#pls ignore but i am one bad day away from deleting all my writing from the entire Internet

[voregeoisiee]

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[nightowlfandom]

CEO! Min Yoongi- My Favorite Secretary

Why hello there!

ANON ASKS

Hi! Want to make a nasty petition pls. I want CEO Yoongi but he is so mean and strict with y/n he discharges all his frustrations and stress on her until he gets to fuck with her. I want a hard smut plsss

With these :

3, 15, 21, 60, 66

OOOOH FUN!!! LET’S GET INTO IT I was not too proud of this one...but here you go! Yo this one was LOOONNGGG, like shit. 

3- I said FUCKING BEG!

15- Whose gonna stop us? I own this fucking place, baby.

21- That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you? Look up at me like I’m your god.

60- I found that little journal you made about me. I think it’s so cute how you fantasize about me, darling.

66- I’m gonna corrupt your mind. I love to play with you like you’re a fucking violin.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

leggo!!

... (Monday)

“You’ll have to redo these reports.” a stack of papers was thrown onto your desk. You stared up at your boss in disbelief. 

“And just what’s wrong with them?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“There are exactly 15 typos in these reports and since I don’t care enough to go through them with you, I want them redone.” 

Min Fucking Yoongi. CEO of Bangtan Enterprises. You of course were a humble secretary who wrote reports on every idol and client that walked through the damn door. 

“I spent hours on those!” you tried to defend. “I already deleted the stupid file to save space on my computer!”

“You have until the end of the week.” he walked away without another word. 

“Sora didn’t even turn in her reports because she stayed up playing fucking Doki Doki Handsome Husband Haven and you gave her an extension!” 

Yoongi didn’t respond as he turned the corner. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.” you seethed. 

... (Thursday Afternoon)

“Y/N!” you heard the horribly scary voice. 

“What now?” you whimpered. You turned around in your chair to see your boss fuming. “Yes, Mr. Min?”

“YOUR REPORTS ON MY CLIENT ARE LATE!”

“No they aren’t! They aren’t due for another three days!” you tried to defend. Everyone else was starting to stare. They all knew how they treated you and they all felt super bad that he chose you to bully. 

“I SENT AN EMAIL YESTERDAY SAYING I WANTED IT TODAY AT 10:00 IT’S NOW 2:00!”

“No you didn’t! I would have seen it-” you tried to speak.

“YOU HAVE TWENTY MINUTES TO HAVE IT DONE OR YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR JOB.” 

“Y/N, don’t cry...you’re doing that thing you do when you’re about to cry.” your friend came over to your side. “Don’t waste your tears on that asshole.”

You inhaled dramatically, starting to type furiously through your blurry vision. You felt the tear slip down your cheek and you went to furiously wipe it.

...(Lunchtime: Thursday Afternoon)

Sobbing in the bathroom was a thing right?

Your two friends, Dahyun and Sana stood outside the bathroom stall as you sobbed into your hands. They were convincing you to not quit.

“Y/N, You know this is the only job that will let you live comfortably in this city. Other than being a teacher...and who’d want that?” Sana shuddered. “He’s done this more than TWICE now.” (...I’M NOT SORRY)

“I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE HIM.” You cried. “WHY IS HE ALWAYS MEAN TO ME!” You furiously wiped your eyes.

“Y/N, Open the door.” Dahyun sighed. “Let us in.”

The stall door slowly open and your two friends were met by a totally distraught woman. Your hands were stained with your eyeliner that you hand managed to completely wipe off leaving your tired face. 

“Y/N, he’s working you to the bone. You don’t even smile anymore.” Sana kneeled in front of you, taking your dirty hands into hers. “Why do you let him bully you?”

“Because if I don’t, I won’t have a job.” you sniffed. 

“Is someone dying in here?” you heard Miss. Hyuna, another boss walk in. “Aw honey, did a boyfriend break up with you...do you want me to ‘accidentally’ get his car towed?”

Miss Hyuna was both Sana’s and Dahyun’s boss, you guys just liked to have lunch together.

“It’s Mr. Min.” Dahyun spoke for you. “He’s working Y/N to the bone. He only ever bullies her and no one else. I’ve seen it personally.”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow, looking less than happy. “Is that true Miss. L/N. Is Mr. Min treating you unfairly?”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded. 

“All he does is yell at and belittle her every chance he gets.” Sana looked at Miss. Hyuna.

“Hm, I’ll go talk to him, right now. If he fires you, he’ll answer to me.” was all she said before she walked away. She ignored Sana trying to hold you back from stopping her.

Hyuna walked out of the bathroom with fire in her eyes. She walked by your desk only to see what looked like an open notebook with the words ‘The Min Yoongi Files’ written in permanent marker on the first page.

“This must be her case.” she shut the notebook, ignoring the childish looking anime stickers on the inside page. “I should take this for evidence, I hope she won’t mind.”

“Yoongi!” Hyuna stormed into his office, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey Hyuna, what’s up?” Yoongi looked up from his lunch. “What can I do for you?”

“What’s this I hear about you mistreating a worker? One of YOUR workers?”

“Pardon me?” he raised an eyebrow. “Mistreating?”

“Two of MY workers are busy consoling Y/N L/N in the ladies restroom on their lunch break of all times because according to all three of them, you’ve been unfairly treating her!!” she glared. She slammed the notebook down on his desk. “This should speak for itself.” she sighed. 

“I don’t mistreat Y/N L/N, She’s insolent! She needs discipline.”

“SHE’S YOUNG.” Was Hyuna’s comeback. “You can’t treat her like she’s a piece of garbage just because she makes one typo!” 

“Her typos cost us time.”

“So does your shameless reprimanding her for missing a semicolon.” she rebutted. “Think about it! Are men always this stupid.” she looked him up and down before walking out of his office.

Yoongi watched dumbfounded. He took at look at the notebook she left behind.

“Property of Y/N L/N.” he read aloud. He flipped it open to the first page to see a bunch of shiny and matte stickers all over the inside cover. “The Min Yoongi Files? Speak for itself, huh?” (read more below the break)

...

(The Next Morning) (Smut Warning)

You begrudgingly trudged into the office. Not only were you tired, but you were dreading. You had multiple deadlines.

“L/N, MY OFFICE.”

“Shit...” you seethed. You walked past your desk into Yoongi’s office. He was sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a very familiar looking book. “You wanted to see me sir?”

“Yes, I did.” he shut the book and slid it over to you. “Care to explain?”

“Holy fu- ” You had forgotten you left your diary on your desk. How did he get a hold of that?

“ I found that little journal you made about me. I think it’s so cute how you fantasize about me, darling. Hyuna gave it to me thinking it was a list of every terrible thing I’ve done to you. I didn’t know it would be a list of every terrible thing you wanted me to do to you.” his face spread into a smirk. 

“You read my property-”

“My name is on it, which means it’s company property by association.” he was still smirking. “Y/N, Y/N Y/N...I didn’t know you were such a needy little girl. On my desk, in the breakroom? The elevator of all places?? I didn’t even know you enjoyed when I raised my voice.“ he raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I could have you fired for writing about me in such a way.”

“Yes sir.” you whimpered. “I’ll have all my sh-..stuff off my desk by-”

“Y/N what on earth are you talking about?” he raised an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t think you are fired.”

“I’m sorry?” you raised an eyebrow, becoming very confused. 

“Even though I’m an asshole, a big jerk, and the bane of your existence, you still want me?” he raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you have more of a backbone than I thought. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss a chance to break that spirit of yours.” he rose to his feet and walked around his desk to face you. “Get over here.” he urged.

He grabbed you by the hand and yanked you to his chest. He crashed his hot mouth over yours, capturing you in a kiss. He held both sides of your face gingerly. In a shock, you held onto his blazer jacket to stop from falling over.

“Hmm.” he moaned. 

“Mr. Min!” you gasped. “We can’t- I’m your secretary!! And I don’t know if you’re aware of this but you hate me.”

“ Whose gonna stop us? I own this fucking place, baby. “ he laughed manically. “And who the hell said I hated you? Plus you want this. I know you do because you wouldn’t have written about me throwing you on my desk and eating that little pussy...fuck that was my favorite story to date.” he spoke in a babyish voice. “Shit I’ve always loved what that ass does to me.”

You felt yourself melt in every way. The thought that someone would storm in didn’t even cross your mind. He back you up against the table, sitting you on the desk. Yoongi tore off his blazer and hastily undid his necktie.

He broke away from you, allowing you to suck in air. You took a deep breath as you felt your lips. He practically tore his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere to reveal that body. To say you were taken aback was the understatement of the century.

“ That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you?” he smirked as you stared him down “ Look up at me like I’m your god” he quoted the exact words from the entry you had written just 5 days ago. 

“Oh, you read the whole thing.” you squeaked. “I am so fucked.” you whimpered.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve been needing a good way to unleash my stress.” he shrugged. “This is perfect..” he motioned, tugging the hem of your shirt, playing with and unfastening each button. “I can take out my stress and you get to feel the real thing instead of writing shameless fan fiction.” he laughed. “Don’t make any mistakes,” he drank in your body. “I want this to be more than sex.”

Before you could say another word, Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist again. He leaned down and softly kissed your lips. You just prayed he didn’t taste the bacon, egg, and, cream cheese bagel you ate this morning. You didn’t know what to do, so you shyly returned his affections.

“Come on, act like how you write about. Moan for me, grab my hair-” he mumbled through kisses. “Kiss me like you hate me.” he grunted. “Unless-...”

He abruptly yanked down your skirt along with your panties. “Maybe we should do this right. Spread em, secretary.”

He wasted no time in hooking your legs around his shoulders. 

“Mr. M-min.” you whimpered, feeling something wet trailed up your slit. 

“Shit...you taste so fucking good.” he moaned. “Damnit Y/N, you coulda told me you wanted me earlier.” he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Maybe if you had a good fuck, your reports would be more punctual.”

“That report wasn’t due and you know it.” you found it in you to reply. You tilted your head back, feeling his fingers be introduced into your tightness. “F-fuh”

 “Come on, you love this shit.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against you. “Beg for me, beg for my mouth, beg for me to make you cum.” he moaned into your heat. “I said FUCKING BEG! ” he thrust his fingers even deeper. “Come on, scream my name.”

“M. Min, I- we- you....”

“Not that...my first name...fucking say it I wanna hear it. I wanna hear if its as cute in my mind when I read how I made you squirt all over my fucking desk.” he kept moving his mouth and fingers against you.

“Y-yoongi.” you obeyed. This only encouraged him.

 “I’m gonna corrupt your mind. I love to play with you like you’re a fucking violin.” he giggled.

(3 days later... )

You were sitting at your desk when a stack of papers was thrown on your desk.

“There are 8 typos, fix them.” was all he said before he walked off. 

“Not again.” your work friend, seethed “what is it this time.“ She didn’t look up from her computer as you flipped through the pages.

My office, now secretary ;). Followed by a whole bunch of gibberish that lasted several pages.

“I’ll go talk to him” you rolled your eyes, taking the pile with you. You walked into his office. “Okay sir-” you began, walking through the door. You closed it behind you. “What seems to be the-”

Before you could talk any more, you felt his hand trail under your skirt. You felt his breathy laugh on the back of your neck. 

“I was hoping...we could go over your reports last week. I don’t think we got enough done, do you?”

(I was on a deadline....BUT I DID IT, my head is POUNDING)

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

[florencesmachine]

tell me what's going on

Why tumblr user donottearmedown/luciequeenofelfame/luciehvrondaie is an embarrassment: a Masterpost

Hi if you’re here it’s because you’ve heard that tumblr user donottearmedown is an embarrassment and you’d like to know all the details! Let me break it down. It all started with this post by @minacarstairs (Tessa (yes @minacarstairs’s name is Tessa sorry if that makes this post confusing)), in which donottearmedown originally reached out to Tessa by sending her something along the lines of “Do you ship heronstairs/herongraystairs?” And Tessa replied with something along the lines of “Yeah lmao herongraystairs rights!”

