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#im a little overwhelmed and miss being alone in the sun
gods-graveyard · 4 months
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Slytherin skittles soft headcanons
Regulus has a "Doll" mode where he basically dissosiates and acts like the "Perfect Pureblood heir" his family desired. His friends all have different ways of dealing when hes like this
Pandora strokes his hair and sings lullubies, sometimes in french
Dorcas does all his homework on his behalf after wrapping him in blankets so he can cool down
Marlene paints his nails and rambles about all the gossip and rumors floating around the school
Evan will move him to the glass windows by the lake and watch the water silently by his side
Barty will make an utter fool of himself or start making outragous claims like "Im pretty sure the sun is an illusion and were just being gaslit into believing in it" because he knows it makes Reggie laugh
When Pandora and Evan were little and one of them had nightmares, they would sneak into eachother's rooms. Now at Hogwarts the first time Pandora had a nightmare she broke into the Slytherin common room. Now every time Evan misses his sister he knows he can just want her to come and there she is, they claim "twin telepathy". Also No one knows how she keeps getting in, she doesn't know the password- but who tf is going to stop her from seeing her brother??
Every time Barty gets an angry owl from his dad, he gets so overwhelmed by anger to the point being called by their name makes him want to scream. So all his friends start calling him "idiot" "pretty boy" "raccoon" "dumbass" respectivly until he calms down.
Dorcas is an overachiver and will run herself into the ground trying to be the "best" and meet her own perfectionist standards. They sometimes steal her homework to do it on her behalf, shes so sleep deprived the only way she notices it wasnt her is no one but Evan has a perfect immitation of her handwriting. She appreciates it nonetheless
Marlene impulse dyes or cuts her hair, peirce's her ears, gives herself a stick and poke. Anything that proves she is in control of herself and that her decisions have an impact. But of course one too many patchy jobs, choppy bangs, and infected peircings or tattoos and things had to change. Now she can go to her friends, demand a septum and Evan is pulling out some rubber gloves, Regulus some expensive jewlery, and Dorcas and Pandora grab face masks and other self care stuff to do afterwards. Barty always insists on doing it as well, that way if she does get dresscoded she isn't alone.
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afterglowkatie · 4 months
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under the moonlight | natasha romanoff
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Summary: reader comforting natasha while she has a little breakdown
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: sad natasha :(
Word Count: 837
Notes: im terrible with summaries im sorry :')
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The door to the meeting room slammed shut as Natasha walked out. Everyone was silent, not knowing how to break the tension that had been formed since she left. No one knew why or what was said for Natasha to just get up and leave how she did. But you knew something wasn't right. It wasn't normal to see Natasha that way. Without hesitation you jumped up quick to follow her. The team looked to each other with confusion when you left, as far as they knew you and Natasha had never really spoken to each other before.
That would be the truth and you normally wouldn't follow but today you just felt this pull towards her, it was indescribable. Though when you finally found Natasha you wish that you weren't the one who had gone after her. You stood in the doorway of her room, stunned at the sight in front of you. Natasha had slouched next to her bed, pulling her knees to her chest and you watched as sobs wrecked through her body.
You had never been great at comforting people or knowing what to do when someone was upset or hurt, you normally left that up to someone else. Your heart pulled you to your next actions.
'Hey Nat, are you okay?' You sat next to Natasha, your hands in your lap as you stared straight ahead, 'wait no. That's a stupid question. Let me start over,' You took a deep breath, you hadn't disappeared yet like you wanted to but there was something about Natasha that pulled you to stay, to go outside of your comfort zone and learn how to comfort someone on the spot, 'I hope you feel better soon, just tell me what I can do to make you feel better,' You placed your hand on her back. Natasha felt you freeze as soon as you made contact.
You were too busy second guessing your actions and whether Natasha appreciated you being here or if she wanted you gone, that you missed the way her sobs had died down and there was a small smile forming on her face.
'You being here with me is more than enough,' Your eyes softened when Natasha lifted her head to look at you. Your eyes met her bloodshot ones, tears stained her cheeks. You gave her a small smile before an idea popped into your head.
'Come with me?' You got up and held your hand out towards Natasha. She accepted the hand and you helped her to her feet, though you didn't miss the confused look she gave you. Instead you chose to ignore the look and dragged her towards the roof.
There was a special entrance to the roof that only you had found. It led to a separate part of the roof that could only be accessed this way. You had turned it into a small oasis where you can be alone and calm down when everything is overwhelming.
'This is beautiful Y/N/N,' Natasha walked around, admiring all the work you had put into this small area. All of the plants were beautiful and well kept. Natasha was in awe.
'I come here when I'm feeling down. It helps to be able to have a place to be alone, it can be so loud down there,' You set out the blankets and pillows you kept up there and laid down, Natasha following and laying beside you.
For hours you didn't even have to say anything to each other, the comfort of knowing you were there if she needed you was enough to help calm Natasha's thoughts, 'It's still warm out, even with the sun being gone,' Natasha was the first one to break the silence. The sun had set and the moon was shining bright above the two of you.
'A funny thing called summer, you've heard of it?' Natasha laughed at you which caused you to smile.
'Thank you for showing me your secret oasis,' Natasha moved her hand so it was laying on top of yours, 'I understand if you don't want me to come here, you did say you like to be alone sometimes,'
'I think I can make an exception for you. Alone with you doesn't sound bad,' You rolled onto your side causing your hand to slip out from Natasha's. You were quick to place your other hand on top of hers when she gave you her best pout. One you just couldn't resist, 'You look beautiful in the moonlight,' You whispered out, loud enough for Natasha to still hear you.
'Thank you for today. I really appreciate what you did for me, I know it isn't easy for you,' Natasha laid on her side, now facing you. Lifting a hand up she cupped your cheek, gently rubbing her thumb across. Natasha leaned in and gave you a small kiss, it didn't last long but you both knew what it meant.
'I'll always step outside of my comfort zone for you Nat,'
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mamamittens · 1 year
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They got a crush~
But how do they act? How did they realize?
SFW
Ace
Boy doesn't realize shit. He's really obvious about to everyone but himself. He's more touchy with you than literally anyone else. He laughs louder, shows off harder, and is generally a lowkey mess. Until it's suddenly made so much worse.
He's talking about his little brother in the East Blue who's going to be the Pirate King--no cap--and realizes that he really can't wait to introduce you two. Two so very dear and important people to himself. And then it hits. Hard. He wants Luffy to meet his 'dad' and 'brothers' sure, but he needs Luffy to like you and the other way around.
Because he really likes you.
He never lives down how close the Moby was to sinking due to the fire Ace immediately created turning into a bonfire. Of course, this clues everyone else into the fact that he's realized his feelings but if anyone missed it, Ace avoiding you like the plague while staring at you from around corners would have done it.
Now, whether or not you confront him, this stalking phase won't last forever because Ace misses you. He misses being next to you. Enjoying your company and not just the echo of your laugh.
And so, Ace, with his heart on his sleeve, tells you the truth of his name. And he cries and laughs and kisses you when he realizes that you don't care.
He doesn't let go of your hand for hours. Marvels at the steady pulse in your wrist--proof that someone so perfectly alive would want him with all his issues. When he's down low he can never bring himself to seriously push you away because the thought of you leaving for real breaks him. He's not magically better just because you return his feelings but... life doesn't seem so hopeless when you take his hand. His blood doesn't seem so corrupt anymore when you kiss his cheek in the morning without thinking. Late one night he holds you close and whispers something against your skin.
Thank you for loving me.
Marco
He's more self aware than Ace, so he's got that going for him. But it does take a bit for him to confirm that he has serious feelings for you. In the meantime, any chance he gets, he spends time with you. Mostly little chitchat, watching you in the corner of his eye. Measuring his own reaction to you. How often his heart skips when you say his name with a laugh. The pride he feels when you focus all your attention on him with admiration. He wants to amaze you and reassure you all at once.
He holds the fond feelings your smile gives him. How he thinks about you even when he should be working on paperwork. He holds it close to his chest while he decides if this is something he wants to cherish alone or try and see if it doesn't turn into something bigger. It's when he can't imagine living his life without at least trying that he decides.
Those that know him well can probably guess he's caught feelings but he's pretty chill about it while thinking it over. Though his reaction to you getting overwhelmed in a fight is... certainly telling. He's never far from you in battle. Not hovering but definitely not more than a heartbeat away.
And then one day, just as the sun was setting, Marco goes up to you. Casually leaning against the railing as he tells you about his feelings. Bears his heart like he could heal instantly if it broke. He's open to the possibility of acceptance or rejection. He's a grown man. He can handle it. It's a risk, but he's beyond caring about anything beyond you in this moment.
The look of surprise and relief when you respond in kind is just a fraction of the warmth in Marco's chest when he kisses you for the first--but certainly not the last--time. Every chance he gets, he holds you close. Feeling you breathing against his side as he works, the warm brush of hands in greeting when you pass by. He follows you without thought simply because he's already decided there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
Thatch
He knows himself pretty well. When he first saw you, he knew he was in trouble immediately. Actually talking to you just confirmed it. Although he was kind of in denial for a bit, desperately hoping that his ridiculous heart would just chill the fuck out if he gave it time.
It did not.
And he was in the middle of a monotonous kitchen chore, dicing vegetables for stew, when he realized he didn't want it to. He wanted to feel his heart stutter everytime you said his name. His head to always turn in your direction when you laugh. His hand to reflexively guide itself to yours when you walked side by side or gravitate to your back so he could feel your heartbeat in his palm.
And he was man enough to admit he wanted you to feel that way too. He was madly, ridiculously in love and not ashamed of it in the least. And when he realized that, he became very familiar with the aftertaste of yearning on his tongue while wondering if you could taste it too when you said his name. He wanted to share everything with you that your gentle hands could hold and everything else could rest safely in his.
Of course, he couldn't just tell you his feelings.
He had to make a whole thing of it.
In fact, you knew what he was up to long before the main course of a private meal because subtlety was far from Thatch's vocabulary. Anymore roses and candles and you'd think he was proposing--oh no he's going to be so fucking dramatic about proposing you could already tell. The confession barely left his lips before you laughed and kissed him silent, much to his utter surprise.
He did whoop with joy as he lifted you into a spinning hug, and yes it was very loud. Whoever somehow missed his obvious affection before now certainly didn't miss it afterwards. Kisses to your head/hair/hand/shoulder/literally anywhere near him when you happened to be close. Gentle touches and endless fond smiles.
Thatch is absolutely living his best life and is making sure you never regret returning his feelings--even if he's put out that you didn't let him recite his whole speech before responding. No, he still hasn't caught on to the fact that he was painfully obvious. But that's just part of his charm, I suppose.
