#my chest? giving me physical pain. I doubt I'll be able to get anything done about it because of course not

[david-watts]

god I have no hope for anything that will happen and every day is just the same thing over and over again with different flavour text

[bangtanreadingcorner]

three words, eight letters (i love you) • kim namjoon

plot – it was never supposed to go this far, but then it happened. you both said i love you.

words – 3.3K

It started out casual.

You and Namjoon met at a party years ago, and the attraction was immediate. The only problem was that neither of you had time for something serious - you as a world traveling model and him as a world traveling artist. So, after spending a mind-blowing night together, you two both agreed in the morning after that it was a one time thing and wouldn't happen again.

That lasted until the next time you saw each other two months later. The morning after you two agreed that you were open to sleeping together if you are near each other and both willing and it wasn't exclusive because this attraction between you was too hard to ignore.

What neither of you told each other, was that you had no intention of sleeping with someone else.

A year and many chance encounters later, you both decided to be exclusive and decided to try dating each other casually. Nothing big, like going out of your to see each other but more like finally exchanging numbers and texting, calling and Skyping each other. You still agreed only to see each other in person when you both happened to be in the same place.

(And if you both snooped around to figure out where the other was to plan a visit when the longing became to much, well, you certainly weren't telling each other.)

It was good, for three blissful years life was good, great even, until one day it all blew to hell.

It started with a good morning call from Namjoon.

You grinned, despite the early hour as you picked up the call. "Hey, handsome."

"Good morning, gorgeous. You sound sleepy." You heart thumped with the term of endearment. You could hear the smile in his voice.

"I just woke up." You admitted through a yawn. You looked at the time, and shuffled back under your covers, intent on sleeping further once your call with Namjoon was done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He said, voice apologetic with a tinge of guilt.

"It's okay, I don't mind." You told him honestly. You'd prefer talking to him over sleeping everytime. You yawned again, rubbing at your dry eyes with your free hand, stopped when you realised your make-up artist would have a fit if you showed up with puffy eyes. "Just had a late shoot. I only got home three hours ago."

"Yikes." Namjoon said and you could picture the wince on his face, and it made a sleepy grin tug in your lips. "I'll let you get back to sleep then and call you later on."

"M'kay." You yawned, halfway asleep as the next words slipped out of your mouth. "I love you."

"Love you, too." He replied instantly and without hesitation.

The line went dead silence in the aftermath of your confession.

"I have to go." You eventually blurted, a little mortified, your face on fire and you heart beating in your ears. Suddenly you were wide awake, all sleep gone from your system.

"Yeah, me too." He said and you were glad to hear the way to cracked because it means he was affected by this too.

You never end up going back to sleep, not even able to form a reply later that night when you arrive for your shoot and the make-up artist mutters about your red eyes from lack of sleep.

The photographer tells you there's no sparkle in your eyes. You tell him if he doesn't like your work, he's welcome to request another model. He's right though, you know he is. You go through the motions but your heart isn't in it like it usually is.

It was all the way in Namjoon's hands, just like his heart is in yours, from when you exchanged it earlier that morning.

Then only question is, what are you going to do with it?

You meant the words, you love him and you know he loves you too.

The three special words you've never uttered to another soul outside your family and your few friends. Never intended too either, no matter how much you mean it. It's terrifying, to open yourself up like that, make things between you and Namjoon real on a whole other level.

You shouldn't have said it, you know you shouldn't have. After all, there is a reason you never have before.

You knew it would have hurt in the long run. It was inevitable, with how much you love him. Only now, everything is going to hurt so much more when it comes to an end.

***

Namjoon has never been one to let problems fester and lie, or ignoring a problem until it goes away. You are a personal fan of the latter. The point is, Namjoon is the type to face a problem head on, talk it out and try to solve it.

So, it came to absolutely no surprise to you when five days after the confession, a knock on your door sounded at eleven in the evening and when you opened it, it was Namjoon.

"Y/N." He greeted.

"Hi." You breathed.

He was wearing an oversized t-shirt and loose pants, nothing spectacular, but he still causes your breath to catch, your heart beat speeding up. The want you had for him, has never dimmed with time. It only grew, in fact.

And it wasn't just a physical desire, but a mental one too. You want to know him, ask him about his day, show him the new sketches you drew, listen to him ramble about the new encyclopedia about animals he finished.

You want him - heart, mind, soul and body.

But right now, you just really want to kiss him.

"I'm going to kiss you." You warned him, closing the two feet of distance between you slowly enough that he could say no if he didn't want you to kiss him.

He stood in your doorway, eyes watching you intently, unmoving but the moment you put your hands on his neck to pull him down, just a bit, and kissed him, slowly but deeply, he kissed you back, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you even closer.

He pulled away first, but didn't go far, muttering against your lips. "We need to talk."

You didn't want to talk because then everything would get worse, not better. Still, you needed too.

You stepped out of his arms, placing one more peck against his lips, wondering if it would be the last time ever. You let him in, listening as he closed the door and took off his shoes.

"Do you want something to drink?" You asked when you passed the kitchen.

"No, thank you." He denied and you walked past the kitchen, heading to your spacious living room. You took a seat on the one seater couch, he took one on the three seater, sitting closest to you.

It was quiet, for a long time, neither of you wanting to begin the conversation. Finally, Namjoon gathered the courage first. He asked an easy question, "Did you mean it?"

"Yes." You answered, because you did, and you could see a lot of tension leaving his shoulders. It made you wonder if he doubted it, if he thought that you said it because you were tired. Well, you did only say it because you were tired, but probably not for the reason he thinks, so you decided to explain. "Being sleepy lowered my defenses enough for me to tell you the truth, instead of hiding it from you."

He nodded, accepting your words. "Did you regret saying it?"

