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hopelessromanticspoonie · 4 years

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It’s Not a Secret I Try to Hide

For my 750 Follower Celebration, @darealbellabelleoftheball asked me to write something for Loki with the prompt: “You make me nauseated.” “It’s called love.” I was stumped for a bit on how to get this to work, but I’m pretty content with what I ended up coming up with! I hope y’all enjoy!

Somehow, over the year-long period that you had spent living and working with the Avengers, Loki had cemented himself firmly into your heart.

It had started slowly. The first time you had noticed him was when he kept the door from swinging into your unobservant face when you were leaving a mission briefing, not even looking at you as he gripped onto the glass before stalking away. The second was when you had grumbled to Cap loudly about how your favorite blanket for couch snuggling was ruined by blood from a distracted Bucky, and two more replaced it the very next day. When you’d asked the others about it, they claimed to have assumed FRIDAY ordered it for you.

But you knew better.

Because along with the small gestures here and there, you had noticed the slight shift in his behavior around you. The looks that he gave your male coworkers when they drew too close to you for his liking, or how close he would stick to you during jobs that got a bit dicey and dangerous. He had blocked several bullets for you on more than one occasion.

So you had made the first move, deciding that he wasn’t going to, one evening when you were watching television while he was reading beside you.

“You like me,” you stated boldly, poking him in the arm.

He quirked an elegant brow, not even looking up from his book. “I tolerate you more than the others.”

You shifted and pulled your knees beneath you, sitting on them and facing him fully. Your finger never stopped poking his impressively firm bicep. “No, you like me.”

With a heavy, exasperated sigh, he closed his book and placed it on the coffee table that supported his crossed feet before leaning back again. “What are you implying?”

His pupils expanded to cover most of the dazzling green of his eyes when your hand reached out to settle over his collar-bones, fingertips grazing over the smooth column of his throat. You leaned forward, supporting yourself with your other hand on his thigh, drawing close until there was only a breath separating you. “You’re attracted to me, you enjoy my company. You want to kiss me.”

His eyes flicked between yours before dropping to your slightly pouted lips, indecision warring plainly in his gaze. But you could wait all evening, poised above him, offering yourself up to him for the taking. Thankfully, he didn’t make you wait long, tilting his chin to brush your lips together in an impossibly tender kiss that chipped away at the outermost layer of emotional protection around your fragile heart.

And with each lingering touch on your arm in passing, each heated look dragging down your body from across a room, and each stolen kiss when you were alone, he worked his way into your heart and soul until there was no use denying it.

Now if only he would admit that he held the same feelings in return.

“You love me,” you teased in a sing-song, pecking him on the cheek before stepping around him to grab your water bottle from where he had placed it down after wordlessly refilling it for you.

He glanced around to confirm your solitude before hooking his arm around your waist, tugging you toward him so that you were pressed up against the length of his lean body. With the barest of smiles cracking the perpetually apathetic expression that masked his handsome face, he countered with his typical reply of, “I tolerate you.”

Your hand stretched across his back, delighting in the flex of his muscles beneath the warm, soft cotton of his black t-shirt. The other rubbed the cold metal bottle against the dip of his spine, earning you a quiet relieved groan. When your head tucked beneath his chin to nuzzle your cheek into his chest, his fingers tightened around you, drawing you impossibly closer. “Well, I love you.”

“As you should,” he hummed, clearly pleased. His lips pressed against the top of your head in a soft kiss that you honestly didn’t expect, considering you were quite sweaty from a recent sparring session with the god holding you captive in his loving embrace.

You slapped his chest, pulling yourself from his embrace to take a long pull of icy cold water courtesy or your Frost Giant. “You’ll admit it one day!”

Perhaps the Christmas season would draw the warm-fuzzies out of your chilled sweetheart?

You rolled over in his arms on the couch, carefully arranging your legs between his and drawing your arms up to prop yourself up onto his chest. He dutifully repositioned the blanket over your bodies, letting his hands settle on your hips once his task was complete.

“May I help you?” His head tilted to the side against the arm of the couch to better take in the thoughtful expression that had you biting on your bottom lip gently.

Your hands tugged lightly at his raven hair that tumbled over his shoulders. “This is nice. You, me, a cheesy Christmas movie, cozy blanket, snow falling outside over the twinkling New York City skyline. I love it. I love you.”

His practiced indifference didn’t crack beyond the warmth shining in his eyes. “It is quite enjoyable.”

You deflated, hands going limp over his shoulders. “Enjoyable?”

“Is that not what you desired to hear?” The lazy circles he had been drawing on your hips stopped and he tensed beneath you.

You climbed off of him, throwing the blanket away with a huff, stalking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to stare out at the bustling city beneath you. You had been trying and trying for over to a year to peel away the complicated layers of his armor to get at the real man underneath, and he just wouldn’t give. You didn’t need sweeping declarations of love from the man, grand gestures or lavish gifts. Just something to show he cared. You were only human.

“Have I upset you?” he asked, his footsteps echoing over the smooth floors to bridge the distance between you. The heat of his body radiated against your back, scented with pine and male musk that made your knees weaken at the delicious familiarity of it.

“Cut the shit, Loki,” you snapped, your withheld emotions boiling over suddenly and without warning, turning to pin him down with the full force of your glare. “You’re playing at this scared, hesitant game with me and I’m tired of it. I love you, and you know it. I’m never happier than when I’m with you, even if we’re in the middle of a warzone kicking ass and getting ours handed to us. So until you decide that you’re allowed to have emotion, and show emotion when we’re alone, you can spend your evenings by yourself.”

He stopped your dramatic exit with a hand wrapped gently around your wrist. You didn’t turn around to face him, forcing him to step around so that his torso encompassed your field of vision. He was going to have to work for it. “I enjoy your company.”

You shifted your weight to your back foot, popping your hip and shaking your head as you stared up at him with narrowed eyes. “More.”

It was like you had asked him to relinquish all of his daggers, he looked so frustrated. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand before dropping it to hang loosely at his side. “I am quite fond of you.”

Your finger dug into the knit sweater over his sternum. “Try harder.”

An unbelievable vulnerability slowly came over his face, starting in the downward tilt of his brows to the tightness of his clenched jaw. He brushed his hands down your arms to lace your fingers together in the chilled chasm between you. His deep exhaled breath washed across your face in a cloud of peppermint and chocolate. “You have made my days spent in this infernal tower tolerable. I find myself longing for you as soon as I wake, and yearning for you when we are apart. There is nothing akin to the balm that your touch provides on my skin, and I long to spend eternity at your side.”

It took every ounce of willpower that you had within you to not tear up at his words. The corners of your eyes pricked with heat and you tapped your foot on the floor, willing the stone-cold badass inside of you to take control. Your accusatory finger curled along with the rest of your hand over where his heart beat the strongest, fast and heavy as he waited for your reaction with bated breath.

Once you had regained some semblance of control, you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and lean your forehead against his. “You love me.”

He rolled his eyes, but his hands still held onto your hips to steady you against him nonetheless. “You make me nauseated.”

You pecked a quick kiss on the corner of his upturned lips. “It’s called love.”

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @silverswordthekilljoy

#loki fanfic #loki fic #loki/reader #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #marvel fanfic #hopeless750celebration #hopelesswrites

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shieldedbythunder · 3 years

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9 &/or 16 please <3 Either way, your drabbles are always enjoyable.

Thanks so much, Stormy! For the prompts, and for being so patient <3 I really enjoyed writing these! Both of these can also be found on my ao3 account :)

9. You took all the pillows, so I’m using you as one.”

i’ll get by with a little help from my friends

“Alright,” Natasha says briskly, “you need anything, just give JARVIS a call, okay?” An authoritative tap to his shoulder tells Steve to raise himself up long enough for her to fluff the pillows up a little.

“Is all this really necessary?” Steve grumbles, letting himself fall back once she’s done. Scowling at the thick, white cast that entombs his left leg, propped up on an extra two pillows, like it’s done him a personal wrong. Which, in some ways, it certainly has. “I’m probably gonna be fine by tomorrow.”

One lucky hit. One lousy, lucky hit, he thinks to himself irritably, and he’s out of commission. He’s going to kick the crap out of Batroc the next time they cross paths. Or maybe return the favour; see how he likes an iron girder pinning down his leg.

“Well, you heard the doc’s orders.” The innocent, sympathetic look Natasha sends his way would almost be believable, if it weren’t for the telltale gleam in her eye; she’s loving every moment of his sulking. “Let the serum do its thing with the broken bone, and help it along as much as we can. Which means plenty of bedrest, no negotiations.”

“Yeah, yeah… I guess,” he mutters darkly. With a sigh, he lets himself sink back into the bed properly, willing the knot between his shoulders to ease out a little. “Listen, thanks for the help, you didn’t have to.” General irritation aside, he’s genuinely grateful. Natasha looks just about as exhausted as he feels, and yet she’d never left his side, from their evacuation in the field to the medbay and back up to his room; just as stubborn and loyal a trooper as himself.

“No problem. You sure you don’t want anything else?” Her job done, Natasha hovers by the door, hands on her hips as she gives him one last once-over. “The others should be back soon, so I’ve gotta head to the debrief, but some of us can stop by afterwards if you want.” Even with the lingering traces of mirth, her eyes are as shrewd as ever, head cocked as she watches him carefully.

“Naw… it’s okay,” he says, managing a smile. “It’s been a rough day, you guys look after yourselves. The last thing you need is baby-sitting duties. Really, I’ll be fine.”

And he will be fine, he tells himself as Natasha leaves with one last inscrutable look, her footsteps quickly fading away. It’s not the end of the world, just a day or two of bedrest at most. Nothing to make a fuss about.

It’s just… it all feels horribly familiar. The long hours cooped up in bed, days at a time during his worst spells. At the very least, all he has to worry about is boredom, rather than how every rattling breath tightens up his lungs that little bit more. The helplessness, an old, distant, but never forgotten chill gnawing at his stomach. It seems even his new body and all its wonders could only stave it off for so long.

On that thought, he exhales sharply through his nose as he shuts his eyes; wallowing in self-pity won’t make his leg heal any faster. He just needs to rest up and let his body take care of itself, like any sensible soldier. Sleep takes a while to come, but when it does, it’s mercifully deep and dreamless.

***

He doesn’t know how long he passes in fitful slumber. But the first thing that registers as consciousness slowly creeps back in is how dry his throat is. The second is the feeling of something warm and heavy resting against his collarbone. And the third is a deep, familiar voice close by, words pitched soft and soothingly low. His parched throat aside, it’s an oddly comfortable situation to wake up to.

His eyes cracking open, Steve shifts around enough to get a look at his bunkmate. “Thor?” he croaks out, unable to manage any better between the thirst and lingering grogginess. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” Thor says lightly. Perfectly nonchalant as he sets down his book, reaching over to the bedside table to pass him a glass of water. Like this is just another Tuesday evening for them. “I should have thought that was obvious - you took all the pillows, so I’m using you as one. Speaking of which, would you mind holding still? I’ve just gotten comfortable.”

“No, I mean… what are you doing here?” Gratefully accepting the offered glass, Steve takes stock of his surroundings between gulps. He’s been out a while from the looks of it; it’s late afternoon by now, the sun low in the sky and bathing the room in bright golds and ambers. Casual in an old hoodie and jeans, Thor’s got his legs stretched across the empty side of the bed, as perfectly at ease as ever.

“Keeping you company.” Twisting himself around, Thor props himself up on one arm to give him a knowing look. “I know inactivity isn’t one of your stronger suits, so I thought you might like some distraction. And I talked to Tony, he’s arranging a movie night for you, so you can expect a full house tonight.”

“Thor…” Steve runs a hand through his hair, equal parts touched and exasperated. “I appreciate the thought, but you really don’t have to-”

“I know, I know I don’t have to. But… I still want to.” His smile losing its sardonic edge, Thor leans in a little closer. “Your first thought is always for others, for what they need before you. And…” He hesitates before laying one hand over Steve’s, squeezing it ever so gently. “I was worried for you, after your injury. Will you just… let me make sure you’re taken care of?”

… well. The prospect does sound inviting, delivered with such achingly heartfelt words. And with those soft, earnest blue eyes trained on him so beseechingly, Steve would defy anyone to resist. “... are you sure?” he asks, hedging even as his resolve crumbles. “I mean, Buck’ll tell ya, I get pretty crabby when I’m stuck in bed.”

In lieu of answering, Thor retrieves his book after a moment’s thought, smiling to himself as he finds his place again. “How features are abroad, I am skill-less,” he reads softly, the words almost musical in his smooth baritone. ”But, by my modesty, the jewel of my dower, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can imagination form a shape besides yourself to like of.” His eyes are fond when he lowers the book again to look at Steve, with just a hint of amusement. “Does that answer your question?”

Ducking his head, Steve makes no effort to hold back his smile, even as his cheeks heat up. “You’re a real sap sometimes, you know that?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m your sap, isn’t it?” Thor chuckles, leaning in close to press a kiss to his forehead. Honestly, with this kind of bedside manner, he could grow to like mandatory bedrest.