(I wanna note that Tessa was being very polite, and continues to be very polite to people who disagree with her opinions on heronstairs/herongraystairs. She even began her original conversation with dont tear me down by saying it’s a matter of personal interpretation :) it’s donottearmedown who made the conversation mean-spirited)

(Also Tessa pls correct next if I’m wrong on any of this thnx)

And then sometime later, the conversation above ensues in which donottearmedown, seemingly perfectly reasonable at first, disagrees with the ship and offers a link to look at. (She throws this link around any chance she gets. She really fucking loves this link.) I got involved because in her answer, Tessa replies back with a link from a post I made from my own blog starting back in 2018, and then continued to add to it until my account got terminated (long story). You can read through both posts and check out all the replies! But basically we realized during this interaction that donottearmedown wasn’t looking to have a friendly conversation and was, in fact, batshit crazy. They were saying some absolute brain dead shit like that people shipping heronstairs is the same as people shipping Alec x Clary. Here’s the screenshot:

donottearmedown came back the next day to reply on several of Tessa and mine’s post which she wasn’t even tagged in, such as this one, and this one that had absolutely nothing to do with her because I make that same post every year. Here’s a screenshot from my old account last year via Instagram:

(there are more posts she replied to but I can’t be bothered to look for them, I’m sure you can find them on their blog if you can spare the braincells)

Racism by donottearmedown:

So, Tessa received this anon which tipped us off to some of the other tomfoolery on donottearmedown’s blog. We decided to look for ourselves and lo and behold, here’s the post of donottearmedown accusing Cassandra Clare of having a “Chinese kink” for writing Jessa:

Which, first of all, makes no sense because there’s like 2 Chinese characters in TSC total. If anything CC has a straight white boy kink lmao. But by saying this she was basically implying that the ONLY way Tessa (book!Tessa), or anybody who loves Jem, can love him is if they have a “Chinese kink”. Which donottearmedown can’t seem to be able to understand is an incredibly racist thing to say and think.

They also reblogged this BLM link and proceeded to tag it with absolute nonsense like “#smoke weed #lose weight #wessa”. I don’t know if her intentions were to mock the BLM movement but I still found this to be so incredibly disrespectful and tone deaf.

I also feel like I should mention this ask sent to Tessa in which donottearmedown implies she ~could be~ Asian, but it’s “none of her business anyways” (as if being Asian would absolve anyone of being racist akjsksjsj), but based on the fact that she has a track record of lying and pretending to be a person she’s not (as you will soon see :)) I call bullshit lmao:

I think that was the last of our interactions until today? Tessa and I were distracted because we have, you know, real lives.

But anyway, that brings us to today.

donottearmedown started replying to posts from mine and Tessa’s blogs which she wasn’t tagged in, again, and made several days ago. This one literally wasn’t even about her, it was about someone else that had engaged with one of Tessa’s posts. I made that post over a week ago and had already forgotten about it, but clearly donottearmedown never stops thinking about us 😳

NOW I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THIS POST SPECIFICALLY.

Why? Because donottearmedown and luciequeenofelfame (now luciehervndaie) interacted on this post, as 2 seperate entities. luciequeenofelfame had also interacted with Tessa and I’s original posts at the beginning of June (you can check the replies on the posts!) coming to donottearmedown’s defense, and praising her for her opinions and other shit like that.

Here’s the screenshot. As you can see here, luciehervndaie reblogs from donottearmedown and adds on to their opinion:

Now here’s the kicker: donottearmedown and luciehervndaie are the same person.

As in, this bitch literally made up a second blog so that she can pretend to be someone else agreeing with her own opinions and cheering herself on.

Here’s the proof:

I made this post calling out donottearmedown on their racism. I didn’t bother tagging her in the original post because I knew she was stalking my blog and would see it eventually anyway. 😌 And they took the bait, as you can see.

AND THEN I got the notification that luciequeenofelfame had replied to my post. Here’s the reply:

Now here’s where donottearmedown/luciequeenofelfame made an oopsie! 😳

Notice where luciequeenofelfame says “1. I didn’t delete it lmao”. She’s responding to my tags on this post where I’m calling out donottearmedown on her racist post, and my tags read:

“#the fact you went and deleted this post because you KNEW you were about to get slammed #comedy”

(context: @wilhelminacarstairs looked on donottearmedown’s blog recently looking for the post I screenshotted in the link above, and he couldn’t find it so I assumed she deleted it so that I wouldn’t call her out on it. Although she claims she didn’t delete it, so! Maybe it’s still up! Feel free to look for it and let me know lmao)

Now, in the tags I am obviously talking to donottearmedown, correct? So then why is luciequeenofelfame replying that she didn’t delete anything? 🤔 AND JUST AS IM ABOUT TO REPLY-

Wow, looks like I can’t reblog the post. Why? Because luciequeenofelfame has deleted it, and then IMMEDITALY changed her url to luciehvrondaie, hoping it would cover her tracks. Little does she know, tumblr notifications are forever:

As you can see, donottearmedown/luciequeenofelfame/luciehervndaie realized they made an oopsie, so she deleted her first response and posted it again from the blog she actually MEANT to post it from. Damn if only she knew that @minacarstairs @wilhelminacarstairs and I keep screenshots of e v e r y t h i n g :/ Then she might have gotten away with it! 😩

But yeah lmao here are the posts I made about it immeditaly afterwards calling her out on it because I thought it was funny: X X X X

She defends herself on some of them saying shit like “wow so I’m just making up blogs for support wessa? The majority of the fandom supports Wessa so I’m all of those blogs according to you? I’m thousands of people?!” Or just trying to change the topic back to heronstairs and ignoring the allegations altogether. Like, no luv we’re not saying you’re every single Wessa blog ever. We’re just saying you’re these 2, and we’re right lmao. If you look through both their blogs they also post about the same fandoms, and more damning, make a lot of the same spelling errors. Seriously their speech pattern is exactly the same. Feel free to look through them if you want, and if they don’t start mass-deleting post trying to cover their tracks.

BONUS:

I don’t know how true this is, but according to @fair-but-wilde-child on this ask, donottearmedown is ALSO the infamous twitter stan that complained to CC about TLH having too many gay characters.

EXTRA BONUS:

luciequeenofelfame/luciehvrondaie (donottearmedown’s second account 😌) is the account responsible for that wessa vs jessa comparison chart that went around a while ago LMAOOOOOOOO embarrassing

tl;dr: donottearmedown/luciequeenofelfame/luciehvrondaie is a biphobic racist who’s opinions are so bad she has to make a second account to agree with herself

🥺 tragic

Also I wanna say for the record, as @minacarstairs ans @wilhelminacarstairs will testify, I guessed a while ago these accounts were the same person when I noticed their speech patterns were eerily similar, and how luciequeenofelfame always seemed to reply to donottearmedown’s posts IMMEDITATELY after they were posted. 

So the lesson for today? Cinthia is always right. 😤

[breathinginthevapor]

The one that got away

Summary: You may or may not be over Ashton when he knocks on your door a year after your break up. Things get messy, people disappoint and hearts break. (I suck at summaries pls forgive me and read it anyway)

A/N: I recently rediscovered the most of this one shot and found out that it was actually pretty good (and reaaallyyy long compared to other stuff I’ve written) so I wrote an ending and it got to almost 8000 words. It was supposed to be really angsty (it’s still pretty angsty though), but then it took a turn. Please leave feedback, it would mean so much to me since I’ve spent a seriously long time writing this.

TW: probably swear words and um, yeah I don’t think anything else? Weddings? Heart break?

Masterlist

He’d told you the first time you met him that he was damaged goods. Unfixable. Broken. He had used hundreds of adjectives, but you still hadn’t believed him. He said that he knew he’d fall for you if you let it happen. And that he would break your heart in the end. You had proclaimed that a broken heart was inevitable, that all relationships either got destroyed by choice, by life or by death. You had been so naïve. And he had been so tired. Tired of running away from everything, from not letting himself get connected to anyone. And so, you collided.  

You still remember how he looked that day, curly hair all over the place, the band t-shirt stained with both red wine and coffee, clear dark circles under his auburn orbs and a look in those eyes that you hadn’t ever seen before.

You had just turned 19, feeling so grown-up and responsible. And for the first time in your life, you had gone to a bar. You didn’t know what you’d expected, but certainly not meeting a famous musician sitting there looking so miserable. There was just something about him, something wild, something crazy, something exciting. And you were craving those things desperately after living in the same city all your life with the same people and nothing exciting ever happening.  

You feel the memory wash over you, and it’s so strong you can almost smell his scent of sweat, alcohol and a little remainder of cologne. 

“Hi,” you greeted, shooting him your most charming smile. He looked up from his drink, checking you out in a way that was anything but subtle. “May I sit?” He nodded, and you sat down on the bar chair beside him. “Not the talkative type, huh?” 

“You sure are noisy, miss,” he said, voice raspy and with an accent you knew were Australian. You weren’t a fan of his band in any way, but you knew who he was and could probably recall a few of his song lyrics if you really tried.  

“I’ve heard that one before. I thought you’d be more creative, to be honest.” His eyes locked with yours, a suddenly amused look in them. But the wildness, the hurt, was still evident in them. It was like he had a secret, and he told everyone that he had this secret, but he wouldn’t tell what it really was about. And it had already peeked your curiosity. 

“You shouldn’t assume things about people, miss. You’ll only end up getting disappointed.” 

That was how it started. A broken man and a young girl, looking for adventure. But it had evolved from there, slowly turning into a beautiful relationship full of love and secureness and taking care of each other. You had saved him, he had helped you grow and then, after everything, he had left you.

You don’t know why he’s here now. Why he’s standing outside your flat a year after your break up, knocking on your door.

You discretely take in his appearance and notice the short hair and the black button-up, both things he’d never wear when the two of you were together.  

“Hi, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here, Ashton?” you ask, making sure your voice is unfriendly and unwelcoming in hopes that he’ll turn around on his heel and go back to where he came from. 

“Can I come in?” he begs and ignores how clear it is that you don’t want him inside your home. But just as you are about to refuse, at lightning breaks through the sky, and you know you can’t just leave him to himself when the weather’s like this. It could be dangerous. And oh, how typical it is that even though the sun has been shining all day, right when he knocks on your door, the weather gets bad. So, you simply nod, gritting your teeth in annoyance.  

He takes his shoes off outside the door, careful not to let the wet soles soak your floor. He was like that too when you were together, always polite and thoughtful.

He enters the apartment, hovering over you and making all your furniture and even the TV seem much smaller than it really is. You always loved his height, but now you wish he was tiny so he wouldn’t seem so intimidating.

He raises an eyebrow at the couch, silently asking for your permission to sit down. You give him a small nod for confirmation while making sure your face is still like cut in stone, showing no emotion. He can’t know how much all this, him being here, affects you.  

He sits down in the comfy, brown couch that you bought with your mother in an IKEA not long ago. It’s weird, him sitting here in the middle of your new life, bringing pieces of the old one back. Pieces you wish had stayed behind.  

“Now tell me, Ashton, why are you here?” you demand, arms crossed across your chest to come off as even less approachable. He doesn’t seem to let it get to him, but then again, it’s probably what he had been expecting anyways. The two of you didn’t exactly end on good terms, after all.  

He looks at you, eyes the same beautiful shade as always. You’ve missed those eyes and the way it felt like they saw right through you.

“I needed to talk to you,” he answers, still not revealing the reason behind his rather surprisingly visit. “Please sit down, this feels too formal, too much like we’re strangers.” 

“We are strangers, Ashton,” you say, but you sit down anyway. You should just get this over with because then you can return to your everyday-life and forget this encounter ever happened.  

The couch isn’t exactly the size of America and you’re forced to sit pretty close to him, your thighs almost touching. You feel your palms getting sweaty and try to dry them off on your jeans, but the sweat just keeps coming and you give up.  

