#i am so sick of putting in effort and everything going wrong anyway

[seventeengoingunder]

being naturally good at something would fix me i think

[setsugekka]

『paradise lost』 ; 08

❝ annihilation ❞

↳ and so, here you are: the consequences of your actions. the unraveling of a man that you love, and the dissolution of everything that the two of you had been so carelessly working towards.

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『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, angst, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 8k

『 warnings 』 : hatefuck and all of the horrors that come along with that. it’s like watching a trainwreck in slow motion tbh. extreme carelessness emotionally, mean things are said, name calling, slut shaming, etc.

Arriving much quicker than Hongjoong had ever anticipated, made evident to you by the drop of his features upon opening the door to his loft, you don't bother to give him the time to protest, pushing past him with little effort to stop you on his end.

Seonghwa's place wasn't that far out, anyways.

Hair now black and slicked back up and off his forehead, perfectly done and obviously dressed with somewhere to be that evening; all black everything, actually. Pressed slacks and immaculately fitted suit jacket — Hongjoong looks a bit more put together than typical of him, less 'alternative art guy' and more 'business professional,' or rather even—

—dressed for going out somewhere, with someone.

Your face drops even more, and you know now more than ever, you have no business feeling the way that you do at the mere implications that you've fabricated in your mind. The idea that Hongjoong could be planning to spend the evening with someone else, a date. Really now, more than ever before, it's none of your fucking business.

He has every right, and had it been his intent, he certainly would have earned it.

Selfish as ever, you can't help yourself, though. Even after everything else that just took place — Seonghwa, the video, the phone call — you just can't help yourself, being anything but who and what you are. Selfish.

“Wh—where are you going?” you manage to stutter out, features laced with what could only be described as disgust at the mere sight of him. A man that's done nothing wrong, and nothing deserving of them.

A man who under normal circumstances; accepting of your faults, of the way that you're quick to jealousy, who coddles and loves you in spite of it all. Hongjoong laughs at the question, turning his gaze from you. The audacity.

“That's rich, really,” he says, eyes glancing up towards you again as the both of you still in the doorway, but only momentarily, before he begins reaching down for a pair of freshly cleaned and shined dress shoes. “You're really something else, you know that?”

“Joong—“

Hongjoong stands suddenly at the name, a pet name of sorts; a precious shortening that you had fallen into over time and that he once especially loved to hear fall from your lips in the throes of passion, when he knew he was being so good to you that you couldn't utter the entirety of it.

And for what?

“What's really sick about it is that I still want to tell you. I still want to ease your worries, quell your fears of where I am or who I might be with or what I might be doing,” he finally answers, voice louder and pointed, the hurt still horrifically evident in the way that it courses through his body.

“Because the idea that something I do might hurt you literally fucking kills me, even now.”

Eyebrows pressed as closely together as possible, lips pursed, you watch him. The man that you love, the man that you've torn apart.

“Do you know what that feels like? Or do you just ignore the texts and pretend it's not happening?”

Never laid a hand on you with ill intent, the words feel like a punch to the chest all the same.

Hongjoong bends down for his shoes again, beginning to slip them on. “Friend has a gallery opening tonight that I said I’d go to, that's where I'm going.”

“Can I stay here?”

You fumble the words out, just barely. Voice shaken and knowing his whereabouts offering little solace given everything else going on around them. It's barely a logical question, anyway. Stay for what? Until he returns? For when he returns? You practically live there, after all. But it's not something you put any deep insight into before tossing them out there.

Typically the way that you move throughout the world, it seems.

He sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess. Do whatever you want. That's what you do, anyways.”

“Can we please just talk?”

Eyes locked on the man bent before you, you watch as he slowly stands again, a roll of the eyes as he sighs as if entirely fed up with the topic at hand already. Fed up with you. With this.

“I tried to talk,” he begins, raise of the eyebrows and cock of the head that tells you he's doing his best to keep his anger under control. Kim Hongjoong, never raised his voice with you, never loud, never aggressive.

You were testing him, though. Your mere presence was a test.

“But you were busy. Not much to say, now.”

The both of you pause, looking at each other, faces full of twisted emotions bit back in an attempt to remain calm and assert the existence of upper hand in the scenario — you less so, fully willing and able to acquiesce this fight. You lost. You fucked up. You know.

So how can we fix it, can it even be fixed?

It's wrong, and you know it, but it's the only thing you feel as though you have, now. An aggressive approach to appeal to the broken part of him that reluctantly still cares for you, still wants you — still loves you.

“Hongjoong, I lov—“

“Don't.”

Cutting you off, he steps forward suddenly with palms clasping around your face — it's not violent, or with any intent to hurt you — the way that a lover would grasp their partner with intent to kiss them passionately, lovingly.

“Don't do that, you can't do that, you're so fucking—“

Hongjoong pauses, gazing deeply into your eyes with only a few inches off from you — holding you firmly in his hands, in place, you could escape from him but you wish not to. Unsure of his intentions but feeling as though whatever they may be, you would willingly accept them now more than ever.

He never finishes the thought, though, lips harshly crashing onto your own — full of teeth and tongue in an instant — it feels wrong, in some way. A kiss that drips with hurt; a man that knows nothing else in that moment beyond the fact that he wants and loves you even in spite of everything. Everything that you've done, everything that you've put him through.

It feels wrong, and you know that it is, but the warmth of feeling him with you again proving to be far too strong for you to muster up the courage to break away from. Maybe now, more than ever before, the two of you just need one another.

Logically, you know that whatever this is won't fix it, but you need him, and evidently, he needs you, as well.

Needs to have you back, reclaim you, undo whatever it was that Seonghwa did an hour ago.

Hongjoong drops his hands from your face to shrug his jacket off and to the floor, pushing you back and towards the couch that the two of you are no stranger to experiencing one another on — but the thought of a couch so soon after your romp with Seonghwa — bringing back the memories of such a thing, proves to be too much for you to overcome so soon. Back of your thighs hitting the armrest, mouths still sloppy, toothy kisses — the strong taste of tequila on his tongue from what you could only imagine to be a shot or two he downed after the phone call — you pull back briefly to speak, to protest only slightly.

The words catch in your throat as you take his features into your vision — the glistening of particularly moist eyes as Hongjoong's meet your own.

It kills him, being with you now, yet it's still the only thing he wants — even at his own self-destruction.

But Hongjoong doesn't bother pulling his face from yours to hide the evidence of his emotions, instead, he allows you to take it in. 'This is what you do to me, maybe you can finally feel it, too.'

And so, you do. You deserve it, after all. The way your chest feels as though it's caving in on itself as you look into his slightly bloodshot eyes — and the juxtaposition of his fingers making quick work of the button on the front of your pants, then zipper, then thumbs hooked into the sides before he spins you by the hips again. It's happening so fast and with such little thought put into it.

And not a word spoken, either.

This isn't him. Normally such a caring, considerate, gentle and attentive lover — but the haste in which he's now trying to take you is foreign. The man standing behind you now, feeling like a stranger.

It certainly does feel familiar, and in all of the wrong ways. You finally remember what it was that you wanted to say to begin with.

“Not here, Joong—“ you breathe out just as his hand meets the small of your back and you begin to hear the sound of his belt buckle.

He pauses, because of course he does.

And then you hear him continue with his belt.

“Why? Why not here?”

You think it's the first time he's ever met your reluctance with questioning of the reason behind it, and you don't particularly want to detail it, either.

“Just—“

“Remember the safe word, right?”

“Yes!” you bite back, getting somewhat annoyed at the way that he won't let you speak, at the way that he's being.

You feel him shuffle his slacks down around his thighs a bit from behind you, gritting your teeth and fingernails digging into the red cushion of the couch that you'd grown to love. So many memories of the both of you smiling and laughing and loving on it.

Only to be dwindled down to this. Whatever this even is.

“Why?” he asks again, this time louder, but before you get a chance to reply, it becomes evident that the reasoning dawns on him, having seen the video, after all. “Oh, is it because he just fucked you like this? Is that it? Guilty?”

You don't answer, thoughts being brought to the way his hand slides down from the small of your back to your panties — no doubt still bearing evidence of your deeds just earlier in the night, you can't see Hongjoong's face, and for once, you're thankful for it.

You think to yourself now, that you're pretty sure you know precisely what he thinks of you, anyways.

Hongjoong shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek as if contemplating precisely the way to move forward with this particular endeavor, fingers curling around the fabric of worn and used panties that he now wants nothing to do with and pulling them off towards the side as much as he can manage — the sound of tearing elastic ripping through the otherwise quiet apartment, and you grimace at the sound, at the feeling.

At him.

Feeling the tip of his cock against you from behind, threatening to enter you, your heartbeat increases all that much more. You want him, you want him desperately, now more than ever before, and even in spite of how terribly wrong it feels in this moment. In this way. The unignorable feeling that you two should not be engaging in this right now, how it won't fix anything — the carnal desire that Hongjoong has for you, to have you, physically, mentally, emotionally, and the same for you to be had by him — overwhelming all logic and sense.

It's something the two of you can figure out, later. You're not happy with the way that it's going down, but you're not going to stop him either, because you need him to need you, and if this is how he has to do it — punishing, thoughtless, hurtful — then so be it.

You earned it.

“Did you think of me?” he finally says, normally talkative and bright during sexual endeavors, now cold and quiet — and this, this not what you had been hoping for, either. “When he fucked you, did you think of me even a little bit?”

“God, Hongjoong, what the fuck?” you spit, craning your head back from your bent position in an attempt to look at him. Furrowed eyebrows. Truly a stranger to you, now.

“Just curious if I even crossed your mind,” he says as his hips slowly press forward, your body taking his length as you groan out at the intrusion.

Hips snapping forward suddenly to push the rest of himself into you in an instant, you grit your teeth and screw your eyes shut.

“Did he at least wear a condom? Or have you just that little care for me now, too?”

You wonder if he's genuinely asking or not, considering he's already buried inside of you — perhaps simply a risk he's willing to take in an attempt to reclaim what he believes to be his in the best way he knows how.

“Yes, he wore a condom, Jesus Christ,” you answer with a hiss, but the man behind you only chuckles. 

“Can't know with you anymore, don't know if I ever really did.”

Like a knife twisting in your chest, the words tumbling from his mouth. A man who once loved to shower you with praise and words of adoration as he made love to you, now a second and a third harsh snap of his hips against you — nearly painful at the drive — and nothing kind to say at all.

You sort of hate the fact that he feels heavenly inside of you, the harshness behind the otherwise perfect fit of him. Would it be so wrong to enjoy it? To come?

Quickly settling into a steady, fast rhythm, Hongjoong doesn't bother reaching down to rub you through what he may hope to eventually be your orgasm, one hand instead opting to reach up and into your hair as the other settles on the small of your back again to keep you settled there. “This what you need from me?” he grunts out between thrusts, voice broken — unsure if it's the act or the emotions behind it.

“Need me to fuck you like a whore? Is that it?”

It's not dirty talk, you know that. Trying to ignore the way your arousal reacts to it as if it is, you clench your eyes shut again, hating the way that even this, in this moment, is making him feel. The desperate need for one another in any way, however the two of you may achieve it, yet manifesting in the most ugly way imaginable.

He's never said that word to you before.

“Hongjoong, please—“ you whine, partially from the words and how much they hurt, and partially from the exquisite drag of his cock against your walls.

But before you can finish the sentence, Hongjoong has you up and off of your chest, hand still in your hair as he pulls you around and to the wall just on the opposite side. Only a few footsteps away until you're back against it, grip of his fingers into the strands so much tighter than before and offering almost no mobility to your head, his mouth meets your own again as he nips and bites at your bottom lip, dragging down your jaw and to your neck to suck marks into the skin — barely faded marks made by him not even a week ago still — as if a caveman's attempt at reclaiming what's his.

“I miss you so much, every time you're gone,” he whispers into your neck, a sudden and unexpected admission of himself, his feelings. The Hongjoong that you truly know and love slipping through the cracks of a worn down, bitter man otherwise before you this evening. It feels comforting, to hear him again, to know that he's still down in there somewhere.

The guilt bubbles up all over again on the other side of the coin, knowing that he's still in there. After everything that you have put him through, and even through this, he's still there.

“I really, really—“

The words are so soft as they spill out in breaths on your hot skin, Hongjoong's hand hiking your leg up to grant himself access to you again as he slides back inside with ease. Bringing his mouth up just in time for the both of you to groan against each other's lips at the feeling — for the first time in the night, it feels right, it feels reminiscent of him.

“—fucking hate you. I hate what you've done to me.”

It catches you off guard, then another sharp snap of his cock into you has you reeling all over again, a moan reluctantly falling from your mouth and into his due to his proximity, you look into his eyes in an attempt to parse through the situation — the thoughts, the feelings he's experiencing.

Slightly hooded eyes filled with lust, desperation, anger stare back at you, as if enjoying watching the way you fall apart for him all the same as before, but for what reason you aren't quite sure.

Is this make up sex, or something entirely different?

But everything aside, the long, quick drags of his cock inside of you, hard against all of the places he knows you love, sends you quickly towards your own orgasm — not sure if it's his intention or not to let you come, you whine out his name as your hands come up and around his neck, clenching hard into the black shirt he currently adorn — nails sinking into bare skin at areas where the shirt moves out of place, and Hongjoong hisses at the feeling of the contact, head thrown back briefly as his eyes roll only to then kiss you hard again.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he asks, lips pressed into your own as he does and eyes never breaking contact with your own. “Like when I treat you poorly? Don't give a fuck about you?—“

A few harder drives into you. “Gonna take my cum, slut?”

