#it feels like everything is falling apart. wishes dreams hopes. every word forgotten

[noxtivagus]

ahh i'm so tired sorry i haven't been really active lately but i promise i'll fix all these stuff up n be well for the new year soon

[angel-sweets666]

Running away!

guard könig x princess reader

a royal guard falls inlove with a princess

Warning age gap (reader is 18-25 König is 36)

chapter two, read chapter one here!

König walked to his post, his thoughts drifting to you as they often did. You and he had grown very close, sharing dreams about the future, discussing your lives, and speaking fondly of your families. Your conversations brought him a sense of comfort and companionship that he cherished deeply.

As he stood his post by your door, he anticipated your appearance. Right on schedule, your head peeked through the doorway, a sight that never failed to bring a smile to his face. Tonight, only König and two other guards were on duty by the princess's room, which meant you could sneak König into your quarters without much risk.

"König," you called softly, tapping his shoulder.

"Ja?" He turned to look at you, his eyes softening.

"Come into my room, will you?" you asked gently.

"Me? Princess, I can't. I'll get into trouble," he said, shaking his head, though he longed to say yes.

You grabbed his sleeve, your eyes pleading. "No, you won't… not if you don't get caught."

It was clear you were warming up to him, and his resolve began to crumble. König's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine… but only because your face is very pretty," he said with a shy smile, slipping past you into your room.

"M-me? Pretty? Oh… thank you," you stammered, blushing deeply. The compliment sent a warm rush through you, and you closed the door quietly behind him.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by a few candles, casting a soft, golden glow over the plush furnishings and elegant tapestries. König felt out of place amidst such luxury, but your presence put him at ease. He watched as you moved gracefully, your every action mesmerizing him.

You gestured for him to sit on a comfortable chair near the window, and he complied, feeling the weight of his armor press into the plush cushions. You took a seat opposite him, close enough that your knees nearly touched.

"So, tell me more about your home," you said, eager to learn more about the man who had captured your interest. Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and warmth.

König hesitated for a moment before beginning to speak, his voice low and hesitant. "Well, it's not much compared to here. It's a small village, surrounded by forests. The people there are hardworking, honest. We have festivals in the summer, and the winters are cold but beautiful."

You listened intently, hanging onto his every word. The way he described his home painted vivid pictures in your mind. "It sounds lovely. I'd like to see it someday," you said softly.

His heart swelled at your words, and he smiled, a rare and genuine expression. "I would like that, too."

The conversation flowed naturally from there, covering everything from childhood memories to favorite foods. Time seemed to slow as you shared laughs and exchanged stories. König found himself feeling lighter, the burdens of his duties momentarily forgotten.

As the night grew later, a comfortable silence settled between you. You stood up and moved to sit beside him on the chair, your proximity sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

You leaned in closer, your faces inches apart. "Stay with me tonight," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

König's heart raced, but he nodded. "As you wish, Princess," he said, his voice full of promise.

Of course! Here’s the edited and expanded version with the perspective changed to "you":

You stood up and grabbed his sleeve, gently but firmly ushering him toward your bathroom. "Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up!" you said with a smile, hoping to ease his confusion.

"Ah… princess… what?" König seemed bewildered, and rightly so. You had randomly decided you were going to bathe him. Little did he know, you were trying to seduce him subtly, acting in a wifely manner to win his affections and perhaps convince him to whisk you away to his cabin, where you could be safe and loved.

The bathroom was warm and inviting, lit by soft candlelight that flickered against the tiled walls. The air was filled with the soothing scent of lavender from the oils you had added to the bathwater. You made sure the water was just the right temperature, hot enough to soothe his muscles but not too hot to discomfort him.

You began to help him undress, your fingers brushing against his skin as you removed his armor and clothing. He stood there, a bit hesitant but allowing you to guide him. Once he was undressed, you guided him into the bath, watching as he sank into the water with a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing this for, princess?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and gratitude.

"Nothing… it's just… you work so hard for me. I should return the favor," you said, trying to keep your voice casual as you began to rub his shoulders. Your hands moved with practiced ease, kneading the tension from his muscles. He seemed to like this, leaning into your touch.

"Okay… maybe for a little while…" he sighed, his body relaxing under your ministrations.

"See? It's nice to relax," you said softly, continuing to massage his shoulders. You could feel the knots and tension in his muscles slowly melting away.

Carefully, you reached for a soft cloth and dipped it into the warm water. You gently began to wash him, starting with his back and working your way to his arms and chest. Your movements were slow and deliberate, each touch meant to care for him

"Princess, you don’t have to do this," he murmured, though he made no move to stop you.

"I want to," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You deserve to be taken care of too."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. In that instant, there was an understanding between you.

As you continued to wash him, the room filled with the quiet sound of water and the occasional soft sigh from König. You could see the tension leaving his body, replaced by a sense of calm.

When you finished, you took a towel and began to dry him off, your hands gentle and careful. He stood up, water dripping from his body, and you couldn’t help but blush at the sight. You wrapped the towel around him, patting him dry with slow, deliberate movements.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his gratitude.

You moved back into the bedroom and helped him into a comfortable robe. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him. You joined him, sitting close enough that your legs touched.

"Princess, why are you doing all this?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"Because I care about you, König," you said, your voice earnest. "You mean a lot to me."

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he smiled—a rare and beautiful sight. "You mean a lot to me too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with unspoken feelings. You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Stay with me tonight," you said softly, hoping he would understand the depth of your request.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "As you wish, princess," he replied, his voice full of promise.

you slowly dried him off and helped him into pyjama pants “sleep with me.. “ you said as you slid into bed, patting the spot next to you. He blushed “really princess?” He asked softly, almost moved by the idea “yeah… I’ll wake you up early I promise!” You smiled, he rolled into bed with you and ever so slowly… wrapped his arms around you

IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE CHAP 3

[kairithemang0]

I like thinking about Curt lying on the grass. It's raining. It's raining hard. The droplets grace his cheeks, his eyelids, fluttering eye lashes. He's never been a fan of rain, it felt weird on his skin. It's itchy and uncomfortable and it makes him feel like his body isn't his. It hasn't been for a long time.

Owen was gone. He had been for a few months now. It had become almost easy to laugh at, the same way he'd joke about how his dad left he and his mother who knows how many years ago. Humor was easy, it was easier than crying, than facing the terror of loneliness with his head held towards the dreary dark sky.

His dreams had gotten worse, beginning to seep into his state of being awake. He'd see him, Owen, everywhere. Every bar, every picture in his apartment, across every busy street before disappearing before Curt could reach his hand. He'd run towards him, towards the figure he knew. He'd sometimes get close, get to see his face, bruised, tarnished, destroyed.

They never found his body. Curt didn't know if they even tried. He begged Cynthia, begged her to attempt to. He could almost hear a bit of regret in his voice as they spoke on the phone, as if it hurt her to even talk to him. And yet, all Curt wanted to do was to go back to that facility and find him, even if he had to break through every bit of rubble with his own hands, if he had to lift a thousand stones to find Owen, he would, even if it was to find a dead body, he would.

