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starry-eyes-love · 26 days

Text

Calm Me Down

Main Masterlist Joel Miller Masterlist

The next chapter in the Marriage Dynamics series

Pairing | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader- AU, No Outbreak

Summary | You wake up having a panic attack, and Joel calms you down. This results in the two of you talking, calming each other’s fears, and finally working through your problems. You feel movement in your pregnancy for the first time while Joel silently talks to his unborn child, asking for a gift that he doesn’t know yet but will receive.

Work Count: 5.5K

Warnings | Series is 18+, Minor DNI

Age difference (implied), language, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, flashbacks, marriage dynamics (these two finally communicate), hurt and comfort, tenderness and love, mentions of pregnancy, you feel baby movement for the first time, mild reference to past cheating (your father and Joel's ex-wife, not from Joel or you), mild references in the past to physical abuse by your father, references to berating your father did to you in the past.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long on this next part, but here you are. As a reminder, I no longer do tag lists. Make sure to turn on notifications for when I post new written pieces.

“Baby, look at me,” Joel said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him. Joel reached out instinctively and placed a steady hand on your belly, slowly rubbing it and feeling the soft swell of your stomach that was holding and caring for his child. He was trying to help ground you and reassure you that you were okay and that your baby would be alright, too.

These moments come out of nowhere: the sheer panic, the sweaty palms, the narrowing vision. You don't know why, but suddenly, it feels like the whole world is crashing down around you, like you are falling fast off of a cliff, unable to save yourself from sudden death. Your heart races, and you're stuck believing the lies in your head. The lies that you know are not true.

“I'm not good enough. I can't do this. I'll never be more than what I am now: a failure. My husband doesn't love me.”

This feeling inside seizes you, holds you tight, and doesn't allow you to take a proper breath. And that's ok, you think. You don't need to breathe, not yet. But the feeling doesn't stop, and your body eventually screams for another breath. The thing is, though, you can't get any air in, so you panic once again. The cycle never ends. It keeps repeating until you're drowning in your sweat and anxiety. You're having a goddamn panic attack, one that you haven't had in many years. To say you're embarrassed doesn't even come close to describing your emotions. The word you require fails to come to you, so you settle for fear, embarrassment, and loneliness.

You've been way too stressed your entire pregnancy. You're a week shy of being 20 weeks along with your third baby and your fourth pregnancy.

Yeah, we won't talk about that pregnancy. The daughter that you lost at 22 weeks pregnant. To this day, you still don't like thinking about it.

Even though this is a different pregnancy, things seem to haven't gone how you wanted. You finally did tell Joel that you were pregnant at your doctor's appointment when you started spotting blood. You were scared of admitting pregnancy to him, especially when you two had barely talked since Halloween. You didn't know why; you just weren't getting along. It's funny how life does that sometimes, isn't it?

Even though your 20th-week ultrasound was just a few days away, you felt embarrassed that nothing seemed to go as planned this time. You hadn't told Joel you were pregnant technically until you were having bleeding problems. You weren't sexually active with your husband. There was no celebration of being pregnant, just awkward silence, mostly of which came from you. Joel attempted to speak with you, but you'd always clam up and not talk. If you were being honest, it wasn't until late at night on Christmas Eve that Joel and you started to talk and get along again.

Now, you lay awake in bed, your mind racing, running wild with panic at all the scenarios that weren't even happening. But it felt like they were happening now, and you were scared. You were drowning in panic, unable to slow your mind down, wishing for anything to stop it.

I'm not good enough. My husband doesn’t want this and doesn't want to be with me. I'm such a horrible wife for not telling him.

Your thoughts wouldn't stop. Your mind kept racing, and you felt like you were drowning. The walls were once again closing in around you, sucking you underneath the surface. You desperately needed a lifeline to grab onto, something to save you from yourself. That's when you felt your husband reach out to you and pull you tight against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you to him while gently whispering, “Baby, come on now, breathe.”

Earlier in the night, Joel had decided not to sleep with his shirt on, something he hadn’t done in a long time. After his shower, he noticed the way you were looking at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, you looked at him like you desperately needed something primal from him.

“What's that look for, baby?” He said, glancing over at you and raising just his eyebrow. He was taunting you, wanting you to voice all those dirty little things that he knew you were thinking. He could tell by the look on your face, the way you were breathing, and how you were slowly squeezing your thighs together that you were turned on and sexually aroused. Joel may not be able to give you penetrative sex yet, but dammit, he could eat his wife's pussy if she wanted it. And Joel secretly hoped that you wished to do that tonight.

“I-uh, I-'' you said, stuttering and stammering at the words. You couldn't voice it or say it out loud for some reason. You were never afraid of dirty talk in the bedroom. But considering it has been almost 20 weeks, nearly five months since the two of you have done anything sexual, you were a bit nervous.

“Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, baby, then come over here, and I'll get ya all nice and relaxed for bed.”

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, hoping Joel would voice it for you.

“Oh, darlin’, you know what I have in mind,” he said, slowly sticking his tongue out and moving it up and down like he does when he licks at you fast when he goes down on you.

You quickly nodded your head and then ran into the bathroom. You needed a shower and desperately needed a shave. You spent the next 20 minutes making yourself feel more sexy and presentable. But when you entered the bedroom, you noticed all your work was in vain. Joel was lying down and loudly snoring already. Immediately, your heart sank at seeing him fast asleep.

Joel intended to give you, his wife, some much-needed affection and attention. But he underestimated how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light and asleep within seconds. You, however, had laid there with your eyes open, overthinking stuff once again.

You loved being pregnant, but you hated the first part of pregnancy, where the anxiety was horrible. Your doctor said because your hormones change so much in the first stages of pregnancy, anxiety is common among women. And boy, did you ever have anxiety, especially this time around with being pregnant in your late 30s.

Even though your hormones were already leveling out, you were still nervous about knowing if your baby was growing healthy inside of you. You knew that after your 20-week ultrasound appointment, you would calm down. But you just had to get there first. You were nervous about losing this pregnancy. You remember the pregnancy you had lost; that 20th-week ultrasound showed significant problems. If everything would show that you were ok, just like the two other pregnancies did with your boys, you knew you'd calm down. You kept telling yourself that everything would be ok. But that crippling anxiety kept sneaking up at you at the worst times and holding you tight, like tonight.

The longer the night continued, the more you wanted to reach out and have your husband hold you tight to help calm your fears. But he looked so peaceful lying there sleeping; you didn't want to wake him. You both were getting along again, and there was no more fighting between you. So you didn't know where this anxiousness was coming from tonight. Your body felt off, and you didn't know why. You had tried to fall asleep, struggling with your mind to get any rest. At one point, you had dozed off a little bit, but you quickly woke up in a panic, sweating profusely. You were smack dab in the middle of yet another bad panic attack. You haven't had one of these episodes of panic for many years. Usually, stress or something larger would trigger them, but nothing unusual has happened recently. So you lay there silently, trying to will all of these bad feelings that you were having away. But no matter what you did, you could still feel your heart race and your chest constrict. It felt like you couldn't fully take a deep breath. You were drowning fast in terror and panic, not knowing if you could get yourself out of it anymore. You didn't realize in your panicked state that your husband woke up. But then, all of a sudden, when your chest constricted the tightest, and you thought you were going to die from lack of oxygen, you felt Joel’s strong arms wrap around you. He gently pulled you to him, where your back met his chest. He let out a long exhale while slowly whispering, “Baby, come on, breathe.

After Joel had laid down, he had fallen asleep suddenly, too suddenly for his liking. He wanted to cuddle you and give you much-needed attention and affection. Joel could see that you were stressed with work and raising the boys, and Joel's chaotic work schedule didn't help you. He recently hired a manager to work out in the field with Tommy so he could stay back in the office more and focus on the business side of things. His contracting business was expanding, growing at a rapid rate where Joel didn’t need to be out in the field all the time working. He could take that much-needed break and focus his time and skills on the best ways of growing his company.

Joel suddenly was jolted awake by something, but he was unsure of what. When he opened his eyes, Joel saw your back as you were facing away from him. Joel thought maybe it was a bad dream that had woken him up. Slowly, he ran his hand down his face, slightly shaking it and yawning to clear his head. Upon looking over at you again, Joel saw that you were curled up into a ball, looking like you were resting peacefully. He smiled silently, admiring you and what looked like your peaceful slumber. But then he heard it, the small sob that left your chest as you struggled to breathe in air. Joel frowned, knowing all too well that you were panicking and having a bad panic attack yet again.

Baby, I thought we stopped these, he thought, not enjoying seeing his wife struggle. He knew you were drowning in your head, unable to get your head above water as gulp after gulp of quick spurts of air were leaving your lungs. You were like a lost ship out to sea, desperately looking for a way back into port. Joel knew he was your only lifeline, and it broke his heart that he needed to be this again. He loved you and always supported you, but seeing you panic like this broke his heart. Something was bothering you, and he hoped, like hell, that someone wasn’t him.

“Baby, come on, breathe.” He said, slowly reaching out to you and pulling you into his chest.

But you couldn't; your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wouldn't slow down. “I can't breathe,” you said, hyperventilating and sobbing. You didn't know what was wrong or why, but it felt like you couldn't breathe. “Something’s wrong, Joel, I can’t- I can’t breathe.” You said, rushing air in and out of your lungs fast.

As soon as your eyes met his, you started sobbing and saying, “I can't do this. I'm a failure. I'm always fucking up. No one cares about m-me or loves me.”

“No, babe. Come on now, look at me,” Joel said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes to look at him. “Come on, with me, yeah? Breathe.” Joel then took a slow, deep breath, and you mirrored his actions.

