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evermorehoon · 6 months

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❣︎ ⎯⎯ reshaping reality

idol pairing: jake x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: angst, fluff!

warnings: memory loss, separation, some crying of course, unintentionally recreating a meet cute, happy ending!

A/N: well say hello to my comeback work! idk I felt bad about the first one so I made this one to compensate and give y/n a happy ending. seeing as I did write this quite quickly, it might not be good since im very rusty and my fluff is ass😭 but anyway, feedback and appreciation is appreciated in any form so enjoy♡

here's part one in case you wanna refresh your memory (unlike someone lmao)

It was difficult watching Jake slowly regain his memories from a distance. You wanted to be with him, help bring back old memories, maybe even dig up old feelings.

But it had been weeks now and no one wanted to overwhelm him, especially after learning about the deaths of his two best friends. He was inconsolable, his head aching horribly from the crying and struggling to piece things together.

You'd left a questionable impression on him, seeing as his only memory of you is you crying by his bedside and being thankful that he was alive. Who were you, why was my family looking at you so sadly, what are you to me?

“I wondered about this for a while now,” he said aloud to the two memorials in front of him. The pictures of his friends were propped prettily on the table, allowing him to speak as though they were listening to him.

“My family seems to know her but no one wants to tell me who she is. Do you guys know?”

Silence.

“Maybe she can help me remember some of the last few years..”

He was told that there was a chance he wouldn't recover his memories due to the extensive brain damage. His head hurt every time he tried to make himself remember something but flashes of your face would appear in his dreams. He knew you must've been important enough to constantly cross his mind. His next step was to find out why.

Sometimes you'd sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your wedding dress as it hung from the closet door. You would set it out and just look at it. It was a beautiful dress, not a speck of dust on it from how well you cared for it. You were skeptical of wearing it again as it took you back to the worst day of your life.

You knew you could never marry another, especially in this dress. Perhaps the universe was telling you that it wasn't meant to be. That you should slowly move on.

But you'd look down at the rose gold promise ring given to you by your then boyfriend for your one year anniversary together. The engagement ring felt too painful to wear and you never had the chance to even see the wedding ring.

Maybe he won't remember you again, but his heart might.

It had been several months since you'd last seen Jaeyun. He was slowly making up the last few years, having given up on trying to remember old memories he decided to just make new ones. Even if it meant leaving you out of the picture.

He had managed to relearn some of his degree without having to do it again. He was still the quick learner he'd always been but he was made to take it easy at work, his colleagues reintroducing themselves slowly so as to not overwhelm him.

“How was the wedding?”

Jake blinked in confusion when it came up in conversation with a few of his colleagues. He looked completely clueless, shrugging with a nervous chuckle.

“What wedding?”

The others exchanged confused glances as one scratched their head, the air suddenly growing thicker with silence.

“Seriously, guys. Who got married? Was it maybe Jaein? He seems pretty nice.”

It's clear his smile was genuine. And, judging by the look of pure curiosity in his eyes, he was never told that he was in an accident on his wedding day. He was always puzzled by the picture of him and another woman smiling on his desk.

The conversation had died down rather quickly as the others left him hanging, leaving him to return to his desk with a puzzled expression. He sat down with a click of his tongue before looking down at that picture once more.

It had been sitting there for months since he never had the heart to take it off his desk. Looking at it gave him a little warmth in his heart. It gave him a seemingly comforting yet rather unfamiliar feeling, like looking at the woman in the picture was all he was meant to look at.

Then the glimmer of the rose gold ring on his left hand caught his attention. He tilted his head, gently fiddling with it. Taking it off felt wrong as his finger felt empty without it.

“I have to find that girl…” He thought to himself, trying to find a good way to approach you.

According to you, you missed him and you were happy he was okay. You were also in a significant amount of tears, so you must've been very close to him.

But then he sighed. It had been months since he'd last seen you, who knew if you even wanted to meet up with him. He was the one who decided to remake memories instead of hurting his head trying to remember the past.

He couldn't seem to understand why his family didn't say anything about you. Perhaps they thought he would remember you considering how big of a part you played in his life.

But how would you react if he suddenly asked so many questions? About the ring, the picture on his desk, your reaction when you saw him? Perhaps you'd be a little too uncomfortable with his presence after he left you behind without thinking.

Then, he'd thought of an idea.

Meanwhile, for you, the last few months were just numb and depressing. You thought it was for the best, letting him move onto a different path and ensuring his happiness. You felt selfish in wanting to force him to remember you so you could go back to your old life.

However, you went back to work as normal even with a somber look in your eyes. The house you lived in didn't feel like a home anymore. You couldn't smell the delicious 2am ramen he would cook as a late-night snack for you two. The house was cold and lifeless without his warm aura and hearty laughter to fill the rooms.

You missed him terribly. You sometimes wanted to cry when you remembered that you would never wake up to his fluffy bed hair and sleepy expression or his sweet smile that could light the town.

But alas, you never thought you could experience it again. All love ever did was break and burn and end. At least, that's what you thought. You hoped and prayed that maybe he'll remember that you were meant to be.

Jake had moved back to his parents house as his family helped him in every way they could. He sometimes sat in his room, scrolling through his gallery, seeing you in so many pictures.

His heart swelled with warmth when he saw your smile. He chuckled when he saw videos of you two laughing together. How was he not with you right now? It's clear you two were in love, so why couldn't he bring himself to finally talk to you?

He seemed a little… afraid. Yes, afraid of what would happen. Just because you were lovers before the accident doesn't mean you still love him. Maybe his presence will interfere with your healing, maybe you've made peace with this and moved on.

But he'd never know unless he tried. So he gathered up the courage to think of something, some kind of way to ‘accidentally’ run into you.

And judging by one of the pictures in his gallery, he may know just the place.

The coffee shop. As cliché as it may be, you found solace in the atmosphere of a good coffee shop. It was a good environment to work in, all while having even more coffee than before. Your caffeine intake increased steadily over the past few weeks as it was the only thing that could calm you down these days.

Seated in the back of the café, your gaze fixed on your laptop with a cappuccino by your side as you typed. You mastered the ability to block out the world, not allowing your mind to wander because it would almost always make its way back to him.

“Are you using this?”

You froze almost instantaneously, your fingers slightly shaking from how quickly you stilled. That voice was familiar, you remember hearing that same sentence years ago.

It's when you look up, your heart sinks to the ground. There he stood right beside you.

His round glasses and coffee brown eyes, just how you remembered him. He looked like he hadn't aged a day as he looked like the same Sim Jaeyun you met in the university library all those years ago.

“What?” You asked softly, trying to confirm if all of this was real.

“The plug.” His voice sounded much more mature as he pointed to his laptop bag.

You didn't know whether he was intentionally recreating the day you first met or if he's still trying to jog his memory. His face was still uncertain so it was clear he didn't remember doing this before.

You shook your head, allowing him to sit opposite you and plug his laptop in. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off you, his heart felt warm and calm now that he was face to face with the woman he sees in his dreams and in his pictures.

“Is there something on my face?”

Your voice knocked him out of his thoughts as you asked softly. He shook his head, trying to play it off.

“Uh, no… you just look familiar..” he chuckled softly before looking down, realizing that it probably wasn't the best thing to say at that moment.

It was possibly the most awkward encounter you two have ever had. Neither could speak, focusing on typing some documents and whatnot. You would look up occasionally at him, noticing his little habits and knowing he never changed one bit. He still tapped his lips gently when he was thinking (one of his cutest habits in your opinion).

That was until you decided to speak up rather quietly and cautiously.

“Do you remember now?”

He looked up at you, unsure of what to say. He couldn't say he did, because he didn't. All he had was a feeling. A magnetic pull toward you that he couldn't avoid.

“No,” he said softly as he shook his head.

“What are you nervous about?”

“Nervous? I'm not nervous…”

“You fiddle with your ring when you're nervous.”

He looked down at his hands, unknowingly fiddling with his rose gold ring. He was slightly surprised by your observation, not knowing that you'd known him long enough to memorize his every habit.

The conversation died as quickly as it began, the two of you going back to working again. He could tell you seemed uneasy and uncertain. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked. He didn't seem like he wanted to leave but, if he did, it would mean he'd leave forever.

You thought for a few seconds before speaking.

“I want to start over.”

There's that familiar warmth in Jake's heart every time he sees you in the café. You greeted him with a warm smile, now on your second meeting.

You had somehow agreed to completely wipe the slate clean. You thought to yourself that you would never know if he still loved you unless you went through everything all over again. Life had given you a reset button, and who were you to deny it?

Sure you would grow a little impatient here and there but you constantly reminded yourself that you're taking it easy for his sake. To him, you're a familiar stranger even though he's the love of your life. You pretended to learn about habits and hobbies and interests you already knew.

It felt like you were falling in love again. He was just as beautiful, funny, and smart as he was when you first dated. His hangouts were just as sweet as before.

You watched him with fondness in your eyes as he'd cover his mouth with one hand while he laughed. His adorable laughter rang through your ears like a soothing tune.

The hangouts turned into weeks of courting and into months of dating.

Everyone was thrilled to know you two were back together again. But the uncertainty of whether he wanted to marry you or not still hung over your head. He seemed to have given up on remembering, making a scrapbook of new memories of you two.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he proposed once more. He'd gotten a new ring to replace the one that haunted you at times. He'd moved back in with you, filling the house with his radiant warmth and turning it into a home once more.

Time went by so quickly that you couldn't believe you were back in the same position as a few years ago. Standing in a white dress with a bouquet of origami orange flowers, which Jake picked and hand-made.

Walking down the aisle and clutching onto your bouquet, it all felt like a dream. Your future husband waiting for you at the altar with the biggest smile on his face, surrounded by the people you love most. Everything was finally coming true, all because you took the chance to let it all begin again.

I feel like the ending is a little rushed I am so sorry😭😭

#enhypen angst #enhypen jake #enhypen scenarios #jake enhypen fic #enhypen fic #enhypen jake angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen au #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines

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fereldanwench · 5 months

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I didn't want to completely sit out a year-in-review, but for reasons I'll explain at the end of this post and under a cut, doing the traditional pick-one-pic-from-each-month approach just wasn't going to work for me. So instead, here are 20 of my favorite shots (in no particular order) of Valerie from 2023!

(I'll share solo Goro shots and shippy/story shots in two other posts before the year ends.)

Some thoughts about this year (cw for anxiety and depression mentions):

So yeah. I actually hadn't planned on joining in on the virtual photography year-in-review fun in part because... Well, frankly, I wasn't sure if it would actually be fun for me.

Although I do have pictures for every month, the first third, maybe even half, of the year was a struggle on almost every conceivable level. A lot of it was shit that carried over from the end of 2022, which was also an incredibly difficult year for me. I don't really want to delve too deeply into why--Some of it was personal, some of it was professional, some of it was fandom, and if you know, you know.

The main obstacle I had here is that looking at a lot of the shots I took from about January to May (give or take a few weeks on either end) honestly reminded me of Bad Times™️. I've worked really hard to pull myself out of that depression/anxiety cycle and return to a healthier approach to fandom and online socialization in general, but I just didn't want to spend a lot of time in that mental space. There are a few shots from those months that made it to my favorites, and I hope one day I can look back on that stuff and just feel the good from it again. Alas, that day is still not here.

But I am happy to report that the other reason I wanted to approach the review differently is a lot more positive! It's also two-fold: 1) I spent the earlier part of this year exploring more of a technical side of virtual photography and 2) I was really prolific the last third or so of this year so trying to narrow faves from about August until now was just not possible.

One of the few good things about the end of 2022 was being able to upgrade my graphics card, which meant I then had a rig that could support ray-tracing and hot sampling. As a result, I started putting a lot more focus on lighting and getting acquainted with new tools. I also was trying to work with the new AMM posing system, which is very convenient in some ways (100s of poses without reloading the game!) and a complete pain in the ass in others (can't move characters without their poses breaking!). Custom photomode poses + Nibbles Replacer has been the game changer I've been waiting for.

Or to put it more succinctly, December 2022 through about April 2023 felt like a relearning/return to basics kind of creative period, which is essential, but also means I just don't really like a lot of what I did, lmao.

Then, shockingly (I'm not shocked at all), starting treatment for my anxiety and depression in the second half of this year suddenly made creating a lot easier and fun again! Crazy how that works.

Even bumping this little review up to 20 shots instead of 12, there are still pictures from the past few months that I had to cut as favorites. There was just no way I could condense the amount of fave shots I took from August to now in just 5 options.

I also owe quite a bit of this revival to modders for asking me if I wanted to take shots for them--Exploring more of a fashion photography approach to my shots I think did a lot to build on what I had learned earlier in the year and encouraged me to try something new. I don't want to tag anyone in this long-ass glorified diary entry, but if you invited me to take mod shots for you, just know that it really meant a lot. ♡

And that's where my head has been with a yearly review! Is filling out a little template with 12 pictures this serious? No, it definitely is not, lmao. But hey, overthinking shit is still something I'm working on. ✌️

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077edit #cp2077 screenshots #oc: valerie v powell #g: cyberpunk 2077 #mine: edits

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ayin-me-yesh · 2 years

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How to Commit to Learning a Language When You Have ADHD (or other attention issues)

imo one of the biggest challenges for learning other languages when you have ADHD (or other attention issues) is trying to pick one to learn and stick with it

and it's not just choosing one in the first place or motivating yourself, it's trying to avoid getting sidetracked by passing interests as you're exposed to other languages

I have really struggled with this over the years and it's led to me being somewhere between a beginner and intermediate level in a number of languages and not being where I want to be in any of them

SO here my advice as I've tried to tackle this

this starts with prioritizing one (1) language like so:

write down the languages you're currently thinking about learning

write down next to them what motivates you to learn each one

write down what resources are available to you to learn each one (you can do an internet search for this!)

write down what opportunities you'll have to use each one in your daily life (this can include watching movies, TV shows, watching anime, reading books, reading manga, reading web novels or web comics, playing video games, etc. it doesn't just have to be interactive or IRL)

now go through your list and rate each language a number from 1 to 10, some stars out of five stars, a happy face or a sad face, or whatever method for categorisation that feels right to you

next go through and pick the one (1) language that either has the highest all around rating OR the highest rating in the category that is most important to you - it's up to you which method you want to use

this is your priority language. you are going to commit to learning this language no matter what else you're doing.

but you might be thinking "that's all well and good right now but I know after a few days I'm going to be like-"

so now here's the good part!

you are allowed to learn TWO! languages. but here's the first rule. one of those languages has to be your priority language

that means if you're learning Spanish as your priority language and you decided to learn Japanese as a second language, you can only start learning Telugu if you drop Japanese. you can not drop Spanish and you can not study three languages at once

now here's the second rule. you should, ideally, try to commit to spending at least a few hours a week on your priority language. and any day you decide to study a non-priority language at all you have to spend at least a few additional minutes (your choice how many but be consistent) on your priority language first. so if you want to get down and dirty with Telugu, you better let el español know you haven't forgotten about him first

finally, here's the third rule. you are allowed to change your non-priority language as often as you want! but you're only allowed to reconsider a priority language that you have no experience in once after six months or a priority language you've studied before (including one you continued to commit to after the first six months) once a year

set a date in your calendar and stick to it!

if you have regrets about which one you prioritized because another language is really drawing your attention use your non-priority language slot to work on it

now that you know the rules here's a few more thoughts for people with attention issues

you're probably going to mess this up. that's ok. when you start feeling overwhelmed or demotivated, come back to it. cut out those extra languages and refocus.

the time you spend on languages you don't commit to is NOT wasted. dabbling in other languages strengthens your conceptual understanding of language structures as a whole. it's also easier and faster to relearn a language you have some experience in later than start entirely from scratch. and - and this is the most important part - time spent pursuing your interests is NEVER wasted.

this is just advice to help you get where you want to go with at least one language. while I want you to be able to meet your goals, you should never feel bad for trying something new or wanting to give something another go. have fun!

