#Complicated Love

[noobiestnoober]

A Complicated Love (Reader x Damon x Elena)

The story is set in 1994 Prison World, when Y/N (female) is a character in TVD who is stuck with Bonnie and Damon and starts developing feelings for Damon Salvatore and vice versa, despite Damon being still in love with Elena.

This is my first time posting a one-shot fanfic. I hope you enjoy it. <3

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Prison World

Y/N didn't anticipate that she'd find herself in such a place as Prison World, a desolate, eerie double of Mystic Falls. It was supposed to be another Mystic Falls mission, with her tagging along with Bonnie and Damon. They found themselves in this alternative dimension, lost in the fight for survival, and most desperately struggling to find a way out. Days turned into weeks, and finally, weeks into months. During all of this, Y/N looked to Bonnie and Damon. They developed a connection out of difficult circumstances, and mutual reliance on each other's strength went beyond friendship. Weeks became months, and Y/N, well aware that Damon had affection for Elena, began to harbour feelings for him.

It complicated their bond even more now that they shared their days with another prisoner in the world: Kai Parker, a sociopathic but kind-of-charming guy who seemed to be thoroughly dangerous. Kai took an interest in Y/N from the first day, and his flirtatious ways and smooth talking made Y/N's skin crawl. Damon saw how Kai wouldn't let up with the flirting, and he felt something rise inside him towards Y/N, but he would shake it off.

One evening, Damon stood in between Kai and Y/N when Kai pushed too close.

"Stay out of it, Kai," Damon's eyes flashed furiously.

Kai grinned, flinging his palms up in a fictitious surrender. "What? I'm simply enjoying myself a little.”

"Fun's over," Damon yelled. "Get someone else to torture."

Kai turned to leave, grinning, and Y/N thankfully glanced at Damon,"Okay, Damon. I appreciate your help, but I can manage Kai."

Damon eventually turned to look down at her, "Yes, you can take care of yourself. I know. I don't want you to suffer, though.”

A wave of feeling came over Damon like a tsunami when he gazed into her eyes at that same instant. He cared about Y/N deeply, more than he had allowed himself to admit. It wasn't just about protecting her; it was about falling in love with her. He found himself in love with Y/N, and the thought both exhilarated and terrified him.

They eventually succeeded in getting out of Prison World and back to Mystic Falls. Now entangled, their complex feelings overshadowed their relief at returning. Elena was completely unaware of the growing bond between them as Damon and Y/N struggled to balance their newly formed feelings against the implications of their return.

______________________________________________________________

Salvatore Boarding House

One could cut the tension in Salvatore Boarding House with a knife. Damon was pacing and agitated, his unusual vulnerability taking precedence over his confidence. Arms crossed, Y/N stood by the hearth, trying to make sense of the tornado of feelings rolling deep within her.

"You can't love me, Damon," Y/N said. And even her voice seemed to shake a bit, "You are in love already!"

Stopping his incessant pacing of the room, Damon slowly faced her, and his deep, piercing blue eyes contrasted fiercely, “Who said I could only love one person?”

The heart in Y/N leaped furiously. While she knew Damon had a difficult past with Elena, she also knew he harboured affection for her.

"Damon, this treatment isn't fair to anyone. This is unfair to Elena, to you, and to me."

Damon took a step closer, his expression earnest, "Y/N, I can't deny my feelings for you. But loving Elena doesn't lessen what I feel for you. My heart is big enough for both of you."

She could feel a lump developing in her throat. "This is much more complex. This will be hurting a lot of people."

Damon takes her hands in his, “Maybe. Love is never easy, I've learned. It's a messy thing with twists and turns, but that makes it more real. In the least."

Tears formed in Y/N's eyes as she looked at him for any signs of hesitation, “Are you sure? That this might… work out? And that we'd be able to move past these feelings without completely falling apart?"

With that, Damon tightened his grip just a bit, "The real question, Y/N, is: Do you love me?"