Slut. So that's what he thinks of you.

Who could blame him, really.

And it's the first time that Hongjoong says something nasty to you that takes you out of it a little bit. Heart sinking, your mind comes back to you at the utterance of the words against your mouth — as if you're supposed to love it, but truthfully, knowing that he's past the point of caring whether you do or not.

Hongjoong's painted fingernails curling harder into your hair again as his thrusts become faster, more erratic in an effort to chase his orgasm, you find that yours has seemingly been lost to the drop of one single word.

And he doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

Hissing at the pain to your scalp, you wince slightly. “Hongjoong, it hurts—“

“Now you know how I feel.”

A thoughtless reply from him in a way you never could have anticipated, and before you have a chance to think through it, you feel the pulsating of his cock as he buries deep into you, releasing hard and heavy and with a bit back groan against the shell of your ear.

Immediately upon finishing, the man relinquishes his hold onto you, hands opting instead to splay against the wall on either side of you as you remain propped up against it, watching the way he attempts to catch his breath again quickly and regain composure — stuffing himself back into his pants almost as quickly as he had finished off, as well — as if now fully present and completely aware of all of the ways that this is so astonishingly fucked up.

Pulling back from you, you take note of the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, then beautifully long lashes as his eyes make their way back up to meet yours for the first time since finishing the endeavor.

What you don't expect to find, is the tears brimming his eyes, however.

Slamming a fist against the wall, you realize that it's coming back to him far quicker than you had expected — the events that had just transpired. Words said, feelings ignored.

Choking back the sob that threatens to escape him, Hongjoong instead opts to pull away from you completely, settling back against the arm of the couch that had started this whole thing to watch you from a distance — you can only assume that he thinks you want it, from him. After whatever it was that that was.

“I hate this. I'm not—“

Bringing his palms up to his face, you can hear the horror laden in his voice, at himself.

“Hongjoong, it's okay,” you offer, but he just as quickly shakes his head in dismissal.

“I love you, you know that, right? Why are you fucking doing this to me?”

Slowly picking your jeans back up and settling them into place again as you watch the man before you come undone emotionally once again, for the first time ever in regards to him, you don't know what to do. You don't know what's right, or what he needs.

But one thing is for sure, you didn't want his confession to be off of the back of this.

The word still ringing loud and clear through your mind, the ease in which it tumbled from his lips as if he hadn't even thought twice about it — or rather, he had thought it numerous times before, in actuality. Almost certainly not the first time the word had come up in regards to you, and perhaps he had never said it, and almost certainly told himself that he never would, and that it was wrong, and fucked up, and not okay.

He still did.

But even off of the back of the man that you love effectively using you physically with little regard — a result of so much pent up pain and suffering and not knowing anything else — it's not the sex that upsets you, because the sex is what you also wanted. You don't care that he didn't try to get you off, or that he was rougher than usual, and even a little distracted from being entirely present and in the moment with you. You knew the safe word, and chose never to use it.

It's the word. The words that he said. That you know he meant with every fiber of his being, only then able to finally say them to your face, tell you how he really feels about you, with the guise of dirty talk and another guilty fuck for the night.

This one feels far worse, however.

You did this. You did this to him, and you did it to the concept of 'us.'

And it's true that we are only ever responsible for our own actions, that at the end of the day, Hongjoong has to deal with his own demons in relation to the night, and the words and actions displayed going forward. Watching as he sobs into his palms, and finally stepping forward to take him into your arms, to tell him that it's okay, that you're okay, that it doesn't matter and we can finally just move on from this and do better, be better together and for each other — Hongjoong abruptly springs up and away from your touch, wiping smudged eye makeup from his under eyes with the knuckle of his thumbs gently as he sniffles and shakes his head sharply.

“No,” he says, matter of fact and through a hoarse throat. “No, no more.”

You don't know what he means, but the sinking in your chest gives you an idea.

“We're not doing this anymore, I'm not doing this anymore,” he continues on, bending down towards his coat and slinging it on once again — motions hurried and as if he's quick to exit the apartment all of a sudden. It's such a fast switch from how he was only moments ago — hunched over and in on himself, crying into his hands at himself, at this.

And now, one can only assume, that he had taken the time to mourn the loss of you, and of what had been and could have been in the future.

Remaining silent, you don't even want to press him for more, horror splitting through your body, through your veins and bones and the tears welling up in your eyes faster than you can even follow as your throat dries. Please not this, please don't be what you think it is.

Please don't give up on this, on us. I love you. You love me.

“I don't want to see you anymore.”

I don't love you anymore, goodbye.

“Hongjoong—“

Finally able to muster up the courage, the words, with his already out and on the table, it's all you have, you have to do and say something — you can't let it end like this.

Watching Hongjoong quickly slip his shoes on, so rushed and desperately attempting to make his way out of the shared room, he looks back to you only briefly, for a split second — obviously intent on not making or keeping eye contact with you. It makes him feel like a stranger.

So many new sides of him, tonight. All manifested by your wrongdoings.

“Don't,” he chokes out, rummaging through some items on the table near the door, it takes him a hasty moment to finally find his keys, then eyes quickly darting about to locate his phone.

You hate the way he so badly wishes to not be in your presence, when not long ago, your presence was the only thing he wished to have.

“Please,” he says, finally finding his phone and swiping it off of a table across the room before jogging back to the front door and pulling the door slightly ajar. Hongjoong looks back at your eyes again, both glistening with the suffering befallen the situation.

Mourning it. Mourning a love that crashed before it ever really even took off.

“I love you,” Hongjoong finally admits, and it's the strongest his voice has sounded since you arrived there. Gazing upon him as he stands tall, firm in the doorway with keys and door knob in hand — his expression just as equally pained as the first time he had laid eyes on you that evening.

An expression that is so desperate for an alternate ending to this, for a different possibility, for something else that doesn't have to be this.

“—but I can't say it. Not really. Not outside of this. For as fucked up as you are, so am I,” he says, voice now giving way ever so slightly, it's such a pained admission of self-understanding in a way that you feel as though you've never heard from him.

Hongjoong can tell you that he loves you now, only because he hates you equally as much.

“I don't want to lie, and I can't tell you the truth—“ he stutters out again, fingers gripping tightly into the metal keys in his fist as he allows the words out of his mouth.

He can't say the words. The actual words he means. Not past the initial admittance of not wanting to see you anymore, he can't say that the relationship is over — because he doesn't want it to be, and because he knows that he can't adhere to it with the slightest protest. The biggest reason for his needing to escape the fire now — not that you disgust him, or that he feels vile in your presence, but rather still entirely the opposite — an unending, inextinguishable love for you, a desire to have you and be with you that above all else, trumps all else.

You're destroying me, and yet I want nothing more than to be destroyed by you.

“I won't come back tomorrow so please just...have your stuff out in two days, please.”

He's begging you, now. Begging you to stop hurting him, begging you to let him heal and move on from this, from the damage you have inflicted upon him.

And choking out an “okay,” you watch him turn and leave the apartment, the sound of the large, front door slamming and echoing through the empty loft apartment that you had grown so fond of.

That you may never find yourself inside of again.

And with Hongjoong gone, you allow yourself to have it finally — the sob you bit back all this time now ripping through your chest and echoing through just as the door had.

How did we get here? How did it come to this?

“Hello?”

Beyond your initial response to the sound — heart thumping hard in your chest as you sit up straight from bed, automatic physical response one of high alert, because you know you shouldn't be hearing another person — a man, at that — in the apartment.

But you want to, you were hoping to, and as you laid your head down on the pillow that Hongjoong had once bought specifically for you to sleep beside him on, the last time that you likely ever would, you may have sent something of a prayer out into the ether — to someone, and to nothing all at once, that he might come back, have a change of heart and mind.

Find it in himself to forgive you.

And as your heart slows with each seconds passing, you come to realize that while the voice a familiar one — not the one you had been wishing for as sleep had taken you hours prior.

“I'm—“ you quiet after beginning the sentence, realizing that you had taken one of his shirts from the floor of the upstairs loft next to the bed and adorned it to sleep in, not expecting anyone to be finding you in such a way.

But given the circumstances, and the visitor in question, suppose it doesn't matter.

“—upstairs, give me a second,” you finish, voice small and ashamed of having been found like this. Less about the shirt, more about everything else surrounding it.

You wish not to be seen, and to be swallowed up by the ground itself, instead.

Slipping a pair of sweatpants on, you lazily head down to greet the visitor, already well aware of the face that would find you but none happier about it all the same. Barely able to make eye contact with the man as he tosses his keys onto the table, shoes already kicked off in the entrance — you can't help but chuckle to yourself internally about the last time the two of you met and what that looked like.

Hair blonde and fluffy just the same as that night, over sized, gray sweatshirt gracing his torso, it makes him look small, approachable. You aren't used to seeing him like this, but you aren't really used to seeing him at all, you suppose.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you. How are you?”

You watch Wooyoung's features sort of shift, as if realizing the stupidity of the question too long after the fact. He instead opts to pick up a white, plastic bag from the floor carrying what appears to be styrofoam take out containers, and with a small smile, holds it up to you. “Brought you food, let's have breakfast.”

“Um,” you muster out, hating the way you have to say the words and all of the implications behind them, but Wooyoung pauses at the sound, eyes shifting towards you again on the journey to the kitchen. “Hongjoong...isn't here.”

He sighs with a gentle smile. “I know. Let's eat.”

It's quiet over pancakes, even more so with the memories of the last time you sat at this dining room table. Thoughts mixing together of the conversation you had had with Hongjoong here, paired with everything else, you make an attempt to put something in your stomach with Wooyoung there — now obviously sent over by the man you've done so much wrong to in order to look after you — now caring for you the best way he knows how: entirely in his own absence. You can feel the heavy gaze of brown eyes on you occasionally, as if a father watching over his child and making sure they're getting their meals in.

There's kindness there, even love. Even now. Maybe hope.

Wooyoung finishes the last bite of his strawberry before taking a sip of water and leaning back in his chair. You can tell that he doesn't want to be the first one to ask about it — likely not wanting to pry, and all things considered, he's Hongjoong's friend, not yours.

But he's still here. For you. In spite of that.

“Do you know where Hongjoong is?”

It's simple, and you feel guilty for asking. It's really none of your business where he is, now more than ever, but still — the question weighs heavily on your mind.

Wooyoung clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “I shouldn't tell you this, he's my friend, after all—“

“I know.”

“—But, he's at my place.”

It's a relief. You don't expect that Hongjoong went to Wooyoung for another guilty, miserable round even with having a little bit of knowledge of their history together, and figure it far too evil on Hongjoong's end to fuck, or be fucked by, the man and then send him over the next morning to do...whatever it is that Wooyoung is here to do, anyway.

“He had a thing and then he came by late.”

“That's good.”

“It wasn't like that, don't worry.” The man placates the little bit of curiosity regardless, and with a slightly shit-eating grin as if trying to lighten the mood with a joke. You meet him halfway with a perked up corner of your mouth as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The words slice through your ears like glass — the idea of reliving the events of last night all over again, as if talking about it were to bring any solace or comfort in the aftermath of the destruction you had caused in only an hour or two.

Fiddling with the hem of Hongjoong's t-shirt as the fabric sits pooled in your lap, you stare down at your busy fingers. “I mean, suppose he told you already.”

“He did,” Wooyoung says, nodding once in affirmation of the fact. “He's...not proud. It's sort of why I'm here — well, that, and to help you move.”

Help you move.

There's a lot to take in in such a short sentence you find, but Hongjoong standing firm in his resolve to not do this anymore, not have you anymore being the one that weighs the most heavily at first. Truthfully, you had hoped that Wooyoung had come in an effort to help the both of you work through it.

But, apparently that is not so.

“Not...proud?” you question, looking up and across the table at the man.

He leans forward, elbows pressed against the wood — earnest and serious but gentle all at the same time — such a far cry from the way in which you had met him before.

“You know as well as I do that Hongjoong is a good man. Kind, delicate — he's an art school kid, you know how they are,” he chuckles, waving a hand about in the air. “He's not at all happy with the way that things went down last night between the two of you.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“I don't really know all of the details, I don't need to,” Wooyoung starts again. “But he didn't apologize, he wants to apologize, he just can't.”

“And why can't he?” you question, voice small and throat dry, the conversation already beginning to bubble up again the feelings from before.

You don't want to cry in front of this man, but he's making it so hard.

“He can't...see you. Talk to you.”

“So he sent you to do it for him.”

Wooyoung frowns at the words — the way that it sounds so pathetic and cowardly, and perhaps that's not even false, but sometimes we have to be so in an effort to protect ourselves from further suffering. “Sort of, yeah.”

The two of you silence, Wooyoung sitting back again and chewing at the inside of his lip as he contemplates the best way to handle the situation going forward. For you, it's the stifling of the burning pain felt deeply in your chest — a kind of pain only expelled by the feeling of one's feelings, and for that, the man sent to help you needs to not be here.

Crying in front of him does neither of you any good. What's the point. It won't bring Hongjoong back here before you're gone.

“I know he's a good man, I...neither of us were in great form last night,” you say, finally acknowledging the words that Wooyoung had delivered.

Wooyoung nods, pushing his chair back from the table and moving to pick up the dishes from it, and just as quickly as the thought comes to you, the tears prick at the corners of your eyes all over again. Wooyoung is all you have, he's your one chance at undoing this, at trying to make it right for the two of you again. Looking up at him, eyes bloodshot and glistening with furrowed brows, you gently take his wrist to stop his movement towards the sink.

“I love him, Wooyoung. He loves me.”

