#like empty trash deleted all of them and i wanted to fucking cry

[navybrat817]

Oh, Navy. You and Bucky have been bad. Really bad. Like, Steve caught you both mutually masturbating to the video you three filmed last month.

You know the one where they double penetrated that pretty kitty of yours until you were gaping and both of their seed leaked from between the seams to dribble down into Bucky's short hairs as Steve continued to pump his load from behind you, emptying his balls.

The one that when you finally came around them and they released their hold on you, you found yourself staring at all the filth that had pooled around Bucky's cock, slipping down to his crack.

The one that suddenly had you batting your pretty little doe eyes at Steve and him cocking his head, asking "What's the matter, sweetheart? Did you want permission to clean Buck up? You have it."

And you shook your head, your fingers moving to the apex of your thighs, playing with the mess there. "No, daddy. I want to see you clean Bucky up."

The thing is, Steve doesn't do that. You clean them up. He and Bucky clean you up. But Steve never cleans Bucky - that's a submissive move. But those damn eyes of yours and the way you toyed with your clit had him stroking his cock again. He'd never kneel in front of Bucky so he made sure the brunette stayed laying down as he dropped toward him.

"Hold your legs apart, Buck. Our girl wants a show."

And boy, what a show he gave! He sucked that cock until it was shiny and hard as steel, ignoring the hard member to seek out all cum that had slipped to his hole. Steve ate that hole hard. Grunting and knawing at the tender flesh until Bucky was thrusting his hips and you joined in to suck him off as Steve ate him out.

Well, Steve wanted that video buried. He's a dom and Bucky had promised to trash it, but here you both were, getting off to it - without Steve.

Big no.

You're in sooo much trouble. But something tells me you'll enjoy your punishment

I'm DEAD. Please. How can this be my life?!

But, oh, Steve wouldn't be happy. Not only did you disobey him by not deleting the video, but you're getting off without him? It's like you're ASKING to be punished.

He knows what to do.

While he may use something soft to tie you down and give you a false sense of security, vibranium cuffs are very useful when he wants to restrain Bucky. Because you wanted to get off so badly (and he KNOWS you're the one who convinced Bucky NOT to delete the video), he'll make sure you do just that. Over and over and over.

With tears streaming down your cheeks as you clench around the vibrator inside you, Bucky watches in agony, even while thrusting up into Steve's hand. He knows you'd rather get off with his or Steve's cock inside you. And with as hard as he is, Steve hasn't let him come at all. Each time he gets close, the blonde grips the base of his cock to stop him.

"You get off when I say so, you understand me, Buck?"

Bucky whines when Steve turns the vibrator up, your cry making him twitch with need. "Stevie, please. Fuck, please."

"I told you to get rid of it. Fucking brats never listen, do you?"

"But she looked so beautiful. So did you," he's panting as Steve's thumb brushes over the tip. "Don't you, fuck, get it? You were still in charge. I came only when YOU said so."

"Steve, daddy, sir," you moan, lifting your head. "He's right."

"Our Captain," Bucky sighs.

"Our daddy," you add.

Steve has to agree it was hot catching you building yourselves up from the mere sight and sounds of the three of you. The whimpers Bucky let out when he had his tongue deep in his tight hole, along with the muffled moans of yours as you swallowed him down, had the Captain aching with the need. He adores and loves you two, even when you disobey him.

He'll remind you of that once the night is over.

"You still tried to get off without me. So you two better sit tight. It's gonna be a long night."

Maybe if you both prove you're sorry, he'll clean both of you up.

*****

Love and thanks! ❤️

[wandsolsen]

Champagne Problems

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In which Wanda rejected your marriage proposal, inspired by Taylor Swift's song Champagne Problems.

Warnings: pure angst, cursing.

Word Count: 1.8k

↳ Please, be aware that English isn't my first language, fell free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

You booked the midnight train for a reason, you wanted to contemplate your pain with your head against the train window.

The reason for your suffering had a name, Wanda Maximoff.

You sat down in one of the seats, feeling the hurt in your chest burning hard just for thinking about her. The train wasn't too much crowned, however, it wasn't all empty. There were people talking and people sleeping, you were not sure which was worse.

People looked at you, certainly worried about how miserable you were.

You finally rested your head on the train window, looking at the view from the outside. Unintentionally, you remembered Wanda's hand holding yours as the two of you danced on the dance floor.

Wanda smiled at you, and she looked happy. But she wasn't, at least, not complete. Not happy enough to say yes.

However, nobody could ever have thought that she would say no.

You felt the tears coming out, your mouth trembled as you remembered. Your heart was made of glass and she let it drop it.

You had prepared a speech, but when you got down on your knees, you didn't find the expression of emotion and excitement that you had imagined she would had. Instead, you saw Wanda's body tense and fear in her green eyes.

You were speechless.

She didn't even let you ask, she ran away, leaving you there, on your knees and crestfallen on the dance floor.

You were so broken that you hadn't the strength to reach out to her, Wanda's love escaped beyond your reaches.

You saw the pity look that your family and friends gave to you. You had told them that you were going to propose Wanda that night, you couldn't keep it a secret.

You had bought Dom Pérignon and one of your family members had already popped the bottle in an early celebration, it was humiliating.

"Maybe it's just one of her...What does she call? Oh, yeah," Steve remembered before anyone could answer him. "her champagne problems." Steve was trying to calm you down, but he wasn't succeeding.

Fuck Wanda, you thought, your veins filled with angry. Fuck her and her champagne problems.

But even with all the fury you were feeling, Wanda's picture was still in your wallet along with your mom's ring.

You didn't hate her for leaving, you could never hate her.

You remembered the first time you made Wanda blush, it was in November.

You both met in college, and you thought you were the luckiest person in the world for having Wanda as your roommate. She was organized, friendly and didn't ask too many questions, everything a person could want from a roommate.

"Someone said to me that this door was once a madhouse." You said to her, wanting to make small talk.

"Well, it's made for me." Wanda made a joke, and you chuckled.

"A beautiful and intelligent woman like you in a madhouse? I find it hard to believe."

"Beautiful people do have problems too." Wanda's face was getting flush.

"I know, I know." You said. "I just wanted to praise you because, well, you're definitely one of the most beautiful girls on the campus."

And there it was, Wanda's face all red and her shy smile on her lips. You felt your heart beating faster than usual at that moment.

"So do you?" You continued.

"Do what?"

"Have problems."

"Just champagne problems." She answered.

"Champagne problems?" You asked, with your furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, nothing meaningful or worth mention," She explained. "when compared to the others issues around the world."

"Well, champagne or not, they're still problems."

She thought about your words for a moment, but didn't say anything. Wanda continued to devalue her own problems, claiming that her issues were insignificant and there were worse things in the world.

Wanda was very reserved in the beginning, it was usually you who started the conversations. It didn't take long for you to fall in love with her.

I mean, how could you not? She was gorgeous and caring. Wanda was kinder than the most people you had ever met. She was a dream girl, with her hair loose and long, her sweet smile and her funny laugh. The way she was always up to help someone in need, and how she tried to empathize with everyone.

Wanda was absolutely flawless.

You only asked her out on a date when you were sure she wouldn't reject you.

Now, seeing from afar, you could see how stupid you were. You should have waited, just kneeling after knowing for sure that she would say yes.

But that's the problem.

You had sure that Wanda would say yes with tears dropping from her eyes. Then, your song would have played, you would have kissed her and held her hand tight while dancing. Your friends would have cheered with joy, and Wanda would have hugged you with a radiant smile on her face.

You let out a breath of pain. You now lived with only wishes. Because she dropped your hand while dancing, instead of holding tight.

Just champagne problems, she would say, about this dramatic situation.

You had a black Chevy that Wanda loved, she enjoyed riding in your car, even if you never go anywhere special. And when the car stopped running and you decided that was time to buy a better one, Wanda didn't let you. Often you saw her on the passenger seat murmuring whatever song was playing on the radio.

Nevertheless, the Chevy wasn't going anywhere. Just like your relationship.

Feeling tired of sitting there in this hurt, you left the train and went to the nearest hotel that you could find, you didn't want to come back home anytime soon.

You lived in a small town, your failed marriage proposal was probably spreading in the mouth of people like a disease.

Your turn on your phone, there were many messages and missed calls from your friends, but no one of them matters to you. Except one.

There was one voicemail from Wanda. Just that. She didn't send you a dozen messages like your friends, just a voicemail.

You set down on the bed, before listening to her voice for the last time.

Hey, Y/N, it's me, Wanda. I think I owed you an apology for leaving you out there standing. I-I can't do this, I'm sorry.

Wanda's voice was trembling, it sounded like she was crying. Why was she crying? She left you, not the other way around.

You didn't know it was possible for your heart to break more, but it did. The sound of her painful voice would haunt you forever.

I really can't give you a reason, I guess I never was ready for commitment. Sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone gets on their knees and asks you, you know?

There was a long pause, so long that you thought the message was over. However, Wanda's voice filled the room again:

You deserve someone better than me, you always had. Someone who is not fucked up in the head like me, someone who will never hurt you like I did. You'll find a real thing out there, she will pick up the pieces of your broken heart and she will patch up your tapestry that I shredded. She will be so perfect that you will not remeber me, or all my champagne problems.

Your vision was blurred because of the tears that fall uncontrollably from your face.

Ours... your friends called, they all are worried about you, please contact them.

There was another long pause.

I lov...

Your heart started to race at the words she was about to say, but Wanda gave up halfway, as if realizing that the words were not true.

Goodbye, Y/N.

And that was it.

Four years of relationship saying goodbye in a voicemail of less than five minutes.

Your throat burned from holding on to crying for so long, you wanted to scream until your vocal cords burst.

You loved her more than anything, and she left as if it were nothing. As if your love meant nothing.

You took the picture of Wanda that was still on your wallet, and tore it into several pieces before throwing it in the trash.

Eventually, the sleep caught you while you were crying in the hotel bed, similar to a friendly hug in the midst of so much pain.

━━━━━━ ᗢ ━━━━━━

You heard that Wanda left town, without looking back, on the same day that she rejected your proposal.

Wanda's sweet perfume was still impregnate, along with your memories with her, in every room of the house that the two of you used to live. You didn't manage to stay there, it didn't take long for you to sell the house and buy an apartment in the city center.

You sold your black Chevy, there was no one around to stop you.

You also sold Wanda's things that she left behind, you didn't want anything to remind you of her. Because after the end of the day, you were still mad at Wanda. For leaving, for didn't give you a good reason, for making your waste four years of your life.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head." That was probably the last thing that someone spoke about Wanda, before another big gossip emerge in your town and they eventually forgot the humiliation that she put you through.

At first, you stayed in your new apartment with your heart broken, just watching futile reality shows and eating junk food. Steve, your best friend, was there all the time giving you emotional support, even though he didn't always know how to say the right thing.

But eventually you had to face reality, after all, you suffering or not, life still went on.

It took two years before you were ready to fall in love again. And two years since you had heard from Wanda, you didn't know about her even on social media, since she had deleted them all.

It was as if Wanda had simply disappeared, little by little, she became a myth in your life, a ghost that haunted you from time to time. Not even your friends and family mentioned her name.

Sometimes you wondered if she really existed, if you haven't invented her in your head.

It was in a bar outside the town, that you met Natasha Romanoff. She was self-confident and carried a death look in her eyes, rigid on the outside, but soft on the inside. She had short red hair and was not very fond of wearing jewellery.

Totally different from Wanda.

Natasha was fun to be around, it was easy to understand her because she was always honest with you.

You started to date her on the very first day of summer. Then, after spending all the four seasons together, you started to carry your mom's ring in your pocket and Natasha's picture in your wallet.

And when you got on your knees, she didn't leave you crestfallen on the dance floor. She said yes, and held your hand tight while dancing.

However, in the end, Wanda was wrong.

You still remeber all her champagne problems.

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Nine

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: this chapter is long again but worth it;) I’ve included two lines from two of you who’ve participated in my little challenge and these are the lines:

“You will not touch her!!”

“ Darling, I may be a god but I am still a man”

so be on the look out;)

Warnings: angst, language, sexually explicit language (18+ only!)

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART NINE

Three days passed without incident, well, false, there were a few spilled cereals on the floor and burning yourself while trying to make dinner. Otherwise, though, there was no incident!

Loki kept his distance, or well, as far away as he wanted. Whenever he deigned to come back to the loft, he was handsy. A hand at the small of your back while you made dinner. A hand on your thigh while you read to him late at night. A lingering hand in yours while you said goodnight. But never more. 

And as much as you wanted to be more, to have the courage to swallow your pride and to act on the soulmate bond, you never went further. 

Even despite the soulmate bond, the fact that colors were so vibrant and real, there was always that nagging thought at the back of your head. Bruce. He came to you in your dreams, pleading, begging you to come back. Even if you woke up with your heart in your throat, your fingers trembling, you never made another attempt to leave the loft. 

And that’s what it was this morning, waking up with your heart bashing against your breastbone, your breath haggard, hands shaking as you gripped the sheets. You gasped, trying to catch your breath, but the vividness of the dream made your head spin. Ever since colors came to you, your dreams just felt that much more real. 

After sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to get your brother’s face out of your mind, you went to the bathroom and cleaned up for the day, dressing in your regular jeans and t-shirt. You planned to ask Loki how his evil mastermind of a plan was going, but the loft was quiet. 

Last night, you’d gotten through half of Jane Austen, while Loki played in your hair, watching you with those intense green eyes. The book still lay on the couch, open, face down, and you picked it back up.

“Proceeding without me, darling?”

You looked back as Loki strode in from the hall, the door to his room wide open, and you could see his unmade bed beyond. You wondered how Loki slept. Was he a quiet, unmoving sleeper? Or a loud, messy one? 

“Sleeping in late now, are we?” you countered as you went back to the book. Loki went to the kitchen with a chuckle, beginning his breakfast. 

“A day off never hurt anybody,” he answered.

“A day off from what?” you asked with a snark. “From taking over my planet?”

He chuckled softly but never answered. He was so dodgy when it came to questions about it. Even your questions about the Avengers, he usually shrugged and ignored you. 

He came back with two bowls of Lucky Charms and coffee, which you both indulged in silence. Today, Loki was wearing a black knit sweater and his usual trousers, his leg folded on the couch between you. He looked almost sweet eating his child’s cereal, deep in thought, those green gems faraway.

When you were finished, he took your bowl and empty mug and went back to the kitchen to wash them. You looked at him, chin on the back of the couch, losing yourself in the width of his broad shoulders, the way the fabric of his sweater strained across the expanse of his back.

He was truly, utterly beautiful. Maybe it was the soulmate bond tugging deep in your chest, making you see things in him you’d normally never notice. But his touch was gentle, even if his body was all sharp, hard angles. His face was sweet despite the constant frown and the obnoxious tone he sometimes employed. There was something about those strands of raven hair, cut short just beneath his ears, that you wanted to run your fingers through. Would they be soft? Would they be thick? 

Countless times you’d pictured yourself tugging at those dark roots, pulling his head back and exposing his pale, long neck. 

“Staring, Y/N?” came the rumble of his voice. 

You perked up, cheeks growing hot. He was still facing away from you. How did he know?

Your silence made him chuckle, his shoulders moving along with the waves of his laughter. He turned off the tap, turning to face you, leaning against the countertop. You wanted to absolutely delete the space between the both of you, but instead, you fell back against the couch, only your eyes and forehead visible to him. 

He smiled cockily. “It’s fine if you stare,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s adorable.”

“I wasn’t,” you stuttered, looking away, wanting to hide. “I wasn’t staring.”

“I am not an idiot,” Loki said, stalking towards you. “I know staring when I see it.” He put his hands on the back of the couch, on each side of your face, and you had to look up to maintain eye contact. 

“I was just - looking,” you mumbled, looking down. 

He hooked a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes back to his. “I said it’s fine if you look,” he said, inching closer, leaning over you. “I do it too.”

He watched you frown with a tilt of his head, his fingers still grasping your chin. Your mouth parted to say something back, maybe a clever little retort, but you found yourself at a lost for words. 

“I feel the same bond as you, Y/N,” he said, and now his tone was lower, rougher. “I feel the same... desires as you.” You wanted to look away, but he kept a hold on you that you dared not break. “Do you think of me at night?” he asked in a whisper.

Your breath hitched. You did. God, you did. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you stayed long hours staring up at the cream ceiling, imagining what he was doing in his room. What he was thinking. If he was imagining you as well. If his body responded to the thought of you. Because yours did whenever his smirk appeared in your mind’s eye, whenever those hands imaginarily stroked your hips.

His mouth quirked up in a smirk. “You do,” he murmured, gaze dropping momentarily at your parted lips. “Say it.” It was a command.

You gulped, finding it extremely hard to maintain eye contact. “I do.” Your voice was small, barely above a whisper. 

He smiled. “Of course you do.” He stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. “I can’t help it, having you in my thoughts. It’s like a plague. I can’t bare it when I am not with you. I want...” he trailed off, his eyes round, red mouth parted as if he was surprised he’d admitted this much. “I want to kiss you so much. I want to touch every single inch of your skin. I want to taste you and hear what that brings out of you. I can’t stop thinking about it, and Gods, is it hard to control myself.”

You gulped, heat crawling up your face, your hands in fists at your sides. Something new spilled in your tummy, a heat previously unbeknownst to you. It dripped like lead down your thighs, seeping into your core, and you shut your legs together to keep it there.

Loki chuckled, watching you struggle. “Darling, I may be a God but I am still a man,” he whispered. You shivered, the force of his words like a hot flame coursing down your body. “And I won’t be able to keep myself from you any longer.”

You looked up, something daring crawling up your features, relaxing your trembling fists. 

“Then don’t,” you said. 

He was so close to you that you could see the little freckles on his eyelids, the crinkling of the skin beside his mouth as his lips split into a grin. 

“You’re bad,” he uttered. “I like it.”

He softly jerked his chin, eyes boring into yours, and you felt the kiss before he even touched you. His hand left your chin and slid down to grasp your shoulders, bringing you up, kneeling before him. And as he softly pressed his lips to yours, he brought you over the edge of the couch until you stood before him.

At first, his lips were hesitant, soft, slow, as if he was afraid to scare you. To make sure you totally and utterly wanted this. And God, was this better than anything you’d ever experienced. The smell of him so close, the feel of his body pressed flushed against yours, his lips molding against your mouth. It was Paradise. 

Flames erupted under your flesh as Loki kissed you, slowly, sensuously. Your hands slid across his arms, up around his shoulders, and finally, you gripped the soft roots of his raven locks. A guttural groan escaped his throat when you tugged softly, and his left hand - that’d been obediently tucked against your waist - gripped your ass, while his right hand wrapped slowly around your throat.

And his kiss deepened, became hungrier, his tongue opening your lips for him. Heat pooled treacherously down your belly, settling in the pit of your pelvis. This side to Loki, this lasciviousness, the way his hand around your throat squeezed ever so slightly, the one on your ass gripping possessively, made your heart trash against your ribs. 

You wanted more. You wanted closer. You wanted him. 

But the moment broke. It shattered at the sound of a loud, blaring alarm, the loft shutting down and coming back blood red in lights. 