You wanted to say no, but it would be a lie.

"A little." You admitted, as honest as possible.

Namjoon took that in, swallowing thicky, nodding again, slower this time. "Why?"

"Because it made everything complicated. And I don't want complicated." You burst out, chest feeling heavy.

"I thought we weren't just sleeping together, that we're dating." Namjoon said, voice tight. There was hurt in there, it stabbed at your heart.

"We are dating." You confirm.

"Then why haven't you told anyone about us?" He asked sharply.

"I have. All of my friends know about you, and tease me mercilessly because of you. They figured out that I'm stupid in love with you, long before I climbed out of my pit of denial." You told him, because if your relationship was going to shit, you might as well tell him everything.

"Have you told your parents?" Namjoon asked, suddenly and it makes you a little defensive.

"Have you?" You retort.

"Yes." He answered, and it catches you completely off guard.

It took you awhile to regain your bearings, because you didn't think Namjoon was serious enough about your relationship that he has told his parents about it. It made you feel happy and guilty, all at once.

You didn't know what to say to him, so you said nothing, sitting in silence again.

"I meant it, too, you know." Namjoon broke the silence again, voice soft as he looked at you so gently that your heart twisted. "I love you."

You inhaled sharply. It was one thing to hear it over the phone, but another thing entirely to hear it from his lips in person. There was only one you that felt right for you to say to him.

"I love you, too." Too much, you thought.

An expression of wonder and awe crossed his face as he looked at you. It disappeared a moment later when he frowned over at you.

"Then what's the problem?" Namjoon asked, a little desperation in his voice.

"I don't want what you want." You said simply.

"I want you." He said immediately, so sure that you know he believes it right now, but right now isn't where this ends. In his mind, this ends with the two of you married, living in a house with a yard, a few kids and maybe a cat and a dog.

It doesn't for you.

Here it comes, you think to yourself, the whole reason you knew your relationship would have never lasted. Not in the long haul. You've thought about it long and hard, over and over, because you want Namjoon in your life for a longtime, but you've never found an ideal scenario where both of you get what you want.

You sighed, deep and sad, shaking your head slightly. "No, I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about the future. You want to get married and have kids. And I-" You inhaled, your eyes burning and voice going softer, wondering if anything would soften the blow you were about to give him. Nothing helped when you finally admitted to yourself your relationship was never going to last. "I don't want that."

A crumpled sort of expression crossed his face, eyes pained when he looks into yours. "Why?"

You shrugged, eyes blurring, memories flashing across your mind. Horrible, terrible memories. You suppress them as fast as they surface. "I just don't."

More silence.

"So what do we do now?" Namjoon finally asked.

"I don't know." You said, feeling your heart cracking a little. You knew it wasn't Namjoon's fault though. He would protect your heart from anything and everything in this world.

Unfortunately he can't protect you from yourself.

***

When Namjoon went home that night, it was with a heavy, heavy heart. The rest of his band noticed the moment he stepped through the door, but no one asked him because if their leader didn't want to talk, you couldn't make him.

Well, one person could.

All eyes turned to Yoongi when Namjoon went to his room after giving them a soft greeting.

"What?" The oldest rapper asks them.

"H-he doesn't look too good." Hoseok said worriedly and the other's voice their agreement. Namjoon has been a little off for a few days now, but not once was he as subdued as he was just now.

"Yeah, he went to see Y/N-noona, right?" Jeongguk asked.

All of then knows about Namjoon's long term girlfriend. It was the oddest relationship ever, to them at least, but the two them make it work and she makes their leader incredibly happy, so they have never shown anything but support.

"Maybe they had a fight." Taehyung suggested hesitantly, because they've never had a fight, as far as he knows. It's why they all feel a little lost right now.

"Whatever it is, it's big. He looked really sad and he's never looked like that when he comes back from seeing her." Jimin said, worrying his bottom lip.

"Go talk to him." Seokjin said to Yoongi, nodding in the direction of Namjoon's room.

Yoongi didn't need to be told twice.

Yoongi entered the room as he knocked. Namjoon was sitting on the floor, against his bed, legs pulled up, forearms resting on his thighs, head in his hands. Yoongi sat down next to him. He gently nudged his arm, "Talk to me, Namjoon-ah."

Then Yoongi waited for Namjoon to gather his thoughts, knowing the younger would talk when he's ready.

When Namjoon finally spoke, his voice was teary and soft, a little bit broken, too, "I've always believed in love and being loved. I believe in it because I can feel it and I experienced it, but with her, it's different."

"Good different, right?" Yoongi ventured hesitantly.

"Yeah, but now. . ." Namjoon's breath hitched, and he took a second to pull himself together. "Now, I'm scared"

Yoongi was very lost. He doesn't know what happened for Namjoon to feel like this or where it comes from. He'll be here, though. For whatever Namjoon needs from him. "Why?"

Namjoon swallowed, "Because I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like I can't live without her." Namjoon whispered, sounding like he was going to cry any moment.

"And?" Yoongi said, still confused. That was supposed to be a good thing. Finding someone you love so much that you can't live without them. Right?

"And I'm scared that she doesn't love me the same." Namjoon said, voice still a whisper.

This made Yoongi frown because he and the rest of the guy's have met her a few times and each time, they all saw the complete adoration and utter devotion in her eyes when she looks at Namjoon. "I'm sure that's not true."

Namjoon sighed, knowing he was being a little unfair but his heart was hurting something terrible. "Okay, maybe you're right but, she- tonight she told me that she doesn't want to get married or have kids and that's all I want. And I know that doesn't mean that she doesn't love me but it has a great potential of breaking us apart."

Yoongi was quiet for a long while, processing all that Namjoon has told him. "Have you talked to her about this, Namjoon-ah?"