Y/N's breath hitched. She had been avoiding this question, afraid of what it might mean. But Damon was right in front of her, his vulnerability exposed, and she could not dispute the facts, “Damon, I do, for sure. Still, I fear that..."

Damon drew her into his arms and held her there, "So am I. We could, however, manage to go through this together. Someway."

Y/N felt him open, in his arms at last, felt the warmth and power of his hug, and buried her face in his chest, “I know I want to be with you, even though I don't know what tomorrow may bring."

Heart pounding with both terror and hope, Damon kissed the top of her head, "You and I will work everything out. One step at a time."

They knew the road would be difficult, but they had each other to inspire them to face whatever came next. Just as they were about to turn around, they heard a soft creak. Both turned to see Elena at the room entrance, her face white, eyes widen in shock, and shining with moisture. She had heard everything.

"Damon," Elena whispered, and her voice broke, "Is it true? Do you love Y/N?"

Damon's heart sank at the hurt in Elena's eyes. He let go of Y/N and took a step towards Elena, "Elena, I..."

Elena shook her head; tears streamed down her cheeks. "I thought… I thought we were working things out. And now, I don't know what to think."

Y/N flinched, stepping back. She couldn't bear to come in-between Damon and Elena. Partly feeling guilty.

Damon struggled with conflicting emotions, "I really do love you, Elena," Damon said in a raspy voice, "Still, I love Y/N as well. Even though it didn't happen as planned, it did. What can I do!?"

With a wipe of her tears, Elena tried to gather herself, "You're going to have to choose Damon. This isn't fair to any of us."

He looked helplessly from Elena to Y/N. He had loved them both. He loved them both deeply, yet he was unable to hold onto them both. He had to make a choice, and it was tearing him apart.

At last, Damon muttered, "I need some time to think." His voice was almost audible above a whisper, "I have to think what is best for every one of us."

Slowly nodding, Elena says in a sad tone, “You take your time, Damon. Please do not keep us waiting for too long.”

Elena turned and left, and Y/N watched, both relieved and saddened. She knew that it was far from over, and whatever choice Damon made would change their lives forever.

Standing there by himself and torn, Damon understood how difficult and messy love was. And someone would suffer no matter what decision he took.

[shipboards]

Alma Madrigal x an elderly man OC moodboard with themes of angst, complicated love, and Colombian houses for Anon

[memesandtvshowthings]

Miraculous movie- Rewrite the Stars edit

Let me know what you think in the comments!

what song should I do next?

[bl-bam-beyond]

MY STAND-IN (2024, THAILAND)

Episode 11 (The PENULTIMATE EPISODE)

Poor Joe (PHURIPAN SAPSANGSAWAT aka POOM) has had a rough life that somehow got worse when he got mixed up with two tumors. One the benign Ming (POOMPAT IAM-SAMANG aka UP) and the very malignant Tong (JIRAKIT THAWORNWONG aka MEK) which lead him to make decisions that lead to his untimely demise.

Yet another chance to live came in the body of another man named Joe as well. This Joe (TANATAT KUNANEKSIN aka WINNER) had a sweet mother awaiting his return from a coma.

However now with a second chance bad luck plagued Joe's life again leading him back in the Ming Tong vacuum.

Joe could not quit Ming but Ming set out to prove his regret for Joe's death and to prove he loved him.

But in came a very malignant Tong's problems leading Joe to lose his life again (hanging in the balance)

So Return to your second body or choose Door Number 3. Remembering his life Joe chooses the door that leads....

@pose4photoml @just-another-boyslove-blog @lutawolf

[cottagecoreunderscore]

You’re frozen… when your heart’s not open

[dancingthroughstardust]

They don't get the chance to dance together often...but they do... it's the most intimate show of affection that Titan and Andromeda show to each other. They're practically glued to the other's side, hands wandering in sensual ways that could make the most experienced of partners blush. The tension between Titan and Andromeda is palpable: powerfully complicated but it's clear that the two are irreversibly attracted and attached to one another.

