#I will be much happier having the clothes I do wear more organized and my room tidier with so much space freed up

[lloonlloon]

Trying not to be emotional about getting rid of dresses I still love that I had as a teen that didn’t fit well then but don’t fit at all now. Like my body may have fit in those dresses then but it couldn’t have schooled and jumped courses in a show morning or run my dog through agility courses and I’d much rather be able to do those things now than wear a specific dress

[hauntedwitch04]

Veronica and JD

🎃Halloween party🎃  

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 1.3k words

Warning: Sexy Remus, just some mention of sex I think?, sexy Remus, mention of drinking, I already said sexy Remus ?

Author’s note: 10th day and we are still here! To be truth this is one of my favorite prompts, and I hope you like it as much as me.

p.s. I know I have a big problem with Heather, it’s kinda my obsession, but htat damn film is so good :)

✒️:   “Trick or Treat.” “I choose treat, but I know something sweeter than this candy.” “And what would that be?”

Requests are open I  Ask  I  My masterlist   I  Join the Taglist

Halloween is approaching, and at Hogwarts people are already feeling the festive air. Pumpkins decorate the bare hallways and the ghosts are happier and do nothing but play tricks on all the students. 

This year, after the prefects had spent almost a month convincing McGonnal and Dumbledoor, a party would be held on October 31 in honor of the famous holiday. No one believed it when the professor had broken the news in the Great Hall a few mornings ago, but when everyone had realized that it was not a joke by the Maraurders, as was initially believed, everyone had taken to scrambling to organize everything in every little detail and beginning to think about clothes. 

Lily and James had decided that they would go together and thus have costumes coordinated according to a Muggle movie that the redhead loves so much namely Grease. At first Sirius didn't want to dress up as anything, but when he had eavesdropped as a Hufflepuff girl who inerested in him hoped to see him dressed up as a vampire, because, quoting verbatim, "he was extremely cool dressed up as Dracula," he had changed his mind immediately. Marlene and Dorcas would follow Lily's idea, while Regulus still did not even know if he was coming. 

Remus had told no one how he would disguise himself, thus leaving the mystery for each of us to try to fill in with our own ideas. 

I had decided to dress up as the character in a movie I had seen last summer namely "Heathers," and I would be dressed as Veronica. 

Finally the fateful evening arrived and almost all of us headed to the party venue together, all except the werewolf. After a few seconds all I can do is lose them in the bedlam of that room. The happy couple immediately head for the dance floor and Sirius pretends to vomit when he sees them smiling and dancing tightly together to a Cindy Laupner song, though we are all happy that at least they have finally found love. 

I, on the other hand, am still here, drooling over the same boy since I was thirteen, when I know perfectly well that I am nothing more than a friend to him, and that only hurts. I've spent many moons by his side, I've seen him at his worst, and I haven't even been frightened of the monster he claims so much to be, but I still haven't been able to confess to him that I like him. 

Sirius left me a few minutes ago after seeing the girl he was looking for and now I am standing here by the refreshment table. I can't help but snort as I lean against the cold wall in contact with my hot skin from the heat of the room full of people. I notice that someone is leaning against the wall next to me, and just as I turn around to see who the asshole is that I have to tell to shit for entering my personal space I see Remus in all his glory. He's wearing a long black coat, his hair is tousled as usual. He has on a regular black T-shirt, jeans of the same color, and boots, very different from his school attire. Her costume is nothing special, yet I feel like I have seen it somewhere before. He seems to read my thoughts, because he immediately gives me the answer. 

"JD." He says with that sexy little smile, which God I have to try all my strength not to faint. "My costume. JD, the one from Heathers." Good to see you Veronica." 

She continues with the same little smile as she walks over and holds out her hand to me. I don't know how, probably the alcohol, I find the courage to answer him in kind. 

"Long time no see my dear punk." I say with the same little smile, just above the volume of the music. "You know, I had thought of all but that for your costume. I didn't think you were a fan of this movie." I continue, while still watching it, not wanting to miss every single detail. 

"You were the one who gave me that idea. If I'm not mistaken your exact words were, 'Fuck, JD could do anything to me and the only thing I would say to him would be thank you,' yes I think those were them. And how can anyone not watch a movie after such a review and you know what? You are absolutely right, he is damn attractive, but Veronica is no joke either." He replies, finishing by giving me a wink. 

Suddenly a wave of embarrassment rises up and warms my face, as I think about how I would do anything as well to him since he is so much more attractive d, when I start looking around, to get back to talking to the boy. 

"Trick or Treat." I ask him, as I grab a mouthful of candy from the coffee table in front and start eating it, and in response he looks at me confused, then replies. 

"I choose treat, but I know something sweeter than this candy." He says pointing to the candy on the table in front of us. Now it's my turn to be confused. 

"And what would that be?" I ask trying to be sensual, although I guess I didn't succeed very well. He swallows laboriously before answering me, weighing the answer. Then he brings his lips close to my ear, and whispers something that makes my candy go sideways. 

"You." He whispers, and I can't help but stare at his lips, and I see him do the same. 

"Are you flirting like me Lupin?" I ask, joking. 

"You've finally noticed," he replies seriuosly with a smile, coming closer still. "You have no idea how much you drive me crazy, how much I desire you, desire everything about you: your lips, your heart, your heart." He says inches from my lips, as I close my eyes and breathe in his intoxicating scent. 

"And what exactly are you waiting for JD?" I ask with a small smile. He replies with another smile before throwing himself on my lips. His are warm and soft and taste of tobacco and chocolate, an aphrodisiac flavor that lead me to hold him even tighter to me, putting my hands in his hair as he grips my waist with his powerful arms. 

When we part, breathless, we still wade into each other's eyes and without saying a word, laughing like madmen we leave the hall running through the corridors of the castles under the stunned and delighted gaze of our friends, still shocked at what has happened. 

BONUS 

At the back of the room were Minerva and Sirius looking at you shocked, before the professor started laughing like no one had ever seen her do, even Dumbledoor is shocked. 

"Yes, yes prof I understand no need to twist the knife." Black says, searching his pockets for the money he owed his professor. A few weeks earlier the two had made a bet: she had said that within a month you and Remus would confess to each other, while your friend had said it would take at least three months. As it turned out, Minnie had been right once again. 

Sirius annoyedly hands the money to the teacher, watching her smile. 

"It's a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Black, now if you don't mind I must go and toast the union of my favorite alumni." She says before walking away as the oldest Black follows her as shocked by her words he shouts. 

"YOUR FAVORITES? I THOUGHT I WAS! PROF, I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME! HOW CAN YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THAT!"

[xthefaultisminex]

I'm sorry I am stressful, and I am lazy, and I don't look after things properly, and I leave things in places they shouldn't be, and for not being happier, and for not bringing more income to have less worries, and for not being very pretty, and for not doing my hair/makeup all the time, and for not being slimmer, and for eating all the time, and for wearing the same clothes all the time, and for not having things organized or prepared, and for not being serious, and not being more understanding, and for not doing as much as I can to make things better, and for not being a better person, and for being so sensitive/emotional, and for not being more fun, and for being kind of a loser in life, and for procrastinating everything, and for not being more successful, and for not making you proud, and for not having many skills, and for not being more independent, and for everything in general.........

I'm surprised that anyone even bothers to stay around me and my dwindling, chaotic, pathetic life.

[majaloveschris]

It’s more than that; it’s the fact he wants and is okay with people to know they are in a relationship; ........; that’s why I take the relationship as a fact and the PR as a conjecture//anon I don't know about u or anyone else but there are plenty of times I wasn't doing good in life and still I faked smile and told people I am fine, there are many people and situation I am certainly disgusted by and still managed myself to behave nicely around them and with them.so your point of he is telling or he is showing and he had no objection etc..can't be taken as ultimate truth written on stone atleast by me.the things maja already pointed out which is actually very very basic in any relationship and hold such very big weight at same time.Now let's think from your point of view..its real,besides that new year scare video, vd montage and article drops, pt sighting pic, she posting doger pic what is it that make you feel its real? Infact its suggest exact opposite countless trollings,she responding each and everything fandom says about her,his entire clan liking her pics within few minutes of posting like they nothing else to do,there is no organic sighting, no group pics from either sides,her clan going back in economy,his shoes was way costlier then dress she was wearing at premier..etc..u can find many more,his family still communicate with his ex minka, he bought her Audi, he paid for Jenny's shopping and also gave illaria's service,new branded clothes many pics of them with both sides minka and jenny, many natural sightings..and most of all he legit seemed happy and wasn't afraid to be with them and before u come up with its bcs A has problematic past well both minka and jenny had problematic past infact jenny was still married to someone else at that time.and if it's real they could still have publicly apologized knowing her thing affecting badly on her never been happier bf/fiance career and image,there are way too many loopholes to count in this mess.well that's what my life experiences made me see.

Very good points!

I wouldn't even say he's seemed happy in the past few months. I know there are people who think it's because of how people and fans are talking about their relationship and that they don't support them, but to me, it doesn't seem like he was so happy in the scare videos or in those pictures he shared on Valentine's Day. And there were pictures and videos that were taken before they became public. And I'd assume he would be happier spending time with the person he's so happy and in love with.

Talking about them going public; it's also really unbelievable to me that nobody had ever seen them together before the NYC pap walk. We had that LV sighting, but they weren't on that video together. And we saw that they presumably spent time together because of the pictures. So if they had been together for a year and had spent so much time together, how come nobody had ever seen them together? No random sightings, nothing. This was always really interesting to me. It seems like they've made those pictures in a few days (per season).

He handled his previous relationships way differently, and we know those were real. He looked way happier and more comfortable with Minka and Jenny.

I feel like at this point, most people have decided whether they think this is a real or a PR relationship. I'm not saying it's impossible, but it would be hard to prove to one side that the other is right, maybe if something huge happened. It's not like we should do that. Everybody can have their own opinion, and my intention is never to convince anybody from Team Real that I'm right; this is PR. We don't know what the truth is; we are just telling our versions of it.

[ocenitram]

The costume ball of storybrooke

"Alright I have everyone's invitation Emma honey can you be a dear and delivery this to our guest," Snow gave the invitations to her daughter. "Mom, you know we have email for that but sure uhm what are this for anyway?" the blonde asked taking the letters from her mother.

"Oh, as the princess since am technically still Regina's daughter's my duty to organize balls and such and I thought we could have a costume ball with everything we been through we might need some down time, and nothing is more relaxing than the waltz." Snow explained to her daughter, Emma just looked at her mother "Mom you know we have Halloween for costumes and its way to soon for that.

"Dear it will be fun and besides I thought we could go as that superhero team you love so much," Snow replied not sensing her daughter's embarrassment. "Okay mom first off its only four of us and that team has five or six sometimes three and secondly why on earth would you want to wear spandex." Emma liked the ides however she was trying to put her walls up.

"Emma honey I know how many members are in your favorite team that why I asked Regina and Henry to be a part of it."

Emma was in shock and touched her mother had done all of this and she couldn't help but smile. "Okay mom you thought of everything I guess I can go and buy the costumes," Emma smiled she was getting ready to leave her father had come in "hey princess where are you going?" he asked kissing her cheek and greeting her.