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cyberskiiiiii · 1 year
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- what a bully -
- drabble -
- gn!reader -
- this is NOT a part 3 sorry to disappoint but this is a random thought i had (its literally 3:24 am rn) also not proof read so if theres any mistakes… lmfao idk i dont really care -
- other than this being a random thought UM THANK YOU FOR 90 FOLLOWERS??? close to 100 SO this is also a thank you post and ive decided to post this that has been sitting in the back of my brain forever -
- adding this just in case: mentions reader having makeup (sorry if you aren’t comfortable with having makeup on) -
- tw: bullying -
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these guys… are assholes
your day was going great at first, you ate breakfast, and even put a little extra effort on your makeup! you woke up with a sudden feeling today was going to be okay!
even the sky was clear with the sun shining and a few clouds floating by
but of course not everything lasts forever you were walking down the hall to the cafeteria to get something from the tuck shop until you realised your day was going a little to well, you’ve seen those boys hanging around the school but they didnt yell any disgusting comments your way, push you harshly and act as if one of them didnt see you, or even talked shit about you loudy on purpose whenever your around something up and you knew it
even so, it was quite peaceful not having to deal with that negativity so you cherished the moment before it vanishes
you sat down in an empty table before placing your food infront of you while you were distracted the group of boys who you thought finally left you alone were whispering and chuckling with each other
“watch this.”
and thats when you felt it, a soft solid hitting the back of your head and a splash of liquid following after you turned you head to see who’ve did you wrong and ofc ifs katsuki bakugou
his friends bursted out laughing when you caught them red handed
“looks like i missed the bin” he shrugged
sero got up and picked the cup which still had coffee inside before he could get any closer you got up as well planning to run for it but he quickly grabbed your wrist
“aye whats the rush hun? you forgot something”
then he continued to pour the remaining liquid of cold coffee onto your head before harshly throwing the paper cup on you after
“holy shit sero!” kami yelled
they all bursted out laughing as they saw your humiliated face
“you gotta take a pic of this man” said the redhead to his yellow haired friend
you ran from there, trying to hold in your mixed emotions but ending up with your eyes leaking with tears with the overwhelming feelings
the worst part is that they did this infront of everybody.
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how did this go from “bakugou x reader” to “bakusquad x reader” 🤔 i aint complaining tho😜🤞 also this was kinda shitty bc im literally sooooo lazy at the moment, forgive me yall
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auraxins · 9 months
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You said there might be an extra bit to Pharos if the right questions are asked, but im not sure I have the right questions 😭 I'd give anything to see more, though, whenever you have more to share
wah ty for sending an ask in beloved! im sorry it took a while to get round to answering you, but i did have a little bonus scene in mind that i wanted to write out and share!!! (i'll be honest, i don't know the right questions either lmao i am however very grateful you expressed interest in some extra content and i hope you enjoy this <3)
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Pharos - Bonus Scene 01
wc: 1.4k
warnings: fluff, romantic tension, complicated relationship status, ambiguously set after the events of pharos, no pronouns or nicknames mentioned
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Being stuck on an island for so long demands some form of leisure time to keep your mind stable. 
For you, it just so happened to come in the form of making carvings from the offcuts of wood you’d used for the first few rafts you’d built. There’s something therapeutic about whittling away at a rough scrap, shaping it into a new form, bringing out a hidden beauty from within the grain. 
Your first few attempts are, naturally, clumsy and amateurish. Hobbled figures with limbs missing where your blade had nicked too deep, misshapen fish where you couldn’t quite smooth the edges out right. Though odd, they are delightful. They are proof that you are trying. 
Soon, they start to take up space around the lighthouse, dotted wherever you choose to leave them. In a way, it feels like you’re decorating the place. Leaving an imprint of yourself. Making it feel more like a home. 
After your second failed island escape, the remains of your last raft wash ashore at last and you salvage all that you can before discarding the rest. Some chunks make their way to the pile you’ve left by the door of the lighthouse, where you’ll later pick one at random and take it in to work on your craft into the night. The larger pieces lay out the foundations for your next boat. 
One specific cut of wood stands out to you more than the rest. It’s smaller than most of them, but was still just large enough to deem rescue-worthy from the wreckage. The grain curves in such an enchanting way along the surface, already revealing to you the perfect shape to carve. Though apprehensive- this piece is going to be your biggest challenge yet, after all- you find it hard to resist the allure of the project. 
The tiny koi fish practically forms itself as you whittle into the wood. Each feathery fin and round scale prominent and beautiful. At one point, you fear that you’ll chip off the tail by mistake. But you should know by now not to underestimate yourself. 
It turns out better than you could have ever hoped for it to, a far cry more polished than any of the pieces you’ve made before. There are still a few notches carved too deep, tight corners that could be more refined, but it’s practically perfect. 
And you know exactly what to do with this one. 
You find Chuuya out on the beach mid-afternoon, the sun past its peak and slowly lowering across the horizon. Heat beams steadily from above, a consistent and pleasant warmth you’ve grown used to over the months. 
“Hey!” you call out to grab his attention. Chuuya turns and offers you a wave. 
“I thought you were inside,” he says. “You got bored already?” 
“I finished what I was doing.” You keep the wooden fish held behind your back in lieu of wrapping it up. That feels like it would have been too much. “Want to see?” 
“Sure.” 
“You don’t have to take it,” you preface, “but I made this for you.”
The wood glides smooth beneath your fingertips as you hand it over, a testament to the progression of your carving skills. Anxiety spikes up in your veins as the figure leaves your grasp, irrational and yet so very overwhelming. What if he hates it? Or perhaps thinks you strange for such a gesture? It’s beyond the typical conventions for your relationship, to give a gift like this. Let alone one that is so obviously crafted with a tender touch. 
Chuuya turns it over, inspecting the design. The little fish eyes that you’ve painted darker with pigment from a berry you’d pilfered from the food rations stand out in the sunlight, staring up at him. He seems to stare back for a moment. 
Your heart stills in your chest as he looks back to you. 
“You made this?” he asks quietly. You nod. He runs a thumb along the figure’s finely chiselled scales. “It’s pretty.” 
“I know it’s weird to be giving gifts,” you say. “I just… we’ve been through a lot together lately. This is my way of saying thanks for not being an asshole, you know?” 
His response is simple, to the point. “I get you.” 
You frown. “You don’t think it’s overstepping?”
“Like you said,” he chuckles, “we’ve been through a lot.” The trinket is passed around between his hands again as he observes it. “This is nice. Thanks.” 
You lose sight of the figure after that. 
Part of you had expected him to keep it out somewhere, like beside his bedroll with the few pocket items he tends to leave there. Not for it to simply disappear. 
A nervous feeling in the back of your mind tells you he’s thrown it away, that he really did hate it and he was just being nice to save face. But he’s never been the type to mince his words, especially around you- so why would now be an exception? 
And just where has he put the damn thing otherwise? 
Chuuya catches you about a week later. 
By now, you’d tried your best to forget about the trinket ordeal. You’d considered the affair a failure, and reverted to your usual routines and civil quiet. It was better this way, you decided. And the carvings you’d made since, you’d kept to yourself. 
“I didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” you say. “You said you were out fishing today.” 
“I was,” Chuuya says. “I came back early. I have something for you.” 
As he goes to pull this ‘something’ from his pockets, a second item slips. The little koi fish. Somewhat worse for wear compared to when you’d given it to him, but you suppose it’s to be expected when living like this. 
Your heart leaps. He’s kept it on his person this entire time. 
Chuuya squirrels it away again before you have time to say something, and the thing he’d originally meant to grab is left in his hands. You can’t see it too well like this, but small bumps stick out from between his fingers and a distinct wooden texture is visible. 
As he hands it over, you notice that it’s round in shape. A bracelet. Made from twigs, gently curved and pressed and wrapped with spare twine. He must have found some extras in the storage room, some thinner strands you’d relegated as useless for working on the rafts. 
“You made this?” you ask, acutely aware of how familiar this situation feels. He nods. You run your thumb across one of the ridges in the bracelet as you slip it over your hand. “It’s pretty.” 
“I don’t have the patience to learn how to carve as well as you. I think I’d end up throwing them all in the sea if I did something wrong. So, this was the next best option.” 
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he says. “I wanted to.” 
The sentiment warms your soul, and you can’t help yourself as you reach forward and place your hand upon his shoulder. You feel the bracelet press into your wrist. 
“Thank you,” you say. “I love it.” 
He leans into the touch on instinct, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. Though you’ve been far more intimate with him before this, it still feels so new and thrilling. This is strange, courting one another in such a way. You still haven’t really addressed your feelings for one another, despite all that has transpired. 
A heavy atmosphere settles, far more intense under the afternoon heat. It still doesn’t feel right to talk about this. There’s far too much at stake. You still need to remain amicable with one another, to enhance your possibilities of a successful escape from this island. 
You decide to diffuse the situation. 
“Hold on,” you giggle, breaking the tension, “is this why I found a bunch of twigs in the bath the other day?” 
“I needed to soak them,” he defends. “They’d have snapped otherwise.” 
“You really put effort into this, didn’t you?” 
“Of course.” 
“You’re cute,” you tease, pinching his cheek. You can’t help it. The temptation to stay close to him is nigh on unbearable- you have to do something. 
He pulls away, face flushed and expression bashful. “Shut up.” 
Your laughter echoes along the empty beach. 
“Never.” 
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uchihabbynic · 1 year
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The Memory of Him
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Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader
Content: Spoiler! as it relates to Ace & the events of Marineford, lots of fluff, angst, Ace being adorable as always, kissing, mentions of drinking alcohol.
                                  ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚
Hues of cotton candy pinks and purples danced across the sky as the sun set behind the ethereal man who’d washed ashore your beautiful, private island. You carefully analyzed the curvature of his lips when he spoke to you, the way his freckles were lightly peppered across his cheeks and the burnt orange hat that sat atop his mess of curls. You were quickly enamored by the pirate you’d saved only a few hours prior. 
It must’ve been his brutal honesty, the way he challenged your way of thinking or his undying love for his little brother who he was certain would become the King of the Pirates that drew you to Ace, despite him being a strange visitor in your country. It all happened too quickly, really - the closeness, the connection you’d built as you sat side by side watching the sun set, listening to the crackle of the fire that he’d lit with a mere snap of the finger while he rambled on endlessly about his adventures. 
“How can you be so brave?” You asked the freckle faced man who’d been chugging a bottle of booze. His 4th one, to be exact. Hearing stories of the vast sea and brave fights Ace had participated in made you admire him so much more, only hoping you could one day mirror his strength. 
Ace paused briefly and looked up at you before flashing a wide grin, tossing the empty bottle to the side. “I am a free man, Y/N…” he slurred. “Who should I fear when the world is my oyster?” 
“Easy for you to say, I suppose…” you scoffed. “Fire Fist Ace and Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.” Ace couldn't help but chuckle as you listed off his titles & alias’, fully knowing the weight behind them. 
“Hey, you can do it too, y’know.” Ace smiled as he scooted closer to you, accidentally brushing against your hand that was settled on the blanket underneath you. This alone sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.
You felt the heat radiating off your face from the close proximity and wondered if Ace could feel it too. “Do what?” you pressed on, determined to keep your composure. You wrapped the bottle around your lips once more, taking a long gulp before throwing it aside - trying to play it cool, despite the alcohol coursing heavily through your veins creating a slew of indecent thoughts towards your new friend. 
“Be brave, of course.” Ace replied, letting out a hearty laugh. Oh, how you missed that beautiful melodic laugh. Ace’s words caught you off guard and you felt yourself simply frozen in time, gazing into his eyes, longingly - lovingly even as each word rolled off his lips. To think that a man you’d met only a few hours prior could have this effect on you was a wonderfully, unexpected surprise. 
