#i was never anyone except my my shitty abusive boyfriend's ex girlfriend to these people

[gay-kurapika]

I love reddit its like misogyny central. "Am I the asshole for not wanting my friend to bring his girlfriend everywhere" yes actually you are, she's a full person all on her own and I doubt she thinks of you as "boyfriends friend" but go ahead and elaborate on why she doesn't exist to you. Let's explore that a bit.

[ohtobeleah]

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Four: Flight 29 Down

Summary: You were told that for this mission to be a success there would need to be no less then two consecutive miracles—but all you got was a back seater and a shitty ex boyfriend.

Warnings: Angst. Rooster x reader. Platonic Bob Floyd x reader.

Word Count: 7.1k

Author Note: We have some platonic Bob moments and a couple of flashbacks. Absolutely powering through this series. Also, for a filler chapter before we get into the big stuff somehow this is 7k.

“Not a morning person Chaos?” Hangman picked the wrong day to try and mess with you, but then again. When was there ever a good time? Slamming your locker had become something of a habit you’d created, but this morning? After having just had your heart torn out and gutter stomped into nothingness by the man you promised yourself you wouldn't go back to– it only seemed out of necessity. You know, so you didn't blow your own brains out. “You look awfully tired? No coffee in the mess hall?”

“Hangman, there are exactly three places you can stay for free, the fuck out of my face, the fuck out of my way and the fuck out of my buisness.” The silence that filled the room, you swore you could hear a pin drop. Everyone looked at you like you’d just committed a crime. Suddenly the centre of attention, exactly where you didn't want to be. Rooster stood by his locker, hurting himself. He didn't have the balls to confront you in the locker room, not after this morning's escapades. He thought some time passing would help ease the situation, perhaps he’d get you at a better time to just explain he hadnt done what you thought he did. He didn't have a girlfriend. He didn't want anyone except for you.

Hangman stared at you with a subtle smirk on his face, chewing a piece of gun as always. Cocky and oh so sure of himself. Looking over your shoulder he saw Rooster staring at you. Guilt just dripping off of him. Jake Seresin was good at a lot of things, but one thing he was exceptionally good at was spotting a guilt ridden man. Choosing to leave the situation he found himself in at that. Not giving you the time of day as he walked away, directly towards Rooster.

“I was right about the eleventh man theory wasn't I?” Hangman whispered as he came to stand next to Rooster. Rooster was adamant if there hadnt been so many people around he would have clocked Jake up the side of the jaw himself, but the risk to reward ratio didn't weigh up in his favour. “What exactly did you do?”

“I messed up.” Rooster's eyes never left you as he watched you leave the locker room, doing up his flight suit as he sighed. His fist slamming against the thin door of his locker. Leaving an indent. “I messed up big time.”

“God what is it with everyone abusing the lockers this morning?” Fanboy questioned as Bob shook his head as if to say don't ask. Hangman was trying his best to put the pieces together, opting to place his hand on Roosters shoulder. Smirking, still chewing that piece of gum Rooster hoped he’d choke on.

“Oh well, you know what they say man, the more you fuck around the more you find out.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Good morning.” You barely had the energy to sit and listen as Admiral Bates stood before you. Unlike yesterday, you sat snugly between Phoenix and Bob, Rooster’s gaze burning into the back of your skull as you did everything in your power to ignore him. Still seething from your fight earlier that same morning. From having your heart ripped from your chest without any medical intervention. “The uranium enrichment plant that is your target will be operational earlier than expected.” Sighing dramatically as you rolled your eyes, your head lulling to Bob's shoulder in defeat. Honestly at this point it didn’t shock you, you used to think adulthood was one catastrophe after the other– but oh how wrong you were. They all liked to pile on top of one another at the same time.

“Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days time, as a result, your mission has been moved up one week.” Now that? That sparked your interest slightly. Truth be told, It scared you—what the hell? What time did any of you have?

“I don’t mean to offend, but you know you look like hell right? Everything okay?” Bob leaned over as he whispered in your ear.

“Thanks Bob, you always know how to make a girl feel awfully sure of herself.” You teased as you sat up straight, sending him a soft and subtle smile. “Im fine–” Admiral Bates raised his voice a fraction, gaining your attention once again.

“In order to avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation.” Bob kept his attention on you though. Something had happened, he just wasn’t sure what. You looked tired—sad. What had Bradshaw done? Bob had a pretty good memory and it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. He knew Rooster had a tendency to break your heart, his favourite pastime. A hobbyist.

“Sir, no one here has successfully flown a low-level course.” Coyote interjected as he sat up a little straighter. More integrated. Concern plastered evidently on his face.

“Nevertheless you've been ordered to move on.” Admiral Bates wasn't a warm man, but this? Even this was a little out of his usual realm of expertise. “Captain–” He gestured as Maverick stepped before the group, you'd all seamlessly lowered yourselves into the chairs you sat on. Defeated even before the first training session of the day. The deck was truly stacked against you, everyone felt it. But you felt it the most. How on earth could you pull yourself together to be able to look Bradley in the eye and confidently tell him you’d have his back if you were told to fly together? At the moment you couldn't. No way in hell, completely blinded by rage.

“We have one week left to focus on phase two, it's the most difficult stage of the mission.” All you could do was listen at this moment in time, but that was difficult when memories of last night were rushing through your head. The juxtaposition of love and wholeness you felt in Bradleys arms completely diminished by the anguish and betrayal you felt when you heard those words come through his phone. His girlfriend? What fucking bullshit. Did you have loser tattooed on your forehead? Perhaps use me?

“It's a pop-up strike with a steep dive requiring nothing less than two consecutive miracles.” Pete held up two fingers as he looked your way, making a mental note at how drained you looked. Something was off– he could tell. Turning his attention to Rooster who sat across the aisle from you, who looked just as awful. Fuck not now. Not with the teams he’d already proposed to the Admirals for training today. Whatever it was, it would have to wait.

“Two pairs of F-18’s will fly in a welded wing formation, teamwork, precise coordination of these aircraft is essential to both the mission's success and your survival.”

“As you know, the plant rests between two mountains.” Pete went on to explain as you watched the graphic play behind him. Taking notes as you watched the screen run through of the mission someone in operations must have digitalised. “On final approach, you’ll invert directly into a steep dive. This allows you to maintain the lowest possible altitude and the only possible attack angle.”

“Your target is an impact point less than three metres wide. The two seat aircraft will paint the target with a laser bull-eye. The first team will breach the reactor by dropping a laser-guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch.” This all seemed too surreal. How on god's green earth were any of you supposed to pull this off?

“This will create an opening for the second pair, that's miracle number one.” Maverick pointed out as he walked up and down the front.

“The second team will deliver the kill shot, and destroy the target. That's miracle number two.” It wasn’t that Rooster wasn’t paying attention—he was. But as he fumbled the necklace you’d thrown on his lawn, he couldn’t help if his mind escaped to someplace far away. He’d managed to fix it in the time he sat eating his breakfast before work. Thinking of all the ways he could explain himself.

“If either team misses the target? Then the mission is a failure.” Rooster couldn’t help but to think about the moment he’d gifted it to you. Your sixteenth birthday.

His face still hurt like a mother fucker. The stitches in his eyelid, cheek and neck would be a dead giveaway to the pain that radiated across every inch on his face. But Bradley Bradshaw would need to be six feet under in order to miss your birthday.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You beamed, so unbelievably excited as you took Bradley into your arms. Being as careful as you could be so as to not hurt him. Still battered and bruised. “You should be at home!”

“I wasn’t gonna miss this.” Bradley beamed back as you gently ran your fingertips across his cheek. “Trust me—it looks worse than it really is.”

“I find that really hard to believe.” Two weeks prior to your sixteenth birthday, Bradley Bradshaw has gone head first out the windshield of his buddy TJ’s 1998 Toyota Corolla. He hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. For a few days it had been pretty chaotic to say the least. But you’d spent every morning before school and every afternoon after school by his bedside. Some afternoons even staying so late that the nurses had to remind you of visiting hours.

He’d learnt a valuable lesson that day, to savour every moment he could because life was precious. He’d also decided that loving you was going to be the one thing he was going to put any effort, any time into.

“Enough about me—I got you something.” Bradley pulled out a small box from his back pocket. Handing it over as you took it gently. Your dad watching the moment from a distance, asking god to give him strength if a Bradshaw was gonna be the one who stole your heart. “I just thought maybe having something to always know how much I appreciate you would make things a little easier to process when I get myself into situations.” He wanted to say how much he genuinely loved you—but right now? With all your friends and family around for a barbecue, he’d settle.

“Bradley—it’s beautiful.” You cooed as you opened the small box, the left side of a silver broken heart with a small B.B etched into it. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Bradley pulled out the other half that hung around his neck. “See, I’ve got the other half.”

“Well I'm sure it’s the only broken heart I’ll ever have as long as I have you around.” Pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes, you gently kissed Bradley Bradshaw on the lips for the second time in his life. Stealing his breath away. The first time being when you were playing a game of spin the bottle at Roger Mclauclans house over the Summer time. “Thank you, I love it.” Bradley remembers washing you dash away to show your mum. He remembered standing still with his eyes on you for what felt like an eternity before your dad made his approach.

“You look more and more like your old man every time I see you kid.” Tom smirked as he stood next to the seventeen year old. “Just don’t grow a moustache, ever.”

“I’m trying my best Mr.K—“ Bradley teased. Rubbing your cheeks. “But I’m not quite there yet.” He remembered standing with your dad, both admiring the person you were becoming, sighing Tom asked an incredible question that Rooster still remembered his answer to word for word.

“What are your intentions with my daughter Bradshaw?”

“Just want to love her the way she deserves to be loved, Mr.K”

“Egress is a steep high-G climb out to avoid hitting the mountain.”

“A steep climb at that speed? You’re pulling at least eight G’s–” Hangman was quick to interject as he sat across the aisle. His eyes drawn to the graphic display behind where Pete stood. He was in this–every ounce of his being was in this mission.

“Nine minimum, most likely.” You offered your opinion easily, knowing eight G’s wouldn’t be enough to get you over the lip. “Closer to ten if you really wanna keep your speed going over the lip–basic aerodynamic maths.”