"Oh, hi daddy," Emma hugged her father he had turned into such a daddy's little girl. "Mom told me about the costume ball and well i thought I'd go and buy them," she replied to her father.

"No need princess I have them right here," David replied and Emma was once again happier she never had one of her foster's family buy her anything this was just reforming what her son said her parents truly wanted her and loved her even if they can be a bit embarrassing. "Honey why do you go ahead and try yours on I believe daddy got you the yellow ranger your favorite color." Snow chipped in and David handed Emma her costume. the blonde ran to her room like a little kid excited about the newest toy.

Emma went to chen g she stripped herself from her clothing and slipped into her new yellow garments adn she smiled she loved it "I look good. After she had dressed her self she went dowastairs

"ITS MORPINGTIME," David called out in a commanding voice the one he used for his knights,

Mastodon," Little Neal yelled out excitedly and he smiled.

Pterodactyl." Snow yelled out and Emma came down smiling and a little disappointed.

"I appreciate the gesture, but you know you're wearing the wrong power rangers' costumes for those phrases. first off daddy you're wearing a ninja storm suit and mom your time force while Neal is wearing a turbo suit am the only one in mighty morphin what did you gave Regina and Henry?" the blond asked at that moment henry and Regina teleported in Regina dressed as Rita Repulsa and Henry was dressed in galaxy.

Seeing Regina dressed as her villain made Emma chuckle and Regina scowled at her step granddaughter keep it up you don't get a birthday present. Sorry grandma," Emma replied. the relationship between the mills and charming had changed to the point where Regina started to view Snow as her daughter and Emma and Neal as her grandchildren.

[irish-urn]

LWD: “All Systems No Go”

I cannot believe that Nora hasn’t scolded Derek yet. Why didn’t she say anything about him dying the whites pink, using the neighbours’ pool, or dismissing Casey? She should have said something; this is why Derek is the way he is.

(Also, Casey’s proposed system? Whites, colours, and delicates? We literally use that in my house of 6 people: there are three hampers by the bedrooms for lights, colours, and hots, and us girls have our own delicate loads that we’re responsible for. It works great and causes zero problems.)

Okay, so Emily is now Casey’s “best friend”. Is it because she has no other friends? (I’m not trying to be rude, just making a judgement call.)

And “muddle along”? That’s Nora admitting that things aren’t going super well; why aren’t the adults making more of an effort to get things organized? Will I find out before the end of the episode? Tune in to find out!

(And totally off topic, but I like that Casey wears a lot of pinks, purples, and pretty clothes. I like that she wears sweat pants around the house, but makes sure her makeup is decent (I know this is TV, but still). I just like that she cares about her appearance because, one, that’s very insecure teenage girl behaviour; and two, some girls really like looking pretty (I am one of them), and I like that (so far at least), no one has pointed it out as a flaw and it’s just okay. Like, she’s not overly made-up or making huge efforts, but she does try to look presentable, and, I dunno. I’m probably not wording it right, but it both fits her personality and is something I understand.)

Insight into the Venturi-life before the McDonalds entered their world. I can totally see why Edwin and George are happier and Derek is not. If I was a fifteen-year-old boy, I would also prefer messy tables and a take-out jug.

OH GOSH, DEREK CAME OUT WITH THE TOWEL AND SAID, “Can there be anymore chlorine in that pool?” and I actually gasped, “OH GOSH” out loud and had to pause it. WHY IS HE SO DUMB???

The more I learn about George, the more I wonder how the hell he became a lawyer. He’s kinda a dumbass. Or, at least, incredibly clumsy and easily distracted and has trouble focusing— OH GOSH, I UNDERSTAND WHY DEREK IS LIKE HE IS. If George is easily distracted and unable to focus and is trying to raise 3 children by himself, Derek can do whatever he wants because George just doesn’t have time to notice. WOW. EPIPHANY.

(He needs a Norganizer.)

EVERY SCENE WITH PAUL IS GOLD, I don’t know if him or Lizzie are my favourites. Watching his watch and going, “Huh, it must be late” and then Casey barging in with, “I am so sorry I’m late” I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH.

Okay, so yes, Casey likes structure — but can we blame her??? Honestly, if this show was more of a drama and less of a comedy, I think it’d be so easy and so fulfilling to have Paul talk with her about the divorce and all the changes in her life, and how she overcompensates other aspects of her life to make up for all the things in her life she can’t control. (It’s also why I think as she gets older, and as she figures out a relationship with Derek, she would be able to go with the flow more, because she wouldn’t feel so off-balanced. Once she felt grounded and safe in her life and relationships, I think she could handle more flexibility and mess, but she’s never gonna be a “chill” person.)

I can also see that Derek kept George on task as a parent as much as Casey kept Nora on task, but his methodology is very different. ALSO!!! THEY FORGOT TO PICK UP LIZZIE AND EDWIN?!?! THOSE POOR CHILDREN. And Edwin knowing this was going to happen: what was the Venturi house like????

(And George looks very good in pink, I gotta say.)

How is Derek literally the only person not wearing pink? How did he manage that?

Casey’s blow-up at Nora is totally justified by the way — and don’t think I didn’t notice Nora saying, “You need to calm down.” Wow. Like, Casey is completely right; Nora isn’t taking the situation seriously. As soon as Edwin and Lizzie were left at school, Nora and George should have immediately starting thinking about how to fix things; and Marti playing with Casey’s stuff??? She could’ve gotten sick!!! THOSE ARE CHEMICALS. WHAT IF SHE SWALLOWED ANY OF IT; HOW COULD NORA JUST SAY, “She’s just a little kid.” NORA!!!

George’s parenting style is just... So... No???

HE JUST BARGED INTO HER ROOM AGAIN???? WHILE SHE’S ON THE PHONE??? (added to the tally) No wonder Marti thinks she can play with other people’s stuff; Derek thinks the whole world belongs to him.

“Is that Emily? Can you tell her to, like, stop staring at me when I swim?”

Okay, that entire exchange is hilarious writing, but also: Derek. One: It’s not your pool!!!! And two: You have every right to feel objectified and uncomfortable and I feel so much better about that line in NWF when he complains about getting his bicep squeezed. Derek doesn’t like unwanted attention either, even though he’s a peacock when he does want it.

BLESS DEREK. He actually realizes he’s pushed George too far and immediately goes into “fix-it” mode, and thinks, “Casey.” HE THOUGHT OF CASEY BEFORE GEORGE DID. 

This episode is such an insight into the Venturis, and George and Derek’s relationship. They literally are more like friends than father-son, except one friend mostly mocks the other.

LIZZIE. LIZZIE. LIZZIE BAKING, OH BLESS HER HEART. I cannot; they’re gonna taste so bad, but her heart is so big.

And Derek and Casey fighting the whole time, not saying anything because they don’t wanna bother George, but pushing and shoving each other, gosh. I love it.

IS AMY (Derek’s date) WEARING THE SAME BUTTERFLY PIN AS CASEY WAS EARLIER THIS EPISODE??? SOMEONE CHECK FOR ME BECAUSE OH MY GOSH, THAT MEANS SOMETHING. AND she’s a reader??? Oh my gosh, I cannot. And she actually doesn’t have an issue helping Derek take care of the kids: this one is a keeper.

Also, Derek called her hot earlier... And she’s, like, not crazy hot. Like, not popular hot, or not what I anticipated seeing at all. THIS IS A WHOLE NEW INSIGHT INTO DEREK, OH MY GOSH. Again, I feel so justified by having him simp for Casey’s nerdiness. Wow.

...That flowchart is a disaster. Casey might be able to follow it, but please, consider: George and Edwin. (Derek’s never gonna look at it, and Lizzie is used to Casey’s insanity). $10 Derek wipes it blank before the week is out— OH GOOD, SHE SAW THE LIGHT. Lists are good too.

...So, uh. I had a lot of thoughts about that one too. Wow.

Serious question: Do you guys mind me basically live-blogging like this or would you want more of a summary? I’m having a blast, but if it’s too much for y’all, please let me know.

[evansmeadows20]

Is It Better Substitute Or Repair Your Hot Water Heater?

You must decide which of the bra types is ideal for you shape and wish. When you are dressed up, you may wear challenge style as soon as you are lounging the house. The proper bra size is equally crucial in either circumstance. Dropping a dress sizeis a favorite new year's resolution as it is regarded as an easy thing to complete. This dream is really a longing to have happier level of the past when you felt slim and any clothes looked good in order to. I recall a patient commented on his obesity this way, "Doc, I'm so fat I cannot even see my male organ!" Not only did the thickness of our skin hide the base of his member, his protruding belly also obstructed the view completely. Never buy any connected with heater that isn't UL showcased. Take time read through the manufacture's safety books. If you must use an extension cord, or your computer is plugged into the same circuit as your small space heater, use a power strip/surge protector. If HeatWell Heater Reviews for to define if size matters to women, you need to fund attention towards surveys and known exactly what the average dimensions are. A survey about penis size of 556 women, from the ages of 19-49 asked the participants regardless if the length and girth of your penis really mattered. And also the results were that 18% said penis length was indeed very important, 57% said penis length was somewhat important, 25% said penis length was not important and 22% said penis girth was extremely. For factor you must decide whether can go by using a gas tankless water heater or a good model. Are usually several comparative differences between the two that need to be taken into account. Now can be also the challenge of variety of system you are presently running. One does are running a gas system then always be obviously in order to swap out with another gas mechanism. But there is definitely not stopping you from changing for electric system in the tankless hot water heater area. There is not more devastating to see when your outdoor party becomes a nightmare. Could be see your friends shivering in a corner, all wishing these people could go home, as opposed to enjoying full event. Purchasing a you one more thing ask the come to an outdoor party, they would try acquire excuses hence they do not have to attend. Signifies how important it can be always to have a trust-worthy heater. When you're considering the size of a good solid model, don't just assume that what you had before had the right heating volume. When considering capacity, add up just how much hot water your household uses within busiest times during the the night out. You want to consider what demand on every day basis throughout the year, not what components . when you'll be able to house regarding company. When observing any bra, you would certainly notice an pattern in the size will certainly always discovered. The bra size is a number after which, there has to be a letter as well as a series of letters (aa). Even though there is reasonably little distinction between some of your bra sizes that are available, there is still will be a difference and commemorate you extremelyincredibly comfortable, one's own can which one you select. It is also important to understand, however, there are some standards which exist when it comes to bra sizes, each manufacturer may measure them differently, at least to a precise extent. Becoming said said, this can be a standard for bra dimension.

[bomberqueen17]

state of the me

I am surviving January with a surprisingly high degree of success.

Like, it’s not pretty, but I’m doing it. A lot of it is coasting on momentum from earlier work-- just like last January, which was an utter fucking sinkhole of bad shit, but I’d been so productive throughout October, November, and early December, that I was able to just-- keep working through what I’d already done, and by the time I ran out of stuff, I had been stumbling in the correct direction long enough to pick it up.

