anniversary, but it is the day my life changed forever.

I’m grateful for every day I get to spend with you. I love you. I can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight.

All my love,

Karlie"

Taylor can’t help but smile at Karlie’s sweet words and she reaches under her pillow for her phone so that she can thank Karlie for her gift. Neither of them really make a big deal out of the day but they still both like to mark it in some small way. Taylor decides against calling Karlie, she’s not sure if she has meetings today so doesn’t want to risk it, deciding to settle for a text instead.

She pulls up the acoustic version of the Lover remix that she had recorded the week before on her phone and sends it to Karlie with the caption the girl in my story has always been you. The version that she recorded with Shawn Mendes will go live later that day but Taylor thinks that Karlie deserves a preview before anyone else.

Taylor shuffles out of bed and plucks up the vase of flowers to bring downstairs and feed the cats and make some coffee, smiling when she realises that Karlie has forgone the traditional dozen roses and opted for 13 instead. As she shuffles around the kitchen of their apartment, she can’t help but reminisce on her relationship with Karlie and how far they have come in the last six years.

If anyone would have told Taylor that day that she was about to meet the person who would change her life forever, she would have had a hard time believing it. She hadn’t been expecting to fall in love but had been completely blindsided by Karlie as soon as she had met her.But looking back on it now with the benefit of hindsight there were so many signs that Karlie was always meant to be someone incredibly important to her.

The first time it happened, Taylor hadn’t been surprised. She’d heard enough about Karlie from Lily and other mutual friends to know that they were probably on to something when they said that Taylor and Karlie would be fast friends. But neither of them had expected to have quite so much in common.

It had all started with a simple text. Well, technically it had all started with a quote in Vogue magazine. A quote in Vogue and then a tweet in response to said quote. And then a lingerie fashion show. And then some flirting, some drinks, some kissing and a lot of texting.

That’s how Taylor had ended up at Karlie’s apartment in New York one afternoon in December a couple of weeks after they had met for a Christmas cookie baking date. Karlie had been banking on the cookies being enough of an activity that she would have something to focus on besides the fact that Taylor Swift was standing in her kitchen, looking adorable concentrating on her frosting and wholly kissable.

But they had spent the afternoon baking and decorating their cookies, settling easily into the same light-hearted banter with a side of flirting that they had been enjoying over text since Karlie had slipped Taylor her number the day they met.

They had both been laughing and playfully trash talking each other’s decorating skills and listening to one of Karlie’s playlists, when You’re so vain by Carly Simon came on over the small speaker and Karlie had mentioned offhandedly that her parents had named her after the singer.

Taylor had been so taken aback that she almost messed up the Santa cookie she had been decorating. Karlie hadn’t been sure why that was such a big deal until Taylor explained that her parents had named her after James Taylor.

When Karlie had done nothing but stare at her blankly, Taylor explained that they had been married and a shy, slightly awkward silence settled over them.

In an attempt to break the tension, Karlie had smeared some frosting on Taylor’s cheek and had ducked her head to press her lips against the spot, her tongue peeking out to swipe against Taylor’s skin.

The food fight that followed had left them both giggling and breathless, with sticky faces. Karlie had pressed Taylor up against her kitchen counter, pinning her there with an arm on either side of her and had trailed her lips from Taylor’s cheek to her lips, dotting kisses as she went before kissing her soundly, all thoughts of James Taylor and Carly Simon forgotten.

The second time it happened had been on their trip to Big Sur, what they both considered to be their real anniversary and the beginning of their official relationship after months of keeping it casual, although each of them knowing that the way they were beginning to feel was anything but casual.

Taylor had been planning on playing Karlie her new album on the trip but had been waiting for the right opportunity to broach the subject. It wasn’t the normal level of nerves that would accompany sharing what she had been working on for the last year and a half with someone. The fact that that someone happened to be the girl that she had fallen hopelessly in love with and the album in question happened to contain a number of songs about her ex-girlfriend wasn’t helping matters.

But when Karlie had reached out to link her fingers with Taylor’s where they were rested on the centre console and squeezed her hand, Taylor seemed to come to a decision.

When Taylor had asked Karlie if she truly liked her music, making it clear that she wouldn't hold it against her if she didn't, Karlie had rushed to reassure the singer.

Karlie had tugged on Taylor’s hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a kiss to it before asking if she had ever told Taylor about the time that she had gone to the Fearless tour with her sisters when it came to St. Louis.

Taylor had snapped her head to look at Karlie, trying to gauge if she was serious as Karlie had mentioned it so casually. Karlie had smiled at Taylor’s shocked expression and just nodded before explaining that she Kariann and Kimby had all gone.

When Taylor asked her why she hadn't ever mentioned it, Karlie had just shrugged and explained that she didn’t want to make it weird. She had told Taylor that she was a fan of hers when they had met and she didn’t see any reason to labour the point.

Taylor had just smiled and shook her head, before taking a deep breath and asking Karlie to play “Road Trip Mix 13” on her iPod that was hooked up to the stereo system.

Karlie had leaned over to press a kiss against Taylor’s cheek, sensing that she needed some extra reassurance that no matter what Karlie was about to hear, it wasn’t going to change anything about how she felt about Taylor.

Taylor had come to regret her decision to do this whilst they were driving, she had hoped that it would be a welcome distraction but she had found herself wishing that she could look at Karlie to try and gauge her reaction. Instead she had focused on the gentle pressure of Karlie’s hand in hers, squeezing softly as the opening notes to Welcome to New York filled the car.

Those were just some of the things that they could laugh off at the beginning of their relationship as being crazy coincidences and not think any more about, but now six years later, it feels like the first signs of many that they were just meant to be.

Later that night, after enjoying the dinner that Taylor had prepared for them and then spending the rest of the evening enjoying each other, they were tangled together in the sheets of their bed, trading gentle kisses as their heart rates slowly returned to normal.

“Best day ever” Karlie mumbles in between pressing kisses to Taylor’s lips. Karlie shifts over to settle on her back and Taylor ducks down to lay her head on her chest. A comfortable silence settles over them both and the steady rhythm of Karlie’s heartbeat under her ear along with the gentle pressure of Karlie’s hand stroking up and down her bare back is almost enough to lull her to sleep.

“Did you know that I almost wasn’t going to do the fashion show?”

It takes Karlie’s brain a couple of seconds to process Taylor’s words, having been teetering on the brink of sleep herself. “What fashion show?” she asks confused.

“The VS fashion show,” Taylor clarifies shifting slightly so that she can look up at Karlie.

“Really?”

“Yeah, my management weren’t sure it would be good for my image, too risqué.” Taylor explains.

Karlie can’t help but smirk slightly at that, tightening her arms that are wrapped around Taylor’s waist and pulling her against her more firmly. “I can’t say I disagree with them, you wear lingerie really well," Karlie says biting her lower lip and letting her gaze sweep down Taylor's body.

Taylor gives her a playful shove but Karlie can tell that she’s secretly pleased with the compliment and the kiss that she drops on Karlie’s chest confirms the fact.

“How did I not know about this?” Karlie asks, turning the conversation back to Taylor’s earlier revelation.

“Honestly, I had kind of forgotten, I was just thinking about it today,” Taylor replies and Karlie can tell by the soft frown etched on her face that there is something else Taylor has on her mind.

She also knows from experience that there is no point in trying to push Taylor to say more so she just drops a kiss to the top of her head, content to wait her out.

A few moments later. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if we hadn’t have met that day?” Taylor whispers.

Karlie takes Taylor's hand from where it rests against her stomach and brushes her fingers over the angel wings ring that sits on the fourth finger of her left hand and she smiles, thinking of course Taylor would choose to wear that ring specifically today of all days. Most people assume that it's Taylor's ring and although that is technically true, she didn't get it for being an honorary angel and performing at two Victoria's Secret shows, Karlie had gotten it after walking her last VS show and gifted it to Taylor on the first anniversary of the day that they had met.

Karlie pauses to think for a moment before answering with a definitive no. Taylor is staring at her expectantly so Karlie elaborates. “I don’t even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.”

“But what if I hadn’t been performing that year?” Taylor asks, shifting up so that she can prop herself up on her arm. “Or if you hadn’t been walking in that show? Or even if we had both been there but hadn’t been on stage at the same time? Or if Lily hadn’t introduced us” Taylor presses, getting more frantic with each question.

Karlie nudges Taylor over on to her side and then settles beside her on the pillow, so close that their noses are almost touching. “You wanna know what I think?” Karlie asks and Taylor just nods as if that should be obvious.

“I think that we met exactly when we were supposed to,” Karlie says, threading her fingers through Taylor’s hair in an effort to soothe her. “And I don’t know if it was fate or some higher power or what, but I think you and I were meant to be,” Karlie continues and Taylor feels warmth settle in her chest at Karlie’s words.

“And if it hadn’t been that day, it would have been another,” Karlie whispers in the small space between them before pressing a gentle kiss to Taylor’s cheek, then the tip of her nose, followed by each eyelid and then her forehead.

“And all the stuff that came before, the good and the bad led us to that moment, where we were both exactly meant to be” Karlie says against Taylor’s lips before Taylor leans forward and closes the minute gap between them and kisses Karlie soundly.

Let me know what you think, comments make me smile!

I meant to have this up on November 13th but the last couple of weeks have been a wild ride. I have no idea what's happening but I'll be here writing for as long as inspiration strikes...

#kaylor #kaylor fic #karlie freaking kloss #taylor and karlie #karlie and taylor #tswizzle #rpf #it's all part of the story #wake me up when november ends

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bi-bard · 4 years

Text

Invisible String- Dean Winchester

Title: Invisible String

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Requested: Nope but PLEASE SEND IN SOME REQUESTS!

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: (leads up to the end of season 3/beginning of season 4) No one knows how but Dean and (Y/n) always seem to meet each other. (Y/n) isn’t from a family of hunters yet they seem to bump into Dean in every town he moved to. Maybe there’s a reason for that... maybe it takes something terrible to bring that reason to light.

Author’s Note: Inspired by “Invisible String” by Taylor Swift

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It all started our junior year of high school. I remembered it distinctly. I was the one with the highest grade and got told to work with the new kid on the next project.

The new kid. Dean Winchester.

Dean... didn’t think he should’ve had to do any of the work. He had been able to get others to do it for him before. I wasn’t having any of it. I snapped at him when I noticed him slacking.

It must have stuck with him. We ended up getting a good grade on the project. He tried to be kinder to me after that. He had been a kind of friend for a while.

Then, he was gone. Without a single word, gone.

I didn’t end up seeing Dean until the following summer. I had gone to visit my aunt in a state over. She lived on a lake and thought that it would be a great way to spend my summer before I had to apply for college and scholarships and all of that stuff.

He had been dropped off by a car and ended up on the shore next door. He barely recognized me in my bathing suit, which was far. I had cut my hair and started lifting weights in the hopes that I’d be able to defend myself one day.

The conversation last for hours. He was keeping an eye on his brother, Sam, while we were talking. It was nice to be able to catch up with him again. He just wouldn’t answer where he had gone off to during the school year.

He stayed at the house next door for another two weeks.

We were both sitting and talking on the shore when a loud and gruff voice yelled for Dean. I turned around to see a man- who I assumed was his dad- directing Sam into the car. Dean got up quickly.

I followed him, giving him a tight hug. It seemed to catch him off guard. It took him a moment to hug back but he seemed really happy to be getting a hug from someone. He left with a quiet goodbye and his head down.

I didn’t see him again until late into my junior year of college. I had given up any hope of seeing Dean again. Then, my roommate went missing. She went to a party and then never came back after that. I was terrified because I could’ve been next.

I knew something was off when Dean showed up, claiming to be an F.B.I agent. I called him out instantly. Dean was shocked but smiled at me anyways. I hugged him tightly, just needing some comfort.

“How are you holding up,” he asked, after sitting on my couch. I shrugged. “Your roommate wasn’t the first one.”

“What,” I asked.

“There were other disappearances around here,” he explained. “Their bodies were found torn up. We think we know what it is.”

“Do you mean ‘who’,” I tried to correct him. He shook his head. “Was it a wild animal?”

“No,�� Dean sighed. “It was a vampire.”

“Okay,” I let out a sigh, trying not to get angry. “My roommate’s gone and you’re trying to be funny. I need you both to leave.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Leave,” I repeated. “It was nice seeing you.”

I should’ve listened to him. But when you lose someone so close to you, would you believe a man who runs in saying it was a vampire? Or would you think that someone was trying to make light of a really serious situation?

However; I knew I was wrong when I was almost attacked and Dean busted down my door. He had gotten tackled by the creature and I picked up the machete that Dean had dropped.

Dean had managed to shove the vampire so it landed on its back. Without hesitation, I lifted the machete up and brought it down to cut off the thing’s head. I flinched a little when the blood splashed before throwing the machete down.

“Are you okay,” Dean asked, touching my arm. I nodded, not looking away from the corpse. He hugged me tightly, hiding my face. “How did you know to decapitate it?”