“The stress limit of an F-18’s airframe is seven point five.” Rooster ran his mouth as you turned to face him in your chair. His eyes dark as he twirled his pen. He’d abandoned all his Inhibitions at the threshold of the door you were so eager to leave through this morning. His neck littered with bruises, reminders of how close he came to being yours again and just how easily he let you slip through his fingers. “Basic, knowing your aircraft.” Bob felt your hand ball up into a fist beside him, opting to cover it with his own as he looked at you completely blinded by range.

“That's the accepted limit, to survive this mission, you’ll pull beyond that. Even if it means bending your airframe.” Maverick had your back, you were right. Rooster eased off a little into the back of his chair, watching as you let your head fall back to Bob's shoulder. Tired. Still listening to what Pete had to say.

“You’ll be pulling so hard, you’ll weigh close to two thousand pounds,your skull crushing your spine, your lungs exploding like an elephant sitting on your chest, fighting with everything you have just to keep from blacking out.”

“And this is where you'll be at your most vulnerable, this is coffin corner. Assuming you avoid crashing into the mountain, you’ll climb straight up into enemy radar while losing all of your airspeed.” A sudden beeping rang throughout the room as you watched the two jets flash red. “Within seconds you'll be fired upon by enemy SAM’s, you've all faced sustained g’s before, but this? This is gonna take you and your aircraft to the breaking point.”

“Sir, is this even achievable?” Phoenix cooed as she sat quietly taking everything in—she’d been benched with a sinus issue for today, grounded.

“The answer to that question will come down to the pilot in the box.” Maverick lethis answer linger for a second as he pulled a piece of paper from his top left pocket. Unfolding it as he rubbed his brow. “First team will be the red team, Hangman flying with Payback and Fanboy. Second team will be the blue team.” You caught onto his pause, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea Pete thought to himself. But nevertheless—he persisted. A chance now would be detrimental to the lineup of today's runs. “Because Phoenix is out with a sinus issue it’ll be Rooster with Chaos flying pairs with Bob.” This couldn’t be fucking happening.

“Mav!!” You shot up out of your chair like a rocket, laser locked eyes mixed with a locked jaw. “You can’t be serious—“

“Trouble in paradise huh Rooster?” Fanboy bumped into Roosters shoulder as you looked at him. His eyes full of regret and love. Rooster knew you were hurting, but the extent of it he was blind to.

“It’s not a question Lieutenant, either fly or pack your gear. That’s an order.” Vice Admiral Beau’s voice bellowed from the back of the room as you spun around to face him. Groaning, you marched off to grab your gear—feeling completely set up to fail. Deciding hiding your emotions was going to be the only thing that would get you through this day—either that or a lobotomy.

***~***~***~***~

“Chaos!” Rooster caught up with you as you walked towards the double seater F-18 you’d be flying. It had been a minute and truly? You didn't know if you were ready to do this again. Simply because the idea of having Bob’s life in the palm of your hand scared the shit out of you. “Y/n!” You didn't dare slow down, ignoring Rooster as he called your name. “Lieutenant Kazanksy, a word, please?” God he got you with that one. Knowing you couldn't deny a direct order. Rolling your eyes with a huff, you turned to face Rooster. Both geared up in your flight suits and flight gear. “We need to talk–”

“About what, exactly? The way you manipulated me into thinking you really wanted to change or the fact you omitted key details about your blooming love life!” Your voice was just above a scream. Nostrils flaring. You were just trying to protect your heart at this point.

“I didn’t omit anything Y/n, if you would just let me explain then—“

“Unless it's about the mission I would like to refrain from mixing my professional and private life, Sir.” Rooster felt like he’d just been shot in the chest. You wouldn’t give him the time of day to explain. “So, do we still have anything to talk about? Or can I go now?”

“No ma'am, I guess we don't.” Silence fell heavily around the pair of you as you both stood looking each other up and down. You would rather be anyone else right now. You felt dirty, like you had to wash the first three layers of your skin off.

“Good, because this is hard enough for me to handle, standing here–with you, after I fell for the same bullshit again–”

“Y/n.” Rooster reached out to grip your forearm, only for you to pull yourself away. Bob happened to be walking towards you as you grimaced at Roosters touch.

“I sweat to go if you don’t stop touching me Bradshaw I will fucking shove my fist so far down your throat you’ll need a permanent feeding tube.”

“What are you? Psychotic?” Rooster towered over you as you held your ground, how did things change so quickly. Last night you were convinced you were the love of Roosters life. Now you were convinced he’d only ever wanted someone to play with, his personal play-thing.

“I dare you to say that again you sociopath—“ You got a little closer to him. “I’m not afraid to throw hands Bradshaw ask Hangman—“

“Okay–” Bob intervienced as he heard you threatening Rooster, reaching out for your shoulders as he led you away from the confrontation. “Enough of whatever the hell that is?” Looking over his shoulder back to Rooster with a puzzled look. God what the fuck was going on with you too?

“You good?” Bob asked as he offered you a hand up onto the wing of the F-18.

“Never been better Bob—“ Taking it, you huffed as you stepped up. Walking carefully across the mix of carbon fibre and aluminium.

“I’m not feeling inclined to believe you, somethings up.” Bob groaned as he jumped up onto the wing, pulling himself up muscle up style. It always seemed to catch you off guard as to how strong Robert Floyd really was.

“I promise I’m good, just drop it.” Bob was starting to get on your last nerve. But that didn’t stop him as you sat down in your seat. Strapping in.

“You know you’re a bad liar right?” There was something comforting in Bob's persistence. It was coming from the best part of him. But right now? Was the last place you wanted to be grilled about your love life. Behind the throttle of a god damn F-18 fighter jet.

“Jesus Bob, get off my dick—I said I’m fine!” You shouted. Bob didn’t care, he knew he was close to cracking the shell you’d surrounded yourself in. Situating himself behind you as he strapped himself in. Going through the motions. The process.

“You know beauty isn’t your lack right?” Bob learned over your shoulder from his seat behind you. “I mean—if he’s gonna call you a psycho anyway, you may as well cause a scene, just not around me because I feel inclined to intervene.” If there was one thing on this earth Robert Floyd was good at? It was being a good friend. It felt good to fly with Bob again, strange. But good. Going over your systems as you taxied down the taxiway, you made sure your communications systems were still turned off. Sighing as you explained what the hell had been going on.

“We slept together—“ It felt wrong to say. Especially since you’d told Bob just how badly things had ended in the past.

“Oh?” Well, I wouldn’t think that would be—“ You didn’t let Bob finish what he was about to say.

“Then his girlfriend called this morning.” Bob couldn’t see your face, but he just knew by the tone in your voice that you weren’t alright. Not in the slightest bit. “There’s a part of me that loves him unconditionally Bob but I swear to god I’ve never wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth more.”

“Rooster has a girlfriend?” Bob questioned as he continued checking all his systems. “That doesn’t add up?”

“Names Lindsey—“ You interjected. “She called while I was still in his bed.” You groaned as you threw your head back in defeat, squinting your eyes to stop the tears from falling. “I’m the other woman Bob, how fucking gross is that? I should be put down for this.” Placing your helmet on you flipped your visor down. “I’m completely exhausted, emotionally and physically and I feel like I’ve been broken into a million different pieces.” Bob followed suit as he placed his helmet on, flipping his visor down before he responded.

“The world breaks everyone, Chaos, the very good, the very gentle, the very brave–and those it doesn't break? It kills.” Scoffing out a small chuckle, you made your way to the end of the taxi zone.

“Is that from the good book, Pastor Floyd?” You teased as you turned your communications systems on, knowing flight control was having an aneurysm at how long it had taken you to do so. But your conversation about your forever failing love life didn’t need to be the talk of the naval base anymore than it already was.

“The great book, Hemingway.” Bob chuckled as he continued checking his systems. “All I’m trying to say is, if you let him get to you? That’s exactly what he’s gonna do.”

“That advice free?” Clipping your mask over your mouth you signalled the runway guides that you were ready for take off.

“Throw me a fiver and I’ll even write you some positive affirmations.” Bob followed suit, placing his mask on. “All systems are a go back here Chaos.”

“Roger, Roger, preparing for take off—requesting permission to engage in active drill mission run through two two nine four.” You spoke to range control. Waiting for their response you signed, gritting your teeth as you grounded yourself in your professionalism. “Rooster you copy?”

“Check, all systems in check standing by ready for take off.” Roosters' voices hit you like a frate train. He had you feeling all kinds of emotions. There was a part of you that wanted to hear his explanation, but the part of you who just wanted to get as far away from him as possible overpowered that urge.

“God this is gonna take everything I have.”

“Nice Kazansky, way to make a guy feel like you’ve got his back.” Rooster fired back as the remaining pilots sat around the break room listening in.

“The last thing I'd want is to be haunted by the ghosts of you, Bradshaw so of course I have your back.”

Your knuckles felt hash against the front door of Rooster house. Carrying an empty box for the bits and bobs you had left there over the last couple of months.

Breakups were hard enough as it is, but the moment Carole opened the front door? She was embracing you with loving arms. It made it so much harder.

“Oh sweetheart—“ Carole cooed as she pulled away, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “He’s such an idiot.”

“It’s okay Mrs Bradshaw, really.” You wiped your tears before they had a chance to stain your cheeks as you followed her into the home that held so many memories. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to be together?”

“Oh trust me honey you are definitely meant to be together.” Carole Bradshaw had never been one to not speak her mind. Following her down to Bradley’s room, she turned back to you over her shoulder as her feet padded gently against the hardwood floor. “Boys just don’t know how to think—I remember Goose tried to break up with me twice before we got married.”

“Tried?” You asked, following the women who had always treated you like the daughter she never had.

“You think I let him?” She chuckled. “I just never listened.”

“Well, I think Bradley’s pretty set on just being friends right now—“ You explained as you sat down on Bradley’s bed, next to his mother as she pushed your hair behind your ear. Admiring your beauty, your sadness. How you tried to keep yourself together even though your heart was breaking. “And at this point I think I’d just be happy to keep him in my life—so friends it is.”