Deeply inhaling, he frowns slightly but nods to you all the same — acknowledging the words in a silent plea to allow him to set the dishes in the sink and that he would then return to you. He does, quickly, taking you by the hand and bringing you to the open living area where the both of you sit on the couch together.

A man with many good qualities, the best being his kindness. Knowing well enough the torment you've put his friend through, and still here, by your side, in the aftermath of it all.

Inhaling heavily again, Wooyoung takes both of your hands into his lap and cradling them within his own as he looks you in your eyes. Delicacy but seriousness in his own simultaneously.

“Sometimes...even when we love someone, and they love us, too much damage has been done, and it's not fixable.”

Your heart drops in an instant, the tears welling up just as fast and all over again.

“I'm not here to advise you one way or another, just like I wouldn't advise him one way or another, either. Truthfully, I adore both of you — individually, and together—“

He pauses, thinking. “—but there's been a lot of hurt. On both sides.”

“You're saying I should move on, give up—“ you choke out, squeezing your fists still harbored under his own.

“I'm saying that you shouldn't wait.”

Waiting for Hongjoong to come around again, the thought that had been bouncing around in your skull from the moment he said the words — that if you simply waited long enough, he would come around. The hurt would eventually subside, and he could and would remember all of the ways in which the two of you made each other so unfathomably happy. That if you just waited, he could heal, love you again like he once did — without the hate lacing the word and making it easy for him to give to you.

And now, Wooyoung is telling you not to, in the nicest way possible. Parsing through the language, the meaning behind it ringing loud and clear to you: for you, he will never recover. The damage you have caused him is irreversible, as far as your relationship to him. He is traumatized by you, and your presence in his life will halt his healing.

Don't wait, he will never come around.

You don't give a response, eyes pulling away from the man and instead looking up to the ceiling, the tears too strong to fight now, and it's just as quickly that Wooyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you tightly against him in a hug.

You break down into the contact, chest heaving and pained as you sob into his sweater.

Hours later and boxes packed a few minutes before four in the afternoon, Wooyoung comes back inside the apartment after having carried the last to his car to take to your own place. Looking around slowly at your surroundings — the apartment feeling so large and empty despite the fact that you didn't have so many things there to begin with and it still full of all of Hongjoong's things, you sigh — sad, and heavy — Wooyoung slipping his fingers in between your own on one hand as if to offer you more comfort. The two of you meet eyes, and he smiles ever so gently at you.

You wonder if this is the last time you will ever see the man again, and how painful of a loss that is, as well.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, boldly. “Like, not as my friend, or his friend, or even as a therapist just...I don't know, as a person.”

He laughs at the question, snorting through his nose as he nods. “Sure, I'll try.”

“What would you do, if you were me?”

Wooyoung squeezes your hand ever so slightly before pulling from you entirely, and you think in the moment that you've gone too far — pressed your relationship with the man too much and out of his comfort zone with the man that you love to extend you any more kindness, but instead, he shuffles a hand through messy, blonde hair and chuckles again.

“Don't know,” he starts, shaking his head slightly. “Suppose it is the only way to leave, though, isn't it?”

You know he's referring to the way that Hongjoong has — abruptly, suddenly, painfully.

“Suppose you still love them?” you answer back, quiet and almost a whisper as you gaze up at him through somewhat expectant eyes. You know that Wooyoung won't simply say things to make it easier on you, especially not after having just told you not to wait for the man that you want nothing more than to wait for, but still...you can only hope.

And he takes silence for far too long for your liking as he mulls over the question in his mind — perhaps not a scenario in which Wooyoung has ever had to experience himself, and you're happy for the fact, be it on either end of the situation. A man that deals more in quick thrills and fun rather than attempting to dabble in the sides of love, much less forever.

Eyes meeting yours again, he bumps his own shoulder into yours — a sort of playfulness that has no business being in the conversation, in the situation at all, but given the man that you're dealing with, you're unsurprised.

“Suppose you still love them,” he repeats again and to himself, before answering with finality.

“Then you don't leave.”

After dropping you back to your own place of residence and helping you bring your belongings back inside, Wooyoung bids you a pleasant farewell. You're thankful for Hongjoong's kindness — be it out of his love for you or guilt for what he's done to you, now well past five you realize that beyond the pancakes that Wooyoung had brought you much earlier in the morning, you had not eaten.

Not up for cooking, and barely up for eating at all, anyways, you decide on a small café only recently opened up down the block from you. It's nothing special, and no reviews to show for itself given its newness — but with less than an ample appetite, no reason not to give them a chance.

How hard could it be to make a BLT and a coffee, anyways?

Stepping inside with the ringing of a bell on the top of the door, you're actually pleasantly surprised to find other people already seated inside and from what you can tell, happily enjoying their items at their tables. You step forward and towards the counter, out of the way in case someone else were to come through with their mind already made up as you gaze upon the menu — taking in the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread items that line up the back wall on the other side of the register side.

Coming from the back room, a woman greets you happily. “Hello! Welcome to Mountain Breeze Café! Take your time.”

You thank her, turning your attention back up and towards the menu before feeling the presence of another person slinking up and next to you. Assumed to be another patron waiting, you turn to look at him as he, too, looks upon the menu.

“I'm not ready, you can go ahead of me.”

He turns his head to meet your eyes, an ever so slight grin forming on his lips that take form at the ends as dimples — you're a little taken aback by his striking features — sharp and cat-like, with medium-long black hair and a carefully placed slit cut out of his eyebrow.

Honestly, he looks sort of terrifying, but the childish smile dulling his otherwise serious face.

“May I recommend something?” he says, eyes widening and bright. You're now completely taken by the way he softens in an instant. What an intriguing, somewhat bizarre, man.

“Sure...” you reluctantly allow, supposing you're thankful for it given the fact that you've never been before, but all the same alarmed by the outward friendliness of the strange man in the new café.

“I think the melted ham and cheese is best,” he says with a nod. “As for drinks, you can get anything really, they're all good. I like smoothies, though.”

“It's cold outside,” you say to the smoothie comment.

“Goes well with hot food!”

“You're a little weird, huh?” you finally say to him, but he only laughs at the statement as you nod towards the woman waiting to receive your order that you will, in fact, be allowing him to hijack your dining experience.

“Not weird,” he amends, nodding gently and with a slow blink, really almost cat-like even in mannerisms. “It's my café, I own the place.”

Startled at the admission, you stumble over your words a bit, attempting to recall the entirety of a conversation in passing that meant almost nothing to you and hoping that you hadn't said anything rude, or hurtful — you know, just in case the food is good.

“God, I'm sorry,” you start, exhaling heavily. “It's been...a long twenty-four hours. I've had better days.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he says, and he sounds empathetic, although you can't tell if he's simply putting on a show because it's what he should do in the moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your immediate response is to chuckle at the thought, having just spent all afternoon talking about it with Wooyoung, but it's past that that the fact that you don't even know this man dawns on you. How you feel so comfortable with him already that this wasn't the first thought that comes to mind, you may never know.

“With all due respect,” you laugh, turning towards a small, empty table and sitting down at one of the two chairs perched just beside it. “I don't know you, why would I?”

Standing before you, the man looks as though he's thinking for a moment, before the logic of the situation dawns on him in real time. You can't help but feel a sort of child-like innocence from him, as if simple, everyday, real world concepts are still something he's attempting to grapple with each passing moment — as if he's not twenty-however old and a business owner.

“True, in that case—“ he responds, pulling the other chair out and seating himself down into it before finishing the thought.

“—I'm Choi San, and now you do.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

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[chaostudee]

movies, rafe cameron

pairing : female reader x rafe cameron summary : "cus baby this ain't like the movies". warnings : angst? pining? miscommunucation? words : 3.1k a/n ; i haven't posted in like a year and ik this is so shit but ye idk.

it was never as simple as just loving. you wished it could've been but with rafe nothing was certain. at the start that was what you liked about him but when he failed to show up time after time you began to question. question whether he deserved you.

a week later you found him in bed with one of your best friends. that hurt like hell but truthfully you weren't that shocked. you knew he was hiding something. you just chose not to acknowlege it. maybe that was a mistake.

the look on rafe's face was something that you were never forget. it was mixed with hurt and guilt. in that moment you had wondered had he ever loved you? had you ever loved him?

at times you were certain of that answer but how can you love someone who put through you through that much hurt?

rafe wasnt a good boyfriend. he was always late, sloppy. he ignored you when he was with his friends. he would brush off your touch. hell he sometimes could barely look at you.

okay maybe you hadn't been a saint throughout the relationship but you made more of an effort than him anyway.

now 1 year later you watch as his arms holds firmly around her waist. he smiles as she talks. he kisses her head. he whispers in her ear.

you can't help but scoff at the display. so much for hating pda. sarah rejoins you and sighs when she spots who your view is focused on.

"her name is victoria" sarah says as she takes a sip of her beer before continuing "they've been going out for about 6 months....".

you blow out air and slowly nod. it wasn't like you didn't expect this but six months?!?! like damn who hurt him?.

"you got to talk to him".

you scoff at sarah.

"what would i even say?". you fold your arms across your chest. you knew damn well that there was plenty you had to say to him.

"everything you need to say" she pauses "he hasn't been the same since you guys you know...-".

"don't give me that bullshit sarah". picking up your drink from the nearby dresser you take a sip.

"if he really cared he would've....he would've been there but he wasn't, and i am so sick qnd tired of you being on his side. i did nithing wrong."

sarah begins to speak but you don't wait to hear. you grab your beer and walk off. you need to get out of here. anywhere but here. as you manoeuvre your way through the crowd you miss your footing placement but before you meet with the ground a pair of arms hold you up.

"hey". you recognized that voice all too well. you pull away from his grasp and look upwards to see an awkward smile on his face.

"hey" you reply, as you fidget awkwardly with the sleeve of your dress. you hadn't seen or spoken to him in over a year and although there was plenty you wanted to say nothing came to mind.

he looked mostly the same except that he had grown out his hair a bit. that had been your suggestion. an ache in your stomach creeps in when you remember.

"you grew out your hair" you state.

he chuckles and lowers his head down before meeting your eyes. "yeah, yeah i did...."

he pauses for a moment and then his gaze hardens. he stuffs his hands in his jean pockets. "i'm sorry y/n, i-".

you stop him before he can continue. "im sorry too but we were done a long time ago, i've moved and you have clearly moved on aswell". you gesture towards victoria who waves a hand at rafe. rafe looks back at you. like really looks at you.

the same look that he gave you that faithful night. a look of hurt and guilt. and like that night you wanted nothing more than to strangle him but deep down you knew you could never really be fully mad at him.

:::

it had been a week since your awkward encounter with rafe and the conversation still lingered in the back of your mind.

every so often you couldn't help but admit that he looked just as handsome as ever.

"i know that look" sarah says as she rests her chin on her hand on the bed. you two had made up quickly as you usually did. fights were short lived with you two.

"what do you mean?" you ask as you throw another dress on the bed. the camerons were holding some fancy ass party tonight and sarah had given you the task of picking out your outfits.

"you know damn well, i know that you haven't stopped thinking about him since the party".

you chuckle and begin to fathom an excuse but sarah raises her eyebrows so instead you just nod and shake your head.

you turn away from her and begin flipping through the rack of ball gowns.

"you know he broke up with victoria"

this causes you to stop your fingers abrubtly.

"what?"

sarah smirks. "ye i know and i mean he wasn't even upset...."

"really...?" you ask and you can't even smother the smirk on your face. "why.....?".

sarah laughs. "i didn't think you were that stupid y/n".

your heart races at her words. could you really be the reason why rafe broke it off with victoria.

:::

you had chosen to wear an emerald green dress from sarah's wardrobe along with matching heels.

you nervously checked your watch as you waited for your parents at the front of the house. your father helped your mother out of the car and behind them came your brother and his girlfriend.

you were beyond nervous at this point. you began to fix your hair once again as your heart raced at the thought of seeing him.

your brother pressed the doorbell and beside you, you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder. your mother understood and you smiled at her in gratitude.

the door opened swiftly after the bell rang out. ward cameron welcomed everyone with a smile and an embrace. you were last to be welcomed and after standing there awakwardly ward smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

after ward closed the door behind you and you watched as your mother was catching up with rose. you spotted sarah beside wheezie but you were looking for somebody familiar.

"rafe" called ward. the sound of his name made you anxious. moments later he walked in. once you saw him you swear your breath caught in your throat.

he wore a navy suit, no tie and his hair was all messy. god he had never looked better. he began to walk over but his footsteps slowed when he saw you.

of course he knew you were coming tonight but he hadn't expected you to be this beautiful. your dress was hugging your curves in just the right places and your hair was pulled back, which you rarely had it, so rafe could see your features. and god those dimples would be the death of him.

"so um....ill leave you two to talk" says ward as he walks off to join his wife in discussion with your parents.

"you look-"

"i like-"

you both laugh as you interrupt eachothers sentences. his smile brought butterflies to your stomach. you had missed that smile.

"you first" you prompt.

he nods and looks you up and down. you can't help but blush. you missed when he looked at you like that. you missed a lot about him.

"you look incredible" he says truthfully. you smile at him. "you don't look too bad yourself cameron".

he smiles. you smile. he looks at you. you look back.

"do you want to talk outside?". the words come out of your mouth before you register what you are saying.

he looks surprised but then nods.

:::

your legs dangle in the water at the edge of the pool. rafe hands you a beer as he sits down beside you.

"i dont even know why i asked you to come out here" you chuckle before taking a swig of your beer.