“I thought it was a safe bet,” I mumbled. “Take out the head and the whole thing goes down.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “How about you go get in the shower and change? When you come back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

“O-okay,” I replied.

I went upstairs and did what Dean had told me too.

He was right. I came downstairs and everything was gone. The blood, the machete, the corpse... even Dean. It was almost like I had imagined the whole thing. The only indication that I had actually seen anything was the smell of cleaner and my door, which had been kicked in.

Then, there were another three years.

Now an active member of the working world, I had noticed something was off with a co-worker of mine. They went to the bathroom and I subtly checked out their cubicle. There was some yellow powder in the corner.

Also, there were a few people missing. I was scared it was going to be like what happened back home

Oh, and then a familiar-looking F.B.I agent showed up at the office. There was someone with him... holy shit, was that Sam? When did he get so tall? I almost chuckled when they asked to talk to me in an empty conference room.

“Small world,” I commented after the door had shut. Dean chuckled before sitting in the chair next to me. “Is that you, Sam?”

“Nice to see you again, (Y/n).”

“Damn, you’re tall,” I noted. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Well, have you seen anything strange,” Dean asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. He seemed shocked that I was so honest. “Besides the missing co-workers, there’s a guy about two cubicles over from me that has been acting different lately.”

“Did you find anything there?”

“Like...”

“Sulfur-”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “Sorry, I couldn’t figure out what it was but sulfur is a yellow powder, it makes sense. I found it by his desk.”

“Were there any nights he worked late,” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “About three weeks ago, I asked him if he was heading out but he said he had last-minute work to do. I thought it was weird but it wasn’t my place to question him.”

“Thank you,” Dean said before standing up. I stood up with him and hugged him.

“We keep meeting, Winchester,” I chuckled.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he joked in my ear before going to step back.

“Good luck,” I waved before going to head back to my desk.

It wasn’t another three years until I saw Dean after that, I saw him a few days later. I had been sitting in my living room, reading a book when someone knocked on my door. Dean stood there in his normal jeans, shirt, and jacket with a small grin on his face.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help,” he said. “We caught the demon because of you?”

“Sulfur equals demon,” I asked.

“Sulfur plus disappearances plus strange behavior does usually equal demon,” Dean replied. I nodded before chuckling. “I umm... you’re a natural at all of this.”

“What is ‘this,’“ I asked.

“My family... hunts... things,” he explained. “We hunt monsters.”

“So that’s why you were always moving?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “And then we kept meeting. And you killed that vampire and helped us with that demon... you are a natural hunter. I know I can’t ask you to abandon everything and join Sam and me but I figured I’d let you know that the option is there.”

“Can you teach me to actually hunt and not just get lucky about it,” I asked.

“Definitely.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it,” Dean asked. “You’re just gonna accept right away?”

“Either I accept now or we meet over another monster trying to kill me or people around me,” I replied. “I don’t want another multiple-year gap, Dean.”

“Oh.”

I smiled and looked down for a second. With a small moment of confidence, I leaned forward and kissed him softly. He moved closer to me and put a hand on my back and a hand on the door frame.

“Come on,” I mumbled after pulling away. “You can help me pack. I am not leaving with one set of clothes.”

“Okay,” he nodded, following me inside.

--Time Skip--

One year. That’s what I got with Dean. One year of hunting and staying in crappy motels and sometimes eating the crappy food that he somehow survived on. One year of being loved unconditionally and protecting each other.

I wouldn’t trade that year for anything.

The only thing I wanted to get rid of was the memory of him getting dragged to hell. It haunted me. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was pretty much useless when it came to hunting after that.

I ended up going home. Sam had dropped me off. I never unpacked completely. I had suitcases sitting in my room, a bag full of books, and a backpack of toiletries and supplies. I just wanted to go back to normal.

I thought I had... for about four months... and then a man in a trench coat and suit showed up on my doorstep.

“Um... how can I help you,” I asked awkwardly. He looked confused.

“(Y/n),” he said.

“How do you know my name,” I went tense, ready to jump for one of the many weapons I had in my house.

“It’s me... Castiel,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh my god... you don’t remember. They wiped your memory.”

“Who did? Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel, an angel,” he explained. “You’re (Y/n), an angel... a guardian angel specifically.”

“I’m calling the cops,” I sighed.

“No,” Castiel mumbled. Before I could react, he put two fingers to my forehead and we were in a warehouse or barn of some form. “Now, look.”

He pointed at the wall behind me before putting some distance between the two of us. I jumped at the lightning but caught sight of the wings in the shadow.

“Holy shit,” I put my hands over my mouth. “Okay, okay. Who am I supposed to be a guardian angel to?”

“Dean Winchester,” he answered.

“Well, I fucked that up,” I mumbled.

“I understand why,” Castiel said. “I wasn’t aware that they had wiped your memory. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why we kept meeting,” I said. “I was supposed to stay with him and protect him.”

“You couldn’t keep him from making that deal.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“We can fix this.”

“How?”

“I’ll teach you.”

--Time Skip--

“Stay here,” Cas directed me to the corner of a room. “You may overwhelm him. We need to approach this carefully.”

“Okay,” I nodded, practically shaking from nerves.

I watched the entire interaction closely. Dean looked scared and nervous and confused. I wanted to help him.

“So you just yanked me out of hell,” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas shook his head before looking at me. I took that as a signal to move forward. “I just taught (Y/n) how to do it.”

“What,” Dean looked at me in shock. I felt tears in my eyes as I looked at him. Another flash of lightning went off, showing Dean both mine and Cas’s wings. “Holy shit.”

“To be fair, I only knew after you were gone,” I explained. “Heaven apparently wiped my memory before shoving me at a vessel. I grew up thinking I was a human.”

“You pulled me out of hell?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s part of my job description.”

Dean ran over and hugged me. I felt myself breakdown. I was finally able to hug him again. Four months and he was back.

“I missed you so much,” I mumbled. “I’m so happy that you’re back.”

“I missed you too,” he said. “I... I love you.”

“I love you too,” I placed a hand in his hair.

“I’m guessing I should go,” we both looked over a Castiel.

“Wait,” I stepped away from Dean. “I’m still new to this. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

“I’ll be there to help you,” he promised. “Also, you should be able to use your grace to help him. You know what to do. You just have to do it.”

“Thank you,” I nodded. Cas nodded back at and in a flash, he was gone.

“Come on,” Dean grabbed my hand. I turned to look at him again. “Baby’s waiting outside.”

“One second,” I mumbled. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “God, you’re clueless.”

I stepped over and kissed him softly. Dean smiled against my lips and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pulled away and smiled before kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I grabbed his hand and started walking. “Come on, I want to get back on the road.”

“So do I,” Dean replied before pretty much dragging me to the car. “Plus, Sam’s waiting for food in a motel and is probably losing his shit.”

“How did he look,” I asked. I hadn’t seen him since he dropped me off at home.

“He’s getting better.”

“He has an older brother to whip him back into shape,” I joked before jumping into the passenger seat. “Oh, Baby, I’ve missed you.”

“That’s exactly when my first reaction was.”

“I’m telling you... we’re connected by destiny.”

“And whoever’s calling the shots up there,” Dean chuckled before starting the car.

It was really nice to be home.

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#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction

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my-major-is-k-howard · 4 years

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Lover

Inspired by “Lover” by Taylor Swift. We made it to the last chapter!! I am so happy that I got to share this story with all of you. It was super fun to write and I am so grateful to everyone who has read it. Each of you fills my heart TO THE MAX with love. Feel free to send me asks anytime if you want; I promise I don’t bite! I am also working on a few different projects so stay tuned! But for now, enjoy the last chapter of “Lover.” 💚💙

Word Count: 2142

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

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Ch. 7 - Forever and Ever

Anne smiled fondly at the memories of her honeymoon. It had been a little over a year since their trip and it still held some of the most magical moments of Anne’s life.

Anne passed a couple more pictures before coming to a halt at an empty clip. Anne sighed happily before glancing down at the photo in her hands. It was an ultrasound scan from their appointment earlier in the day.

It had been around Christmas that the couple had sat down and talked about having a baby, and decided to start the process as soon as they could. After a few discussions, they decided together that Cathy would carry the baby and began their research.

The first few months were hard, trial after trial with no success, but they were determined to keep going. A week before their anniversary, they received the news that they were expecting and they were over the moon with excitement.

Anne had immediately wanted to tell everyone but was persuaded by Cathy to wait until further along in the pregnancy to announce that they were expecting. Their doctor advised them to wait until after the 12 week ultrasound to share the big news with their friends.

The days seemed to drag on in Anne’s mind as they slowly approached the milestone. Each day, Anne did her best to take care of her wife, whether listening to her cry about a cute dog she saw in the park or creating weird concoctions of food to satisfy Cathy’s cravings.

Finally, the day of the appointment arrived and the two of them were eager to see their baby for the first time. As Anne looked down at the ultrasound in her hands, she was overcome with emotion knowing that the little grey outline of a human was really the same baby that was growing inside of her wife.

Anne admired the little head with its tiny button nose, the faint outline of an arm that looked like it was shielding its face from the camera, and the little leg that was lifted up and bent slightly. Anne adored every part of her baby, her little bean. She closed her eyes as the memories of the day flooded into her mind.

~~~~~

Anne took a deep breath as she pulled the car keys out of the ignition. She turned to see Cathy, who had her eyes closed and a hand resting gently on her abdomen. Cathy had recently started showing but it wasn’t anything that one of Anne’s jumpers couldn’t hide at this stage.

“You ready?” Anne asked, giving Cathy an excited smile.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cathy replied and returned Anne’s smile.

The two got out of the car and headed inside the clinic. They were led to a small room with a bed and a machine that looked suspiciously like the controls of an alien spaceship. A couple screens were set up around the room, one connected to the alien machine and one opposite the bed.

The door opened again as their doctor entered the room, a small middle-aged lady with a kind smile on her face.

“Anne, Cathy, good to see you again,” the doctor greeted them. “Are you ready to meet your baby?”

“I’ve been looking forward to it since we found out Cathy was pregnant,” Anne admitted as she took Cathy’s hand and gave her a quick smile.

“That’s good to hear,” the doctor responded. “Cathy, would you mind laying down and lifting your shirt for me?”

Cathy did as she was instructed, trying to get as comfortable as she could on the bed. She lifted her shirt to give the doctor access to her small baby bump. She looked up to Anne who was staring back at her with eyes that reflected a kaleidoscope of emotions - love, adoration, hope, and so many others swirled in her irises.

Cathy reached out a hand that Anne immediately took in her own. Cathy intertwined their fingers and mouthed a quick “I love you” before turning her attention back to the doctor.

“Alright. I’m going to apply a little gel to help get a better picture,” the doctor explained before rubbing the blue gel on Cathy’s lower abdomen. She let out a squeak at the sudden cold sensation, and Anne squeezed her hand and flashed her a comforting smile for support.

“Perfect. I’m going to start the ultrasound now, if you’re both ready.” The doctor waited from the couple to nod before taking the transducer and pressing it to Cathy’s stomach.

The image on the screen before them moved quickly, corresponding to the rapid movements of the doctor, until it finally stilled. Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of her baby for the first time. Cathy squeezed her wife’s hand and they shared a momentarily look of pure joy before fixating their gazes back on the screen.

The little grey outline moved around, lifting little legs and hands slightly. Anne cooed as she watched in pure adoration of the little life forming inside of Cathy. “Look, it’s our little bean!” Anne exclaimed as she turned to look at Cathy.

Cathy had tears in her eyes as she looked back at Anne. “That’s our little bean, love.”

They continued watching for a few more minutes before the doctor spoke up again. “Everything looks good so far. I’m going to play the heartbeat and make sure it's strong and steady.” The doctor clicked a few buttons before the fast thrumming of the baby’s heartbeat sounded from the machine.

Anne felt tears prick her eyes at the sound before she commented. “Wow! It’s so fast!” Anne pressed her free hand to her own heart for comparison. “Like way faster than mine.”

Cathy laughed and the doctor joined in with a small chuckle. “Fetal heart rates range from around 110 to 160 beats per minute at this stage of pregnancy. Yours right now is probably around 60 or 70 bpm.”

“Cathy, did you hear that? Our baby is twice as active as I am!”

“I didn’t think that was even possible,” Cathy mused and squeezed Anne’s hand lovingly. Anne squeezed back before looking up to the screen once more to watch the baby move, squirming around and stretching limbs in all directions.

“Can you feel the baby move?” Anne questioned and turned her head back to her wife. Cathy shook her head and looked to the doctor.

“Should I?” Cathy asked timidly.

“Most women don’t feel the baby move until around 20 weeks,” the doctor answered. “It also depends on a variety of factors. I would say you have another month or so until you start feeling the baby.”

“Okay,” Cathy breathed out and looked back to the screen, admiring the small movements inside her.

“I’m going to take a picture and I think we’ll be all done. Everything looks good. The baby is healthy and developing well.” The doctor waited a few moments before capturing the photo and handed it to Cathy after it printed. “We’re all set.”

The couple thanked the doctor as Cathy wiped off the remaining gel on her stomach. They left the clinic a few minutes later and walked back to their car. Once inside, Anne let out a sigh of contentment. She turned to look at Cathy who was looking back at her with a small smile on her face.

“That was amazing,” Anne said after a few moments of silence. “It all feels so much more real now.”

“Speak for yourself. The morning sickness was what made it real for me,” Cathy joked. Anne let out a small laugh before Cathy continued. “But seeing the little bean move and hearing the heartbeat for the first time, that made it so much more real. We’re going to be parents, Anne.”

Anne turned in her seat to face Cathy and pressed a firm kiss to her temple. She placed her hand on her wife’s bump, caressing it softly with the pad of her thumb. “I love our little bean so much already and I promise I will be the best mother I possibly can. You’ll be the best mom too, Cathy, I just know it.”

Cathy turned and kissed Anne softly before resting a hand on top of Anne’s. “I love you, Annie.”

“I love you more.”