#langblr #ADHD #language learning #just to be clear you don't HAVE to learn two languages at once #you just have a second slot for basically whimsy while working on your priority language #ALSO!#this method works for WIPs too

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curhartwrites · 10 months

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hey, i wanted to say - i really love and appreciate your poem post about zion. i was born and raised jewish and that means im currently in the weird process of learning and unlearning how i want to feel about israel and zionism, and how i can bear to look the reality of diaspora in the face and accept it.

there's no road map for this sort of internal work. im nowhere near done, and i haven't had the guts to ask anyone "what's the alternative to wanting a state? how can you possibly feel safe without an emergency place to run to?" and while that second question really remains unanswered for me, you poem illuminated so much of the first one. thank you for your beautiful and healing words.

that being said, i would be really interested if you'd be willing to share your answer to the second question? when history tells us that the hammers bound to drop again, that someone is bound to try and kill all of us again, how do you move forward without believing in a place we can seek refuge? isnt that terrifying?

if you'd rather not talk about this here, i completely understand. i have a few books on the topic and im planning to do some of this learning / unlearning / relearning on my own, so there's no pressure on you to respond to my question. again, much love <3

Thank you for reaching out, and thank you for your kind words. I was honestly nervous to share this, because it can be a challenging subject. I think it causes a lot of really painful cognitive dissonance when so much of your history and identity is wrapped up in being a survivor of oppression, to then turn around and admit that we are also acting as oppressors in someone else's story. It's hard. It hurts. And it leaves us feeling kind of unmoored and without direction. Regarding your second question, I unfortunately don't think my answer is comforting. I'm a Queer Jew. I'm trans, and I'm disabled. These additional marginalities have a big impact on how I approach being Jewish. And a part of that is an acceptance of the fact that I'm not safe. When things get bad for Queer people (when people want us dead, or don't want us to be allowed to have children, or when they accuse us of being predators, or....), there isn't a distant prophesied place that "belongs to Queer people" for me to run to. There is no guarantee of sanctuary for me when it becomes impossible to function as a disabled person in a society that refuses to value and accommodate us (or when they want us dead, or when they don't want us to be allowed to have children, or when they want us locked away, or when they don't want us to have jobs and our own money....). I'm not saying that one group of people should suffer because another group of people have suffered and that's somehow "fair" or whatever. I hate that kind of mentality. I think minimizing suffering wherever possible should always be what we strive for as human beings. What I am saying is that being Queer and being disabled have, in a way, made it easier to accept the risk of being Jewish without having the concept of a literal geographical Zion to give me the hope of escape. The story of our people fleeing Egypt and then taking the promised land by force, some of which was detailed in this week's Torah portion - Devarim 6th portion (Deut. 2:31-3:14), is a story of a targeted people running to fight in the name of their future. I think now we have to learn how to stay and fight in the name of our future instead. To be where we are, and build Zion here. That's what we do as Queer people. That's what Black people do in America every day. And that's what people are doing in Palestine.

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daburuwosagase · 1 year

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Guess I'll do a year review for the heck of it.

2022 sucked badly for me and for many loved ones (you know who you are). It's been very trying from start to finish. A lot of my coping mechanisms just did not work. There is no silver lining in losing family and friends. There were so many awful circumstances popping up without rest that left me feeling powerless. Dates are arbitrary, but I have been looking forward to the end of the year since March.

In the coming year, I want to get off the internet and go outside, get a job in the field I'm actually trained for, focus on one-on-one relationships, whatever else will make me feel like I'm progressing with my life. I've been very thankful to have physical stability all this year and last. But it's time to get back up.

Recounting all the awful stuff would just be a downer, so I'll list off the positives:

Graduated after six years! Got oodles of qualifications! Sure would be nice if an employer took notice! I worked my butt off to actually get good grades in the last semester and boost my GPA over that 3.5 threshold. I think I'd have been really frustrated if I had ended up at 3.49. So I'm proud of myself for pouring effort into my own future for once.

(Technically) finished up the biggest translation project I've ever done. I'm not taking on that much unpaid solo work ever again. But wow, I think I deserve street cred forever for that one.

Got foot surgery after four years! Now that I'm *literally* back on my feet, it's...

...actually, I'm gonna derail this post and talk candidly about that. I just did my exercises for the night and my legs are feeling great. I bounced up the stairs with a spring in my step earlier today, and moderately quickly at that. I've been able to go on walks around the neighborhood and still have strength after getting back home. I can just STAND. Back in the summer, I couldn't even stand around normally without some pain.

I'm frustrated with myself for not getting help earlier, for always thinking "yeah it was pretty bad last week but it's feeling better, so no need to call the doctor, right?", for taking so long to progress to surgery even when I finally DID see a doctor. It shouldn't have taken four goddamn years when, according to what I'm reading, surgery can be considered after six months for what I had.

If you're reading this right now and you experience chronic pain: please schedule an appointment. Don't wait for the next flareup.

Anyway, it got so bad that I just couldn't walk. The pain wasn't like constantly walking on spikes — it only felt like that for brief moments here and there, as if that's much better. But it WAS constant, and eventually would hurt even when sitting down. And I was wondering if I was going to be stuck in pain for the rest of my life, not able to go anywhere, not able to do anything about it. And I *did* give up on going outside and standing in the kitchen long enough to make a meal.

When the doctor explained surgery as an option to me, it sounded too good to be true. Nothing else had worked, yet this method was supposed to be a total cure? She made it sound pretty damn perfect though. So I scheduled a date, put my life on hold for two months, and actually started to feel hopeful. Only a month left of grinning and bearing it, only a few weeks, a few days...

...and like I thought, something just HAD to go wrong. Just like every other thing this year. One stupid false positive test and eeeverything got rescheduled, and the month-long timer got reset, and I was heartbroken. It hurt so much and I was so scared that it'd happen again.

But as you know, I *did* get the surgery. I was insanely anxious in those last three days beforehand, but by god, afterward, there was NO pain in the places where it'd been constant before. Sure, I could only crawl for two weeks, and I'm still relearning how to walk properly, but holy crap! I can move around! I can stand around aimlessly and it doesn't hurt! I could probably run, though I haven't tried! I managed to walk around for two hours on uneven ground last month and see the sights of a nearby national park, and it was beautiful and unbelievably peaceful and it's a memory I'll treasure for life. We're planning to revisit the same place next month, and while I know it won't be the same as that perfect first time, I'm still so excited for it. I can plan in advance again! I have things to look forward to again! All of this seemed impossible a few months ago!

I'm still holding my breath a little because this year has just burned me over and over again. But the groundwork has been laid for things to get better.

#personal #cw: medical #oops! turned into a different post halfway

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goremet-chef · 10 months

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maybe ill tell my mom im hungry? im so. my entire LIFE i have always always hated asking for things like so much so that i stopped asking for things on my BIRTHDAY because im like. terrified of being seen as selfish? idk its funny cuz parents will like. god forbid i get a treat when im a kid, then all the grown ups in my life look down and call me spoiled as if they didnt give me the treat, and they still think children arent capable of complex thought so they didnt anticipate that id internalize it for the rest of my life but here we are 😁😁

so i just. god i hate asking for things it makes me feel so shitty but i think shes gonna go somewhere anyways? and EVENTUALLY hes going to run out of things to cook so maybe if i ask she'll bring home some food (vent/rant)

that is one thing that always bothers me tho ive got? idk my mom is. shes my mom i guess, currently she treats me very nicely but when her bf was gone for a few years all that anger was directed at me so yknow. i guess shes over it? or she tries to make up for it, but if im not given an apology, i wont forgive or forget even. it was mutual, lots of arguing on the basis of politics at time, but sometimes it was just fucking nothing, to the point where she'd even admit that i didnt deserve that treatment its just. SIGHHHHH im over it at this point im just trying to get out atp yknow? but like

my sibling asks for LOTS of things. and they get all of them. money for computer parts? sure. money for literally any thing? sure. new game? sure

im not bitter about it, as long as my mom can afford it i dont care. but like....... whenever I ask for things, its usually a no

because of my BPD, i take rejection really hard, its the worst pain in the world so i kinda just stopped asking for anything at all to avoid the feeling. then they always are like "ohh what do you want for yr birthday we cant just get you nothing" but i actually DID ask for something on my birthday. i asked for a copy of pokemon black for the ds. it was the only thing ive directly asked for in years, and i didnt get it which is super embarrassing. like whats the point of bothering me about what i want if you dont listen to me when i do? they always get me what they THINK i want and its this really outdated version of me that doesnt even exist anymore, its makes me dissociate knowing thats what they see me as when im just not that anymore. even when i tell them its null

IDK its jsut a whole thing, idk how to feel about it anymore. its to the point where like. my friends take me out sometimes but i mean. they know im broke, they know i have no job, they know i have no income. but im terrified the entire time that theyre gonna like. ask me to pay or something, and i always do my best to just do nothing when we go out cuz i really like. even when they offer to get me things it makes me feel so fucking shitty man i feel like im just leeching off of them even when they offered. even when they tell me they like getting me things it just. it feels so bad. and GOD its embarrassing, when we're walking around stores and all im doing is just following them around because i have like FIVE DOLLARS in my pocket at most. things like that make me want to never leave my house again, it just sucks.

im jealous of them if im honest, because they have jobs and i dont. but i dont think? i genuinely am unsure id ever be able to get a job. im not well adjusted like them, im constantly dissociating, constantly tired, my sibling yesterday, i made a comment about my mom leaving without telling me at all and he was like "well she said she was leaving on the weekend didnt she?" like yes, she did, but i genuinely have no idea what day it is at any given point. all i know is the number, i dont know the day of the week ever.

like im so. fucked, im fucked! totally, even if i managed to get me shit together, relearn the days of the week, set a good sleep schedule, im fucked anyways because i dont know how to be a person at all. an interview sounds fucking terrifying, ESPECIALLY if i dont know the questions theyre going to ask. i do really REALLY poorly with actual human conversation, like its painful. and pretty much everyone around me thinks im kinda creepy or weird in some way, so theyd DEFINITELY be able to tell. i have no resume, i dont even know what that IS. like im so fucked!! i wasnt able to pass highschool, i cant partake in a conversation if i dont somehow have both sides planned perfectly.

little unsure about my odds, gotta be honest

but at the same time like? i keep hearing people say "if you cant work then get disability insurance" am i disabled? everyone around me tells me im just not trying hard enough. they laugh at me when i say i just cant. even if it covers mental illness, i? i dont know. im constantly in denial of things because my family specifically my mom like. a long time ago she told me i just couldnt be autistic, because im "too smart"

?????? it showed me immediately that she has absolutely no fucking idea what shes talking about ever, i bet she couldnt list more than 2 symptoms of autism like genuinely. im not even smart also????? maybe id be a genius, if i could retain information after 5 minutes 💀💀 its complete bullshit man, im just. im at a loss

and then they have the audacity to mock me for not knowing how to be a person in the world, when THEY shouldve taught me. it was THEIR job to help guide me through it, and they didnt. they laugh and roll their eyes and scoff when i tell them oh i dont know how to use a stove, i dont know what food stamps are i dont know how to dress for a job interview ETC

they expect ill know, that i wouldve jsut picked it up over time but surprise! i didnt. i need instruction i need CLEAR instruction and no one will give it to me. its so frustrating man, they suck ass and they just make me feel WORSE about myself. like good fucking god, give me a break

idk im just. exhausted. im tired of just cramming my problems down because the people around me are incapable of seeing me as anything other than a child, and children dont have problems, right? i have no right to complain if my backs constantly hurting, if im too tired to feed myself properly, if i cant leave my house for 2 seconds without feeling the deepest dread. like be so serious bro

i cant wait to fucking move out, but.. how? my friends said its okay if i cant always make enough money from art to pay rent, but no. i dont believe them at all. theyre just being nice to me and i dont even deserve that, i fucking refuse i cant just. im always dead weight, its so frustrating. it frustrates the people around me, too. i feel like such a fucking burden man, its so tiring. if its not things i just dont know how to do, its fear. oh i cant help clean the garage because its crawling with spiders, i cant take out the trash because the trash bins are crawling with spiders. i cant walk down the stairs because i saw a spider on the ground. they fucking hate me man

i know what they see me as, but i have no idea how to convince them that its not me. they think im rude because i dont know how to properly communicate, i say things and its rude to them and i feel bad because i didnt intend to come off that way. everyone thinks im selfish, they think im overdramatic. exaggerating. if they could live in my head for one day, they wouldnt think that anymore

its so exhausting because you dont even get any sort of sympathy from them! just like. awkward pity, and it makes me wish i was never born. never oh im sorry yr feeling that way, do you wanna talk about it? never

they see me as such an obvious burden but they? i dont know! i genuinely cant understand, they think i just have no complex emotions? they think i cant hear it, cant see it? they think i dont feel like a burden when they tell me i am. its so stupid

i cant stand being around anyone, and it just pushes me FURTHER into dissociation. ive got an interesting thing with that. see, typically when yr dissociate with a dissociative disorder like OSDD or DID, that hazy period in time opens up for another alter to front, you dissociate away and get tucked inside yr head. except i get maladaptive daydreams. so im fully dissociated in another world basically but im still physically present. its like i just always take up space thats never meant for me, in every conceivable way. i hate it.

i know, when i finish typing this, ill feel a lot better. which is just embarrassing, bpd fucking sucks. having no emotional permanence is EMBARRASSING when im over here crying on my knees about my problems and then the second i get it out i feel completely fine. it just makes me invalidate my very real emotions even further and its so.

im just. whatever.

just spit it out and stop looking that way

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the-internal-journal-of-peachii · 2 years

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Welcome welcome.

Let’s get this outta the way. My life currently focuses on these topics: Weight (Mostly healthy thoughts, I have recovered from an ED and sometimes do still struggle. There will be mentions of calories/goals.), trying new workouts, medical trauma/chronic illnesses, and fertility issues. If, by any point, you are upset by my posts, please take a break and walk away. To you, I am simply a stranger on a website. A post on the internet that you won’t remember too much in 20 years. To me? This is my day in day out. Thank you for joining if you wish, but under no obligations do you have to stay. I appreciate you either way.

I suppose this is my “who am I?” post, for anybody who might be interested in following along.

I’m 22, Female (Cis), Bisexual in a long term relationship. I’ve been on tumblr since I was 13-14, but I never was a super duper active user. I’m ND, but undiagnosed with whatever it may be exactly.

My special interests include: Disney, Farming simulators (stardew, Dreamlight Valley, etc,), Books (Currently Reading Neon Gods by Katee Roberts.), board games to name a few.

Hobbies: Occasional digital art spurts, Occasional Twitch streaming, building Lego sets, collecting board games, collecting dnd dice, etc.

Here’s where we get into the heavy stuff. Weight, depression, and other stuff will be mentioned.