“He’ll lose you one day if he’s not careful sugar, don’t let any man take you for granted, not even my son—“ Carole had always been good at giving advice. Were you going to listen? Probably not. But it was nice to hear she thought you deserved better. Looking at the picture frame Bradley had on his bedside table of you and him as children playing in the sandpit, you couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. Falling into Carole’s arms as she consoled you. Her chin resting on the top of your head as her arms wrapped around you tight. “Oh honey, don’t let him get to you like this.”

“Why doesn’t he love me?”

“Talk to me Bob.” Roosters' voices cut through your memories like shards of glass through your skin.

“We’re twelve seconds late on target, we gotta move, we gotta move.” Bob explained as you got yourself back into the game. Throttling forward.

“Copy– Try to stay with me.” Rooster replied as you trailed just behind him. Something appeared on Bob's radar that made him question his judgement.

“Huh? Wait, who's that?” Bob questioned as Mavericks voice was sharp though the comms, coming in hot.

“Blue team, you've been spotted.” Maverick chimed in. Of. Fucking. Course.

“Shit– it's Mav.” Rooster hissed under his breath.

“What the hell’s he doing up here?” You questioned as you tried to stay on target the best you could, flying just shy of Roosters left wing.

“I'm a bandit on course to intercept, blue team what are you gonna do?”

“He's twenty miles left, ten o’clock, seven hundred knots closure.” Bob reported from the back seat as he watched the radar system before him light up. Maverick position changing rapidly.

“Your call Chaos, what do you wanna do?” Rooster’s voice rattled around in your head like a rock. Visions of his body under yours flashing before your eyes as you tried to remain focused. The way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel. Explosions of pleasure still jolting your core, the very essence of Rooster still dripping from you. Metaphorically.

“Continue, we’re close, stay on target Rooster.” He knew he should have just told you, should have just shouted it to heaven and never let you go. He should have tried harder to get you to listen, explain what the hell was going on. But He didnt and Rooster couldn't go back in time no matter how badly he wanted to.

“He's swinging around to the north!” Bob shouted, both you and Rooster committed to seeing this run through out.

“Stand by for pop-up!” Rooster engaged as you failed him. Just behind him.

“Be ready on that laser Bob” You ordered the big eyed, big hearted soul in your back seat.

“Copy” He beamed, his hand coming down to unlock his laser. Your second pair of eyes in the sky.

“Blue team, bandit is still closing–” Maverick chimed in as he came closer and closer to getting you on tone, knowing you were too damn stubborn to leave Rooster.

“Popping now!” Rooster shouted as he pulled back on his throttle, sending the nose of his F-18 high into the sky as you followed shortly after. “Talk to me Bob, where's Maverick!”

“He's five miles out. He's coming fast.” Bob turned to see Maverick coming in hot behind you.

“Targets in sight.” You shouted. Ready for this exercise to be over and done with. You couldn’t handle flying with Rooster—you had to make that known.

“Where's my laser Bob?” Rooster hissed.

“Deadeye, deadeye, it's no good. sorry– I can't get a lock.” You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you. All this effort for a deadeye?

“We’re out of time, I'm dropping blind.” Rooster tried to line his target up the best he could. Dropping blind only to miss. “Dammit, missed.”

“That’s a kill—“ You heard the tone before you heard Pete.

“Mavericks got missile lock on us–” Bob sighed in defeat.

“Shit we’re dead.'' You signed, ripping your mask from your face as you levelled out.

“Blue team, level out– Rooster, Chaos? Nice team work, try a little harder to not die next time.” Just as Maverick pulled up beside you, birds smacked against his window. “Bird Strike!” he shouted as he turned to watch them get sucked up into your engines. Sending you off course for a second before you regained your bearings. Only for a second.

“Bird Strike!–” You gasped, Jesus Christ not now.

“Chaos, you good?” Rooster's voice came through the comms a little unnervingly. “Talk to me Chaos—“

“Chaos, left engines on fire.” Bob relayed what was going on, even though he knew you already knew from the amount of alarms ringing off. This couldn't be happening, not again.

“Climbing!” You began to panic, there was no way this was happening, not now. Not after Lemoore, Not with Bob, not with Rooster. “Throttling back, shutting off fuel to the left engine, extinguishing fire.” Bob watched as the right engine began to diminish, not something you’d want to see at a time like this.

“Chaos, right engines out I repeat! right engines out!” panic laced his tone as Bob watched you do everything in your power to keep you level. Keep him safe, get him back on the ground.

“It’s still spinning, trying to restart the right engine.” You explained as you went through the motions. You lungs felt heavy, like you’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Chaos it’s on fire, don’t try to restart it!” Roosters voice came through the comms. All he could do was watch on in horror as you lost altitude, your engines on fire. Although you were an exceptional pilot, he knew you were panicking. “No—fuck, Y/n don’t!” God he loved you, so much. Rooster prayed to whoever would listen that you’d make it back to base safely. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing you.

“Throttling up!” Warnings for every single system you had were ringing throughout the cockpit as you tried to regain control of your F-18.

“Chaos we’re on fire, we’re on fire!” Bob shouted, his own heart racing—trusting you to get him the hell out of dodge.

“Dammit–” You groaned. Feeling completely out of your depth. Feeling completely out of control of the situation. Rooster couldn’t breathe as he watched you losing control of your aircraft.

“Chaos, Bob, punch out now, punch out!” Maverick shouted in desperation. Both him and Rooster flying around watching in horror.

“There’s warning lights everywhere Chaos, we’re in hydraulic failure.” Bob reported, there was nothing left to save.

“I can’t control it–” It was the way you said it that broke Rooster's heart as he watched you burn out. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not with everything he had left to explain. “I can’t—I’ve lost it.”

“We’re going down Chaos, we’re going in, we're going in!” Bob repeated. Automated warning signals blasting throughout the cockpit.

“You can’t save it, eject, eject!” Rooster cried, hoping his voice would break through whatever clouded panicked judgment you were experiencing. “Get outta there—“

“Eject, eject, eject!” You shouted, Bob was first to pull his emergency handles, seconds later with a solid pull—you felt yourself flying up into the air. Gasping as you flug up and out of the cockpit. It wasn’t long before the jet was barreling down into the side of the valley, exploding on impact.

Damn—that could’ve been you.

***~***~***~***~

Miramar base hospital didn't really get a lot of attention most days. The small clinic accompanied with a few surgical rooms and about a dozen in patient rooms would consider it a busy evening when you and Robert Floyd were brought in for mandatory observation. There was something off putting about being made to do something you didn't want to do. You hated being poked and prodded. Hated being in hospitals, the smell of sterilised everything, it made you feel sick, weak.

“Where is she?” Roosters' voice filled the lobby. Pete Mitchell considered himself to be a patient man, but Rooster was testing his limits. Pushing himself up from the chair he sat in as Rooster came closer—his hand stopping his trajectory by pushing against his chest. “Mav—“

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you too, but whatever it is needs to stop.” Pete grumbled as he stood before Rooster, a few inches shorter but a few decades older. “Now I've asked Y/n already and she assured me it wasn't going to be, but are you two going to be an issue going forward, or do I need to pull one of you from this program?”

“Now's not the time—where is she?” Rooster held back every single tear he wanted to cry. He’d just witness you eject from your F-18. He’d see it over and over again in his nightmares. He’d never not remember the way he felt watching you go down, thinking he was truly going to lose the love of his life, his best friend, the person who was supposed to know him better than anyone. The one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, for better or worse. And fuck things had never been wrse between you. “I just need to see her, Pete.”

“She’s with Bob, room nine.” Mavericks' voice was soft and collected as he removed his hand from Rooster. “Bradley, she’s alright, but I can't not look past whatever is going on between the two of you, it's distracting and dangerous, it's against protocol.” Rooster didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and ran down the hall, ignoring whatever Pete had to say as he followed the numbers on the doors, mostly empty until he spotted a very frazzled, very dazed Bob sitting in the corner of room nine. Stopping in his tracks as he saw you in the bed, out cold.

“They had to give her a sedative.” Bob explained as Rooster stepped into the room, his eyes immediately locked on you. Never wavering. “She wasn’t being cooperative—I was gonna leave but.” Bob paused as he choked up. “I know she wouldn’t leave me.”

“Bob I—“

“What the hell is your problem?” Bob hissed as he stood from his chair in the corner of the room. “Chaos told me what happened—“

“Yeah well, she wouldn’t let me explain that I don’t have a girlfriend!” Rooster had had a gutful. “I don’t—I wouldn’t do that to her! God I tried to explain it to her but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Full disclosure, it's none of my business and I really couldn't care less about any of it.” Bob hissed as he stood beside Rooster, both men watching as you slept. “But you look like the biggest idiot on the planet in my eyes.”

“Don't know how I'll ever recover.” Rooster replied, almost rolling his eyes. What did Bob know? Rooster didn't care about how he thought about him, all Rooster cared about was you.

“She’s in love with you, Rooster, undeniably and wholeheartedly in love with you for some unknown reason I dont think I'll ever understand.” Bob spoke softly, his own gaze watching as your chest slightly fell, you were still breathing. Good. “She told me that she’d never go back to her ex because that would be doing herself a disservice. She knew if she went back to him, she’d end up just as broken as she was left all the other times before.” That stug to know, that you had disclosed so much about him yet so little. But what hurt to know the most was that the damage Rooster had managed to unintentionally do, caused you so much pain. “But as much as she told me she hated him, she hates herself even more because she knows deep down he could put her through everything, rip her heart out, break it a million times, but for the chance of getting to feel an ounce of love–an absolutely miniscule amount of love she deserves, she’d swim across oceans and run across fire for him.” Rooster stood next to Bob as he tried to take everything in, his head throbbed. It was hard to deny he never needed you more than he did right now, never needed your reassurance more. Never needed to hear your laugh or see you smile or feel your touch more than he did right this very moment. Because watching you almost die, coming that close, Rooster finally understood he couldn't live without you even if he tried.

“I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that ex is you, Bradshaw.”

“It is now will you two be quiet?” You grumbled as you turned away onto your side. “I'm gonna press the distress button if you don't quit it.” Bob couldn't help but to laugh softly to himself as he shook his head, patting Rooster on his shoulder.