“No, we’re not, Y/N,” he argues and pauses for a short moment. You’re about to say something, but then he continues: “A stranger wouldn’t know that you don’t take sugar and milk in your tea because you’re too lazy. A stranger wouldn’t know that you freak out every time a new Sims pack comes out. A stranger wouldn’t know how cranky you get if you don’t get at least eight hours of sleep. A stranger wouldn’t know that you’ve always secretly wanted to be a mermaid. A stranger wouldn’t know that you talk to your mother on the phone at least four times a week and a stranger would certainly not know how it feels to kiss you in the morning with your hair all messy and one of my old tees on, the sunlight making your eyes look magical.”  

You don’t know what to say, but you feel the anger inside you grow bigger and bigger until you must release some of it. “I don’t drink tea anymore and Sims isn’t installed on my new computer. I’ve given my niece my whole collection of movies about mermaids and burned the shirts you left. You may have known me once, but you certainly don’t anymore.” You stand up from the couch, not wanting to be close to him anymore. Who does he think he is? He broke your heart, stayed out of your life for a whole year and then comes back now, acting like there’s no bad blood between you. “I only let you in because of the bad weather outside but I am not taking shit from you. You can sleep on the couch and then I expect you to be gone by the time I wake up tomorrow.” You turn on your heel, ready to just lay in your bed and start reading your favourite book for the twentieth time, but Ashton has other plans. 

He gently grabs your wrist, holding you back. “Please, Y/N. I just wanna talk,” he begs with pleading eyes, but you don’t care. You don’t owe him anything. So you get out of his grip, continuing to walk away when he says: “I’m getting married.”  

You don’t why it stings so much, but your heart hurts like you’ve taken a knife to the chest.

You turn around again, meeting his auburn eyes with your own. “Why are you telling me this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he’s standing so close to you that he will hear it either way.  

“I’m getting married, and I need you to be there.” You don’t understand anything. He can’t be serious. This is not how it’s supposed to be. Your ex isn’t supposed to show up only one year after your break-up, telling you he’s getting married and that he wants you the be there. It’s not right. That doesn’t even happen in movies. “I need you to be there, Y/N, because I don’t think I can do it if you’re not,” he continues. “The thing is, there’s still a big part of my heart that belongs to you. And I can’t give her half a heart. That wouldn’t be fair. I need you to be there, giving me the permission to let you go. Besides, you’re the only person I truly want to be there when I make the greatest promise of all.”  

“I don’t owe you anything,” you answer, trying to act unbothered and unhurt, but your voice cracks and it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. “I don’t owe you anything, and I don’t want to go.” He doesn’t say anything, just stands across you and looks at you like he’s searching for something. Then you wait a few moments to gather the courage to asking the question you’ve been dying to ask him ever since the end of your relationship: “Why did you just leave? I loved you so fucking much, and you just left me with nothing.” Your words seem to surprise him, his expression stiffened and eyes drifting away, probably back to some old memories. You know, because you can’t even keep count of how many times that has happened to you. Where something has brought you back to some memories you’ve done your best to delete from your mind. But even though they rarely pop up nowadays, you know they’re still there, in the back of your mind.  

“I- I,” he starts, not finishing his sentence. He looks at you intensely like he’s trying to telepathically tell you something. Unfortunately, it’s not working. “I just couldn’t stay. Perhaps you knew me too well, Y/N. I needed someone to not know the broken Ashton, the one with all the scars and bruises and issues. And I needed you to have someone way better than me, someone more deserving of your love. And I know it sounds too cliché, but that was how it was. How it is.”  

“Don’t you understand, Ashton? I’ve never wanted anyone but you. You’re not the only one who’s broken, but you’re the only one I’d ever allow to break me like you’ve broken me.”

You walk closer to him, and with each step the distance becomes more unbearable. And then finally, your lips connect again. His breath is hot against your lips, and your tongues work together perfectly. When you break apart, your foreheads still pressing against each other, you whisper: “Stay.” He kisses you again, this time with a hunger that sets your skin on fire. He pulls away and starts kissing your neck, surely leaving marks. Suddenly, you are pressed against the wall, your legs tangled around his waist and your breath quicker than normally.  

“Bedroom?” he asks, voice thick with desire. You nod, and he carries you as if you weigh no more than a feather before laying you down on your bed. 

You wake up, feeling happier than you have in a long time. The birds are chipping outside, and sun beams lights up patches of the floor. Then you realize that Ashton isn’t beside you, and you worry that he has left, but then the smell of freshly made coffee fills your nostrils. You find a pair of panties on the floor and an old tee in your drawer and then heads towards the kitchen.

He’s standing with his back turned against you, holding a mug of coffee. You walk over to him, throwing your arms around him just like you used to do. His body stiffens, and you let go.  

“Good morning, Ashton,” you greet, voice raspy and sore. Perhaps you’d been a bit too vocal last night.  

“Good morning,” he answers, turning around so you’re face to face. “I hope it’s alright I made a pot of coffee.” 

“Of course it is,” you assure him. “I thought for a minute that you’d just left.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulls back. He’s leaning against the counter so there’s not enough space to properly step back, but you get the message. “What’s wrong, Ash?” Your voice sounds more hurt than you had intended, but there’s no denying his rejection upsets you.  

“I was wrong to come here,” he says, each word penetrating your heart. “I have a fiancé waiting for me at home and I solely came here to gain closure. This was a mistake.” He tries to look you in the eye, but when he sees how full of hurt, anger and sadness they are, he looks away. 

“It surely wasn’t her name you moaned last night. Actually, she didn’t seem to cross your mind at all. So how can you say that this was wrong when we both know you and I are supposed to be together?” He shakes his head and bites his lower lip like he doesn’t want to answer. And when he does, you understand why. And you wish that he just hadn’t said anything at all.  

“It’s our faith to be star-crossed lovers, Y/N.“ He looks at you, the tears in his eyes telling you he’s not as indifferent as you thought. “In another life, I will make you mine,” he adds, and then he sends you one last pained glance before walking out the door and leaving you to pick of the pieces of your broken heart alone for the second time.  

You sink down on the floor, tears clouding your sight and your heart feeling heavier than ever. And you hate yourself for being so stupid. For letting him break your heart again, just when you thought you had moved on. But still, you can’t get yourself to hate him. You wish you could, really, but because you know that he loves you, because you know that he’s hurting too, you can’t. So you settle on hating the universe for making it impossible to stop loving him and for not letting you be together with the man you love. And you curse every god you know for making it this way. But still, there’s a small part of you that isn’t sad. That part is happy and grateful instead. Not all people get to experience a love like the one between you and Ashton. And deep down, you know that that part will win some day. But for now, you let yourself mourn the future you’ll never get.  

He is standing at the altar, a well-cut tux adorning his muscular body and a calm expression on his face. He looks confident; proud, even. Your eyes find him as soon as you enter the almost full church, but he doesn’t see you. You’ve purposely dressed in a way that will keep you out of the spotlight. He’s the only one who needs to know you’re here.

However,+ your plan doesn’t work as perfectly as you had predicted. John sees you and is about to stand up, but then he looks you up and down and shuts his mouth. Somehow, he seems to have understood that you don’t want to be seen. Instead of calling you out, he stands up and walks over to you. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.” He smiles warmly at you, and you get a small feeling of coming home. John has always been like a second dad to the band members, and while you were dating Ashton, he filled that role for you, too. “But I’m glad. You’ve have been greatly missed.”  

“I’ve missed you too, John. Where’s Milla?” You ask, not seeing his adorable daughter anywhere. 

“She’s sick and Amy’s home taking care of her so it’s just me today,” he explains, gesturing with his hand towards the church pew he came from. “Do you wanna sit with me or do have anywhere else you want to be?”  

“I guess I’ll survive sitting with you, John. Just this one time,” you tease and wink at him afterwards, which only makes him laugh. The pew is thankfully located towards the back of the church which means that you won’t be feeling like you’re trying to steal any attention or play a bigger part in this wedding than you’re meant to.  

Just as you’ve sat down, the famous tones of Bridal Chorus play and mark the entrance of the beautiful bride. And she truly is beautiful. A short pixie cut frames her perfectly-shaped face, the dark brown strands of hair matching her chocolate coloured skin and her body cut like one of a goddess.  

“Who is she?” you whisper to John while feeling jealousy creep upon you. 

“Anabelle. They met a festival, I think.” Even her name is beautiful. And it fits with his. Ashton and Anabelle. Sounds like something from a fairy tale. You try to shake the envy of you, but it’s hard. You always thought that you would be one saying “I do” at Ashton’s side, but things rarely work out as you want them to. You’ve learned that the hard way.  

He seems happy. His smile is genuine, although not the biggest possible, when she stands beside him, and you’re glad that he’s happy. Especially because she looks so sweet. You would have hated if she had looked like a bitch.  

You spend the ceremony trying not to cry, admiring the church and convincing yourself that it’s a bad idea to storm out of the door so you don’t have to watch the love of your life vowing to love another for the rest of his life.  

But then the pastor says the famous words: “If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace,” and you remember all the movies where people try to get their significant other to stop marrying someone else. And you are so close to standing up and beg him to marry you instead. But you can’t do that to him. Or to all these other kind people gathered at the church. Or to the woman standing beside Ashton. You’re not that selfish. So you settle on holding your peace forever. And you realize in that moment that if you were given the choice, you would gladly take whatever pain Ashton is feeling by letting you go. You would bear everything because he deserves to be happy. And he truly seems to be right now.  

So when he, just before he says “I do”, finds your eyes through the crowd, you smile at him through wet eyes and nod. At first, he looks surprised that you’ve showed up, but then his eyes get an almost thankful glow and you know that you’ve done what he needed you to do.

And then, it’s official. Ashton is married. And you’re left with the bitter memories of happier times.  

But as you sit quietly in the church, head down, trying to blend in with your surroundings, a familiar voice says your name.  

“Y/N? Is it you?” You look up and gaze directly into Lauren’s baby blue eyes.  

“Hi Lauren,” you greet and smile at her. You became some sort of big sister to her during the time you dated her older brother, and although you also have quite a soft spot for the youngest of Ashton’s siblings, Harry, you’ve missed Lauren more than you thought you would.  

She hugs you, a big grin lighting up her gorgeous features. “Please say that you’re coming to the reception, too! It’s been way too long, I’ve missed you,” she asks and then adds: “We all have.”  

“I’m sorry, but I think I’m just gonna head home now. I only came here to say a proper goodbye, but I’m afraid I’ll outstay my welcome if I come with you. Message me if you wanna hang out some time, I’d love that.” You prepare to bid your goodbyes to her, but she doesn’t let you go that easily.  

“No, Y/N, you have to come. I know that the boys will be disappointed if you leave before talking to them as well. Besides, we have a lot to catch up on.” She’s just as persuasive and charming as her brother, and you end up promising to go to the party too. 

“Now go and celebrate your brother, I’ll drive there with John,” you promise, and she disappears out the church.  

John places his hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze. “You can do this, Y/N. Besides, she is right. We’ve all missed you, and we are your friends too, although you’ve distanced yourself quite a bit.” You look at him and gives him a thankful nod. That old man always knows what to say.  

You sit alone at a small round table, John gone off to take a phone call from his wife. You don't really mind, though, it's actually nice to get some time to yourself to really take everything in. You look at Anabelle, her dress big and overflowing with tulle. Although she is beautiful, and the wedding is beautiful, it confuses you a little. It’s nothing like what you thought Ashton wanted and he never was the type to just sit around and let his girlfriend decide everything.  

“I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.” 

You turn around to see who the voice belongs although you already know. You’d recognize it anywhere.  

“I didn’t either. Lauren somehow managed to convince me. Great persuasion skills must run in the family.” Ashton sits down at the chair beside you. He’s sitting so close that you can smell the scent of the cologne you bought him for his 25th birthday. You’re surprised he still uses it, it’s a remain of your relationship that you thought he had thrown out by now.  

“Did she use the puppy eyes? I never mange to resist them.” Although your tones and words are light, the tension is thick between you like a balloon waiting get scratched by a needle so it finally can release the air inside.  