Maybe seeing Owen dead would give him closure. The real Owen, able to take his hand and hold him, whisper things to him he never dared say aloud, words he wished he did while he had time.

Curt's hair is soaked by the muddy grass of his mother's backyard. He and Owen sat out there once, they watched the stars. Curt found his hand, made it his own, grasped it so tight his nail left marks on the back of it, every vein and bone like a map to find him, the only real treasure this world or any other had to offer.

Maybe Curt was going crazy, but he swore he could hear gentle footsteps coming his way. He heard someone sit beside him. He opened his eyes, not seeing anything, only feeling, hearing, but not truly there. He was nearly able to grasp the face that kissed his forehead, the hand that ran through his muddy hair. He was so close to hearing soft gentle words in his ear.

"I love you."

Curt bolted upwards, the feeling never there. His body began to shake and suddenly everything was gone. Everything but the rain. The rain remained. No matter how much he wished it would go, for the sun to peak through those clouds once again, to maybe even leave a sign of hope for the future, it never came.

Looking towards the sky, he heard a rumble of thunder, a laugh from the god he didn't believe in. His hands were muddy, hair a mess, body still shaking, he never stopped shaking. It was cold, Owen's old jacket around his shoulders, across his arms, his old friend's scent barely there anymore, now only left with petrichor and the leather sticking to his skin, pressed against him so hard it almost reminded Curt of the way Owen's hands would rise against his arms, would grab him so hard and leave marks from his nails on his already scarred skin.

The rain soaked into his skin, and his eyes closed again, rain drops hitting his fluttering eyelashes, as he shivered. A memory washed over him like a wave, one long forgotten, one buried so deep in his mind, under the rubble that Owen was trapped under from his fall.

"I love you."

Sorry chat i wrote a fanfic my bad will probably edit this and make it a full fic or something. idfk

[liaragaming]

A Reunion

Solas & Lavellen reunite in Veilguard - because I have feels god dammit and they need to be written out.

Angst.

Rating: Teen & Up.

When they tell her they've found him and he wants to talk, she almost doesn't go. He has no idea the hell she's been through - how many years she's hoped, and searched, and waited, only to come up with nothing time and time again.

She'd seen him in dreams so often, never knowing if it was really him or just her imagination. He doesn't know how she'd wake in tears, wishing she could go to him. How she'd grown to resent those dreams and the pain they put her through. Until one dream when she screamed all of her rage at him and told him she never wanted to see his face again. He'd vanished to mist like always, but she never had those dreams again. He doesn't know how much she'd hated herself for losing her only connection to him.

She's tried to move on, like all her friends had told her to. And sometimes she thought she’d succeeded - only to have some seemingly insignificant detail send her spiraling. He'd poisoned every potential new love that might have turned into something if only she could have stopped seeing him in their kind eyes and gentle caresses.

She was tired of hurting. What was the point of longing and striving for someone who wasn't doing the same for you?

She doesn't want to see him again and listen to whatever rehearsed apology - or gods know whatever he actually wants to see her for.

But she has to, she realizes. Ten years and the wound never seemed to fade. If she wants to heal... what choice does she have?

So she goes... and seeing him again is like being trampled by a bronto.

Everything they'd had. Everything they'd shared. Every dream, every kiss, every hope and touch and gentle whisper... All of it comes back to her all at once, and she gasps under the weight of it.

He looks at her with his sad eyes, dejected and regretful. She's seen that look dozens of times, and it no longer makes her want to hold him. Instead, it makes her blood boil.

She wants to smack it off his face.

"Vhenan."

The word rattles her, rippling through her like an electric shock. How dare he. How dare he use that word like they were still lovers - like what had been between them hadn't burned and died by his own arrogance.

"Don't," she says.

He flinches like he hadn't expected the venom in her voice.

"You don't get to call me that."

He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and nods. "My apologies, Inquisitor."

How can he act so calm? How can he stand there and act like seeing her again is nothing when her insides are tearing themselves apart?

Rook speaks. She'd forgotten they were still here. "I'll give you two a moment."

They leave, and Lavellen nearly goes after them. She doesn't need this. She's felt this pain over and over again. Why does she keep subjecting herself to it?

But she remembers she has to. She came here for closure, and she won't get it by walking away. "Just say whatever you brought me here to say."

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come. She watches as every intention dies from his eyes.

There are no words, she realizes. There is nothing he can say to ease the pain she's in, let alone all she's suffered. He called her here, but anything he might say or do would fall hopelessly short. He has nothing for her. Just the two of them, staring at each other in this room with everything hanging between them.

She turns her face away, fighting back the tears threatening to overwhelm her. "You're such a fucking asshole."

His lips part, perhaps to offer some defense or apology. But he falters again.

She turns to him, hot tears burning her eyes. "How could you? How could you?"

Even she isn't sure what she's asking. She could be demanding anything and everything. And she probably is.

He stares at her with those sad eyes. She hates that he won't react. That even in this, he has nothing to give her.

She strides toward him and hits her first against his shoulder. "You're such - an asshole - you - you!"

She hits him again and again, tears falling from her eyes. "How could you? How could you do this?"

At last, his hands take her wrists. She struggles until the tears overwhelm her, and she breaks into sobs. She falls to her knees, and he falls with her.

Moisture falls into her hair. "I'm sorry," he says. His voice is watery. "I'm so sorry."

She clings to him, grasping at him like maybe the pain will die if she just holds tight enough. He does the same, his sobs shaking her as much as her own.

She doesn't know how long they hold each other, their tears mingling on their skin. But for the first time in forever, she begins to feel like she hasn't carried all this pain alone.

[briskofmisery]

ALL TOO WELL

TW: Death, cancer, alcohol

“Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.” — Emile M. Cioran

I’ve become afraid of falling asleep, the perils of daydreaming mocking me until my last breath. The damp sand slid beneath my feet, the torment consuming me as our eyes met. The beach house, once reminiscent of a home, now resembled a decaying flower in springtime, a reminder that my mother was gone. The scent of old gin, beer, and tequila shots filled the air as I gazed at the mess before me, the house filled with empty bottles, cans, and graffiti. For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe this house could still be mine if I let it. If only I convinced myself long enough, perhaps it could be ours again. But it wasn’t. Julia’s words made that painfully clear. The house, now sold to another family, had slipped from our grasp; it wasn’t ours anymore. These promises of hope I had been telling Jeremiah felt like a lie. I felt everything inside of me daring to break down and collapse into the very thin air we shared.