“I'm not a betting man, but if I was? I'd put a twenty on your jaw looking worse than Hangmans in about ten minutes.” Bob had to leave it at that, he knew you could take care of yourself. But that didn't stop him from just making sure that the ones who hurt you the most knew he wasn't very fond of them, regardless if you went back to them or not. Rooster dragged a chair to the side of the room you were facing. Sitting down as close to you as he possibly could without actually being in the bed with you.

“Chaos–”

“I'm calling security.” Reaching out for the remote, Rooster grabbed your wrist as his eyes grew a little wider. “Bradshaw, I'm serious, you are the last person I want in here right now.”

“Okay fine, but let me explain first.” Rooster let your wrist go. Watching as you pulled the thin cover up over your body a little more. The room as cold as your heart. “Lindsey, isnt, my, girlfriend.” Rooster put so much emphasis on the four words he wanted you to hear loud and clear. “She was a fling who is still a little obsessed.”

“I couldn't imagine why–” you snarled. Rooster chuckled as he leaned back in the armchair. Silence filling the room for a moment.

“I understand the picture you've painted of me isn't all that great.” I know I've hurt you, over and over, but I promise you–you’re it Y/n.”

“I'm no stranger to being lied to, Bradshaw, don't start this shit again.” You huffed, rolling over in the hospital bed you laid in, still medicated, still heavily sedated. But not enough to not remember Rooster was bad for you. Heavily addicted to a drug that you knew one day would be the death of you. Rooster let you roll over, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he hung his head low.

“You don't have to believe me–”

“I dont–” You didn't care that you had interrupted Rooster. You just wanted him to leave. Your back to him still as he tried to explain himself.

“But–” He continued effortlessly. “I thought I'd lost you.” The weight of Rooster's words felt like an elephant sitting on your chest. He already had? What difference did it make if you were alive or dead. “You’re all I want, you’re all I have.” Singing, you sat up, crossing your legs under the blanket that kept you warm.

“Bradley, my plan fell out of the sky today. Do you really think I give a shit about your feelings right now?” Picking at the cuticles of your nails. “There will be a day when I can look at you again without feeling sick to my stomach but today is not that day.”

“I just want you to know I didn't use you, I don't have someone wondering what I'm up to behind their back, I'm not a cheater.”

“Well I'm glad you can take that off the list of things you are.” Turning to Rooster, you held back tears as you saw him holding the broken heart necklace you'd thrown from your car. Handing it to you as you shook your head with a scoff. God he pulled out all the heartwarming stops huh.

“If you honestly think we can’t make this work. Tell me to walk away right now and I will.” You didn't respond, god you wanted to, you wanted to tell Rooster to get up and get out so badly, but you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried. “I should have told you earlier, but I would never do that to you, never–you are the only person I ever want to be with.”

“You said it yourself Bradshaw, all this bullshit? It's a chain reaction that started with you and I can’t do this ag—-“

“Lieutenant kazansky?” Before you had a chance to finish what you were saying, A gentle knock came from the door of your hospital room. Vice Admiral Beau stood with his shoulders slightly hung. A sadness in his eyes as he approached your bedside.

Remember how you thought adulthood would be one catastrophe after another? But as it turned out, catastrophe’s love to bombard you all at the same time. Well, you now had another catastrophe to add to the ever expanding list that included but wasn’t limited to, Bradley bradshaw still owning your heart, regardless of his antics. Jake Seresin and his cocky attitude, Pete Mitchell and his threats of expulsion from the detachment if you didn't get your act together, your wingman's death, and now?

“It's your father–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers​ @katieshook02​ @thescarletknight2014​ @justanothermagicalsara​ @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever​ @puriini​ @luckylexie​ @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2​ @mizzzpink​ @unforgettwble​ @itzyogurl92​ @lemoonandlestars​ @mulletmcghee​ @redqueeen99​ @bucky-barmes​ @mak-32​ @fivsecondsflat​ @loveless-simp

[lassieposting]

Hi i havent read the books post-resurrection so im kinda lost on why you dont like phase 2 val? She was easily one of my favourite characters ever, she was flawed (and the books took time to acknowledge them) and relatable and still really admirable (intelligent, brave, loyal) and i really liked her and really appreciated that she wasn’t perfect unlike every other young adult heroines. What went wrong😢😢😢😢

Okay I'm gonna put this under a cut because I very strongly dislike phase 2 val and I know it bugs people who don't feel the same, so. Dead dove dont eat

Okay so first off, phase 1 val and phase 2 val are completely different people. literally. phase 1 val was based on an ex-friend of lardo's who used to apparently be involved pretty heavily in like, editing the books and "she'd react like this" or "val wouldn't say that", and that val she was one of my favourite fictional characters from when book one came out to the release of resurrection. phase 2 val is based on his whiny little girlfriend who likes to start shit with 14yos on twitter, and you can absolutely tell she is no longer the same person. so the long story short of "what went wrong" is "the original irl val's friendship with dirty laundry ended for whatever reason and he decided to retcon her entire personality to suit his gf"

Phase 2 Val, in my opinion:

Weak, like won't even fight back when she gets jumped bc boo fucking hoo she's so awful, bitch get up already, nobody signed up for ur pity party

Whiny. So fucking whiny. All the time. And she's the POV character so it's inescapable.

"Pacifist" but in a really pathetic virtue-signalling kind of way like "Oh, I've done such terrible thiiiiiiiiiiings I'm so awfulllllllllllll look how good I'm trying to be nowwwwwwww pay attention to meeeeeeee" kind of way, it was both boring and a massive eye roll. It's a book about magic and asskicking. Kick some ass. We're here for escapism not "realistic" whining. Yes, irl she'd be a mess. As an author it's his job to strike a balance between the "realism" he wants to portray and making his readers so depressed and done with his heroine that they quit reading, and in my case, he absolutely failed.

Everything must be about her at all times. Skug is having personal problems? Fuck him, they're about her now. Everything is about how it affects her, and her feelings, and be damned to the person actually having the problem. Fucks phase 2 val cain gives about anyone except herself: 0

Bitter and jaded. Which yeah I get why but it's like jesus christ what do we get out of reading about this? It's not even good bitter and jaded where it makes you empathise or admire her strength in adversity or whatever, she's just become a really nasty person with no redeeming features that I could see. Which? Landy outright said she's based on his gf? If your boyfriend is gonna drag ur entire personality through the dirt like that and write "you" as just a collection of incredibly negative traits...yikes.

Really ungrateful about the awesome life she leads? Which bugs me bc I fucking hate mundanity and knowing that all there is to life is fucking working and bad mental health. I would kill to live her life. All she does is moan about it. Like? Quit then. Fuck off back to being a mortal if it's that bad and live the shitty life you wanted to get away from in the first place. That way we'd get no more books, and quite honestly, thank fuck for that. But anyway, she needs to pick one, stick with it, and stop complaining about whatever she chose.

The girl wallows in self pity. And if someone else isn't indulging her enough, she'll wallow harder and louder and more obviously. Yawn.

Her POV is now so depressing to read that Resurrection literally tanked my mental health. I'm not kidding. I fell off the self-harm wagon, the suicidal thoughts came back, reading her dissociating would make me dissociate, I just did not cope whatsoever. Being in her head was just like being in my head during my worst points, and I hate myself, so naturally, I hate her too. Like I get why some people like phase two val. I get that her depression is "realistic" and that trauma does just make some people completely dislikeable and self-pitying, and if people want to read about that, then...sure. you do you, my dudes. But I live that reality, I am that person whose trauma made her a dysfunctional, isolated bitch, and I hate, passionately, having it infest the media I consume to escape.

Essentially if I wanted to engage with a bitter, spiteful, depressed piece of shit in her 20s who pushes everyone away and sucks at everything, I'd live my gd life. Yall see me tryna engage with my real life? Hell nah I'm on tumblr dot com burying my head up the ass of whatever fandom will force my brain to produce some s e r o t o n i n and that is what I need this series for

Also? The dynamic she had with skug in phase one? "Until the end"? "You save me, I save you, that's how we work"? Forget that, it doesn't exist anymore. I stopped reading after Midnight, because she was written like he was a coworker she could barely tolerate. They went from "Lardo confirms on twitter that they talked on the phone a bunch while she was in america and he'd always ask her to come home" to "she comes home and proceeds to blank him for five months while she sits in her fuckin multimillionaire's mansion feeling sorry for herself". Their friendship completely disintegrated, they were totally separated for most of the book, she's written as not giving a single shit about him. She treated him like dirt, and their dynamic basically felt like it was becoming "Local Man With History Of Gravitating Towards Abusive Women Makes Same Terrible Choices For Fifth Time" and? that was the point of no return to me. he supports her unconditionally, no matter what he's going through at the time, he's walked on broken bones to try and get to her when she was in danger, she can tell him anything and he'd never use it against her. I did not, for one second in phase two, believe she felt the same about him. tbh it felt like she could - and wanted to - drop him at the first opportunity and not even feel bad about it, and that's not the dynamic that made me so emotionally attached to phase one. i signed up for "until the end", not whatever bullshit phase two has going on.

Apparently she's "less depressed" now and their relationship is "better" in the books published since midnight, which! might well be true. but I haven't read them and don't intend to, and she's gone from one of my favourite fictional characters ever (which! was impressive! because i almost never bond with the female lead - i normally get attached exclusively to the character i crush on, which would be skug here. val was the first female lead i actually cared about since xena! so im deeply salty about losing her!) to a character i? honestly prefer to pretend doesn't exist. i live in war era dead men/generals crackship land because that way, i don't have to acknowledge her or the fuckin character assassination phase 2 pulled on her.

so yeah, no hate towards phase one val at all. phase one val was awesome and flawed and gave me something to aspire to despite my shitty mental health and trauma, and if she'd kept her original personality she might still have been those things. but the original "real life" val is no longer involved (and doesn't talk to landy at all anymore, apparently), and the val based on landy's insufferable gf? i cannot get behind her at all ever, four for skug and none for phase two val cain bye

(tldr; you're not missing anything by quitting after spx)

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) [2] | t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 5.35k

Warnings: swearing, angst/pining, allusion to abusive past relationships, PTSD mention

Summary: It’s possible Tom would have outgrown the crush, but after one night where feelings were confessed and tears were shed, everything changed. And the worst of it all is that the two of you don’t talk about it, or even acknowledge that it happened. But that’s how it always goes right? It’s good until it’s not.