“She did. I stood no chance.” You both laugh, but then the silence is awkward and brutal. There’s so many things to say and at the same time nothing at all. It certainly doesn’t make it easier that he only a few weeks ago spent the night in your bed. And now you’ve watched him starting a life with someone else. 

“Do you remember how we used to talk about how our wedding was gonna be? That we were gonna get married by the beach and I was gonna have messy tangled hair and a loose flowy dress on and we would get tattoo rings instead of real ones because you feared losing yours in the drain?” you burst out. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, just forget it.” You pretend to look at the clock on your phone and then begin to stand up. “Actually, I should probably get going, I promised Jesica I’d-“ 

“I dreamt about it last night,” he says, interrupting you. “We were at the beach I showed you in Sydney, the one with the beautiful sunset. And you looked like an angel with bare feet and this simple, knee-length dress and no make-up on. It all seemed so real, I could even smell the seaweed and feel the sand under my feet. And your eyes had that beautiful sparkle, and everything just felt like it fell into place when you stood by my side.” His eyes glistens, tears threatening to spill. But you are conflicted. Because while you experience the same pain he does, you also feel anger boiling. 

“Then why didn’t you choose me three weeks ago? You had the chance and you threw it away for some idiotic reason.” You sigh, looking away for a few moments to gain composure. “You know, it would be easier to accept if you married her because you loved her and not me. But that’s not the case, is it?”  

He doesn’t directly answer your question, but you understand either way. “I hope you find someone who is there for you, always. I hope he buys you a sapphire ring when you get engaged because you never liked the ordinary ones. I hope he’s the reason that sparkle in your eyes return. I hope he knows how intelligent you are and accepts that you win every argument. I hope he holds you tight in the night when you are feeling lonely and that he’s careful around you because he knows how sensitive you are. I hope he challenges you and I hope he tells you every day how beautiful you are because you always forget. And I hope he makes you happy and I hope he loves every scar and wound and bruise. And I hope he makes you forget about me, so I’m the only one sitting here, always wondering what could have been. If only life had been different.“ But although his words are beautiful, you don’t think they’re anything besides that. They’re beautiful, yes, but also terribly stupid.  

You shake your head and then, before you walk away from him, you scold him: “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Us not being together has nothing to with faith. It’s your choice. Singleheartedly. And I pray that I will one day be able to forgive you for it.” And with that you’re gone, only a trace of your perfume in the air proving to Ashton that the conversation truly happened.  

You look down at your baby blue stilettos, the colour perfectly complimenting the creamy hue of your dress. It took you weeks to decide which one you wanted but you’re happy with your decision as you look up and admire your reflection in the mirror. Picking your own wedding dress was nothing like what you had expected after watching countless of episodes of ‘Say yes to the dress’. You didn’t immediately know which dress you wanted, and only following hours of swiping through pictures on your phone were you able to decide on this one.

Your process of choosing a wedding dress was a bit like when you “chose” the man you are just an hour from meeting at the altar. It hadn’t been love at first sight, heck you hadn’t even been that attracted to him in the beginning, but he had grew on you, and you had grown as a person. When you were younger, you fell in love, face first and with a feeling of being completely out of control. Falling in love with Thomas had been the very opposite. You had gotten to know him as a friend, kindly denying his advances towards you, but as you realized how great a man he really was, how considerate, honest, sweet, kind-hearted (and head over heels in love with you) he was, you decided that you would try to reciprocate his feelings. You had taken it slow, working with yourself and with him, and he had been so supportive through it all. Then one morning when you hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, you realized you missed him. That you wanted him to be there, that you wanted him to kiss you and embrace you and possibly make love to you.

After that, everything just started to fall into place. Of course, there were bad days and there were screaming and fighting and crying, but you always thought for both the relationship and each other, and when he proposed to you, well, you were happy to agree.  

So yeah, you had to admit you could see the similarities between your process of picking a man and picking a dress. But perhaps you were just over-analysing everything, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Hi sweetie,” your best friend, Jessica, greets as she places her hands on your shoulders and comfortingly squeezes. You smile widely at her in the mirror and lean back against her, resting your head on her collarbone and shoulder.

“Can you believe it, Jess? I’m getting married!” you squeal, and she laughs. Her palms have slid down to your elbows, mindlessly caressing your skin with her thumbs. That’s one of the things you love about her, she always shows these small acts of affection, calming you down when you need it or just letting you know she’s there. She’s a bit like a sister to you, as she’s been by your side for many years now, through thick and thin.

“I know, Y/N, it’s amazing,” she assures. You close your eyes and relax in her embrace, a feeling of comfort and safety washing over you. “I am so terribly proud of you, you know that, right?” She gently shoves you away from her and turns you around so you’re facing her directly, holding you an arms-length from her with her hands once again on your shoulder. She fixes her gaze on you which tells you that she thinks this is important for you to understand. “I’m so proud of you for getting here, for how you got up after everything with Ashton, for how you let yourself fall for someone again after being so hurt. You are stronger than you know, Y/N, incredibly strong. And remember, I’m always here, no matter what.” She shoots you a big smile, but you can’t get yourself to mirror it, feeling your stomach churn.

“Don’t be mad at me, Jess,” you mutter, clutching your hands. Her facial expression changes from a proud, fond one to a nervous one.

“What are you talking about?” she questions and mentions your name when you don’t answer right away.

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself. “I’ve invited him today. Ashton. And I don’t know if he’ll even show up or-“ you admit, before she cuts you off.

“WHAT have you?” She’s nearly yelling now, and you just want her to stop. This is supposed to be an amazing day filled with only happiness and joy, certainly not with fighting and bad feelings. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“I want him to be there, Jess! And you would have tried to talk me out of it,” you explain, trying to get her to understand. As your best friend, she should accept, if not support, your decision, but then again, you get where she’s coming from. If she told you she had invited the person that had hurt her more than anyone else to her wedding, you wouldn’t exactly be over the moon either.

“And you promise this isn’t just some sick form of revenge because he wanted you at his wedding almost two years ago?” She interrogates, seemingly calmer but still with a doubting expression. However, her words hit you and you can’t find the right words to answer her.

“I-I don’t know why, to be honest. It just feels right to have him be there, you know? I love Thomas, I really do, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving Ashton, either. And like he needed to have me there for his wedding, allowing him to marry another woman, I think I need him to give me away to Thomas, if that makes any sense.” She walks closer to you and stares intensely, like she’s trying to figure you out.

“If he asked you if you wanted to try again, what would you say?” You should have seen that question coming, but you stupidly didn’t, and now you don’t know what to say. The million-dollar question, indeed.

“I hope he never does. It would only cause everyone more pain than necessary,” you begin and quickly continue when you realize she’s once again about to interrupt, “But if I must be honest, I don’t know, Jess. He’s the reason I am the person I am today, he shaped me, and no one has ever loved me as furiously and deeply and beautifully as he did. But he made his choice two years ago.“ Your eyes are wet but tears still haven’t run down your cheeks. You take a deep breath and try to hold them back, telling yourself that everything’s okay. You don’t want red, puffy eyes on your wedding day.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have pressured you. I’m just worried,” she apologizes and takes your hand. You squeeze it and nod, understanding where she’s coming from.

“I know, Jess,” you say, as she comfortingly strokes your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding yours. “Will you put on my veil?”

She secures the veil in your hair with a beautiful silver comb you’ve borrowed from Thomas’ mother, and the delicate, sheer fabric falls in front of your face. Jessica’s eyes turn glossy as she steps away, eyeing you up and down. No words are needed between you, she just hugs you one last time before escorting you out.

She walks into the church before you, executing her role as your maid of honour.

“Are you ready, darling?” your father asks with loving eyes. You know that both him and your mother were worried about you after how things spiralled down when Ashton left you, and that they are relieved you’ve finally decided to settle down.

You answer with a nod, staring forward at the door that leads to your future. Your hands are sweating, and you want nothing but just get the ceremony started.

“And you’re completely sure?”

You finally turn your head and fix your eyes on his, surprised by how worried he looks. You were under the impression that your parents loved Thomas almost more than you did which isn’t much to your surprise, really, as he truly is the dream of every pair of parents.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked Thomas?”

“I do, he is everything I ever wished for you find in a man. But I’m not sure if he is anymore, Y/N. You seem content, but you’re not as happy as you sometimes used to be. You don’t have that sparkle in your eyes anymore,” his lips part into a small, apologetic smile, knowing his next word will feel a little like a knife to your chest, “Not since Ashton, you haven’t.”

“Well, I´m not a teenager with big emotions anymore, dad,” you mutter while nervously playing with the hem of your veil, feeling a need to do something to distract yourself from the doubt beginning to appear in your head.

He can’t be right, can he?

No, you love Thomas, and he loves you. Just like Ashton and Anabelle love each other.

“I know you’re not. But you underestimate your younger self, honey. There wasn’t anything melodramatic about her, Ashton just brought those big feelings out from within you, and he did two years ago, too, and you were 25 back then.”

You can hear people inside the church beginning to talk, clearly wondering why you’ve still haven’t begun your walk towards Thomas when it’s been so long since Jessica walked up the aisle.

“Listen, darling, I just want you to make the right choice, whatever that may be. If you truly love Thomas and want to spend the rest of your life with him and would choose him over everyone else, including Ashton, then I am beyond happy to escort you to him right now. But if not, then I think you should tell him. “

“What about the money? You’ve used so much money on this wedding, I don’t want those to go to waste,” you insist, hanging on to your last chance of taking the easy road. Thomas loves you like you hung the moon in the fucking sky, and you know that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make you as happy as possible if you choose him. But that’s not the question. Instead, you have a few seconds to find out if you really do love him or if you’ve just convinced yourself as a way to get over Ashton.

“’I’ll take care of the money, darling, just do whatever you find best. Both your mother and I want you to be happy, no amount of money compares to that,” he affirms, making your heart flutter with pride of how great a father you have.

“You’re the best. I’ll tell him now.” You grab the wooden door handle but turn your face towards your father first, “Thank you for making sure I was making the right decision. I love you,” you declare. His smile reaches all the way to his eyes, and you once again see the resemblance of your father and yourself. He has that sparkle in his eyes, too.

You carefully remove the silver comb from your perfectly styled hair and take the veil off as well as you walk into the church.

Everyone turns towards you, but as soon as they see the apologetic look on your face and the wedding garments in your hand, their smiles turn into shocked expressions. You fix your gaze on Thomas, feeling tears forming behind your eyes. They slide down your cheeks, some dripping down on your dress and some hitting the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas, I’m so terribly sorry,” you apologize when you’ve walked so close you can talk to him with a low voice and still making it possible for him to hear. “I swear I never planned to hurt you like this, you deserve so much more. But I can’t do this, I’m so sorry.” Low mutters and even gasps sound from the audience, and although you care deeply about many of them, right now, you wish they weren’t here.

It’s too sad and hard as it is without other people having to witness you breaking Thomas’, and perhaps even your own, heart.

“What is it you can’t do? Marriage? Because we don’t have to get married, Y/N, we can just call this off and-“ he tries, and it’s clear to you that he knows it’s over but just doesn’t want to admit to himself just yet.

“I think it would be best if we went somewhere more private, would that be alright?” He nods. “I’ll take care of this, just figure out a spot and text me the details. I’ll be there as fast as possible.” He looks like he wants to say something, but then he just smiles brokenly and walk out the church, looking down at the marble tiles.

It feels like a knife twisting in your chest to see him walk away with hanging shoulders, looking so defeated. You might never have loved you like he loved you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t care about him. You cared greatly about him, deeply, even. Not enough, though.

You take a deep breath, locking eyes with your father at the back of the choice, and the reassuring smile gives you the strength to explain.

“I’m sorry for wasting everyone’s time, but I can’t do this. Thomas is a fantastic man, but he deserves someone who can return all the love he has in his heart. And that person isn’t me.” You dry your cheek with the back of your hand, stepping closer to Thomas’ family.

