#will never not get tired of pulling that phrase out of my ass

[writing-for-life]

@embervoices , I had to put this in a reblog because it got too long for the comments (brevity is not my forte 🤣):

Yes yes yes! I’ve got several metas that riff on exactly the points you mention, also Desire not being the straightforward villain so many think they are; you’ll find them all in my meta-library:

(please don’t feel you need to read them though)

Or rather: If we look at the Endless conceptually instead of seeing them solely as, well, “not human but still people”, we get to a deeper meaning that will otherwise stay inaccessible. It starts with *when* Desire and Despair first enter the scene in the main run (right after The Sound of her Wings, when Dream… well, hears the sound of her wings 😩). The “big sister sets his head straight” is a valid surface reading of #8, but it’s also just that—a surface reading.

You can’t love and be close to Death if you don’t feel drawn to death.

Death can’t advise you without also being her function. She *is* death. The literal thing. And I’ll never tire of saying it, because every time he listens to her in the whole run, he gets closer to her in the real sense.

And another unpopular opinion: When NG coined the pithy phrase that one must change or die, and that Morpheus made his choice, he didn’t mean he just chose death (even if a felt 80% of people seem to read it like that, but that might just be what I see on my feed—other people’s mileage might vary). They were never to be read as mutually exclusive—it was always both. Because metaphorically, something needs to die to change—a viewpoint, a habit, a set of beliefs. And yet, it doesn’t entirely disappear. That’s exactly what happens—omnia mutantur, nihil interit. And Dream is the Prince of Stories—of course he relates to everything via a narrative *he* spins (he can deny it all he wants).

And yes, you can absolutely desire death—it’s so poignant that we meet Desire and Despair for the first time in #10, and also that they show as the twins on this occasion.

And then there is Brief Lives, when Desire (which is *also* a life force, and that’s important contextually in several arcs) actively pulls out of the scheming in more than one way: Dream even says, verbatim, he has no desire to “do this”, when he usually avoids even the word like the plague (and if he hadn’t done it, the ending might have been different, but that would have also been totally past the point). But the influence of his other siblings, or rather how he relates to them, is far more devastating in that moment. And while they all try as siblings, they are also their function. And in their function, they are NOT helping—again, it’s so obvious if we just look at when and how they show up for him:

Delirium made him go on the trip to find Destruction, Death told him off and made him change his mind when he had already abandoned the plan, Destiny advised him but also didn’t because he is what *must* happen either way, and Despair only showed up for him after Orpheus’ death.

Funnily enough, Desire, despite all their scheming, was always the only one who saved his ass (maybe not always for the most unselfish reasons, but they did it anyway). Not just once. Several times over. Overture is all I’ll say (during the actual events of Overture, but also in the flashback to Alianora’s story).

It’s all incredibly clever and heartbreaking at once…

”But He Loved, He Should Have Been Forgiven”

About Free Will, Responsibility and Agency: Lucifer and Dream as Foils

Did I finally jump on the Lucidream/Dreamingstar bandwagon? No, don’t panic (or be eternally disappointed 🤣), because that quote is actually from “Murder Mysteries”, a short story that also exists in comic form (drawn by P. Craig Russell). And while it isn’t officially part of the Sandman Universe (or even DC), I always saw it as somewhat of a blueprint of how NG (re)imagined Lucifer’s Fall. There is enough in Lucifer’s characterisation in the Sandman that makes it quite plausible as a sort of backstory, especially since it was written when the Sandman was still in full swing. But more about that later…

I’ve long wanted to write a meta about Lucifer and Dream as narrative foils, and since I’ve finally started clearing out my drafts, this was a good one to do right now because we are currently discussing “A Hope in Hell” in our community (join us!). Although I have to admit that this one is rather about what transpires when Lucifer decides to abandon their realm in Season of Mists...

When Lucifer learns of Dream's impending return to Hell to finally release Nada, it solidifies their own resolve to leave (I use they/them pronouns because of the show although comics!Lucifer is male presenting apart from the plumbing and also referred to as he/him). By the time Dream arrives, Hell is nearly deserted, with Lucifer basically expelling its last inhabitants. Lucifer tells Dream they rebelled long ago, and that they are not willing to “pay for that one action” anymore. And the most profound truth they share with Dream is the nature of ultimate freedom—the freedom to leave. This is also brought up many issues later, when Lucifer says to Delirium, "I told him, you know. I told him years ago… I told him that I owed him much for having given me the impetus to go. I told him there was always freedom, even the ultimate freedom. The freedom to leave. You don't have to stay anywhere forever.”

And that’s just… ouch. Not just because it so clearly shows that Morpheus also could have left had he just chosen to (then again, he wouldn’t be Morpheus if he had, and even more “then again”: he did in certain ways), but also because we generally see Lucifer as an antagonistic force. But here, they express something akin to gratefulness. And maybe even a hint of regret that Morpheus didn’t also choose the same way. They feel almost sorry for him (my guess is they actually do, and I can never forget their face at The Wake). But what do you do if even freedom feels like a cage?

All of this ties in neatly with the crucial truth about Hell Lucifer reveals: People are there because they choose to be (and that Hell doesn’t need to be a physical place: We can make our own—any place, even in our own minds).

...this is where you wanted to be.

Lucifer explains to Dream:

"Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spend my entire day sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The Devil made me do it.' I have never made one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them.”

He continues, “and then they die, and they come here (having transgressed against what they believed to be right), and expect us to fulfil their desire for pain and retribution. I don't make them come here. They talk of me going around and buying souls, like a fishwife come market day, never stopping to ask themselves why. I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No.

They belong to themselves… they just hate to face up to it.”

Which brings me to one of the most important messages (one of many) of the Sandman: People must take responsibility (and in this particular case not only for their lives but also for their afterlives, which is also a recurring theme). Each person's soul is their own, and no one can take that away. Paradoxically (or maybe not), as Lucifer abandons their own responsibilities, they urge people to take responsibility for themselves: You can drop said responsibilities, with all that entails, as long as you also take responsibility for the fallout.

So what about the wider question of free will then?

Let’s look at Lucifer's rebellion and fall for that, because both raise a lot of questions. Dream tells Lucifer that he remembers them as passionate, and Lucifer responds, “I cared about so many things. I suppose that was why everything began to go wrong. You know… I still wonder how much of it He planned. How much of it He knew in advance. I thought I was rebelling. I thought I was defying His rule. No… I was merely fulfilling another tiny segment of His great and powerful plan.”

And this brings me right to NG’s short story “Murder Mysteries”, which isn’t really officially part of the Sandman Universe, but also… it totally is 🤣. In it, pre-fall Lucifer witnesses the destruction of an angel who killed another angel they loved. Raguel (the angel formerly tasked with said destruction who now walks on earth, coincidentally mentioned in the panel above as one who might also have rebelled) narrates, “‘That was not right. That was not just.’ Perhaps Saraquael was the first to love, but Lucifer was the first to shed tears."

Later, it is revealed that God orchestrated this situation to push Lucifer towards rebellion. God needed an adversary to run Hell and says, “Lucifer must brood on the unfairness of Saraquael's destruction. And that—amongst other things—will precipitate him into certain actions. Poor sweet Lucifer. His way will be the hardest of all my children; for there is a part he must play in the drama that is to come, and it is a grand role.”

Lucifer was basically set up by God, and this somewhat revisionist interpretation of their rebellion and fall opens up larger questions about free will, agency and destiny.

Because although Lucifer's actions were influenced by God, they still carried them out and are therefore fully responsible for them. And by choosing to abandon Hell, Lucifer was taking responsibility for their own life. They faced a choice: remain in Hell as a shadow of their former self, or move on and make peace.

This fragile peace is illustrated at the end of "A Season of Mists," when Lucifer and an old man are conversing on a beach. The old man, despite having lost everyone he loved, remarks that any God who can create such beautiful sunsets couldn't be all bad. After the man leaves, Lucifer admits (basically to God), “He's got a point. The sunsets are bloody marvelous, you old bastard. Satisfied?”

And in a way, even Lucifer comes to terms with their past once they take responsibility for it.

In a way, this mirrors Dream’s arc to a tee. One could certainly argue that he was set on his path by forces outwith his control: Whatever had to happen in cosmic terms was always bigger than Dream. The Fates also held a grudge against him and Orpheus, for more than one reason. Orpheus did make the Furies cry, and they never forgave him for that. Crucially though, he was also responsible for his own actions and carried them out. Only that Dream’s choice was ultimately a different one—or was it truly? Because what is the exact definition of “walking away”? He certainly did not abandon his realm like Lucifer because he ensured it was taken care of. There is no devil-may-care (no pun intended) attitude, because even when choosing death, Morpheus does care about his realm and the dreamers. Deeply.

It is the sole reason why the ending we get is the ending we get, and why we have Daniel as Dream in the end. And while Lucifer takes responsibility for their own life, Morpheus takes responsibility for his own death. But both Lucifer and Morpheus faced a choice: remain on their paths as shadows of their former selves, or move on and make peace. And both chose the latter.

And one takeaway for us, as the readers, might be that if we find ourselves in an intolerable situation, we can always walk away, even if the price may be high. This brings us back to the theme of freedom:

The price of freedom is taking responsibility for our lives, even if we haven't been fully in control of them. The freedom to walk away might not be the ultimate freedom, as Lucifer suggests, but it is significant.

Free will in the Sandman is a topic of debate, and I tangentially wrote about it before:

Destiny carries a book that contains everything that will happen to us, all there was, is and will be. Most of all though, it contains what must happen. One could say that in this universe, there is a strong element of predestination involved. However, complaining about a lack of free will and just pointing towards Destiny’s book also misses the point:

In the end, our lives are always our own (which is mentioned several times, directly or in a roundabout way: in Façade, in Song of Orpheus, in Brief Lives, in The Kindly Ones, in The Wake).

Your life and your death are your own

Some of us might have more to overcome than others, but the sooner we accept our unique challenges (which is not the same as being passive), the more we will focus on what we can change—or what we can meet with forgiveness and (self-)compassion.

Destiny and freedom as opposite sides of the coin matter far less than what we do with them…

[bbina]

CONGRATS BBINA

-🌱

THANK YEWWWW CZENNIE ANON !! i did what nct dream couldnt do.. i graduated LMFAO

[gothicgaycowboy]

✦ Aegon ii Targaryen NSFW alphabet ✦

My modern Aegon’s parents are Rhaenyra and Alicent and he’s bisexual <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you’re in a relationship he can be very affectionate. Making sure you are well taken care of after intense sex or even just getting water and a snack after gentle sex because he can get pretty hungry after it himself. It’s hard work.

However if you’re just a casual hookup he’s not nearly as concerned. He’s confident in himself enough to know you are satisfied after all is said and done but he’s a bit of a dickhead. He’ll give you a sloppy kiss and a pat on the ass as a goodbye but that’s about it. You’ll know he had a good time if he leaves you his number before heading out the door.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Honestly, his cock. He loves how you look taking it and how you moan when he pushes it in for the first time. He’s also a big fan of when you praise it specifically ‘your cock feels so good aegon’ ‘your dick is so pretty’ etc.

When it comes to a partner he’s an equal opportunist when it comes to tits and ass. He loves to suck on tits until they are dripping with his saliva and to watch them bounce as you ride him. For your ass he’s a big believer in smacking in and outside of the bedroom, as well as gripping it while he pounds into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He’s open to cumming wherever you want him to but he’s a big fan of cumming on you. Your ass, your tits, your face, you name a part of your body and he will cum on it. What can he say, he’s always been artistic and painting you with his cum is no exception.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to be pegged desperately. He’s fucked many guys before but he’s never loved bottoming as much as topping.

But the idea of you in a cute little lingerie getup and strap-on railing him while you sing sweet praises in his ears? That’s a whole other story. He’s jerked off to the idea many night in a row but he hasn’t quite gotten the courage yet to ask you. Maybe someday soon.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s face it Aegon is a slut. You think of gender a identity and he has been with them more than once and does that experience ever come in handy with you.

He’s got you crying from pleasure night after night and never seems to tire of it.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying, may include a visual)

Reverse cowgirl all the way. The visual of you bouncing on top of him, hips rolling, ass jiggling with your back arched, his hands on your tits, is the fastest way to make him cum. He also loves pulling your face towards him so he can still kiss you.

Extra points if you do it in front of your mirror so he can watch you fall apart and see your breasts bounce with your movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Depends on the moment.

If either of you make a strange noise, or accidentally injure yourself he’s not too pompous to laugh it off and make a joke about it in the future. But he’s not going to ruin the heat of the moment by creating a comedy special in the middle of it all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He doesn’t really have to shave downstairs to be well groomed. Targaryen’s don’t have much body hair and what they do have is soft and thin.

He does like to grow out his facial hair occasionally and it’s a good look on him. When he’s grown it out he tells you to ride his moustache often.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There’s two different types of sex with Aegon, the kind you started out with in the beginning of your relationship and still have: nasty, dirty, spit in your mouth kind of sex, and the kind you can only recently do: love making (even though he hates that phrase.)

He can be surprisingly romantic. He’s a fan of kissing during sex, holding hands, and eye contact.

He’s got all the duality you need.

J = Jack Off (how often do they do it? how do they feel about it?)

24/7 365. If you’re not around to help him he will absolutely be indulging himself. He has a locked album on his phone filled with pictures and videos of you in compromising positions.

His favourite is the video you sent him of you playing with your pussy, legs spread, tits pulled out of your dress, knickers pushed to the side as you ride your fingers and moan his name. It makes him feel like you’re right there in the room with him.

K = Kink (what are they into?)

What isn’t he into is a simpler question.

He’s a versatile man in general so when he’s in dom mood he likes slapping you on both sets of cheeks but not enough to seriously hurt you. Because he never grew up with a father and the word means almost nothing to him he loves to be called daddy. A little bit of voyeurism. Overstimulation is also a good way to get him going without even having to touch him. Nothing brings him as much pleasure as watching you squirm and whine as he makes you cum over and over again. He also likes to be a little condescending when he’s in charge: ‘what did you say baby? I can’t hear you over the sound your wet little cunt.’

When he’s feeling subby it’s a whole other ballpark. He loves being edged for hours, knowing he’s completely in your control. He’s a fan of being manhandled, chocking, slapping, scratching, anything is on the table for him if you’re up for it.

There’s much more he’s up for but at the end of the day all he wants is to be praised no matter what you two are doing.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

For how kinky he is his favourite basic location is his bed. He’s up to do it truly anytime and anywhere but nowhere feels better than his soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Almost anything will get him going. He’s turned on most of the time. But seeing you taking interest in something he enjoys will always push him over the edge. He remembers going on a rant to you about his favourite album and he glanced up to see you looking at him with genuine interest, and love in your eyes and he doesn’t think he’s gotten harder faster in his.

Looks-wise he adores the sight of you in nothing but a t-shirt and knickers. Morning breath be damned if he sees you wearing that it’s game over. You’ve told him many times you’d be happy to put some sexy lingerie on but he always reassures you he’s just as turned on seeing you in that.

N = Nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He never wants to actually hurt you. The first time you had sex and cried you had to reassure him it was from pleasure and not pain so he would touch you again. Any bodily fluids besides spit and cum is completely out of the question.

Also he’s got two moms so calling anyone mommy is a no-no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves both.

When it comes to giving he could do it all day long. The image of you either sat on his face or lying above him is something he couldn’t describe with words how hot it makes him feel. Your legs as earmuffs is the greatest gift he could ever get. He’s incredibly skilled, his tongue (which is pierced by the way) and jaw never seeming to get tired.

He swears you are the best head he has ever gotten. Your lips wrapped around him makes him understand why people can believe in the afterlife. He also love the sight of you looking up at, eyes wide as you swallow him down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? )

It can go either way depending on his mood.

After a bad day he will most likely take out his frustration by pounding into you until both of you can’t remember your names. The grip he has on your hips leaving bruises the next day. One time he even managed to break your bed frame (don’t worry he paid for a new one).

Morning sex tends to be much more tender and romantic. Slow kisses and shallow thrusts before both of you have to go out into the real world.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often?)

Whenever there’s time for one he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t care how inconvenient it is, if he has opportunity to fuck you he will take it 100% of the time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

He’s lived his life by the motto of try anything once. He even has a whole day dedicated to it.

When you were about 3 months into your relationships you took it as your chance to bring up experimenting and he was so excited. You tried roleplaying, bdsm, wax play, and exhibitionism all in 24 hours.

After that you both decide that one day a month if the other person brought up something they wanted to try you would try it, and anything else that came to mind for both of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

You swear there is nothing that can stop Aegon when he’s horny. Your personal record together is 3 and a half hours with no breaks.

Sometime you tap out before he does.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s got a collection in his bedside drawer: all different types of vibrators, butt plugs, dildos, and fleshlights in all different colours.

He was always up to using them on you especially the vibrators and butt plugs. Pushing them into all your holes as you moaned into his mouth. And you using them on him? That was a wet dream.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

He likes to be teased more than he likes to tease you. The fun in sex for him (other than the fact that it just feels amazing) is watching you succumb to pleasure, not to deny you anything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make?)

He’s pretty vocal. Moans, grunts, gasps all leaving his mouth in the moment. He also gets vocal with his words praising you in all the ways you like.

‘You feel so fucking good darling’ ‘you were made for me only, right?’ ‘I want you to cum for me, please baby’

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He really wants to have a threesome with you. He’s been a little shy to bring it up because he doesn’t want you to feel insecure, or think the reason he wants to is because you aren’t satisfying him and feel pressured to do it. But the idea of you making out with some other guy/girl while he fucks you really turns him on.

X = X-Ray (what’s goin’ on under those clothes?)

His cock is pretty average in size, around 6 inches and decently thick but it’s a beautiful sight. Pink tip with juicy vein running down the underside. Every time you see it you just want to put it in your mouth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Once he starts he can’t be stopped. There’s not a day you’ve been together when you haven’t fucked. (Of course he’s up for period sex.)

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually gets a burst of energy after sex. He likes to make a nice snack after you’re done. If you’re feeling tired he’ll rub your back until you fall asleep and usually watch some television on a low volume after you’ve passed out before curling up next to you.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Rockstar Girlfriend V. | Hazel Callahan

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other.  Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Angst, Fight (not physical) Not proof read. Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my main language.  a/n: I swear things are going to look up in the next part. Thanks you so much for all the love and support. 

part one. part two. part three. part four. 

Hazel Callahan wasn’t the type of girl to believe in spiritual things yet she was praying to God to take her out of the situation she was currently in. Hazel wanted to scream, pull her hair out and let the ground eat her away. But there she was living her actual hell. She was certain that hell was real. Hazel had heard the phrase  “Go to hell” a lot of times in her lifetime.  Sometimes directed to other people, sometimes directed to her by her bandmates in a joking and serious manner, her mom would occasionally slip a “go to hell” when she got tired of her shit, haters online would comment on it everyday, she was used to it by now taking it sometimes as a compliment. But what Hazel never knew was that her living hell was going to become a reality. 

Going on tour. 

Don’t get her wrong. She loved being on the road, meeting fans, getting to know new places,  selling out stadiums, having fun, but as of right now she wanted to walk outside and let the tour bus smash her into little pieces. Management thought that the PR thing should stop but that they were going  to  use the advantage that it brought to make both bands tour together. It didn’t make sense to Hazel at all, why would someone pay to see a rock band and have to deal with some little pop girls as the openers. If you asked her that would be her second hell, her first hell being stuck with Y/n in the damn tour bus. 

Even though Management claimed that they were doing amazing when it came to money. Both bands couldn’t understand why they only had one tour bus for six people and they also couldn’t understand how they couldn’t do two separate tours instead of one. If they had all the money they claimed they had, management could’ve done several tours, not just one big one, let alone have the necessity to share  a bus. 

Hazel really needed to get her mind off things with her managers bitching and moaning about the tour, PJ and Josie not deciding what songs to pick for the set list, Isabel and Brittany waking her up at the crack ass of dawn practicing their dance moves and just Y/n’s mere existence made her blood boil. She had been sucking up everything for the past week and she couldn’t hold it any longer. If she had to hear someone else fighting or hard footsteps she was going to throw herself off the bus.  She was on edge and she needed to let loose. 

So when they made their first stop of the tour near a club, things started to look up for Hazel. She had managed to slip away from one of the bodyguards' grasp , ending up having the best night at the club. Alcohol, sex and drugs. The rockstar dream, Hazel was enjoying herself pushing past the fact that she was going to regret everything on tomorrow's show. But as of now she felt on cloud nine and she didn’t want to leave. As she tried getting in the bus as quietly as possible not wanting to gain anyones attention but sadly as she opened the door her eyes landed on e/c one’s. Hazel quickly rolled her eyes watching how Y/n’s beautiful skin glowed, while her ears were covered in her headphones. Y/n’s eyes wandered Hazel’s face placing the guitar she was holding down next to her. 

“You do know you have a show tomorrow, right?” Y/n said breaking the silence while pushing her headphones off. Hazel muttered a river of curse words while imitating Y/n’s voice in an annoying  manner. The only thing Y/n could hear was Hazel’s whines escaping her lips but aside from that all of it was gibberish. Hazel rolled her eyes once again as she stumbled in taking her shoes off while her gaze stayed on the floor looking at the shiny guitar that was next to Y/n’s leg. Her eyes took in the guitar, noticing her name engraved at the top. 

“What the fuck are you doing with my guitar?” Hazel said angrily, snatching it from Y/n’s side and placing it back in her case. Y/n watched Hazel’s toned arm flex as she put the guitar away. She quickly shut the book she was currently writing on, snapping herself back into reality. 

“I thought you wouldn’t mind since I’ve used it before” Y/n replied nervously as Hazel turned to face her, visually alarmed. 