"yes you do".

you turn to look at him. "yes you do" he repeats.

his eyes falter down to your lips then back up to your eyeline. if it wasn't for your inner conscience you would've kissed him.

instead you stood up quickly and shook your head at him.

"no no no no" you mumble, shaking your head as you speak.

rafe stands up and raises his hand as he nears you.

"no rafe you can't do that".

"do what?"

you scoff. "act like you can just kiss me and everything will be okay, it doesn't work like that".

"hell you cheated on me with my bestfriend and what now you want me back?".

there was silence then but the voices from inside the house. rafe was looking shamefully at his feet.

he couldn't even own up to his actions.

"fuck this". you pick up your heels and make a run for it. part of you was hoping he would chase you or call out your name but he didn't. he had wanted to but what would he even say?

there was no apology big enough for what he had done to you. perhaps you were better off without him.

:::

alone with a glass of wine was not how you had expected the evening to end. well you were with sarah earlier but she had disappeared a few minutes ago.

you hear someone call your name so you turn around. your heart sinks when you realize it is not him but your mother beckoning you to leave.

setting down your glass you take a look around just incase but no one. you sigh and head over to your mother and take her arm. she rubs your arm soothingly as you make your way over to the car.

as you open the door of the car you hear a shout.

"y/n wait!".

you hesitate before getting into the vehicle. there he was his hair disheleved and a distraught look on his face.

part of you wanted to get into the car and drive off but you know all too well what you were going to do.

"what do you want?" you ask bluntly. you decided you couldn't give him the satisfaction that you wanted him.

"you y/n". "i want you". he says as he moves closer so that there are but inches between you.

"you shoudl"ve thought about that before cheating on me" you reply shoving him back.

he grunts softly and runs a hand through his hair."fuck i know it was wrong i know i know. you dont know how sorry i am for doing it. im going to regret it for the rest of my life if it means i cant have you."

"please y/n. please." he looks down at you his eyes kept firmly on your lips. you licked your lips but refused to close the gap between you.

"fuck y/n what else can i do?". he places his hands on your waist, you glare at him but don't say anything. he slowly sinks to his knees, his head resting at your feet.

"god your so beautiful, i dont know how i can live knowing that you'll never be mine again please-"

you pull him up practically yanking him up from the ground. "if you say please one more time i swear to god ill fucking kill you".

he smirks at you. "what?" you say angrily.

"that was hot".

your cheeks go red and this time you don't even hesitate or think. you pull him closer placing your hand on his cheek. his lips meet yours and everything else melts away. its like your first kiss all over again. the spark is still there and the butterflies you had the night.

you can hear someone cheering who can only be your mother. you can't help but smile through the kiss.

nothing was decided yet but it didn't matter. at this moment in time rafe cameron was yours and only yours. his lips were on yours. his heart was yours.

and that was all that counted.

[tonberry-yoda]

Once Upon A Dream - Julian Devorak

Pairing - Julian Devorak x reader (a dress is mentioned to be on reader, but clothes dont mean nothin frfr)

Warnings - Julian getting drunk lmaoooo but nothing other than that lol

Word Count - ~1,270

Notes - this is old... LIKE REALLY FLIPPIN OLD like SO OLD OMG. it was rotting in google docs and I found it and I actually love it. I kinda miss my old writing style ngl... that's okay tho lol, I still love my writing now dont get me wrong, but this was in a time where i had a ton of free time, so i could write all day if i wanted to. anyway, enjoy!!! <333 (i did edit it a bit tho lmao)

You were never around the palace often, considering the people there didn't like you much. You were poor. You worked in the marketplace.

But occasionally, You would find yourself in the garden on a gloomy and foggy day playing with the frost covered, half dead flowers with a smile on your face even though your feet were covered in mud and there was no saving the brim of that dress that had dirt and grass stains collected from the past couple of years.

You smiled as you ran your hand over the ice covered fountain humming to yourself, Once Upon a Dream. The tune has been stuck in your head all morning.

As you was getting through the chorus, watching a bird eat the seeds you threw, you felt something warm next to you and another voice joined in. “But if I know you, I know what you’ll do…”

You turned over, shocked and a man laughed. “My apologies. I love that song. Been stuck in my head all morning, I just had to get it out. I thought it was a nice opportunity.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Are you… Doctor Devorak?”

“Ugh, formalities. Call me Julian, dear. Or Doctor Julian. Formalities.” He shook his head as he repeated that word.

“What are you doing out here, doctor?”

He smiled, looking at the crisp grass. “Nothing like a morning walk, don't you think? Sometimes one man can get sick of the plague.”

“I would imagine,” you pulled you cold legs towards your chest, sitting down. “Are you getting close to a cure?”

He shrugged, looking off before sighing, putting his head in his hands. “God, I just feel like I'm a failure.”

“A failure? No! You’ve helped a lot of people!”

“There’s only so much I can do before there’s hoards of people! More and more people get infected every day. More people are dying and I can only heal so many at a time.”

“Doctor, you’re doing fi-”

“That’s what you see on the surface! Do you see this?!” He threw off his eyepatch revealing the plague.

You gasped and backed up.

“It's not contagious, love… I apologize… I just let out everything on a stranger, huh?” He sighed, laughing sadly to himself and sat back down, putting the eyepatch back on. “I'm fine. The plague doesn't affect me or anyone around me.”

You sighed, sitting next to him. “I'm sorry about that. You’re doing the best you can do right now though and that’s enough for the town for now.”

“I'm trying.”

You grabbed his warm, gloved hand and rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “You are. And that’s good enough. At least you’re putting in effort.”

He laughed and looked directly into your eyes. “I just realized that I never learned your name, dear.”

---

“Can I get another salty bitters over here?”

The bartender leaned over the table, laughing. “Another one?! Dr. Devorak, you’re going to die off of those things!”

“The great Dr. Devorak doesn't die over alcohol!” He hiccuped and stood up on his table. “I am the great Dr. No. 069! Got it, barkeep?!”

The whole bar burst out into laughter, including Julian who slipped off of his table.

All of a sudden, the whole bar got quiet when a small silhouette walked in and over to the bar. “Excuse me… can I get a salty bitters please?”

The bartender looked at you with a very skeptical eye, laughing along with the rest of the bar. “The little one… wants a salty bitters?!”

“Yes please.”

“Where did you come from?”

“None of your business. Can I have my drink please?”

He laughed so hard that he fell over along with the rest of the bar and you stood there, rolling your eyes.

Julian scattered up and ran next to you. “A salty bitters, you say?”

You smiled, turning to Julian. “Yes, a salty bitters. Does everyone and their mother have a problem with that?”

He laughed, banging his hand on the counter. “You heard the lady, barkeep! Get her a salty bitters!”

You were standing so close to him that you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

The bartender got up and handed you your alcohol. “There ya go little one! A salty bitters… in a teacup!”

The whole bar broke out into insane laughter as you took your drink.

It all stopped when you slammed it down though.

“I'll take one more and be on my way, thanks.” You threw the money on the counter and the bar went back to normal.

“Did you used to be a pirate or sumthin?” The bartender slid over your drink, flashing you a toothy smile.

“I did.”

“Cute. Enjoy the drink, okay?” He winked and you smiled and walked away, rolling your eyes.

Julian ran after you and grabbed your shoulder. “You look familiar… Do I know you?”

You studied his face for a minute, only a flash of a memory appearing for a second. “I… I don't know.”

His hand slid down your shoulder, falling limply. “Okay… sorry.”

You grabbed his fallen hand, looking into his shaky eyes. “It's okay.” You smiled, sending a shockwave of familiarity through his body that made him shake.

“I'll… see you around?”

You turned over, the smile only turning brighter. “Yeah.”

---

He stared at his plague doctor mask, looking off to the sea with a sad look striking his eyes. “Who needs a plague doctor if there’s no plague? …”

He threw his mask into the ocean and a small tear fell down his cheek. He let himself cry with his face in the palms of his hands, calling himself things like a failure and a murderer. He didn't want to be seen as these things, but he figured they were true based on the words of the people. The people he tried to save, only to let down.

“Dr. Devorak?” He turned over, seeing you, who he met at the bar. You, whose shop he broke into. You, who patted him down and he subtly flirted with.

“D-Dear!” He realized that when he looked at you, his face was red, puffy, and tear stained. “S-Sorry.”

She sat next to him, looking out at the sea. “Sorry for what?”

“N-Nothing. Nevermind.”

You sat in silence for a moment as you scooted closer to him, your hands almost touching.

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Did you actually kill Lucio?” He looked over to you with shock in his eyes that turned soft almost immediately. “I don't remember.”

You hummed in response, scooting closer. “I hope this doesn't sound weird… but Julian… it feels like we’ve known each other for years.”

He laughed, moving his hand to his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “You’re telling me!”

You smiled and stood up, stretching your hand out. “Julian, let's go get some dinner.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he stood up, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Yes please.”

---

Julian, I love you. I didn't tell you… but I have the red plague. I don't know when you’ll read this, but please know that even in death, I will be with you forever. I promise that we’ll see each other again. Even if it takes an eternity. To be honest with you… I love you. I always have. You’ve had nothing but respect for me and I hope that I showed you the same. Good luck. You’ll always be the best doctor in my eyes. I believe in you. Even in my last days I look at you with dreamy eyes. I love you, Dr. Devorak.

XOXO

the arcana masterlist

@tonberry-yoda

[matthewmurdockswife]

Nick comforting you after a tough exam grade 💙🩵 (pls, I need this)

Just if you want, btw, love your blog, and work, and everything in general!! 💖

THE WAY IT ALL GOES

Nick Sturniolo x Reader Platonic

Tw: swearing, negative self talk kinda

It had been hard, You work with the triplets helping edit and when you joined university they offered to take over for a while. But you convinced them you could handle it, you had convinced yourself too. You were managing at first you had a schedule you would edit from 4-6 and then do homework or study whatever you had to do. But the work started piling up when youd finish editing there was no time to study and when you studied there was no time to edit and the threads were running thin.

“Shes been moping all day chris I know something is wrong” Nick complained to his brother “ Shes probably tired Nick just let her be”

Nick always knew you better than anyone else had he always picked up on minuscule mood changes really all the small details and its part of why you appreciated him so much so him ignoring chris advice and coming to check on you anyways wasnt a big suprise to anyone.

“Heyyy kiddo” he opened the door holding a bunch of your favourite candies and a pepsi “whats wrong” you went to open your mouth but nick cut you off “Dont lie to me I know there’s something”you sighed and unzipped your bag and pulled out The test the one you failed the one you couldnt do good enough on because you were busy. Nick sighed he set the test down and held my shoulder “I know you said you can do both and I believe you, But maybe we should focus on one, school is a lot and its going to take extra effort and time that you wont have if you’re working kid” “I dont want to freeload” he only laughed “freeload? You paid for half of this house im not sure how you’d think you’re freeloading. Y/N you do above and beyond for the three of us. You were the only one who looked after chris while he was sick. And then matt when chris gave it to him, you buy all the groceries and you always buy our favourite things even when we dont ask for them, You look out for us you take care of us and you’re always there to talk to when we need someone. You’re one of the greatest people we’ve ever met so no you’re not freeloading when you slow down to focus on school” Nick was always great at comforting he always made me feel safe and loved “ But nick i dont feel complete look at that grade” he didn’t even need to look at the paper he took my face in his hands “I dont care what any piece of paper says, No grade will define you. I love you girl and Some stupid ass little quiz wont change that” i smile softly at Nick “ I love you too” “so you promise to slow down?” He always made me laugh even if it wasn’t something particularly funny nick always found a way to make people laugh “I promise” “Good now lets go terrorize matt to take us to macdonalds”

My next grade I got back was a 96% the boys took me out to get mcflurries. I always knew that they all had my back but Nick always looked put for me in a special way, and I would forever remember the love he gave me.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// A/N

yall im tired its like 6 Am and i wanna sleep so i did not edit this im sorry pookies 🫵😔

taglist

@dwntwn-strnlo

@fenoy7

@stvrni0lo

[eternally-smitten]

Selfshiptember: Napping Together

pairing: Ignacio x Natalie

summary: Ignacio finds a tired and stressed Natalie after she returned home from work

word count: 897

author's note: ignore that I'm a bit late to this cute event 😭 college takes up most of my time nowadays!

Finally. 

After a long, tiring, grueling day full of stressors, Natalie was finally home. She was desperately looking forward to being able to relax and calm down, but it felt like everything was still going wrong. While walking up the steps to her apartment, she tripped and hit her knee against one of the steps. Then, while trying to unlock her door, she kept fumbling with the keys and dropped them enough times to make her irritated. And finally, to top it off, her important paperwork slipped out of her hands and scattered all over the floor as soon as she walked inside. 

With a heavy sigh, Natalie dropped to her knees, careful not to put pressure on the one she hurt, and picked up the papers. She tried her best to keep them as organized as possible but her efforts were in vain. 

"Is that you, mi amor?" Ignacio's soft voice called out from the bedroom before he appeared in the hallway.

"Yeah, it's me," She responded tiredly, still cleaning up the mess she accidentally made. 

He walked out to greet her but noticed her dejected demeanor. She didn't have to say anything for him to know that something was up, "Would you like me to help?"

Natalie shook her head, "No, I got it. I'll just…organize them tomorrow, maybe. If I'm feeling up to it."

"Hmm," Ignacio crouched down to assist her anyway, sensing that she needed help and a little comfort right now. 

They silently cleaned up together until every last paper was collected and haphazardly placed in a manila folder. 

"Thank you," She gave him a weak smile, "I appreciate it a ton."

He nodded, "So, not a great day?"