With shaking hands, you offer the comb back to his mother, mouthing “I’m sorry,” and you think she nods as a small act of acceptance, but with the tears clouding your sight, you can’t be entirely sure.

“I have something I need to work by myself, but first of all, I need to talk to Thomas. So, if you’d please excuse me,” you exclaim as you walk out of the church. And even though the burden of hurting a man who loves you stings, you feel freer than you have in a very long time when you step out of the cold temperature of the church and out to the fresh spring air outside. You’re gonna work this out.

The smell of newly-dried paint fills your nostrils as you breathe in, admiring your work. You’ve painted your living room in a soft beige colour that gives the room a homely appearance, and you’ve just finished decorating the room with furniture, pictures and green plants. This is your fresh start, your second chance, and you’re determined to make sure that this small apartment will be the place where you will figure out your life.

You smile at the picture of you and Thomas, both of you widely grinning at the camera, sitting on your parents’ couch. It took many tears and tough talks but now, eight months after your wedding day, you and Thomas have managed to rebuild your friendship. He really is an amazing person, and you’re sure it won’t be long until some lucky woman snatches him.

The sound of the doorbell ringing shakes you from your thoughts, and you stand up from the couch. You don’t bother checking who it is before opening, Jess said something about coming over when she got off work and you’re sure her boss just let her go early.

But it’s not Jess who stands outside your door with a hopeful expression and beautiful hazel eyes.

“Ashton? What are you doing here?” you question, your smile decreasing a bit. It’s not that you’re not delighted to see him, but you get a bad kind of déjà vu from the last time he stood outside your door. It certainly didn’t end up pretty, back then.

“It seems we always end up like this, doesn’t it?” he grins, but his gaze is apologetic. “Me standing outside your door and you hesitant to let me in.”

“If you want me to be the godmother of your child, the answer is no,” you answer, only half-joking. You never know with Ashton, if anyone would do something like that, it’s definitely him. “But come on in, I don’t mind.” You take a step back, dragging the door back until it bumps again the wall in your hallway, making room for him to walk in.

He dries his feet on your doormat, like he always does before walking indoors, and then he takes them off and puts them right beside your door, making sure they don’t stain your floor. Thoughtful as ever.  

“A truly great idea, Y/N. Unfortunately, I don’t father any children at the moment but perhaps another time,” he jokes sarcastically, and you laugh, relieved that he isn’t actually going to ask you something in that direction. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You smile, holding up your hands and point around the living room. “You really aren’t, I was just enjoying my interior designing skills.”

He reciprocates your smile with a relieved one of his own, admiring the room. He examines the pictures on your walls and you try to think up something to distract him with, so he doesn’t see them before you realize it doesn’t really matter. It’s your own choice what you want to look at every day, and you don’t even think he’ll mind that you hung up a picture of the two of you.

He walks past the pictures of you and your parents at a zoo and you and Jessica at your bachelor party and stops at the one of you and Thomas, the one you were looking at right before he came. His shoulders seem to sink, and his voice isn’t as lively as before when he speaks, “You look really happy together on this picture. Have you fixed your problems?” When you don’t answer right away, he continues, still looking at the frame instead of you. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask. I just thought- after what happened in the church, I thought the two of you broke up.”

You walk closer to him, seeing him swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thomas and I are just friends, actually. He’s really sweet, but I don’t see him as anything more, and he has accepted that.“

Ashton finally turns his head to look at you, and your stomach drops when you notice the intensity he stares at you with. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but that makes me really happy, Y/N,” he whispers.

You can’t believe you still have a hard time fighting the urge to kiss him, after all these years, but you force your feet to stay put. You may not have any commitments, but he’s still married.  

“How is Anabelle?” Your voice is hoarse, but you try your best to sound as powerful and stern as possible. You were “the other woman” once, and you don’t intend to be ever again.

“She’s well, I think. Haven’t spoken her since the divorce, to be honest, but she updates her Instagram regularly with pictures of her and boyfriend,” he states softly, licking his lips and looking down at yours.

You can’t control the surprise in showing on your face, mouth slightly gaping. “Since when?” You look down at your feet, feeling your heart beating fast and hard in your chest.

Stop it, Y/N, you’re behaving like a lovesick teenager

“We weren’t even married for a year, actually. It took some time, but I realized those things you said at my wedding were true.” He steps even closer to you, and you feel his warm breath on your forehead when you force yourself to look up. “I’ve been a complete idiot, I know that. But will you at least consider giving me another chance? I understand if you don’t, I just-“

You don’t let him finish, instead colliding your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He tastes like coffee and mint gum, and you’ve forgot how great a kisser he is. His tongue graces over your teeth, the act sending specks of warmth through your stomach.

As you break apart, gasping for air, none of you can help smiling. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N, and I’m so sorry for how much I’ve hurt you,” he apologizes, stroking your cheek, “But I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m sorry as well. We’ve both been way too stubborn.”

You kiss him again, and it feels right, although you still have to adapt to each other again.  

“I love you, too, for the record,” you add, and the smile he sends you reminds you of the first sun beams in spring. The ones that remind you that even though the world has seemed like a cold and dead place for a while, everything will be alright.

And while you’re not sure if you believe in one true, big love or soulmates, you believe in second chances and realizing a relationship hasn’t run its course yet and that it isn’t always right to let go of something good just because it’s tough. And most of all, you believe in Ashton.

[yvaquietdays]

Deciding to be happy.

Sometimes meditation doesn’t work.  Sometimes being mindful of your downfalls doesn’t work. Sometimes yoga doesn’t work. Sometimes writing doesn’t work. It’s a little hard for me to describe how I’ve been feeling the last month or so. Of course I’m going to try, that’s why I write a blog. *sly face* So I’ve talked about cycles before. Being aware of the small turnovers of life makes the every day manageable; being aware of how our emotions and vibrations fluctuate certainly makes everything seem a little less daunting.

I’ve been conscious that I’m entering a new cycle of my life. I’m not so far away from turning 28, an age I’m told is the beginning of the fourth cycle in life. And whether you buy into the hokey-pokey, it makes sense if you suspend your disbelief for a moment. Apparently you have the first 7 years, the years of your childhood and innocence, of unadulteratingly questioning and experiencing the world you live in. Then the second stage, taking you to 14, where you’re contemplating adulthood and experiencing massive physiological changes and all the outcomes of that. Then to 21, where all the shit hits the fan and explodes outwards all over you and the people in your life. I’ve been dealing with the proverbial shit of this third cycle for a while, experiencing existential fear and anxiety for the first time, sorting through the people in my life, assessing how I relate and love, seeing my familial relationships through new eyes, shaving off the bits of me I don’t like. Essentially, the un-conditioning of myself and becoming a new person. 

The last time my life seem to change, there were signals. Life threw me signs that I was about to turn things upside down for a bit. I emotionally and spiritually gave up on London and I lost two friends to the music industry; its hold over all of us to get as much out of our creative outputs as possible (i.e money). This is important enough to mention because it damaged me a lot. It affected my trust with people and I felt so betrayed and let down. I’ve made my peace with them and with the situation, but I’ve learned from it, because at the time, it was just another knife in the side, and I didn’t want it happening again. From that point though, I headed steadily downhill somewhere close to the bottom, where I was thinking of jacking it in altogether. I considered going into property with my savings and my Dad. I considered opening a home-brew shop with my partner, who really was my anchor when I was close to floating off unmoored. I didn’t though, because my other anchor was my own spirit, the relentless resilience I seem to have inherited, that I’m sure I don’t deserve; my music and my innate and absolute desire to howl at the moon. Nitin played a huge part in getting me through this phase. Had I not worked with him, I might have forgotten how important singing was to me. He was a kind of the lifeboat that kept me chugging along in the rougher waters for a while; I was desperately unhappy but those days of rehearsals, shows, and being involved in the dance piece were all life rings that I could swim to and gradually get closer to solid ground. At this point, I believe I was shedding off the things I didn’t need to prepare myself for this next stage.

And this time, I’ve also lost two friends. I’m not going into any great detail about this, only that I believe it was for the best and ultimately the whole experience told me a lot about the people in my life, who I am, and what I stand for. It had a lot to do with how I’ve allowed people to take advantage of me for too long. This ties into one of my previous blogposts about saying sorry and not wanting to rock the boat. I have been conditioned to be nice and I am actively changing this. I have Jameela Jamil to thank for opening my eyes and forcing me to see that it doesn’t make me difficult or manipulative to call out the truth and stand strongly within it. They ended up deleting me from their life because of it. But I hated the entire situation. It hurt. Needless to say it had a big affect on me. That combined with new opportunities taking a while to come to fruition seemed to trigger my anxiety and low mood for the first real time since I wasn’t well. It brought back a lot of bad feelings about inadequacy, self-doubt and the need for external validation that I’ve worked so bloody hard on eradicating. 

Validation is the key word here. I believe it is what most of us struggle with going into our adult lives. I’ve worked very hard to not rely on other people’s voices to bolster my own self-esteem. I’ve done my soul-work, I only listen to my own. I’ve learned to tell the ignorant slut (pls read past post re this: it’s what I call my anxiety) in my mind to shut up when she’s being unkind. But over the last few weeks and returning from LA, which now seems like a dream, the voice has elbowed its way in and I’ve allowed it to have an affect on me. I’m waiting; waiting like I did before, waiting for good feedback, waiting for someone else to come at me with the next opportunity. Stagnant. Waiting for the world, looking for someone to blame.

So what the fuck am I doing? I mean, really. I have been arranging my own sessions, writing my book and flirting with a second, being open and vulnerable about my talent and about my humanness. I’ve been rocking it.

But recently, the difference was that I was doing my yoga, not practising it. I was forcing myself to set an intention of success, orienting everything around my goals. I meditated just to check it off the list. But you can’t apply mindfulness with brute force, with a shotgun to the head and your arm twisted behind your back. What I was doing went hand in hand with the thought that, “If I don’t, I will fail.” Before I knew it, I was telling myself I wasn’t worth it. I’m not creative. I don’t have any ideas. I don’t have an emotional scale. I feel nothing about anything. Have a baby, do something else. You don’t belong in that world (LA). You don’t know who you are. You’re not passionate enough about your art. You’re not passionate about anything. Why is nobody getting back to you? You’re forgettable. It’s because you’re not assertive enough. They deleted you because you meant nothing to them. They didn’t apologise to you because they don’t value you.

The rabbit hole is deep and it is wide. Once you’re on that slope, it seems pre-destined that you’ll end up at the bottom before you even notice you slipped. But I noticed. I’ve my best mate and flatmate to thank for a conversation that made me realise what I was doing, ‘cos I was feeling pretty low there for a minute.  The truth is that it takes real mental effort and strain to drag yourself up the mud slide back to even ground. When I was feeling pretty bad, I used to dream about doing the same thing over, and over, and over again and never reaching a resolution. I dreamt that I was at the bottom of the muddy bank and I could not get to the top where the grass was still green. So doing yoga and meditating over and over to force wellness doesn’t work. Negativity does not beget negativity. You have to accept your feelings and do the work to counter-argue with yourself in a gentle and loving way. I am worth it. I am creative. I feel everything, that’s why it hurts. I know who I am, more than ever. I’d be a great mum, but if I have a baby now I’ll probably forget about it and leave it in the washing basket. I am passionate. I am open and patient, and I trust that things will work out. I am hardworking. And they deleted you because they didn’t value you. That says more about them than you, you stone cold, lovely, bad ass bitch. 

Bye felicia.

I am entering a new chapter of my life soon, and I feel my world shifting to allow for it. It isn’t waiting if I regain control and organise my life. Just because someone is giving you an opportunity doesn’t mean that the work is done. It means that you’re just getting started, and you have to work, now more than ever.

Last week I wrote a song on the guitar. This has not happened in a long time. I was consuming a lot of emotional TV (Queer Eye, k thnks), and I was inspired to assess my own mental health. I got complacent, and the doubt got in. It never really goes away, and just because I was feeling better there for a hot minute in LA, doesn’t mean that the work is done. It continues. Always. I don’t want to wake up one day and realise I’m missing something vital because I looked to others to tell me what I’m worth. Everyone else wants as much as possible for themselves. If that means cheapening you so that they’re worth more; that is what they will do. Know. Your. Own. Worth. ‘Cos even your friends will undervalue you.