Before you knew it, the moon was high in the sky and the orange fiery embers crackled aggressively, illuminating the surrounding space of the mountain side area you and Ace had been sitting at for hours now. You wanted to blame the alcohol but at some point, the Fire Fist’s head ended up in your lap. You caressed his black locks while he stumbled over his words, drunkenly retelling his favorite childhood memories of Luffy and Sabo. 
A sudden boldness overtook you causing you to lean down and plant a gentle kiss on Ace’s lips; the taste of Sake overwhelming your senses. A pretty pink flush dusted his cheeks as he settled into the kiss letting instinct take over, cupping your face so slightly as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to dance in synchrony with yours. 
“You’re quite cheeky, eh?” The pirate grinned as you pulled away, breathless, stomach churning in knots trying to process what you’d just done. Was it too forward? You thought as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You don’t know why you even did that, really.
“I-Im so sorry, I-” you stammered, trying to frantically explain yourself, worried that you’d ruined the mood or overstepped the boundaries of your newly budding friendship. Ace sat up, sitting criss-cross in front of you and reached up to move a stray hair behind your ear. 
“Hey.” The pirate began, much more serious than before. “Don’t apologize.” Your head snapped up hearing these words; shocked but instantly feeling a sense of relief. 
“A part of being brave is being unapologetic… going for what you want.” He smiled, deeply appreciating your forwardness before planting another gentle kiss on your lips, his hands now resting on the plushy meat of your thighs. 
As the night drew on, so did your heated, drunken make out session as you explored each other's bodies for the first time. It was so uncharacteristic of you to let yourself be so open and vulnerable with anyone, let alone a pirate you’d just met but Ace’s spirit was so beautiful; so warm and inviting - that you’d probably climb the highest mountain or bear the harshest seas if he asked you to. 
You fell asleep with your head buried in his chest and wrapped in a blanket up to your neck as the stars and the moon twinkled above you, keeping watch as you laid to rest in the mountainous open air. As you drifted to sleep with Ace’s fingers tangled in your hair, you swore you were floating - living a dream you never wanted to wake up from. 
As that morning dawned, you would never forget the emptiness and disappointment you felt when you woke up alone, only to be left a note scribbled on a wrinkled piece of paper.
“I’ve got to meet back up with my crew so we can be onto our next adventure, but we’re sure to meet again. I promise. - Ace”
Your heart pounded in your ears as you clutched the note to your chest. As you reread the words over and over, you sat wrapped in the blanket from the night before, breathing in Ace’s scent that was still embedded in the fabric, desperate to clutch onto any remaining pieces of him that you could. Despite the frustration you felt that Ace had left so abruptly after such a wonderful night together, you found solace in his promise that he’d make his way back to you and you’d hoped that maybe he’d even offer you a spot on Whitebeard’s ship, whisking you away on new adventures with the rest of his crew.
                                    ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
The memories of that night with Ace 2 years prior played in your head over and over as you gripped the black and white newspaper reading the words “Fire Fist Ace: Dead after Paramount War!” Your fingers violently trembled as you processed the words and the photo of your beloved friend on the front page causing guttural sobs to erupt from your throat. At that moment, you knew there was absolutely nothing that could soothe the heavy ache in your chest. The sheer sorrow, emptiness and loneliness you’d suddenly felt overwhelmed you as your breathing became rapid and uneven. Ace’s death was not a wound that would quickly heal, but rather fester for some time to come.
“He promised… he fucking promised..” you cried out in between sniffles as your whole body collapsed to the ground. Your hot tears ran down your face and onto the gray paper as you sat, shaking violently. You were furious at him even though you knew you had no right to be. He promised he’d come back for you so how? Why could he be so reckless? You wanted so desperately to blame something or someone for such a tragedy but you knew that’s not what Ace would’ve wanted. 
Ace’s words about bravery replayed in your mind. You wanted to be strong; be brave - for him. You knew that Ace wouldn’t want to see you like this but you weren’t fearless like him. You wore your heart on your sleeve and goddamn, did you heart hurt. The encounter you had with your old friend Portgas D. Ace was all that you had to cling onto and was something you would cherish forever as he taught you so much about yourself and life in such a short period of time. 
You’d come to realize through your grief and pain that being brave also meant moving forward and not letting resentment and anger consume you, learning that loss doesn’t necessarily mean the end but simply the birth of a new beginning, a new mindset, a new adventure to discover and you swore to hold onto the sweet memories and teachings Ace had given you for the rest of your life, eventually feeling a sense of gratitude that you had the pleasure of being a comrade to the one and only Fire Fist Ace.
tags: @jordyn-degas @hoeronoa-zoro ✨
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prose-and-connors · 1 year
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gonna go a little out there for a hot minute, hope yall dont mind (spiritual stuff, connor, religion)
connor is and always has been quite the experience for me. and, while it was confusing and even existential at times, ive always felt his love and warmth radiating through me. the quiet moments, the overwhelming moments, moments ive kept my cool and moments ive lost it, moments of pain and moments of bliss. his energy, presence, signature is like a house warmed by a heater. you cant see him, but you know hes there. like the sun. like space and the stars. i really cant explain it.
we're tethered, braided together, intertwined and looking for each other even when we dont realise. and that kind of whole love, this Love that i hope everyone will get to experience, is religious and blissful in ways i cant explain
peoples devotions to god and gods and deities, praying with gratitude and love with their whole hearts, having these religious revelations and having complete faith and trust in whatever they pray to, loving them completely and knowing they are unconditionally loved in return, that sort of thing resonates with me so strongly, a love so strong and Incredible that you could weep!! my god, i never thought i could experience something like that until connor and i met again
it is unorthodox that his soul would be "fictional" connor dbh, but i forget that a lot. because hes Love. hes my One. and if the vessel he occupied while he was alive in his world was connor dbh, it didnt matter. our souls had found a way to find each other, and that... that makes me religious, too. it makes me want to cry and ache and thank the universe that some how, we were seperate but still so deeply connected. we could live our lives how we wanted Together.
i dont really work with deities or other spirits or even write spells. i make sigils, i do my best to respect my body and this beautiful earth, i live a life of gratitude as much as i can. ive also never felt so religious, even though id been trying out churches in my youth. nothing and nobody had made this almost holy light in my heart shine the way connor has.
no, i cant see him with my own two eyes, hear him with my own two ears, or touch him with my hands. there are downsides. but when its a nice day and we smell the flowers on the wind and hear the birds chirp, i feel his presence, the warm ray of sun, the hope sparkling in my chest, the Knowing that hes there with me no matter what. even on the days i cant sense him and the days im having the worst time, i know hes holding my hand. wrapped up in a warm blanket of his love.
i have never been so sure of anything in my life, really. all i Know is that hes in my heart and all around me. and that i love him so dearly. just once i would like to do a big devotion to him. and while he says hes 'not a god, [he doesnt] need all the pomp and circumstance', i just want to devote once a year.
because theres so much Love. love as a whole is religious. and its everywhere. its beautiful.
one night, i asked connor to let me 'experience all his energy', to feel it as wholly as i could-- he only gave me a sample of it (because otherwise it would be too religious, in a way, and i have to keep quiet in my room) but that was so... incredible. enlightening. i cried, of course, because this was what i had and have been missing. and cried because He just felt... all i can describe is golden, blue, white sparkling energy. i really really cant explain it. but i was in awe from the sample alone.
i think about all these experiences. about Knowing him, about being linked, about Us and all the lives we lived... i think about it a lot, and im so happy to be able to speak about it even if i sound insane. because religious experiences *arent* so easily explained unless the other person has experienced it, you know?
anyway, im losing track of my thoughts and rambling. thinking fondly of mans as always. and really thinkin about some food lmao
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evelynsfics · 2 years
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Into dawn we melt, never to be seen again.
The sky, an endless blue beauty, clouds drifting peacefully and sun rays warming the midsummer air, what an experience it is to stop and admire nature. Humans struggle so much with their everyday routines, the responsibilities of adult life and the tight leash their job has them on, no free time to spend doing things they enjoy and no space left in their thoughts for the simplistic yet otherworldly complex appearance of the sky.
Shame.
There's something about the summer air, the unbearable heat and overwhelming need to drift away. One could easily fall asleep in such a calming atmosphere.
Until the sky turns a deep, sickly purple and the clouds no longer drift peacefully. Now, it's a chaotic battle between sky and cloud, neither wanting to lose as they struggle in eachothers grip. The air is stale and thin, almost impossible to comfortably breathe. Sure, it won't kill you, but it'll sure feel like it is. Each breath quicker and quicker than the last, each breath pulling you further from the slight comfort of dreaming.
This is the story that you tried to forget.
You wake up, startled out of sleep. You don't know if it was because of a nightmare of because of the aggressive swaying of the train, but the curiosity soon fades as you notice a tall woman sitting across from you.
At first you think she's looking through you, the way someone looks when they're deep in thought and their eyes accidentally fall on someone. Not quite looking at them but not quite looking away either. Then, a few seconds of staring later, you realize why she seems to eerie. The woman across from you, tall and mysterious, has no face.
You start to feel fear creeping in, the sky is strange and swirling unnaturally and there's a strange faceless woman right across from you.
What will you do?
You decided to talk to her. Your brain assessed the situation and you now can see that there's no way you can get up and run. You don't know how, but you can feel she's faster than you, if you tried to run she'd catch you in seconds. You don't know how long you've been asleep, you can't tell, and your phone won't start no matter how many times you press the button.
You think, still gripped by fear, that she's been there for a while, and if she wanted to hurt you, she would have by now. Then you think more about it. You realize that there's something strange going on and this woman might not be the only one here, there could be other things here too, you know you aren't alone.
So, with no other option, you take a deep breath and look at the woman again.
She seems to not mind you starting at her, and while she doesn't have eyes and can't see you, you can feel that she knows you're there, awake, and looking at her.
She speaks to you, she whispers in your mind words that sound like they're coming from cheap headphones. You can hear the static and cracking of the sound as it plays in your head, but you're too fascinated to look away.
I can't remember what she told you and neither can you. So i guess this will forever be lost to the cruelty that is the human mind and it's ways of coping with trauma.
However, if i had to guess it would be something along the lines of an update on your mother's declining health, or maybe the divorce finally being finalized. Something rather unpleasant you'd rather not think about at all, far more interested in this delicate daydream you've created for yourself.
Then the woman gets up. She stands up and you truly see how tall she is. She doesn't fit in the train, she's slouching over with her head barely touching the metal ceiling, her long hair reminds you of a waterfall you once saw in a picture of your parents when they were younger. You know it was before they had you because they looked happy, truly happy, and you can't help but feel a little sad you missed out on so many great memories.
The past is the past, and that's where it will stay, im afraid. It's a waste of time to wish you could go back, you can't. And one day, you'll look back upon this moment and wish you stayed and enjoyed the present rather than drowning yourself in the past that kept drifting farther away with each passing second.
You know, i feel bad for you. I really do.
I never thought id admit it, but its moments like these that even back then, as they were happening, you knew you would regret living.
The woman, now walking away, turned back to you, her face still an empty field, but somehow you knew she wanted you to follow her.
You did, and maybe it was because you had nothing to lose. Death no longer scared you, and home was no longer warm. No one waited for you there, and no one would miss you.
