#can’t make a fool of myself if I don’t exist

[mariacallous]

Since the conversation, if you can call it that, about trans people always seems to come down to bathrooms, I am sure of one thing.

I would much rather share a ladies’ room or a locker room with Sarah McBride than with Nancy Mace.

McBride, of course, was just elected to Congress and, in January, will be the highest-ranking elected official in America who is transgender. The 34-year-old comes to the US House of Representatives after serving in the Delaware legislature; before that, she was the national press secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.

Mace, a member of Congress from South Carolina since 2021, has been on an ugly campaign in recent weeks clearly intended to belittle and marginalize McBride – and to get on TV as much as possible doing so. She has filed a resolution, and the House speaker, Mike Johnson, has given it his nod of approval, that would somehow force trans people to keep out of the congressional bathrooms that reflect their gender identity.

“If you think this bill is about protecting women and not simply a ploy to get on Fox News, you’ve been fooled,” wrote Natalie Johnson, Mace’s former communications director. She added, pointedly, that a real effort to protect women would involve “a bill to bar Matt Gaetz, a sexual predator with an affinity for underage girls, from ever walking those halls again”. (Trump, as you know, tapped the far-right former Florida representative as his attorney general as part of this month’s parade of appalling cabinet choices. Gaetz later withdrew from consideration.)

On Wednesday, McBride reacted with dignity to all the performative insults and abuse. She simply responded that she would follow the rules and that she’s in Congress to represent her Delaware district; I’m sure she’ll eventually find ways to continue her admirable advocacy.

Mace, on the other hand, can’t be described as dignified. She’s running around pasting the word “biological” on restroom doors for photo ops, and snidely tweeting in McBride’s direction about International Men’s Day.

And she’s getting plenty of the media attention she craves.

On one level, this is all part of the unending circus of the Trump era.

On a human level, it’s scary, wrong and damaging.

“As a trans person myself, I’m really worried about where this is headed,” wrote Parker Molloy, who writes incisively about politics and media in her newsletter the Present Age. “I spend each day worrying about whether or not the healthcare that keeps me alive will remain legal, whether I’m going to face new restrictions on where I’m allowed to exist in public, what would happen to me if (god forbid) I wound up in prison for some reason, and whether or not my identity documents like my passport will be retroactively made invalid.”

She added poignantly: “Now, more than ever, I feel alone.”

Trans students may have it even worse. Again, it often comes down to bathrooms.

A lot of children, especially transgender and gender-nonconforming children, avoid bathrooms all day, since that’s where the bullying can be most intense. Thus, advocates say, trans kids often are prone to urinary tract infections or eating disorders because they’ve avoided eating and drinking.

As for the right’s obsession with trans students on sports team, the vast majority have no unfair advantage on the playing fields (or courts, or pools). They are just trying to reap the same benefits of sports as do other kids – leadership, teamwork and friendship.

The meanspirited and misinformed narrative about transgender people makes it difficult for them to feel cared about and to live full lives.

But don’t try to tell that to Mace, whose preoccupation is not with kindness or decency, but with getting attention and winning the culture wars.

As the Daily Beast reported last year, Mace’s staffers were given a handbook that outlined just how intensely this mattered to their boss; they were told to book her on TV multiple times a day, amounting to nine times a week for national outlets and six times a week for local outlets.

In 2021, Mace depicted herself as supportive of LGBTQ+ rights. That was before the tide turned so forcefully and, as Philip Bump of the Washington Post put it, before “the Republican base had been fed a steady diet of anti-trans rhetoric, making trans issues fertile ground for anyone willing to engage in the fight”.

Mace, clearly, is more than willing.

If that means being cruel, then so be it. As writer Adam Serwer observed about Trumpian politics: “The cruelty is the point.”

Meanwhile, vulnerable and marginalized people are made to suffer for trying to be true to themselves. And despite the progress shown by McBride’s election, the world around this milestone seems to be getting increasingly harsh.

[venomwrites]

Caitlyn and Vi cuddling with each other in a free morning, telling each other their love and other sweet things

“I have something for you,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi lifts her head from Caitlyn’s thigh. Its early morning and sunlight is pouring through the windows of her apartment. It’s more sunlight than Vi ever has had access to. Even though Caitlyn’s suggested blinds, Vi can’t make herself hang them up. 

“It’s not my birthday,” she points out. 

“Have you ever gotten a present on your birthday?” Caitlyn asks, “beatings don’t count.”

“Good point,” Vi sighs, “but that was tradition.”

Caitlyn makes a disapproving sound in the back of her throat. It’s weird to be given presents. It’s weird how people give them all the time up here. Like all the time. You moved house? Present. Having a kid? Present. Hurting? Get well present. They even name some of them. When Vi secured the apartment people just showed up with shit. It was bizarre. Before she owned the clothes on her back. Now she owns enough plates to invite people over. 

“Do I have to sit up for this present?” She asks. 

“Probably not,” Caitlyn says, “give me your hand.” 

The box is small. She’s never gotten a box like this in her life. There’s a hinge tucked in the fuzzy back so it’s easy to thumb open. Inside is a little cushion. Cut into it are two slots. Each one has a piece of metal in it. They don’t glint in the sunlight like she would expect. But Vi is not fooled. Even though they aren’t shiny she’s sure they are the most expensive thing she’s ever held aside from her gauntlets. 

She sits up and lifts one out. Caitlyn’s chin settles on her shoulder as she turns the earring over. It’s grey and impossibly light. As she rotates it, she sees it hides a secret. The script is very tiny but she can make out Vanders name. Two impossibly tiny chips of gemstone, one gold and one blue, frames the letters. The second one is textured. On the inside scrawls Powder’s name, this one framed by chips of blue and pink. 

“How—“

“While you were training,” Caitlyn says, “I thought you might like new ones.”

She says it easily like she hasn’t just deposited the most expensive, meaningful gift Vi’s ever received in her lap. Vi’s earrings are pieces of metal she’s more or less jammed into her ear. Once they were in, they sure as shit weren’t coming out. Caitlyn has two mostly healed over holes in her lobes. So even though she looked horrified when Vi explained, Vi’s piercings are still usable. 

Vi knows there’s no point in protesting. She learned that the hard way when Caitlyn dragged her to buy non-Enforcer clothes. By the fifth protest Caitlyn had simply marched into the dressing room, bundled her existing, perfectly good, clothes under her arm and walked back out. Those had been one of those random presents that had no name. Caitlyn called them a necessity and pointed out two pairs of pants was the most Vi had owned the entire time she knew her. It was hard to argue with that. 

“These are really nice,” Vi says. It’s not just the metal which she’s sure is. Caitlyn’s really fucking good at the gifting thing. She feels Caitlyn smile. The way she does when Vi accepts gifts. The smile that makes Vi feel worthy of them, “I don’t know how to get mine off.” 

“Hmm,” Caitlyn runs her thumb along the shell of Vi’s ear, “stay here.”

Caitlyn returns with a pair of pliers and a determined look on her face. Vi has no idea how she manages to pull that off wearing nothing but a purple slip that’s high enough to show her thigh scar. But she’s not going to question it. Caitlyn returns to the bed and Vi settles her head back on her thigh. Caitlyn peers over her and Vi admires the way the sunlight cuts through her hair. Instead of trying to twist and see how it plays along all the skin her nightgown reveals. There’s a few tugs and the old pieces of metal slide out. 

“Did I tell you I did those myself?”

“Yes, it looks like it,” Caitlyn replies. She dabs at the skin with antiseptic which feels awesome, “which one here?” She asks, brushing the top of Vi’s ear. 

“Powder,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn slides the earring into place. It feels weird but not in a bad way. Vander goes next through the lower hole. Caitlyn brushes the antiseptic over everything again which leaves her ear tingling. Caitlyn squeezes her shoulder. 

“It’s a bit red but see what you think.” 

They look so similar to her old ones Vi has to stare before it registers. But it feels good. Like some piece of her family is still there. 

“They look good, thanks,” she says. Caitlyn blows out a breath. 

“Good, because I have no idea how we would get these back in,” she admits, holding the misshapen pieces of metal that represent Vi’s old prison life. 

“Actually I’ve got something for you,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn looks surprised. Vi is not the best gift giver. She’s never had the chance to learn. But every time she manages to find something to give to Caitlyn, her whole fucking face lights up. It’s adorable and it catches Vi off guard with how proud it makes her feel. She goes over to her nightstand and pulls out the keyring. Caitlyn looks surprised as Vi offers it to her. A cupcake charm dangles from the ring.

“I know the guy downstairs just lets you in because you’re you, but I figured you should have the option of not talking to him.” 

Caitlyn gets to her knees and kisses her in a way that has Vi pushing onto he toes to make up the height difference. Caitlyn’s the better gift giver but damn. 

If the way Caitlyn is kissing her is any indication, Vi is getting a hell of a lot better at it.

[questionably-audhd-oracle]

Catch me spiraling on this cloudy Tuesday morning because everything that comes out of my mouth is the Wrong Thing and I never used to be this shit at socializing but that’s only because I never actually socialized before so now I’m realizing for the first time how little I get social cues and I am throwing jokes out that I think are funny or imitating other people’s forms of humor but they always fall flat and I thought I was doing it right?? But I never am, and I think I would rather have my vocal chords surgically removed than ever see any of my college friends or boyfriend again

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your emotions fully take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[katstarry]

no one noticed | take our time

eddie munson x reader

part ii

masterlist ☆

part i | part iii

summary: you and eddie grow closer when eddie invites you to hangout outside of school.

warnings: fluff, pining, the upside down doesn’t exist here! a slow burn apparently, reader is introverted kinda

a/n: my obsession with him comes and goes but whenever it comes back IT COMES BACK HARDD 😭 it’s been a week of it consuming me again, i need more content of eddie! (robin & reader are very birds of a feather coded in my head)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

you rush over to where robin is seated, not bothering to get in line for food. you’ll go later.

“i’m going crazy.” is what you say as soon as you reach her, interrupting what she was about to say, her mouth agape.

an amused expression covers her features, “oh? and why exactly, are you going crazy?” she leans closer to you, a knowing look in her eye.

you take a seat beside her, your back to eddie’s table.

“we got paired up for a project in history class.” is all you say as you steal a cold french fry from her tray.

“hey!” she swats your hand away, but she’s too late, “paired up, huh? i bet you’re thrilled!” she smiles over at you.

you groan and put your face in your hands.

“it wasn’t so bad, honestly. it was pretty fun. i didn’t make a fool of myself.” your words were muffled in between your hands, “…at least i hope not.” you say, facing your friend once again.

she laughs at your distress, “oh c’mon! you should be happy that you finally have an excuse to talk to him!”

“it’s not funny, robin! how am i going to survive this? oh my god, robin.” you look at her smiling, you know that you’re being dramatic. but besides your nerves, you are pretty excited to finally be talking to eddie.

“what?” she raises her eyebrows at you, eating her fries.

“he’s so dreamy.”

robin gags, “gross.”

you nudge her shoulder laughing, “oh please! maybe you’re right. i should just be happy about this. he was pretty nice.” you look at her and sigh dramatically, “it was pretty nice.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“you’re supposed to be hyping me up right now! i finally talked to my crush.”

“yeah, and i still can’t believe it only took you being partners for it to happen. by force.” she laughs when you pout.

“okay, okay! yes, of course i’ll hype you up. he’ll totally ask you out, though. i bet he’s thinking of you right now, planning how to do it. actually, he’s planning your marriage as we speak.”

“okay. let’s not get too crazy now.” you laugh, moving to stand to finally get in line for some food, but blushing at the thought nonetheless.

robin rolls your eyes at you, “you are too far gone.”

you steal one last fry from her before leaving, hearing a faint “oh c’mon!” behind you.

standing in line, you see the same girl from your history class in front of you, elizabeth? you think her name is?

she turns around, “oh, hey!”

“hey, elizabeth, right?”

“yes! you’re y/n? right?”

you smile, “yeah, we have history together.”

“right! i hope this project is over with quickly, i got stuck with byers,” she glanced at a table, “but it can’t be as bad as munson.”

you were taken aback, you knew what other people thought of him, but being outright rude is crazy.

“oh! eddie’s a great partner, honestly… we spent the class coming up with ideas. jonathan’s really nice too, i’ve helped him take some photos before for the yearbook.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, “hm. hopefully he won’t bring your grade down.”

you feel uneasy now, what’s her problem? do these people even give eddie a chance and actually talk to him?

“i doubt it, he seemed pretty excited.”

she laughs, “that’s because a girl is finally giving him some attention.”

“no, it’s because we’re working on a project together. and i dunno, i don’t talk trash about him?” you state, plainly, giving her an unamused look, not interested in continuing the conversation.

“wow, didn’t know you could even talk that much. that’s the most i’ve ever heard you speak!” she tilts her head at you mockingly, clearly you’ve upset her.

you don’t answer her, “could you move up? the lines moving.” avoiding her taunting gaze.

you see her roll her eyes from your peripheral, and she finally turns back around.

letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, you finally make it to the food. mood ruined. why are people so mean. you’re starving. at least they’re serving your favorite today, chicken nuggets and fries. such an amazing meal, the best school food gets.

walking back to robin you catch a glimpse of eddie, he’s making another dramatic display. you don’t catch what he’s saying, since he stops his rant as you’re about to walk by, where he happens to be walking.

he bows dramatically, giving you room to walk around him, “my apologies, madame.” he smiles at you.

you shake your head laughing, “thank you, sir.”

you sit beside robin once again.