Which is pretty notable because last year was pretty fucking awful and I genuinely don’t remember much. But, when people are like “go easy on yourself! take it slow! take a break!” this is why I’m like mmmmm no. I’m not saying that’s advice for other people, I’m just saying I personally am one of those sharks that has to keep swimming to breathe, so if I stop I’ll just drown, so really I’m happier keeping moving-- yes, I should apply less pressure, but actually I’m pretty good by now at being gentle to myself, and I should have some faith in myself over that process. Keep moving, B, it’s okay, don’t worry about the speed of it but just sorta keep moving.

(cut for length and rambling and my Art Process and really boring shit)

I had a weirdly productive weekend, except almost zero writing, which terrified me briefly-- because of the above, I really freak out if I’m not moving at all. But some weird part of my brain diverted itself; during the week, at work, I’d started daydreaming about cleaning my house, which is sort of new for me-- like, I think all the time “i should tidy” but mostly i think it with despair, and instead I got like a concrete “hey the impenetrable layer of clutter over that little section of living room is actually not all that deep, if I focused for an hour or two I could make that a usable spot”-- and sure enough, while Dude was grocery shopping, I cleared off a bit of a desk that’s been used as an end table in the living room for so long that I had forgotten it was ever a desk. But a desk it is! and now I have a place to sit and paint my nails, transfer embroidery patterns without skewing them, hammer the awl through leather, and the like. I could even, if I tidied a bit more, have a place to put my paychecks so I remember to deposit them.

Then on Sunday I was wearing bike shorts and my legs got cold so I went looking for a particular pair of yoga pants I own, and they weren’t where I knew I’d left them, so then I went and started digging through The Impenetrable Laundry Mountain and... sigh. So like. Here’s the thing, I’m very mildly OCD-adjacent about doing laundry. I really like sorting clothes into the washing machine and making them be clean and hanging them to dry just right. I hate putting them away. I don’t do it. I won’t do it. If I put clothes away I forget I own them. That’s what happens. And so once clothes are in the dresser they’re out of circulation. Especially now, when I get up and leave for work while Dude is still asleep in the room where my dressers are. Any clothes that are in my bedroom are unavailable to me when I get dressed, so I have to dress myself out of the laundry still hanging on the drying racks or on hangers in the guest room. I have attempted to lay out outfits the night before, but my brain is like no and that’s all she wrote. 

But i spent a couple of hours on Sunday sorting through that impenetrable pile, and put away the clothes that are moderately out of season, removed the farm-only gear to a box in the basement easy to access when I need that stuff again, cleared off the eternal laundry pile on the guest bed, and replaced it with-- not picked-out outfits, but a selection of clothes I will wear to work in the coming weeks. I also put all my socks and underwear into an over-the-closet-door shoe organizer I’d been using as a dresser at the farm since the yurt burned, so I have easy ready access to those, instead of having to paw through the laundry pile for the same seven pairs of underwear I wash and rewear every week. Minor adulting victories, but anything that keeps me from having to rummage in a dark room at 5:30 in the morning is a pretty important step.

Anyway. As I was working, I kept having all these deep thoughts about art I want to do. Dude-- a sidebar on Dude, he has himself figured out pretty well. He has learned that he really enjoys picking up new hobbies, mastering them just well enough to do a project he had in mind, completing that project, and then setting the hobby aside forevermore. He did this with cross-stitch, he did this with Japanese archery, he did this with banjo-- he knows he will be interested in a thing, rather consumingly, for a period of months, usually less than a year, and he will get very deeply involved in it and enjoy it a great deal, and then he will be finished with it. There’s no guilt, no shame, no worry; that’s just how it goes. So he has started deliberately seeking out things he thinks are cool, with the intention of doing just this.

His current thing is kintsugi. Like, real kintsugi. I got a kit for Christmas last year, the cheater epoxy version of it. And he was going to use that to fix a mug he liked that he broke, but then in typical him fashion, he went on a research spiral, and wound up finding the only guy currently doing real kintsugi in the US, who is a Japanese man living in NYC. Who offers consistently sold-out Zoom workshops. Dude got on the waitlist, and has finally gotten himself into the course. I am fascinated-- it’s a multi-step process and each step has to cure for hours or days or-- it’s just so cool. And of course I have a bunch of art I want to do with that. (Of course I am making him teach me what he learns. of course I am!)

So I have a bunch of notions to do with that. I also have a bunch of, as ever, textile-related projects. A selection of Goodwill-salvaged furs are hanging on my sunporch, where it is about 0F at night, which should do-- a couple more days like that and i can be reasonably confident there aren’t any bugs, and then hopefully there’ll be a day that’s not so punishingly cold and I can put on a mask and comb them out and disassemble them and vacuum them out on that porch, for easier cleanup, and then take them and work on them indoors where it’s warm. I downloaded and printed off and cut out several options for stuffed elephant toys, which I figure I can easily enough mod into mammoths. (Dude interrogated me: wouldn’t i rather make a mastodon? no actually! i love mastodons and the cohoes mastodon was my first love but actually the columbian mammoth from the american museum of natural history stole my heart when i was under two, and columbians weren’t even technically woolly mammoths, but that one’s a skeleton so i can be forgiven the confusion i think, and anyway, yes, i prefer woolly mammoths slightly. as it is adapting a stuffed elephant pattern, which they’re universally African elephants, will be a little tricky; mammoths are very closely related to Asian elephants instead. mastodons were a different branch of the family tree and are morphologically quite distinct from mammoths, and resemble neither african nor asian elephants. he was like, sort of sorry he’d asked, but not really, we’re pretty amused by one another’s dork-outs.)

I’ve also been wringing additional serotonin out of my feeble brain by shopping extensively on the Goodwill website. I search for something vague, and then scroll through and am echanted by the sort of evidence of lives lived, you know? And I’ve moved on from buying damaged furs to buying costume jewelry that resembles pieces I lost in the yurt fire in ‘19-- I lost a bunch of amber, some lapis, some garnets, nothing particularly valuable but all of it stuff I loved and wore all the time, in a vintage train case of my grandmother’s. It’s been a lot of mindless scrolling and clicking and since it’s ebay-style bidding, I lose most of the auctions so it’s okay if I’m bad at impulse control *somewhat*, though i did just go through and total up what I’ve been spending and breathe a little sigh of relief. I need to keep an eye on that.

Anyway this lost focus. I have so much art I want to make. Not just writing. I hope I can free up the brain space to really do it. We’ll have to see.

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again. 

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll 

Fresh coffee.  

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.  

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.  

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.  

As he remembers exactly where he is.  

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.  

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.  

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.  

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.  

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.  

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.  

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.  

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.  

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.  

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.  

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.  

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.  

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.  

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.  

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.  

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.  

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.  

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.  

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.  

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.  

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.  

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.  

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.  

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.  

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.  

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.  

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.  

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.  

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.  

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.  

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.  

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.  

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter,  “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”  

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.  

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.  

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.  

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.  

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.  

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.  

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.  

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.  

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.  

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.  

“You’re wet.”  He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”  

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.  Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.  

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”  

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.  

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi?  You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.  

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”  

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.  

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.  

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.  

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

[alltooreid]

Clean

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

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

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

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

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

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

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

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

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

And every time he did he called you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

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

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

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

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

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

Spencer.

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

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

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you thought about it now.

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

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

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

It’s scary.

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

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

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

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

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

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

“What did you just say?”

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

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

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

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

You shake your head.

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

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

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

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

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

You nod quickly. He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer am I going insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

“That's not fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ponder it, “Okay.”

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

You smile at him.

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

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

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

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

And it made you feel like shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“No?”

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

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

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

“Just an old friend,” you say.

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

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

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

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

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

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

He isn’t there.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

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

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Randall. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so too Y/N.”

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

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

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

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

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

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

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

He hums and waits for the answer.

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

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

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

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

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

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

[wordupcomics]

I just found this comic and find the premise really intreguing. sorry if these questions are frequently asked but how long are you planing on making this? And do you have an update schedule? (and also if there are any cool universe details you wanna share but know you cant add to the comic for whatever reason, can you share one? I always think the details that authors think of but end up not including are so interesting!!!!)

Thanks!!!

I had the idea for Word Up back in my sophomore year of high school. I’m currently 25, so this is roughly a decade old idea now that I’ve been brainstorming on and off over the years. The idea itself has changed sssoooooo much since then and is still changing. Just a few weeks ago I had an “aha” moment that totally changes certain things in a great way. Anyway, I have a set story planned with an endgame in mind. The larger story and the end kinda need to be re fleshed out and re organized and I’m in the process of doing that now. How long will it take to tell that story??? I honestly don’t know. There’s…a lot to tell. And truthfully there’s so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if I bailed before being able to finish. But the story will be told with a series of smaller stories, so for now I’m just focusing on one story at a time.

Man I wish I could keep up a posting schedule. I post each batch when it’s complete and it’s complete whenever my brain decides to work on it ….

Hmm details that I might not be able to fit in, let’s see…

1. On Julie’s overalls, she has those heart shapes where the buckles should be. Those are not buckles In the shape of hearts, but instead are heart pins. The actual buckles broke or fell off and Becky and Tobey had to start pinning the straps to her skirt with safety pins. However they found some heart pins and started using those to pin her overalls skirt in place because she loved that idea so much. Now when they buy her replacement clothes she purposefully ruins the buckles so she can keep having the heart shaped pins. She also uses other pins too, but the hearts are her favorite and what she most commonly wears

2. Julie has a rock collection, that will be shared later but what I don’t know if I’m going to be able to fit in is the fun little fact that Julie likes to try to teach her rocks how to fly…which as you can imagine doesn’t end well…the rock collection is now put somewhere Julie can’t easily get to it, and anytime her parents get it down, before giving her the rocks there is always this exchange:

Parent: what are these rocks for?

Julie: showing!

Parent: what are they not for?

Julie:…throwing…

3. I’ve mentioned this one before but I think it’s worth mentioning again: Theo cuts his own hair. No one but him is allowed to alter his precious hair. You know he likes you if he lets you ruffle his hair or something but he is the only one allowed to take a pair of scissors to it.

4. A sad one: Scoops and Violet wanted a lot of kids, but as fate would have it, they can’t have kids and their only daughter is basically a literal miracle. On a happier note, because of this, their daughter, Daisy, is the most precious thing in their lives (not to say she wouldn’t be if they had been able to have more kids but you get it). Daisy basically gets showered with all the love that Scoops and Violet would have given to 4 or 5 kids and while Daisy doesn’t get spoiled with material items, she definitely gets spoiled with love.

5. Another sad one and then I’ll stop with sadness I promise. I plan on showing this moment and referencing it, but I don’t know how I’ll fit in this little fact about it so I’ll share here: Becky went on her first date when she was 13 with some boy who spoke French. Unfortunately during the date Wordgirl was a constant need and Becky had to keep sneaking off. The boy thought she was trying to get away from him and told her if she didn’t want to go on a date she should have said so and left. Becky flew home crying, saying she hated being Wordgirl and Bob comforted her. This was the last major life milestone of Becky’s before Bob left. Within a week Wordgirl was needed again and that was just what Becky needed to enjoy being Wordgirl again, and this unfortunately would be her and Huggy’s last battle. Huggy was actually pulled aside by someone from Lexicon while Wordgirl was relishing the attention from her latest battle. Huggy was forced to make the choice right then and there.