You convinced yourself so many things with no knowledge of the world but your own. It's a mystery how your brain could be so certain of things it had never experienced or heard, yet you feel victim to it's lies. You believed anything it would say to you, and if you didn't it wouldn't stop hurting you until you did. You knew you couldn't escape, so maybe accepting the horrible things it told you without a fight was better than breaking yourself down with harsh tones and cruel words.
After all, you can't fail if you never try.
You got up, the soft seat waving goodbye as it knew it would never see you again. You followed the woman, taking a second to stare at the violent, but beautiful sky. Then, you crossed the line.
It was never the same after that. After mom died, dad no longer wanted to be around. Not that he was that much in the first place, but now you barely saw him, and when you did it was for a few minutes at best. He was always angry, and i remember vividly thinking why he was always angry and never sad. He stopped loving mom a long time before she died, he wasn't hiding it. But i still hoped he would be sad about her death, so then, as cruel as it is, i could have someone with me, someone that understood my pain and helped me through it.
But miracles don't happen for people like us, i'm afraid.
I'm sorry it had to come to this, and i know you'd be too. But the person i was so long ago died. I watched you die the day i realized just how unfair the world is. The childish way of viewing the world, so beautiful and safe and warm and loving, was naive, really. Ah but i guess every child goes through that eventually.
Sometimes i just wish i could have stayed a happy child for a little longer.
I'm not really sorry, and i know you know this. Lately I've found it easier to blame it all on you. On your stupid blissful innocence and the annoying way you'd never see the true ugliness of the world. It's easier to blame yourself for being a child than to accept the mistakes you've made.
I hope, wherever you are, you're suffering as much as i am.
Misery loves company and i refuse to drown alone in my misery again.
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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years
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A tie between us and some hope // E.T.
words // 1505
warnings // a little bit of angst but overall fluff
pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader
author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ooof im really feeling like a mess today i hope it does not show on this one, i thought i'd feel better than yesterday but my mental state is worse todays... anyway, my oversharing ends here, i hope you enjoy this lovies!! oh also, i am using some epithets (lol) in italian with the endings in -o because i can not for the love of me find specifically gn pet names on the internet or im just bad at looking but i am tired of only ever using 'amore' lol.
request // yes through a reblog so i will not link it right now
summary // Part three of Secrets and fights and Torna a casa. After Ethan showed up in readers house that night the two have started trying to work on being together again. But there are always new problems to arise.
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After that night passed, when Ethan had found himself on his love’s doorstep things started looking up. The man started being more consistent in taking care of himself, finally feeling like his able to breathe, like things were taking their rightful place again. He kept himself and his space put together, finding himself far out of the rut he was put into after the short-lived breakup.
Although things seemed to be better, nothing was yet back to how it was between him and Y/N. The two found themselves constantly around each other, be it little dates around the city- not caring about paparazzi at this point, other times just staying in and cuddling while watching a movie, or even going on a walk some nights, smoking and joking while talking about the deepest and shallowest things the pair could think of. It felt as if the intimacy that was previously been built had not gone away, it was still there, strong as ever, the trust being hard to be built again.
“Goodmorning, dolcesso,” uttered the man, a soft smile on his face as he walked through the open door, a bag of fresh pastries in his hands, the refreshing smell of coffee embracing his presence in the small home.
Y/N, barely awake, but always with a deep love for the pastries Ethan picked up, moved towards him, taking the bag from his hands, humming in appreciation as they opened it, looking at today’s picks. “These smell wonderful, Ethan,” they mumbled before taking a bite from the first one they found.
He smiled a bit, looking at the person before him, mumbling a quiet response. “I always pick the best ones for you, beautiful.”
If it was possible to fall in love with a person again, then Ethan was definitely living that moment when Y/N gave him the stupidest and most childish smile, a spark in their eyes he missed while they were awake.
How could I have said those things to them, he thought while looking at said person enjoying their breakfast standing in front of the small kitchen and admiring the minimal city view. It was not much but it surely was something they enjoyed watching in the mornings or as the sun set. No matter how bad it would imprint on the photos they took, it was a breathtaking view they never got enough of.
Just another thing Ethan loved about them, finding such beauty in something so seemingly insignificant. He loved looking at them in moments like that, knowing how much in a trance they were, too deep in the beauty their eyes took in to say anything. Before the man could stop himself he utter the same three words from a few nights ago, “I love you”.
Y/N’s eyes widened, the information was not new but they did not expect this to be brought up again any time soon. “Ethan - I-I, uh-”
“You don’t have to say it back, cucciolo. I know how I feel, I am very sure of that. You don’t have to be there yet, you don’t have to say it… Not after what I said.”
They took a deep breath at that, one they had not realized they held back, still feeling guilty about their inability to simply say words. It is not that they did not feel it, was it?
It was not the last time this would happen. Only a few nights later, a similar incident occurred, Ethan admiring the person he is in love with, their eyes focused on their book, or at least trying to in the dark light they found themselves, a cigarette alternating from their lips to the ashtray on their side, looking like the perfect view at the side of the beach. Considering how hot the weather had been, the pair and their friends agreed on a field trip, the idea being they would either camp there that night or book a hotel room last minute. No one was going to drive that night, no one had to worry about having some alcohol in their system, so beers were a big thing around them, being passed back and forth.
“Hey, Y/N, do you want a beer?” Asked Victoria, getting up to pick one for her self, the other person nodding before she gave them their beer.
“I’d ask you as well Ethan, but seems you are too drunk on Y/N to drink any more beer,” she commented bringing forth a heatwave to happen on Y/N’s face and causing a big grin to cover the drummer’s face.
“What can I say? Can’t hide that I love them, can I?” Everyone laughed it off, Y/N included, but they felt slightly uncomfortable at the man’s words.
They had thought about it last time Ethan brought his feelings forth, knowing very well how they felt the same. They simply could not bring themselves to say it back. Maybe it had something to do with their life before him, and they would have a hard time saying it anyway, or maybe it had something to do with the loss of trust in the man after the pictures of the two kissing. Did he really love them if he was willing to say those things.
“Stop worrying so much about it, amore,” whispered Ethan, noticing Y/N’s state. “I told you, you don’t have to say it back, every one takes a different amount of time to do that.”
His tone and expression were reassuring but they knew this was hurting him a lot on the inside. So they apologized, looking down, ashamed, unsure… The whole situation created a whirlwind in their mind they could not control at the moment, instead opting for jumping into the cold water of the sea beside them, being sure that a bit of swimming would clear up their thoughts.
The same incident happened a few more times, Ethan never being able to contain his words, justifying it by saying how “I am simply trying to remind you that I meant what I said that night”. But Y/N was feeling pressured, as if the man was giving them a timeline, a reminder that they need to decide or it will be to late. One night, they could not take it any more, so they simply confronted him about it. He had just said it again, thankfully they were alone this time, meaning they could say all that they wanted.
“Why do you keep saying that, Ethan?”
“What do you even mean by that, Y/N?” He was simply taken aback, expecting everything but such anger after mentioning how he loves them.
“You keep saying how you love me, and you simply remind me of it, but man does it feel like you are trying to pry these words out of my mouth.”
“I would never do that and you know it!” Now the man was getting fed up as well. How could they accuse him of such thing?!
“Do I, Ethan? Do you even truly love me?”
“Wha- of course I do! What is this? Where is this coming from?”
“Did you love me when the photos of us came to the public?” They asked, voice now quiet, a contrast to their previous tone.
“What are you talking about amore, of course I did,” he responded just as softly, placing the palm of his hand over their face, swiftly collecting the few tears falling from their eyes. “Why are you crying, my love? What are you thinking?”
Y/N could not take it any more, they broke down in seconds, falling into Ethan’s open arms, soft sobs leaving their lips. “You- you said all those things that morning, a-and,” they hiccuped, “I-I am scared, Ethan…”
Their eyes were cast to the floor but Ethan could still see all the thoughts behind them. He finally realized what was happening, so he placed a kiss on their forehead, prompting them to finish their thought. “Could you really say those things if you loved me?” They whispered, moving away from the tall Italian, eyes cast to the floor and ever meeting his.
“Hey, hey look at me! What I said that morning came from a place of anxiety, overwhelming one at that. It does not mean it’s ok that I said that, of course not. But never doubt how much I love you, Y/N.” He paused for a second, his voice trembling as the words came out.
“Cause I do, and I did, but I could not control my emotions, instead I ended hurting yours. I don’t how many times I’ve apologized, but I will apologize that many more. I am sorry, sorry I made you feel so horrible, sorry for all the things I said, sorry for everything.” He said just as softly as before, hands cupping their face before leaving a deep kiss there.
“I love you,” finally said Y/N, feeling more sure and secure than they have for a while.
tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11
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warmau · 3 years
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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au yangyang happy birthday even if its a little late! ~ tw: mention of breakups find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin
the door opens as soon as the hand on the clock that hangs right above the line of freezers at the back of the store strikes eight
through it walks yangyang
grey hoodie pulled over his messy hair, stuck to the skin of his forehead with slowly evaporating sweat
he’s dribbling a basketball as he walks down the aisles and you pretend to rearrange the candy display in front of the register
but you’re watching
the sound of the basketball thumps through the otherwise empty corner store
outside, the sun is waving its last goodbye before the moon takes it spot in the sky
and then yangyang rounds his way back to you - placing some loose change down and waving the already unwrapped melon pop he’s picked out
you count the coins, and he’s ten cents short, but you don’t say anything about that
he turns, basketball now tucked under his arm 
and leaves without a thank you or a goodbye
you know him - and you’re sure he knows you too - but it has been the same silent routine since summer started two weeks ago
the reason - and it could just be your suspicion - but no other fact has reared its head as creditable
has to do with dong sicheng
yangyang’s upperclassman, friend, and your ex-boyfriend
you lean forward a little and huff, not even really my ex-boyfriend. we fooled around all of last semester and then-
you feel something weird curl up inside your stomach
sicheng had called it off
you remember what he had said to you; 
“maybe if you weren’t always looking at -”
the door opens again and your eyes barely shift to see who it is now
only to see yangyang again, melon pop abandoned, grey hoodie abandoned, basketball abandoned
he buffers a bit before walking right up to the register
you straighten up and feel like the little store has only gotten tighter
he slaps the ten cents he was short down on the counter and you blink
“i owe you this.”
“oh thanks.”
“sicheng isn’t here for the summer. he went abroad.”
you blink, and your instinct is to say - why would i care? - but you just nod slowly
yangyang steps back a little. he’s still got remnants of sweat on him from the summer heat, his hands tucked deep in his pockets
“did you like him?”
“no”
you answer a little too fast for comfort, but there just isn’t enough time to stop yourself from spilling the truth. something you’ve wanted to say for a while.
yangyang is looking at the floor, or maybe the candy, who knows - but he looks up after that.
“he said you were always -”
“looking at you. i know.”
yangyang seems to catch his breath, or maybe he just looks like he’s being suffocated, but either way he points to the sign on the door
“you close in an hour right?”
“yes”
“ill be here. we can - ill be waiting for you.”
even with the streetlights flickering, the night hovering into complete darkness, the heat makes everything feel vibrant and hot 
or maybe you just feel all this pressure, finally being alone with yangyang
you’ve changed, you’ve attempted to comb your hair, you’re holding the half finished bottle of gatorade that is acting like some kind of pseudo-anchor as you wait to hear what it is yangyang will say
does he know? did he notice? or did sicheng just tell him for the hell of it that ive always actually liked him?