Namjoon snorted, voice a bit bitter when he spoke. "She just dumped an 'I love you but I don't want a future with you' on me and I sort of just walked away, so no, not really."

"Maybe you should." Yoongi suggested.

"Hyung, she told me that she loves me and then two seconds later she told me that she doesn't want to marry me. Like, ever." Namjoon said again, strong voice growing defeated as he spoke each word.

"Damn, that's harsh." Yoongi sighed, bit down on his bottom lip.

"At least she was being honest with me." Namjoon sighed, heart heavy. "I don't know what to do. She doesn't either." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, tugging at the strands.

"You're gonna have to decide, Namjoon-ah." Yoongi said after a long silence. "Hold on, or let go."

***

You remember walking Namjoon to the door, making sure to lock it and starting to walk to your bedroom but only reaching the hallway before breaking down. Sobs ripped through your chest, your knees giving in and you sank to the floor.

It hurt, everything hurt.

And you had no one to blame but yourself.

You laid down on the floor, curling into a fetal position, crying until eventually you were exhausted enough that you passed out.

It took two weeks before you gathered enough courage to text Namjoon if you could see each other. He told you that he was in Japan right now and you asked him what city and hotel before booking a flight and a room for yourself. It wasn't for you to use, just a way for you to get into the hotel without any unnecessary questions.

When you knocked on his hotel room, your heart unsteady, your hand shaking, something inside of you knew that this is it.

This is the end.

Namjoon opened the door, and something in his gaze told you that he knew it too. Maybe that's why he didn't call either, these last two weeks.

Your eyes blurred as you walked through the door, fisting your hands to hide how badly they were shaking. You didn't want to sit, too restless. You looked at Namjoon, he looked at you.

"This will never work, not if we don't want the same things. You know that." You told him, voice breaking already. And it was just the start of the conversation.

"I could live without getting married and having kids if I could have you." Namjoon tried to stop what was happening.

You let out a wet chuckle, somehow loving him more for trying. You shook your head, letting out a resigned sigh. "You'll resent me."

"I'd never." Namjoon swore and you could tell he means it.

"Maybe not right now," You acknowledged. "But in ten years? When you see all your friends getting married and having kids?"

"I love you." He said, words a fierce promise, almost an oath.

You gave him a sad smile, "I know, and I don't ever want to change that love into resentment."

"You can't know that." He said, not wanting to let go.

"Yes, I can." You said, a tear finally breaking past its barricade and rolling down your cheek.

Namjoon stepped close and wiped it off, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, the corner of your mouth and finally to your lips. You could feel his body shaking against yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and it made more tears fall down. You fisted his shirt in your hands, holding tight, not wanting to let go either.

You did, eventually.

"Do me a favour?" You asked in a hoarse whisper when you pulled away, your breaths tangling, foreheads resting together.

"Anything." He agreed immediately.

"Don't forget me. Even if-" You cut yourself off and started again because you aren't delusional and you know how easy it was to fall for him. "Even when you fall in love again. Keep a little place for me in your heart and think of me once in a while." You requested. It was selfish, you knew it like you knew your name, but you will never forget him or stop loving him and if he remembers you once in a while, it would make you feel a little better.

(Not that you deserve it, but you've already admitted to being selfish.)

"As if I could ever forget you." Namjoon promised, squeezing you tighter, leaving out the part where he doesn't think he'll ever fall in love with someone else ever again. You had his heart since the moment he laid eyes on you from across the room of that party four years ago.

You finally pulled out of his embrace, but took hold of his hands. "I love you. I always will."

"Me too." He said, tear escaping from his eyes. You wiped it away with one hand, cupping his cheek.

You pulled him close, kissed him one last time - long, deep and filled with all the love you felt for him.

Then you let go of him, and did the hardest thing you ever had to do in your life.

You walked away.

the end.

[fangirlings-things]

He's just too much — Part. 4

A/N: hey guyssss here am I, with the final part of this series!!! Thank your for all the support, I didn't expect a feedback so amazing. Thank you thank you thank you.

I hope you guys like the end and as usual, let me know what you think

Pairings: Michael Gray x reader

Warnings: curse words and just a lot of fluff and angst

Summary: Michael Gray is just too much for (Y/N) to not fall in love with him

Word count: 1375

Part. 1 Part. 2 Part. 3

"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" you watched Michael with anger and indignation in your eyes because he had, in a certain way, just broke into your apartment. You really weren't in the mood to have another discussion with him. "You're always on my mind or in my life, disturbing, causing pain, making me go fucking crazy!" 

Michael stood still close to the door he had just closed, looking at you with a calm yet serious expression on his face. He had taken a few deep breaths and was trying to keep his cool. "Are you done?" he simply asked when you stopped talking, showing a self-control that wasn't typical of him. Maybe he's really trying. 

"If I'm done? Not even close! I'm actually never going be done with screaming at you Michael, because you know what? You fucking deserve it!" you bursted out from across the room, keeping the biggest distance you could from him. 

"I know I do" he mumbled more to himself than to you, turning his gaze to his feet only for a moment, while pressing his lips together firmly in a thin line. 

"Good, it was about time you realized it!" you ironized but then, suddenly stopped. You realized that wasn't you. You weren't someone who often lost control, someone who screamed a lot. Despite that though, you had done it a lot on the past few weeks and that was because of him. You were losing yourself, being consumed and changed because of your feelings. You didn't want that. You didn't want to change the person you were. 

Sighting heavily you walked to the sofa you had in your small living room and sat down, then buried your face in your hands. You took a moment to calm down, to just find some balance and stability. You really needed it right now. 