6. This one is something I’m having in the story, but I want to throw it out there as something to pay attention to: take note of when Julie hears “the voices” because there is a pattern to it

7. Here’s a bunch that are all kinda related and I hope I’ll fit them in but again, just in case:

- The house was built on top of the crash site of the spaceship Becky and Bob came to earth in.

- The ship is under the basement of the house

- There are two hidden ways to get to the ship in the house. One is in the garage, but that one is complicated and too inconvenient, so usually everyone goes through the other option which is in Tobey’s lab, which is in the basement.

- The door to Tobey’s lab is in the kitchen. In I think batch 4 of Return to Fair City, Becky and Tobey talk privately and they are on the other side of that door. Behind Tobey was the stairs leading down to his lab

- I didn’t draw it in the kitchen, though I need to, but the door to Tobey’s lab has many security features on it. It has a few locks, and a button next to the door and a light above the door. When Tobey’s working on a project, one is to hit the button next to the door and wait for the light above to light. If it’s green, that means it’s safe to come down, if it’s yellow, that means you can come down if you’re careful and Julie has to be with an adult if she’s coming down. If it’s red, that means Tobey has a lot of unsafe equipment in use and you should only come down if it’s an emergency. Becky is pretty much the only one allowed down when it’s red unless it’s like life or death. This set up was to keep the kids away from the dangerous equipment in Tobey’s lab.

[mintchocohip]

sub!bts as househusbands

╺ requested | the ot7 as househusbands!

╺ note | sub!bts x domme!reader. see each member for any notes!

TAEHYUNG ➜

note | roleplay

Visiting friends, putting on his errand boy hat, or wandering town with a camera, an empty stomach, and a pocketful of cash occupy chunks of Taehyung’s weekdays. He isn’t allowed to open his sub journal until three hours past noon—that’s the hour when he misses you the most. At the sanctioned time Taehyung opens the journal to today’s date and picks out a handwritten note delicately tucked into the pages. Today, he’s Maestra’s best student—recording himself practicing the new song you chose on his violin. “'I’ll do anything for Maestra. I would be her Cinderella,’” you’re finally home, and you’re sitting next to Taehyung on the couch reading aloud the journal entry he scribbled after sending you the recording, “'cleaning on hands and knees.’” Taehyung’s sheepishness at hearing you voice his fantasies is cured by a fluff of his hair and a fond kiss on his rosy ear. As you wash dishes with Taehyung later this evening you’ll contemplate tomorrow. Choosing these secret tasks is your prerogative. Still. Your husband always has amazing ideas. 

YOONGI ➜

notes | naked apron kink, mentions of pegging

Yoongi is the ideal house husband. He’s vigilant, hardworking, and resourceful. A need for time and space alone is never questioned. When your sleepy-eyed husband emerges from the solitude of his home studio, though, Yoongi needs tangible proof he’s making you happy. “An apron?” Yoongi glances down at the white sheath. He wandered into the kitchen to find you home from work with a shopping bag on your elbow. You’re holding the apron’s straps against his shoulders to judge the fit. “Cooking naked. Flying oil. Makes me nervous... I thought my little chef could use an apron.” Yoongi blinks. He knows he’s blushing. Usually, he doesn’t pull on clothes before waking up early to cook you breakfast and pack your lunch for work. Cooking for you is basic, respectful routine. It would be easier to toss on a baggy shirt than tie an apron. This gift mostly appears to benefit the person who strolls into the kitchen most mornings acting like you’re already hopped up on two espressos and daydreaming about giving him the strap tonight while you wake yourself up knowing full well the effect your naughty backhugs and whispered “good morning, baby”s have on his attempts to focus on stirring veggies in the frying pan, of course; but, Yoongi has a feeling he might enjoy it more than you do.

JUNGKOOK ➜

notes | mdlb, little!jk

Jungkook waited for the right moment expectantly. He sensed it in your aura. He felt it in the way you looked at him, listened to him, and held him in the weeks before. Something changed. It was a comfortable, gentle change. Jungkook cried when he proposed. He cried at the wedding. He cried when you said it would be better to stop renting dungeon space and instead find an apartment with a suitable extra room. Marriage was about romance, symbolism, and becoming yours. Jungkook knew his lifestyle of playing games and going to the gym all day wouldn’t change. You’re two self-sufficient people who fix up chores as they appear. Most days, Jungkook feels that vocally supporting your ambitions and treating the apartment like a laundrette are the most important things he can do. When you text him to say you’re coming home early and wondering if he could take out all of his littlespace things and set up the playroom before you’re through the door—shocks run up Jungkook’s spine. He gloats like your friend when he steals your snacks, and he thinks like a roommate when he asks if he can dedicate more closet space to his growing shoe collection. Right now, you need your partner. That special knowledge relaxes Jungkook with peaceful—dry-eyed—certainty.  

HOSEOK ➜

note | mommy kink

You didn’t know housework channels existed until Hoseok started one. The ‘mommy’ in his social media handle is cutesy but sincere. In the past Hoseok has always felt tingly and whole when you gave him a sarcastic “sorry, mom” after he scolded you for putting drain cleaner in the wrong cupboard or failing to tap down a coaster for a glass of water. Now, it’s what a legion of fans call the faceless, apron-clad man posting soothing clips of himself cleaning through every room of this gorgeous sunny apartment and, occasionally, grooming the puppies. You’ve never really looked at any of it. Hoseok appreciates that you have him so wholly you don’t need to. “Soft,” you mutter while laying in bed with him at night. You’re playing with his hair to make him smile. Hoseok knows a certain bedside drawer is off-limits from his urge to tidy and rearrange. When you roll over to open it he curls up inside. At some point this house gained two mommies. Only one Mommy is dignified with a capital M in texts through fluxes of dirty talk and reminders to buy new air filters. Only one of them decides when and how Hoseok gets off. Your husband enjoys organizing his days. For your sake, he’s even happier to surrender his nights. 

JIMIN ➜

note | lifestyle d/s

Watered plants, vacuumed cat hair, spotless surfaces, empty recycling, lines in praise of Mistress. Jimin sends you photos of today’s completed chores at the scheduled times and gets cute emojis in return. If he lived alone Jimin might spend all day playing with the foster cats and downing wine at brunch. As it is, he carefully considers a new color scheme for the bathroom. He needs this space to be pretty for you. Shopping with a wide open budget usually distracts Jimin into sending you pictures of a giant teddy bear and asking if you would be angry to find it in the living room when you come home. Although he flutters from amusement to amusement, Jimin is always home, relaxed, and wearing the clothes you like when he needs to be. Hanging up your backpack and taking off your shoes, following you into the bedroom, and kneeling at the edge of the bed to massage your legs and eat your cunt is ritualistic. Jimin makes amazing coffee. You lounge in bed, sip the mug he brings, and tell him what to order for dinner. Discipline earns its rewards. The reason you bicker with smiles on your faces about Jimin’s definition of “spotless surfaces” is absolute comfort. You know what you want from each other, and you want the same things.  

NAMJOON ➜

Lounging in the garden is a fine way to spend a weekend afternoon. Cool shade inside the wisteria tunnel is dappling Namjoon with light and shadow. You lean over the picnic tatami and clink lemonade cans with the man who created this masterpiece. He smiles shyly when he realizes you’re staring. You’re giving him that look. Once upon a time, discovering that you don’t care too much about your surroundings excited Namjoon. It’s a form of power he never thought he would have in a marriage. Perusing local furniture galleries and commissioning artists to furnish a home that suits his aesthetic sparked Namjoon’s creativity. Tempering compost, monitoring seedlings in the garden, and flecking walkways with wildflowers and willows brims him with encompassing adoration for life. Beauty is created in the wake of his passionate work. “Unbutton your shirt halfway.” You're taking a sip of lemonade, leaning back, and watching Namjoon follow your instruction. Buttons open somewhat shakily. He rests his hands and waits to hear your next idle thought on what he should do for you. The outlines of these moments cross your mind slowly and meander to your imagination. You don’t have the patience for gardening. You do have the patience to capture some of Namjoon’s beauty for yourself.  

SEOKJIN ➜

note | blindfolds

Your coworkers have met him at parties. Seokjin is a friendly, handsome man with savoir faire. A creative list of salacious reasons a man like that would drop his career forms behind your back. Seokjin scoffs when you relay gossip to him. He’s especially fond of the idea he’s a criminal witness skirting discovery. Trying the hobbies he never had time for, taking his little cousins to the aquarium, fishing weekends, signing up for classes at the local university, streaming liveplays out of his gaming room or cooking tutorials out of the fancy kitchen you funded—Seokjin savors it all with fresh-faced enthusiasm. Some days he just takes out the trash, folds laundry, edges himself, gets bored, catnaps, and checks his phone to see if you can call because he’s lonely today and nothing he could do compares to hearing his wife tell him what’s on her mind. There is an unwieldy desire inside Seokjin, despite it all. He needs to demonstrate the ways he cherishes, protects, and provides for you. Sometimes, it’s being the person you need to tell about your day. It’s being the person who cooks your comfort foods, provides warm hugs, queues your shows, and takes you on dates. Most often, it’s your kiss on his forehead as you adjust the blindfold and praise him sweetly. “You’re the reason,” you remind him with another kiss, “that I’m always smiling when I think about home.”

[justmypartner]

Make it Work: Chapter 5

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another. 

Writer’s Note: I want to first apologize for taking so long to update this fic. I took a break to finish up school related things, and then when I came back to writing I was feeling very uninspired with this chapter. Nevertheless, I pushed through and what I thought was going to be a bland filler chapter ended up being a really fun chapter to write. Starting today, I am back to posting chapters weekly! Please enjoy & I want to thank everyone who has read/supported this fic. As LaRoyce always says: From the heart ❤️ 

TW:// mentions of PTSD

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86​ , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace 

Read on AO3 or below

It had been two weeks since their first day at the FBI, and Jay and Hailey had finally found a comfortable rhythm. For Jay, it took a while to get used to solely being a field agent. Part of him missed digging for intel themselves. He missed the long nights in the wire room and the early mornings organizing the case board, but the fieldwork mostly made up for that part of the job he missed. He loved being out on the streets, and in his eyes, nothing could beat the satisfaction of finally putting the offenders in cuffs.

The team was still rolling as a quartet, with Hailey still partnered with Walker and Jay with Daisy. For the most part, they were all out in the field together, but some instances required the pairs to break apart. He and Daisy’s partnership was working, but they didn’t function in the same natural way he and Hailey always did. He missed riding with her, but he was making do with the current arrangement until their training period was up. Overall, he was fond of Daisy. She was competent, cool under pressure, and she had his back when it counted, so he grew to trust her a great deal. Walker was another story. He was good at his job, there was no doubt about that, but he had a way of running his mouth that made Jay want to keep his distance. Things had been icy since they were at each other’s throats on the first day when Jay’s concern for Hailey got the best of him. They were able to patch things up, but Jay knew they weren’t going to be best friends anytime soon. He also didn’t like the way Walker interacted with Hailey. Other than what Jay identified as obvious flirting, he had a way of coddling her that, from Jay’s eyes, demeaned her and her abilities. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t notice it or if she was choosing to ignore it for the sake of avoiding conflict, but she never called him out for it. At least not when Jay was around. So, he never questioned it. He trusted her. Since it didn’t visibly bother her, he tried to not let it bother him either.