“Actually, L/n. I do mind. Don’t touch my fucking things. I don’t want you near my things let alone touching them. Everything you touch you fucking ruin. Don’t you think you have ruined enough things in my life already ” Hazel exclaimed loudly pulling on her hair while towering over her. Y/n looked up from her seat nervously scared of what was to come watching Hazel’s uneven breathing and pissed off face. 

“You don’t mean that Hazel, you’re just high” Y/n replied attempting to stand up but instantly Hazel pushed her down trapping her on the couch with her hands on Y/n’s shoulders. Y/n froze dead in her spot not knowing the things that were going through Hazel’s head. 

“Oh, I meant every single thing. Do you think I forgot what you did? You know what… You’ve always hated me for having everything, everything you ever wanted. But there’s a difference between you and me. Everything I have, I’ve worked for it. Never had I made someone fall in love with me so they would write me songs. I would never waste someone’s time. At least I’m actually talented to do my work. At least all my awards and all my fame is because I’m actually talented.”  Hazel yelled, taking Y/n by the chin to make her look at her.  She was pissed and she needed to take her anger on someone. 

“I just did the same thing your mom did” Y/n replied nonchalantly while looking up from her lashes. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hazel asked confused, leaning down, inches away from Hazel.

“I fucked the person in charge just to get what I wanted. Just like your mom did so you could have the success you have” Y/n replied softly, but as those words left out her mouth she instantly regretted it watching the life leave Hazel’s face. She angrily let go of her face, taking a deep breath and picking up her guitar case. 

“Go to hell, Y/n. You’ve changed, all  this fame has gotten way past your head” 

“Where are you going, Hazel?” Y/n said standing up from the couch and following close behind. 

“If I'm such an untalented person and I’m in the band because of my mom. I bet they don’t need me for tomorrow's show. You’ll do a great job explaining that to management. Now do me a favor and go to hell” Hazel yelled, slamming the tour bus door on Y/n’s face. 

...

thank you for reading!

previous imagine

[opluffys]

Taken For a Ride-

this was meant to be shorter but i kinda ran with it lol. posted first to my archive, pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. pls enjoy!!!! :)

tags- jealousy, multiple orgasms, creampie, rough sex, hand jobs, vaginal sex, possessive sex/behaviour, size kink, praising, forced voyeurism, threats of violence, fem reader.

4.3k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Ghost's eyes were heavy on you, on your timid figure that shied away from another man's unwanted touch. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles blanching as his stare trailed to the man's hand attached to your shoulder, blouse wrinkling due to his harshness. Ghost's leg was rapidly moving up and down, not a nervous tick, more of an angered one.

Say something.

Hell, you didn't even need to say a single phrase, just flash your hand at your oppressor. Flash that huge glittering rock on your finger and no doubt he'd shy away.

But, you didn't do any of that.

Instead, Ghost watched as you sidestepped your coworker, knees wobbling as you tried to walk away atop your stiletto heels. You quickly regained your balance, but you found yourself against the man's chest, hands at your side as he 'helped' you stand straight.

Ghost knew, though. He knew that it had been just a sorry fucking excuse to lay a single hand on you. To feel how soft you were, to see if you'd melt into his touch, but to his exultation, you recoiled away. As if the hottest flame licked at your smooth skin, burning you and leaving the ugliest of scars.

But, that touch was enough for the man. He got to feel your waist, he got to feel the flesh of your ass in that stupid fucking miniskirt that you complained to Ghost about over and over again. No, this man had gotten to feel you. Something that wasn't his, would never be his.

As nice as you were, you shrugged it off, waving him away. Ghost's stare never strayed away from you, and his grasp on the wheel loosened ever so slightly at seeing your eyes shine towards him. Your steps were giddy, walking happily to his ridiculously large vehicle and climbing in.

You looked tired, yet exuberance radiated from you. Your makeup still in pristine condition as you sighed, leaning back into the leather seat. "Hellish day, did I make you wait too long?"

You always were one to worry about others, you did make him wait too long, but you didn't need to know that. Didn't need another thing to worry about.

He only hummed lowly in response, his gaze now shifting over to the scum that had been your coworker. He climbed into his own car, smaller but just as expensive. He quickly pulled out of the large parking lot, and at this point, Ghost wasn't thinking straight, his hands shifting gears and on the steering wheel.

You hadn't noticed that Ghost was on your coworkers trail. Instead, you'd been watching out of the passenger window, blinking slowly in awe of the raw beauty that was the night sky. The glow of the stars always looked dull in comparison to you, the shine of your eyes looking like the most luxurious item.

Though, after about five minutes on an unfamiliar road, you then questioned him, about why the two of you weren't on the regular way home.

"Shortcut."

You then didn't ask anymore questions, just relaxing in your seat and watching Ghost drive.

•

To say that you were furious, a true understatement. For he knew that your true anger was resulted in silence, the argumentative status of your marriage at times reflecting this.

"What are we doing here," You started, jaw tensed at watching your coworker get out of his car and walk into his lavish looking townhome.

"Out." He left no room for a discussion. Zero room to attempt and calm him down, to reassure him and tell him it was nothing, you were plenty aware of what he'd been angered about.

You followed after Ghost, anger turning to pure distress and worry. The click of your heels echoed emptily into the void of the night. You quickly caught up to him, despite his ridiculously long legs making quick strides, leaving you to scramble behind his hulking figure.

Not a knock at his doorstep, but Ghost's fist struck at the mahogany of the door, his sleeve rolling up to reveal the dark ink that covered his veined arms. You worried your lip, looking up at him with the sweetest expression, for this scumbag, or your husband? He'd hold this against you later, no doubt about it.

"Simon, please." The crimson of your lipstick following your lips every word as your long lashes batted up at him. The way you so nicely, so cutely asked nearly made him listen to you, to turn back on his heel and drag you home with him. But the sadistic thing inside of him was telling him to stand his ground.

The two of you stood at your colleagues doorstep, awaiting for him to open up. And when he did, you couldn't hide the distressed look on your face.

His eyes lingered on your own for a moment too long, a moment in which you didn't notice, but Ghost did. He would notice for you, he would fight your battles for you, he'd do anything for you.

Ghost's stare on your coworker was harsh, and your colleague looked at him, head craning to just meet his gaze. Fear riddled his body, looking into the face of death himself.

"Come on then, love."

Your coworker clearly flinched at hearing Ghost's booming voice, eyes flickering over to you in confusion.

You stilled, unable to find your words. You were unaware of what you were supposed to say, anyway. Ghost will help you, though. That's what good husbands do, help out their little wives.

"You want her?"

You were utterly shocked at Ghost's succinct question, sounding more like a command to the shaking man.

"Excuse me?" His voice was frail, pathetic and meek sounding.

Ghost walked forward, while you followed directly behind him, cornering your colleague right in his own home. Something only Ghost was capable of, evidently.

You instinctively shut and locked the door behind you, joining Ghost at his side, unapologetic eyes meeting your coworkers harrowed ones.

"You want to fuck her? My wife?"

"What?! No, o-of course not!" His words were unconvincing to the two of you, looking powerless in a corner as he began to slide down the wall, tears in his eyes. He probably thought that Ghost was going to kill him. And oh, how he had wanted to. He'd shackle his huge hand around his thin neck and squeeze, not like how he'd squeeze you- lightly and hearing you moan and watching you writhe underneath him. He'd do it slowly, at a torturous pace while he witnessed the life drain out of him, a miasma of death surrounding your coworker while Ghost would pound into you. Proving and showing that you're his.

Ghost briefly left the room, just leaving you and your petrified coworker in the living quarters.

"What the fuck was that?" He asked, approaching with shaking steps. You had been well informed that Ghost had carried a jealous streak within him, and as ashamed and twisted as you were to admit such a thing, you somewhat enjoyed it.

You didn't even notice Ghost back next to you, grabbing your colleague by his collar, dragging him, as well as a heavy dining chair up the stairs. You were on his trail like a lost little kitten, the sound of your heels on the wooden steps deafening.

The two, rather, three of you went into the master bedroom, Ghost set the chair down and forced your coworker to sit. He grabbed a rope from whoever the hell knows where, and bound your colleague down to it. He began to shout and yell, telling Ghost to untie him, begging you to do something about it, to help him. You thought he was a man tortured from the way he'd been screaming.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth."

Immediately, his cries ceased, sitting still on the wooden chair, his tied hands stopping their attempts of escape. Your thighs squeezed against one another at his display of power, his rough tone instilling unadulterated trepidation into this man.

"You want her," Ghost slipped the small scarf from your neck, tying it around his eyes. It seemed as your perfumed and floral scent eased your coworkers edged nerves, as he relaxed under his confines slightly. Ghost noticed this, and it drove him absolutely fucking insane. "so I'll show you that you can't have her."

Ghost led you over to the neatly made bed, soft duvet covers underneath your short and revealing uniform. You kicked off your heels, hearing them clack loudly once they landed on the ground. You felt Ghost's gloved hand at your side, lifting your pencil skirt to peel off your already soaked panties. He brought you atop his lap, clearly able to feel his hard length through his jeans.

He lifted the bottom of his balaclava to expose his lips and his strong jaw, covered with stubble. He hungrily kissed you, red smearing over his own lips as teeth clacked and tongues meshed against one another. You didn't bother hiding the sweet moan that left your lips, swallowed by the man in front of you.

The two of you separated, a string of saliva still bonding you together. You leaned upwards and bit his bottom lip, planting a quick kiss against him as you continued to gyrate your hips against his erection.

"You'll never get to feel her lips against yours."

You heard the audible whine that left your coworker, being left in a room with his eyesight being temporarily taken, his hearing had been heightened. All he was able to hear was the wet smacking of lips against one another, and it was so clear to him, he could almost see the two of you together, kissing at one another desperately.

Your dainty fingers moved to toy with his belt, suckling at his neck as you slid it away from the hoops of his jeans. He leaned over to your shorter stature, lips at the shell of your ear, having you shiver against him.

"Impatient, are we?" He whispered, voice hoarse and low, such a teasing tone only for you to hear.

"So are you." You teased back, grabbing his impressive bulge through his boxers, before hurriedly taking his length out and into your hand. Hot and heavy, you stroked his thick cock, having him buck his hips against your hand while he groaned lowly.

You felt his hands begin to roam your body, following the ins and outs of your supple curves. He began to squeeze the flesh of your ass through that short skirt, hearing you whine lowly in response. He was just teasing you as you teased him. Slowly touching you as you were slowly pumping his length, thumb swiping across his engorged tip, smearing precum all over his large cock. He grunted deeply in your ear, slapping your ass harshly, your sharp moan egging him on.

"I want it, want it so bad," You broke first, feeling his hands wander at the meat of your thigh, his grip so harsh that he tore a hole in your stockings. You'd 'yell' at him later, knowing that he'd buy you a better pair.

"Go ahead and take it then."

Once you got the go ahead, you lifted your hips and lowered yourself onto his cock, splitting your pussy open due to the sheer size of him. The stretch of him inside was so good, borderline painful, but it had you bouncing atop him with fervor. Your whimpers and moans filled the room, Ghost's low grunts joining in as he felt your warm and wet heat snugly around his cock, squeezing him just perfectly.

"You'll never get to feel her tight little pussy."

The agonising scream that left your coworker had you reeling, pausing your ministrations. You attempted to turn around and see him, but Ghost took ahold of your zygoma, forcing you to turn back at him. His eyes were rough on you, look at me, only me.

Ghost then began to easily slide you atop him, slightly annoyed with your halting movements. His covered hands attached to the fat of your hip, manoeuvring you over his dick again and again, hearing you moan against his clothed pectoral muscles.

Your drooling pussy pulled his cock inside your gummy walls in desperation, his veiny cock dragging against your heat deliciously. Your mind was cloudy, filled with thoughts that were solely Ghost. Your only thoughts were just him him him.

Ghost grunted, whispering a praise out to you, hand clasping against your rear, squeezing the fat that remained there. You whined quietly, thighs beginning to burn as you rode him. He was just so fucking big, you had to lift yourself so high to get him balls-deep inside of you.

"Tired, 'm so tired, baby." You babbled nonsensically, throwing your arms over his neck, sinking down onto his cock before sitting still. The two of you feeling your essence drip down his cock and onto the both of your spread thighs.

"Got you dumb already?" His hands kneaded your cheeks now, easing the sting of his earlier slaps.

"Please, please. Need it so bad, need you to ruin me." You plead, bringing him lower to you to sloppily kiss one another. You felt his cock twitch deep inside of you, his head kissing your cervix as he stayed buried inside of you, enjoying the torturous hug of your heat.

"Can't say no to you, can I, sweet girl?" He hummed, thumb at your kiss-swollen lips. You eagerly took his covered digit into your mouth, the taste of smooth leather taking over your senses. "My good girl," He growled, having you respond with a muffled whimper due to his meaty thumb in your mouth.

"You'll never hear her beg for you."

You heard a sniffle come from behind you, and, he's crying, fuck. You began to feel sympathy eat at you, but another feeling was within you, one that you had been unaware of. Your husband, being the keen man he was, didn't miss the way you squeezed him tightly, and he wondered if you'd been enjoying this more than he was.

Ghost flipped you onto the bed, ass in the air while your head was buried in the mattress. This time, he had you facing your bound coworker, tears streaming down his face, your scarf beyond ruined. You felt so dreadful, as if you'd committed the most heinous crime. This man was just handsy with you, grabbing at your hips and ass, and Ghost just so happened to see once.

Now, he had an unfeasible debt to pay.

You felt Ghost's presence behind you. His heavy hand spreading your thighs further as you sunk down lower onto the king sized mattress. His engorged tip pressed at your slit, collecting more of your slick before pushing into you slowly. His fat cock slowly invaded your insides inch by inch, gummy walls having a vice grip on him, squeezing him just so fucking tight- just how he liked it.

"Tell me, pet," He grunted, accented voice heavy with lecherous intent, "did you like it when he touched you?" Ghost took your chin in his gloved hand, tilting your gaze to make contact with your colleague, whimpering pathetically as he sat still, shackled in his own home.

"No! No, just you Ghost, just you! Fuck, you feel so good, so deep inside," You stopped making sense long ago, brain turning to putty just due to your husbands touches and words. Yet, you still recalled to not say his real name in front of anyone else. "Such a smart and pretty girl you are." He praised, his honeyed words stroking your ego. You were pleasing him, too. You drove him mad, too. You made him come to such a length as this- to shackle your coworker just for touching you.

"Gonna give you what you want now, love."

You whimpered out to him, backing your hips against his stilled cock, throbbing steadily inside your warm walls. He chuckled at your desperation, hands attaching themselves to your hips.

His pace was wild, his hips slamming against your backside and watching your soft body recoil in response to his movements. Just in and out and in and out, your body moving accordingly to his rough thrusts. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head, feeling his dick brush and drag against every sweet spot hidden within you. Only places that he had been aware of, your shorter and daintier fingers being unable to please you like he could.

Hell, he knew your own body better than you would ever. Ghost had been the most talented and brilliant musician, able to tweak and tune your body in return to hear you sing beautifully for him. Though, the best song that you played were whenever he plucked at your heartstrings, playing them as the most complex harp.

"You'll never touch her again."

A hard thrust from him behind you, knocking the air from your lungs. Your heart thrumming wildly in your thoracic, your own tears staining the duvet as he was buried so deep inside of you.

"You'll never feel how her hands are on you, so loving and careful."

His grip on your hips tightened possessively, hips continuing to slam into your wet heat haphazardly, yet with unknown precision. You cried out to him, whimpering the same 'Ghost, Ghost, Ghost,' again and again, every thrust frying your brain beyond repair.

"You'll never know her little signs, showing that she's so fuckin' close."

You whimpered against the quilted covers, drool leaving your painted lips (what remained of the lipstick, anyway), your back arching already more than it had been. You weren't the most flexible, but Ghost was able to bend you in any position he'd wanted, with minimal complaints from you.

Your etched shut eyes suddenly popped open, the loudest, most scandalous moan leaving your swollen lips, feeling Ghost's cock press tightly against your womb. You couldn't hold back anymore, toes curling, back arching, chest heaving as you finished onto his dick, a muted scream coming from you as you slumped forward and into the bed.

"You'll never get her to do, that, for you."

He leaned down to you, "You did so fuckin' good for me, love. So good." He kissed your cheek tenderly, before you turned to him and engaged in a sloppy and open mouthed kiss, all while he had shallowly thrusted into your cunt.

The two of you continued to steal each other's breath away. Swallowing one another's moans and groans as the messy kiss marched on, despite your needs of oxygen.

Your overstimulated nerves cried every single time Ghost stuffed you full of his fat cock, crying deeper and deeper into the mattress. Despite this, you had known his signs, too. From the way his chest rumbled lowly with a quiet growl, to his throbbing and twitching cock nestled deep within your sweet heat. But, the largest sign of his was how he would draw the crudest of circles onto your swollen clit, trying to bring you over the edge with him one last time.

"You'll never feel her, never get her," He doubled over you, groaning loudly as he felt your velvety pussy snugly squeeze him at his words. You felt another orgasm pull at you, your clothed chest moving back and forth against the textured duvet- providing some friction against your stiffened nipples.

"Ghost," You whimpered, fluttering your long lashes closed as you felt your entire body convulse and twitch lightly. For your second orgasm had washed over you like the most pleasant tidal wave, sneaking up on you like the most elite assassin.

"You'll never get her," Ghost repeated, his pace animalistic and so rough, losing your steady rhythm of breath with every single thrust, "never get her, because she's mine."

You moaned out to him, sounding like you were trying to say something, but ultimately lost on the two of you. He had fucked you stupid, unable to form or speak coherently after just a few strokes of his dick inside of your tight heat.

"Isn't that right, pet?"

"Yours, 'm yours, Ghost." You mumbled, your body mimicking jelly as you were completely unable to move, just the back and forth motions of Ghost fucking into you roughly.

"Good answer," He hummed, sounding proud of your submission. Though, the ring on your finger should be enough of a testament to such a thing.

You felt his hands squeeze your sides harder, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy as his fat tip continued to push right up against your womb. You couldn't handle another, no, you just couldn't.

It seems as Ghost would spare you for tonight. As you felt him drape himself over your collapsed body, grunting deeply before you felt himself spill his seed within your abused hole with a low curse. You felt so utterly full of him, his cum filling you to the absolute brim that it began pouring out of you.

Ghost hissed quietly, pulling out of your tightening cunt, almost like you didn't want him to stop. His eyes were then attached to your pussy, oozing his seed as you'd lost the only thing that kept it within you. He 'tsked', feigning disappointment before his thick and gloved fingers fucked his cum back inside of you, your puffy lips shining with his as well as your own release.

As you slowly regained your previously lost senses, you then heard the loud cries of your coworker. Sobbing and howling wildly, meek pleas to 'stop' or to 'let me go', to angered yells of 'fuck you' or 'you both are sick'. You didn't even notice that you had tuned him out completely, focused on just Ghost.

You felt Ghost's covered fingers take hold of your chin, tilting your head upwards to view your coworker. "His words deceive him," He laughed, and you gasped in horror.

He was hard.

Not only that, but his hips bucked up against his sweats, attempting to get any feeling of delicious friction while being bound to his chair.

"Was probably thinkin' of you," His voice was back in your ear, kissing your jaw before leaving a mark that would bloom into a rich and pretty violet in the morning.

"Need to get my message across,." He kissed your cheek, a quick and kind thing that had your heart palpitating like crazy. "Wait in the car for me, sweetheart." He slid the heavy keys into your palm, watching as you tiredly nodded, you had been utterly exhausted, so you didn't want to question him or his motives.

You took shaky steps towards the door, ditching your stiletto heels as you knew Ghost would get them for you. You just wanted to curl up into his car and nap while he did, whatever, it was that he was doing. Nothing good, you knew, but you couldn't find it in yourself to attempt and stop him. Besides, you heavily doubted that you were capable of getting your words through to him, he was headstrong, already set with his actions long ago.

Your knees wobbled as you walked like a newborn fawn towards Ghost's car, struggling to get into the passenger seat as you locked yourself in.

Sighing at the slight throbbing discomfort you felt in the midst of your legs, you had been alone with your thoughts. And just now and then, reality had begun to set in.

He did this for you.

He couldn't have proved his point in any other way, but Ghost had done it in the way that he had known. His way in which he'd been accustomed to, as well as knowing his method would be gifted with positive results at the end of the day.

He had your heart in his clutches, and although you didn't always understand his intentions nor his motives, you wouldn't have it any other way.

•

You stirred in your sleep, awakening and mumbling something lowly as you felt a radiating warmth next to you. You were in your shared bedroom now, in the tight hold of Ghost while he slept soundly.

You smiled, nuzzling yourself deeper into his hold of possession. But, in the corner of your eye, you noticed something. A neatly folded square of cloth, and you squinted, hiding your gasp of surprise at seeing that it had been your scarf. That same piece of silk that was secured to your coworkers face, obstructing his vision while Ghost fucked you right in front of him. Robbing his sight, and cursing him with the ability to hear the two of you.

You'd talk to him about it in the morning.

•

When you had awoken from your comfortable drowse, you groaned in annoyance when you had seen that Ghost was long gone. His side of the bed had ran cold, but you couldn't think of such a thing for too long, as you had work to attend to.

•

Your workday marched on uneventfully, but you couldn't help but notice the absence of a particular individual. Of course, you had just thought that he was avoiding you like the worst illness out there, but he wasn't here at all.

Your thoughts were plagued, negative things brewing in your head and running wildly. Was he out spreading rumours about you? Or was he going to get you fired? You felt the feeling of anxiety eat at you, opening your phone to contact your husband, in hopes of him being able to ease your edged nature. Just as he's done a near thousand times before, holding you in his strong arms while he would fix any and all problems that you had.