You broke apart, panting, and Loki quickly turned so you were behind him. Your hands rested on his upper back, and you could feel his quick breaths as he scanned the room. Your lips were warm, swollen from his kiss.

A shuddering, ground breaking crash made the floor beneath your feet rumble, like a great big beast had thundered through the walls.

“Shit,” you said, all heat lost, a frozen, merciless cold gripping your insides. You knew exactly what great big beast had found you. 

Loki turned, and the complete change in his expression - from lust to panic - made your head spin. 

“We’ve been found,” he said. “They’ve come for you, my dear.” He looked at you expectantly, and whatever he wanted you to say, you didn’t. Because you couldn’t choose between your brother, your fucking family, and your soulmate. 

The unfairness made you want to cry. 

He gripped your hand and kissed it harshly. “Stay here,” he ordered. 

Your empty hand felt cold without his.

He turned and rippled his magic, illusion dripping from him, revealing the true God. Clad in his long green cotton cape, his black, gold, and green armor adorning his lean build, his horned, golden helmet casting off the brute lights. He looked like a true God; a powerful one. 

Something weird and unpleasant settled in your stomach when he brought his left hand up, his golden staff materializing between his fingers. The light at the tip glowed a nebulous, familiar blue. 

He used it to travel - that was the only word you had for it, the way the world seemed to crack before him, swallowing Loki whole and closing, leaving you staring at empty space. 

Panting, heart beating, thoughts wild from both the kiss and the blaring alarm, you ran for the door. As you’d guessed, it was locked. Whatever magic Loki held on the loft, it wasn’t about to let you out. Pressing your ear against the door, you heard nothing but the muffled rumbling of the lab on the other side. 

You pushed back, angry, groaning in frustration. Maybe if you found your brother and explained. Even if it was ridiculous. Even if Loki was ultimately the villain, the one to threaten your own planet, there had to be an explanation for the bond. And surely, your brother would understand, right?

But you had no time to answer your own question. You had no time to venture into your thoughts. The door blasted open, sending a wave of heat, throwing you back across the air. You landed hard on your back, your head cracking against the floor. 

You vision blurred, wavered, flooding in and out from black to red. A few sparks blew in your vision, muffled voices blurring in your ears. Something pushed off your chest, a heavy weight clearing, your breathing returning in a rush.

Someone was talking to you, yelling at you actually, but you couldn’t make them out. Your world was red and black, a harsh duality, your head swimming viciously. You thought you’d vomit, but the feeling passed. Your left arm was numb.

“Get up!” 

It was a voice you recognized. 

Thor.

You felt arms under your knees, behind your head, gently lifting you. There was a cold harshness, like steel, against your cheek. A rumbling voice overhead. 

“Y/N,” he said, shaking you slightly. “Can you hear me?”

You shook your head. “He’s going to kill you,” you mumbled, frowning, a violent headache searing across your brain. 

Thor huffed. 

Something crashed nearby. Thor groaned, his body moving slightly. 

“Let her go!” Loki’s voice made the world regain its focus, like being taken out from underwater. You reached up, gripping Thor’s armor. Trying to push yourself off. 

“Loki, you’ve mascaraed this planet!” Thor shouted. The force of his voice shook through you. The voice of a God. A king. 

“Let her go, brother! You’ve no idea what you’re doing!” There was pain in Loki’s voice, urgency. Fear.

“Put down the staff, Loki,” Thor demanded. Your head was heavy. An ache crawled along your skull. Another concussion. 

The air shifted, something similar to space travel, but your skin didn’t tighten, your body didn’t feel stretched across time. Thor yelled, his hands curling at your sides, until you were dropped and Thor’s body was propelled from yours.

When you looked up, your head aching something fierce, Loki was bent over you, green eyes torn with fear. He placed a hand on your shoulder, skimming your collarbone. “I’ll kill him,” Loki growled, getting to his feet.

You wanted to tell him to stop, to just take you away again, but your head was too heavy to lift. 

“Bruce is out there, brother,” Thor said, but you couldn’t see him, and your brother’s name on his tongue made tears brim in your eyes. “He’s coming for her and you can’t stop it!”

“You cannot have her!” Loki yelled back, vicious, teeth snapping. “You will not touch her! She’s mine!”

There was a vicious, tremendous crash, the ground rumbling under your spine, sending reverberations painfully dancing along your skull. 

Loki turned, saw the flash of green in the blaring red of the alarm. You wanted to call out. Call out to your brother. You didn’t want him hurt, even if you knew that in this form, the Hulk was basically indestructible.

Loki was too far away to simply leave with you, using the power of his staff. He glanced at you, saw the expanse of space between you both, and his eyes sharpened, just as Hulk came barreling through the wall, roaring in rage, coming toe to toe with Loki.

And Loki vanished, leaving you there, on the floor, broken, and empty.

Tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 6

July 31st: Neighbors AU or Famous AU

Read on AO3

So, yeah, should have posted this yesterday but I didn’t have time to finish writing it and then I got drunk. I’m not super happy with it, it didn’t come out like I planned, but I hope you like it anyway. Hopefully I can get day 7 written and posted tomorrow.

-

Fame for Beca had always been a double edged sword.

It allowed her music to spread across the globe. She got to meet fans and hear about how she had inspired or helped them, just by existing. She got to work with and meet her peers and idols, and perform in places she never dreamed of.

She got to provide for her family. She got to give her kids the childhood she never had, and she got to give her wife the life she deserved.

But she also had to deal with paparazzi following them around everywhere they went.

She had to deal with articles written about her every other day, and intense fans that crossed boundaries, and ones that would trash her online.

Beca was finding that she had more bad days than good days, and it was beginning to weigh her down.

She had to remind herself daily, that there were billions of people who were suffering in the world, and that she was incredibly privileged to live the life she led.

But Chloe could see the toll it was taking on her wife, and it was killing her.

After she was almost in that car accident, Beca had taken a couple of weeks off work. She spent her time taking care of Chloe, playing with Blake, and obsessively re-writing and re-working the songs on her upcoming album.

And it was an insane success.

Everyone who had slated her single ate their words, and Beca found herself skyrocketing to fame for the second time.

Their money worries disappeared almost overnight, but other problems replaced them quickly.

Beca had always been a relatively private and introverted person. It was one of the reasons she had always wanted to be a producer rather than an artist.

So while her fame rose, her anxiety did too.

She tried to keep it to herself, but Chloe has always been able to read Beca like a book.

She always knew when Beca’s anxiety was bad, but she also always knew how to calm Beca down.

So they were dealing with it. They had a system. Beca would work until she couldn’t, and then Chloe would pick her back up.

“People are dying,” Beca would mutter to herself, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands on the back of her head. “Children are dying. They’re going without food, water, and medicine, and they’re dying. My problems are nothing.”

When things were at the worst, she would repeat this to herself over and over as wave after way of anxiety crippled her. Chloe would find her and hold her, and whisper reassurances until Beca calmed down.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was working.

At least Chloe thought it was.

But then Beca reached her breaking point.

It had been a rough week to begin with - she had had to read an article on a prominent gossip site about how she was apparently cheating on Chloe with another musician - so she was already on edge.

Chloe had assured Beca she knew it was all bullshit, but Beca still hated that Chloe had to deal with that stuff. And she hated even more that Blake was old enough to read and understand it.

It was Riley’s third birthday, and she was walking with her girls to get ice cream from the kids’ favourite place.

Riley was up on Beca’s shoulders, Chloe was walking at her side, pushing Riley’s empty stroller, and Blake was walking between them.

“What ice cream are you gonna get, peanut?” Beca asked.

“I don’t want any,” Blake said, frowning, kicking her shoes against the ground.

Beca shot a look of confusion at Chloe. She had been excited when they were in the car, and had seemed perfectly happy a few minutes ago when Beca had taken her hand to cross the street.

“Why not?” Chloe asked.

“I just don’t. I wanna go home,” she said. She stopped walking, so Beca and Chloe did too.

“Hey, what is it?” Chloe asked, crouching down in front of her. She pushed Blake’s dark brown hair out of her face, and lifted her sunglasses so she could see her eyes. “Are you not feeling well?”

“People keep taking pictures of us,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I don’t like it.”

Chloe glanced up at Beca in time to see her face fall.

“None of us like it very much,” Chloe said. “But your Mom is famous. And that means people wanna see pictures of her when she’s out and about.”

“Well I hate it!” Blake snapped. She looked past Chloe and let out a groan of annoyance. “They’re doing it again!”

Chloe turned and saw a man sitting at a table outside a coffee shop pointing his phone at them. He shoved it into his pocket and turned away when he realised he’d been caught.

Beca sighed, and took Riley down from her shoulders. Riley fussed and started crying when Beca put her back in her stroller.

“Sorry baby girl,” Beca said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Beca,” Chloe said in a warning voice.

“I’m just gonna talk to him,” Beca said.

She left Chloe with their daughters and approached the man.

She saw recognition dawn in other peoples’ faces as she got close.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her tone friendly. “Can you do me a favour and delete those pictures you took?”

“I didn’t-”

“Come on, man, even my nine-year-old clocked you. She doesn’t like having her picture taken, and I don’t like photographs of my kids being on some stranger’s phone,” Beca said. “I’ll happily take a selfie with you, if you want, but I’d really like it if you deleted those photos.”

“Yeah, I kinda don’t want a selfie,” he said. “TMZ won’t pay me anything for a selfie.”

Beca clenched her jaw and forced a smile. “Delete those pictures, dude.”

“No,” he said. “It’s a free country.”

Beca could feel the eyes of every other table watching them. She knew they had all fallen silent to eavesdrop.

“Delete the pictures of my fucking kids, do you hear me?” Beca said, trying to keep her voice down.

She was sick of this. Sick of the entitlement that these people had. Like they had a right to her life, and she was sick of the impact it was having on her family.

“Are you gonna make me?”

She saw he was pointing his phone at her again.

She swallowed down the anger that was building. “I’m asking nicely, dude. Delete those pictures.”

“I was taking them of you and Chloe,” he said. “You can hardly see the kids.”

“Is there a problem here?”

She looked at the man who had just arrived and figured he must work for the coffee shop, based on his brown apron with the shop logo, and the name tag that read ‘Dylan’.

“Beca fucking Mitchell here won’t leave me alone,” the guy said.

“This pervert took pictures of my kids!” Beca snapped back.

“What did you just call me?” He stood up from his chair quickly, the raised voice and abrupt noise of the chair scraping attracted more attention.

“How many other pictures of little girls are we gonna find on your phone? Let’s take a look,” she made a move to grab the phone off the table, but he tried to stop her, and caused it to slide off and onto the floor.

Without thinking, Beca drove the heel of her Doc Marten boot into it, hearing a satisfying crunch as the screen broke.

Yes, his pictures were probably already on the Cloud, but she didn’t care right now. He wasn’t going to be able to ruin anyone else’s day today.

“Yes!” One of the patrons of the coffee shop cheered. “Work bitch!”

“That was a $1,500 phone you… talentless whore!” He shoved her, hard, and Beca fell backwards into another table.

With a look of panic in his eyes he ran off, as Chloe rushed towards her with the girls.

“Mommy!” Blake cried, letting go of Chloe’s hand and running over to Beca who was now sitting on the ground, her hand gingerly touching the back of her head. “Mommy, he pushed you!”

She climbed onto her Mom’s lap and wrapped her arms around her.

“I know,” Beca said, hugging her daughter tightly. “But I’m okay.”

A bigger crowd had started to form around them now, and more people had their phones out. Beca could feel the panic building in her chest.

People were touching her, Beca didn’t know if they were trying to help her up or not, but she needed them to stop.

“Can I get through, please?” Beca heard Chloe shout. “Excuse me, I need to check on my wife.���

Dylan managed to clear a space for Chloe to get through with the stroller.

Riley was starting to get upset, and Chloe could see the panic rising in Beca’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked, her voice as quiet as she could make it so Beca would still be able to hear, but that it might not carry to the crowd.

“I can’t be here,” Beca said, her voice shaking. “I don’t want them to see.”

“Okay,” Chloe said. She stood up and quietly asked Dylan if there was somewhere they could sit in private, and he nodded. “Blake, honey, can you help your Mom stand up?”

Blake climbed off Beca’s lap, and held out her small hand for Beca to take. Beca took it, and stood up as Blake pulled.

Dylan led them through the shop and to a small room with a couple of sofas that must have been meant for staff.

“I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “We really appreciate this.”

He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Beca dropped onto one of the sofas and let her head fall into her shaking hands.

She forced herself to take deep breaths as Chloe sat beside her, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back.

“Mommy?” Riley asked.

“Yeah?” Chloe replied.

“Can we get ice cream yet?”

Beca burst into tears without warning, which created the domino effect of Riley crying and then Blake crying.

“Okay,” Chloe said, surveying her tearful family. “Who needs a hug the most?”

“Mom does,” Blake said, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

“Can you give it to her while I take care of Riley?”

“Uh huh,” Blake said. She climbed onto Beca’s lap again, and Beca pulled her daughter into her arms. “It’s okay, Mom, the bad man is gone.”

“I know,” Beca said, trying to stop crying. “I’m just sad that he ruined Riley’s birthday.”

“We can still get ice cream,” Blake said. “I won’t be angry about people taking our picture anymore.”

“No, baby, you should be angry about that,” Beca said. “They don’t have your permission, so they shouldn’t be doing it.”

Her eyes met Chloe’s who was soothing a still sobbing Riley. Something was going to have to change.

They left the coffee shop once everyone had calmed down, and Beca gave them a big tip for the trouble they’d gone through.

They made it back to the car without any more trouble, and Beca ordered some ice cream on DoorDash to get delivered.

They hung out in their garden for the rest of the day, playing in the pool, and eating junk food.

Chloe kept noticing the smile that would slip from Beca’s face whenever she thought no one was looking.

Once the kids were bathed and put to bed, Chloe poured them both a generous glass of wine, and joined Beca on their comfy sofa in the living room.

“I don’t want you confronting people like that again, Bec,” Chloe said, trying to massage the tension out of Beca’s shoulders.

“I know,” Beca said, closing her eyes.

“I mean it,” Chloe said. “He could have hurt you.”

“I know,” Beca said again. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“Good,” Chloe said. She placed a kiss on the back of Beca’s head.

They were quiet for a while as Chloe continued slowly massaging Beca’s shoulders.

“Come on,” she said, planting a brief kiss on her neck. “Let's go to bed.”

They climbed the stairs, briefly checked on the kids, and then changed for bed.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe asked, watching Beca as stared up at the ceiling. She could see tears building in her eyes again, and she brushed one away with a sweep of her thumb.

“I don’t wanna do it anymore, Chloe,” Beca said, her voice breaking. “We can’t take our kids for ice cream. Blake is getting too anxious to leave the house, and Riley is gonna start picking up on that soon. You can’t even work anymore. I don’t… I don’t wanna be famous anymore, I don’t want to live in this stupid town, I don’t want any of it.”

“I know,” Chloe said, softly.

“I’m serious.” Her voice was wobbling dangerously now. “I can’t… It’s crushing me.” She brought up a hand to cover her face as she started crying. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, we can figure this out,” Chloe said, gathering Beca into her arms. “We’ll be okay.”

“It’s gonna kill me.”

“I know, baby, I know. But I won’t let it,” Chloe said. “Tomorrow we’re gonna call Theo, and we’re gonna figure it out.”

“Thank you,” Beca said, feeling calm relief begin to wash over her. Things were going to change. Things were going to get better. “I love you.”

“I love you too. No matter what your job is or where we live. I’m always gonna love you.”

[adezahnae]

My Roomie (Part 6)

A/N: Here’s Part 6 also the last part of this story!!! I hope you enjoy it🥺 I thank you for reading this series💕☺️

Warnings: plot twist, secrets, tension, angst, etc....

Tagged People: @ahgasearmyfan @whoreforshuaaa @nanascupid @winwiniee @stormxiii05

Your POV

“Well...It was three years ago, I had girlfriend just like you. She was innocent, barely knew nothing of the world. I wanted to help her see the world.” He explained. “Like corrupt her?” I asked. “I guess you could say that. So I did, I showed her everything she didn’t know, just how I did you. But as I was, Jamie took it as I was abusing her. He went behind my back and talked to her, bringing her from her state. She fell in love with him and left me for him. He made me so angry and I began to sleep with girls to try and forget her, but I couldn’t. That’s until I met you.” He said.

I nodded my head, playing with his sweatpants string. “He’s just as charming as you..” I giggled. He smiled a little. “Yeah..I guess so..” He replied, hugging me closer. “I have another question.” I said. “What is it?” He asked. “Who is Lia?” I asked. I felt him stop his movements. “Don’t worry about her..she’s nothing to me and never believe what she says.” He replied, kissing my forehead.

“Even when she said you got her pregnant?” I asked looking at him. “Not even that...” He smiled. I gave him a warm smile as well and he kissed my forehead. I yawned. “I love you...” I whispered under my breath. “I love you too..” He replied. I gasped. “You heard me?” I asked.

He nodded and kissed me again. “Go to sleep baby..” He whispered. I rested my head on his chest. “And tell that Bitch to stay in her place or I’ll beat her up more..” I mumbled. He let out a laugh. “Shh my baby..” He said, containing his giggles. I laughed a little and began to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat.

Jongin’s POV

After Y/n fell asleep it was around night, I got from bed and threw on a hoodie. I walked out the dorm to her dorm and banged on her door. She opened the door holding her son. My son. “What do you want?” She asked. I seen that she had bruises on her face and a busted lip. Wow Y/n, I’m impressed.

“Dada..” My son said making grabbing hands towards me. I took him from Lia’s arms and held him. “Get in.” I said pushing her inside the door. I closed the door behind me. “What?!” She asked, crossing her arms.

“What did you tell Y/n?” I growled. “That you got me pregnant.” She shrugged. “Like I said, that baby is not mine..” I said. “You said that last time and look what happened, Jordan was yours.” She said.

I rolled my eyes and sat down. “What? Can’t say anything now?” She asked walking up to me. “Get away from me, I’m with my son right now.” I said. She rolled her eyes. I bounced him in my lap as he giggled. A small smile came over my face as he did, reminding me of my own giggle. “I’m taking Jordan away.” She said. “What?!” I asked. “I’m taking him away. The adoption center. He’s going up for adoption.” She said.

“No, you’re not.” I said. “Uh, yes the hell I am. You’re never here to see him. You’re too busy fucking that Y/n girl. You can’t even own up to the one I’m pregnant with!” She exclaimed. I stood up. “You take my fucking child I swear I will end you.” I growled. “And your child.” She smirked patting her stomach.

“So this is what this is about? Because I’m not claiming that baby, you’re gonna take my ONLY son away?” I exclaimed back. She took Jordan from me and laid him in his crib. “You put him away and I will come for you. I don’t give a damn about your family nor your shitty ass brother.” I threatened.

“You’re gonna put your hands on me?! Huh?! I’ll put your ass in jail and you won’t see your son EVER again.” She exclaimed. “As I said, I will fucking end you bitch! Try me!” I yelled. “You expect that to scare me?! GET THE FUCK OUT!” “RAISE YOU FUCKING VOICE AGAIN!” I yelled back in her face.