“Excited to have your favorite partner back?” Jay asked as he and Hailey climbed onto the elevator. It was officially their first day of partnering together as agents, and he couldn’t have been happier.

“Wait, Vanessa joined the FBI?” she joked, feigning a look of surprise.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Nope. I know I’m funny,” she smirked back.

“How is she by the way?” Jay asked, inquiring about her former roommate and best friend. Not long after Hailey went to New York the first time, Vanessa was picked out of Intelligence by Major Crimes to do a long-term undercover sting. She didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to Hailey, something they were both sad about, but they remained in touch through an occasional text.

“She can’t communicate much, but when she does she seems good. You know her, she’s a natural-born UC. Quick on her feet,” she said briefly. Jay nodded, noticing a slight drop in her mood as she spoke about her. He knew the connection those two had. Hailey looked out for her, almost to a fault as it was her attempt at protecting Vanessa and her childhood friend that got her sent to New York in the first place. He knew it killed her to not get to say a proper goodbye, and he could see it in her face in that moment. He decided to change the subject to get it off her mind.

“So, are you going to miss partnering with Walker at all?” Jay asked, slightly nervous to hear her answer.

“Mm, not really. I mean he’s a great agent and all, but he’s just too much in his own head. We connected pretty well with small talk and all that, but I felt like I had to keep a constant eye on him in the field. We just didn’t work well together. Not like you and me anyway,” she admitted, flashing him a brief smile. It was contagious and he turned his head to the side to conceal the one erupting across his face.

It relieved him to know that she didn’t feed into whatever connection Walker was trying to build between them. It made him even more relieved to know that they were back together as partners, something he was counting down to since their first day on the job.  

Things jumped off the second they stepped into the bullpen. Drake briefed the team on the case the minute they walked in the room. A rogue member of an anti-military activist group in the city exposed the group’s plans to target a veteran’s convention at the Javits Center in Midtown. Being that their intel came from an insider, the group was oblivious to the bureau’s knowledge of their plans. Drake tasked Jay, Hailey, Walker, and Daisy with attending the convention, posing as veterans as they worked to smoke out the guys before they could carry out their plans. As Drake, a former Naval Officer briefed the case, Jay picked up on some tension and anger in his voice. He recognized it easily because he felt it himself. He pretended he didn’t notice when Hailey’s eyes began to survey his face, what he guessed was her way of trying to read his reaction to the case. He tried his best to remain stone faced, but he knew she could tell something was up just by looking at him. 

If they had caught the case a few years prior, he would have gone to a much darker place, acting on rage rather than ration. However, through his therapy sessions over the years, he had learned to manage the emotions that only things related to the service could elicit. Once Drake was finished briefing everyone, he assigned the teams their positions and sent them on their way. As Jay turned away to head to the locker room to change, Drake called out to him.

“Jay, hang back a second?” He asked him. Jay sent Hailey a small wave, signaling her to go on without him. He followed Drake to his office, shoving his hands in his pockets after he closed the office door behind him.

“Something wrong, sir?” Jay asked, confusion in his voice.

“Jay, I know you’ve got a background in the military. I don’t have to imagine what’s going through your head right now, because it’s going through mine as well. But we need to play this one by the book, so I just need to know if I need to keep a leash on you today,” Drake spoke shortly.

“I’m straight, sir. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll keep in check,” Jay assured him, nodding his head with his words. His boss bobbed his head slowly as if he were debating whether or not to accept his assurance.

“Let me know if that changes,” he replied quietly, sending the agent a trusting nod.

“Will do,” Jay returned before turning to leave the office.

He quickly changed and made his way to the elevators to head down to the garage. His mind flickered back to his time in country. The faces of the six friends he lost before he came home and his best friend Mouse who was there currently flooded his head with memories. He tried his best to shake them off as the elevator descended towards the garage. The case was stirring up something in him, but he was determined to center his focus on the job and not let it take over. The doors opened and he stepped out, tracking his footsteps with his eyes as he walked. When he looked up, Hailey was slumped against the car. When she saw him, she bounced herself off of it with her foot and walked in his direction.

“Everything okay?” She asked, a look of concern plastered across her face.

“Yeah. Drake just wanted to make sure my head was on straight today… with my military background and all,” he said, his eyes darting around the garage to avoid hers.

“Mm,” she hummed. “Let me know if I can take anything off your plate. You know I’ve got your back,” she told him warmly, peering into his eyes with a look of sincerity.

“I know. I appreciate it,” he told her, forcing a smile.

“Anyway, check out our rig,” she said sarcastically, gesturing to the bureau-issued black SUV behind her. “It’s very unique and way better than your old truck,” she mocked, smiling as she tried to lighten the mood.

Against his best efforts, a smile crept away from his mouth as her weak attempt at cheering him up succeeded. Her head tilted as her eyes looked over at him with a glimmer he had only noticed a few other times before.

“C’mon. Let’s take this baby for a spin,” she finally told him, tossing him the keys as she made her way to the passenger side of the car.

Jay’s nerves picked up when they arrived at the convention center. Since they were going in undercover, they had changed into street clothes to blend in. He had chosen one of his old Ranger shirts and jeans, and Hailey opted for a plain white t-shirt and jeans. When they got out of the car, she reached into the backseat, grabbing a ball cap and securing it on her head before closing the door. The word “Navy” was written across it in yellow letters. She didn’t wear hats often, but Jay admired when she did. They suited her, however seeing her rep the Navy stung him a bit.

“You just had to choose Navy didn’t you,” he mocked at her with a scoff, knowing she could have chosen any branch to represent as they attempted to blend into the crowd.  

“What?” she feigned ignorance as Jay gave her a look of annoyance. “Drake loaned it to me,” she told him, turning her head up and brushing past him towards the entrance of the building.

“Mm. You know you always could have just borrowed something of mine,” he called after her, taking quick strides to catch up.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see that look on your face,” she teased, her attention remaining straight ahead as she smirked slyly. He shook his head with a childish frown as he followed her to the entrance of the building.

Immediately upon walking through the doors, they caught sight of Daisy and Walker waiting for them under a welcome sign. They checked in and grabbed their name tags, before walking over to the two agents to convene before they set out into the center to try and track down the activists. Based on the intel provided by the whistleblower, they learned that the plan was to send in five members, each armed with undetectable weapons to disperse into the convention center and target high-ranking officials from each branch of the military. There was a panel later in the afternoon in which these individuals would all be on stage, the perfect opportunity to carry out the attack. Intel also revealed the individuals would be wearing red shoelaces so that they could spot each other in the crowd, a tidbit the four of them were happy to use to their advantage.

“Four of us, five of them. We need to split up. Hailey and I can take the first and second floor, you guys take the third and fourth. We each get a floor and call for backup the second we find any of these guys. If you spot one, take them down quietly, we can’t risk them alerting the others,” Jay commanded, taking point on the operation. They all nodded before breaking off and heading towards their separate floors.

“I’ll take the second floor,” Hailey told him, moving past him to climb the stairs.

“Wait,” he called after her, grasping her wrist lightly to stop her.

She looked down at his hand on her wrist, her eyes lingering for a moment before swallowing hard and bringing them back up to meet his. He quickly released his hand, bringing it to his pocket before he spoke.

“I- Just be careful, yeah?” He said simply, avoiding what he originally intended to say. Despite what he previously told both her and Drake, the case and being in a room full of veterans was affecting him more than he would have liked to let on. He almost told her this, hoping she’d have something to say that would help calm the jumbled mess going on in his brain. Yet, he realized she would just worry more and insist on staying together as they sought out the targets, and they needed to split up for time’s sake. So, before the words could leave his mouth, he asked for reassurance of the only other thing on his mind. Her safety.

Her brow furrowed at his words almost like she knew that wasn’t what he wanted to say, but she just nodded simply in affirmation. She brought a fist to bump his chest lightly before turning back and once again heading toward the stairs. He took a deep breath and recited the prayer of St. Christopher his mother made him and Will memorize when they were younger. These were grounding techniques he learned during his time in therapy. When he first started therapy, he thought the techniques were bogus, but he came to learn they really helped him cope when things began to trigger him.  

He took one final breath before making his way through the crowd of people, glancing down at the floor every few seconds to survey the shoes of those around him, trying to spot any glimpse of red he could.

Half an hour had passed, and it had been radio silence over the coms. He knew the operation would be difficult, but he thought for sure by that point they would have found at least one of the offenders. Just as he began brainstorming different strategies in his head, he caught a glimmer of red on the floor, doing a double-take and stopping in his tracks to confirm his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. The red shoelaces were there, plain as day, and the man wearing them was by himself, surveying the crowd nervously.

“I’ve got one of the targets. First floor near the east corner by a couple of food vendors. I’m moving in now, meet at the rendezvous,” he said into the coms before walking towards the coffee stand to his right. He grabbed a coffee, filling the cup with cream to cool it down before walking towards the target. A few steps away from the man, he faked a trip, sending the contents in the cup all over him.

“Woah, I’m so sorry, man,” Jay called out, reaching for napkins to try and help the man dry his drenched shirt.

“What the hell is your problem?” The guy questioned, a look of fury on his face.

“That is totally my bad. I’m such a klutz. I didn’t see that bump on the floor,” Jay told the man, handing him napkins as he attempted to pat his shirt dry. “Hey, you need to get that under some water. The men’s room is right around that corner and I think there were hand dryers in there,” he said, pointing around a corner. The man angrily turned, making his way in the direction Jay had just pointed to.

“Eyes up, he’s coming your way,” he said into his mic.

They grabbed the man up, locking him in a backroom the convention center had provided to them for detainment. The hope was that they could get him to give up the location of the other men, but his silence proved he wasn’t giving anything up.

“Why don’t you two keep questioning him, Daisy and I will go back out there and sniff the rest of these guys out,” Walker told the two partners. Jay clenched his jaw tightly as he eyed the target on the other side of the room. He hadn’t had the chance to question him yet, but he already knew whatever he had to say was going to just piss him off.  

“You okay for that?” Hailey asked, turning to face him. Her eyes were cut up at him under the brim of her hat, and there was an earnest look on her face as she awaited his response.

“What do you mean by that?” Walker questioned before Jay could answer. He and Daisy weren’t aware of his history, certainly not in the way Hailey was. The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was dish out the details of his PTSD.

“Nothing,” he told the man bluntly before turning back to Hailey. “I’m fine, really,” he told her. As convincing as he tried to be, her eyes loitered on his face as she tried to measure the truth behind his words.

“You guys go ahead, we’ve got him,” she finally told the other two agents before they hesitantly turned on their heels to head back into the convention center. The second they were gone she stepped closer to him so she could speak to him without the man hearing.

“Look, I’m trusting you here, but the second you start to cross a line, I’m pulling you. This isn’t Intelligence. We can’t take the same risks here that we could under Voight. Understood?” She told him in a low voice. He bobbed his head up and down in agreement before making his way over to the man.