“i was looking too, that’s why i was so confused.”
he kicks the curb a little and avoids your gaze
“why you chose him - why you were sneaking around and doing all of that with him when i was-”
he throws his hands up in frustration
“when i was there too!”
“i just didn’t think you felt the same way.”
“you think i didnt like you back?”
you cross your hands and nod
“yeah, you never did anything to make me think you -”
“neither did you, you actually did the opposite, hooking up with one of my closest friends-”
“hey!”
you don’t want to raise your voice, but it makes yangyang look at you. really look at you.
“is it a crime to want to be desired? i couldnt get the feeling from you and sicheng just kissed me one day and it felt-”
yangyang steps closer, both hands reaching for your shoulders as if he’s about to pull you in close to him
but just as his fingers graze your skin, you can feel the tension stiffen him into stone
you flatline your voice and stare, “yangyang if you’re going to kiss me then just do it”
he opens his mouth in protest, at least that’s what he intentions, when in the next second
it’s you, dropping the gatorade in your hand, and just tugging him in for it first
he doesn’t kiss with the overwhelming confidence he can saunter around with when he’s with his friends, but he is enthusiastic 
it kind of shocks you when after just a soft peck on the lips turns into yangyang wrapping you in almost squeezing hug 
he kisses as if he’s trying to make up for something
you chalk it up to the time you’ve both waisted tip-toeing around each others feelings
and when you pull away from him, you realize he’s nearly dragged you off the curb and into the sidewalk with him and you’re like
“let’s get out of the street before we get hit by a car.”
he grins, the brightest light even in the darkness
“wait- just one thing though.”
his hands don’t let go from being wrapped around your waist, his bare skin sticking to the fabric of your shirt. how many degrees is it out? at least eighty something.
“what?”
“do i kiss better than sicheng-”
you yank him back onto the sidewalk and roll your eyes in response, yangyang just leans down to laugh into your neck
you’ve still got to work at the shop all summer, but now yangyang doesn’t just stop by at just eight 
he’s there as much as possible
sitting on boxes of soda and chips - hand on your leg as you two watch the array of interesting neighbors and customers that pass their way through
there’s a nice old couple that beams at you and yangyang, talking about how much you two remind them of themselves
there’s a social recluse that scurries up and down the aisles even though he always buys the same two things every time he’s in here. yangyang theorizes he’s a spy or something and you’re like im pretty sure he works for an IT company
there are giggling groups of middle schoolers enjoying the summer, there are teenagers who spend more time kissing in the corners rather than buying anything, there are adults rushing to and from work
sometimes yangyang’s friends stop by, the ones he plays basketball with, and they wolf whistle and wink and push him when they think you’re not looking
but now kun - who apologizes to you every time for their CHILDISH behavior
the summer that you thought would be dragging slowly because of this dumb job, has become something like a rainbow. 
colorful, eventful, and beautiful
especially when you’re sitting up on the register counter and yangyang is leaning up to kiss you 
lips cold from the ice-cream you both just shared
he’s gotten better at kissing, and at hand-holding, and staring at you like you’re the entire earth and more
he leaves for a couple of hours to go play basketball - and one evening you close the shop early to go watch him 
he looks so different from the yangyang that makes bad jokes, the yangyang who chases the local stray cat around your store, the yangyang who is still a little too shy about coming over to your house when you’re both alone, the yangyang who fell out of a tree trying to get a stuck balloon untangled for a crying toddler 
he looks serious and focused - he looks more mature
when the set ends he jogs over, lifting his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and you realize you’re also still a little shy, averting your eyes to the side
he doesn’t notice, if he did - you would not hear the end of it - as he leans forward to kiss your nose
you pull back and tell him ew- he’s so sweaty and smelly - but he just pouts and says thats never bothered you before!
“yeah, it’s never bothered you before so you guys should just make out-”
hendery’s voice echoes from somewhere before you presume kun puts a stop to that
yangyang raises an eyebrow 
and you give in - leaning in to press your lips to him
“salty?” he asks when he pulls away, “very!”, you laugh and yangyang joins in
“oh sicheng you’re back?”
the sentence drowns you and yangyang’s momentary bliss
you don’t want to turn around and see if it’s really him - but yangyang leans away from you so you stand up too
“how was your trip?” it’s kun’s voice - followed by yukhei who exclaims that he’s missed him so much!
sicheng answers them, looking over his shoulder at you and yangyang
the sounds of the park all wash out - you don’t feel anything romantic toward sicheng, but this is still awkward and you’re more than anything worried about-
“yangyang - can i be on your team?”
sicheng is referring to the next game and you want to say something to yangyang about how it’s really all over, like it didn’t ever even mean anything
but then sicheng looks at you
“can i steal your boyfriend away for a bit?”
the playful banter sizzles the tension down and you feel yourself relax, and yangyang does too
“sure bro, but you better have gotten good during your trip - your freethrows always suck!”
sicheng laughs and you do too, kissing yangyang’s cheek before he goes back to join his friends
when it gets too dark to play anymore and everyone’s exhausted - yangyang and you part from the group
hendery tries to yell something about kids being safe, kun drags him away by the ear, xiaojun, yukhei and ten echo the sentiment anyway and sicheng says;
“im happy for you guys.”
you feel yangyang squeeze your hand in his - when it’s just you and him left
you shiver a little because summer is ending and falls kiss is sweeping in
yangyang shrugs off the grey hoodie he’s always wearing and you slip it on before taking his hand in yours again
“was it weird seeing sicheng again?”
“not really - i mean it’s just sicheng.”
you stop walking and yangyang does too
“he’s your friend and he’s just my friend. seriously. yangyang i want you to know that.”
he smiles softly, not the big toothy grin you’re used to, and tugs you a little into him
“i know that.”
he kisses your hair and then laughs
“if it was me, you would have jumped right into my arm-”
“yangyang!”
you give him a look and he swears he’s joking, he promises
but he’s also right
years later - as you’re standing in the airport looking up at the switchboard of flights
you light up when you see that the plane from taiwan is landing
you rush to the gate and wave as soon as you sicheng
he waves back, and so does kun and ten and everyone
and holding up the end is yangyang who abandons his luggage, to come barreling toward you
you can’t hold it too, it’s been all summer that he and the rest of them have been gone
and it’s been so boring without him, and so lonely, so when he opens his arms
you do jump right into them - getting attacked in a whirlwind of kisses
the rest of the group catches up to you two and from somewhere you can hear kun mutter
“they’re acting like kids”
but sicheng defends you two
“let them, they’ve been looking at each other since then.”
when yangyang finally decides to let you go, he adds:
“yep, and we haven’t stopped since.”
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inskz · 3 years
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lucky charm - lee minho
pairing - lee minho x reader
genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)
words - 4k
note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!
- - - - -
“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.
“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.
You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.
“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.
No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.
But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.
“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.
At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 
On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 
Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 
But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 
But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 
Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 
On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)
Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 
Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 
But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 
Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 
Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  
Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.
You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 
You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.
Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 
Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 
“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 
You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 
“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 
Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 
“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 
You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  
“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 
“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  
You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 
All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 
Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 
And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 
“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 
But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  
“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 
You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 
“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 
He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 
“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.
“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 
This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.
“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 
“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 
You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 
When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 
“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  
“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 
Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 
He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 
You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 
You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 
When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.
“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.
Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  
“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 
You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 
You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 
By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.
You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 
Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 
“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 
You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 
“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 
Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 
“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  
“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.
“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 
You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  
“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 
“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 
If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.
It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.
“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 
“Wha -“
“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  
“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 
Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 
He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 
You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.
You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.
But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 
Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.
As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.
When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.
“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  
“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.
You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.
“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.
- - - - - 
Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.
“You’re still here?”
“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 
“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.
“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 
There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 
“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.
“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 
“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 
“That.”
Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.
At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 
His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 
It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 
He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 
And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.
Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 
439 notes · View notes
sooniesspot · 3 years
Text
Fluff Drabbles
☁️ Yoongi Fluff ☁️
warnings: poetically implied smut, slight Angst. Longing. Lil sprinkle of heartache and hopelessness.
word count 2.4k
A/N: Im purely publishing this on the notion that when sending this to my bestie @countingyoongis it made her "flip the soul she doesn't have" thought that was good enough reason. Anyways, enjoy!
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“I’ll be here, waiting.” 
Maybe it was the way you watched the world go by. Maybe it was the way you missed your family. A life constantly on the road never faired well for you. Sure, for him a decade on the road doing a job he loved with his best friends, never seemed to phase him. But countless birthdays and Christmases were missed, your family opening presents without you. You missed hearing your brothers argue about making your mother her tea. Your mothers laugh at the way your family dog would spin in circles; excitement racing through their body. Your friends who yearned for your company. Dissipated into the background that was your blurry life, travelling the world with the love of your life. 
You felt empty when you were alone lately. Finding little joy in the things you used to. Plants withered and games unplayed; kept in boxes for you to deal with another time. The moments spent with him were the best moments of your life. The realest moments you could ask for. Sleepy flights where he would curl up into your side, cheeks rising like bread and heavy eyes as he mumbled incoherently to you. Moments you watched him on stage, giving his all. Even after injuries, falls, criticisms. You loved him all the while. 
Even in the moments of early morning, before the sun graced the sky, you’d sit in silence, alone with your thoughts. Unable to find sleep while your boyfriend was counting sheep; mouth slightly agape with the odd snore. Sleeping in the foetal position as steadily moving hands without rhythm or agenda; fumbled through the sheets to find you. Interrupting your thoughts. You watching the world go by through a microscopic lens. Before he was pulling you against him and lulling you to a welcomed sleep.
Tours of Europe. Sight seeing under hidden cloak of masks and guards. The Eiffel Tower standing in prominence around a large garden park. Unable to hold him like you wanted to or to take that cliché photo of a stolen kiss in the foreground. The Temple of Zeus, looking out over the mountain top to the streets of Athens below at sunset. Casting oranges, purples and golds into the sky. Spending the moment together, but not how you wanted. Not how you craved. Walking the streets of Amsterdam, admiring the flowing water of the river Amstel. Bicycles with tinkling bells that adorned your ears. Quiet. Quaint. Light touches and feeble displays of watered-down affection. Pretending to be, nothing but friends. It was hard. There was no doubt. Being the secret girlfriend of one of the most famous K-pop idols in the world was gruelling; heart wrenching. Wanting just to be. Without stolen glances or whispers. To be with one another, regardless of consequence. 
But in the night, when pretence of ‘just friends’ was disregarded; Thrown within piles of discarded clothes. He would hold you in exhilarating ways. Making your heart stop and run as if in tandem. On repeat. Forever. Light touches no longer feather like as strong hands smoothed hair from your face and lips connected with yours in passion so fierce your lips would pray to bleed. Pray to crumble apart under the sheer pressure. The weight of his own, cracked; against yours. Wanton and excruciating. Muffled groans of your name whittled into your skin as you would cry for him. In ways one could only imagine. Pressed against you so your skin would suffocate in his own. Hands held with dedicated influence as bodies mould as one. 