“finally! you’re back. it’s been too long! we’re finally reunited.” robin gives you a dramatic side hug.

“i know, sorry! i was held up by a troll. asked me to solve a riddle, couldn’t figure it out.”

she laughs, “oh yeah? how’d you make your away around it?”

“i ate it.” you deadpan, opening your pack of ketchup.

you finally turn to look over at her, both of you burst out laughing.

as you eat, you explain to robin your conversation with elizabeth.

“what an asshole.” she says as you both stand to throw away your trash and put away your trays.

“i know right!” you shake your head, putting your tray away.

“i just don’t understand why it bothers people so much if people don’t talk. like, hello! maybe they just don’t want to talk to you?” she says, “or- or, like why it bothers people so much that people are different from them, in general? the times i’ve occasionally spoken with eddie, he seemed pretty chill.” she raises her hands in exasperation.

“right? i don’t get it either.” you sigh.

walking out the cafeteria you join robin by her locker, before going to your own, where she accompanies you as well, and grab what you need.

“see you at dismissal?” you say.

“yup! i don’t have practice today, steve’s gonna pick me up. i got a shift after school today.” she gives you a fist bump before going on her way to class.

it’s finally the end of the day.

you can finally take that nap.

you make your way to your locker, leaving your books.

by the door on your way out you see robin, “we’re free!” she exclaims.

she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “let’s get outta here.” you say.

“what do you plan to do? while i’m away at family video, locked inside there, along with an annoying dingus, with no other choice but to do work?” she lets out an exasperated breath, looking over to you.

“i was planning on taking a nap.”

“fun!” she says, with fake enthusiasm. “was kinda hoping for a, ‘i’ll come by and see you, of course! you’re my bestest friend! i won’t let you suffer alone!’ but i see now how much you truly care about me.”

you laugh, “i’ll come by to see you, robs.” making your way to your car, steve isn’t here yet, so robin walks with you.

“really?” she says hopefully.

“yeah, after i take my nap.” you say, looking straight ahead.

“oh c’mon! your naps always last, like, forever!” she whines.

“it won’t be that long this time!” you look at her, and she looks at you.

“okay maybe it will be.”

she shakes her head as you reach your car, leaning onto it.

“you and your fucked sleep schedule.”

“it’s me and my crap sleep schedule against the world.”

“hey, i thought it was you and me against the world!”

you were too busy bantering with robin that you didn’t realize eddie walking up behind you.

he was looking for you in the hallways, even stopped by your locker. he was working up his courage all throughout lunchtime, and his last classes.

“y/n! wait!” he calls out your name, jogging to reach you.

you stop what you were about to say, staring at robin.

seeing her light up, a smirk appearing on her face.

turning your head, you’re met with eddie, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“eddie?”

“yeah, hey. it’s me. givemeasec.” he breathes out, before standing upright again.

“hello.” he turns to robin, “and hello.” he nods his head to her.

“hey.” she looks behind him and looks back at you, “oh would you look at that? my rides here! i’ll call you later y/n! bye!” she leaves before you can even respond. you look at the direction she ran, steve’s not even here yet.

eddie turns back to face you, also looking confused by robin’s sudden disappearance.

“s’that usually happen?” he has an amused look on his face.

you shake your head, “no.”

“ah well- uh anyway. i wanna ask you something.”

oh? okay. cool. he wants to ask you something.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he looks at you.

“okay.. you can ask me anything, eddie.”

“right! shit, uh. i was wondering, are you doing anything? later?” he sees your panicked look, he backtracks, “i mean to, y’know, work on the project.” nice save.

ah. you hide your disappointment, “oh, yeah sure. i’m not doing anything today.” oh robin’s gonna be pissed that you canceled your nap for this and not see her at work.

“okay, cool. uhh where do you wanna meet? i mean, we could go to my place? or if not that’s cool too we could go to the library or something. dunno.” he kicks a loose pebble in the parking lot, messing with his rings. cute.

“your place is fine. i could just follow right behind you,” you jiggle your keys in-front of you, “i gotta call my mom first though, let her know.” you flush, “uh, where is your place?” you ask, knowing your mom would want to know.

“it’s uh the forest hills trailer park.” he continues to fiddle with his rings, looking at you now.

“right, i know where that is. let me just ring her real quick, yeah? i’ll be right back!” you head towards the telephones outside the school, call your mom and assure her it’s just for a project and that you won’t take that long.

you head back to your car, seeing eddie still standing nearby.

“all good?” he says, smiling.

“yeah, let’s go.” you smile back.

on your drive there you realize what exactly you’re doing.

your going to eddie’s place.

you’re freaking out.

it’s okay, that’s cool. it’s just for the project. you have your notebook in your book bag still. you have your notes.

entering the trailer park and parking beside his van, you mentally prepare yourself. oh god, you’re going into his home.

breathe! you still can’t even believe your mom let you come over in the first place, to a boys place.

seeing eddie get out his van, you get out your car with your bag and stand awkwardly as you wait for him.

“this way, madame.” he says, walking ahead of you and up to the trailer. grabbing his keys from his pocket, he opens the door and lets you in first.

“welcome to my paradise.” he walks in after you, shutting the door behind him.

you look around the small living room. it’s cozy, comfortable, it feels homey. you gently place your bag on the couch.

“it’s a nice place eddie.”

he laughs and turns away, heading to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not lying.” you say, genuinely. “i used to live in a trailer too.”

he looks up, grabbing two cups. “really?”

you nod, “best years of my life, honestly. we moved to our current house when i was about,” you look up in thought, “7? 8? maybe?” you head over to where eddie stood.

he hums in acknowledgment. “didn’t know that.”

you shrug, “never really talked about it, not a big deal really.”

looking at you, he asks “would you like some water? soda? you can take a seat y’know.” he smiles over at you as he heads to the fridge.

taking a seat at one of the chairs at the table you answer, “hmm, what soda do you have?”

“uhh.. let me see.” he moves things around, “got some pepsi, sprite, coke..”

“i’ll take some coke, please.”

“comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

your brain nearly explodes.

oh you’re definitely calling robin after this.

he comes back to you with two cans of coke for the both of you.

“thank you. what a wonderful host.” you smile at him as he pulls out the chair beside yours and sits in it.

“you’re welcome.” he laughs.

“right.. so..” you open your can, “the project?”

a brief look of confusion crosses eddie’s face. right. the project.

he clears his throat, “yeah, the project. um, i’ll be getting the stuff tomorrow.” he stepped out during lunch for a bit to sell and earn some more cash, thankfully he got enough for the materials for the poster board, they’re pretty affordable anyway.

“alright, cool! thank you for that, by the way. i wouldn’t of had minded buying it.”

he shakes his head, drinking from his can. “no, no. it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

you’re about to say something when he gives you a look, “fine.” you huff in defeat.

“good.” he smiles, knowing he won.

“let me grab my notebook from my bag.” you get up and grab your book bag from the couch, unzipping it and looking for your notebook.

huh.

you look through it again, pulling out the ones you do have, double checking.

you can’t believe it. you literally have all your notebooks, except your history one. you sigh frustratedly, zipping your bag back up and heading back towards the kitchen, empty handed.

“couldn’t find it?”

“couldn’t find it.” you continue to stand, “sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine. uh.” he looks at his watch, “hasn’t been that long, if you, maybe wanna stay for a bit longer?” he taps on his can, please say yes.

you keep your excitement at bay, trying to remain cool.

“yeah, that’d be cool.” nice. super cool.

“cool.”

you sit back down, “so..” you smile, looking down at your can of coke.

“soo….” he mimicks.

“i wanted to let you know, about me calling my mom, it isn’t because i don’t trust you, i swear. she just likes knowing where i am, she worries.” you look at him.

“it’s all good. don’t worry ‘bout it.” though he does look as though he feels more comfortable now, “you get used to it.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

he shrugs, changing the subject, “nice that your mom’s protective of you though.”

you laugh, “not as much as my dad though.”

“really? what’s he like?” he tilts his head at you, asking in genuine curiosity.

“well.. i’m the only girl. so you could imagine how protective he can be. he’s not like, controlling, but he’s just a bit strict. curfews and stuff like that.”

“hmm. you have siblings, then? brothers?”

“yeah,” you smile, “three actually. 2 older brothers and one younger. my older brothers moved out already though, but they visit frequently.. do you have any?”

“me? nah, no, i don’t. only son.”

you nod your head.

“live here with my uncle wayne, actually.” he moves his gaze back down to the table, “he works at the factory most days, ‘s why he’s not here right now.”

“oh cool, my dad used to work there too.”

“what’s he work in now?”

“construction. he’s out of the city on the weekdays, comes home on weekends. though sometimes he doesn’t come for a few weeks if the job is too far away.”

this is the most you’ve told someone about yourself, other than robin, in just a day.

you’re really going crazy.

“that’s cool-” he tries to find a way to lighten the mood after seeing your expression, but accidentally lets out a loud burp.

you laugh and he smiles.

“‘scuse me.” he laughs, covering his mouth.

“i lived with my brothers, trust me, you’re all good.” still laughing.

“what’s your uncle like?”

he goes on to talk about his uncle wayne, the conversation goes smoothly. you feel at ease with eddie’s jokes and banter, it’s an automatic click. a rare thing for you to come by, you hope this is the first of many hangouts. you realize that your closest friends are the complete opposite of you—robin, who can somehow make a conversation not boring, always including you with her other friends and makes you be apart of the conversation. it’s the same with eddie, how do they do it? it must be a superpower, or something.

you finish laughing after a story he had been telling you involving his friends from hellfire when you speak up, “could you tell me the time?”

he looks down at his watch, “uhh, it’s about to be 7 o’clock,” looking at you through his bangs, “tryna ditch me, sweetheart?”

dramatically grabbing at his chest, he says “i’m wounded.” and nearly falls out his chair.

“definitely. yeah, i can’t wait to get outta here.” you reply sarcastically, “i do have to go though.” you sigh.

“i had a lot of fun.”

he crosses his arms and smiles. “as did i.”

you get up from the chair, eddie does too and walks to the couch, grabbing your bag and handing it to you once you reach him. “thanks.”

he opens the door for you and walks you to your car, “we should uh, do this again sometime. hangout..” he scratches his neck, looking around before looking at you once again.

“i’d love to!” you twirl your keys in your hand.

“cool! can’t wait.” he clears his throat. “see you tomorrow? at school?”

“see you, eddie.” you smile over at him when you open your car door, getting in and closing it.

you can’t stop smiling on your drive home, you just hung out with your crush. you’re friends with your crush now.

right as you get home and talk to your mom, you immediately call robin spending another few hours talking to her.

you go to sleep that night feeling happy, and you can’t wait for the next day to come.

[ragingbookdragon]

Ghost wasn’t a man who knew how to do relationships. Even when he was a teenager, the idea of romance was stamped out of him when he watched his father beat his mother. Love between two people didn’t exist to Ghost, and yet, he found himself sweet on the recruit they’d gotten from overseas a few months ago. If there was a person who had Ghost’s demeanor and Soap’s personality, it was her. Quiet when the moment called for it, always watching, always waiting, loud and boisterous when a party needed to be started.

He bonded with her over a love of fine bourbon and good knives, finding himself watching her at every opportunity to see if more of her would be revealed to him. He wasn’t going to ask, of course, a man like Ghost never asked. He observed and acted with careful thought.

Starting a relationship with her, however, proved to be a much more arduous task. Soap had once teased her about her love of having a knight in shining armor and she’d practically floundered in embarrassment while hastily spitting out, “Well, I’ve saved myself since I was eight. Forgive me for wanting someone to take care of me and treat me like a princess.” And that’s when Ghost realized that she wanted it all. She wanted the roses on the first date, to wear that sexy red dress, and go to a fancy restaurant. To have a man be a gentleman and open doors and pull her chair out, but still a little suggestive and whisper blush-inducing words in her ear when no one was looking. She wanted someone who would wake her up with slow kisses, bring her breakfast in bed, take her dancing under the streetlights when it was drizzling in the cool night.

She wanted what Ghost couldn’t offer her.

And yet, he tried to.

He had successfully asked her out with a dozen red roses, managed to get her into a red dress and to a nice restaurant, but the longer he found himself sitting across from her, the more he felt himself becoming uncomfortable with the environment. Too many windows, too many open spaces, too many unfamiliar faces. His nerves were on alert, and it was only until her hand gently rested on his that he looked at her, blinking in shock.

“Simon?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Is everything okay tonight?” concern was etched onto her face. “You look like you’re gonna have an anxiety attack.”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “I’m fine…jus’ not used to this is all.”

“Dinner with a pretty woman who can kick ass?” she joked, and he tried for a smile but managed to make a better grimace. “Simon, what’s wrong? Really?”

He let out a breath and closed his eyes, feeling like a fool for being in his thirties and unable to properly explain his emotions like a teenager. “I’m trying to give you a good date, but…I don’t…” she gently encouraged him by brushing her fingers against his hand. “I don’t know how to do this right. And I…I don’t want you to get upset that I’m not doing it how you want.”