Medically, what’s going on?

First thing to mention? I was the second person in the United States to undergo a procedure in my right knee using a bio mechanical device to fix my issues. (constant dislocation of right knee, due to my bones growing improperly. It was originally triggered when I smashed my knee into a rock as a middle schooler, and it never recovered ) It was first cleared in Europe. I got the surgery when I was 18, and literally had to relearn how to walk. I was so determined to walk before my prom. Short story? I did. Not well, but I did. My left knee does require the same surgery, however I find the issues I occasionally have with my left knee not worth the time & money that the surgery would need. It does limit my activities.

I was diagnosed with ADPKD (Auto Dominant Polycystic Kidney Disease) when I was a week away from being 20. Which essentially means that my kidneys are growing cysts non stop, and this is increasing the size of my kidneys. It causes me pain from time to time. The worst time it flared, all I could do was lay on my parent’s bedroom floor and cry. There’s no cure for it, nothing I can really do at this stage except help prevent it from getting worse. This means no salt, no dark brown sodas, and a bunch of other things that make food taste good. Do I follow this diet to a T? No. Should I? Absolutely. However, being 19 going into 20, and then 2 days later after my birthday, the whole world shut down for the Pandemic? I was over it. Turning 20 and then being told that instead of 80 years, I now only had 40, was devastating. All I remember was being angry, and giving up everything. Giving up kids, giving up every life plan I ever made for myself.

So here I am, 2 years after the fact, in the worst shape I’ve ever been. The “fuck it I’m gonna die” attitude didn’t exactly motivate me to care for myself. I realized that I hit rock bottom, and now is the time to take back control. This is not a success story yet. This is just the turning point. So let’s get into specifics.

Currently, as of post, I’m 271 lbs. 5”7’. My BMI is 40-41 I believe. Because of this, I have chronic joint pain. I find myself tired, unmotivated, and just overall more depressed. Self consciousness comes with it too, but I wouldn’t be sitting here journaling if it didn’t.

Why use Tumblr?

Maybe someone out there can relate. Maybe someone out there can read my plights and relate a little bit and feel a little less alone. I know I feel alone in it all. Or maybe, someone can read all of this, and use me as a “oh, we’ll I don’t have it as bad,” and find comfort in that as well. Any take you have on it is fine with me. However, all of this genuinely is to satisfy my need for accountability and to feel like it makes an impact. If I put it out there, I want to be raw and I want to have a reason to convince myself to do better.

What to expect from this blog:

-Workouts I’m doing to get my body moving

-Food journaling

-Discussion of emotions, of pain, reflections.

I want to be as raw as possible; as open as possible. My journey is not a story of self love just yet. Since I’m still discovering that. However, I’m working on it. That’s what matters.

#TIJOP #About Me #weight loss #tw weight #chronic illness #chronic pain #obesity #journaling #food diary #adpkd #tw calories #female #biseuxal #neurodivergent

0 notes

vendettaparker · 3 years

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Happier Than Ever [T.H]

“[...] that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything, And all that you did was make me fucking sad. So don't waste the time I don't have. Don't try to make me feel bad.” -Billie Eilish (Happier Than Ever)

Summary: After another disastrous date with your boyfriend, a handsome British stranger is left to help you pick up the pieces of your broken heart, and relearn your self-worth.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: swearing, slut-shaming, implications of drinking, typos (i’ll go back through later and fix them)

a/n: i’m so so so happy with how this turned out! Billie Eilish’s new album definitely gave me the motivation i needed to get this fic finished and out. i really love her new songs and i think she did a great job with this most recent album. i hope you guys love this fic as much as i do, and as always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! love you!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Love is like a contractual agreement,” Your sister had told you once, “you promise to be faithful and love him, and in return, he is faithful and loves you. It’s a very simple concept at its core.” You were only eleven when she began to shed her wisdom and insights on love, and since you were so close, you ate up every lie she fed you.

In the end, she never knew anything about love. She probably never even felt it. She just wanted to give you hope. Hope that maybe love in your life would be different. She had just called off her engagement to her boyfriend after finding out he was married. That was the hardest day of her life. And though it wasn’t hard for you in the same sense as it was to her. It taught you something more valuable than she ever did. It taught you that she had no idea what love is. She never knew, and your whole life she kept telling you that love was perfect and happy, but in reality, love was messy and complicated, and it hurt more than it healed.

At least, that’s how Ryan was.

After you realized your sister was giving you false hope, you did what no twenty-something year old should do; you settled.

You settled with your high school sweetheart even though you knew the flame was dying. Even though you were unhappy most days and alone most nights. You settled. You settled because this must be love. If love isn’t perfection and bliss, then this must be it. This must be as good as it gets.

“Are you ready to order, Miss?” The waitress asked as she strolled up to your table.

“Sorry,” You shook your head, “a few more minutes, please? I’m waiting on someone.”

The waitress gave you a kind smile, but you could already see the pity behind her eyes. You tried going to this restaurant with Ryan last week, but he canceled last minute. The unfortunate part was that it was the same waitress as last week, and it’s like deja vu, being forced to relive the embarrassment of that night.

“Take your time,” The young woman said, before strolling off, no doubt to tell her coworkers how sad it was to watch you sit there all alone, again.

You let out a breath, trying to calm yourself so you didn’t end up crying. That’d just make it all the more embarrassing when you inevitably would have to leave, most likely without your dignity.

“You alright?” The man at the table next to you asked.

He’d been there for almost ten minutes after you, and already him and his whole party were ready to get their appetizers after getting their drinks. He was with four other men, and the entire time they had all been joking around and laughing, having an amazing time, the complete polar opposite of how your night was going.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” You looked over at him, finally taking in all his features. The fluffy brown hair, the soft, warm, hazel eyes, the crooked, yet perfect nose, and finally the one crooked eyebrow, crazy, yet enticing.

Tom had been sitting with his friends all night, and though he was having an objectively good time, he couldn’t help but notice how alone and sad you seemed. The minute he walked in his eyes darted to the beauty at the table in the back. He’d never admit it, but he requested a booth when the waiter initially offered them a table, just because he hoped luck was on his side to seat him next to you.

“Are you sure?” Tom asked, leaning slightly more towards your table and away from his own, “I just can’t help but notice you seem a little...down?”

“Is it that obvious?” You chuckled awkwardly.

“A little,” Tom shrugged, with a light chuckle of his own.

You let out a groan and covered your face with your hands, “this is so embarrassing,” you complained, “this is the second time in two weeks my boyfriend has skipped out on a date.”

Tom gave you a sympathetic smile, “Well, he sounds like an ass,” he said, shaking his head, “Um, I mean, respectfully.”

You laughed and waved the comment off, “No you’re fine. He’s been a bit of a dick lately if I’m being honest.”

“Well, before I continue bashing your boyfriend with you,” Tom said with a boyish smile, “my name’s Tom.” He held his hand out across the small aisle way between the tables for you to shake.

You happily shook his hand, “I’m (Y/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“Wow, funny and a charmer?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I’m kind of a catch,” Tom shrugged with a laugh.

“Oh, I can tell,” You assured him with a nod, “cute too.” Tom’s cheeks heated up at your compliment and turned red, “sorry that was out of line,” You shook your head, “I mean, I barely even know you. I swear, I’m never this open or flustered, it’s just been a rough night—well, week actually.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Tom assured, “you’re very pretty.”

“Thank you,” You smiled and looked down to cover the rising blush that was no doubt covering your cheeks as well now.

“Tom,” Harry nudged his brother whilst you were looking down.

“Not now,” Tom dismissed, still too enamored with you.

“Just go sit with her, mate,” Harry whispered harshly.

“No, that’s too weird.” Tom nudged him back, “she’s waiting for her boyfriend.”

Harry rolled his eyes before shoving Tom out of his seat and onto the floor next to your table.

“Ow, you div!” Tom yelped as he tumbled into your table.

“Oh my God,” You gasped as Tom sat up, “are you okay?” You asked, getting out of your chair and bending down to help him up.

“Gee, Tom,” Harrison said as he and the boys began to laugh, “you’re so clumsy.”

“Yeah, wow, we’d hate to have you spilling our drinks or anything,” Harry laughed, “maybe it’s best if you take a minute to compose yourself.”

“You’re all divs,” Tom frowned, “the whole lot of ya.”

“You can sit here if you want,” You motioned to the empty seat across from you, “I doubt it’s gonna be taken anytime soon.”

“Thanks,” Tom smiled as he took the seat across from you, “it’s nice to know at least one person here isn't out to get me.”

The waitress came back around just as Tom was taking his seat, “Can I get you two started with some appetizers?” she asked kindly, handing you and Tom a menu, “We have a new special,” she smiled brightly as she opened the menu for you and pointed to the new item, “it’s Maki coated and fried, served with spicy hollandaise sauce and topped with fresh green onions.”

You were about to decline and hand her the menu back, but Tom beat you to it, “Sure, we’ll take an order of that. And some champagne when you get the chance,” He said with his signature boyish smile.

The waitress wrote it down and left with a wave while Tom skimmed the menu.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You said, “you should be having dinner with your friends right now.”

“And leave a pretty girl all by herself?” Tom scoffed, “I’d never. Besides I’d much rather spend this time getting to know you, (Y/N).”

Your name rolled off of his tongue so perfectly. It was smooth and sounded like pure honey dripping from his lips. You’d never outright loved your name before, but now, hearing from his mouth, it nearly made you a narcissist with how much you adored it.

“There’s not much to know really,” You said sheepishly, “I’m just a girl with a shitty boyfriend, sitting alone in a five-star restaurant.”

“Most girls don’t say that,” Tom pointed out, making you chuckle.

“True,” You nodded, “what do you want to know?”

The waitress dropped off your champagne just as the conversation between you and Tom began to take off.

“I don’t know,” Tom shrugged, tell me something crazy, something you’ve never told anyone else. Or something sad, something that stuck with you your whole life.”

“Hm,” You pondered for a moment while the waitress came by with your maki, “thank you,” You smiled at her before she strutted away. “Well, something crazy is, I’ve never been out of the country. I’ve always lived in the States, but I’ve also always wanted to travel, I just don’t have the time or the means to.”

“Really?” Tom quirked a brow, “That’s crazy, my job has been traveling all over the world. I’m somewhat envious of people who don’t need to constantly update their visa.”

“What do you do?”

“I act,” Tom said proudly, “I’m not that famous though, only been in a handful of films.”

“He’s lying!” Harry called, “He’s Spider-Man.”

“Shut up, you twat!” Tom waved his brother off. “I mean I am, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, don’t sell yourself short,” You smiled, “that’s amazing. Marvel is such a cool studio too. I’m a film student, so I’m a bit of a movie geek.”

“But you’ve never seen Spider-Man?”

You shook your head, “I’ve seen the Tobey Maguire one if that counts?”

“It most certainly does not,” Tom gasped, “you have wounded me, woman.”

“My sincerest apologies,” You giggled.

“Is the happy couple ready to order?” The waitress asked as she strolled up to the table where you and Tom were giggling like little school girls.

“Oh, we—we’re not—uh, we’re just friends.” You and Tom stuttered simultaneously.

“Oh, my apologies,” The waitress said softly, a little glint of disappointment in her eyes, “what can I get for y’all today?”

“You go ahead, love,” Tom smiled at you, “my treat.”

“Oh, really, I couldn't.” You said, pushing the menu away, “I honestly should get going; I’ve taken up enough of your time tonight.” You smiled politely at Tom and the waitress before you began to rise out of your seat.

“No, darling, really it’s no bother.” Tom insisted. “You’ve had a rough night, it’s the least I can do.”

“Really it’s fine,” You assured, “I don’t need you to take pity on me.”

“I could at least call you a cab or walk—”

“Babe,” Ryan startled you, rushing up to give you a half-hearted hug, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Ryan…” You wiggled out of his grip, the waitress and Tom standing idly by, “I texted you the location three times.”

“Oh, you know how I am with navigation, babe.” Ryan slurred, wrapping his arm around you and pushing you back into your seat. The smell of liquor was evident on his breath, and the effects were clearer in his actions.

“Actually, I was just leaving—”

“No, no,” Ryan dismissed, “I’ve missed too many dates, let’s stay. Look you already got champagne, perfect!”

You gave Tom an apologetic look as he stood and Ryan shoved past him to take his seat. Tom just nodded before taking his seat back with his mates.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered over to him.

“It’s alright, love, I’m just glad you—”

“Babe,” Ryan huffed, “come on, stop flirting with that ass.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Ryan, “I’m not. I was just thanking him for keeping me company while I waited for you.”

“Good, now get back over here. Come on, you're the one that wanted to have a date so bad.”

You settled back into your seat properly and Tom turned back to his table. He ignored the sympathetic glances of his mates and quickly got back into conversation with them. While you sat dully in your chair, trying to find the little spark you had with Tom in Ryan.

“Are we all settled and ready to order now?” The waitress asked.

“Yes, I’ll have the New Zealand lamb,” You said, “medium rare.”

“Of course,” The waitress said, writing it down in her little black notepad, “and for you, sir?”

“Shit, I’ve barely got to look at the menu,” Ryan hiccuped, “um, do y’all have steak fries?”

“Yes, we have regular steak fries or sweet potato steak fries.”

“Ew, gross shit. Uh—” Ryan rubbed his eyes and peered at the woman, “I’ll have a large plate of those, extra salt, extra-crisp, yeah?”

“Of course,” She said, “I’ll be right back with those orders.”

You envied how she could just walk away. How she could just get away from his stench, while you had to sit, miserable on a date you had planned. The regret was stronger now than it had ever been.

“How was your day at work?” You asked Ryan, as he scrolled through his phone.

“It was alright, stupid bitch receptionist messed up one of my meeting times.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Yeah, I know it was. I just implied it, god, are you slow today or something?” Ryan scoffed with a chuckle.

“Sorry,” You cleared your throat, “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Yeah, you look it,” Ryan said with a smirk, “I like that dress on you, though. Is it new?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, “I didn’t think you’d notice,” You looked down at the shimmery backless dress. It had puffy sleeves that met your elbows and a hue that was glimmering with a tint of purple.

“How could I not,” Ryan said with a faux smile, “you look like a slut.”

“W-what?” You gasped, holding a hand to your chest, “Why—what—why would you say that?”

Ryan had always made snide comments about your outfits before. It’s always, “That shirt shouldn’t be cropped, you don’t have the figure for it.” or “That top is too low cut, your tits are hanging out.” sometimes it was even, “Your makeup makes you look like a clown.” For once you thought maybe you’d gotten it right. You’d gotten it just the way he liked it. What a stupid thought. What a ruse.

“I mean seriously. Look at yourself, no wonder that dick from the next table over wanted to keep you company, he probably just wanted to get into your pants tonight.” Ryan scoffed, motioning over to Tom’s table.

Tom was in too deep of a conversation to notice the brewing tensions and mentions of himself, but Harrison noticed, and Harrison was livid.

“Mate,” Harrison garnered Tom’s attention and nodded over to your table, where the look of hurt was so blatantly etched onto your face.

“I-I just—I just wanted to look nice for you tonight.” You sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye with your napkin, “I just bought this dress. I thought it was appropriate for a date.”

“If you were a whore maybe.”

“Hey,” Tom said sternly, drawing Ryan’s attention, “what the fuck man?”

