#next exam would be FINALS already and itll be the end of the semester

[sunlit-mess]

Good luck with your next exam! Keeping up the pace with studies can be Difficult and re-doing failed exams is So Hard!! So, really wish you the best!

🥲♡ I'm dying but thank you

[iwriteficsnottragediesladies]

Choosing to Stay

Requests:

Hi umm can you do an angsty brendon x reader where the reader is emotionally abused by her family like degrading her calling her stupid and she starts questioning her existence then brendon’s her bestfriend and confesses to her and itll be fluffy and shit

Do you think you could write a kinda angsty fluff where the reader’s parents kick her out and Bren comes to the rescue :) god I love your writing

A/N: This is what I came up with, I hope you like it.

Tws: verbal abuse, suicidality, happy ending

“For fuck’s sake Y/n, we already talked about this,” Your father shouted, “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I couldn’t focus, I was so nervous,” you reply quietly.

“I don’t care how you felt,” He scoffs, shutting you down, “This is just not good enough, Y/n!” 

“I’m sorry Dad,” you repeat, “I studied so hard—“

“Clearly not hard enough,” He snapped. “God why can’t you be more like your sister?’” He says exasperated,  “You see how successful she is, on her way to medical school? She makes me proud.”

“What?” you cried, “You’re ashamed of me, is that what you’re saying?”

“Well you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you?” He hissed.

“Mom?” you looked to her and pleaded, praying she would step in.

“You need to get your grades up,” she says seriously.

“Go to your room and study, you idiot,” Your father waved you away, “Maybe you can try to make something of yourself.”

You walked down the hallway and into your room. You shut the door and sat on your bed, staring down at your quilt, running your fingers over the squares. You had made it yourself, out of your favorite old t-shirts. You remember when you showed your parents, so happy with how it came out. Your dad took one look at it and asked you, ‘What kind of shitty rag do you think that is?’

He always had to take things away from you. Anytime you felt successful, he had to take it away from you. And your mom was practically just as bad. She was so passive and always let your dad blow up. You guess she must agree with him but doesn’t have the voice to say it herself.

Your sister was always the star of the show—a valedictorian, star softball pitcher, president of the debate team equipped with a full ride at Johns Hopkins. And then there was you—an uncoordinated, mediocre student riddled with social anxiety and lacking any sort of leadership ability.

Tears roll down your face as you pondered your father’s words.

not good enough

why can’t you be more like your sister

you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you

you idiot

try to make something of yourself 

You would never be your sister. You were an idiot and your grades were proof. You didn’t have trophies or medals to display proudly on your dresser. You were going nowhere in life. And most importantly, you were not good enough. For anything. Academics, sports, friends, relationships… You have no right to be on this planet. Your father had a point.

You contributed absolutely nothing to the world. You had nothing to offer. You might as well disappear. Your parents obviously wouldn’t miss your meaningless existence. Who would?

Well, maybe Brendon would.

You had been close since freshmen year. You met on the very first day of school in homeroom. You kind of used each other to get accustomed to high school—it was a way to never have to eat alone or have to ask a random person to help them open your locker because you forgot which way to spin the dial first. Eventually it became a lot more than just a logistically advantageous friendship. You both had so much in common.

He loved music like you did. He was so amazing at it too, between his singing and piano and guitar and the general ability to pick up any piece of music and make it his own. It was beautiful. It was pure art.

You always felt special around him and he treated you like you were really worth something. He always listened to you so intently, genuinely interested in every word you spoke.

But that was three years ago. You started to grow apart, mostly because your classes and lunch periods never aligned quite right, so you had to branch out to other people. Brendon did that effortlessly with his vivacious yet gentle personality. You, on the other hand, struggled to make a single friend. You successfully made some connections with a few people, so you had people to eat with and talk to during class, but they were barely more than acquaintances to you. None of them could even compare to your friendship with Brendon. 

You decide to read the assigned chapter for your history class. It is a futile attempt, as you can’t see through your tears and can’t comprehend the words through your pain. Your inability to learn only affirms your worst thoughts.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Why can’t you be smart? Like your sister? Your parents wouldn’t miss you if you were gone because they would still have Susie, their favorite daughter. You’ve always been second best.

You give up and get in bed. The bad thoughts play in your head over and over again. You think about ending it all. All it would take was a pair of scissors… a belt… it wouldn’t be hard. It’s not rocket science. It’s darkness. Quiet. Sleep. Peace.

No. You scold yourself for having those thoughts. There must be some reason to stay, some reason you were here. But you just couldn’t think of a single one.

You cry yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could stop the pain you felt. It hurt too much. You just couldn’t take it anymore. You pray maybe you just won’t wake up tomorrow. It would make it easy.