“How I want?”

Simon gestured vaguely. “A knight in shining armor…treating you like a princess.” He looked at her. “I…care about you, love, I just don’t know how to do this in a way that you deserve.”

Her eyes shown with a softness, and she nodded her head, then pulled away, flagging down a waiter for the bill. He wasn’t even able to argue when she paid and pulled him up, dragging him to the car where she ordered him to drive her back to base. And all the while, Ghost was cursing himself for being so open that it wasn’t until he was trying to stop his heart from escaping his throat at her quarter door that he realized it.

She opened her room and walked in, stopping when she realized that Ghost didn’t follow her. “Simon?”

“Look, I get it, this isn’t what you want, but I just need to—”

“Will you get in here?” she huffed, pulling him in by his suit jacket. “Jeez, can’t even read the room.”

“I don’t follow?”

“You’re a smart man, but I think you’re spending too much time around Soap.” She smiled and sat on her bed, bright expression lit up at him as she said, “Simon, I don’t need you to be some type of prince for me.” Holding out her hand, she added, “Besides, I think a knight in shining armor is a little far-fetched even for you. You’re more like a death knight. The grim reaper. Death incarnate. Death—”

“I got it,” he scowled and sat down, taking her hand in his. “So…you don’t want the whole suit and tie?”

“You look like you’re genuinely going to have a hernia, Simon. It’s like you stuck a cat in a Halloween costume. Besides, you look the best in a pair of dark jeans and that jacket-hoodie combo you always have going on.” She looked away, embarrassment in her tone as she admitted, “It’s sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes, glancing back at him.

“I once watched you break a man’s neck with just the heel of your boot and that’s when I genuinely realized there was something wrong with me, because it was very enticing to see how deadly you were.”

“So, you don’t want to be saved by a prince, you want to be saved by an asshole knight who was assigned to guard the irritating princess against his will? And they bicker at every single moment of their life?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “That’s the relationship goals.” She smiled at him. “And then they fall in love, and he realizes that his irritating princess is actually all he’s ever wanted in life.”

“Besides a paycheck.”

“Besides a paycheck.” She gently reached up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his lips as she murmured, “Simon, I don’t need you to be something you’re not. I just need you exactly as you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, maybe you can smile at me more than you do everyone else. Maybe not be so grumpy with me.”

He knocked his forehead against hers. “I already do that with you.”

She barked a laugh. “HA! Could’ve fooled me. You grunt at me like you do Soap.”

“That’s because you and Johnny become Dumb and Dumber when you two get together.”

“We do not!”

“And you turn into the three stooges when you get Gaz in on it.”

“That one might actually have grounds, but the jury’s still out on the former.”

“Uh huh.”

She shifted, throwing a leg over his lap, perching herself gently atop his thighs, forearms resting on his shoulders. “Why don’t we get out of the nines, put something comfier on, and get takeout? We can eat Chinese watching the water and talk shit about our childhoods.”

Simon visibly melted beneath her and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Yeah…that sounds good.”

Clearing her throat, she leaned back a little and offered, “You should help me out of this dress though, Lieutenant Riley. See I can’t reach the zipper and I’m defenselessly naked underneath.” She batted her lashes. “I need a man of upstanding honor to make sure that no one can take advantage of me in my nude. A man who wouldn’t feel up all this woman underneath her clothes.”

Ghost smirked, reaching behind her to grab the zipper of her dress. “Is that right?” he started pulling down. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there are no men with upstanding honor here.”

She sighed dramatically and feigned passing out, a hand pressed against her forehead. “Oh no, whatever shall I do in the hands of this scoundrel? Am I really to give in to the throes of passion and let him ruin me and my honor?”

The zipper touched the top of her rear, and he slipped his hands inside her dress, feeling her warm, bare skin beneath. “Funny, I was thinking that exactly.”

“My bodyguard is going to kick your ass,” she retorted, arching against his palms as they smoothed up her back to securely pull her down by her shoulders. “I’m serious. He’s very protective over what’s his.” She leaned in and murmured, “He once cut a man’s head off for touching me.”

Ghost’s chest rumbled with a growl, and he leaned into her ear. “Well, well, Princess, it’s a shame you can’t tell your bodyguard from a common knave.”

“Oh, I can,” she flirted, tugging at his tie. “It’s just fun to see him get annoyed.” She grinned and curled the tie in her fist, yanking him forward. “Treat me well. Princess’s orders.”

He matched her smirk, already turning her back into the mattress, hands pushing up her dress to her stomach. “As she wishes.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Dear Damian Wayne, Dec. 19, 2011

There really isn’t a good way to say any of this, especially via a letter. If I’m being completely honest, which I am, I would much rather be saying this to you in person. For both our safety, though, this was the best way I found to contact you.

First off, congratulations on being brought into the Wayne household! I never would’ve considered imagining that Bruce Wayne would be our father, but, here we are. Unless you’re there undercover? I doubt that, though.

Now, I should probably cut to the chase, no matter how much I want to stall. You might not remember me, but I’m your brother. Don’t freak out! Please, just finish reading this, at least. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to ever talk to or see me again, then that’s fine. I completely understand.

You probably hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t stay there. When we got separated on that mission, I ended up nearly killed. Some civilians found me and took me to a hospital to get my injuries treated. I realized, after I woke up, that this was the life I wanted. Leaving you hurt me so much more than I could ever describe in any language, but going back to Grandfather and Mother was a death sentence. I hated doing that to you, but I couldn’t do that to myself.

God, I suck at this.

I love you, Dami, I really do. I’ve wanted, for years, to come back to you, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. A selfish coward who can’t even face his own brother properly.

Forgiveness is a luxury I have no right to ask you of, but I’m going to anyway. So, can you? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you alone? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you  to think I died? Can you ever forgive me for making you go back to that place alone? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, and I don’t mean to hurt you now. I’m beyond ecstatic that you made it out. I’m so happy that you’re with father now. I hope you never have to go back to Nanda Parbat ever again.

شكراً لكونك أخي

          Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton

              (xxx) xxx-xxxx

***

There was a time that Danny only ever referred to as Before. Before he’d come to America; Before he’d been taken in by the Fenton Family; Before he’d lost himself to the life he’d never envisioned. He could remember it well.

*

He’d grown up in Nanda Parbat , high in the Himalayan Mountains. Beautiful buildings made of golden sandstone bricks, roofs made of the redist clay shingles, untouched snow for as far as the eye could see, and mountain peaks stretching high above the little valley.

There were greenhouses, too, filled with plants of all kinds from everywhere! Food, poisons, antidotes, it was all grown in Nanda Parbat. Clean water was pulled from the wells and the snow as though nature herself was giving her best to this one place. Truly a heaven on earth. The Garden of Eden, some people called it.

The residents were known to very few, only ever coming down when they found themselves with visitors. The towns at the base of the mountain ranges had plenty of legends about the People of the Mountains, but even fewer still knew their real secrets.

The League of Assassins, founded by Ra’s al Ghul himself, had made Nanda Parbat their home base, though neither Ra’s nor his daughter, Talia, made a habit of staying for too long or visiting often. No, Nanda Parbat had been claimed to raise the heirs and guard the Lazarus Pits.

Danny had been born in those very halls, buried deep within the protective embrace of the mountains, mere minutes after his brother. He knew nothing but Nanda Parbat, half convinced that his instructors were lying about the outside world. After all, could it really exist if he’d never seen it?

Grandfather and Mother came by thrice a year. Once to check on or use the Lazarus Pits, once to check on the Demon Heirs, and once to instruct lessons of their own. It was how it had always been done, so Danyal and Damian knew nothing else.

Grandfather would tell tales of conquest, instructing them on how to mold their very surroundings to their wills. Mother shared her missions, warning against how others would try and use them to get to her and Grandfather, seeing them as the weakest link. Damian and Danyal taught each other, on the nights when they could escape prying eyes, the importance of secrets. No one to trust but yourself, both Grandfather and Mother had pushed, anyone will betray you when given the right incentive.

The day came when Mother and Grandfather came to check on the Pits. The week-long stay had been the same every year, but their instructors had announced a change. Danyal would be going with Mother while Damian would be going with Grandfather. They would return to continue their studies in Nanda Parbat by the next full moon.

Danny had been excited. He was going to the outside world! He’d never been there before! He’d only ever seen pictures of it! Such fun! The only disappointment he held was that he was not going to share the moments with Damian. Yes, they would be leaving together, but they wouldn’t be together. Mother and Grandfather stayed at separate bases, after all.

The night before they were set to depart their Himalayan Paradise, Danyal had snuck to the roof with his brother.

“I’m scared, ahki,” he whispered, the wind hiding his voice from all but his brother.

“Don’t be, ahki,” Damian had assured, “You will be with Mother. She will keep you safe.”

“But the instructors say that we will be on our own!” Danyal said, “Besides, I do not know Mother.”

Damian did not pause. “Of course you know Mother. She gave us life. She teaches us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know her. I know you, and I know the birds, but I do not know Mother nor Grandfather.”

“Perhaps,” Damian had suggested, “we do not need to know them as we know each other? Perhaps, we only need to know that Grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul and the Mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Then that means you’re Damian al Ghul!” Danny smiled, emotion his instructors had tirelessly trained out of him bleeding into the privacy shared between him and his brother.

Damian nodded, “And you are Danyal al Ghul.” A beat. “We will be fine tomorrow and the day after and the days to follow. When we return to Nanda Parbat, we will sit in this very spot and share our adventures.”

“Tales of conquest?” Danyal asked.

“Warnings of fools.” Damian responded.

*

A tale as old as the dirt beneath his feet. Before had been five years ago. So long in the past, but only a few pages back. Sometimes, it was as though he’d never left Before behind him. His training, for all that it was minimal in his limited time within the snow valley, was carved into his very soul. Not even the wear of time could pull him away from a weapon or the scan for immediate exit points or the caution when dealing with new people and places.

Jazz had explained to him that his responses to certain situations should not be that cautious or violent. She’d tried again and again to tell him that he was safe; that he wasn’t where he had been Before.

He knew that, obviously. Nanda Parbat was free of the disgusting urbanization of the modern world. This place was free of the untouched beauty of the hidden gems. He could see the beauty in the contradictions and in what he had been taught to scorn, he was not an idiot, but he could not appreciate it the way people born there could.

*

The Doctors Fenton, only Masters in their fields at the time, had picked him up at the base of the Italian Appalachian Mountains. They’d treated his wounds, introduced him to their daughter Jazz, and given him the opportunity to escape where he had been.

The Fentons had taken his hesitation as confusion for the situation; amnesia. They told him, as gently as they could, that all signs pointed to an abusive home. They wanted to help him get out as soon as they could.

But, that wasn’t right. Danny, in all his six years, knew exactly what an abusive relationship was. It was one of the things his Mother had taught him about when he’d first left Nanda Parbat with her when he was four! He didn’t come from an abusive home or an abusive relationship! Damian would never put him through that, and the ninja all knew better than to do anything untoward to him and Damian.

“And what about your parents?” Jazz, being only eight years old, had not held her tongue as Danny had been taught to. “Or any other adults?”

Now that, that was definitely a thought. But, no. No one within the confines of Nanda Parbat or within the League of Shadows as a whole had ever hurt him outside of training. The injuries they had treated were from a mission, not from his Grandfather or Mother or brother hurting him!

*

His attempts at clearing the misunderstanding had been brushed off as his imagination trying to protect him. Repressing and changing trauma, Jazz had translated.

He had thought, at the time, that everyone was wrong. He had come from a perfectly normal place! Though, the week he spent in the hospital had him second guessing. He was the only one looking for every possible exit in case of any possible situation at any given time. He was the only one prepared to slit the throats of everyone in the room if they got in the way of his escape. He was the only one to actively check for weapons to use or be used against him.

During his stay in the hospital, because they wouldn’t let him leave before he was cleared by the doctors who worked there, the Fentons had exposed him to many things that made him question his upbringing. But, now that he knew the truth, he’d never be able to go back.

The Fentons had promised him, the night before he was cleared to go, that they would help him stay away from the people who had hurt him, so long as he allowed them to. And how could he not accept? Too many questions had invaded his mind. The only way to answer them was to do as his Mother had taught him: learn from experience. So, he relented, leaning into the ‘trauma induced amnesia’ everyone had assumed he had, and went along with the Fenton Family.

But what about Damian? Surely, he was safe. Surely, he’d gotten back to Nanda Parbat and reported to Grandfather and Mother that Danyla had been killed! He could not go back, not yet. And maybe, a tiny, selfish part  of him that he hid in the darkest corners of his brain, was glad he wouldn’t be going back for any reason. To make himself feel better, he’d told himself that he’d go back for Damian once he was sure he wouldn’t be caught and killed for treason.

The plans laid within the floorboards under his bed with the katana and daggers the Fentons had let him keep.

Exactly four months after turning ten, Danny had turned on the TV. It was just to provide white noise while his adoptive parents were out, so he didn’t really care about the channel. Jazz hadn’t cared, either. If she had, she hadn’t said anything.

The channel had been one for national news. The covered story was in Gotham, New Jersey. Not unusual, but concerning until none of the names of the city’s rogues had been named. Bruce Wayne was holding a gala to officially introduce his youngest son to the world. That is what dragged Danny to sit and watch attentively.