Self doubt waits at the door, constantly. It wants to be let in, but you keep it at bay. You nod to it, but you don’t allow it across the threshold.

After I recorded the song idea into my phone, I sobbed. Hard. I cried my eyes out. And then I was done. I let the tears come out, unbidden, because I needed to feel it. I think I needed to remember the power of that musical release, why I do what I do. Sure, I’m not like other musicians or singers. Maybe I am depressing, but I’m communicating something that is honest and what we all go through. I am me. And that is enough. It doesn’t matter, all that other stuff. It doesn’t. What matters is how I feel about my music. 

I’m getting to my conclusion, I promise. I meditated earlier this week, and the lovely Andy Puddicomb at Headspace told me to see my mind as the sky. Behind all the clouds, there is always a blue horizon. Just like when you’re on a plane and you finally get above the candy cotton clouds, and in your head you do a little Peter Pan style bounce across them. There’s a soft kind of release I get when I see that. Peace and quiet. Space and breath. Everything else; feelings, thoughts, how we dress, what the world might think...they’re the clouds. When I feel low, my mind seems like an overcast horizon that will not break. An endless, grey, unfeeling cloud of bleak whatever. When I feel good, it’s a summers sky with fluffy white clouds rolling through; you know they won’t stay forever. Meditating is grounding, and reminding yourself with nothing more complicated than breathing that your default setting is a vast blue sky. Warm and peaceful. It might even feel like nothing, but that’s ok too. Everything else is temporary. Clouds are impermanent. The sky is always clear.

So this is my point. I set my intention that day to have a good day. 

Enjoy the little details, enjoy my trial shift at the cafe, enjoy the look on southerners faces when I have a bit of craic with them. Enjoy cooking, enjoy the process, enjoy the walk between here and there, the blossoms, the warmth of the sun on my face. Choose happiness. Choose the blue sky. Decide to be positive. It’s not always easy, and maybe it doesn’t always work. After all, life throws us curveballs and it hurts to get whacked in the face, but it’s a damn sight better than choosing to be an arsehole about it. Try it.

Decide to be happy. 

xxx

[botanistlester]

Sweet Pea (19/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: This chapter includes warnings for a bad panic attack and hints of PTSD. i work all day tomorrow so im uploading this slightly early. pls remember that this fic is based off of real experiences, so this fic is not true for everyone who has been in an abusive relationship, but it does hold many truths to it and many real feelings! thanks to @snowbunnylester for editing this for me! The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song Pine by Basement! 

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-

Chapter Nineteen

I don't love you, I just need to be loved. Want me; I need you to want me. I hate myself, but that's okay because I never have enough.

-

Nico Caragen - 2:12am

Im sorry i hurt u. I miss u so much. What can i do to fix this?

Message Deleted.

-

Two weeks and four days after the idea was proposed to him, Phil got the restraining order.

It took a lot out of him, a lot of resistance on his part. He cried as he filled out the paperwork, but he felt strangely numb despite it all. There was a little section on the form that told him to explain why he was getting the restraining order, and he stared at it for moments on end because he didn’t know what to put exactly. It was such a little box, but there was so much that had happened that there was no way he could possible put it all in there.

He glanced up at the receptionist lady and gnawed his lip before speaking up, comforted slightly by the presence of Dan beside him. “Is this all the space I have to write in?” he asked quietly, somewhat confused. How would they be able to tell if he needed the restraining order if he could barely write what had happened in that tiny box?

The woman barely glanced up, but she did flash him a quick smile before going back to typing. “If you need to write more, you can just write the rest on the back of the page,” she said distractedly, pushing her glasses higher up her nose with one finger.

Phil nodded and glanced down at the piece of paper, his pen hovering over the space with such hesitance that it would made a turtle start to cry. He put the pen to the paper, drawing a line, a single ‘I’ that looked out of place on the paper.

He didn’t know what to write, because in his mind, Nico hadn’t done anything that bad.

“I have no idea what to write,” he whispered to Dan, who put his arm around Phil’s shoulders and began to rub softly.

“Write about the bad experiences,” he replied calmly. “Ignore the good things. Just focus on the bad and write those down.”

Phil swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to think back on his experiences. They’d been together for so long, how was he supposed to remember every little thing? There were moments that stood out to him, but he couldn’t remember everything, and that bothered him. Since when had he stopped hanging onto every word Nico had said, instead casting it away to the back of his memory? At the time, each moment had felt like the most important time of Phil’s life. But now?

It meant nothing.

He wrote the sentence before he could think about it, his hand forming the loops and dashes to make words. When he reread the sentence, he wanted to stop, he wanted to quit, because he didn’t even know if they were true.

And yet there they were, written by him in green ink, staring him in the face until he was quivering in Dan’s grip.

‘I was in an emotionally abusive relationship with Nico Caragen for a year.’

He flinched, gagged on his spit, and Dan rubbed his back.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well.”

That’s the only reason why Phil picked the pen up again and began to write. He wrote about everything he could possibly think of; the slut shaming, the ripping off clothes, the withdrawal of affection - and then, the deeper stuff; the knives, the suffocation, the breaking items, the slap.

Phil didn’t feel anything as he wrote. He could only focus on the memories that were haunting his mind until he could no longer see the green pen in front of him. Instead, the pen was replaced with green eyes, filled with so much fury that Phil gasped aloud.

He flung the pen against the counter, scrabbling away as quickly as he possibly could. He wrenched himself out of Dan’s grasp and crowded against the wall, ignoring the concerned questions of the receptionist.

Green eyes filled with fury, a nose that crinkled up when he was mad. Nico was going to be pissed at him, was going to hurt him. What was Phil even thinking, trying to get a restraining order when it would do nothing but upset Nico? He had no reason to get a restraining order, had only done so because he was drowning in too much self pity for himself.

God, he was so selfish. He never should have done this. He could hear Nico now, his haunting tone, could feel his fingers wrapping around Phil’s wrist. “Why the fuck would you get a restraining order?” He would say, his voice taunting. “Am I not enough for you? Do you really think I’m like my father? Is that what you’re saying?”

Phil let out a choked sob and shook his head. No, he screamed back. Nico was nothing like his father! He didn’t abuse anybody, didn’t harm them, didn’t molest people! He wasn’t like his father, and Phil had no right to claim that he was.

What was he doing here again?

“Phil.”

A voice spoke, and for a moment it sounded like a warped version of Nico’s but softer, much more calming. It didn’t hold a hint of venom or malice, and it was rather comforting. Phil shook his head. He didn’t want to speak with Nico right now.

“Phil, take some deep breaths. It’s Dan. It’s just me.”

Dan. Dan. Dan.

Phil reached towards the voice with a muddy hand, grimy from swimming through the depths of his mind. He opened his eyes, found that he was laying on the floor with Dan kneeling beside him, holding him so he was on his side and not on his back. Phil blinked, rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know how he had gotten to the floor, but by the looks of the receptionist making panicky phone calls, he must have passed out for a moment.

“How did I get on the floor?” Phil rasped out, struggling to try and stand up.

Dan pushed him back down with a gentle hand and a reassuring smile. “Stay down for a moment so you don’t pass out again,” he advised before saying, “You freaked out and started hyperventilating. I think you hyperventilated so much that you ended up fainting. I caught you before you hit the ground though, so you didn’t hit your head.”

Phil laid his head back against Dan’s shoulder. Now that he was getting his mind back, the echoes of Nico’s voice fading, he could comprehend that Dan was holding him, Phils back against his chest, his head laying on Dan’s shoulder.

He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what had happened, but maybe because that was because his head was still spinning and felt muggy. His head was a swamp filled with algae that he was trying to crawl out of, but couldn’t seem to find his way to land.

“Is he okay?” the receptionist asked in a louder tone so they could hear her, as though the room wasn’t quiet already. She was leaning over the desk, staring at them with a concerned face, and Phil found himself nodding, shrugging Dan off, and standing to his feet.

He only wobbled a little, and Dan was there to grab his elbow, steadying him easily without telling him that he shouldn’t stand. “‘M fine,” Phil muttered, making his way back over to the desk. He grabbed a blue pen this time, made sure that the green pen was out of his sight, and finished writing as quickly as possible, his fingers as numb as his mind.

When he was done, he slumped against Dan’s side, feeling exhausted. The receptionist took the offending sheet of paper and pen away from him, told them that she would take this to the judge right away, and to sit in the waiting room. She said that it shouldn’t take more than a few hours to make a decision, and Phil’s stomach sank because he didn’t want to wait that long. He wanted to get out. Now.

They sat on a bench in the waiting room, and Dan slung his arm around Phil’s shoulders so that Phil could settle into his side. He set his head on Dan’s shoulder and closed his eyes, listening to the calming sound of Dan’s breathing. He was exhausted, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this had been a good idea after all.

“Let’s celebrate after this,” Dan murmured, and his hand was massaging through Phil’s scalp just how he liked. It reminded Phil a little bit of the way Nico used to do it, made him shake, but Dan kept talking, so Phil was able to calm himself down enough to convince himself that it wasn’t Nico who was touching him.

“Celebrate how?” Phil mumbled back. He didn’t really want to celebrate, didn’t think this was worth celebrating, but he knew Dan was just trying to help him.

“What d’ya say we get together some of our friends and go to that nice bakery down the street you’ve always wanted to go to?” Phil paused. He had wanted to go to this bakery for a very long time. He could always smell the fresh baking bread every time he passed, sweet and mouth-watering, and he always had to pry himself away from the shop window. “We could call up Charlie and Jane and Jace, if you’d like. Maybe Ledjon as well? I know you’ve been texting him a little bit and it’d be a nice way to get to know him.”

Phil gnawed on his lip. That was a lot of people. He wasn’t really in the mood to socialise. It was just so exhausting, so time consuming, and Phil wanted to cry back at home about how he would never be able to talk to Nico again. But he knew that Dan would not let him do that, so he just nodded quietly and let Dan text his friends with the plan. Phil told him to emit the part where Phil had gotten a restraining order, and Dan just nodded and didn’t question why.

It seemed like hours later when the receptionist finally came back, and she had a thin smile on her lips that made Phil perk up. It’d only been about twenty minutes. There was no way that the judges had made a decision that quickly. “The judge has decided to accept your request. We will inform Nico Caragen tomorrow morning.” She went on to say that Nico was no longer allowed to be within twenty feet of Phil, and that the restraining order was effective for two years. But Phil couldn’t really hear her through the roaring in his ears.

What was supposed to take hours to come to a decision had only taken twenty minutes. They’d read Phil’s request and hadn’t even needed him to testify, hadn’t even needed him to speak. They took his word, his written word, and had decided that Phil’s situation was bad enough that Nico will not be allowed to be near him or talk to him for two years.

For the first time since Phil had broken up with Nico, Phil realized that his situation had been bad.

He moved like a zombie after that. Dan thanked the receptionist and grabbed Phil’s hand to pull him out of the building. He chattered to Phil about how proud he was, that Phil was such a strong person for doing that. Phil didn’t think he was strong. If anything, he was weak.

He couldn’t even look at a fucking green pen without freaking out. How did that make him strong? Why would that make Dan proud?

Phil had been destroyed. That was nothing to be proud of. All this time, Phil had allowed himself to be abused, badly enough that it had taken the court twenty minutes to decide that Phil needed to be saved from Nico, and he’d almost let it go on. He’d been weak enough to allow someone to destroy him.

That wasn’t strength. That was weakness.

They met up with their friends at the bakery, but Phil was still in a weird mood. He was exhausted, felt as though he were floating on a cloud. There was cotton wool in his ears that made it hard to hear, as though everyone were speaking underwater. His friends hugged him, told him that they’d missed him, but Phil barely felt a touch.