“That’s it, sugar, nice and slow,” he said, breathing with you. He was trying to slow your breathing down. After readjusting himself, Joel sat beside you, gently taking your hand and placing it on his chest, holding it tight against him.

“Feel how I breathe, darlin', now match it. Come on now, slow breath in.”

*Joel took a slow breath in.*

“Now, slowly breathe out.”

*Joel slowly breathed out.*

“And again,” he said, getting you to focus on slowing your breathing down. One of his hands held yours against his chest so that you could feel the pattern of his breaths. The other hand was protectively lying over your bump, gently stroking the skin, centering both you and him that everything was alright with your baby.

After several moments of slowing your breathing and getting you to breathe normally again, you finally sighed and said, “Thanks, Joel.”

Still sitting above you, Joel furrowed his brow as he looked at you. He didn’t know why you were having a panic attack tonight. It stressed him out and worried him, especially since you were pregnant. He didn’t want you to get too stressed out and put the baby you were carrying under any more stress. After a long moment of observing you, Joel finally sighed and asked, “Why d’ya think you’re a failure?” As he waited for your response, he slowly started stroking your belly once again.

“I don’t know, I- I was upset and spouted my mouth off. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t give me that shit of ‘didn’t mean anything by it.’ Christ woman.” Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand while removing his other hand from your belly.

You frowned slightly at his movements, knowing that now he was agitated. You didn't want to have any more arguments with him. You two have been finally getting along for a while, and you weren't in the mood to go back to the way things were, where you hardly spoke, and if you did, it would result in an argument. To you, those days were behind you.

When Joel felt you stiffen below him, he froze. He was frustrated at the situation tonight. Something was bothering you to the point where it made you panic, and he wanted to know why. Why did you think that you were a failure? He felt his heart ache when you continued to look up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him for fear that it'd start another argument.

Since when did Joel Miller become such an asshole that his wife didn't want to look at him? Since when did he become your father?

Joel took a deep breath and sighed, realizing how harsh his attitude had been these past few months. Yeah, you two haven't had sex since Halloween, almost five months ago. He reasoned with himself that the lack of sexual intercourse was because of the doctor's orders. But you two haven't done anything else either. Joel didn't blame you; he blamed himself for the change. Tommy even commented the other day to Joel that his brother had changed, but not in a good way. Yeah, Joel Miller was an asshole. But what bothered him the most was he's been an asshole to you, and you've never deserved it.

Sighing at this realization, he turned towards you and gently touched your chin. “Hey, look at me, will ya,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. When you finally decided to look at him, he smiled tenderly and whispered, “I love you. You know that, right, baby?”

He felt his eyes sting when you didn't answer and just stared at him. Joel Miller has been drastically fucking things up.

“I'm so fucking sorry, darlin’,” he said while gently placing his hand back again on your bump. “I’m sorry for makin’ this. For fucking everything up where I wasn’t there for you emotionally like I should have been.”

You just glared at him, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “Y-you didn't, shit,” you said, brushing a single tear away from your cheeks. I’m not doing this right now. I’m not going to break down again, you thought.

Joel could see you were struggling not to get emotional, and he was trying so hard to find ways to fix what he had already broken. “Baby, I was so mad at what ya told me on Halloween. That I wasn't rockin’ your sexual world anymore. I got, fuck baby, I got mad and jealous.”

“Seriously? What could you have been jealous about?” You said, snapping at him with more force than you intended. You were confused and slightly irritated at your husband. Joel was the one who shut you out after Halloween, not you. He barely spoke to you, held you; hell, he still hasn't even fucked you since that night. Sure, you pulled away, too, and you didn't tell him you were pregnant. But every time you tried to open up, he'd shut you down, yell at you, or treat you like you weren't his wife. You sat in silence, not knowing how to respond to your husband. Joel wasn't moving or answering you either, and for a minute, you thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep. But then you heard it, a sniffle, followed by a choked-off sob.

“Joel-” you said softer, looking over at him as you noticed tears streaming down his face. He placed a hand over his eyes, sobbing into it. You didn't understand what was happening or why he was giving you this emotional response.

“I'm s-sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that you d-don't want to be w-with me anymore.” Joel said, continuing to sob into his hand.

Where the hell was this all coming from? You thought. “Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I-”

“Don’t,” Joel said sternly, quickly brushing his tears away. Joel hated crying by himself, and he hated crying in front of you. After taking a moment to collect himself, he leaned down and whispered to your belly, “I'm so sorry that Daddy has fucked this up. I-I love both you and your mama so fucking much, ok?” He gently kissed your belly and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes away. When he sat up, he looked around the room, admiring the home you two had built together, with the front of him facing away from you.

Joel wouldn't look at you, even when you asked him. You were scared, scared of what was coming next. You knew this scene, knew it well from your father. It would be the moment that Joel would tell you he’s been sleeping with someone else. He’d tell you that you were too much for him and that he couldn’t help it, that it was an accident. You also waited for the words ‘you ruined my life’ to come to his lips, just like your father told you before. But the longer you waited, the longer it was apparent that those words would never come. That’s when you felt your heart begin to race again.

“I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, love. Stop overthinking things. I just wanted to say that you deserve better; you both do. And I know I'm not your favorite human right now and that you’re ashamed to carry my child-”

“Joel Miller, what are you even talking about? I'm not ashamed of-”

Joel stopped you by raising a hand, silencing you, saying, “Please, just let me finish.” He then continued when he knew you wouldn't interrupt him again. “I've, I'm- shit- I'm not good with this stuff, with words. I just- fuck.”

Joel didn't know what he was trying to say. He felt sorry for Halloween and for the miscommunication you two had. He’s been moody since then and not present in his marriage. He was also very sorry for not making you feel comfortable enough to tell him things again, like when you were first pregnant. But most of all, he was sorry for disappointing you as a man and husband.

When Joel realized the last admission in his mind, he felt tears well up again. You had opened your mouth to speak again, but Joel interrupted you by saying, “Ya know, I think my ex-wife was right all those years ago.”

“How so?” you said, tensing at the mention of her.

“She said I always fucked things up, and that's why she was- uh- why it didn't work out between us.” Joel almost said it. The thing he hadn’t told you. That his first wife was unfaithful because he wasn't present in their marriage and didn't give her enough support after Sarah was born.

“Joel,” you said while slowly grabbing his hand. “Baby, I'm not her, and for the record, you ain't fucking things up.”

Joel snorted at your comment, saying, “Darlin', we both know that ain't true. You're pregnant with my child. And you didn't even want to tell me because of it, because of me.”

“Joel, I didn't tell you because I was scared. I'm a woman in my middle thirties who told her husband life was stale in the bedroom. On that same night, he also knocked me up. I wanted to tell you immediately, but as soon as I attempted, you weren't there. You were working 16-hour days and moody because of no help at work. Yeah, I fucked up. I should have said something, but I was scared. I was scared I was trapping you in a marriage you didn't want.”

“What do you mean a marriage I didn't want? Baby, I love you and want you, always. I've never felt trapped, not ever. Why are you thinkin’ that?” Joel said, screwing his face up and not understanding why you thought he didn't want to be married.

“I don't know, just something my dad said when-”

“I ain't your old man,” Joel said, grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils. At one time, your father, Pat, was Joel's best friend. But that abruptly ended when Pat laid his hands on his daughter and unforgivably hurt her.

“I know it's just- I was worried you didn't want this, want me. I know I'm a lot, a handful, that-” Your voice started to tremble, and your lip was quivering. You couldn't say it out loud. But Joel knew it was the last thing you heard your father say before you walked out of his life, forever.

Flashback

“Joel, I know my daughter, ok? She's a handful, a complete pain in the ass, and a liability. One that I wish like hell wasn't my damn responsibility anymore. So do yourself a favor; don't get involved. She'll just ruin your life. She’s already ruined mine.”

You had stood there and heard your father tell Joel, your new fiance, he didn't want you as a daughter anymore. That you being around was a burden to him and his life. You were standing in the kitchen as Pat, your father, talked to Joel in the living room. You weren't supposed to hear the conversation, and you knew that. But with what you heard, it had shattered you. You walked out of your father's house with tears in your eyes, never returning. It was good that you walked out before you heard your father's last comment. The one comment that yet today made Joel grind his teeth and see red anytime he thought about it.

“Joel, that girl of mine is nothin’ but a goddamn whore. A bitch, just like her mother. She'll just hurt you in the end. My advice, make sure you have a little something on the side, a nice piece of ass as I did, just as a pick me up. Trust me, you'll get sick of looking at her pathetic ass day in and day out. I did with her mother, and it felt great to go and get some much-needed attention from the girls I had on the side…”

After your father called you a whore and told Joel what took place when Joel had you hang out at his house, he felt sick and saw red with anger. Your dad's weekend trips and late-night house calls were due to him fucking around on your mom, a woman who was battling cancer and eventually lost. But the worst thing that Joel found out was that all those black eyes you were supporting in high school and college weren't because you got into a fight or that a boyfriend hit you. No, Pat was getting drunk and using his fists against his daughter's face. Joel also had a sneaky suspicion that the two cracked ribs you had in college also came from Pat. Joel couldn't believe that his best friend did that, and worse, you never said anything. Joel would have stopped it immediately if he had known. Pat was no longer in either of your lives anymore.

Present Day

“Baby, you ain't too much, so stop thinking that. C’mere.” Joel said, having you come and sit on his lap while he placed his back against the headboard.