“Will you keep reading?” Steve asks, letting his eyes fall shut again as Thor settles back into place against him. “Just ‘til the others get here?”

“Anything you want, love. Now, then,” Thor murmurs, licking one fingertip to turn the page, “where were we… ah, yes, let’s see what Ferdinand has to say to that…”

~~~~~

16. “Can you please just hold me?” (This one’s more inspired by the prompt, rather than including it word for word)

just a little change, small to say the least

If there’s one thing Thor’s come to appreciate in his time on Earth, it’s the concept of central heating.

It’s nearly a week now since Manhattan woke to find itself blanketed in the first snow of winter, with little respite since. Just beyond the tower windows, a whirling cloud of white engulfs the city, the reds and golds of Christmas lights twinkling intermittently through the haze. And of course, with the snow and the driving wind comes the resulting drop in temperatures. Not quite on par with Johtunheim, but still enough to steal right down to the bone, even through the thick layers they pile on whenever one of them feels brave enough to venture out on foot.

And yet, thanks to JARVIS and various other innovations of Midgard’s technology, the temperature within the tower walls remains at a pleasantly mild warmth. Enough so that he can comfortably stand stark naked in one of Tony’s bathrooms, all cool chrome and marble tiling, without so much as a shiver.

Not that he isn’t capable of generating his own heat under the right circumstances, Thor thinks to himself with just a touch of self-satisfaction. All the same, the wet washcloth he presses to his brow is a welcome balm, drawing out a sigh of relief at the bracing damp. Moving quickly, he gives his torso a thorough wipe down before running the cloth under the cold tap again, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. To savour the warm, syrupy drowsiness, all the pleasant little aches he’s accumulated over the evening.

Strolling back out into the bedroom, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips at the sight of the figure still sprawled across the bed. “Comfortable, are we?” he asks, leaning against the door as he takes a moment to admire his handiwork.

Tangled in the rumpled sheets with one arm thrown over his eyes, his spent cock still half hard as it lolls in the groove of his hip, Steve looks every inch the cat who just got the cream. “Just give me a minute,” he murmurs, dreamy and languid as he stretches out with a groan of satisfaction. A far cry from the hoarse, desperate pleas for more he’d filled the room with just a few minutes ago, almost loud enough to drown out the slap of skin on skin. “Almost got the feeling back in my legs.”

Thor chuckles, allowing himself just a little smugness as he settles back down on the bed, washcloth in hand. “Here, let me,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow. With slow, sweeping movements, he wipes down the mess of their coupling, starting from Steve’s chest before gently working his way downwards to his ass. Watching the muscles shift and relax in response to the sudden cold, a trail of goosebumps erupting across the miles of pale flesh in his wake.

The sight would be enough to tempt a saint. Gods know it’s been enough for Thor, time and again.

Humming softly with satisfaction, Steve finally shifts his arm enough to look at Thor properly. Traces of his earlier flushed state linger, eyes half-lidded and hazy against the rosiness in his cheeks. His lips still slick and swollen red from the few frantic minutes he’d spent sucking Thor off, his fingers an iron grip digging into Thor’s hips as he’d fucked into that mouth, sinfully hot and wet, and gasped for Steve to touch himself. Thoroughly wrecked and utterly gorgeous, and a curl of heat reignites in Thor’s belly at the knowledge that it’s his doing. That only he gets to see their captain like this, touch him like this.

“Thanks.” Steve’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and there’s something inscrutable behind his satiated smile when their eyes meet again. “You don’t have to do all that, you know.”

“Well, I do owe you one for that rescue in Florence last week,” Thor quips, smiling at the chuckle the remark pulls from Steve. “But, really… it’s no trouble”. Not for you. He leaves the words unspoken, resting on the tip of his tongue even as his heart beats a little faster at the thought. But the quiet remains easy and companionable as he finishes his work, Steve’s eyes bright with mirth when he lets himself fall back on the mattress with a long sigh. Savouring the warmth radiating from the body next to him.

It’s one of his favourite parts of their trysts, these little silences as they allow themselves to just be in each other’s company. No world-threatening dangers, no responsibilities beyond the door. Just the two of them, sated and content. A respite he’s always sorry to see come to an end.

As if in response to his thoughts, a jaw-cracking yawn swells up from deep in his chest; a reminder of the late hour, and all their exertions on top of it. “Well,” he sighs, heaving himself up off the bed, “I think that’s my cue to leave.” He hunkers down, even as his weary limbs protest at the effort, sorting through the scattered trail of clothing for what’s his.

“... does it have to be?”

Shaking his head, Thor grins to himself as he locates his underwear under the bed. “Don’t tempt me,” he chuckles, straightening up and casting an amused look back at the bed.

But Steve doesn’t return the smile, his expression thoughtful as he regards Thor. As if carefully measuring his next words. “I mean… it’s already late enough. You could stay, if you want.” He gestures towards the empty space next to him, watching Thor with careful, questioning eyes.

… oh.

It’s not an unpleasant thought. That much, Thor can parse out from the tangle of emotions the request sets off. But since they began this… whatever this is they share, there’s never been any expectation. Just an hour or two of pleasure and stress release between two friends, nothing more. And there’s something to be said for not upsetting the balance on a good arrangement.

It would be simple, to take the easy out Steve’s offered and be on his way. To let things go on as they have for the past few months. Just friends and teammates who occasionally fall into bed together whenever one or both of them need a good, hard fuck. Who always enjoy one another’s company, whether in sex or laughter or comfortable silences. Who set each other’s hearts racing with the merest glance or smile. Just friends.

So, all things considered… there’s really only one answer he can give.

“That… sounds nice. Thanks.” Even with his mouth dry, the words come as naturally as breathing. And though he tries to school his features, the sight of Steve ducking his head as he turns pink right to his ears sets an immense warmth surging in Thor’s chest.

Not that it quite assuages the hesitance he feels as he climbs back into the bed, eyes on Steve for any sign to withdraw or slow down. This isn’t new territory for him, or for Steve, possibly. But it is for them.

If nothing else, he clearly isn’t alone in his apprehension; Steve clears his throat awkwardly, eyes raised to the ceiling as they fix the covers. “Uh, JARVIS, could you get the lights please?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. Sleep well,” JARVIS answers, smooth and discreet as the lights dim, until only a faint glow from the streets and snowfall outside remain. Leaving the two of them lying on opposite sides of the bed in near total darkness, a prickly, unsure silence stretching between them. The glint of Steve’s eyes is barely visible in the shadows as they watch each other. Waiting for someone to make the first move.

The spell is broken when Steve exhales sharply through his nose with exasperation before scooting in closer, and Thor has to bite back a laugh; leave it to Steve to step up first and take a dilemma by the horns. Throwing one arm across Thor’s chest, Steve settles himself along his right side, the crown of his head tucked neatly under Thor’s chin as he lays it down on his shoulder. Spurred on by the show of sheer stubborn confidence, Thor lets his arm curl around Steve’s back, his hand resting at the base of his spine. Noting how nicely they fit together, a thought that sends an odd little flutter through his stomach. Not an unpleasant one, though - quite the opposite.

“You okay?” There’s a familiar ring of the steadfast captain to Steve’s question, always checking in on his men. But it doesn’t quite mask the uncertainty of a man with his heart laid bare.

“Yeah, just…” He huffs out through his nose, smiling up at the shadows the snowfall sends dancing across the ceiling. “Trying to figure out why we haven’t been doing this part all along.” He strokes his hand up the length of Steve’s back, his palm spread broad and flat to his spine, and savours the shiver of pleasure that runs through Steve’s body. All of a sudden, he doubts he’s going to be using his own bed very much after tonight. Not alone, anyway.

“Well,” Steve finally answers, and Thor can hear the smile of relief in his voice, warm and content as the arm across his chest curls around him a touch more securely. Pulling them that little bit closer together. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time, won’t we?”

#conor answers #stormyandrescuer #my fics

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pixiemunsons · 5 years

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irrational fears

my first sam imagine! big thanks to @samhollandislife for requesting, i hope you enjoy!

falling in love with him is destined to hurt you. he wants you to know that not all fears are inevitable

warnings: one instance of swearing, angsty, mentions of cheating and emotional abuse

your brain was stupid, you had decided. you knew your thoughts could get the best of you at the most inconvenient times, but today they were really determined to ruin your day. curled up on the sofa with the person you knew best was the worst time to get like this, because you knew it would only be a matter of time before he noticed that something was wrong, and for the first time since you were children, you couldn’t tell him. after all, it was the first time that the overthinking was his fault.

not his fault because he had hurt you. sam would never hurt you. you were overthinking because, the night before, you had realised that you were falling in love with your best friend and you had never been more terrified. sam was a good guy; everyone loved him, including you, and he always looked after you. only six months earlier you and sam had laid in his bed, very much in the same loose cuddling position you were in now, while you had sobbed your heart out over your ex boyfriend. he was an idiot, that much was clear, but at the time you had felt like one too. how had you not noticed that all the sly jabs at your friendship with sam, your ex’s jealousy, his bad temper over three years had all been deflections of his own cheating. two thirds of your relationship had been spent in another girl’s bed, and sam had been there for three months, feeding you ice cream and brushing your hair and watching romantic movies with you as you cried at the screen. from this experience a crippling fear of love had overtaken you, your mind jumping to scenario after scenario every time you entertained the idea of finding someone new, and then your heart decided to betray your head by going and falling for the very man who had pulled you out of the slump.

out of nowhere, a gentle tug to your hair brought you out of your thoughts and back to earth, more specifically sam’s dimly lit living room. you had spent years growing up in this room, and had achieved millions of milestones here; your first steps, your first broken bone (tom’s fault), even your first kiss, a very short peck planted on you by harry, who you had then punched.

‘you alright, darling?’ came a voice from behind you, and you turned around in sam’s arms to meet his eyes. ‘you seemed like you were in a different world then.’ you smiled up at him, glancing over the freckles that littered his forehead and nose and suddenly you were staring at his lips. you’d never really looked at sam’s lips before, never really thought about them, but you found yourself leaning into them. you wondered what he’d taste of, whether it would be the spearmint gum he’s always chewing, or the popcorn you’d just eaten, or the cherry lip balm he’d borrowed an hour ago. you watched as sam’s eyes widened before slowly beginning to flutter shut, his lips brushing over yours as you leant forward before leaping back, off the sofa. this was stupid- you couldn’t hurt yourself. not again.

‘y/n, i’m sorry,’ sam jumped up from the sofa, reaching out towards you. you flinched back from his grip and his face dropped at the sight of you recoiling. the look on his face was almost enough to make you jump into his arms, but you stood your ground. this was stupid, you and sam weren’t like that. you couldn’t get hurt again, and the only way to avoid pain is to cut off the source. so you grabbed your coat and ran out of the front door, mumbling something about an apology and texting him later as he shouted after you, begging you to come back.

that had been a week ago. your running had taken you straight from sam’s house to yours, where you went to your room, climbed into bed and barely left. you knew sam was hurt; the look on his face was embedded into your mind, playing over and over in your dreams. he’d been ringing non-stop, and harry and tom had even come by your house. they knocked for five minutes, shouting through your letterbox to check that you were okay before leaving when you sent them a text reassuring them that you weren’t dead, you just wanted to be alone. sam had sent text after text, at first apologising, before begging you to come back, before finally they became worried. his latest text, sent three hours earlier, had been playing over in your mind; ‘please call. i miss you. i love you, y/n. let me know you’re okay.’ the guilt was eating away at you, making you feel worse and worse every time you read it. you couldn’t stop, though. there was something different about this message. sam loved you. maybe it was just as a friend, but he cared and you were the one doing the hurting this time, you realised.

getting dressed was a chore, especially when you wanted to look nice. you had spent hours deliberating over what to wear to see him, and now, standing at his front door, all you wanted to do was turn around and leave. you felt sick to the core, no idea what to say to him despite spending all week practising. about the turn and go, you heard the holland’s front door open, and standing in front of you was sam. he looked different; his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was messy and his skin was pale. he still looked gorgeous though, you realised. his lips still looked the same. he was fumbling with the keys in his hand, and he almost dropped them when he saw you, as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘y/n, oh my god. i was just coming to your house, see if you were alright. you’ve not been responding to my texts, though i guess you already knew that. sorry, that came out wrong, i mean… i’m rambling aren’t i?’

you allowed a half-smile at his stuttering figure, the first positive emotion you’d felt since you last saw him. ‘can i come in?’ you asked him, and the tension in his shoulders appeared to drop.

‘yeah, course you can. always can. mum’s got people over though, so we’re gonna have to talk in my room, if that’s alright?’ you nodded and made your way past him up the stairs, dropping your coat off on the rack before continuing to his bedroom. you could do this journey backwards with your eyes closed with the amount of times you’d made it. sam followed closely behind, letting you into his room before closing his door as you perched on the edge of his bed.

‘why didn’t you-‘

‘i’m sorry i-‘

you both started to speak at the same time before he gestured to you, telling you to continue.

‘i’m sorry i didn’t call. i told tom and harry i was okay when they came over. i didn’t want to see anyone, is all. been by myself for a week.’

he nodded.