~~~~~

Anne was snapped out of the memory by the sound of a toilet flushing from the hall bathroom. She quickly took the ultrasound scan and hung it up on the empty clip in front of her. A soft smile spread across her face as she admired the new addition to their hanging photo collection.

The sound of feet shuffling in the hallway made Anne smile even brighter as she turned to see Cathy enter the bedroom. She made her way over to where Anne was standing and rested her head on her shoulder as Anne wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I swear you have to pee every five minutes, babe,” Anne joked.

“Oh hush,” Cathy scolded and rested a hand on her stomach. She looked at the ultrasound scan hanging from the string of lights and smiled. “It’s perfect,” Cathy whispered.

Anne pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s almost the same size as a regular Polaroid so I thought I would hang it up too.”

Cathy turned to face Anne with a soft smile gracing her features. For a moment, Anne was left speechless by the beauty in front of her. Cathy never had to try when it came to her looks, which Anne found very unfair. She wore very minimal makeup and still looked absolutely stunning. Her hair formed perfect curls that framed the sides of her face ever so elegantly. Her hazel eyes reflected the expanses of the universe, an infinity that Anne could easily lose herself in. Her smile was like the first sip of hot cocoa, a warmth that emanates from the inside out. Every part of her made Anne swoon and filled her with a love she never thought could be that strong. And for some reason, this breathtaking woman had fallen in love with her too.

“What are you thinking about?” Cathy whispered, her eyes dazzling in the light of the setting sun.

“I’m the luckiest person in the world,” Anne whispered back, choking with emotion. “I fell in love with the most beautiful woman on the planet and I get to spend the rest of my life with her. We’ve been on so many adventures together and we’re about to start our most exciting one yet. We’re adding to our family and I just can’t wait to meet our little bean.” She finished speaking and placed both of her hands on Cathy’s bump, caressing it slowly with her thumbs.

She looked down at her hands with a tearful smile before meeting Cathy’s eyes once more. A silent conversation passed between them before Anne kneeled in front of Cathy and pressed a feather light kiss just below her navel.

She began whispering to the tiny human forming inside Cathy’s womb, a daily custom that made her feel connected to the baby. Anne expressed how amazing the appointment had gone earlier that day and her excitement at the thought of holding her baby in her arms in a few short months. She promised to create a home, safe and sound, and to protect her bean from all harm. She whispered how in love she was already and how she would never stop loving her little bean, no matter what came to pass.

She continued whispering her thoughts and promises as Cathy ran her fingers through her hair, overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of her wife talking to their unborn child. Anne finished speaking and pressed another kiss to the bump before standing up. She wrapped her arms around Cathy’s waist and pulled her in for a loving kiss.

As she pulled away, Anne quickly glanced over her shoulder at the string of fairy lights that adorned the room. She glanced over the silly Christmas Polaroid, the picture Kat took during their movie night, the club photo, the Polaroid of their proposal, their wedding picture, the photo they took during their honeymoon, and finally the ultrasound scan. She smiled when she noticed there were still a few clips that were left empty, more spaces to fill with memories that had yet to be made.

She turned back to face Cathy with a new determination in her eyes. She was going to make every moment count for the rest of their lives. She was going to spend every day falling deeper in love with Cathy. Her wife. Her best friend. Her inspiration. The love of her life. Her muse. Her biggest supporter. The mother of her child. Her favorite person. Her lover. Her Cathy.

#parrlyn #parrleyn #parrlyn fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #anne boleyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn x catherine parr

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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we might be hollow (but we're brave) [jan x jackie] - pinkgrapefruit

A/N - hey! incase you hadn’t noticed i’m in love with this ship and I had these lyrics and timestamps in my google docs for months with branjie but it just wasn’t fully fitting. thanks to Alex for betaing and i hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think <3

we might be hollow (but we’re brave)

We’re never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you?

‘Til the veins run red and blue

1 7 0 7 - 0 3 - 1 5 - 2 0 0 9

The car hums, low and hoarse as Jackie waits in the school lot. She’d offhandedly promised to pick up her english partner and all of a sudden she’s regretting it, twenty minutes late and low on fuel. She switches it off, flicking the key, and then back on again, hoping not to burn out the fragile engine.

She runs out of the school sweaty and flustered, gym bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder and for a second Jackie is fixated on the way Jan’s baby hairs have plastered themselves across her forehead. The smaller girl slings her bag through the open back window, watching with a smirk as Jackie cringes - sending a warm smile in gratitude.

They play the music loud and keep the air con on low, just cool enough to dry Jan’s hair without the native New Jerseyan complaining about how it’s warmer in the arctic. Jackie’s from Canada, she doesn’t really care.

Jan gives vague directions to her home as and when she sees fit, often directing Jackie to take turns she didn’t even know existed when they’re already almost past them. It drives the brunette mad as she abuses the car’s delicate steering, all to navigate the New Jersey suburbs.

What she does notice is they end up barely two streets over from her own house. A standard three bed, two bath, decent garden house that looks just as identical as every other one in the neighbourhood.

It’s painted blue. Jackie thinks it fits.

They spend the early evening reading excerpts of Romeo and Juliet to each other on Jan’s porch. The blonde reads on the porch chair as it swings aimlessly in the warm early spring breeze. She’s still in her cheer uniform and Jackie doesn’t have a chance to ask how she manages both cheer and soccer. Jackie barely manages hockey.

They eat homemade ice cream sundaes and watch the sunset over the eerie glow of the street lamps until Jan complains she can’t see the pages anymore and Jackie has long since stopped making notes on prose and characters.

They don’t talk about school tomorrow because they won’t see each other. Jan asks if she will pick her up. Jackie says yes.

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

0 7 3 2 - 0 4 - 0 2 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie gets a text at half past seven telling her quite emphatically that Jan is running late. There is no question posed that Jackie can discern on the Nokia n95 screen - the glare from the early morning screen compromising her vision anyway - but she grabs her rucksack and the keys to the car and swings round the corner anyway.

She rationalises it by telling herself that it’s on the way to school anyway. It is.

She pulls up and Jan is sat on the porch steps in a pastel pink denim miniskirt and a glittery letterman jacket. She skips to the car and slides onto the front seat with a telltale squeak of bare legs on leather, throwing her bag onto the backseat in a way that still makes Jackie cringe even after two weeks. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla.

The blonde giggles and Jackie catches her mouth curving up in the reverse mirror, so she lets Jan pick the music and just focuses on the gear stick and anything else in her control.

She watches as the blonde sways to Fifteen by Taylor Swift, belting out the lyrics like she can feel them in her soul. They’re sophomores but they were freshmen last year and to be honest, from what she knows of Jan, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was her life.

They pull into the school parking lot to the sounds of Fearless and even Jackie cracks a smile at the way Jan is beaming. They have five minutes before they need to be in school and Jackie averts her eyes as Jan twists awkwardly to grab her bag from where it ended up on the floor, skirt riding up so the brunette can see the plum lace of her panties. She gulps and pulls out her well worn copy of Little Women instead. Not watching as Jan quickly reviews her AP Biology textbook.

“Thanks Jackie! You’re the best,” Jan calls as she slams the rickety car door on the third attempt.

“Anytime Jan.” And Jackie finds she means it.

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We’re hollow like the bottles that we drain

0 1 2 5 - 0 7 - 1 7 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie’s phone vibrates under her pillow at one in the morning on a friday. They’ve been on summer break for a month and Jackie hasn’t really done much but she’ll admit she’s missed Jan. Until she woke her up that is.

She answers it with a defeated sign, tugging on her oversized Van Halen t-shirt until it feels decent even though no one is going to look into her tiny bedroom. The light filters through the window in a way that makes it feel like she’s in a weird horror film and she remembers why this is called the witching hour.

“Come over Jack, I’m bored,” comes the whine from down the phone and Jackie has to stifle a laugh even though she knows how much trouble she could get in for this. She sighs. She can’t really argue - doesn’t want to. She’s always been called boring. She doesn’t want to be anymore.

“I’m coming Jan, gimme five.”

She tugs on an oversized jacket and pulls a pair of gym shorts under her shirt, grabbing the running trainers from the bottom of her closet and spritzing a couple of squirts of sandalwood and shea from her almost empty perfume bottle. When she’s pretty sure she looks okay, she pushes up her window and thanks the gods she’s over the porch. It’s well structured and surprisingly easy to climb both up and down (her brother proved it to her last week) and she slides the window shut behind her as she shimmies down stained wood into the crisp summer night.

It’s not cold and the summer moon means it’s not dark either so she manages the walk quite calmly, feeling a freedom she sometimes forgets she has.

Jan’s sat on her porch steps in a pair of grey joggers and a black sports bra, draped in a tartan blanket and with what is unmistakably a bottle of wine gripped between her thighs.

They don’t actually talk for a while, just pass the bottle between themselves taking swigs of it like it’s water until Jan is giggling at a sparrow - the moon making her blonde hair glow in a way Jackie deems completely unfair. She’s ethereal, godlike in this light and Jan wants to tuck some of the escaped strands back behind her ear so she can watch the shadow in the curve of her upper lip.

She wants them to talk about boys, or talk about girls - to delve into who they are because surely that’s how you should spend wine time at two a.m but the wine is all gone and Jan’s cheek is soft on Jackie’s padded shoulder and somehow their fingers intertwine.

She starts humming something under her breath, something old - a song her dad used to sing her to help her sleep and Jan tugs at her hand to make her sing it louder until Jackie is serenading the sleepy neighbourhood with Mama Cass.

She shakes Jan awake just after four as the sun rises down the wide street. Their knees are stiff but Jan stands up, tugging Jackie by the hands into a hug. She’s not sure what it’s for but it’s welcomed and when Jackie clambers back through her window she can smell vanilla.

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we’re brave

0 5 0 2 - 0 1 - 0 1 -2 0 1 0

She’s clad in a hoodie and leggings when she pulls up to the big house. The party she was at finished hours ago but she’s told Jan to text her if she needed her and apparently she needs her so she’d put the heating on full blast and grabbed a blanket out of the trunk to wrap the smaller girl in when she came out.

She watches as she walks carefully out of the house, feet bare and stiletto heels in her hands. Jan slides into the front seat quietly. She carefully drops the heels into the foot-well and puts an awful lot of effort into fastening her seat-belt just right until she looks up at Jackie and something snaps.

Her eyes are red and raw and her lipstick is smudged across her chin and she looks so tired Jackie wants to bundle her up, hold her close and never let her go. But she doesn’t.

She places one hand in her lap and drives calmly to an empty house down the road, pulling into the drive and turning the engine off.

Jan is gripping her hand like a lifeline, clammy fingers twisted around soft flesh. In the light of the streetlamp, there are scratched on Jan’s bare thighs and Jackie gulps on reflex - choking back something that could have been a retch if what she’s thinking is true.

She takes a second to compose herself, brushing through Jan’s hair with her free hand. “You okay baby?” She asks quiet and still - trying to keep the situation as tranquil as she can.

Jan takes a huge snotty inhale, broken by sobs, and shakes her head. She tries to speak but she isn’t breathing enough to form words and all that’s coming out is a choked whimper.

“Hey, Jan honey, you’re safe,” she murmurs, “look at me babe.” She repeats it until the blonde will look her in the eyes, her cerulean orbs pooling. “Can I touch you?” Jackie asks, her tone soothing, and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie places a cool hand on her shoulder and feels the sticky sweat against her dry skin. The smell of cheap vodka, beer and mens cologne is filling the car and it makes her feel sick. She’s not a partier or a massive drinker but by the smell alone she doesn’t understand the appeal. She moves quickly, whipping her head around as she remembers the water bottle she keeps in the door. She places it in Jan’s lap and gently coaxes her to take a sip.

After a little while longer Jan rolls her shoulders back and squeezes Jackie’s hand appreciatively. She nods to herself while trying to find her words and Jackie rubs slow circles on her back.