He helped you straddle him, putting your hard baby belly against his softer belly. Your bump prevented you from getting as close as usual, but it was close enough that Joel could still wrap his arms around you and rest his forehead against yours.

“Now, darlin’, I want you to take a deep breath for me, ok?” After you took a deep breath and slowly let it out, you felt your heartbeat return to normal, along with his.

“I’m so sorry, Joel, that I didn’t tell you-”

“Don’t. Please darlin’. I-I don’t care what we’ve done before. I care about the right here and now. Please.”

You could feel how stressed Joel was. How his muscles tensed with you, referencing you were sorry again for not telling your husband at the beginning of your pregnancy that you were pregnant. If you could do it again, but differently, you would. But that’s not life. Life is about living in the moment, feeling emotions, and allowing yourself to experience it in its messy glory. It’s about making mistakes and then learning from those mistakes. But most of all, it’s about forgiveness, hope, compassion, love, and understanding. You both understood that the choices made these past few months were out of anger, frustration, and loneliness.

With your eyes closed and your understanding of the situations that have surrounded the two of you for a while, you quietly said, “I love you, old man.”

Joel let out a small snort at your teasing. ‘Old man’ was a nickname you gave him long ago when the two of you started dating, and now it was a term of endearment.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, slowly nuzzling his nose against yours.

When you pulled back and opened your eyes, you saw your husband looking at you lovingly. His eyes were so soft, tenderness seen behind them. He was your lifeline that tethered you to this world, keeping you anchored and not drifting. When he slowly kissed you, you felt him tell you in the kiss that you were loved and that everything would be alright. He was your rock, your protector, your soulmate. But more importantly, he was your Joel. The man who saw you for what you were inside. He saw past your faults and insecurities, of you believing you were too much. He gave you a safe place to land and be in the moment. You had a lifetime with him, helped him raise Sarah, and gave birth to two strong-willed little boys you loved dearly. And now you were pregnant again, with a baby that was half him and half you growing inside of you. This little one was very much a surprise, but the best possible surprise. It forced you both to stop your chaotic lives and slow down to remember what life was all about Love.

After several tender kisses, you started to giggle against his mouth. Joel pulled back at your giggling, confused at your antics. “Darlin’, are you laughing at me?”

You continued giggling and said, “No, Joel, I’m not,” but then you giggled again.

“Baby, please-”

“Joel, I just felt the baby move.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, looking at you with excitement. “R-really? Just now?”

“Yes, just now, when I was thinking how much I loved you and how much this child is teaching us that we need to communicate still, to be strong, and-”

Joel slowly moved his hands down to your stomach and rubbed it tenderly. He knew he wouldn’t feel movement for another few weeks. But seeing you feel life for the first time was the best possible gift one could experience with you. The joy on your face at the realization that a baby was growing inside you, one that he helped create.

“There it is again,” you said, smiling and giggling. You placed your hand right over Joel’s hand, right where you felt movement. It felt like a cricket, or something ran across your stomach, but from the inside. It was always the oddest feeling that you’d feel. It wasn’t a full kick yet; those would come in a few weeks. But in this movement, it always made you laugh when you’d feel it for the first time.

When you looked up at Joel, you were beaming with the biggest smile, while he had the most tender look in his eyes. Softly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over your skin, giving you and his baby affection. “She's telling her mama that she loves her.”

“Joel, it’s too early. We don’t-” you said, choking up with emotion. Joel knew you wanted a girl so badly, especially after the two of you lost the only pregnancy before where you were pregnant with a girl. It was a sore subject for the two of you.

Before, when you were pregnant with a girl, Joel had come home early from work because you said you weren’t feeling well. He noticed you were sleeping on the couch when he entered the house. Joel quietly went upstairs and showered, but you yelled for him while he was washing his body. Joel quickly rinsed himself off and ran out to the living room, wearing nothing but a towel with water still dripping down his back. When he got to you, you were sitting up and crying. When he had asked you what was wrong, you pulled back the blanket, and Joel saw a large pool of bright red blood on the couch. You were rushed to the hospital by ambulance, but it was already too late. The girl you were pregnant with had no heartbeat detected. You stayed in the hospital for observation, delivering the tiny baby that night.

After you were asleep in the hospital, Joel had gone home. He took the sledgehammer to the couch, tears streaming down his face while hitting it. Tommy found him beating the hell out of the sofa, crying and screaming at how much he hated the world for taking the one thing that you wanted away from you: a little girl.

And now, all these years later, when you hear Joel reference a girl, you can’t help but get scared. Sure, you hoped for a girl and dreamed of it again, but you also didn't want to go through losing another baby once again.

“It’s just a hunch, darlin’, and don’t worry, mama; I’ll keep you both safe. Now come on, time for you both to go to bed.” Joel said, wrapping you in his arms to help silence your fears.

Joel laid you down and got you situated after he brought you some water to drink. He pulled you tight to him, your back against his bare chest as he traced small circles on your belly, helping you quickly fall asleep. After Joel knew you were sleeping soundly, he quietly whispered, “Little one, please stay in here no matter what, ok? I don’t know if you’re a girl or a boy, but I think you may be a girl this time. Regardless, your mama needs you to be healthy, and Daddy needs you to be healthy. You’ve heard bad words these past few months when your mama and I have been arguing. But please know, I’m beyond excited to be a dad yet again, your dad. I love you both so much, ok. Stay in there, and let your mama have a nice, easy pregnancy, ok? I love you.”

Joel stilled his hand on your bump, gently holding it snug while he drifted off to sleep. Neither of you knew that deep inside your belly, a tiny baby girl was growing nice and strong. Even though this pregnancy was difficult at times, that baby had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She would be the miracle and the one thing that helped you focus on fixing your marriage once and for all.

They say that life throws the most challenging curveballs when you least expect them and that sometimes those challenging events shape you into a better human being. That’s always been the story for you and Joel, and now, you both are about to enter the exciting part of your pregnancy—the one that will reshape your current Marriage Dynamics.

End of Chapter

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namfinessed · 4 months

Text

on repeat - m.yg.

genre: major angst, a bit of fluff at the end (timeloop! character death!) (7.2k)

summary: yoongi gets stuck in a vicious cycle where he can't seem to propose to you, nor save you from dying in his arms.

masterpost

he was going to propose to you.

that was the plan, the night was supposed to end with you in his arms, a dazzling smile on your face and his heart bursting at the seams with his love for you.

but yoongi is mute, rigid, a velvet box pressed against his thigh uncomfortably, a future with the ring inside it seemed impossible.

you sat, some distance away, a country away it seemed like to yoongi, you too were mute, and rigid but you were restless with anger that frankly, scared him.

the cab rumbled beneath his feet and his throat bobbed constantly, zayn malik’s ‘cruel’ buzzed over the air but it did nothing to ease the tension between you two.

‘back where we left off,

help you take your dress off,

i’ve been by myself, remembering you.’

he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know if he could say anything.

he sees his hand which lay next to yours, he could reach out, touch it, apologize, pull you in, let you yell at him but instead, he retracts it into his lap and folds it in defeat.

your nails dig into the leather of the car seat, so intensely, so painfully, and your jaw stays tight.

“can we-“

“don’t.” your warning hits him in a wave, you never speak to him like that, and you never look at him as if you could walk away from everything you’ve built together but you do now, you do now and yoongi feels like he’s falling into an abyss of failure.

yoongi slumps into his seat, eyeing the seconds ticking by on his watch, anxiety building so largely in his chest that he has to sit up, to let it dissipate physically.

“this isn’t fair,” he utters finally and you scoff, chin trembling, “tough luck, yoongi.”

he shakes his head, “how are we going to sort this out if you’re being like this?”

“we? there’s no ‘we’ here, yoongi, you have to sort this out,” you spit it out, body lurching forward in defense and yoongi drowns once again, in shame, in guilt, in a vicious cocktail of emotions that only you make him feel.

“okay fine, how am i supposed to sort this out?” he turns to face you, just as the cab pulls to a stop at the curb, the tires screeching under him irritates yoongi, but he keeps looking at you.

and he notices something he didn’t before.

a single tear falls out of your eyes and travels down your jaw, so slowly that yoongi feels he could draw it as it moves.

you never cry, not at movies, not at songs, not at anniversaries, yoongi had hoped he would make you cry today but not this way; he was hoping to see you so overjoyed that tears leaked without your permission.

but not this, not this strange, broken, lost tear that gets quickly wiped away by you.

“figure it out.” you declare and step out of the car, slamming it shut in the process and yoongi falls back on his seat, stunned and mournful as the weeds of grief sow into his heart.

you never cry.

yoongi buttons his suit, a cold expression on his face as he follows you into the rousing club, the rousing club he owned, the rousing club where you performed as a singer, this was where you met, this was where your love grew, this was where yoongi knew would be perfect for proposing to you.

but as you stomped in your tallest heels in front of him, your dress flowing behind you in an ethereal way, yoongi felt like he’d gone back to the day when he saw your audition, you had looked out of this world, so out of his league, so painfully beautiful but his heart tugged him towards you, in a way that was out of his control.

and you had taken his heart in, caged it in your palms, and never set it free, yoongi had never wanted to be set free, but you were leaving the cage open now, and he didn’t know where to go.

he didn’t where he belonged, if it wasn’t next to you.