Danny knew the name Bruce Wayne very well. His Mother had told him, no less than six times, that he was to go to Bruce Wayne if he ever found himself in a situation where the League of Shadows couldn’t help him. Bruce Wayne was his go-to if he ever needed because he is his father.

When Danny first met the Fentons, something had kept him from escaping. He could have, but he didn't. Something had compelled him to stay. That same something had told him to avoid Bruce Wayne when he was ten. That same something was now telling him to go to his father.

Danny didn’t listen to that something. Instead, he watched his brother stand beside their father and his other children. He followed his brother’s public persona studiously. When he pieced together Damian being Robin, meaning that Bruce Wayne was likely Batman, he followed his vigilante life, too. All the while, he was too much of a coward to actually reach out to them.

After all, what would they get out of having a relationship with him? He was a traitor to the Shadows, dead by all accounts that mattered. They already had an established family, so why would they want Danny? So, he stayed away.

It wasn’t until the week before his and Damian’s eleventh birthday that he finally managed to write a letter to his older brother. He timed it so that the letter would arrive the day of their birthday. A part of him hoped that Damian would get, read, and respond to the letter. A bigger part of him hoped that it would be lost amongst the birthday cards that were surely being sent to Damian now that he was living with their father.

Damian’s father. Danny already had a father. Well, a dad. He also had a mom and a sister. He even had an aunt! Not to mention the friend he made. He’s never had a friend before! So, yeah. Danny had a mom, a dad, a sister, and a friend. He wanted Damian, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. If Damian didn’t want him, then that meant that he wouldn’t have a brother or Grandfather or Mother or a father. Or three more brothers, apparently. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about any potential loss that wasn’t Damian.

*

“Please respond, please respond, please respond!” Danny chanted under his breath as he opened the mailbox. There were four letters inside, three for his parents and one for his sister. “La naiba!” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked as she came up behind him. She’d learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on him.

Danny shoved the three envelopes into her hands. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“Why would there be anything in there for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something without telling mom or dad?”

He scoffed. “No. I sent a letter and I’m waiting for a response.”

Her head tilted to the left slightly. “When’d you send it?”

“Three days ago.”

“There’s no way you’re ever gonna get a response in three days.” She scolded lightly, leading the way into the house, “Just be patient.”

He followed her. “Easy for you to say!”

“Who’d you send it to anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Jazz turned on him, her expression as unimpressed as a twelve year old could be. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she raised her right eyebrow and tilted her head to the left again and slightly forward. When that didn’t get her what she wanted, she crossed her arms, her feet planted firmly in place. She’d picked up several things since Danny was brought into the family. This was one of them.

Danny hated it when Jazz did this. She reminded him so much of Damian that he had nearly cried the first few times she’d taken this exact stance to get what she wanted. Was it an older sibling thing? Regardless, it wasn’t very long before he cracked. “Okay, fine! But we talk in my room, okay?”

She smiled, losing the pose and opening the front door. “I can work with that. Do you want a snack?”

“Sure,” he huffed. He’d meet her in his room. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to bribe him. It was a subtle tactic, one that didn’t work because it wasn’t really bribery if he was already going to do what she wanted, but he needed to make himself feel better about it somehow.

It took exactly five minutes and thirteen seconds for Jazz to enter Danny’s room with some chips, crackers, and bottled waters from the pantry. Not that he was counting. They set up camp in the middle of the floor, the snacks on the floor between them and their homework set out to work on. Whether either of them would use the paper distraction was yet to be determined, but it had become common practice to have a distraction when a conversation seemed like it would take more than a few minutes. And this was definitely one of those conversations.

As soon as they were both settled, Danny took a deep and obvious breath. “I didn’t ever have amnesia.”

Jazz blinked. “What?”

What a way to start, Danny. Another breath. “When you guys first found me, the doctors said I had amnesia; that my brain locked away the memories of Before because I couldn’t handle the stress of it. I went along with it because that seemed like the best course of action at the time. But, I didn’t lose my memories. I still had them. I still have them.” He didn’t look up from the floor.

Jazz leaned forward and took a chip out from the bowl and popped it in her mouth, the crunch of her chewing doing nothing to cut the tension in the room. She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We could’ve had the people who hurt you arrested!”

Danny shook his head. “No. I…I thought, when I was growing up with Grandfather and Mother, that everyone was raised like that. It was all I knew. But then you guys found me and took me to the hospital and suddenly, things weren’t adding up. I decided to go with you guys because I knew I couldn’t return to Grandfather and Mother with my thoughts all messed up like that.”

To her credit, Jazz was taking this all in stride. She took another chip. “Why didn’t you leave when you got your thoughts all sorted out?”

“Honestly?” he huffed, “I realized that I didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

“Then why keep the weapons?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘sentimental value’?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They let silence reign over them again for a bit, focusing on their homework and eating the food set out between them. Finally, after they were both finished, Jazz put her things back in her backpack and leaned against the wall behind her, taking the bowl of chips and a water bottle with her. “What was it like, your home Before?”

Danny smiled and slipped his own things away, leaning against his bed with the bowl of crackers and his own bottle of water. This was a topic he could talk about for hours. “I was born in Pakistan, in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically. Very secluded. My brother and I were the only two kids there.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, his name’s Damian. He’s older than me by a few minutes.”

“Why wasn’t he with you when we found you?”

“Because we got separated.”

“Do we need to go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s with our father now.”

“Is he the one you sent the letter to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Tell me more about where you were born?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “It’s a valley of snow, nestled between peaks in the Pakistanian end of the Himalayan Mountain Range. The buildings were all connected by roofed gravel walkways, yellow sandstone bricks and red clay shingles and dark wood pillars and floors and doors. The green houses were always my favorite. Any plant you could possibly think of was probably grown there! Damian always preferred the stables and pasture, though. He got along better with animals than actual people, I was the exception. When the weather was good, we’d take our lessons outside. If the weather was bad, then we’d study in the arena or the library.

“Sometimes, whenever Grandfather or Mother came to visit, they’d tell us stories about their adventures. My favorite stories, though, were of how Mother met my father and their adventures together. Grandfather doesn’t like those stories, though. He doesn’t like my father much.

“Me and Damian were the only kids there, so we had to play with each other. There weren’t any games we could play because adults are boring, so we made stuff up as we went along. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the stables and pet the horses! Other times, we’d sneak out of our rooms and climb to the roof to watch the stars.

“The stars were so pretty there! They’re the same stars that we see here, but they were so much brighter in Pakistan; more visible, y’know? The sky was so clear and it was so quiet- One of the people staying there gave me a book about the stars before he left.”

“Is that what started your fascination with space?” Jazz asked.

Danny nodded, “Yeah, it was. Damian would listen to me retell the same stories for hours whenever we climbed to the roof, but he never asked me to stop. I don’t think he ever looked at them and saw what I saw, though.”

“What did you see when you looked at the stars?”

“I saw something just barely out of my reach that I know I could grab if I was just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit better.”

“Is that what you see now?”

“No.”

“Oh, then what do you see now?”

“I see the past, and I see a hope for the future.” He paused. “It was a competition between me and Dami, trying to be better than each other because whoever was the best was Grandfather’s and Mother’s favorite.”

She frowned. “You guys were kids! You shouldn’t’ve had to compete for attention like that!”

“I know that now,” he shot back, “But we didn’t then. We were raised to compete with everyone to hold Grandfather’s and Mother’s attention and favor. If we lost it, if we did anything that Grandfather deemed unworthy of the family name, then we were punished.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but it’s what we knew.” A beat. “It was a big family, so not everyone stayed at the one compound.” The League was very far from being a family, but it’s the best way to describe it without exposing it to anyone. “Me and Damian were born and raised in the main compound in Pakistan. Grandfather, the head of the family, stayed and led from a compound in China. Mother stayed at a compound in Bangladesh. When we were four, I went and spent a month with Mother and Damian went and spent a month with Grandfather before we were sent back to Pakistan. When we turned five, I went with Grandfather and Damian went with Mother. When we turned six, we were both sent to spend time with family here in the states. I got separated from Damian and-”

“-me and mom and dad found you.” Jazz finished for him.

“Yep.”

“But, how did you get so hurt?”

Before he could answer, the front door burst open, their parents announcing their arrival carrying through the house. “A story for another time, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jazz wasn’t happy to have been interrupted, but she didn’t push. Instead, she took the empty bowls and went downstairs to greet their parents.

Danny leaned his head back against his bed, lost in the memories of his time with his brother. He wishes that Damian would send a reply already. He had remembered to put a return address, right? Maybe he should’ve just used the house’s address instead of setting up that PO box in the next town over! It’s not like anyone ever claimed to be reliable delivery persons!

Waiting was always the worst part of anything. Waiting for Grandfather to speak when he’d called an audience; waiting for Mother to tell them the end of her story; waiting for the guards to show any weak point to sneak past; waiting for a mission to start. It was always agonizing.

*

The morning was cold. Colder than it had been, but not as cold as it could be. Unfortunately, the cold meant snow. Snow meant that it was way too bright outside. And, despite it not being the morning of a school day, Jazz had elected to wake Danny up at the horrible time of six-thirty in the morning. Later than the normal five-forty-five, but still way too early to reasonably be awake. Honestly, Danny had thought he was done with getting up with the sun, but Jazz had proved him wrong time and time again for nearly five years now.

She pulled the curtains open, letting in the light from the sun that reflected off the white embodiment of cold. When that only caused him to burrow deeper into his three blankets and two pillows and his dog plush, Jazz decided to pull all three layers off of him.

“Hey!” he yelped, falling off the bed with a thud. “What the heck!”

Jaz dropped the blankets with a smile. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty! Mom and dad are in the lab again-”

“Another ‘breakthrough’?”

“-so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

Danny groaned and pulled himself off the floor, resetting the blankets on his bed in a mock of making it look neat. “Something warm.”

“How does hot chocolate and pancakes sound?”

“Can I have coffee instead?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

Jazz shook her head and left the room. “Don’t go back to sleep, okay? I wanna go to the library today.” She didn’t close the door behind her.

“Isn’t it closed today?” he called into the hall.

“Tomorrow!”

“Ah.” He closed the door himself, letting out a small puff of air. Turning to the room at large with his hands on his hips, Danny sighed. It was gonna be a long day. The first thing he did was straighten out his bed so it looked properly not slept in. Just as Mother had taught him. Then, he changed from his pajamas and into some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Leaving his room, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, only really bothering to push a hand through his hair. Not at all like Mother had taught him, but he really didn’t care right now.

Danny made his way down the stairs sluggishly. He’d never been a morning person, much preferring to stay awake until the early hours of the morning watching stars, but he’d had to hide that little quirk when he was with Grandfather and Mother. He’d realized, about half a year after the Fentons picked him up, that he didn’t need to hide his preference for night over day. Infact, his mom encouraged it! She let him sit up on the roof and stargaze until one or two in the morning before forcing him to bed. And then Jazz got into the habit of waking him at six in the morning for school. He’s definitely run on less sleep than four-ish hours, but he’d rather get as much as he can, which is what breaks are for! Unfortunately, Jazz has it in her head that he has to get up at the same time every day without fail, lest he irreparably mess up his sleeping schedule.

With a groan, he plopped down on his chair - in a bout of pettiness a year and a half after arriving, he carved his name into the wood of the backrest - at the table and laid his head down. His sister worked efficiently on the pancakes as the water for their hot chocolate boiled in the electric kettle.

The two sat and worked in a quiet peace. Jazz’s bustling around the kitchen faded into the background as white noise with the constant hum of electricity throughout the house and the occasional controlled explosion from the basement lab. It was well fortified, so the house wasn’t in danger.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of laying on the table with his eyes closed, Jazz put a plate by Danny’s head, a mug of hot chocolate with a candy cane beside it. Then, she sat opposite him with her own food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled groggily, pulling the food and drink towards him.

“You’re welcome.” Jazz said around a bite.

Danny would be the first to admit that Jazz wasn’t the best cook, but he was also the first to praise her cooking. Jack Fenton couldn’t make anything, that wasn’t fudge, for the life of him. Any food he tries to make, somehow turns to fudge. Kind of like King Midas’ Golden Touch. Maddie Fenton was a pretty good cook, when she remembered to actually feed herself and her family. She could make cookies worthy of the gods, though. Whenever the Fenton parents weren’t in their basement lab for one reason or another, they ordered takeout to eat with their kids. Those times were, unfortunately, few and far between.

Finishing his meal, Danny was wide awake, the food doing wonders for waking him. And, while the caffeine in chocolate was nothing compared to the coffee his dad would sometimes let him drink, there was just enough to wake him up just a bit more. Don’t tell Jazz, though, or she might take away chocolate, too.

“Do you,” he hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, “Do you think mom and dad will be up to celebrating this year?”

When he was seven, he learned that the Fentons didn’t celebrate any holiday, no matter what it was. They had up until Jazz was five, but then work became more important. Jack and Maddie had claimed breakthroughs in their research, pushing everything and everyone aside if it or they didn’t directly help their life’s work.

That same year, he’d been trying to acclimate himself better. One of the biggest things in American culture is holidays, so he decided to ask to celebrate Christmas. It was mainstream and was derived from one of the only holidays he was allowed to celebrate back in Nanda Parbat.