"I'm sorry" you said finally, taking your hands off your face and raising your eyes so that they would meet Michael's. He was almost entirely covered by shadows, only partially iluminatted by the single light that you had on. Even in the dark, that man could be beautiful. It wasn't fair. "For screaming at you, for the things I said" 

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing" he made his way slowly through the room, until he reached you and asking for silent permission with his eyes, one that you conceded, he ended up sitting in the spot right beside you, a few centimeters away in a sign of respect for your space. 

You two looked almost like two completely different people. You weren't screaming, you we're actually talking. You two had reached a place where you both were so exhausted and tired of fighting, tired of all the tension, that you realized taking things the way you were wasn't going to lead nowhere. 

"I've done many stupid things in my life (Y/N), but not realizing your feelings was by far the biggest one" your turned to look at him at those words, but he refused to look at you. He had his gaze fixed in the carpet. He seemed ashamed and sad, but the most important thing is that in that moment, he was the reachable version of himself. Michael was vulnerable. 

"I never said anything, Michael. Well, not until Tommy's event, anyway. You couldn't have known” you tried to give him some comfort, because he really seemed devastated and it hurt you, seeing him like that. After all we only want the best for the people we love, even if they hurt us. 

"But that's the thing (Y/N), I could have" he then turned his gaze to you and you could see that his bright eyes were glistening with tears. "You said I always ignored you and you were right. Since day one, I decided to keep my distance. Maybe I feared catching feelings for you and you ending up with one of the boys. Maybe I didn't want to get personal involved with bussiness, I don't fucking now, but the point is that I shouldn't have done that. I should have treated you normally. I was a bastard" 

"That, you were" you said and the seriouness in your voice actually made him laugh through the few tears that were rolling down his face. "Look, it's okay, really" you continued, and your face burned under his gaze. "I fell for someone who doesn't share my feelings. And it's okay, because you have the right to not like me back. It's just how it is" you stated shrugging, a dark laugh escaping your lips.

"(Y/N), how the fuck do you still think that I don't share your feelings?" he shook his head, not able to believe you. "That night, when you showed up looking for my mother and told me that you were there to ask for advice about a guy, I got jealous, (Y/N). Ignoring you all that time didn't do anything to prevent me from my fear. I fell for you. I kissed you that night because I thought that if you were going to be with somebody else, I needed at least one kiss. Just one to hold on to" he raised his right hand and cleaned the tear that had fallen from your left eye by hearing his words, by realizing the meaning of his declaration. "In Tommy's event, you looked like you didn't want me around so I tried to respect that. I told you that you were beautiful because I had to but after that, I promised myself I was going to keep my distance. I thought that being with that rich girl, maybe would take my mind out of you. That's why I kissed her, (Y/N)"

"Y-you..." you started, unable to form a full sentence. You had been looking at things so wrongly. So fucking wrongly. 

"When I saw you crying, I assumed that you had seen me with her but it didn't make any sense to me. Nothing made sense. So when you confessed your feelings, I lost my ground. Everything came to place and I realized how wrong I was. I regretted everything I said but it was too late" he caressed your skin softly, smiling when you leaned into the touch. "I came here today because I needed to apologize. To talk to you. I couldn't keep on going without this conversation, (Y/N). Just couldn't. After everything, I'll fully understand if you don't want to..." he began, but you cut him off. 

Feeling your heart pumping inside your chest with emotion you attached your mouth to his, feeling his taste. His amazing addicting taste. His hands grabbed your waist and you ended up straddling him, your own hands going to either side of his face. You need was so intense that you dominated the kiss, sliding your tongue inside his mouth and biting at his lower lip with enough force to make him take a deep breath. 

"Fuck" he mumbled under his breath, squeezing your hips and pulling you in his direction even if it wasn't physically possible anymore. 

You kissed him like your life depended on it, because it actually could be the truth. He had you on the palm of his hand. His decisions, his actions, everything would affect you one way or another. Because you loved him. And that's what love is. Being completely affected by another person's mere existence. 

"Are we going to make this work?" you suddenly stopped kissing him, looking deeply inside his eyes. Losing yourself in that ocean that you drowing since day one. "I need you to be honest, please"

"I want you" he stated firmly, leaving no doubt about it his seriousness. His lips were reddened by the kisses and he looked a mess. The most beautiful mess you had ever seen. "If we're going to make it work? Who knows, darling. In your line of work, we don't even know what will happen tomorrow. But I don't need certainty, I just need you" he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, then rested his forehead agaisnt yours. "We can try. We can give your fucking best and be great because what are we after all?"

You smiled widely at him. 

"We're Peaky fucking Blinders"

[xoxoendoh]

Gravitation

"From here on, our paths diverge," he said quietly, almost gently.

Prompt: Day 2 of SasuSaku Month, Side by Side

Soundtrack: “Sadness and Sorrow” by Toshiro Masuda--the best composition from the anime, IMO. 

A/N: Canon divergence from Chapter 181. No real content warning for this post, but it’s a bit dark.

Sasuke could have fled the village that night in stealth and in haste, without alerting a soul to his movements. He could have gone off the beaten path, simply avoided Konoha’s main thoroughfare. He could have circumvented me as I waited on those old, cobbled stones, worn so smooth from decades of padding feet and cartwheels. He could have left without disturbing a single blade of grass…. Yet he hadn’t. He hadn’t done any of those things.

And he hadn’t told me no.

–

"He will come to me, seeking my power…."

My feet took me toward the place I knew I'd find him, some sort of bizarre, celestial prescience guiding my steps.

I'd felt him slowly slipping further and further away, ever since the Snake first crossed our paths in the Forest of Death. But how was it I was the only one who could see him being eaten alive? How was it those on whom we depended most in the world—our friend and teammate, our sensei—were so blind to his descent, even after the savagery that had hospitalized him…after what had taken place only hours ago?

They hadn't experienced Orochimaru's inescapable will like Sasuke and I had, hadn't heard his screams, hadn't held him as he writhed, hadn't seen him rise like a reanimated demon to gleefully wrench a transgressing arm from its socket….