You wake up to your alarm in the morning. You’re still alive. Maybe that’s a sign you should keep going. You get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You are greeted by your horrific reflection. Puffy eyes and such a tired expression. You try to think of a time you’ve ever felt pretty or comfortable in your own skin.

In no time you’re ready to go to school. You enter the kitchen and see a paper bag with your name on it. Your mom had packed you a lunch. How sweet of her. A small smile is drawn on your lips. Maybe she felt bad about last night. Just as you finished your thought, she entered the room. You sling your bag over your shoulder.

“You packed me a lunch?” You ask.

“Yeah, sweetie,” she replied quickly, “I think it would be good to… stay away from that cafeteria food for a while.”

“Oh?” You responded with an inquisitive look.

“You know, it’s very… high in calories,” she slowed, “and I just thought that you look a little… heavy lately.”

“Really?” you freeze up.

“Your clothes are getting all stretched out,” she offered up an example. “You would look so nice without that extra weight.”

“Oh um, okay,” you fumble, “I’ll see you later.”

You shove the bag into your back pack and walk out to the bus stop. Tears welled in your eyes. You were right all along–you were fat and ugly. You were stupid to think any different. You should have listened when your dad called you ‘Miss Piggy’ last week. You take up too much space, yet another reason to end it all.

You trudge through the school day. You get an exam back in calculus and it’s an F as per usual. Idiot.

You sit at lunch and look to see what your mother had packed: an apple, crackers, and a few small slices of cheese. The ration was so small and bland. Were you really that fat? Your stomach growls for the remainder of the day in protest of such a small meal.

You decide to text Brendon, because why the fuck not? You miss having him in your life. You desperately need someone to tell you that everything will be okay. Maybe he would agree with your parents though because everyone else seems to. You might as well try because Brendon was your last hope. You conclude that he would be the deciding factor, to stay or to let go.

Hey Brendon

Hey stranger, how have you been?!

Good, how about you?

Good good. Do you have study hall next period?

Yeah

We should meet up cause it’s been forever

You hesitate. What if you disappoint him with who you’ve become since the last time you talked? You were such a disappointment to everyone, why would Brendon feel any differently? You still say yes. He was would be the final straw.

Yeah sure. Library?

Perfect, see you then

When the bell rings you make your way to the library. You take a deep breath and enter. You see Brendon sitting in what used to be your usual hangout spot. It makes you smile a bit. Brendon’s face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey y/n!” He says quietly and gives you a big hug. You had forgotten how good his embrace felt.

“Hey Brendon,” you smile at him as he releases you. You set your bag down and sit. You force a smile as Brendon looks at you from his corner seat next to you. You always sat there because you could talk to each other without having to shout across the table.

“What’s up homegirl?” He asked with that patented smirk. You had almost forgotten about those nicknames you used.

“Not much homeboy,” you reply with a true smile. “Are you still working on your music?”

“Yeah!” He replies enthusiastically, “I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I like making my own stuff you know. You get to create something that has never been made before, you know?”

Brendon never failed to be introspective. You loved that.

“That’s amazing Brendon,” you reply.

“Hey you should take the composition class with Mr. Soli with me next semester!” He thought aloud.

“That sounds really cool,” you reply, “but I don’t think I would be good enough for that class. That is more your level.”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” He furrows his brow, “You’re an incredible writer. I’ve always loved your songs.”

“Yeah I don’t know,” you say quietly, looking down at your shoes with a frown.

“Y/n,” he started, “is everything okay?”

You should have known he would see through you. He always read you like a book. Put that together with how you suddenly contacted him… He could put two and two together very easily.

“Yeah, yeah,” you brush it off, “I’m all good.”

“Okay,” he accepted your answer wearily.

You continued on with your conversation. Before you knew it, the bell was ringing. You exchanged goodbyes. As you start to leave Brendon suddenly interjects.  

“Y/n,” he said, “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” you reply simply with an empty smile.

When you arrive home your mom greets you. You go to grab a snack from the cabinet but she stops you.

“You don’t want that many extra calories today, do you?” She asked. Although it was a question, it was obviously a command.

“Okay,” you put the snack back.

“Dad and I are going to Frank and Donna’s dinner party tonight, so there is a salad for you in the fridge for dinner.” She reminded you.

You retreat to your room and it’s not long before your dad comes home. You hope he’ll just leave you alone and go to the party without talking to you.

“Y/n?” You hear your dad call. Fuck. You hesitantly enter the kitchen.

“Did you get your exam back from calculus today?” Your Dad inquired. You nod. “What did you get?”

“A 58%” you mutter. Your dad sighs and hits his fist on the table, causing you and your mother to jump.  

“Y/n,” he yelled, “Why can’t you get anything right? Are you retarded or something?”

“Im sorry Dad,” you look down at the ground but his glare still cutting through you.

“What are you going to do with your life, huh?!” He questioned, “You’re an idiot!”

Your eyes well up and a tear rolls over the brim.