All she could do was sigh in response. 

"That bad, huh?" He frowned a little at seeing her so crestfallen. 

"It was just…a lot." She confessed, "Too many things going on at once and all of them are very urgent and so stressful. It's too much for one person and one day."

He pulled her into a hug and softly pressed his lips against her forehead. Natalie just about melted into him and nestled her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while in the middle of her walkway with Ignacio gently swaying the both of them back and forth and they held onto each other. 

He pulled away only a little just to cup her face in his hands and rub his thumb against her cheek, "Take tomorrow off."

"What?" She blinked a few times in disbelief, "No, I can't."

"Sure you can. I will too." He smirked, "It's easy, you just call them and say you're sick."

She shook her head, "I have too much to do, Nacho."

"It'll be there for you later, right?" He gestured to their lazy attempt at organizing a pile of papers on the counter, "A day off would be nice to let you get all of that done."

"I'll get new work." Natalie's lips were drawn into a thin line, "I always do."

Ignacio brushed some hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, "Come on, mi vida, you work so hard. Can't you spend one day with me, hmm?"

"But-"

"Shush," He interrupted her train of thought with a light kiss, "If you take tomorrow off, we can finally do one of those little fall dates you've been gushing about."

Her eyes lit up as soon as he said that, "Really? You mean that?"

He smiled down at her, "Of course I do. I'll drive you wherever you want to go. Just say the word."

"...Fine." She chuckled before yawning. 

"That's what I like to hear." Ignacio let go of her and instead grabbed her hand, "But, before we start planning anything, you should rest."

She nodded in agreement, "I am pretty beat."

"Let's get you out of those clothes and get you comfortable." He pulled her to their bedroom and swiftly unmade the bed.

 Natalie was relieved to finally remove the stiff work appropriate outfit she was wearing and find something more comfortable to slip into. Ignacio followed her lead by taking off his shirt and only finding a pair of pajama pants to relax in. He crawled into their bed and beckoned her to come join him. It didn't take much else to convince her. She slinked into their bed and rested her head against his chest. 

"There you go, cariño," His voice was a hushed whisper that was barely audible. He tangled his fingers in her short hair and combed through it as he watched her struggle to keep her eyes open. 

The sound of his heart beating and his quiet breathing made all of her previous troubles fade away in an instant. She finally felt calm again after the terrible day she had. Her arms wrapped around his torso as she cuddled herself closer to him, slowly falling asleep. 

Ignacio smiled to himself before leaning into his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He thought about what Natalie might want to do with him on her fake sick day off before drifting off himself. One of his hands rubbed lazy circles between her shoulder blades and that repetitive motion relaxed both of them. Eventually, both fell soundly asleep while cradled in each other's arms, the worries that once plagued Natalie being quickly forgotten. 

Tag list: @rainy-day-ships @bobmckenzie @wanderers-wife @cherrypieships @gideongrovel @nonesenseships @hollandmarchsdork @williameaston lmk if you want to be added or removed! ♡

[timeoverload]

Today went ok. I didn't feel quite as sick as I did yesterday so it made it easier to get through the day. I was super anxious this morning but it wasn't as bad after I took my lunch break.

I got really irritated with the morning team lead. I've worked with her for a long time and I was there before she even started. She acts like she owns the place and is more important than everyone else, which isn't true. She always has to be right about everything. Technically she and I both have leadership positions so she isn't above me but she acts like she is. She has always been a bully, usually for no good reason. She and another group of girls used to gang up on me years ago and I've never quite gotten over it. I'm generally nice to her most of the time unless she crosses a line. Sometimes it seems like we're sort of friends now but I know I can't trust her. I think she just pretends to be nice a lot of the time. I asked her if she cared if I went to take my lunch break. She said she needed to run downstairs and then I could go but then she changed her mind super fast for some reason. I had no problem waiting for her to come back. She suddenly snapped and told me to "just go to lunch" in a very angry tone. Some other people noticed and later told me that they didn't think I did anything wrong. It was confusing because I didn't feel like I did anything to warrant that kind of response from her. I am always very polite when I ask her things even when she isn't that way towards me. I try to help her a lot. I got back from lunch and she wouldn't speak to me and I still couldn't figure out why. She can be very hostile. I wonder is she's jealous of me or something. I'm not sure why she would be but I can't think of any other reason that she would be so mean and bitter towards me. It's almost like she enjoys seeing me miserable and bossing me around. Sometimes I can't sit down for 2 minutes without her barking orders at me so I have to be out of her sight in order to do that. Sometimes it feels like she is trying to get me to quit even though I've told her I probably won't be there much longer due to my health issues anyway. She knows I've been having a hard time but she doesn't care about anyone but herself. She's not very empathetic towards anyone. She knows I don't have any other options right now either. I really don't want to be around her tomorrow if she's going to be like that so I will try to just stay in my corner when I get there in the morning. I shouldn't have to put up with that shit at work. Sometimes it feels like I'm back in high school again. I'm going to try not to worry about it anymore tonight because there's nothing I can do about it.

I did get invited to go fishing in a few weeks with some people from work so that was surprising. I'm excited about that. My mom and I used to go fishing together when I was a kid but I haven't gone since then. I'm not sure if I remember how but it should be fun anyway. I'm looking forward to getting some sun.

I'm proud of myself because I went the whole day without having a soda and I made a conscious effort to drink as much water as possible. I was really sleepy and got kind of grumpy but I survived. I also made myself eat a lot. It's a weird feeling to have a belly again because I was just bones for such a long time. I probably don't look that different to most people but I can tell a difference and I feel like I look a lot better. I'm hoping my skin will clear up more once my liver function improves. I just need to continue to make better choices and I think I will be ok.

I took a shower and I'm all ready for bed now. It was a long day so I'm not sure how much longer I will be able to stay awake. I also took my medicine so I'm having a tough time focusing. Tomorrow is going to be another busy day so I hope I can get some decent sleep tonight.

[ronearoundblindly]

hey, i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you & hoping that you get through these times quickly and with as little pain as possible. i hope the future brings you all the happiness ❤️ (and this goes without saying, you’re a brilliant writer)

tldr; I failed, but I am not a failure. I'm a gd saint, mfer.

It's a bit like being completely numb and paralyzed on a train about to wreck in a hurricane. Like it is all an incredibly shit situation that I have zero control over. I hate every second of this. I hate that I saw it coming, but I didn't because I thought working hard enough would fix it. Now I've wasted a fuckton of hard work that wasn't worth it and I kinda wanna burn everything down? Idk, my friend has talked me out of nuking everything multiple times.

I know I keep going on rants about it, but I kept this shit to myself for so, so long. I internalized every single thing 'wrong' with our relationship as my fault and he knew that and said nothing. I've had 'but I beat myself up about how I'm disappointing you' thrown in my face for six years as a way to fob off never saying a goddamn thing about what effort he was/is willing to put in.

I'm fucking exhausted, and three weeks ago I wanted this shitstorm to work out. I give up now. It's not worth the effort. I'm not at all loved or respected or even fucking listened to, but I stand to lose far more AND be called the bad guy.

On the writing note, bless you. Everything under the sun makes me feel like shit these days except writing. I'm clinging so hard to Steve Rogers right now that it is sick, it is not healthy, and I do not fucking care. I'm writing the wedding and honeymoon I should have had--the one that I deserved and earned, the one you all deserve, in fact-- so FUCK IT.

I'm a good person. I cared. I tried. I put up with so much even when I was made to feel like such a deficient piece of shit who could not get the one man on earth that is supposed to love her to give me so much as a hug during the pandemic.

Yes. This is just a bunch of dirty laundry, but since all the laundry was my responsibility while I owned and ran a business and he bounced from job to job, I'm airing that shit out. I don't even hate him. I hate what he's done to me. I hate what I've become. I hate the time--so much fucking time--wasted.

I'm sorry, you poor anon. You did not deserve this much shit laid at your door.

...but I went and did it anyway.

Here, have some happy trees in recompense!

[rochellek1994]

TEN YEAR MODERATING ANNIVERSARY ON TWITCH

Ten years ago on this day, I started out moderating on a fairly popular Twitch channel as someone with no experience whatsoever or any clue about anything about the role on Twitch and it wasn't until I started working extremely hard with it that I truly realised how much that role really holds and to this day, I have such a burning passion for it and I am so proud of what I have accomplished, the paths I have paved for future aspiring mods coming into this role etc. Don't get me wrong, there were some rocky times during my journey where I wasn't perfect (I think some would know what I am referring to here from 2014 - 2015 but I learned from it and moved past it to be better than I was previously, something I am still proud of to this day) and even when I thought about hanging my boots around 2016 due to the effects (which I still have to this day) from one of the worst manipulative gaslighters I ever had in a team I was a mod in, I am still standing here today and yet there is no sign of the "gaslighting moderator" anywhere, so who really won in the end? Me, that's who.

Anyways, none of this would have even been possible if it wasn't for Muyskerm who modded me in the first place. You have no idea how much love and gratitude I have and will always have, thank you for everything.

Lastly, thank you to each and every streamer who gave me a chance, (I know I fucked up with a few in the past where I'm not a mod anymore, none of which I can take back now) do know that I am eternally humble and grateful for the opportunities you all gave me.

Special mentions:

LplateGamer, this amazing human being is one of the reasons I kept going strong and didn't give up after the mental and emotional abuse I recieved behind closed doors from that horrendous gaslighter I mentioned two paragraphs up. He is probably my most favourite channel to moderate for and sincerely Lplate, thank you for everything.

AndyDavo, despite only moderating his channel/community since 2020, it is always a joy and one of my favourite communities to serve and help each day I go to the streams. I am also proud of what the team has become ever since I took on the role.

Yamimash, I would never forget this man as he was the first person I ever followed on Twitch back in July 2013 and he was the reason I created my account that night. I was beyond stoked when you picked me to represent your community in 2015, it was an honor to have paved the way in your channel and set a structure of professionalism and seriousness that is seen to this day in your channel/community for the mods that are there to the present day and even to this day, it is such a joy to serve and protect the community.

Anyways, I do want to make something a little clear. I know that I say a lot about this role being a professional role and a role that should be respected and taken seriously but I do want you guys to know that it is okay if you are not experienced when you first start out (as I stated in my first paragraph, I had no clue of what to do, especially when Muyskerm modded me out of the blue like that), all I would ask is that if you are thinking about becoming a mod for various channels/communities is that you respect the entirety of the role and everything surrounding it (this especially includes the experienced/veteran mods you may come across), pay your dues, put the effort in and work extremely hard.

To end this here, I am unfortunately sick with a nasty sore throat/cold so I will be celebrating by drinking a lemsip. Once again, thank you all. I won't be going anywhere and I will keep doing this for however long.

[oncetherenowhere]

And so we arrive to the laying in bed crying while hating myself portion of my day off.

I wish I didn't hate myself with such totality. I've gone through periods of my life where I've really tried to love myself the best I could. I just can't do it anymore. Its hard to love yourself when the world doesn't want you to exist. I don't have it in me to be rebellious anymore. I just hate this person...this body. I can't make friends anymore. I feel like I need to protect the world from myself. I'm too much of an annoyance, too much of a bother.

I'm so sick of going to work, and waiting for the weekend, and trying to relax, and just...doing it over and over again. The loneliness hurts. The alienation hurts. The fear of the outside world hurts. The lack of patience and understanding hurts.

How can I try to recover from my past if the overwhelming message from the world around me seems to say, "The people who hurt you were right. You are a mistake. You are a burden. You are worth less than everyone else."

I'm at the point where any act of kindness makes me frightened because it feels so completely wrong. Feeling good terrifies me. Going outside terrifies me.

I don't even want to go to work. I'm starting to hate my job. I want to lock myself up inside, and never come out again. I want to shut all my windows, and live in this bedroom. I want to live with my white noise machine, and my stuffed animals, and I want to rot. I think that's all I'm good for. I have nothing to contribute, there's not a useful bone in my body.

If I was a house-spouse, I could at least put all my effort into making H happy. Then, I'd have one person I'd be useful to. I don't even make enough money to be useful, anyways.

I know H loves me. I think if he read this, he would cry. I think it would make him feel sad to read about how much pain I feel on a daily basis. I'm so tired of making him sad. He deserves to be happy. He deserves someone stable, and well adjusted. I've done a lot of work on myself to be a decent partner, at least.

Some awful part of me wishes I could delete most of myself, and live as a robot. I think I would thrive as a ChatGPT program or something.

I hate how selfish I am. I have one person who loves me very much. I should be grateful- I am grateful, I swear. I'm so grateful for H. I've loved him for so long, and the one glorious thing in my life is that he loves me back.

When I married him, I made a promise to be his life companion. I can't give up and be nothing. I've got to keep trying. I'm just so sick of trying. I'm sick of crying until I throw up. I'm sick of the bad sensory feelings, and the meltdowns, and the disdain of strangers. I'm sick of being bullied. I'm sick of driving people away.

I know my mom loves me, too. She used to hurt me so badly. She used to be so mean to me. The thing is, she knows that. She's tried to make it up to me. She's apologized, and still gets haunted by how cruel she used to be. I hate torturing her with her worst moments. I'm just grateful that she thinks she messed up, and wants to love me anyways. I wish my mom was here right now. I wish she wasn't so far away. I could really use a hug. I really need a hug.

So, okay, okay. I have two people who love me. That's a lot. I really am grateful. Mom is states away, and H is working...and I can't go to H every time I feel like this. I just can't. He deals with so much already. I don't want to tire him out. It isn't fair to dump everything on your spouse.