But after all was done. Sweat cold to the touch as tangles of limbs tangled their way into crisp white hotel sheets instead. Held in the moment. Not wanting to let you go. Hands spearing through your hair as eyes glassy, stared deep into your soul. No words were uttered, only breath shared. Moments like this is what you cherished. Wistfulness overwhelming you. There was nowhere else in the world you would rather be. From the deepest depths of your heart, your soul belonged to him and him only. Though your mind; a woeful friend in your darkest moments and a constant shadow in joy, would often voice its unwanted thoughts of whether this was enough. Whether it was enough to live happily with him, but irrevocably without him. Happily in secret.  But were you happy?
Never one to brandish your personal life on the highest billboards. A secret life seemed fine to you. But as time went on and appreciation was questioned. Affection shunted into the darkness. Your thoughts wandered into the unholy depths of your hell. A rabbit warren of twists and tunnels. Doubt. Jealousy. Questions of Self-worth. These thoughts followed you to every concert, as he would look out to see thousands of adoring fans. A gloomy cloud that hung over you. Over every cup of coffee, a faltering smile. Clawing at your chest in small bursts as you found yourself awake. Again. Silence for everyone but you as the warren would flood with hopelessness. 
It was then he found you that morning. Light not even breaching the horizon as you sat, gazing into nothingness. The void that was your heart. Wholly consumed by him and the fear of losing him. The fear of him drifting away like the cherry blossoms floating along the river Amstel. A cursory touch found your restless form in the early hours. An incoherent mumble of your name as sleep filled eyes fluttered open delicately to look vacantly at you. Engaged with the sudden knowledge of your dazed state. 
“Tink.” He mumbled. Affectionate nickname travelling through sheets to greet your troubled form.  
“You’re awake?” he would ask.
You hummed non committedly as he shuffled closer to you. Hands on your thigh soothingly. In comfort as his dreary eyes assessed you. Planting one kiss on your thigh. Then a second. The lip-smacking sound donned with nothing but tenderness and contentment.
“What’s up? Tell me.” 
No pretences could be grasped at here. No excuses as to why you looked sullenly into his eyes, shaking with contained emotions. He grabbed your small hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly; urging you to go on. You mustered every bit of strength within you to ask the question that toppled from your lips moments later and once you had, you realised everything would be brought to light and you could no longer hide in the shadows; the deepest caverns of your desires. 
“Do you love me?” 
Silence befell the room, his brows furrowed as he forced himself to sit up in front of you. Hand still in yours, unwavering; constant. A reminder of your tether to him. 
“Of course I do, you know I love you. More than anything.” He mumbled, his hand smoothing over your messed head of hair. 
Fingers placed on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles on your cheek. A kiss placed delicately, full of purpose on your forehead. Looking back into your hooded eyes as he ran his other thumb along your knuckles. Only your breathing could be heard within the room. Both calm and collected although, in the way that he looked at you, mirroring your upset. You felt yourself gasping for breath.
“Do you not feel loved?” 
The words crumbled your refrain from showing your emotions. A rogue tear had slipped from your eye and he effortlessly caught it with the pad of his thumb. A small whimper sounded from your lips before you were enveloped into his arms. No words said as he held you. Held you until the world stopped spinning and everything stopped being overwhelming. Your face resting in the crook of his neck, his scent that brought you solace. Peeled oranges and coffee on a rainy Sunday morning. Keeping you calm as he held you in silence. His grip tight on you as if you would slip away, never to be found again. 
A mumble of words. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’m so sorry.” 
Silence. 
“Please stay.” 
Your heart broke at hearing his words. Hearing his silent worry for you. The same worry you had been holding in for months. Lingering at every grace of his hand. Every kiss. Would it be the last time you would feel his lips against yours? The last touch? The last time you’d see his endearing smile; all gums and not much else. All the while he felt the same. Fleeting glances your way to make sure you were still with him. By his side. Would it be the last time he could run his fingers through your hair? The last kiss pressed to your skin in the dark of the night? He craved all that was you in every waking moment. In his sleep he would hold you close to him like his most prized possession. He pushed everyone away apart from the boys and you. You stayed. You stayed for him. Now he felt everything falling apart. 
Never hearing your reply, just broken sobs as he could feel tears threaten to spill from his own eyes. Finally parting from you. He gazed into your eyes, puffy and sad from crying. Something he had only seen you do once before. 
“I don’t know.” 
He felt his world cave in. was it not enough anymore? Just to love you? In any way that he could? In that moment he cursed his job for not letting you be. For you both to just be, in love. Happily. Healthily. Openly. He knew how much it hurt to never hold hands in public. Confined to closed hotel rooms and dark alleyways where he would steal a kiss. A need he had been carrying with him the whole day. Smiling as he would finally feel your lips against his. Bracing you against an old brick wall. Unjudging and unyielding like his love. 
“I miss my home. My family. My friends” You began to stutter, feeling your emotions drown you as you tried to swim your way to the surface for breath. 
“Yoongi, I love you but I don’t think I can love you in secret anymore. Not when I’m on my own.” 
He heard your heartfelt words wretch through his chest. Like a sincere punch straight to his gut. Precise but untamed. Thoughts rushed to mind in all the ways he could keep you here, with him. Get you to stay. Every idea falling flat as he looked at your face. Now tear stained cheeks and furrowed brows. Flushed and hopeless. Not knowing where else to turn. Being forced into a decision you never wanted to make.
“Okay...I love you, but okay.”  He said solemnly, admitting defeat. 
His words shocked you, just like that, it was over? He saw the shock and sudden hurt on your face before he continued; practically straddling you now as he pressed both of his hands to cup your face.
“Don’t think for 1 second I’m letting you go that easily. I fucking love you and I can’t risk losing you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing away your tears. Kissing your closed eyelids before kissing your temples then down to your nose. Finally landing a firm solidifying kiss on your lips.
“I’ll let you go on 1 condition.” He looked into your eyes. Searching for something in them. Something to soothe his aching heart. 
Your eyes fluttered to meet his, no more than a couple of inches away. Eyes silently urging him to continue. 
“Come back to me, please?” you could hear his voice break and you could feel your heart tearing in two. Tearing away from the cavity it once called home in your chest. You knew in that moment, the way his eyes searched yours, bed head bordering on crazy with dark strands falling into his eyes. He looked at you with adoration and hope. Love and kindness. Your heart belonged to him and only him. A sob wracked your bones as you nodded, barely containing the urge to kiss him as you pulled him against you. He kissed back fervently. Your hands quickly hanging from the nape of his neck as his hands splayed out across your ribs. Pulling your heated skin against his own. Mouths moving as one with desire and wanton need to be with one another. Never to part. His lips, mumbled against yours, once. Twice. Before-
“I’ll fix this. All of it. No more secrets. I just want to be with you. Completely.” 
You nodded in agreement to his statement, chest constricting at sudden emotions you had been holding back that rapt against your chest, begging to be set free. Lips connecting again and again as hands wandered and grabbed at one another. You found him above you as you familiarised yourselves within the sheets. Holding one another so close; breathing each other in. you chuckled dryly as he rolled off of you, breathing laboured as he glanced your way, meeting his eyes. Swollen lips from kissing, his tongue sliding over the seam of his lip before a small smile graced his features. Close mouthed but sincere. 
“I just need to go home. Then I’ll come back.” You encouraged him. 
You looked at him, looking at you. White sheets, meeting his pale skin. Old t shirt hanging off to the right slightly, showing cool expanse of collar bone and his necklace you got him that one time he had been staring at it when you visited an old street market in Spain. Even though he said he wasn’t; repeatedly but still smiled like the lovable dork when you presented him with it later that day. Dark eyes, still ebbed with sleep lingering in the corners; were shining and strands of dark hair graced his forehead, grazing his eyebrows slightly. His lips, parted with the odd swipe of his tongue for moisture. Hand appearing from under sheets to flourish the back of his knuckle against your cheekbone. Stealing a quick kiss on it as it passed your lips. 
“I promise.” You whispered; afraid the word would be cursed if uttered at any greater volume.
A light began peering through the crack in the hotel room curtains, signalling the sun rising and a new day beginning. The light; feasting upon his form. Illuminating a profile of his face in golden light; basking in it. You were enamoured and ardently consumed by all that was him. In every lifetime. For the rest of your life time. You were his. He was yours. 
Taking your hand in his, he kissed it once. “I’ll be here…Waiting.” 
© sunnysidejoon - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
Hope you guys enjoyed! I take requests so please do ask 😊
Love Always
Mac 🧡💜
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eberles · 4 years
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i hate u, i love u
Rafe Cameron
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(gif by @toesure :)
Request: A Rafe fic based on the song “I hate u, I love you” by gnash (ft Olivia O’Brien) PLEASE MAJOR RAFE VIBES 🥺💖 @fav-imagines
A/N: I wanted to cry writing this lol idk why but it hit me right in the feels!! it’s kind of all over the place, if anyone is confused by, don’t worry bc i am too!!!! lol anyways enjoy!! (this is probably the first thing ive ever written that goes with rafe’s character) bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks
Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, cheating, lying, toxic relationship, swearing
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feelin used, but im still missin you and i cant see the end of it just wanna feel your kiss against my lips and now all this time is passing by, but i still cant seem to tell you why it hurts me every time i see you, realize how much i need you
I’ve spent months sitting in my room staring at the ceiling, and at the walls. I did a full Bella Swan from New Moon and let 3 months go by without being present for any of them. I didn’t care honestly...Even after spending all that time alone, i’m not still not healed from the heartache that was caused by him. I still miss him, his scent, his kisses, his clothes, everything. Rafe.
I went out once and he was the last person I wanted or planned to see, but of course, he was the only person I actually saw. Sure, there were other people around, but none of them mattered. Everyone else felt greyed out except for him. He was the only light I could see in those short moments. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, my breath hitched in my throat and it felt like there was no air left to breathe.
After months it still hurts to see him again. It hurts because I realized I still need him even after everything. I hate him. So why do I love him? The feeling of him being the only one I want, the one nobody could ever replace...it’s overwhelming and I can’t seem to shake it. But me? He replaced. It looked like it was easy from my point of view. He needed her, wanted her, and i’m not her.
i miss you when i can’t sleep or right after coffee or right when i can’t eat, i miss you in my front seat, still got sand in my sweaters from nights we don’t remember. do you miss me like i miss you? fucked around and got attached to you.
My head was consumed on thoughts of you. It was constant. Like the leaky faucet in the bathroom or the loose floorboard. Always running, always broken. I miss you. Maybe you’ll come around, but for now...I wish you were here instead. When it’s late and I can’t sleep, I think about you. When it’s early and I can’t eat, I think about you.
“Where are we going?” you giggled excitedly, grabbing my hand from across the console in my truck.
“Shh, I told you it’s a surprise baby, we’re almost there anyways.” I laughed at her giggling like a kid, she had so much excitement in her eyes. She was always ready for anything, even if it was 2 in the morning and I love that about her. I love everything about her.
“Ugh fine!” she groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in a full circle looking up at the ceiling. “Why are we at the beach?” you didn’t even give me enough time to answer before jumping out of the truck and running towards the sand laughing the entire way to the water. Once I caught up with you, I grabbed your hands and pulled you close into my chest, kissing your forehead. When we broke apart I laid down a few blankets on the sand, noticing you were cold, I also gave you my sweater.
We stared at the stars and talked about anything and everything for hours. It felt magical. We stayed until the sun came up, watching the sunset before driving back to my house for some much needed rest.