Forever.

[jcryptid]

Short Story I wrote based on a D&D Character concept

Ophelia Carlisle was a liar.

She wore masks of mirrors reflecting back an image of yourself you could trust. Draped in fine golden chains, her eyes twinkling like jewels and dazzling the eye so that the dagger at her side remains unnoticed.

Be a rose her mother had said. Dainty and beautiful and the picture of grace. Be the rose, so that others may not see your thorns until it is far too late.

Ophelia Carlisle was a liar, but she was also the lie.

Ophelia the Tiefling, born into squalor and taken in by a family of nobles out of the goodness of their hearts. Raised and taught well in the art of politics and spinning dazzling words in a rich tapestry of conversation that would leave all who had the pleasure of knowing her enraptured. A child who grew and blossomed into a woman of great renown, once draped in golden finery and precious velvet, now travelling in relative secrecy, searching for a way to restore her family to the honour and favour of the crown they had so long dreamed of. Bravely choosing to take on her father’s dying wish and see his dream of their family finally stepping into the light of respect and recognition realised after so long in the dark.

But Ophelia Carlisle was a liar, and also the lie.

Thalia Drabek was taken in by a noble house, it’s true, but for a purpose. She was chosen for her beauty and her ability at magic and stealth off the streets by a family looking for a tool he could use in a giant game of chess. She was taken without her consent to a house laid in rich marble and dazzling sculpted fountains to be a spy in high society. Taught well in espionage and stealth so that she may assist them in their mission to clear out the corruption that permeated the royal courts. But their mission, as she discovered, was a lie. One told to keep her under their thumb and believing themselves righteous, fighting for good when in reality it was merely a bid for control. When she discovered this, she made preparations to disappear but was discovered. In the process of fighting her way to freedom from the family’s clutches she faked her death and resurfaced under the name Ophelia Carlisle. In hopes she could remain free.

Thalia Drabek, however, was nothing more than a fabrication and a falsehood.

Isla Blackthorne had never seen the inside of a ballroom until her late teens, and at the time she worked as a servant for the noble house of Drabek. Before then she had lived in squalor with an absent father and a mother who worked so hard for their lives that it killed her. Even as a child Isla looked upon the nobles who trussed themselves up in finery with an envy that went beyond the want of a poor child. She dreamed for so long that one day she might find herself whisked away to a home with a hall of mirrors and a table filled to the bursting with cakes and delicacies every morning for breakfast.

She snuck on grounds of a mansion whenever she could, and watched as people in glistening gowns twirled with partners on a marble tiled floor and her heart ached for the kind of luxury and comfort and joy they seemed to take so easily for granted.

But it always seemed like a pipe dream.

In the meantime, she learned well how to lie, how to sell a bottle of piss like it was the finest of wines. She swindled hundreds out of their coin, ran scams and tricked those same nobles out of their coin and all the fineries they enjoyed with wit and dedication. She learned well how to imitate their way of speaking, walking, acting. In time she found herself able to infiltrate even the most well-guarded of parties and events and convince people out of sizeable donations with a voice sweet as honey as she promised to pay them back in time. She took the names of noble houses and wore them like aging badges that could get her anything she wanted with just her words. But she always lived adjacent to their splendour. Never quite able to reach their level of honest respect and well-known golden reputation.

In her life she had made many enemies like this, flying too close to the sun and being burned one too many times. More than once, she’d been caught in the act, and only barely escaped with her life. Swapping out names and masks and clothes to keep herself safe. It’s easier to pretend after all, to be something you’re not, than to admit that every good quality about yourself is a lie, one borrowed from those who truly deserve their respect and admiration. However much she resents them for having what she never will. A stable household, a family that loves her and never had to worry about where their next meal would come from. A life lived like a fairytale, the same one she told herself every night as a child.

Isla Blackthorne, however much she swayed the hearts of many who heard her tragic tale, was nothing more than a fiction.

The once Lady Czarina of Whitehall though, played a dangerous game.