Jace kissed him on the lips, and Phil shrank away from him, his lips burning. Jace tried to hold his hand, but Phil’s skin began to crawl with the affection, so he withdrew it, stuffing his hand in his pockets instead. He saw Jace frown, and Phil didn’t look into his eyes, didn’t want to see the concern and betrayal there. Phil didn’t know why he didn’t want to hold hands or display affection, but he felt awkward in front of his friends. Dan was watching, and it seemed as though he were staring through them for a moment. Charlie and Ledjon were chattering off to the side, and Jane was introducing herself to Ledjon.

No one was paying attention to Phil or Jace, and yet Phil felt as if everyone were watching them. He felt as though his skin was crawling and like everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. Maybe coming out after the restraining order had been a bad idea, but Phil was weak, and he didn’t know how to say no, so he’d let Dan drag him to a social outing when Phil was not in the correct mindset to care about anything.

“Why don’t you want to hold my hand?” Jace’s question shocked Phil out of his sorry thoughts, and Phil blinked. His eyes were dry, too dry, almost sticky, like a chameleon trying to blink.

The words were out before Phil could stop them, and a cold chill went down his spine at the familiarity of the words. “I have anxiety.”

He was disgusting, a monster, and he knew it. He didn’t know why he said it, because it wasn’t really true. He just didn’t want to hold hands, didn’t want to kiss Jace. He didn’t want to make out in front of their friends. He didn’t want to kiss anybody. He didn’t know why he’d gotten himself into such a mess.

Jace’s eyes softened though, and he nodded, making Phil feel like the biggest piece of shit there ever was. Jace didn’t deserve this. Phil knew he didn’t, and yet, he couldn’t seem to just tell Jace that he deserved better, that Jace should just break up with Phil and find someone who could actually love him.

“That’s alright,” Jace said quietly. “I understand.”

Phil wanted to tell him that he didn’t understand, that nobody did, but he kept it in, biting his lip to stop himself from speaking. Instead, he just gave Jace a tight lipped smile and forced himself to give Jace’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. He would make it up to Jace later in the form of heated kisses in the dark of Phil’s room, the dull glow of the stars on Phil’s ceiling judging Phil with every move he made.

They all made their way into the bakery, and Phil’s friends chattered away with bright smiles and cheery attitudes. Phil tried to join in on the conversation, but he couldn’t help but feel tired. Exhausted, even. Whatever it was that had happened earlier had made him feel as though his feet were cinderblocks and his mind was weighed down by a million thoughts that refused to dissipate.

They all ordered pastries, and Phil ordered some sort of scone that was lemon flavoured, which seemed interesting, as well as a coffee. He ordered it black, because he liked it the way, the darkness of the drink contrasting with the porcelain of the mug. As emo as it sounded, it reminded him of his soul. When they sat down, Ledjon sat on one side of Phi,l and Jace sat on the other. Dan frowned at that, but he shook his head at Phil’s questioning look. Apparently the reason for his frown wasn’t that important, but Phil didn’t really believe him.

As the rest of his friends chattered amongst themselves, Ledjon turned to Phil. They’d been texting a bit over the last few days and Phil had quickly realised that Ledjon didn’t have any horrible intentions. He was genuinely concerned about Phil and his wellbeing, and he reminded Phil a bit of Dan in that way. He had a gentle smile on his face, and his voice was quiet so that the others couldn’t hear him when he spoke. “How are you feeling today?”

Phil shrugged, thinking about what’d happened in the courtroom earlier. “Not great,” he admitted. “Got a restraining order and then ended up passing out. It was really strange. Don’t know what happened exactly.”

Ledjon hummed and took a bite of his pastry. It seemed to be some sort of chocolate croissant, and Phil watched as his tongue darted out to lick off a bit of the chocolate that spilled onto his lip. “D’ya think it was an anxiety attack? Panic attack? Whatever it is that the kids call it these days?”

An anxiety attack. Phil has heard of those before. They were categorized by a feeling of extreme anxiety that was triggered by a specific stimulus. Except the last Phil heard, anxiety attacks didn’t exactly include fainting.

He voiced this much to Ledjon, who shrugged his shoulders and took another thoughtful bite of his croissant. “I dunno, man. Anxiety attacks are different for everyone. Just because not many people pass out when they experience one doesn’t mean you don’t either. I’m just saying; it’s a possibility.”

Phil liked Ledjon. He thought he was kind. He also thought he stuck his nose into Phil’s business when he shouldn’t. “I’m sure it was nothing,” Phil responded quietly. He picked at his scone, but he wasn’t really hungry anymore. “If it keeps happening, maybe I’ll go see a doctor.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Phil’s phone buzzed and he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing down at it. His only friends were at the table with him, so who could be texting him?

As it turned out, it was Dan. Even though he was sitting across the table from Phil, he had still sent a text. It made Phil’s lips turn up in a fond smile. The idiot.

Dan Howell - 4:56pm

you ok? you look like youre gonna murder someone.

Phil glanced up and made eye contact with Dan, whose eyebrows were raised pointedly. It made Phil’s smile grow wider.

Phil Lester - 4:57pm

just peachy. kinda wanna go home tho. movie marathon tonight?

Dan Howell - 4:57pm

im thinkin Baby Driver. you in?

Phil Lester - 4:58pm

you know id kill a man to watch Baby Driver. im in :)

With the promise of watching one of his favourite movies later with one of his favourite people, getting through the social outing was just a tad easier. He talked when he needed to talk, laughed when someone told a joke, and kissed Jace before he left, promising to hang out the next day as he was too tired to do so tonight.

He appreciated all of his friends and what they’d done for him, how they were still there for him, but even so, socialising for that long had been extremely tiring.

So tiring, in fact, that he fell asleep on Dan’s shoulder approximately twenty minutes into the movie.

-

Just as Phil had promised, he and Jace hung out the very next day.

They'd been together for a few weeks now, but Phil was ashamed to admit that while Jace was a nice guy, Phil didn't really like him all too much. Sure, he liked him, but Phil didn’t get butterflies like he had when he’d met Nico. He didn’t get that fuzzy feeling in his chest like flowers were going to bloom inside of his lungs, didn’t blush when Jace kissed his cheek, and his kisses just left Phil feeling cold and empty.

It was as if there were something niggling at his mind, something telling him that this was wrong. He had an inkling about why he may feel that way, but he hated the thought of it more than anything.

Phil didn't feel the same desire as he did with Nico. He didn't belong to Jace. He belonged to Nico and nobody else.

So when Jace told him he loved him for the first time that day, Phil didn't feel the overwhelming sense of excitement like he had with Nico. Instead, his stomach dropped, his whole body turned tense, and his smile became fake. Where a warm and inviting person used to be, Phil had suddenly been replaced with a plastic mannequin, one that smiled and looked happy, but was fake through and through.

"I love you too," he said, turning his face down towards his feet so he couldn't see Jace's response. He felt bile rising in his throat, threatening to come out, and he didn't want Jace to know. He didn't want anybody to know.

He just wanted to be normal for once. A person who could gladly tell their boyfriend they loved them without feeling like they were going to puke on their shoes.

He didn’t want his boyfriend to know that he was a liar and a fake, that he would tell a boy he loved him without meaning it because he was afraid to be alone. He just wanted to be needed, to be wanted.

Jace provided that for him. He gave Phil kisses and told him how amazing he was. He bought him candy on the days when he could see Phil, and his entire expression lit up when he caught sight of Phil.

Phil definitely didn’t deserve that, but he didn't know how to tell Jace that he didn’t love him, that he was only with him because he wanted to prove to Nico that somebody else did want him. That somebody else would love him. He didn’t know how to tell Jace that without hurting him deeply, though, so he kept his mouth shut and told him he loved him, the lies under his tongue choking him like poison.

He didn’t know when this had happened or how this had happened, he didn’t know when he’d started to use people for his own personal gain, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. He wanted to patch up all of the pain that Nico had caused him bit by bit, piece by piece.

He would patch himself up with loving words and kisses, with a man who was far too good for him, with a soul that didn’t deserve to be destroyed. Phil would use fake declarations of love to make himself feel whole again, and he didn’t give a damn who he hurt in the process

Sadly, Jace was just the one who had to be dragged into it, but that wasn’t Phil’s problem.

Chapter Twenty

[7teentexts]

Long-Distance Relationship with Vernon

tbh i don’t really like how this turned out (i don’t hate it tho) but I can’t really think of how else could I write this. It’s the first time I post an angst scenario (with a happy ending!) in this blog and I’m sad that it didn’t turn out as good as it could have (since angst if actually one of my favorite things to write and I know I can do better than this)

But as most of you know, I’m going through writer’s block and I’m trying to write the ideas I get. I’ve been trying to finish this request for so long, and I finally did it! It’s not my best, I know, but in this condition, I tried my best, so I hope you all like it

My semi-hiatus is not over, and some things are going on in my life that don’t really make me want to do anything at all, including writing, but I’ll keep working on requests when I have time and ideas.

Thanks to everyone for reading and supporting me!! 

When you woke up and turned on your phone, the first message you were expecting to find was a good morning from your boyfriend

even though he lived very far away from you, he always took one or two minutes once in a while to let you know he was thinking of you and that he missed you

what a sweetheart, i’m soft

however, when all the notifications started appearing on the screen of your phone, you saw something that caught your attention

sure, the message from your boyfriend was still there

a cute “good morning” with a few heart emojis right next to the greeting

but a few messages from your friend sent an one hour before your boyfriend had messaged you caught your eye

so you decided to reply to her before texting Hansol

“(Y/N) did you read the article????

i can’t believe it, like- it might not be true, but the pictures-

omg if it’s true i’m going to kill him for doing this to you

(Y/N)??? are you asleep???

then you probably haven’t read it yet

you wouldn’t sleep peacefully knowing about that

(Y/N) pls wake up”

You were starting to worry a little about whatever she was talking about

she was right, you hadn’t read any articles about anything lately

so no, there wasn’t anything that could have made you feel anxious enough to not let you sleep

“What are you talking about? I didn’t read anything” you texted her

and not even one minute after sending it, she replied

“there’s an article about Vernon dating!!!”

an article about him dating???

did they find out about your relationship???

but how? you two lived very far away and hadn’t seen each for… 5 months?

and at that time you two didn’t even go out, because you were too tired from the long trip to go to South Korea

so

if it couldn’t be a rumor of vernon dating you……..