But, your scrolling had quickly halted when you noted how he'd already texted you hours ago. A single sentence that had ended up both calming you, and hardening your buzzed nerves even more.

'Don't worry about that fucker anymore.'

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 8; "My reputation's never been worse."

“This is so fucking stupid.”

I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket, eyes rolling at the sight of the boys, noise makers between their lips, some jank ass sign unraveling in the wind.

“Your mom’s fucking stupid,” Max fired back with his usual goofy smile, words muffled from the noise maker in his mouth. His knocked his fist against my elbow gently as he passed by, moving to help Cy hold up the poster board.

They’d bought it at a random Walgreens, after having forced the Uber driver to pull over, abruptly. Then, with bumpy hands and terrible penmanship, they wrote out some sarcastic for Sam about returning home from prison.

“Don’t be a sour puss, dude,” Adam replied. His brows were furrowed, chin dipping side to side in disagreement to my negative statement.

I looked to him, watching as he pulled a cone shaped hat down onto his hair, the rubber band snug against his chin. The meer humor of the too-small hat on his head made his words lose any meaning. I wanted to laugh, but instead I shot back, my brows skeptically, sarcasm quick as air, “Who? Me? No, never!”

Adam scoffed a laugh. His hat was finally adjusted now, hands falling to his sides exasperatedly. “Seriously. Just try to be nice, for once. Sam said Daisy’s, like, so sweet.” My skepticism only darkened my gaze, sarcasm sinking into genuine wonder, “So, what, we’re gonna be dancing around some child all summer?”

It was a valid question. When Sam asked us about Daisy joining the tour for the summer, everyone else just jumped on board. I, however, took a little convincing. What business did she even have here, 5,000 miles from home? It’s not like she had any professional connections to touch on, nor was London that interesting. Or, maybe I was just being a pessimist, again…

To say the least, I had trust issues. Or, in my therapist’s more light turn of phrase, I was cautious, careful to new people because I had a lot on the line with my career and had been through numerous situations with others that ended up with me, well…in therapy.

Max battled with the cardboard sign as the wind seemed to be winning the war. He struggled to get the words out as he scuffled to straighten its edges, which seemed to take more work than it needed to, “She’s literally only 5 years younger than you.”

“So, a child?”

“So, a 23 year old, grown woman. She’s really smart, Sam said. I’m sure you can have some fun conversations about the elements and shit.”

“Sam’s biased,” I murmured, focused now on the cigarette between my pointer and middle fingers. I dallied with lighting it, displaced energy in the act. It was early. I was tired.

“Sam’s one of your best mates,” Cy shot me a look. “Listen, just give her a chance. Stop moping just because you think some woman’s gonna take away from our guy time this summer.”

I straightened up, offense hitting my features like a stone wall, “When did I say that? I’m just worried we’re gonna have to cater to some child while we’re trying to literally do our jobs. She’s gonna be pursuing around like she’s in some Taylor Swift video while we’re going to be trying to earn our income. It’s just…weird.”

I’d never mention that fear to them- the fear I had of this trust. I think maybe if they all looked at me a little more closely, they’d see it. They’d see the fear in my eyes. But, I was really good at displacing my anxieties onto a separate, less pressing issue.

If I was ever terrified the sky was going to fall, then, suddenly, I was lashing out about the uncut grass in the front yard, randomly. Gotta love unhealthy coping mechanisms. Cy was still looking at me all judgmentally. I knew he wanted to lecture me further, but he simply reached over, patted my shoulder, and said, “Just…try not to be a dickhead, okay? Let the girl enjoy her summer.”

Max continued on, blabbering about something or the other. “I’m, like…Ollie, have you ever even seen a Taylor Swift video? I am pretty sure not a single fucking one takes place in Europe. They’re all super conceptual and abstract. Honestly, you might actually love some of ‘em. What’s that older one? With the trees and shit?”

“Out Of the Woods?” Adam was quick to fill in the blanks. I looked to him out of the corner of my vision, gaze narrowed. Of course he knew which one it was. He held his hands up, defensively, “What? My little cousin loves her.”

“Mhm,” I nodded, slow.

He trailed off, looking away, “And, maybe, you know, I do, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Max latched onto Adam’s help, continuing his rant about Taylor Swift, of all things. “Fuck! Out of the Woods! It reminds me a lot of the Fall for Me video! There’s, ya know, water…lots of running…self-deprecation. Fuck, a Sleep Token/Taylor Swift collab would go so hard!”

“Shit, could you imagine some real drums on one of her songs?” Cy perked up at the thought, fingers thrumming against the corner of the sign that he’d now laid his clutches on. “Sick!”

“Oh, God,” I rubbed my forehead, itching more and more to finally light up my cigarette, puff out a few smokey deep breaths. “I can feel the glitter and sparkles starting to fucking suffocate me! Can we please talk about something else?”

“Whatever, Ollie,” Adam flicked his hand towards me dismissively. He went to change the subject when his phone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out, in one fluid motion, and read whatever text he’d gotten. “Shit! They just got their bags! Quick! Hold up the sign!”

Max shuffled around, all energetic, trying to make everything look perfect. He quickly tried to put a party hat on my head. I had to shove his entire body into Adam to stop him from getting the string down over my chin.

“Fuck off!” I cursed, brushing out the torso of my hoodie. He giggled, annoyingly, knowing he’d successfully gotten on my nerves. Again.

Max turned his attention away from me and to the two people who had just walked out of the airport, suitcases rolling behind them, backpacks looped around their shoulders. I noticed Sam, first, his head dipped down into his phone, curly blonde hair mopped up atop his head. He was dressed, head to toe, in all black. It was a welcome site, the fifth member of our posse back in our home country, our original stomping grounds, even if he wasn’t from here.

I let a smile overtake my features, excitement bubbling in my cheeks. It was actually really good to see him.

I wouldn’t have even paid any attention to the girl standing beside him if she didn’t stick out so much, like a sore thumb. Her bright pink sweater, gray sweatpants, the purples and greens swirled around her suitcase. Every single thing touching her was just…so colorful. Even the expression on her face, wide grin, cheery eyes- though they were circled by tireless bags- it was all so glaring.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically.

As Sam fumbled about on his phone, she stepped forward, excitedly taking an extra noise maker, my left over party hat, from Max. She barely got the hat on before Sam was looking up, our small crowd erupting into joyous ruckus that caused him to nearly drop his phone.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I watched her, carefully, as she went through the motions of greeting everyone. Adam was his shy, introverted self. Cy was charismatic, Max obnoxiously flirty.

And she was just…constant, through it all. Upbeat, grinning, encouraging to every single average word that my friends told her.

And then she was looking at me, offering her hand. My head shook slightly as if to unscramble my consciousness. I glanced between her hand, her own gaze, unsure of what to do or say. I had been too busy watching. I barely brought myself out of that entrapped stare before my name came fumbling out of my mouth.

“Oliver.”

She seemed a little put off, taken aback, after I blatantly ignored her outstretched hand. But, I didn’t want to shake it. I was afraid that, if I touched it, she might shock me, sting me, scorch me with that bleeding sunshine she seemed to have sticking to her skin.

Besides, I couldn’t trust her, right? Right.

I turned my head away, feeling somewhat ashamed for the way I brushed her off. There was a rejected twinkle in her eyes, one that I could not handle. Moving on from that interaction, or in an attempt to do so, I tilted my chin down, glazing my eyes to the concrete. I shrunk beneath the cover of my hood. I didn’t need to feel bad for anything. I didn’t even know her, nor did she know me.

As the others finished up with their exchange of greetings, the group itself began making its way back to the Uber, with Sam and Daisy now a part of the flow.

The car ride back was objectively short, though it felt longer than the time on Apple Maps said. I rode in the back with the guys, pressed up against the door due to the lack of space. My long knees jutted out awkwardly. The bone of my leg ached from knocking against the door with each bump in the road that the car hit.

I stared out of the window, hoping the painful time would pass quicker. The ugliness of London stared back at me. A small, curious part of me kept darting my eyes towards the front seat, where she sat. But I stilled my gaze on the city.

That was maybe part of the issue- I just didn't understand why Daisy was so interested in visiting this place anyways. It was boring, bland. I associated the cloudy gray skies and rainy summers with some of the worst times of my life. This city looked the way I felt for most of it, too. The people were shit, too. Rude, always in a rush, unforgiving and untrustworthy.

What adventure could one find in this wet, concrete maze of hell?

Bored, I moved my attention back to the interior of the car, still resisting that urge to look forward. Adam, Cy, Sam, and Max were a cacophony of lost conversation, catching up, rumbling laughter. I listened for a moment, intently awaiting her to throw in her two sense. She seemed like the type to talk somebody’s ear off. Perhaps I could read between her sentences, find out her motives, her intentions, find something to use against her, so I could easily hate her and put distance between us-

Oh.

She was sleeping.

Her body was slumped against the door, neck pillow twisted around to support her forehead from the glass of the window. She cradled her hands to her stomach, the blanket she had just up underneath her chest.

The curve of her face caught my eye the most, the simple stillness of the lines around her lips, the peaceful flutter that ruffled her lashes every so often. I wondered what she dreamt of- rainbows, sunshine, lollipops. I bet she was the type of person who would respond, "World peace," when asked what she would wish for if she had a genie.

God. I really was an asshole. Here was this stranger, this beautiful, seemingly kind stranger, trying to catch up on sleep after traveling nearly 20 hours…and here I was, creating an entire persona around the two facts I actually knew about her. Maybe I should give her a chance, like the guys said. Maybe I should let her in, even if it was barely past the surface, and try to be amicable.

Maybe she wouldn’t sell my name to the paparazzi. Maybe she wouldn’t leak photos of me online, or call news sites to gain traction on social media.

I nearly flinched as she shifted in her slumber, so lost in my thoughts that the disruption was a panic. Her lips parted, just so, as air deflated from her lungs. The hair that curled around her face ruffled from the gentle gust.

Though she looked like Sam, she really was beautiful. Sure, Sam was attractive, in his own way. But, uniquely, Daisy was…honestly, gorgeous, all doe-eyed, rose lips, freckled cheeks.

I kept staring at her, analyzing, accidentally memorizing.

As I felt myself sinking, into my seat, into myself, into this stare I had on her, I straightened up, shoved myself back in the door.

The poor girl wasn’t even awake.

And I was being far too open.

When we reached the hotel, everyone piled out of the Uber. I went to step out, myself, to begrudgingly helped with luggage. But after I cast a casual glance over my shoulder, I noticed Daisy was still asleep. As though she were his responsibility, I found Sam and went to vocalize the issue with him. But he was busy with their bags.

None of the others were really familiar enough with her to consider her.

No one but me, I guess, because I was reaching out my fingers, touching her shoulder, telling her, "We're here."

I swept myself away before she could wake up and look me in the eyes. - "Where's your sister?" Cy inquired, poking at his dish with the fork in his hold.

Sam shrugged as he continued shoveling french fries in his mouth. "Sleeping, I think. She was fucking exhausted. Could barely get herself to bed this morning.”

"Poor girl," Max pouted his bottom lip. "Has she ever traveled this far from home?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Good for her, then. It's hard to just leave everything behind, to leave your everyday life for this type of thing for this long," Max continued.

I listened intently, though I made it seem like I wasn't even conscious of the guys seated at the table with me. Where they thought I was mindlessly stirring my drink, I was reading between the lines of every vague fact Sam dropped about Daisy.

"Well," he held a hand before his mouth as he chewed, swallowed. He sat back as he began to unload more information about his sister, "No offense to her, but she doesn't have much of a life. She works, like, two-three jobs at any given time. She works at some clinic during the day, waits tables in the evening, then does some stuff on campus here and there."

"Shit. Hope she's taking care of herself," Adam commented, thoughtfully.

"She does. I think. I don't know. We don't really get much time together anymore. Ever since mom died...I don't know. It's been hard to stay connected."

"This summer's gonna be good, then, for you guys to get to see each other," Cy touched Sam’s wrist with his fist, encouraging our friend with his response.

"Yeah," Sam's eyes seemed a little distant then, like there were foggy memories, regrets clouding his consciousness, "Yeah, I hope so."

Max went to speak again when Sam's phone went off. He pulled it out, scrolling through the texts he'd received. "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, Daisy came padding into the hotel bar. Her hair was damp, twisted up behind her head by some clip. Her features were more prominent this way, skin shining with the care she must have just put into it. As she approached us, her perfume breezed off her skin, off her stupid Taylor Swift hoodie, right past my nose.

It smelled so sweet that I had to look away, focus on something else.

Everyone else greeted her, asking about how she slept, how she felt. I was inattentive, attempting to make it seem like I hadn’t just been thrown off balance.

I needed to do something, say something to her, to be welcoming. To make it seem like I wasn’t such a dickhead, even though I pretty much was. So, I worked on some phrases in my head, hoping to catch her in a side conversation, so there wasn’t so much tension with the others listening in. But, she walked out of the bar as quickly as she'd come.

I found the air to be cooler without her occupying the space.

I shivered and turned my chin towards that freeze.

-

Later that evening, I found myself on the hotel roof.

It was one of my favorite spots, no matter which city we were passing through, which state I found myself to be stuck in. I could go up to the highest floor, even if it wasn’t too far off of the ground, tune out the stress that came with work, and relax into the peace and quiet.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanisms my therapist and I had been working on. I was an antisocial person, to say the least. And when I’d had to be around others for too long, working literal overtime to just function like a normal person, I’d become irritable, withdrawn.

So, stalking off in the late hours of the evening with a book in my hand and some lyrics in my head became a usual, practiced ritual that I was comforted by, especially on tours.

The breeze of London flew past my face, braising goosebumps on my neck. I tucked my chin into my hoodie more. There were these tiki lights, all around me and the intimate seating area I occupied, but the little bits of light did nothing to help me see the book in my hands.

I tucked it away after straining for a few moments and settled on just resonating with myself for a bit. I watched the flames of the fire pit before me, listened to it crackle and pop. I was so focused on the peacefulness, that I hadn’t even noticed the elevator ding, nor the person scuffling across the concrete of the roof.

In fact, I didn’t even notice her until she was sitting across from me, these little alcohol bottles in her hands. The movement of her sitting before me flitted my gaze up, edges of my vision blurred slightly from the intensity of the flames. My hearing focused after. There was music streaming from the speakers on her phone, some Taylor Swift song I didn't recognize. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes and studied her movements.

She read the label on the mini shot of Jack Daniels with squinted eyes. I'd never seen someone pay so much attention to a simple liquor Maybe she'd never drank it before. That would be a strange fact, considering she was 23. Every 23 year old I knew had gone through every liquor known to man. Then, she drank it and I realized why she was so observant. Her face turned up in this grimace, lips puckered, brows furrowed. She just couldn't handle her liquor. Her examination of the bottle was really just a hesitance to consume it in the first place.

I stifled a laugh and instead found my words, urged to tease her for this occurrence, "Gonna share?' Maybe I should have intruded her peace more gently, or maybe I should have said something sooner than I did. Either way, I had spooked her enough that she jumped.

Her once shocked grimace twisted into a deep frown, like she was annoyed I had disturbed her. "How long have you been sitting there?"

My grin widened, though it didn't seem like she found much humor in the situation. "Long enough to know you can't take a shot." I held out my hand, awaiting her to hand over one of the bottles. She didn't do that Instead, her face hardened a bit and she made another comment, “Sorry I’m not an alcoholic. If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

I was taken back by her crudeness. Everyone said she was so kind, so sweet. I'd even overheard her niceties earlier, at the airport, at the bar. Had I done something?

Instead of setting the record straight, communicating, though, I became defensive to her jabs. As I reached for one of the bottles, I said, "Comfy with this trash music playing?"

Funnily enough, this made her face sink more, if at all possible. Her frown was deep as a river, and murky as one, too, "Real men listen to Taylor Swift."

I tried another joke, hoping it would salvage the wreckage we were feeding, "Hey, haven't you heard? I'm a vessel, not a man?"

I don't know if it did, but she at least continued speaking to me. "So, vessel, what are you doing up here? Can't sleep?"

I tossed my hand in her direction, speaking with my casual satire, "Obviously." I looked away from her, breathless. I was trying so hard, so incredibly hard to seem careless, chill. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just, actually, genuinely not give a fuck.

I reached for my cigarettes, too stressed out to handle a head that was some sober from nicotine. After a long drag, I felt that familiar buzz of a clear head, the temporary reduction of anxiety.

Cigarettes were always a killer ice breaker, helpful in even the toughest, most awkward conversations. So, when my eyes popped back open and met hers, I offered a hit.

If her face had been disgusted before, it was even more so now. "That's okay, thanks," she almost sneered.

I pursed my lips. Okay, I wasn't the only one killing this conversation. She acted like she was just too good for anything that I had to do with. Like if she were to take a drag from this cigarette, she'd be infected with my sickness.

I voiced the concern with my snide tone again. Her response nearly made me choke on my own spit, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

As quick as possible, I stomped the butt into the ground. "Sorry."

She hummed some sort of response, looking away so uncomfortably. I wanted to grovel, to beg for her forgiveness in the case of such a small moment of misunderstanding, but I settled on another painful jab at a nice conversation.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.” She responded in that same dry tone, "Yeah, no."

Annoyed, I began to wonder where all this sweetness had gone. Earlier, with the guys, she had spoken like she'd known them for forever. Here, with me- she acted like I'd spit in her coffee this morning, like I was holding her at gun point just to have this conversation.

I gave up on trying to be overly considerate and shot straight to the point. I wanted answers anyways, and now I had a good reason to search for them, "What's your deal, Daisy?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" She responded.

I shrugged as I crossed my arms over my chest. What did she want it to mean? "Why are you here?" Instead of just answering the question, she countered me, echoing the question. Good fucking game, Daisy Hallett. Good fucking game.

I stretched my body out as I thought, unsure of how to answer. What was I here for? To do my job, obviously. So, I told her that. But, I should have known she would pry deeper. That were her job, after all, to observe, analyze, pry.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” She rejected my words, shaking her head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

I started making music for myself, not anyone else. In the darkest, most terrible parts of my life, it had gotten me through to the other side with ease. It was my biggest coping skill, sitting at a clear number one on the list my therapist and I had outlined.

Getting paid for it, getting to tour and travel cities…that was all a plus. Touring, performing itself, were two things I was still trying to get used to. It was awesome to get to play my music life for others, to help them through to the other side, but it was sometimes…overwhelming, a hard pill to swallow.

So, I answered honestly this time, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

She was impressed by this answer, pleased, and I could tell this by the stretch of her lips. That sweet, enticing smile did something to me.

As she held up the shot bottle in a gesture to cheers, I returned the smirk. We danced on the edge of some invisible line.

"To life."

I wanted to hear more of her voice, more of...her, more about her. So, I scrambled and said, "Wait, what about you?"

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” she waved me off.

I understood her more in this moment than I sometimes understood the people closest to me. She was like- she was insecure, she was scared. She was a little kid with monsters under her bed and in her closet.

So, I affirmed her existence with words that seemed so simple, yet would have meant so much for me to hear, too. “Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?”

This threw her off balance, yet somehow kept her from falling off the edge. It made the gears in her head turn, made her question her own thoughts. "I guess…I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

She still didn't seem too sure, but I knew that, once this summer ended, once the leaves turned brown, and she returned back to a place called home, she would know it in her bones.

And I think, maybe, I might know it, too.

Sooner, rather than the later that I hoped for, we were in the elevator. Hours of breathless conversation sat, stale in the air on the roof, abandoned as the steel doors trapped us in silence.

The more she told me, the more terrified I was of her very existence. She was smarter than me, and very good at returning snide comments. Her wit was so profoundly intelligent, that I found myself silenced on more than one occasion.

Above all this- she was a disruption- she was chaos. She made me think differently, harder. She made me laugh.

I was drawn in by all of this, by her eyes, by the way the corners of her pink lips curled up into her cheeks. It took me a second to realize that she was staring back up at me, that our shoulders were turning to face one another, that my fingers were grazing the sleeve of her hoodie.

"You're very pretty, Daisy," the words fell out in a dangerous whisper. I loved the way she blushed, the way the tip of her nose scrunched, and she fell back onto her heels a bit.

I would have kissed her, I knew that for sure, had the elevator doors not opened up, had we not parted ways there, in the barren hallways. And I would have sought her out, would have reached for a simple phone number, another moment on the roof, another conversation about life and college and her favorite fucking color...

had I not made it back to my room and looked myself in the eye, through the smudged reflection of the bathroom mirror. The painful eye contact brought me back down to Earth, reminded me of the ugliness swirled up inside my chest, the bitter desire of my own self interest, selfishness.

I was...I was the chaos. I was the disruption. Here was this beautiful, interesting, smart girl...and here was me, this man-giant, who could barely hold a conversation without feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. Besides all that, her brother was my fucking best friend. I was his boss.

This was territory that I could not enter, not without a guilty conscience and someone's broken heart. So, I would proceed with caution, although it ended up making me seem like the worst person in the world.

-

I knew I could no longer keep up the act only a few weeks in, all thanks to Whitney Houston and this stupid pink fucking dress.

I watched her parade herself all night, guzzling drinks like they were air, batting her stupidly prim and perfect eyelashes my way. She knew exactly how to get me going- how to lock me in, most of all. And I was playing right into the fucking game, weak signs and Achilles heels all exposed from the second that she stepped out of that hotel room.

When I saw that knowing, vivacious smirk- I knew tonight would be different.

It wasn't until she was passed out, in my bed, with my hoodie on, that I realized I was falling for her. I had been able to subside the hunger that I felt, the hunger I felt to speak to her, to consume her with my eyes, my teeth, my hands, my body- God. It was easy to push all these thoughts away when she wasn't there- but then, she'd show up at breakfast or dinner or in my dreams and thoughts and desperations and I'd spiral again.