“I’m just being honest with her,” Ryan defended, “I mean, man to man, you thought she looked nice tonight, right?”

“I did,” Tom agreed, “because she is a beautiful girl and from the short time I talked to her I could tell she had a lovely personality, which is more than I’m sure anyone could say for you.”

“You’re fucking stupid if you think for a second I believe you weren’t just talking to her so you could fuck her later.” Ryan laughed, “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Really?” Tom raised a brow, “So you know that I’m thinking you’re an arrogant bastard right now?”

Ryan’s face dropped and turned into a red, angry scowl, “I don’t have to take this shit,” he seethed. “Come on, (Y/N), we’re leaving.”

“No,” You said, “you’re drunk and I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Really,” Ryan raised his brow, “Is that how it’s gonna be? Fine, good luck paying the bill then, I’m closing the bank account, bitch.” Ryan stated, spitting on you before storming away.

You wiped your eyes from the tears that were running down your cheeks and sullying your makeup.

“I’m sorry,” You said to Tom as you stood up and began to gather your things, “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight. Enjoy your evening.” You gave him a small smile before going to the front desk to sort out your bill.

“(Y/N), wait—”, but you were too embarrassed, too dead set on leaving, that you had already made it to the front of the restaurant by the time Tom had gotten out of his seat.

When he too made it to the front, you weren’t there, only the hostess and a few stray waiters and waitresses.

“Where did the girl who was just here go?” Tom asked, “She had on a shiny dress—”

“She just left, sir.”

“Damn it,” Tom ran his fingers through his hair, “do you know where she went or anything?”

“I believe I just saw her hail a taxi.” The hostess said, “But we took down her information and she’ll be back tomorrow with cash to pay her bill.”

“No need,” Tom shook his head, “I’ll pay for it.”

“Are you sure? It’s a bit pricey—”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Tom said, placing his credit card onto the table.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was the next morning when you woke up and immediately began throwing away photos and gifts, anything really that had any connotation of Ryan. You were so busy snuffing out his memory that you momentarily forgot that he was still there. Until he woke up with a migraine and demanded Aspirin and water.

“Babe, come on,” Ryan whined, “I was drunk, I didn’t mean any of the things I said last night. I hardly remember it.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts, Ry.” You said as you began to pack his things in a bag, “and don’t act like you haven’t said shit like that to me before. I want you out of here in the next two hours. Your clothes are in this blue bag and your personal belongings are in these trash bags. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops.”

“You’ll call the cops?” Ryan scoffed, “On me? Really? We live together, you can’t kick me out.”

“You’re living in my apartment, Ryan. I have every right to throw you out on your ass.”

Ryan’s face of anger quickly turned into remorse, but you kept stoic. This needed to happen. It was so long overdue. Last night, even if you never saw Tom again, you felt a spark that you haven't felt in years. You realized that this wasn’t love anymore; it was submission. It was the way people felt when they have given up on themselves, and you were no longer going to be that person.

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay? I swear I am. Come on, let's go out to breakfast and we can talk and work this out. You can’t just throw away a four-year relationship.” Ryan begged.

“See!” You yelled “that's exactly it! I have wasted years of my life with you. Four years stuck in an endless loop of torment. It’s torture being stuck here with you! It’s hell! My personal hell! I have missed so much of my life trying to fix you; trying to fix us! I missed my mom’s birthday for the past two years, I missed my dad’s retirement party, I missed my sister’s funeral, all because you held me back!” You yelled as the hot tears began to stream down your face, no doubt making you look manic, “I’m done letting you hold me back, so get the fuck out!”

Ryan was gone within the hour. It took a lot of screaming and a momentary dial to 9-1-1, but finally, he was gone. And as shitty as the situation was, you didn’t feel nearly as sad as you did when he was with you. You were finally free, and with that freedom came happiness. The happiness you hadn’t felt in so long.

So there you sat, just enjoying the peacefulness of your apartment. Ordering takeout for yourself, watching the shows you wanted to, calling your mom back home. The little things you never realized you took for granted so long ago.

Then the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, wallet in hand, only to be met with the honey-dipped brown eyes that helped you in more ways than they’d ever realize.

“Did someone order Chinese?” Tom said with a smile.

“It’s you.” You said, not realizing how wide you were smiling until your cheeks hurt. “I thought you were an actor?”

“I am,” Tom said, “that’s probably what led the delivery guy to hand over your order so quickly. I ran into him on my way up, made me snap a photo with him.”

“How did you find me?”

“I may have snuck a peek at the paper with your info on it at the restaurant last night.” Tom said sheepishly, a light branding of pink covering his cheeks, “too stalkerish?”

“A little,” You chuckled, standing aside to invite him in, “you’re not going to kill me though, right?”

“Tom Holland? A murderer?” Tom gasped in faux offense, “Darling, you must stop bruising my ego like this.”

You laughed and took the food out of his hands, “I’m sorry, but a girl can never be too safe.”

“True, I mean, I’m not sure if I’m happy you let me in, or disappointed that you didn’t question me more.”

“Well, I’m happy,” You smiled, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Tom said, scratching the back of his neck, “Your boyfriend didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You corrected, causing Tom to smile despite himself, “and no, he didn't hurt me.”

“Ex?” Tom asked, just to be sure, “as in, not anymore?”

“Yes,” You chuckled, “as in, not anymore. Also as in, you are free to stay and eat crappy Chinese food and watch South Park with me.”

“I’d be an idiot not to, darling.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧tags & moots✧

@ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @starktonyx @celestialholland @hollandcrush @scarletspideyy @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @arlo-sanders @boiolay @letssee2468 @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @hollandprkr @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams @loveaffaire @illicitparker @tomfknholland @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @lauras-collection @lolooo22 @namoreno @thenoddingbunny-blog @bi-lmg07

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom #tom holland fanfic #peter parker smut

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dash-the-guitar-ghoul · 2 years

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Ghost OC Week Part 2 and 3

April 4th - Connections - Are they related to any canon characters? Are they in any relationships with a canon character? Do they have any enemies? Are they related to someone else’s oc?

April 5th - Beginnings - Where and how did their story start? How did they find the clergy? Were they summoned?

Hello again!

Shit has been busy here at the clergy so I missed a day. Doing these ones together instead.

Let me start with how I came to earth. You are already aware that I had a bad summoning. Well, what I didn't add before was that it also caused me to forget everything from my past. I didn't have a name, no family, nothing. I was luckily not reduced to an infant, but it was still really hard. I was luckily able to regain my memory recently, but I went a lot of years not knowing anything about my past. To be honest, I think not having a family or memory of my life contributed to how I acted in the beginning, but I basically consistently ended up getting involved with chronically unavailable people out of sheer loneliness. The first was Dewdrop.

He was just my boss at first. He found me when I randomly picked up his guitar while thinking I was alone in the music room. I didn't even realize I could play but it came to me just as naturally as breathing, I just didn't remember I could play. When he heard it, he asked for me to be his tech immediately. I still had to relearn some things, but he trusted me and me only because I was the only one that he thought was on his level of skill, which was apparently important to him.

We eventually hooked up after getting drunk one night. Unfortunately for me, to Dewdrop, I was just a good fuck. I thought for a minute that I might have had feelings for him, but once I realized I didn't mean much to him, I wouldn't let him fuck me anymore. He's grown up a bit since then but, it still hurt.

There are also a few other people in my past that, unfortunately, is going to have to be saved for another day.

But...moving on!

I don't have any family in the clergy, but Copia…excuse me I'm still not used to it, Papa, has been like a father to me for not long after I was summoned. He helped me when I started to work in the library and helped me whenever he could to teach me English as well. He even gave me my name when he saw me running for fun one day and even encouraged me to compete in some clergy competitive races, which I fucking smashed of course!

Apart from him, the person that I am closest to has to be my love, my life, my darling, my Swisstopher…or Swiss like everyone else knows him. 🤣

We met through the Ghost band project obviously, considering I ended up as Dew's tech. But..we were purely aquatintences for a long time and barely noticed each other, not that I didn't think he was attractive, I just always assumed he was unavailable or not interested. But, one, unfortunately, somewhat tragic day when Copia got in trouble and was forced to leave us for a time, Swiss and I got into an argument about what we should do about it. Let's just say I was having none of it and was practically planning to burn everything down in rebellion. Swiss basically had to yell some sense into me and for a few days after, I spent a bunch of time trying to get him to forgive me. We eventually agreed to get out off the church grounds for a bit to just hang out. I bought dinner as an apology. Somehow, while we were strolling in the park, he suggested giving me a blow job. I was.. pretty fucking shocked! It hadn't even occurred to me that he was attracted to me at all. However, nothing changed much after that until one night in the church's music room. I was practicing a song I was writing and was having trouble with some lyrics and asked Swiss to join me for some advice. I kinda wanted to see him anyway since he hadn't left my mind since the park. We talked SO much that night! I don't think I had ever felt so comfortable around someone in my whole life. We even sang a song together. By the end of the song, I think the both of us were feeling a connection like nothing else before so…we kissed. Recalling it now, even though it was technically our first kiss, (we didn't really bother in the park) it felt like I had been kissing this beautiful man my entire life.

He made me his mate that same night. Anyone else might have said it was rushed..it was like having a shotgun wedding Vegas or something, but when you meet your soulmate, there's no reason to wait. We've been together since and I've never been happier!

Art by @sushiwestern

#ghostbcocweek2022 #ghostbcfandomevents #the band ghost #ghost band #the band ghost oc #swiss army ghoul #swiss ghoul #swisstopher #multighoul #multi ghoul

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trashland-llamas · 2 years

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I'm Not Angry Anymore

-Harry's Pov-

I was completely bored out of my mind. I had no interest in playing FIFA and I had filmed all the needed videos that week. Looking around my room, I found a ukulele discarded, collecting dust as my hobbies changed from moment to moment. I could be invested in something for weeks on end and then never pick it up again. But I figured it'd be good to see how much I remembered. Plus it could fulfill the boredom.

Slowly strumming a few chords, feeling like I was relearning how to ride a bike. Finally going through the chords C, D, G, and E minor. Pulling up the tabs for a random Paramore song, the band appearing a lot in my playlists lately.

Getting into it, Harry softly started singing, 'I'm not angry anymore. Well, sometimes I am.' Thinking of the annoyance whenever I'd tried a joke and it wouldn't work. Or when I'd attempt to add an idea for the Sidemen channels. 'I don't think badly of you. It depends on the day.' Then there was that time last week when I accidentally broke a bowl, Lux scolding me for it. I know he meant well, but I still feel bad for it; not anger but rather guilt? 'The extent of all my worthless rage, and, I'm not angry anymore.'

-Cal's Pov-

Apparently it was my turn to do the dishes. Simply a menial task that needed to be done regularly, not that I minded. It gave me time to think, not having to worry about a project's deadline or ideas for videos. Just some time to myself. Usually Lux or Bogs would join me but I assumed they were both busy. Lux being out with some friends and Harry somewhere in the flat. Once wiping my hand and drying them, I heard music playing from upstairs. Not loud enough to where I'd have to tell the person off but a comfortable, faint level.

Walking up the stairs, I was able to hear the music more clearly. Is, is that Harold singing? The instrumental bit sounded happy but the lyrics were quite the opposite. 'I'm not bitter anymore. I'm syrupy sweet.' Not wanting to bother him, I sat down by his door. Leaning only my head against the frame so it didn't creak. As to not give me away. I wonder what made him feel so...defeated. 'I'm syrupy sweet. I'll rot you teeth down to the core if I'm really happy.'

I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I almost let a yawn escape. Didn't know dishes could tire a person out that quickly. That and I hadn't really gotten a good night sleep, staying up until 4am to edit. Without realizing, his eyes slowly fluttered shut.

-Harry's Pov-

'Well I'm not angry. I'm not totally angry. I'm not all that angry anymore.' Letting out a soft chuckle when I heard my stomach growl. Realizing I'd forgotten to eat, I decided I should go downstairs and see if either of the Cals' were around as well as feed myself. Opening my door, I was startled when I spotted Freezy asleep on the floor. I didn't want to wake him but I didn't really have the strength to carry him to bed. Instead, I grabbed a pillow and blanket. Gently lifting his head, trying to maneuver him to a position that wouldn't hurt his neck or spine as bad. And laid the blanket across his lap. Hopefully, he wouldn't end up sleeping through the night.

-Cal's Pov-

That bastard.

#sidemen #not x reader #harry lewis #callum airey #w2s #wroetoshaw #calfreezy #harry lewis x callum airey #paramore #i'm not angry anymore

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red-jaebyrd · 4 years

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My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions. He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family. He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug. “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

#Ric Grayson #Jason Todd #Batman #batfic #batbros #batbros bonding #Ric Grayson needs a hug #Protective Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #batfamily #Ric's not that bad once you get to know him #my fics

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kissesinthekitchen · 4 years

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Teeth

Prompt: It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so.

Smut and fluff. Needy Harry. More than 6,560 words of sub!Harry.

Pairing: Harry x Reader

A/N: I’m really excited about this! This story was written for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge - and my prompt was 9F - Sub!Harry. It really pushed my writing and forced me to write something different and out of my comfort zone. I have so much love for @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays and @oh-honey-styles for their patience and for putting this event together. These writers have inspired me so much, they literally brought me back to fanfic -after years of writer’s block- and I could not be more thankful. This was my first time taking part in a writing challenge too! I would appreciate any love or feedback this gets. Thank you! xo

His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.

God, you want to wreck him.

It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you.

Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting.

And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so.

But aside from passes of food and medication through the door of your apartment and fuzzy Facetime calls, he hasn’t seen you.

It’s been hard. The evening after you first slept together, you were taken away from him - a girl’s trip to Maui, for one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties. You’d given him time, moments tucked away in your hotel room when your mate was gone and you had an hour to yourself. An hour of grinning at him through the face of an unreliable internet connection to tell him that you missed him so bad. Selfies taken hidden in the bathroom. Cheeky voicemails. He’s kept them all.

Then, when your plane had touched down in California, there had been another road bump in your reunion when you’d come back ill. Your achy, trembling voice had croaked into the phone delivering him the bad news. “Harry, I’m sick.”

You’ve been sick for the last week and a half and it’s been hard to give you your space, Harry will admit to that. But you’re adamant, serious. You remind him that he has rehearsals for tour starting soon and he can’t risk it.

“Miss you,” he croaks into his phone when you touch down.

“Miss you more,” you tell him back, a cough slicing through your promise.

“Let me buy you groceries. I can pick up your prescription-”

Harry watches your face soften through the video call, wanting nothing more than to touch your cheek.

“I’ll pay you back,” you tell him, smiling as if you both don’t know he has a bank account worth millions of dollars. Later, you both stare at each other miserably through the window of your living room window as he places your groceries and medicine on your doormat. He blows you a kiss goodbye before he leaves and you pretend to catch it with your hand.

But that had been a few days ago and now you’re on your way to his house, caught in Los Angeles traffic but on your way nonetheless.

He wonders if you’ve thought about it too, thought about him. If you have missed him just as much. He doesn’t feel alone in this feeling, if the look in your eyes as he left your window is enough to tell him, but there’s something else gnawing at him-

Harry is sure he’s in love with you.

It’s a feeling that kindled inside of him before you slept together, but now it feels more palpable, real. Bigger than himself. The weeks without you have only cemented it for him. He loves you. He’s in love with you. He might have even written a few songs about it already.