Born into wealth but nonetheless growing up believing in the lie her parents told her and everyone else to cover for their reputation. By the time she found out the truth, it was far too late to clear away the golden falsehoods that stuck and covered her history. Her father was a noble with close ties to the royal court, and her biological mother a woman made to sell herself for the privilege of bearing his child in secret, whilst his wife remained unable to bear a child for his purposes.

Czarina has no living memory of her true mother, and likely would not have known about it had it not been for her schooling. When she was a child, she knew a woman, who at times looked at her with an emotion she’d never been able to place. She was her primary nanny, who dressed her and made sure she was on time to all her summons. When she was six the woman gave her a gift, a little wooden bird she said her mother had carved for her that she was told to keep secret. Not even a few days later, when her mother spotted her fiddling with it during dinner, she clutched her hands with an iron tight grin and demanded to know where she’d gotten it. She cried and begged her not to be mad for bringing “her mother’s gift” to dinner and was demanded to explain herself. She would not know until far later that it would be the reason she never saw that nanny again.

Czarina, in time learned fast to keep secrets. As she grew, she was afforded more leeway and was taught well to treat life like a giant game of poker. Never letting anyone know the information in her hand, learning tricks and tells to accurately guess as to the cards held by those around her. Through her father she learned the complicated world of politics and the ruthlessness that lurked beneath the golden exterior. Through her mother, she learned how to weave a conversation with such intricacies that none could tell how empty the space behind her words truly was. From them both she learned how to tip the scales of any interaction in her favour, and that the only way to truly get what you wanted was to hold all the cards, and wait for just the right moment to use them.

In time when she looked in the mirror, all she could see was her mask of mirrors. A face that would show everyone just what they expected to see. And in time, she grew into the perfect picture of elegance, power and skill. The shining gem of her parents’ lives. A priceless jewel they could show off at extravagant balls to the highest of high society and use to not only gain their favour and respect, but also use as a tool to gather every dirty secret and manipulate their way to the top.

No one ever saw the true face of Czarina of Whitehall, likely not even herself; but there would always be the one who got dangerously close.

Isabella Wisteria was the daughter of a noble house barely a rung or so lower on the ruthless chain of renown that the Whitehalls so desperately sought to climb. She was a high elven woman with dark hair and sharp silver eyes framed in thin glasses who made Czarina’s heart flutter when she laughed and despite everything, managed to lift away just a little of the mask she had so long believed grafted to her skin forever.

That first night they danced, Isabella had stumbled her way into Czarina’s heart by making her laugh with a joke about the ancient wizards Ixhis and Melanoe that no one else seemed to understand. And after over 4 hours of deep conversation into various topics of interest and their theories, building towering cathedrals on the knowledge they’d collected over the years, Czarina could never forget her. Even if she wanted to.

They exchanged letters for what felt like a millennia, meeting up at events and after the mandatory greetings and small talk, sneaking away to a private alcove or the gardens to share conversation and deeper truths as the moon set. Isabella was a visionary at heart. A quick wit to rival her own and a never failing conviction in the face of injustice. A heart that longed for a world where the silenced could make themselves heard and the wherewithal to fight for it. Someone who looked at Czarina and made her believe, for the first time, that there could be more to herself than merely the empty husk of a glittering mask pulling the strings in her family’s favour.

The third night they met, hiding away from fellow partygoers and tucking themselves frantically away in a pantry to avoid notice, Carina found herself close enough to Isabelle that she could feel her warm breath on her face in the dark. She felt herself blush, against her will and all her carefully constructed composure slipped as the two locked eyes.

And after a moment’s hesitation, Czarina stopping halfway as she closed the gap between them, Isabella gave a small nod in unspoken consent, and, after tucking a loose hair behind Czarinas ear, the elven noble leant in and kissed her.