Somehow, I had pulled him from the darkness then, hadn't I? Perhaps just once more… He'll listen, he'll come back to me.

I was already becoming so adept in self-deception.

As much as I tried to silence it, the Snake's prophecy had never ceased its reverberation in my mind; in wakefulness and in sleep, it ricocheted.

"He will come to me, seeking my power…. He will come to me…. He will come…."

No matter how many times I assured myself that my love, my Sasuke, was strong enough to resist such a perilous promise, my skin would prickle as every particle in me quietly rebelled against its host's deceit.

So when I wound my way to the very edge of the village that black night, those telltale goosebumps stretched the length of me. Still, I allowed my bright, unsuspecting glimmers of hope to outshine that underlying understanding, naïve and incomplete as it was.

…

I looked at him, just gazed at him carefully, and I saw all I ever wanted. He was so beautiful: the dark hair hiding those haunting eyes I saw each night in my most guileless dreams; skin pale and lovely enough to outshine the moon; long-fingered hands I hoped were capable of holding mine, hands I knew were capable of crushing my world. He was my aspiration—to be by his side, I mean. What he was doing would separate us, would kill my dearest hopes. No. It isn't Sasuke's fault. What the damned Snake had done would kill my dearest hopes.

I pivoted as he strode past. "Why…?" I finally asked, pain evident in my voice. "Why won't you ever talk to me? Why are you always so silent?"

"Why should I have to tell you anything?" he snapped. "Don't concern yourself with me."

I recoiled from his venom. He must have known I could never follow that order.

"You've always…hated me, huh?" The words didn't feel quite right on my lips, but I smiled ruefully through the tears anyway. I needed to press on; I needed to get through to him. "Sasuke-kun, do you remember? It was right here. The first time we were alone. You got so angry with me…." I trailed off, lamenting those immature, hurtful words I had spoken about Naruto's lack of upbringing. How we had grown since those early days, all three of us… How we three would change in the years to come.

His voice was as indifferent as ever: "I don't remember."

My eyes widened, then lowered to my feet. And how quickly the three of us had regressed… "Oh, of course not—it was so long ago!" My too-casual tone hid nothing. "But that's when it all began for us. For you and me, for Naruto and Kakashi-sensei, too." Another nostalgic smile. "All of us trained and went on missions together! It wasn't easy, but more than anything, it was so much fun!" I beamed, hoping he could feel my warmth even with his back to me. He gave no reaction, and my wistful smile faded. I steadied myself; it was time for a new tactic. I spoke solicitously, "I know what happened to you, to your clan. But vengeance… It won't bring happiness to anyone. Not you, not me…no one…"

I spoke as if I had the right, as if I knew.

He stiffened. "I'm aware of that."

"Bu—" I started and stumbled closer to him.

He interrupted, though not brusquely: "I walk a different path. For a time, I thought I could stay on the same one as the three of you…." He sounded so resigned, so sad….

Do I have it in me to reach this man? I wondered. My hand extended before I caught the impulse.

His tone was harder then: "But my heart decided on vengeance in the end. That is my purpose. I…can't be like you or Naruto."

"Are you truly going to choose to be alone?" I questioned breathlessly, my disbelief nearly palpable.

I knew him well enough then to feel the most basic form of empathy. And for perhaps the first time, I had no choice but to consciously recognize just how far he would go, what he was willing to face.

"Y-you told me how painful solitude is—you told me there is nothing worse!" I cried, no longer able to reign myself in. "Right now, I understand so well what you meant…. I have friends, I have family…but if you were to leave…!" I choked on a sob. "I would know that same pain, that same loneliness!"

"From here on, our paths diverge," he said quietly, almost gently.

No!

Despite the misgivings I'd carried for weeks, despite the vile doubts that had long since sunk into my young flesh, I wasn't prepared to believe what was happening. It was all too surreal, to witness a prophecy so foretold play out before my verdant eyes…. The scene was utterly otherworldly, kaleidoscopic, as my tears glowed luminescent in the moonlight to strangely skew my sight. Perhaps because I longed for nothing more than for it to be a dream, some sort of abominable, horrific nightmare from which I would awaken relieved… But there was no waking from this.

"Sasuke-kun…" I took a sharp intake of air as my vision became more viciously obstructed by cruel tears. I could barely distinguish the beautiful, black hair of the love of my life from the tranquil night sky. "I-I…" I swallowed quickly.

There was no way I could physically prevent him from deserting. He knew it, and I knew it. So what magic words could I weave to persuade him to stay? How could I arrange a sentence to ward off a prophecy divined by a monster oracle so menacing, my mouth tasted of blood at his mere recollection?

In my desperation, I confessed far louder than I should have: "I love you so much, Sasuke-kun! I've always loved you!" I could tell I was babbling, but I couldn't hold my outburst in any longer; tears streamed down my cheeks faster and faster with every word I spoke. "If you stay with me…I swear you won't regret it! Every day, we'll find joy together—I can make you happy!" I clutched at my chest; it ached glaringly. "You'll never have to live with the suffering of loneliness again, I promise you! I can give you happiness! There's nothing—nothing—I wouldn't do for you!"

It was true, and I would soon discover the gravity of my promise.

I clamped my eyes shut in an attempt staunch their overflow. "I-I'm begging you! Don't leave me, Sasuke-kun! I'll help you avenge your clan! I won't ever hold you back," I tried fervidly as my eyelids betrayed me and allowed a free flow. "I'll…do anything for you…so please…stay with me! Stay with me!"

I broke down into piteous sobs, for I knew, even as I made them, my heartfelt profession and promises had fallen on deaf ears. I knew him well enough to realize Konoha would lose him then; that was certain. But if there was even the slightest chance that I could hold on to him, that I could keep him from tumbling alone into a hollow so black and horrendous…I'd sell my soul.