“It, it was twelve and everyone was cheering,“ she starts, slowly, methodically. "And he- he wanted a kiss, which was fine because everyone was kissing and I’d joked last week that I’d kiss him so it was okay,” She pauses, justifying things that don’t need justifying, setting off alarm bells in Jackie’s head to the point where she’s mentally screaming and the story hasn’t even begun.

“But then,” she continues after a sip of water, “at like three, he pulled me aside while Jaida and Gigi were dancing and asked me for a kiss and I said yes because it seemed like the right thing to do.” She’s got silent tears running down her face again and Jackie wants to tell her she doesn’t have to keep going but she’s frozen in place. “But then it, it took a while and he took my hand and he put it down his trousers and he started kissing down my neck.” The words aren’t given tone anymore. They’re cold hard statements of fact that are rattling through Jackie’s ribs, making her fight every urge she has to vomit because Jan’s become her best friend.

“And I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t like him like that and I just wanted a fun kiss. But he made me touch him and I didn’t want that at all.” Jan starts to shake so Jackie pulls the blanket back over her, Keeping one steadying hand on her knee - steadying for the both of them. “So I pulled away and he called me a whore and then I trapped myself in a bedroom and then I texted you and it was awful Jackie. It was terrible and the worst part was I just wanted you.” She sobs openly but the tears run clear now - the mascara washed off her face and she seems lighter and that’s all Jackie could ask for.

“You are so brave Jan,” Jackie says with as much confidence as she can muster. “You are so brave and that man is a coward and a dick if he thinks he can do that to a woman and you are the strongest person I know, don’t you forget that.” She leans her forehead on the side of the blonde’s head and sighs.

“I’m so sorry baby."

“Me too,” Jan murmurs. “Me too.”

I love these roads where the houses don’t change (and I like you)

2 2 5 6 - 0 5 - 2 2 - 2 0 1 0

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” mutters Jackie, knees bouncing, clammy palms on the leather seats.

They’re racing down the empty street, lamps flickering as they pass. If it was any lighter, neighbourhood watch would have caught them out by now because this is almost certainly not within legal speed limits for the suburbs. Jan passes house after house as they try frantically to make it for Jackie’s eleven pm curfew, the wind low and whistling as it cuts the car. They know the stakes.

Jackie’s face has turned a pale shade of white in fear of the reaction she will face, scraping in just under the time agreed. How her mother will react to Jan driving the family car back home, kissing her gently on the cheek and walking two streets to her own home.

They pull up at ten fifty-nine and Jan almost bursts into tears.

“See you tomorrow?” She asks softly, wistfully.

“Yeah,” Jackie exhales, tomorrow.

Where we can talk like there’s something to say (and I like you)

2 3 5 8 - 1 2 - 3 1 - 2 0 1 0

Jan makes Jackie pull over when she notices the time. They’re both too drunk to be driving and too sober to be alone and they’ve got the windows down as the sea breeze tunnels through the car. It smells of sunsets and saltwater and ice cream sundaes and Jackie’s hair and Jan is hooked.

The old car clock ticks quietly above the hum of the engine and the barely-there sound of the waves and Jackie finds pleasure in watching Jan’s eyes fixate on the hand. It swings around, red against the clock face.

Jan catches her staring and her eyes burn blue into Jackie’s deep brown. It’s a cold night but they’ve both pulled the blankets from the back seat and suddenly the blonde is aware of how small the vehicle is because there is not enough room between their faces and-

Their lips touch. Spark. Flicker. Ignite.

And then she’s warm and intoxicated and just a little bit in love but she thinks the dopey smile suits her - heads lolled back on the headrests, hands intertwined.

I’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

1 6 2 4 - 0 2 - 1 4 - 2 0 1 1

Jackie drives them to the beach at sunset. They sit in the boot of the car on a picnic blanket in a parking spot that overlooks the crashing waves and it’s an illusion of stillness Jackie struggles to find anywhere else.

They hold hands because no one can see them - drink a bottle of champagne stolen from Jan’s Mom’s wine fridge. The blonde is bundled up in Jackie’s chunky knit cardigan and she looks warm and cosy and just a little bit like home.

“Hold me,” Jan asks, with eyes like saucers and a tone rolling in sugar. Jackie blinks slowly - capturing the image of her girlfriend in this moment before reaching to pull her into her arms. They don’t have much room but Jan somehow manages to straddle her - a hand on each cheek as Jackie grips her hips. The brunette bites her own lip softly and suddenly their mouths are pressed together and she’s not sure if it’s the sea air, the girl or a little bit of both but it tastes like magic and she doesn’t ever want to let it go.

“I love you,” she exhales into her hair - just above her ear.

“I love you more,” Jan whispers onto her collarbone.

“Sure Jan,” Jackie giggles, pulling Jan closer, burying her face into her hair. “Happy Valentine’s day baby.”

We move in the tree streets

0 8 3 5 - 0 8 - 2 8 - 2 0 1 1

“We’re only gonna be four hours away,” Jan mumbles, fingers finding Jackie’s with ease. “Why does that feel like the whole universe?”

They’re sat on Jan’s front steps - she has to leave in an hour if she’s going to make it to NYU for move-in but she’s not quite sure how to put one foot in front of another. Her life is packed up in boxes behind her but her world is holding her hand.

“Four hours baby. That’s all,” Jackie coaxes, “we can do it.” She says it with so much confidence but her bottom lip is trembling frantically. She got a place at Penn State and she’s happy. It’s what she wants - to be away from her family - to grow. Unfortunately that means being away from Jan too.

“Will we make it?” Jan asks - and it’s so earnest it breaks Jackie’s heart.

“Yes.” Jackie says. And this time her lip is still.

I’d like it if you stayed.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #jan sport #jankie #lesbian au #coming of age #song fic #fluff #s12 #pinkgrapefruit #tw noncon with unnamed side character #tw mild panic attack #still fluffy though #jackie comes from a strict household #jan reads shakespeare #hi i hate trying to make sense of your fucking tags. -v

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ever-glowing · 3 years

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The time now is 11.57pm, and guitar boy sends me a message.

In my opinion, it is ridiculous to be hung up on someone like you. Please, accept my following analysis about why this is so:

I. You, simply put, are incredibly dense.

I try not to think of the time where we were classmates at 10 years old, sitting beside each other. You whispered a bad joke, making fun of how the English teacher moves her hands too much when she gets angry. What you didn’t anticipate, is how loud I would laugh after that. Before you get a big head -- your joke wasn’t even that funny. She got so mad, she pulled us both out of class and yelled at us for a good 15 minutes. Back then, I didn’t know any better. I cried for the first time in front of you, tears running down my eyes and red-faced just as any other 10 year old. I refused to talk to you for the rest of the day, even as you tried to offer me a tissue and tell even more awful jokes. I was so mad at you, guitar boy. I was angry that you broke me down to my simplest, most carefree side without me even realising that I was letting you in.

(Now when I think of it -- maybe you weren’t dense. Maybe, you were a kid unlike any other, with a kindled desire to make everyone around you laugh.)

II. You are kind. Almost stupidly so.

Do you remember meeting me at the airport when we were 11? God, I still remember how we pretended not to know each other. Same ski hotel, same ski class. The chances are infinitesimally small, but there you are, standing right in front of me. Your beanie is far too big for your head, and it keeps slipping down. Your boots make a squelch sound when we first step in the snow outside Haneda Airport, and mine do the same. Teenage childishness dictates that we ignore each other, that I snap back at your quips and you do the same. We snap and ignore until one day, on an hour long bus ride home from the restaurant, I make a small comment that I’m not feeling too great. You pause for a while, before moving aside and gently pushing me to take the window seat.

“I read somewhere that it helps. To sit by the window so you don’t get motion sickness.” It’s a sheepish tone, one that takes me by surprise. I don’t really know what to say, so I just smile and whisper a thank you. The bus is quiet, but for some reason your presence doesn’t bother me. It’s a nice comforting weight against my side, keeping me pressed between the chilly window and right beside you.

You mumble a sorry, shifting your body so I get a little more room.

We don’t really talk for the rest of the journey. Somewhere along the 15 minute point, you take out your earphones and whisper to me if I want some music. You promise me Mayday Parade is the best band to ever walk the Earth, I tell you that you’re nuts. The rest of the people on the bus are asleep, and really it’s the two of us in a little bubble of MP, me discovering just how neat guitars can be. We stare out at the snow on the side of the road, watching as the road lights illuminate and reflect a warm yellow.

It’s around the last 30 minutes when you realise my hands are pressed together, fingers intertwined with my own. It’s a classic mistake, one where I forget to bring my gloves and I’m way too prideful to ask if you have spares.

Almost immediately, you rip off your own gloves, and pass them to me. You apologise if they’re a little damp, for they got wet in the snow earlier. I’m too shocked to say anything, feeling the weight of your gloves in my hand. It’s almost too heavy a responsibility to bear, but I cannot explain why. I put on your gloves and mumble a grateful thank you, for the countless time that night.

(I remember the moment we got off the car, you headed straight for the restaurant to ask for 2 hot chocolates. You pass one to me, and warm your fingers around your own.) I am still wearing your gloves.

Sometimes, guitar boy, I wish you weren’t so stupidly kind to put others before yourself all the time. I wish you wouldn’t wear your heart on your sleeve, and act as if kindness is something you owe the world, something you owe me.

(It makes it a lot more difficult to dislike you.)

III. You lead me on, guitar boy. Why is that?

We are 16, and it is the month before our exams. You text me one night, panicked that you don’t understand a word in your Chinese worksheet in time for your oral exam. It’s eleven o’ clock at night, and my eyes are closing on me.

(But I cannot give up on you guitar boy, because you have never given up on me.)

We call until 2 in the morning. I go through every single detail of my Chinese notes with you, and we brainstorm until my head hurts and we can’t stop laughing. Whether it’s delirium or not, I honestly can’t tell. Things look a little different at two in the morning, and you are no exception. There’s a weird giddiness in the room, a reluctance to make the first move and say I have to go, I have to go.

You pull out your guitar, and ask what’s my favourite pop song. My mind goes completely and utterly blank -- not just for the fact that it is two in the morning, but also equally because I am in trepidation of what comes next. I shrug my shoulders helplessly, and tell you to play whatever you want. There is a classic, shit-eating grin on your face as you proudly announce that you will play your favourite Taylor Swift song, Love Story. The opening chords come on and I snort, as I watch what is in all honesty, an excellent rendition. I give you mock applause, and you return the bow.

“What did you think?”

“I thought it was rubbish.”

There’s a beam on my face as he flips me off through the Zoom camera. It’s the easy, carefree banter that grabs me by the arm and throws me back to the days when we were 10 years old.

He opens with the chords of another song, and asks me if I know Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder.

(He asks me whether the girl at school will recognise the song, and whether by singing it to her next week, she will like him back.)

The time is 11.59pm. My phone screen is still lit up, and it is still your text that clouds my phone screen.

“Do you want to play tennis tomorrow? I can book a court if you like.”

The time is 12.00am, and I have yet to reply you.

#sadie writes #this came out in a fit of 2am writing time check its 1.48am #delete later #ngl this is intensely personal and if u know u know #guitar boy #greatest fear: gb discovering this page #anyway! its pining hours like never before #ok to rb #tumblr formatting is so frustrating

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beaubcxton · 6 years

Text

“You’re so brew-tiful, Snow.”

For @recgulus on her birthday. I love you & I hope you enjoy this 5.8kish mess. What is canon, right? Also, I made Simon say Crowley because I really like the word even if it doesnt have any context here. This is rushed but like, enjoy.

It happens on a Monday. Of course, it does Nothing good ever happened on a Monday. Simon should have known to keep his head low on a day like this. Children sobbing was the welcome tune that announced the beginning of a new day, fingers stumbled on the steering wheel; a sign that the night before might have been exhilarating but now was just, tiring. Mondays were like the thorns in a bed of roses.

Back in the day when his dad was still decent, his father warned him to take care of himself. ‘Nothing like a Monday, mate. Can’t smoke or drink, can ya?’ And Simon had smiled toothily at his father, shrugging off the advice like it was dust that had found its way onto his coat.

He really really shouldn’t have done that.

Reason 1: His mom died two years ago in June on a Monday.

Reason 2: Agatha broke up with him last week. Surprise, surprise! It was on a Monday!

Reason 3: He just spilled hot coffee on the fittest guy in the world on a fucking Monday aka today.

---

“Simon!!”

Feet wheeling automatically at the familiar voice, I extend my arms right in time for Penelope Bunce to fling herself against my chest. Her giggles send a row of vibrations in me that shudder each bone. I-weirdly- find myself inhaling her hair as if to assure myself she’s there. (She smells of watermelon and ink. Typical of her to do something study related even on vacation ) I shift uncomfortably in the hug, her phone digging in my arm.