It was not Czarina’s first kiss by any means, nor the longest. But it lit up her world in a way no other kiss she’s ever shared, because for the first time it felt real. For the first time a kiss was shared not out of drunken haze, or to wrap someone tightly around her finger. For the first time it wasn’t an act that made her feel empty, and one she had to force herself to convince them she enjoyed.

This kiss was real, and so was the love they shared. And for the first time nothing else mattered, and everything could be okay in a way she’d never known before.

Because Czarina, just Czarina, with not even a touch of Whitehall ambition or influence, was in love.

But the tale of Czarina of Whitehall, was not a love story.

8 months later, Isabella received her final letter from Czarina. It barely explained a thing. Czarina did not tell her about the months of blackmail and manipulation from her father, nor did she tell her about her love being repeatedly leveraged against her. It wasn’t a problem of Czarina having found love with the wrong person after all, it was because Czarina had found love at all. Because now that she had a weakness, allowed herself to love and care for someone, her father was all too ready to use it to control her, to twist her arm behind her back and allow him to tighten his hold on her. So much so that every attempt to counterbalance the scales were met with nothing, and the only way to loosen his hold, she could find, was to cut Isabella out of her life forever.

It didn’t matter to him what Isabella meant to her. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been just a common whore she’d been toying with, or a project she was working on for her own amusement, or even her most trusted confidant. All that mattered, to him at least, was that she cared about her, enough to make her willing to do anything to keep her happy and safe.

And whether it was because he couldn’t have that, jealousy on his part, a mere opportunity he couldn’t help but exploit, or simply to teach her a lesson; none of that mattered in the end.

All Isabella would know, was that they couldn’t continue as they once had. That Czarina had loved her, that it had been fun while it lasted, but whatever relationship they had couldn’t continue. That Czarina couldn’t allow things to go any further than they had, because it too was a mask.

And in catching tears before they could meet the paper, Czarina told the greatest lie of her life. The lie that she had never cared as deeply as she had for Isabella. That she never would.

Isabella tried many times to find and talk to Czarina about the contents of her letter, about what she meant by them. She tried for months to get her to explain herself, tell her to her face that every moment they’d shared, all the private admissions and connection they’d felt had been a lie.

But Czarina continued to evade her. Keeping her at arm’s length and plastering on the perfect picture of the play girl bastard ex her love would hate with every fibre of her being.

No matter how much her heart ached.

In the end, Isabella was no longer a piece of the game her father could manipulate, and though Isabella was confused angry and heartbroken by her love’s betrayal, Czarina continued to play her part well. Now with a hollow in her chest and the deepest of regrets, even though she knew there was no other move she could make.

In time, the rumour mill moved on from the scandal she had caused, and her father and mother did too. In time there came the last day her father would ever give so much as a passing mention of her love, and Czarina and Isabella both could be free.

But though the courts and nobles may have forgotten, though her father and mother and family had likely forgotten, though Isabella in all her heart wrenching hurt had grieved and been forced to heal from what she had done enough to cast it behind her….

Czarina would never forget.

And in time, when that seed of hatred and resentment at her situation and her father and all he had twisted her into grew, when she had finally finished the long game between them that had stretched through her whole life and pulled all the right strings to land her father swallowed up by fish so much bigger than them all, he asked why, and she didn’t tell him all she had done or why. Only left their house in ruins behind her as her father cursed her name and her once mother’s blood stained the woman’s own hands, and her father was drained of everything he was worth.

He died never knowing she was to blame for the destruction of their house, as did her mother. As far as her father was aware, her greatest betrayal was refusing to fetch the doctors as the poison his enemies slipped into his drink took effect and rendered him paralysed and unable to fight back in his bed. As far as he knew, she was a coward who just watched from afar while he was forced to sign away all of his assets in his final moments, who had the gall to kiss his forehead and smile before leaving them all together.

As far as Isabella or any of the other nobles or servants had heard some part of Czarina had died beside her only family, who’d died in shame as the poorly constructed facade of their wealth and success finally crumbled around them. That she had been whisked away to safety by a distant relative or married off to a man in another country in a desperate attempt to retain her standing in spite of this. That she remained desperate to spend her days in recluse healing from the trauma coming home to the sight of such a brutal loss had left her, and the shame that came when his lies to her were finally uncovered.