He wants to tell you. He likes the idea of feeling right, but he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to tell you when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, and he knows that feeling is dawning. The words feel like they are bubbling in his chest, nearing the tip of his tongue each time he talks to you.

You’ve been together five months now. And he knows maybe that’s a bit of a long block of time to get into each other’s pants for some people - god knows he might have wanted to jump your bones earlier than that.

But time was always in the way, the same way it feels now. A trip to take him across another country away from you. Your job making you stay late or taking you out of state. You’ve done other stuff together before - of course. Hurried handjobs when you were visiting the studio, his fingers tasting you, he might have even gotten his cock in your mouth when he went to visit you at work. But the real getting together, the real sleeping together - had taken five months. And now that he knows what you feel like, what sounds you make, how you look underneath him - Harry can’t think of anything else. It’s the only thing that has carried him through the last few weeks without you when he’s been miserably lonely. His need for you, and yes, his love for you.

It happened in your bedroom, on the small - full sized bed in your apartment, rather than the massive mattress in his house. But he thinks it was perfect that way. He loves your apartment now, he knows it. He has his favorite mug and you stock a box of his favorite granola on top of your fridge. He names the plants in your living room. (“Bowie,” he points to a colorful succulent. “Obviously.” And then “Freddie” to the pothos sitting on your bookshelf.) And there are photos of you together tacked up with magnets in the kitchen and frames next to your bed. That night you had given him his own toothbrush to keep on the sink in the bathroom next to yours.

Everything about him seems to ache without you here. His hands feel empty without you against them, music -even, he realizes- does not feel as vibrant without your voice there to sing along with him.

You’ve kept him close though, and for that he is happy. He muses on this as he finishes some dishes in the kitchen, trying not to glance at the clock again.

It started with the text messages. Then the photos you sent him from Hawaii. He has to stiffle a grin at the memory - A sex shop your friends had pulled you into a few days into your trip. You’d sent him a photo of a wall of toys - floggers, gags, dildos, chokers, blindfolds. Harry had barked out a laugh at first when he saw the picture unfold in front of his eyes. See anything you like? You’d teased.

He remembers how he’d been sitting in his living room, the sound of the latest Packers game fading in the background. His ears felt hot as his fingers hovered over the letters on his phone.

The choker. He’d typed out, teeth gnawing into his bottom lip. Maybe the blindfold too.

For me or you?

Me. xx

Harry swears he must have felt all the blood rush to his groin when he saw your reply.

They have handcuffs too.

Your talks and messages had only escalated from there. It was as if you were both daring each other to go further, but instead you were crossing new territory together, hand in hand. You made him feel dizzy with want, the way you were meeting him inch for inch.

It’s the only reminder that Harry feels like he needs - he can trust you in a way he hasn’t been able to trust anyone before. He finds himself pledging devotion to the intrigue in your eyes, the way you don’t shy away when he teases you back or admits something through the phone. The feeling leaves him breathless, if he’s being honest. Most of all, it makes him miss you even more.

His skin is buzzing as the minutes crawl by and your arrival gets closer and closer. He can’t stay still. He paces the hall until he sees the text banner on his phone announce you’re arrival. I’m outside.

Harry’s favorite thing about you is the way you look perfectly at home in his house. Like you’ve alway belonged here. He swears sometimes that he must have dreamt you into life. It’s like you have just always been here. He’s reminded of this when he hears your voice over the security camera - “It’s meee.” And when he pulls the door open -

“Baby-” he opens his arms.

You drop your bags on his doorstep. And you’re grinning as you launch yourself into his arms, your cheek flat against his chest and your nose buried in his neck. “Harry.”

“Oh baby,” he says, his fingers gingerly stroking your cheek, pushing your face up so your foreheads meet. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are glistening as he presses your lips together.

The last few weeks feel like a lie of nostalgia. Your memories of him have not done him justice. Not to the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, not to his warmth or his laugh and definitely not to the way he kisses you.

He smells good, like something crisp and floral - his expensive aftershave and cologne, and something still so distinctly Harry. That’s the part you have missed the most.

You kiss him with both arms around his neck to pull him down to your height and you don’t stop until his back hits the door, reminding you both that you need a break to breathe. He’s laughing as he grips your waist.

“Sorry,” you muse, smudging some of the lipstick that you’ve gotten on his mouth and teeth.

“Don’t be, love. C’mere,” he takes your groceries (you owe him, don’t you?) and bag from you.

You shuffle into the house, checking your keys twice to make sure you locked your car even though Harry laughs and reminds you there’s a gate and a security guard that patrols the neighborhood.

Harry helps you unpack the groceries, while you work on relearning the map of his kitchen again, pulling drawers and opening cabinets, trying to get acquainted with his space again. He throws on some Fleetwood Mac and The Zombies filter through the space between you as you start dinner. He muses that the song could not be more perfect for the feeling inside his chest. “Should I try to hide, the way I feel inside? My heart for you? Would you say that you love me too? I can tell the way you smile. If I feel that I could be certain then. I would say the things I want to say tonight.”

He stares at you with something that feels like pride, watching the sun filter through the window as you work. He thought -maybe- it might be hard to look you in the eyes or to push the feeling inside him aside but this, it feels easy. Watching you and being together with you in this way. His house, he feels, it finally feels like home now that you’re here.

The smell of garlic and olive oil begins to fill the kitchen as you prepare the ratatouille and pasta you promised him you would make. You smile when he leans down to rest his chin against your shoulder as you work, sometimes squeezing your side with his hands.

“Smells good, love,” he says, a watchful eye hanging over your shoulder at the pots and pans on the stove.

Harry pours wine into glasses for the both of you and you hum your thanks when he pushes the throat of a glass towards you, closing your eyes as he kisses the top of your head. And when you unwrap the loaves of bread from the store, he laughs and barks out “Could’a told me to make some, love. I used ‘ta work in a bakery!”

You laugh as you tug on his waist, reaching up to catch his lips. “I know. You never make me forget.”

You make tiramisu later, trying hard not to stare at Harry too much as you work together. His long fingers dipping the ladyfinger cookies into the espresso mix. And you know he catches you blushing when he asks you to taste the whipped cream from his fingers. It has not stopped catching you by surprise, the way he can make you feel beautiful and important and lucky all at once.

And even though he knows this was the plan for tonight, he can’t help but beam at the promise in your voice when the words come tumbling later. “Brought my bag,” you tell him over your empty plates. “Packed an outfit for tomorrow. Hope you like my pajamas.” You smirk at him.

“S’the ones with coffee mugs and lattes on them?”

You throw your head back and laugh at the fact that he remembered them.

“Sexy,” he teases. You catch him leaning against the counter and taking you in. “Got you a toothbrush.”

You smile, memories of last time quickly flooding your thoughts, but don’t take your eyes off the napkin in front of you. You know he’s lost in the same memories. When you’re washing dishes later though, he leaves you to place the fancy -electric, you’ll notice later and expensive- toothbrush sitting on top of your overnight bag.

After dinner, when you’re both feeling warm and giggly, you pull him back into the sitting area of his bedroom. Harry gulps hard as he watches you insist on lighting some candles, and the smell of teakwood and rosemary fill the room. Watching you makes his stomach clench, this is all he has wanted, craved, needed for the last few weeks. You in his arms and in bed, taking up his space again.

He’s sitting on the small sofa next to his bed, the enormity of his room could almost beat the entire size of your apartment. But you feel at peace here, in the same way he feels comforted and hidden in your home. He’s more than the expensive, designer clothes in his closet, the guitars that line one wall, the pile of leather bound journals and gold and white accented bathroom. Here, he’s just Harry. Your Harry.

When he’s finally relaxed, you push some gifts bags into his hands and insist that he unwrap the gifts you got him from Hawaii. There are books, boxes of chocolate, bags of pineapple candy, floral shirts from vintage thrift stores, and a kitschy keychain with hula dancers and his name on it - that looks so hilariously out of place next to the keys for his Mercedes and vintage cars.

You look warm and inviting as you turn towards him, the candlelight taking your skin glow like amber. Your skin looks kissed by the sun thanks to your trip. And Harry’s suddenly overwhelmed with how he wants nothing more than to kiss you for your thoughtfulness, for the disbelief he feels at having you here, for the feeling bursting in his chest.

“Got you one more thing,” you tell him as you close the distance between you, reaching around him to place a small gift box in his hand.

“Another present? Or summat?” he smiles.

You kiss the side of his face, humming softly in response, stroking the back of his hair and neck. You try to stay composed as Harry’s fingers gingerly pry the lid of the box open.

The air feels like it has been sucked out of him. He hates that his fingers tremble a little as he takes the collar out of the box. It’s black and thick, feels smooth like leather, with a buckle that slides closed on the side. He swallows hard as his thumb gingerly runs over the loopholes, imagining the way it would feel gripping his throat or how you would look tying it in place - god, help him.

“Thought we could use it sometime. Doesn’t have to be tonight. You mentioned-”

And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you so fiercely that your mind stumbles before your body can catch up. Both of his hands on your face, knocking the collar down between you.

It’s what you have both been walking around all night and it feels like the feeling that had been simply growing in his chest is about to burst. His vision feels like it is swimming right now, but your hands on his face are the only thing tethering him to the ground, whatever is growing between you makes him feel like so much more than himself. The feeling in his chest feels bigger than he has words for right now.

Your eyes search his. “Do you trust me?

“I do. Y’know I do.”

“Then Harry?”

His pupils are so wide. “Yeah?” he says.

“Get on your knees.”

You watch him carefully as he moves to his knees on the floor, idly shifting closer to the bed. When he stills, you reach for the belt he had discarded on the way into his room. Your fingers rubbing against the leather. “This okay?”

You listen to his sharp intake of his breath, watch the curls at the front of his face fall briefly in his eyes. “Y-yeah.”

His hands are one of your favorite things about him. Their large, calloused - his fingers long and tapered. You reach down to press a kiss to the cross on his hand and then move to coil the belt so it loops around his wrists, biting into his skin.

Realistically, Harry knows he could get out of this, but it’s the fact that he doesn’t that thrills you. He’s patient and pliant beneath your hands, reduced to his knees and shuddering when your touch leaves him. The line of his neck arching as his eyes follow you. He uses his mouth to follow the line of your palm, kissing your skin until you let go.

He crawls for you - and oh, you love that. The way his back arches, his long legs and knees hitting the floor, his mind unable to grasp what his body can’t right now - he’s so eager to follow where you go, to be with you, to be a part of you.

“Harry-” you say, sitting down on the mattress and spreading your legs wide. You lean back to rest your weight on your elbows, thighs lazily spread wide so he can rest between them. You shimmy the end of your dress up, loving the way his nostrils flare and his pupils widen, watching your hands - your fingers grazing where he wishes his skin could go too. Have hungered to for days and days.

“Harry, do you want to taste me?”

“God, love. Please-”

“Say it again.”

“Please?” he begs.

His nose and lips skim the same path your hands followed. His head of full dark curls turning under the hem of your skirt. You’re gracious enough to help make it easier for him by tugging it up and he groans a sound of thanks into your skin with his lips.

He’s hungry for it. He inhales deeply, licking you through the fabric of your panties in a way that makes you shudder. He’s even more grateful when you take pity on him by raking your nails through his hair and shifting the material down so he can look at you bare. The tug makes his eyes flutter, it feels so good.

He’s frozen though, stilling as he waits for your instruction, and you gingerly cup the side of his face in thanks.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, when he’s almost at the point of whimpering. And then he moves forward, making a home between your thighs.

Last time you did this, you learned that you love when Harry has both his mouth and his fingers inside you - but this is - well it’s lovely. It’s fucking heaven. Watching how desperate he is to get you off, the way he presses all of his face into your cunt - heeding the deepest part of you, where you’re so wet and just as desperate for him. He’s needy, messy with it. His lips and tongue remembering you all over again, his nose smashed against your cunt and the hint of his teeth against your clit - just enough to have you grinding down on him in a way that makes your brain feel fuzzy.

Feeling the slickness of his tongue as he slides it inside you makes your cunt feel like it’s fluttering around him. Your face pinches every time he comes back to lick you deeper and you listen to the half garbled words that he’s sucking and pleading into your skin.

“So wet. So fuckin’ wet for me. Tastes so good. Missed ‘yeh so much.”

Without the help of his hands, Harry uses one long leg to push himself against the length of the bed- trying to be close to you, while also finding some friction against the mattress. He finds no relief, but when he hears you voice gasp out for him, your fingers weaving in his hair - it’s almost better than any vision he had of you these last few weeks. Oh, it’s so much fucking better.

He’s so greedy for it. He wants to taste you, needs to feel you cum more than he wants it for himself. You can tell by the way he pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to get deeper, like he’s trying to reach inside you and be a part of you. If his hands were free, he would use his fingers to spread you wide and open. To stuff you full. He knows he would tug on your legs, wear your thighs around his neck like a fucking necklace but there’ll be more time for that - another time, another place - right now, he just wants to feel you cum.

“Harry,” you beg him. “Harry. I’m close-”

He moans when he watches you slide your fingers down to help aid him, his jaw dropping down in awe as you rub your clit. He works hard to sink down and lick around your fingers before dipping inside of you again.

“You’re gonna make me come. You’re gonna - I’m going to come in your mouth. God, I’m going to come in your mouth-”

He’s lost in it, but it’s when he looks up at you - his big, green eyes against your flushed pussy, that you feel yourself lose it. It’s simultaneously loving and yet so obscene - you can’t bear it.

You fist your fingers through his hair, shoulders trembling a little off his pillow, your thighs shaking just as hard- and if his hands were free, Harry knows he would be forcing your thighs and your hips down onto the bed. But all he can do is take it now, take it as hard as you are giving it back to him. His face getting wet and messy with it.

You could scream with how good it feels. And he licks you through it all, only stalling when your nails dig into his head and he feels you shift away from his incessant mouth. “Too sensitive,” you murmur, and Harry finally relents.

He sits up on his knees, leaning his forehead against your thighs, trying to breathe through his nose.

“Harry?”

He makes a sound in his throat, still gasping against your thigh. You touch his head, urge him to rest against your thigh and he’s grateful. He feels something hanging off the tip of his tongue-

“Harry. Harry, what’s your color?” Tell me. Where are you?”

“Green,” he groans, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “That was- that was just a lot. But I’m green. So fuckin’ green, love..”

You giggle at that and when he finally does look up at you, he looks so pleased with himself. When you take his face between your hands, he feels warm against your fingertips, from the pressure of your hips and how deeply he was digging his face between your thighs. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening with you and you’re more than happy to help clean him up, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth and pressing soft, appreciative kisses against his face.

When you finally step aside, his eyes follow you. He’s appreciative of the fingers you still have in his hair and the way you use them to steer him up and onto the bed.

“Harry?” His eyes look drunk as they meet yours. He’s still kneeling. “Are you with me?”

“Always, love.”

You smile at him, giving him another pat on the head, your fingers running through his matted hair. And he nuzzles deeper into your hand.

“Breathe, baby. Give me your safeword.”

His mind is swimming. He thinks of your eyes narrowing at him over dinner - a field - the bright painting on the wall behind your head. - Plastic crinkling around the bouquet of flowers he held clenched between his fingers on your very first date. The vase of them you keep on the island in your kitchen and next to your bed- smiling over at him, the smell of coffee drifting, the sun hitting the bare skin of your back, the name he has you saved under in his phone-

“Sunflower,” he says, the smile on his lips lazy and triumphant when it finally comes to him. “Sunflower. Sunflower.”