“sir, ma’m,” the bouncers greeted you two, you smiled so sweetly at them, asking them about their day and their meals, then as they all turned to him, your face went back to the grim, dangerous fury that yoongi could feel burning into him.

as yoongi made small talk, you disappeared into the club, into the crowd of people, and yoongi, once again, tracked you down and followed you.

today was a big day for his club, “midas and tunes”, it was the grand re-opening after a successful year, and some huge renovations, he had been running around for months like a madman to prepare for this night, both the proposal and the re-opening, and a lot of yoongi’s stress was supposed to alleviate at the end of today.

but watching you, two feet away, not being able to touch you, or talk to you, just spiked his anxiety to the highest it’s ever been.

yoongi pushes through the people, half-heartedly greeting everyone on his way to you and you don’t look back, you march over to the side of the stage and he rushes to catch your wrist.

and as subtly as you could, you ripped it from his grip, throwing him a glare and say, “i’m going up there in one minute, i don’t want to hear a word from you.”

he’s had enough.

he lets out a groan of frustration, he wasn’t a saint, he wasn’t made of endless patience and god, he was trying but you were just, “you’re being so fucking difficult right now.” and your anger flares in your eyes, yoongi feels stupid for saying anything at all, the box in his pocket shakes its head at him.

“not another word, min yoongi.” you warn with your finger pointed at him to further punctuate your point, “go, be a good host and don’t you dare come back home tonight.”

with that, you change your face from a glare to the dazzling smile that yoongi loves, you walk onto the stage and wave at the group of people shining in the crowd.

yoongi purses his lips and works his way through the club, greeting, smiling, and exchanging niceties even as his feet wobble and his heart feels dry.

he watches you from the corner of his eyes, you glow on stage, your smile is perfect, your eyes are perfect, you are perfect, and you make it look so easy, going up in front of a couple of hundred people and talking to them with a confidence that no one could wreck with.

you were always this enigmatic, and yoongi had always felt he was less than you.

but he would never do anything to stand in the way of you and your light, he would always take the shadows so you could shine, which is why it makes it that much more difficult for him to hold onto you right at this moment.

he watched, proud eyes, sinking heart as you sang, each word so raw and rich that yoongi tunes out everything else around him.

your eyes flutter to him, he thinks it’ll be a vicious glare again, a snarl, anything to indicate your anger, but instead, your eyes soften around their edges, you lend him a ghost of a smile, a delicate moment passes between you two and yoongi smiles back at you.

you two would be okay, of course, you would be and if you kept smiling this way, yoongi would be on one knee by the end of tonight, and it would end exactly how he had dreamt it to.

but just as a bigger smile starts to grace your face, a loud bang from the back of the club startles yoongi, several loud bangs and clangs fill the air, people start screaming around him, pushing him in every direction to find the source of the noise and yoongi’s eyes rush to find you.

he starts pushing too, the air around him grows sparse, and his body keeps pulling him into the crowd when he’s trying to push against it.

his body grows cold when he hears the bang of a gun, the clutter of a bullet, the falling of a table, and screams.

so.

many.

screams.

they echo and bounce off his ears, some creep into his soul and stop his steps in fear.

but he pushes through, hurriedly, more frantically, because for fucks’ sake, he can’t see you, he can’t see your pretty eyes, your flowing dress, your tall heels, he can’t see you anywhere around him.

then, he stops.

yoongi falls.

to his knees.

the pain of the ground hitting his bones, shoots through him but his heart aches much more, it squeezes and squeezes at the sight in front of him.

a single bullet in the middle of your forehead.

your body on the ground.

no breathing, no movement, no sound.

just a single tear dripping at the tip of your nose.

yoongi crawls forward, eyes wide, skin riddled with terror, fresh terror that grabbed him by his throat, he gathers your body into his lap and taps your cheeks, taps your arms, taps your eyes, holds his ear to your nose, he calls out to you, he says your name once, twice, a billion times.

and he cries.

he holds your head to his chest and he cries so loudly, he can hear himself over the chaos, the banging, the clutter, his cries resonate and punctuate the air.

yoongi fiddles for the box in his pockets and blindly throws it across the room, it had no place in his world from today.

he had no place in his world from today.

‘back where we left off,

help you take your dress off,

i’ve been by myself, remembering you.’

yoongi stirred, his entire body hurt, his head was pounding and he winced as he tried to open his heavy eyes but when he managed somehow to peel them open, he is greeted with the sight of a window.

a window in a cab.

he jolts awake, his body screams in protest as he whips his head around.

you.

you got shot, you bled out in his arms, yoongi cried to the heavens.

but you are here.

your dress is flowing around you.

yesterday’s dress.

there’s no blood on it, not even a wrinkle, it’s pristine, and it’s as ethereal as he remembers, yoongi’s eyes reach your face, you are looking at him tensely but today, you have a concerned frown along with your anger.

what was happening?

“you good?” you ask, tone reluctant and stiff and yoongi feels himself go pale, it feels strange to hear your voice after your blood washed him away, “what happened?” he gasps, so desperately, so lost, his hands curl on the leather as they try to reach you, but you only scoff at him.

“we just hit a speed bump, yoongi, don’t be such a drama queen.”

no.

he had every right to freak out.

he saw you die.

“ho-how are you?” he feels stupid as he asks, he feels even more stupid when you glance at him with an arched eyebrow, “i’m trying not to kill you, what about you?”

yoongi drops his head against his seat, you are speaking to him, you are here, you are alive and yoongi can now feel the same velvet box pressing against his thigh.

he had thrown it away; he had held your skin as it turned blue.

but the cab was the same as yesterday, same zayn song, same tinted windows, same driver, same everything.

even your anger was the same.

yoongi felt like he could explode.

maybe it was a bad dream, maybe yoongi had somehow conjured the worst of worst-case scenarios in the tense moments that followed up to this day.

and he sighs in relief, you’re alive, you’re all right, it was a bad dream and he still could fix things.

but he still felt uneasy, something in the pit of his stomach kept curling and unfurling, a forewarning or a simple case of nerves on a huge day, yoongi wasn’t sure, he didn’t feel brave enough to question it for too long.

he wordlessly followed you into the club and watched you take your place on the stage, he watched your flowing dress and long heels and laughed to himself about how differently things went in his dream.

you would probably kill him before you ever died.

“i’d like to welcome you all, with a full heart, for our grand re-opening,” you spoke so smoothly, your words echoing off yoongi’s dreams and he tried to shrug off the way his stomach kept churning.

just nerves.

he told himself again and again, he was going to propose for fucks’ sake, of course, he was going to feel a bit queasy.

but failing to ignore the spikes growing on his spine, he turned around to survey the crowd, to convince himself that this was all completely normal, and when he saw smiling faces, glasses of alcohol, and glittering lights, he turned back to you, shaking his head at himself.

he was overthinking it all, he just had to make things right by you and then get down on one knee, and sleep it off.

the lights descend on you and a tune fills the air.

you started singing, his senses get consumed by you in the same second your voice travels to him.

yoongi feels himself relax.

his shoulders fall away from his ears, his chest expands to take in more air and he straightens his posture, he sips his drink and pours all his attention to the light that makes you glow.

your eyes meet his.

his shoulders pick back up.

he knows this scene.

yoongi’s heart thundered in his chest.

wasn’t this how you looked at him before you died in his arms?

he rushes forward, mumbling apologies to the people he pushes as unease crawls through his every sense. yoongi’s hands thrust in front of him, an urgent fever almost turns him blind.

if something happens, he will never forgive himself.

he reaches where you stand, hands and palms towards you, heart beating in his ears and your eyes light up at his stance, your anger melts at his open arms and as you sing, your hand reaches out for his, and yoongi feels his heart slip at the adoration that coated your glistening eyes.

oh.

you have mistaken his intentions but yoongi will take just about anything from you right now.

he places his hands in yours, “i’ve got you,” he whispers to you, he doesn’t know why, and your eyes round in surprise, then soften again, and you mouth back, “i’ve got you too.”

if you think his behavior is strange, especially because yoongi is never affectionate publicly, you don’t say anything and yoongi feels all the more grateful for it.

after sticking around until the song almost finished, yoongi meekly finds his way back into the crowd, but his brow glistened with sweat and his hands felt clammy.

but the worst was over, you finished your song and you were still alive, nothing bad had happened.

he needed help.

“hey, you” your voice breaks him out of his head, he looks up to see your eyes filled with subdued anger, “wanna dance to this, big boy?”

zayn’s ‘cruel’ fills his ears once again, he used to love the song but now, it fills him with vicious deja-vu, nevertheless, yoongi lets you whisk him away and he tries to move with you, tries to match your steps, tries to match your smile but the song seems to mock him.

‘who do you love, who do you love?’

“i know i was being really mean to you,” you speak under the neon lights, he sees your lips move, and he feels the weight of your words but yoongi doesn’t listen, “we’ll sort this out, okay? we’ve been through worse, you just have to promise me that you will never invite them again.”

right.

the actual reason you were fighting.

yoongi feels his fear melt, and he lets it melt completely, “i know we will, besides, i have so much planned for us, you can’t leave me hanging in all that.” he rests his forehead on you as you let out a giggle and curl into him.

“what does that mean?”

the box in his trousers begged to be let out, yoongi smiled, he had nothing to be worried about, “it means that i have a question to ask you-“

bang!

he feels his world spin on his feet when the crash comes, the same crash from his dreams, the same crash that killed you, yoongi’s arms fall from you and his breath comes short, he turns to the source of the noise, eyes darting wildly in the air.

“yoongi!” your screams come from beside him, your hands grip his arms, and he winces as your nails dig into his shirt, but he’s panicked, he’s scared, and he needs to take down the people doing it.

he can’t let them get to you.