"If you can't stay…"

I hadn't allowed myself to consciously consider such an outcome, not once, until that very moment. And the odds of his acquiescing seemed so impossibly low…. After all, what did I have to offer? A quake ran through my lithe frame. I inhaled slowly, clawing at composure as my bleary eyes landed on his backpack. I knew I had to try.

I began my treason of Konoha with an airy whisper, almost inaudible:

"T-take me with you."

I heard him let out a soft, dark chuckle. In that moment, I despised myself and the damned tremble in my voice. How was it possible for me to have been so weak? And then I felt like laughing, laughing at how truly helpless I was. I could feel the beginnings of a climbing, suffocating shame…for being utterly unable to live without him, for being so eager to discard the family and friends I was lucky enough to have. I pushed it down, for I loved him most of all.

The love I had for Sasuke was an ancient one; it wasn't naïve, it wasn't callow. It had grown to be absolute and inescapable. A life without him would have been a life without the sun. And I was a planet, revolving around the shining center of my universe, the luminous core of my world. If he were to defect to the Sound, I would gravitate towards him, no matter the cost. It was a force of nature: I couldn't defy gravity, couldn't escape my orbit if I had wanted to. His gravitational pull had brought me to him under the moonbeams, after all. I knew it was a powerful thing…. And I knew there was danger in power: I could circle around my sun, sure—but if I tried to get too close to him, I'd get sucked in...and I'd burn up in flames. Somehow, just one touch seemed worth the prospect of self-immolation.

And I would. I would burn.

"Sasuke-kun… You don't have to face this alone," I entreated tentatively.

He turned to me, his hands casually slipped in his pockets and his shadowy eyes reflecting the iridescent moonshine off in my direction. He took so much more than my breath away.

"After all this time," he smirked with that familiar superiority, "you're still…annoying."

His words wrenched the air from my lungs. He does remember! I recognized this Sasuke. I felt my heart swell for the most saccharine second, before it burst as I lost his eyes and he took yet another step away from me—from his friends, from anyone who cared for him, from Konoha. But he had already sealed my fate. Just then, he had acknowledged me, no matter how slightly, no matter how sarcastically, and I would cherish and cling to this small moment, this tiny exchange between us, and the fragile validation it gave me.

Emboldened, I took a step after him. "I know you're going to leave the village, Sasuke-kun." My voice was soft but measured, despite the little rivulets cascading down my chin. "I-I…" I took another step and inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself again. "I want to go with you." As much as I fought it, my confident tone still wavered and cracked. I kept walking and tried again, "I am going to accompany you."

I waited, suspended.

"I don't give a damn if you want to throw your life away for me," he stated coolly and began walking again.

I couldn't comprehend what he had just said. I didn't know whether to rejoice or bawl harder. He took another step towards the blinding moon and the Sound, and it was suddenly so simple. Everything was suddenly so easy to articulate.

"Neither do I," I said with newfound comprehension and resolve.

–

Sasuke could have outrun me. He could have silenced me, stopped me from interfering. He could have disappeared without a trace…. Yet he hadn’t. Instead, he had slowed in his path toward vengeance, however momentary. He had spoken with me. He had lied to me. He had heard out my declaration, my pleas. He had conceded the lie….

And he hadn’t told me no.

Instead, he’d left me to follow at his heels; he’d left me to wonder why….

So I betrayed my village that night for him. Because I loved him, and I couldn’t let him face Orochimaru alone, not knowing what little I did of the Snake’s depravity. Because I couldn’t bear to be without him, and I was too weak to stop him…. Because I knew nothing, no one could. Because I had made promises to him that so easily eclipsed those I’d made to my homeland… Because my oaths came with only one condition: that he let me stay by his side.

And I would keep my word.

A/N:

Happy SasuSaku Month!

Thanks for reading my second ever original Tumblr post--hope you enjoyed it! This was a combined excerpt from the first and (upcoming) second chapter of my (dark) fic Damned and Damask. I’ve gotten so much inspiration lately to work on my Sakura fics from the SasuSaku and MultiSaku Month celebrations, so thank you to the organizers and everyone who has posted their work!

It’s been damn near ten years since I last wrote creatively, so I’d love to hear your thoughts. :)

PS: Shoutout to Monshroud over on FF for the support with this fic!

My other SSM18 submissions:

☀ No content warning: Close to Lost, Day 4: Burn

☾ Barely NSFW, then very NSFW:

Umbra, Day 11: Eclipse  |  The Cherry Wood Armoire, Day 31: Free

If you’re interested, you can read my other SasuSaku and ItaSaku work on FF.net.

[cuntess-carmilla]

asking advice, venting, in case you dont have the energy to deal with that right now. please feel free to just delete this, i dont have anyone im comfortable talking about this to, and i dont wish to cross boundaries // i sent a few asks before about debilitating nausea, heart palpitations, brain fog, trying to figure out if it was dysautonomic symptoms, and.. i understand you're a stranger and i dont wish to dump anything on you, but i tried to bring it up with my therapist and a few other people, and called for a doctors appointment a few times (w/o getting one), and while my therapist is lovely and suggested "physical" therapy (as in combining some physical exercises with my regular therapy) to address it, she thinks its primarily depression and ptsd, and ive had the worker who comes to my house to help suggest coming with me to the appointment to make sure im taken seriously, ive now come to a stage where i.. doubt my own perception of my reality and whether anything i figured as excessive unwellness is just me being unable to connect cause to effect. i dont have the best exercise and eating and sleeping habits, but i tried so hard for a few months, taking my vitamins and all and now im getting worse again with my mental health and i just feel very hypocondriac and self obsessed. i'm off all my meds now too to really like, outrule those as a cause for my physical unwellness and i feel like im pushing myself so hard to be well and take care of myself. i guess what im asking is.. should i still push for a proper dr's appointment? ive had bloodwork done in the past year and i had a heart check when i was an older teen (for heart palpitations and chest pain that were then attributed to anxiety) so those are ruled out as causes. and i know youre not a doctor but im just feeling very lost and unsure if im just blowing everything out of proportion. sorry for this, im having a hard moment and i hope i havent incorrectly assessed the appropriateness of this. i hope you have a lovely day, please please dont feel obligated to reply ! i'll sit on this and figure it out eventually im sure. thank you for all of your informative posts and kind vibes

(also your desktop theme is really pretty and you look positively LOVELY in your sidebar image!!)