You’re beaming as you stare down at him and he feels like he wants to sink into the praise in your eyes.

“Good,” you tell him. “Good. You’re doing so good, Harry.”

God, you want to wreck him.

“M’cock’s hard,” he says, in the same lazy, almost dazed voice. “S’leaking.”

You make work of both your clothes and then unbuckle his pants and take him out and true to his word - he’s hard. So hard. His expression looks pained when you thumb the raspberry tip of his cock, your mouth watering. He’s too sensitive for that right now, but maybe- you think- hope blooms in your chest. In the future. You could use a ring or-

It’s endearing how reactive he is to you. Not only do his eyes always follow you, but it’s as if his skin’s instinct is to follow you too.

“Harry, I’m going to untie your hands. Would you like that?”

“Yes-Yes Please.” And god his voice breaks twice around your name -you almost want to take pity on him.

Almost.

“I’m going to untie them but I want you to listen to me. Listen to me, okay? I want you to raise them above your head, hold onto the headboard. You’re still not going to touch me. Is that understood?”

“Ye-yes,” he stutters out. And oh you love that. Your golden boy, who has had the world at his feet since the beginning - he’s never been denied things. But this, this he’s doing just for you. And for himself.

He gasps as you work to undress him, pulling his jeans down the length of the bed, then his briefs. You move to straddle his thigh first, leaning down enough to rub yourself against the tiger inked into his skin. At the touch of his thigh against your clit, you moan - and he moans with you - as if he can’t help himself, can’t bear it- feeling you spread open against his skin and being unable to touch you.

“So wet,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ christ. You’re so wet.”

You allow yourself this moment, a few seconds to rub yourself against him like some kind of cat in heat. Using him until you feel more wetness begin to pool on his skin. You note that his arms are straining with the stretch of the angle he has against the headboard, the veins in his arms a flash of trembling light blue as his fingers shake.

When finally you feel like you’ve had enough to bear, you swing your leg over his hip and draw yourself down to his pelvis. His face is almost flush with your chest, and you can see the restraint he’s trying to give you - the pupils of his eyes are so wide, and he’s biting into his plush bottom lip, trying not to close the distance between you to suck a beautiful, puffy nipple into his mouth or between his teeth - He needs to be good. He needs to prove to you how good he can be.

You’re more patient and forgiving this time, spitting on his cock and taking him into your hand. You stroke him a few times, letting the tip of him - just the tip- graze inside of you.

His eyes and forehead crease at your teasing.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, and his skin flushes beneath the phrase, his hips bucking up to meet you.

“B-biggest?” he stutters out and you don’t mistake the nervous lilt at the end of his voice for anything but what it is - a need for confirmation.

“Biggest. Best I’ve ever had,” you affirm. “Harry. Fuck.”

Pride swells in his chest, making him gasp.

“God, Harry. That first time we...I didn’t think I’d be able to-. It hurt something good the next morning. Felt like I was aching without you there anymore. - Missed you so much. Missed my baby boy, so much.”

He’s rutting up, hips lifting off the mattress and you feel equally pained for him, your cunt miserably fluttering around nothing too.

“Fuck. Please,” he begs you, the deepness of his voice making you tremble from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “Take me. Take me.”

You relent, letting yourself slide down the length of him - and oh, this is nice. A snug fit. Another memory of him gone unjustified. You can feel him in your belly. His cock is so thick and deep, it’s still new but comforting. Like coming home.

“Feel good, Harry?”

“Yes! Yes. God. Christ. You feel so bloody good-”

You shift so you’re resting against him, the palms of your hands flat against his chest. - But not moving.

“Please,” he groans, his jaw straining towards the side of the bed. “Please fuck me, princess.”

“What do you want Harry?” you indulge him. You’ve missed his voice just as much as his touch, and you need to hear him say it outloud.

“Fuck me till I cry. Fuck me, ‘till I’m done for. Christ.”

His skin flushes like he’s embarrassed, so you lean down to kiss his jaw and mouth. “I will. I will. I’m going to fuck you, Harry.”

You use your hands for balance as you lift your hips, sliding up and down the length of his cock. Moaning loud and gasping hard when he shifts up to meet you thrust for thrust.

“H-Harry,” you call him, only continuing when his head shifts up, his eyes peering up to meet you and tell you he’s listening. The green intensity of them makes you clench around him. “What if I tied you up? Would you like that?”

His feet are flat against the bed now, his hips shifting up in response - he doesn’t trust his voice right now. He feels so wrecked. All he can say is your name as he impales you on his cock.

“Or maybe- maybe we’ll go somewhere and you could wear a collar - your collar - tight enough around your neck. Something to take out, huh? Just between the two of us - so you’ll know you’re mine. And when I’m gone again, you won’t ever have a reason to forget.”

Harry could almost choke on his disbelief. Hope and lust seem to twine together and something that feels like hope has been freed from his chest. Your mouth - it’s every fantasy, every secret he’s had - coming alive, coming to fruition hearing it in your voice.

“I’m going to come on you, going to come on your prick, baby,” you promise him. “Then-then you can come.”

“Yes,” he sputters out in response. “Yes-yes. Use me. Please. Please, love. It’s all I’ve been able to think about-since you’ve been gone. Wanting to make you come.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice, and you feel yourself grow wet at the sound. He knows he’s safe. He knows he has you. His exhibitions are unraveling like a thread. They have been since that first message you sent him.

He’s rambling now. “Wanna come too. Wanna shoot it in deep. But-need ‘ta feel you first. Need ‘ta feel you quaking around me-Baby, please-”

His eyes go wild when you press your hand against his throat, small tears slipping down his cheeks. Your red fingernails look beautiful against the paleness of his skin. And his knees lift up in a desperate show to fuck into you harder.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. Fuck please. Please!”

He’s too lost, plummeting into the safety of the haze you have taken him to - he doesn’t notice the way your eyes narrow in surprise as he gasps from between your fingers. Your heart feels too full, like it might smother your rib cage and you let that feeling take you under. He loves you. He loves you.

Something overtakes you then. A wave of pride, and something territorial. You feel his words sinking into your bones, and you don’t feel afraid. In fact, you feel something like pride and adoration make a home inside your chest. You’re soaring. He loves you. Your teeth sink into the skin between his neck and shoulder and he groans, a heated sound that makes your skin flush, makes you feel impossibly wetter where you’re holding him between your thighs. It’s a mark to match the ones you have left on his left pec and his thighs, the line on his hip, and your handprints around his throat.. And for days to come, beneath the dim candlelight of his bedroom or the sunlight peeking through his bathroom in the morning - he will marvel at them, but now, now he’s too overcome.

“Harry,” you rake your nails through the back of his head and grab a fistfull of his hair, harsh and tight. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me cum. I want to come for you. You’re so good.”

He chokes as he feels yourself clench around him, swallowing him deep. You’re shaking, tugging his hair, and saying his name - “Harry, you’re perfect. My beautiful-Harry.” And watching you come on his cock, it’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You kiss him through it all and as you come back down. You’re tired, slick, and still recovering but your hands grasp Harry’s. Your fingers clenched between his long fingers, squeezing tight around his rings and pressing down on his wrists.

You lean down so your mouth is pressed between the pink wetness of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth.

“Do you want to come inside me? You can, my sweet- Harry. You can. Only you. Come inside me Harry-.”

He doesn’t need much now. You’re grinding against him, lazy and slow. Licking into his mouth.

“Come inside you,” he repeats your words, gasping against your face. You feel his arms flexing beneath your touch, his hips pistoning his cock in and out of you. Arousal -both yours and his- dripping between your thighs. It’s a mess, but it’s your mess. “All I want - ‘ta come inside you.”

You press your fingers against his throat again and his eyes roll back into his head again. You push the weight of your hips against his pelvis and then feel it - the first few spurts of his release inside you, warm and comforting-

“Fuck. I’m coming. Y/N. I’m fuck-”

You hold him as it happens, your fingers around his throat only relenting when his hips have stopped stuttering and he’s finally stopped calling your name.

Spent, you collapse on him. Tapping his hands and wrists and loosening them. - “You can touch me. Harry- you can touch me.”

You stay with him for a long moment, it’s a space of time you both need. He’s coming down from where you took him so high, and you need to feel grounded, tethered next to him in every way you can right now. The bites and marks you’ve left on him pulse and throb, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire. He aches in the best way possible. He feels each throb like an ache under the intensity of a magnifying glass.

Your hair acts like a curtain over both of you as you plant soft, wet kisses over his neck, his temple, his face. Kissing away his tears. Your fingernails tracing over the tattoos on his stomach and chest as you tell him how well he did, how good, how hard he made you come. It makes him feel looked after, cherished, adored.

Your skin is a warm and comforting weight against his back, until he feels like he’s floated down again, his feet firmly planted.

It’s only when you’re sure he’s stopped trembling, and his heartbeat has slowed beneath the palm of your hand, that you break the surface of this bubble you’ve created together-

“Harry?” you call to him.

“Mmm,” he grunts.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fuckin’ perfect,” he says. “Love?”

“S’okay if I...I’ll be right back. Need to get us both cleaned up, babe.”

“I’ll-” he starts, and you can almost see his tall frame trying to lift from the bed.

“You don’t have to do anything, beautiful,” one of your hands comes up to press him back down against the mattress. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.” You press a wet kiss to his head again to soothe him and laugh as he makes a joke - “Think ya properly fucked my brains out. Can’t move, love.”

You walk to the bathroom on trembling legs and feet, and retrieve a wet washcloth to clean both of you up, only pausing to smile faintly at your reflection in the mirror - you look disheveled and happy. You hurry to grab a water bottle from the fridge and then patter back to Harry’s room and make him take a few sips from it. He stares up at you from beneath the throat of the bottle and you try to ignore the way you feel yourself flush beneath the awe in his eyes.

Only after you’ve pulled a clean pair of underwear on him, do you join him on the mattress again. You crawl onto the bed knees first, and Harry’s breathing slows as he feels you tug him towards you, your face pressed between both of his broad shoulder blades.

You listen to the heavy thud of his heartbeat through his back.

“I love you too,” you tell him quietly, finally. “Love you too.”

He makes a muffled sound, and then though he feels heavy and his body protests against the movement, he turns in your embrace so he can look in your eyes.

“Heard that, did you?” he tries to laugh. But you feel worry cementing itself in your heart when he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes.

“Don’t have to say it back, y’know?” he finally says. “Don’t have to say it just because I did. Don’t have to know what to do with it. You can have it- you can have me either way.”

You lean up a little to brush your hands through his hair, and so he can tilt his head up to meet you. The edge of his jaw against the cusp of your breasts, the pink of his mouth sitting so pretty against your chest, his eyes half lidded and still so fucked out. You wonder if he grasps exactly what he’s telling you.

“I know I love you. And I know I missed you so much, Harry. I want to take care of you.”

His heart thrills at what that could mean. “Want ‘ta take care of you too. Want to make you feel good.”

“You do. You’re the best. I love you and,” you smile a little, fingers brushing over the bite you left on his neck. “You’re mine.”

He laughs a little, drawing a glance at the mark too. His big hand closing over yours. “I love you too. Been wanting to say it for a long time.”

“I’m glad you did right now.” You smile at him, and the anxiety he was feeling seems to falter. He smiles back.

“Did you mean what you were saying?” Harry says, reaching for you even as sleep looms over the edge of his thoughts. “About the choker and the ring and summat?”

“’Course, whatever you want,” you smile at him above the duvet pulled up over both of your shoulders. “Trust me?”

“Know I do,” he smiles, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

Your face softens as you reach up to trace it with your fingers. “I’m many things, Harry Styles, but I’m not a liar,” you laugh.

“Know you are,” he laughs back, the gravely sound of it making you feel light and wonderful. Bright and adored. “First and foremost though, you’re my sunflower.”

You seem to beam under the look in his eyes. You pull him close, tucking yourself under his chin, and kissing one of the sparrows on his chest. “I am,” you tell him. “I am.”

A/N: If you’re wondering, yes, the story and title were both inspired by the song of the same name by 5SOS.

Thank you for reading! Please Like or Reblog and feel free to follow me to keep up with more stories. I’d love to have you here. <3 Or let me know what you think!

#pypfc #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #sub! harry styles #sub!harry styles #harry styles fic #my writing #teeth #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb

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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

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Waves: Wild Hearts

A/N: This is sorta a follow up to Fighter that I’ve had on my computer for months. I have included the ending of that oneshot at the beginning of this one to help refresh memories, but if you want to read Fighter, you can do so here. Yes, there will be a part 2 to this one.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2K

-GIF from Google-

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @lettytheletdown @hello-therree @toni9 @kpizzletrash @missdforever @missyperle @mani-lifes @koko-michelle @liquorlaughslove

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Previously on Waves

“Now back to the news that broke headlines just last night. Academy Award-Winning Actress Summer Hemsworth was allegedly attacked in her Georgia hotel room last night. Hemsworth suffered two gunshot wounds and reportedly collapsed in the lobby as horrified onlookers called 911 and attempted to stop the bleeding.”

“She was rushed to the local hospital where doctors performed emergency surgery, and as of now, we are hearing reports that she is in stable condition.”

“While details are still unclear, what we do know is that the attacker is now deceased, reportedly at the hands of Summer, who fought him off. In addition, the perpetrator has been identified as Myles Hampton, the same man who stalked and attacked Mrs. Hemsworth almost six years prior.”

“Hampton was sentenced and serving a 15-year sentence which has the world wondering. How did he get out? How was he able to re-traumatize his victim? How--”

“Mommy.”

His son’s voice ripped Christopher from his phone where he was watching the news for reasons even he couldn’t explain. Well, rather, didn’t want to explain.

Elysha glared at her brother, bringing her index finger to her mouth. “Shh. Papa said we gotta be quiet.”

Summer moaned, finally waking up from another nap. They had her on heavy painkillers that made her sleep, much to the chagrin of all four individuals occupying the private hospital room. For the twins, sleep meant she couldn’t talk to them. They needed to hear her voice to know that she was going to be okay.

For Christopher, well, even awake, he still worried.

And for Summer, she just hated to be unconscious as she recognized the concern that it caused her family.

“Did he now?” She whispered, blinking a couple times as she managed to lift her hand, bringing it to Emmett’s cheek. “Well, mama says you don’t have to.”

Both kids responded with a smile, quickly grabbing the sheets on either side of the bed, where they’d remained the entire time.

They wouldn’t leave her side.

“Look, mama,” Elysha chimed as they lifted the papers. “We drew you pictures. Mines is bestest.”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

She smiled, ignoring the pain she was still experiencing. It mattered not though. She’d take the pain of survival over the finality of death any day.

“They’re both the bestest,” Summer shared, making both of them grin for a few seconds when she noticed Elysha drop her head. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Elysha took a few seconds, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re glad you’re okay, mommy.”

“Yeah,” Emmett agreed. “Why’d that mean man try to hurt you, mama?”

Summer closed her eyes. Her pain was no longer a concern. Her priority was the hurt she saw and heard in her children, her beautiful babies prematurely forced to encounter the evils of this world.

“I-”

“Well, it’s about time you woke up, lil’ missy.” Helen spoke with a warm smile as she walked into the room.