‘they told me you said that. harry’s been really worried, he said you didn’t even leave your room to tell them to go home. why didn’t you text me back? why did you run?’

the hurt on sam’s face was palpable, and guilt took over you for the hundredth time that week.

‘you’re gonna hate me forever, sam.’

he looked at you, shock and confusion taking over his features. ‘ i could never hate you, darling. i promise. please, just tell me what’s going on. what are you afraid of?’ he begged, and you took a deep breath.

‘so, it’s like this. when he left me, when he left me for her, it hurt so bad. i swear, it felt like a part of me died when he told me. i felt sick, and stupid, and i’ve never been hurt so bad before. he is- was- the only person i’ve ever loved, and he taught me that falling in love fucking kills, sam. it hurts so bad. and i know that that’s not always true, i know that love can be beautiful and sunny and calm and warm but i’ve never felt nice love.’ tears were dripping down your face by now, and you hastily wiped them away with the sleeve of your shirt. ‘so when i realised i was falling in love with you-‘

sam looked up at you, shock and what appeared to be a hint of happiness growing on his face.

‘when i realised i love you, i hid. i hid because i know that we’re so special, sam, and i don’t want us to be hurt. not just me, but you, because i love you.’

he stood up from the chair he was sat on and sat on the bed next to you, holding your hands in his own.

‘i’m not him, y/n. i know that you don’t think i’m him, but you need to tell your heart that. i’m not out to hurt you. i want to keep you safe and play with your hair and make you happy and let you feel nice love. i want you to feel beautiful and sunny and warm because that’s what you are to me. you don’t need to be afraid of those things, because sometimes we can overcome fears. i’ll help you. because i love you, and i want to love you forever.’

you looked at him, tears rolling down your face, and did the only thing you could think of- you kissed him. you kissed him soft and deep, and you kissed him hard and fast. you kissed his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, and you finally got your answer.

he tasted of strawberries.

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theentiregdtime · 5 years

Text

mac buys a motorcycle.

PHILADELPHIA, PA 11:15 ON A MONDAY

"Come on, it's badass, dude! I thought you'd be excited! It's like I'm Ghost Rider and you're- Wait, no, it's like I'm Michael Carrington and you're Stephanie Zinoni!"

"... I'm Stephanie Zinoni."

"Yeah, man, but not like, because of the romance and stuff, because of the motorcycle!"

"That's not even the original, Mac, why is that your first thought-"

"Because I am no ordinary boy, Dennis. I am now a rider... that's cool."

Dennis pinches the bridge of his nose.

Mac assumes it must be because of the mid-morning sun or a hangover or a migraine, not that he's annoyed- because there's no way he could possibly be annoyed with this. It's basically the best thing that's ever happened to them.

One Mac Mcdonald is now the proud owner of an actual, working, not-stolen, bought-with-real-life-money motorcycle. Sure, it's a little... antique and... rustic... and some of those other words people on fixer-upper shows use to describe garbage. But it was cheap and it runs and Mac kinda sorta mostly knows how to ride it- and that's enough for him.

"This is why we never have money for the goddamn groceries, Mac-"

"Dennis, Dennis..." Mac holds out his palms like he's trying to steady a spooked horse, "I didn't take it out of our account."

"Then how- You know what?" Dennis flits a dismissive hand through the air. "I don't care, I don't want to know."

This isn't exactly playing out how Mac had pictured it in his head. He'd tossed in bed for hours last night fantasizing about rolling up on his bike, leaving a trail of gravel and skid marks in his dust. Then Dennis sees him and his jaw drops just before his mouth curves into that big, disbelieving smile, and he thinks Mac's just as cool as Country Mac was (God rest his soul) and he hops on and they speed off and Dee and Frank and Charlie are so jealous and-

It's not going like that at all.

But he could fix this!

Mac curves his eyebrows up into a knot and pouts his lips, staring Dennis down without so much as blinking. Dude could act frustrated all he wanted, but he never said no the puppy dog eyes.

Dennis folds his arms across his chest, lowers his shoulders, and visibly softens. This is working...

"So you want me to ride it with you?" he asks quietly and matter-of-factly, all of the sting gone from his voice.

"Uh-huh."

"And you expect me to sit on the... the bitch seat of this Mad-Maxian death trap?"

"Oh," Mac chirps. "Well, if you're scared, then you don't have to-"

"I am not-!" Dennis steels himself, glaring at the triumphant grin on Mac's lips. His tone is calm when he speaks again. "I am not scared. That's absurd. I am a very impetuous man when I want to be."

Mac simply shrugs. He has no idea what that means, but it sounds like a yes, so he'll take it.

"Then prove it," he teases, turning back to the motorcycle.

Mac knocks the kickstand off the ground with his boot and throws his leg over the seat. He grips the handlebars, just clenching them in his hands, squeezing until his knuckles turn white. Taking a deep, full breath, he revels in this moment. Sure, he was already badass before, but on this thing, he's like fucking Maverick in Top Gun. It's an incredible feeling-

Until Dennis' damn reptilian monster claws dig into his shoulder blades.

"You're supposed to put your arms around me, dude," -Mac clicks his tongue in chastising disapproval- "so you don't fall off and get, like, shredded."

"I am not a goddamn wedge of parmesan cheese, Mac, I will not be shredded by anything," -he slackens his already loose grip- "and it's humiliating enough I have to sit behind you like I'm an aging Harrison Ford, I'm not going to wrap my arms around you."

Mac sighs through his nose in quiet annoyance, like he's dealing with a bratty child (because he essentially is), and revs the engine just once. "Fine, but I'm not paying your hospital bills when you get, and I repeat, shredded."

"I'm skeptical that you could."

Eh, that's fair. He'll let him have that one.

"And aren't you going to put on a helmet?" Dennis keeps rambling. "You do remember how this ended for your cousin, right? And he was certainly better at this than you."

Mac suppresses a grumble in his throat.

"Oh, sure, Dennis," he scoffs, "and while I'm at it, why don't I just slap a sticker on my head that says pussy?"

There are- finally- no more protests after that.

Good.

The motorcycle gets going with a bit of a struggle, sputtering like a kinked hose, but once it's off, it's off. The streets are uncharacteristically empty, giving the bike a lot of room to swerve and move around- not that Mac needs to, he knows how to work it! After a couple of twists and turns through Philly, once he really gets a feel for the thing, Mac starts gunning it and blatantly disobeying all posted road signs. He's not sure how far over the limit he's going, but it's hard not to speed when there's no one on the road. The few cars he does pass, he weaves in and out of and drifts around, earning himself a few frustrated honks in the process. They're just jealous of how cool he looks with his boy-

His boy. His guy. His dude. Bro. Buddy. Den. Dennis. Dennis Reynolds. His friend.

"You're going to get me killed, you know!" Dennis, think of the devil, shouts over the sickly cough of the struggling engine.

Mac can't figure out why the hell Dennis is so stressed out. It's not as if they're going to take a wrong turn and careen off the edge of the Grand Canyon, they're in fucking Philadelphia. Worst case scenario, they'll ram into some bozo's car, tip over, and walk away with a couple of scrapes and road rashes.

Not that that's going to happen.

He's definitely holding on now, though. Each time they pick up a little speed or take a sudden corner, Dennis curls against his back like an agitated cat, hands clutching fistfuls of Mac's tee shirt and grinding into his sides. Den is all knobby bones and sharp knees and jagged edges, but Mac doesn't mind- he's gotten used to it over the course of... basically their entire lives. He's never minded. Not in high school when they crashed together under the bleachers, not during movie nights at their apartment, not getting brownout drunk in the same side of a booth at the bar, and definitely not now. He figures some people would probably find being prodded in the backside like this unpleasant, but it's just... just Dennis. It's familiar.

"It's not- not that I'm scared or anything! I just think everyone would be a lot happier if you slowed down a little!"

"I don't know, that sounds pretty scared to me, man!" Mac yells back as sharp fingernails burrow into his ribcage. He likes the way it feels, like God himself cracking the rib of Adam in his hands to set the world in motion.

"It's not about that, it's about obeying the goddamn traffic laws so you don't end up with a ticket that I have to pay out of our- my bank account!"

Mac pretends not to hear him. Maybe if Dennis would just shut up and enjoy the wind in his hair, he wouldn't be so testy. He can't figure out what the big deal is. Dennis hadn't been upset last night. He was sober (not totally sober, that would be dangerous, but mostly), took a long shower before bed, did his nightly skincare routine, sat across the sofa from Mac while they watched Food Network, complained about every single dish even though he himself almost never cooked or ate, fell asleep with his head flush against a throw pillow and his balmed lips slightly parted as he breathed softly-

Stoplight! They're at a stoplight!

Mac hits the brake hard to avoid rear-ending the car in front of him, which sends him lurching forward. As he sways, two ridgid hands clamp onto either side of his head and a sharp, anxious breath is drawn behind him.

What...?

He glances back at Dennis over his shoulder, brow tense with confusion. Before he can ask him what's up, he's struck by the gentle look of concern on his face, by the teeth rolling over his lip as he tentatively lowers his hands back down, by the way all of his edges go soft...

Oh.

Oh!

"Oh my God, Den, are you worried about me?" Mac slaps a hand on the bike in surprise. "Dennis, that is so sweet, dude!"

"Well..." Dennis swallows a lump, avoiding direct eye contact. His hands are pulled back now, resting on his own thighs instead of around Mac. "If you die, we both die, so... I simply have my best interest in mind."

A long moment passes between them, neither moving back into position or saying anything more. Mac watches a bead of sweat roll down Dennis' forehead, watches him lick his chapped lips, watches him like he's the only fucking person in the whole entire world because, to Mac, he-

Some dick is honking at him. Asshole. He could just go around or whatever!

"You want to head back to the bar, man?" Mac asks sympathetically, like he's asking him if he needs medicine for a headache or a warm blanket.

Dennis doesn't answer immediately.

Then the jerk behind them honks again.

"Would you-" Dennis does a one-eighty, then whirls back to Mac. "Yes, I would like to go home and get away from," -he waves a hand in the car's direction- "this rude man who honks!"

And just like that they're back to normal... which is kind of a relief. Totally normal. Just hanging out. That's a good thing.

Mac repositions himself and starts back towards the bar, slower this time, at what he guesses is a reasonable speed. He has no idea, honestly, but he's pretty sure he's supposed to go faster than the cars because the bike is smaller. That makes sense to him.

Dennis' hands are no longer jabbing into him like a couple of Swiss army knives with all of the tools loose. They aren't exactly around him, either, but they're definitely on him. They're trained at either side of his torso, not hesitant in any way, just there. One of Dennis' fingers is drumming against his rib, presumably to some song he's got stuck in his head. His breath is steady on the back of Mac's tousled hair and, every once in a while, at a stop, he adjusts and Dennis' chest and thighs brush up against his back- just for a second.

Mac will never admit that he takes the long way back to the bar.

By the time they return, he figures it must be about half past noon. The middle of the day on a Monday isn't exactly a busy time for them. No one is really drinking (themselves excluded, of course), so hopefully Dee and Charlie won't nag about where they've been and how they haven't worked all morning. Then Dennis would get annoyed and probably never do this again.

They'll probably never do it again, anyways. He is not Michael Carrington and Dennis is not Stephanie Zinoni.

Mac hangs back for a minute after Dennis hops off and heads into the bar, muttering something about how he has to go fix his hair and reminding Mac to pick the bugs out of his teeth- the ones that weren't already there before.

They're back to normal. That's a good thing. It's definitely a good thing.

He drifts off thinking about that scene where Michelle Pfeiffer somehow climbs around onto the front of the motorcycle and flips her hair and blocks the view, but it doesn't matter because the road is empty and they're together and they're in love, and Dennis is kissing him and he doesn't even complain about the metal prodding into his back and bruising his pale skin because he just wants to kiss Mac that badly and-

He's going to have to say some Hail Marys later for that one.

Mac isn't sure how many he has to say to repent for how badly he wants Dennis' hands in his hair again. If he asks a priest, he'll have to confess to it out loud, so he'll just guess. Maybe there aren't enough breaths in him to make up for the things that he feels. Maybe he'll have to pay in the afterlife instead.

The bike is still worth every Hail Mary, and every penny.

#it's always sunny in philadelphia #it's always sunny #iasip #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #macdennis #fics #my writing #i have no idea how religion or motorcycles work!! and it's obvious!!!#lots of casual references to the cursed film that is grease 2 #this is short and stupid and goes nowhere and nothing happens #but i'm a clown so here ya go

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barfzal · 5 years

Note

(5/5) all I know is that the next day he will see you before the game and kiss you outside the locker and I’m talking movie kiss his big ass hands on your face or you talk he stares at your lips his hands on your ribs while you run your fingertips up and down the veins on his forearms and eventually he will have to go and you hear all the guys chirp him when he walks in oh my

okay babe what are u trying to do to me? i’m dead. first - i love that laugh sm omg like his cute laugh where he arches his eyebrows and like it’s so freaking loud like his laugh is so contagious cause it’s just ridiculous. every time he laughs i smile so big omg kill me. so for the part where he tries to kiss you - i have an idea and you gotta hear me out. have you ever seen untamed hearts? cause you have to and also this is about to be as intimate as that scene where she’s cutting his hair.

so all day when the two of you are talking his eyes are constantly going from your eyes to your lips. he can’t stop staring at your lips, and he’ll lick his lips really slowly, but he’s so nervous, and so are you, so neither of you are going to do it, and these moments where the two of you get so close to kissing excites you so much, but when the two of you get back to the hotel without having kissed you’re starting to lose faith.

you’re starting to take off your makeup, which normally you would be pretty insecure about, but the way he looked at you even with your makeup off made your stomach curl and your chest all warm. and he’s slipping on some black adidas joggers for the night, and of course he’s not wearing a shirt cause like duh. he wants you to admire him the way he admires you. he walks in to the bathroom, and he presses his hand to your lower back as he reaches for his toothbrush that he didn’t forget to bring on the road this time to impress you. now he’s brushing his teeth and you pick up your cleansing toner and pour it into a pad and rub it over your face before you pick up your lip balm and start to put it on. mat’s eyes only leave your lips when he spits and rinses his mouth.