“yo-“

a ringing noise travels in his ear, he swears he heard a bullet before it, and as his eyes drag over to you, achingly, as slowly as he can because he fears he knows what he will see.

and yoongi falls to his knees again.

he wipes the single tear off your face before crumbling next to you.

yoongi could still feel the warmth of your blood seeping through his fingers, as he stirred from slumber, he felt his clothes stretch against leather and his eyes shot open.

the cab window stared back at him.

the neon lights of the city mocked him.

‘back where we left off,

help you take your dress off,

i’ve been by myself, remembering you.’

the song pressed itself into his brain.

“no, no, no,” he gripped his hair in his hands as he leaned forward, this couldn’t be happening, not again.

“seriously, yoongi? i’m the one who is hurt and you want to act like the baby?” your razor-sharp eyes ground him, and he lurches forward to grab your hand.

you were real.

you were here.

but this time, yoongi knew it couldn’t have been a dream. it had felt too real, his pain had been too real and coincidence didn’t seem like a strong enough explanation.

“what are you doing, yoongi?” you hiss and bat his hand away, looking out the window with a stone-cold expression.

but yoongi had his own problems.

he had to ignore the sting in his heart to figure out what the fuck was happening with his life.

why was it this cab?

why was it this song?

and why did you always die at the end?

yoongi could only think of one explanation, a burglary gone wrong, because everyone else was a respected guest, thoroughly vetted and yoongi knew all of them personally, none of them would want to hurt you.

but yoongi thinks back to how acutely he felt the box in his pocket, how it pressed into him more whenever you…well, whenever you died.

“i have to do this here,” he whispers to himself, hands already reaching out to rip the box out of his pocket, he faces you and yoongi tries not to feel hurt over the anger still flashing in your eyes.

“i know this isn’t a good time, but i need to do this, please look at me,” yoongi begs you, and he never begged anyone for anything, which is what makes you turn to look at him.

a gasp leaves your lips the second you notice the box in his palm, “yoongi, oh my god,” you say, breathlessly, in adoration and fear, and yoongi wishes he could’ve done this differently, “i know we’re fighting and i know you’re upset with me but even if you are, even if we aren’t always good, i want to be with you and no one else, for the rest of my life.”

yoongi’s throat feels dry, his heart doesn’t sing even if he means his words, he desperately wishes he was doing this differently but he knows no way out, he didn’t want to wake up to your angry face, he didn’t want to see you die anymore, he didn’t want to be in this cab anymore.

“aw, yoongi,” at least, it seems that you find it sentimental, your eyes glisten with unshed tears, any anger is dissipated from your face, and yoongi’s heart cheers.

he did it.

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you too,” you hum happily, a single tear escapes your eyes as you watch him and his fingers reach out for your hand, he is finally feeling the buzz and excitement that comes with proposing.

yoongi was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

bang!

yoongi’s heart sinks, the ring dangles and falls off from his grip, and the cab swerves unnaturally to the divider in the road.

it was the tire, yoongi knew it was from the way the cab lost control.

“yoongi!” your scream reaches him and yoongi only watches as blinding lights fall from behind you and he can only watch as they crash into your side of the cab, throwing the vehicle into the middle of the street.

and he closes his eyes, he doesn’t turn your way, he refuses to look at your hand that falls on his lap, he ignores the blood dripping on his trousers.

he lets the ring fall onto the floor of the cab.

leather.

box.

‘back where we left off,

help you take your dress off,

i’ve been by myself, remembering you.’

that damn song.

this time, yoongi didn’t bother being surprised or confused, he opened his eyes, and the window came into his view, he sighed, he looked to his side, he saw your simmering eyes settled in a scowl, he sighed, he felt the box in his pocket, he sighed.

if he was going to do this a million times, he figured that he might as well get somewhere with you.

“i’m sorry for inviting your family,” he starts and you scoff at him, but he continues, he was going to live this day again and again until the universe was done playing with him apparently, yoongi had nothing to lose. “i shouldn’t have tried to act like some hero, reuniting you guys, i should’ve understood why you hated them so much and stayed out of your way.”

your posture visibly relaxes, your shoulders drop, your scowl melts by a little, and you turn to him with tears in your eyes, “i just don’t understand why you thought it was a good idea, they are people who have betrayed me so many times yoongi, i didn’t want to see their faces ever.”

yoongi had thought that, as much as you fought with your family, you would still want them around for his proposal, he had spent weeks meticulously planning things with them, but he should’ve known you better, he should’ve tried to understand that he couldn’t do things just because he thought it would turn out well for you.

and yoongi feels terrible, “let’s just say, i had something big planned for today.” his palms fold on his lap and his head drops to the seat, he feels exhausted, he feels so far and close to how he wanted tonight to end.

he doesn’t answer you when you ask him what it was, he doesn’t say anything at all even when his club comes into view, he walks straight into it and grabs a glass of whiskey for himself.

god knows that he’s earned it.

“yoongi, i’m up in two minutes,” you approach him at the bar, eyes wide with concern, “good luck, you’re going to kill it.” he taps your shoulder, then winces at his choice of words and your eyebrows twist in confusion.

“are you still angry?” yoongi turns away at your question, he was acting like an asshole but if you were going to die again, yoongi didn’t want to see another second of it, he couldn’t see another second of it without going completely insane, “i’m not, just nerves, don’t worry about it.” he knows you can sense how half-hearted his tone is but you only eye him warily once before leaving his side.

yoongi lets his head fall onto the cool glass of the bar countertop, he hears your delicate voice swimming in the air and he buries himself further into the glass.

“oh, hyung!” yoongi frowns, no one calls him that.

he slowly looks up to see your brother, steve, the one he invited, the one you hated, “oh hey man, how’s it going?” yoongi gives him a one-arm hug and proceeds to nurse his drink again.

“all good, the club’s beautiful, no wonder you picked this for the proposal,” steve looks fine, yoongi wonders why you hate him, “well, don’t get too excited about the proposal.”

“if your sister stops dying for two minutes, i would have a chance at that,” his tone is bitter but yoongi’s chest aches, is this how it’s going to be? is he going to watch you die a million more times before he ever gets to call you, his wife?

“huh?”

“don’t worry about it, rough day.” he waves your brother off, hoping that he will leave yoongi alone but steve lingers, “so hyung,” yoongi didn’t have the energy to correct him that he in fact, wasn’t his hyung.

“i’m between jobs right now, the club looks terrific, you think you can hook me with something?” steve says so casually, that yoongi has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

his brother-in-law had no skills in subtlety and suddenly, yoongi started seeing why you might hate your family.

yoongi’s met this guy for two minutes and he’s already asking for a job, and he’s heard you complain about how your family keeps asking you for everything, he feels even more terrible for inviting them.

“i’ll look into it.” his words hold no promise but your brother brightens up immediately, taking a seat next to yoongi and beaming at him, yoongi politely smiles and focuses on his drink.

“but seriously hyung, why her?”

“i’m sorry?”

“oh come on hyung, you know as much as i do, that you can do way better than my sister,” yoongi looks at steve in disbelief, why was your brother talking shit about his own sister, especially on the night of her proposal?

“she’s heartless hyung, she will chew you up and leave you with nothing, trust me our entire family has experienced it.” yoongi’s grip around his glass tightens, and he hears the cracks that threaten to break it, he wished it was steve’s neck instead.

“get out.”

“what?”

“i said, get the fuck out of my club before i get you kicked out.”

“hyung, i’m only trying to protect you from her, she’s insane,” and yoongi loses it completely, “why are you still standing and speaking to me? i told you to get out.”

“what’s going on?” you step into the bar with your arms across your chest, you already look tired, “your brother was just leaving, the exit’s that way.” yoongi pointed out for steve and sat back down.

steve goes red in the face, his breaths leave him rushed and he is visibly angry.

yoongi wished he gave a singular fuck about him.

“you’re going to let this man be your husband, after how he talked to your brother?” steve turns to you and you quirked an eyebrow at him, “what husband are you talking about, steve?”

wow.

there went yoongi’s plan of a surprise proposal.

“ask him,” steve was doing this intentionally, yoongi knew the second he saw the glint pass his eyes, he was enjoying ruining your proposal, “he’s speaking bullshit, which is why i asked him to leave, and he still hasn’t left for some reason.” yoongi shrugs, trying to play it cool, trying to act as if a box wasn’t pressing into his thighs.

“no, ask him what it is in his pocket. ask him!” steve points wildly at yoongi, his anger flaring even more and yoongi’s eyebrows line with sweat, you look at him in confusion, he doesn’t meet your eyes.

“stop it right now, steve.” yoongi tries to maintain his cool.

“just because i asked you for a job, doesn’t already make you the boss of me, i hope you and her rot together,” he hisses out at yoongi.

“you asked yoongi for a job?”

shit.

yoongi tenses up once again, because you sound scalded, he turns immediately, abandoning his drink and peace.

you are holding back tears as you stare pointedly at your brother.

steve goes red again, “well, my useless sister wasn’t doing anything for me, so i thought i’d at least try with her husband.” he scoffs and yoongi’s never wanted to punch someone so badly.

your face flashes with hurt and your lips turn down, you turn to stare at yoongi with venom dripping from your eyes, as if to tell him, ‘see, this is why i hate them.’

you didn’t have to signal that twice, yoongi’s understood how terrible your family is, based on the very short interaction with your brother.

“okay, play time’s over, follow me quietly or my bouncers will carry you out,” yoongi sinks from his seat and glares at steve until his shoulders fall and his feet line up with yoongi’s.

“you’re the most selfish person i know, you don’t deserve any of this,” steve growls at you, and yoongi grabs the jacket of his suit, pulling him away from you, “shut up, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t speak another word.”