Seeing their grandmother raised their spirits just enough to eat away some of Summer’s guilt. Helen walked over and gently felt her daughter’s head. “How you doing, baby?”

Summer, conscious of the watchful set of blue eyes on her, smartly replied. “I’m good, mama.”

Helen nodded. “I see you’re getting some of your color back. Good. You was getting a lil’ pale on me, lil girl.”

Elysha gasped. “Can I have some of mommy’s color, grandma!”

“Me too, grandma!”

The twin’s excitement and naivety made Summer smile. Their uplifted spirits nursed her soul.

“I don’t know about color, but how about you two come with grandma to the cafeteria, and we’ll see what kind of ice cream they have.”

The promise of their favorite dessert quickly dimmed when they realize it meant leaving their mom.

“But-”

“Ya’ll go. Mama has to talk to papa,” Summer referenced Christopher who’d sat silent while allowing the children time to bond with their mother. “Please?”

Emmett groaned but relented. “I’ll bring you ice cream back, mama.” He looked back at Christopher. “You too, papa!”

“I’ll bring you some too, papa!”

Careful kisses on either side of her cheeks preceded the kids finally walking out hand in hand with Helen.

The sound of tiny footsteps repeatedly diminished until they could be heard no more, replaced by heavy-footed strides and the creaking of a chair. Summer closed her eyes at his warm touch, his hand clasped over hers, the other going to her forehead.

He laid his head against her shoulder, Summer angling her own so that she could kiss the top of his head.

She gently tightened her grip on his head. “I’m fine, Christopher.”

“Don’t.” She licked her lips, concern shifting from her kids to her husband. “Don’t give me that shit, Summer. You are not fine.”

“I’m alive, Chris,” she croaked, wanting desperately to stress how grateful she was. “He shot me. Twice. And I’m alive.”

“This never should have fucking happened. If they’d been watching him, he would have never-”

“Hey,” she forced some bass into her voice. “We can’t do that. It happened, and it-it sucks, but-”

“How can you be so calm about this?” He forced out bitterly, finally lifting his head to reveal glazed eyes that burned with fear and rage. “After everything he did, what he tried-”

She attempted the comedic route, something that typically worked for them. “Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve almost died.” The dark joke fell through, possibly increasing his irritation. She swallowed. “I-I think-I still don’t know what to think, Chris. I-It’s a lot to process, but I can’t do that right now. Emmett and Elysha are watching us, watching me, and every time I look at them, look at you, I’m reminded of everything I stood to lose, and I’m just-I’m thankful. And the last thing that I want is to further worry the twins…or you.”

He lifted their conjoined hands and gently kissed her fingertips. Summer recognized the gesture as acknowledgment.

“I love you,” she breathed as he moved his mouth to kiss her inner forearm. “So much.”

He brought his hand to her cheek, their eyes meeting with a burning and moving meeting that conferred the ardent love between them but was now tinged with a new emotion.

Fear

Wild Hearts

“Just a few more seconds. Come on, Summer.”

Face scrunched up in discomfort, the actress swallowed her pain and scraped for every bit of resilience that she had left, successfully completing the set before relaxing as soon as her therapist gave her the okay.

Dropping onto the floor, Summer crossed her wrists and placed them over her head. Deep, relaxing breaths abated her nerves and aching muscles as Rene attempted to offer words of encouragement and praise that Summer was only halfheartedly listening to.

It wasn’t that Rene was bad at her job. No, far from it. She was a wonderful physical therapist who pushed Summer in ways that were both challenging while also welcoming. It was that Summer still hadn’t come to accept that she was back at square one. She felt like she was preparing to become Storm all over again. Relearning suddenly replaced years of maintenance. Her schedule had been disrupted, and it created cognitive dissonance.

Hand unconsciously falling onto her core, her fingers slid over the dark scar that still bled with remnants of trauma and regrets. One of two, it was the most prominent and noticeable. Folks rarely paid attention to feet, but the stomach, it was the area that generally garnered a decent amount attention based solely on the level of flatness.

Rene noticed the way Summer’s fingers stroked her slick skin and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

“The day has been called, ma’am.”

The ginger grinned crookedly and complimented her client. “You did great today.”

Summer snorted, groaning quietly as she sat up and braced her palms against the mat. “Now you’re just kissing my ass.”

“While you do have quite the ass,” Summer rolled her eyes. “I’m not quite sure how my wife and your husband would feel about that.”

Summer rolled her eyes as Rene reached a hand to help her stand up. “Noted.” Rolling her shoulders, Summer walked over to grab her pink Blender Bottle, downing down the water mixed with lemons and limes. The typically acrid mixture was welcoming because of the addition of ice cubes that quenched her parched throat, assisting in the cooling down of her warm body.

“I think we could even maybe move down to twice a week instead of three.”

Swallowing a couple more ounces, Summer lowered her cup and wiped at her mouth. “Seriously?”

Rene nodded as she crossed her arms. “I meant it. You’re doing great.” A beat. “Physically.”

And just like that, Summer rolled her eyes and turned her body to start packing up her items. “Here we go again.”

Rene already knew that she was going to be met with apprehension, but that didn’t dissuade her. “I can only help you rehabilitate your body, Summer. But your mind—”

“—is fine.”

Rene stilled, her green eyes softening. “You can say that until you’re blue in the face, but it makes no difference if you don’t really believe it, and I don’t think you do.”

Summer stilled, her back toward the tall woman. A part of her, a very small part of her, wanted to switch things up. She wanted to entertain the conversation, just to see how it would play out, but another part of her knew exactly how it would play out, so she did as she’d done a lot lately.

“So, same time next week?” She spun around, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Before the other woman could offer a response, Summer shot her a wink and walked past her. “Thank, Rene.”

As if on cue, Phillip’s large frame appeared in the doorway, and Summer’s grin fell.

Arms clasped in front of him, he nodded in acknowledgment. “Ready, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

An elongated sigh escaped as she approached him and managed to reignite her previous smile. “I told you, Summer is fine, but yeah, I’m ready.”

A grunted response that she couldn’t really make out proceeded him opening the door for her only to quickly move back in front of her so that he was blocking her view. For a man his size, he was impressively quick on his feet.

A few more doors, elevator ride down, and Summer was met with the blistering Australian heat as a firm hand moved to her backside and escorted her out the building. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographers who snapped away, a few inching close to the star but not enough where they were in arms reach of Phillip.

They weren’t stupid.

Phillip had served as a bodyguard for some of the most important figures across the world, celebrities and royals included. His resume was impeccable, and he was damn good at his job, a job that, while she respected, Summer felt suffocated by at times.

The fact that she even had a full-time bodyguard was something that she still hadn’t swallowed. She’d always been vocal and open about the fact that she loathed the whole “barrier” between celebrities and “regular degular” people. Her occupation, in her option, shouldn’t place her on a pedestal.

Plus, she was far from hopeless, and so a bodyguard was something could never get with unless they were provided by the event she was attending.

But a certain husband of hers was absolutely adamant about hiring the 24/7 protection following the attack, and while Summer understood his reasoning, she still wasn’t in agreement.

Not that it mattered…

The drive was short as the outpatient treatment center was only about twenty minutes away from the Hemsworth residence. Once they reached the mansion, Summer relieved Phillip from his duties. She had no plans on going out again. Christopher was picking up the kids from school. She’d maybe take Doggy out for a walk on the beachfront, but that didn’t require the 6”3 giant’s presence.

Not even three seconds into the door, Christopher was in front of his wife, hands on her hips as he pecked her lips.

“Hey, honey.”

Summer faltered only for a second before chewing on her bottom lip. “Damn, waiting for someone?”

“Always.” He winked and smacked her ass, prompting her to try to push him away.

“I need to shower,” she protested with a small pout as he brushed her comment off and slyly lowered his mouth down to her ear.

“I’ll join you.”

Summer grinned, momentarily contemplating his offer. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“We are married, aren’t we?”

“I mean….” She laughed at his scowl and managed to pull away, walking past him to make her way up the steps. “Can you make us—”

Summer stopped and turned around on the second step only to see that was directly in front of her, on the first step.

She lifted a brow. “Sir?”

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure that I said n—Christopher!” She squealed as he silenced her by picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“I am going to put you down,” he responded while continuing their track up the stairs. “On my dick.”

“Christopher!”

————

Summer rolled over on her side and ran her hand over her face, eyes shut as she struggled to catch her breath. Holding onto the pillow, she pulled the blanket up to her neck, depriving her nude body of the chilly air that the AC caused to consume their room.

She smiled softly as her husband kissed her temple. Feeling the bed creak, he peaked and saw him moving out the way as he started to pull on his clothes. Leaning on her back, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw that it was time for him to leave to pick up the twins.

How long were we?

“Phillip will be here in a few minutes—”

Summer frowned. “What?” She sat up, not caring that the sheet fell down, exposing her breast. “Baby, I told him he could go home for the day.”

Christopher stood up, pulling his pants on. “Why would you do that?”

She looked from side to side. “Because I don’t need him? I didn’t plan on going out today.”

“But you knew that I had to go pick up the kids, so you’d be alone.”

Summer closed her eyes. “Christopher….”

The chime of his phone interrupted her as he glanced at the screen to see that Phillip had arrived and entered the house using the key that Chris thought was a good idea to provide him with. “He’s here. I have to get going.”

Summer frowned and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay.”

Looking back over to see that she was still dissatisfied, he walked over and sat on the bed, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Seriously? Christopher, you’ve already called the man over here.”

“And?” Chris didn’t see a problem. “He’s staying the night—”

“Again?” Summer was no longer so disappointed. She was irritated. “That’s the third damn time this week.”

“Okay?”

Summer scoffed and moved away from him, crossing her arms. “You know, I would appreciate it if you would actually, maybe, communicate with me before you make these decisions.”

“What is there to talk about, Summer?” He watched her move to the other side of the bed as she kicked the blanket off and scurried around to gather her clothes. “You need pro—”

“No, Christopher, what I need is for you to stop treating me like a child!” A beat. “I can take care of myself!”

“Like you did with Myles?”

Summer clutched the shirt in her hand at the same moment Chris closed his eyes. “Fuck, Summer—“

“You can go to hell,” she whispered, yanking her shirt over her head and marching past him, snatching her arm away from him when he reached for her. “Don’t—“ she stopped, eyes closing as she fought the sob in the back of her throat. “—touch me.”

Christopher recognized that tone. It was rare, but when present, he recognized that nothing he could say or do could penetrate the impenetrable exterior that was Summer’s wall.

The slamming of the bathroom door indicated what he already knew. Walking over to the door and placing his ear against it, welcoming it to the quiet sobs of his wife confirmed it.

He’d fucked up.

-----

A/N: So....whose side ya’ll on?

#chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x black!reader #fic: waves

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Astral Pt. 15 (Loki x Reader)

Honestly I’m not sure where the fun bit came from, it kind of just naturally happened so enjoy yourself and Loki just being kids since yall didn’t have the most unrestricted childhoods and i think you both deserve some fun XD this probably should have been a .1 chapter but fuck it i reasoned that you relearning magic could be plot pushing considering you’re gonna have to use it in 2 days for something drastic >:)

It’s two days before your departure to find Madonna and you haven’t even began working on your magic. So when you wake up with Loki you ask if you can practice your magic for a few hours. Loki agrees but says you need a full breakfast before anything.

You both enjoy practically a feast because Steve is teaching Thor how to cook and they made enough to fill the entire team ten times over.

After breakfast you change into some leggings and a t-shirt while Loki sports some black sweats and a dark green hoodie. You’re both standing apart from each other in the training room that is devoid of any equipment. It’s basically a padded room that has a single terminal in it to start up the holographic enemies. Instead of using the A.I. though Loki says it’ll work fine for what you’re about to attempt.

For your first attempt at magic Loki has you make a ball of contained fire in your hand. Loki himself makes a ball of fire in his hand to show you. It sounds easy enough but when you do it the fire flares high enough to nearly touch the ceiling, which isn’t that low, causing you to yelp and shake your hand.

When you look at Loki he is smiling sympathetically.

“This shall be fun.” Is all he remarks before telling you to try again.

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out. As you breath you can feel the power of your magic flowing through your blood. It’s almost invigorating to feel that much power flow through you.

“Focus on your magic and make it feel balanced. Don’t let it overwhelm you.” You hear Loki say.

So, you focus. The magic that made you feel powerful resides and you feel at peace. At this feeling you open your eyes and see a small ball of fire in your hand. You smile at Loki.

“Maybe this won’t be too bad.”

“We’ve yet to try any attacks while under stress. You won’t always be able to calm yourself like this.” Loki says. “However, I believe you’ll get it down in no time. You’re smart and adapt to situations without hesitation.”

Next Loki commands you to practically play catch with him with the ball of fire you’ve produced.

You’re a little hesitant because you don’t want to hurt Loki but he insists. So you try tossing the ball and watch as it flies into the air fine before expanding and exploding into sparks causing you to wince.

“Sorry.” You say. You make another ball and focus on your magic. When you toss the ball up into the air this time you feel like a string is pulled taught to your gut. When the string starts to loosen you focus and try your best to keep it taught. The ball of fire lands in Loki’s hands, while it’s a little bigger than you originally made it, it is safe.

“Good girl.” Loki says throwing the ball from hand to hand.

At those words your ball of fire turns purple but before it can combust Loki throws it across the room.

You wince when it explodes midair and look at Loki.

“That was your fault.” You say with crossed arms.

Loki chuckles and comes to you. He lifts your chin and kisses your pout.

“You like when I call you a good girl?” Loki asks, looking into your eyes.

You feel your cheeks heat up but answer, “Maybe, just a little bit, caught me off guard.”

Loki smiles, kisses you again, then backs off again.

You both practice tossing a ball of fire between each other for a bit more, introducing moving while doing it. Loki then makes the ball disappear and orders you to stand in front of him. You do as he commands and he tells you to get into a fighting stance.

“We’re going to try a simple attack. You can do concussive blasts, correct?” Loki asks, looking over your fighting form as he talks, pushing and pulling at your position.

“Yes.”

“Ok, don’t try anything too powerful right now, just a small blast that would knock the enemy a foot or two.”

You nod then prepare yourself. You bring your right foot forwards and as you step punch out your right arm and push out a concussive blast. What you don’t expect is to be thrown back into Loki’s arms.

You thank Loki for catching you and stand up right. With a sigh you rub a hand over your face, frustrated.

“Magic wasn’t this hard the first time I learned.” You say looking at Loki.

“A simple learning curve I’m sure you can handle. Don’t give up.” Loki says, his hands coming up to rub at your shoulders then lets go and stands back. “Again.”

You both spend a few hours practicing simple attacks. Much to your dismay you never get a spell down correctly the first time but feel ok about it because Loki is nothing but supportive and patient with you.

By the time you’re finished with today’s lesson you’re exhausted and starving. You thank Steve for teaching Thor to cook today because you have a wide variety of leftovers to pick from and scarf down like you haven’t seen food in a week.

“Slow down sweetheart, you’re going to get a stomach ache if you keep eating that fast.” Loki says holding your hand that holds your fork of food, his face concerned.

You sulk but listen to Loki and slow down. When you glance up at Loki from your food you see him smirking.

“Good girl.”