Jack and Maddie had agreed, of course, and he and Jazz had pulled out all the old decorations to dress the house. When December twenty-fourth came around, though, their parents had gotten into a huge fight about whether to tell Danny and Jazz that Santa wasn’t real. Jack had said it was a right of passage for little kids to figure it out all on their lonesome, while Maddie had argued that she wasn’t going to let her children believe in fairy tales that parents tell to get their kids to sleep faster. They were loud enough that Jazz and Danny had both heard every word.

The two tried, every holiday, to get their parents to spend time with them, at least, but it failed every time. Something or other aways came up.

“I don’t know, Danny,” she sighed, putting her fork on her now empty plate, “You can try, but I doubt it.” She’d given up last year, right around the time that she’d picked up on reading parenting books.

Danny didn’t say anything. He simply stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed before putting them away. The dishwasher had been ripped apart and repurposed for parts in the lab.

“I know that you want to celebrate like the other kids in town,” Jazz said from the table, “but mom and dad are way too focused right now. Mom mentioned something about working on the portal some more.”

Danny put the cup down carefully, a loud click sounding through the kitchen. With a controlled breath, he closed his eyes and turned off the tap. “There were exactly two holidays that me and my brother were allowed to celebrate when we were children. Christmas is taken from one of those holidays. Forgive me for just wanting to share a piece of that with them.”

He could feel Jazz’s sad gaze on his back. “What holidays?”

“Forget it,” he shook his head, “Let’s just go to the library.”

She let it drop. “It doesn’t open for a few more hours.”

He started up the stairs. “Then come get me when it’s time to go.” Danny ignored Jazz’s responding sigh as he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed some paper and a pencil.

In Nanda Parbat, one of the instructors was set to teach Danny and his brother the Fine Arts. From writing to painting to instruments to acting. All so that they could adapt to any mold for any mission. Because they were the heirs, the Demon Twins of the monster that was the organization, they were expected to be perfect. Anything less was punished.

Damian had always excelled at the Arts, especially drawing and its counterparts. He could work with any median, but charcoal had always been his favorite. Danny, too, had excelled with the Arts, but anything that happened on a stage had been his specialty.

Whenever he missed his brother, or any aspect of Before, too much, Danny would sit down and draw. He’d thought about asking his parents for an instrument of some kind, the cello always having been his favorite, but he decided against it. So, he drew. He didn’t have a dedicated sketch book, and no one but himself would ever see anything he made, but it was a nice outlet.

He wondered if Damian did something similar, now that he was with father. Did he play instruments or read plays when he thought of Danny? Did he allow his new siblings to see what he made or listen to his voice?

Three hours passed by in a blink, only one page being covered. It was a nice memory he’d drawn of the blacksmith’s hut away from the main base. In the picture, he and Damian were learning to forge their own daggers. Damian’s had turned out unbalanced and two inches too short. Danny’s had been only half an inch too long with a slightly too short grip.

Jazz knocked on the door as she cracked it open. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

Danny covered tha paper. “Hey.”

“Are you ready to head out? We can stop by Tasty Burger for lunch?”

“Sure,” he nodded, moving to stand in a way that prevented the paper from showing to Jazz. He hid it in his nightstand to be moved to the box with the others later. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she led the way.

It was a quick walk, only twenty minutes from their house to the library, but it was cold and bright. The snow only made the area brighter, but it was comfortable to him; familiar. What was really irritating was the cars and the people and the buildings. Danny had been raised very far from all of these things, only ever going near them when on a mission, and it was only a few hours at a time in those instances. No matter how long he lived in a city or town, whatever it was called, though, he would never get used to the noise.

The sidewalks were crowded with holiday shoppers not insane enough to go out on the twenty-fourth, but crazy enough to go out on the twenty-third. The streets were slick and traffic was slow, especially for a morning. Christmas decorations lined every window and tree and building face, holiday music carried on the wind four or five different songs mixing into one over and under the voices of the people on the sidewalks.

“C’mon,” Jazz tugged him into the public library by his hand. She had four books tucked under her arm, two on psychology, one on parenting, and one on dragons.

Danny followed after her, not quite dragging his feet, but making it apparent that he would rather not be there.

“Good morning, you two!” the librarian smiled when they made their way to her desk. She was a cheerful woman, always wearing a smile, though she had never once worn a nametag or introduced herself.

“Good morning!” Jazz matched the woman’s energy with a smile, dropping Danny’s hand and putting the four books up on the counter.

The woman took the books to scan them back into the system. “Are you looking to check out more books today?”

“Yep! Just so I have something to do over Winter Break.”

“You’re a kid, there’s lots for you to do!”

“I know, but I like reading.”

“I get it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, we will!” Jazz took Danny’s hand again and pulled him off into the forest of shelves, straight to the parenting section.

Danny hid his scowl as he watched Jazz search through the parenting books. “You’re twelve, Jazz-”

“Almost thirteen.”

“-you’re not supposed to be looking at these kinds of books until eighteen at the earliest.”

She didn’t stop her search. “You’re eleven, Danny, you should be acting like a kid.”

“But I wasn’t raised as a kid.”

“Exactly why you should take the opportunity now!”

He groaned. It was an ongoing argument between the two. “I don’t need you to look after me, Jazz. We’re both kids, so we should be reading books that kids do! Leave the parenting up to our parents.”

“Our parents who don’t even celebrate holidays?”

“Jazz-”

“Look, Danny, I know you’re worried about me growing up too fast or whatever, but I like these books.” She pulled one off the shelf before turning to look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only get one parenting book.”

It didn’t. He’d rather her get none. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna get some psychology books, though, and you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. She ignored him.

“The human mind is really interesting. Did you know that the size of a human brain has decreased since the time when we were hunters and gatherers?”

“Has it?” He loved when she got like this, talking about things that interest her.

She nodded rapidly. “Mhmm! By a whole ten percent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And most artists like working at night because humans are more creative during the night rather than during the day.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in good humor to tell her that he was joking, “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is!” she insisted, leading the way over to the tables in the middle of the large room with two psychology books and a parenting book under her arm. “And, look!” she grabbed a paper and pencil and wrote down ‘Yuo cna’t sotp me form radenig prnatneig bokos.’ in big letters. “Because we read words instead of individual letters, as long as the first and last letters are in the proper spots, and all the letters are there, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the word looks like, especially if you’ve been reading for a while or if you’re reading fast. You’re still able to read the word as though it were completely correct.”

“That’s actually really cool.”

“Right?” Her grin was so worth it. Her grin would always be worth it. “C’mon, let’s go get yo some books now.”

Danny grabbed Jazz’s hand and led the way this time. He took them over to the books about space and started to look through them. He’d always loved space as a whole, but stars had always held a special place for him.

He picked a book about astrology. “I heard some of the girls at school talking about magic and stuff and how people’s personalities are affected by what star sign they were born under.”

Jazz scrunched her nose a bit. “I’ve heard some people at school talk about that stuff, too. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’d be worth a look.” He took another book off the shelf, this one talking about both ancient and modern witchcraft. “The psychological implications are interesting, too.” That would get her to show a bit more interest.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She paused. “Mind if I take a look when you’re done?”

“I’d be happy to have a whole conversation about it when we’ve both finished reading our books.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The last stop before checking out their chosen books was in the fairy tail section of the library. Their dad loved fairy tales, but their mom refused to let them have any of the books in the house. She claimed that there was no such thing as magic and that any ‘magic’ was done by ghosts. Danny had to hide his amusement whenever that particular argument was bright up because he knew for a fact that the supernatural and magic go hand in hand more often than not. He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

The book they chose was one they both wanted to read, not wanting to risk mom finding one fairy tale in the house, let alone two. It was a compilation of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Dark stories, they both knew, but that just made them all the more enticing.

Checking out went much the same as checking in, with the added bonus of the librarian giving them a cloth tote bag to carry their six books in. She also gave them the name of a small magic shop on the other side of town that had some tarot cards in stock if Danny was interested.

As promised, Jazz had taken some money from their mom’s purse to stop by the Tasty Burger for lunch. They both ordered the chicken nuggets and a milkshake, Jazz getting chocolate and Danny getting strawberry. Then, when they were done eating, they walked hand in hand back to their home.

Danny stopped at the mailbox, not moving to follow Jazz or to open the thing. Did he dare check? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if Damian hadn’t gotten the letter like he both feared and hoped? What if he had? Would there be a response? Would Damian ever want a relationship with him?

“Hey,” Jazz tugged his hand, “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, a show of nervousness that would’ve been punished in Nanda Parbat. He inhaled. “What if there’s no response? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? It’s been almost five years.”

It took a moment before Jazz clocked what he was talking about. She let go of his hand to hold his shoulders. “How about this; You go inside and wait and I’ll get the mail, okay?”

Danny nodded and slowly trudged into the house. Why had he even sent that stupid letter? He flopped onto the couch. Damian probably hates him for not returning to his side.

He didn’t have time to mope any longer because Jaz threw the front door open with a shout. “Danny!” She was suddenly right beside him, shoving a letter into his hands. “There’s a letter for you!”

After a moment to process, Danny’s shaky hands ripped the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside. The single sheet was folded into three perfect rectangles, the black ink of a pen unsmudged and perfectly spaced. Just as Mother had taught.

***

Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton,                         Dec. 21, 2011

You have a very extravagant story. Whatever made you believe that exchanging letters was the most secure way of contact? An idiotic move that my brother would, unfortunately, absolutely make. Either you are him, or you are a clone. Either way, I’m not likely to believe you, so do not mistake this as such. Your admitted honesty is welcomed, though not believed.

My welcome into the Wayne Family was quite a public affair and aired all over the country, so I guess I should thank you for the congratulations, as is socially acceptable in this situation as well as others like it. Bruce Wayne being my father is not a surprise, given his public image and his tendency to take any stray whelp he sees into his home. Though I will have you know that I am the only blood child in the household.

Announcing your stalling while writing a letter is completely unnecessary, especially as that was your first correspondence. Had you simply left that out, I would never have been the wiser. Another mistake you’ve made in accordance with my brother.

Having read over your letter several times, I have come to several conclusions. With the resources I have at my disposal, I have determined that there is a good chance you are who you say you are. Understanding who I am, and who my brother is, the rest of this response is written under the foolish  ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶ assumption that you are who you claim to be.

I could never hate you, Danyal, nor could I ever ignore this chance I have been presented with. Getting out was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Coming back from that mission, having failed and lost you, broke something in Mother. She was both harsher and more clingy, hovering whenever she could and pushing more than ever. Grandfather was even less pleased that you hadn’t returned, though he only ever acknowledged you as a failure and a mistake. He made it known that he would’ve killed you, had you ever miraculously returned to Nanda Parbat.

I am glad that you got help. I am glad that you are living safely and that you have found a place to be at peace.

You are a coward, but you are more deserving of praise and forgiveness than you seem to believe. I thought you had died on that mission, Danyal. For that, I can’t ever forgive you, but I could never hate you. I can forgive you for making me return on my own. I can forgive you for being selfish and leaving me alone, but I will never forgive you for making me mourn you. You hurt me in ways that I never thought I could ever be hurt, in ways that I may never be hurt again.

Grandfather and Mother never allowed a grave to be made. They didn’t let me keep anything of yours either. They erased you. It was like you had never been there. I was never allowed to properly mourn you. That alone almost ended me.

Father knows nothing of you. Mother did not tell him, nor will I. I did not wish to make him or our siblings mourn a child they would never meet. If you so choose to tell him, then you may. I, however, will not be playing the messenger.

أرجو أن تسامحني على اع��قادي بأنك ميت. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أحزن عليك كما ينبغي. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أبحث عنك، فالعودة لم تكن خياراً متاحاً. كان يجب أن أجعله خياراً                     Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic :: Thank you for being my brother.

Translation 2 - Romanian :: Damn it!

Translation 3 - Arabic :: Please forgive me for thinking you were dead. Please forgive me for not mourning you properly. Please forgive me for not looking for you, coming back was not an option. I should have made it an option

Storyboard Part 2 Artwork

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part seven.

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liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 23,873 others

yourusername had to take these pictures myself bc apparently angles are “too hard”

view all 1,972 comments

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user OP81 IS BACK IN THESE COMMENTS WAR IS OVER

With Oscar by your side, time passes quickly. You don’t bring up that the first night you shared a bed, you’d woken up in the morning with his arm wrapped around your waist and his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you certainly don’t mention that he’d practically whined in his sleep when you’d slipped out of his grasp. It doesn’t happen again, but there’s a part of you hoping that it does.

The days blend together into a haze of happiness, laughter, and exploring the beauty of Monaco. Lando shows you the best spots— a garden just off the Monte Carlo marina, a famous nightclub that takes your breath away, and a small cafe at the edge of the city that overlooks it all.

Things are good, great even, but you can’t help but feel like there’s still some distance between you and Oscar despite his reassurance that everything is fine.

When New Year’s Eve— and subsequently your birthday— arrives, you’re awoken to a flurry of texts. Your parents have both sent sweet messages wishing you the best, Sophia has left a voice message with sounds of traffic in the background telling you she’s planning to get wasted and if you do too then you can just pretend you’re wasted together, and Dalton has made a group chat with you and Logan and has spammed you both with pictures of yourselves from across the years.