Pen is my best friend. Been since we were tiny tots. She'd been gone for nearly a month. Being the only person who included me in social ongoings also known as parties where you could get wasted, Penny was the Jake to my Boyle. When conversations had the opportunity to become awkward and stifling, Pen was pretty cool to divert my attention. We'd video called at least five times a week this month.

She pulls back, grins still wide on both of our faces and surveys her surroundings.

It’s earlier than I would like it to be; it’s just barely afternoon and I’ve been awake since dawn. It’s a tiny cafe, huddled alone with its vivid hues of orange and brown amongst the grey concrete building. Good for business. Unlike the outdoors, the interior of the cafe’s temperature induced warmth and placidity. I usually notice several kids hunched and pored over their studying material. Textbooks that hid their anxious face from view are stacked on the tables, their coffees long since drained but I rarely pay attention to it, opting for my ‘want a free refill, mate?’ chime. Employed at the beginning of fall, I was given only a few days to suit the shop with the atmosphere outside. Pumpkins decorate the cashier desk and they’ve been carved to look like famous people. My favorite one is the one that looks like Miley Cyrus. Strings of lights, the ones you get in IKEA fall from the ceiling casting a mellow glow in the gloominess of the upcoming winter.

“I can’t believe you work here now.” She huffs, still having a staring competition with one of the pumpkins. Taylor Swift must have won because my best friend snaps her gaze towards me as if waiting for an explanation. I know where she's going with this and I have no intention whatsoever to get into it. It'll just end with her storming out or worse so I just hum in agreement or whatever she expects from me.

Surprisingly between tucks of hair and another staring completion with Shawn Mendes, she tells me, “It’ll be good for you. I hope, at least. You’ve been a mopey mess since Agatha, now don’t give me that look Si. You know it’s true. I told you not to get involved with her but-“

I will my jaw and heart to loosen. “Missed you Pen.”

Her teasing and motherly grin could light the whole shop up. “Micah and I missed you too.”

My smile wavers. Right. Her boyfriend in America. Really decent bloke, always up for the occasional drag though he’s a right wanker when he’s reading a book. We get along swimmingly. And it's not like I like like Penny but whenever she talks about Micah, it reminds me of my recent break up with Agatha. Someone who I thought I'd spend my life with. For fuck's sake, we're twenty-three. I'd be Pinocchio if I told you that I didn't go ring shopping.

“Simon?” I run a hand through my hair and grimace when it comes out sticky. I haven't talked about Agatha since she broke up with me.

“I’m alright,” I say and conclude the statement by sending her a shaky smile. Penny looks wary but doesn’t do something weird like putting her hand on my shoulder or lending me a hug. I’m grateful for it but also resentful.

The door tinkles and-

“Simon Snow?”

My first thought is ‘Fuck me.’ My second is ‘I’m going to act like a dunce. Crowley, this boy knows my name.’ And my third is nothing.

I go blank. Nada and nil, both poetic wonders dance from my tongue. Penny pinches my arm. I can see her smirking and hiding a giggle but I don’t reproach her for it. Not when Adonis is standing right in front of me, his muscular form a barrier against the cool wind he’s brought with the open door. With slanted eyebrows and thin lips, he looks like someone you’d see in portraits at castles, despite the smirk on his face.

“Simon Snow?” He calls out again and I watch mesmerized as his mouth opens and pronounces my name. I flush. It’s probably in my best intentions if I don’t drool over a customer and with hardly any cool, I raise my arm up like a moron and squeak out a “Here?” like we’re kids and back to roll call.

Super Fit bloke- as I recently decided to call him in my head- shifts his searching glance and focuses on me and I almost reel back in surprise. He’s wearing a hat that shadows his features but even blind, I’d recognize him anywhere. His eyes are grey and unlike anything that I’ve seen. It’s like a storm in there and I’m captivated by observing them. It’s so different watching them up close, up person in daylight than stalking his Instagram profiles at 2am. And his hair is carefully messed up in an extravagant manner, dark and shiny locks peeking out lazily.

I'm speechless. This is the best day of my life.

“Bastillon Pitch?”

My mouth blurts the words out but I suspect even if I had time, I’d say those same words. That same name. Do you know who is standing in my-not mine but you get the point- coffee shop right now? Award winning and three-time Oscar nominee, Bastillon Pitch. He has nine million and seven thousand followers on Instagram (not that I would know) and he’s been called to Ellen which he’s refused, by the way. For all my understanding (and obsessive knowledge) about him, I could never understand why he would do that. I mean, who refuses Ellen? That’s like refusing chocolate. Only a few months older than me, he’s the youngest actor to star in so many bloody iconic movies.

The man grimaces and looks around to see if anyone’s heard my exclamation but that would be ridiculous because the only people in the room are him, Pen, me and two ladies with floral blouses and wrinkled fingers. The latter are deep in conversation and are stealing glances at us occasionally to check whether we’re eavesdropping. They’re loud so that’s taken care of. In the seventeen minutes that they’ve been there, I’ve learned that they are lesbians whose gay son eloped with a girl. I'd like to say that's the strangest thing I've heard but it doesn't even rank top ten in today's conversations.

“I go by Baz and shut up, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rathe dumb, aren’t you? You’re the barista here?” His voice is smooth and dark like wine drunk on a summer night. The tone, however, implies he thinks I’m incompetent. It’s like he’s trying to convey, ‘You? You’re the barista here? Seriously?’ I feel like I’ve been slapped. Hurt and embarrassment course through me simultaneously.

It’s not every day that one gets to meet their fucking celebrity crush but well (I like boys too, you see) I imagine I’m handling it rather well, never mind that my face is probably beet red and I’m this close to stammering. Don’t give me that look. ‘Baz’ Pitch is literally an icon. He’s acted in several movies and he’s so good at it that I get goosebumps watching him. And Crowley, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t the fittest person I’d seen in my life. 10/10 ass and a perfect asshole. I don’t think I can handle his fucking beautiful lilt this early in the morning what with Agatha presence still ghosting my mind. Bastillon Pitch or not.

“Yes.” I bite. “Why?”

“Just expected a bit more, I suppose. Most baristas have a uniform” He breaks off suddenly and stretches hard like, his shirt literally goes up and I have a view of strained muscles. Crowley. I’m staring at it so hard I’m not aware he’s speaking till he coughs. Shit. I want to wipe that smirk off.

“You seem like the type of guy to like Brooklyn Nine-Nine but you don’t even wear a uniform so I can’t consider you a true fan. Seriously Snow, who wears that to work?” His mouth is opening and closing but all I hear from him is the sign ‘I’m a prick.’

“Sorry, we can’t look like posh assholes all the time.”

He rolls his eyes again at my attempted jab. “You-“

“You know,-“ I interrupt loudly, “-I wonder if you keep rolling your eyes because you’re trying to find a brain back there.”

The asshole grins and I’m disarmed by the beauty of it for a moment. His teeth do not contrast well with his tanned appearance. They look almost yellow in the dim light of the coffee shop but they’re sharp. I oddly wonder if he’s played a vampire. But then I know he’s not. I’ve watched all of his movies. Twice. Okay, thrice. (And maybe a few more times after that)

“Touche” As he walks towards me, I can swallow my disgust. He’s so damned tall. Seriously what was the point of these people with their ridiculous heights of six foot when I, a mere mortal was just five foot one? (I never said I wasn't dramatic.) “I didn’t expect it from you. Soft, aren’t you Snow?”

Pen, the traitor is nicely backing away.

“Soft?” I splutter manically even though I know being soft is wonderful but Bastillion Pitch cannot know in any universe that Simon Snow is soft. It would not bode well on his impression of me.

He grins wolfishly. “Shame.”

Shame? Shame? What does that even mean?

His sudden bark of laughter shakes the bloody walls. “Flustered, mate?”

Oh. Oh. Pen has long since retreated, thankfully because I wouldn’t feel like quitting if she was here. It’s just like the universe to make the (EX) love of my life an arse who has no consideration for my feelings. I admonish myself for sounding like a sap.

“I only get flustered in front of cute. Hot, hot people.”

Predator smirk combined with no reply sets me on edge. “What do you want?”

“Good grades but I already have them. Do you, Snow?”

I try not to let the bitterness seep into my tone. Of course, acting isn’t enough for the Great Bastillon Pitch. He’d have to study and rank too, possibly. I couldn’t understand why he’d need to work with all that money.

“Stop calling me that.”

Damn, how does he raise just one eyebrow?

“It’s a name, Snow. Surely, even you know what their purpose it?”

What? I’m so confused right now. I rack my brains and ask myself if I’ve done anything to warrant such behavior but I come out short. Did I bump into him on the street and not apologize? Kick his dog? No to both because I’d remember being a shithead. I don’t want to be on bad blood with Bastillon Pitch, however, so I try to rein my irritation in. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.

“What are you majoring in?”

He stares at me. Blinks. Stares. “I want to become a lawyer.” He draws out the words like he thinks I’m a moron.

Who knew it’d be hard to have a conversation with Bastillon Pitch? Not me.

“I think you playing a vile asshole has rubbed on your in real life personality.” This time, I’m teasing.

His laughter is a sound I’ve not heard before. It’s warm and cold, both at once like he’s rarely had the opportunity to full on laugh, uncontrolled and unpracticed and he’s not sure how to excel in the skill. I think that irks him, not being able to control it because he stops quickly though I won't forget how, for a moment, his eyes crinkled shut and how his fingers curled in. I shiver.

It’s like someone has clicked a button on his personality. His face becomes a mask of nonchalance. “Coffee.” He orders. “Tall and with milk.”

Disappointment finds its way to me. Despite the ongoing insults, it was exciting to spar with someone. I’m just usually bored here. I grind the dusty little machine on (it’s certainly not Starbucks material) and waits for the hum that it’s working before I assemble the milk and sugar, distinctly aware that eyes are trailing me.

“You’d be a good lawyer,” I say suddenly as I pour a teaspoon of milk in, anxious to continue the conversation. His eyes widen. “Make people all mad and that. That be two pounds.”

His lips twitch as he silently hands over the money. I draw up the bill and as I’m handing over the coffee, full to the brim in a paper cup. His nails brush the desk as he leans forward, breath warm against my cheek as he murmurs, “You’ve got a nice arse, Snow.”

And because, I’m Simon Snow, because I’m a walking disaster, because Bastillon Pitch is an asshole who deserves it, I splutter and my hands shake for one infinite second before the cup goes down, falling and the piping beverages jumps onto Baz’s leather clothes.

Times stops in that standstill of a second. Nothing moves. In that second, I’m not an idiot but the spell is broken and I realize what an A class clown I am.

“You’ve got a little coffee there.” I murmur, mortified as Bastillon Bloody Pitch stares at himself for several seconds before his charged animal eyes hook me in place.

“What the fuck, Snow?”

I splutter maniacally, flinging drool here and there. Sending a plea to the ground to swallow me up, I stumble in my haste to get some towels. I start to dab one on his chest and flush when I realize I’m essentially touching his breasts. I am touching Bastillon Pitch, Oh my Gosh.

Do not think about that, Simon Snow. Do not think about that.

Baz pushes me off and tugs the towel and wipes himself. He’s snarling and his eyes have darkened but I (shockingly) notice pink coloring his cheeks.

“Rubbing it won’t help, Bastillon. You’re supposed to dab-”

“I reckon you’d know a lot about this. This your ninth time dropping coffee on a customer? And I go by Baz, how many fucking times-”

I raise my hands and back away. He seems almost embarrassed but I do not want to be in the way of an angry ‘Baz’ Penny, please be there. “I’m sorry. Coffee’s on the house.”

“THERE IS NO COFFEE, TO BEGIN WITH!”

Well, he has a point there. I concede defeat and murmur apologies. Baz drops the towel on the floor like a wanker and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him and the texture of frost whipping across my face for a millisecond as I process the previous events.

The old ladies are looking at me and grinning. I bury my hands in my face and groan.

I could not catch a break.

---

“Snow!”

Fuck. What is he doing here? I shut my eyes for a second, try to collect any calm in this universe and curse softly.

“SNOW!”

I move out from the kitchen and press my apron, hastily. The warm aroma of coffee ground hits me as I step out the door and face to Bastillon.

“Hey.”

He sneers. “Where's the apron?”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look down at myself, just to double check. I had worn it.

“What are you on about, mate? It's right here.” I say and gesture to my clothes.

Surprisingly, Baz flushes and growls out, “Where's my apron, you moron?”

I know he's trying to be a really tough boy and crap but whenever he growls, it sounds really cute, almost like he's imitating a baby bear. I have the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks and coo over him.

“Snow!”

He even has the personality of a bear.

“Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”

Baz shutting his eyes will forever be one of the most dramatic and exaggerated actions in the world. It's like one of those slow things. First, he twists his fingers and they curl around the table. Then, his lips purse. All the while his eyes are slowly shutting. Maybe, he took classes for that.

“I said,” He manages to say. “Where the fuck is my apron?”