Jordan began to cry in the crib. I took him from the crib and grabbed his bag and blanket. “WHERE AREYOU GOING WITH MY CHILD?! Y/N DOESN’T EVEN KNOW ABOUT JORDAN!” I sighed and stopped. She was right, I couldn’t take him back to my room, but I knew where to go. “Bye Lia.” I said walking out the door.

I walked down the empty stairs and halls to my car. I took Jordan’s car seat from the truck and put it in the passenger seat. I strapped him in securely and put the seatbelt over him. I got in the car and started it, driving off to where I wanted to go.

After a bit, I made it there and I took Jordan from his seat. I made my way up the stairs and I knocked on the door. Chanyeol opened the door with sleepy eyes and a sleepy Baekhyun behind him. “Let me in.” I said pushing pass the two.

“Why are you here so late? It 11pm..” Chanyeol asked. “I couldn’t sleep.” I said. “Why do you have Jordan? What happened?” He asked. “She went to Y/n telling her that I got her pregnant and so I wanted to talk to her. During a small argument we had, she said she was putting Jordan up for adoption. I can’t just let her have him.” I said.

Sehun came from his room and rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Jongin, what’s going on- JORDAN!!” Sehun gasped as he ran over and grabbed him. “Be careful! He’s trying to sleep.” I said. He rocked Jordan in his arms with a smile. “It’s my little nephew.” Sehun said. “So you got in an argument with Lia and she threatened to put Jordan up for adoption?” Chanyeol repeated. “Just because I won’t claim the child she’s pregnant with..” I sighed rubbing my temples.

“It’s Lucas’ child.” Baekhyun yawned. “Lucas? How do you know?” I asked. “He won’t shut up about it. He keeps saying I smashed Lia and got her pregnant and all. And I was there. The night she left your place, she went to Lucas’ and slept with him. She told him to take the condom off and everything. It was disgusting.” Baekhyun explained.

“You were in the room with him?!” Sehun exclaimed. “No dumbass, I heard it all.” Baekhyun replied. “I thought it was Chanyeol’s..” I said. Chanyeol made a face. “Hell no! I fuck around with her from time to time but that is NOT my child. No!” Chanyeol defended, making everyone laugh. “God she’s a slut. Yet she tells me I’m the only one she’s been with.” I said. “Because she trying to pin you down with the baby.” Baekhyun said. “Why..?” I replied. “Because she doesn’t like Y/n taking you away. She wants her to hurt and leave you so you will go back to her.” Baekhyun said.

I rolled my eyes. “That bitch has a damn death wish..” I said. “Yeah, but I think she’s scared of Y/n. She beat her ass in the hallway today.” Sehun said. I smiled. “She told me.” I said. “Oohhh you like Y/n!!” Baek teased. “Shut up! I’m just happy..” I said. “Yeah sureee..what happened to corrupting her and leaving?” Chanyeol asked. “I don’t know, I think she who I want to keep. She just like Grace...” I said. “You mean the girl your brother snatched from you?” Sehun asked.

I looked over at him with a death glare. “Uhhh....Your son is hungry!” Sehun said giving him back to me. I took Jordan from him and went into his bag. I pulled out a bottle and began to fed him. “How old is he now?” Chanyeol asked rubbing his hand over his head. “Ten months.” I said. “Aww..the cute thing..luckily he looks like you. Lia’s pretty ugly.” Baekhyun said.

“I heard the only thing she had good was pussy. She is pretty ugly. But like..how did you fuck that?” Chanyeol asked. “Face down, ass up position. Worked every time.” I replied taking Jordan’s bottle away. “Yeah...best way to have sex with a girl.” Chanyeol laughed. “Yeah, especially with Lia’s ugly ass.” Sehun agreed. Jordan let out a giggle make me smile. “He even knows his mother is ugly!” Baek laughed.

We all heard a knock on door and Lia’s voice. “CHANYEOL OPEN UP THE DOOR! JONGIN JUST TOOK MY-” She walked in and stopped in her tracks. “Give my son back.” She said walking up to me. “No. Get out.” I said. “I said give him to me!” She exclaimed, taking Jordan from my arms. He began to cry. “GIVE ME MY SON BACK!” I yelled. She grabbed his bag and walked away. “Say goodbye to him! He leaves in two days!” She exclaimed slamming the door behind her. “FUCK!” I yelled out sitting down on the couch.

“Hey Jongin...it’s okay..honest..” Baekhyun said. “No it’s not. I can’t deal with this shit. I have all of this nonsense going on in my life and yet..” I began to shed tears. “I can’t deal with another thing in my life. Not this..I can’t deal with this..” I said.

The Next Day...

Your POV

I was in the classroom, writing down my notes until I felt an urge in the pit of my stomach. I gasped and held my hand over my mouth, running to the outside of the classroom, throwing up in the trash can. My teacher came rushing out behind me.

“Y/n?! Y/n?! Are you okay?” She asked me. “I..feel..lightheaded..” I said feeling dizzy. I then blacked out. I heard my teacher calling the nurses and students to help me to the heath center.

- -

I woke up on the nurse bed. My teacher and the nurses and doctor talking. They all turned to me as soon as I sat up. The nurse and doctor smiled at me. “Hello ms. Y/n.” The doctor said. “Hi..what happened?” I asked. “You had a black out. We ran some tests on you and found something out.” The doctor said. “What?” I asked.

She smiled more. “You’re pregnant by almost a month.” She said. I felt my world stop. “What..?” I asked. “Congratulations!” The nurse said, stopping the machine that was on me and taking the attachment away from me. “Umm..okay, what about my family and all? D-Did you tell them?” I asked.

My teacher frowned. “Yeah...I contacted them and told them the news and..” “And what?” I asked. “They want nothing to do with you...” she said. Felt my heart break. “No..they..don’t want to talk to me?” I asked. “No..I’m sorry sweetheart..I’m here if you-” I shook my head and ran out the office, crying. I pulled out my phone and deleted their numbers.

How could they just abandon me? All because I’m pregnant?! I walked all the way back to my room and went to the one person who I could vent out to. Jongin...

- -

I walked in the dorm and found him in his room. “Hey baby.” I said. “Hey.” He replied. I walked over to him and crawled on his lap. “Do you love me?” I asked. “Why?” He replied rubbing his hands up and down my thighs. “Um, oh my gosh..Jongin..” I mumbled as he kissed me on my neck and ran his hands under my shirt.

He turned us around to where I was laying down and he lifted my shirt. I ran my hands down his back though his hair. He began to create a hickie on my neck I whimpered gripped onto his back. “I’m pregnant...” I whispered not exactly expecting him to hear. He stopped his actions and leaned up from my neck.

“What?” He asked. “I’m pregnant..” I repeated. He looked at me and got off of me. He walked out the room. I furrowed my eyebrows and followed after him. “So? You’re not gonna say anything?” I asked. “Why should I?” He replied. “What? No..you’re telling me that..you don’t want to help me with this?” I asked heartbroken.

“I don’t have time for it...” He said. “DON’T HAVE TIME FOR IT!? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” I yelled. “I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR A BABY! NOT ANOTHER ONE!” He yelled back. “A-Another one? You have a baby?” I asked. He stopped in his tracks. “Like I said, I don’t have time for one..I have to go.” He said. “Where are you going?! I have no one to help me through this!!” I cried holding onto his arm.

“Stop touching me!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away. “You’re really gonna leave me? MY PARENTS JUST ABANDONED ME BECAUSE OF THIS! YOU’RE THE FATHER!” I cried. “Am I?” He asked putting on his shoes. I sobbed of disbelief. “Jongin...” I said. “I have to go. Bye.” He said. “YOU KNOW WHAT?! FINE!! GO! I HATE YOU!!” I yelled. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Then hate me. I don’t have time from you or that child.” He said walking out the door, leaving me there.

[veronicaduartes]

Thoughts

So, the thing is... I feel devastated.

I loved somebody, gave him my all and he trew me away like a pile of trash. As if he never cared for me and the last 2 years of my life were just wasted.

I worked so hard on these last 2 years, I come from a broken family, abusive father, emotionally-unavailable mother (she did her best though, she had it DAMN hard all her life). On January 2020 I got into a car crash and no one believed my version of the story, they prefered to believe I was drunk-driving (which I wasn't) and it was all my fault (which it wasn't).

So I got really resentful and decided to get myself a job, stop depending on my mother and having to put up with all the shame inflicted on me. I started working at a call center, barely made minimun wage salary but I was saving as much money as I could to get out of my house (rent a room somewhere since it was all I could afford).

At the same time, I was dating a really nice guy, that I had only met a couple of months prior. He was 6 years older than me and already had a stable job so he decided to move out with me, wherever we decided to go.

It's April now, and on the 24th night of the month we moved in together. I was on cloud 9, we were so happy, I had a the shittiest job but coming home to him and watching TV together was everything I wanted and it was worth every damn second answering the phone.

But as the months passed the guy I loved grew apart from me. Suddenly we were not spending the nights together, all he did was play videogames with his friends all night until 7am in the morning sometimes, while I was growing lonelier and lonelier. Sex wasn't even happening, and I thought he didn't want me anymore. I told him about my discomfort and he promised to make some time for me.

Some more months passed and it was ok, but the situation repeated itself, and of course I was sad again. Many hours of thinking and analyzing patterns later, I decided it wasn't working anymore for me and it was time to call it quits.

I don't know what I expected that night but as the time came, I told him to break up. He seemingly reacted very calm and peacefull so I told him we could stay friends. The next day I had to go to work, I felt really sad but hadn't even realized in my mind that our relationship was over, until I received a text from him that said "I'm moving out on Thursday". That text just sunk into my stomach and as I got home to find an empty house it felt even worse. He had already gone to his parents' house, without even saying goodbye.

I was incredibly dissapointed, I thought that if he loved me he would've fight back, or at least not ran away on the first shot he got. Anyway, so he told me he was coming on Wednesday to organize his stuff into boxes and move out Thursday in the morning. I told him we could have a last dinner together, just to give some closure to me, as I felt I needed closure and so we did. Turns out on Wednesday night after talking a couple of hours he ended up crying and asking me if he could stay. I told him he had made the strongest desition by hiring that truck to move out and getting all his shit into boxes so, there was no backing off now. (By the way, some of the appliances were his' such as the refrigerator which he did not hesitate to leave me with all the food on the floor to rot as he took his damn refrigerator). On the next morning I told him goodbye and we went our separate ways.

Since I couldn't pay the rent all by myself I was left with no other choice than to go back to my parents' house. They helped me with the moving but I still felt like a damn failure coming back, while I still mourned the end of our relationship and cried myself to sleep every night.

Some weeks passed and one morning, I woke up with a text of his telling me "I miss you". I told him I missed him too (which I really did) and so we agreed to meet once again to talk. We met and the inevitable happened: after some crying we got back together. Still living apart though. Months passed and everything was going great! Still had our arguments but by this time we had already figured out how to talk our differences with love and patience.

**At this point I need to give you some important context: since I come from a broken family, I DON'T want kids. I really don't want to have kids of my own, not as of now or in the future. I don't discard adopting, I believe that's a very beautiful way to become a parent, but I really do not want to go through pregnancy and all those things having a baby comes with. I have always been very honest about it when I'm meeting people because on past relationships I've had this issue. So, since I was meeting this guy I was talking about, back on 2019, I told him I didn't want kids and he seemed to be on the same page as me. He even told me he wanted to get the male contraceptive injection that was soon going to be available on the market. Everything seemed fime.**

So, back to the story. On January 2021, my boyfriend's sister found out she was pregnant, everyone on his family was really happy because, on the contrary as myself, they have a really beautiful, happy and healthy family (everything I wished for). I was really happy for them as well and my boyfriend and I even went shopping some nice things for the baby. We bought the cutest and fluffiest bear costume. It was adorable.

As more months passed, I saw my boyfriend getting more and more excited about babies and the idea of having babies. Since he knew my position, he eventually taked to me about wanting to have babies in the future. I told him my position has not changed and most likely it will not change. I can't predict the future of course and can't know what my mind will think on 5-10 years, but I was honest with him and told him that the odds of me changing my mind are quite low, not to say inexistant. But he was confused, he still didn't know if he wanted kids or not. So I told him "think about it and whenever you have made up your mind, let me know".

On August 27th, about 12 am in the morning, his nephew was born, strong and healthy. I was really happy for all his family, since I know how much they already loved that boy. I sent them my best wishes and since he came out by c-section, they had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days.

Later that same day, I published some stupid game on instagram which really doesn't matter much what it was about but somehow it got us into a discussion and he told me "this is one of the best days of my life for you to fuck it up"... Those words really took me by surprise, I was happy and silly, literally just joking him around but he reacted very strongly and rude.

How in the hell is it ever going to be my intention to ruin his day? I thought he was very defensive. He stoped taking to me and returned hours later. However, I was really hurt and I felt like we really needed to talk about it. He sort of apologized but we couldn't continue the conversation since he was already sleepy and told me if we could continue the next day. I told him it was fine, of course.

The next day came and he didn't remember to get back to the conversation, he just pretended as if everything was fine. Another day passed so I reminded him and he told me it was late already and he was tired, so if we could talk the next day (again). A week passed and he never remembered to catch up with the conversation (or ignored it). I still felt sad and hurt and so, when making plans for the weekend I told him how I felt and that we needed to talk. We agreed on a day and place, but he followed telling me he knew I have been upset but he just ignored me... So basically that started the fight once again. How the hell if you know someone you love is upset and sad you just ignore it? Do you care how I feel at all? Some things were said and I didn't understand where did this sudden hate come from.

Ever since the baby was born he had been defensive and treating me badly like that (something I had never seen before on him). I was utterly confused until he confessed it to me: he was somehow angry with me because I do not want kids..... I had no words, how the hell was I supposed to knew that? It did make a lot of sense though, his behaviour was immediately explained to me. However he started blaming me on his smoking and a bunch of other crap I have no blame on. Turns out he told me: he decided he does wants kids and therefore I no longer had a place in his life. I told him to tell me, to confirm me if that meant we were breaking up, to at least have the guts to tell that to my face (metaphorically cause this conversation was all by text). I begged him for a goodbye, once again, to get some closure. I deserve closure, but he wasn't even able to tell me goodbye. To tell me I was a good girlfriend, to thank me for all the love I gave him, for all the times I had advised him, for all the memories we had together, to thank me for at least giving him my all. He knew I loved him, he really did.

And I respect his reason, I really do. If he wants kids and I don't then there's no point of staying together if we're going on different paths. However, it's been a week from the breakup. I'm still here devastated, crying, stalking his twitter every 5 minutes to see if there's any clue that he might be thinking of me. But all I see is the opposite. He's saying that he's happy, posting pictures with his baby-born nephew, it's almost as if I never meant anything to him. One week with the baby and I'm already out of his life. Am I so damn disposable? Does he not remember any of the happy moments we spent together? All the love that I gave him? How I even fought my own family to defend him? How I cared for him... It sucks, it really sucks.

The next morning after the breakup he had already deleated all his pictures with me on social media. So, on the next day I did the same. Oh how damn hard it was to delete that video I made about us and our adventures... I spent about 8 hours collecting little clips of our trips and I loved the end result so much... and now it's gone... forever, along with our memories.

It really sucks, some days I am ok, with just a little hole inside of me but overall ok... and some other days I feel like I want to die (yes, literally die). I cry everytime I remember. I have no friends. I can't tweet about how damn sad I feel because I don't want any of his friends or my friends even to see me how devastated and dependant I am.

The thing is, I don't believe he understands how much he meant to me... how much I loved him and how safe I felt on his arms. He's got lots of friends, a supporting family, tons of hobbies... while I'm here depressed, no job, no friends, nobody to talk to, living in my parents' house. I literally feel as if this 2 years, I tried so hard and it ended up being all wasted. I'm back to square one: no job, no money, no relationship. Lonely and sad once again.

I wish I could be like those strong women who stay single for very long periods of time... but I'm lonely. I usually need someone to hear me, someone to talk to. I like having someone to share my life with.

Sometimes I hate myself for having this romantic expectation of a perfect relationship that lasts forever and the love flame never dies... I guess Disney channel really damaged me. The dream is slowly dying though, at this moment I'm all out of hope. I know there are some men out there that would like to be with me, but I see no point in that.

First of all, I'm not interested in anybody. I don't like anybody, I don't even want men near me. I'm literally out of hope and I don't even want to meet anybody because eveything will eventually end up this way. I don't believe anymore. And it's dangerous to be out of hope.

Sometimes I'm scared, like, literally scared to become suicidal or something. Right now I'm not, sometimes I wish to die but I don't think I'm brave enough to do it myself. And then I stop to think that my mom doesn't deserve that pain. But yeah, sometimes I'm scared I may end up like Chester Bennington; with so many songs that basically were a cry for help but nobody ever took it that way because he looked so healthy and confident.

And I know I'm a great actress, I know people don't even suspect I have been fighting depression for years now. Every single day is a struggle and I'm tired already. I'm honestly so tired to be battling every day I just want to be free and give up but I can't since my demons are all inside of me.

I quit my job a month ago cause I thought that would give me happiness but guess what? Yeah, it didn't. Somehow it was easier having something to blame, than realizing that the only one to blame is yourself.

My boyfriend knew I was having a hard time with these thoughts already, he told me I should go to therapy. But I have no money to spend on therapy... and also, as I said in the beggining, nor do I have a supporting family, if they know I want to go to therapy they will think I'm crazy.

I have always been very strong, and showcased myself as a really strong woman, who thinks and analyzes and makes rational desitions... but it was always been just an act, when I'm by myself I cry a lot, I have a lot of traumas which I have been working really hard on for years now, but as I said, I'm tired.

I'm so tired of having to fight a battle everyday, I honestly just want peace and I'm scared I will never find it. Cause I can't stay like this for much longer. I know I won't hold up all my life with this sadness.

I quit my job because I wanted to start my own business. At first I was so excited about it but now I just can't find ANY motivation to work at all.

I don't know if he left me because I'm crazy and too much to handle, which reinforces my lack of hope in relationships. It has happened to me before, I don't know if all men are the same and they all forget you once they have you, which really sucks... Or if on the contrary, I keep seeking emotionally-unavailable people, just as my childhood attachment...

At least right now some friends have showed up and I have told them I've been having a hard time with this breakup (haven't told about all the other issues though, but it's a first step)... though I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it. I don't want to burst into tears and dramaticly crying in public, but oh well... We'll see how it goes.

Right now, all these thoughts are making me crazy. Sometimes I'm angry with my ex-boyfriend for leaving me right when I needed him the most... but it was a relationship doomed to end, and somehow deep inside me I always knew it. Still, that doesn't remove all the pain I'm feeling right now. If anything, just makes me blame myself for letting it come this far and letting myself fall so hard in love with somebody I knew wasn't right.

I don't know what to do right now... I'm dying to talk to him, but I know I must not. He doesn't miss me, he never loved me as much as I loved him (I don't know if he even has the capability of loving so deeply as I loved him) and we're not even compatible and I wasn't even enjoying his company so much lately... but you know, my feelings do not act by reason and I HATE them so much because of that. I feel like they dominate me, instead of me dominating them.