Everything seemed to be a blur, like a chaotic tangle of emotions and a flood of anguish, tearing me apart. The memories that once held significance were now hidden in boxes, tucked away behind closed doors. This was no longer mine. This house wasn’t mine, it had slipped away from me. The panic within me grew, the hollowness of the house echoing as the guilt enveloped me. Hope is a dangerous path to go toward. I always knew hoping for an answer in the clouded skies was not meant to be. But I didn’t want to say goodbye. Hope ebbs and flows at unexpected times. I always dreamed that happiness would be a brief respite. Deep down, I wished for a savior amidst the storm — ached for it. And then there was one.

Nevertheless, even amidst those moments of solace and optimism, the echoes of last night out on that beach, continued to play in my mind like scenes from a movie. It felt as if I was parting ways with long-forgotten loves of the past. I remember how farewell seemed to slip through my fingertips, while Belly’s tearful gaze remained fixed on the dampness of the sandy backdrop. Once again, I had lost her. Right after a brief moment of relief, when the illusion of hope had quickly embraced me with this unique feeling of hopefulness, it was gone. How could it disappear into oblivion so effortlessly? How could it slip through the crevices, into the shrouded darkness, so easily? Had it been me? Was it my doing?

I knew Belly had heard every word so poetically, and my desperate plea to save the beach house was nothing more than a manifestation of guilt. Words failed me; but I believed she knew that I meant every word, every expression of hope, and declaration of love toward her, she knew. I thought she knew how in love with her I was. I thought that when I confessed to her on this very beach last summer, she understood that I loved her. The anguish and fracture in my voice let out signs of my desperation.

“I thought that we loved each other,” she said, her voice catching hoarsely. Her words carried an ache of pain, like a silent, agonizing cry. The words seemed so pitifully inadequate to say, but I meant every word. “We did,” I responded without meeting her somber gaze, so she knew I meant it. I knew my love was real. Then, she said something she knew would shatter me completely, “I guess not enough.” I wanted to plead with her, to promise a glimmer of hope amid the darkness. But she stood before me, crying, her eyes glistening with tears, so I didn’t. I let her go. As my feet sank further into the damp sand, I watched her leave with the bottle of tequila still in the palm of her hand. I didn’t know what to say then, but once I managed to find the right words, the moment would have been over. I wished I could express to her what I really meant, yet it seemed as though what we had was broken. I was willing to prove Jeremiah right, that I was a coward. That I had let Belly walk away once again. Thoughts of all the things I should have said to prove my love for her was infinite, swirled in my mind, but instead, it felt like we were simply as close as strangers once more.

I think I left a piece of my heart out there on the damp sand and within the cosmic tapestry of stars on that stained-glass night. I wanted to cry, perhaps even to shout, if only I had the audacity, into the gentle radiance of the moon while gazing up at the constellation of stars. 

Come morning, the universe enveloped me into a brokenness I hadn’t experienced since my mother died. A heaviness settled in my chest, and I found myself succumbing to guilt as I allowed Belly to ruin me again. Yet, when Laurel saved the house from Julia and my father, she felt like the fiercest, strongest woman I’d ever known. My mother would never have wished for this house to slip out of the family name; she would have wanted her boys to have it. The beach house always had a special piece of her heart. My father was far from a hero, let alone a decent father or husband. He was a cheater, a liar, and a coward. Maybe he cared about my mom, maybe he didn’t, but in this house, I knew what he meant. Time was merely a construct, yet in the beach house, she was everywhere. She shined brighter than the sun in Cousins. 

A surge of hope washed over me, rekindling the possibilities of hope that I had long abandoned. Hope had become a myth I had laid to bed for a while now. I was a pessimist, willing to right the wrongs of those who tried to tarnish my mother’s legacy. Haunted by her sweet lullabies, I found myself trapped in a dream of wishful thinking in a life filled with promise and success. My acceptance letter from Stanford University opened up new doors for a future, even with her passing. My cynical heart pained me long enough, now I could finally be free of it all.

I wanted to admit that being “just friends” with Belly, whatever that was to us, was never what I wanted. Fate had brought with it a sigh of relief; if I allowed myself a reprieve, happiness would follow. Yet, I couldn’t help but believe that lie was a means of punishing me in the end. I knew that when I drink, I still remember. Once I passed my biology final, I would tell Belly how I felt. Just this once, I would open up to her. I dreamed of a future with Belly at Stanford, if she wished. And if she wanted, I’d chase a constellation of stars for her. If we let ourselves, happiness would come. But in the back of mind, doubt lingered. I wondered if I was too late. If I said that the words were a lie, that this love was raw and genuine, would she love me now? Would she give me her heart in her hands? 

The euphoria that had embraced me was fleeting, fading just as quickly as it had come. I made my way down the stairs of the academic building, through Brown’s lush greenery, and headed toward the parking lot to share news of my exam. Only the smile I had been wearing was now faded, as if it was never there in the first place. If I didn’t let anyone in to see my ugly heart, no one could get hurt. 

There was Belly, standing in front of my car, her fingers grazing Jeremiah’s cheek, his hands wrapped around her neck in a passionate kiss — and she was wearing my Brown sweater. I suddenly felt indescribably sick to my stomach, my heart collapsing. A mixture of complete shock and disbelief etched across my features, as I stood there, frozen. All hope had completely faded, dreams torn from my mind. Dreams in which Belly and I could be happy together. However, cynical hearts aren’t meant to experience that happiness; it was a veil of joy. Seeing how passionately Belly kissed my brother managed to send shivers coursing through me, like they were both two magnets pulling toward each other by gravitational pull.

The double betrayal shattered me, as though a dagger had been thrust into my heart, piercing it without fail. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here; I knew I was intruding on a private moment. A few seconds later, after stopping short of the car, I deliberately cleared my throat loudly, so Belly would know it was me. “Ahem,” I spoke up. My gaze fixated onto them both, filled with regret, sorrow, and even hatred. 

Last night, I dreamed that we could get back what we had lost over changing seasons. I thought infinity, Venus, and Junior Mint held deep significance to her, but it didn’t, or perhaps it was this figment of my imagination that led me to believe in the possibility of hope. Even though Belly had helped me study for hours upon hours, from evening until dawn, her act of betrayal weighed heavily as we gazed at one another. At that moment, nothing felt right; everything shifted, leaving me shattered. I was too late. My plan to confess my love to Belly was merely an illusion now. It dawned on me that Belly and I were never going to get back what we had, because she had made it be over. My last shred of sanity slipped even further, leaving my skin lacking color. For whatever happens, the things I didn’t say haunt me. Even when it hurts, I still remember.

[acidinbubbles]

hiiii! i love your work sm but idk if you're taking request, if sooo here is smth on my mind <3 a headcanon about what it's like being eren best fucking friend (but you're in love with him) and you gotta watch him fall for mikasa as you hype him up to go ask her out and sad stuff like that :( lmao sorry if its weird you don't need to do it obvi <3

AM I GONNA BE AN ANGST AUTHOR OR SOMETHING??? BECAUSE I LOVE THIS. WE CRY LIKE REAL MEN

Being Erens best friend had its pros and cons,

Pros: he always lifted you up when you were down, you did everything together, he always there for you, he was funny, charming, hot, and honestly the bestest friend you could ask for.Cons: It was really fucking hard watching him fall in love with someone who wasn’t you.