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Look mate, I can make you a cup of perfectly fine coffee, provided you don't startle me like-”

“Urgh!” Baz implores to some deity. “I’m working here, you dumbass.”

I freeze.

There is no way I heard correctly.

“What?”

“Fucking Crowley.” He murmurs, throwing his look downwards.

Just when you think life’s picking up, when you finally move on from the incidents of yesterday and go a few hours without this complete and utter arse, Bastillon Pitch drops in and says, “Hey! I‘m going to work with you. ”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Crowley, I'm going to need to tell my aunt about you.”

Somewhere inside me, my heart stumbles. “What?”

“My aunt?” Baz smirks. “The owner?”

Are you serious? Someone up there had it out for me. Embarrassment rings through me.

Pinching my lip, I have a revelation about what I must do. Alrighty then. I give him my apron and resign. Guns and Roses blare in the background as I do this mighty and heroic deed. I leap off the platform, pluck my sunglasses off and kiss the mole on Bastillon face because no matter how much of an asshole he is, I will forever be attracted to him before I pull away and slam the door on my way out.

Well, I imagine all of this. Could you tell? I really cannot believe my luck. Now, his aunt who I assumed was a perfectly good woman is going to fire me and I’ll live on the streets for all eternity. Staring at how happy Bastillon looks with the bombshell he's just dropped doesn't help me in the slightest. Moving to get him an apron, I throw it towards him and cross my arms as a thought strikes me.

“When did you start?”

Chuckling low and warm, Baz pulls the apron on top of himself and smiles. “And here I thought you were dull. Yesterday.”

Xxxxxxxxx

We’ve settled into a routine. Baz and I. It’s really just one rule though we’ve found it hard to obey. Do not interfere with the other.

Sometimes, I’m making coffee when Baz leg brushes against mine and while both of us turn pink, I choose not to say anything while he goes into a rage about how I’m an imbecile who hogs all the space and how ‘you hog all the space with your fucking stupidity, Snow!’

So I’d retaliate. The other day, for example, he’d asked me for a cuppa. He was on break and by obligation, I had to make him one so I set out to make a cup of tea when this brilliant idea struck me. I boiled the gatorade up and put it in a cup with sugar on its side. Waiting patiently as he raised his eyebrows, sipped the tea and then, spat it out, I couldn’t help but feel vicious satisfaction.

We play a bunch of games too. Not the friendly ones that children in playgrounds do but the ones that people with no lives and who thrive on annoying their rival do.

One of them is the growling game; every time, we roast each other and someone doesn’t retort but growls, loses. The other is The Quick Game; we have a tally on who serves the most customers. So far, Baz is winning by a marginal. (a lot) My favorite is the Embarrassment Game; when we’re talking to customers, we tell them ridiculous things about the other. Baz, of course, started it first. He had told one of my favorite customers that I’m a rather dull kid and his aunt had hired me in pity. I had told the next customer he was gay. He, surprisingly, didn’t have anything to say to that and we haven’t played the game since.

---

“You’d think that a barista would know how to make a cup of coffee.” Baz is saying to his aunt, Fiona who is coincidentally my boss. Did I mention that before? We’re at her office, not because she’s called me though that was what I was led to believe, cue angry glare at the boy on my left. “But Snow dropped the whole fucking mug, sorry, freaking mug on me on my first day and I had to go home.” Baz added, opting for a pout.

Crowley, he looks brilliant. Bugger. We’re playing the Embarrassment Game again and I am not ready, for once.

I try to display some professional mannerism. Might as well look good before I was fired. Still, I feel melancholic as I rack my brains about my future prospects. What would I work as now? Who’d want to hire me? The guy who can’t hold a cup of coffee? I wouldn’t hire me. I can’t help but feel resentment towards Baz.

“Simon.” Fiona reproaches, leaning forward, hands crinkling some papers as she does so. I liked Ms. Pitch. Despite her hubris and ridiculous attire; fluffy clothes that suited a ball venue and not a coffee shop, she was sweet when you (really) got to know her. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine her to be connected to Baz Pitch. It was typical of my luck for my rival’s aunt to be my boss. “I am very disappointed in you.”

My eyes shut, ashamed. You’d think I’d be used to it, right? The shouts that I’m not good enough but-

“You should have poured the whole bloody machine on his head. He certainly deserves it!”

Baz’s eyes widen proportionally while my mouth drops open.

“What?” We both articulate.

Ms. Pitch goes on as if she hasn’t heard out exclamations. “I thought I couldn’t love you anymore. I was wrong.” Her eyes fixate on me and I stare back, stupefied.

“Go on, then! You have a coffee shop to run.”

As I’m leaving, she says, “And Simon? Expect a raise soon.”

The door slams shut before I can express my stupefied gratitude. I think of going in, again but then I hear Baz’s groans and protests and my feet express a desire to get away, as quickly as possible.

Xxxxx

“Hey, Baz?” I begin, crumpling the cupcake wrapper in a ball and stuff the cake in my mouth. We’re on lunch break now. Sitting right in front of me is Baz though his focus is on his phone and not me. It’s a real pity. Is my sarcasm obvious? I wonder if he’s hungry. Looks like he’s starving. That would explain his pallid color. I know he’d prefer sitting away from me but it’s either here, in the kitchen or outside and attending to people. Every introvert’s worst nightmare. “Baz?”

He rolls his eyes at his phone and cranes his neck upwards. “What, Snow?”

I tsk. He’s like a fucking crab, always ready to bite my head off even though I’m perfectly pleasant. I suspect that even if the Queen of England were to knock, he’d slam the door in her face, grumbling about something.

“Do you ever eat?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes before he scoffs. “No, Snow. I don’t. I’m a vampire and I drink blood.”

I grin toothily at him. They’re probably yellow and red, resultants of the red velvet cupcake and gummy bears I had for lunch.

“Always knew you were a soul-sucking monster.”

Baz turns back to his phone though I can see a hint of a smile at his lips.

---

The other day, word got out that the Bastillon Pitch works at a humble cafe so we’ve been swarmed by teenage girls. Baz, true to his credit, threw them a stellar personality before he said rather dismissively, “We’re closing early! Technical issues.”

I had thrown him a look. “Baz. We worked at a cafe.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I rolled my eyes and sent his fans a smile but they ignored me. “Can you sign this, Baz?” “Baz! Will you marry me?”

The requests were strange but Bas took them in stride. Soon, we had most of them out but camera lights still flashed in out direction. When we decided to close for the day, Baz and I lazed about in the room. Him working on study material and I worked on getting my Tumblr theme.

“I don't understand what those girls see in you.”

Baz barely spares me a glance as his fingers click the keyboard.

“I’m an actor, Snow.”

“And a real-life vampire.”

Baz grins. Hides it. “What are you studying?”

“I don't go to college anymore.”

“Oh?” Baz seems surprised. “If you wanted money, you could ask-”

I don't know if he's jesting or being genuinely kind but it stings me, regardless. “I don't want to go.”

“Oh.”

---

“Sorry! I’m latte!” The pun comes naturally as I burst in the coffee shop, almost an hour late. The bell tinkles as I run towards the cashier.

Baz is leaning against the counter, no customers in sight. It’s a slow day. But apparently, I’ve made a horrendous mistake as Baz folds his arms over his chest and stares me down, the textbook picture of condescension.

“Thank Crowley” I breathe as I pull over my apron. Normally, I’m not late. I’m really not but today, right as I was about to leave the flat, Agatha comes barging in, tears cascading down her pretty face. Her mascara was smudged so I’d known she had been crying for hours.

“What’s wrong?” I had set her down on the sofa and went off to make some tea. That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Agatha started going on about how she missed me and agreed that maybe, we should have given us another shot.

“Let’s get back together, Si, alright?” Agatha had said, staring at me with those bluebell eyes I had grown so accustomed and fond of seeing.

And then, I had a revelation. I did not want us anymore. It wasn’t so much that I was afraid of being hurt again but something else. I had moved on. It felt weird because I was so used to being in love with her, I forgot the feeling of not loving her. And, this feeling was so great I wanted to giggle but I couldn’t do that, not with Agatha flooding my apartment with her tears so I had steered her out and said very softly, mind you that ‘No, I’m sorry, Aggy but no.”

Now, here I was, still panting and victim to ‘Bastillon Pitch Full On Glare’, something I did not want to ever see. He’d looks like he’s swallowed dung. So fucking angry.

“I met up with Agatha.” I say, shortly. That does not dissuade him in the slightest. If I had to say, he looked even angrier. I had rambled about my ex to him in the past weeks. I wish I hadn’t.

“Oh,” He says cooly. “And, I suppose the lovely pair has gotten together again?”

“I didn’t want to.” I pacify him and he cools down, slightly.

“Oh.” He sounds like Christmas has come early. Wanker.

“I can’t expresso your attitude-”

Baz groans. “Stop with the fucking puns, Snow. You’ve been on them since yesterday.”

“And you’re still not used to it? Oh, bugger.” I mock a sympathetic sigh.

And then out of the blue, he says something that sends my heart which is already pounding a million miles per hour, race again because he’s looking at me like that and the twat leaves the room after he says it, like he knows I can’t chase him after the bombshell he’s just dropped.

He stares me right in the eye and says, disinterestedly, “I’m gay.”

Xxx

Ever since he’s told me he’s gay, I feel like something’s changed between us. Do I tell him I’m gay or bisexual too? It’s gotten awkward. I tried to talk to him and transfer the message that I’m not homophobic to him but he gets all clammy if I’ve walked two steps up to him and begin with ‘Baz?’

Normally, I don’t let this bother me. We get on each other’s nerves. Totally normal if I kept persisting. But he looks genuinely uncomfortable and he probably regrets telling me even though I don’t know why he’s told me in the first place, to begin with. I steer out of his way the rest of the day.

As the day progresses, he gets even more on edge, nearly snapping at an old lady who couldn’t see the menu. I try to manage the orders and let him work near the machines. But after, he kicks the machine that we all know doesn’t work, I give up trying to soothe him.

When two people have filed a complaint, I almost facepalm. My killer headache helps in making my day worse. With that and Baz’s mood swings, there’s nothing more I want but to go back home. But of course, that’s when the day gets worse.

It’s nearly night when Fiona rings us up. She rarely comes to the shop but does her paperwork at home. Efficient and tactical.

Baz picks up the phone and I can hear Fiona’s distant chattering but I focus more on Baz’s darkening face. Suddenly, he slams the phone down and tells me, “Close down.”

“It’s not 8pm, yet,” I state, dumbly.

“Fast, you imbecile.”

“But-”

That is, of course, when the lights flicker off and we’re buried in darkness. Baz’s shadow stands out prominently, in front of me and his groan followed by a curse, splits the air.

“Blackout.” Baz explains when I continue staring as he drops on the ground. I rub my eyes and lean against the counter. This was perfect. Fiona had installed those automatic doors today in the afternoon, the ones that functioned on electricity so we were locked in. Two rivals trapped in a room together. Maybe, once I went insane, psychologists could study me and they’d be shocked with the observations.

And maybe, they'd be surprised at how much I still like Bastillon Pitch.

---

Charcoal darkness has winnowed in and coated us with anxiety and tension. There were no curtains so we’d stumbled behind the counter, afraid and weary.

“Sleep in the kitchen?” I say as we’re munching leftovers.

“You can take the kitchen.” He's talking to me. “I’ll sleep here.”

Scoffing, I nudge him with my foot which apparently sets him off. “Don't be ridiculous, Baz. We’re thin enough to fit in the kitchen.”

It'll be cramped and we’ll be arm to arm but I wager we’ll manage.

Baz tears through the bread with his teeth. “Fine.” He bites off.

My foot starts to sleep so I shake it.

“Would you stop doing that?” Baz murmurs after a few minutes. He sounds agitated as he rubs his head. We’re just sitting in darkness now, doing nothing but analyze each other.

“What?”

“Shaking your fucking foot, Snow. I'm trying to sleep.”

My jaw clenched. He was so infuriating sometimes. “You are not sleeping here.”

“Oh?” Baz scoffs, curling into the wall. “Since when do you care? You’re always running after-”

I let out an angry cry. And I don't think, I do. I want him to shut up. Surging forward, I notice how Baz’s monologue starts to delve. He has his eyes shut, I faintly register before I tilt my head and kiss him.

Bas stills and sags beneath my palms like I’m draining all of the oxygen in him. And Crowley, he’s so warm. I care, I try to tell him. You're the sun and I'm crashing into you. You mean so much to me.

I'm leaning over and when he doesn't respond, I pull away, disappointed and embarrassed. He's breathing heavily and I can see his grey beautiful eyes stare at me, wide with shock. I'm stumbling to get away when I fall into his lap. Pushing away, I’m horrified and about to fucking shoot myself.

All I can think about is how the door is locked and I'm trapped with a guy who's probably going to sue me because I assaulted him and oh my god, what am I-

“Snow.” Baz murmurs.

“Here,” I repeat like so long ago.