It didn't help that I was letting it get to me so much- and she was literally trained in analyzing behavior. I exposed my curiosities with even the slightest dip in my gaze or lift in my shoulders. There was a moment, during breakfast, when she told us of her plans for the evening of one our first shows- that she wasn't coming to.

Max had to go and make a stupid joke when I just barly glanced up from my plate, "Even Ollie's hurt!" I stopped coming to so many social gatherings, at least where she was concerned. And, then, I got all the space I needed when we took off on the buses.

Everyone flocked to her side, wanting even a second of her attention, while I kept to myself on the other bus. Because I thought the guys might leave me alone about it, I could almost reside in absolute peace.

But, then, Ronnie came knocking on my bunk.

It was early morning. We were stopped for gas, somewhere in Northern Italy. The bus was deadly silent, with nothing but my own quiet breath and the hum of the outside world to keep e company. Ronnie came in, bounding, like she always did. She slammed the bus door shut, jarring me from the focus I'd had on the game of Mario Kart pulled up on my Switch. Next thing I knew, she was ripping open the curtain to my bunk.

"Why the fuck are you rotting in here like a mummy? I'm close to wrapping you up in toilet paper and shoving you in with the suitcases!"

I rolled my eyes as she spoke and slouched my shoulders away. The hood of my sweatshirt dipped enough that she was no longer in my view. "Sam needs to stop gassing up your jokes. It's getting to your head."

"You're literally just jealous because your jokes are only ever mean and borderline tone-deaf," Ronnie grabbed the lip of my hood and tugged it down over my face.

I wriggled away from her, Switch dropping towards the inside of the bunk. I shoved her hands away. "Says you, Miss Jimmy Carr."

Ronnie's jaw jutted open a bit, "Now that's fucked, Ollie."

I went to jab back again, but she held up a hand, head tilted like she was a tired, annoyed mother of a band of men babies. "Stop while you're ahead, dude. Back to what I came in to harass you about- you need to come join us! We're playing Mario Kart with peaches- Daisy, sorry. You guys would get along sooo great. I know you're, like, weird about new people, but she's so fucking funny. Please, please just come over, hang out, be chill for once in your life."

Peaches. They had given her a nickname. Peaches, as if she weren't already sweet enough to sour the cuts on my skin.

I huffed and puffed at the rant as I pulled my hood down the back of my head. "First of all, I don't play Mario Kart-"

"I literally hear the music coming from your Switch," Ronnie pointed with a dead stare at the device, muffled humming rumbling from beneath my blanket.

I met her eye, absent any shame of my white lie. I took a breath and dove back into my rejection, "Second of all, why the hell do you guys give out the cringiest, most ridiculous nicknames? Like, peaches?What even is that?"

"It's called joy, magic, and fun, you grinch," Ronnie pinched my elbow. I flinched away from her touch again and she snickered. "If you don't like Daisy, just say so. I won't tell anybody. I'll just resent and judge you in silence- silent words, not punches."

What did she mean, that I didn't like Daisy? I knew I'd been passive towards her, but I never made it so obvious-

The expression on my face must have read confusion or shock because Ronnie popped a hip and crossed her arms.

"Listen," she added, "I know that she probably irks you. I get it. You're the bad boy, dark soul type and she's this ray of fucking sunshine and, yes, peaches. Just- give her a chance before you rain all over her parade."

"I literally never said I had a fucking problem with her. Why does everyone think I hate her guts when I've literally only ever had one conversation with her?" I frustratedly spoke, words rushed together. Ronnie stood back a second, reading the scrunch of my brows, the way I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Then, her offended frown morphed into something knowing, as though bits of information clicked in her head.

"Oh," she rhythmed, grinning now, "I see what's going on here. Hey, she's gorgeous.” "Oh, my God, here we go," I stood from my bunk, now, unwilling to just lay there and listen to her try to evaluate my behavior.

Ronne didn't follow me as I made my way to the back room, "Ollie...just remember who you are. And who she is."

And this sentence alone threw me for the biggest loop.

I didn't even know what she meant by that, but as well I knew Ronnie...it was definitely more than met the eye, deeper than any surface level warning anybody else could give. Not only did I know Ronnie well, but she could read me like a book. She knew what to say to make my skin crawl. Who I am...who Daisy is.

Analyzing the statement from top to bottom, general to specific, it was simple. She was my best friend’s brother. And I was his boss.

It meant more than that, though.

Ronnie meant that Daisy…Daisy was delicate. Daisy was meat, fresh off a shattered bone, and I was a hound.

I was always the hound. The Albatross, even. A winged creature always coming in to swipe shiny things off of stormy shores.

Ronnie didn’t want to harm me with the statement, but she sure as hell wanted to humble me. And that she did.

Each time I found myself aching to find Daisy’s gaze, I’d shrink back into myself. Remember my place. Remember who I was.

And, then…that damn Whitney Houston song. That damn pink dress.

Ronnie knew I was slipping, when I first spotted Daisy, in the doorway of her hotel room, long legs on display. I caught my lips beginning to party, drool beginning to pool in my teeth. This appreciative smirk came upon my face until I met Ronnie’s frown.

And I moved on.

I kept trying to move on, to fly away, leave the gold necklace on the beach for some other lucky, hopeless idiot to clean the sand off of, treasure for the rest of their sorry days.

I paid for her meal, as some sort of reparation for the damage I must’ve done all evening, being the hungry being I was while she toyed with the lock on my cage.

But, I just couldn’t . Especially not when she was running from the bar, sickness visible on her face. I could’ve left it where it was- Max was shuffling after her, ready to help, ready to hold her hair up.

Before I knew it, my feet were racing me out of the door, my hand was on Max’s shoulder, a kind smile was reassuring him that I could handle it, that he could go back to having fun.

My hands were in her hair, my neck was cradling the crown of her head, she was reaching for my wallet, letting us into the hotel room, laying down on my bed. I was giving her my hoodie, placing a bandage on her leg, caressing her fruity skin.

And then…just like that, as quickly as the rain began, like when you can see it in sheets, pounding into the Earth, just there, off in the distance…then it’s splattering on your windshield, the sound jarring you from your tired drive, the blur harming your vision of the road.

It was raining in my hotel room.

I didn’t have an umbrella.

I spent the entire night, laying there on the bed beside her, faced away, tensed up. Every breath she took stopped my heart. Every wrinkle from the white sheets made my eyes blink.

I was spending so much of my thought process trying to remember the taste of her fleeting lips on my own, pressing my fingers to them as though they were stained from her, as though I could close my eyes and taste them, again and again and again.

Then, in the morning, she returned my hoodie. There was this…look…this distant, worried look. Had she remembered? Had she remembered the words I said? Was this going to change anything? Everything? At breakfast, I ignored her persistent eyes, the gaze burning into my soul for answers. When she told us she couldn’t remember anything, I was little relieved.

If she didn’t remember, I could put distance between us, try to forget it myself- try to forget the way her fingers buried themselves into my hair. Try to forget the feel of her nose, pressed into my cheek, her chest, warm against my own.

While I was able to put physical distance between us this week, being that work kept us busy. But, the mental, emotional yards were harder to climb.

Once we made it through the airport, to Italy, I began my practice of celibacy, against the thoughts of her, against us.

I think part of me knew it wouldn’t last. I think part of me didn’t want it to. I think that’s why I was there- in the elevator, headed for the roof, in hopes that I might find her there. I didn’t even know if it was a place she frequented, but my intuition told me it was a good place to look.

And I was right.

I acted shocked when I first saw her, like it didn’t help my blood pump, seeing her, feet in the water, hair curling around her forehead.

She looked so…tense. Stressed. There was this permanent furrow in her brow. Did she really not remember…anything? At all?

Though it was a relief, I wanted to jog her memory (I wanted to kiss her).

I asked Daisy, barely glancing over at her in the seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I watched her chew upon on her bottom lip, “Not really.”

Why did it feel like a lie?

She must’ve remembered something. Sure, she had been drinking, but…she was smarter than that. “Okay,” I choked, snatching another look at her.

I noticed Daisy turn her chin to return the gaze and I looked back at the city. I couldn’t look into her eyes, look at her face. I’d crumble.

“Is there something I should be remembering?”

It was timid, shy. But bold.

Bolder than I could bring myself to be right now.

Unable to find my own words, unable to form my own lie, I echoed her.

“Okay,” she copied.

The moment swelled in my mind. I wanted- needed her to remember. I wanted her to feel the ache in my bones at the thought of our lips pressed together. Wanted her to feel the longing Maybe then, she’d be the one to break, and I could blame it on her. Make her out to be the bad guy, going after me.

What a fucked up thing to think about.

Before I could catch myself, I blurted, “You don’t remember-“

At the same time, she went to push further on the topic.

I excused myself, motioned for her to continue. But, of course, she let me go instead.

“You don’t remember coming back to the hotel?”

I knew I was confusing her.

“Not really. you’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Something important I should be remembering?” her knuckles, clasped together, were turning white.

I shrugged and pretended to be unaware, “I don’t think so.”

“Why did you tell me to come sit with you?”

She really knew how to make a guy question his own thought patterns. It would make her a really great therapist- but it just made me want to run.

To hide. To slip away from this disruption in my damaged peace.

I sighed, thoughtful, though still unsure, “I don’t know. Thought it would be nice. Like when we were in London-“

“Like when we were in London and you proceeded to pretend like we never did this? Like when we were in London and you kept interrupting me, so I couldn’t tell everyone we had been up on the roof together?”

So, she was pissed.

I knew she would be. She acted like she didn’t care, but I saw through the disguise. It reminded me of me.

I shrugged, putting on the same play, “Like that.”

I guess that was the comment that sent her off the edge, though. She was too guarded, too respectful of herself to take the bullshit I pushed. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

That wasn’t it for me. I needed to know what she knew. She obviously remembered more than she was letting on.

I slid into the elevator behind her, “Daisy-“

I swear to God, the rhythm of her breathing palpitated when I said her name-

“I need you to be honest with me. What do you remember?”

“Oh, cause you’re such a conscientious person yourself?”

I pulled at my hair, stressfully, “I really don’t think we’re on the same page right now, Daisy. Please, if we could just talk about this, if you could just tell me what you remember-“

Gears seemed to click in her brain. Something I said, the way I moved, the flash of the stars in her eyes, something had triggered a memory in her head. Something suddenly made sense.

I tried to help, though I was probably just being an asshole. “I want to figure this out, okay?”

I wanted to figure her out.

Whatever clicked was- it fucked things up.

“Oliver,” she frowned, “I can’t play this game with you.”

Game?

What game?

I was only ever playing defense- keeping to myself, keeping her away from my heart, trying to maintain distance. She had kissed me- I was the one to turn her away.

My shoulders fell, “What game? Daisy…I’m confused!”

“So am I, Oliver!”

Fuck. The way she said my name-

“I’m- you’re fucking with my head!”

Like she wasn’t fucking with mine?!

I went back to my original question, hoping to continue digging there, instead of worrying about this new hole she was unburying, “What do you remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver! I just don’t want to do this with you. Max is right. I should listen to him.” What the fuck did Max say? Why was he involving himself in this? How did he even know about- us- when we didn’t even- what?

What was happening?

“I’m not doing this with you.”

The doors opened, and she was leaving me. In her dust. In the swell of her words.

I retreated back to my room, throat tight, chest contracting for any gulp breath I could get. I fell back against the door like there were bullet holes bleeding out of my chest. I wanted to just...be honest. To be honest with her. Tell her what I really thought, what really happened, how I felt about her.

It wasn't the boundaries holding me back now. All my senses of morality and respect for our situation were dead. It was me. I was the iceberg. I was the gun.

I found my way to the bed, lay there like an empty casket. Dead, hollow, shards of wood. Why was I so afraid of her?

Maybe she'd be good for me...better than the last relationship I had, that much I could already tell. But, maybe she didn't want me for that.

Maybe she wanted to scalp me for my money, for my fame, dish out the gossip to the tabloids. Maybe she wanted to love me.

Maybe I deserved something good. Maybe I deserved to take a risk on something. Maybe I needed to. I was outside her door, before I was really conscious to my own movements, knocking, waiting. For barely a second.

She was opening the door, standing there in this barren light like an angel.

"Daisy."

I was kissing her.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, whatever cruel fate she may prophesize or goodness she may expose to my paled skin- I didn't care.

Because she was kissing me.

-

I hadn’t been with someone for over a year.

That was what was so jarring about the entire situation.

It made me cautious, held me back. I’d been on a dating ban since I switched to my new therapist, who wanted me to focus on myself more than I always did on another person.

And for a while, it was going well.

Until Daisy disrupted that.

I knew, for as long as she was alive, breathing my air, I just could never be alone.

Usually, when I dated someone, when I was with them…I still felt that loneliness because I would give so much. And that person never returned it.

Daisy did, by a tenfold. She was…present. She so easily showed up, made time for me, chased me down when I went into those bouts of self isolation.

It was difficult to let her in…to let her join me in the dark.

But she made it feel less lonely. She made me feel…whole.

I started going to breakfast more often, started including myself in the group activities. Not only did she make me feel less alone, but she made me feel like I needed human connection.

“It’s warm, isn’t it?”

I scoffed at my therapist’s words, so simple for something so complex. “Warm. It’s hot. I feel like I’m on fire.”

“Good. Burn,” she responded. “You’re in the light now, Oliver. How do you feel about it?”

“Wow, what a question,” I teased.

Dr. Grime sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement was delayed, due to the time zone different, the laggy wifi in the hotel room. “Seriously, Oliver. Is it…do you feel like you want to snuff it out?”

“Of course I do,” I shuffled on my bed, “you know me. Something good comes and I feel like I don’t deserve it. But…I think it might be okay if I hang around in this for a while.”

“I think so, too,” she smiled. “I like how your language has changed, too. You’d tell me, ‘I don’t deserve this.” Now you say, you feel like you don’t deserve it. You’re recognizing rational thoughts from emotional ones. That’s very important. I’m proud of you.”

I offered a strained smile in response, uncomfortable with her praise. It was appreciated, though, and gave me body a sense of accomplishment.

Maybe I was getting better.

“So, this Daisy,” she leaned forward, more intrigued with the personal aspect of my love life, like some maternal figure.

I chuckled, shaking my head approvingly, “Daisy.”

“Do you…love her?” Dr. Grime poked.

I blushed, deeply, but quickly shoved the thought away, “Oh, no. No way. I…I barely know her. That’s- that’s crazy. Definitely not. No.”

My phone dinged in rhythm with the end of my sentence. It was her.

Daisy: soon as sam goes to bed, i can be over

My eyes lingered on the text, more concerned with this situation now than the accusatory, knowing tone of my therapist’s words.

“Mm,” she paused, “no, of course. So, is this just…a casual summer fling for you? A way to get over everything this, figure out what it is you want out of a relationship? It’s important to have something like this, a stable ground to work up off of for the future, considering you don’t have a great idea as to what love should be like.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, toying with my phone. I stared at the message, reading and rereading the message again and again.

What…was this.

What was this to me?

What was this…to her?

We’d established some boundaries, mostly that I couldn’t really commit to anything to serious. And she said that had been okay.

Was I still okay with that?

Was that still what I wanted?

I was so obviously falling in love with her, but I would never tell anybody that.

Especially not her.

But it didn’t matter if I loved her- did I want her that way? Did I want this to last past the summer?

I did.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Loving her beyond the swept up dream we were caught in, back home, domestically. Loving her casually, routinely, in the kitchen back in my apartment, through school, sharing plants and bath towels.

I wanted that.

I wanted her…her ends and odds.

I lied, “No. I don’t want that right now. Got tour going on, new album soon. You know. Busy.”

Long after therapy ended, I stared at the message. The sun had set, the day had died…and I just couldn’t think of anything to say.

I think if I were to be around her right now, I might blurt out some passionate, mindless thing that I couldn’t bring us back from.

I needed to do…what I always did. Be alone. Ruminate in my thoughts in the darkness of a foreign hotel room in a strange city. All alone.

This felt…easier. Comfortable. What I was good at.

Yeah…this was easier.

The next day, I couldn’t stay from her any longer.

I needed her and she was needed that, too- however we could get each other.

So I pushed aside the feelings I had for her- put up all my walls and boundaries, and took her into my arms-

We would have this summer, even if it killed us.

–

"Hiya, Ollie, dear!"

My mother's voice was a sweet symphonic sound to my tired ears. We were in near opposite time zones, hundreds of miles apart, and I missed her more than anything. Touring usually took everything out of me and she was the one, separate, stable person I could turn to.

We'd only called once or twice the past few months due to my obsessed perversions with a certain best friend's sibling who had been taking up all of my time- not that I was complaining about who.

It was only recently that my mom and I had established such good rapport. Since I was young, she'd struggled to wrap her head around my career choices. Now that I was fully devoted to the act, and quite successful, she pushed aside her disagreement with it and chose to just keep supporting me.

Though I couldn't always answer, her calls were welcome.

"Hi, mum," I sat up in the hotel bed, my back sighing in gratitude at the change in posiiton. i had been rotting in here for a few hours, a little bored since Daisy was out with her friend. I could've went and hung with the guys, but I honestly needed some time to myself. That time was starting to really feel like loneliness, though. I guess before I met Daisy, they were empty hours full of empty feelings. Now, I was waking up to the reality of my existence. I'd made it so dull.

"Are you in Paris yet? Or are you still travelling?"

"We made it a few days ago," I replied. “Show’s tomorrow."

"Oh, I love Paris," she remarked. I could hear her lovely grin through the tone of her words. "I remember when we went there on a school holiday. My favorite part was the Eiffel Tower. It's so big. Now, I hear that it sparkles. You'll have to take a photo for me."

"Sure, mum."

"Have you gotten out much or are you holing up in your hotel room?"

Sheepishly, I scratched my neck. My response was delayed a bit; we both knew the answer. “Uh...I’m getting out there. Ya know, hanging out.”

“Ugh, Ollie,” I could nearly hear the roll of her eyes through the phone. “You know need a lady friend. Someone to drag you out of your bed. I mean, how many times do you get to see Paris. And get paid for it!”

At the mention of a ‘lady friend,’ I blushed. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about Daisy, and damn did I want to. Though we weren’t even officially together. I didn’t know how to explain that to my mom, so maybe I’d just shy away from the topic, talk about something else.

But I guess my lapse of silent thinking made her think that there already was a lady friend.

“Oh?” she questioned with a cheerful lace to her tone. I didn’t say anything, my brain was unable to come up with anything in response. Acting defensive always made people think the opposite of what I said. Should I just tell her? Get it out of the way? Let her lecture me about my poor choices.

“Well, I won’t badger you. When you're ready,” she was already responding.

I was surprised that she was going to leave it there, to say the least, which only furthered my sentence. She usually pushed until I gave her some semblance of the truth. As she was getting older, I’d realized she gotten more relaxed and didn’t push as much as she used to. I think it was partially due to the guilt she felt for everything between us growing up.

So, I just went to move the subject along when she jumped back on it, “Just- please don’t tell me it’s that Fiona girl. I’m so sorry if it is. I just can’t sit around and watch you be treated so poorly by someone so...so awful. Again. Her personality is just- wow. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. I went to school with her mum, and she was awful towards me. Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree-”

I had to stop her while she was ahead. I guess some things never really, truly changed. "Mum, please! I’m not seeing Fiona again, I promise. I’m not...”

I wasn’t offended that she thought I was. It was just...more or so shocking. Shocking that she thought I’d put myself back in that. I had, a handful of times before. But...I was different now.

I guess she hadn't been around me these past few months, but I had truly changed. This past May’s Oliver very well could’ve let Fiona waltz back into his life. But July’s Oliver? He would’ve been hesitant.

And, even more so- Daisy’s Oliver...Daisy’s Oliver was a changing man. Daisy’s Oliver was a better man.

And I wanted to tell my mum that, I decided. She needed to know- it would ease her mind, along with my own. I know she was always worried for me. So, I told her-

“No, I’m seeing someone else. Her name...her name’s Daisy,” that felt good to admit, to put into the Universe, that I was seeing her, and she was seeing me, even if there were no labels attached.

“Daisy?” she perked up at the name. “That’s a pretty name. What’s she look like? You got any pictures you can text me?”

I realized quickly that I didn’t. In the near two months that we had been sleeping together, consuming one another’s souls, we hadn’t taken a single picture. It was probably for the best, just in case they somehow fell into the wrong hands. But- there were so many moments I could’ve- should’ve- captured. Moments of Daisy, hair whipping past her face on the roof, the lights of Italy glowing behind her like she had angelic wings. Daisy, in my hotel room, in the early morning before she had to sneak away. Tired eyes and an even more exhausted smile as she laughed at something stupid, I’d done in my sleep.

I wanted one. I wanted a picture of her, a picture of us, whatever I could get.

For now, all I had was my memories to help me describe her to my mum. It was easy to do so, considering she was etched into the very nerves in my mind.

“No, I don’t,” I breathed out, “but she’s beautiful. She’s got this-this- God, I can’t even describe her to you. Her hair’s darker, like yours. She’s got these brown eyes. Shorter than me, of course. You can always tell it’s her, though, just by the way she carries herself. She’s got this energy. You’d just have to see it to believe it.”

“She sounds amazing, Ollie,” she sighed distantly then giggled, “Well, if she’s so pretty, where are the pictures? I need to see her! Need to see what this talk is all about.”

I chuckled in response, “I know, I know. I suck.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’s difficult, with you on tour and her...what does she do, exactly? Where is she from? Would I know her?”

Here came the long winded, shameful explanation of everything between Daisy and me. The feelings that weren’t feelings, the girl who wasn’t mine, the upset sea tumultuous between us. Her brother. Sam.

I tried my best, “Well, she’s working towards her counseling license. So, she goes back to school in the fall. But right now, she’s on tour with us. Her brother works- um...Sam’s her brother. She just wanted to do some traveling before getting tied down for the next few years.”