You always saw the way he looked at Mikasa you weren’t stupid but apart of you really hoped he didn’t actually like her.So when Eren mentions it to you, you freeze, it’s like your heart breaking into a million pieces.He goes on and on about he’s liked her since they were kids and how as they got older he realized he loved her.You wanted to cry, you wanted to leave his apartment right then and there and never see him again, but that wouldn’t be fair to him. How was he supposed to know you were in love with him?

Instead you force a smile and tell him how happy you are for him, you figure him loving you as a friend was better than him not loving you at all. He starts talking about what he likes about her, her smile, her smell, her attitude, her body, her voice, he loves everything about her. While he’s explaining this to you his face is so red he looks like he’s gonna die, and you really wish you feel happy for him but the truth is you were hurt. With every word he said it was like a piece of your heart was chipping away.

Why couldn’t he see you like that? Was it something about you? Your hair? Your smile? Your body? What was it that you were doing wrong?

It’s not really a surprise when he asks you how he should ask her out yet it still made you want to crawl into a six feet deep hole. Since you were on the verge of tears you simply just looked away and said “I don’t know do whatever feels right? Coffee date?Or some shit like that.” Eren laughed at your response and threw a pillow at you “wow I tell you how I wanna ask out the girl of my dreams and you’re not gonna help? Rude.” Girl of his dreams huh? You forced a laugh back and said you had “forgotten to water your house plant” you were just looking for any reason to get out of there, the room was suffocating. You didn’t really want to hear what Eren had to say or to turn around and see his stupid confused face. He raises a brow as you get your stuff and saying a quick bye before shutting the door on you way out.

You guys lived relatively closed so you walked back to your apartment, all you could do was sob, the snot running down your nose, the cold air filling your lungs as you hyperventilated, crying so hard you could barely see through your blurring vision, you were absolutely destroyed.

As soon as you got into your apartment you kicked your shoes off and shuffled to the bathroom to take a quick a shower since it was the middle of winter and you were freezing after you took an extra slow walk home. When you got out the shower and walked into your room to get dressed, you noticed Eren had texted you. It was probably for you’re nightly call but you had no desire to talk to Eren. He just completely shattered your heart and you couldn’t even be mad at him for it.

One new message

Dumbass <3: call?

Y/N: not today I’m really tired

Dumbass <3: it’s only 9pm?

Y/N : yeah I noticed, gn.

Dumbass <3: gn i guess?

Eren wasn’t oblivious he knew something was up but he didn’t know what. He hadn’t pissed you off or anything recently so why were you acting so cold? He just came to the conclusion that maybe it was something else you didn’t want to talk about and left it at that.

After that very dry conversation you crawled under your covers and cried you cried until you got tired, and then cried until you fell asleep. You woke up the next day to your phone ringing, it was Eren he’d actually called you two times before that so you figured it had to be something important.

“hello?”

“Y/N GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

“What happened Eren”

“I ASKED MIKASA ON A DATE AND SHE SAID YES, I TOTALLY THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA SAY NO BUT SHE DIDN’T. SHE LIKES ME BACK!”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe like there was no more oxygen left in the world. You sat in silence, you didn’t know what to say, it was like you’re entire world had fallen apart.

“I’m really happy for you Eren, I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

“Okay, I’ll call you after my date to tell you how it goes, I’m so happy y/n”

“I’m glad Eren”

You hung up, tears already beginning to form. He’s never going to love you, all you can do is help him fall more in love with her.

And it’s fucking heart shattering.

Hope this fits your needs!

(Not Proof Read)

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.��� You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[iyeonjuni]

FIRST SNOW // choi yeonjun

word count: 1.0k

genre: fluff

a/n: merry christmas to those who celebrate it! i hope everyone has a lovely day and happy holidays! please listen to txt - sweet dreams because it changed my life

-

you remember when you were young, amongst faded memories of your childhood. a boy told you a big secret that if you watch the first snow with the person you like, you will end up falling in love with each other. and back then you were innocent and naive and believed everything the boy had told you. hoping one day you will be able to see the snow with someone you loved and have your dreams come true.

however, every first snowfall was spent with your family. although it was beautiful to see the white snowflakes fall from the sky every year, and you truly enjoyed the time you had with your loved ones. your younger self had high hopes and dreams for a dramatic princess love story derived by the idea of watching your first snow together.

and as years go past you enjoy the cold winter breeze that reddens your cheeks as you stare up at the sky. you never stopped wishing for the romantic moment you’ve dreamed about.

then you grew up. you had long forgotten about the so called romantic dream that you fantasised about and the current you did not believe in any superstition.

christmas was just around the corner, and you had just set up some new decorations around your apartment that you had bought a week ago. finally hanging the last ornament on your mini christmas tree, you brushed off the excess dust on your hands.

it seemed like everything was going perfectly. that is until your friend decided to set you up on a last minute date with some guy you have no idea about.

though something about it told you to go and get ready, you felt bad if you didn’t show up and honestly your friend would have bugged you either way.

and so you waited, and waited and waited. what was once a full restaurant starts to grow emptier and emptier. you realised that you had definitely been stood up, for a date and you didn’t even want to be at. you stomped in frustration and walked out the restaurant with rage, you definitely had to complain to your friend about this.

though you didn’t want to go home in a bad mood. you reached towards a pier, leaning against the railing as you admired the late night skyline across the waters. the calming ripples of the sea soon soothed your anger away and you let out a sigh, steam following out of your mouth from the cold temperature.

and as you continued to appreciate the scenery, you realised you weren’t alone as you noticed a guy just a few meters away from you, approach the railings. his hands in his pockets and his face covered by the thickness of his scarf, he looks up at the night sky and you follow suit. your eyes widening as you see the white freckles of snow falling from the sky.

it was the first snowfall of the year.

you continued to stare at the snow falling from the sky, feeling the droplets at the tip of your nose. and somehow it felt like the stars under the night sky were helping you, you turn to look at the guy who was standing right next to you. the moonlight now shining over his face and he lowered his scarf. a face that you felt so familiar to you, and the sudden hit of realisation when you finally remembered who he was.

“yeonjun?” you called for him, and he turned and his eyes widened.

“y/n!” you heard a familiar voice of a boy call for you.

“oh! yeonjun! look, i decorated the christmas tree myself!” you remember you were so enthusiastic to show the boy next door your creation. you were close in age, and your parents loved that the both of you were friends almost instantly.

“that’s so cool!” yeonjun runs around the tree and you follow him. you remember your parents and his laughing at their kids antics.

as you two bond over the presents under the tree, yeonjun leans in and whispers in your ear, “you want to know a big secret?”

you nod excitedly and yeonjun leans in again.