“Snow, what the fuck?” Baz is already departing his wall. At least, he’s engaged in being frustrated.

“Look, just don't tell the table-”

Baz tsks. “You’re such a moron, Snow.”

I splutter but then he kisses me.

And my mind goes blissfully blank.

---

We sleep in the kitchen that night, my arm draped across his body and his fingers twitching for me.

There’ll be time to talk about what I am, what we are later. How it’ll affect the press and other matters.

For now, it doesn't matter. We don't care. It's just us, two boys who’ve found solace and whose heart aches for the other, suspended in the dark, in time.

It's Baz and me.

#ahsdaosdhfao im even more sorry for this lmao #mine #lotte #carry on #simon snow #snowbaz #snowbaz fanfiction #bastillon pitch #baz #simon x baz

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broadwayficsandmore-blog · 6 years

Text

Beautifully Broken

A/N: This is my first attempt at a fanfic, I hope you like it and feel free to send me requests for anything! This is Chapter 3 of I dunno how many. You can find Chapter 1 here and Chapter 2 here

About the Story: You’re a seventeen year old girl named April Rose who is a senior. You’re best friends with Evan Hansen. This chapter switches from April’s POV to Connor’s part way through. You get learn more about Evan, Jared and Connor through their coffee drinks.

TW: Swearing

Word Count: 2,487

Chapter 3: Initiation

“You want to be friends with Connor Murphy?” Evan practically screamed the last part. You were laying on your bed, hanging your head off the side while Evan paced the length of your room frantically and Jared spun in circles in your desk chair.

“Yes, Evan, for the hundredth time I want to include Connor in our friend group. He needs it, don’t ya think?” You said while running your fingers through your mess of dark curls hanging off the bed.

“I mean, yeah I guess he does but...but…”

“He’s probably going to murder you, April. I mean he’s a textbook school shooter!” Jared finished Evan’s sentence for him.

“He isn’t...god, Jared could you be anymore dramatic? You should really consider theatre, you’d thrive,” you retorted. You sighed heavily as you sat up to look the two boys in the eyes. “If I recall, neither of you had friends when I started talking to you. Evan, you were too anxious to approach anyone and no one bothered to approach you. Jared, you approached everyone and they all literally ran the other direction. We all need a friend. All I’m asking is you two attempt to be there for him the same way I was for you.” your eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, waiting for one of them to protest. But they both remain silent.

“She’s right,” Jared mutters, “I’m still not sold on the idea, but there’s no harm in trying, right?” Both you and Jared turned to Evan, waiting for a response. He was fidgeting with his cast, staring at Connor’s name. Slowly, Evan began to speak as he traced the letters with his index finger.

“Yeah, I guess he deserves a chance.” You jumped off your bed and gave both boys a hug.

“Okay, tomorrow we’re all meeting at Double Shot at six, that’s when I’m off. We can all get coffee there and then come back here. And no bailing, I’ll kick your ass if you bail.” You finish with a pointed finger at each boy and a serious expression. They agreed to meet you at the coffee shop when you were done with work. The boys watched a movie with you before heading home for the night. Once they were gone, you texted Connor the plans.

You: Hey. Evan, Jared and I are getting coffee and hanging out when I’m done with work tomorrow. You wanna come?

It took about ten minutes before he texted you back.

Connor: You want me to hang out with tree boy and the human embodiment of an airhorn? You: They’re not that bad. Jared is overly dramatic and makes really shitty jokes, but he’s got his good points too. Evan has unique interests and hobbies. Connor: What could possibly be good about Jared The Meme Kleinman? You: Well, for starters he makes the most amazing molten lava cake. Seriously, that kid could have his own Food Network show dedicated to those cakes. Also he’s really good at cheering people up when they’re upset Connor: I’ll believe it when I see it. You: Will you come? Please?

Almost twenty minutes went by this time before he responded.

Connor: Yeah, I’ll come. What coffee shop? You: Double Shot, I work there so I can get you a free drink. See ya tomorrow! Connor: Cool. See ya.

You went to bed feeling accomplished. You had convinced Jared, Evan, and Connor to all hang out together. Now you just had to make sure everything went smoothly, or you’ll never hear the end of it from Jared.

After school the next day, you hurried to work. Most tennagers hate working, but you absolutely loved your job because you got to interact with interesting people and you were surrounded by your favorite thing in the whole world: coffee. Most days there were at least three of you on a shift after school, it was a busy time for your little shop. However, today Sabrina called in sick so there were only two of you. To say you were busy was an understatement, you and Jeremy were absolutely slammed. You never stopped moving; pulling espressos shots, toasting bagels, blending smoothies, but you still made little flowers with the milk in every drink. You kept blowing curls out of your face as they fell out of the bun you had on the top of your head.

“This totally blows,” Jeremy muttered as he wiped the counter. You finally didn’t have any customers waiting in line so the both of you took a minute to breathe. Next thing you know, “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift starts playing over the speakers. Normally you’d cringe at a song like this, but Jeremy needed to loosen up or there was no way he’d make it through this shift without quitting. So you did the one thing you’re good at; you embarrassed yourself. You started mouthing the words and dancing around behind the counter as you cleaned blenders and mugs. Jeremy was trying desperately not to laugh, but soon he was keeling over in hysterics. Mission accomplished, you thought to yourself happily. Little did you know; Connor, Jared and Evan were watching you.

//Connor’s Point of View//

Connor arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early. He kept telling himself it wasn’t because he was excited to hang out with Jared, Evan and April; just because he didn’t want to be in the house with his doting mother anymore. When he walked in, he saw a line of people waiting for drinks so he decided to wait and find a place to sit instead. As he scanned the room, he spotted Evan and Jared sitting at a table in the corner. Connor hesitated briefly, taking a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Uh, hey,” he said awkwardly as he approached the table. Evan looked at him with a small smile and Jared didn’t take his eyes off his phone as he kicked a chair out from under the table for Connor to sit down. Connor sat and stared at the table. The boys sat silently for a few minutes, everyone not sure what to say when April came over with two drinks.

“Apple Chai Latte with cinnamon for Evan, Black Forest Mocha for Jared, and Connor what would you like?” She asked after she placed the drinks in front of their respectful owners.

“House roast, please,” he said, turning slightly to April.

“Oh, come on! That’s so boring!” she groaned, putting her hands on her hips, “Spice it up a little bit!” Connor blinked a few times, not really sure what to say because he’s never had anything but black coffee.

“April picks really good drinks for people,” Evan said softly, so soft Connor almost didn’t hear him, “You could let her pick something for you?” He finished, peaking at Connor from the corner of his eye.

“Uh...sure, surprise me,” Connor responded. April nodded, then headed back to the counter to start making a drink for Connor.

“Why am I not surprised the only thing you’ve ever had is straight, black coffee?” Jared snickered just before taking a sip.

“Fuck off,” Connor muttered as he slouched in his chair. Connor felt like this was a mistake already. April probably forced these two to try hanging out with him, and they’re just here for her. Because no one cares about him, how could anyone care about Connor Murphy?

“What do….what do you think she’ll make you?” Evan’s question interrupted Connor’s self deprecating thoughts.

“How should I know?” Connor spit back, his voice thick with annoyance. He watched Evan visibly flinch at his tone, and he instantly regretted what he’d said.

“Well, April she...she’s really good at like...like reading people? Like...she always sees the good in people, and the things not even we can see about ourselves. And that shows in the drinks she makes for us,” Evan stuttered through his explanation, trailing his finger around the lid of his coffee cup the whole time.

“What did she make you?” Connor asked, genuinely curious. Evan smiled warmly just before he took a sip of his drink.

“An apple chai latte with extra cinnamon,” he said, eyeing his drink fondly.

“Why that specific drink?” Connor wasn’t sure why he was so curious about this weird kid’s drink and what it said about him as a person, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking about it.

“Well, I really like...um, I really like trees. I know a lot about trees, and apples, well, ya know they come from trees,” he chuckled nervously, glancing at Connor to see if he was listening, “and I’m not too fond of coffee, April says it’s too brash for someone like me. So she gave me chai because...because she said it’s a feel good kind of drink. And cinnamon because it’s soothing and comforting because I….I um…”

“Because you have anxiety,” Connor finished Evan’s sentence, but instead of his normal tinge of annoyance in his voice, there was understanding. Evan nodded slightly before wrapping his hands around his cup.

“How’d you...how’d you know?” Evan asked, chuckling awkwardly.

“Messed up people can read other messed up people, I guess.” Connor had been to therapy a few times before, and now he knew the signs of almost every mental illness. All of a sudden Connor realized Jared was being quiet for once. He snuck a peak at the boy to his left, expecting to find him on his phone but instead he was just staring at his drink with a blank expression.

“So,” Connor started, “What’s your mystery drink?” Jared snapped his head in Connor’s direction, like he was just pulled from a different dimension.

“Black Forest Mocha, it’s dark chocolate with raspberry and coconut. Dark chocolate is my favorite candy. April said raspberries symbolize kindness or something like that, and coconut apparently has some tie to Hinduism? I guess breaking a coconut is a self-humbling act or something, I dunno she explained it way better than that,” Jared explained nonchalantly. Connor got the feeling he was pretending the drink didn’t mean anything to him, when clearly it meant a lot. Connor smiled slightly after listening to these two explain the way April perceived them and expressed it in drink form. He didn’t realize there was so much more to these two boys, it gave him hope that maybe they were willing to learn more about him, too. Connor was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the familiar beat of a Taylor Swift song come through the speakers. It was the kind of pop music he hated but his sister loved.

“Ugh, I hate this crap,” he grumbled as her crossed his arms.

“Well, April seems to like it,” Jared said nodding in the direction of the coffee counter. Connor turned slightly to see her twirling a hand towel in her hand as she pranced around behind the counter, cleaning various dishes. Her co-worker was laughing at her performance, and Connor couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He didn’t even realize he was staring until Jared was snapping his fingers next to his ear and waving his hand in front of Connor’s face.

“Helloooooo earth to Murphy!” Jared said, trying to get his attention. Connor blinked quickly a few times, then turned back to the table.

“Sorry, zoned out for a second, I guess.” Jared and Evan were both staring intently at Connor, as if they were trying to figure out an equation.

“Holy shit,” Jared spoke quietly at first, but then practically shouted, “HOLY SHIT!” Evan jumped slightly at Jared’s sudden outburst. “You like her, don’t you?” Jared was staring at Connor with a mischievous look on his face. Connor could feel his cheeks starting to turn red.

“Shut up, Kleinman. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor replied bitterly before slouching in his chair again. Evan titlted his head slightly while looking at Connor, as if he was calculating an equation.

“But you...you do like her. The way you just looked at her, you...you actually smiled,” he spoke carefully, clearly nervous about upsetting Connor who just glared at him.

“Yeah, well, you apparently love my sister and you’ve only talked to her like, what, twice?” Connor retorted, every word he said laced with ice. Evan’s face fell slightly, but he wasn’t going to back down so easily.

“She’s our friend, our very good friend, and if you like her that….that’s totally fine and all, but you have to...you have to be kind to her or she’ll never give you a chance. And don’t use stupid pick up lines like Jared, she hates that. And she really hates red roses, too. Her favorite roses are yellow, she thinks they’re happier. And she doesn’t really eat sweets, but she won’t turn down a Hershey’s bar with almonds. And she doesn’t like fancy dates, either. She’s very simple, and laid back and-” Evan stopped rambling when he glanced up and saw both Jared and Connor gaping at him. “She tells me a lot of stuff,” he concluded, shrugging slightly. Jared’s eyes darted back and forth between the other two boys before he spoke.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Evan and Connor shared a confused look before shaking their heads. “We should set April and Connor up. Think about it! Classic bad boy meets the innocent flower child and suddenly his ice cold heart melts and he becomes a prince charming!” Jared placed his hand over his heart dramatically as he explained his thought process.

“I think April was right, you should try theatre,” Evan replied, chuckling slightly. Jared gave him a dirty look before turning to Connor.

“What do ya say, buddy? We can be your wingmen!” Connor wasn’t entirely sure what just happened, but as these two kids stared at him with kind smiles and hope in their eyes, he felt like maybe he found some real friends. People who wanted to help him, people who cared about him. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, maybe he was being naive, but right now he didn’t really care. Because for the first time in months, maybe even years, Connor felt like maybe he had a chance at something better. A chance to be someone better.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” he replied with a crooked smile.

“What sounds good?” April asked, sitting down across from Connor, and sliding his drink across the table to him.

“Oh, nothing,” Evan started.

“Just guy stuff,” Jared finished. The boys shared a knowing look while April had an expression that looked like a mixture of confusion and relief. As Connor took a sip of his drink, he couldn’t help but think maybe his life was turning around.