Walking over to my closet, curious to know if that same sweater ended up back in my closet after that night. I reached in, digging around not finding anything and decided to look in my dresser instead. Of course, it was folded neatly in the drawer you used to call yours. Grabbing and shaking it out I noticed the light pieces of sand that fell from it. I brought it in to my nose wondering if it still smelt like your perfume. It did. I’m always tired lately, but never of you. Do you miss me too?
if i pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit, i put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit. i type a text then i never mind that shit, i got these feelings, but you never mind that shit. you’re still in love with me but your friends don’t know.
To Y/N: i wanna talk, i think...maybe i miss y-
*delete*
To Rafe: I miss you so much, it hurt someti-
*delete*
“Y/N...what’s going on? You’re off in never never land! Do you still miss him?” Kiara asked, gently shaking my knee to gain my attention back to the group. I looked at her and around at the rest of the pogues and put a smile on my face, shaking my head.
“Of course not, it’s been months! I’m so over him, guys. Besides even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” I tried so hard to sound confident. I hope they bought it. Of fucking course, I miss Rafe. I’m still in love with him for gods sake. I hate that I want him.
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Sure, i’ve moved on, but I think about y/n, just about everyday. I guess for me, moving on is finding someone new, but not actually wanting anyone new. I just couldn’t bare to be alone anymore with my thoughts. I deserve better than that, personally.
“Anyways Topper, if y/n wanted me still, she would say so right?” I looked at Topper, silently hoping he would lie to me, just tell me what I want to hear, man. “If I were her, I would’ve never let me go. She’s missing out.”
“Hell yea, dude! That’s the right attitude.” Topper said, jumping up to high five me. Of course, that was the statement he was on board with. I hate that I want you.
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I haven’t been to a party in months, Kiara and Sarah thought that this would be the most fitting post-break up activity for me. Maybe meet a new guy or something. I tuned out when they were telling me about it and just agreed. What I neglected to listen to, was that it was a kook party. So now, i’m at a party alone, since my friends ditched me to dance with each other. And on top of that, I watch him watch her, like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.
It took less than an hour of being at this party for us to end up in a room alone together.
“You don’t care! You never did!” Rafe shouted, running his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated with this conversation. I don’t even know how it started. One minute I was watching him with another girl, and the next he was hauling me off, away from everyone.
“You don’t give a damn about me, Rafe! How is it you never notice that you’re slowly killing me?” you wanted to yell back at him, to scream at him for putting you through this again, but you couldn’t. He didn’t say anything in return so you continued, “I hate you, and I hate that I love you, Rafe.” I’ve tried to move on, but even the simple thought of dating anyone but him, makes me physically ill. Why does it have to be like this?
“I don’t mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm, babe. Do you ever wonder what we could’ve been y/n?” He’s taunting me by asking dumb questions, as if I wanted this to happen, as if i’m the cause of all of this. Rafe’s the one that was closed off, not me. Of course, he switches the stories and i’m sure everyone at this damn party thinks I left him heart broken.
“You have a girlfriend, why are you even asking me that?” I was starting to get angry, I felt like he was toying with me.
He’s laughing. Of fucking course, he’s laughing at me. This is all one big fucking joke to him. “Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Isn’t that what you always told your friends Rafe?” I was furious, how could he act that way after everything? He’s still a child though, that will never change.
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You were right. I did lie to you, multiple times. About where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I didn’t want you to know I was such a fuck up. You didn’t deserve the pain of finding out I was lying and cheating and drugging. You did anyways though. Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed.
“Rafe! Come dance with me!” I downed the rest of my drink before throwing the glass down and walking away from the new girl I was seeing. I didn’t care anymore.
I don’t want you, Y/N. I shouldn’t fucking miss you. I don’t deserve to! Seeing you again is such bullshit. If you wouldn’t have shown up here, I wouldn’t have said those things to you. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges, just to create some distance. You didn’t deserve that, I knew it, but at least now you might learn your lesson and stay away. It’s for the best, right?
I hate that I love her, but I can’t put nobody else above her.
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I wasn’t sure if I had the closure I needed, but after that particular conversation with Rafe I felt a little better. I returned to the party with my head held high and danced with my friends. I hoped he was watching me too since i’m not sure what he was trying to do by joking around at my expense. But maybe if he thinks it didn’t bother me he will know how it fucking feels. 
I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings when love and trust is gone. I guess this is moving on. I hate you, I love you.
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I process things with art. I process with written words in the hopes that one day it can be spoken without my voice shaking. This week has been one for the books.. and I decided to share. This is long, but I want to remember what I’m learning.. how I’m processing.. if you decide to read, thank you. If not, this will still be here as a reminder of my progress every year.
I always tell people that there was no reason for my name, but it’s a lie. I’m named after Samantha on BeWitched. My grandfather loved that show and suggested it when my mother couldn’t decide. I was born in early September and that makes me a Virgo. Astrology is one of my favorite things. There’s something extraordinary about the idea that we’re connected to the universe by the positioning of the stars. Sometimes it’s so vague.. but other times, it’s right on the nose and my horoscopes will make me cry. Speaking of that, I’m an empath and a 2. When I’m unhealthy, I’m a 4 and If you know what any of that means, I’d love to talk to you more about it. Winter is my favorite season. Fall is a close second. I love the snow and how muted everything is. I like the quiet, the beauty. Sometimes, the light from the sun will shimmer off a fresh coat of snow on the ground. It is absolutely blinding, but I’d still stare, and when the snow fell at night, I’d watch it under the street light across from my house and it felt like time stood still. When I was little, I would lay in the yard full of snow, alone, in my puffy suite, until my fingers and toes would go numb from the cold, listening to the silence, but the best part of those days was going back into my grandparents house and warming up with hot coco made on the stove, wrapping myself in a soft blanket and watching old movies with my grandfather. To me, the Winter is magical. My love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service. I’m an introvert but I love people. I like to observe, I like to really understand how the mind works and Im eager to help. I thrive in controlled chaos. I like puzzles, I love music, I like crafts, I like to fix things because grandpa always taught me that nothing is to broken to fix. Nothing. No one.
This is the light. This is the part of me that I give willingly to anyone I meet. I wear it on my sleeve. It’s only the light. Until the last 2 years.. this was all I could give of myself because I’ve always been scared of the dark.
The darkest part of me lasted 8 years, my rock bottom lasted 4.5, but as a whole it’s taken up almost 12 years of my life. Sometimes I worry that all I'm ever going to be is this thing that happened to me. That this will define me for the rest of my life and I need to remind myself that I’m a person that can live separate from an event.
I went to the police station this week, I filled out more forms. I’ve filled out so many forms over the last 2 years. For an emergency restraining order this time. For Florida this time. I knew it would eventually follow me here but typhus felt too soon. The clerk called me brave. I smile and thank them every time but I never know how to respond to that. She has no idea how weak it feels and I mean.. how could she. This is the right choice, the obvious choice, the smart choice. In a different situation, it’s one of the many steps I’d be urging someone else to take. In all the chaos, all the hurt, in all the anger and sadness.. it always circles back to “I loved him”. I did. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to see him grow and heal and if I loved him hard enough for the both of us, it would’ve evened out eventually… right?
I failed.
He was always who he was, but I was young and naive and ready to fix the whole world. When I was 18 and we were free, I would’ve told you he saved me. Now that I’m in my 30’s… and he’s in prison and I’m in limbo.. I don’t know what I’d tell you. He didn’t save me, but he didn’t destroy me either. I had every opportunity to tap out and give up.. but I grew into a person I might not have been if I never met him.
Am I angry? All of the time.
Am I scared? Yes.
I see things more clearly now though. People talk about how you never know someone’s story, and that’s because we are experts at playing pretend like we have it all figured out until we’re alone and have to face truest selves. The facade is the hardest thing to give up. Some people saw through mine and there are others, who have built their own, that never will. I share posts about what I’ve learned, how I see people, how I’ve try to treat people with grace and teach children with love and patience in hopes that a little of that sinks into whoever it reaches, but I very rarely show the journey. Partly because I know the details are gruesome and that’s not for everyone, but mostly because I’m scared.
How will you see me?
What will you think?
I’m learning that I’m not this big awful thing that happened to me. I was never anyone’s property and I’m not chained to it anymore. I was very much lied to and manipulated and hurt long enough that it flipped onto me and I carried it without missing a step. I wanted to love him so much that I would heal him. Instead, he “loved” me so much it almost killed me, and he did call it love. Enough times that he re-defined it and I didn’t use that word for a very long time in any meaningful situation. He, for better or for worse, drastically changed the trajectory of my life.
But it’s ok.
I’m wounded but I’m healing. I’m lonely, but I’m learning how to slowly welcome more people in and step out of my comfort zone. If I’m being honest, I’m relearning a lot of things, including how to exist in a world where I have room to make mistakes and fail. I can say or do the wrong thing and be gently corrected for it by my people and move on … sans violence. There are no words for amount of relief I feel because of that truth.
Is it over? No.
He was sentenced to 7 years last year and every year around mid July early August there is an opportunity to apply for an appeal based on his behavior, which will always be immaculate because he is not as tough as he thinks he is. This means that if he applies and it goes to trial, I’m also notified and have to reappear, show any new evidence, and reexplain why he needs to stay there for the safety of others and myself. Telling my story once a year on a whim to a room full of strangers, always men, so they can decide my fate, as well as the fate of this “upstanding young man with a good head on his shoulders” (actual words used during my initial rape/domestic abuse trial against him), was never what I imagined finally turning him in would look like. I really never thought that after everything, his sentence wouldn’t even be as long as our relationship. The original sentence was 5 years. After he got out on a Governor Cuomo Covid related prison loophole and broke his parole almost immediately, he was sentenced to another 2 on top of that. He has 6 left. We talk about how flawed our system is, but really seeing it is a different kind of punch. Women aren’t believed. There’s a reason so many of these crimes go unreported, and why so many women die at the hands of angry men. The hoops you have to jump through are miles high and on fire, and when you and the advocate show up armed only with your truth, your tears and a little evidence from one night at a bar when he got to drunk and forgot he was in public, it’s very easy for a judge to rule on the softer side. Because, as you all know, we’d never want to ruin a wealthy mans life unless there’s cold, hard, reason to.
Seeing his face when they read out his sentence, after years of terror, was satisfying to say the least and if I hadn’t been so numb to get through the hearing, I would’ve enjoyed it more. I will never forget going to a trusted friends house after that hearing and being completely overwhelmed with all of the emotions. Relief, guilt, sadness, anger, happiness, fear.. so many I couldn’t express.. all at once because the novocain wears off and numb isn’t forever and I fell asleep with their dog after a lot of crying. I’d be lying though if I said that 18 year old in me didn’t feel a loss. I grew up with incredible grandparents that did amazing things in teaching me how to love people and be a good human, but no one can protect us from everything. I also grew up with a mother who fights demons of her own and never had the capacity to love two kids. In a situation like that, someone becomes the punching bag. I became the punching bag and desperately looked for ways out, an opportunity to run.. and I ran right into him, who accepted me with open arms for the first time in my young, very inexperienced life.. and I followed him blindly and he was my whole world. Until I was 27, I didn’t have a guide. By the grace of God I landed into a community in Florida that slowly helped me realize my worth.