When I was a kid, I was really good at imagining myself being comforted. I'd imagine my favorite characters comforting me, I'd use it as fuel to write stories. I can't even do that anymore. Sometimes it feels like that part of my brain is gone, and it makes me angry. It used to be legitimately helpful. I just can't seem to believe in anything anymore. I can't even have a fantasy where someone is sweet to me. What a joke.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update April 12, 2024

This week was awful. I’ve been bogged down with homework, surgery sickness briefly returned, my congenial illness was flaring up the worst I’ve seen in since my 2022 surgery, and to top it all off I still have 3 lab reports and a paper and presentation to do this weekend. It’s fine but it does mean I am a bit limited with my art stuff. I’m still doing what I can though.

Comic progress: page 1 is completely done, page 2 needs some backgrounds and lettering and it’s good to go. I probably could do those tonight and maybe if my mood improves I will but for now I’m taking it slowly. The third page will probably also be pretty quick, as from what I remember it didn’t have a lot of panels. Progress is going as fast as I can handle with my situation. I’d like to think it’ll pick up once I graduate but I’m anticipating I’ll need a break. When I graduated high school I slept for 25 hours straight (unless my clocks were wrong or I misinterpreted, which is possible), I anticipate doing the same again for Uni. After that I’m hoping I’ll pick up the pace.

Animation: my limited time has put the animation in a weird spot because I don’t have enough time to draw storyboards, but I have had time in waiting rooms and waiting for things to cook in lab, and I’ve been writing out a plan for what shots I want where and when, so I’m still making progress. I just need there to be a span of time where I have the free time and my body is in a state where I can draw well enough for the storyboards. Admittedly I’m really bad at storyboards and everything gets cleaned up with animation after, but I haven’t decided yet if there’s enough shots with the type of movement to justify making a puppet rig. I anticipate one for a profile view but am unsure if it needs to be a complete rig or if I’ll need the other angles. Again I’m not as worried about it right now, since that’ll be dictated by the storyboards.

Other songs: In addition to the cover I’m sitting on right now I’m also close to done with another, plus almost done with that instrumental medley. Also got more lyric work done for the two originals I’ve been sitting on. Last night I tried some piano to try to relax, and to practice melody writing. On a good night I can write a single melody line in 20 minutes, which I think is pretty good, and now I have a couple more I’m sitting on, which I’ll likely turn into OC themes, but only after everything else is finished. I’ll try to time myself on the rest of the music making process so I can be more consistent, but again I’m waiting on free time.

The other thing I did this week was writing. A bit of OC story writing, and a bit of TTRPG writing. I’m still a little stuck with the third chapter but I got through the worst of it, just need to come up with some thematic encounters and on to chapters 4 and 5. I’ve been back on a low level of epithet erased Brainrot since I’m finally trying to read Prison of Plastic, so I’m hoping I can channel that into writing, but it’s mostly been theorycrafting about the future of the OG series. The more I think about it the more sure I am that Sylvie is going to join Bliss Ocean and be a villain. Anyway I’m writing that campaign, good chance it’s a ways off yet but it’ll presumably be done during a time where I have more free time anyway, so I’ll just write it up proper then. Other writing thing I’d want to put more effort into would be a pitch comic for my secondary OC story since people really seem to be interested in those characters, but outlining the overall story will come naturally and from there I’ll find the most natural starting point. I’m not thinking too hard, I’m very bad at thinking.

Next week my objective is going to be to survive. My body is having a lot of problems and schoolwork is piling up (two events that are probably related but it’s fine that means they’ll go away around the same time) and anything else I can do will be comic, finish second cover song, and storyboards, in that order of priority, while lower effort projects will be storyboard planning, lyric writing, and story/TTRPG writing, in that order of priority. I’ll still try to have enough small drawings to post but looks like you guys are getting tired of those so I’ll try to space them out a bit better. Thank you for being so patient, I promise it’ll be three more weeks most of this slump before I pick up and really get working again!

[verdantmeadows]

Disordered eating and discussion of weight and discussion of self harm TW

I absolutely want to gain weight and everything, but eating is so hard for me. I can only eat a few bites before I feel nauseated. I don't ever have the spoons to cook. Unless something is currently a samefood or I'm craving it, I can't eat it without feeling like gagging. I have no idea what's wrong with me and why I can't eat like normal people do. If I'm not actively putting in effort to make food (which is incredibly exhausting) I start to lose weight. If I'm not tracking to make sure I eat enough every day I lose weight. If I'm not actively eating to GAIN weight, I lose weight.

Last year I managed to get up to a little above 100 pounds but I'm at ~97 pounds again. I do want to gain weight, but I'm having thoughts that, it's just easier for me to lose weight, so I should do that. It's easier for me to not eat, so why not go all the way and stop eating on purpose? I never have any energy, and not eating properly encourages that, but I don't know how to start eating as much as I should. It feels like not eating and losing weight would at least give me control of something in my life.

When I feel hungry, I feel no urge to eat. The only thing close to an urge is wanting to not be in pain or shaky or having palpitations from not eating, which generally I can tolerate, anyways.

I want to eat more and gain weight. I want to have more energy. But it feels like it's a losing battle. I always lose any weight I gain. I stop keeping up with eating enough, so I lose weight.

It just feels like there's no point. Why bother? Losing weight would make me feel in control of things at least a little. I'm not going to try to lose weight, nor am I going to restrict my eating. But I just don't know what to do anymore. I've been trying for years to get normal about eating and I just can't. I know the advice I need to follow, but I just can't. I wish I knew what was wrong with me. I don't want to feel sick when I eat. I don't want to lose weight. I don't want to have no energy. But I do.

[flippinwhippen]

She was my nightmare incarnate, a self-righteous shithead who didn’t care about my intentions, didn’t care about my feelings – only saw herself with her fucking victim complex. Every time I come close to forgiving her, even say that maybe I will, all I have to do is think. Because regardless of how forgiving I am, there are some things that even I cannot overlook.

Drew my characters in ways that upset me

Asked nonstop questions about world building details that didn’t matter to me, and often times only related to her own character she’d built to put in my world

Actively argued with me about my own world/character motivations – argued with me about my own creative works

Sulked when I wasn’t responding – didn’t ask me what was wrong privately, but instead ghosted me in an effort to punish me

Acted like I owed her something

Actively provoked me when I was unmedicated, even when my spouse said it would be a bad idea

Turned hostile quickly, tried to pin the entire situation on me – taking no blame for any of her actions.

Tried to diagnose me as a monster, tried to make me feel like a monster

Continued to post about my characters, even after we’d had are blow up. Posted about them in a way that all but indicated that they were hers, underlining even more that she never respected me as a content creator.

Continuously shit talked me online, tagging my username in posts repeatedly

Actively played a role in the destruction of my relationship, continues to play a role in the destruction of my relationship.

Nearly caused me to kill myself by throwing myself out a window

Did cause me to self-harm repeatedly, which is probably good cause every time my forgiving nature pops all I have to do is look down

Posted a fucking google file of shit directly onto my page – harassing my users to the point that I had to turn on moderated comments.

The funniest part of all of this, is she accuses me of being a narcissist. This bitch needs a fucking mirror.

I left her alone, I did, I was the bigger fucking person for months while she attacked me and attacked me – and I was told I had to be okay with it. Because she’s my partners best friend, because my partner has never had a friend like her.

Maybe she can keep her damn friend and leave me, maybe I’d prefer that.

Maybe I’m sick and tired of trying to not stir the shit pot because of how it might blow up. I hear excuse after excuse for her. Poor thing, she’s unmedicated, she doesn’t mean it, she’s just trying to understand herself. I’m not here for goddamn target practice, I’m not here to be her damn victim.

And I’m told that she’s allowed to vent her feelings on private blogs. No one even looks at her tumblr, why would you care that she’s saying horrible things and tagging you? But you, you can’t retaliate ever. You have to be nice even if she hurts you.

You have to behave yourself, even while she screams. Don’t get angry, you’ll scare people – don’t get upset, you’ll hurt people’s feelings.

It’s well past the point of course, that any of this matters – as far as I’m aware. I have no idea what the fucker does in her spare time, I try not to think about her. But then I’ll remember, and I’ll remember everything that was said and done and I’ll be so, so angry again.

I’ve never been in a situation like this before, never thought I would be. I’m so careful about who I’m friends with, about who I bare those bits of my soul to. But I gave her bits of me I can’t get back now, and some days it still just makes me want to quit.

To throw all that creative energy in the garbage, just to rid myself of her.

There’s no real ending to this, just a rant, thrown on the internet to clear my head. If she gets to rant on tumblr, then so do I. Will she go back to doing what she was doing, who knows. I don’t even know if she ever stopped, I know better than to look.

Take my words abyss, and give me nothing in return – I have no intention of ever looking at any of it anyways. If you find it, if you read it, then that’s your own damn fault isn’t it?

[forgottenyear]

Today, I feel like everything I do is wrong.

I have long assumed that this was depression’s spontaneous idea. But from recent writing, I can see what has probably been obvious to everyone but me, that this is just a holdover from what we were told by everyone prior to fusion.

--

There must have been a point where I/we decided always being put down was no longer okay. I cannot, with what I affectionately refer to as memory, identify the exact point. It may never have been an exact point in time, anyway.

Guessing, it may have been the changeover from my (my) first employer to my second, the second being the longest we have stayed with any one employer. This is a reasonable guess because the first was openly insulting (but that was what we were used to). The second went to extremes (or what felt like extremes, in our experience) to be supportive and never hid that they valued me more than they could ever afford to pay.

When I suggested a program to the first, they laughed at me. I soon learned to think through my suggestions carefully before talking with the second employer because their response was almost always, “what do you need to make this happen?” (We would then schedule several hours from a workday, for example, to go to craft stores to pick up all needed supplies for an accessible workshop on holiday card-making.)

I left this second employer, only after many years, and then got sick (Fifth Disease, which led to the confusingly eponymous, chronic-fatigue-like syndrome). Then I was contacted by the second employer again because the state was looking for me, specifically, to work for them – which becomes awkward in the retelling forever, since who is going to believe this actually happened and is not some fantastic delusion. What comes next in my employment chronology can only be confirmation of the delusion, so I will not go there today.

The point, however, is that we spent so much of our life trying to overcome limitations that were projected onto us, and internalizing the belief that the limitations must be real if everyone told us they were, that I was not prepared for the effort to compensate for non-existent limitations to be overkill.

I was woefully unprepared to be valued on merit in my work. I was woefully unprepared to be valued on merit in friendships. (I am kept humble in my relationship with my partner because their disorder means I may never be valued on merit in our relationship. I am changing the rules in most areas of our relationship, however.)

I try so hard to justify my existence, always, and I keep trying because I never feel I have earned my place among people. I never feel good enough.

I have learned to dampen this feeling of inadequacy into background noise, to allow me to function – to allow me to continue the effort to prove myself to the world.

Depression echoes the voices of everyone who tells me I am not good enough and never will be. And deprives me of the will to resist this belief.

I am on to depression's game, but it makes little difference on days like today. The best I can do is to ride it out. It will get bored eventually and return to the background.

[purple-babygirl]

you got me reading all your works from 4 AM till 6 AM today, and I have zero regrets. And I’d do it all again. I truly love all of your works, especially those that has anything to do with Bucky.

Now all I can think about is Bucky’s reaction and care to finding out that his Little got an injury—one that she been hiding from him. Omg the fluff.

Anyway, have a great day!

Pairing: Poly!SamBucky x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,381 (i know i know...)

Warnings: polyamory, ddlg dynamics, excessive, probably unnecessary, fluff no one asked for.

A/N: Nonnie, I'm honored💜. Thank you so much for sending me this, you've warmed my heart to no extent💜💜. It is everything when you tell me you like what I share with you. You're so amazing and I hope I'll always deliver and never disappoint you ily:"💜 I know you only said Bucky but I couldn't help but get Papa!Sam in there too, hope you're not mad at me?:" Please enjoy xx.

~~

don't hide

"Oh, we forgot the toilet paper!" Sam groaned, "I'll go get it. Wait here, sugar, okay? Eyes on the bags and don't move. Papa will be right back," he said before marching back to the big store's entrance, leaving her by the car with all the grocery bags.

Papa said to wait there. Papa warned her that the ground was snowy and slippery and dangerous. Papa told her not to move, she reminded herself but she just couldn't help it. She had to grab that orange.

A bag had fallen on its side out of nowhere and an orange had fallen out and rolled away. She needed to get it before Papa came back or else he'd know she wasn't watching the bags and was zoned out instead. She'd be careful and she'd take the fruit and come back to where Papa left her and he wouldn't even know it. She'd take small steps and she'd be quick. Plus, she was a big girl; she'd never slip, right?

Wrong.

Before she could catch herself, her foot was slipping, her arms were flailing and she was on her back on the cold, hard icy ground. She squeaked, pain shooting through her spine like an electric shock. Through panic and pain, she got hold of the stray fruit, managing to get herself up and back to where she was supposed to be standing the whole time before Sam made his way back to her.

"There we go," Sam sighed, setting the bag with the toilet paper beside the others and opening the car.

She was silent, biting down on her lip to stifle the pained whimpers ready to leave her mouth.

"You ready to go, sugar?" He asked her as he stacked the last bag in the car, slamming the back shut.

"Yes, papa." She nodded, the bones supporting her neck hurting as she tried her best not to cry when she slightly bent to get in the backseat.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't. Daddy and Papa were taking her sledding in the park the next day and she couldn't even be good and obey one single thing she was told. They'd definitely cancel the whole day and make her stay home if they knew what she did. And not only that but she'd surely be punished for not listening and not being careful enough. She could take it. She could play, sled and smile through the pain. Plus, she was a big girl; she could handle a little fall, right?