I gotta be strong and reasonable... These are the moments where I wish I had faith in God or something to give me strenght but I don't even believe in anything.

Why do we always cry and suffer so much about people that don't even deserve it? People that are no good for us...

Songs in my mind right now:

* Phil Collins - Against all odds

* Olivia Rodrigo - Good 4 u

* Olivia Rodrigo - All I want

* Taylor Swift - Cardigan

* Selena Gomez - The heart wants what I wants

Most likely no one will read this, but it helped me try to organize some thoughts in my head so that's enough for me. Luckily, no one uses tumblr anymore.

[bitchiha]

A/N: I accidentally posted the request before I finished LOL. So I don’t know much about Tsundere relationships, but I did some reading on it just before I started writing and I hope I did the request some justice! Also I’m literally Kankuros bitch <3

Ps, I’m sorry I didn’t put a keep reading thingy idk how to do it on mobile and my trash laptop is broken 😭😭

Also I didnt include tobirama bc I absolutely hated how his turned out and I had to delete it im sorry 😖

✎ Tsundere relationship! (Hidan, Kank, Naruto)

Kankurō

Ahh, where to start? I think you’ll meet on a mission co partnered with the Leaf...

You and Shikamaru are sent to assist the Sand on a mission. Now, we already know Kankurō is a bit of a sassy mf when it comes to the Leaf like I think he whole heartedly believes the Sand is superior and you also have those feelings about your own village... So there’s an instant dislike for one another. Kinda like an instant rivalry.

Literally the first thing you say to him is “So, the Sand can’t take care of their own missions?” And that sets Kankurō off, “What, how dare you- ack! Temari, that hurt! I’m not gonna let her walk all over us like that, I’ll fight you right now you Leaf Village bi- ow! Temari!” Shikamaru has to hold you back LMFAOO you’re ready to throw hands “Huh, what’s that? Sounds like you’re really determined for me to kick your ass?” He lowkey liked when you said that to him lol.

Anyways, the two of you are bickering the whole entire way to the missions destination. You’ll tease eachother about anything and everything you can. So, once you find out about his puppet master jutsu its only natural that you fall on the floor with laughter. Like full on tears and strangled breathing. Now this is something you can really tease him about.

“What! You still play with dolls? I bet you have little sleep over parties with them and do their hair-“

You’re cut off because he tries to trap you in the Ant. Temari has to strangle him and force him to let you out. You’re lucky he didn’t iron maiden your ass LMFAOO.

This is the kind of the energy you guys carry whenever you see eachother from now on. He’ll see you more often too because you carry out a lot of Leaf and Sand allied missions and duties. Rip to anyone who gets put on a mission with you two tbh.

But on one particularly hard mission it ends up down to the two of you fighting off like 10 enemies. He’s trying to focus on fighting them, but he can’t stop thinking about if you’re okay. His distractedness earns him a particularly hard blow.

You end up having to fight off the remaining enemies yourself, all the while protecting him. The last thing he remembers is you screaming his name when he gets hit and the fear that was in your eyes at seeming him like that. It slowly turns to anger and then you kick the bad guys asses. He’s like half conscious but is laying there like: whatta bad bitch. Then he passes out.

Starts to really admire you after that and his comments aren’t as snarky when he sees you next. It’s more like little jabs and teases because that’s how he shows his affection, but they were no longer the hardcore roasts he’d dish out before. You probably stop flaming his ass too because let’s be real here; you’ve both obviously been attracted to each other from the start you just didn’t want to admit it.

Like cmon, he didn’t wait for you at the gates every single time he knew you were visiting just to insult you first. No. He came there to see your cute ass first!!Same goes for you, like you didn’t take all the missions to the Sand for nothing. You came there to see your fav hot headed puppet master.

He’ll ask you out a few months later, when you end up at the Sand again. Probably takes you to dinner before going back to his place. I 100% see him showing you his puppets and this time you’ll actually show your interest and not just tease him lol. Probably ends up making out with you on his workbench. Ok that’s all.

Naruto

You meet eachother for the first time at Ichirakus. Second to Naruto, you actually bring in the most cash for the place. So it’s surprising you two had never met each other before.

Until now of course. He’s just gotten back from a long mission and he’s dying for some ramen. He strolls right in and orders a miso pork ramen, but the old man tells him there’s no more pork left.

Probably flips his shit like who tf ate it all?? Then the old man points at you. You’re sitting there chowing down you’re literal 15th bowl, the giant stack of empty bowls next to you proving it. You watch the blondie charge right at you while you eat the last miso pork bowl of ramen for the day.

You put the bowl down and wipe your face just as he stops right infront of you, very close to your face. You can see the anger in his eyes, but you are not giving up. Also, the guy looks sorta comical so you basically laugh in his face which gets him more worked up.

“What are you laughing about? You just ate all of old mans pork for the day!! That last bowl is mine, believe it!” Once again you laugh in his face because you just can’t help yourself. Probably end up fist fighting eachother on the spot. Neither of you win because one of you ends up smashing into the bowl, sending it flying right at the old man. He kicks you both out, right after you pay your tab of course.

This arises a competition of who will eat all the miso pork ramen first, it goes on for a good few months. Ichirakus is swimming in your money now. Until one day, when you two arrive at Ichirakus at the same time. You basically have a show down. Unfortunately both your wallets are cleaned out and you can’t even pay off your bills anymore so you’re now indebted to the ramen place.

Narutos mission money won’t even cut it anymore and you can’t pay your debt off either. So you both have to get a job doing Ichirakus dishes until you can pay your debt off.

At first you two wanna strangle each other everytime youre in each others line of sight. But slowly — veryyyy slowly, you start to bond over your love for ramen. Like you can probably sniff the bowls before you clean them and tell instantly what ramen was eaten out of it.

You discover you both have the same favourite instant ramen, the same favourite Ichirakus order, etc... Then before you know it you actually start dating. Nobody knows how it happened because you were rivals for a good couple of months, but now all the sudden your holding hands while and eating ramen together peacefully. Mind blown.

Hidan

You’re a brand new Akatsuki member and you’re cute. Really cute. Not only was Deidara drooling over you too, Kakuzu just asked to file your taxes. Do you even do taxes? You’re a rouge ninja. Anyways, Hidan is so sure that Jashin would love to have you.

You two start taking to eachother and actually getting along pretty well, until he mentions Jashin. You shut him down so quickly after that. Like you’re not interested in his fake God, no matter how cute he is.

From then on he tries to ignore you or is just super petty towards you all the time. Like you just got back from a failed mission with your Akatsuki partner and he’s at the hideout mocking you like “if you prayed to Jashin with me this wouldn’t have happened.”

Literally so fucking petty.

Anytime you suggest an idea to the Akatsuki he immediately tears it down. It doesn’t really matter when he does though because nobody really listens to Hidan anyways, it’s just annoying.

You two get put on a mission together one day because Kakuzu has some important money buisness to take care of. Hidans so pissy about it, “oh come on! Out of everybody you picked y/n? She doesn’t even respect my religion, how are we supposed to work together!?” Kakuzu just looks at him and is like “Hidan, I don’t care about Jashin either.”

Butthurt the whole journey. If you guys get bombarded or run into trouble he probably doesn’t even bother backing you up. If anything he tries to feed you to them LMFAOOO. Such a jerk.

Then, once he thinks that all the bad guys are gone he turns to you all confidently because you got your ass whooped and he’s like “see, I bet if you prayed to Jashin you wouldn’t be injured this bad-“

An enemy just stabbed him right through the chest and he watches the look of shock on your face. That’s when he gets an idea. He falls on the floor super fucking dramatically and you have to take the last guy down for him.

Then you kneel next to him and cradle his body because yes he was such a petty bitch but he actually started to grow on you. So you cry and in this distressed moment you probably even attempted to pray to Jashin because you’re desperate as fuck.

This bitch really makes his eyes flutter open and is like; “y/n?” Really fucking plays off that he was unconscious, “Jashin... Jashin saved me.”

Your ass just got clowned but I mean you believe it because like he just got stabbed right through the heart. Even immortal people should die if they were stabbed in the heart, right? It seemed like it was the case.

So yah he basically just emotionally manipulated you into being semi interested in his religion.

Then he stops being petty with you and probably asks you to sleep with him as an offering to Jashin. “It’s only fitting! He just saved my life afterall.”

Literal definition of a sleeze bag <3

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

My Sister’s Best Friend -ch.23

The Elementalists au

Beckett x Oriana

Words:3501

Series Master List

Complete Master List

Warnings:Discussion of drug use, sex tapes

Katrina Harrington is only two years older than her younger brother Beckett. Her best friend, Oriana Miller, is practically part of the family. After spending one year abroad, Katrina and Oriana return home, and Beckett finds himself enchanted by the red-haired beauty. Something changed between them while she was gone and now that’s she’s back, can he summon the courage to tell her how he’s truly felt all these years, or will she continue to only be his sister’s best friend?

“When we’re done, you’re deleting this in front of me. Like you were supposed to.” Oriana was glaring at Everett.

“But…”

“No buts!” She argued. “I know this is a game to you, but it’s not to me. You shouldn’t have had it for Katrina to steal. You do realize she’s been using you this whole time?”

Everett scoffed. “Whatever, Oriana. She’s pissed you’re boning her brother; that has nothing to do with me.”

“Can we just get this over with?” Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Several calls had to be made to get in, but they were now in Everett’s room on his computer, where sure enough, he still had his sex tape with Oriana in it.

“Are you absolutely sure you have to do this, Beckett? Why can’t you trust me on this? Why does this even matter so much?” Oriana asked.

He sighed. “I want to, Ori, I do. But you have to see this from my position. I was completely confident in us, and my sister…she couldn’t have made everything up. All lies start with a grain of truth.”

Oriana’s eyes rose to the ceiling as her lower lip quivered and her breathing became shaky. “Just play it, then.”

This was the last thing in the world Beckett wanted to be doing. He was going to watch and listen to a girl he’s madly in love with, having sex with someone else. Everett clicked on the file, and the video opened. Waggling his eyebrows, Everett turned the volume up as Oriana’s cries of ecstasy rang through the room. Oriana whirled around to face away from the computer, tears streaming down her face. She looked so broken in that moment. Beckett reached for her hand out of habit, but she jerked herself away and walked towards the door. Beckett closed his eyes; he couldn’t bear to see recording. But finally, the part he was waiting for came.

“Come on, Ori, tell me you love me.”

“I love your cock, Ev!!!”

The slapping sounds coming from the computer increased in tempo, as did the moans, but Beckett breathed out in relief. He should have known she was being truthful. He turned to look at Oriana, but the look of fire in her eyes made him rethink approaching her.

“Fuck you, both.” She snapped, flinging open the door and walking out, slamming it behind her.

The video came to a stop. A low chuckle came out of Everett’s mouth. “Well, if somehow Kat didn’t ruin you guys before this, you can bet it’s ruined now. You should’ve trusted her, Beckett.”

“You knew.” Beckett’s voice was hoarse. “She never told you she loved you. She never told you it was risky to be together, did she?”

“Nope.”

“Why couldn’t you just say that?? Why would Katrina make that up??”

“Why would I tell you? You have no idea how hurt Katrina was by the two of you lying and hiding from her. In my opinion, you should hurt just as bad. An eye for an eye is my motto.” Everett smirked. “Oh, and one more thing.”

He pointed to the computer, where a time stamp was clearly visible…and dated well over a year ago. “This wasn’t recent. As much as I’ve tried to get her to sleep with me again, she would always shoot me down…” He paused a moment before continuing. “You know, she was always real big on trust. Too bad you chose to believe a pathological liar instead of the sweetest person on earth. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure I can provide the level of comfort she needs.”

Beckett pushed him out of his chair angrily, deleting the file himself, and then emptying it from the trash permanently. He skimmed through the rest of the folders and it didn’t look like there were any more.

“If my sister is such a liar, then why do you hang out with her?”

He laughed. “If you knew Oriana wasn’t a genuine person, but she sucked your cock on a regular basis and enjoyed it…would you still stop hanging around her? Especially if she came to you night after night, silencing your protests with her mouth? Come on, Beckett. You’re still a guy.”

“I…I wouldn’t…”

“Yes, you would. And any man who says otherwise is lying. Now get the fuck out of my room. I need to go to the hospital to see Kat, and I need to get ready.”

“Don’t you dare go see her.”

“Why not? I’m not the one who betrayed her, little bro. True, I didn’t know exactly what she was plotting, and I’m not happy she broke into my computer, but she’s gonna need someone on her side, and I have an interesting feeling that’s not going to be you. Besides, it’s my fault she got in that car.” Everett opened his door and shoved Beckett out of it. “She’s never going to forgive you, you know?”

“Who?” He asked furiously.

“Either of them.” Everett shut the door in Beckett’s face.

His hands curled into fists, and he felt boiling hot with rage. He raced back to Oriana’s room, pounding on the door. “I know you’re there, Ori. Let me in.”

But he was met with silence. He pressed his ear against the door, hearing absolutely nothing. He frowned. It didn’t seem like she was home. But then, where did she go? He slowly made his way through campus, stopping at the central fountain. This is where she’d told him she was in love with him for the first time, even if it was on accident. He couldn’t believe how badly things got screwed up. Katrina wasn’t who he thought she was, and it became more apparent the more he saw her. Oriana, however, had never given him reason to doubt her…and yet he did anyway. He sat down on a stone ledge and really took the time to think. Everyone hid things from him. His sister, his parents. And the one person in the world who was honest at all times probably didn’t want to see him anymore. Oriana’s honesty was one of the main reasons he was so attracted to her. She was always to the point, didn’t dance around hard conversations…They’ve had their share of communication issues, but they’d worked through it all, and were stronger for it. He was cursing himself.

“I’m so sorry, Ori.” He murmured into the dark. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” A quiet voice sounded behind him.

He stood and turned around, coming face to face with the girl he fell for so hard and so fast. Oriana slowly came around and took a seat on the ledge as well. He sat down again quickly. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, only the sound of the falling water being heard. Finally, she started speaking.

“I understand why you didn’t believe me. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I have never kept anything from you, when it came to our relationship. I didn’t tell you Kat took drugs because it wasn’t my place to tell you. She’s still your sister. She’s still my friend. But her being high, and vindictive, and just plain awful was the reason I was okay with losing her friendship. She hasn’t really been a good friend to me in a long time. But sometimes you just know someone for so long, that the bond can’t be broken. It may become frayed…but not broken beyond repair. She really is a sister to me, and I’m always going to think of her that way.” Her emerald eyes met his cool metal ones. “I’ll always consider her my best friend. She was always there for me growing up. We made amazing memories together…”

“I know, and…”

“I’m not done. It’s my turn to talk. You’ve been wildly assuming all kinds of false things, so now you get to just shut up and listen.”

He swallowed, nodding.

“It pissed me off so bad that Everett wouldn’t just tell you what you wanted to know. You literally thought watching a sex tape of me would bring you peace. But you didn’t consider what that would do to me. I waited in the room long enough to hear the part you were hell-bent on hearing. I didn’t want to see your apologetic eyes when you realized I was telling you the truth, and that’s why I left. That was a huge violation of my privacy, Beckett, and I’m not okay with it. Everett shouldn’t have still had it, and I should’ve made sure he deleted it instead of just accepting everything he said. It was bad enough he still had it. But do you have any idea how demeaning it is, to have the person you love most in this world, insist on watching you fuck someone else, because he believes you’re a liar, on a recording that took place long before you ever considered getting together? So what if I had told him I loved him? People say all kinds of things in the heat of the moment. It was over a year ago, so why did it matter so much?”

“I just wanted…”

“To verify facts, yeah, I got that part.” She stared into the fountain and he was unable to get a read on her.

“Ori…I’m sorry.”

She slid her eyes over to him. “I’m sorry too. You should’ve talked to me before going down this road, but you refused to listen. I should have forced you to listen. I didn’t expect you to leave in the middle of the night, while kicking me out of your place.”

“Kat…”

“I’m sorry for what happened to her. I’ve warned her dozens of times not to drive while she’s on any sort of substance. She also didn’t listen. Guess it runs in your blood.”

“What were you and Everett doing when I got to your suite? It didn’t seem innocent.” This was the last card he had to play, even though he knew it was wrong.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Well…I was crying when I got home, and he was still stuck there, and…”

“And…?”

“He kissed me. I kissed him back. I figured if you weren’t going to believe me about anything then I may as well live up to your ridiculous accusations. He was getting handsy when you knocked.”

Beckett furrowed his eyebrows, feeling like a hole was just cut into his heart. Not making eye contact, he asked the only thing that came to mind. “If I hadn’t shown up when I did…would you have slept with him?”

“I don’t know.” She responded quietly. “I can’t answer that question, Beck. Because you did show up. I can tell you that I would have hated myself if I had, because not a single part of me wants him again. But I was upset enough, and he was there, so…I really don’t know what I would have done.”

“But we hadn’t even broken up! That would have destroyed us!”

She glared at him now. “Really? You let me into your place last night only because my crying was bothering you. You wouldn’t listen to a single word I was trying to say.  I told you I loved you, and you completely ignored it. I know you were still awake. I asked to come with you when you left in the middle of the night, and you denied me again, saying you didn’t want me to be there. What was I supposed to think?”

He opened his mouth to retort but closed it. She’s right. She had every reason to believe he no longer wanted her. “You can’t be with him.”

“Why not?” She challenged. “Seriously, Beck, why not? You knew the conversation with Kat wouldn’t go well, yet you completely took her side anyway; you wouldn’t hear my side of the story for even two seconds. You’ve grown up with me too, Beckett, it’s not like we just met, so tell me, why couldn’t you trust me? Why am I not better off with someone else? Anyone else? I’ve done nothing wrong except have a past that didn’t include you. Everybody has baggage, Beckett. Good luck finding someone who doesn’t.”

She stood up to leave, but Beckett also stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “I’m not perfect. I’m sorry. I strive for perfection every day, and I always seem to fail. I’m not good enough for anyone. Not my parents, not my sister, not you. I still don’t even have friends.”

“I don’t want perfect!” She exclaimed. “Perfect is boring! Yes, I made bad decisions in the past. I was freshman in college, it was the first time I was completely on my own. I did things I’m not proud of, like make that stupid video! And yeah, okay, I knew Kat was doing drugs before France and in France, but how can you be mad at me for not partying with her every night? What was I supposed to do? Just let her drag me down with her? Would you have even dated me if I were snorting cocaine or shooting heroin every fucking day? I knew you’d have a hard time when you found out, and I wanted to be able to be there for you. Maybe I hadn’t thought of us as a couple, but Beckett, you always meant so much to me.”

She threw her arms up in exasperation, a strangled laugh escaping her throat. “I mean, have you even once stopped to think that maybe one of the main reasons I stayed away from that was because I didn’t want the great and perfect Beckett Harrington to be disappointed in me??”

She stopped, chest heaving, her eyes alight in flames. Her words sliced through him as he realized she was saying the same thing as his mother…but it wasn’t coming from a place of shame. It was coming from a place of self-preservation, a place of pride, a place of self-respect. A place he himself would be in, if the roles were reversed.