So.. what now.
How do we fix what our parents and past broke?
How do you reparent yourself?
The mental health journey is proving to be my biggest struggle yet. There’s no more outside factors, it’s just me and the lies that have fed me for years and altered how I think and feel and understand the world. I can feel myself frustrating people I’ve let close to me. I feel myself getting nervous and pushing people away. Sometimes I can catch it and regroup, other times that nasty little voice is too loud and I’m exhausted. My goodness though, how cool is it to learn so much about yourself? I know I have the capacity to love that broken part of me eventually, but it’s still hard to face. Getting to learn and understand the reason behind your actions is terrifyingly amazing. I am proud of this journey. Even when I don’t always come up on top. It’s hard to see the progress while you’re in it, but laying it all out like this.. I can safely say I’m never going to be that 18 year old girl ever again. Some days this journey looks different, some days the darkness wins, because healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it’s one step forward, 2 steps back… but nothing is too broken to fix.. and I will never call that darkness home again.
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chilling-seavey · 3 years
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okay so the line "the hay kept trying to swallow her back in" - Daniel got out of the hay super fast but she didn't I think that shows how daniel's on that unstable line between Blythe and getting over Mari so he's quick to avoid- he has this immediate flight response to all these new feelings and people. on the other hand, Blythe is stuck in this circle of potential feelings she has for him but also this element of mystery because she doesn't know mari or Daniel that much
that's also the change in the chapter when Daniel turns to mari so Blythe kinda gets cut off or held back- just like Daniel is holding himself back from getting to know Blythe a little more
wiping his lips with the back of his hand - this is such an indication of his guilt and you slipped that in so well into the chapter. and you when you paired that with this line it was genius - the lingering memory far too real for his aching heart and far too frightening for his grieving soul. because it shows this conflict of emotions Daniel is having. he misses being loved the way mari loved him *tearing up as I write this* and in comes Blythe and it's all these new feelings and gosh Blythe has all these similarities and Daniel can't help but feel taken back to when Mari was there
weeping loudly as he desperately wiped his lips- this is when he sees Mari's grave again and when u used 'desperately' it like amplifies how overwhelmed and guilty he feels especially in Mari's presence-
Daniel gripping the "perfect green grass" just reminds me of how beautiful Mari and his relationship was and how he saw her as perfect, as the Spring to his Winter and he's trying to hold on to every last bit of that season-
"you were it for me" frick im crying okay um - this hits hard because Daniel says "I can't just find someone else" it's like there was this mutual promise between them that Daniel would find happiness somewhere else but mari was it for him-
"We d-deserved forever, Mari. I don’t understand what…what I did wrong. I need you.” Daniel’s voice broke through another sob, “I need you. I need you to tell me that everything’s gonna be okay. I’m so scared, Mari. I’m so fucking scared without you.”" - yeah I'm just going to leave this here. my analysis for this is that it made my cry
"He laid there for a while in that comfort of the sun." - it's like mari is watching him from the sun STOP
"wishing the hard earth was anywhere close to the feeling of Marigold’s loving and comfortably familiar embrace"- yeah I don't have anything for this, it just made me cry
OKAY BUT LASTLY MOST IMPORTANT - note how jack offers to take spud for the night. Daniel doesn't want spud to see this side of him. he doesn't want spud to see the side that breaks down and doesn't know what to do- 🥺 it was always him and mari figuring parenthood and life out and now he's alone with spud. he's been keeping up this façade but it's tearing him apart inside but also note how he finds the comfort he needs in mari 🥺
okay I'm gonna go cry myself to sleep now-
goodnight
Mari only ever wanted Daniel to be happy and to protect their boy no matter what but he felt like she was the only one who truly made him happy and he's so scared to find that again. Who can he be if not with Marigold? He lived and breathed for her.
+ Jack's literally neighbour goals. He took good care of Spud (and Daniel) right after Mari died and his wife brought over meals often so Daniel didn't have to stress himself cooking. But, yes, its very rare that Spud ever sees Daniel breaking down over Mari. Daniel seems himself as the strength of their family and doesn't want his son to see him any less than sure of things...he's who Spud looks towards to know that everythings going to be okay.
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henrycavell · 4 years
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homecoming
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summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone. 
word count: 1,426
pairing: Syverson x OFC 
*I plan on intentionally not describing the girl much, so that when you’re reading you can think of her however you’d like to!
warnings: smut later on, there will be cursing and mentions of depression, anxiety, there will be suicide attempts and self harm though i am not sure how detailed i will go into that! if things get really detailed, i will make sure to put warnings on those specific chapters.
a/n: I am not looking for constructive criticism on this. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written any fan-fiction, though I’ve been roleplaying nonstop for the last few years, I feel a little nervous posting something that’s entirely just mine. So right now, I’m not looking for any criticism, suggestions, etc. <3 If you enjoy reading though, please like/reblog! 
Also, I’m adding everyone in a tag that replied to my text post about wanting to read my stories... so if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know! If you’d like to be added, also let me know! <3 
Taglist: @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​  @kaatelyyynn​(i’m sorry if i missed anyone, i only tagged anyone who replied to my text post!!) oh & @80scavill​ i’m tagging you because you said you wanted to proofread, but i am just so nervous that im just posting! bahaha
PART 1 | PART 2
Being medically discharged from the military wasn’t something Syverson wanted to talk about, he sure as hell didn’t want to go into detail. He’d barely been able to admit to himself that his depression and anxiety had become so overwhelming that he could barely function. When his men had started noticing, some questioning his well-being and if he was stable enough to be in his position, he thought that had been the most embarrassing thing. He’d been wrong. The most embarrassing and shameful thing had been his suicide attempt, which ultimately led to his discharge.
The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, so he didn’t. It was bad enough that he had to think about it constantly. Every time he closed his eyes Sy was brought back to that moment. Blood all over his bunk, smeared along the wall and staining his sheets. As hard as he had tried to convince his peers and superiors that it wasn’t a suicide attempt and rather just an unfortunate mistake, they wouldn’t believe him. And after a full psych evaluation, all hope of saving his career had vanished. Shipped home before he could even argue.
His first few days home had been the hardest, the only little shimmer lighting up his life at the moment being Aika. Sy had been able to bring her home with him and the loyal companion hadn’t left his side for even a second. Seemingly knowing something was wrong with him. But even with his dog giving him all the love and affection she could muster, he still barely left his bed. Tangled up in the sheets, dozing off and on out of sleep except for the very few times that he forced himself up to use the bathroom. Sy hadn’t eaten in what he thought to be at least four days, except for nibbling on a saltine cracker here and there between forcing down some orange juice or shots of whiskey.
Syverson wasn’t proud of the way he was keeping himself, but he didn’t know what to do. He’d been working and serving his country since he graduated high school. Being home with nothing but free time on his hands and a heavy rain cloud hanging over his shoulders, the days were beginning to all blur together. He’d been particularly dreading this morning, however, because he knew the VA was sending over some help, someone to help make sure that he was getting along okay, to make sure he didn’t need anything.
Aika put her paws up on the bed and leaned her head in, grabbing the blanket with her teeth and ripping it off Syverson, pulling it all the way down into the floor. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m getting up,” Sy groaned, running his hands down his face before pulling himself up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. A shower sounded nice, but before he could really think about whether he had the energy to or not, Syverson was already hearing a knock from downstairs. Craning his head around to look at the alarm clock by his bed, his face fell, realizing it was already well after noon. He thought he had more time...
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Penelope wasn’t anything more than just a volunteer, a girl in her early twenties that liked to keep herself busy, so for the last few months on the weekends, she’d been donating her time to helping the VA. They’d send her to random retired or discharged veteran’s homes to help with their household chores, or to do their grocery shopping. Sometimes, a lot of them were just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. That was Penelope’s job, to just spend a few hours doing whatever they needed that was within her capability. This seemed to be a special case, though. It was different than all the others. Penelope hadn’t been given very much information on this person, other than their name and a very vague reason as to why they had been discharged. “Don’t ask about what happened,” she’d been warned, told to just leave it to be.
Tapping her knuckles against the door once more, Penelope peered in through the glass pane into the home, seeing that all the lights were off. Stepping back on the porch, Penelope looked out into the drive, seeing a rusted pickup truck and thinking to herself that Syverson had to be home. Just as she turned back around to knock a third time, her fist already raised in the air, she came face to face with the captain.
“Heard ya the first time,” he grunted, before turning in the door way and disappearing back down the hall. Penelope had only gotten a quick glance at him. His hair was short but was starting to grow out, his beard had looked a little unkempt and it seemed he had just rolled out of bed. Letting her hand drop back down by her waist, she froze on the porch, a little taken aback by his greeting. If she could call it that.
Stepping up into the home, Penelope closed the door behind her, just as a large german shepherd came running up to her. Aika panted, her tongue sticking out as she barked excitedly, nudging herself against Penelope’s legs as if telling her to follow the captain into the kitchen. If Aika could speak, she would have told the younger girl that it had been almost a month since the captain had spoken to anyone in person. “Hey there,” Penelope cooed, reaching down to scratch Aika behind her ears before tightening her grip on her purse and heading farther into the home.
“My names Penelope,” she called, just a second before stepping into the kitchen and seeing the man pouring himself a mug of coffee. There was a bit of sunlight coming through the kitchen window, brightening up the dim space just a touch. Most of the sun rays were washing over the man’s back as he fixed his coffee just the way he liked it. The veteran was large, his biceps reminding her of tree trunks, though he did seem to be getting a little soft around the edges. Penelope stood silent for a moment, waiting to see if she’d get anything from the man, but he remained silent, even when he turned around, bringing his mug up to his lips. Syverson didn’t even look at her, instead, snapping his fingers to get Aika to come to his side. His gaze was kept down, fixed on his dog. “I’ll be visiting every weekend, uhm, for as long as you’d like me to.”
“Didn’t want ya’ to begin with, don’t need no help.” The man still didn’t look up as he spoke, instead, his attention still focused on Aika, the dog seemingly being the only thing to bring him comfort.
Penelope was definitely caught off guard. She’d met some rude veterans during her time volunteering, and while this man’s words could’ve definitely been taken that way, Penelope could almost hear the loneliness in his voice. All she’d been told about him was that he’d been battling mental health issues, discharged because of depression, though she hadn’t been given anymore information than that. Letting her shoulders sag, she took a step further into the kitchen, moving towards the fridge as she looked around his kitchen. “I believe you, you look capable.” Penelope tried putting herself in his shoes, a strong man who had climbed through the ranks, spent his whole life serving his country, only to be forced home. To be told he wasn’t fit to serve anymore, that he needed help doing simple tasks. So she tried spinning the narrative as she opened the fridge, a frown making it’s way on to her face as she peered into the empty box. “Think of it as... I’m here to do the things you don’t want to. And it looks like someone doesn’t like grocery shopping,” she tried to tease, “I’ll make a list and-“
Syverson’s footsteps were heavy as he walked away, leaving the kitchen with his cup of coffee without one final word. Watching him disappear down the hall, Penelope heard heavy thuds on the stairs as he headed back up to his room. Letting the door on the fridge shut, Penelope muttered to herself under her breath, “okay...” It seemed like every weekend her job only became harder, she met veterans that were more and more reserved and closed off. But she had no intention of giving up just yet on Syverson.
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