“i heard that if you witness the first snow with the person you like, the two of you will fall in love!” yeonjun looks at you with a glow in his eyes, and your expression replicates his.

though you never noticed, yeonjun smiles to himself timidly hoping that he could watch the first snowfall with you. and yet he also failed to notice the exact same thought you had but with him.

you walked closer and looked at him. he had grown so much since the last time you saw him. you remembered your younger self bawling your eyes out as he had to leave for the states a few days after he had told you his big secret. you remembered how on the day of his flight, the first snowfall had come. and your family had to calm you down from crying too much at the sight of snow.

though right now at this very moment, you and yeonjun were looking straight at each other. what was supposed to be freezing weather did not feel cold anymore. you felt the heat from your cheeks as the warmth surrounded you both. yeonjun couldn’t help but smile fondly at you.

“finally.” he says as he reaches out slowly to grab your hand.

and you held him. it’s like you both knew what each other meant, as you watched the snow fall between the two of you. you couldn’t help but think of the childhood memory you both once shared. what was then your dream of wanting to watch the snow with him, you are doing so now. it seemed like the stars had planned something for the both of you, and that all you and yeonjun needed was just the perfect timing.

if you watch the snow with the person you like, the both of you will fall in love. you remember how the saying went. and it didn't matter whether if it was true or not. whether it was the snowfall that had bloomed your hearts as one, or that feeling of longing that made you hold onto yeonjun, you chose to pursue it. as long as it's with him, everything seemed perfect.

-

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[lipstickstainz]

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk.  Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.

[joheunsaram]

“kissing as they move around trying to get to a bed, bumping into everything” with namjoon 💕

Dreams (knj)

word count- 819

pairing- Namjoon x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, confessing, (un)requited love

warnings- none

an - this was requested to me by two people! i hope you like this 💕

-

You had almost fallen asleep, slivers of the night dancing behind your eyelids, spinning your head into a flurry of a kaleidoscope. You knew he didn’t want you, yet you tried. You let your friends convince you to go to the bar, convince you to confess in a drunken haze when you met him outside as he smoked. For all the fanfare and anxiety, it was relatively easy. Three words spoken in a whisper. A hand on his sleeve right before he turned. I like you.

But now you were here, alone in your bed as your room spun even behind your eyelids. You wish you could blame it on the alcohol, but you were sober by now. Regret seemed to make its home in your heart, but you didn’t want to go back to unrequited pining. Rejection was better than the what-ifs. It was better to leave his pretty dimpled smile in the past than to dream about the impossible.

With a sigh you squeezed your eyes shut, your head pounding, your skin wanting to crawl off your body. Sleep would be good. Sleep would let you shut your thoughts off for a little while till you had to see him again tomorrow at work. You were positive you could pretend everything was normal. You had done it for the past year, hadn’t you? It was easy to pretend that your heart didn’t lurch in your chest at his every passing touch.

You had almost fallen asleep, but then you heard it. A knock. A light rasp of knuckles against the wood amplified in urgency with every passing moment, till you had no choice but to leave the condescending comfort of your mattress and drag your feet to the door. You really ought to have checked who it was before opening the door. But then again, nothing could have prepared you to see him standing there.

You didn’t know how long you just stared at him in silence, the cold metal of the doorknob branding itself on your palm. It didn’t feel real. Perhaps you were still in bed, letting your mind spin you tales of disbelief, but then why did his lips suddenly against yours feel so real? Why did his hands on your waist feel so strong, as if letting you go would make him perish?

It wasn’t like you had imagined it would be, a serenade of bluebirds, a sense of weightlessness - it was grounded, solid, real. You always thought his lips would be the softest of petals, but they were chapped in a way that reminded you that you could've never dreamt this up.

He pulled you against him, walking you back into your apartment, pushing you against the wall. You didn’t care for the photo frame poking against your scalp, not when he suckled on your lower lip with a gentle urgency that made you lightheaded. And when his tongue coaxed its way between yours, it was ecstasy, a euphoria you had long forgotten, spilling out of you in a mewl.

He spun the two of you around, blindly making his way through your cluttered space. The obstacles didn’t matter, books falling onto the floor when he pressed his body against yours on the bookshelf, pausing your joint journey to the bed to get a deeper taste of your lips. You hissed when your shin banged against the coffee table and he responded by letting his hands roam down your sides to your thighs and lifting you up with an ease you thought only protagonists of your favourite movies possessed. Your fingers caressed his hair, drier than you thought they’d be, but then again he did have the terrible habit of dying it every few months. He walked with you to your bed, grunting against you when his hip collided with your desk, sending the cup that held your pens rolling to the floor in a muted crash that was ignored.

When he laid you down was when he left your lips for the first time, hovering over you and gazing softly into your eyes. He moved the wayward strands on your face, memorizing your features, kissing your lips chastely before he spoke.

“You left,” he whispered. “You left before I could say anything.”

“What did you want to say?”

“Something. Anything.” His hands still played with your hair, twirling the strand between his fingers. “Mostly that I like you too.”

And then it was your turn to capture his lips, leaning up to wind your arms around him and pulling him to you as a chorus of his words rose inside your head, warping your memories in a new light as if they were a mere sepia before they ignited. Him always helping you with your projects, him always bringing you coffee, him remembering your lunch order, him bringing you a cupcake on your birthday, him asking you to dinners you were too afraid to go on. All the signs that you mistook as friendship painted a rosy pink like the flush on his cheeks.

In the moonlight filtering through your drapes, you felt his weight on top of you, his lips tracing your skin, and you knew it wasn’t a dream. Your months of feelings were finally returned.

Kim Namjoon liked you back.

-

Check out my masterlist 💕

[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[damianodavide]

Never stopped loving you (pt. II)

Based on this prompt | Part I | Part III (will be added).

Summary: Damiano x reader [undefined gender].

When reader is confronted with their painful feelings about Damiano, they desperately needs to talk about it.

Word count: 1,5K

Consists: some fluff, more angst this time, sadness, pining.

Thanks again to @daviddamiano for proofreading. Inspired by 'Young Heart' by Birdy.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you were laying on your back on the towel, the sound of laughter carried over the pool, immediately followed by Ethan’s defensive response. ‘If you say so Edgar,’ replied Damiano, still laughing. Victoria, who had still been sitting on the sunbed staring at her phone, jumped up, eager to join in on teasing Ethan. Normally you would be too, but as cheerful you had felt just moments before, your mood had suddenly changed.

You couldn’t help thinking back to the first time you’d joined the band, when they just started their Il Ballo Della Vita tour. You had finished high school, and had no idea what to study. Even though Vic was younger than you were, you looked up to her for following her dream into music. It was her idea, of course, for you to join them as their photographer. ‘You are creative and you know you should do something with it,’ she had said. You worried about not fitting in, since you had never felt quite confident. After telling Vic this, she just sniggered. ‘Have you seen us,’ she’d said ‘we’re outsiders just like you.’ You knew were an average photographer at best, but eventually Vic convinced you to come.