When they first detained the guy, they snapped a picture and sent it back to the analysts at headquarters to get an ID. Jay scanned the man’s file on his phone before slowly making his way over to him. He took a chair and sat it across from the man, turning it so he could sit with his arms crossed over the back of it.

“Mark Jones. You are quite the model citizen. Numerous charges for assault and battery, disturbing the peace, unlawful assembly, multiple violations of restraining orders, the list really goes on. But I don’t care about all of that. I care about why you’re at a veteran’s convention considering how public you’ve been about your hatred for the military,” Jay said, his eyes staring daggers into the man’s face.

“I ain’t talking to you. You’re just another pawn in the game. Too stupid and brainwashed to realize you guys are just a bunch of empty-headed murderers, blindly following whatever our so-called government tells you to,” the man spat back.

Murderers. The word made faces appear in Jay’s head. Faces of those he had killed both in Afghanistan and in Chicago. Faces he had spent years tormented by. He took several deep breaths, trying to ground himself. To keep from losing control. He looked over at Hailey who stood beside him, her arms crossed as she glared at the man across from them. Her attention turned to him and the expression on her face remained the same while the look in her eyes adjusted, sending him a soft message of support. This reassured him and he took one last deep breath before turning his attention back to the man.

“Where are the others?” Jay questioned, dragging out each word through clenched teeth. The man only gave him a snarl and an evil smile. He knew he was rattling Jay, and that only got him even more riled up.

“Ranger, huh?” He asked, avoiding Jay’s question completely and reading the letters across his shirt. “Y’all are the worst ones of them all. What’s your body count?” The man questioned, shifting his eyes from Jay to Hailey. “Baby blues here probably wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes if she knew how many, am I right?” The man laughed. Jay let out an annoyed laugh, staring into the space behind the man silently. His tongue trailed the back of his bottom teeth, the rage burning inside him and churning with every word that left the man’s mouth. Suddenly, he stood from his chair, kicking it towards the man aggressively before grabbing him by the collar. Almost immediately, he felt Hailey tugging at his arm to pull him off.

“You’re done, back up or get out,” she told him assertively. He continued scowling at the man, not moving from his position. She pushed against his chest, dropping her tone. “Jay, I’m serious. I’ve got this, stand back,” she told him in a whisper. Her voice snapped him out of the state he was in, and he threw his hands up, backing up and making his way to the wall on the other side of the room.

Jay’s ears rang as he blankly watched Hailey question the man. The room felt like it was spinning and whatever words were being exchanged between the two weren’t registering inside his head. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears, and what sounded like his heart beating out of his chest as his breath and heart rate increased out of control. He closed his eyes and took a breath. In for seven, out for eight. He quietly whispered the prayer of St. Christopher once again.

Grant me, O Lord, a steady hand and watchful eye, that no one shall be hurt as I pass by. You gave life, I pray no act of mine may take away or mar that gift of Thine. Shelter those, dear Lord, who bear my company from the evils of fire and all calamity.

When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see Hailey slowly and cautiously making her way toward him. Her brow was raised at him, and she turned around to look at their detainee before grabbing at Jay’s forearm and dragging him around the corner gently, out of the man’s sight.

“Are you good?” She questioned, a fearful look on her face and deep concern in her voice.

“Yeah,” he told her unconvincingly. But the rapid beating of his heart and the fog in his brain said otherwise. Almost like he had lost control of his body, he blurted out the word “no” as he shook his head. “I just, I-“ there was desperation in his voice, and the words fell out between irregular breaths. He noticed Hailey’s eyes begin to gloss over and she removed her hat, placing it on a chair beside them before closing the space between them. She then reached down to grab his hand, raising it to place it over her heart, keeping it there with her hand pressed tightly over his. This froze him, causing him to lose his breath completely as he brought his eyes down to meet hers. Any other time the touch would’ve had his heart racing, but somehow in that moment, it was what was calming him down.

“Jay, just control your breathing. Feel my heart beating, feel my hand against yours. You’re in America. You’re in New York. We’re both right here together, and you’re okay,” she whispered, taking deep breaths. She counted out her inhales and exhales, urging him to match her pattern of breathing. After a few moments like that, his breathing became normal again and they separated, taking a step back after releasing from each other’s touch.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable for letting her see that side of him.

“No, do not be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He nodded. “How’d you know what to do?” He questioned, picking up on the ease in which she was able to help him overcome the episode.

“After watching you deal with your PTSD alone early in our partnership, I decided to learn how I could help you in those situations in case I ever needed to. I actually asked the department shrink back in Chicago if she could give me any tips. She gave me those grounding techniques, the focusing on your senses, controlling your breathing…” her voice trailed off. He was looking at her deeply, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of care and concern she had for him. When she noticed the way he was looking at her, she looked away bashfully, reaching for her hat and securing it back on her head before clearing her throat.

“Anyway, are you okay?” She questioned. He nodded.

“Thank you.”

She took a deep breath before reaching to speak into the coms.

“Bennett, Burrows, Jones wouldn’t give me any leads on where the others are, but we need to find them fast. I was able to find out that at least two of them are carrying deadly aerosols. They’re after more than just the officials, they want to target as many of these veterans as possible,” she told them.

After calling in two other agents to watch the detainee, Jay and Hailey made their way back into the convention center. Against protest, she insisted they clear the place together. He knew it slowed down the operation, but it comforted him to know she was by his side in case he began to slip into a dark place again. About an hour passed, and they had no luck. The panel that would gather most of the convention attendees and all of the high-ranking officials was soon approaching, and Jay had a new idea to get the guys, but it was risky. They reconvened in the detainment room upon his request. Each of the agents eyed him, waiting for him to speak.

“I think we need to let the panel happen. We know this is what these guys are targeting. It’ll be easier to spot them this way, and we can get them all at once,” Jay proposed, looking between each of them for their reaction.

“It’s too risky, we’d be putting everyone in the room at risk,” Walker said, strongly opposing the suggestion.

“I don’t know, he has a good point. Having them all in one place, we don’t risk one of them slipping through the cracks,” Daisy voiced in support.

“Or it makes everything ten times worse, and they all get lost in the crowd,” Walker argued back. Hailey was quiet throughout the interaction, and they all looked to her to get her opinion.

“I think it’s risky, but I also think it’s the only play we have left,” Hailey said.

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t get a say, you would clearly side with him no matter what,” Walker said bluntly.

“Excuse me?” Hailey bit back. Before the conflict could go any further, Daisy butted in.

“You’re outnumbered here, Burrows, and we’re out of time. We’re doing Halstead’s plan,” she said straightly, turning to head back into the center. There was a distinct tension in the room, but they all shook it off to focus on the task at hand.

It was decided, they wait until the panel began and sniff the guys out. They called in another unit of covert tact guys to cover the perimeter of the crowd. Every minute that passed had them all on edge, and none of them had spotted the guys. Eventually, Daisy got the idea to pull the fire alarm. The ones who looked panicked, desperate to get to the exits would weed out the targets who would be desperate to stay inside. With a stroke of luck, the plan worked. Some of the tact guys were able to spot and take down two of the offenders, Jay and Daisy got another, while Walker and Hailey were left wrestling another to the ground. In the process, the man had dropped an aerosol canister. Hailey’s heart stopped as she watched it roll across the floor, but she breathed a sigh of relief when they got to it with the lid still sealed. The day ended much better than they could have all imagined.

Back at the office, they worked on paperwork late into the night. Jay was still distracted, still dealing with the effects of the day. Hailey helped him with the paperwork so they could get out of there more quickly, something he was grateful for. Logging off their computers and closing up files, Walker rose from his chair.

“I’m really sorry about earlier, I say we all go out to drinks. Clear up the air. I’m buying the first round,” he said, addressing every single one of them as he pulled on his coat.

“You know I would, but I’ve got a baby to get home to. After today, all I need are some tiny person cuddles,” Daisy said with a tired smirk.

“I’m in,” Hailey said, looking over at Jay as they awaited his response.

“I appreciate the apology, but today really had me beat, I’d rather just go home and sleep it all off,” Jay said as he rose from his chair.  Hailey’s gaze remained fixed on him a moment, almost like she was asking if he was okay without saying a word at all. He nodded his head, slowly blinking his eyes at her and she sent him a false smile in response.

“You and me then, kid,” Walker said, eyeing Hailey with a less than wholesome look. Jay tensed up at the thought of the two of them, alone in a bar, winding down in the way he and Hailey were so used to doing. But after everything that had happened, he wasn’t feeling social, and the last thing he wanted was to be out for drinks with the two of them as Walker ogled Hailey the entire night. They left the desks to head out, and he slowly pulled on his coat and grabbed his phone and keys.

“Jay, wait up,” Drake called after him as he passed his office.

“Yes sir?” Jay questioned.

“Nice work today, I know it couldn’t have been easy. At least it wouldn’t have been for me,” he told him, sending a look of sincerity.

“It wasn’t easy, but Upton had my back.”

“Yeah, she’s a good one isn’t she?” Drake said. Jay looked behind him towards the elevators where she and Walker were waiting together. Walker said something to make her laugh, causing Jay’s face to drop immediately. He forced a smile before turning back to Drake.

“Yeah she’s a good piece of gear,” he told him, a phrase only a fellow military man would understand. Drake flashed him a smile in return, and Jay hung his head low.

“Goodnight, Halstead,” Drake told him.

“Goodnight, sir,” he returned before heading out.

He was still trying to decompress after the heaviness of the day, but he couldn’t get the idea of Walker and Hailey out of his head. He’d wished she would’ve said no, wished she wouldn’t be on her way to spend who knows how long with him at a bar. He also wished she would show up at his door, despite him saying he wanted to be alone, bearing booze and comfortable silence that always brought him peace after cases like that day’s. Yet, that night he knew she wouldn’t. So, he went home and immediately went to bed. Part of him was scared to sleep, bracing himself for whatever nightmares were to come as a result of the day’s triggers. He kept a light on that night, knowing if he woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream it would remind him that he wasn’t in the middle of the desert, fighting for his life and trying to protect those around him. He recited the prayer of St. Christopher for the third time that day, but this time before he could get out all of the words, he was overcome with exhaustion and gave in to sleep.

[loverrrss]

coffee

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: light angst, fluff

word count: 1.2k

summary: REQUEST

Would you do a mild angst to fluff idol!Min Yoongi one shot where his girlfriend doesn’t believe in going to bed mad at each other and Yoongi knows this so as much as he drags his feet and leaves for a bit, he eventually comes around (even if it’s late that night) to talk things out with her because he's falling in love with her and wants her happy?

The dining room table is cluttered yet organized with dishes. Forks, knives, and spoons placed in delicate positions. The wine glasses are half empty. You stare at the empty chairs, and an intense feeling of sadness overwhelms you. You wonder how what was supposed to be an incredible night turned into such a disaster. The memory flashes before you on a loop that you cannot seem to pause.  

Earlier that night, Yoongi knocked three times on your door. You chuckled to yourself because you knew it was him before you even saw his face. There he stood in a nice button down, and the pants you liked so much. He wore a shy smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile too.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi embraced you before you could even utter a word. His lips brushed against your ear, “Jagiya. Jagiya. Jagiya, oh how I’ve missed you.” 