Oscar’s already gone, and his side of the bed is cold, so you take your time responding to them all and then shoot off a message of your own to Logan before getting up. It’s your first time not celebrating with your brother, and it feels strange knowing that you won’t get to see him today, but you’re excited nonetheless for the plans Lando and the other drivers in Monaco have organized for New Year’s Eve.

The day passes by lazily. Lando and Oscar both greet you with birthday wishes when you make your way down to the living room and then they present to you a feast for breakfast, which you realize is the reason Oscar was awake so much earlier than you. It’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had, mostly because they make fools of themselves retelling how many times they had to scrap the failed waffles until they got it right. You spend lunch at a place close by, joined by Alex and Lily who have flown in for the New Year, and then the rest of the afternoon you wait around at Lando’s place passing the time watching the boys play games on the TV and helping either of them cheat when asked.

You’re happy.

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liked by yourusername, williamsracing, and 135,865 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargeant people say twins are like built-in best friends, and if that’s the case then i’m glad i got you as mine. i can’t imagine having anyone else stick by my side throughout all the crazy and wild shit we’ve been through in our lives. it feels like just yesterday we were 13 and acting as each other's lifelines in a place we barely knew, and now we’re 23 and somehow doing the same thing. you’re my best friend forever.

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yourusername love you to the moon and back again logie 🫶 (but omg these pictures are so OLD)

↳ logansargeant love you to the stars and beyond 🫶 (yea well when else am i gonna post them?)

user i thought the only reason i’d be crying today is bc i don’t have a nye kiss but here we are aND THE BABY HANDS OMG

user I CAN’T DO THIS 😭😭😭

user sobbing over a birthday post was not on my 2023 bingo but i’ll be sure to add it to 2024 if this is gonna be a yearly thing

↳ user birthdays are a yearly thing so yea 💀

user i can’t stop thinking about the fact that each other was all they had when logan pursued racing in europe and now logan’s made it to f1 and they’re still all they have 😭

↳ user the sargeant twins are genuinely gonna be the death of me one of these days

user Y/N HAS BEEN THERE FOR HIM SINCE THE BEGINNING OMG

williamsracing Happiest of birthdays to Y/N! We look forward to seeing you out on the paddock more in 2024, and can’t wait to see what the new year has in store for you! 💙

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yourusername 23 + 23 = 46. 4 + 6 = 10. 10 - 2 = 8 and that’s what we’ve done for the last 23 years 😎 but real talk, i’m genuinely so honored to get to be your sister, and to share so much with you. when you win i share that joy, and when you lose i share that grief, and even though we’re an ocean away, i’m with you today and always for the rest of our lives. you’re my best friend, and even if i don’t have anything or anyone else, i know i have you and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world ❤️.

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user ATE ATE ATE

logansargeant went through all the stages of grief as i read that caption

↳ yourusername i do try

↳ logansargeant i know

user HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARGEANT TWINS

user these pictures of logan are SENDING ME

↳ user y/n always feeds the ppl the low qual pics

alex_albon adding these to my folder of embarrassing pictures to blackmail logan with

↳ yourusername happy doing business with you sir 🤝

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user my mental health is dependent on the friendship between y/n and logan and it is STRUGGLING today lads

user can’t wait to see more of them in 2024!!

Lando finds you as you’re getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup. He enters when you tell him to, and then leans against the bathroom counter for a moment just staring at you before you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going between you and Oscar?”

You lower the mascara wand and shrug, “I mean, it’s good.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But I feel like he’s still… being weird?” You slip the wand back into the mascara tube and then tuck it back into your bag. “I don’t know. Maybe we were a bit too realistic with the whole ‘making him jealous’ thing, and now he believes you’ve stuck your claim and he’s distancing himself because he doesn’t want to step on your toes or something.”

Lando snorts, “As if. I made him share a room with you, how does that in any way imply that I’m trying to stake my claim on you?”

You run a hand through your hair because you can’t run it down your face without ruining your freshly done makeup, and heave a sigh. “Then maybe he just isn’t actually interested in me at all, and I was right about him wanting to pretend the kiss never happened.”

He hums, then nods once, twice, a third time, and finally leaves the bathroom without another word.

When you finally follow him down, a number of people have already arrived— Alex and Lily are among them, and you greet them again with smiles and hugs. You’re introduced to Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s close friends, and then you’re dragged away by Lily to hang out in the corner of the living room as the house begins to fill with current and former drivers alike.

“It’s a sausage fest,” she jokes, and you laugh beside her.

You both make conversation for a while, catching up on her and Alex’s holiday spent in California with her family and then talking about your own in Florida with yours. She asks how Logan’s doing, and you tell her that he’s well, but he’s really motivated and wants the chance to prove himself in the 2024 season already.

“I think the online discourse about whether or not he deserved a seat got to him a bit,” you admit. “But I know he can show them that there’s a reason he was chosen.”

Lily nods. “Me and Alex have faith in him too. It was his rookie year and he was in a Williams of all things. Like you said, there was a reason he was chosen, he just needs the opportunity to show the world that.”

You jump from topic to topic for a little while longer, until you excuse yourself to go find where Lando and Oscar have run off to. The guests have all arrived from the looks of it, and while a number of them all know each other already and have split off into groups to stay entertained, you’re not sure exactly how you’re meant to handle things on your own when it isn’t even your house—

“I mean, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just awkward with her, I guess.” You pause. The door to you and Oscar’s shared room is ajar and Oscar’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of music and chatter filtering up from downstairs.

“Why d’you say that? It’s just Y/N.” Lando’s voice follows.

You press yourself up against the wall, heart pounding in your chest at the sound of your name. You can’t see anything, and that almost makes it worse— imagining what their faces look like as they talk about you.

“Just that it’s weird sleeping next to her, and I feel like I’m always having to walk on glass around her. I’m trying to make things normal again, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep being friends with her. How can I look her in the face, knowing what happened?”

You can physically feel the dread settle into your stomach. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and it’s like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Your face feels warm, but the rest of your body feels cold, and suddenly it’s as though your ribcage has become too small for your lungs.

As quietly as you can, you scurry away from the door, across the distance of the hallway, and then down the stairs. Instead of turning into the living room where everyone else has gathered, their laughter and conversations a jumbled bubble of noise that makes your chest feel even tighter, you leave through the front door just as you feel tears begin to fall.

It’s worrying how frequently this has become an occurrence for you— crying because of Oscar.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel

━━ a/n: ahhhh i'm sorry i cannot let them be happy!! also, wrote this really fast and struggled a bit because i genuinely couldn't decide if it was just too fast paced or not, so i apologize if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes editing wise that i missed!

[lottiies]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Retrogression by Dazai Osamu

Translated by A. L. Raye

"He was not an old man. He was only around 25 years old, but at the same time he was, undoubtedly, an old man. For every year that a normal person lived, this old man lived it three times over." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"And so, through Dazai’s own efforts, I hope that a day will come to pass where Dazai’s work will be instinctively understood by a great many people." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Having been metaphorically torn apart by his critics, every time he finished writing anything - anything at all - regardless of public opinion, the wounds of his humiliation would ache more and more, so keenly and so painfully, that the unfulfilled hollow in his heart spread further and deeper until finally, he died. He was deceived by the illusion of a masterpiece, enchanted by an eternal beauty, carried away by a fever cream and ultimately couldn't even save himself..." - Dazai Osamu, "Retrogression"

"I’ll stab him! I thought. What an absolute scoundrel! It didn’t take long however before I suddenly felt the hot and twisted love you bore towards me, an intense love which reminded me of Nellie from Dostoyevsky’s Humiliated and Insulted, a love that I felt deep within my heart. No. No, how could this be? I couldn’t believe it, I shook my head but that love of yours, concealed behind that cold exterior, felt Dostoyevskian in its deranged passion and made my body burn feverishly at the thought. And of course, you were completely unaware of any of this." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"Don’t say behind someone’s back what you can’t say to their face. I followed this principle and for that I was thrown into the looney bin." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"Somebody put a live snake in my letterbox. I’m furious! This must be the work of someone who enjoys making fun of unpopular writers who feel the need to check their letterboxes twenty times a day. I was in a strange mood after that, and spent the rest of the day in bed." - Dazai Osamu, "Diary of My Distress"

"I’m jumping at shadows. I feel like my body has been ground up and picked clean, right down to the bone." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It really wasn’t supposed to be this way. You of all people should be clearly aware that being a writer exists within a perpetual state of ‘foolishness’." - Dazai Osamu, "Letter to Kawabata Yasunari"

"The cicada realised in the afternoon that it was going to die soon. Ah, it would have been better if I had been happier! I should have fooled around more, with nary a care in the world. Oh, do forgive me, I just wish to fall asleep among the flowers." - Dazai Osamu, "Human Lost"

"He has the kind of romantic spirit of a selfish, good-for-nothing wastrel, but more than that, he has let this seep deep down into the very marrow of his being. The uninhibited yet fragile self flows out of control, and it is the lot in life of this particular variety of man to continually contemplate himself until his self-awareness becomes intertwined with his bones." - Satō Haruo, "A Respectable Yet Tormented Soul: Regarding Dazai Osamu"

"Now, within the limits I have allowed myself, I believe I have accomplished everything I set out to do. As for the rest, I calmly entrust myself to fate." - Dazai Osamu, "January Letter to Satō Haruo from Dazai Osamu"

From the Introduction by translator A. L. Raye:

"This book aims to piece together the fractured and disorderly lifestyle of one of history's greatest romantics and pairs it with a particular moment in his life; losing the Akutagawa Prize. The ensuing drama that unfolded through private letters, newspaper articles, diaries, obituaries, and fiction created a scandal that disturbed the early Showa literati with its coarse and indecent honesty. Dazai's fiction, fiction about Dazai, speculation and reality intertwined to create an explosive event that not only changed the desired trajectory of his life but also raised issues of discrimination within prominent literary circles and the treatment of mental illness in 1930s Japan."

"If we encounter Dazai without taking into account modern ideas of disability, there is a danger we might subject him to the same myth-making mindset that surrounds Van Gough; that of a tortured genius who needed to suffer for his art - or, perhaps more accurately, for our entertainment."

"Dazai was a complicated man, a man who couldn't even decide for himself who he was."

Retrogression also includes annotations and background information on every story, letter, diary, and eulogy, adding history and insights that are difficult to find available in other English translations so far.

You can find more information and free translations on Yobanashi Café. Retrogression is available for purchase in either paperback or eBook format on Amazon.

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[rosesareredrosa]

Endless Again

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: A love that has turned into a cycle of fights and makeups. Y/N reflects on how they first met and how their love blossomed, but also how things started to go wrong

w/c: 931

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound like a gunshot in the stillness of the room. My heart seized in my chest, every beat echoing in the silence that followed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not again.

I sank onto the couch, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me, crushing the breath from my lungs. How many times had we been here? How many times had I watched him walk away, only to come back like a storm I couldn’t escape?

“You just made the worst mistake, and you’ll regret it, darling,” rang in my mind, a cruel reminder of the endless cycle we were trapped in. Every time we fought, every time we tore each other apart, I swore it would be the last time. But it never was. I always let him back in, clinging to the hope that maybe this time would be different.

But it never was.

“’Cause once you give and then you take, you’ll only end up wanting…”

I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could distract me from the chaos inside my head. Mattheo had always been a mystery, an enigma wrapped in shadows. From the moment we met, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his dark, brooding presence. But that same intensity that set my soul on fire was slowly burning me alive.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the memories that flooded my mind. The way he looked at me when we first met, as if I were the only person who existed in his world. The way his touch could send shivers down my spine, making me feel more alive than I ever had. But with that passion came a price—a never-ending cycle of love and destruction that left me shattered every time.

The first time we broke up, it felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, leaving nothing but a gaping wound that refused to heal. He had come back, whispering apologies and empty promises, and like a fool, I let him in. We’d always been stronger together, I told myself. But now, as I sat alone in the suffocating silence, I wasn’t so sure.

“Was everything you ever said, was everything you ever did… true?”

The question gnawed at me, consuming every rational thought. Had anything between us ever been real, or had we just been fooling ourselves, clinging to a love that was as toxic as it was intoxicating? I had always wanted to believe that I knew him, that I was the one person who could see past the walls he built around himself. But now, I wasn’t so sure.

The door creaked open, and I flinched, my heart leaping into my throat. Mattheo stood in the doorway, his expression hard to read. He was always so composed, so controlled, but tonight, there was something different in his eyes—something broken.

He stepped into the room, the tension between us palpable. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely audible, as if they were choking him.

“And I can’t get you out of my brain…”

I stared at him, my mind racing, desperate to find the right words. But what could I say? That I wanted to believe him? That I wanted to believe that this time, his apology meant something? But deep down, I knew the truth. We were going in circles, trapped in a cycle we couldn’t break free from.

“Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep hurting each other like this. It’s tearing us apart.”

His eyes flickered with something—guilt, regret, maybe even fear—but he didn’t move closer. Instead, he looked away, his jaw tightening as if he was fighting back everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I know,” he murmured, his voice raw. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

The silence between us was suffocating, every second stretching into eternity. I wanted to reach out, to pull him close, to tell him that we could figure this out, that we could find a way to make it work. But I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself anymore.