he’s wiping back the water from his chin and he’s like “what is all this stuff for?” with a little chuckle and you notice him lifting up a moisturizer and then a mud face mask and you laugh. “that’s for illuminating the skin and making it nice and glowy” you say tapping the jar in his huge palm, and with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion he starts to smile. “right whatever that means” but you laugh and your fingertips brush over his perfectly defined cheek bones, and he’s starting to get a little nervous again, but the good kind of nervous. “your skin is already really nice. are you sure you don’t use stuff like this?” you tease and he lets out a little laugh but shakes his head and you grin. “well you should try it cause it’s nice to take care of yourself,” you murmur and he somehow agrees to put on a face mask with you. so he sits on the toilet, and you’re between his thighs, raking your fingers through his dark hair, scooping it back into that little man bun (have you seen that pic sis? i’m screaming) and he lifts his eyes to your eyes, watching you when you start to smooth the mud over his face his forehead.

then your fingers gently slide under his eyes and down to his jaw. the two of your eyes are connect for far too long at this point, and you would usually be so intimidated by this much eye contact, but for some reason it was so normal? and his lips are parted and you hadn’t been able to get the mask to his chin yet when his hands start to wrap over your hips. he’s pulling you into him slowly and when your forehead is pressed to his, and your nose is brushing his, he kisses you. it’s everything you thought it would be. warm and soft but with this intensity for the relief the two of you had been seeking from the tension. kissing him was like taking a deep breath for your soul. the two of you hold on to each other’s lips for as long as possible and you’re both panting. the two of you pull away and you start to giggle. and he does that dorky laugh when he see’s the face mask that got on your forehead too - it’s not even sanitary but who tf cares you just kissed your dream boy? “i um i want you to be my girlfriend,” he says while looking down and then slowly meeting your eyes again. “is that- does that sound like something you might like?” he says and you nod your head a little and laugh with him and he melts easily into your laugh. “yeah i think i could like that” you tease him and anyways the two of you spend the night in face masks and watching the office and you’re in his black oversized office hoodie (btw did you see when he ordered it on his ig story. he said he needed to pay tribute to the best show? like that is my man wow) anyways the two of you are jim and pam - thank you sm.

#it's my first little drabble omg #but yes i cry #mat barzal #asks

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vanchlo · 7 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty One, “Give and Get”

Hola, I hope that you all are doing great and that life is treating you well! How are you guys liking Niall’s new album?! From what I’ve heard of it, I’m really liking it! What are your fav songs off it? I’m sooo glad lots of shows are coming back for the Fall! I’ve been loving HTGAWM, Riverdale, SPN and lots of others! Also, I just wanted to say if there’s anything I can improve on regarding this story and writing, please let me know! I know that there are some parts I need to rewrite because they’re confusing and that the timeline is a little weird, my apologies. I hope you guys are enjoying the story and that it’s not boring, and that it is progressing.... I’m trying to be more detailed and make some things clearer so I hope things aren’t too bad. Let me know what you think! Well, I’ll keep this little message short and let you get to the story :) This is a pretty juicy chapter if I do say so myself ;) PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you guys think, I’m sooo curious to hear your reactions especially to this chapter! Enjoy! c:

Click here for past chapters of The Assistant!

I know that he doesn’t believe me.

“Yer not a good liar, ya know that?” he answers, lifting his eyebrows ever so slightly. I nod softly, looking around awkwardly without an idea of what to do, or say. “Did sumbody do this t’ you?” Harry continues, taking another step when there aren’t many left. I inhale nervously when the pad of his thumb softly brushes over the healing cut at the edge of my scalp that I couldn’t as easily hide the scab and bruises of this morning.

I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Because if I do, I’m afraid all of the words pent up inside of me that wish to free his ears with the truth will all come rushing out. No matter how much I try to stop them. And that the crazy beating of my heart will make them go all over the place, just like his touch has done to me. A gentle ‘heeey’ drops from his lips, making me look up at him and into his soft caring eyes that belong to the real Harry. My Harry. With courage bubbling up inside of me, my lips begin to part when a loud voice cuts in.

Angry wet raindrops fall on my shoulders, piercing through my sweater and shooting ice into my veins. I wrap the thin piece of clothing around me tighter, cursing myself from this morning for not having brought any kind of coat to make up for this pathetic sweater and this chilly rain. And cursing myself for forgetting to put gas in my car yesterday, landing me on the tube for today and in this wet Fall weather. As I walk under the faint glow of the wet streetlamps, my shivering body grows colder and colder with every painful step. Icy drops run down my face, the only relief I find in this sudden rain is the numbing of the stings and throbs painting my body. Splashes of rain puddles hit my legs, soaking through the sheer black tights donning my legs. You only have one and half more blocks to go, Becky, you can do this, I think hopefully. And with that, I soldier on. Soaked to the bone and beaten down.

My feet squeak along the wooden floor, leaving tiny invisible puddles behind me as the warmth of the flat begins to thaw my frozen body. I drop my bag on the table in the entryway, toeing off my shoes and leaving them where they land. I plod my way across the room and into the kitchen, unbeknownst to the movements my body makes.

Open the cabinet. Take down a mug. Pick up the tea kettle. Fill it with water. Turn on the burner. Set it down. Walk over to the kitchen island. Pull out a chair. Sit down. My eyes fix themselves on one spot on the wall, staying there and no motivation to move.

Click!

Thud!

“Hey, I’m just stopping back to grab something I forgot. Boys don’t really have hair straighteners, I realized only after I left the flat,” Skye’s joking words poke through my hazy bubble, but that’s all they do. “Becky. Wait . . What the bloody hell happened to you today?! You look like you got run over by a car, Ree. You’re bleeding!” she almost shouts, voice rising in volume as she clears the room and comes to cup my cheeks with her warm hands.

“I’m fine, it’s old,” I reply quietly, meeting her eyes after she turned my head to make sure I’m looking at her.

“You are not fine, Ree. You have t-this gash in your scalp and a cut in your lips, both covered in dried blood. Did somebody do this to you?!”

“No, I-I just fell. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes,” I answer, attempting nonchalance as I step down from my swively chair and go to tend to the whistling teapot.

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met, always have been and always will. Now I’m not bloody leaving or going anywhere for that matter, until you tell me what really happened, Ree. Actually, wait- you stay here and don’t you move your bum one bleeding inch!” she points at me, raising her eyebrows above her sky blue eyes surrounded by black eyeliner.

I mindlessly remove the kettle from the heat, pouring the blistering hot water into the yellow mug, watching the water mix with the Peach tea bag.

“Now come here,” Skye orders moments later and I turn around, surprised to find her gently but a little forcefully leading me to the island once again. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, Skye, don’t give me commands.”

“I don’t care, just sit down and let me take care of you,” she replies, flicking her wavy hair half the color of bone and the other half sky blue to over her shoulder. My gaze follows her hands as they reach for the brown bottle and cotton pads. “Now are you going to tell me what happened, or not?”

Putting the bottle down hastily, she gently pushes my damp curls away from my face and runs the pad along my forehead. I suck in a breath through my teeth, wincing at the terrible stinging on my forehead.

“Ree?” she sighs, giving me a hard look in the eyes. My lips don’t move and neither does hers. A sadness I don’t want to look anymore into hangs around her eyes as she runs the pad along my forehead a few more times before discarding it, red blotches staining the cotton. “My God, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve met,” she sighs, the package crinkling as she removes another pad from the bag and soaks it with the hydrogen peroxide.

The pad is inches away from my forehead again when tears begin to fall down my cheeks out of nowhere, my lips creasing with them and my eyes falling shut. Skye’s face falls and she discards the pad, pulling my face against her chest and tucking my head under her chin.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok,” she repeatedly hums against my hair, planting kiss after kiss on my damp ringlets. Arms around my neck keeping me close. “Everything’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok, Ree.”

If only I could believe that too.

And if only the thought of giving him up didn’t scare me so damn much.

My weekend consisted of cuddles on the couch with Skye in our PJs, who decided to cancel her trip last minute, instead staying back to have a two-day long movie marathon with moi. She took care of me, making me a grilled cheese when I wanted, and stirring up chocolate milk for me when I wanted that too, and tending to my cuts a few more times until they were scabbing up and could fend for themselves. She didn’t push for the story again, but I knew it was on the end of her tongue and it was only a matter of time until she’d catch me off guard and make me spill.

With Monday looming closeby, I soaked up the last hours of freedom until eight am rolled around and I dragged myself out of bed. With a heavy lunchbox courtesy of Skye’s rare cooking excursion this weekend of Taco Soup and garlic bread, I head off into the chilly bright morning. Slipping into my forgotten front seat of my car, I start up the old thing and only then remember my lack of gas issue. But when I look at the gage, it’s hugging the bold F. Oh, Skye, what would I do without you, I think to myself with the warm hint of a smile clinging to my lips.

I put the car in Park and turn the keys until the hum of the engine is no more. With a deep breath, I peak a look at myself in the rearview mirror. Loose chestnut curls barely touching the shoulders of my violet peacoat and the smooth brown dress underneath it. By habit, my eyes dart to the slightly discolored area of skin just meeting my scalp and the dark crease in my bottom lip. If you don’t look too closely, you can’t notice them with the makeup and the colored lip balm. Sighing, I grab my purse and lunchbox and leave my car for the long parking garage in search of the elevator that will take me up to the seventeenth floor, and back to Harry.

The main floor of seventeen is doused in a quiet hum, albeit for the occasional phone ringing and small conversation among the Cubiclers tucked away in their cubicles by the elevator. Dark clouds hover on the other side of the clear pristine windows, threatening to burst at any moment as they cast dreariness over the black tiled floor and sleek gray granite walls of the firm’s main floor. The circular fluorescent bulbs hidden in the black wooden ceiling work hard as the rain nears, and stab needles into my head that still dully aches after three days.

My MacBook sounds its typical whoosh as its screen comes to life. I open my email with slow fingers, relieved and yet surprised to find only a handful of emails waiting for me. A handful or sometimes two less than usual. Thank God.

My fingers float across the keys with learned ease, composing a reply to a current client asking for some more information and certain documents that are the usual after Harry liked what he heard in the face to face consultation from Friday. I include a timeframe for when they’ll hear from us next, before sending the email off.

The day drags on with its hits and its misses. My time is spent answering emails and typing up new ones, retrieving and delivering case files for Harry that land on his empty desk as he sits in a courtroom across town. Last but not least, I take another crack at filing, rounding out another few sizable stacks before lunch arrives and I’m knee to knee with Asher in the breakroom scarfing down my soup and sharing my cookies.

3 o’clock rolls around out of nowhere, the rain clouds far gone as I savor the sliver of sunlight peeking out from behind the now fluffy clouds. Harry’s weekly list dinged in my inbox hours earlier and has grabbed my attention ever since, checking off a few things already until I decided to devote the rest of the day for filing and then hopefully finishing out the rest tomorrow. I kneel down and pick up the granola bar I dropped trying to take it out of one of the drawers of my desk. My hip bumps my creaky old desk as I leave for Harry’s office to get on that filing. The voices of Green Day, The Stones and Fleetwood Mac among others swim around me as names and numbers occupy my mind, as bright warm sunshine peeks in through Harry’s windows. I don’t catch one glimpse of him for the rest of the day, or of anybody else of significant importance much to my pleasure. I leave the rest of the files for tomorrow, gleeful at the sight of only a few stacks left and the bubbling hope of how happy Harry will be to see them all done. A new song by Vance Joy fills my car as I pull out of the parking garage and begin to make my way home.

My alarm clock rings too quickly the next morning, waking me up with a sad frown at having to leave that wonderful dream where I was on a beach with Derek from Teen Wolf. Mmmmm. Fucking alarm. I stumble out of bed and whiz through my morning routine with heavy limbs and heavy eyes. My Tuesday is a blur of coffee, emails, to-do lists and dreading doing the rest of those files. But with a new album and sneakily watching some more American Horror Story, I get through the day along with Skye’s soup and cookies.

With the secondhand hugging the 11 and the shorthand inching towards the 5, I decide to call it a day and make a break for my desk. Hiding away thick files and stacks of empty ones, I tidy up my desk and put everything back where it was this morning before deciding to head out. But when I’m reaching for my purse, I happen to look up and find Harry walking in my direction. Well, so much for thinking I could avoid you today, the words course through my skull as I heave a silent sigh at watching him arrive in front of my desk.

“Did ya drop something’?” he questions, leaving out a greeting as his striking maroon suit tightens around him when he bends over to pick up something off the floor. His eyebrows quirk together as he looks down at a white envelope, and a second later I feel my heart cease in my chest. “Hmm, ‘s addressed t’ me, I wonder what it ‘s,” he continues, apparently thinking that because of that he can go ahead and help himself and open it although it wasn’t sealed and the content already had begun to spill out.