Your stomach erupted into butterflies, as it always seemed to do. You had missed this, missed him so much. You had only been together for a few months, but he had been away and working for most of it. 

“You know and I know I’ve missed you more,” you stated and grabbed his hand to lead him into your apartment. 

Yoongi chuckled, “You’re adorable. How’d I get so lucky?” 

Your apartment smelled of the warm food you had cooking in the oven. You could almost taste it. This just proved how starving you were. You took all the food you had cooking, and placed them on the table. Everything was perfect. It was almost too perfect. 

The both of you sat, and drank wine while you caught up on all the things the other had missed while being apart. For a moment, everything got quiet. Yoongi took a sip from his glass. You mimicked his action, uncertain what he was about to say. 

“I’m going to be gone for a while again. I'm leaving tomorrow morning,” he states while staring at the napkin on his lap. 

You stayed silent trying to process what he just said. The only question on your mind was, is this even worth it anymore? How can you be in a relationship with someone who is never around? 

You finally muster up the courage to say what’s on your mind, “Yoongi, you’re never here.” 

He clearly took your statement the wrong way because his face hardened faster than you could recognize. 

“It’s not like you didn’t know what you signed up for,” he shot back. 

Silence filled the room once again. 

Racking your brain for something to say, you finally mutter, “I’m not trying to start an argument.” 

His face softens for a moment then hardens again. 

“Well you have,” he states staring right at you.

You could feel your blood boiling. This made you angry for so many reasons. It infuriated you that he didn’t understand. It infuriated you that he wasn’t allowing you to express your emotions. Most importantly, it infuriated you because he wasn’t listening, and that was something he always promised he would do. 

“If you want to be like that then fine, but don’t give me that bullshit. I get it. Your work makes you incredibly busy. I’m not blaming you for that, but how are we supposed to be in a relationship if you can’t make time for me?” 

Yoongi begins to raise his voice, “don’t tell me I don’t make time for you. I’m here right now.” 

“You’ve been home for five days, and today is the first day I’ve seen you. You’re never around,” You yell clearly frustrated by the conversation. Without a word he gets up, and walks out of the apartment. The door slams behind him.

Now here you are surrounded by the empty chairs, uneaten food, and the jacket Yoongi left behind. You think about everything. You think about how wrong you were for making him feel like he had to choose between his dream and you, and how wrong he was for not listening to you. Tears started to fall from your cheeks. Nothing was known. You didn’t know where he was, who he was with, or if it was over. That just made you cry harder. 

‘He left without making things right, maybe it is really over,’ you think to yourself. In an attempt to make yourself forget, you clean everything up, and change into your pajamas. You sit on your couch, and wrap yourself in blankets while watching your comfort movie. The shirt you chose to wear is big and all too familiar. It smells like coffee. It smells like Yoongi. 

Memories flash through your brain. You see him laying in bed with his shirt all scrunched up. A memory of him spilling coffee all over it. Even after you washed it five times it still smelt of the brown liquid. You see a memory of you stealing his shirt. He chased you all over the apartment once he realized it was his. It ended in fits of laughter, and your victory. He later told you he’d rather you wear it because he liked the idea of you in his clothes. He was victorious too. 

Three light knocks interrupt your thought process. Of course, you know who it is. You walk over to the door and open it to see Yoongi slouched in front of the door frame. 

He stares at you for a moment, “you’re wearing my shirt.”

“It still smells like coffee,” you respond.

A small smile spreads on both of your faces. ‘I didn’t lose him,’ you think to yourself. A small sensation of joy spreads through your body. You open the door wider for him to walk in. 

“I’m sorry,” he gently grabs your hand. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad for working hard. You should be following your dreams. I shouldn’t be holding you back.” 

The both of you sit beside each other on the couch. Yoongi pulls you into his chest, “You’re not holding me back. I wasn’t listening to you before, and that was so wrong of me. You’re right though I could be making more time for you, and I promise I’ll do better (Y/N).” 

“I promise too,” you smile.  

His eyes light up and his shy smile comes back. He’s happy again which makes you even happier. “God, you’re watching this movie? I must have really messed up,” he chuckles. 

His face gets serious again, “and I’m sorry for leaving without making things right. I know you don’t believe in leaving or even going to sleep angry.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “we made things right anyway.” 

“It’s funny, I was walking around, and I was about to just get on the plane tonight. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how you must have been feeling. That’s when I realized, I think I’m falling in love with you,” Yoongi confesses, “no, I am falling in love with you.”

“I am too.” Before the words even left your mouth he saw your smile, and knew the answer right away, He planted kisses all over your face, and all you could do was laugh at how happy the man sitting before you was.  

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 16

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Scheming, angst, pining, someone’s not good at dealing with a variety of feelings. Oh! It’s almost a tradition in this so no proofing. A/N: So...I should’ve been asleep and trying to rearrange my sleep cycle after a weekend of nightshifts, but meh! Much better to get this down in words. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

16. Inferno

...   Benimaru   ...

The route might be different than the one [Y/N] had followed earlier, but the determination to reach the destination is just as great. Just short of running, Benimaru hurries down the street, takes a left down the alley, and finally two rights before he has to stop and wait for an inhabitant to let him in.

This is taking too long. I shou-

The door is opened by Mr. Ozaka who isn’t given a chance to greet the captain properly before the young man has rushed past, barely taking time to ditch the boots (not that it reduces the thundering noise as he races up the stairs) - Benimaru knows exactly where to go: he insisted on personally inspecting each and every single hiding place to make sure it would be safe enough.

And there’s the futon, easy to push aside. Must be nearly suffocating under there! It bounces off the wall from the force and he ignores as it plops against his skull, focusing instead on jamming a handful of fingertips into the groove along the floorboard and lift it enough to ensure better purchase. A section of the floor lifts neatly revealing the cramped hiding hole and...

“WHERE is she?!” Benimaru demands from the meek homeowner.

...   Reader   ...

You’re still not entirely sure you won’t get in trouble (actually, knowing Shinmon and his grumpiness: you’re screwed), but you’ve learned not to argue with the old woman who finally seems to be pleased with the situation.

“This is my favourite tea, dear,” O-bāchan smiles as she readies the leaves and waits for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

When she first pulled you out of the hiding hole (she’s surprisingly strong!), she had tutted at the sight and refused to listen to explanations or excuses while ushering you along. Then she’d drawn a bath for you (which had been lovely considering the sweat from the training and then the dust) and laid out a clean yukata to wear. Once you were re-freshened, she’d prepared a light meal for the two of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me t-”

“Don’t you dare,” once more, her voice grows sharp as a harpy’s, “you’re my guest.”

You don’t dare point out that a guest normally has a choice of whether or not to go to someone’s home. Instead, you dutifully sit, knees and shins digging into the little cushion as you groan mentally at the constricting cotton from the protonationalistic outfit. You’ve seen a lot of women wear it around in Asakusa. It does sort of look pretty in the same impractical way the yellow sundress you’ve inherited does – the difference there being that the latter still allows free movement. And that’s the thing: for too long, you’ve had to think smart to get by on your own and clothes were meant to be practical; something that helps a person survive.

“Here you go,” O-bāchan hands you a cup of tea with a smile just as there’s a loud knocking on the door.

Are they still searching? Is the first panicked thought shooting through your head and you can’t help but wince as the banging is repeated.

“Oï-oï, such impatience. Excuse me for a moment, sweetie, and do try one of the cookies.” Your host is perfectly unfazed as she clambers to her feet (a few muttered groans proving her age) and shuts the door upon leaving the room.

You don’t taste the baked goods – don’t even have the wherewithal to put down the cup of tea as you listen for the muted sounds of voices. Oh...I know that one.

A quick glance around cements what you already knew: there’s only one way in and out. It’s tempting to grab the roll of dirty clothes and try to make a dash for it. Perhaps you can escape to another room and wait there until the hallway’s clear? You scrap the idea right away, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

At least O-bāchan’s delighted chatting warns you before the door slides open, revealing her and a blank-faced Shinmon. No, not blank. There’s a tick in his jaw and his eyes narrow the second he spots you sitting at the neatly laden table. He’s still wearing the same clothes as when you were sparring that very morning (something that feels like ages ago), stale sweat momentarily overpowering the more pleasant fragrances as  he too is ushered to take a place. Right next to you.

“I’ll warm bathwater for you, my lad,” Asakusa’s granny chirps.

“No need, we won’t be staying long.” It’s border-lining a growl, and her pointed gaze makes him add, “Thank you, though.”

“Well...fine...” Something is muttered under her breath that neither of you dare ask about. “I guess I’ll find a new cup for myself. [Y/N], be a good girl and pour Waka some tea.”

You do as she says and rush to free your hands, both because you’ve already learned there’s no sense in refusing her but mainly to do something, anything, to keep the awkward silence at bay. The pot trembles slightly as you fill the blue porcelain cup, and it’s much too loud as you replace it in the holder above the little candle.

...

O-bāchan had done most of the talking during the rest of you visit, but despite the unwillingness of her guests, she still seemed mighty pleased with herself when she waved goodbye. While the tea had warmed your belly and the sweets had made you think of happier days...well, nothing lasted long enough to tide you all the way back to Company Seven’s station.

Walking to your room with too short steps, bare feet silent on the wooden planks, you’re uncomfortable aware of Benimaru following you a few steps behind (probably on his way to the showers or his own room). Your fingertips greedily curl around the etched slit of the door, knowing that soon you’ll be in your own little sanctuary. Alone.

“[Y/N].”

You freeze, loath to turn around because you know he’s about to chew you out. “Shinmon.”

“I told you to stay hidden until I came for you.”

Sorry. “I know, but have you tried arguing with her? The old bidd-”

“Shut up. When you weren’t there...all I could think was...if they’d...” his voice is raw as he struggles with the words.

Too curious for your own good, you turn and find the normally stoic captain in a state you never expected. Hands flexing as his side and shoulders tense. His shaggy hair covering most of his face because he’s looking down as if searching for the root to the frustration that’s rolling off of him. He’s not angry? Or maybe he is but that’s not what’s prevalent right this instant. As if feeling your gaze, he lifts his face and allows your eyes to meet and there, just for a millisecond, there’s a flicker of pain and fear.

Then it’s gone.

...  Benimaru   ...

Ever since Mamoru had warned about the cops, it had either felt as if a fire was searing everything inside the captain’s chest or the sharpness of ice had pierced every organ there. No in between until he had finally stepped in and seen the woman – the source of all the trouble – sitting daintily and sipping tea. For a moment all he had felt was weightlessness. Pretty as the flowers on the yukata – obviously a borrowed item which his brain took time to comment that she ought to own instead – and apparently unharmed, [Y/N] somehow mellowed out the extremes battling inside him.

Now the internal storm is back and it’s all he can do to contain it.

“If they’d -” he bites back the urge to say what he wants, mentally stomps out the burning urge to grab the woman to make sure she really still is there. It’s not just hold her hand or grab her arm but a thirst for her lips and her body’s response if he were to melt into her.