#fanfic #fan fiction #dear evan hansen #deh #connor murphy #zoe murphy #jared kleinman #evan hansen #april rose #this is my first fic dont hate me #chapter 3 #beautifully broken #my writing #writing #beautifullybroken

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chanelmoon4 · 7 years

Text

june 27 2017

mms update on ppl stuff I guess. I rather not have my journals be about ppl but hey you can't avoid them. Like I said before hopefully ill have time to refer back to my past and talk about what has happen then because having children, being married, having a divorce and just changing my views about life is a lot and view important to me. Never really though I was a person tell all that happen to me. So grateful for it even though I wish it could have all been different

I had such a huge journal entry just stilling on my laptop then it had to freeze on me so ill try to cap up some things that have happen. It’s just not quite the same real calling memories after they have happened. When its fresh its the best. Then can tamper you emotions currently and make you type it different. Regardless it paints some kind of picture.

Lets start with Jake because I just know I need him gone.. Still wish I could be fiends with him but ya you just gotta learn to stay away from people that ultimately bring you down. You can't change ppl and you should try to. He likes where he's at too much and I'm not going to try and open his mind to know things. I've already done what I can with him. But I guess that why you meet half the ppl you do you. You somehow help each other in big or small ways and be on you way when it’s all said and done. Sad, but the more it happens to you the more you just let it happen and appreciate what is. I kept thinking we would naturally break off because he just always wanted to hang at his house sharing a room with his brother. But then his brother moved out and then it just became easier that way. It was cool but just still didn't help are stagnant communication. Half the time I just listen to the only things he knows and likes to talk about his fabricating work, car stuff and his x girlfriends being still about stuff not letting him see his sons. I like that he talks a lot actually but it was just so limited and so much opened up anger in him its just overwhelming. I can't blame him though both of the girls he has babies with complete crazies just not letting him see then just because there relationship went south. He works, he well doesn't drink anymore. Anyways those girls don't have room to talk because they have partied as well. Anyways lets get to the recent stiff. I hung out with him one night ya and this night we smoked. (Haven’t been doing anything like that but the opportunity arrived. my view about greens is wish washy I can live without it but its nice to have every blue moon. for now I'm going to keep it that way and I don't fee bad about it because its not controlling my life.) Then we got into this weird conversation about his x girlfriend with his kid Camille( uhhhhhhh and this is how me and Jake know each other from the past. actually embarrassing to say if I had to explain this to some one :( but she was one of my one and my best friend for a long time. there can be a whole book about her in my life but ill say one thing about her the try and make this shorter she is crazy. she. is. crazy! had a lot of boyfriends and kind what got me on a bad path. also went crazy on the end and had sex with my husband......... I didn't know tell about six months ago.... man I should do a journal entry about this but crap... k so ya anywise we broke off are friend ship around when link was one and haven't or will never talk to her sense) k! So ya Jake stated talking bout her and just problems and its awe all normal but then started saying g maybe she's only being crazy mean cause she still likes him and wants him to suffer rescue it dint work out and she has to live seeing him because they have a kid together now. Soooooo ya it got way weird and eventually I told him to stop and then rest of the night was weird. We have like a little text fight about it. Having him claim that it was about his son and that he was angry about that and all that. He somewhere inside would take that crazy girl back. Just the other day I was talking to ppl at work about relationships where this girl was talking about how her x would start talking bout other girls inform of her and how there were great or complicated. If your speaking about other ppl when your in a relationship then you mind isn't in the right spot and your setting yourself up to cheat. It’s been about 5 days we haven't even texted. Today he hit me up saying he was sorry and it was all about his some and trying to find a reason for her craziness. And I understand I would do the same in his position he is in just trying to figure out what’s going on in that crazy girls mind. I told him I need more space basically and left it as that. There’s more to all this but I'm summing up the best I can and without fixing all this grammar just to comfort myself about the five year old language I'm spitting out. (Quickly spitting out) I want space so we will see how long this last. He’s got anger problems so I know what he said wasn't meaningful. He wants to get back to kissing and such. Way over that. I could see me hanging out with him a time or to in the future before school starts but I really just need him to be gone. I hope I can be strong enough.

Ok mmm next is Jordan. Noting with him ha. Just hung out another time exchanged book had some good talk and that was it. He’s moving to st George and saw him at the pool once with a chick.. So that was kind of weird. He said he had a lesbian friend so that could have been her. Regardless I still didn't have enough feelings to wanna keep up with him and he the same. Let just hope I get my books back some time this fall

k. Damn it I'm going to try and be super honest with this section even though I don’t want to be now cause I gave some stupid hint on twitter that I was going got put shit on twitter so now I'm constantly scared that he did find this tumbler and could just crush my sole. He could expose this to ppl. He could think I'm a freak. I just don't know and now its really kinda sucks. But oh well. Regardless you can get away from ppl really easily and never see then again. I hardly ever see him anyway ( yay ready to make mistakes) I'm not really sure where to start sense my normal entry gets deleted. But he went to Scotland. I think he had a snap post or two that were suggestive. (Could have been to anyone) one I think was hi going on in his jeep alone with a song from Taylor swift saying “all you had to do was stay and a snap f sunset. Idk whey I think something with a sunset. I think that one I'm overanalyzing. (you gotta remember to take things into account but not also over do it. synchronicity really is everywhere but sometimes ppl accidently say things not trying to be offensive but then people end up taking it that way, that’s a really bad destructive habit!... so usually I just try and look for synchronicity but only the good ones. if it can come off as bad I just try to disregard it for the most part. idk... sometimes I do take things that he's trying to tell me he doesn't like me and signs that he doesn't but with him its different clue I think he knows the game or whatever bull crap and is just trying to tell me in some way. who know idk idk but anyways I love looking of the good signs in life and try not to get offensive less I feel its clear enough.. idk ) then shortly after sends a snap saying he's like on a lonely road by himself or something. I decided to respond and to invite him to this movie night thing with ppl from the pool and just said “don't make it too lonely.” then asked him to come to wonder women the next night. Surprisingly he said he could and that was good but a shocker. Just because I'm too chicken to ask him on that date date thing. I'm calling that night are date thing so it can be over with? :S soooooo weeewh there’s a lot I could say about the wonder women movies that was like super crazy synchronized with I guess a thingy we have? Like so much! It was awesome but god there’s something fucked up with me it was like hitting me in the face but yet I was not satisfied...!!! And if its still not making my bell completely ring I'm sure its not at all for him :///(I think I'm just angry I can just get alone time with I'm and don't know what’s going on) it was still way cool to see him. He tried bringing up this stuff about energy everywhere. 1 her want to talk more about it with me. 2 he's teasing me.idk. I wish I would have been more social with him but I have such a hard time singling jarred out for a long time with other people around us. It would just make it obvious and we were around work people. He coming back to work this fall and ya I just don't need people thinking I really like him. ( ah I hats saying that I like him. I like what I see and what might not completely mesh with him I still find so adorable..... I really really hope he thinks the same for me and not just a weird girl he can't avoid and doesn't want to be rude too. Sometimes I wish he would be just so I can really know. should be clear enough tho.. he's not talking to me lol oh well) so it was kinda stupid to finally invite him to hang out and have it with people from work. At one point before we walked into the theater are eyes met form a distant and we both and the super anxious look on are face. It was great! He openly said “sorry texting my family in a group text” that was kinda random and kinda a sign that he's not seeing anyone but who knows. Right as we walked into the theater I have know idea fucking why but I said under my breath not even thinking about anything in particular and he was near me “man I'm no good at this” and he did say something back it was strange and I feet like Emily heard. He said something like “don't worry about or neither am I” gaaaaaaahhh! Fucking shisdkfjsldkfj ha idk so trying to fast forward. We sat next to eachother and I forgot how ackward it is to sit next to people or a ton of people for that matter. Made me so anxious especially because I love snuggling in a theater and more used to that if I ever go. He moved his hand a lot but not in one of those stupid obvious positions waiting to be held. I wanted to um feel his energy more sting next to him more but there were too many distractions to decipher. I had my hands crossed really like the whole time. Again we were next to everyone from work I just couldn’t let them find out! It was so great seeing so many things unfold in that movies that correlated to him and I though! There seemed to be a lot but I really am not going to go through the whole move about it. I'm just going to watch it again when it comes out on DVD. The movies ended we all ackwardly walked out I was tired as shit at the time cause it was past 12. Talked bout some stuff about it and all went home.

(I need more paragraphs. so here’s one lol.) I've never had so much synchronicity show up in a crush like this ever I just like gotta like just like idk know and just give what I can idk idk.mad but I've been so so salty lately like really I was hitting a low then. Work had made me way more aggressive then I've ever been I really hate it. I don't want to be an angry aggressive person or overly dominate. But I'm afraid my surroundings have made me so ://////// I'm trying not to think about that to much and just think that its good for me to practice this and that I've been excelling at it well. The things are all of it will change soon enough with school this fall. I know ill be focus on other things and it will just keep changed. Especially if I quit my job this fall or winter. So back to captain it up with Jared. I've been so less centered again and so I think I had this small/ big peak of scarification with that movie that quickly faded right after it. Usually if anything happens between us I'm like back to liking him call over again. This time I just got just more frustrated. Probably because it was all another wonderful fantasy and not something that happened in real life that I could say we both experienced. I. Just. Want. To make things happen between us so I can have clarity that we are going to be friends or try for something more or just clear cut no so I can get the hell was form the pool and focus a little better. I waaaant that. Fucking shit! This person just fucked my brain up from stuff from the past or something and it’s just so easy to get sucked back into it. So I just need to get closer to this man or remove myself completely. Trying not to get angry about it. But ya so far he's just being a floater boy when I need answers. But the more I push the more I know going to make the answer no. It probably is a no anyways. I'm sure I'm annoying. I used to be cooler trust me. I swear ppl around u influence you so much and when I was reading more not around crazies at the pool. idk.... oh and really think I shouldn't have done this because I'm sure it passed him off.... if he even checks. I deleted all my tweets and hoping to plan to not tweet any more. or for a really really long time. I'm level headed I am. This just weird thing going on its just hard to communicate things and just make it look like crazy move. Hope I didn't fuck it up. Also were being stupid and sent music snaps that made it look like I didn't give a crap. I'm so mean!!!!! Seriously been so salty. ugh :(

Still get on tinder occasionally. I get likes of really cute looking guys on there to match up with frankly. Lots of them are just too far away or I just get scared and do not want to take the work to get to know new ppl. Plus I just HATE texting people long distance or just having got to know you bull crap on it. I rather have people come into my life. I just end up taking to people a few times then ignore them tell it stops. Oh well. I sorta like it that way anyway but I'm still looking and that’s good I guess. I just focus on one person at a time. that just kinda my thing its hard to get attached to several men and i do not like doing that. thats not what my life is all about attracting as many as i can like that!

gosh this was a lot and still not a lot i didn't ever get to say about what I've been learning lately in my books. not to mention i had a logged mediation finally. and holly shit i got soon much crap bit up in me its crazy. really you get keep up with that crap because you pick up negative crap from everywhere and hold in in you forever! i deeply feel if i can just get back to the real me things will work out better know matter what it is. I really need to find myself and be even more stable if anything in my life is going to go my way or if I'm going to be able to give myself to Jared/or any man. I really am quite a stable person, always have been. So it’s really frustrating for me to be stuck into something like this. Wish he could see that or that I could show him things that have helped me... but that’s only if you believe in that stuff. Or let you mind wander there enough to see truths in it. Knowledge truly is power... and takes a lot of responsibility to keep it...

Another things ill quickly say cause I've been spending way too much time on this one and I going over to my sisters tonight, 5 http has help me with my speech problem and is also a mood enhancer. I think I want stop taking it though because it’s like fix that seems like permanently but I'm more aggressive from it and almost more anxious... mother f. I probably should stop experimenting with things cause sometimes it really does backfire and isn't helpful but you know what if you don't try you will never know and there are so many things that I was scared to try or ppl would think is pointless/weird that ended up being awesome! The 5 http hasn't screwed with me that much but I learned form it and know it’s not a thing to take when your brain is already back to normal. Its thing to take if you actually are having depression had a car accident, addiction problems things like that. I took it and it seems to fix my problem but now its not helpful cause I back to normal and it’s overloading my brain. Also I found that one way to clean your entry is to take a bath with sea salt and baking soda and ya i can't pretty much say it seem like its cleans out you aura layers. But you must go in the sun afterwards. Cause it will also deplete you. I did it this morning and really everything was just so clear.... but it was bad to go to work right after. I freake’n sucked everything up :((that like my biggest problem somehow I absorbs everything weather its good or bad. for me seems like I just need to say clear of things. man I'm just hurting myself so much. holding onto a guy that doesn't even have strong feelings for me touring myself staying in all these toxic environments waiting on a silly dream that I don't know if I want anymore or will want when it all comes down to it. ..... and for some reason I just keep doing it. sheesh it must be for some reason. just a little longer and this thing lingering behind me will be all gone or unraveled.

Holly crap this one is huge. Ill spell check it for now and re read it later. lol it will be interesting to see all the stagnant sentences I've created.

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