I scramble around my desk and over to him, not so calmly or chalantly ripping it from his hands. But when he looks up and over to me, I realize I was a fraction of a second too late because the creased letter tight in my hand is open just enough for the words stuck to it to be known to the world. Thick emotions paint his face all over, creasing the space between his eyebrows as they knit together sadly with his puppy dog eyes locked on me. Lips trembling to open, but not fully getting there. All as my heart races uncontrollably, regret filling my body quickly with my chest growing tight and my cheeks hot. Realization dawns on me, making me think back to bumping into my desk on my way to file some stuff. Shit. Devastation slowly sticks to every inch of skin on his face and seeps into his green eyes framed by thick lashes.

“Becks,” he rasps, hand going to his hair as if it’s his own unique coping mechanism. “What's this? I-I mean I know what it ‘s, but I don’ get it. ‘m so bloody confused . . yer quttin’?” Harry croaks, words coming out fast and then slow, and sloppy and crazed. “If you want less hours or t’ get off earlier, I can do that. Even if ya want more hours, we can figure that out. Or if ya wan’ a lighter workload, we can work sumthin’ out, Becks, I promise. Jus’ tell me what you need and ‘ll make it happen, jus’ pleas don’ leave.”

Wow. His lips sputter to a stop, as my heart does something the same and I’m left all of a sudden speechless, but with so much to say just a minute ago. Or so I thought. My heart only thumps faster and harder when he comes closer to me at the end of his plea.

“I-I’m not leaving, Harry. I-I just- I don’t know . . . “

“What d’ya mean? Tha’s a two weeks notice letta I just read. T-this isn’t makin’ sense, Becks,” he replies in a huff, throwing up a hand in exasperation before it falls heavy with a plop against his leg. Yeah, I don’t know, either. “Wha’s bloody goin’ on?” he outright asks, eyes glued to me and expecting an answer. And a good one at that.

“I have it because I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Why’re you thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’? What happened?” he questions quickly with sad eyes, and when they stray from my face to land on my forehead he steps forward, and I suddenly feel the urge to shrink into myself. If only that were possible. “Becks, yer head - ‘s gashed open, what’d you do, love?”

“I’m just clumsy, I tripped and fell,” I answer, looking away from his prying eyes and then back to find something in his that I don’t like.

I know that he doesn’t believe me.

Jennings.

“Harry! I got Mr. Bishop on the line about the crazy Tillings case that’s all over the news. You know the one, with the wife stabbing her kids to death . . Well, there’s some stuff he wants to talk to you about, like maybe even hiring you for the Defense instead of Tomlinson,” he nearly shouts, with a foot out of the door of the large meeting room across from us. Several of the big lawyers like Stone, Bradley, Mickey, and Rose are visible through the half drawn blinds strewn over the windows acting as walls around the secretive room. It looks like the judge interrupted an important meeting, another one that Harry just so happened to skip out on.

Harry sighs, muttering an ‘I’ll be there in a sec’ to Pete, before turning back to me. Hand back to himself and eyes full of questions, ones that I don’t want to answer. But I do. I just don’t know if I can.

“We’re not done here. ‘ll see you tomorrow’ before court and we’re settling all this then, alright?” he says with a wag of his ringed finger, and I nod at him. It’s really not that much, but it seems like more when he squeezes my arm as he holds my gaze before leaving with a goodbye.

Well, I guess my secret’s out.

I inadvertently avoided my phone and emails for the rest of the night, and the next morning until I pulled into the parking garage attached to the gleaming skyscraper that I call my work. With my head down and the word ‘avoid’ repeating over and over in my head, I quietly make my appearance and try my best to slip away to my desk unnoticed. My heart pounds a little as my email loads, the innermost part of me dreading the long list of new emails waiting for me and the possibility one or a few might be from Harry.

A strange calmness covers me when his name isn’t found anywhere in my new emails on this dreary and cold Tuesday morning. Nervously, I pull up the weekly list and double check his agenda for the day, even though I was the one who wrote it and I should remember. But I wrote it up weeks ago.

Tuesday, November 9th

Court for the O’Pete’s Case 10AM - All day

Dinner with friend at The Grand 5pm

The plan for the day is simple and to the point, with some room for leeway and adjustments which I won’t be surprised if he makes. And a later start to his morning, which I know by now that he certainly likes. But not today, because guess who’s going to be Mr. Early. Ugh. I busy my mind this morning by answering emails and returning calls, peeking a glance every now and then in the direction of the elevator expecting to see him pop up out of nowhere. The first few times I look over without a hint of his appearance, but the fifth time I watch the elevator doors open and spit him out.

Oh no.

I know I can’t, but I almost try to hide behind my desk. Drop my head and busy myself with something. Turn around and make it look like I’m grabbing something from behind me. Crouch down and dig in the lowermost filing cabinet.

“Hey.” an internal groan ripples through me at the remembering that of course, he has to walk right past my desk on his way to his office. Could I be any more stupid? Probably not. “I wanna um talk t’ you ‘bout yesterday, ya busy?” the raspy words roll off his tongue fast. I slowly sit up to look at him, but it can’t be slow enough. His long curls gleaming wet after what must have been a morning shower, his nose and cheeks dotted with red from the London cold.

“Yeah no I’m fine,” I reply hastily, my words tumbling out before I can tell them to stop. Dread and nervousness guide my actions as I turn to face him fully and close my laptop.

“Kay, c’mon then. I wann’ talk in my office.”

Gulp.

Pushing my chair in, I leave my desk and follow his heavy footsteps down the hall and around the corner. The thump thump of my heart picks up as his drying curls bounce on his shoulders, and his shiny new YSL boots click clack on the tile flooring.

Here we go.

“Sit down,” he instructs, waving a hand to the black leather chairs in front of his cluttered desk. I do as he says, crossing my legs and folding my hands as I watch him set his black leather messenger bag on his desk and get situated as I wring my hands nervously.

I watch his careful and rather rushed movements, until he’s hung up his jacket and fixed his hair. “Now le’s talk,” Harry sighs as he walks towards me and sits down on the corner of his desk to face me. Okay then.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Don’ lie t’ me. You know I wan’ t’ talk ‘bout that two-week letter I found of yers,” he goes on with a huff.

“I know, but there’s nothing to be said. I changed my mind and decided not to give it to you.”

“Well yer mind had t’ have been made up pretty damn good ‘bout quittin’ if ya felt so compelled t’ write it in tha first place,” he argues, looking away after a moment with a shake of his head.

I take a cue and shake mine too, frustrated at the way he’s acting and how big of a deal he’s making about this.

“You were never supposed to see it,” I comment softly in admittance, looking up from my lap and to him. But he won’t look at me. A hand adorned with rings is in his hair as he looks away, then stands up and walks over to where midmorning sunlight streams in through the polished window.

“What, are ya not happy enuf here, Holte?” he asks, throwing up a hand that he seconds later stuffs in the pocket of his tight black pants. It’s almost painful to hold back a snort at his remark, or to chime in with a ‘duh’ or an ‘are you serious’. “I thought we’d figured out our own li’l system and that you were comfortable an’ happy here”

When I don’t answer, I can’t ignore his heavy sigh that pokes at me and somehow makes this worse. “What can I do t’ make ya happier, huh?” Harry says softly, but not in a nice way, and more like in it a perturbed way like he doesn’t want to have this conversation any more than I do.

I don’t know about that.

His question catches me off guard a little, and I almost want to take it the wrong way. But things aren’t like that, and what’s to say that they ever will be more. Turning my mind to something else to get it off that, I start to think of what I should tell him. Well for starters, you could stop dating that bitch of a Barbie and that would take away something like half of my problems. Then there’s maybe treating me with some respect and decency, and not just when you like or those certain days when you decide we’re friends.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I decide to say, but I regret it almost as soon as I say it, because he’s Mr. Doesn’t Take No For An Answer.

“Why can’ ya just talk t’ me,” he relents, something sad and real creasing his brows and painted in his eyes. I start to fall for it and the truth itches to come out.

Briiiiiiiing!

He huffs and his gaze lingers on me willing me to speak as he seems to wait it out to see if it’s going to ring a second time and a third time and a fourth. And just when I gather a little nerve he reaches out and picks up the phone. “This is Harry,” he answers, pulling his lips in and pressing them together as he listens to the person on the line. I watch his eyes dart around and he nods with a ‘mmhmm’ before grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, jotting down something important.

I can hardly take the mix of awkwardness and tension for a minute longer, and I stand up and make it for the door.

“Becks, wait.”

The name and its sudden return hit me like a wall, hard and out of nowhere. My lips tremble with all of the things that I could say, and my limbs stutter with the things I could do. I decide on one, and I turn around. “I’m not going anywhere, so would you stop worrying about it?” I tell him, watching his face donning an expression I don’t want to read as the phone is still pressed to his ear, his hand cupping the speaker.

I think I hear a small sigh, but I don’t know because I’m already turning around. A harsh clud! tickles my ears and just as the icy metal welcomes my fingers, a warmth arrives on my shoulder making me spin around to find it.

“Please don’ leave, I still wanna talk t’ you. Ya’ve been actin’ so weird lately and there’s a cut on yer head and ya dropped a two weeks letta’ that ya say wasn’ real or sumthin’ . . . Will ya jus’ tell me wha’s goin’ on already?” Harry almost pleads, the ‘please’ stinging in his eyes. I can’t do it. The pleading and concern drowning in his eyes does it. It gets me.

“You won’t believe me,” I almost mumble, unsure of if he heard me until his quickfire ‘tell me’ knocks that down.

“Ya underestimate me sumtimes.”

A soft ‘okay’ falls from my lips recklessly a few breaths later, just like the rest of what I’ve said in the last minute. A shaky breath trickles into my lungs, my heart picking up speed as words jumble around in my head. It’s only made worse when his hand placed on my shoulder that’s hard to forget gives a little squeeze, egging me on.

“It’s um Amber, s-she keeps harassing me, Harry. I put that file on your desk the other day and I know that she took the crime scene photos out and did something with them just to sabotage me, or something. Also other times when she comes in, she always has to give me shit somehow: accidentally knocking over a coffee on my desk, accidentally hitting the end button on my phone when I’m on a call, or her favorite being to tell me that I’m not allowed in your office when you’re not here. I’ve told her time and time again that I am, but she won’t believe me,” I talk fast, shoving the words out into the free air before I stop myself, or before he does. My eyes jutt away from his, far too nervous and scared to wonder what they’re holding because his poker face doesn’t work on me. And if I see something I don’t like, I’m afraid I won’t get the next part out, because of that and the dryness eating up my throat. “A-and Friday I was doing filing in your office, and from the second she helps herself in she won’t leave me alone to get out because ‘I’m not allowed’. She was almost screaming at me, and she literally dragged me by the arm out an-and threw me at the door but I missed and hit the trimming o-on the wall, giving me a bloody fat lip and doing that to my forehead,” I divulge, sputtering to a hurried stop before another word takes it out of me and I’m spilling tears on his shoes.

My chest shakes with each hasty breath and the violent thuds of my heart pounding against my ribcage. Sweat slickens my palms I didn’t realize I was folding together so hard, the tips of my fingers white against my knuckles that I instantly release. But then they start to shake. Tears prick at the back of my eyes, ready to make their debut as I nibble nervously at my lip. Dread fills me, mixing with my nerves and anxiety and fear and everything else to make the worst feeling ever. It surpasses the gut-wrenching anxiousness of sitting at your desk in class waiting for the teacher to hand you your graded test. Or being statue still behind the wheel during your driving test afraid one little mistake will make you fail. Or the impending drop of a rollercoaster that makes you feel like your stomach is going to jump into the sky along with the rest of you.

The uncomfortable eeriness of silence pools around us, slowly building an invisible distance between him and I. A distance I’m afraid will be magnified by just a few words from him. Words that he could spill at any second. The waiting is always what kills you. I get ready to speak, new words ready to spring off the tip of my tongue.

“Tha-that’s not Amber, Becks, she’d neva do that kinda stuff, let alone give sumbody a gash on their head and a fat lip,” Harry finally says, words quick and sharp that are accented with a nervous laugh. Gulp. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach at the drop of a hat- or at the second he disagrees. A sudden angry heat fills my body all over, joined by a sourness spilling into my stomach. I think the toast and oats from this morning are going to be reappearing real soon. “‘m sorry ya think that, Becks, but I know her and she wouldn’ do that kinda stuff t’ sumbody, I swear,” he finishes. As if I needed to hear it a second time.

Braving it, I meet his eyes and find them creased with something sad that I don’t give a shit to decode, but I know they look even worse when they lay on mine. I take a step back, feeling his hand slide from its place on my shoulder. He steps towards me and almost grabs my hand, but I pull it out of his grasp. “Don’t,” I almost spit through gritted teeth, my heart beating loud and fast in my ears. My name starts on his lips, and I shake my head. No. “O-of course you didn’t believe me. God, what was I thinking? Why would you anyways?! Your head is so fucking wrapped up in her that you can’t see anything else but what she wants you to see, Harry!” I explode, words flying places without a thought. Because who gives a flying fuck.

Rage seethes through my veins hot and fast. A sudden boom! of thunder echoes through the room, big fat raindrops hitting the window with pits and pats. The former rays of sunshine nowhere to be seen as smoky clouds dominate the sky.

Yeah, things sure do change fast.

“Becks, c’mon. ‘ve known her for years, I know she wouldn’ do this stuff yer accusing her of!” he replies, throwing his hands up and doing a half sigh-half gasp in exasperation. “Why would she anyways, what reason has she got t’ harass you if that were even true?”

“She hates me, Harry! Ever since the first day she met me she’s had it out for me. I’ve done nothing to her, but she insists on making my life hell ever since. I don’t know why, m-maybe she feels threatened by me or something, because you’ve kept me around for so long and because I’m a fricken girl! Why are you asking me? You should be asking her, Harry!” I almost shout, but at this point I don’t think either of us cares anymore. A guttural groan leaves his lips, a hand caught in his hair next messing it up further as he keeps his distance rightly.