“i’m selfish? after everything i’ve done for you, i’m the selfish one?” you half-scream at steve, with trembling hands and a single tear falling out of your eyes.

yoongi’s seen this scene before, a hurtle of recognition tumbles over him as he finally notices what exactly happens whenever a tear falls from your eyes.

you die and he fails to save you, every single time that a tear touches your chin.

“without your husband, you would be nothing,” steve points his finger at you, and your face twists in annoyance, “why does he keep saying husband?”

“yeah hyung, why do i keep saying husband?” steve turns to yoongi with his arms crossed, a smug smile dancing on his lips and yoongi’s mind goes blank.

he doesn’t say a word.

he doesn’t look up to see you.

he just wanted to do this one night right, and it was all falling on him again.

“yoongi?” you look at him expectantly, he looks away, he swallows the lump in his throat and he wants to run away.

“let me help you, hyung,” steve steps forward and yoongi doesn’t know why he’s saying that, he doesn’t process a word until steve shoves his hand into yoongi’s pocket and pulls out the velvet box that hasn’t left him alone.

your mouth falls open as the action catches the attention of everyone in the room, collective gasps, squeals, and whispers cloud yoongi’s mind as he tries to look for your reaction in all this.

there’s no joy on your face, no excitement, just a wide eye and dropped jaw staring back at him.

he feels several knives twist themselves into his chest and it takes everything in him to not fall on the floor and curl himself up.

he never wanted this, he never wanted to live through a night where you would reject him.

as people started crowding, yoongi’s throat tightened, his entire heart was dangling from steve’s fingers and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

but he looked at you, with some faded hope that you would wake yourself up and give him your heart too.

“come here,” your whisper barely registers to him, your touch barely dawns on him as you drag him away from the crowd.

it’s only when a gust of cold wind breaks on his face that he looks up to see that you have dragged him to the patio.

“yoongi, please look at me.”

he swallows another sob down his throat.

“it’s okay, i understand why you would say no, i fucked the whole thing up,” he runs a hand through his hair, his head refused to pick itself up, and your whispers of ‘no, no, no’ reach him slowly.

“it’s not like that,” your hands come into his view before they cup his jaw and force him to look at you, yoongi barely holds himself together as your fingers run circles on his cheeks, “i just wish,” you sigh, hands coming around his neck and resting your forehead on his chest.

yoongi’s hands twitch beside his body, “what do you wish for?” and he almost doesn’t recognize his voice, he sounds so weak, so desperate, but yoongi couldn’t hide it, it was exactly how he felt.

“i just wish it was us,” you start, yoongi holds his breath, “and no one else.”

“that’s all?”

“that’s all, yoongi” you let out a small laugh into his chest before picking yourself up and staring at him with all the love in the world.

he feels his worries run away like steam from a hot plate of food.

bang!

yoongi’s arms lurch out to you, pulling you to him as his breath quickens.

that fucking noise.

you both watched with wide eyes as people tumbled out of the club, screaming, falling, running, and looking back in fear. yoongi grabs your hand and runs, he runs with heavy steps and pulls you with him, he desperately looks back every two seconds as more and more people file out.

“yoongi!” your nails barely hold onto his jacket and he feels your grip loosen.

then, he doesn’t feel it at all.

yoongi stops running, he rushes back as people push him out of the way, as people shove his shoulder, step on his feet, and elbow him in the stomach, he winces and groans but he doesn’t stop looking for you in the crowd.

he screams your name, searches for your dress, searches for your heels, searches for your nails but nothing comes into view.

yoongi feels the acid rush into his mouth, he feels the choking that suffocates his chest and throat, and he feels his knees weaken at the thought of his nightmare repeating again.

and he realizes he can’t do anything at all to stop it.

the night ends when the crowd ends, when the police cars show up, when they find your body on the floor and put it into a body bag, and when they explain to yoongi that it was because of a stampede and it couldn’t have been in his control.

yoongi laughs at them.

nothing had ever been in his control.

‘back where we left off,

help you take your dress off,

i’ve been by myself, remembering you.’

yoongi didn’t open his eyes.

he knew what came next.

“i just wish it was us, and no one else.”

his eyes scrunch in pain as your voice floats in his head, he remembers the promise in your eyes, the tremble of your fingers as they snaked around his neck and he was so close this time, so fucking close but he was here again, and you were here too.

again.

the tires under the car screech and pull over.

“yoongi, we need to go.” your stern voice pulls him back in, and he opens his eyes, dazed, he stares at the cab window with the weight of a thousand boulders on his shoulders.

he doesn’t know how to fix this; he doesn’t know how to save you and yoongi is so close to just letting the nights blend into each other until he dies with you.

“i just wish it was us, and no one else.”

but you.

you deserved more than a resigned fate, you deserved more than a man who didn’t know how to save you, hell you deserved a man who knew what you wanted.

“yoongi, are you listening to me? we’re here,” you say once again and yoongi stares at his club, which shines so brightly in the night and he doesn’t make a single move to get out, even as you huff in annoyance.

here.

here lay so many nights.

here lay so many of your bodies.

then yoongi straightens up.

here.

here lay so many of your bodies.

here was the problem.

“we need to go back,” he whispers to no one, his nerves catch fire as the craziest or maybe not-crazy-at-all plan he’s ever come up with starts burning in his mind, he looks at you, your angry eyes, and scrunched-up fists, and reaches out for them.

“do you trust me?” he asks hastily, fingers gripping your fists and you frown at him, “what are you going on about?”

“do you trust me? please tell me,” maybe it was the tears gathering in his eyes, or his hands that begged you to understand but you eventually gave him a hesitant nod.

with your confirmation, yoongi leans over his seat and speaks quickly “driver, please take us back to our place, we will pay you extra,” and your frown grows deeper as the cab hits a u-turn.

“yoongi, our guests will be arriving, what the fuck are you doing?”

“please, just trust me.”

and again, his voice shakes your anger, your stance, you sink back into the seat without a word.

yoongi feels his heart race as your home comes into view, his fingers instinctively reach out for the box in his pocket, but it doesn’t terrify him anymore, he feels the texture of it, he imagines the future in it and he hopes to all the powers in the world that this works out.

he pays the driver, waits for you to step out, and gently tugs you along with him to your home, your safe place, a space that was always for you two.

and yoongi’s lips twitch, they threaten to break out a large smile, one that would give him away, one that would ruin his plans but they’ve been ruined so many times already, what’s one more time?

he removes his hand from yours as you reach your living room and paces forward, bringing out a candle, shutting down some lights and you watch with your arms crossed, your lower lip caught between your teeth in an anxious action and you grow more confused by the minute.

he switches the last remaining light off and you see nothing.

“yoongi, what is going on?” you whine into the darkness, trying to place his figure with his footsteps, your foot taps repeatedly as you zero into the sounds around you.

then, light falls through, a soft, warm light from the candle you bought for yoongi.

and yoongi comes into the light, just as soft, just as warm, on one knee, a nervous twitch in his eyebrows as his hands shake in front of him.

there’s a ring in his hands, a shine that dims all the other light in the room except yoongi who remains the most radiant.

your jaw starts to tremble as you slowly take in yoongi’s smile, which is nervous but so present.

“love, i should’ve known you,” he starts, and you’re stepping forward, “i should’ve known that you wouldn’t want anyone else to see this, to witness us at this moment,” his voice scratches with emotion and you’re stepping forward again, “but now i do, and i only have one thing to say,” he takes in a shaky breath and the toe of your heels grazes his leather shoes, “i love you, and there’s not a person, not a disaster, not enough warnings, nothing can ever stop me from trying to get to you.”

you frown a bit; you assume he means everything you’ve been through together in your relationship and your heart drowns in itself.

“i love you and i’ll never stop loving you, i promise to spend the rest of my life being yours,” your chin shakes furiously as you try to hold your tears back, “as long as you are mine.”

“what do you say, do you want to make me the happiest man alive?” yoongi’s eyes glisten, and his mind flashes with images of your body laying still through the many nights he tried to save you but he pushes them away, you’re here right now, you’re here and he has one more chance to keep you safe.

“oh, yoongi,” you sigh and fall into his arms, onto the ground, and grip his body so tightly, that fresh tears gather in his eyes, you’re here, and yoongi’s here, and somehow, the night has taken a better turn than he ever expected.

as he looks around the house you’ve built together, your candle burning away and leaving the sweetest scent in the air, and there are no neon lights, there are no shitty family members, there is no one and nothing at all, it’s just you and him and yoongi hopes that he will never have to go back to those nights again.

“i’ll always be yours,” you sniff and rub your nose into his cheek, “darling i love you too but let me get this ring on you,” you laugh and nod, pushing away to let him slip the delicate, shiny band onto your finger.

“there you go,” he holds onto your finger and pulls you back into his arms, nuzzling his nose into your neck and you hum in pure happiness.

and both of you melt onto the floor, the warm light falls on you and yoongi’s heartbeat is in your ears when he asks, “do you like it?”

“i love it.” a single tear slips from your eyes.

yoongi’s smile falls.

a hand on his chest stirs him awake, yoongi’s eyes shoot open, his head twisting from side to side to see his surroundings.

his hands touch and feel the soft sheets covering his body and he looks to his right, it covers your body too and yoongi shakes his head at himself, a low laugh escaping him.

he stands up, groaning as he stretches his body and looks at your peaceful face.

yoongi lets his smile grow exponentially, walking over to push the curtains away and open into his balcony. he takes a deep breath as he leans over the railing and the scent of everything hits him, dulling his senses into a mild buzz.