A/N: This part is a flashback to the night Tom alludes to in part one (see summary above). This is just some exposition to explain their relationship and past. I also just want to say a huge thank you for such a great reaction to my writing so far. It’s something I used to be so passionate about and it feels lovely to get back into it :) Let me know your thoughts, or if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

part one || part two || part three

eighteen months ago

Tom and you are sat on the couch, tangled up in your favorite blanket with Iron Man 2 playing in the background. Zendaya is away on a family trip, so naturally you and Tom are spending the whole weekend watching your favorite movies and eating lots of takeout. It’s not too different from your usual time spent together, but it’s always nice to not feel like you’re bugging her. You’re about tell him the things you’ve learned in your psychology class this week, but instead he’s trying to get you to thumb wrestle him, determined to win. 

“Okay, you know what? You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie! The second one isn’t even my favorite and now you’re thumb wrestling me instead of even watching it,” you say exasperated, though the grin on your face shows you’re enjoying your time together all the same.

“Well, you’re the one that wanted to talk instead of watch so technically this is all your fault. I just want something to do while you tell me about… about, uh,” he pauses, long enough for you to tuck his thumb under yours.

“About arousal theory,” you finish, knowing he won’t remember what you’ve been trying to tell him the past five minutes.

“Oh, now all of a sudden I’m interested, continue,” he grins at you, putting his hand under his chin to (dramatically) show he’s averted his full attention to you.

“If you were paying attention, you would know that’s not at all what that means, Tommy,” you laugh, and face away from him to watch the movie.

“Well, if it was maybe then--” he’s cut off by your phone ringing and vibrating on the coffee table. 

The caller ID shows a picture of your friend George that lights up the screen. Since most people don’t opt for calling, especially in your friend group, you answer quickly. 

“Hello?” You question, nervous something’s wrong with him or another of your friends.

“Y/N!” He excitedly shouts in your ear, so much so that you have to take it away from your ear. At least now you know there’s nothing wrong but your bleeding eardrums.

“I tried calling Tom’s phone but it went straight to voicemail! I’ve got some exciting news and I figured he’s with you though, yeah?” He continues to shout over the noise on his side. 

“I’ll put you on speakerphone,” you reply and do just that, before you place it on the coffee table. 

“Is there a congratulations in order?” Tom asks, a knowing smile on his face. You look at Tom, confused as to what he is talking about.

“Hell yeah there is! She cried and I cried but she said yes! Her family is over right now but the whole gang is coming over for celebratory drinks later, are ya in?” George asks, and you quickly connect the dots.

“Wait, you proposed to Gwen?! And you didn’t tell me? And more importantly, you didn’t ask for my help?” You question in quick succession, because as resident hopeless romantic, you should really be the first one your friends come to for things like this. 

You then turn to Tom who’s chuckling at your excitement, and now you’re yelling at him, “but you knew? And didn’t tell me either?!” 

You chuck a pillow at him, which he dodges before laughing harder at. He ignores you and leans towards the phone to reply to George’s invitation.

“We’ll be there, George. Just text me the details, oh and tell Gwen she’s a div for saying yes,” Tom replies, laughing when George replies with a ‘sure thing!’ before hanging up. He’s so excited he didn’t even register Tom’s comment as a jab, or needing a comeback (which is especially amusing considering how quippy George usually is). 

Gwen and George are a few years older than the rest of your friend group, so you’re a little unsynchronized in your points in life but they’re close friends with you all nonetheless. They have been going out since before anyone in your group has known them. They’re high school sweethearts, best friends, lovers and everything in between. They’ve been through so much in all their time together. They had been told they would never last for the first four years of their relationship. When they ended up on opposite coasts since George left to a startup business and Gwen stayed home to go to culinary school, they were told that one of them would cheat if they didn’t get bored of the distance and each other before then. When they ended up on the same coast in recent years, people assumed Gwen wouldn’t want to stay with him as he wasn’t making much money and had yet to pop the question. Neither Gwen or George paid any mind to any opinions or judgements and were happy taking their time. They were secure with where they were at and whether a shiny ring on her finger and piece of paper happened tomorrow or years in the future, it didn’t matter to either of them when it happened when they knew how they felt.

Now two years later, George’s business has taken off, they live upstate in a nice apartment with their sweet little French bulldog and they’re stable enough to plan the big, romantic wedding they both want. It’s heartwarming every time either of them tells you about their story, or talks about each other at all. Which is why you’re pissed you’re only finding out now. 

“I cannot believe you didn’t even tell me,” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest with your eyes trained on the TV, “you’re shit at keeping secrets, but this one you decide to not tell me.”

“You’re just jealous that he came to me advice rather than you,” he grins, laying his head in your lap to look up at you.

“Well yeah! You’re not even into all that lovey-dovey, romantic stuff, I am. When you dated that girl last year you couldn’t even think of a gift to give her for Christmas, I had to pick one out. And Harry said you never even said ‘I love you’ to any of your girlfriends growing up and I’ve never heard you say that either.” you pout at the TV, despite not paying attention because it’s just your excuse to not look down at him.

Except that he is into all that lovey-dovey stuff. Or at least he has been since he met you. It’s cheesy, but it’s like you’ve lent him the rose-colored glasses you see the world through and he’s eternally grateful for it. Of course, it helps that he’s in love with you and watching you admire romance and the idea of a fairytale ending is enough to make anyone fall just as hard as he has. But all of that is just too heavy considering you’ve only recently returned to your usual self. Tom can’t be selfish and risk hurting you when you’ve only just begun to heal from your shitty ex-boyfriend. What you need now is your friend and so instead of any declaration of love, he jokes with you. 

“Guess the ladies love me because I love hard enough in other ways,” he says, winking at you.

“I live across the hall, so I know definitely not hard enough, Holland” you retort back, grabbing the last pillow on the couch to throw at his face. 

--

The both of you are in Tom’s car, on the way to Gwen and George’s apartment. The setting sun streams through the passing trees, while Tom’s playlist (the one full of all the songs you like, that he’ll always deny was made specifically for you) plays throughout the car. 

Tom glances at you as you lean your head against the window. You’ve been silent the whole car ride. Not singing along to your favorite song or blabbering about the romance of the engagement, which is unbelievably out of character. He turns down the volume on the stereo so it’s quiet enough to hear the wind whip against the car.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions, sneaking a glance at you before returning his eyes to the road, pulling onto their street.

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, making him think you didn’t hear him. He pulls into a parking spot, thankful for not having to parallel park, and is about to repeat the question when you finally reply.

“Nothing important.” You say and of course Tom doesn’t believe it. Before he can question the honesty of your reply, you’re opening the passenger door and beginning to walk up to their apartment. 

Tom takes the keys out of the ignition and exits the car, quick to catch up to you. It's colder upstate, allowing the snow to form a thick blanket on the ground. It’s fresh and fluffy, effectively dampening all ambient sound outside. While he really wants to ask you again, he can tell you’re not ready to talk yet so he stays silent on the walk up to the apartment building as well as the elevator ride up.

You reach to knock on the door, greeted immediately by George. 

“Hey guys! I’m glad you could make it,” he smiles, practically beaming. They’ve both always known it was in the cards for them to get engaged and of course married, but damn if he wasn’t ecstatic about it finally happening.

“Gwen’s in the living room, on her fourth glass of champagne so naturally she’s already started her own acapella concert in there,” he tells you, looking absolutely smitten just thinking about his future bride, even as a drunk, goofy mess.

“Oh, and Jacob brought some celebratory cigars and since you were such a huge part in helping me plan this, I’d love if you’d join me for one,” George offers Tom.

Tom looks towards you, not wanting to leave when your mood seems off like this. He doesn’t want to flat out say no to George, but you can tell this is his silent way of asking.

“You can go, I’m gonna go see Gwen. I hate the smell of them anyways,” you reassure him with a smile and congratulate George before walking through the apartment to find her.

Gwen is surrounded by people talking to her and congratulating her but as soon as she sees you, she comes running.

“Y/N! Hi! I’m engaged!” She shouts despite the music not being at a loud volume, champagne in one hand and flashing the other with the ring on it at you.

“I know you did, that’s why I came,” you reply with a smile, leaning in to greet your tipsy friend with a hug.

For a while you’re chatting with her and some other friends, not really as energetic as you would be but most people have been here longer than you and are already a little tipsy, so no one notices. You’re in the middle of half-listening to one of Gwen’s co-workers tell all of you about their upcoming trip to somewhere you don’t really care about, when a hand is placed on your back. 

“Do you mind if I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?” He asks and he’s behind you but you can just tell he’s got on a charming smile (but isn’t it always charming to you?)

All of the intoxicated girls grin at his English accent and endearing smile, nodding simultaneously and encouraging him to take you away. You think one may have even said ‘hell, you can take me!’, but regardless, Tom utters a thank you regardless. With his hand in yours, he leads you through the apartment and onto the balcony. The smell of cigar smoke lingers outside and the night air is chilling against your bare arms, having left your jacket inside.

“You brought me away from friends, free booze and the warmth of the indoors to… have me smell some cigar smoke?” You joke, arms hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm.

“You’re being weird,” he replies before sliding glass door shut, blocking out the music and talking from inside. 

“Excuse me?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “so you’re gonna force me to be cold, smell cigar smoke, and call me weird? I’m going inside then.”

“Okay I’m sorry for saying you’re being weird,” he says quickly, “But, can you please sit down with me? You can even have my jacket,” he offers, and shrugs it off to hand to you.

You eye the jacket, then the table, before grabbing his coat and sitting down. Bundling yourself up in his warm jacket, the smoke scent lingers on his coat, but it's mixed with his familiar cologne and that’s enough to be comforting. 

“I just, I really love engagements and romance and I realize I haven’t really been excited for two of my closest friends when that’s all tonight is about. It’s just kind of weird behavior on my part and I wanted to talk to you about it,” Tom replies dramatically (the damned acting major).