He reached for her again, but she stepped back. “I did try coke once. I tried a few things. But I’m smart enough to realize that’s not the path I want to be on, and you know damn well you wouldn’t have wanted me if it was. So, you know, forgive me for trying to be good enough for you. You break my heart.” She finished tearfully, turning to leave again.

“We’re not done.” Beckett strode to her, placing his hands on her hips and backing her into one of the stone columns.

“Yes, we are.” She countered, looking at him defiantly. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“I do trust…”

“Really?? Because you just questioned everything. Even in my room a bit ago, you said that Everett and I deserved each other. I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

She tried to push him away, but he held her firmly.

“Seriously, let me go, Beck.”

He shook his head. He can’t let her leave or she’s never going to talk to him again. “You said I was the person you love most in this world.”

“I was wrong.”

“I don’t believe you.” He said softly. “You can’t fall out of love with someone in a day. Don’t leave me because I was an idiot for twelve hours. I…I know that I’m impossible to get along with at times. No one has ever tried to break down my walls before, not a single person. I didn’t let anyone close enough to even try. I’m more than aware I’m not the most likeable person.”

“You’ve said all this before, but nothing changed. I have no reason to believe it will now. And I warned you, if this happened again…”

“It did change.” He insisted. “I had no reservations! I was a fool to listen to Katrina; I should have stood up for you, for us. I just found out she’s an addict. She’s in the hospital and might not wake up. I couldn’t just ignore that. And I definitely didn’t mean what I said about you and Everett.”

“You’re only apologizing because of what you heard on that video. What if I had screamed out that I loved him? Would you still be apologizing?”

“Of course I…”

“Now who’s the liar.”

He took both her hands in his, pleading with her with his eyes. “You’re right about everything. I’m completely wrong and I was out of line. And you know it takes a lot for me to admit that, and I don’t admit it lightly.”

The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, and his heart fluttered.

“I was in shock. You cautioned me so many times, and I’ve seen her be rude to others, but I always considered her my only friend. We are each other’s family. I called my mom, and you wouldn’t believe what she said about Kat. She doesn’t care, Ori. And she needs someone to care.”

“So do I.” Oriana retorted.

“And you’re right, you and I grew up together, too. You’ve never done anything to disappoint me, and I didn’t want to cross a line I couldn’t come back from, because I would rather have you in my life as my sister’s best friend than not at all. But we crossed that line together, and I don’t regret it. You are not responsible for what my sister says or does. You are nothing like her, Ori, you’re the most incredible person in the world.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she closed her eyes, leaning into it.

“You’re my first everything, Ori.” He breathed, stepping closer and wrapping his free hand around her waist. “And I know it’s way too soon and I hope it doesn’t scare you away, but I sincerely wish that you’ll be my only. I trust you with all that I am, and above all others. It took me too long to see that. Forgive me, please, because I’m nothing without you. I’ve always cared about how people see me…especially Katrina. But I don’t anymore. I only care about how you see me. I cherish you, Oriana Miller. You are my heart.”

Feeling a surge of confidence he’s never felt before, he captured her lips with his own, pulling her flush against him, and after a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

“Wow.” She broke away breathlessly. “That was one hell of an apology.”

Beckett dared to give a small smile. “Did it work?”

She bit her lip, unsure what to do. Seeing the war behind her eyes gave him the hope he needed.

“Oriana, if I hadn’t been so shocked at Kat showing that recording, at the way she slapped you and talked to you…I would have realized there’s no possible way you would have said those three words to him.”

Oriana looked at him questioningly.

He smiled, kissing her softly. “You weren’t glowing. You’ve always had a glow with me. And I hope you always will. Because I love you so much.”

She let out a shuddery breath, tears in her eyes. “Beckett…”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated nervously. “I never expected things to be this hard. And they wouldn’t be so hard if my sister was okay with us…and, you’re right…it doesn’t matter if you loved someone before me. All that matters is who you love now. If you still love me now.”

“I love you so much, too.” She buried her face into his shoulder. “But I have to think about this.”

He rubbed gentle circles on her back. “I can’t promise that we’ll never fight. But I can promise to always be on your side from now on. I can promise that I’ll never let go of your hand. I can promise to always talk to you before jumping to conclusions.”

“That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She sniffled.

“I’m giving you my whole heart, Ori. Please…be careful with it. I’ve never felt this vulnerable before.” He whispered. “If you walk away from me now…I don’t think I can bear that. I’m only yours.”

Oriana tightened her hold on him, nodding. “I’ll treasure it always, if you treasure mine.”

“Of course.” He murmured, taking her face in his hands so he could look deep into her eyes, his fingers running through her hair. He pressed lips to hers. “I need you, Ori. I need you to get through this thing with my sister. I can’t do this alone.”

“You’ve never been alone. I’ve always been here.”

Beckett’s heart soared and he felt invincible. He had no doubt in his mind, that as long as they have each other, they can get through anything. His relationship with Oriana was unexpected in many ways, but one thing was certain…their fates were always intertwined.

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[ayellowcurtain]

Could you do something about the flat share being super protective afterwards and Sander coming to apologize and just fix it?? // and when Sander will push him away he's gonna isolate himself and he’s gonna self destruct soooooo can you write something about it?

It’s not at all an easy fix so I guess this will need some more parts...

---

His mom noticed his cut as soon as he got inside her bedroom on his first visit in a while, but she didn't insist when he said it was just an accident. Robbe’s phone is constantly off these days, Zoe is the only one that knows where he goes.

He was actually listening to his mom talk about her day, Robbe was trying to be present with his mom, sitting on a blue armchair, looking at her, with his feet on the white floor. Time flew by and Robbe didn't want to leave, he wanted to lie down with her and watch a movie, it didn't even have to be a good one, but he had to go. On every day of the week, he did the exact same thing.

He managed to stay just a little longer today, the nurse was nice enough to let him say goodbye for a very long time, she knew he didn't come to visit often.

The night was cold, but it was good to keep his mind busy, only worrying about keeping himself warm as he walked the long way back home, listening to music. He erased the playlist days ago and choose one that was as far away from that as possible.

It took almost double the time to get to his building, but unfortunately, he was freezing and he had to come inside, turning the notifications on his phone on again. It’s Friday and he receives a bunch of messages right away, but he just turns his phone off again and runs upstairs. He hasn’t really slept in days so he’s just trying to get his body tired enough to the point where he manages to close his eyes and disappear for days when he lies down.

Zoe found the beers hidden inside his closet days ago and Robbe didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, so he just told her. Everything. Thinking about it now that he is calmer, he can remember exactly how everything came out of his mouth without a warning. When he was done, he felt drained and she stayed with him for the entire night, worried that he could do something terrible.

He tried to tell her that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, but she didn’t believe him. She slept on his bedroom that night and every few minutes ever since she has sent a message and if he doesn’t reply right away, she might call the cops to come after him and so he just answers even though he doesn’t feel like it.  

That night at the bridge was one single thought that took him there and he never thought about it again, but he feels helpless and empty inside. There’s not a single cell inside of him that wants to leave his bedroom ever again. He only goes to visit his mom because she’s the one to give him some kind of hope that someday, he might feel again. 

It’s hard to explain even for himself what it feels like. He hasn’t cried once, but that’s what people do when they’re at the bottom, right? Feeling like there’s no way out of their misery. Robbe doesn’t feel a thing. Maybe Sander taught him how to shut down completely, separating his mind from his heart. 

But Robbe is willing to try. He can’t keep getting drunk every night. His beers are gone and Zoe is constantly checking on him. So he needs to restart somewhere. 

Tonight, the first task that he gives himself is to clean his bedroom. It’s too cold outside, but he opens the windows anyway, letting some fresh and cold air get inside while he takes his sheet off, taking it to the laundry to wash. While everything is washing, he grabs the trash bag filled with empty beer cans and takes it to the recycling bin. 

While he waits for his lasagna to be ready, he stares at his phone. Before he can feel pity for himself, he deletes Sander’s number, their conversations and every photo that he has of Sander. 

The lasagna is not great, it’s a little cold in the middle, but he eats all of it anyway, washing the dishes as he drinks one of Senne’s fancy beers. He doesn’t wanna talk about it, Robbe can’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with anyone else but Zoe and his mom, but he needs to explain what happened to Milan. Robbe is becoming a pro at hiding from everyone else, but he needs to talk to Milan and tell him everything.

In between their conversation in the bathroom that morning and seeing Sander back with his girlfriend, Robbe didn’t have the courage to tell him about why he was hurt a couple of weeks ago. He could see that Milan was worried and he’s smart and he’s gay, he probably has a very good guess of what happened to Robbe, but he waits for Robbe to be ready. And he’s not ready to talk, not at all, but he sits down and writes everything in a piece of paper, leaving it on Milan’s pillow.

Since he’s alone for the night and he hasn’t been the best flatmate, he decides to clean the entire apartment. He doesn’t feel like it, but he does it anyway. His music starts to bother him, like a mosquito following him, filling his ears with annoying noises so he turns it off, working in silence. 

Robbe moves every furniture to the middle of the living room, cleaning every inch as perfectly as he can, but someone knocks on the door, interrupting his activities. He thinks about ignoring, but he knows he’s making some noises dragging the furniture and maybe it’s just a neighbor that will politely ask him to do this during normal hours. 

As quickly as he opens the door, he closes it, but Sander stops him from doing it completely.

“Robbe, please, I just need to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” He pushes the door again and Sander pushes back, managing to get inside. 

“I’m sorry.” He starts and stops and Robbe doesn’t know what Sander is apologizing for. The list is so long he doesn’t care to know either. “I saw Britt and Noor talking and-” 

“I don’t care, Sander. Leave.” His eyes finally meet Robbe’s, he opens and closes his mouth, but decides to just walk closer first and Robbe steps back, away from him. 

“Robbe, I only meant to protect you. I’m too much fucking work and-” 

“I went to the police.” Sander stops trying to come closer, he puts his hands inside his pockets. 

“You...you did the right thing. I’m sorry about telling you to do it differently. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“We could have died that night, Sander. I thought I was dead. I never felt so scared in my life, but you looked so fucking chill the next morning that I thought it was ok. That we would somehow fix ourselves because we were fucking together. You told me that we had each other.” 

“And we did.” 

“No! We didn’t! I thought we were going to die, Sander! But the next morning I found some comfort in you, telling me that it was just stupid fucking bruises and that you loved me! I gave you so many fucking opportunities to get out of this mess, as far away as possible from me. I asked you a bunch of times if you were with Britt, I asked you! And you made the choice to lie to me over and over again! I only had you, I only wanted you next to me and you were living your life like nothing had happened! You were smiling and kissing and posing for pictures while I was ready to-” Robbe only realizes how loud he was talking when his last words echo around the nearly empty living room. 

Sander looks like he’s about to cry. Robbe lets himself really look at him for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look good. His clothes are all messy, his hair seems dirty and it’s pointing to every direction, he probably looks as tired as Robbe, but nothing worries Robbe now except how he almost said too much to a fucking stranger. Because that’s what Sander is now. Someone he doesn’t know. The little that Sander gave him was standing on a weak base that shattered while he was kissing Britt at that party only hours after almost being killed, not even twelve hours after telling Robbe that he loved him and that they had each other. Robbe is weak and dumb and he fell for it so fucking easily. 

It happens way too fast for Robbe’s exhausted brain to process, Sander comes closer and kisses him and it’s instantly like a wildfire ignited inside his heart, giving it some life back. Robbe can’t control how he feels when Sander kisses him. It’s not the same, but he can’t just not get carried away, kissing him back, tasting him slowly. His touch is careful, his fingertips barely touching Robbe’s neck and Robbe’s hands are on his chest, keeping the small distance between them.

As he hears the door being unlocked, Robbe stumbles away from Sander just in time. Zoe and Senne are at the door, looking at them. 

“What are you doing here?” Zoe asks and she doesn’t sound happy at all. Robbe walks away from the three, covering his face, bending down, so angry at himself for still having feelings, for still being in love. 

“I needed to talk to Robbe. I was just trying to keep him safe.” 

“You two have nothing to talk about. You should go.” Senne walks closer to Zoe and Sander, constantly looking at the boy, but he’s still looking at Robbe, still a little in shock, his lips are parted, the front of his shirt is wrinkled from Robbe’s grip. 

“Robbe, please, just let me stay and talk to you, I need to explain why-.” 

“He’s not in the right mind space to make de-”

“You should go. Now.” Robbe says as he gets up, walking up to them, and Zoe and Senne finally look at him. “We have nothing to talk about.” Sander doesn’t seem like he’s gonna move anywhere so Senne comes closer, helping him walk out, closing and locking the door once he’s out. 

Robbe doesn’t wanna talk, he can’t function right now so he walks back to his bedroom, leaving all the mess he made for Senne and Zoe to deal with. His phone starts vibrating in his pocket and he doesn’t check because he knows who’s sending the messages.

[cathleennguyen-blog]

Losing a Love

     This is the most pain I’ve ever endured so far in the 23 years that I have lived on this earth. I didn’t know something could hurt this bad. I thought I have been a pretty strong person for the most part, but the world has a funny way of humbling you. It really doesn’t help that I’m a sensitive person.

     When I say losing a love, in my case I mean that I can no longer love someone the way that I did for a little over 6 months. I can be friends with them and give them support in the future after I allow myself to heal, but I can’t romantically be involved with them. We have no bad blood towards each other whatsoever, but I can’t help but feel a little mad and frustrated about the way that things turned out. There are things I want to ask them, but one of the things this relationship has taught me is that I cannot always seek out answers. Seeking out answers may only cause more confusion or more pain... sometimes it’s truly not worth pursuing. Seeking out answers will not do me any good in this case, because no matter what they are no longer my person. The even sadder thing is that the primary reason why we cannot date anymore isn’t because of something either of us did; it’s because of what’s happening in their life. They’re so overloaded with working towards their future and they’re in the middle of figuring out how to even process something unfortunate that happened towards the end of last year. It’s not their fault that they need this time alone. I’m actually really glad that they were able to figure out that they cannot handle a relationship at the moment and they can see that they cannot control the fact that their personal life will inevitably hurt me. They can’t control the fact that they are sad all the time and that they cannot give romantic affection in any form... Knowing all of this doesn’t make it hurt any less for me though. 

     “At least you can still talk to them in the future and there’s no ill will”. Sure. That’s true, but is that what I need to hear right now? No its not. The primary reason as to why I am hurting so much right now is because I don’t have the status that I was so proud. I don’t have the status of being their girlfriend anymore, I have the status of being the friend. This is not to say that I think romantic relationships are more important than platonic relationships. However, I’ve only known how to love this person romantically... We didn’t start out as friends. So I’m in between these thoughts of knowing that I’m still fortunate enough to have them in my life as a friend and being upset that I can’t have them the way that I want to. Both thoughts are valid and true, but they sort of go against each other.

     This whole experience has been exhausting because I am the type to rip off the band-aid. I burned the six month letter I wrote to them, I burned the valentines day card that I never finished. I threw away a stuffed animal that I gave them, that once represented me being there for them even when I’m not there in person. I deleted all of the photos I had together with them, the only photos I have left are the ones I took of them on my professional camera. I deleted the conversation I had with them on iMessage and Instagram. I did that all in a matter of 5 days. It’s fucking exhausting and draining and reminding and painful and devastating. 

     I naturally expected, and at the same time didn’t expect, for them to show some sort of sign that a part of them didn’t want to end what we had. I wanted to see that they still had feelings for me and that this was difficult for them. The last day I saw them to return their hoodies/tshirts, they were just happy the whole time. Maybe their intention was to not ruin the mood during the (possibly) last time that we saw each other in person, to make this as painless as possible. But I feel like it really did more damage than it did good, because now I’m left with this feeling. This feeling that the past 6 months meant nothing to them, that everything I put into the relationship wasn’t important enough for to grieve over. But I always have to remind myself that they have been stoic for the past couple of months. They are stoic not because they have feelings, but because they have too much right now. To let themselves feel everything they’re feeling feels dangerous and crippling, so instead they choose to hold it in. Holding it in is their new reality, because once they don’t hold it in they just might lose all the strength they have left to keep going. It’s like a very thin string representing their strength is holding together two mountains: sanity and reality. Some days that string has probably broken and they broke down with it, isolated themselves, condemned themselves for not being able to holding it together. 

     I wanted to be able to have the status of being their romantic lover, initially because I wanted to take their pain away. This was a mistake, and I realized that instead of taking the pain away, I should instead sit in the pain with them. Give them the escape that they so often needed, help support them on the days that they cannot help themselves. I realized all of that too late, because during the time that I told them about that epiphany, they were already on the road of breaking up with me. I also want to be their girlfriend because I constantly wanted to be updated on how their life is... they replied to me every hour, while with everyone else they replied to them once every other day. Now I can’t have that, and I have to be comfortable with them treating me as a friend... something that I will have to get used to. This shit really hurts man.

     I already think about how much it would fuck me up if I saw them dating someone else while they’re still trying to grapple the things that they’re dealing with. It would truly make me feel like I was not good enough, strong enough, understanding enough.. when I really did try my best. It would hurt to know that my best is not enough for someone that I genuinely loved and cared for. How disappointing would that be. I try to not think about it but I really can’t help it. 

     I have to skip every sad song I hear or else I am literally guaranteed to start crying. The song doesn’t even have to be relationships (though often they are) for me to become upset, it could just be the beat or the sadness of the lyrics. I can’t be on social media because every now and then there are sad videos or even happy videos of couples, they both make me sad. The only songs that make me feel good are songs that talk about feeling powerful or unbothered, make me feel emotions that are the polar opposite of how I’m actually feeling inside.

     Speaking of polar opposites... this is how I know I have never felt this intensity of suffering in my life. This emotional suffering is affecting my physical health. I lost 5-10 pounds in the last month and I have no doubt that I’m going to lose more; I’m already a skinny girl so this is pretty concerning. My stomach feels empty and hungry but this sick feeling overpowers it. The sick feeling of losing something I treasured so much and for them to possibly not care about what we had. It makes me lose my appetite. Sometimes I want to eat, then I take a few bites and I can’t eat anymore. I feel like the most simple tasks are daunting, like going outside and speaking to people I’m comfortable with, like doing laundry, washing the dishes, taking out the trash. But it’s funny because I see myself being more kind to strangers and checking up on my own friends... and it’s all because I do not want anyone to feel pain. I feel so much pain that I want to protect everyone from it, and I want to do everything I can to be the opposite of pain. I want to give out so much love because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me grounded on this earth at the moment. It’s comforting to see that I still have love when I’m experiencing so much pain, that I’m choosing to not go down the dark path of casting everyone away because of how much all of this hurts. I can either become stronger from this or I can crumble from it... I already know which once I’m going to choose every single day. 

     This person will always have a piece of my heart, and I have no shame in saying that... though sometimes I feel petty and I wish that they didn’t. However, I don’t want to harbor any hate or ill feelings in my heart. This is for the best, and yes it still hurts but it could have been worse if we kept going. Part of me hopes that they would want to get together in the future when we are both settled down, but I cannot endlessly hope for that or expect that. I cannot ask them if they’d be down to date later, because they won’t know the answer to that. And frankly, neither do I. Life really goes on, but that doesn’t mean that what I had with them wasn’t beautiful, They deserved every ounce of love that I gave them, and I would gladly give them more but they need to do this by themselves. We never know what the future holds. 