But the shadows lurking beneath the masks that pulled the strings had just undertaken a far loftier goal.

To find the Passerine, whoever they may be, and end them before they could use their secrets against them.

And as for Czarina herself well…. She had plenty of names and lies and the skills to wield them well enough to keep herself hidden no matter where she was. And Ophelia Carlisle was certainly far more appealing than the hollow space where the once Czarina of Whitehall had resided in ages past.

All that was left for her now, was to find the truth. Whatever it may be.

[flumet]

Complicated Love - Stony moodboard

[travelersrest]

🐺🩷🐺

[karenlous-blog]

I just love Ned . Another bad boy /complicated soul. Complicated love forbidden love . NeoNed

[fundiesimsfamily]

Dear diary,

Hudson came over tonight. And ofcourse, I was embarresed for my stupid behavouir the other day when we went over there. And I don't think I made it any better today. Well, he does says he thinks we are nice. Well, he is nice too. I don't have any other words for it. He is nice and handsome and just a great guy in general. If only I could behave better around him.

Love, Luna

Back I Beginning I Spreadsheet I Next

[behindthesemasks]

10

Out of the hospital and back in the hotel, Klaus visits the Meirs' suite...

He may have been in the suite to talk to Nic and Ambrose about some disconcerting news regarding the dig site, but Klaus’ eyes never left the brunette lounging on the couch as he waited for both of them to be ready.  Since the day in the hospital, he hadn’t seen her, no one other than Alexander, Nic, Ambrose, and Marie had.   His heart ached as he saw her lounging there, reading some kind of book and completely ignoring him.  He wanted to go to her, to talk to her, to get some kind of sign from her what she was thinking.  Tensions had been high in the room when last they spoke and he knew he hadn’t handled things well.  

When Nic and Ambrose approached him, he had to stop looking at Melania and move farther away in the large living room of the grand suite that Ambrose had rented.   He could swear that Nic positioned himself just perfectly to block Klaus’s view of Mel afterwards.  Still, it was almost as if he could feel the beautiful brunette’s eyes on the three of them, even without being able to see her.    

The discussion seemed to take longer than necessary.  Still Klaus kept his composure and tamped down his internal feelings, regardless of what else was going on, he still had a job to do.  That job was to protect Mel and the dig, who he had found out that morning had all of their heaters sabotaged so that they failed.  There were contractors out working on them now, but that meant more people had access to the site and that didn’t make Klaus or the others too comfortable.  Cam, Dez, Case, and Cade had all gone out to the site to supervise the work.  None wanted there to be any danger when Mel was ready to return out there.  So far, their reports were that at least the contractors seemed on the level.  Now to figure out who sabotaged the heaters to begin with.

When the men were done talking, Ambrose headed into the office portion of the suite; and before Nic followed him he grasped the collar of Klaus’s shirt to pull him in close.  Keeping his voice low, but a feral growl still being laced through it, “watch yourself VanDakken.  I will end you if she so much as pouts.  You feel me?”  Nic’s eyes bored into Klaus’s  before he released the man and headed into the office following his grandfather.  There was no mistaking exactly how serious Nic was about this subject.

Klaus turned to look where Mel had been sitting and found the couch now empty.  Motion off to his side caught his attention though, and he found the object of his affection standing at the small wet bar that was next to the large windows that looked down on the quaint street that ran in front of the hotel.  Her hair was down, tumbling down her back in soft curls and waves, it made him want to run his fingers through it.  The olive green shirt…dress…jacket?...whatever it was had been pulled up on her shoulders now from where it earlier had been allowed to slide down her arms to expose her dark camisole underneath,  and the way it was cut highlighted her perfect curves.  The way it cupped her ass had him starting to harden and strain against his jeans. This was not helpful in the least.  He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he started to cross the room.