You blush and throw a piece of food at Loki’s face. When it slops onto his cheek you giggle. Loki glares at you but what you don’t expect is him to throw food at you. You gasp as his food slides down your face. Loki is now outright laughing at you.

You growl and say fuck it, you can magic the mess away. Completely forgetting your exhaustion and filling with excitement you stand and walk over to the refrigerator and grab a big bowl of Thor’s dressing. You turn to look at Loki who is still lightly laughing at you enough to not realize what you’re about to do. You stick a hand in, relishing in the goopy sound it makes, and throw a handful of dressing at the god.

Loki yelps indignantly as the dressing coats his nice hair and quickly stands to grab a pan of green beans laying on the counter nearby. You both start throwing food at each other with small shouts and lots of laughing.

By the end of your food war the entire kitchen and dining room are covering in various foods. All of Thor and Steve’s hard work slides down the walls and your bodies. Empty pans and bowls litter the kitchen floor.

Loki is holding you and kissing you in intervals as you both laugh with each other, slowly turning in circles in place as you do, in the free space between the kitchen and dining room.

That’s when Tony walks into the doorway. You gasp and look at him with Loki and watch his reaction.

Tony’s face starts as a frown then turns to unadulterated horror as he looks over the two rooms. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open which causes you to let slip a giggle. Your body shakes as you try to hold in your laughter. Snorts escape you though. Loki snickers and tries to shush you in between his little laughs but it doesn’t work, it just makes you start laughing harder.

“I’m not paid enough for this shit.” Tony says lowly, looking at you two disappointed then leaves.

Pt. 14.1/Pt. 15/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies @emelieh99 @high-functioning-lokipath @loveableasshole @mp0625

#astral #astral pt.15 #loki x reader #loki #reader insert #my writing #loki odinson #just imagining loki letting himself go and having a food fight fills my heart with so much joy #like as i wrote this i was giggling and my heart was so full of love #XD #i just love it when my characters are happy man #sorry it's so short #my adderall isnt working the best today so i was very distracted #probably because i havent had my coffee yet that always helps me focus #imma go make some sweet sweet coffee #have fun!

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Hope Haven

inbox request: “Saw your post about BAON oneshots and a thought occurred to me. Does Reader ever recover even a little of her inheritance? Maybe she donates to women's shelters?” by @amandatar-06 ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 2.8k warnings: bucky continues to be an angel, focus on women’s shelters and domestic violence a/n: US national domestic violence hotline 1-800-799-7233 🌹series masterlist 🌹

The bills were piling up on the kitchen table. Hidden under stacks of personnel files from the academy and a container of Thai takeout, sat dozens of unopened envelopes from the law firm you’d hired in an effort to unfreeze Brock’s accounts. You dug your fingers into your scalp, trying to find the willpower to look at the damage inside.

A year’s worth of legal battles and arrogant attorneys, only to be told that you’d never see a penny of your stolen inheritance. You’d signed it away in sound mind, they said. You knew what you were doing. It didn’t matter that you’d been drowning in grief and your husband saw an opportunity to manipulate you. The law didn’t care that Brock Rumlow took advantage of the woman he was supposed to love in order to fill his own pockets. You signed the damn forms.

So, your case was thrown out and you were thousands in debt for the trouble.

You’d been working back at Columbia for a while now, but there was no way you’d be able to cover the cost of the attorneys on your own and you weren’t about to ask Bucky for help, not after all he’d already done for you. You put so much on his shoulders and while you knew he’d carry the weight of the world for you with a goddamn smile on his face, there were just some things you wanted to do for yourself.

You didn’t miss the money. You’d been happier in this last year cramped up in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn than you had in years living in a mansion filled with expensive artwork and a full-time staff. You wanted the inheritance back for a reason; one you though might help alleviate some of the stone that had nestled its way into your chest the day you met Brock.

A flyer was crumpled up in your work bag beside you; folded and tucked securely in the side pocket. You gently pulled it into your lap and brushed out the wrinkles. At the top it read, Hope Haven Women’s Shelter in large, purple block printed letters. Below it listed details of the address in Brooklyn, along with a 24/7 hotline, and an invitation to attend an open house this coming Saturday.

You’d kept in your bag for nearly two weeks. Not quite sure what to do with it. You hadn’t told Bucky about it either, unsure of how he would react. While Brock was in your past and you knew with absolutely certainty that Bucky would never hurt you – hell, he’d cut off his own hand before it could strike you – you still felt that pull towards the shelter. There was no money left to donate, and you didn’t know if it was for yourself or just wanting to give back in any way you could, but you wanted to go.

Inner conflict and guilt and a strange mix of belonging all rolled into one. Part of you felt like you didn’t deserve to be there, to share a space with women who bravely sought out the help they needed to escape from violent and cruel men, when you’d succumbed for so many years. You’d been part of the problem, hadn’t you? Silent and pretty as you stood next to a powerful man who spent his money and time making the city a darker, more vengeful place.

There was a voice, one screaming at you to believe that you’d been manipulated and taken advantage of and blackmailed unto submission. You did not have the choice to run or seek help when you needed it. You knew the power Brock held and what he could have done if he’d found out.

And still. The guilt, the feeling as though you don’t belong, festered.

You didn’t notice the front door unlatch as Bucky quietly made his way into the kitchen. So, as he came up behind you and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, it startled you.

You yelped, clutching the flyer tight to your chest as Bucky jumped back, hands up defensively.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Bucky eased, sinking down to his knees beside you. He rested his hands on your thighs, watching as you slowly nodded at him, regaining your breath. “Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s alright,” you said with a tired smile, “been a long day.”

The crinkling of the paper in your hands seemed to draw his attention down to your lap. He narrowed his eyes, curious.

“What’s this?”

You crumpled it tight into your grip. “Nothing.”

Bucky softened, watching the tension build quickly into your shoulders; leftover panic from your time with Rumlow. It was ingrained in you and it would take more than just Bucky’s kindness and his love for you to let it go. You needed time, years maybe, to relearn how not to be afraid and he understood that.

But he’d seen the flyers posted around campus on the days he’d come up to visit you. He saw the bright purple border on the paper clutched in your fist and recognized it from the bulletin board posted outside your office. He knew what you held in your hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky said softly, glancing up to meet your eyes. Surprised, wide, and a little nervous, but he offered a smile in response, his thumb soothing over your knee. “I just want you to know I think it’s a good idea. I mean, you don’t need my support to go but… you have it.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously, offering a shy sort of smile as he continued. “I could, um, go with you if you want? Or we can call Nat? I know she’d go with you in a heartbeat if you asked. Whatever you want, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy.”

You were still for a moment, stunned, before you nodded. It’s not that you expected anything less from Bucky but it still surprised you most days that anyone could be as wonderful as he was. Brock had done a number on you and Bucky spent most of his time helping to undo all the damage your husband had caused. Bucky filled the shadows and the holes with flowers and light and love and slowly, all the good in him outshined all the bad in Brock.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Bucky nodded, a hand reaching up to brush your hair from your eyes. It rested on your neck, sweeping tenderly over your cheekbone. The most beautiful man you’d ever known.

***

Natasha picked you up ten minutes before the open house. You were pacing back and forth in the kitchen, sure to wear trenches into the tiles, while Bucky watched you from over the top of his book. Hands tugging at your shirt, eyes glancing back at the door every few paces, the anxiety was creeping its way through your entire body. Cheddar was weaving in and around your feet, daring you to trip over his tiny paws.

“You don’t have to go today,” Bucky offered but you shook your head.

“No, no. I need to do this.”

Bucky nodded, returning to his book without another word, though he still glanced up in your direction between paragraphs.

The buzzer nearly startled you out of your skin as it rang out. Cheddar scurried across the tile and sprang up onto the couch with Bucky, nestling his way onto the top cushions of the backrest.

Hand clutched at your chest, heart pounding a little faster, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Your jacket, love!” Bucky called out behind you, rushing up from his position on the couch to help wrap you up in the raincoat. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, smiling at you with a sort of pride in his eyes that made your stomach twist to knots.

“I’ll be back soon,” you told him, though he waved you off.

“Take your time. I’ll be here.” With that, Bucky returned to his place on the couch, book curled back up in his hands, blanket draped over his lap.

You paused by the door, watching him for a second longer, wondering how it was possible that you found a man so understanding and supportive after all you’d been through. It was as if he were a gift provided from the heavens for walking through hell.

As you made your way outside, locking the door behind you and descending the stairs, you found Natasha waiting patiently for you. Leaning against the exterior brick wall, arms folded over her chest, she smiled as you walked up to her.

“Ready?”

“I don’t know if that’s the right term for it, but I suppose.” You scratched at the back of your check, feeling the nerves dancing upon your skin.

“You’ll be just fine, I promise,” Nat swore, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you down the sidewalk. Her hand didn’t leave you until she’d distracted you enough with old stories of Sam and Bucky at the academy and the rush of your heartbeat had eased.

A few blocks and a short subway ride later, you found yourself standing outside a small, stoned building on the border of Brooklyn. It had little to identify it as a women’s shelter save for the small purple ribbon hung around the bannister. You stared up at it for a while, feeling a sudden sense of dread.

“Hey, come on,” Nat grabbed your hand, giving it a tight squeeze, “you’ve got this.”

You nodded, taking in a deep breath, though you did not release Natasha’s hand. Like an anchor keeping you afloat, she led you up the stairs and through the front door.

Inside, dozens of women were talking amongst one another. Some in lavender t-shirts identifying themselves as volunteers and employees of Hope Haven, others mingling quietly by the refreshments table or sitting awkwardly upon the couches looking around in silence. It was clear some of these women were familiar with one another, with the house itself, and the sanctuary it offered, but for many, it was their first time wandering into such a place.

You tried to avoid the startling discoloration on the neck of a woman sitting quietly on the couch by herself. Though Nat pulled you forward, you found yourself glancing back at the woman. She was stunning, beautiful in every way, but the expression on her face was one you recognized well; one of lingering panic, of the carpet sure to sweep out from under her feet, glances back at the door like she was expecting someone to come barging through.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n Rumlow?”

You froze dead in your tracks. Natasha’s hand squeezed yours again, drawing you back to the ground. You could feel the tension radiate through Natasha’s arm, as if she were already on the defensive for you, but as you met the eyes of the woman who called your name, she began to soften.

The woman stepped forward, a wide smile upon her face as she extended a hand to you; not to shake, but to hold. You gave her your free one cautiously, and she lit up.

“It is such a joy to have you here,” she said. “My name’s Shavonne. I do my best to run things around here for these ladies.”

You nodded, still unsure why she singled you out. In your experience, that usually wasn’t for anything good.

“We had the Hydra story on around here for weeks after the arrests last year,” she explained and several women around her nodded enthusiastically, smiling in your direction. “It was incredible what you did. The girls here were so enthralled, we had a watch party for the trial!”

Many of the women laughed and cheered in response. You looked around at them, stunned, as they smiled warmly back at you.

“You are exceptionally brave, Y/n,” Shavonne said and you could feel the sincerity in her words. “Thank you for coming today. We are so happy you’re here. Now, please! Enjoy the free food! Let me know if I can help you with anything at all.”

“I will,” you said, voice a little smaller than you meant, but she heard it. You supposed she must be used it by now with the amount of women in the home.

As Shavonne walked over to chat with some of the women standing by the television, you felt Nat tug you a little closer.

“You alright?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your cheeks as a petite woman by the mini sandwiches waved at you like an old friend.

“Actually, I’ll be right back,” you said, releasing your hand from Natasha’s hold. She narrowed her eyes on you, a little concerned, before she followed your gaze over to the woman on the couch you’d been eyeing as you walked in.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Slowly, you crossed through the room, passing by women who whispered your name with traces of excitement rather than fear, who smiled brightly at you as you caught their eye, who giggled amongst themselves as you returned their waves. You’d never experienced anything like it.

You were used to people cowering in fear, whispering gossip under their breath, and turning their backs to you. These women welcomed you without a second thought, embraced you like their own. Whatever fears you had of not belonging, of not being enough, dissolved away.

“Is this seat taken?”

The women sitting alone upon the couch glanced up at you. She seemed a little startled by your presence, though she shook her head, and it was then you noticed the little boy sitting at her feet; tucked around her left shin, holding onto a toy plane as he weaved it through the air.

“Your son?” you asked, sitting down beside her. She nodded, brushing a hand over his head. “He’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was small, a little raspy, and you didn’t dare to draw the connection to the discoloration on her neck.

“This is my first time here, too,” you said slowly, glancing around the house. It seemed to surprise her.

“Really?”

You nodded. “I never had the courage to seek out a place like this when I really needed it. It’s nice to know it’s here, though. I’m hoping I can volunteer, actually. After everything I’ve been through, to end up as happy as I am with a man who is beyond kind and exceptionally loving, it feels right to try to pass some of that onto others, you know?”

She watched you as you spoke and you could tell by the way she nodded along that she knew who you were.

“I thought you had a lot of courage,” she said after a moment, her fingers gently raking through her son’s hair. “Standing up the way you did... Working with the FBI to bring down Hydra and your own husband? It’s the kind of courage I dream of.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” You smiled warmly at her, offering your hand and waiting for her to take it. She placed it into your grasp and you gave it a light squeeze. “You have exceptional courage.”

She smiled at you, reflective tears brimming in her eyes. You pulled a small notebook from your bag, quickly ripping off the top sheet filled with notes for your next lecture, and scribbled down your number.

“I’m here for you if you need me, alright?” You handed her the paper. “Call anytime.”

She nodded, stunned, and quickly inputted the number to her phone. “Thanks. I’m Nina, by the way. This is my son, Marcos.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Nina,” you grinned, peering around her legs to her son, “and you too, Marcos.”

“Hi, honey, do you mind if I steal Y/n for a second?” Shavonne swept in from behind the couch.

Nina shook her head, a brighter smile on her face as she returned her attention to her son. You stood and followed Shavonne, glancing back to find two other women had moved in your place beside Nina and began to play with her son. She was laughing before you made it to the other side of the room.

***

“So how was it?” Bucky asked as you closed the door behind you, back safely inside the warm glow of the apartment.

Natasha had walked you back, grinning ear to ear at how excited she was to teach self defense classes once a month down at Hope Haven. She’d arranged it with Shavonne while you were talking with Nina. Shavonne had been thrilled to find out Nat was on the team that helped dismantle Hydra. It seemed many of the women had their own connections to the vile men in that organization.

You’d asked if you could volunteer on a few weekends a month and Shavonne, as warm and welcoming as she was, gave you a t-shirt on the spot and helped you fill out the forms at the kitchen table amongst the bowls of chips and mini-cupcakes.

You smiled the whole way home.

Bucky was watching you from his place on the couch, likely having barely moved since you left, though he was noticeably further along in his book. Cheddar was curled up in his lap, the soft orange hue of the lamp cast over him, waiting patiently under a starry night sky for you to return.

“Really good,” you said, shrugging off your coat and crossing the room to him. Cheddar jumped up to the top of the sofa as you crawled on top of Bucky, resting your head on his chest, arms curling around his sides. “Just really glad I found you.”

Cheddar purred softly beside you, his tail swinging down and brushing against your shoulder blades. Bucky swept your hair from your face, pulling you up to press a kiss against your lips, short and sweet, before you nestled back in against him.

“Me too, love.”

Bucky propped his book up on your back and began to read aloud. Safe and content. Warm and sound. Exceptionally and emphatically loved.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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