You turned your head to the side again, seeing all four of them, now standing together in front of the glass doors. From what you could hear they were discussing the rehearsal. Damiano was standing with his back towards you, two glasses of iced coffee in his hands. You turned your eyes away from his lean stature and sighed.

It had been so easy for you to fall for him then. It had seemed like everyone knew immediately that you liked Damiano, including himself. You endured weeks of Victoria and Thomas’ knowing looks, while he always found a way to make you blush. You had often sought refuge with Ethan, since he was the only one who didn’t tease you. Not for a moment you had believed he felt the same way about you, until that first kiss in the dressing room had changed everything.

You closed your eyes shut. How could a memory that once was so intensely happy, now be so painful? Still you remembered vividly every sound, every touch, the way his dark eyes looked up close. His breath on your lips… It felt like a tight band closed around your chest. The worst of it was that you couldn’t possibly be allowed to feel this way, since you were the one who had ended it.

You heard footsteps and sat up. Damiano walked toward you. He handed you the glass and sat down cross-legged. You could only bring yourself to smile weakly at him, as you sipped the drink. Damiano, oblivious, started talking about how he’d made fun of Ethan once again. You watched his face while he talked animatedly, his hands gesturing and imitating Ethan’s voice. His warm, open expression made you feel even worse. ‘It’s always so easy,’ Damiano concluded. ‘Ha, yeah nice,’ you said. Damiano’s face fell slightly. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Yes, of course. I’m fine, just – tired.’ You didn’t sound convincing.

‘Did I hear you’re going to rehearse in a minute?’ you tried. ‘Yes,’ Damiano answered. ‘But I’ve convinced them to give us a minute to finish our coffee.’ He smiled at you. Suddenly looking a bit unsure, he asked: ‘Will you join us? To take some pictures? I bet we’ll look amazing.’ You smiled at the sarcastic note in his voice, looking down at your glass. ‘No, sorry not this time,’ you replied. You needed some time alone to collect yourself. ‘I promised my grandma to call her back, we were supposed to call this morning.’

This was true and you were happy for the excuse. You had totally forgotten that morning when she had called, just when you were about to leave for the tattoo parlour with Damiano. ‘Of course,’ Damiano said, ‘I can’t keep hogging your attention.’ His face was unreadable. ‘No, that’s not what I meant – .’ You could slap yourself.

Before you could say anything else, Thomas appeared next to you. ‘So finally finished?’ he asked. ‘If we still want to rehearse before dinner, I think we should go inside now.’ Ethan had followed Thomas, now standing next to him silently. ‘Will you come too?’ Thomas asked, looking at you. ‘Ah – no, I’m going to call nonna’ you repeated. Thomas laughed. ‘Probably a good thing, we’ve looked better.’ He turned pointedly to Damiano, a smug look on his face. ‘Yes, lets go’ Damiano said, ignoring Thomas’ joke. As you got up to follow them, it seemed like Damiano avoided your gaze.

//

Once in your room, you were glad you could call your grandma, because you wouldn’t have to say much. As predicted, she kept rattling on. You only had to say the periodical ‘hmm’ and ‘yes’ to keep her going. The antics of her boring neighbours were now a useful distraction. After a while she finally asked how you had been. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ you answered. ‘And how was the tour, was it nice? Did they behave themselves? Their clothes were quite scarce weren’t they? Even Victoria’s, I’m not sure…’ ‘Yeah it was nice nonna,’ you interrupted. Their clothing was a favourite subject of hers. ‘We had lots of fun,’ you added, ‘they were really popular.’ ‘Oh that is lovely,’ she said.

When she hung up half an hour later, you wished you could’ve called longer. The anxious feeling had instantly returned. How you wished to talk to him now, say how you really felt, but you couldn’t. You would just hurt him again. Painfully you remembered how heartbroken he had been. You didn’t fit into his life, that hadn’t changed since you’d broken up. There was a knock on the door. Your stomach lurched. It wasn’t Vic, she wouldn’t have knocked. Could it…?

‘Can I come in?’ It was Ethan. ‘Y-yes of course,’ you exhaled. He opened the door. His hair was in a messy bun on top of his head. ‘Have you already finished?’ you asked. You had expected them to go on longer. ‘Yes,’ he said, hesitating in the doorway, ‘Can I ask you something?’ ‘Uh, sure?’ Puzzled you gestured to Vic’s bed and sat down on your own. For a moment you both sat there, until he finally said: ‘Something’s going on with you and Damiano.’ It wasn’t a question. You stared at him, had you been that obvious?

‘What makes you say that?’ you finally asked. Ethan frowned. ‘I don’t know, I had this feeling, ever since we started the tour. Then at the pool, there was something about the way you looked at him. Damiano wasn’t himself during the rehearsal either…’ His voice trailed off. You often forgot how perceptive he could be. You now realised yourself there had been a turning point when you came back to join the tour. Would Damiano have noticed this? ‘So?’ Ethan asked. ‘To be honest Ethan, I have no idea anymore,’ you said softly. He just looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your feelings for Damiano, but now, in Ethan’s quiet presence, it spilled out. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ you said in a small voice. ‘I hoped our time apart would’ve made my feelings for him die down, but of course they haven’t. I know it’s unfair to him, I do.’ You looked at your hands lying in your lap.

Victoria had told you, hesitantly, how devastated Damiano had been. That it had taken months before he wanted to talk about it with her. ‘I think you should talk to him,’ Ethan said. You stared at him for a second, unable to speak.

‘How could I? How could I tell him now that I still – still love him? After I chose to – .’ As you looked at Ethan you suddenly had the feeling you had to defend yourself. ‘We clearly had different lives to lead! We always had to hide our love, for the paparazzi, the fans, everyone… And we kept having fights about these stupid things. I just – I couldn’t do it.’ You took a ragged breath and looked away.

‘It’s okay,’ Ethan said, softly. After a moment, he went on saying: ‘I still think you should talk to him.’ You opened your mouth, and Ethan went on quickly. ‘Okay, maybe not about that you still love him, but have you ever told him how you felt then? Why you left?’ You shook your head. ‘No, not really.’