Without another word, Mattheo turned and walked out the door, leaving it to close softly behind him this time. I stood there, staring at the space where he’d been, my heart shattering all over again.

“But I just keep on coming back to you…”

I wanted to scream, to cry, to tear the world apart because it felt like that’s what was happening inside me. I had given him everything—my heart, my soul, my very being—and yet it was never enough. We were never enough.

But as much as I wanted to believe that this was the end, deep down, I knew I was already waiting for the next time he’d walk back into my life. Because no matter how much it hurt, I couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

“I never thought that I would see you again…”

The tears finally came, hot and relentless, as I collapsed onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. Maybe this was the end. Maybe this was the last time. But even as I thought it, a part of me knew it wasn’t. Because love like ours didn’t just end—it destroyed everything in its path until there was nothing left.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

[babydollmarauders]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is Quinn’s little secret.

specific lyrics: “what started in beautiful rooms; ends with meetings in parking lots” and “you wanna scream, don't call me ‘kid’, don't call me ‘baby’, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me” and “look at this idiotic fool that you made me” and “for you, i would ruin myself, a million little times”

warnings: cheating, 18+ content in the middle, ANGST!

notes: you will not think highly of the Quinn in this fic. i know i’m supposed to be writing the Speak Now Fic List— bear with me. this was written as a way to get out of my writers block.

i can always stop.

i can.

i have freewill to refuse his advances.

i think.

but the stolen stares, the weight of his body against mine, the feeling that comes with knowing he wants me in the way i’ve longed for him to want me, it’s an addiction.

a drug that i just can’t quit, despite how dirty and used i feel afterwards. despite having to sneak away with my hood up and my head down.

the high of being his, just for a moment, outweighs the inevitable self-criticism in the aftermath.

because that’s the thing about illicit affairs; they make you hate yourself a million little times.

**

i’ve barely just climbed off of him, my back skimming the mattress, before he’s already standing from my bed.

my eyes follow his movements, the fluidity and grace of flowing through steps he’s done a million times before.

his dress shirt buttoned back on, his suit pants following, his tie lazily swung around his neck and his suit jacket pulled over to complete the look.

while i’m tangled in my thin sheet, still recovering, he’s fixing his hair in the mirror above my dresser and letting his own eyes graze his neck for marks. finding none, as i know better than to make myself known on his skin.

never seen, never heard, always secret. no marks, never wear perfume nor lipstick, never leave any trace of existence. a ghost above all else.

his eyes lock with mine in the mirror, catching my longing stare with his indifferent one.

“i’ve gotta go. you watching the game?” he knows the answer, he always knows.

“yeah, Quinny, i’ll be watching.” my cheeks flush. “i always do.”

“good. i’ll try and score a goal for you.” he winks in the reflection, my heartbeat picking up as it does every time. “bye, baby.”

there’s no goodbye kisses, no whispered sweet nothings, just quirked lips and the sound of my bedroom door shutting behind him.

it’s not long until the bliss wears off, leaving me with nothing but self-depreciating thoughts. no one to blame but myself.

he has a girlfriend.

one who isn’t you.

aren’t you ashamed?

aren’t you disgusted with yourself?

don’t you deserve better?

although, maybe not.

my phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, an incoming call from my best friend, and despite feeling like an idiotic fool and a betrayal of my own morality, i accept the call.

“hey, Lukey!” false cheer drips from my tongue, but just like every other time, i know he won’t know the difference. “to what do i owe the pleasure of your call?”

“hey, y/n/n!” Luke’s chuckle crackles over the speaker of my phone. “i just wanted to talk, i’ve been missing you extra the past few days. i want my movie buddy.”

“i miss you too, Lukey.”

god, if only he knew how badly i’ve fucked up without him to lead me the right way.

“don’t you have Jack now to watch movies with?” i question, shaking off the urge to confess my sins. to ask for his forgiveness and plead for him to talk some sense into my love-riddled mind.

“it’s not the same. he doesn’t pay attention to the little details as well as we do.” i can hear his pout through the phone, making me giggle.

“just one more month, then we’ll have the whole summer to watch as many movies as we want.” i remind him.

“yeah, one more month.” he replies, solemnly. “anyways, UBC is still treating you good, right? no chance you’d wanna transfer to, i don’t know, Rutgers or Princeton?”

i chuckle at his lame attempt at convincing me to leave my dream school.

“i’m sorry, moose; but UBC is still where my heart lies.” oh, if only he knew just what, or rather who, the reason was for that.

“yeah, alright. it was worth a shot.” he sighs. “and Quinny’s taking good care of you, right?”

i my throat closes up and i choke on the air in my lungs.

“what?” i ask him, sitting up in my bed and pulling the sheet closer to my body.

“Quinn.” he repeats. “he promised he’d look after you. has he?”

“oh, yeah. yeah, he’s been checking in on me. making sure i’m okay.” i guess that’s one way to put what we’ve been doing.

“good. i’d have to kill him if he let you get hurt.”

**

my feet have barely touched the ground outside of my car before the lake house door is flung open. my best friend bounds out of the house, his middle brother hot on his trail, attempting to speak to him about something long forgotten by Luke.

“YOU’RE HERE!” Luke’s arms are flung around my waist, hoisting me up in the air and spinning me around.

the melody of my laugh mingles in the air as my arms wrap around his neck.

“Lukey, put me down, i already feel sorta car sick! it was a very long drive.” despite the fact that my words are true, i can’t wipe the smile off my face from being reunited with my best friend.

my feet finally fall flat on the ground as Luke backs up to look at my face, his fingers grazing all over it, more specifically the under eye bags from stress and sleepless nights.

“i thought you said you were doing great? what are these?! they’re new!”

his concern is heartwarming but before i can respond, i notice all the people behind him on the lake house porch. Jack, their friends, and most importantly, Quinn. the real reason for my newly spotted dark circles.

i muster up a chuckle, rolling my eyes.

“they’re designer. they come with the UBC tuition.” i stress, hoping he buys the ‘i’ve just been working myself to the bone with schoolwork’ excuse.

“checks out. you’ve always been my little nerd.” he grins, slinging an arm around my shoulder and turning towards the porch. “aren’t you guys gonna come say hi?”

“didn’t wanna impose on your moment.” Jack jokes, hopping down the porch steps to pull me from Luke’s grasp and into a hug.

“hey, bubby. welcome back.” he smiles, ruffling my hair mid hug. i step on his foot in retaliation, making him push me back so he could check on his white sneakers.

“it’s good to be back, bubba.” i grin as he rolls his eyes.

“hey kid, long time no see.” my head snaps over to look at Quinn, who smirks at me with a knowing look.

we saw each other three days ago, the day before he flew out to Michigan.

“hey, Quinny.” a bashful smile takes over my lips and my heart beats overtime, the natural reaction when i’m in his vicinity.

“no.” Luke speaks, pulling me into his chest protectively. “you don’t get to ‘hi’ her. you got her all year. this is my turn.”

his words make me blush and i pat his chest.

“don’t worry Lukey, this is our time.” i reassure him. “i but i would like to go inside now.”

“yeah, right.” he nods, letting me push away from him. the guys all head back into the house, leaving me to open my trunk and grab my bag.

a strong hand encases mine on the handle of my suitcase, soft lips i know all too well grazing the shell of my ear.

“i hope Luke doesn’t mind sharing.” Quinn leaves me frozen behind him, taking my bag and my breath with him.

beats of time pass before i follow suit, closing my trunk and locking my car before jogging up the porch steps and into the house.

this will be one hell of a summer. literally.

**

“i’m going for a run.”

my words are spoken through Luke’s shut bedroom door, followed by the opening of said door.

“a run?” he asks me, sleep still prominent in his face from his mid-afternoon nap. “since when do you run?”

“i started running when i was in Vancouver. i thought i told you that?” the lie is like a sour candy on my tongue, spit out quickly as though another second of these words in my mouth would make me sick.

“oh, okay. how long will you be gone? i’ll have the movie set up for when you get back.”

“i shouldn’t be too long. like an hour at most.” i tell him, tightening my ponytail.

“you’ll actually probably be all sweaty when you get back. just wake me back up when you get back and i’ll get the movie ready while you shower.”

sweaty and flushed, for sure.

“okay.”

*

“Quinn, please.” my heavy pants turn to pleads, begging Quinn to get me over the edge. his hands hold mine behind my back as i grind my hips against his.

unable to risk being caught at the lake house, our rendezvous settings have downgraded from my bedroom back in vancouver. to the parking lot of a field, only a 15 minute walk from the house.

“you want me to make you come?” his words cause a shiver down my spine, my head nodding at rapid speed. “use your words, baby. say it.”

“i want you to make me come.” i beg. that’s all it takes for him to flip us over, my body laid across his back seat as he thrusts into me, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.

“fuck, you’re so wet baby. feel so good squeezing my cock.” i clench around him, his dirty whispers echoing in my head as the coil in my stomach tightens. he angles his hips, thrusting up into the spot that makes my eyes roll back.

“right there.” i gasp, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders. i’m careful not to dig my nails into his skin. careful to never leave any sort of marks. his right hand trails down my body, settling on my stomach.

“right there?” he teases, repeating his previous move, all while pushing one hand down on my stomach. my legs shake, and i clench around him one final time before the pressure relieves and i achieve my orgasm.

Quinn thrusts a few more times, riding me through my high and chasing his before his hips stutter and he pulls out, painting my stomach with his release.

the glass windows are fogged, the car hot and reeking of sex, the only sound being our heavy breathing as we gather ourselves again.

my eyes flutter, my energy spent.

“hey, baby.” Quinn’s hand snakes onto my thigh, shaking it slightly. “you should go. Luke is probably waiting for you.”

i nod. i know he’s right, but it still stings, being dismissed so quickly.

i wipe my stomach with a napkin from his glovebox before slipping my biker shorts back on and pulling my tank top back over my head.

“i’ll see you at the house.” he bids me goodbye, as i slip out of his car, starting my walk back to the house.

aren’t you sick of this?

don’t you feel guilty for lying to your best friend?

for betraying him like this?

don’t you think you can do better?

that you deserve better than clandestine meetings?

than being someone’s ‘other woman’?

than being tossed aside the second he’s done with you?

i’m done.

*

“alright, you ready?” Luke asks, plopping down on the couch cushion beside me, a bowl of popcorn clutched in his hand.

“yeah, press play, moose.” Luke is just about to hit play on the netflix movie when the front door swings open. Quinn steps into the house, shutting the door before noticing us on the couch.

“hey.” he gives us a nod, walking towards the stairs. “oh, Olivia is flying in tomorrow morning.”

my heart stops, my muscles tensing.

Olivia.

Quinn’s girlfriend.

the one we’ve been sneaking around for four months.

“oh cool, what time?” Luke is oblivious to my silent panic.

“six a.m, so i’m heading to sleep. night, Luke. night, kid.”

there it is again. that stupid nickname. ‘kid’.

Quinn heads up the stairs and i hear the faint sound of his bedroom door shutting.

my head snaps over to Luke.

“hey, i gotta go get something from my room, i’ll be right back.” i pat his leg before rising from my seat, making my way towards the stairs.

“oh, okay.” he nods, getting on his phone as i walk up the stairs.

i come to a stop outside of Quinn’s door, debating knocking before i decide not to, in order to not raise suspicion from Luke.

i swing the door open, slipping in before quickly shutting it behind me.

Quinn sits on the foot of his bed, head rising from looking at his phone. his brows furrow before he raises one in questioning.

“didn’t get enough of me earlier?” he teases. “aren’t you and Luke watching a movie? i don’t think we can have a quickie right now-”

“we’re done.” his lips snap shut, whether in shock, or disbelief, or just plain speechlessness, i’m not sure. but he’s silent, so i continue. “no more meetings. no more.”

my heart aches in my chest, my throat getting tighter and tears bubble up in my eyes.

i thought it would be easy to stop.

i used to tell myself i could do it whenever i wanted. but now, i know it’s not true.

there was no ‘last time’, only this afternoon. no soft goodbyes. i’ll be stuck seeing him for the rest of my life. he’s a mistake that i became all too comfortable with. with him, i let my morals wash away like a drawing in sand. but i was done hating myself, thinking so low of myself for my forbidden actions.

he chuckles as if i told him a joke, as if i didn’t just tell him we were over. standing from the bed and prowling towards me, his hand raises to cup my cheek.

“what are you talking about, baby?”

it’s always ‘baby’ in secret. ‘kid’ while in company. he makes me feel so stupid, like i’m a child; naive and small.

“don’t call me ‘baby’.” i swat his hand away from my cheek. “and don’t call me ‘kid’, either. do you not know my name?

“do you not know the name of the girl you’ve been fucking in secret for the past four months? that you’ve known since you were ten?”

his nostrils flare, stepping back as though i’ve slapped him.

“i know your name, y/n.” his words drip with venom, his lips press together into a straight line. “they’re just nicknames.”

“they’re cruel.” i spit. “you know what you’re doing. i’ve made myself available to you for too long. i’ve let you use me and throw me to the side as if i’m nothing. i’ve become something i never would’ve imagined i would be-”

“y/n-”

“no! this is my turn to talk. look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. i’m actively lying to my best friend, your brother. i’ve become the ‘other woman’. a title i would’ve smacked myself for, just six months ago. i’ve lost my sense of morality. i’ve become someone that i don’t even recognize; because of you. so, i’m done.