     Remind yourself that this pain will not be this intense forever. Remind yourself that fortunately you still can have this person in your life as a friend. Remind yourself that you are still special to them. Remind yourself that you have people who love and support you. Remind yourself that everything you feel is okay, and to not judge yourself for feeling whatever you’re feeling. Remind yourself that whoever you end up dating and marrying will be worth the wait and pain. Remind yourself that you are enough... especially remind yourself of that please. You can get through this, you are strong enough and I know that you have yourself. 

[madeinheavxn]

The Thing That Connects Us (Part 18)

Word count: 1164

Warnings: smut, cussing, all that jazz

a/n: this is the second to last chapter. hope you all enjoy it before i cry and delete it

Story Masterlist

“There’s nothing to talk about John,” Parker commented, clearly nervous about why John was here.

“Yes, there is Parker. Why did you leave?” John asked. “Why did you leave, when did you leave, why did you do it suddenly, what got into your head? I have so many questions, Parker.”

“I just had to John.” Her hand grabbing the cigarette from her lips to tap off the end. “I just needed to.”

“You needed to leave me and the boys without telling any of us?”

“John just get to the question you want to ask, I know that you’re just dying to ask one question.”

“Was it because of that night?” John sighed.

“No,” She said bluntly.

“Oh,”

She dropped the cigarette and crushed it under her heel. “If you are done talking, I would like to finish something that we never got to finish.” Stepping closer to him.

“What are you talking-” He started, only to get cut off by her lips connecting to his, then pull back a second later. “Parker?”

“We can either finish this or you can leave so I don’t regret something.” She let go of him, ready to head back inside.

He stopped her by holding his arm out, “Your place, right now.” Without saying a word, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back through the bar and out the front door, unconcerned about her bass, knowing that Max would bring it home later.

They wordlessly walked to her shared apartment with Max and opened the door. She dropped her jacket, pack, and lighter on the table and stood, waiting for John to do something. “What do you want?”

“Right now? I want to understand.” He stepped towards her and held her arms. “I want to understand why.”

“You were the one that mentioned needing space first. I thought I’d do you the favor.” She responded, her voice becoming a whisper and her hands, immediately going to his waist as if there was a natural instinct.

“What about Queen?” He stepped closer, forcing their chests together.

“They can live without me. They have for five or six years now.” She nudged his leg in between hers.

“Then what about us?” His face slowly inched towards hers.

“We can figure that out.” She moved her head so that their lips touched. John didn’t react for a second but the moment he realized what was happening, he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t desperate or sexual, but rather romantic and slow. She moved her hands so they latched around his neck, able to pull him a bit closer whereas he moved his hands to her hips, where a strip of skin showed. He moved his thumb under the hem of the top, causing her to gasp from the coldness. He took advantage of her mouth opening to make the kiss deeper if that was even possible. “Do you know what happens from here?” He mumbled into the kiss.

“It depends on what you do.” She whispered back, pushing her hips closer to him. 

He was wearing loose sweats, due to the fact that he had left to find her in a hurry this morning, but she could feel his bulge through the fabric. With that information, she trailed one of her hands down his chest and played with the tent from outside the sweats. “Shit,” he grumbled at the feeling, bucking into her hand. 

She moved her hand to the waistband and toyed with the elastic of both his sweats and his boxers. “Sensitive.” She giggled, smiling. She took a step backward leading him farther into the apartment and into her room.

He forced her onto the bed and pinned her down, his hips on top of hers. “What first?” He asked.

“Dealers choice.” She responded after a moment, letting him have full control at that moment. He took the chance and reconnected their lips, his hands moving to bunch up her skirt and move her panties aside. When she felt his fingers she shuddered. “Fuck.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” John whispered, only tracing the outer edge of her core. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Just do it already.” She groaned as she felt his fingers move closer and closer to her center. “Stop fucking teasing.” When she felt the stretch of one finger, she hissed. “More,” her head bent back onto the pillow. “Jesus, John, more.” Moaning when she felt another enter. John attached his lips to her neck, sucking on the area next to her collarbone. His thumb grazed over her clit while his index and middle fingers were curling and moving inside her. “Do that again.” She breathed when she felt his thumb place pressure on her clit, sighing when she felt the same feeling.

Just as she felt her walls clench, John removed his fingers, “I’m not letting you do that without me.” She whined and looked at him. “Condom.” He said, as if asking where she kept them.

“Top drawer.” Answering, moving her hand down to the area again.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself.” He opened the box and pulled down his sweats and boxers just so his length would pop out, quickly putting one on, pumping himself a few times before lining up at her entrance and looking at her for permission to enter. She nodded and he slowly slid in, “Fuck, you’re tight.”

She whined at the sudden stretch, her hands fisting at the bedsheets. He settled, letting her get used to the girth and length before he started slowly moving. “Jesus, this is what I’ve been missing out on this whole time.” Her skirt was bunched up at her stomach and her crop top was gathered above her breast. “Classy.” She chuckled, her voice choppy from the movement of John inside her.

“Would you rather have me rip it off?” John grunted, his voice low from lust.

“Just keep going.” She answered, suddenly gasping from John pulling out only to slam back in. “Holy shit.” She moaned. He did again, “John, I’m close.” Her walls clenched again, this time around his length. “One more time.” She pleaded.

So he did it again, right when he slammed back into her, she yelled. He could feel the wet come around his erection, even with the condom on. Right after that, he shot into the condom. They both stayed where they were, taking deep breaths to regain whatever dignity they had left. John stood up, leaving her empty, and took off the condom, tying a knot and throwing it in the trash can before pulling his boxers and sweats back up. She sat up, pulling down her top and smoothing out her skirt. It was silent, neither sure what to do. 

“I think it’s best that you leave.” She whispered.

“Yeah.” He nodded and started for the door. “If this is the last time we see each other, I hope everything goes the way you have planned.” And he left before she could say goodbye.

[illumose]

i’m no sweet dream  [ kim taehyung ]

× genre : fratboy!taehyung au ; angst ; badass! reader.

× pairing : kim taehyung x female reader | words : 1,3k

× sum up : in which the reader decides to make Taehyung pay for his bad actions.

× author’s note : this scenario is inspired by Halsey’s new song ‘Nightmare’.

The cold wind hit your face as you wandered aimlessly in the street. From time to time, the window of a shop would catch your attention, but you wouldn’t stop walking. There was something soothing about walking, you didn’t mind the slight tiredness.

Two months afo, your life was perfect. You were dating what you had thought to be the love of your life, and you had a reputation untouched by sins, rumors and gossips. It was insane to see how things changed so quickly. Your life had been turned upside down, because of a single man. He dragged you down, making people believe that you were just a slut in seek of attention.

People talked shit about you, without knowing anything about what you went through. That’s what happen when you’re too nice, they eat you alive. Now, you wouldn’t make the same mistake. Kindness is weakness, it became your new mantra.

Kim Taehyung could have been the love of your life if he was not a complete douchebag. After all, your friend warned you about his past of bad boy. He manipulated you, he used your kindness at his own advantage. You were blinded by love, when all he cared about was your body. You’ve trusted lies and men, but this was over. This was the last time you would allow people to hurt you, to break your heart.

You had broken down, but you had put yourself back together. The first week, you were a mess. You cried yourself to sleep, you did not eat, you did not go out. You had blamed yourself. The week after, a friend came over, informing you of the rumours, the gossips. It was when you realized that he had wrecked you, that it was all a game for him. You had decided to take your revenge for the damages he caused to your heart.

You would not allow him to have power over you, to destroy your life. Your reputation had been torn apart because of Taehyung, but if you had to drown, then he was going to drown too. After all, he did not show any mercy for you when he spread the rumour that you were a whore addicted to sex without any morals.

He was the one who started this, and you would end it. Tomorrow. You were tired and angry.

The next day, you entered the university, walking confidently. The students’ curious gaze made you smile. You knew that he would come to you first, he had no other choice.

"Y/n." You heard his voice, calling you out from the other side of the hallway. He was probably wearing his leather jacket, the one you used to steal because it looked good on you.

You stopped only when the two of you were in an empty classroom. "What?"

"They suspect me and Connor of having cheated on the admission test." He said, leaning against the door frame. What he did not know was that you, accidentally or not, spilled out that his little secret.

"And? It isn’t my problem." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. It amused you, he seemed cocky. It would not last, though. You were going to shatter his life, to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Taehyung stared at you, in disbelief. He had never witnessed this type of behavior coming from you. He had expected you to beg him to take you back. He had thought you would be worried, but apparently, you weren’t. "They will take my scholarship away. We’ll be expelled."

"Will you? And, what do you tell me this? Your little toys cannot help you, can’t they?" You answered, walking closer to him. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk displaying on his lips. He won’t smirk for long.

"They’ll ask you questions, to see if we’re lying or not. Don’t tell them anything." He demanded, believing that you were still a compliant little toy. He had no hold on you anymore. People always believed that you would stay the kind and compliant woman who put her own self second for others. They pushed you, again and again, until you could not take it anymore. He belittled you, having no consideration for your feelings.

"Fun fact, I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, Taehyung. You’re a douchebag, and this is what you deserve. Perhaps the past girls you wrecked hadn’t had the guts to make you pay, but I ain’t them."

Your laugh resonated in the whole classroom. You’ve learnt to grow from the heartbreak, the shame and the judgement. It changed you in so many ways, and perhaps, without Taehyung, you would not have found the strength to be tough. In some way, you were thankful for what he caused.

"You made a mistake when you thought that I would come back, crawling and begging. I trusted you, and you betrayed my trust, but it’s okay." You added, defying his gaze. "You tore my reputation apart. You told them I was a slut, that there wasn’t someone more disgusting than me. You and your group of jerks are rotten to the core. I’ve got a lot of things to say about you, because don’t forget that we dated for one fucking year. It’s a lot of time." Your tone was threatening, it was so pleasing to hold the power.

"Is it a threat, sweetheart?" He chuckled, approaching you.

"Someone like me can be a real nightmare. My old self would still be crying her eyes out over a man without any values. You’ve done things that are far worse than cheating. The university won’t be the only one going after you, Taehyung."

Taehyung eyes changed, he was no longer amused.

"You can act cocky all you want, you can threaten me, but the truth will be heard. I ain’t giving you the pleasure of enjoying your life when you did horrible things. You’re gonna pay for your actions. I’m no sweet dream, I’m your worst nightmare.” And with that, you stepped out of the room, walking past him. He stood there, frozen and baffled.

Your eyes slid over to take one last look at Taehyung, and you left. Once back home, you took everything that Taehyung had left in your apartment to the trash, definitely deleting him from your life. You were relieved, and in peace with yourself.

You’ve tolerated Taehyung horrendous behavior with others for a whole year, letting him do whatever he wanted with your heart. Unfaithful and distrustful, he ruined the love you two had. His friends were just like him, a group of douchebag without any consideration for woman and other people. They gave looks of haughty disdain to those who weren’t as wealthy as they were.

You had hoped that Taehyung could change, what’s greater than helping the love of your life change into a better person ? You were so wrong, and regretted getting involved with him. It was a nasty shock when you had found out that he took pictures of you naked on the bed, and that he allowed his friends to see them. It was a nasty shock when you had found out that a girl he used to date committed suicide because he ruined her life.

Nonetheless, he was finally paying for his actions. You had pressed charges against him for the nudes he had stolen and you had revealed to the police what he did to the poor girl. The cheating scandal was only the beginning of his fall.

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic

So, apologies to anyone who already reblogged or liked this post because I Accidentally DELETED like a MORON. 

I’m posting rough excerpts from my NaNo project this year which is a fanfic centered around Jason Todd eventually agreeing to dog sit Titus while Bruce and Damian are out of town. Involving some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually, some reconciliation between father and son.

Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

A NOTE: These are very rough drafts, I’m copy and pasting from my google doc, I switch tense all over the place, so apologies, but I want to share.

Part 1

___________________________________________________________________

He dreamed that night.

It wasn’t unusual, he had them at least a couple times a week, sometimes more, depending on different factors, what cases he was working, what kind of crap he ran into on patrol, and whatever damn lottery his brain was playing that night.

The downside: They were never good.

Sometimes they started out that way. Completely innocuous.

He was in a grocery store, and he was looking for something he couldn’t find but he couldn’t remember the name of it, or what it was. And he was walking down aisle after aisle of endless produce and there was a puddle on the floor, one of those yellow caution signs set up next to it, a janitor turned away from him, mopping, whistling as he went and it was far away, a long ways down the aisle but Jason recognized the tune. He knew the song but again he couldn’t place it. But it kept getting louder and the closer Jason got the less it sounded like music and the more it sounded like - like laughing.

Jason was shivering, it was suddenly freezing and when he looked down his clothes were all torn up and he - he was bleeding.

Suddenly he realized the shelves weren’t full of produce at all, they were packed full of bombs and the next step he tried  to take he tripped, his ankles were tied together. He fell on his face, right in that puddle on the floor and it wasn’t water, it was blood and the janitor was gone but that sound - the laughing, it was so loud, and it was everywhere, and he heard this awful scraping noise in the distance, something thin and metal dragging on the floor and Jason couldn’t breathe.

He tried to push himself up but his wrists were tied behind his back and everything hurt, it all hurt so much. The scraping on the floor got louder, closer, he heard footsteps, and the laughing stopped echoing all around him because it was clearly getting closer too. “Robin, kid, you’re really falling down on the job tonight.” And that awful laugh, that stifled giggle. “I really think you can do better.”

He felt the tip of the crowbar graze his side, just enough to make him shudder.

He was face down in a puddle of blood and Jason couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

He came to like a dying fish, gasping and choking on nothing, sitting bolt upright in bed with a cut off scream. His chest felt like iron, like no matter how hard he tried his lungs wouldn’t expand, they wouldn’t take in the air around him.

Jason threw the blankets off, feeling hot and cold all at once, and shoved his face between his knees, trying in vain to slow his breathing because there was nausea crawling up his throat and - and, shit- he managed to make it to the garbage can in the corner before he lost what little he ate for dinner. But like other times, at least, the vomiting felt like a relief. The coughing and gagging that followed were no fun, along with the racing heart and shaking hands. He spit into the can a few times, his teeth chattering together.

It felt like there were ants under his skin, just looking for a way out. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he managed to stumble to the doorway, stepping over the mess of stuff that had spilled out of the box at the foot of his bed, and flicking on the light. It burned his eyes but it at least gave him something to look at outside of the visions clouding up his head.

He still felt the sharp point of the crowbar dragging up the side of his ribs and his stomach gave another awful squeeze that had him rushing to the bathroom just to dry heave in the sink. Turning the tap on and splashing his face with water helped just a little but his mouth tasted sour and his stomach was still knotting up inside him.

Grabbing his toothbrush off the counter he nearly dropped it while running it under the water his hands were shaking so much. He could hear the awful stupid voice in the back of his head even over the stifled groan he let out when his stomach heaved again. He applied way too much tooth paste to the brush and jammed it in his mouth, barely managing not to fall down when he sat on the edge of the tub.

His ribs ached and his knees and shins and his head felt like it was gonna split open. He knew it was a phantom pain maybe because he’d been close to hyperventilating for a good few minutes at that point and he was having some kind of premature brain death from low oxygen but the knowledge very rarely helped. Instead he sat there in the blindingly bright bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut, scrubbing jerkily over his teeth and tongue trying to wash out the sour taste of stomach acid. Trying to scrub out the echoing laughs in his head, the sound of the crowbar dragging across concrete, the muffled thud of it against flesh and bone.

Of all his nightmares, the ones of the joker were always the loudest.

Sometimes he’d talk out loud to himself, or hum, just to try to drown it out but that just ended up making him feel crazier. He brushed his teeth for a long time, concentrating on the sound of the bristles against his gums, long enough that his mouth was just full of foam and there was blood mixing in with it, and then he’d forced himself to stand and spit in the sink. He splashed water over his face and just stood there for a minute, staring down into the drain and watching drops fall from the tap, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles, trying to support his weight with his arms cause his knees were shaking something fierce, listening to his own labored breathing.

Amazingly enough Jason Todd did not have cable, and his internet was spotty. It was annoying but the bunker he’d set up for Red Hood had better internet than you could buy plus access to the cave computer and when he moved into his place he reasoned that’s all he really used it for. He didn’t have money to burn and the apartment didn’t come with cable. But on nights like this, when the skeletons in his closet were rattling around like percussion instruments he really wished he could turn on the tv and listen to some bullshit telenovelas or cartoons or reruns of Titanic or he really didn’t freaking care.

He could read a book, that’s what he usually did, but after Joker dreams, sometimes it just - wasn’t enough. There were little tricks, little things he’d learned that helped and he went through the list in his head as he finally wrenched himself away from the bathroom sink, when it no longer felt like the bottom of his stomach was trying to climb up his throat.

There was a lighter on his nightstand next to a heavily scented candle that he lit with shaking hands, nearly burned himself before he set it down to the side and breathed in the biting scent of pine. There was a half empty carton of cigarettes stashed under his bed but he’d been trying to quit and he saved them for when things were really bad.

The trash can in the corner was a problem, one he’d rather not address right then but didn’t want to leave overnight because disgusting and so he took a spare moment to rinse some water in it and dump the contents in the toilet. He splashed some bleach in it and filled it the rest of the way with water and left it soaking in the bathtub.

Music was the next step, he didn’t remember where he tossed his cell phone when he came in and he had to stalk around the apartment before he found it sitting on the kitchen counter just inside the front door, unplugged and with a dead battery. He stared at the screen with an unexpected twist in his chest. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Abruptly, even though he’d woken without tears, just the pounding of his chest and head, he felt like he was going to start crying immediately and he sucked in a deep, noisy breath before making a point of plugging in his damn phone and going back to his room where the smell of the candle was enough to at least put him more in the present. It was the music that helped with the Joker dreams the most though and without it Jason was left feeling jittery and anxious in a way that only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his bookshelves trying to decide which one would be the winner for the night.

His knee was bouncing enough he’d probably wake up his downstairs neighbor before something occurred to him. The smashed up box at the foot of his bed was still just where it was when he’d demolished it on his way in. The thought of it made a different anxiety twist in his stomach.

The box was from Alfred. Sort of. The box was full of Jason’s things so he wasn’t sure if it was really from anyone except that one day after patrol when Jason had been high on pain meds, half lying down on a medical cot in the cave with Alfred working on his stitches he’d admitted he missed some of his old stuff, his books, his CD’s, some video games. The conversation wasn’t meant to go anywhere and Jason had no idea why he said anything but Alfred had told him he was free to take whatever he wanted from his old room - it was still his, after all. But the very idea of going back in there made his skin crawl.

He’d heard from Dick that it hadn’t much changed since he died and that kind of made it worse. Jason didn’t want to step back in time, no thanks. The idea that Bruce had turned it into some kind of museum to before he had died did weird things to his insides and he’d told Alfred as much. He didn’t think he could stomach it.