“I know her, Becks. I know she wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Somebody dragged me by the arm and threw me to the ground, Harry! It wasn’t some ghost, I saw who it was. It was bloody daylight out and I’m sure you could ask anybody around here and they could tell you they saw her here at that time on that day, and maybe even what I looked like afterward!” I yell at him, finding my hands in my hair next, feeling the urge to pull it out. Palms sweaty, goosebumps covering every inch of my body and my brain turned on to fight mode. The sour feeling in my stomach grows, and next my eyes begin to blur ever so slightly and I don’t know how much longer I can fight. Or how much more. “W-why don’t you believe me, Harry? Why would I ever lie to you?” I relent, throwing a frustrated hand up to have it smack against my leg. My words crack at the very end and I shake my head with a sad smile.

It looks like a light clicks on in his head, filtering to his eyes as his lips part slowly. His forehead shiny with the same kind of clammy and angry sweat that covers my body. I blink at the blurriness, but it only grows worse.

“Amber’s not like that, she’s neva been,” he continues, refusing to give her up by holding onto her honor. It makes me sick. And if I stay here another minute longer, I’m afraid that I will be. “Becks, y-yer just confused o-or ya took sumthin’ she did wrong.”

“Wow, you’ve really got yourself hooked on believing all of her lies, Harry. You really have no clue of what kind of person you’re dating . . And I can’t believe I ever thought th-that there was some good down deep inside of you,” I spit, the anger and intensity falling as the words hit the air and my fight leaves me too, leaving the last words hanging there in my exhausted voice.

His grief-stricken face drowned in a mixture of sadness, confusion, and anger stare back at me in a blurry haze that disappears with my next blink. Hot tears trail down my cheeks, my whole body heavy. My heart. My stomach. My head. My eyes. His boots click when he inches towards me, but I move away by habit. A habit I didn’t know that I suddenly have. It hits him too, and the hurt etched into his face deepens from seconds before.

My heart wrenches at the sight of him. And the immediate disgust. I spin around, dying to get out of here and as far away from him as I can get. I swipe hastily at the tears flying down my cheeks, the clack of my heels muffled in my ears where my heart beats ravenously faster and faster and so do his words that play like a tape in my head.

It doesn’t stop when the sounds of seventeen come back to me, or people passing me, or the bile beginning to rise in my throat. Or even when I’m pushing past the doors. Or when I’m emptying the remnants of this morning’s breakfast from the pit of my stomach. His words and the look on his face still drill into my head, and when another wave hits me I heave into the toilet as the cold ridges of the dirty tile dig into my boney knees. Once it passes, I’m not yet out of the woods as sobs wreck my body and only grow worse when I play over and over the words he said.

And it only amounts when I think that maybe just maybe he’ll burst in here any second calling for me and admit his fault. But as the minutes grow and my cheeks become wetter, I sit back and curl against the partition of the stall and cry harder. Because he isn’t coming. He never will.

He’ll never be that prince in shining armor I’ve wanted him to be this whole time.

#The Assistant #PA Harry #Harry Styles #One Direction #Fanfiction #Writing #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles AU #Boss Harry AU #Lawyer AU #Lawyer Harry #Wattpad #One Direction AU #One Direction Imagine #narrymccartney #My Writing #Keep

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niftylittlequotes · 7 years

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I've been forced to reevaluate my belief on love these last few months. Self-love, maternal love, and the kind of love that men die for and cry for. I was raised to be independent of any man for any reason. I was raised around failed relationships and a resulting bitter and possibly self-deprecating demeanor. I vowed to never be with a man who abused me, or treated me like I was inferior. I had some abandonment issues and desired love so badly my bones ached. I fell for some imbeciles and then the bad one happened. It wasn't physical, more underlying indirect comments that slowly morphed who I was; I was transformed into his masterpiece. I hurt after it was over, but the illusions of true love were shattered by a soulmate. This was the good one. I thought he was my best friend, and he was the soothing balm to my cuts and scratches. He was fresh air. He blew through, caressing and kissing my exposed sensitive heart, only to whirl around and shatter it beyond apparent repair. He took my breath away when he took his love away. I wanted to hold on, but he was impossible to grasp. Fast forward seven months, one sudden death, one surgery, and one truly broken heart later. Along came a sweet, shy, skittish man. This is the one. Almost the one you dreamed of finding, but better. Nearly the painting you created in your mind, but more vivid. Close to the home you imagined, but filled with so much more warmth and light. He's the last piece of the puzzle fitting snugly into the middle. He's the fill-in-the blank, finish your sentence, speak your mind one. He's the call to clarify and correct, bring you medicine and food when you're sick, understand when your day has been too long one. He's the loves his mom, wants a family, and wants a warm home one. He's the try to stop me from fixing your sad, keep his promises no matter what, kiss your forehead one. He's the lose sleep for just one more minute with you, just one more kiss please, I can't wait to see you again one. The call me in the middle of the night if you need me, your dog is mine, leave a pillow and blanket over at your place one. He's the damaged, afraid, I don't believe in the magic of love anymore one. However, you're his surprise delight and his dream come true. He's ready to drop everything and move mountains to make sure you're all right. He's ready to see you and misses you after a day. He loves so much that he is your muse. He's slowly but surely falling for you. See, love really is a fairytale. It's wondering how in the world it's possible for you to have met a match, a match so close and comfortable it fits like your favorite glove. When he's around, it's a calm contentment, an unspoken understanding, and a silent solidarity. There's a hesitant conviction, that he's the one - because you don't want to be too sure that you're sure. You keep your guard up just in case, waiting for him to fail and then the facade destroyed. But he doesn't. And he won't. Because he is the one. He is the one who eliminates the game, smashes the establishment, and presents a new future. He's the one you wake up to and fall asleep with. He's the one you see holding your hand, in all good and bad, because he's already seen you at the worst part. He's the one you know will never hurt you, because he strives to be conscious and aware of even the slightest pangs. He's the one who smiles the sweetest smile you've ever seen, and stares at you like you are the moon and the stars and the universe. He sees through to your soul to who you used to be, who you wish to remember, who you still are deep inside. Love is selfless, striving to express affection, singing praises and appreciation. Love is laughing, listening, and learning. Love is respect, reciprocation, and remembering. Love is a certain knowing, a particular certainty. Love is letting the wall down, taking a chance, and watching a relationship blossom before your eyes into something so unbelievably surreal and seeming previously unattainable. But it's reality. Your reality. There's a moment, a threshold crossed and there is no more hesitation, no more crushing. It goes from maybe to probably to definitely. You start thinking about the future in terms of years instead of days. You answer every call, every question, every doubt. Thoughts go from 'me' to 'we'. His arms become your safe haven, your deepest desire, your favorite place. It all happens so gradually, and then so quickly. You think - when your head spins but your hands don't shake and when your heart beats faster the closer he is. You know - when you can be you without limitation or when you wonder how you'd live without him. Most of all, you're convinced - when you're in a crowded room full of your best of friends, and yet a look at him has you feeling like you're the only two in the entire world. You know incontrovertibly that he is the absolute one for you. That is all. That is everything. That is true love. Better than the movies, better than sex, better than your sweetest, most magnificent fantasy.

Wait for your everything

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tenaciouscupcaketaco · 4 years

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Mario William Vitale’s Poetry

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tenaciouscupcaketaco · 6 years

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60 Newest Poems By Mario W. Vitale

Bio Of Mario William Vitale The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension: Mario William Vitale Biography I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital. A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success, As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act. Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church. In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood" Where I had the lead role as the Narrator, I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989, Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long, Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School, After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com Attempted plays: Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade, (His poetic aspirations had derived at 18 in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum) Attended Central Connecticut State University For Creative Writing: 1997 Next from 1989-1997 (Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry) , * Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ", (1998)Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland". Back with rave reviews! * (From 1999-2008: Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: (1999- Sent Editorial to: New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie; Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached, * 2000-2007: Magazine: (Catholic)Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset! 2008- Wrote poem entitled: (The Heavy Cross)to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy; (The Connecticut Poetry Society) * Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia Writers Quarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry. Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return, Thankfulness toward family and friends.(To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted? My contemporary artists include that of Ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and Carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry Having been a member since 2006, My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe. Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creative passion! The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a very positive light.) After experiencing a life transformation encounter.I had realized that poetry is my unique way to convey myself my work speaks from the heart with pure sentiments of though intact, As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform, My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing, Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com... I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979, Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine. My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts. Hope you can read my poetry. Sea Stacks skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the posts' blunt stubs sank down the circled and were roofed by milled lumber dragged at one time to the coast We slept there Each morning the minus tide- weeds flowed it like hair swimming The starfish gripped rock, pastel, rough. Fish bones lay in sun Each noon the milk fog sank from cloud cover, came in our clothes and held them tighter on us. Sea stacks stood and disappeared They came back when the sun scrubbed out the inlet Life Force through the flame cover me in silent sound dignity for with what one is willing to achieve valiantly feel the breeze nestled through the trees shaped through your dreams a piercing of the skin new hearts to begin again Choices Many have a hard time understanding They live for self and that of society They are the walking dead yet they don't even know it Eyes with blackened spots having holes Viscous fangs with blood dripping off the side You share with them the truth They choose to run away & hide Yet deep inside they may still question Why am i here ? They can't even help you Cause they won't help themselves They are the scum of the land Much too afraid to stand among the son of man A bitter taste Do they want salt or sugar coated messages Positive reinforcement strengthens the heart Negativity kills it Each of us has been given a choice We must lend a helping hand with a voice All of us have been given a choice Now which pathway will you choose ? Emerald City There’ll be no unemployment in heaven. No worry about the next meal. There’ll be no bills to harass us, and thieves will not break in and steal. In heaven, we’ll have no need for money; Everything up there will be free. We’ll enjoy God’s unsearchable riches, and have unending security. I’m looking forward to heaven, that land that is fairer than day. Where all will be joy and gladness, and sorrow and care will flee away. Up there, no mean words will be spoken. Each heart will be filled with pure love. We’ll never be hurt or rejected, in the beautiful city above. There will be no disappointment or heartache. God will wipe all the tears from our eyes. No one will ever be lonely, and there’ll be no anguished good-byes. Up there, the love we have for each other, by each heart will be shared equally. And we’ll have all the things that we’ve longed for, and at last we will really be free Little Angel Hope springs a new On a cloud in heaven Stand a heavenly angel With mere beauty of crystalized light Golden emblems encrusted their frame Sweet songs drifting to a very faint whisper Eyes, hands & face A real message sent down to earth To care for those lonely souls all alone There beauty is a surprise to encounter Slipping through locked doors to appear Many have shed a tear to numb the inner pain Causing accidents not to happen They appear in the form of brightened miracles We see them with a heart all a glow Come to the birth of a new born baby Come to servicemen who just joined the navy You will see them at a graveyard setting Even among gamblers who do there betting There all around us you see For all of life is but a mystery These Flames I Live turn back the tear drop pillow I'm sick to my stomach suffering alone and hard piercing cavity of viscious fangs that bite illusive impulsive the rant These flames I live my right to forgive undercover beyond the means living in a land of mean barren sea a shot in the dark to light the spark many are left in rebellion what an incredible talent Vitale is he is the poet of all poets the moment you met him perfect ten a chick lying with her hens a quest... flaws and failures yes he wears Depends a trip to the zoo nothing new Laughter Laughter fills the scented air through days exposed the timeless hour of a loathsome mast expounded upon the cavity of debris develop a grateful heart that one may impart look close through a pillar of glass a vergence sea out beyond the interpass a halo with a song to help you get along the sight of a fawn on the lawn greed and materialism will crush out the light in your life penetration by the holy spirit a heart change has to happen one must be open to the message care for your brother help for your pale sister one ear on the floor a cause for more through fetters got it made to even out the score Unending Brigade I ask myself politely what resistance flowers here against love treaded lightly or losing