“Sam? Sam Hatlett? She's his little sister?” There was a bit of shock in her tone now like I imagined there would be. Sam was like a brother to me, and mum knew that. In fact, she loved Sam. She always had.

When she first met him, she’d pulled him under her wing like a mother bird, like she could just feel that he needed her. So, to imagine that I might go after his little sister is rightfully shocking. It was close to home.

“I know, I know. Again, I suck,” I laughed, though I felt so tense. Rubbing my neck didn’t ease the tension in my skin.

“You don't suck, darling. It’s just a precarious situation, I’m sure. How does Sam feel about it all? Was he weird when you first started dating Daisy?”

When I first began to tell my mum about Daisy, I doubted whether or not I wanted to be completely honest. But I easily fell into the comfortability of her warm conversation and realized I could not bend the truth. Not only did she deserve to know it, but she needed to. I knew, too, that she wasn’t going to judge me, tell me I was making a bad decision. It took three times with Fiona for her to begin voicing her opinion.

Above all, I didn't need to jump through any hoops to win her approval. I didn’t have to play a role, fill a part. I was me. And she loved that man.

I realized, subconsciously, that this was how I felt about Daisy, too. Comfortable. Easy.

Loved.

I explained things to my mom, carefully, making sure she knew of the endless boundaries Daisy always ensured we had and the sweet, delicate moments that made everything worth it. I nearly fell into myself, swept up in the reminiscent beauty of it all. God, I missed her, even if it had been only two days since I’d seen her. Her friend Sasha was in town and took up all her time.

I didn’t know what I was expecting my mom to say, so I held my breath after I finished saying, “But, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s just a summer thing or what. We’re both kinda in weird positions, so we’re not too worried about that, I guess. We’re just...having fun, ya know?”

As the insecurity rose up my throat and choked me out, I sighed out the rest of the air I had in me and added, “We’re not, like, in love or anything.”

I hadn’t expected her to laugh, that’s for sure.

But she laughed. My mum giggled, like things were well and truly hilarious, like I had just told her a joke. I waited there in silence, waiting for her to make fun of me for being so stupid as to let this situation occur. Laugh at me for being terrible at love and life. There goes Oliver again, breaking hearts, getting his heart broken. He can’t even be in a stable relationship! Laugh, laugh, laugh.

She said, “You are crazy, Ollie,” but it wasn’t meant in a harsh manner.

It wasn’t condescending, it wasn’t mean. She wasn’t making fun of me. She was...she was laughing because it was funny.

“You are usually so good at going after things. I mean, look at you with your music, darling. I said no, how many times? I insisted you do something, anything else. I never supported you financially. I never...I never supported you. I was the odds you were testing yourself against and looking at you now! I mean,” her voice cracked. A sniffle followed. My muscles eased from the discomfort I felt into something that wanted to reach for her through the phone, hug her.

“I know your father and I didn’t give you the best example for love. I know we weren’t some movie star-couple that everyone always knew would last forever. We fought. We weren’t there for you when we should have been. Your father left you. And then I held all these stupid expectations up to you, to try to make you better. And you! You’re successful!”

“And I give you all the credit for that. You are...my pride and joy, Ollie. My life. I am so proud of you, darling. But it breaks my heart, still, that you have not been able to find happiness. That you must spend so much time repairing what I broke. We cannot blame everybody else- you can...you can blame me, Ollie. I know I am to blame. And that is okay.”

“So, forgive me for laughing, forgive me for calling you crazy and stupid and wild, darling, but- it's right in front of your face, Ollie! She’s right there in front of you. Daisy. Darling, if you’re still questioning what love is, what it’s supposed to feel like...please let me knock some sense into you! You are wasting so much precious time on believing that it can only leave. It doesn’t have to stay for long for it to be important. If she leaves at the end of the summer, you will regret not telling her.”

I didn’t have to ask her what she meant; what she knew I’d regret not saying. I knew it, I knew it as well as I knew Daisy’s face, even more clear in my memory now.

“You can beat around the bush some more if you’d like, or you can carry on with this facade you’re so deeply transfixed by. Darling, I know it’s hard to let the chaos subside, to let the goodness in, but as I am getting older, I am realizing that it is bright. It is...comfortable. It is good. You deserve to have a lifetime of that. Don’t waste any more time, Ollie. Please tell her, please let her tell you. Please just...hold what you have.”

I had borne a hole into the wall, but snapped out of my still position when I felt a tear roll down the side of my nose. “H-how? How do I tell her?”

“However you need to,” she chuckled lightly. “Although, here’s a hint, Ollie: you are in the City of Love. Take advantage.”

I knew our call was ending and didn’t know when we’d get to speak again. So, like she had told, I took advantage of the moment and I held what I had; “Mum, just so you know,” my voice came out as a whisper, a gentle patter of rain on the roof.

“Yes, Ollie?” she whispered, too, like there was a gentle card deck stacked between us. I think maybe there was- I think there was always some sort of tension lingering from the harsh moments we’d beat into each other; the fighting, the leaving, the crying. I don’t think she ever felt like I’d forgiven her, as if I really needed to. She had been growing up, too, after all.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” I felt relieved that there was a smile in her tone, “now, go. You have some more dreams to chase down. And, Ollie?” “Yeah?”

“Get some pictures for me.”

-

I was lucky that, the next day, everyone was busy with their own plans on opposite sides of the city. So Daisy and I were able to spend some time together, outside of this drywall prison. I was a pretty good listener, too, and remembered all the spots Daisy had gushed about seeing in the little time we’d had together these past few weeks. I was being given the perfect setup to do what I needed to do: we were going to be alone, in the most romantic city on planet Earth. I could finally tell her how I felt.

Of course, so much of me shook with anxiety. What if- she didn’t feel the same way? She didn’t want to risk it? She didn’t want to commit to someone this close to school? Let alone someone who lived across the world from her? These weren't my only fears. There were so many revolving around my career that I could’ve drowned beneath their weight.

Yet, each time I looked at her, I was anchored to her shoes. I couldn’t drift out to sea. I was grounded. Though my fears about how she would react sank, it took another amount of effort to get the words out.

I could’ve done it right away, gotten it out there, cleared the air, so we could enjoy each other even more. That would’ve been the best way: I would've gotten answers, started the day out on the right foot. But, when we got out onto the streets, I was swept up in the busy buzz of the crowds. It was loud in the cafe we grabbed breakfast at, loud on the sidewalks, overly crowded by the river. We finally found a place to sit, breakfast sandwiches and drinks in hand. Though there were still throngs of people all around us. So what good was the City of Love when it was full of ignorant tourists?

The anxiety of what I wanted to do was making me feel grumpy. I shut down a little bit, unable to really engage in much conversation, let alone tell her how I felt. I think it just looked like exhaustion to Daisy, so she didn’t really notice. I did- I was hyperaware of every short sentence, every avoided gaze. All of these people are going to be standing here when I tell her. They’re going to watch her reject me and they’re going to know. They're going to know I’m not good enough. She’s going to walk away from me, leave me stranded in the park, alone with my own rejection and denial. I’m not good enough I’m not good enough.

I thought about what my therapist would tell me, ways to snap myself out of this maladaptive pattern of behavior. My brain lies, she always said. It makes things up, creates false realities based off things others have said to me, or moments of true insecurity rooted in no sense of truth.

Daisy would want me, even if I wasn’t good enough. That was the one assurance I could tell myself to shake off the weary thoughts.

And if she didn’t- well, I don’t think thinking about that was going to help me very much. So, when we got back into the hustle and bustle, shopping around the city, visiting the sights, I opened myself back up.

I didn't know if I’d ever find the confidence. I was on the precipice again, after lunch, when I began spewing cheesy pet names as a sublimation for the words I needed to say. It shocked her at first, hearing such sweet things coming from me. And that stung a little. Was I that monstrous towards her that simple affections made her brows shoot up? Was I that bad? I repeated them once, twice, just so she really knew I meant it.

The day went on and on and I cowered in on myself even more. There were plenty more ample moments, but I just kept letting the clock tick down. I knew we were running out of precious time. If I didn’t tell her now, we would go straight back to secret moments in a hotel room, balancing on a tightrope, pretending like the moment the leaves changed color, we wouldn't be losing each other. I just knew Daisy wanted that about as much as I did.

Just when I was giving up hope, I found my moment, finally. Just after we had stopped to view the Eiffel Tower, some street side scam artist grabbed some pictures of us and was trying to convince me to spend $200 on the copies. At first, I brushed it off, until I caught a small peak at the images on his camera. Before he could spout another line, I was giving him $100. He gave me three photos.

Where my words may fail, these pictures couldn’t. You wouldn’t have to know Daisy and I personally to well and truly and see how infatuated we were with each other. I wasn’t even worried anymore that she wouldn’t want me. I was worried she wouldn’t want the risk, the jump, the caution of a fall.

These would be to convince her to leap. These had to be.

I stopped us outside the hotel, knowing if once we stepped inside, our memories might as well be cleared of the day's events. We would be going back to normalcy, to the real world. Our friends would be waiting there, we would allow the gap between us to grow. I would swallow my words and choke on them.

“I love you,” I pictured myself saying. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you, I love you in London, you in Paris, you at home. I love you from the hotel rooms we’ve indented to the streets we’ve wandered. I love you in the plane, on the bus, in every inch of this world.”

But it just wouldn’t come out.

I tried to encourage myself by thinking of who I was just a year ago. By thinking of how I was a year ago, the person I was dating, the situation I was caught up in. Fiona, the endless hours of fighting, of begging. Crying, screaming, the blood sport we played. Hunter and prey, me the victim and yet the one wielding the sword. I thought of Daisy when I first met her. The scent of her in my nostrils, like a clue that I was to hunt for as long as I could run. Of her in my teeth, when I first caught up to her incessant running. The satisfaction I felt, how disgusting that was. How horrible it was that I loved the taste of her blood on my lips.

And how much better I could breathe knowing that I had let go, that I had put my claws away and instead threaded a needle to stitch her skin close. How beautful that was- the beast retracting, the mask falling away. A true creature coming to light, renewed and willing.

Tears welled in my eyes. The words were there, finally, waiting just atop my tongue. She was leaning closer, clutching my hand, clutching those photos like a rosary, like she would sacrifice herself for me. I would, too. I would I would I would I would.

I think I hesitated a moment too soon, or I think she could tell what was happening. I think tha- that, I think that she was running again.

I think she wanted me to chase her or to stop, or she was placing traps in the woods, waiting for the wolf with a bow in arrow.

Because she was pulling away. And our friends were calling our names.

I didn’t have time to think, wrapped up in the swell of the arrival of our friends.

But I felt the death of the moment. It was heavy. It was rotten.

Later, I sat alone in my dressing room before the show, the photo I had kept between my fingers. I swear I could hear her breath, echoing from inside the paper frame of us. Swear I could feel her hands on my arms, grasping as though the wind would take us away from each other. Her lips on my cold ones, warm and fueling like a kindled fire.

I wondered if she threw the photos away. If she stared at them, with resentment. If she wanted to burn them.

Yet, I could’ve lived and died in that moment if I had to. If I was never able to tell her how I really felt about her, I’d be content to waste away, hanging on her lips like a vine, rotting from indecision and cowardice.

Eventually, Sam poked his head in to let me know it was time to go on. I flinched when he first spoke. It drew me back to reality in harsh, cold lighting. I drew the photo from my face, met his eye, and nodded.

I was lucky he didn’t ask any questions about my reserved response, though I knew he was aware that I was getting into character as this vessel. Part of me wished he had asked, though, if only to have someone to share the darkness with again, if even for just a second. And maybe outing Daisy and I to Sam would force me to tell her everything. Force some sort of decision to fall from the loitering hammer that hung above us.

Sam left. I set the photo down on the counter, not even thinking straight enough to put it away somewhere. Then, I hung the mask on my face, edges of my eyes darkened, just like my mind.

Part of me wished I didn’t even have to perform tonight. Every time I put on this disguise, I was reminded of those dark parts of me, the parts of me that were too much like this creature the costume made into. When I’d first come up with the character, I felt so strongly that I was just like Vessel- nothing but a pit of black, music transporting through me like some god had planted it there. I hadn’t been aware of my very real feelings. I just sat there, in that emptiness.

Things were different now.

Maybe I just needed a break from it all, from the costumes and the concerts and Daisy. Well, not Daisy. Not her. Just...everything involving her.

But never her. I just wanted her always, everywhere.

I didn’t get to have that, though, the break nor Daisy.

In fact, all I got was a slap in the face. When I went on stage, I spotted Daisy in the audience. For a split second, there was a lift in my heart, a fire in my bones. She was here. She hadn’t pulled away- she wanted me. She wanted me.

Then, as the lights flickered, I noticed the look of guilt on her face and the hand around her waist, She was here...with someone else.

I felt myself retracting, cocooning, not for growth, not for birth into something good, something with fluttering wings...but into that moth. Into that darkness.

Into that vessel.

In my fury, I laid claim to Daisy in all the wrong ways. I held her by the throat and let her dangle from my lips, reminded her how desparate she was for me, reminded her just how much she relied on my game. It had never been and never would be our game. I was the villain. I was the hunter.

She was my prey.

I was losing hope for my own reconciliation, for my own change. Maybe I would just always be detached, dark, monstrous. Maybe I would never be able to commit, to give in, to be someone’s something.

Maybe I was just this vessel, and maybe this vessel was just me.

Maybe I was never good enough for Daisy, but just enough to satisfy her furious need for that bad. And that was enough for me.

-

Things got worse when Fiona started blowing up my phone.

I wasn’t sure how she had gotten my number. I had changed it back in March, when I’d ended- really ended- things with her. And, with my career, it wasn’t like I’d just handed my number out to any person on the street. I had, maybe, ten contacts on my phone.

Daisy was one of the few I responded to.

But, somehow, someway, Fiona had gotten hold of my number and began blowing my phone up with messages. I blocked her the minute I noticed, after a show when I had time to get on my phone. Then, a few days later, she started messaging from a different number.

They were innocent claims- she kept saying I had left things at her flat and needed to come pick them up. But I knew her better than that. She was trying to use this to weasel back into my head, my heart. She’d convince me to come pick everything up and then, when I was there, she’d start crying. Start saying how much she loved and needed me. She’d convince her into her bed, and we’d start spiraling down into that same old waltz we both knew too well.

After I blocked this contact, I guess she evolved. She started using an unknown number, so I couldn’t even block the contact. I called my manager immediately and told him I needed to get a new phone number. Apparently, all the stores around us were closed for a few days, which just so happened to be my fucking luck. But he promised to get something for as soon as possible.

In the meantime, I just had to ignore her.

So, I booked a last-minute therapy appointment.

I glossed over everything with my doctor, telling myself that things with Daisy were hopeless. She obviously thought me to be disposable. I mean, I had watched how quickly she’d pulled away, how quickly she found another empty face in the crowd.

I didn’t want to admit that shameful situation to my doctor. I didn’t want her to know I’d let myself fall again.

Instead, we talked about Fiona, about the temptress knocking on my door. My doctor kept reminding me to, “Stay strong. Know your worth.”

Easy words for someone in a healthy, happy marriage.

All it would take was one more wrong look from Daisy and one wrong text from Fiona, and I’d end up back off the cliff.

So, I clung to the guys. Daisy had been...not so distant but detached. Cautious. She was taking the lead, so I followed. We still hung out, still fucked like we had been doing. Still had these meaningful, deep conversations that made me wonder, over and over, what the fuck was going through her head. But honestly, I now spent some of that extra time with Max, Cy, Adam, or Sam. We were due to begin working on the next album and I had plenty of ideas floating around in my head.

It was peaceful, quaint. Something I’d missed. Maybe I wouldn’t be ready to start dating again if something like this caused me so much stress.

Adam was texting me now, wondering if I wanted to hang out sometime this morning, talk about the album. I told him I’d let him know what time, considering Daisy was in my bed. And Fiona was blowing my phone up like fucking crazy.

The whole situation threw me off. She wasn’t really concerned about it, but made numerous, passive jokes about me having a secret girlfriend. I don’t know if it was because she really, truly wanted me to be exclusive to her, or if it was just something to do with her pride.

Signals were still mixed, even after we’d had a conversation about how committed we were to each other. Part of me wondered if it had just been an act, her agreement to never see anybody else, her admittance that she was, “mine.” If it had just been something brewed from the heat of the moment. But, when I answered the phone, set it back on the nightstand, I swear to God I saw something in her eyes shift, like she had been bothered at the thought of me with someone else.

Or it would be shitty in general if I was seeing someone else.

I weighed telling her, every single, how I felt about her. I don’t know that if I told her I loved her it would change anything. I had all but done so, and she still was unmoving. She still had gone and found that faceless nobody in the crowd.

Today, I felt like maybe I should. Tell her.

As soon as she had left, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t think it was Daisy, considering Sam would be waking up soon and she needed to get back into bed. When I looked through the peephole, Adam was there, staring over his shoulder sort of strangely.

“Hey, dude,” I started as I opened the door, then turned to make my way over to the bed where my book bag was. I reached in for my notebook, continuing, “so, I’ve got a few good ideas rattling around-” probably a few too many about Daisy, “that I wanna show ya.”

He slowly entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him, “Yeah, uh...” he approached me sort of hesitantly, distant confusion in his pupils, “I think we...should talk about something first.” He didn’t seem too sure of himself and the words he was saying were cautious. So, my tone slowed, hardened “What-what’s up?”

He finally met my eye and I felt like a sword had been shoved down my throat, “I just talked to Daisy...out in the hallway.”

I set my book bag down, hands having been frozen around the straps like someone cursed me into the stoic, icy position. All I could think to say was, “Oh.”

Adam nodded half-heartedly, “Yeah. Oh. I... don’t know what to say, really. I knew you guys had been...like, it was obvious. To me and I think Max, at least. Sam is kinda clueless and, he and Ronnie are totally sleeping with each other.”

Well, that was obvious. So obvious that I could have snorted, but I was too focused on the wild realization that everyone basically knew. All of that sneaking around, trying to be secretive- well, it didn’t fucking matter. And it didn’t seem like it really mattered that much.

“Are you gonna, like, scold me or something?’ I sat on the edge of my bed, running a wary hand through my hair.

“No, I’m gonna tell you that you’re fucking stupid.”

“What?” I looked up from the ground, shock widening my eyes.

Adam finally softened his expression and chortled, though it was short before he was in on me again, “You’re stupid, Ollie. I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose. I think you’re just...Fiona fucked you up. And I’ve watched you slowly start to heal over these past few months. Daisy has everything to do with that. And...she fucking loves you, dude. She thinks the world of you. And you’ve both, I guess, been dancing this dance with each other, walking around the whole thing. I just told her, like- stop thinking less of yourselves. You both deserve something good. You’re both worthy of each other. So, stop being fucking stupid and just tell her.”

My face was hot. I clenched my hands together, knuckles turning white as all these rampant, loose feelings released in my chest, in my head. “She doesn’t love me.” Adam chuckled again, “That’s a bold fucking statement. She just told me herself how much she adores me.”

“Well, yeah, she likes me, that’s obvious,” I waved him off, “she wouldn’t be sleeping with me if she didn’t. But...I think I’ve made it clear so many times how much I want her. And she, just, doesn’t care. Or she turns away.”

“She’s scared!” Adam exclaimed, making me flinch just slightly. “Sorry,” he spoke quieter, like he had shocked himself with his tone of voice. “She’s scared, Ollie. She’s...she doesn’t know who she is. That’s why she came here. That’s why she pulls away, why she seems unsure.”

“Well, I know that,” I scoffed, “I know her better than anyone. You haven’t seen the way she...how she denies it. I know she denies it. She denies us- me.”

“Okay, tell me,” Adam nearly popped a hip at this, a sassy tone overtaking his authoritative one. “Tell me how she denies, what she says and does that makes you think she doesn’t want you. Tell me that she doesn’t love you.”

I thought, long and hard. I could've mentioned the very recent time when she had been dancing with another guy, at our concert, a prowling look in her eyes. Or, of the time when I was on the brink of telling her how I felt, then she pulled away. Or-

Wait.

Am I fucking stupid?

I’m so fucking stupid. I am the dumbest, stupidest idiotic idiot to have ever existed.

It was all right there, clearing up now like I was wearing new glasses. I had a new perspective- I had an unbiased, outsider’s view of the world I had been suffocating in. And Adam’s view was- a breath of fresh air.

I was so obviously the one turning away from her.

From the beginning, I’d been denying her, us, for fear that she wouldn’t want me that way. For fear that someone would find out, for fear that I might die if she ever looked away from me. And I’ve been covering it up with the excuse that I was broken, or hurting, or-or...worthless.

I knew differently. I’d known it differently for a while now but had been unable to act upon this rationality. I was too emotional, too, in my head. And that made me seem manipulative, and asshole-ish, and- fucking stupid.

Adam watched me carefully, watched me as I processed these past few months. My eyes were narrowed, confused, though they widened as the information unfolded in my mind, as the notches clicked together.

“You’re…right.”

Instead of worrying myself with the evidence that she, too, was afraid, I felt my head flood with memories, as tangent on my skin as the cool air of my hotel room. Memories of her devotion, her promise, her love. Memories of us in the stale morning, sharing stories of her mother and that little apartment back in America. Memories of us on the roof, atop the world, atop the feeling, a private sanctuary where even just the flash of her eyes should have told me everything that I needed to know. I was going to tell her I felt the same. I was going to pull her up to the roof, one of our most sacred secrets, and pour everything out onto the barren concrete between us. And I knew she would say that she loved me, too.

It was delicate and I would have to handle it as such. Any sudden movement, and we’d be falling apart, all over again.