Wrong.

Her back was killing her. She tried not to hiss when Papa put her seat belt on for her. She had no idea how she'd make it through the day.

~

"Show daddy what you got him, sugar!" Sam encouraged after leaving the bag of goods on the table for her, walking to the kitchen to drop a bunch of grocery bags

She carefully pulled a chair out and slowly climbed on top, rummaging through the bag until she found a packet of Bucky's favourite cookies. She'd pointed at them as soon as she saw them at the store and didn't stop until Papa got them down the high shelf and into the cart.

Bucky's appreciative smile lit up the room, "oh, for me?"

"Yes, daddy. Got 'em for you." She nodded timidly, playing with her sleeve.

He accepted the cookies with a giddy grin and went to store them in place in the kitchen. She giggled, proud she was the reason Daddy was smiling.

"Thank you, love." Before she could stop him, Bucky was hugging her tight, metal arm pressing on her back to pull her body to his.

The chocked whimper she let out didn't go unnoticed by the super soldier.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky raised a worried brow, flesh hand rubbing circles on her back as a sort of habit.

"Yes, daddy. I'm fine," she lied, held-in tears burning the back of her eyes. She just needed him to stop touching her spine.

"You sure?"

"Sugar, go wash your hands we just got back from outside," Sam reminded, saving her from repeating the lie to Bucky.

"Yes, papa." Her socked feet padded on the floor as she left for the bathroom.

Bucky shrugged it off for now, walking outside to help Sam with the bags. She probably wanted more candy than she was allowed and Sam refused or something of that sort.

~

When she was done washing her hands, she tiptoed to her bedroom and did her best to redress herself fast. Her discoloured skin looked awful in the mirror. She couldn't let her daddies see the huge bruise that was forming on her back, innocently praying it'd disappear over night so they could still go sledding the next morning.

"You changed by yourself?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows upon seeing her in a comfier outfit. He knew for a fact Bucky didn't help her because he was washing strawberries in the sink behind him.

"Yes, papa," she muttered hesitantly, fearing his reaction.

"Why didn't you call me or daddy, baby? We could've helped."

"Papa and daddy are busy, didn' wanna bother you," she lied again.

"Doll, we'll never be too busy to look after our favourite girl. You can always ask for daddy and papa's help, okay?" Bucky assured her gently.

"Yes, dada."

"Good girl, here," Bucky grinned, offering her a strawberry.

"Tank you." She took it with a smile and hummed after the first bite, making Sam chuckle.

"You did a good job dressing yourself, sugar. We're proud of you." Sam let his hand cradle the small of her back so he could kiss her forehead.

She whimpered again, biting her lip hard and closing her eyes.

"Everything alright, baby?"

"Yes, papa. Strawberry tastes so good."

"Okay, baby. Go play in your room till me and daddy get lunch ready."

"Yes, papa." She pecked Sam's cheek before leaving the kitchen.

"She's lying," Bucky told his husband as soon as she got inside her playroom.

"I know."

~

She spent the rest of the morning suffering in silence. Her back hurt whenever it came in contact with anything. She couldn't lean forward, or backward. She couldn't even lay down for nap time, crying into her pillow as soon as her daddies left the room.

She'd try not to whine when Daddy's palm touched her upper back. She couldn't enjoy watching her favourite show on TV because she was too busy trying not to pull away when Papa hugged her to his chest while she was on his lap.

As the hours passed, she was in so much pain it was showing all over her face. Sam and Bucky were worried that she wasn't saying anything. They knew something was wrong they just didn't know what. They failed to notice her features scrunching up in pain whenever they touched her because, in their defense, they were always touching her. So they couldn't really pinpoint the problem.

"There you go, sugar." Sam handed her a plastic cup, half full of strawberry milk he'd just whipped in the blender for her.

"Thank you, papa." She smiled gratefully, stretching her neck to kiss his cheek, her face twisting in pain as a result.

"Doll, are you sure you're okay? Do you have a tummy ache? Do you feel sick?" Bucky questioned softly, all while rubbing circles on her upper back.

"No, dada. I'm okay," she continued to lie, sipping from her straw quickly so maybe Bucky would stop and let her drink in peace.

Bucky looked to Sam in defeat and the latter just shrugged at him helplessly.

"Love, me and papa are worried there's something you're not telling us." Bucky's hand caressed further down to the small of her back and she couldn't help but wince, dropping her cup.

Strawberry milk covered her chest and lap and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She started crying and apologizing, thinking there was no way out of punishment for her now. They were going to find out.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, sugar. It was an accident. It's okay." Sam tried to soothe her but her cries only grew louder as she let all the tears out.

Her body hurt so bad and it didn't help that Bucky was patting her back to calm her coughs and sobs.

"Come with me, doll. Let's get you cleaned up." She cried harder at Bucky's statement, knowing they were going to see her back now.

"No, daddy, please. Don't wanna." She shook her head, choking on her tears. She made no effort to go to his open arms like she would.

It broke Bucky's heart a tiny bit. He started to think he'd done something; that she was like that all day because of him for some reason.

"But baby, you're soaked in milk. You can't stay like that!" Sam didn't wait for her refusal, slipping his arms under her legs and carrying her body off the couch.

"No, no, papa, please." Her tears wet Sam's sweater, her thrashing hurting her muscles even more.

"Stop crying, sugar. Tell me what's wrong," Sam said, sitting down on the closed toilet lid with her on his lap.

She remained silent, her fist rubbing at her teary eye and her lips trembling.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me and daddy, baby?" Sam tried again, making brief eye contact with a worried Bucky preparing a bath.

"Wanna shower by myself," she muttered when her sobs died out, tears still leaving her red eyes.

"You know we can't let you do that, doll," Bucky sighed.

"B-But I dressed by myself," she cried more, leaning on Sam's chest.

"This is different, baby." He kissed her forehead.

"Why don't you want our help, doll? What is it?"

She was quiet again, making both men sigh.

"Alright, love, hands up," Bucky instructed but she shook her head.

"Come on now, be good. We gotta get you cleaned up, baby, or you're gonna be all sticky," Sam told her, fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater.

She gave up fighting; her back was sore and she knew her daddies were going to get her in that bath no matter what. She closed her eyes when the sweater was pulled over her head, preparing herself for Daddy's reaction.

"My goodness, doll! What happened?!" Bucky exclaimed in worry and she started sobbing again.

"What is it?"

"Look at her back, it's messed up!" Bucky gestured to the huge purple and blue bruise, whispering the last part of his sentence.

"Oh my god! How did you get this?!" Sam's eyes widened as he questioned her and she only cried more.

It broke their heart. She was in so much pain all morning and they had no idea. How could they be so inattentive?

"Hey, baby, no, it's alright. We just wanna know how you got hurt, sugar. You're not in trouble," Sam reassured, pushing her hair out of her face while Bucky ever so tenderly examined her bruises.

"I'm sorry, papa. I'm so sorry," she cried in his chest, "I- I didn' listen when you- told me to stay I- the orange fell out an- and I wanted to get it and I fell d-down an' hurt m-myself." She tried to explain between hiccups as Sam bit down in realization and regret.

"Aw, sugar," Sam sighed, feeling guilt gnaw at him for leaving her alone by the car. What was he thinking? How could he leave her all by herself like that? She was just a little baby!

"Papa's sorry, baby. Papa's so sorry he left you standing alone and went back inside." Sam apologized, kissing away the tears soaking her cheeks while she sniffled and hiccuped.

"Don't cry, doll. We're not sad with you. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky cooed, his thumb wiping the tears down her chin and neck.

"B-But I was bad." She looked at Bucky with teary eyes.

"No, doll, you weren't bad. You were just tryna help Papa because you're a good girl." Bucky kissed her temple, holding her forehead to his cheek while he looked at Sam.

The man was zoned out, probably beating himself up somewhere in his mind.

"Let's just get you in the tub for now and then we can let the doctor take a look at your back, okay?"

"What if he gives me shots?"

"He's not gonna give you shots, doll. Only something to apply to your bruise, nothing painful or scary." Bucky promised, easing her off Sam's lap to get the rest of her clothes off.

Sam scratched his head before abruptly standing from the toilet seat, "I'll go start dinner."

Bucky sighed when his husband left the bathroom. He knew Sam was feeling guilty for their baby getting hurt and while he wanted to assure him it wasn't his fault, he had to tend to her for the time being.

"There you go, doll." Bucky carefully lowered her in the tub, letting the warm, soaped water soothe the ache in her muscles.

"Dada, can you come too?" She asked quietly, noiseless tears still leaving her eyes.

Bucky stripped himself at once, cautiously getting behind her in the tub before pressing her back to his chest. She sighed as he held her to him, Bucky's chest being much comfier than the solid ceramic of the tub.

"Is papa mad at me?" She asked Bucky, her voice trembling and breaking as she continued to cry.

"No, no, doll. Papa's not mad at you one bit, he's just worried about you," Bucky said, his hands rubbing softly on her tummy as he kissed her shoulder.

"Then why'd he leave?" Her voice was squishing Bucky's heart and he just wanted both his babies to feel better.

"He's preparing dinner for you, baby. Papa loves you; he could never be mad at you." Bucky turned her head so she could face him and wiped her tears away.

"We love you, doll. No one is mad at you. Daddy and Papa only want you to be okay. We just wanna keep you safe," Bucky told her warmly and she nodded, wrapping her arms around Bucky's neck and burrowing her face in the crook of it.

~

After her bath, Bucky got out first, telling her to wait while he got towels. But instead his legs took him to Sam.

"I feel like shit for not noticing too," Bucky muttered behind his spouse.

"It's not only that- what are you doing strolling around the house in just a towel after a warm bath?! Bucky, you'll catch a cold-" Sam scolded when he turned around and saw Bucky undressed.

Bucky put his mouth on Sam's in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

"I'm gonna be fine and so is she," Bucky promised against Sam's lips, cupping his cheek.

"I left her alone, Buck. She got hurt because of me."

"No, love, no. It was an accident. It could've happened anywhere any time."

"I still shouldn't have left her."

"Then we know not to do it again. Don't beat yourself up over it and distance yourself like that."

"I'm not distancing myself."

"Sam, she thinks you're sad with her. Please, love," Bucky begged, his thumb swiping over Sam's skin until the latter nodded with a sigh.

"Now go put on something."

"I thought you liked me naked," Bucky teased.

"Go." Sam lightly slapped his rear.

"I'm going." Bucky laughed, kissing Sam's lips one last time before retreating to the bathroom.

~

Bucky dressed her in something warm and told her to wait a minute while he got ready so he could take her to the doctor's. She peaked out of her room, hearing onions sizzling in the kitchen. She walked over to Sam as he poured tomato juice and the pot hissed.

"Papa? Are you mad?" She tugged at Sam's sleeve, red-rimmed eyes staring up at the man.

Sam sighed, turning off the stove. He took her hand in his and walked out of the kitchen with her, sitting down on the couch and motioning for her to sit on his lap.

"Why didn't you say anything, sugar?" Sam asked, putting her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, papa," shs teared up, "I thought you'd be mad at me and think I'm bad and not wanna take me sledding no more."

"Baby, I'd never get mad at you for getting hurt. Ever." Sam reassured her, not letting his eyes get glossy with the tears he held in.

"If you get hurt me and papa will take care of you no matter what, doll. That's the only consequence. Do you understand me, love?" Bucky added, walking out of the bedroom with a jacket in hand.

"Yes, daddy." She nodded, throwing herself in Bucky's arms, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"We love you too, doll." Bucky kissed her head, careful not to hug or squeeze her too tight.

"Papa, will you come to the doctor wimme and daddy?" She asked Sam sweetly, leaning on his chest after leaving Bucky's hold.

"Of course, sugar." Sam's thumb stroked her cheek softly.

"And we can still go sledding in the park tomorrow?"

"Oh no, baby, we can't go tomorrow."

"But you said you weren't mad." Her lip jutted out in a pout.

"I'm not mad, baby, I promise, but you're hurt."

"But the doctor is gonna fix it," she whined

"He's a doctor, sugar, not a wizard!" Sam chuckled

"Because wizards don't exist."

"They do exist, but that's not the point," Sam argued and Bucky playfully rolled his eyes behind her back.

"But papa-"

"No buts, doll. We'll go as soon as you get better and we'll stay as long as you want, yeah?"

"Yes, daddy." She complied, knowing they were right; her back was achy and stinging.

~

As promised the doctor gave her no needles, only a prescription of a cream for her back and a painkiller.

"Daddy, I don't wanna," she whimpered as Bucky lifted her PJs up. She was afraid of the pain she would feel once Bucky started massaging the substance onto her skin.

"I'm gonna be gentle, doll. I promise."

"It's gonna hurt," she complained more.

"Here, sugar, hold papa's hands and daddy will be done before you know it." Sam opened his palms and she immediately put her smaller hands on top.

"There you go, all set. We're ready, daddy," Sam told Bucky, squeezing her hands and smiling comfortingly at her.

She gave half a smile back, blushing as she felt Bucky ever so softly lay kisses down her hurt back.

Sam chuckled, kissing the back of her hand. She slightly hissed when Bucky touched her skin with the cold cream, his pointer and middle spreading it around on the bruises.

"Anywhere else hurts, love?"

"Right here, daddy." She pointed to the back of her neck.

Before Bucky could, Sam tilted himself forward and kissed from the ends of her hair down to where her neck met her back. She giggled, Sam's lips tickling her. The man chuckled again, pecking her cheek.