You look down at the table because you know exactly what he’s doing. Really, it’s hard not to, he knows how stubborn you are and reads you better than anyone, so voices his concern this way. If he says something flat out, you don’t really have a chance to deny it.

“Oh, no wait. That’s you.” He finishes his sentence and pulls out the chair on the opposite side of the table to sit down in.

“Haha, that never gets old.” You reply sarcastically, running your fingers across the glass that covers the top of the table.

He places his hand atop of yours, stilling your movements. You look up to him, unblinking and expressionless. 

“Really, N/N what’s wrong? You were excited earlier and you’re practically the president of the Gwen/George fan club so if you don’t get excited, they’re going to find another leader.” He jokes but stops when you don’t smile.

“It’s nothing,” you reply, biting at your cheek. You’re trying your best to not rain on their parade, and no one notices but Tom. But if he keeps pushing, you’re not going to be able to hold your stupid emotions in. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he reprimands, squeezing your hand, “you know you can tell me anything.”

You look at the closed door and no one else is out here, or paying attention and Tom is your best friend, and maybe if you talk about it, you’ll be able to enjoy the party.

“Sometimes I just worry it will never happen for me,” you start, looking down at your hands, “getting married I mean. Or anything relatively close, like finding someone who loves me long enough to even stay more than a few months…”

“And I know I’m only 23, and they’re 28 so they’re at a different point in their life and they’ve been going out forever but..” you pause, and Tom doesn’t interrupt, just listens. 

“After what happened with him, I’m scared of ever trying again. More than that, I think I just feel like that maybe that’s the best I’ll ever get, or even deserve,” you finish, with tears welling up in your eyes, and you look away, out over the balcony. 

Tom gets up and you close your eyes, letting the tears fall because maybe he thinks you’re selfish for making this night about you somehow and he’s leaving. But instead, he pulls you up out of the chair and brings you to his chest and holds you tightly. You stay like that for a while, until the tears slow to a stop and your breathing has slowed to normal. 

“Why would you ever think that’s the best you’ll get?” he asks and you look up at him, expecting some sort of joke because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“Why wouldn’t I? I must deserve it in some regard after how deeply and unapologetically he hurt me. After all that happened and how long it went on for, it's hard not to think somehow, it’s my fault. I must have done something wrong.” The tears are welling in your eyes again, threatening to fall.

“You cannot seriously believe that,” He softly rubs his hands up and down your arms, “hey, look at me.”

He puts his hand under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. 

“Why would you ever think you deserve the kind of treatment he gave you?” He questions, and then repeats himself when you don’t answer, gingerly as though speaking too loud would scare you away.

“He wasn’t all bad,” you reply meekly, biting the inside of your cheek, “sometimes he--”

Tom cuts you off, “No, there’s no ‘sometimes’ for treating someone you’re supposed to love well, it’s not something you need to earn or something that’s rationed. He was a dick all the time, he just pretended not to be sometimes to manipulate you into staying.” 

Your heart throbs at the blunt veracity of his words. Deep, deep down, under everything that has happened, all of the trauma and damage done, you know it’s true. Internally you’ve just been at a constant tug of war, trying to rationalize all that happened. Was he in love with you at all? Did you do something to make him hurt you like he did? Could you have fixed him? Was he good under it all and just hurting? Did you imagine it all? Were you not good enough in the end, even for him? 

“Why manipulate me into staying if he was the one who ended up leaving in the end?” you question, and his own heart hurts at your words.

Tom’s not sure what to say because he saw your ex leave you and come back so many times. Saw how it slowly chipped away at you each time. When someone does that to you, time and time again, it takes away all your power. You feel helpless and like you can’t go on and the only thing you can do is wait for them to come back. While all of that makes Tom furious, and he wishes you were the one who dumped that asshole because he deserved it, he instead says what will best comfort you.

“Because he’s a blind idiot. But it’s probably the kindest thing he’s done your whole relationship,” he replies, before moving his hand from under your chin to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, “and I know that sounds insensitive because you hurt for so long and you’re just getting over it, but it’s true.” 

“You’ll find someone who fulfills all of those fairytale expectations, because you shouldn't settle for less and you don’t have to. Someone who is kind, and cares for you, and appreciates everything you are and have to offer. I’m not saying it will take away all the hurt you have felt, but they will love you so deeply that you’ll wonder how you ever thought you deserved any less,” he promises, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

He wants to say he’s that someone, confess the way he felt about you since the very beginning but that’s not what you need now. Instead he gives you one last squeeze and brings you down inside, out of the cold. He’s gotten you to at least talk about it and that at least means you won’t hide yourself away, hurting and staying silent in an attempt to not burden anyone. Not that you could ever be a burden, not to Tom.

It hurts a little less when you have someone like Tom by your side. Maybe people look at you two and think he’s suffering from white knight syndrome, like you need to rescued because you’re a damsel in distress. Maybe they think you love him because he’s doing the saving and you love him for such a shallow reason. Except it’s not that, you’re just healing on your own with your best friend being there to support you and love you. It is deeper than a fleeting attraction because someone has helped you. This love is patient, kind and unwavering. As cheesy as it sounds, Tom is someone you fell for slowly, and then all at once. You went to bed one night thinking of him as your best friend and woke up the next with the thought crossing your mind while you were in the shower; ‘I love my best friend so much’ and by the time you were done rinsing away your shampoo, you realized ‘shit, I love him’.

After that it was all you could think of for weeks, noticing all the ways he cared for you. Something as simple as asking if you had gotten enough sleep last night or giving you the cherry from his drinks because you love them so much. The way he locks eyes with you in a boring lecture to make sure you’re awake, the way his hand immediately grabs yours in crowds. Picking up your favorite chips when he goes grocery shopping, just so he always has them in the cupboard for you even though he doesn’t like them. The way he doesn’t just tolerate the things you like, and he doesn’t but gets excited for them simply because he likes seeing you enjoy things. The two of you are the other’s first person to tell both good and bad news alike to. The two of you may fight but neither of you are too embarrassed to admit you’re in the wrong to the other. He makes mundane things like getting gas or going grocery shopping entertaining. While you should be scared of him leaving or being hurt again, you’ve trusted him for so long with matters regarding your heart, it only seems right that he’s the one you trust to hold your it and not harm it. But you don’t want him to think he’s a rebound from the man who’s broken your heart only months ago, because it is so much deeper than that. Your love for him is so much deeper than that. So, you keep quiet, loving him silently.

You both have fallen so deeply into each other, but both too worried about caring for the other to say anything and tonight isn’t any different. The rest of the night is spent celebrating your friends’ engagement: dancing and drinking the night away. The two of you exchange longing glances throughout the entire evening, scared to break the silence regarding your feelings.

—

Tom pulls into your own apartment complex, parking before glancing over at you. Your eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, high heels in your lap while you’re curled up in the passenger seat. Tom unbuckles, reaching his hand over to softly shake your shoulder in an attempt to wake you gently. You continue your slumber, unphased by his disturbance.

“Y/N,” he calls softly. You’re still sleeping soundly, and you look so peaceful that Tom can’t help but reach over and tuck your hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger there.

Out of all the ways you could wake up, this could very well be the creepiest way to, Tom thinks. His thought must have manifested it because your eyes flutter open slowly. While he thinks to withdraw his hand and pretend he wasn’t just thinking about how breathtaking his best friend is (and how in love with her he is), you instead lean into his hand.

“Mm, hello,” you mumble, blinking to adjust to the darkness of the car. The few streetlights lining the parking lot let in just enough light for you to see his lovely face. Tom hasn’t shut off the car yet so heat is still on and his (really, your) playlist continues playing at a low volume.

“We’re home,” he says gently, trying not to be too loud as you shake off the effects of sleep.

The words make you feel warm, hearing him say ‘home’, despite the fact that you’ve definitely referred to the general complex as ‘home’ before. Maybe it’s just the circumstances; him waking you up tenderly from a night spent out together, like you’re lovers and he’s waking you so you can go inside to the bed you both share.

“Oh, okay,” you reply, rubbing at your eyes despite the presence of makeup.

“Want me to carry you up?” He asks, innocently enough. Except that it just furthers that fantasy of being together: being carried up to your home together.

“I mean, because you’re tired and you’ve had a bit to drink everything,” he quickly adds, “and I know they’re the lace up ones and you hate doing them up.” He points to the heels in your lap.

Of course, he’s just being his usual sweet self. He’s heard you complain about these shoes enough and knows the only reason you wear them is because you say the way they look is worth the effort. But he also knows when you’re drunk and the shoes come off, you’re past the point of no return and you’ll only ever get less put together, not more. Because he remembers things like that.

The thudding in your chest quiets a little, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He turns off the car and gets out to walk around to your side. He opens the passenger door and grabs your shoes from you and allows you to wrap your hands around his neck. He adjusts his hold on you so he’s carrying you bridal style (great, that helps your romantic mindset) and you bury your face into his chest, telling yourself its only to shield your eyes from the change in lighting. He places you on the floor, since you’re safe from the slushy snow outside now. While he wishes he could have you in his arms the whole way up, there’s no reason for it and it would look strange since you’re just friends.

You walk barefoot beside him to the elevator, both of you silent on your way up. You’ve managed to make it home before 2 AM, but the hall and the whole complex is peacefully silent. When you reach your apartment, you both begin talking at the same time.

“I just wanted to say—”

“I hope you know—”

“Oh sorry, you go.”

“No, it’s okay, you go.”

You both laugh quietly as not to wake any of your neighbors, until Tom gestures for you to go ahead first.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For talking to me about everything tonight. And for not thinking I was absolutely awful to be thinking about myself during Gwen and George’s happy night,” you glance down at your bare feet, shy at tonight’s actions.

“You don’t have to apologize,” and he continues before you can interrupt, “you really don’t. I know you and so I know it wasn’t something you did out of selfishness.”

He reaches for your hand and holds it between you two, while the other reaches up to stroke your cheek, which you lean into again. It’s an intimate gesture he doesn’t usually do, but has managed twice tonight, and it feels like walking the line of friendship and lovers.