But, then Max was bombarding my hotel room, spewing some nonsense about Daisy and Ronnie getting tattoos. He was dragging us to Sam’s hotel room. I was practicing the lines in my head, over and over, a prayer.

Daisy was looking at me with these doe-innocent eyes, like she, too, was praying to some old god. Altering herself for a breath that he may resurrect what was dying between us even now.

I found more words, new words- lyrics, pummeling my skull in wondrous discovery. It was right there- everything was- My phone wouldn’t fucking stop ringing and I thought that I might explode into atoms. I ignored the call, watching as Daisy’s face fell each and every time that it did. She well and truly thought that I was seeing someone else.

Enough was enough.

I took a step towards her, fully intent on putting a rest to the strangeness and awakening what was already there. But, then my phone rang again.

And Sam began making some joke about Fiona calling me, a knowing, devious smirk on his features. He didn’t know- how could he know? I couldn’t be upset with him, but I wanted to strangle him into the carpet.

But I couldn’t focus on that anger for too long-

Because Daisy was leaving like we both always left, one too many times, in one too many silent glares of this something that we just may never get right.

The delicate threads of us bent and snapped.

[byizoyas]

© byizoyas

NSFW | spicy hcs what’s their biggest kink (II) with ayato, thoma, diluc

!!CONTENT WARNING: explicit sex scenes, teacher / college student dynamic in ayato’s, vaginal fingering, oral sex (reader receiving) slight dom!reader in diluc’s

part I

AYATO

› role play

› ayato was always creative with the way you two had sex, so you were truly never getting tired of fucking him

› when you got home from college and found him sitting on the sofa of your apartment you straight up knew what he wanted when seeing the expression on his face

⸻

‘did you do your homework already ?’ he asked.

the question was pretty simple yet unexpected. ayato was working already and he had little to no time to come and see you, so when he did, you usually had sex and then went outside on a date.

but now he was asking you about school ?

you say next to him, trying to figure out his intention while replying no to his question.

‘mh that is not good y/n. this is no serious, i cannot tolerate such thing from my precious students.’ he teased you, caressing your arm.

now it was clear, he would act as your teacher today ? fine, then you’d act like his bratty student.

‘but i have no time… what could i do to make up for it ayato ?’

the smile growing larger on his lips as you got invested into his play made him so hotter than usually.

he showed you the floor with one hand while leading you with the other and you quickly ended up kneeling between his legs.

‘should i give you a blowjob ?’ you innocently asked, moving your ass a bit to seduce him and judging by the desire in his eyes as he bit his lip quickly, he wasn’t indifferent.

you caressed his intimacy through his light beige pants, feeling his hard member and it turned you on a lot to wait for his orders to do anything, but you didn’t want to play the good student today, so you tried to take off his pants and miserably failed when he gripped your hands.

‘take off your skirt y/n.’

‘is this an order ayato ?’ you played dumb but knew perfectly well that it was one.

he nodded yes and you did as he told. after that, he reinstalled himself on the couch, sitting straight, and guiding you to get on your knees again, but this time your chest was resting on his lap.

he caressed your ass softly. but the only contact of his hands on your ass was enough to make you wet again. he caressed your clit through the delicate fabric of your panties and chuckled to himself seeing how dripping wet you were down there.

‘what are you going to do ayato ?’ you asked lowly before a dirty moan escaped your throat. ayato slapped your ass. ‘stop calling me ayato, i am your teacher y/n, you owe me respect.’ he insisted and slapped you once more to make sure you understood.

‘yes. teacher.’ that reply aroused him even more and he started fingering you. his thin and long fingers felt so good inside of you, that you kept on moaning.

‘keep moaning y/n, i like it when you’re vocal.’ he said as he shoved two fingers of his other hand inside of your mouth ‘be a good student and do your homework later will you ?’

‘hmmh’ his fingers still on your mouth we’re stopping you from forming actual phrases but that answer satisfied ayato.

it turned out his day had ended earlier and so you kept on fucking with this dynamic. you reached orgasm several times, and ayato wasn’t going to leave you alone especially after seeing you enjoy his biggest kink.

THOMA

› military

› perhaps it was more your kink than his, but thoma got super excited to the idea when you suggested he’d wear his old uniform while fucking you

› so when you found him on your bed after you got home from work, the sight of that man was turning you on already, knowing where this was going

⸻

‘i think it got tighter’ he shyly said, getting up from the mattress to pull you closer into his arms.

indeed the fabric was almost sticking to his skin; as if he would never manage to take it off but you found it incredibly hot.

‘you just got more muscular thoma’

you caressed his hands, your fingers lingering along his arms, pressing on his biceps gently while you looked up at him for a kiss, which he did right away.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hands slowly going down to your ass, gently squeezing it. your bodies were glued to each other by now, lips kissing, and his hands running all over your skin. yours too, as if discovering yourselves for the first time again.

‘you’re super hot’ you whispered against his parted lips.

after a few minutes of making out, did you sense something hard against your thighs. you looked down, and then back up to your boyfriend who obviously didn’t try to hide his desires. he wanted you. now and perhaps more than ever.

‘fuck me thoma.’ you said against his ears, making him shiver a bit. and he quickly obeyed, pushing you on the bed and crawling over you.

he kneeled on the border of the mattress, taking off his belt and freeing his hard cock.

you spread your legs and pulled on his military jacket to pull him close to you, allowing him to fuck you in a classic missionary position.

he was going slow, but his thrusts were hard and merciless, not letting you the time to think.

‘yes just like that sir’ you whined after thoma hit a sensitive spot of yours.

‘what did you call me ?’ thoma suddenly stopped moving, looking at you, whose face was probably showing confusion. did he not like it ? not that you thought about it because it actually slipped out of your mouth.

‘s-sir ?’ you hesitantly replied but the look on his face growing more and more hungry reassured you.

‘get on all four and call me that again y/n’ he commanded, getting up to let you switch position, which you did quite quickly.

thoma gripped your plump ass, bringing it closer to his cock and shoving it inside slowly. you thought he’d go the same pace than before, but he completely lost it, going hard on you,

‘fuck y/n, you’re so fucking good.’ he groaned, caressing your back gently, and his softness was quite contradictory to his fast thrusts in and out of you.

‘it feels so ~nghh good sir, keep going please’

and he never stopped. he kept on fucking you for hours, making you feel as good as you were making him. in the end, he probably enjoyed it more than you because he put his uniform back on his dressing room.

DILUC

› face sitting

› diluc was pretty shy about his own fantasies and kinks but once you two got in a serious relationship for some time now, he finally felt comfortable enough to tell you

› since he was dominant most of the time you never expected such request when he said he’d love you to sit on his face and fuck his tongue

⸻

it was a first for the two of you because usually he would lead and he would control where and how he was giving you a cunnilingus.

‘let’s head to the bed y/n’ he said.

the atmosphere seemed kinda formal so you put on some music to help you both relax. it was not something really changing except you’d be over him for oral sex, yet it felt weird. in a good way of course because you couldn’t wait to try out diluc’s kink.

after he finally confessed it, you couldn’t disappoint him.

you started taking off your clothes first, and quickly ended up fully naked. diluc however only took off his shirt and let you take off his pants when you’d be ready.

you both started stimulating each other. your hand around his large cock, caressing it and pumping up and down as his breath got more and more irregular.

only then did you decide to initiate it, crawling over his body until you finally sat on his face. you looked at him making sure he was comfortable too and after seeing his playful look, did you decide to start moving.

at first it felt kinda awkward. you were thinking too much about how it was supposed to be. but once you got the right place and pace, everything felt natural.

diluc was masturbating himself while licking your pussy eagerly.

you moved several times, feeling diluc’s low voice in your entire body when he moaned between your legs, making you shiver.

you closed your eyes, following the rhythm of the song that was playing at the same time.

‘diluc ngh this is so good. fuck.’ you moaned, speeding up the pace of your movements, not able to control yourself as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the orgasm.

you were moving your hips quite quickly now, eager to cum and his tongue pressing on your clit simply felt so good.

he was always doing well with it but now felt different. it was better.

he looked up at you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he kept on eating you out just like you loved. his tongue rolling up and down your clit and his beefy arms around your thighs to stop you from moving away.

your legs started vibrating as you finally reached climax. diluc kept on licking your clit, as fast as he could, and at this point he was almost overstimulating you but it felt too good to stop.

you gripped his long red hair, almost begging for him not to stop but he didn’t intend to anyway.

‘right there don’t you stop please’ you screamed over the music that seemed never ending just like the pleasure diluc was offering you with only his tongue

you opened your eyes again, and tapped his hands gently for him to free your thighs since after experimenting such thing and reaching orgasm once again all you wanted to do was to kiss him passionately.

his chin and lips were full of your secretion, making him even sexier.

after that both you and diluc decided to do this again. diluc was actually super turned on to have you over him, fucking his mouth as if it was an object. fucking it as if it was yours and it was. he was, indeed, all yours.

and knowing you enjoyed this almost as much as he did truly made him want to try again right away.

[joesheistyy]

Driving in his Benz - Joe Burrow

I've never been a taylor swift girlie but midnights is iconic and I was inspired by vigilante shit sooooo here you go :) more angst? yes please! ending in some fluff? count me in!

2.2k words || cussing || some harsh grabbing

-------

Of course your evening was spent bickering with Joe. This was the second night in a row you two just couldn’t get on the same page about a handful of things. Once again going to bed angry with each other, backs facing each other.

In your late high school days, the way you’d cool down from heightened emotions was by going for a drive. Could you do this in Cincinnati? Sure, but it wasn’t as soothing as driving back roads in southern Indiana. It was definitely much preferred to do during the day. As you fell asleep, you made a plan to get up and just drive to get your head on straight when you awoke. 

When you woke up, you did not have the energy to deal with Joe. Needing to be caffeinated before any hard thoughts came to mind, you decided to go to Panera to grab a coffee and a charged tea. Of course those drinks would be spaced out throughout the day, you just needed an out for the morning. This would probably be another item Joe would want to bicker about-your caffeine intake. 

You put on your favorite oversized crewneck and Lululemon leggings before you left the bedroom, making as little noise as possible. What you didn’t know was that your stirring before getting out of bed woke Joe up. He wanted to start the day off on a good note, hoping to talk things through over breakfast, but you had already gone down the stairs and grabbed the keys to his new Benz.

The sleek black car was parked in the garage, windows yet to be tinted. You lifted the garage door before turning on the car and picking out your “bad bitch” playlist. Joe was able to hear the garage door open and close, he knew driving was your go to outlet to clear your head, so he let it go. 

After an hour or so, you had picked up your drinks and were driving with the windows down, cool spring air flowing throughout the nice car. You pulled up to a stop light, blasting Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift and singing along with the song, dancing in a way that made you feel hot. What you didn’t know was that the car stopped next to you knew who you were and snapped a video of you in your own little world. Swiftly posting it to twitter. 

Joe was sitting on the couch at home, almost in a wallowing state. He just wanted to talk things through in a calm manner because he was just as tired of bickering as you were. Little did he know, the video of you was blowing up on twitter. His phone pinged from his pocket with the special text tone for his manager. 

Yo dude, what is your girl up to? There’s a video of her blowing up all over twitter.

Joe had no clue what you were doing, opting to trust you to clear your head without causing a scene. 

I’ll handle this. Was Joe’s response to his manager. 

You continued on the windy back roads, blasting Girls in the Hood by Megan Thee Stallion. A text came through the car’s ApplePlay. 

What the fuck are you doing, y/n? Get your ass home right now. The car read out to you. 

You let out an aggressive sigh, opting for that over tears. “Hey Siri, text Joey Boy back and respond with you don’t own me, don’t tell me what to do.”

That ring states otherwise honey. What made you think you could take my car without asking? Get home now, it’s about time we sat down and talked. 

These words making your heart sink to just about you asshole. Your anxiety had been heightened all week with the constant bickering. The phrase or anything close to we need to talk always seemed to make any situation worse in your opinion. 

“Hey Siri, respond to Joey Boy and say Fine, as you wish.”

You headed home, opting to take the longest route possible. Pulling into the neighborhood of your shared home, you took some deep breaths to try to calm your anxiety. As you opened the garage door to park the car, you saw an angry faced Joe waiting at the door to enter your house. 

“Y/n, what the fuck?” he emphasized in a stern tone, shooting daggers with his eyes. 

“What? I really don’t understand what you’re so upset about,” you huffed out, tossing your hands in the air as you approached the door to enter the house. 

“You don’t understand? How could you not understand?” he led you into the house, anger obvious not only his voice but in his tense back and shoulders. 

“Joe, I just wanted to clear my head. Why can't I do anything without getting bitched at?” You retorted, hanging the keys on the hook by the garage door. 

“Don’t start this with me, y/n. I’m not happy with you,” 

“Yeah, obviously,” You rolled your eyes, setting your drink down on the counter. 

Joe swiftly turned around, once again glaring at you in a way you had never seen before. His blue eyes were dark, eyelashes framing his gorgeous orbs in a scary yet beautiful way. His fist slammed on the counter as he began to take a deep breath. You could only imagine what was coming. 

“Oh my god, y/n,” He began as he rolled his eyes and huffed, “do you have any idea what you’ve done? First, you take my car without asking me, then you get caught and recorded in my car that you didn't ask to use, singing some stupid ass song about driving in a Benz or whatever the fuck it was, dancing and looking like an absolute fucking idiot,” he continued as his cheeks and neck turned a red as bright as a rose. Arms flying around as another outlet for his anger. 

You looked at him with emptiness filling your mind and body. He never had a problem before with you taking his car out. Plus, he always thought your singing and dancing was goofy, who did he think he was to call you all these things?

Looking up at him yet trying to avoid his scary eyes, you could see his breath hitch in his chest. “Babe, I-” you began.

“Don’t babe me, you're in the dog house with me right now,” he said, beginning to walk away. 

“So what? We’re not gonna talk about this? You’re just gonna bitch at me over something that I do on a normal basis? Alright Burrow, have your way for now. I’m done,” you directed yourself to the stairway. Joe swiftly came up behind you and grabbed your wrist with haste. That’s gonna hurt later.

“No no, you’re not done. We're talking about this now,” Joe forced you to follow him, pushing you down to the couch which caused you to swiftly get up. Inches from his chest, you look up at him, finger poking his chest with as much force as you could handle. “Don’t you ever handle me like that again,” you jabbed at his chest. Pushing through his strong stance, you headed toward the stairs determined to get away from him. 

Joe didn’t chase after you this time, he had practice in an hour and decided he didn’t want to get into it with you. His practice bag was in your shared bedroom where you had locked yourself in. As you heard his footsteps approach, you grabbed his bag and tossed it onto the floor outside the door, making sure to close it with a harsh nature. You could hear him sigh as he retrieved his grey bag from the floor. You took a couple deep breaths before sliding down the door, blocking any entrance with your weight. 

You hated to cry in front of Joe, so once you heard the garage door close, you felt safe to come out of your little pity party. Heading downstairs to give yourself a change of scenery, you plopped down on the couch where just a few minutes ago, you were scolding Joe for grabbing you in a way that was uncomfortable and not in a sexual way. Tears beginning to fall uncontrollably. You pulled your legs up to your chest, opting to put your crewneck over them so you could curl into a little ball and cry. 

You soon heard footsteps. What the fuck, Joe is at practice, isn’t he? You thought to yourself as you lifted your head to look around and see if anyone was there. After determining that you were alone, you went back to your little sob fest. All the emotions from the previous bickering fights catching up to you. The way Joe yelled at you really did your emotions in. 

Footsteps approached you and you felt a weight dip down on the couch next to you. You jolted out of your crewneck, craning your neck to your left to view Joe sat down next to you. You blinked a few times to try to clear your cloudy eyes as you pulled your body out of your crewneck ball. He sighed and tried to scoot a bit closer to you, only causing you to scoot further away from him. 

“Can we please not do this right now?” you sobbed. He sighed again. 

“Honey we need to talk,” he began. There were those words again. 

“You have practice and you need to go,” you began. He reached out to grab your hand. Your left hand to be exact. That alone scared you more than anything considering the absolute rock sitting on your ring finger.

“I texted Zac that I’m gonna be late. You’re more important to me right now,” he stated as his features softened. You scooted into him a little more, opting to rest your head onto his shoulder. The lack of physical touch lately didn’t help with all the bickering. Your sobs wracked your ribs. Joe knew you hated to cry in front of him, but it was inevitable after the recent events. 

“Joe I can’t stand this bickering and arguing anymore,” you sobbed again. He took an opportunity to give you a soothing back rub. 

“I know, y/n. I can’t either. Everything has just been eating me up and building up lately and we need to address all this,” he said, slowly turning to look at you.

“Why do you yell at me the way you do, Joe? It’s so hard to want to be kind back when I get talked to the way I do when you’re upset,” you spoke with shaky breaths. “I feel like I have to defend myself to you when you raise your voice with me. That’s why when we bicker, it feels never ending. How am I supposed to stand there and take criticism for every little disagreement or every little thing that makes you upset?”

“I don’t know, babe. I just get so lost in my own emotions that sometimes things just come out that way,” he began. 

“No Joe, they always come out that way. But when you start attacking me for things like singing and dancing, that’s when it goes overboard. You can’t keep criticizing me for things I do when you’re worked up,” you said with a more stern tone. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m going to try to be better,” he said, grabbing at your hand again and fiddling with your ring. “This ring is supposed to represent my undying love for you and I’ve done the opposite. I promise I’m going to work to be a better fiancee so I can be the best husband. I love you y/n and I can’t lose you. I’m so sorry for the way the cards have fallen lately. I deserve to be blamed and torn into,” he said, looking down in embarrassment. 

“Babe I’m not gonna bitch back at you the way you yelled at me earlier. While I don’t appreciate the way I’ve been talked to lately, you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. I just need your help in talking things out before shit hits the fan, got it?” you looked at him, waiting for him to look into your eyes and agree. He nodded, leaning in to kiss your forehead. You both sighed as you leaned into his chest for comfort. He held you so close and tight like it was the thing he knew how to do best. You both needed that tight embrace. 

“No more talking to each other like that, got it?” you pulled away as you spoke.

“Of course, future Mrs. Burrow. We can settle things like adults because we are adults,” he showed a soft smile.

“Now go to practice, Burrow. You shouldn’t keep coach and the team waiting. I’ll be here to hug you later. I’m just glad we talked at least something out. We can talk more out when you get back,” you held out your pinky and wrapped his into yours. 

“I love you, y/n. I’ll be back later,” he got up and rushed out the door. You sighed and leaned back into the couch in hope that more talking to each other would help cure all your anxieties. Maybe even going for a drive, together...

-----

lmk if y'all want a part two, I've got some ideas up my sleeve!!!!!!

[dieaverage]

ROSE-COLORED BOY — eddie munson x female reader as childhood friends to enemies to friends again to sickeningly-in-love lovers

eddie munson x female reader

series summary: six months after the death of your mother darlene byers, you return to hawkins, indiana to try and make sense of everything. what you don’t anticipate is how much running into him on your first night back, five years after your desertion, will break your heart (and his) all over again.

author’s note: hi! going to be so unapologetically real with you all and say i have no clue of where this is headed, but after my hyper-fixating ass decided to host an eddie munson revival party of one on the cusp of the year of our lord 2024, i knew i had to write something so other people could at least be subjected to the workings of my mind. i hope you like it, and if you don’t, well, that’s a you problem i fear! but seriously if you do have any ideas/directions you would like to see this heading, please please please do not hesitate to let me know! this is my first time posting any of my work on tumblr *gasp* so i mean it when i say criticism is warmly welcomed. <3

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chapter one — spaghetti and meatballs

word count: 1.6k+

NEXT

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A thin mist descended upon the forested thoroughfare to the town you once felt you knew so well, though were no longer so sure. The weighty four-worded acknowledgement bounced around in your head over and over as you approached the deceptively disarming "Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana" sign, so heavily you were almost convinced it was rousing a sleeping migraine, and yet no matter how many times you repeated the seemingly familiarising phrase under bated breath, it felt no less alien to you.

After all, this was never truly your home. Countless summers spent at your cousins' house, even four begrudgingly defining years clocked up at Hawkins High School, had never allowed you to feel like you had earned the right to label it as such. It was your mother's home, as if she had beat you to staking any claim on it, and now that she was no longer around, any ties you thought you might have had to it felt well and truly severed.

Precarious ties aside, it was here you found yourself, in Hawkins. Mere months after the death of your mother. The offer had unfalteringly been there, "whe- if- it ever gets to be too much, Daphne, you know you can come stay with me and the boys", and yet your eventual acceptance of it made you feel nothing short of an imposter.

Any hopes for a discreet arrival were instantaneously dashed as your Cavalier pulled onto the unforgiving gravelly driveway, your tires connecting with the stones to create a disturbance you were sure could have woken any nearby animals out of hibernation, had they assumed an early one. Hawkins air had a perpetually wintry quality, after all. The front door swung open before you even had a chance to remove your keys from the ignition, and the sight of the emerging sixteen year old boy unwillingly brought a beaming smile to your face.

"Daphne!!!!" he called out, advancing towards you at an incredible and equally terrifying speed.

"Hi, Will!" a laugh couldn't help but escape your lips as he wrapped you into a tight hug, the force of which setting you off balance momentarily. He used to be so... delicate. "You've gotten so big!"

"He's got what, like, a foot on you now?" a voice exclaimed from the doorway, the discerning sarcasm of it all widening your already unshakeable grin.

"Lovely to see you too, Jonathan. And it's a couple inches, at best!"

Soon the three of you were embraced in a group hug, which although you would never admit it, had been long overdue. The slight stinging sensation in your eyes signalling the impending flood of tears prompted your swift ejection from the embrace. "So, where is my darling pseudo sister?" you questioned as you walked through the threshold of the Byers abode, attempting to inject some humour into what had already become a far too confronting display of emotions, and almost as if on cue Joyce emerged from the adjoining room.