Sensing [Y/N]’s movement, he does wrangles it all into submission by reminding himself that despite appreciating the safety provided by the “neighbourhood watch” she has made it clear as sunshine that she shuns him. Konro, the twins, hell even most of the guys are honoured with the friendship...but not Benimaru. Well, I’m still going to keep you safe.

“They wouldn’t be as forgiving or hospitable as we’ve been,” he grinds out before marching away.

[rhys-rambles]

FIGHT CLUB | 1999

I was introduced to the movie Fight Club around 3 years ago. It wasn’t until recently I’ve become interested in it. So here’s my Fight Club breakdown :) WARNING FOR SPOILERS!!

For those who don’t know, Fight Club is a cult favorite novel that was later adapted into a film released in 1999, directed by David Fincher. Starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter.

The story of Fight Club revolves around three main characters. It’s told from a first-person perspective by a nameless character that’s commonly called ‘the narrator’, who has a dead-end white-collar job at a major car company and has fallen prey to what he calls the ‘Ikea-nesting instinct’. Dictated by social norms he walks perfectly in line like a docile sheep, which translates into an inauthentic, repetitive and empty life.

He suffers from a bad case of insomnia, which causes him to be neither fully awake, nor fully asleep. Sometimes, he entertains self-destructive thoughts: as he flies around from state to state for his job, he prays for a crash or mid-air collision every time the plane bankes too sharply on takeoff or landing.

During a flight, he meets an eccentric and hypermasculine character named Tyler Durden.

Tyler seems to be the direct opposite of the narrator. He’s a wolf rather than a sheep, disentangled from society, and impervious to social norms. He takes what he wants, without asking, and whenever he pleases. He’s self-sufficient, has no superiors, and doesn’t care about material possessions.

The movie later reveals that Tyler and the narrator are the same person, as Tyler is a product of the narrator’s imagination, that’s probably induced by severe insomnia combined with dissatisfaction with a dull, meaningless existence and a lifetime of repressed urges.

The narrator is addicted to going to support groups for specific illnesses because these give him the opportunity to cry, which seems to be a remedy for his insomnia. The downside of his behavior is that he isn’t genuine; he has no testicular cancer, or blood parasites, yet acts as if he does, so he can reap the benefits of these sessions.

But these benefits come to an end when another non-genuine visitor starts to join the sessions as well. This is a woman named Marla Singer, and her motive for joining these sessions is, and I quote: “It’s cheaper than a movie and there’s free coffee.”

Marla is a self-destructive, chain-smoking fatalist, who’s expecting to die at any moment, but finds it tragic that it never happens. She steals food and clothes for a living and attempts suicide by overdosing Xanax.

Even though the narrator, Tyler, and Marla are totally different personalities, they all live their lives accompanied by a nihilistic undercurrent.

Tyler seems to have figured out what causes this emptiness, and during the course of the story, his solution unfolds. Unfortunately, his character slides from a sage-like father figure to an anarchist terrorist, who’s out to destroy modern civilization. Nevertheless, he exposes a series of harsh realities about modern life that are worth contemplating.

Anti-consumerism

The anti-consumerist stance of Tyler Durden becomes obvious when he verbalizes his concern about the modern way of life. Shortly after the narrator meets Tyler, he discovers that his apartment went up in flames. After this unfortunate event, realizing that he has no friends to call, he calls Tyler. The two meet, and the narrator complains about losing his furniture, and his respectable and almost complete wardrobe. Tyler responds rather indifferently and slightly sarcastically before he begins to express his views on the matter. Quote:

“We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra…”

It becomes clear that Tyler has quite an unconventional view of what’s good and bad. Murder, crime, and poverty are generally considered bad things, while consumer goods like televisions, clothing from a certain brand, products that help to hide aging, enhance bedroom performance, and help us with weight loss, are considered preferable.

Tyler has a contempt for the artificial, as opposed to elements that have been a natural part of the human condition, probably as long we exist. This way of thinking touches upon an ancient Cynic philosopher named Diogenes of Sinope, who believed that modern, civilized life hinders our natural state.

At the end of the movie, it appears that the narrator has destroyed his apartment himself when he was taken over by his alter ego, Tyler Durden. This deed was the first step onto the road of detachment from his property, into a more authentic way of life and to (how Tyler puts it): “reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.”

The narrator moves in with Tyler, who lives in a dilapidated house with ongoing leaks, power failures, and no Ikea furniture. Slowly but surely, the narrator indeed detaches from his previously destroyed property. “Things you own end up owning you,” Tyler tells him. And this simple piece of wisdom probably hits home, when the narrator realizes that he doesn’t need all these worldly goods, and is actually much happier without them.

Non-conformity

Tyler Durden is a non-conformist, and shows, again, similarities with Diogenes, who not only purposefully lived in poverty, but also rejected social norms. For him, social constructs are nothing more than a superficial layer of culture that represses our true nature.

Diogenes lived in a barrel, Tyler lives in an abandoned building. Diogenes urinated in public, Tyler urinates in the soup of a restaurant.

The narrator, on the other hand, seems to be the embodiment of conformity, as he adapts his lifestyle completely to societal expectations. The problem with this behavior is that we dedicate our existence walking the paths that people other than ourselves have laid out for us. This need to conform, the fear of falling by the wayside, this sickly preoccupation by what others think of us, this necessity to keep up with the Joneses: what an exhausting way of life, just to feel ‘accepted’.

So, what if we stop caring? What if we reject the generally accepted norms, and choose our own values, elect our own leaders, determine our own goals, regardless of the social expectations? This is a fundamental difference between the narrator and Tyler Durden, who puts it like this: “I am free in all the ways that you are not.”

Ironically, later on in the story, Project Mayhem, a terrorist organization led by Tyler that grows out of Fight Club, is a textbook example of conformity, as it’s members wear the same clothes, are absolutely equal, abolish their names, and are referred to as space monkeys that sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. We could say that by rejecting one doctrine in order to be ‘non-conformist’, we often imprison ourselves in another one.

Fighting and masculinity

Fighting and the experience of pain play a significant role in Fight Club. At the beginning of the story, Tyler asks the narrator to hit him as hard as he can. He explains his strange wish by saying: “How can you know yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? I don’t want to die without any scars.”

So, the narrator hits him. Tyler hits him back, and the two engage in a fistfight. Both seem to feel surprisingly pleasant afterward and decide to do it again. Their nightly activities on a parking lot attract the attention of other men, that are also interested in joining these non-hostile fistfights. And thus, Fight Club is born.

It’s widely known that voluntary exposure to certain forms of pain makes us stronger in the face of adversity, which could be a legit reason to partake in these fights. As the narrator states: “After fighting everything else in your life got the volume turned down.”

However, Fight Club is more than just a metaphor for dealing with hardship through exposure: a physical fight, and the violence and aggression that goes with it, resonates with the primal part of our being.

Not only the men in the story are attracted to the violence of fighting; Fight Club as a movie and novel was so impactful on its audience, that real-life Fight Clubs started to emerge.

The story shows an experiment in which the members of Fight Club pick fights with random strangers (and are supposed to lose), which isn’t as easy as it sounds; most people do everything to avoid physical conflict.

But Fight Club makes us wonder if it’s a good thing that we’ve lost touch with these primal tendencies. Should we repress this part of human nature? Or, perhaps, integrate it in healthy and constructive ways?

Self-destruction

When the story progresses, Tyler and the narrator begin to see the world through a different lens. Tyler criticizes the modern self-improvement hype by saying: “Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction… ”

This statement is slightly confusing, as the increasingly destructive nature of Fight Club, in which faces are permanently mutilated and teeth are knocked out of people’s heads, doesn’t seem to be a sustainable way to live.

But Tyler might be onto something when we look at self-destruction as the destruction of a false self.

‘Self-improvement’ often points to the accumulation of external goods: a better house, a better job, a better body, more money. But why should we endlessly want to improve ourselves? Why can’t we just be happy with how things are, and take life as it comes? Or as Tyler states:

“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

We create an identity through material wealth, and social status. And as far as Tyler is concerned, this false sense of self must be destroyed, before we are free to do anything we want. Therefore, the ‘space monkeys’ of Project Mayhem live by a mantra which goes like this:

“You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler makes a so-called human sacrifice, namely a man called Raymond who works a dead-end job in a convenience store. Raymond wanted to be a veterinarian, but didn’t make it because it was “too much studying.” Tyler threatens Raymond, saying that if he doesn’t start studying within six weeks, he’ll kill him.

In this scene, Tyler points to another aspect of self-destruction: the act of letting go of fears, negative self-talk, and all distractions, so we can fully focus on our purpose. It’s the destruction of everything within ourselves that holds us back from living life on our own terms.

A near-life experience

Many people go great lengths when it comes to pain avoidance. The problem is that running from pain means running from an inevitable part of life.

The prospect of incurring pain makes us anxious, and often leads to self-indulgent decisions. That is: choosing the less painful path, even if a more painful path guarantees more success and pleasure in the future.

Tyler Durden deals with this by inflicting a chemical wound on the narrator’s hand using lye.

As expected, the narrator does everything to escape the pain: he uses visualization techniques he learned at a seminar, and retreating in his cave to find his ‘power animal’. But Tyler slaps him in the face, forcing him to stay with the pain, saying: “This is the greatest moment of your life, man. And you’re off somewhere missing it.”

For the narrator, Tyler has one central goal: he must reach bottom. After putting him through suffering, and destroying his false identity, there’s yet another aspect that must be crushed: hope. Losing all hope is freedom. And, therefore, he must reject what has rejected him: his father, and God. I quote:

“Consider the possibility that God does not like you. In all probability, he hates you.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler states that we don’t need God. That we shouldn’t care about redemption and damnation. And if we’re God’s unwanted children, so be it. Thereby, we lose all hope, but are also liberated from religious doctrine and fatherly authority.

Now we’re truly free. Now we can create our own meaning, and live how we want to live.

Tyler emphasizes the importance of knowing what we want in life. To achieve this, we must be willing to get out of our comfort zone and jump into the unknown without safety brackets.

The narrator, however, has difficulties letting go of security. He begs Tyler to not mess around when he lets go of the steering wheel in a driving car while hitting the gas. Tyler calls the narrator ‘pathetic’, and yells: “hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go!”

After an inevitable car crash, Tyler states that they just had a ‘near-life experience’.

Wrap up

Fight Club is a story about rebellion against the status quo and a plea for the simple life. It criticizes the ways in which we are so hung up on security, and material possessions, and how people let social norms dictate their lives.

‘Stuff’ has become our religion. The idols we worship are Ikea and Starbucks. And the more we immerse ourselves in such an empty and unfulfilling existence, the more we start to resemble the things that we produce: manufactured products rather than authentic human beings.

Tyler shows us a way out. And even though his insights are profound, the execution is questionable. Fight Club, and its terrorist branch Project Mayhem, show us how easy it is to oppose one ideology, in order to fall into another, and how a cult-like echo chamber built on rigid beliefs could become very destructive.

Nevertheless, Tyler challenges us to be self-sufficient and disobedient to the authorities that let us down, to live authentically and in the moment, to confront our fears, to boldly step out of our comfort zones, and let the things that don’t matter truly slide.