Alfred had left it at that, didn’t push him to keep talking about it or try to tell him he should try anyway, like Dick probably would have. Jason always appreciated that about Alf.

Instead, about a week later Alfred had shown up at his apartment with a weeks worth of meals and a box of things he’d thought Jason might want. It was a nice gesture and Jason had appreciated it but he’d found, despite his earlier musings, that he held the same sort of apprehension to the box as he did to his old room. Everything inside it was part of his old life and most of the time it all just felt - untouchable.

He didn’t know why exactly, just that his years at the manor felt like some weird mix of dream and nightmare he could never quite suss out.

But now, with the Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears he thought it might be the lesser of two evils and he hoped to anyone listening that Alfie packed his old MP3 player.

Jason slid down across his rumpled bed and slipped over the frame, nearly tripped over the crushed box at his feet but fumbled around it until he could sit cross legged on the floor in front of it. He didn’t know where to start exactly, but he decided the best option was getting the MP3 player first. So, he dug in, pulling out old sweatshirts, a couple knit scarves, an old throw blanket. The soft things were all wrapped around the more fragile ones.

Underneath his old clothes and the blanket he finds a stack of CD’s, too bad he doesn’t have a CD player anywhere...There’s a stack of notebooks, a larger stack of book books, an old baseball, and there, the headphones wrapped neatly around it, is his MP3 player. An old iPod shuffle Bruce had gotten him more because it was something other kids had than that he’d known Jason wanted one.

What he was counting on, was good old Alfie, because while the charger for the device was neatly wound up next to it, it had been literal years since Jason had touched the thing and the idea that it might have any battery left was absurd unless Alfred had gone to the trouble of charging it before packing it away for him. With still shaking hands he unwound the headphones rapidly and shove them in his ears, pressing the home button and just praying for some kind of miracle.

“Bless you Alfred.” Jason whispered out over the heavy beat of hip hop music he didn’t ever remember downloading. He took a moment to breathe, sucking in the smell of wintergreen and letting the music drown out the noise in his head. The rest of the contents still sat there in stacks, pushed to the side of the torn open cardboard or still organized neatly inside it.

This was as far as he’d gotten in a month and Jason decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. He reached for the first thing that caught his attention and pulled out a framed photo of Bruce and Jason at a baseball game. The same one, if Jason remembered correctly, that he’d gotten the ball in the box from. Bruce stood behind Jason, a hand on his shoulder, a half crooked smile on his face that meant it was real, while Jason at 13 years old stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear with a mit and a baseball held up in his right hand.

He doesn’t remember who took the photo, it must have been some random person at the game, but he remembered being breathless and excited about going, that he’d never been to one before. He remembered telling Bruce that the closest he’d ever gotten was scalping tickets outside the doors of a hockey rink once and being chased off by a security guard. Bruce had gotten a weird look on his face that Jason never knew how to take before he clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a way that always made Jason feel weirdly warm in the chest.

“We’ll go to a hockey game next.” He had said. And Jason had been beyond excited.

He swallowed convulsively at the twist in his stomach and set the photo to the side. He wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. Thinking about the good times with Bruce was always bitter sweet to him now.

Usually more bitter than sweet. The phantom image of a Robin uniform always coming to mind, filled out by some other kid, standing tall and smug. Jason shook his head. He’d decide later.

Next was an old backpack, still filled with his school books. He rifled through one, finding a doodle of a bow an arrow in the corner of one of the pages, a note scribbled underneath he couldn’t actually parse. There were pages of math homework, old assignments with marks ups from his teachers, little notes in red pen.

‘Good work’

‘Nice word choice’

‘Correct formula but you made a common mistake, see me after class and I can explain it better.’

Absently he wondered why Alfred had given him his old school stuff. Not like he had any use for it now and reading through it felt like going through some other kids stuff. It did give him a weird pang of regret. Because Jason had liked school. He’d thrived despite little shitheads in a rich school who thought he didn’t belong there and some teachers alike. Jason felt a weird sort of disgrace at never having graduated High School. Hell, he’d barely started. He stashed everything back inside the bag and set it to the side. He probably wouldn’t get rid of it, thought he wasn’t sure why.

The stack of books was probably what he’d missed the most and he pulled the top most copy off and flipped it open. Jason had a pretty large stash of books at this point, and he had replaced nearly, if not all the novels he’d had in the manor when he was younger already. But it wasn’t the books themselves exactly that he missed.

When Jason had moved into the manor the idea of having books of his own to return to had been a new and glorious thing. On the street, when you needed to keep something for yourself you found a way to mark it, or make it so other people didn’t want it. He’d half ruined most things he’d snatched from stores just so they wouldn’t bother wanting them back if he got caught.

Before his mom had died he’d had access to the Library, which was great, but it meant that none of the books were his and he’d had to keep them nice and neat if he wanted to be able to keep checking them out. It hadn’t been all that easy either, with a drug addicted mother and a lowlife dad who was always bringing other lowlifes around. He’d ended up stashing them under his bed anytime he wasn’t reading them.

The books in the manor were different. They had a library, which Jason treated as such, but Bruce had also expressed that Jason could have his own books. Ones he got to keep in his room that he wasn’t required to return to anyone else or share. He could even make notes in them if he wanted, highlight whatever text interested him or that he wanted to return to.

The idea of marking them up in anyway had horrified Jason when Bruce had made the suggestion, but he liked part of the idea. It made reading feel more like he was an active participant, like he could go back and forth with the characters, like he was involved in the story.

He’d never taken a pen to a book, but what he had done was fill all of his favorites with sticky notes.

Jason still did it sometimes, though he didn’t read as much as he used to as a kid when he was only patrolling on the weekends and just had school to think about. He flipped through the first few pages of Frakenstein, one of his favorites, perusing his own messy handwriting on bright pink paper, faded with age. Again though, the nostalgia twisted hard in his stomach. He was glad to have them back, thought he might actually read through them someday, but what had been something he missed...felt a lot like something he could still never have, now that he was holding it in his hands.

There were all these mixed up, tangled feelings twisted around Jason’s childhood. Sometimes when he was high on pain meds, or drunk maybe, it softened the edges enough to make all this seem like a good idea. But harshly sober and coming down off a nightmare….they just felt kind of like a sad joke.

Like looking at the props from a movie you used to think was real life.

“Whatever.” He mumbled to himself as he grabbed a pile of the books and stacked them back up in a haphazard pile. His bookshelves were neatly organized, lining his bedroom walls on three sides. He made sure to leave room for more, and the second bedroom still had blank walls he’d thought about repurposing for just such an occasion that he ran out. Normally things were organized by genre, then author, then title. But this particular collection he would keep together. He shelved them all on the lowest empty shelf near the floor, next to his dresser.

The picture frame he stuck face down in the drawer of his nightstand to think about later, the baseball, and the mit he dug out to match, he left sitting on his dresser. The couple sweatshirts smelled like fresh laundry, which wasn’t surprising, so he didn’t bother washing them, just hung them up in the very back of his closet. They’d never fit him now, and just looking at them when he tucked the arms of the hanger through the neck hole nearly had him reeling at how tiny he used to be.

His notebooks he didn’t even open, remembering clearly enough the awful drawings he used to make and his own amateur attempts at writing. Journaling had initially been a suggestion from Bruce, back when Jason had frequent outbursts of temper and never wanted to talk about it afterwards. Bruce wasn’t exactly a shining example of talking out your issues, so the journaling had probably been a nice cop out for him, but he still occasionally did some.

The throw blanket, Jason realized when he picked it up, was the same one that Alfred had knitted him for his first Christmas at the manor and that did get him a little choked up. It was red, and a little faded, the color clashed pretty badly with his bedspread if he was being honest but he didn’t care. He took the time to make up his blankets and folded the throw neatly at the end of his bed. Then he settled himself back on the floor in front of the nearly empty box.

There wasn’t much else he expected to find in it. It was large enough that Alfred had managed to fit his old skateboard, which Jason chuckled to see. Despite his skills as robin he had never gotten very good with the thing. He left it leaned up against his bedroom wall behind the door and went in for the last item, sitting neatly at the base of the box. It was wrapped in brown parchment paper and tied in twine, about the size and shape of a book if Jason had to guess, and a badly wrinkled card was tucked underneath the string.

Jason assumed at first that it was a gift from Alfred, stashed at the bottom of the box as some sort of surprise but the obviously crumpled and reflattened card couldn’t have been the butler. So Jason slipped out the card, a nice stock with a simple picture on the front of a sailboat that looked oddly familiar to him.

Upon opening the card he was momentarily confused. There was obviously a decent amount of text written out at one point, but it had all been scribbled out pretty damn thoroughly, he squinted at it for a moment, trying to make out the words as a slow dawning unease settled on his shoulders. He couldn’t quite make out the words but somehow the handwriting still looked familiar, a messy but somehow still graceful looping cursive that could only be Bruce’s.

Jason swallowed roughly, eyes scanning the card over again and then peering into the box like it might now suddenly contain a poisonous snake. It didn’t make sense.

That there was possibly a….gift stashed somewhere in his room from Bruce that he had never known about didn’t make any sense. And the idea that Bruce would have for some reason gotten him a gift since he was out of the manor and asked Alfred to deliver it made even less. Unless it was something related to their vigilante lives maybe. Maybe it was useful to Red Hood somehow and the scribbled out card was code for something.

But something told him it wasn’t. Bruce was ridiculous and paranoid and overly dramatic at the best of times but a secret message disguised as an old gift instead of making a phone call or telling him in person on one of the not infrequent times they might run into each other on patrol made little to no sense. And the gift did seem old he realized.

Reaching in and picking it up out of the box he found the brown paper covered in a layer of dust, brushed off in a pattern that could only have been someone’s hands moving it to begin with. The twine was brittle and snapped at the knot with a very light tug.

There was a feeling Jason sometimes got, like he was swimming in the ocean and he could sense some huge and dangerous coming up beneath him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In general it didn’t usually represent (wrong word) anything positive but he was already waist deep in this whole thing and that feeling didn’t tend to leave him until the cause was addressed. So he took a single deep breath and tore the paper off, trying to brace himself for any possibility.

However, when the paper came off he was left with a complete absence of any reaction. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow what he found was still entirely unexpected.

It was two items, stacked neatly one on top of the other. One, which was, upon retrospect, predictably a book. A hardcover copy of Pride and Prejudice, with a swirling and beautifully designed cover in deep navy blue, overlaid with gold.

On top of that was a slim DVD case with a photo of Kira Knightly looking artfully to the side with a blurry Matthew Mcfadyen in the background.

“What the hell.”

Jason yanked the headphones out of his ears, suddenly feeling the need for the quiet to digest whatever the heck he as seeing. He grabbed up the crumpled card again and opened it flat, smoothing it out on top of the book and squinting in concentration at the scribbled lines of pen. If Bruce wasn’t a pretentious asshole who always wrote in cursive he thought he may have been able to make it out but as it was the only thing that wasn’t in cursive was a cluster of numbers in the upper right hand side of the card that had only been partially scribbled out. He should have noticed them immediately but he had been more intrigued by what he was apparently not supposed to see.

The numbers though, they were clearly a date. A date that Jason stared at with a numbness in his bones while his brain calculated where he was and what he was doing when it was written. It was dated nearly a year ago. Right around the time that….that the two of them had talked. That Jason had agreed to play by Bruce’s rules.

“What….the hell.” Jason repeated to himself. His voice strangled and clipped. Dropping the card he suddenly flipped the book open, flipping the pages in a fan and looking for something more, turning the book face down and shaking out the pages hoping for some other information. Nothing.

He cracked open the DVD case next, popping the disc out and the little leaflet of information thinking there had to be some kind of hidden message somewhere.

“This is such bullshit.” He whispered to himself, incredulous and weirdly lost.

A strangely frantic idea was occurring to him and he picked up the card again, stumbling to his feet and going for one of the notebooks he’d stashed in his closet. He took the one on top and tore out the first blank page he came to and then spent ten minutes digging around for a pencil, ending up with the single sheet of notebook paper and the card, standing in his boxers and a t-shirt in his kitchen. The card he laid out on the countertop, putting the notebook paper on top of it. He angled the pencil carefully and began brushing gentle strokes across the paper.

It was an old hat trick Jason used to read about in ancient detective novels like it was some genius level trick, it would create a negative image of whatever had been written on the page before it was scribbled out, provided the original script was written with enough pressure. Bruce tended to have a heavy hand so he thought it’d be enough but the way the card was crumpled up made it a special challenge, leaving other divots and lines through the text.

When he was done he stared at the sheet of paper with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Damnit.” It looked like scribbles, which was exactly what it was, but maybe a tiny bit more like actual words than before. He studied it, trying to make out the individual first and last letter of each word.

The first word was clearly his name, he took the pencil and carefully wrote out “Jason” below the scribbles.

The first line he could make out sparing words from. He went through the note methodically, writing down words he could make out, leaving a line on the page for each word he couldn’t, carefully counting each word until he was at the bottom of the card and his hands were shaking again, worse than when he’d woken up from the dream.

He stared at what he had, trying to make heads or tales of it.

Jason,

I know ___ ___ ___ this book, ___ ____ ____ more ____ ___ copy. I think I remember ____ ____ me at some ____ ____ I ______ you of Mr. Darcy. ________ I was ______ and _____ _____ if my ______ ______ right.

Maybe you’ve ____ the _____ _______ too, ____ for me to say. It’s ____ a _____ _____ ____ talked _____ books and movies. But I saw this pair _____ sold ________ in a classics __________ at the ______ Bookstore in Gotham and I _______ of you. ____ _______ you might _____ it, ___ a good _________ of the book, if ___ _______. _____ __ _____ watch it ________ and _______ notes.

I miss you.

The vast majority of it didn’t make much sense beyond being clearly about the story and probably not some hidden message, but Jason didn’t care a whole lot.

Instead he stared at those last three words, feeling a tremor run up his spine. He dropped the paper on the counter like it burned him and took a step back, swallowing convulsively. His eyes were burning and his chest felt tight and this was not the bullshit he’d been expecting in that damn box.

“Fucking Alfred.” Jason scooped up the crumpled card and the sheet of paper and stomped back into his bedroom, grabbing the book and the movie and dumping it all in the bottom drawer of his dresser with old electronics and chargers he wasn’t sure went to what to be forgotten about. The drawer slammed closed and he stood there breathing like a freight train for a split second before he went back to the foot of his bed where he tore the empty box until it was flat and recyclable, he stashed it under his sink and he fumed.

Glancing at the clock on his microwave told him it was nearing 5am, meaning he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep and that the the sun would be coming up in a couple hours. He stomped around his kitchen, dragging out coffee beans and milk and generally making as much noise as possible while making coffee just hoping his downstairs neighbor would come pounding on the door so he could scream in someone’s face.

“Fucking Alfred.” He hissed again, feeling utterly unsteady and hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon. It was such a bullshit move.

Jason wasn’t an idiot. No way Bruce knew that was in Alfred’s little care package. Bruce had probably forgotten the thing existed, had probably thought it had all been thrown away. He’d clearly meant to dispose of the card, probably had, and Alfred had rescued it from the trash and kept it on hand, just waiting to leave it like a bomb for Jason to find. Probably hoped it would open his eyes.

Make him see the light.

Jason was not going to be manipulated by some shitty card that Bruce had thrown in the trash rather than actually give him. And what kind of bullshit was that? Bruce thought he could give him some crappy copy of a book and a movie with a casual little note and things would be good?

He was insane. Bruce was insane and Jason had known it for years.

Jason was shaking his head, pulling a mug out of the cupboard for the coffee and setting it down harder than he needed to. What had he even been thinking? What? That if he gave Jason a present he’d just forget about all the other shit?

Oh, except that he didn’t give him the gift. Instead he threw away the card and put the gift somewhere it was gathering dust for the past year.

There were dishes in the sink from his dinner and he went about washing them by hand instead of using the dishwasher, needing to move, needing something to occupy his hands.

Needed something to work out his aggression on so he could keep hold of the anger in his chest.

*

*

*

He’d bought Jason a gift.

He leaned against the counter sink, gripping the edge hard and feeling the sharp edges of his indignation stuttering and losing their shape. He tried to grab onto it, hold it in place like the shield it was.

But - Jesus he doesn’t really know what to think of it. So Bruce bought it for him, and then what? Couldn’t bring himself to actually give it to him? His stomach twists in knots over it. He remembers meeting up with Bruce, sharing burgers on the hood of the batmobile and agreeing to work by Bruce’s rules.

He remembers he’d been in a good mood that day, that he’d felt more exasperated and amused by the request/demand than he would otherwise normally be. He remembers Bruce being blank and awkward and the good feelings slowly draining. Remembered Bruce cutting the meeting short and making some excuse for it and leaving Jason with that same souring bitterness he always ended up with with Bruce.

He hadn’t gone back on the agreement, he wasn’t really sure why exactly. Except that maybe...maybe him asking meant he didn’t believe Jason was some kind of lost cause.

Not that Jason cared, he had nothing to prove, not to Bruce.

But sometimes there were reasons to prove things to yourself and Jason wasn’t sure he had yet.

It didn’t matter. For now he wasn’t killing anyone and he was on the Bat’s good side. It didn’t explain the movie. There was a date on the card but for the life him Jason can’t remember exactly when they had their chat at the Batmobile. It was....around that time, but was it before or after? He can’t remember, and for some reason that really bugs him.

He doesn’t want to think about this stupid shit.

But Bruce had thought about him apparently. He….he missed him.

It was ridiculous. It wasn’t true.

Jason had to resist the urge to go dig that stupid card out of his dresser and try to parse out the words again.

“God damnit!” He slammed his hands against the edge of the sink.

He wasn’t supposed to care about this crap anymore. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

Jason didn’t care and he was going to stop thinking about it.

…..God he was going to need a shit ton of coffee to make it through the day.

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part eight

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 3.3k~ Warning: swearing A/N: this was supposed to be posted in january. i am...bad with deadlines. i’ll be honest - it’s slightly a filler but important for the impending valentine’s day part. no surprise here but, feedback is always appreciated/loved wink wonk nudge nudge please gimme

Things dramatically shifted in the group dynamic after Vegas. It was painfully obvious that you and Harrison were no longer on speaking terms. Well, he wasn’t speaking to you while you assumed he hated your guts. Not that anyone wanted to talk about it. Tom and Emma refused to bring Harrison up around you, carefully tiptoeing around the subject. Occasionally Tom would almost slip up - almost dropping his best friend’s name - until he remembered better or Emma nudged him before the word could leave his mouth.

Despite their worries, you weren’t particularly sensitive about Harrison. It didn’t matter how many times you repeated that you were fine and that it wasn’t a huge deal; they viewed you like a delicate creature that was more fragile than you let on.

How many times did you need to remind them you were fine? Or well, you would be. Eventually. Hopefully. You didn’t have the luxury of mulling around in your thoughts, discussing your feelings about Harrison. No, you had schoolwork. You weren’t going to fail your education because you were pining like a Victorian character. Not on your watch. Deuces, bitches.