In fact you hadn’t been able to say more than what you had rehearsed in your head without bursting into tears. You had tried to say that it wasn’t the right time for them, and that maybe they would find each other again when it was. Damiano had interrupted you, tears in his eyes, asking: ‘If I’m not enough for you now, why would I ever be?’ It still felt like a punch in the gut. You looked at your lap again, blinking. ‘Hey, shhh,’ Ethan said, patting your knee with his hand. It took you a moment to collect yourself. ‘I’m okay,’ you said finally, smiling weakly at Ethan. ‘I don’t know, maybe you’re right… ’

At that moment Victoria barged in. ‘[y/n], tell me that you want to order sushi too, the guys don’t – oh.’ Victoria looked from one to the other, mouth open. Before she could say something you cleared your throat and said: ‘Yeah, I’d love sushi.’ ‘Me too,’ Ethan added. The three of you you stared at each other, before Ethan stood up awkwardly. ‘Talk,’ he told you with a nod, and quickly walked past Victoria. ‘What was that about?’ she asked. You just shook your head apologetically. You wouldn’t be able to explain.

taglist: @rocketqueen , @tabi-toast , @butterfly-skinnylegend , @glittermalia, @queen-of-brokenhearts, @maneskinmademedoit, @oro-e-diamanti, @risingtripletaurus, @ohhoneyx, @anangelwhodidntfall, @tiaamberxx (let me know if you want to be added for part III).

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Until the last note plays

Summary: After his funeral, Elijah comes back to you for one last dance; one last goodbye.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Prompt: "We slow dance in the living room, but all that a stranger would see / is one girl swaying alone stroking her cheek" — Liability, Lorde

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of death

Words: ~800

A/n: This is my entry for @elijahs-wife 1k followers writing challenge. I'm surprised I finally managed to write this because I had a completely different idea in mind but still, I think this turned out pretty nice! I hope you all enjoy!💗

Taglist: @elijahs-wife @hellotvshowtrash @dumble-daddy @nalledimessi @xxwritemeastoryxx @mrs-maximoff-kenner @lady-salvatore @thatweirdoleigh

A sweet, cracky music woke you up, insinuating in a dream you forgot the moment you opened your eyes. All it left behind was the bitter feeling of leaving too soon.

The bright light confused you for a whole minute before you realized you weren't in the dark embrace of your bedroom. You were in the living room, laying on the sofa and bathing in the dawn's sunshine. The thick curtains on your windows were wide open, forgotten there in the weariness of the previous night.

Squinting your tired eyes, you slowly got up to bring darkness back in the house. The golden rays wounded your eyes this early in the morning like burning needles.

The music that woke you up still caressed your ears, a dreamlike melody that you didn't know but spoke to your heart in more ways than one. It took you a couple more steps to realize the music was anything but a dream.

You turned to your gramophone, an old thing you had found many years before in a small thrift store but never managed to make it work, on which a record was slowly playing. The unknown chords swayed in the air like tiny, invisible dancers.

"Do you like it, my love?"

Your heart jumped in your throath when you heard his voice, its steady beat now racing head to head with your disjointed thoughts. It couldn't be him. As much as you wished it would, it simply couldn't...

"I told you that I could fix it."

He placed his arms around your waist, drawing you closer and pressing his body against your back, and you drowned in the smell of his cologne, fresh and poignant as you remembered. Closing your eyes, you leaned against him as his lips gently stroked your skin, a feathery touch on your neck.

You placed your hands on his, gripping tight as you turned your head towards him. When his eyes met yours, you felt the lump in your throat grow even more, almost cutting your breath off.

"Elijah..."

Many words begged to be spoken, full of pain, anger, love. All of them fought in your lungs to be the first to finally leave the cage between your ribs with your next breath. But above them all, only a few won.

"I miss you so much." A tired whisper that rolled easily off your heart.

He didn't answer right away. He kissed your forehead, lingering there enough to silence all your thoughts, bringing a calmness in your mind that only he was able to create. When he finally spoke, his breath was warm like a summer wind.

"I know, my love... but I'm here now."

As you let yourself cradle in his comforting touch, Elijah started swaying with the slow rhythm of the song. His head was gently resting against yours, your bodies fitting perfectly with each other.

Not one edge out of place, not one hole left empty.

"The song is almost finished" he murmured in your ear, his grave voice vibrating in your chest.

And then I'll have to go. That was the rest of the sentence that he didn't dare to utter, but those unspoken words reached you nonetheless.

"I wish it could go on forever..." You held tighter on Elijah's arms as his grip started loosening. "I'm not ready to let you go."

"You don't have to. Not yet." He kissed your cheek so lightly, and despite the feeling that bloomed under your skin, it tasted like goodbye. "You can't recover from a wound in one single night. Time and care are what you need to-"

"Forget?"

"Heal."

"I will never heal from your love."

You turned towards him, finally facing him with tears on the verge of falling. His steady silhouette had been replaced with a mere ghost of what he had been. The sunshine coming from the window shone through him, making his features seem even more ethereal.

Despite your trembling hands, you placed them on both sides of his face, you thumbs softly caressing his cheeks. With every note that flew out of the gramophone, his skin felt less and less real to you.

"You were everything and more, Elijah. My heart will never stop bleeding as long as it beats in my chest."

The small smile that graced his lips was full of sadness and regrets but still managed to light your heart on fire. That was all it always took for you to burn. His smile.

As the last chords echoed in the air, you kissed him. For a second, you were one. For a second, Elijah was back with you, alive. For a second, everything felt in place.

I love you.

Then the music stopped.

You woke up frantically on the sofa, short breaths leaving your dry mouth. Eyes heavy with smudged make-up and tears, you looked around but couldn't see a thing. It was still night outside.

The black clothes that you wore to Elijah's funeral stuck to your body like a second skin.

Closing your eyes, you could still feel him. His touch, his breath on your skin, as what had just happened wasn't just a dream.

But the gramophone was silent on the other side of the room, broken as it always had been.

"I love you too" you whispered to the darkness, the only thing left apart from memories in that empty house.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x 

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up. 

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.” 

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door. 

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands. 

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved. 

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer. 

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together. 

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy. 

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.”  You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.” 

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other. 

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing. 

[hargrove-mayfields]

Everyone likes to pretend Billy was never even there. Life goes on, people change, the past gets forgotten.

A year isn’t enough time for Max though. Right now it feels like the rest of her life wouldn’t be enough time, but Neil and Susan, they were doing just fine.

It’s almost like they like not having him around, that extra burden they couldn’t shake. The plan only Max knew was that Billy was going to stay at home until she was old enough to go with him so she’d be safe.

She knew he was fed up and looking at some local apartments within walking distance of Cherry Lane anyways, but then July happened, and Billy died.

Now it’s July again, and her hair is in twin braids of red with pure white ribbons on the end, and her and her mother are wearing matching blouses. There’s bruises under the bangle on her mothers wrist and one under Max’s own sleeve, and she just wants her brother back.

It’s a holiday they told her, her father (he’s not her fucking father, they never made her call him that when Billy was around) is a veteran, they have to celebrate. Better just dry her eyes and get over it.

Her mother invites all the family they have in the area over to their house for a little get together picnic, and they do their little happy family routine for a while, but Max can only handle so much of it.

Billy should be here by her side, flicking watermelon seeds at her face and putting ice cubes from the cooler down the back of her shirt, being an asshole to distract her from the reality of her family.

And that was that she didn’t really have one, a family. It was always just her and Billy.