“hey, handsome” hands sneak up on his torso and a shimmer blinks back from your fingers as they wrap around him, “good morning, my wife,” yoongi reaches for your hands and gives each of your fingers a kiss, making you giggle and push your head into his back.

“technically, it’s fiancé.”

“i think i prefer wife already.” and you hum contently, “me too.”

it was a new day.

his endless nights had finally come to an end and he never felt more grateful, he doesn’t think he will ever be able to explain how it happened, he doesn’t think anyone will understand the turmoil and anguish he felt in the past few hours, he doesn’t even think there’s an explanation but yoongi likes to brush it away, he has you and he doesn’t need an explanation, he just wants to keep you safe forever.

but he still had one problem.

“darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but can i block steve?”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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So Me and my boyfriend have been dating since highschool Jr year. It's been a while since then, I'm in trade school and he works at McDonald's. Lately, he's been working very late, for two weeks straight and I understand he's been busy but it feels like he was ignoring me Because the times he was "working" were more than 8-hour long shifts. This cycle kept repeating for 2 weeks and during these 2 weeks, I would express to him that I felt ignored and neglected since he barely had been speaking to me. I was lucky if I got 10 texts a day at most. Which compared to before was very little. I would tell him how I felt and he would apologize saying "sorry babe didn't mean to make you feel that way" and then he would turn around and ignore me again in the same day or the day after. This started to wear on me and it felt like I was being brushed off each time. And this Thursday it all came to a head. For context I suffer from bpd, and being ignored triggers me, I am working on the issue and trying to be better but these past 2 weeks it feels like he was just doing the one thing I asked him not to do, over and over again. And he didn't communicate very well to me, if he was stressed with work or having issues at home I would have understood if he briefly explained. But he didn't I would ask him over and over again if he was okay and he'd just brush me off and say he's fine.

This last thrusday though he did the same thing, from Thursday 9 am to 7. He was "working" and only sent me 4 texts that day. I asked him what was up and why he won't communicate with me and he ignored me MORE. And I had enough and just blew up, I told him that how he was treating me isn't fair, and it's making me unhappy and I feel negelcted and not loved, I told him I felt like he was pushing me away and for what reason I'm not sure. I was fed up and told him if he wanted to break up we could but if he didn't he should call me to work things out. He didn't call me and ignored me more. I took a few hours to myself and then I texted him to explain more, and kind of apologize. I told him that I didn't mean to be so explosive with my anger but I still feel like my dwellings were valid and I explained to him that he just went cold on me for two weeks and didn't explain anything to me. And it feels like I cannot reach him anymore, and that I don't want to break up and work on things if I made him unhappy. But it wasn't fair for him to go cold on me like that. I told him I loved him but there's only so much I can take and I needed space, He once again ignored me. This time going silent for 3 days completely.

I texted him like a day later asking if we could speak the following day. Nothing. I asked him the next day if we could meet to the same day, ignored again. I was worried about him so I texted him again the next day asking if he was at least okay and he ignored me for a couple of hours, before saying he was fine and he's not ready to talk. I respected that and told him I understand and to text when he was ready. I also apologized to him and told him that i was truly sorry for how i acted and that he didnt deserve that. He lied again and said he had work that day (it was Sunday, before the fight happened he told me he ONLY had Sunday off, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to have someone working for 7 days straight) I didn't call him out on this because I was scared I'd upset him more so I just told him I loved him and to have a good day at work.

He ignored me, again.

Please be so honest, am I the asshole? I feel like the asshole for blowing up on him and I know it was wrong for me to do that to him but I just felt stuck and emotionally stuck after being hurt by him almost daily and telling him so only to get ignored. On my end this feels shitty, and I do wish I could take back what happened but I can't. I also feel this is unfair, everytime My feelings get hurt and I express them he doesn't go to the same lengths to Apologize or make it up to me or even make a long term change, but when I hurt his feelings he acts like this and acts like I just committed some war crime against him. Maybe im being unfair but I feel unheard. I'm afraid this may be the end of our relationship and i dont want that.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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havendance · 1 year

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A collection of Helena Bertinelli/Huntress panels that are important to me:

(Detective Comics #653)

Batman: That's not the way I work. I'm not a killer. Huntress: You sanctimonious... You're looking for fair play in Gotham? I got you all wrong, Batman. I thought we became what we are for the same reasons; because the streets took away everything we loved.

Detective Comics 652-653 were my first introduction to Helena's character and this was the panel that really stuck out to me about her and who she was. This is what I kept coming back and thinking about. The contrast between them. They way that they're almost similar. Just "I thought we were the same". That's the good stuff right there.

(Huntress (1989) #2)

Huntress: I'm not strong. On TV... those overgrown wrestlers wear show-off flashy costumes... symbols of how strong they are. But it's not strong people who need costumes... It's the weak ones. Weak people who have to hide behind spooky capes and masks... make themselves seem more fearsome... so no one will see them for the harmless creatures they are... harmless as a frightened little girl who's lost her parents.

One of the things that really compelled about Huntress '89 (and to an extent Huntress '94, though that one just wasn't as good) was the dichotomy between the Huntress and the scared little girl that Helena still felt like underneath it. The contrast between the front she puts up, the way she puts on the mask and lives in it, and just how part of her is still caught up in the tragedy that birthed the Huntress in the first place.

(Showcase '93 #10)

Helena (internal narration): Maybe's not the word for it. Monday morning: David Stone will never have a chance to turn savage, never know a child of his own...but I can't bring myself to think it's better this way. Survival is always better.

Helena throughout the entire two part story that this concludes has been reflecting on the cycle of violence. It's really fascinating to see the way that her cynicism interacts with the fact that she really does want to help this student of hers who's been abused by his father. And the way she reflects on it you can see also thinking about herself and the Huntress as a product of violence and you get this impression of self-loathing as well. It's all just a really interesting story and I definitely recommend checking it out if you get a chance.

(Nightwing #29)

Huntress: How can you do what you do? Nightwing: Meaning? H: Look at this town. How can you play the white knight? How long can you stick to your “code”? N: As long as it takes. H: And if you fail? And you will fail. N: Then I fail, Helena. N: But I won’t let them win by becoming one of them. H: You have to play by their rules to defeat the. N: It’s not broken. H: What? N: Your ankle.

I've talked about this page before in multiple contexts, but like, I just really like it. It's an interesting look at what separates Helena from the bats. Her cynicism of you have to play the game to beat them. And also the last exchange "it's not broken... you're ankle", I just really like it. It works for me.

(JLA #32)

Kid: Do you have super strength? Huntress: No K: Are you invulnerable? H: I'm afraid not. K: Then how are you going to save him? What are you gonna do? H: I'm going to do everything I'm capable of doing!

I think this one speaks for it's self. I just boils down what I find compelling about non-powered heroes.

(Huntress: Cry for Blood #6)

Question: There's still time. Helena: Blood cries for blood, Vic. H: Santo killed his sister. Q: Dammit, where does it end? Q: When is it enough?

I'm going to be totally honest, this one's here because it appeals to me personally. I am obsessed with the motif of "blood cries for blood" (and also the Santo killed his own sister thing, because I'm always this close to catching kindly ones brainrot). Anyway, vengeance. Very compelling.

#huntress #helena bertinelli #the cooler gotham antihero #laurie-juspeczyk I cleaned up this post for you #here's some good huntress content since it's huntress posting hours tonight #or afternoon i guess #comic panel hoard #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated

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eatmangoesnekkid · 3 months

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Belly Dance Downloads Week 26 or So

Here is an itemize list of what I'm experiencing:

1. Stimulation of greater blood flow circulation in abdomen and greater blood flow circulation means more blood flow to my heart and brain. In other words belly dance, taken seriously as alchemy, makes us more loving and smarter. If you tend to get cramps during your monthly cycle, belly dance will help support you in having less cramps or none at all.

2. More strengthening and flexibility in my abdomen muscles and diaphragm--which means that belly dance improves our breathing efficiency and the flames of our vitality. We become healthier and more alive and creative through the slow stretch and phatness happening in our center.

3. A release of deeply rooted, entangbled abdominal tensions which allows for better digestion. Deeply rooted tension and the accompanying trapped energy are some root causes for larger or hardened belly sizes which discourages the natural free flow of energy throughout the whole body and the body experiencing waves of real relaxation. Belly blockages are incredibly common which disables one's heart from opening up or inhibits the person from living life with more more trust and faith and less triggers. With all the pole and aerial, my belly started to feel too hard for my liking and my skin had been breaking out on and off for a few months. Later, I realized that it wasn’t just muscle in my belly but old stuck contracted energy. When we belly dance, no matter our belly size, we help clear stuckness and other physical and energetic debris in our digestive track and thereby soften/relax our belly tissues and make our skin even more beautiful naturally. Skin care and digestive care go hand-in-hand.

What I am now noticing is that I have more awareness and sensation of my internal organs. Because of the constant personal attention and decompression through belly dance and its gyrations and shakes at the belly and hips, the female center of reality that stores OLD emotion and inner child wounds, I can feel my liver, lungs, and even my kidneys at the back being shaken up, and not only feel them, but drop down them into a communicative intimacy with them. I don't have this need to look "good" when I belly dance or have everything right or in order because I truly just enjoy being inside myself, inside my body, soft gazing or eyes closed, laughing and smiling, and tuning into the musical hip drops and pelvic shimmies. I feel incredibly sexy and sensuous for no reason at all— a kind of liberation and freedom that they don’t teach in feminism.

Being disconnected from our female bodies not only causes us to tell lies to ourselves -mainly because we don't know our true selves-- therefore we create our lives to be a living hell unknowingly.