You knew Vegas in some ways had been both a wake up call and a fluke. It was the ever-so-polite reminder how you and Harrison weren’t going to be a thing. Ever. For real this time. Someone always ended up being an idiot - usually him though sometimes you - and someone got hurt in the process.  Apparently you were never going to attain happiness through a love life.  But what was more exciting than an affectionate and healthy relationship? Good grades! Well, hopefully.

So once again you threw yourself into your studies, not really bothering to go out unless Emma or Kimberly invited you. With how things ended, it was no surprise that Tom never brought along Harrison to movie premieres in the States. You hadn’t even seen Harrison - both in real life and social media - until you were tapping through Instagram stories one night.

In the story Tom was filming himself at some party, excitedly chatting about how he couldn’t wait for people to see his new film. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the small detail that would sucker punch you in the stomach. But you did. And boy, you were not ready for that at all.

There in the top right corner was some blonde straddling Harrison, his hands glued to her ass and sucking face like it was no one’s business. Waves of jealousy crashed into you. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe because she was hot as hell? Possibly. Perhaps because he moved on so quickly? Potentially. Was it because you didn’t like seeing him with someone that wasn’t you? No, that couldn’t be right.

But there was one thing you were certain of: you really wanted to figure out where she got her cute top from. What kind of person thinks that? Apparently your dumb ass would.

A couple hours later your inbox was flooded with apologizes from Tom. He texted in all caps how he didn’t realize what was in the background, but that he couldn’t erase the footage. If he deleted that certain part, the video wouldn’t make sense as a whole. Yet if he deleted all of it, speculation would build up that something terrible happened.

“I didn’t realize that H was in the shot!” he sent you.

Huh. You couldn’t help but grunt at how Tom still wouldn’t use his best friend’s name in front of you. Was he afraid that you would somehow spiral? You contemplated messing with him, sending him crying emojis and telling him how terrible he was.

Tapping the buttons, you paused as you stared at your dramatic message. No, Tom didn’t deserve this. As funny as his reaction would be, you’d never hear the end of it from Emma and you knew he was coming from a good place.

You waved it off, telling him he had nothing to worry about. After all, mistakes happen all the time. Sometimes Tom made them more than most. Nothing wrong with that. Because it was fine. You weren’t dating Harrison. Whoever he chose to make out with wasn’t any of your business. He wasn’t any of your concern and never had been.

Yet something about the scene lingered in the back of your mind. There was this voice inside you whispering that things might’ve been your business if you had done things differently, if you had put in enough effort. Why didn’t you put in enough effort, Y/N?

The thoughts tugged on you despite your attempts to ignore it. You should’ve played it cooler on Halloween, Y/N. Why didn’t you? Should you have just worn lingerie and animal ears like he suggested? Or had you completely embarrassed yourself in that gigantic costume? You should’ve flirted with Noah to make Harrison jealous. Then he might actually have been interested in you. There was no way Harrison could ever get jealous about you. Plus you couldn’t flirt to save your life. But still. You could’ve tried. You thought you put in enough effort. Had you really given it your all? You didn’t do enough, Y/N. You should’ve done more.

Sometimes you fought with the voice, pointing out you tried your hardest. It just hadn’t been enough. Did you though? And somewhere down the line the voice won. Maybe if you had put in enough effort things with Harrison would’ve been different. You should’ve been better.

With that thought constantly nipping at you, you felt like giving up on dating. What was the point? You put all this effort into people only for things to fall apart. Why bother? So you dismissed your need to put in effort to things besides your studies. Who cared about looking good for class? It’s not like you were being graded on how sloppy you dressed. Who cared about what you ate? There wasn’t anyone to impress anyways. And you stuck firm to this new mindset, accepting the idea that you would die alone (and potentially eaten by wolves).

A couple weeks into the new semester, you shuffled around campus in an oversized sweatshirt and comfortable leggings; it was your preferred clothing choice for most of January. While you wouldn’t openly admit it, you’d been in a funk of just tossing on the same garb. What did it matter anyways?

Finishing off a bag of chips, you tossed the empty container into a nearby trash can. Your diet consisted of mainly take out and junk food, consuming whatever you wanted to eat. As you licked the residue your fingers, you wondered if it was appropriate to spend the rest of the day laid in bed marathoning a show on Netflix.

“Hey” a familiar voice called out, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

You turned around to see Steven politely smiling at you. It was as if the Devil and Steven decided to team up and catch you at your worst. How wonderful.

“Long time no see” he greeted you, taking a couple steps forward. You tensed up, unable to step back like you wanted to. Your brain screamed for you to take a step back - even if it was just one - but your body ignored the plea. Fuck. Him getting closer meant he could inspect your current state, something you weren’t ready for anyone to do. Someone like him didn’t even deserve that opportunity. Yet here he was.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what transpired Christmas night. When he texted you a couple days after the incident, you just texted back “sorry I’m busy”. The rest of his messages were left on read, unable to find the right response. It wasn’t like you could simply message “I know you made out with some chick even though we had something going on”.  No, it was easier letting the messages just sit there. Because avoiding problems was what grown adults totally did.

“How are you?” Good question, Steven. A part of you wanted to curse him out, scream at him about how terrible he treated you. But deep down you knew you’d never have the nerve to say anything. You just wanted to forget about the night and memories of Steven altogether.

As his words looped in your mind, you couldn’t think of a response. It was as if your brain went blank, unable to think of anything intelligible to say. So you ended up humming a sound in response. It wasn’t an answer, yet it told him everything he needed to know.

“You look...Good” he managed to get out as he surveyed you. He was lying. Both of you knew it. You didn’t have any feelings for him anymore, but it still hurt. You didn’t want to care about his judgement, but his glance felt so disparaging that you wanted to crumble. What an asshole.

You wished that you didn’t look terrible, that you actually bothered to do your hair and clothes that day. Glancing down at your sweater, you screamed internally. Of course there would be Cheeto stains on your sweater. How glamorous could you get?

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late.” Steven stopped smiling while you tensed up once again. God help you now.

A strong figure wrapped their arms around your waist, pressing their front gently against your back. You turned your head before your eyes bulged out slightly. You stopped breathing for a second, taking in that beautiful face next to you. Oh. So he still had that effect on you apparently.

It was Harrison looking better than ever. You avoided social media, so afraid that the voice would come back, that you couldn’t believe how much he changed. Of course he still looked gorgeous as ever, but he had a shorter haircut now which you surprisingly liked. Not that you planned on telling him especially now out of all the times.

You hadn’t realized that he was in town. Usually someone warned you, giving you time to deal with the impending chaos. Or with how things had progressed, you planned on avoiding him. Perhaps it was a surprise visit, some potential acting gig or meeting up with Tom at a set. You certainly hadn’t expected him to come to your rescue. After all he didn’t owe you anything. So why was he helping you out now?

Despite holding you, he wasn’t actually looking your way. Harrison refused to make eye contact with you, only staring down Steven.

“Oh, so you’re with him.”

Harrison’s arms tightened around you slightly as he glared down the other boy. “Yeah, she’s with me, mate.”

The Brit pressed a kiss to your cheek to confirm his words. It caught you off guard, making you bite down on your lip. Oof. Even if it was a ruse, the sign of affection was still sweet.

He wiped cheeto dust off your cheek, and you wanted to die. Less sweet. God, of course you would ruin an absolutely cute moment. Playing the part well, he didn’t let it deter him. “Isn’t she the cutest?” he asked, kissing you once more. While the affection made your heart beat quicker, it caused Steven discomfort to watch. Good. You deserve it, bitch ass Steven.

“You know what I like about Y/N, Stevie?” he started with fake smile on his face. Steven grimaced at the nickname, which seemed to fuel Harrison. “She’s real. She’s honest with others, sometimes to a fault. But she’s never afraid to be upfront about her feelings.” You weren’t sure where he was going with this, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what I appreciate about her.

“And it’s nice to know she didn’t string me along with another guy.” Oh shit. “She didn’t make fake promises to me and then make out with some other person in a grocery store just because she had the options. She actually fucking committed.” Holy shit. Steven’s face paled as Harrison glared at him, words digging in with every syllable.

“Wait a-” Steven tried interjecting, but Harrison wasn’t having it.

“And she certainly didn’t need to be polite to others, especially when they didn’t deserve it. But she’s got a big heart and doesn’t treat others like garbage even when that’s what they are: absolute shit.”

“You c-”

“Because people who go around expecting everyone to fall on their knees and act like they’re amazing are usually total divs. Complete idiots really.”

Steven said nothing, only bowed his head as his hands balled up. His knuckles turned white, and you worried that this might get violent.

“Y/N isn’t some high and mighty twat. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone because it’s a fact that she’s amazing. She’s not some self-obsessed, narcissistic arsehole who misses out on great opportunities. D’you know what I mean, mate?” Harrison held nothing back, practically attacking everything about Steven in a fatal blow. What could he even say to that?

“Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to spend some private time with my girlfriend.” Harrison tightened his grip around you. You weren’t sure why, but you hands reached out to touch his forearms. He tightened at your surprising touch before relaxing slightly. You felt him kiss your head and you sighed lightly at this comforting gesture.

This was enough for Steven to understand his presence wasn’t wanted in the slightest. He said nothing, only walking away and refusing to look at either of you.

Once Steven was out of range, Harrison immediately dropped his arms. You turned, finally getting to take in his whole appearance. He was wearing a simple outfit of a hoodie and jeans, yet you couldn’t help but bite down on your lip. Even though it would take a little bit of time to adjust to his new haircut, your mind wondered what it’d be like to run your hands through his hair now. Not that he’d ever let you do that.

“You look like a fucking mess.” Ouch. The honest criticism stung. You probably needed to hear it; you just didn’t want to hear it from him.

You wanted to play it cool - possibly even snarky - like his words didn’t bother you. “I...like cheetos” You winced hearing the words leave your mouth. You couldn’t even register on the coolness spectrum.

He scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. You expected him to walk away and leave, but instead he pulled out a tissue. Without warning, he began wiping the cheeto dust off your face as he grumbled how messy you were.

He was so close, brows furrowed as he rubbed off the orange residue. Your heart pounded as you watched him shake his head in irritation when he got the last of the grime. You nervously asked if he was visiting someone, expecting that he must’ve assumed that Tom was on campus or that he needed to speak with Kimberly for some mysterious reason.

Tossing the dirty napkin in the garbage, he shrugged in response. “Something like that.”

“Kimberly’s at work right now” you pointed out. Harrison stared at you with a blank expression. “Thought...You might want to know.” He said nothing, just continued staring. “And I think Tom’s shooting on some set so...Also not here” you added, flustered by his manner.

Harrison looked like he wanted to say something important, but he simply brushed off the thought. “Don’t worry about it.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both just standing in the awkward silence that currently consumed the space. There was a lot that you wanted to say - wanted to ask even - but you didn’t know where to begin.

“Tom’s getting worried” he finally spoke again now glancing at the pavement. “He’s asking about us.” Us? What did that mean?

“He and Emma...They’re being nosy. None of their business, really. But they’re afraid we might affect the group dynamic.” Oh. So that was it. “I think we should do what’s best for the group...Just pretend what happened didn’t happen.”

Oh. You weren’t sure why, but his words hurt.

You agreed quietly, nodding your head.

“We can just...Just go back to the way things used to be. Nothing but two acquaintances with mutual friends. That’s it.”

Oh. That comment felt like a slap in the face. Why though? It was smart to go back to the old days when things were so much simpler. You swallowed, trying to process everything. Why were you so upset? It wasn’t like he was being terrible, yet you were on the verge of crying. You sniffled, blinking back tears.

“Right. Sounds good” you agreed, voice slightly strangled.

“Okay” he nodded, finally looking at you.

“Okay” you echoed, your turn now to look at the ground.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked. Was that what you wanted?

How could the two of you even go back to normal? Because now you didn’t hate him. You weren’t even sure how you felt about him.

“How do we do that?” You wanted to sound normal, like it was just a simple question with an easy fix. Yet your voice came out meek, strained, and so unsure of itself.

Harrison called your name, trying to get you to look at him. His expression softened as you continued sniffling, continuing to stare down. He called your name again, but you shook your head. You didn’t want to look at him when you felt so confused. Harrison let out a slow sigh before he took your hand, holding onto it tightly.

“Y/N, will you please look at me?”

When you finally turned towards him, he looked at you with a soft expression and a wistful smile on his face.

“We’ll just forget about Vegas, okay?” He made it sound so easy, like you could just dismiss those memories away without a care. “It’s like you said, right? ‘It didn’t matter to either of us’ so it should be fine.” He squeezed your hand, doing his best to comfort you.

“We’ll just go back to being Lil Skunk and Lil Shit. Things will...Things will go back to the way they were.” You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“It’ll be weird at first, but...That’s how it always is, isn’t it? Weird starts.” You nodded your head, not quite sure what he meant, but it sounded right. “Things will just...Fall into place” he concluded. You stared down at his hand still holding yours. Even though hand holding would be off the table again, this felt nice. It felt comforting with your hand in his. You wanted to savor this for a moment longer.

“Obviously I can see why you’d have worries. After all, I was...Really amazing that night.” You looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. Was he actually bragging? “I’m probably the best shag you ever had, and it’s totally fine that no one will ever live up to that” he joked.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Oh my God! Shut up!”

“It’s okay. You can admit it. I have that effect on the ladies. Apparently not even you’re immune to me like you thought.”

“Shut up, Lil Shit!” And just like that, the two of you were back to some sort of normalcy. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know it was possible let go of the incident.

He finally dropped your hand, and your smile vanished. So this was it.

“You, uh, heading out now?” You weren’t sure why, but you wanted him to say no. You wanted Harrison to stay for just a bit longer.

He nodded his head. “Just have some business I need to take care of.” He leaned in and for a moment you thought he might kiss the top of your head again. Strangely enough you wanted him to. But he pulled away at last second, and you remembered that normalcy between you and Harrison didn’t include kissing.

“Take care of yourself, Lil Skunk.” Right in that moment, the nickname felt more loving than it ever had.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz | @almostrosadiazz, @alt-ernativewonderland, @blackstarryroses, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields-deactivated20190 / @bbk8lin (?), @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96, @kayla-m1996, @mylifesucksbuthereiam, @otheenglishsetters, @sadnoelle, @sarcasticvodka, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @wolvesofthewinter

part nine

[qualitylu]

Otherside (c.h.)

Pairing: Reader x Calum

Requested: yes

Anonymous said: “Can you write something based on “otherside” by postyyyy with calum? don’t leave me in pain pls”

Word count: 1,126

Summary: Calum after the end of a relationship, based off the song “Otherside” by Post Malone

A/N: I left out the refrain of the song because it literally breaks my heart and I wanted this to have somewhat of a happy ending

The bottle of whiskey was sloppily placed on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot due to the mixture of tears he had been crying and the weed he had been smoking. He hadn’t slept much since you had left. Not only his place being empty but also his heart. He didn’t. understand what had happened, it felt like a blurry mess. You left in a hurry after you ended the relationship, soon sending your friend to pick up the rest of your things. He hadn’t been sober in the past three days since his apartment had been half empty. It started slow, the bottle only being halfway empty by the first day but as it progressed the bottle ended up in the trash as it was replaced with a new one, that by now, at noon, was halfway gone as well. He felt numb to the pain but he could still feel it like a thousand needles in his heart.

It wasn’t long until there was a knock at the door and he felt his chest clinch at the possibility of it being you. The feeling was to put to rest as Ashton walked through the door. Ashton quickly pulls the bottle off the table and places it into the trashcan. “Cal, you really got to get out of the house, mate,” Ashton commented as he walked back to the couch. “I can’t get her out of my head bro. I can’t escape the feeling I get when I see something that’s she’s left behind or god forbid I can still smell her fucking perfume on the pillow.” Calum’s fingers ran through his hair, as if it would ease the thought of you out of his head. “That’s exactly why you need to leave,” Ashton pulled Calum off the couch and towards the door, Calum slightly stumbling over his own feet as he made his way to the passenger side door before sliding in. Ashton took Calum out eat, just to try to get his mind off things. Even meeting some of the fans, Calum couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting you there. His mind couldn’t escape the memories that you all shared and how much love and support he had for you and your life. He supported you in everything you did but sadly it felt to him as though you didn’t feel the same way. Once he made it home he quickly pulled out his phone and began to type a message to you. It was soon deleted and retyped out for what seemed like a million times. When he was about to press send he received a text from you anyways, reading, “I'm sorry, can we talk this out?” He quickly responded telling you to come over. Of course Calum had tried to get you out of his head by talking to other women or having late night booty calls, but it just wasn’t the same with you. 

It wasn’t long until you were knocking on his door, he quickly opened the door and was caught off by your actions. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. You had realized you had messed up but in this moment you didn’t care, you just wanted to be close to him. You pulled back and looked at him through your tear coated lashes before speaking, “I’m so sorry.” Calum removed your arms from around his neck and lead you over to his couch. “Cal, I can’t believe I did this, I’m sorry. I just hope you can forgive me.” Calum quickly cut you off by pressing his lips onto yours. His lips moved softly against yours, your fingers tangled into his hair. It felt like you were home, like everything felt right. He moved you to where you were straddling his hips before he pulled away slightly. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered between the kisses that were placed on your neck. “I’ve missed you, too, Cal,” you breathed out before connecting your lips back with his. 

You all made your way back to the bedroom that you all used to share. It wasn’t long until you were tangled in between the sheets, your head on his chest and his fingers running up and down your back. “Cal, I feel like we should talk,” you sat up slightly to look into his eyes, “I feel like we shouldn’t get back together but I just miss you so much. I just feel like we aren’t right for each other, but fuck this feels so right.” You breathed out, the tears coming back. “But if it feels so right then why do you want to leave, Y/N?” “I just, I feel like,” you paused, unsure what to say. “Y/N, just go. If you don’t want to be here then just leave.” Calum’s throat was closing up on him and his eyes were burning as he spoke these words. “No.” “Yes, if you don’t love me or want,” “Calum! I do want to be here,” you sat up completely and held the sheets up to your naked chest, “I fucking love you, but I’m so fucking scared.” Your breathing was ragged and your eyes matched Calum’s bloodshot ones. “Why are you scared?” “Because Cal, what if we can’t go back to the way things were? We just had makeup sex, are you sure you’re ready to jump back into a relationship full force?” “Y/N, all I know is that I want you, I don’t care if we get back to the way things were.” “But, Cal, what we had when we started was so good. We were so good for each other.” “And, I want that again, but it’s going to be different and better. We’ll get back to our good place but we both have to put in effort.”

You nodded your head at his words as he reached out to dry your cheeks from where the tears had fallen. You let the duvet fall slightly as you crawled out of the bed. “Are you leaving?” Calum asked, his voice laced with worry and guilt. “No, just going back into my old ways,” you give him a soft smile as you pick up your panties and the t-shirt Calum had been wearing before off the floor and slipped them on. Calum’s smile lifted while you climbed back into bed with him. His arms brought you closer to him, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. You were close to falling asleep when you heard him mumble into your hair, “I never want to lose you again, you're my world.” Your lips turned up slightly before you replied, “you won't, ever again.”