“You deserve so much better than anything he ever gave you, or anything anyone has ever given you. You deserve the world and I can’t believe you would ever think otherwise. I will always fight for your fairytale ending, even if you give up or think you don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swells and you want to thank him for all that he’s saying, but he only continues.

“I always want you to feel like you can talk to me, because I will always be here because I, I lo-“ he stops himself and your heart begins thudding again, because maybe he feels the same way you do.

“I-I look out for you. And you look out for me, right?” he finishes, his voice unsteady and you’re beyond disappointed.

You rest your hand atop the hand of his that cups your face.

Despite how nervous you feel, and how clammy your hands are getting and the thumping in your chest, you look into his eyes bravely and ask, “Tom, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, you’re my—”

“No. I am asking you; do you love me?”

When he doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no you decide to make the first move. You lean in to kiss him, but quickly his hands pull out of yours, pressing gently against your shoulders. Your brain goes into full panic mode: you cannot believe you misread the signals so badly, you cannot believe you tried to kiss your best friend. You turn away from him, fumbling with your keys and shoving the apartment key into the lock, shoving it in, scrambling to escape from this mess.

Tom certainly isn’t drunk since he had to drive home but the emotion bubbling inside of his chest is far more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol could be. He’s grasping at words, trying to try to express what he’s feeling right now but his thoughts are jumbled and clouded.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, walking to follow you into your apartment, desperate to explain himself.

Your turn around, pressing your hand against his chest, leaving it there for a moment, not meeting his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to hold your hands or assure you in any way, so you turn around to enter your apartment. You close the door softly and turn the lock, and maybe that’s scarier than you slamming the door in anger. You press your forehead to the door, eyes closed and attempting not to feel all that you are right now, as deeply as you are. You could not be more thankful for Zendaya’s family trip as she is unable to see the stupid attempt at an advance. She is not here to pretend that what you did wasn’t stupid, or that you didn’t make the biggest mistake.

You’re frustrated and annoyed that you’re hurting like this. You’re frustrated that you were stupid enough to think you’re not a broken mess, that you’re deserving of him, of love. Of course he doesn’t want anything more than friendship from you, he’s seen the train wreck that is your love life. Why would he willingly dive into that mess?  To soften the ache in your heart you tell yourself that it’s better this way, you tell yourself you haven’t felt this way for as long as you have, that it's just the alcohol and the influence of the romance of your friend’s engagement. You pretend that you don’t feign sleep on Saturday mornings to stay in his arms just a little bit longer. Those longing glances at him from across the room at parties or class don’t happen. Even more, the times where he catches you and smiles before joining you, and makes you laugh and nothing else matters doesn’t happen either. All those times he comforts you and says things that straddle that line of friendship, and you just so badly want to say something back or kiss him, those don’t happen either. You’re friends and that’s it. Friendship is safer, it won’t end in your heart broken, and a little bit of Tom in that way is better than all of him romantically. You’ll settle for loving him softly and quietly, like a friend would, and you ignore the way your chest hurts like you’ve just lost the love of your life as you fall asleep that night.

Tom is left outside of your door, stunned at all that has happened. You are hurt, alone and without your best friend and the fact that he is the cause of it is what hurts him the most. He may have had a few drinks (and barely slept that night), he remembers it vividly. He doesn’t for a moment question the authenticity of his memories when you pretend like nothing happened the next day. 

Taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @martinafigoli​

[wlw-love-stories-blog]

25 year old trans lesbian here to spread some much needed trans lesbian related positivity ♡ My story isn’t the happiest, but it ended up going ok in the end (well, not quite the end) :)

15-21 I dated my first (cis) ex. Yes, it was a long ass time, especially considering she was abusive. She was bi but preferred men (and admitted it). This preference would be fine, except when I came out when I was 17, she guilt tripped me over “taking her boyfriend away”. She was hot and then cold: sometimes she was attracted to me, other times she expressed disgust in me. It became worse as I was more public with my trans identity. It didn’t end here, she did much worse things to earn the title of “abusive”, even before I came out (but that brought out her abusive tendencies more). Eventually she moves across the country and doesn’t have it in her to keep up an LDR. I was too scared to suggest breaking up myself due to her tendency to guilt trip, but when she suggested it, I didn’t resist at all to say the least lol

The rest of 21: I’m single, and recovering from the past 6 years of my life. Sometimes I miss my ex, even though she was terrible for me. Sometimes I want another girlfriend, sometimes I feel like I should never date anyone again. I struggle with the word “lesbian” with regards to myself. I felt like I hadn’t “earned” the label in more ways than 1 :/

22: I spend part of this year dating a cis pan girl. She’s pretty cute, and we had things in common, but without getting explicit, romance/sex is awkward. It’s partially because I feel disgusting next to her (no thanks to my ex but mostly due to dysphoria), but partially because she just… didn’t get dysphoria. You could tell it was an elephant in the room for her. How do I deal with my girlfriend shying away from my touch at times? Is it because she thinks I’m ugly? Both of our insecurities wear into the relationship, until it eventually falls apart. It would have been better if we stayed friends, and I regret not staying friends because I lost a perfectly good friendship, since she felt awkward being around me after. :( 

23-24: Dated this lovely girl. Was questioning whether she was non-binary, but felt comfortable being called my girlfriend. She’s more understanding of my dyshoria, having struggled with it herself at times, but I still struggled a lot with jealousy. I’d cuddle with her and feel like a hulking giant around her since she was 5'1" and I was 5'11", and it would set off my dyshoria. When we held hands I noticed the way my hand engulfed hers. :/ I knew in my heart taller women existed, but it was tough not to feel shitty. :( Seeing her in outfits like mine (we were both a similar brand of femme lol) made me feel so ugly in comparison. Again, without being too graphic, our differing bodies made sex unbelievably dysphoria inducing. Sometimes I’d cry in the middle. For reasons that were partially due to this and partially due to her own issues, we grew apart romantically. We’re still good friends today, but she’s taking a break from the dating scene. I do wish her the best, and it’s good to have a good relationship with a fellow wlw even if we’re not dating ♡

End of 24 till now (and beyond). I find a lovely trans woman online. She’s also a lesbian, but more purposely androgynous, she also identifies with “futch”. Turns out she lives about an hour away, and the drive isn’t so bad to see someone so great. ♡ We’re looking to hopefully find an apartment together in 2018. Even if god forbid she leaves, I’ve decided trans exclusive lesbianism and embracing my identity as a twltw (trans woman loving trans woman) is the right path for me. Not that I can’t make great friends with people of all genders and sexualities, but I feel “right” with trans women. I feel understood. I feel a special connection :) ♡ Our bodies feel more “right” together, whatever that means. ✌️ Unfortunately lots of people would find us undesirable, but hey, we have each other! And to me, I can’t see her as being anything but gorgeous. :) But my post has gotten long enough, so I’ll stop gushing for now lol.

I hope all wlw have a lovely day, but a special shout out to my fellow trans lesbians!!

[goodvibesnanxiety-blog]

“Why Do You Overthink So Much?”

Why do I overthink? or  Why does anyone over think? 

Today, someone asked me why I even liked them. And of course, for me, that’s an easy thing I will gladly answer. So I gave him a list of the reasons. General things.. makes me happy, laugh, accepts me etc. And in return, I asked the same exact question. He responded with “Too many reasons. You’re freaking gorgeous baby” In my psycho ass head, my first reaction was “Damn ok, he only likes me for my looks” So I asked. “Is that the only reason??”. And he responded with “Why do you overthink so much!! I know you have trust issues but baby you gotta relax”. That hit me hard. I had been trying so hard not to let him see that side of me - the side that worries and needs that constant reassurance, but he noticed. He’s brought it up before.. when I “joke” about how he only wants me for sex… yeah I’m joking, but in my head I secretly want him to say no baby, I want you for you. It’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever said out loud to myself. And when he noticed, he said: “do you honestly believe that.. because you keep saying it”. I laughed it off like it wasn’t anything. So today when he asked me that, I wanted to turn my phone off and never answer. I was so embarrassed.

How do I explain to someone I  potentially have a future with, why I overthink? 

Me personally? A few reasons. 

The first is that I have really bad anxiety, it used to be awful. I couldn’t breathe on a daily basis just stressing over things I had no control over or worrying about everyone else. It took over my life. I couldn’t do anything or go anywhere without feeling anxiety. I’m constantly thinking the worst of people and situations when I don’t need to and there’s no reason to. As much as I hate to admit it, I need reassurance. Not just from a relationship standpoint, but my family and friends as well. I’m always making sure everyone is happy and good, God forbid they be mad at me for something. Then I try and do everything in my power to fix it. Sometimes I forget about me and making myself happy. 

Second, I’ve been through shitty relationships. Not playing the “poor me” card by any means. I put up with it, I got myself into the situations, and no it isn’t fair to hold that against anyone new in my life. It’s a reaction that I wish I could control. Anyone that begins to treat me right or want to be with me I think there’s something wrong or I’m always waiting for shit to hit the fan. Like it’s too good to be true. Sometimes I end up screwing it up my self because I get too worried and ask too many questions and I ruin it. I think my past two relationships have a lot to do with why I think like I do.

Previous Ex - emotionally abused me every day for 10 months. he made me feel like I was worthless and every single thing that came out of my mouth was wrong. I couldn’t ask him anything, I couldn’t talk to him about my problems, he would tell me to “shut the fuck up” or “stop fucking talking” or “why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone and let me sleep”, “go the fuck to sleep”, “you don’t know who you’re dealing with, little girl”, “get the fuck out of my house”. The list goes on and on. I was constantly worried I would say the wrong thing or piss him off and when he got pissed off it was brutal. One night, after he had been drinking, he told me “shut the fuck up, you make me want to blow my goddamn brains out”. I never felt so belittled in my life. This person that I did everything for thought of me this way. I didn’t understand it. How can I be so good to him and try so hard to make him happy and walk on eggshells trying not to make him upset.. and this is the response I get. It messed me up, more than I realized at the time. It’s scary to think that one person can affect you like this, but they do and they will, only if you allow them. I should’ve been stronger, but I wasn’t. Instead, I stuck with it. And I think the main reason I did is that I didn’t feel like I deserved any different. I know that I’m a handful and can be too much sometimes, I’m in no way perfect. After so long of hearing the hurtful things he said I believed it. And I settled. He has a lot to do with why I’m always so nervous and scared that someone is going to walk away. He ended it after I asked him to come to Thanksgiving with my family. Understandable I guess, but there wasn’t even a good reason except “I’m not ready for this, but I have feelings for you”. Worst cop out in the books. I was literally never good enough. When in reality, he wasn’t good enough for me. I settled in more ways than one. He was a low life, trashy, pothead who had no goals or ambition in his life. He killed mine. He literally put the light out in my soul. I was a lazy, dull, dark human being. After 10 months of nothing but arguing and drinking the problems away instead of dealing with them, I had enough. It was tough to finally let go, because I, being human, cared. It was the best decision I made regarding that relationship.