“I’m trying dad,” you beg him to understand.

“You’re useless,” he scoffs, “Completely worthless.”

“I know,” you whisper. You agreed with him, so what would be the point of arguing anyway?

“Stop crying!” He shouted, “Go to your room and do your homework. Maybe learn something. We’re leaving.”

You walk back to your room in tears. You can hear the garage door shut and you know you’re alone.

You’re an absolute mess. You are sobbing and hardly able to breathe, sputtering and coughing on your own spit, snot and tears.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Fat. Failure. Not going anywhere.

Dead end.

The pair of scissors on your desk catch your eye. You walk over and pick them up, spinning the handle around a finger. You sit down and hold the closed blades in your hand, the metal cooling the palms of your sweaty hands.

You hate yourself. There was no way to better yourself. None of that was going to change. May as well end it now and avoid a lifetime of being worthless and a poor excuse of a daughter.

Your parents? They have made it clear they don’t want you around. They won’t miss you. Your sister? She’ll go on with her wildly successful life just fine. Your teachers? They won’t miss having your stupidity in the class, having to repeat the information over and over again for you. Your friends? Your fair weather, small talk friends will be just fine. Brendon?

Oh shit.

But Brendon.

The thought of him caused another choked sob escape.

‘You know you can talk to me, right? About anything’

You don’t know if you can stop yourself from what you are wanting to do. Everything hurt. You can’t live like this anymore.

You pick up your phone before you can think about it too much and pull up his number.

Calling Brendon

“Hey Homegirl,” he answered in his usual jovial tone, happy to see you called, “What’s up?” You attempt to pull yourself together enough to speak but it’s pointless.

“Bren,” you reply breathlessly, your voice drowning in tears, struggling to make a coherent sound.

“Y/n?” Brendon is shocked. “What’s wrong?” He asked quickly.

“I c-can’t brendon,” you sputter, “i just can’t anymore,”

“Can’t what, y/n?” Brendon asked gently, trying to understand.

“Brendon please, I’m about to do something stupid,” you admitted through your tears.

“Y/n, where are you right now?” Brendon asked seriously. He seemed to get exactly what was happening.

“In my room,” you breathe out.

“I’m on my way right now,” he reassured you.

“No don’t,” You spit weakly.

“Y/n, I’m coming over,” he repeated. He wasn’t going to leave you alone like this. You guess you wanted him to do that subconsciously or you wouldn’t have called him.

“Okay,” you fold so easily, knowing that you need him.

“Listen to me,” He directed, “I want you to put down anything you have in you hands, clear everything off your bed, everything in reach, and sit in the middle of your bed until I get there, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm,” you confirm. You can hear the engine of his care turn over in the background.

“I’m going to be there soon, just sit right there, okay?” He told you.

“Okay, bye,” you replied

“See in you in a second,” he finished.

You did exactly as Brendon said. You put the scissors down. You took all of your school work off of your bed and put it on the floor. You scooted the night table away out of your reach. You sat in the center of your mattress, your phone in front of you.

You breathed in. You breathed out. You tried to fill your mind with the rhythm of your breathing, but the bad thoughts still slipped in. You can’t believe this is what your life has become. You have gotten to the point where you would truly rather die than live.

You grew up with two parents, a sister and a cat in a middle class suburb. Your dad was a dick, but other than that, life was pretty good. Nothing horrible or traumatic has happened to you. Yet here you were, trying to push what a pair of scissors could accomplish out of your mind.

You continued to cry, feeling absolutely helpless.

The doorbell rang and you hear Brendon banging on the door. You get off of your bed and start to make your way to the front door.

“Y/n?” Brendon called against the wood door, “Y/n open the door.”

You pull the door open and you stand looking at each other for a moment. Brendon takes in your appearance: you red face soaked with tears that have fallen all the way down to wet your shirt, your hair in utter disarray.

“Tell me you haven’t done anything already, Y/n,” he asked with pain and worry deep in his eyes. You shake your head.

“No, no,” you tell him, “You stopped me Brendon. I was going to do it, I really was.” You started crying at the realization that you really were about to end your life if you hadn’t called him. You then throw yourself into him and start sobbing all over again. Brendon wraps you in his arms and you stay there, just like that, in your doorway for a while.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Brendon whispered to you, “You’re going to be alright. We’re going to work this out, whatever it takes.”

“I love you so much, Brendon, thank you,” You pull away from him and gratefully.

“Thank you, Y/n,” He says. You look at him curiously. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”

A/n: Okay, I hope that wasn’t too bad. I really like this fic because I had someone do this for me, and I have done it for other people. Sometimes knowing someone cares is all it takes to keep going to the next day. I love you guys so much, I care about each and every one of you. Please contact me if you need anything. I will be your sign to keep going.

Like and reblog if you’re feelin’ it.