lovingness dear? give cadence to the simple, for I gave ammunition to the laughter we should we ever falter the timeless whisper of happening golden nuggets of thought & inspiration braids my hair with a great deal of wear through the conclaves of love's fastened grip shadows block the vortex to aid its message The Dream Police they come to my head at the side of my bed they are enforcing my sleep give cadence to a treat a far from ports unknown like a dog without a bone giving tickets to be enforced every time I have a dream forces scream Of Time & Dreams Father's gold pocket watch measured heartbeats, times for surgery and the slow drip of an IV all else in his life was overture to main events, like birth and death of those the family never knew Steps from my childhood dreams to his were counted in places where treasure were wet pebbles and the pulse of life was seen in raindrops on the lake now the watch is mine, and i yearn to throw it like a pebble into the past, to see it skip and yield to places we never shared, like blue-green eddies near the shore and grasses curled by the win Yet, warming in my palm, the measurer of his days seems to sing the music of turning points where drying dreams meet others born anew, emerging through images of caring to rhythms more than metrical that i've yet to understand The Land Of Dreams When you fall asleep at night, your mind goes into an eerie flight You can open the gate with the key of thought, and don't have to do what you've been taught You sing, and dance, and prance all day and you act so happy and also gay You run in circles and run into the trees, and cut your elbows and scrape your knees But sometimes you open the wrong gate, and find yourself facing a terrible fate There are monsters, ghouls and also grouches, and then you wish you were on confortable couches And when you're done and almost through, your mind knows exactly what to do you go back through that eerie flight it may be day it may be night And when your mind comes back to you, you may wake up and have the flu You could leave for school very late, and find out that it's the wrong date And you could play outside in the streams but you will know that you entered "The Land Of Dreams." Old Crow Old crow Tired and lazy' against the day Dark skies Lost in blacks and whites and grays Howling north wind Sure takes a man's fight away Wastelands, A dreamer's home on his best day Hard rain Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade And talks cheap, But for the words of time they'll ave the last say Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say And the harvest is in, it wasn't much May I have enough to get by The baskets were light, not a muscle ached And somehow I feel I'm going to die The winter is coming and the signs say hard I've never seen such a haunting sky For on the mountains, frost in the wind And somehow I feel I'm going to die Full moon Lonely above the old oak tree line Old crow Hanging empty in the black sky And a nighthawk Circles her in silence as she flies Old crow, all alone she flies Pheonix the blazing glory of a loving night Disappears in the sun's bright morning light All efforts to recall that glorious pain Fade in the dawn to be sought in vain but the memory clings of precious glory that will not become an old, dull story instead that memory promises anew that love will spring forth and again renew with every joining of two loving souls again will emerge from the fading coals a love renewed by the glowing embers so that this night, too, will be remembered. Soul Search When I look into your eyes I see the sunshine and rain, The deeper I look and also see Various kinds of pain; I can see the kind, warm love that filters thru, To surface at the top when you’re not blue, I have seen and know your hopes and fears The good and bad times you have thru years, You have seen and felt so much I’m glad our lives did touch Look deep into my eyes and you will find The heartaches and happiness that were also mine Come With Me Come with me and be my friend Lets create a fantasy just you & me lets linger through the wind and feel free lets run through the sand and make time stand still so we can treasure this moment Only until The mystical ocean touches our souls and fills our hearts with love come with me and I'll show you What I have to give come with and I'll describe The life I dreamed we'd live come with and hold me gently and watch the retiring sun slowly set Shower me with all your love pretending we just met Whenever you need me I'll be there To help lift your spirits and I want to care About you come with and be my love no longer a fantasy just you & me This time only A reality... Mario William Vitale. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet Personifications Of Oceanic Thoughts whispers sun lit morn the surf hits the turf smells of salt air through the moment savor each moment as the memory lasts bask in the vast expanse between time & space sounds of children playing seaweed next to the rocks along the cobblestone walkway solace torn up in the derision of peace with solidarity we were made for moments such as these seagulls flock overhead remember me in thoughts as these whisk through the breeze capture one's inner sense alas with angelic fervor permeates a flame of life's torn reality a new to face the day Follow Your Heart Magic breathes life in our hearts Destiny resides in our souls Our path now shimmers unshadowed by the night With one embrace partnered by a tender kiss, the bounds of time and distance crumble through fingers like drifting grains of sand Dream time is the place where I am alive Green eyes ripple into lipid pools where miracles draw me to your heart I am free to swim by your side until the sun sets and rises with you again Life is my dream I love you Cynthia When at night I close my eyes, to think all the days gone by, to feel again those passions past, and feeble joy that never lasts, I'm always drawn to thoughts of you, my only love my Cynthia I think I found you in a dream then we celebrate, the night I pressed beyond the seam, where fantasy and reality meet in summer mist so soft and sweet, But you were all I ever felt, my deepest love, my Cynthia But dreams just last within the night, when morning came, Her soul took flight I awake to find Her never there She passes like the misty air To leave me longing and alone, my painful love, my Cynthia Enigma love you swell the heart, to crush the same when lovers part But whether love and joy you bring or bitter pain and Death's cold sting I plead you come to me again, my final love, My Cynthia For My Precious Son You're standing in the doorway. Your workday is all done. He waits to see you everyday, this boy that is your son. He hopes you will go fishing. He hopes you'll shoot the gun. He just wants to be with you, this boy that is your son. He is your spitting image. To him you are ''The One''. He hopes to be just like you, this boy that is your son. You show him what a man is. You teach as you have fun. You are admired as well as loved by this boy that is your son. You've got a friend forever. Until the world is done. Then, still you will be holding this man that is your son. I'm Just A Poetical Lyricist I’m just having fun, but no doubt someone will take this serious I’m about to take you on a lyrical experience I’m having fun with words, like when a baby first starts reading books Saying I’m good at rhyming, Is like saying Mike Tyson packs a decent punch I best mention the Kardashians other wise you’ll have trouble keeping up Me with a pen is more dangerous than Michael Myers on Halloween when he starts slashing with the knife Telling me I can’t rhyme, is the biggest mistake you’ve made since you let your ex Back in to your life Speaking of exes, will someone please date mine I promise she’ll give you a great time I’ll pay for the date, its all on me All I ask, is please be good enough to get her to stop calling me I love Hip Hop, and yeah I know I’m white Please be creative and tell me how I’m the new Vanilla ice Or how I should walk right back across 8 mile I could have thrown this into my waste pile But I just wanted to write some joke lines and have some fun Sick of hearing rappers talk about drugs and how they pack a gun “yeah I’m Bad. I’ll make this Uzi Squirt” You don’t know who Nas is, And think the greatest rapper is Lil Uzi Vert Or some other mumble rapper with lame rhymes You deserve to have Biggie and Big Pun sit on you at the same time Some guy called Young Thug is wearing dresses That’s not something I have a problem with My problem is There’s so much going on in the world and these rappers are scared to address it What happened to Hip-Hop when rappers would share a message? Nas, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, I could name so many more Now its a bunch of dudes who sound the same with empty thoughts I’d pretend to be from the hood and blast guns but I’d fail I’d rather be the real me, and I’m far too cute to go to Jail I just love Hip Hop and the way it used to be You always get the truth from me someone tell Rihanna I’m ready to give her the best 30 seconds of her life Tell her she’ll only regret it if I become a legend when I die Knowing she could of had me This is my last piece of paper, I’m now pad free I was watching rap battles on YouTube, So took you on this lyrical experience I’m just a poetical lyricist Rapula back in the day where hustlers stayed there were those very afraid he was born in the gutter his momma was a vamp selling her junk in the trunk of a car up all night slept all day he was blown from the frey viscious fangs that bite two turn tables with a mic insisted on a fight sucking the innocent patrons for blood right in the hood like you knew he would Rapula the man, the myth & the legend could very often see him in the back of a seven eleven drinking red slurpees took folks block by block like giving him a heart attack just to fit his mold no one came against him until that day in the crib Rapula lost his lobster bib very often you will see him at the 8th Street Station spinning his records there will never be another blood sucking brother so move over he's taking cover Rapula wore a high hat tip on his temple driving a white Benz looking like Baretta I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me Supernatural but it's so true the world hasn't a single clue borrowed basement pews stained glass windows a reflection of the cross some will go before the toss he was there from the beginning he is the only one that's winning perfumed stockings and a breath of fresh air the willingness to share how you really care if you have seen him you have seen the father Jesus Stop The Madness All of sudden reality happens Ruining my mind that's already jumbled "where the hell did i just go?" I ask to myself no one listens Obsecurity is still in me Recognizing situation where i have been Looking up the sky it's already dark Worrying something, i need to get up Home, i need to find home Stepping forward to pass the crowd The longer i go, the quieter it's so Taking my glasses off because its fogged Focusing my lens but the blur shows sigh Now melancholy does it again Lack of knowledge about locations Lack of someone to be asked for And there is no light to guide me on Vision, direction, companion I wish i could make them clearer But in reality, they just disappear Shaman Within I met a dead poem in the shade of spring. I was so sad I could hear the door bell ring through the furtherance of a smile I became unglued shadows block the motive bruised. Beyond the sky set flight Prison Of The Mind able to be smart without words its a topic of conversation through words spilled out on the ancient path meditate lights out beg, bitch & pout the underscore read stop I'm keeping on keeping transfused and weeping table talking swallow its extremities move the levee strong will survive thank God I'm alive the moments the solitude alone vibrations fixed temptations sensations... take me to the prison three squares a day a pillow and I pray nestled the mood away Getting Ahead Of God hearken onto the voice of a still small way let God show you the new found way look deep into the cause of wisdom seek the shelter God give the children right parents to help bring them up you never miss out in obeying God when you start off in life without God your in the wrong direction God will tell you what he wants you to do if you ask him to your life will be filled with joy, peace & happiness the issue is its not your age but what is the will of God for your life God always has your best when we wait on God you can't tell by the way it works by the way it counts you may have get by in life but you must deny yourself people have to go through disaster before you surrender your life each time we take a leap of our own choice we lose out of the will of God you'll be disapointed the issue is what does God want for your life he acts on behalf on the one who waits on him you can't get God's guidance if your living in sin happiness, joy, peace & satifaction are very valuable you made some choices but God will forgive you if you repent for them its a decision we make if we confess our sins he is faithful & just to forgive us it is a choice you make remember you reap what you sow you can't avoid or escape the things of your soul whether your 16 or 67 its time you made a decision and surrender to God I pray that every person that hears this message will stop to think of what they have done in life Take It All In God is a closer friend come back to New England plants, rocks, shrubs & things suddenly I'm waiting here for you it's a tick or take Sunday afternoon waiting by the rocks they surface with untimely leaves the leagues plagued with devastation the beef stock through the goldie locks of here hair Summertime is no better time got this crazy feeling I'm so glad that your feeling for me with your heart you can unite the heart Changes a smile from a lonesome child transformed through the eyes the timeless cavity unleashed through diverse port of space in time the child in time grew now in there teens sees the world through a fine tooth comb at home being alone the horrific scene through adolescence its a coincidence now as an adult able to leap tall buildings with a single bound the smile deminishes onto sophistication almost a loose cannon pronounced news to its folly cover me with those tender leaves falling from the stream let loose on my caboose the stars all glitter in the darkness of night Pilgrims Progress We need great golden copulations in the cemetery bury your head beneath the limbs in part of a ghostly resolve perhaps this was the path Brother Lawrence tred alone underneath the interpass of denial of speculation we have nursed path each quatrum with a deafening blow to stand in one accord to each other as pilgrims rest after harvest time Apple butter jam spread on fresh home made bread the reflections of a timid squirrel on a limb we have become immeasurable by your smile she danced in a ring of fire yet throws of each challenge with a shrug the cost of the pilgrims progress we shall never know bust up the beat to promote its tempo a beacon of light to a much hurting world in search of love Does death hurt you the most or is it fear beneath the timeless swell I live to tell sought through the variation to its cosmic flame Careless Whisper a shoulder tender shelter to lie next together, the swelter of a careless whisper left tempted shelter lies dormant onto its beckoning plough to thirst united with the throne billow with asps of the new day's pride thank God I'm still alive to delve into the ridges of each dishes kisses the torment of each smile bruisded reed tmpered on its poll the thought of vanity among humanity the faint of your legacy Spirit To Touchdown Ten years since her husband's death she still craved the sight of him and his magnetic smile coming in the door, his suitcoat slung over his back. She yearned to glance at him in a long black coat, resembling a materialized laser beam, as they prepared to go out for an evening, or in old bluejeans walking barefoot with her on the seashore. She knew he was always with her... but wanted his spirit to touchdown My Elephant There is something about the Elephant I love very much, I wish I could cuddle him but I know I cannot, if they be my