"Papa?" She held his hands in hers.

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you." She wasn't unaware of how he blamed himself for her little accident and she wanted to let him know it was alright; she was alright.

"I love you more, sugar." Sam smiled, relieved, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Starting to feel seriously left out over here," Bucky said, wiping his fingers on a tissue.

Sam rolled his eyes at his needy-for-attention husband before cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead as well, sending blood to his cheeks.

"I love you, daddy," she whispered, squeezing Bucky's right hand.

"I love you more, doll." Bucky echoed his partner, kissing her hand.

For the whole week, Papa and Daddy let her sleep on top of their chests, seeing as cuddling and spooning weren't options and they still wanted to be close. She'd alternate between the men as the nights passed.

Eventually, they did go sledding in the park when she healed, three days in a row. She loved it and she laughed so much till her cheeks hurt. She could handle a little fall after all; she could handle anything as long as Sam and Bucky were there to take care of her through it.

[finelinevogue]

Can we get some more brother!harry?

I really enjoyed your piece where he caught her smoking ❤️

of course you can!! (rip if your name is natalia) hope this is what you wanted;

Natalia.

Beautiful name to juxtapose a horrible excuse of a human being.

Harry was never that great when it came to choosing his girlfriends, but this one was by far the worst. Bekka had been bad, because she had been cheating on Harry with her best friends dad. India was just so toxic, to the point where she’d ask Harry why he wasn’t mad with her over the most trivial things as if she wanted him to be mad. Daya was ok, but she wanted different things to what Harry wanted and so they ended up in a massive argument and ending things quicker than they started. Natalia though, wow. She was something else and that wasn’t a compliment.

You don’t know whether it was just because she targeted you especially, but she was just a downright cruel person. You could easily tell her intentions with your brother were not good. She was a plain ol’ gold digger, evident from the credit card that Harry leant her and she spent so much on it the bank had to call Harry to ask him to authorise that he was aware of the amount of money being spent. She bought a car with his card. A fucking car. Harry was too blinded by her beauty and her experience that he was oblivious to her witchy behaviour towards you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell him either, it was more that he didn’t care enough.

“No Harry. No.” You argued with him, standing in the middle of the kitchen as he was busy washing the rest of the dishes in the sink. It was just the two of you home at the moment, because Gemma and Anne were spending the weekend at an exclusive spa in Cheshire, so you didn’t understand how there were so many dishes.

“Y/N, it’s not an option. You’re not staying at home by yourself.” Harry spoke sternly back to you, letting out his frustration by vigorously scrubbing the dishes.

“I’m literally 17 - 18 in like 3 weeks. I’m more than capable of staying home.” You stomped your foot to the ground like a child.

“And I don’t care. You’re coming to lunch whether you want to or not.” Harry finished the last plate and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink, before throwing it over to you.

“But she’ll be there.”

“She’s my girlfriend, so you’ll nice to her.”

“If she’s nice to me, then yeah.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the sink to start drying the dishes that Harry just cleaned.

“ Y/N, I swear to God.” Harry groaned in frustration, tugging a stressful hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to be happy for me for once?”

“Gee Harry, i’m just so happy to be going out to lunch with you and your girlfriend!” You put on the biggest grin as your sarcasm practically dripped from your tongue.

“Stop being a spoilt little shit and finish those dishes. We’re leaving in 20.” Harry spoke harshly, before leaving the room with a heavy strop to his step. It left you to blink back the tears that you couldn’t help that Natalia was ruining your whole relationship with your brother.

You and Harry used to be so tight nit, now it would be a miracle if he spent a day with you per month. Natalia had come along 5 months ago and she had completely turned Harry’s life around for the worst, only Harry was too ignorant to see that. Anne had come home multiple times to find you crying because Harry had cancelled on you, again, or Natalia had said something that had really hurt. Normally you were okay with taking hate, but Natalia made it somehow worse than that. Even if Anne or Gemma tried to talk Harry about the damage all this was causing you it would always be the same response;

“She just wants attention.”

The restaurant was very pretty.

It was one that you and Harry used to go to all the time, when there was no girlfriend around. It sold the best pastries and life-changing eggs on toast. The food was always delicious and the staff were so completely lovely. You were glad to be coming here, making you feel more comfortable than you would if you went to a expensive fancy restaurant instead. This little restaurant, named ‘Lemon Puffs’ after their infamous lemon, cream and pastry puffs, made you feel safe and happy.

“Remember to just be nice.” Harry spoke as you both approached the table that Natalia was already sat at. She was too busy on her phone to realise you were even here.

“If she plays nice then yeah.” You bit back.

“Y/N just stop being petty, y’pissing me off now.” Harry argued. “Whine like a bitch later. I don’t need it today.”

You stopped talking after that, not having anything else to say to him. He’d made it very clear that you were only here because he didn’t trust you at home by yourself, but by the same token wanted you quiet because he didn’t trust you enough to speak nicely. Harry hugged and kissed Natalia like he hadn’t just seen her last night and then sat down opposite to her, leaving you to sit next to Harry because you sure as hell weren’t sitting next to her. Natalia didn’t even make the effort to hug you or shake hands, in fact you barely got a simple hello.

“You alright, baby?” Natalia asked, twirling her hand into Harry’s from across the table. Disgusting.

“Yeah i’m good. This one’s a pain in my arse, as always.” Even with his joking tone, you knew he was being somewhat serious and that really messed with you.

“Typical.” Natalia rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, not hesitating to use the opportunity to be mean to you. Harry thought she was merely playing along with his words, but you new otherwise.

“You know what you want yet?” Harry asked as he pulled his own attention towards the menu. You didn’t need to look at the menu, as being here so many times has allowed you to discover the perfect order.

“I think i’m just going to get the salad, but without the chicken, cheese or cucumber.” She answered, sipping on the water she must’ve already ordered whilst waiting for you both.

“So just lettuce?” You asked, not meaning for it to be a condescending question and yet she took it that way anyways.

“Is there something wrong with that, Y/N?” She asked, being really harsh in the way she spoke your name - as if the syllables actually caused her pain to speak.

“N-no I was just—”

“Didn’t think so.” She snapped and turned away from you to look back towards Harry, with her shit-eating grin that didn’t fool you. Harry kicked you leg under the table too, not appreciating the way you were speaking to Natalia. He didn’t even think about the way his girlfriend was speaking to you though. As usual.

“I’ll probably get the salad too.” Harry nodded his head and you shook your head as he spoke. Harry would never normally get a salad. Like, that’s so Kardashian of him. Harry, whenever he came here with you, always ordered a cheese and pickle panini, with extra crunchy pickles, a portion of chips and some halloumi fries too. Oh and then a cake for pudding. He wouldn’t have gone for a boring salad. Fucking Natalia was ruining him and you hated to have a front row seat of it.

“Not the usual then?” You tried to joke with him, but he was clearly still pissed off with you for being… you.

“Why, are you?” He asked quizzically.

“Obviously.” You smiled, which made Harry smile for a split second before Natalia pulled him away from you. Your smile disappeared and a frown settled in, knowing it would stay there for a long time.

“Babe, I am here too you know?” Natalia joked, bur you could see the anger and jealousy behind her eyes. If looked could kill you’d be ten feet under, twenty times over by now.

“Sorry, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and paid closer attention to her.

Lunch went by slowly.

Natalia scoffed when she heard your order; poached eggs on toast with three pieces of crispy bacon on the side, a portion of chips and a mint iced tea. Oh and a cake for pudding, but you’d come to that later. Natalia ate her lettuce as Harry eat his salad as you ate your eggs on toast with bacon and chips. You loved the food, hated the company and couldn’t make up your mind whether you loved or hated being here. Natalia and Harry talked throughout lunch, leaving you out of all their conversations. The only time Harry spoke to you was when he asked whether your food was okay, eyeing it up as if he wanted to make love to it and send his salad to the nearest dumpster.

“Was everything alright for you?” Paul, the owner of the business and dude in charge of the eggs asked you when all your plates were empty as Harry’s growling stomach.

“Lovely, thank you.” Harry responded gratefully.

“Perfect.” You smiled as you handed your dirty plate to Paul.

“It was a bit plain.” Natalia moved her plate away from her in disgust and Paul put on his best customer smile, apologising for that before leaving to go and ring up the bill.

“Okay i’m just going to go for a quick wee before I pay.” Harry announced, getting up from the table to go to the loo.

“Okay babe. Don’t be too long.” She called out and then it was left just you and her.

“Well this was nice.” You tried to be nice, as Harry told you to, and start a meant conversation with your arch enemy. Kill ‘em with kindness - that was Harry’s slogan wasn’t it?

“If you hadn’t have been here then yeah.” She turned her nose up at you.

“Look,” you began, wanting her to understand something, “whatever i’ve done to upset you and make you hate me, i’m sorry. Just, I don’t want you to dislike me and I know that Harry really likes you so I want us to be able to get along.”

“Listen, Y/N,” there it was again - your name spoken with dripping venom, “I don’t want to get along with you. You make me sick. You are such a baby to Harry and you’re needy, which means I don’t get to spend time with my boyfriend—”

“Don’t get to spend time with him?” You had to laugh at that. Apart from today, you’d seen Harry maybe a total of 2 hours this whole week and it was Saturday. “You’re practically attached at the hip.”

“Not enough. Harry needs to keep away from you, you only bring him trouble.”

“I’m his fucking sister.” You shouted quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace for the rest of the customers.

“Not an excuse. Look Y/N, I understand that you are quite lonely and don’t have many friends? Maybe you should consider that’s for a very good reason?” She rhetorically asked you and that made you sit back a bit. She was pulling apart your insecurities now and exposing them to find the most painful parts, so she could watch you suffer with only the curse of her words.

“It’s not like that.” You tried to convince yourself more than her, tears in your eyes over something so hurtful to you.

“No? ‘Cause I think that you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.” She stood up dusted herself off as he noticed Harry walk back over to the table, smiling as if she hadn’t just shot his sister in the heart.

Her words stung more than a scorpions tale, and yes unfortunately you knew what that felt like. Natalia was right. You were alone, friendless and just trouble. There was a reason that you were all of this and Natalia had hit the nail right on the head with the reason why. You thought of your friends, his they always disappeared and left you and now you sit in the canteen alone or hang out only with yourself on the weekends. You think to Gemma and Anne going away for the weekend, not inviting you because it was age restrictive but you still couldn’t help but think there was a more pressing reason than that. Then you think of Harry and how he was fed up of you. He couldn’t be more resentful of you if he tried. You wanted to be a good friend, a good daughter and most importantly a good sister, but it was so blindingly obvious that you weren’t. You were never going to be.

You stood up from the table too, quickly wiping away a tear from your face before anyone could notice but you didn’t care to see if anyone was actually watching. Harry kissed Natalia and then walked over to the cashier to pay the bill. You noticed Paul and Harry talking and so you walked out of the restaurant and towards the car, still tears in your eyes. You needed to be strong for yourself though, especially because nobody else was going to be.

You stood with you handle to the door of the car waited for Harry to come and unlock it. You heard high heels before the car was unlocked, unfortunately.

“Excuse me, but I ride front.” Natalia spat at you, removing your hand from the door and chivvying you to the back of the car instead.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked, your heart aching that little bit more. You didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence and yet she would now probably spend the rest of the week until your mum and sister came back.

“Ye—”

“No she’s not.” Harry walked out of the restaurant and over to the car, standing in between the both of you but a little more towards you.

“Babe? What do you mean?” Natalia asked, a little bit shocked at his tone with her.

“Firstly dont babe me. Secondly, get your hand off my car. Thirdly, don’t ever come near me or my sister ever again.” Harry ordered angrily. You’d never seen him this angry before. You stood behind him, afraid of what was about to go down.

“What has she said to you, because—”

“She’s my sister and she’s got a name. Y/N didn’t tell me anything. Lemon Puffs, however, has eyes and ears everywhere and it’s amazing the stories you hear when you’re stood at the cashier or next to someone at the urinals.” Harry accused Natalia and she went hot red in the face, embarrassed that this conversation was actually happening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘I think you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.’” Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest confrontationally. Guarding and protecting you. You felt safe.

“Wha— You think I would say that?” Natalia asked, pretending to be offended by the accusation.

“I don’t know, let’s ask Y/N shall we? Y/N, did Natalia say that to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at you with hope in his eyes, but also sorriness for everything that’s happened. You could see it all behind his eyes and you wanted to squeeze him tight to accept his apology, because you loved him and you needed him.

“Y-yes.” You answered, looking down so you didn’t have to make eye contact with Natalia.

“Harry you can’t possibly believe her.” Natalia laughed, but there was heavy insecurity in her tone.

“I trust her more than anyone. More than you. I trust Y/N with my life.” Harry back answered, taking no more bullshit from his ex-girlfriend. “We’re done Natalia. Okay? I don’t want to see you ever again. What you’ve said and done to my sister is unforgivable and I don’t want someone like you in my life.”

“You were a dick too.” You added quietly behind him and he just turned round to smile and wink at you.

“So what? That’s it?” Natalia asked, dumbfounded.

“Bye Natalia.” Harry walked around to the drivers seat and you to the passenger side. He stopped before opening the door though, wanting to say one last thing. “The bill was split in half by the way. Paul’s just inside waiting for you to pay.”

With that, you both got in the car, laughing at Natalia’s reaction and just everything. Apologises were made and promises of no relationships until you two had built back up yours were sworn. It would take time, but Harry was willing to prove that he was a good brother and you were always going to be someone he wanted around.