A Past Ex - we were together solid for a year, off and on for two. he was my best friend, yes. But he wasn’t good for me. In the beginning and even towards the end, we were inseparable. We did everything together. We laughed, we had jokes, we were perfect.. to some degree. I loved him with my whole heart. But it took him a year to commit to me. A year of dragging me along, sleeping with me, not speaking to me for weeks and then pulling me back in for round whatever. It was all on his terms. And I was always there for him. Always at his beck and call. I was weak. Finally, he let me in and we began a relationship. Shortly after we moved in together. About 5 months in, we constantly argued about everything. We would scream and throw things and tell each other to get the fuck out. A lot of the arguing was on my part. Being immature and not ready for the relationship we thought we could have. We lived together, big mistake. He had different ideas and views on things than me and I couldn’t get used to it. He would lie to me about what he was doing because he didn’t want me to get mad. In my opinion, that’s never the answer. I would rather someone tell me straight up than lie and hurt me more. He used to be a pothead. He quit when we started dating. But a part of him never really wanted to and he held that over my head our entire relationship. In the end, it had gotten rough. We went on a cruise and he drank so much he couldn’t stand on our last night. He was throwing things, slamming me up against the wall, punching the wall, loud enough to where my family was alarmed and trying to bust down the door. He never hit me, he wouldn’t do that. But the alcohol had consumed him. 2 months later he threw me a birthday party, and shit hit the fan. We were yelling and throwing things. I threw a chair at him and he came at me. My best friend had to hold me back. There were drinks thrown, people shoved and hurt. The night ended with him smoking weed in our driveway. I found out of course, and he denied it. Then owned up to it. Trust issues. It wasn’t even about the weed, it was the fact he lied to me. Repeatedly. Two weeks later I made a mistake. I went out with a girlfriend and ended up kissing another guy. When I woke up the next day and she told me what happened I didn’t believe her. I would never do that to anyone. Wrong. Well, I told him. Because I can’t hold something like that in. I was devastated. Mortified. I had never done something so hurtful. Well, when I did he thought he would get over it and two days later he couldn’t. So he left. He walked out of our home and didn’t come back until a week later to get his things. He wouldn’t have a conversation about it, couldn’t even look at me. I understood, but it hurt. 

Those are my two serious relationships besides my 4 years with my high school boyfriend. He and I were your typical first love scenario. It just didn’t work out. We had our issues, but nothing that damaged or affected me like this. He was good, I was good, we loved each other in the most innocent way. 

I’m not sure why I am the way I am. I constantly have to screenshot messages and get advice from my best friends and mom before I can even respond sometimes, I have anxiety attacks at work just thinking of what “might happen”.. when in reality there have been no signs of anything remotely close of that happening. It’s a subconscious reaction that I hate about myself. I’m always finding myself questioning every single thing, every act of kindness, every sweet word, every short response, every kiss goodbye. I’m screwed up. I don’t feel like I deserve anyone to be this great to me, or make me feel this way. I am constantly looking for something wrong and waiting for someone to leave me. I’m not insecure, but in a way I guess I am.. I don’t feel good enough to get a good one. I look at my friends, and they’re so sure of themselves and confident. And if someone leaves they leave no big deal, but when I like/love someone it almost kills my spirit when I lose them. So I find myself coming up with excuses to see someone, or planning out in advance when they probably hate planning…like most guys do. I get nervous waiting for them to call/text me after I leave or our date or whatever it might be. I need an extreme amount of reassurance. I’ve been praying to God to help me be patient and confident and to accept the way things are and not rush it and not be so psychotic in the head. It doesn’t seem to be working. 

I thought if I wrote it all out it would give me some kind of answer. 

I honestly want to be confident and strong going through this process. 

It’s a relationship for gods sakes.

[kaw-aakari-blog]

OMG LOOOOOOOOL imma post this on here bc I literally give 0 fucks anymore, brace yourselves: So. I was with someone for eight months (turns out they WERE NOT the person I thought they were at all) and yeah I was happy ish I guess, like happy with them but my life was falling apart in other aspects of my life like grandad dying, the past catching up with me, my home life being shite etc. Anywho I tried to forget that aspect and try and focus on my relationship to try and be happy for the first time in my life. Things were going swell, it took a lot for me to say yes to being his girlfriend bc like i hate relationships and commitment and people always hurt people and that's just life blah de blah de blah. But I did. We did things like go to the beach, go out for dinner, london, camden, museums, london eye etc etc. I was happy with him. Rewind a tad: I introduced him to my best friend (at the time, we weren't as close when we left college) and we went to camden, me him her and another friend from college. Was a great day except the fact it was a week or so before the 1 year anniversary of my friend's suicide (she jumped in front of a train which made the day harder seeing as we were travelling by trains all day but i managed). The morning i picked my ex up i had scratched all my hands up bc i literally needed to feel SOMETHING. And he saw but never really asked bc i said i didn't wanna talk about it. But yeah anyway went to camden, kept burning myself with cigarettes just to get through the flipping day (which apparently meant i was ruining the day for my ex boyfriend- hold this thought bc it becomes relevant later- so i tried my hardest to stop). Anyway after camden market me, my old best friend and him went back to mine (they were both staying over as we were drinking) and the other friend went home bc she had work or something the next day i can't remember. We watched some shitty movie which had a lot in it about sexual abuse (think it was one of the human centipede movies? Might be wrong) and pair that with my friend's anniversary of passing away coming up, I lost it. Like literally broke down in my kitchen (tho my bf was more concerned about helping this other girl bc she was feeling low too which somehow gave her the excuse to literally lean on him the whole movie?) but eventually he came into the kitchen and took me upstairs to someone to talk things through. Felt all horrible after my breakdown/crying session so decided to go take a shower to go cool off. Went into my room to go and get my towel and they were in? bed? together? like not sexually or anything, tho topless, but still? So I went downstairs and broke down again. Eventually he came down and was like "we were just trying to get some sleep", yeah, in the same effing bed? My bed? So I said to him "how would you feel if" and reversed the situation with one of our mutual male friends and me. He said he'd hate it and wouldn't be happy- point proved! So yeah the night carried on, those two woke up feeling ill bc they had pizza that was dodgy so i took my ex home and she made her own way home. So they started speaking over fb ALL THE TIME. Like literally. And he wouldn't "vent" to me and neither would she but they would to each other? And according to him she said she was closer to him than me- fair enough but like that's your mate's boyfriend????????? Anyway we had an argument (me and my bf), don't actually remember what it was about but it must have been her bc he promised (i never ever asked him to) that he would stop talking to her, so i was like do what you want. Time went by, he messaged her bc he felt low. The fact he messaged her did not bother me, the fact he BROKE A PROMISE bothered me. So again, without me asking him to or even mentioning it, he took it upon himself to block her. Fair enough, I'd blocked loads of people to stop him overthinking. Anyway he'd bitch about her all the time and say things about her etc. Me and him broke up shortly after bc i got myself in this massive hole and i just didn't know what was up or whatever. So i ended it bc i thought he deserved better. Anyway went to uni the next day (where my old best friend goes) and my friend said well you may work things out you may not but i am always here for YOU, you're my "insert nickname here". We did sort things out and me and him got back together that day. Okay, so me and him went to my christmas works do. He totally ruined it. Like totally. Was miserable the whole night after literally saying he soooo wanted to come. I tried talking to him, told him we could leave if he wanted- he said no. So we stayed and he was miserable the whole night. I ruined the camden trip according to him, yet when i said he ruined my night out- that was wrong bc he has bpd???????? Ok. Anyway went on for a while and then we broke up for good this time. Basically him and my old best friend (notice how all arguments are bc of her?) had been sharing info about me to each other that is VERY personal and not their place to tell each other. What i tell people is what i choose to tell people, bitching about me behind my back makes you a twat. She made him promise that he wouldn't tell me (according to him) what she had told him. He promised. It came out on the day we broke up, the reason i ended it with him was bc he kept it from me for eight months. Note how he could break a promise to me but not to her??? Anyway he asked me what happened to me in my childhood after we broke up, said that it didn't matter now i may as well tell him bc he's always wanted to know and i can trust him. So i told him and we went our separate ways. He told me to keep in contact with my old friend so i said i would. Anyway a week or so goes by and i am doing what i said, keeping in contact with her. But then i see on my fb timeline her tagging him in stupid memes on fb? Well that was it i just unfriended her. Hilarious how he'd go back to the reason for 90% or our arguments and our break up (which btw he asked me to tell people was a mutual decision). Clearly didn't mean anything to either of them tbh. Just got on with life really. Anyway found out a couple of weeks later that my ex had told a mutual guy friend of ours (that i work with btw) everything about my childhood- awesome, guess i couldn't trust him after all. Thennnnnn today someone messages me telling me my old friend and her boyfriend broke up (coincidence that it's literally less than a month since me and my bf broke up? Probably not) but yeah, in short that's everything. I literally give 0 fucks anymore. They're both liars, both horrible people and I can't believe they would do this to me. My old friend openly admits she's a cunt so fair but my ex bf literally preaches about how he's a good person???? LOL. Wouldn't of expected this from him but there we go. You truly cannot trust anyone. Never will I trust anyone again tbh. But life is good other than that (like i mentioned in my previous post). But yeah nice to type this all out tbh and i've also asked people about it thinking i was just being jealous/overreacting and nah everyone i spoke to says that they agree and i could do better anyway (not true but yknow) congrats if you made it this far😂