friend, I will play soccer with an Elephant on my side, I will catch hold of his trunk and he’ll trumpet me to victory with pride. There is something about the Elephant I love very much. Although he is so big, he won’t give you a fright, He lifts up his trunk and blesses you instead, So different from the Lion and Tiger you meet, There is something about the Elephant I love very much He is a pure vegetarian, he won’t kill a mouse, He is worshiped as God for all his good vice. If we were to crown the king of the jungle again, It will go to the Elephant our vegetarian friend Proud To Be An American I’m proud to be American To live In a country that’s free And we’re free to be who We want to be! We’re always Free to try New things. And enjoy every Experience that Life may bring! And I was taught To stand up for what You believe in And never give up On your hopes And dreams Because the sky Is the limit! Beach Canopy The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer Love We Go through the sweet vortex of our inner frame we can dream of far off places with kings and queens shaped through the fragments of are exploits someday you will be all alone in your room there you will read a text to reflect upon your life we each are on a journey in this life some ponder the existence of God other reflect in the day to day toil love is the mere essence of are existence shine your inner light upon the twilight hour shadows block the mere reflection of my frame not having you in my arms is driving me insane lest I refrain another door by which to explore there is so much more in this game of life within its given strife we can learn one soul soars and another will soon burn we better wait are turn in this wheel in the sky the faint lulabye in its scope Elvis In Vegas Viva Viva Los Vegas he came alone with a guitar in his sack romance with the dice he's giving back a whole host of onlookers looking upon he waves his magic wand with a favorable song swivel hips stand tight in his sticks Elvis Fun House a blade of grass blown in the wind heros have erected its course leading folks away from divorce in times of remembrances thoughts shattered in the wind coming apart at the seams a brigade of thoughts What is a funhouse ? It is when the eyes of all are upon you It's not so, but when you go through it is true The funhouse is a form of torture where everything unravels around you It is a commotion of nervousness and you just want to hide from all that is around you It is a secret that you don't want to share, but there is one who helps just by saying I care It's not what you say it is what you do When you enter my world of the funhouse, you assure me that God is in control that with him I don't need to be afraid It's the gentle way in which you talk when once you have entered into the realm of commotion... It's the assurance of your sincerity that softens the blow Soon with your special way the inner strife goes away A Thief in The Night Jesus he that hath an ear let him hear when all was said to be good let it be said calamity have you ever been down to the lowest pit you look around and no one gave a shit By His Hand through long lines of being transformed to clean my room in the late month of June we move too soon we remain vital to the oncoming spirit of the game filtered through those tiny reasons to spice up the season the God Lord up above has carried us by his hand Poison Ivy there are pillars being built for those who pusue the chase we each are in a battle some have retreated at death's door lest I implore something more a quaint visitation with your higher power in a world torn up in misery & sorrow hiding behind a false hidden garb of compromise can't we easily see through those twised lies yet we embark on a new journey of are own having a house but living all alone out in the street where people meet had a gun at my head thought i was really dead out of devastation I reached right for the bottle like having a gun in hand to release its throttle the world is in misery torn some insist to curse they very day they were born eyes to see but can't hears to hear but won't there's a true lesson to be learned one soul soars while the other soon to be burned we must all wait in line for are turn each of us will have a day in the sun now I'm off on the run searching through pictures to put on my wall to stand ten feet tall amidst the social resistance join in now I must insist this casualties are enormous for a stated cause that's plain atrocious have we taken the time out to notice yet many of us have given up way to easy caught in a rut in are society out of desperation there still is a plan that we can see someday be fulfilled as a reality if we only believe one will be set free Break Away break away to a brand new day perfect display we come to pray faint sounds of grandeur right down to the wire share with those you have heard Thirst thirst after the water that has been spoken look deep beneath the vines of realization through thought and mind breath deep inside let your breath go complete with words of heightened anticipation go deep upon deeper be the keeper of the gate call it fate the twist and turn of the music to loose it the world spins like a top negotiate your buyer sweet songs of praise sweet moments raised in a time well spent in thought the spinning wheel stop just like a top remember me in times like these sheltered through the breeze crushed upon the leaves in midnight hour with pulse through the flame in moments of granduer sharpen your arrows to calm the breeze nestled to your knees cultivated with a smile to know all the great while a helmet for the passing fawn the bear from its nap with a yawn in columns of portals sprinkled dust in the wind the habitation of a needle visible through the shadows remember me in times like these through the training of the leaves taunt the moment an explosion until sunset the bill of sale A Gun For Hire there is a direct correlation between time & space scented across your universe base the climb to approach the summit peak with words do you seek famous qoutes and pictures for your desire coming down to the wire a gun for hire Beyond Her Tea- Blurred Vision The powerful voice of loneliness is screaming through her mind of twisted halls, All too painful to hear, she absorbs them into her cotton ball walls But, beyond her tea-blurred vision and through her pounding heart She hears the voice inside her that is worse than a dagger through her heart Her shadow's darkest moments are filled with hopeless pride And her tongue tied conscience is all whom she has to confide But the rose that is trying to bloom, within her salty hand, will never wither, and never be taken away, Because this, and this alone, is what keeps her going day by day the embrace... Shelter From The Storm outside violence inner silence shadows now block the vortex spaces for places & midnight traces coming apart at the seams jelly beans breath deep my pale sister confide my shady brother undercover as lovers sign so simple the cripple shelter from the storm curse the very day you were actually born a world that turns suffer inside the place to hide let go of any ambition what are you bitching cap the cosmic clap faces in the window having storms in the night Celebrate In Twilight the crimsome tide we all want to run away & hide although we suffer inside enter through the canopy of a velvet song lines drawn in the sand when to understand give yourself away take heed to pray no cornerstone no bridge unknown through the sunlit ravine The Knight Of The 1,000 Eyes softly now faintly ode to the serpent's tale dismiss the dread to reclaim its saga in darkened dungeons fit for conquest come away for a rest most of life is but a test treasure the mantle to the I am presence delve into the sacred flames within your heart enter the center of your being pull back on yourself a still small voice within you saying be not afraid I am here I am your heart I abide in the holy temple in the center of your being you have climbed through mountains you have found me after a very long trek in the darkness of human misery I am the pressence that looks through your eyes the knight will rise of the 1, 000 eyes filtered through the shame who are we to blame infinity is my measure you beloved heart belong to me let us be one once again allow the shell of outer human pass away I will be the service to life that passes through you do not accept as real to what is in the outer world fear not I am the life inside your heart I am inside you together we must intoduce ourselves onto the world. A Gripping Fairy Tale long ago let the truth be told in a city far far away lived a young hobbit who drank there was woods to hide his visitation a taste of hungry exoneration A fare maiden was on the throne ruling her army from the barren city enclosed was a message of honor high off traction from the waiting pool the kingdom was now silent These Words these words are wrapped among a cordial smile cemented like glue for what are we to do come now let us leave the door opened, a demonstration of trust in a world in quite a bit of a rush the door swings wide to the enforced way a beautiful flower display ample time to pray therefore everything will be o.k. the knock on the door lest I implore a distant shuttter of languished circumstances with a heart that's been renewed these words stand still amidst the night's appeal the even keal behind the spinning wheel trust is completely most like a seagull off the coast a reason to really trust Surfing The Internet Today I'm on point smoking a fat joint relaxing basking in the ambiance of the hour folks need to take a cold shower as they admire the scented perfume through the room we have become combersome with this world as a child as if you never really heard Leonard Cohen with his famed song "Suzanne" really makes you think about life. Through the negative light of affliction we have every bit of reason to be standing chosen yet we have are back against the wall when all attempts of standing ten feet tall, Each of us has a reason to discuss the mere notion of love sent from up above Rat tit tat tat on that ass no one gets by on any free pass we need to make are way look to your neighbor for any favors we can all learn to trust & savor Each new moment that comes along with a fast paced moving vibrant song you unleashed the inner lion in me with a whole host of chemistry Surfing the internet may not be your thing but prayer can unleash the fires within storms of life come to either make you or break you whats news for you might not be for you life is like a jagged edge roller coaster with its twists and turns one soul soars while the other one burns just wait your turn Empty Leaves onto the seventh hour of the seventh sun beckon to rule the new day's dawn the lovely fawn sitting on the lawn vibrations to great temptations captivated by a smile to know all the great while the wilderness beckons a response of wild beasts among us Light Brevity thoughts of brevity about the city stay close to me a whole host next to me got rhymes of choice stretched to the opened door the willingness to be explored stand firm in the wheel chair you know my condition to what I've been dishing kissing twisted stereo lies by the bars swift no surprise captivated by her smile still to know all the great while as if a little child faith pierced the scene eating fantastic cuisine the turning of the page is it safe to ask you your age ? the band played on Agatha The Princess she was on the throne far away from her home uniting hearts to ne fond heights carrying herself with a song Agatha the princess will lose their influence soaring to new frontiers left her to tears took walks in her garden beautiful flower display led to thoughts to pray with tears in her eyes came as a big surprise delicate hue wth borrowed lies she walks the flats on the lonely pier rapers and dishes she would hide leave behind the careless whisper a shoulder to cry the soft cascading vamp shine on her eyes to beg or even borrow moments of sorrow to cleave to her young the living stone have we just begun Back To The Front plunged into uncertainty the quest to be a want to be shining on mental enhancement there's joy in the progress smoke on my ceiling highway of what I'm dealing Heroin bang bang shoot shoot you took my nephew Shane let me be the first to explain Shane used to live with us so long ago until he shot up heroin he died in are house such a dark force it starts with a promise to relieve then one gets too deep falling apart at the seams beg, borrow & steal for your next fix to even the deal some take it with a needle others snort it up their nose but do you suppose there's always a shipment coming from Rhode Island dodge the bullet feel the passion why am I asking heroin scores a perfect 10 in the mind of an addict it takes your body then your soul engulfed in flames bust up the beat to promote its tempo Soft Parade the tear drop fell from the ceiling no matter what I'm dealing the ocean has a delicate spray through loose lines let it go time well spent in thought through the day springs hope left nestled on its undertow the stereo swell basking in the hour of belief sorted flowers in its incredible epitaph The Waiting Suspense there are pillars in doorways loosed to become forgiven loose engine the pulsating of a river where is the trigger gets bigger & bigger Destination Excellence the thought of letting go a far to time before waiting to explore the opened door life can be quite a bore the longing for more road up ahead avoid the living dead thoughts inside my head The Arms Of Rap into the arms of rap that's where its at buiding through the confusion in fusion got flames coming out my baseball cap I'm in need of a nap keep close to the doorway fresh rhymes I'm still on time you maybe brave see me at the arcade park my Benz in back folks tend to over react but I tip my hat got news for you all bridge the gap know what's up Chilling at the grill with my girl sporting heavy studs think that I'm in love you see there's brilliance in a piece mark the ege of my teeth stand still & repeat bars watching souped up body kit cars looking to the stars a view from Mars Pina Colada does anyone grow fond of Starsky & Hutch another push grasping with tender faith in my hand when will folks understand stick it to the man years have passed still having every reason to grasp the solitude in that I'm still in a good mood... Feeling high anxiety got folks sitting next to me living out my legacy of what I used to be Sipping my favorite sauce to the max you tend to over react got to stay in the zone Summer time boogy time get your cash and stand in line frozen in time Through a variation of a dream peeps do scream eating delicious ice cream Souped up high hat as if in a tempo taking you places that you need to go playing a little Spanish fly i got words by the fly your my favorite guy on my human side stand still I'm happily alive got to put first things first this is how i flirt got words for Lavert put back your gold in a purse Trump is getting busy but he makes me awful dizzy better listen to Thin Lizzy they say i'm institutionalized but I got words from the hive it's best to dream big Let Yourself Be A reflection I will be, for today I looked into a mirror and much to my surprise, what I saw was all deep, deep, inside... There it was, all exposed, the inner me right down to my very soul alarmed, shocked, and surprised, what I saw wasn't really me on the outside What have I done ? Where did it go wrong ? Why isn't the inner me the same as the outer soul ? Then I could see way beyond it isn't just me, but everyone. Life is a fairy tale to most for the really don't accept the Holy Ghost If all would look within their self, and see the person that is there, open up your heart, let it out don't pretend, just be proud, for the person you really are, is just what God wanted for he created you as he chose Don't fret, or whine, just be proud, life's riches you will surely find Now when you look at me, a mirror you will see for when you look at me, what you'll see is the inner me For I am the mirror of the real me To everyone in life who feels they are not special, you really are, you see, for God made you that way, if you'll only let yourself be...

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