……

“send me the link of the article rn.

also, tell me it’s from a trustworthy website and not one of those random clickbait articles from soompi or something like that”

“iT’S NOT SOOMPI AND IT IS TRUSTWORTHY

i think

see it for yourself”

so you opened the link she sent you and were greeted by the title “SEVENTEEN’S VERNON WAS SEEN IN A DATE WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND?”

even while scrolling down and reading the article, you didn’t want to believe it, but that didn’t stop a feeling of uneasiness from clouding your mind

and the pictures of him with a girl in different parts of a city and even different stores didn’t really help

‘ok, i should talk to hansol about this’

but guess what

you don’t

you start writing your “good morning” to reply to his message and start a conversation before bringing it up

but then you delete it and lock your phone

you can’t help but feel scared

you trust hansol

if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be with him even when you could only visit him once in a while when you saved enough money

and he couldn’t really visit you because as an idol, he couldn’t just travel to where you were on his few days off

so

after being apart for so long

what if, even if you trusted him and didn’t want to believe that, he just didn’t feel as attached to you as he did before

you loved him so much, maybe after all he didn’t want to hurt you and that’s why he didn’t want to break up with you

‘that’s stupid, right?’ you asked yourself in your mind

and it is stupid tbh, very stupid, silly u

but you still felt anxious and didn’t feel like you could talk to him, at least not at that moment

you got ready to go out and get some fresh air, thinking it’d help you calm down and try to forget about the idea you just came up with

you know, the one about hansol not being in love with you anymore

so once you were ready, you just put your phone inside your purse and then went out of your house

but

it didn’t really help

when you got home, you were less anxious, and that feeling of tightness inside your chest was almost gone

you were almost sure it’d come back later, since after all, you weren’t able to get rid of the idea of him falling in love with someone else 

someone who, even tho he might not see everyday, at least wouldn’t be so far away and make it so hard to see each other without videocalls

you got more messages from him

asking how you were

asking if you had eaten yet a while after the hour you usually have lunch at

asking if you were busy after you read his messages and you didn’t reply

and after more hours of you basically ignoring his messages, he asked if you were okay and if you wanted to talk

still, you didn’t respond and told yourself that you’d talk to him the next day

the next morning, you didn’t have any new messages from him

and you knew why 

he always gave you some space to be alone when you were upset and didn’t want to talk about it

and probably, even at that moment when you were doubting if your relationship could keep going like this

he was still considering your feelings and didn’t want to send you more messages to not make you feel as if he’s putting pressure on you to make you talk

you took a deep breath and finally started typing a message

“i’m sorry that i ignored you”

you waited for more or less 5 minutes, but he wasn’t online

and you didn’t feel like waiting

if you did, you migh back out and you wanted to talk to him about it

and if what you feared was actually true

then, because you truly did love him, you’d let him go

you were sure he’d do the same if he were in your position

“i read the article, and saw the pictures”

in case he hadn’t seen it himself, you sent him the link of the article you had read the previous day

“it’s okay, i’m not really angry”

you weren’t lying when you said you weren’t mad, you weren’t disappointed either

your image of him wouldn’t change if everything turned out to be true

but you were just sad and scared of getting your heart broken

he could have fallen out of love, but you hadn’t

“you don’t have to be afraid of telling me if you want to break up. You know I’ll respect your decision

Just please, if this is all true, you don’t have to hide it from me, that will only make things worse for me, because I do love you with all my heart

So please, just tell me”

Another 5 minutes passed, and you know it was a short time and shouldn’t expect a response so soon, but you were so nervous and your heart was beating so fast that you wished he’d reply right after you sent the last message

But he didn’t, so you had to get up from your bed and try to do something until he finally read your messages

You didn’t have time to do much before the door bell rang

You just showered, brushed your teeth after eating breakfast and put on some clothes to go grocery shopping

Apparently, for the person behind the door, you were taking too long to answer or open the door, so they rang the door bell again and again

“I’m coming! Just give me a second!” You yelled as you made your way from the living room to the entrance, grabbing a jacket before opening the door (since you were still planning to go shopping after taking care of whatever this person needed

you knew it wasn’t your friends because they would have contacted you first (or you hoped they would)

but when you opened the door, you weren’t expect to see hansol standing right in front of you

he looked serious and he didn’t move even after you opened the door

he didn’t say anything either

‘am i dreaming?’ you thought and rubbed your eyes slightly, blinking a few times after that

but he was still there

and before you could say anything, he took you in his arms and hugged you tightly

“Hansol…?” You called his name in a whisper, but he still took a few seconds to finally answer 

“I’m sorry”

You didn’t say anything and just wrapped your arms around him, hugging him back

“It’s okay, I told you” you said, refering to your messages

“It’s not okay” he responded

“I’m not going to leave you, I guess that’s what you thought after seeing that, but I haven’t stopped loving you, I can only love you”

After hearing that, you slowly pulled away to look into his eyes and saw that they were shining

but not in their usual way, when he’d smile looking at you and his eyes had their own special spark

instead, they were full of tears

Seeing him like that made you tear up too, but you didn’t want to cry

If you did, he would cry too, and you didn’t want to see him cry

once again, you know he’d do the same for you if he were in your position

“What are you doing here? When did you get here?”

“We’re going to record some things for our next come back here.”

you felt so bad with yourself

it was all a misunderstanding, he didn’t need to say anything else to let you know that

but still, in just 2 days, you let the idea you got in the heat of the moment after reading the article get to your head and almost destroy your relationship with him

“How did you know how to get to my house?”

“I didn’t know”

you tilted your head to the side slightly, looking at him in confusion

the tears in his eyes were slowly drying as things calmed down and so were yours

“I was looking around the city trying to find the street where you lived reading your address on that letter you sent me when you moved here. I didn’t want to ask you because I wanted to surprise you, but not like this.”

“I’m so sorry, Hansol, I shouldn’t have assumed anything just from that article-”

“No, don’t apologize, because maybe I would have done the same. I understand how you feel.”

You looked away from him after hearing that

Even if he said he wasn’t upset and understood what made you think of that, you still weren’t convinced and still felt bad about yourself

“It’s because we love each other that we worry about possible chances of one of us falling in love with someone else, and it’s even worse being in a long-distance relationship, where you just can’t know what’s happening until I tell you”

He grabbed your hands and your eyes met his again

“Then… Who was that girl? What about the pictures inside some shops?”

You were doubting him anymore, but those two details were still a little unclear to you

“She’s a staff member. There were others around here, and Seungkwan was around there with us too. And, I was looking for something in those shops.”

After saying that, he let go of your hands and took a small box out of the bag he had hung from one of his shoulders

when he opened it and showed its contents to you, you saw two beautiful rings inside

“They’re promise rings.”

After hearing those words, your first reaction was to cover your face with your hands and close your eyes to stop the new tears forming in your eyes from rolling down your cheeks

But soon, Hansol was pulling your hands away from your face and sliding one of the rings on your ring finger, before giving you the other one so you could put it on his ring finger

“I’m sorry, Hansol” you said one last time before sliding the ring on his finger, but he was still smiling at you as he shook his head slightly

“Don’t be. I told you, I know it must have been hard. I know you were just worried and scared. I know you too much.

And I love you too much too, but too much is not enough.”

After hearing his last words, you giggled a little, and blinked a few times to try and get rid of the tears still in your eyes

“You’re so cheesy” you said, letting him embrace you again while chuckling at your response

“Aren’t you going to say you love me too?”

“I love you too, too much.”

there were a few seconds of silence, of you just enjoying being in each other’s arms, of thinking of the promise you just made to each other with those rings

“We might be separated now, but our hearts are one.

One day, we will meet again, and then we will never be apart again

Until that day, always know that I will love you.”

[fragiilexa]

venting 101.

pls ignore this i just need to ven t  about things bc i m sad and that is always the best way u kno??

ok t o start tho I am hella grateful for everything I have & in the end all of this stuff is minor but I just need to get it off my chest ok ok  leggo

 ok so 1 i am just ??? like I love my sister, I love my family, my love for them is overwhelming & never ending but the urge to discover life without them is so incredibly strong and it just freaks me out & makes me sad because I feel like I have such an obligation to stay. Like, that sounds stupid and makes them sound like a burden which they’re not, but I just??? Like my sister always states repeatedly how she wants us to stay really close and never grow apart & I wish that too I always want to be close to her but.... for her that entails meshing our lives together for... ever and being intricately involved in one another’s lives and it’s good and I would like that but there has to be some room you know? some space. Some breathing room you know? I love her to death and she is jsut ... I don’t know. I love her to death & I would literally do anything for her, we’re best friends but it just... it makes me feel incredibly claustrophobic to think of living my entire life being so close to her all the time.... god that sounds horrible. I just ??? and like she compares us to Sam & Dean (from supernatual if any of u haven’t seen it omg) and like... she jokes that I am sam but... i.... am sam. Like not in all aspects obviously but the urge to leave home & discover other things??? hella there?? dean wanting them to be bffs & never leave each others side? & the ride or die together desire? hella my sister. Not that it’s a bad thing because it’s not but I just wish I didn’t feel this way & I don’t know but I love her but it just gets claustrophobic sometimes

ok 2 because this is how my life is going tonight, I hate being so overwhelmed with all my writing. I LOVE having this account, having my multi, having a rpc & also now starting up in an rpg, it’s exciting & I love love it but I get so overwhelmed and I wish I could feel more at ease when I do write because sometimes, usually when I’m having a harder time finding muse, it all just seems incredibly pointless and like maybe it is? maybe all of this is for not but I just wish I could relax more & not care about what I’m doing when I write & just let it come out but it’s hard to do that sometimes & it bothers me that I can’t seem to calm down.

not to mention that like, idk this whole rp community is just... not really known to people who aren’t in it... in the sense that I can’t really be open about it to my sister or anyone in my family because it’s just so ?? idk what the word is... not that it’s ‘bad’ per-se it’s just hard ‘cause it’s so hard to explain to them how & what I write when they know I want to write a book but I can never produce anything for them to look at that’s worth looking at... and to add onto that even if I did have something for them to read I don’t even think I would want them too & It’s not even because it’s like idk bad, or smut lmao or anything like that but writing to me is just incredibly personal and I just honestly don’t share much of my inner thoughts with my family because I feel like if I was completely honest they’d worry... or think something is wrong with me or be somehow disappointed in me which is ten thousand times worse. Not to mention they don’t get the separation aspect of writing ‘cause once my mom said ‘someone would have to be crazy to have written this’ and it was like... game of thrones I think & she was like ‘who ever the writer is is really gross & must be messed up to think this stuff up ‘ and like... i don’t know I just hate hate the thought of her thinking im messed up or that something is wrong with me... and i just really don’t want to disappoint her and goD I don’t know none of this really scratches the surface but I just needed to get some of it off my chest because I just don’t like keeping my family so separated from this ‘cause it’s something I love but on the other hand like it’s just also my sort of escape from them as well not that I need escaping because they are bad. they aren’t. I just....????? i do n’t know i kodnt know I dunno i m so sad I don’t know why but I just need something to myself. for me. its just??? 

on top of this though I still really want a job but I just need to push myself to get one... it’s after the holiday’s, it’s before spring which means I don’t need to focus on driving yet, or learning how & if I did get a job before spring the Job itself would give me a reason to practice driving in a way that makes me more comfortable because it’s just from point a. to point b. and I’ll already know the route & I can just go slow.... plus money.... plus I would get a phone ( that’s like the only way ‘cause I gotta pay for it ) not to mention I know it will gain me some more standing with my family... not that I don’t have one but I am the person who gets picked on bc im always home & on the computer & I don’t like being that person? when I was at camp I loved being productive & I love the feeling of accomplishing something I am just nerve wracked at the start because I know I’ll ‘forget’ things and mess stuff up before I get hhe hang of it. But with that I know I’ll be fine there’s just a learning curve but like???? idk

but... and this is like the only good thing in my mind rn lmao. I have been keeping track of my eating & im getting better at just taking care of myself in that way & like trying not to touch my face & break out as much so THAT is good & hopefully if I can keep track of my eating & start up on working out again I can get healthier & stuff so that’s good. sobs i just if u got this far idk who u are but bless ur soul. I’m just tired. I’m super tired & there is more stuff but after a half an hour of complaining and worrying I’m just going to write this & let it go. I’ll be okay. I know only I can change this stuff, I know I’ll be fine if I continue to take it one day at a time and BREATHE and just... let it go bc that’s all I really can do. 

But to finish instead of just ending this on a sad note imma just put some things im grateful for because they’re basically the same things but just.. everyhing has it’s pros & cons right? But I am so thankful for my sister she means more to me than the world and I wish that she’d see that... I hope that I can communicate to her that fact & just open myself up to reading more so we can have something in common that she loves sigh 

Also im hella thankful for the things I have, for a family that... besides a few things... are happy & get along. I’m thankful for all of you and for the chance & for the heart that I have that seems to love writing so much ‘cause I don’t know what or who I’d be without writing sobs but um also I am just really glad for all of the not so good things I’ve gone through too because they made me who I am and despite some of my downfalls I am a v nice person... & I’m better off because of most of the things that happened... smarter at least. But yeah, Soli Deo gloria I’m just glad that I’m here, and I’m alive & I have the people I have in my life. The urge I have to run away or start an adventure is still there... like moana u know it calls me but right now my island needs me so I’ll stay. I’ll be okay. Things will be okay. But yeah, idk whatthis is im surprised it’s not deleted lmao but I doubt anyone will read this far down. but honestly if u did at this point im giving u a star on ur forehead bc ur dedicated AF. *lays on floor* that is all, lila wants to make starters now bye