Less than a minute had him standing right behind her, her scent wafting to him on the slight breeze that seemed to be in the suite.  His clothes suddenly felt too tight and overly hot.  The voice of reason in his head was screaming for him to turn around and walk out, to forget the insanity he was about to embark on and save his ass from the beating that Nic was sure to give him.   His hands that were at his sides clenched to fists and released before he moved till his torso gently brushed against her back.  When her head came up quickly, he was glad he’d waited to bend his head down or she would have got him square in the face.

One hand slid around her slim waist to rest against her flat abdomen as he gently pulled her back against him, his heart thundering in his chest as he waited for her to either stop him or hit him.  Instead, she leaned back into him.  After the hospital he almost dared not to breathe, afraid he’d break whatever spell she was under that had her so close to him.  His free hand gently traced along the outside of her upper arm, then shoulder, before moving  her hair on that side to away from her ear.  It was then that his head began to dip to be near hers.  

What he could not know was how hard and fast her own heart was beating.  She had heard him coming across the room to where she had been standing.  When he stopped, she had expected him to talk.  So when he’d drawn closer to her, pulling her to him she had gone along.  His words in the hospital had echoed in her ears for days afterward.   There was something about the fact he had come to her, even knowing that Nic had said something to him before leaving, that tugged at her heart.   The feel of his hot breath on her neck sent a chill down her spine, her mind wanted to replay the last time that she had felt that and all the emotions of that long ago time wanted to well up.  Even after all these years, Klaus had that effect on her.

For a moment he just breathed in her scent, letting the memories of the past well up and his emotions calm before he would trust his voice.   His hand gently caressed her neck before cupping the other side of her face.  His eyes closed as he spoke low in her ear, “Please don’t pull away.  God Mel, I need you…I love you…and fuck if even after all this time I still want you more than I’ve ever wanted another.  There could never be another you, not ever, not for me.”   As his voice trailed off, his lips found the sensitive skin just behind her ear.   If she rejected him, he’d be shattered; he could only pray that she in some small way felt the same.

[guhmshuda]

watching one of my friends give up the person they like because some other friend of theirs likes him more than my bff does…

now how do I explain it to her that that third person will never give it up like she did because she doesn’t like the dude as much as my friend,

[qfahj]

i just wanna hold his hand..

but it's a complicated for us.

[iwastryingnottofall]

THE DESCENT.

I feel like the sun exploded in my mouth. My tongue is burning with all those unshed words. This burden is scorching my skin and nobody knows.

No one ever noticed. That I set a fire inside of me. That I was slowly turning into a living torch. And through my suffocating chest my heart is radiating a vivid glow; offered, sacrificed, on the altar of my insane dreams.

Tears of gold are streaming down my face but my mind is made of steel. My heart is on a pyre, ready to be burned down. Only ashes will remain.

Just like Icarus, I only felt alive when I was near the sun. You told me to flee.

But why would I run ? Why would I do something so useless ? I believe my place in Hell is settled, I bet the devil even fluffed the cushions. I bet he knows my name already.

I have looked at you so much I have your face printed under my eyelids. Please forgive me, I see you everywhere. You have to know, I dream of rivers of stars, ebony adornments draping your body with night sky fabric. Yes, that is right. An adornment of Heaven. You were so beautiful even the stars were singing your praises.

I am a canvas of everything you’ve ever said. Your words are written all over me like paint, like ink. With you I was a garden, holding your favourite flowers and making promises. That nothing will die by my hand. I lied.

I am the fallen Angel knocking on the gates of Hell in the dead of night.

For I have lived through so much I was a walking scar. I wandered, my wounds wide open, bleeding on the pavements. My body is a landscape of hidden valleys and bruises. Nothing could heal me.

Not even you, my love. Tell me, why is something as beautiful than us drawn to its own destruction ?

Our fate is sealed in silver and iron.

I know I promised you the stars, sorry I only own the night.

(written by me)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.