“i will not be your secret anymore. i deserve more. i deserve better than someone who keeps me hidden. who dismisses me mere minutes after using my body.”

tear tracks stain my cheeks, my face feels tighter under the salty liquid and i quickly wipe them away.

“you’re right.” my lips part slightly, my gaze fixating on the man in front of me.

he seems genuine. his eyes glistening with pity and an unrecognizable emotion.

“i’m sorry. you deserve better.” he tells me, nodding his head solemnly.

“i do.” i reply. “and i’ve been rejecting everyone that is interested because i’ve been hoping and praying to any higher power that you would love me the way that i’ve loved you since i was sixteen, but that’s not gonna happen, is it?”

he shakes his head ‘no’ and i can’t even hold it against him, because at least he’s finally being honest with me.

i bite my lower lip, nodding dejectedly and gripping the doorknob behind me.

“for you, i’ve ruined myself a million times.”

i slip out the door, padding back down the stairs and leaving the man i love, and our illicit affairs behind me.

Luke’s head rises when i return, his eyebrow raised and his lips parted, surely ready to question what took me so long. but with one glance at my tear stained face and bloodshot eyes, his mouth closes, his arms opening instead.

i drop onto the couch, burying my face into his neck. his arms wrap around me tightly, one hand holding the back of my head as the other rubs my back.

“i know.” he whispers. “it’s okay. i know.”

his words are mumbled against the shell of my ear and the emotion with which their spoken confirms that he knew what i’d been doing. they only succeed in making me feel even more guilty. all this time, i thought i’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding our meetings this summer, but my best friend is smart, catching on a lot more than i realized.

“i’m so sorry, Lukey.” i sob, my apology muffled by his skin.

“it’s okay. and i promise, it’ll be okay, y/n/n. i’ve got you.”

[sweethoneyrose83]

Dialogue prompts inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins, each one focusing on a particular sin:

1. Pride

"Do you think there's anyone who can match my brilliance? My very existence is a testament to perfection."

"You don’t understand. It's not arrogance if it's true."

"I didn’t climb to the top by lowering myself to their level. They should aspire to reach mine."

2. Greed

"Why settle for enough when you can have it all? The world owes me, and I intend to collect."

"Everything has a price. The question is, how much are you willing to pay?"

"I’ll take it all, even if it burns this city to the ground."

3. Lust

"Desire is a fire that consumes. I merely embrace it."

"Love is fleeting, but passion—that’s eternal."

"I want you, not because I need you, but because the thrill is irresistible."

4. Envy

"Why do they get everything while I’m left with scraps? I deserve what they have."

"It should have been me in their place. Every. Single. Time."

"The worst part is, I know I’m better than them in every way."

5. Gluttony

"One more taste, just one more. I can never have enough."

"It’s not about hunger. It’s about the pleasure of consumption, devouring until there’s nothing left."

"I don’t know the meaning of restraint, and I never intend to learn."

6. Wrath

"They’ll regret crossing me. I’ll make sure of it."

"Do you hear that? The sound of bones breaking and lives ending—it’s music to my ears."

"I will burn this entire world down before I let them walk away unscathed."

7. Sloth

"Why bother? Nothing ever changes, and no effort will make a difference."

"Let them struggle. I’ll watch from here. It’s not like anything matters in the end."

"They say life’s too short. I say life’s too exhausting."

Pride:

"I’ve always been the best. Why should I humble myself for someone less deserving?"

"The world revolves around me, and I see no reason to pretend otherwise."

"It wasn’t arrogance; it was the truth. I am simply better than the rest of them."

"You think you can outshine me? Don’t make me laugh."

Greed:

"I’ll never have enough—there’s always more to take, more to own."

"What’s mine is mine. And what’s yours… I’ll find a way to make it mine, too."

"They say wealth can’t buy happiness, but it can buy power—and that’s all that matters."

"One more deal, one more fortune, and then I’ll be satisfied… or so I keep telling myself."

Lust:

"I see what I want, and I take it. I always take it."

"It’s not about love. It never was. It’s about the fire, the hunger."

"They always fall for me, and I love watching them break."

"Desire is a powerful thing—it makes people do anything, even things they swore they’d never do."

Envy:

"Why should they have everything while I scrape by with nothing?"

"Every time I see them smile, it’s like a knife in my chest. I want what they have."

"It’s not fair! Why should they have the life I deserve?"

"I don’t want to destroy them—I just want to see them fall. Is that so wrong?"

Gluttony:

"More… I need more. One taste is never enough."

"I consume and consume, and yet the hunger never leaves me."

"There’s a certain joy in excess, in losing yourself in indulgence."

"If one is good, then two is better. If two is better, then why not a hundred?"

Wrath:

"Every slight, every insult—it burns in me like a fire I can’t put out."

"I don’t just want to hurt them. I want to see them beg for mercy."

"Rage is my constant companion, and revenge is the only thing that calms it."

"You think I overreacted? That wasn’t even a fraction of what I wanted to do."

Sloth:

"Why bother? Nothing really matters in the end."

"I’ll get to it later. Or maybe I won’t. Who cares?"

"Ambition is for fools. I’m perfectly content right here."

"Effort is overrated. Life is easier when you just let things pass by."

[coralinnii]

Prompts for Tragic Love/ Toxic Love

I’d rather break my heart and lose you now, than hear you say this was a mistake in the future.

He doesn’t love you, he just loves the feeling of being loved by you

I know you don’t really know how to love, because I’m just like you

I can’t do this…Love terrifies me

I’m sorry I lied about loving you…I just wanted to feel normal.

You were wonderful. I’m sorry you had to meet me.

Why do I feel like I have to prove you can love me?

Being with you just makes me feel lonelier

I hated you for making me feel things. I hate that I can’t even mean that.

If you hating me is the closest I can be to you, then so be it.

I was so perfect…until I met you

You called me your moon, because you knew I couldn’t shine without you

You and I were only using each other. Are you upset I didn’t fall for you like you expected?

I still love you, but I don’t trust you. They are not the same.

Have you ever looked at someone and thought “How do I love like them?”

I can’t do much, but I can at least love you more than I love myself.

How can you still love me no matter how much I break myself? JUST LEAVE!

I hate your view on love. Love is ugly and people would kill and die in its name.

Can we just destroy each other and end it all?

It’s easier to pretend that I don’t love you

Aphrodite despises me, because I despise everything she adores

I was the subject of your desire, not love. Don’t fool yourself

Your love is like Atlantis, so unsure if it truly exists.

So fitting for flowers to be intertwined with love, poisonous despite its beauty and dies no matter what.

[iluvapplesxh]

hi! i don’t know if you are still taking requests but if you do, can you please write a reneé x reader where basically the reader is struggling with an ed? this would help me so much, thank you 🫶🏻

『Pretty Sad Eyes』

❀ pair: reneé rapp x fem!reader

✰ summary: All you wanted was to like yourself. To look at yourself and not feel that awful hate towards your own body. The body you were supposed to love and adore, right? Well there's another thing you failed in.

✯ warnings: eating disorder, self-harm, kind of suicidal thoughts (?), please do not read if you feel like any of this could trigger you. !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: I swear I spend so much time picking out a song, and I would bet money ppl don't give a rat's ass lol.

Hot, salty  tears burned your eyes which bore into the mirror in front of you.  You swallowed the saliva gathering in your mouth with a painful difficulty. You took slow steps back from the mirror and soon sat on the bed behind you when the back of your legs bumped into them. You held your head in your hands, face against your palms as you tried desperately to settle your thoughts, but it seemed they were relentless. 

God, you wished you could just stop thinking like this. Stop yourself from thinking about having a better body every time you see your own reflection in something. But it wasn’t that easy. You realized a long time ago that even if you did have a different body, you would still find flaws in it without fault. So ultimately, your brain was the problem.

Your body was tired, the constant change of slipping in and out of the stages of ‘it’s my body, who cares what anyone thinks?’ and ‘I wish I would like myself more’ making it exhausted in a way no words could explain. You wanted to claw at your skin until something would change. Anything.

PLEASE.

You used to plead to whatever God there was out there to make it stop. To make it all come to an end because you couldn’t live like this anymore. You didn’t want to. You hated yourself so bad and no one understood.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you look fine”

“Are you serious? Come on, you can’t joke about stuff like that-

Some people actually suffer”

You did, too. You suffered every day from the endless dark thoughts of your mind which you couldn’t seem to escape no matter how fast you ran away from them, they always caught up to you until you were pushed to your knees, crying  and pleading with them to go, to leave because you couldn’t live your life like this.

Always in constant fear of people thinking; “Ugh, look at her. Bet she walks into the plus size aisle in a few secs” or something among the lines. You never really dared to give what other people thought much thought, just that it was something awful and if you could hear it you’d cry. Because that was the only thing you could do, cry and cry as your fridge soon was left empty and your kitchen was only filled with any food when Reneé was over.

Oh, Reneé.

The reason for your existence.  Your rock. Your everything and yet you could never get yourself to tell her about your struggles. You knew they would probably hurt her more than they did you and you never wanted that. No, you loved her too much for that. 

Was she growing suspicious about how fast your weight dropped? Of course, but you’d just told her you have a great gym coach. Obviously she didn't believe it, but decided not to push. And maybe if she did it wouldn’t have gotten to be as bad as it is. Maybe then you wouldn’t have those, seemingly unhealing lines littering your forearms which you’ve caused in those moments where all you could think about is looking better, feeling better. Maybe if you cut enough times you would shrink and magically look better.

Come on now

Don’t be a fool.

You obviously can’t lose weight from cutting yourself.

But it felt like it, you ate less and less and you cut more and more until the pain wasn’t anything sort of pain anymore, just sweet sweet relief where you didn’t feel like shit.

Your head lifted from your hands when you heard a seemingly hurried number of knocks on your door. You wiped your eyes and stood, walking over to and opening the door. Your tired eyes met concerned blue ones and you didn’t know how to feel.

“Babygirl?” Reneé spoke after a couple moments of stillness, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides as her eyes raked over your slumped figure.

You slowly stepped aside for her to come in, when she did you closed the bedroom door and crossed your arms, biting your lower lip to stifle a hiss when the sleeves of your hoodie brushed roughly against your only couple hours old cuts. Reneé didn’t stand far away from you, expression soft.

“Talk to me, baby” Her voice pleaded, her hands reaching out to you but stopping midway as if afraid to touch you.  “Please, I know you’re not okay. I’m not blind” She shook her head.

Your brows furrowed and your gaze fell to the floor, swallowing around the forming lump in your throat. “I- can’t” Your words were barely above anything but a whisper when you spoke and Reneé puffed out a sigh. 

“Yes, yes, you can” 

Your eyes stayed on the floor and your arms fell to your sides. You kept quiet until your girlfriend spoke again. “Tell me. I’m here. I’m listening and I can make it all better” Although her tone held promises, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Her hands finally reached you and placed themselves on your upper arms, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach when she felt the unusually thinner limb.

Your eyes lifted to look at the expression on her face. One of realisation. You expected your heart to start beating faster, for it to jump in your throat out of fear but no, you were calm. Like you didn’t even care.

“No…” Reneé breathed out, shaking her head.

Your jaw clenched  and your eyes met hers, her chest tightening at the look of sheer nothingness in yours. Her hands left your arms in an instant and grabbed your face. “Baby-” She began saying in a warning tone but her voice broke. 

“I’m sorry” You finally spoke but it was as if you didn't mean it. Why the fuck did you not care? You should, so then why are you acting like this.

“Why? Why, you’re so- so perfect” She almost cried out.

That comment. You knew what she meant, and that it was with all the good intentions in the world but it only seemed to make you angry. “You-... you don’t get to just say that!”  Your words confused her but you didn’t let her speak again. “You don’t get to just tell me that and expect everything to be fine! For me to be fine! I’m not!” Angry and sad tears flooded your eyes. “I’m so fucking tired and-...” 

Reneé shushed you gently, pulling you against her body while her arms wrapped around your body. “I know. I know, baby” And she really did know that you were right, she just simply tried to believe otherwise. “I’m sorry. M’sorry” She whispered into your hair and swallowed when your own arms finally wrapped around her torso. 

“I’ll help. I promise” Her voice broke and tears slipped from her eyes before she closed them, her body shaking in sync with yours as you sobbed against her shoulder. “God, I love you so much” She cried, not wanting the realisation of the situation sink in. The fact that you very possibly could have been slowly dying and she didn’t even know. She held you tighter than ever, more words of comfort slipping from her trembling lips.

You felt the smallest sense of relief wash over you at the feeling of being in Reneé’s arms. You felt hope. Like you could finally let go of all those thoughts and the scale and the blade. She was your guardian angel, only she showed up a little later than either of you would’ve wanted.

But she was here now, and she knew. 

She would do anything to not to have to look into those oh so pretty but just as sad eyes again.

✒ a/n: one more this weekend because I found the time i actually had so many things to do but i did this so enjoy! i guess.

also!

this is very much a safe place for everyone with these kind of 'problems' and please, please, please talk to me. anon or not, I just want you to be okay <3

REQUESTS OPEN ♡