Thank you for all the compliments. <3

Yes, I think you should absolutely 100% push to get your physical health assessed.

I'm afraid most therapists are very invested, both monetarily and intellectually, in everything circling back to their own evil profession, so while it sucks, I'm not surprised at all that your therapist is attributing your very likely dysautonomic symptoms to mental stuff. I hate that this often leads to succeeding at gaslighting undiagnosed chronically ill people like you.

In general, whenever doctors can't find an answer without putting the effort we're paying them to put, they immediately play the MENTAL ILLNESS card, because, what would they have to prove there? There are no concrete tests for psychiatrized conditions, so they can just bullshit their way to getting you out of their offices by saying it's Just Depression/Anxiety. Their professional word against your Crazy, Delusional, unprofessional word.

If it makes you feel less like you're just delusional, remember that plenty of people (especially people who're not slender dyadic cis white men) have their CANCER misdiagnosed as anxiety/depression/etc very often, a terrible deadly illness that has had testing well developed and standardized for decades that gives clear answers, and doctors and therapists are so stuck in their ways that they still just go nah and tell them it's Just Anxiety. My sister was disbelieved about her gastrointestinal issues until they shoved a camera down her esophagus and saw that her entire digestive tract is nearly destroyed. My ex shrink heard me tell her about my hair falling off and plenty of other shit she should've been able to tell were maybe Not because I'm supposedly bipolar and she just acted like it was nothing.

You tried doing everything right that should work for a person who's not actually physically ill and it didn't work. Doesn't that tell you that maybe your therapist is wrong, sweetheart? If anything, you're describing here another classic Chronically Ill Experience. Almost all of us have gone or are going through this. I have gone through it and I'm sitting here already officially diagnosed even though I felt no one was ever going to take me seriously/believe me. Give it a go, please.

Have a lovely day too, babe. Rest enough if you can.

[fangirlings-things]

He's just too much — Part. 3

A/N: hey guuuys, thank you for all the positive feedback on the previous chapter and I'm sorry for the waiting, but here I am finally with chapter 3!!! I'm thinking about doing a final part 4 so, as usual, let me know what you think

Pairings: Michael Gray x reader

Warnings: a few curse words, mentions of smut

Summary: Michael Gray is just too much for (Y/N) to not fall in love with him

Word count: 1913

Part. 1 Part.2 Part. 4

"Here" Tommy poured a glass of whiskey and gave it to you, watching with his eyebrows raised while you drank all the liquid in a matter of seconds and returned the glass to him, to be filled again, not even flinching by the strong taste. "Wanna tell me what's going on, (Y/N)?" the dark haired then asked, turning around to refill your drink. 

"I'm fucking stupid, that's what's going on" you said with your eyes fixed on the floor, while passing your fingers on the arm of the chair you had seated on as soon as you both had walked into that room of his house and he closed the door behind you two. 

Tommy sighted, then turned around and gave you the glass of whiskey again. While he saw you take this time only a sip, he knealed in front of you so that your eyes were on the same height. He inspected your face little by little, searching for the answers he wanted there, because he most times sucessed using that strategy. He knew you extremely well; maybe more than anyone else. You realized what he was thinking by the narrowing of his eyes and sighting, you tried to force a smile for him. 

"Everything's fine, Tommy. No need to worry about" you said, trying to hide your lie by taking another sip from the whiskey that had been burning your throat. It still burned less than the words that left your mouth during your argument with Michael. Suddenly you wondered what he had done. Was he still in the corridor you and Tommy had left him? Did he got back to the party and to that blonde girl? It was better, if you didn't knew. 

"You were crying, (Y/N). You never cry in public. And I always worry about you" he stated, touching your face with his right hand softly and you couldn't help but lean in to that touch that was always so comfortable. "It's something about Michael, isn't it?" he asked, and you felt your heart skip a beat on your chest. He noticed the shocking in your expression, then got up and walked to the chair that was in front of yours. Sitting down, he gave you a little smirk. "By the way you were arguing, anyone could see that you two had unfinished business"

"Great, I ruined your event with my screaming" you said before finishing the content of your glass again. Embarrassment took a hold of you, as well as guilt. Tommy had worked so hard for making that happen and you threw his work in the trash. 

"You didn't, it's everything ok. Polly is hosting the whole thing while I'm with you" he said and you felt relief fill every inch of you. You had ruined your night while screaming like that, not Tommy's. "And I think that deep down, the guests were kinda expecting a scene like that. After all..." 

"We are the Peaky fucking Blinders" you completed his phrase and he gave you a nod in agreement. You both set in there quietly for a few minutes that seemed like hours and after giving it some thought you realized that after all Tommy, was your best friend. He was the one you always could talk to about anything and everything. You loved him and if you lost him someday, it would break you so hard that you doubted that you would ever be able to rebuild. Saying to yourself that you owned him some explanation, you decided to tell him the truth. "You're right. About Michael. He's the reason I was... crying"

"Did he hurt you?" Tommy's voice was low and controled, but the threat behind it could easily be noticed. 