"Oh, Daphne!" she cried out, consuming you in a hug that could only be described as motherly. You felt it considerably harder to fight back the tears this time. "Hi, Joyce." you exhaled into her shoulder, trying with all your might to resist crumbling in her arms right there. You had been alone for, what, six months? This exhibition of emotion, or rather, the suppression of it, left you feeling weak, and was perhaps the very reason you had avoided coming for so long.

Darlene would never have earned an award for her maternity, and you often thought that if there were such a scale to measure someone who would, your own mother would, against all odds, find a way to fall below it. She wasn't well, that much had been evident for the entirety of your time together, and increasingly so in the end, but in her wake you wondered how much longer you could accept it as an excuse. Above all else, you felt abandoned. Joyce, and the boys, they were wonderful. Truthfully speaking, Joyce had been more of a mother to you in your formative years than Darlene ever was, and Will and Jonathan, they would always be your little brothers as far as you were concerned. But still, in their house now, observing the three of them together, you helplessly felt like a guest, as if years of intimacy had been erased. Nothing had occurred to suggest this, of course. No, these thoughts were all of your own creation, from the mind you had so wished to desert so many times in the last six months.

“Daphne, honey, you must be starving. What can I whip up for us?”

"Spaghetti and meatballs, Mom, please?" Will exhorted, snapping you out of your self imposed hypnotic state.

"I think we should let Daphne choose, Will." Joyce sweetly urged him. "Daphne, what would you like?" You looked up at her from your place on the couch which you hadn't even recalled assuming, and then over to Will who was waiting in anticipation for your answer.

"Spaghetti and meatballs sounds great. Gotta love Italian!" you exclaimed, and Will and Jonathan high-fived quietly from across the room. Joyce shared a knowing look with you and giggled before turning back towards the kitchen. It brought a certain degree of reassurance to you that some things truly never change, one of which being the Byers boys' inability to grow up.

"Joyce," you scurry behind her, "thank you. I- it's been a... weird couple months, but being with y'all, it's already helping."

"Oh, Daphne," Joyce pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "I thought about you constantly. I wanted to make the trip down to Austin, to be there for you, but with the boys and then work-"

"I know. It's okay. I'm here now. You don't have to worry anymore."

"Easier said than done." Joyce gave an unassured look. "Please, just... don't hesitate to talk to me, okay? If it's too much. You're like a daughter to me, Daphne, and I know the boys think of you as a big sister. This is your home. For as long as you want it to be."

You promptly gave her a cuddle, hoping it could express your gratitude in a way you knew your words couldn't without risk of activating the waterworks, before announcing, "Hey, I think I might head out for a while after dinner. Check out that booming Hawkins nightlife. I can't even remember the last time I got a drink here."

"And legally, at that!" Joyce countered playfully, you giving her a slight push to quiet down, afraid that Will or Jonathan might wish to learn a thing or two of your teenage antics, ammunition you certainly were not ready to equip them with.

"Hey, I handled my alcohol well, okay!" you argued, though not compellingly.

"Law enforcement might disagree." she laughed, her head elsewhere, presumably recalling your countless run ins with the Hawkins police department.

"Okay yes, somewhat of a troubled teen..." you admitted, "but you know, I got over it. I went to college. I grew up." Joyce met your eyes with a smile, "I know you did. I'm so proud of you, Daph."

Eventually, dinner was ready, and the group had no sooner sat down at the dinner table before Will had engulfed the contents of his plate, now proudly demonstrating its emptiness to Joyce. "Finished! Can I please go to Mike's now?" he asked her with eyes so wide you feared they could momentarily eject from their sockets, making the question posed that much sweeter.

"Alright, alright." she giggled, "Just be careful, okay? Biking at a reasonable speed will not hinder your chances of escaping dungeons or slaying dragons, I promise."

Will met his mother's failed attempt at understanding his favourite game with an unforgiving roll of the eyes before the table burst into laughter with Will pulling Joyce into a hug, and then Jonathan.

"See you later, Daphne!" he exclaimed before wrapping his arms around you and hurriedly darting out the front door, leaving you once again with an aching smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy, you thought to yourself.

"A couple hours and he already has Daphne wrapped around his finger!" Jonathan said jokingly, sending both you and Joyce into laughter once again. "What can I say, he's a good kid!"

"Once upon a time, you were too, Jonathan!" you said wiggling your finger at him with an air of mockery, giving a playful nudge to his shoulder before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Closing the door behind you, you catch sight of Will wheeling his bike down the rough driveway. "Hey, wait up!"

Even from a distance you could make out his cheesy grin, and you couldn't help but think about what a heartbreaker he would make one day.

"So, Will the Wise! Off to another campaign?" you proclaim as you reach him, and the use of his nickname only causes his smile to grow wider.

"You remembered?"

"How could I forget?! I was only gone a couple years. Will the Wise's legacy, now that will last centuries." you tease.

"I really missed you, Daphne. So did Mom, almost as much as Jonathan!"

"Jonathan? Wow, he said that? Can we get that in writing?"

"Seriously!" he slapped your arm lightly as the briefly shared portion of your journey came to a close, preparing to mount his bike for the ride to the Wheeler house, "I'm so glad you're home."

With what felt suspiciously like watering eyes approaching, you swallowed harshly before taking his hand in yours. "Me too."

[svechnikovvv]

lights up

pairing: andrei svechnikov x fem!reader

warnings: sensitive topics

summary: maybe being vulnerable isn’t that bad

a/n: writers block has been kicking my ass 😫 i’m so sorry guys

series masterlist: here

it’d be so sweet if things just stayed the same / runnin’ through my heart / do you know who you are?

being vulnerable was the most foreign feeling in the world. it felt like spiders crawling on your skin. it was the worst.

but if there was anyone in the world who understood how you felt, it was andrei. your andrei.

“y/n?” you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of that familiar russian accent. you don’t know when he answered the phone, or how long you’d been spaced out for, but you could hear the worry in his voice.

“yeah, uh, you got a sec?”

andrei knew you didn’t like talking about your feelings. maybe it was how whenever you came over to rant to him, you’d always play with the rings on your fingers. or maybe it was how you’d avoid eye contact. whatever it may be, andrei knew you.

the big guy was known to be a bit ditzy and aloof, but that was never the case when he was around you. he became attentive and listened to everything you had to say. he always noticed every little change you made.

his teammates like to think that he likes you. which, wasn’t a lie. anybody could see how much andrei adored you. he was pure putty in your hands. pyotr loved to ask him, “is y/n the only thing in your vocabulary?” which would always earn him a glare.

everyone knew from the first time you came around, that andrei was completely head over heels for you.

***

you won’t lie, you got a little lost trying to figure out where to go for this morning skate thing. andrei said occasionally they’ll let fans come in and watch and today was one of those days. so you decided to see how they ran things when they weren’t going at other hockey players’ throats.

you found a seat somewhere near the ice and settled down, watching the guys zoom around and joke with one another. you probably should’ve brought a hoodie because you were starting to get a bit chilly. you started to zone out a bit before you heard some taps on the glass. you look and see andrei standing there with a big smile.

“y/n, i didn’t think this was your- what is that phrase you people use?”

“cup of tea?” he nods and you softly laugh “yeah, well, i was getting tired of staring at the same walls and decided to see what you do behind the scenes.” andrei laughs and points to a door and he skates off. you get up and walk over in that direction and he’s already standing by it, running his fingers through his hair.

he engulfs you in a hug, resting his chin on your head.

“you’re warm,” you mumble, making him softly laugh.

“are you cold?” he pulls back and looks at you. “why didn’t you bring a jacket?” you shrugged

“hold on. i’ll go get you a hoodie.” you watched as he walked through a door and returned five minutes later. he was holding his black canes hoodie that he’d seem to always be wearing whenever he came over. he handed it to you and you took it, muttering a thanks and slipping it over your head. it was a bit big on you, but andrei was a growing man, so of course it was.

“that better?” you nodded and he gave you a soft, dimply smile.

“what’re you gonna wear when you change?”

“i’m from russia, the cold doesn’t bother me.” you roll your eyes

“okay show off.” he laughs

“how long are you gonna stay and watch?”

“score me a hatty and then i’ll go.” he nods, always up for a challenge and walks back through the door and onto the ice. you make your way back to your seat and andrei’s cologne on his hoodie hits you instantly. you felt safe.

andrei skates around a bit and manages to get a goal past pyotr, who you knew because andrei mentioned him so many times, and he throws his arms up in triumph. he looks over at you and you give him a thumbs up. he continues to try his best again and again and it takes him a while before he makes his second one.

he then skates over to in front of you and he’s panting.

“you see that one?” he managed to do a wrap-around shot and make it in.

“i did, drei. you move as smooth as butter.” he smiles wide and skates back to the puck. like the second goal, it takes him a while to get the third. when he does though, he points at you and you’re clapping. he’s laughing and skates back over to you.

“there’s your hatty. every goal was for you.” you place a hand over your heart.

“i feel so honored.” you stand up and walk back over to the little door and andrei meets you.

“i was thinking of making your favorite tonight. you want to come over later?” he nods

“yes, whatever you want i’m fine with.” he gives you a goodbye hug and you walk off and back to your car, still clad in his hoodie.

back on the ice, andrei skated over to his teammates to see them all looking at him.

“who’s the mystery girl, svech?”

“that’s my best friend y/n.”

“i don’t believe it. you’re in love with her.” andrei could feel his face heat up and be just rolled his eyes and skated off.

“that doesn’t answer anything!” sebastian called out

everyone knew right then that you were more than just his “best friend.”

***

it only took him two months after that incident for him to realize that they were right, he was in love with you.

“i always have a second for you, krasivaya.” he always loved to slip russian in his sentences and never tell you what it meant.

“drei, i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” his brows furrowed because did you mean? he thought you were perfect in every way possible.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ve been so irritable lately. it’s like, everything i do, i piss myself off. i can’t stand to look at myself either. everyday just feels like a repeat of the day before. i don’t even feel like myself, anymore.” somewhere in your rant, you started to cry. andrei has only seen you cry once, so he knew this was serious.

“don’t move, i’ll be there in five minutes.” you stayed in the same spot you were in, and sure enough, five minutes pass and andrei’s letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. he sees you sitting on the couch with your knees tucked into your chest and he pulls you into his lap. you cry into his shoulder as he rubs your back soothingly.

“it’s okay, let it all out.”

“i’ve been feeling like such a burden lately. i miss when i was younger and didn’t care about anything. why couldn’t things just stay the same?” you hiccuped a bit and andrei continued to rub your back.

“caring is good. it shows you have feelings. it may not always feel good or have good outcomes, but to me, it shows me that you have a kind heart. and you’re nowhere near a burden, y/n. so many people love you and care about you.” he places a kiss on the side of your head.

“you’re not alone on this, okay? your problems are my problems. and i know that telling me this might’ve been hard for you, but you did it, yes? i’m very proud of you.”

“i love you.” you whisper and he’s carding his fingers through your hair.

“i love you too, y/n.” you sit up and shake your head.

“no drei. i love you. as in, more than a best friend.” andrei places his hands on either side of your face.

“malyshka, i‘ve loved you since you came to the morning skate years go.” he closes the gap between the two of you and you can taste the mint gum he must’ve previously been chewing on. the two of you pull apart and andrei’s looking at you with a fondness in his eyes.

sure, being vulnerable felt like being on a stage with spotlights blinding you from every direction, but maybe stepping into the light wasn’t so bad. it gave you andrei, and that’s the best reward you could ever ask for. you’re never going back now.

tags: @starsandhughes @liquidflyer @drei-mrssvechii @angzls @goldenbrokenheart

a/n: having mixed emotions about this 👎

[deadpool15]

Myra's Pov

"And that's exactly what I told your ass, stop hitting up the dude with the weird shaped hairline because if they can't take care of that, then they obviously don't care about themselves". Myra says as she is on the phone with her bestie Sonhee.

"I know, I know, wait a Damm minute speaking of hair isn't today like, what do you call it, ummmmmmm can you help me put Myra god," Sonhee says, frustrated while laughing. "It's called Myra's national wash-day, you bottom, literally knows nothing about me. And for your information, I'm simply waiting for my lovely girlfriend/help that doesn't know she is my help to pull up. " Sonhee looks at her with a face of curiosity, "You did not tell Bada to come to your house to help you with her hair, Myra Celine Johnson. "

"Omg, first of all, why are you out here saying my government name? That's like treason bitch, we are in foreign waters I told you about this. I don't even let people say my government name in America, now you out her in Korea saying my name knowing Damm well I'm not supposed to be here". Sonhee shakes her head and laughs, " You need to stop telling people you ain't supposed to be here before you get deported".

The front door bell rings continuously, letting Myra know that Bada has arrived and is tired of standing outside. "Welp, I got to go. My wife is at the door, girl, see you never. Sonhee just nods, " I'll pull up later to access the damage that you're about to put that poor girl through with all that thick ass hair you got bestie, byee love you."

Bada's Pov

Bada is standing at the door with a bag full of snacks and a bunch of combs that Myra needed for some reason. " Hey, my lovely Ocean, you look amazing, come on in." Myra says as Bada goes to sit on the couch until she realizes. "You only call me ocean when you need something, and here I was thinking we were just gonna relax." Myra sits on Bada's lap and grabs her face. " Baby, my beautiful ocean, the love of my life, the apple to my fruit." Bada grabs Myras' hips and smiles, " That's not even how you say that last phrase, sweetie, but what do you need, just lay it on me. Myra jumps up and grabs the snacks, setting them out on the couch, " so you know how I always struggle with my hair and my mamma is always like well if she came back home then you would struggle but you wanted to go to Korea for school and that badminton girl". Bada looks at you smiling, trying to hide her hurt expression with a bit of humor." Ouch, badminton really, thought she was finally coming around to me". Myra stops what she is doing immediately and grabs both of Bada's hand in hers. " Hey, hey look at me, my mom can be a bitch sometimes but that doesn't make you any less amazing then you already are ok . She isn't even upset with you she mad at me, because I chose to come to Korea for college instead of staying with her and going somewhere in Georgia, where she could literally sit there for the rest of my adulthood keeping tabs on me. She just thinks bad mouthing my amazing girlfriend, will make her feel slightly better", she then holds Bada close, " but we aren't gonna feed into that negative energy she has, my mom doesn't want any of is to grow up which is understandable, but we have to". Bada smiles at Myra with admiration, " so you think I'm amazing, huh?"

Myra just looks at her with the biggest smile on her face and says, " That entire conversation, and of course, the only thing you caught was how amazing Bada Lee is, just wow, babe. But you know what would make you more amazing helping wash and twist up my hair, you literally would have the wifey of the year award". Bada still in a daze just happily agrees, " sure babe". Myra jumps up again and skips to her room, " sit right there I'll get everything ready sweetie, I love you my ocean", Myra yells out in the room.

"I love you too, babe, so so much more that you'll ever know." Bada sits there thinking about how amazing her life has been since Myra has entered it. "My beautiful girl"......

[cosmicanemoia]

Nobody Like You

Larissa Weems x Reader

Chapter 2 (What's Settled?)

SUMMARY

The first few months of your relationship were going well until something shifted.

The first few months of your relationship were going well until something shifted. She shifted... into another woman, and flirts with you. When she shifted back to her true self she would ask you all sorts of questions, almost as if she's interrogating you- trying to catch you in a lie, but to her dismay, or pleasure, or whatever, you had always told her everything truthfully.

Your relationship with Larissa had become complicated. You have an off again on again thing with her. You don't know what scarred her so bad that she would break your heart as if it were so easily healed.

*

Larissa and Morticia had a thing back when they were still students at nevermore.

Whatever that thing is, it broke Larissa in the most painful and invisible way, and the scars will come to bite her in the ass in the most heart shattering way.

They had the best of times together, but Morticia slowly lost time for Larissa.

When Morticia announced that she and gomez were in a relationship... Larissa's heart shattered into tiny pieces coursing through her body like shards of broken glass digging and cutting at her insides.

She had to put up a wall so as to never let it happen again.

Whatever that thing Larissa and Morticia had had ended.

And it only became clear to Larissa that it was one sided-- whatever it was she thought they both felt was actually unrequited.

*

Whatever it is she's doing now is just her trying to protect her even more fragile heart, also to make sure you keep your promise.

You know how badly she was scarred, that's why you  understand why she does what she's doing. Little did you know it will cost you your heart as well...

Larissa had scarred you in the most pleasant and unpleasant way.

She doesn't know why she's doing this and what she would get out of all this. Her insecurities and doubts took hold of her.

-

"Why do you have to be so young?" Larissa would often ask you, and you would reply with "I'm not too young. You're not too old. We are just right, baby... We're perfect for each other."

She would believe those words for some time, but when some nosy people brought up your age gap- she would need reassurances, and you would always be there for that.

But when phrases and sentences are continuously used, endlessly repeated-- it would eventually lose its meaning, no? Her doubts would grow, and she could only think that you would somehow grow tired of her too.

"How can someone so fucking beautiful and wonderful care about what other people think? You are a goddess amongst us mere mortals. I don't understand why you give a damn about them." You argued.

She answered, "Well, my partner is also a goddess herself. How can I not? When she could change her mind any minute of every hour?"

You were on the verge of tears. You can't fathom how someone as mesmerizing as she is would be insecure about something so trivial as your age gap.

You want to cry, but instead chuckled at her declaration. You saunter to close the distance between the two of you, and pull her into your arms to give her that much needed embrace along with more words of reassurances. "My love. Please see yourself as I see you. You're the only one I need, and the only one I will ever truly need. You're the most precious person to me, and I could not even bear the thought of losing you, let alone abandon you."

Larissa hummed at the nook of your neck as you hugged her tighter.

And if words aren't enough... well, then you just have to show her.

--

"We're actually in an exclusive and closed relationship." You told the other woman, and she breaks out in a boisterous laugh. She saw how you tensed up and how Larissa's grip on your waists tightened; her laugh turned into an awkward chuckle, and she scoffed, "seriously?" She questioned, and you just nodded as a response while you looked lovingly at Larissa. "The 'succubus' in a monogamous and closed relationship. Wow!" She exclaimed.

'The nerve of this woman.' You thought to yourself.

She grinned from ear to ear and gave an unwanted comment to Larissa, "I don't know what you got that every woman she'd ever been with doesn't... Must be good enough to sate and satisfy the sex hungry that she is."

You rolled your eyes, "Okay, we're done here... let's go babe."

As you walk away the woman shouted, "I meant that as a compliment."

You told Larissa that you jump from girlfriend to girlfriend and that you never entertain the idea of dating exclusively until you met her.

"Alright then-- that's settled." Larissa leaned back on the couch as she sighed.

"What's settled?" You leaned forward to her direction as your hand found home on her thighs.

She replied, "Nothing." She looked away, and you squeezed her thigh softly to make her look at you and that she did.

As your gaze held each other, you told her, "Come on, gorgeous. I'm not a mind reader... tell me what's bothering you."

Larissa sighed and spoke, "have you been sleeping with other women while you were dating me?" She released a breath she didn't know she were holding.

You inhaled deeply and moved closer to her. "No. Never. Of course I haven't." Your hands moved to cup her cheeks, and you caress them with your thumb.

Larissa looked into your eyes and saw no lies in them.

"I get why you would think that given my track record, but I assure you- I have not slept with other women nor think of doing so ever since we got together." You remarked, and you give her a kiss to which she desperately accepted.

After a passionate kiss. "I apologise for that my darling, it was silly of me to think that you were--" Larissa remarked, but before she can finish her thought you cut her off.

"It wasn't silly at all. I understand why you would think that. I know just the thing to help erase all the worries in your head." You declared and signalled her to straddle your lap. "You, Larissa Weems, is the only one for me. And you're more than enough. I am so grateful, and I feel so lucky I get to have you." You added and give her a quick peck on her plump lips. "Larissa Weems. You are everything I never thought I needed and more." You exclaimed, which made her grin widely.

If those words weren't enough to ease her mind; you'll have to just show her again.

---

Someone had asked you infront of Larissa once again...One would find this funny, yet they wouldn't be able to laugh because of how cruel it is-- that someone had mentioned your age gap one more time.

"That's it. I can't do this anymore." Larissa said as she stood.

You look at her with confusion written in your face, "can't do what, babe?"

Larissa's voice is laced with anger and sadness as she replies, "This..." She points her pointer finger to you then to herself back and front, and she continues to argue, "people asking you out infront of me. Maybe they were right!? Maybe you are indeed too young for me..."

"What!? Baby, please... not this again. I told you--" you try to reassure her, but she cuts you off.

"No. No more. This is not going to happen again and again. This is the last time." Larissa sighed.

You scoff and stand up to take her hand. You were in a flustered state. Your brows furrowed in understanding. You think you know where this is going, but still you asked, "what do you mean?"

Larissa took her hand from your grip, and she looked away... she took a deep breath and said, "I'm done. We're done."

"Okay. Let's go home." You remarked as you thought this can't be it; still trying to deny what's happening. 'This can't be it.' You thought to yourself.

Larissa replied, "no. There's no us-- not anymore. We're over." She starts to walk out the door...

Your jaw clenched, and you thought, "no freaking way." You got infront of her to try and stop her, "you can't be serious... are you serious?"

"I am." Larissa answered in a monotone voice.

Your eyes filled with tears, and it broke Larissa seeing you like this, and she knows she's the reason why. 'Maybe I didn't think this through.' She thought to herself.

"Darling love, please... don't go." You begged her.

Larissa shoved you gently out of the way, "please, don't make this harder than it already is." With that, she's out the door and out of your life as well.