Even at these events made for bonding with family, they were off to the side, messing around while the adults talked like they weren’t even there, and she knew she was a little naive then, but it stung more than ever, knowing that even after she’d lost her brother, nobody even stopped to say hi or check up on her, it was just straight into gossiping about the neighbors and those disrespectful bastards across the street who weren’t flying a flag for the holiday and family members who couldn’t be there.

But Max never heard Billy’s name come up even once, and not even in a respect to the dead boy and his grieving sister type of way, but rather, in the way that they just didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. None of these people had come to his graduation in May of last year, or his funeral two months later.

Billy was a taboo that the Hargrove-Mayfields didn’t dare taint their celebrations of freedom and justice with. The irony made Max sick to her stomach.

Or that was at least, until Neil couldn’t help himself.

His words are slurring already, with an excuse to party he’s on what Max would guess to be his fifth or sixth beer that afternoon, and someone just made the mistake of mentioning their own son, Billy and Max’s third cousin or something, and it spurs Neil off on a tangent about his.

“That boy was always good for nothing anyways. It’s almost the same now that he’s dead, ‘Cept maybe now I get some more quiet around the house.”

Nobody knows what to do when he says that, there’s a couple awkward laughs and one shocked gasp, that one was probably from her mother, but Max knows exactly what she wants to do.

What she wants is to watch Neil choking on his blood instead of her brother, his body being lowered into the ground instead of Billy’s, and in the moment she feels like she could be the one to make that a reality, but instead she just stands abruptly, a plate of the food her mother worked so hard to prepare for them she’d been too queasy to eat falling off her knees to the grass, and she says everything she’d bottled up for the past year.

“Don’t talk about Billy that way!

“Now, Maxine-“ Neil starts, but Max is livid, can’t hold back all the things she wished she had said before Billy died, when she got grounded after the funeral, when Neil started beating her, “No! I’m not going to let you do to me what you did to my brother! You don’t get to control me like you did him, it’s your fault that he’s dead!”

It’s her mother’s turn to try to stop her, slender hand covering her mouth painted red, “Maxine..”

“Stop trying to reason with me! I’m sick of pretending to be a family when I had to watch my own brother die! And I’m sick of being treated like I’m crazy for being the only one that cares about Billy!”

More than one person chimes in on that one, offended by the notion they don’t care about family, though it’s Neil that insists, in that faux calm, close to snapping voice of his, “We do care, Maxine. We’re all grieving in our own ways.”

She fires back, “Grieving what? The loss of your punching bag? You hated Billy! You don’t care that he’s dead, all that matters to you is having someone to hurt, and you no trouble adjusting to beating up on your wife and step-daughter instead!”

She catches a backhand to the face for that, and all the background chatter comes to a halt, Neil gritting out through his teeth, “Inside. Now.”

There are tears in her eyes that sting almost as much as the knuckle marks on her cheek, but Max feels like she won, getting her step dad all riled up in front of their family, she feels almost invincible, and she sneers all smug like and bitter, “I can’t go inside yet. I’m celebrating your service to our country, dad. You know, as a family.”

But when Neil's face turns as red as the blood that dripped from his wife’s nose the night before and he stands from his chair and drags her inside by the wrist himself, she realizes that it wasn’t exactly a win.

And when her brain goes numb trying to focus on both the repeated slaps and punches that explode like firecrackers across her skin and the way Neil is yelling and lecturing her until his voice is raw, giving her the same lessons her brother had burned into the back of his mind, she feels like she’s lost everything instead.

When she has to choke back her tears and apologize for embarrassing Neil and for making him hit her as punishment, she realizes, this isn’t a game that can be won or lost at all.

Max isn’t allowed to go back outside to the party. That rule goes unspoken, but words aren't necessary with the way Neil storms off without another word, slamming the back door behind himself. She’s slowly starting to figure out what the things her step father does instead of says mean.

She misses being allowed to be clueless, having someone to protect her or take what punishment she had earned. She wishes she wouldn’t have asked so much of Billy though.

Her own room isn’t safe anymore, what once had been the place she’d be ushered off to when Neil got bad had become more like a trap, the place Neil went to first when he was angry. Everything that had been hers felt wrong, so she goes to Billy’s room and doesn’t come out for the rest of the night. Even now that he’s gone, he still kept her safe.

There’s a welt on her face and fresh bruises forming everywhere, hot tears wetting her sunburnt cheeks and the pillows that smell like Billy, or at least used to before Susan decided his room needed cleaned and washed away every trace of her brother.

All night long there are fireworks going off, a big show put on by the city downtown has her shaking, unable to close her eyes for fear those distant explosions would take her back to the mall, bring back memories she’d never forget, and covering her ear with her hands.

The cracks and booms that shake her windows and her entire life, a headache and a heart break even stronger.

She tries her hardest not to think about Starcourt though, so instead she thinks about how Billy would’ve been proud of her for standing up to Neil. He would’ve called her an idiot, but he would’ve cleaned up her scrapes and held her through the panic attack after, and he probably would’ve liked to see the person Max was becoming too.

That makes Max’s heart hurt, the fact that he won’t get to. She cries harder, and she feels so alone without Billy.

Some part of her knows that she isn’t though. She isn’t the only one that lost somebody last July.

Hawkins’ cemetery was alive with flowers and wreaths and decoration, and more than anything the grieving. All of the victims had families, or in the case of the Holloway’s where their whole family was killed, they had friends and neighbors in the tight knit community who remembered them. El was still grieving Hopper, and Max knew Billy had people like that too.

Billy was popular, his death had a huge impact on the younger population of the town, but not only that, he had his closest friends, Steve and Tommy and Carol and Nicole and Adam from the pool, and of course Heather couldn’t be there, but those people were all keeping her brother alive.

As much as it felt like everyone was trying to forget him, they weren’t, and that brought Max a little bit of hope.

Hope that Billy would be remembered for the things he did right, and who he was behind the boy he had to be to keep them safe.

Hope that with his memory kept in the hearts of so many, the burden of grief wouldn’t fall solely on Max forever and make things a little easier.

Hope that the wound would someday heal, and she could look back on the time she did have with Billy, those seven too short years, with a smile on her face.

For now, she wraps herself in Billy’s jacket and comforter, listening to his music to drown out the distant fireworks, and dreams of the day when things won’t be like this, when she can leave Hawkins and all it’s bad memories and the “family” holding her back to live a life her brother would be proud of, a life that would honor his.

Max decides then with determination, flinching when a bright flash lights up her window, a loud echo through the quaint neighborhood, that she was going to do what Billy hadn’t been able to and break the cycle.

Tomorrow, she’d tell the school counselor she’d been assigned when her depression was at its worst all about Neil Hargrove.

[inkmemes]

ryan  ross  lyric sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  various  songs  he’s  written,  lyrics  he’s  sung,  &  poetry  he’s  penned.  trigger  warnings  for  mentions  of  sex,  cheating,  drugs.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”