"Yes" you said with a laugh empty of any humor, playing distractedly with the glass that was still in your hands. You saw the way Tommy's expression had gotten immediately dangerous and you took a deep breath. "I mean, he didn't. Not physically anyway" getting up, you walked to the wooden stable that was on the center of the room and put the glass upon it. You heard footsteps and when you turned around, you saw the black haired man staring at you completely serious. 

"(Y/N) you have five minutes to tell me exactly what happened before I go downstairs and beat the shit out of Michael" he stated firmly and as much as you were angry at Michael and wanted him to feel some of the pain he had caused you, you knew that it wouldn't be fair to do that. 

"I like him, okay?" you said hesitantly, staring at Tommy who didn't move or said anything. You frowered your forehead at him. "You're not surprised?" 

"Your not as difficult to read as you think, (Y/N). For quite some time I have been noticing the way you acted around him; how you fancied the guy" Tommy admitted, and you felt ridiculous. It must have looked like you were completely stupid for liking someone who didn't gave a shit about you. You wished that no one else had noticed. 

"Well, even if the whole fucking neighborhood knew about how I felt, Michael didn't. He never realized, I guess anyway. So when I went to talk to Polly the other day about some advice..."

"You asked the mother of the guy you like for advice?" Tommy raised his eyebrows, momentarily seeming to forget the seriousness of the conversation and looking confused. 

"Don't judge me, I was desperate!" you replied, feeling extremely uncomfortable in your dress, like it was suffocating you. Add this with your hurt and anger, you almost wanted to rip out your own skin. "This stupid shit!" you screamed losing control and started taking off the dress angrily. 

"Ahn... (Y/N)?" Tommy kept his eyebrows raised, watching as you got completely out of of your dress and threw it away with your left hand. 

"What?" you putted your hands on your hips, now wearing only a bra and panties along with your high heels. Out of that black piece of clothing, you already felt better. Your mental state must have scared Tommy, because he didn't say more. And the fact that your relationship was so strong and genuine, didn't even made you bother about being almost naked in front of him. "Look Tommy, not much happened. Polly wasn't there in that night. Michael was. He kissed me and then left. And today, he kissed a rich blonde girl and I got pissed so that's why I was crying"

"Have you tried to speak to him?" Tommy seemed less stressed now, that he knew that Michael's actions weren't perverted or evil towards you. 

"What you saw down there is our way of trying to speak" you said sadly, because you knew that Tommy was right. The attempts of talking to each other normally had gone extremely wrong and if you guys could get to an agreement, to an understatement about not interfering in each other's lives anymore, maybe you both could move on. Even if you secretly didn't want to. 

"It'll be ok, little one. I promise" Tommy's voice was gentle and you were able to smile after hearing those words. 

"You know you can't promise me that. But thanks anyway, Tommy" you saw him looking back at you with a smile too on his lips and when a cold breeze entered the room through the nearest open window, you shivered. "Give me your suit"

"I knew you would ask me that" he laughed and then took off his suit, putting it on your shoulders next. Instantly, you felt warmer and safer. "I'll tell the maids to arrange a room for you to spend the night, ok?" you nodded and then after hugging you tightly for a minute he left, closing the door behind him. 

Alone for the first time since your argument with Michael, you thought about your words. His words. The hurt in his face. The sadness you thought that took a hold of your own features. In a twisted way, you had liked the fact that you two actually talked. Or tried to before starting to yelling. If things were more simple, you maybe could have a chance. Maybe. 

You were practically asleep when you heard knocking on the front door of your apartment. Even though it could be a strange thing to someone to be at your door on the middle of the night, it had happened before. Maybe Arthur had gotten drunk and your place was the nearest he could get to before passing out or maybe, Jon had a fight with Esme and wanted to crash in your home for the night. 

Wondering what of those things would be the one, you got up from your bed and walked to the front door wearing only your nightshirt. You opened the door and your eyes instantly widened when you saw Michael Gray standing on the corridor of the building, his eyes immediately fixing on your eyes. 

It had been five days since the whole argument in Tommy's house and since then, you hadn't seen each other. You took those days to think, to set your head in place and try to assimilate the fact that you wouldn't have him because he didn't want you. Simple as that. But now he was at your door, and all the emotions came rushing back like a hurricane. 

"What do you want?" your voice got out harsh, and your hand was gripping at the door firmly. You felt tempted to just shut it right on his face. His stupid beautiful face. You held back that urge though, accepting the possibility that he could be there for bussiness. 

"We need to talk" he replied, jaw clenched. The shadow of frustration could be seen on his features and it got you intrigued. 

"About?" you questioned, raising your eyebrows at him with that same harsh tone on your voice. 

"Don't play dumb, (Y/N). We need to speak about... us" he hesitated but completed his statement, taking his eyes out of you for only a second before turning them back at you. 

You couldn't help. You laughed. A genuine loud laugh that made him blush from embarrassment and something else. As soon as you were able to stop laughing, you gave him a serious look. "There is no us, Michael. And it's fun that in less than a week I got from bitch to dumb. Think I'm making progress on your raking" and with that you tried to close the door, but he pushed it with his hand and gave you the most fierce look he ever did. 

"Don't you close this door. We need to speak" he held it open. There were so many emotions expressed on his face at the same time that you couldn't even identify them. 

"What do you wanna say? You're planning on telling me how you fucked that blonde after the event? How she's perfect for you?" the irony was clear in your words and that made him lost control. 

With a hard push he opened completely the door and then got in your apartment, shutting it with a kick of his right foot. The door bang and you took a deep breath as he walked in your direction and stopped millimeters away. His breath on your face was hot and his smell of cigarettes and cologne never seemed so dangerous and so good.

"Now, we are going to talk"