You can't believe what just happened. You want to follow her, but your feet are glued to the ground. You gaze around the café and realised that everyone is watching you, and you growled to no one and everyone at the same time, "Fucking hell! Am I right?" Then you start to break down on the floor.

After a few minutes, the tears have dried, and you definitely need to get out of here.

You let a day pass until you decided to get your girl back.

Your knock echoes loudly within Larissa's space, and when she opens the door and sees you, she says as if she were expecting you, "are you here to get your things back?"

You didn't answer her question, but instead question her in turn. "May I come in?"

She moved aside signaling you to come in.

After a moment of comfortable yet tense silence, you start to speak as you stare into her eyes, "the only thing I came to get back here... is you."

"Darling, I--" Larissa tried to speak.

But you quickly cut her off, "Larissa dear, just listen to me, and if you want me to go after, I will."

"Sure." She replied.

You follow her on the sofa, and as you lovingly look at her, you can tell that she had been crying too.

You took her hands into yours, and as you hold it, you declared, "correct me if I'm wrong, but I know you didn't mean what you said back then. I understand that you were hurting. This can't be over... we can't be over. I can't go another day without you, and is it cruel that I hope you do too? Please, honey... Larissa Weems, take me back."

You let Larissa think for a moment, but after a while of staring into anything but you... you get her point. You nod yourself in understanding.

As you stand, Larissa uttered the words you've been aching to hear. "Yes." She said softly.

The tears that have been threatening to fall make good on that threat. You break down in tears, and as you come to hug her, you see that she is crying as well. You both missed each other so much.

You both hugged each other tightly and sighed simultaneously in relief.

You stayed cuddled, and you both fell asleep at the warmth of each other's embrace.

----

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" You muttered at the scene unfolding before you.

Larissa is as shocked as you are. You aren't supposed to find out, at least not this way. Plus, your wounds are still fresh.

Fate is such a cruel thing sometimes, isn't it?

You look at her with wide eyes; too stunned to speak. You try to form words, but you just can't.

Larissa heaves, and your eyes decided to follow her figure striding closer to you.

"Oh my god..." you were able to breathe out when she held your hands.

"I can explain." Larissa said frantically.

You huffed, "there's  no need to explain-- it's pretty obvious."

You can see Larissa moving her lips, but you can't hear a word she's saying. "Larissa, I can't hear a word you're saying. Give me a moment to let this sink in."

You didn't know how you got to the couch, and your hand just took the wine that was set infront of you. "I can't believe you would do something like that... to me---"

"Darling, please." Larissa pleads.

"Trying to catch me in a lie? When you're the one who has been lying. Shifting into another woman??? Then relentlessly flirts with me... and afterwards ask me all sorts of questions-- as Larissa. Why the hell would you do that?" You thought aloud.

"I don't know. I-- uh, I was just---" Larissa trailed off.

There was silence for far too long, and she couldn't take it anymore. "Say something, Darling." Larissa found you still in silence after her request.

"Well, I guess this is really it. I screwed everything up. I guess you would only want to be free of me, of my possessiveness... and my doubtfulness." Larissa whined.

From that, you finally look at her, "what? Don't put words in my mouth."

Larissa stands up, "if you want to break up with me, I-"

"Hell no! You are indeed doubtful and possessive, no doubt. I'm not going to break up with you. Never. I only feel free when I'm with you." You stood your ground and breath a sigh of relief, which Larissa returned.

After a while, you chuckled, and Larissa's eyebrows furrowed. 'This is no laughing matter,' she thought to herself. You both plopped down on the couch.

When you see her face and see her worries, you say, "I accept everything that you are. I hope to erase any doubts lingering in that magnificent brain of yours."

"I only did that because I love you too much." Larissa confessed.

"Larissa Weems, I assure you I'm all yours. All yours." You said and gave her forehead a kiss.

-----

The day Larissa had been dreading the most had finally come.

Just as she's about to fully trust you...

How cannot you do this to her? And in her own fucking home, in her own fucking bed. How could you? After letting you in... After everything she had confided in you. She was right to doubt you she thought, 'how fucking dare you?!?'

Larissa could not believe what was in front of her. Her ears are ringing, and even though she wanted so badly to scream- she just stood there frozen and only able to mutter a "Y/N?"

Even if it's barely above a whisper, she knew you heard her and see you shuffle in bed.

"Larissa?" She saw stand up quickly, and she saw that it made your head spin.

Larissa slowly walks away...

"Wait... Larissa--" she heard you call for her, but before you could say much-

"Oh great! The crazy old lady is here." The woman you're naked in bed with chuckled.

"The fuck did you just call her?" Larissa heard you said as she whipped her head to the other woman. Then she turns to face you, and scoffed, "as if you don't believe what she just said."

"Leave her already." The other woman butted once again.

After that-- Larissa's alarm broke her out of her nightmare.

She heaves as she lies, then she feels you pressed against her back, hugging her softly, and it helps calm her a little. She inhaled sharply.

You felt her move away, so you tightened your hold on her, "Don't go yet, sweetie."

She scoffed and whined "FUCK YOU!"

"Later... I'm still sleepy." You replied, oblivious of her actual meaning.

She stands up and walks back and forth just before the edge of the bed.

You slowly open your eyes to see where she went, and when you see the state that she was in; you decided to sit up as worry washes over you. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Larissa stops pacing, and just stares at you... After a moment, she growled and accused, "You're sleeping with someone else."

"What? Of course I'm not." You denied, "where is this coming from?"

"I saw you in that very bed naked with another woman..."

You stand up and move closer to Larissa, but when you see her back off, you halted. "That's absurb! It's completely impossible because I'm not really sleeping with anyone else. Where did you-"

"You need to go." Larissa commanded.

"No." You said sternly as you softly look at her, and this time, when you move closer, she didn't move away, and you were finally able to hold her hand.

Larissa just looks at you with an unreadable expression, but her eyes say everything that you need to know.

She's hurt, and the problem is she won't tell you.

"Just go Y/N." Larissa said as she looked away.

You let go of her hand, and scratch your furrowed brows. "I never even want or even try to sleep with other women ever since I saw you. Even if we're on a break or have broken up or whatever. You're all I needed."

"I don't know what else to say." Larissa sighed.

"You really trust other people more than me." You cried.

"it's not that..." She denied.

"Yeah! Yeah-- whatever you say." You move closer to her, and you cup her cheeks with the palm of your hands... while your forehead touches, "is this really it?" A tear fell from your eye.

"It is." Larissa confirmed.

Larissa moves to kiss you passionately, cause it is really the last time she will do so, you both thought.

The sobs you've been suppressing have been set free into the kiss. And when she pulled away, you couldn't help but sob harder. "Please don't make me leave. I need you, and I know you need me as much. Please- Larissa, my love, whatever the problem is, let's work and solve it out together. Please, Larissa, I don't want to be apart from you."

Larissa slowly turned and started to walk away without even looking back.

She left you sobbing alone. It's as if you died in that moment. If your heart is an actual glass, it would have shattered into a million pieces, and those tiny pieces would pierce you from the inside as it flows through your veins, making it hard to breathe... and live. This might be what death by a thousand cuts means. Only in your case, you're still breathing, even after a million cuts.

You may not see it, but Larissa feels the same, and if she turns her back and sees you in that state, she knows she'll run to embrace you. You don't know that she's as broken as you by her actions. All you know is that there's something inherently wrong with you that she doesn't want you anymore.

'This is your house... why the hell did you walk away.'

You waited for a week, but never once did she come back, not even for a set of clothes. 'I really need to go.'

With all the strength you have left you left, without bothering to get your things.

[livetogether--diealone]

"i've heard you've been touching my car" but make it ball and it's the merc bowling night in japan + seb having a "for R? R i didn't know" level of embarassment

I see the vision, I am manifeting, I have thoughts

“Sebastian I heard you’ve been touching my ball” 

He froze at the phrase, because while they were in a bowling alley and George already had  made enough terrible balls jokes to put some of Sebastian’s puns over the years to shame, having Lewis Hamilton saying touching my ball looking up at you, legs a little to wide for comfort and a smirk on his face made Sebastian uncomfortable in places he wasn’t too keen on showing to all the Mercedes people there. 

That something playful in Lewis’ eyes turned into a more genuine smile as he pointed to the purple bowling ball Seb was about to grab from the line up. Of course he would have a dedicated one, of course it was purple, it probably had his initials somewhere too or a morphed photo of Roscoe on it. 

Sebastian took a moment too long to get his head out of the gutter or mostly to get his head clear of the previous night. “Oh” his eyes so wide and hint of pink on his cheeks, he started stuttering “this ball, wha- other ball you could me-, no, I now will” a hand already going to his ear he was now backing up towards the sitting area, almost tripping on the step before the wooden deck. 

In the meantime, while he collected knowing looks and a couple of coughs from Mick and Bono, Lewis was fully laughing at him, head thrown back, a hand smacking his own thigh. His laugh filled the space and something tugged at Sebastian’s heart, strong enough to pull the side of his lips into a wide smile. Witnessing Lewis completely giving into a moment of joy was already a gift in his own right, being the cause of it was something Sebastian was never gonna get tired of discovering. 

He shook his head at the Brit and went back to pick a different bowling ball from the rack, putting his eyes on the blue one and he was going for it when he felt Lewis’ arm brushing his side to grab the purple one. “For the record I definitely felt it when you touched my balls” and so Lewis left him with a patt on his ass and a too competitive grin on his face before scoring a strike on the first try. At least if they didn’t make it to the hotel room later that night he could blame it on Lewis for once.

[brighteyes-things]

Batboys "he's safe with me" moments

A/N: this was a random idea from one little TikTok video I had in my saved

Warnings: mild violence and mention of injury

Summary: moments the batboys knew they were safe with you, basically the moment you said "he's safe with me"

DICK GRAYSON 💙

He was exhausted the entire week but when Friday night came along oh boy

You definitely weren't expecting to see wally knock on your door helping hold up a tired dick but it happened

Why was he tired, there was many reasons

Such as covering shifts on patrol for Bruce, on top of his civilian duties and Nightwing duties in bludheaven, it just caught up with him

Wally explained they were supposed to hang out at the bar to shoot pool and such for guys night

Only for dick to faceplant on the table into his drink, wally saw that as his cue to take him to your place to rest

As you helped lay dick on your sofa and made him comfortable the words left your mouth

"Don't worry K.P he's safe with me, he always will be"

Dick won't say this out loud but that was the moment he fell hard for you

He always knew he was safe with you but hearing you say such made his heart flutter

He's so used to protecting others that he forgets he needs protection himself

Even if it's from further embrassing himself in public

He's thankful for Wally's idea to bring him to you and your kind words

The next morning he shows his thanks by offering to cook you breakfast in bed

You told him to not pull another Tim again

JASON TODD ❤️

Your his bf/gf so your already a badass in his book and he won't take no for a answer

But jaybird does train you for just in case emergencies when he's not around or can't get to you in time

So this incident occured a few months after you started training with red hood

You and Jason were walking back home at night after a date night, you both weren't paying attention as you bantered about what ice cream flavor was better

And suddenly you were both pushed back by a mugger and when you glanced up there was actually a group of three such muggers

Your boyfriend was about to step in and show them just how he thought about disturbing his night

But God damn he will never EVER forget the next thing he heard

"Awww you think you're safe with him doll face?, Your outnumbered"

The smirk on bird boys face when he heard your comeback

"Your outmatched, and another thing he's safe with me I can kick your ass as my boyfriend watches"

He was a blushing mess because he knew you were right

But those words "he's safe with me" stuck to him as if he needed to hear that

Ever since than he's been trying his best to be more open with you

He realized that not only would he kill for you if needed, you'd do the same for him and he loved you ever so slightly more for such

And after watching you kick ass , he made a promise to give you more advanced training

Just to watch you kick ass again with a smirk on his face

He's head over heels for you

TIM DRAKE 💛

The moment happened out of nowhere and he loves it all the more

It was you, him, and a few people from his team just playing video games spefically Mario kart

Even more spefically the Mario kart balloon battle and Tim was down to his last balloon

Superboy was about to pop his last balloon until the words left your lips

You popped a balloon with the phrase "try again, Timmy is safe with me loser"

Tim smiled ear to ear even if it was only in video game the phrase meant more to him than just that

It meant you'd keep him safe if needed and the way you put your yoshi cart in danger proved such

The moment is his favorite with you because of those words

He doesn't mind protecting others but it's tiring and when he's home he just wants to be Tim not red robin

And you do keep him safe, in small ways at least

To Tim, snuggles, kisses and quality time as a couple count as keeping him safe

He loves you more than coffee itself

Well maybe just as much as coffee

He still loves you though even if you're his second love :⁠-⁠)

DAMIAN WAYNE (aged up) 💚

It was after a mission with killer moth gone wrong that nobody expected

It went from looking at him hoarding lamps to a whole warehouse exploding with Damian and his brothers inside of it

Dami received the most damage due to being in the front force of the blow

It was dick that told you everything that went down and that he'd need a week's recovery at the most

Dami was not happy about the injury especially since it was from C-list villian that's hardly a threat

But your words made him feel slightly better about the bumps, sprains and bruises

"Don't worry I'll keep him safe until he's better again"

He almost teared up hearing such things from his beloved lips

He was taught either killed or be killed and he's still adjusting to the new ways his brothers and Bruce showed him

So to hear that you'd have him kept safe when he's injured and vulnerable felt alien to him

His heart swelled up with admiration for you and for the first time couldn't wait to be taken care of

After he did get better he took you on a date as a thank you for taking care of him

"I don't know what I'd do without you beloved"

He loves you body and soul and what you spoke that day sealed the deal

He Only has heart eyes for you

[numberforaname]

Ah yes, the good ol' fuck you, Diego. A phrase that he had heard time and time again, to the point it was starting to sound like a nickname. It was only when Klaus threw asking their father in his face that he knew he had crossed a very clear line. "Klaus..." Diego breathed out, sitting up off the pavement as he watched Klaus stumble onto his feet. How could he forget the day long trips to the Mausoleum? Diego caught the shirt Klaus threw at him, his reflexes as sharp as ever. But he didn't react to the petulant gesture, didn't rise to the bait of his brother's anger and defiance.

He knew this dance, knew these steps by heart. The push and pull, the give and take, the endless, exhausting cycle of addiction and denial. And he was tired of it. So fucking tired. "Keep it," he said, his voice flat and unwavering. "Keep the booze, keep the smokes, keep the whole damn coat for all I care." He tossed the shirt aside, his eyes never leaving Klaus' face. "But I gotta ask Klaus, how many times is it gonna be? How many times do I have to watch you piss it all away? clean up the vomit, check you into rehab, give you a ride to your next dealer thinking it's an interview for a fucking job? How many times do I have to be so incredibly fuckin' naive?" Pushing himself off the pavement now, two took steps closer to his brother -- practically sizing him up again. "Because, as much as you want to push me away, I'm not leaving. Dead or alive, I'm haunting your ass until I get my brother back."

Who fights this hard for a bottle of cheap vodka?

Someone who was going through withdrawals.

It had been a three hours since he'd come back to life. Five, since he woke up from his last substance induced coma. That meant it had been at least eight hours since his last fix, which was plenty of time for his body to begin to need it again. In all honestly, booze was the least destructive of his vices; his body craved something stronger. Liquor would only delay the inevitable, without his usual cocktail of drugs. But Klaus could barely string a sentence together, let alone explain the complexity of addiction to his brother. So he didn't respond.

The offending bottle was held against his chest, still white knuckled in his hand. Empty, useless, a desperation Klaus knew well. But as Diego reached over, Klaus practically threw it at him; made of cheap plastic, it simply bounced off, landing in the street somewhere.

"Fuck you, Diego," Klaus muttered breathlessly, making no move to get up. "Go fucking ask Dad, I'm sure he'd love to tell you."

The mausoleum. Multiple times a week, locked in all night, ghosts screaming, clawing, suffocating. How many near death experiences had he truly had? Enough to keep him awake for days, and enough to drive him to booze in his early teens. By fifteen, he'd been in rehab twice. By seventeen, he was gone.

Once he'd caught his breath enough to move, Klaus shoved himself upright, grimacing in the sunlight. Diego's spare coat was quickly shed, clinking with stolen liquor, and thrown on top of his brother. Only the cigarettes, lighter, and the hidden bottle were kept. Then Klaus was shedding his borrowed shirt, throwing it again for good measure.

Out of spite, he tried not to think about how cold the city was, this time of year. This time of day.

"I'm keeping the rest."

[tangiblejournal56]

8/14/11

My occasional run-ins with the Caveman grow more & more surreal, as though he was a joke being played on me by faces I cannot see.  Yesterday he showed me his “poetry,” unrelievedly awful, kept importantly in a black portfolio in his backpack.  I skimmed over them quickly, wanting to yell at him that words have meaning, they require attention, care.  Instead I mumbled “interesting,” the most benign adjective I could spit out.  Unable to be cruel, yet I could not bring myself to encourage such a waste of paper.  My coldness, another anecdote to bring home to Jacob.  We all must have someone to feel superior to, it seems.  I am no better.

I am over my delusions that Jacob may hold any feelings stronger than friendly endearment toward me.  I was reading signs that weren’t there, gestures hollow that my loneliness attempted to breathe life into.  With Josh out of town last night I played about with Jacob, drinking whiskey, smoking pot, trying to put a haze between my thoughts & myself.  We went swimming, we laid on my bed watching a bootleg of the latest Harry Potter film (of Jacob’s interest, not my own).  On the living room floor we wrestled, I was smothering him with a pillow, as I enjoy doing, being silly to make him laugh, “Pay attention to me Jacob!  I want attention!”  I was sitting atop his splayed body & I could feel his erection smacking against my ass through the thin material of his pajama bottoms, & suddenly he thrust me off of him, “I don’t want to be strangled anymore,” keeping a casual tone.  I pouted at him, “It’s not fun without you,” & he looked at me, “Strangle yourself,” his phrasing ripe with innuendo.  It was then that I got it.  If there is a real attraction there he does not want to feel it.  So familiar with that situation I let it go.  Who am I to insist on anything better?

Alone, I went to my bed, “strangling myself,” & as he does when my loneliness gets the best of me, Ryan popped up in my head.  Not strictly the sexual moments I sometimes revisit for these purposes, but a whole series of memories like snapshots zipping through my mind, razor-sharp & dangerous.  His head on my lap as I read to him from House of Incest & the legends of the greek gods.  Him sitting on my lap in the arcade at Double Dave’s.  In the cabin at Wildlife Ridge, the blanket concealing our sex as the others flitted in & out of the cabin.  Slow dancing alone in our apartment to Toussaint McCall.  Coming home to tell me he’d gotten hard just thinking of me at work & had to hide his erection.  Making out like two teenagers for hours on our tiny couch.  These memories like very sharp knives slicing into every part of me, & I the girl mad as birds, crying & masturbating alone in the dark.  This city is no good for me any longer.  I used to feel myself growing here like a tree, adding new limbs & leaves for every new experience.  Now however there is only stagnation, a putrid rot on the surface of every day, & I am haunted by Ryan’s ghost everywhere I go.  I am not strong, I am too weak to fight the soft decay of my limbs, my mind.  I sink each day further into misery, & even Josh & Jacob cannot pull me out of it.  I hide this self from them, I am not their responsibility & I have no desire to make them feel bad that I cannot be happy here.  I relate all of this only to Max, who probably tires of hearing it, as he seems to be doing alright since I left.  No more injured ankles, slowing down his drunken revelries.  I fear somewhat dramatically that I may never be happy, anywhere, again.  Not with the whisper of the happiness I’d found with Ryan hanging over me.  Over four years have passed since I met him.  Over two since I’ve last seen him.  When does it end?  Why can’t I get past this?  Thom told me he’d always found Ryan to be pretentious, & that bothered me, even now.  I could tell he was only trying to help, to stretch for a flaw to make Ryan seem undesirable, but pretentiousness was never a presence in Ryan’s character.  He was accepting & curious of all lifestyles & traits, he always wanted to know how others live.  Perhaps that’s why it’s so hard to rebound, because I honestly cannot say he is a bad or even unlikeable person.  Even Thom liked him, despite his opinion now.  He is funny & clever & charismatic, no prejudices.  He’s intelligent & outgoing, inventive, sarcastic, has a way of making you feel important, all of his attention on you & you alone like the sun’s rays pouring golden upon your form.  Loving & romantic & sexy, those heavy-lidded chocolate eyes the ultimate aphrodisiac, the half-smile & low, lazy voice when we’d make love like gods, all morning, all afternoon, into the evenings.  Pulling up the blankets, the pillows, pretending he was searching for something, “Where are your flaws, I can’t find them!”  Laughing, he’d collapse next to me, his head on my chest, his arms around me tight as he could.  The fire burning in me for those moments, that undiluted flow of love.  Something I’d never known even existed, didn’t even know what was there to long for.  I was lucky, when would a girl like me ever be loved like that?  Should I wish that it had never happened, so that I may still be blissfully ignorant of that attention?  But I cannot, even now knowing how short-lived his love is, how easily he can give into the next girl who comes along.  This does not make it any less genuine, or make what we had any less real.  I cannot even hate him for it, he simply gives all of himself in any relationship, he lives fully in life.  How can he do this again & again amazes me, as just the one time it exhausted me, physically, mentally.  I am unable to pour myself into every person I am with, I’d perish from the strain.  He & Max are the only two men I’ve ever fully loved, without question, & Ryan is the only person I’ve given myself to.  Handed over the keys & trusted him not to throw them away.  Instead we threw each other away, burned through decades of love & experience in less than two years.  I miss it, yes, but often I miss him, just him, his own self as a fact, so easy to enjoy life with.  The way I miss Shawn, or Thom, someone to find fun in anything.  He was not only capable of easing my blues, he chased them off like he’d waged war.  A war I suppose he lost.  Both of us.