The Soil of Truth

You can't create your life unless you know yourself. That's why there is nothing more important than you being connected to your body--not a deadline, not a lover, and certainly not being pregnant or having a child, but obviously any kind of child neglect is not what I'm talking about. Nothing is truthful if you don't have a relationship with your body, alongside your relationships with others. Now your body starts to feel warm and safe, instead of like a dangling carrot.

We must grow ourselves beyond the lies we were taught about being women, being self-less and self-sacrificing, and begin to feel safe, warm, anointed, aroused, or excited to simply get to know our bodies and the soft power, the feminine power, this womb power that lives within---this spaciousness where there are no worries or anxieties, and we are held, covered, and just know--things. We are no longer in our minds scared and anticipating other people's reactions of us BEING who we are, living our lives as we craft them to be. We just begin to align: dream, act, and live, LIVE, because we are far more in the center of our bodies, awakened in our bodies, than hanging in the limits of our programmed minds. --India Ame'ye, Author tension

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mariacallous · 6 months

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(JTA) — It was a slow trickle, each long press of the finger and ensuing quick tap was days and sometimes weeks apart (it’s hard to comprehend that a whole month has passed since Oct. 7), but I am here to tell you that I — a former social media manager — have removed each and every social media app from my phone.

In fact, as I was writing this very esssay, I realized I still had Threads downloaded, opened it for a minute, saw a Thread that said “Zionism is antisemitism,” and promptly deleted that, too.

I have zero desire to restore a single one of them.

What happened to me has probably happened to you, too. I saw a Tweet, a TikTok, an Instagram Story that filled me with such fury and indignation that I spent hours — sometimes days — formulating and reformulating an epic, fact-based, emotionally charged, imagined response. Imagined, of course, because I knew I’d never post it. I’ve seen so many celebrities and random acquaintances do such utterly embarrassing and harmful and reputation-destroying things in the last weeks to even dare to try.

And to be clear: I would try if I thought I could change someone’s mind and force them to see my humanity, but beyond the small, intimate, personal conversations that I can have off the apps, I feel like these enraged indignant responses only seem to silo people further.

I’ve worked in social media since 2014 — in the Jewish realm of social media, specifically. That means I’ve seen a lot of awfulness, gas chamber memes, overt antisemitism and Islamophobia. I’ve personally been told many times to go back where I came from (which, yes, is Israel, and that feels grimly funny now). Yet I’ve also believed in its power to heal, to make people feel seen, to energize activism, to educate.

I still believe that — kind of? But I’ve also never seen it this awful, this polarizing, this … honestly, unhinged. An unscientific poll of people I know seems to indicate the same thing: Social media is the worst it’s ever been, maybe because the Israel/Palestine conversation has always been so impossibly polarizing.

People are so stuck in their “side” and binary that they’re willing to share anything — without fact-checking, without making sure they’re not getting in bed with people whose worldview is dangerous, without asking themselves for a small second, wait, is this Islamophobic? Antisemitic? Completely detached from reality? Without wondering if they sound like a conspiracy theorist, or if they’re just being cruel for cruelty’s sake.

And the amount of words wasted on misinformation and meanness doesn’t even compare to the number of words some people insist on putting into other people’s mouths (or keyboards, rather) when their statement doesn’t 100% pass whatever standards they’ve arbitrarily decided it must. Beyond Israel and Palestine, we’ve been tearing ourselves apart inside our Jewish community, and that also breaks my heart.

I understand the deep grief and rage behind most posts. I’ve been enraged and grieving myself. I’ve been scared too: Of the growing antisemitism. Of the people who tell me that I and my family, because we were born in Israel, can’t be innocent civilians, that we all deserve the horrors of Oct. 7 to befall on us.

I’ve also been scared for the life of every innocent person lost and about to be lost. Around 1,200 Israelis killed, 300 kidnapped, over 10,000 Palestinian lives believed to have been taken, all unfathomable numbers. And I’ve been scared about the cycle of rage and violence and siloed indignation that removes the humanity of a whole swath of people. Because I do believe that that’s part of what got us here. And I keep seeing it evinced, over and over again, on social media.

I am — unlike many “experts” newly minted by numbers of followers or magnitude of chutzpah — not an expert of Middle Eastern politics, despite being Israeli and working in Jewish media for almost a decade. I know a lot, but I am not a politician or historian. And yet, to the extent I believe that there is a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I believe that it has to be one that takes into account the inherent humanity of all those involved. I believe that it will be human and imperfect.

I’m awed by the people who are still managing to use social media for good right now, the little spots of light — people who parse through history and reality with wisdom and empathy, well-educated veteran observers of Israel and Palestine, academics, journalists, fierce activists, who, through immense pain, still manage to retain their humanity.

Yet for me, I’ve realized being on social media is doing more harm than good. It’s keeping me further away from solutions and useful action, and closer to rage and fear. So for now, I can’t stay there.

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neverluckygoldfish · 2 months

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52 -

The past two months have felt like a blur, stuck in a vicious cycle of relapse, recovery, relapse, recovery, and so on.

It’s been really fucking tough. I’ve felt like a zombie. Sometimes it feels like this is all life is, a weary merry-go-round until we die.

But after falling down 800 times and still getting back up on that 801st try - I’m in a much better place.

And I’m not beating myself up about it. Shit happens, we fall down. Sometimes we fall down and stay down because we’re so fucking tired of having to get back up.

I watched a looootttt of movies with happy endings as a kid. I did a lot of things alone and I never really noticed how much that influenced my way of thinking and my approach to life. I guess that’s where I started to believe that I had to live two lives. Because who I really am - my family didn’t like. As a woman of color, of immigrant parents, and growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood - I never felt like I found my place. I didn’t belong at home and I definitely didn’t belong in the outside world.

So we take that first drink or the first hit to forget we feel that way inside. And we keep drinking and using to keep forgetting.

And it’s where I started to believe that one day everything will magically work out so I just have to keep holding on to be saved.

I’ve spent so much time ignoring my body that trying to be present in it now, as an adult, makes me feel like a fearful little kid. Anxiety feels scary because I never learned how to manage it.

Ignore all the problems until you’re almost 30 and have a bunch of substance abuse issues and no one to turn to because you can’t trust the people who were supposed to care for you.

I’m just so damn tired of caring. Caring what people think - am I being nice and kind and do they feel heard and god forbid any one ever thinks I have ill intentions….

So yeah, my attitude lately is to block out the noise & do whatever I want to do. Whatever I know is truly good for my soul.

So I started a weaving again and have made some yummy food and am getting in a lot of snuggles with my dog. Also I listen to new music and take in the sunset. I take a long bath and put on my expensive lotion that’s saved for a special occasion because every day is a special occasion now that I am CHOOSING to be alive.

I realized I like having little projects. So I’ve been assigning myself shit to try because I’m interested in it. And that’s enough of a reason for me.

Isn’t the whole point of life to experience? And when you boil it down to that core, what really separates us from each other if we are all in it for the experience?

Am I sounding crazy?? Because I‘be never felt more enlightened and grounded in my sense of things.

Holy shit, it all makes sense now.

Or maybe this is all just one psychotic episode waiting to break loose. Lol. Hopefully not.

I’ve decided I don’t need some big overarching life goal - that I’m totally fine with going with the flow. I don’t need to have all the answers. In fact, forcing myself to think that way has actually cemented this “not good enough” belief.

Because when I think back as a kid and getting lost in the present - I was happy. I used to get lost in entertaining myself for hours. And the world (or my world) told me that was wrong. I wasn’t doing it correctly.

But I’m fine the way I am. You know? Like imagine if we could roll the tape back to before we ever started to hate ourselves or constantly try to “fix” our lives - how did we approach the world before everything was clouded by this inherent sense of “not good enough”.

It’s kind of jarring to realize that people don’t automatically think and know the worst parts of me and judge me by it.

It’s kind of jarring to realize that nobody really is that bothered by me. I’m feeling okay taking up my little space in the world.

I’m ready to care for that little girl who has felt so scared and uncomfortable all these years.

In some ways, I’ve never felt more free.

#self love #higher self #mental health #healing #recovery #sobriety #healing journey #addiction recovery #spiritual growth #alcoholism #depression recovery #self improvement #inner peace #nurture your inner child

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henrywintersdearestgirl · 1 year

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Si vis amari, ama

The first writing is here. Excuse me if I had made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

You may think that Henry is ooc here, but we never knew what went on in his head...

I hope that you will enjoy my writing!

xoxo, Rosemary

warnings: none, we are just getting warmed up, doves:)

Henry’s point of view

I was on my way to the Lycée as usual, nothing seemed out of order that day, it was just like any other days I’ve lived, before her. I arrived at Julian’s office and I’ve let myself in, Everyone except the twins were already there, sitting and sipping their tea. When they heard the door close, they snapped out of the conversation I interrupted and looked up at me from their seats.

“Well, nice of you to join us.” said Francis first. Then they all stood up and greeted me as I greeted them. Now with me in the group, we made our way back to the seats in the office, I sat in my usual leather armchair. I reached for my tea and I noticed one more on the table. Why one? If we were waiting on the twins, there would be two extra teacups on the table. So, why one? Maybe one of them is sick, I thought.

“The twins are not in town.” Julian interrupted my train of curious thoughts on the twins lack of presence and the extra tea cup. “Their grandmother got some cold and they hopped right on the train, so we won’t be expecting them today and probably a few days.” Julian stood up and checked the time on his watch, then he went to the door and looked out the hallway. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, I just didn’t heard what, I found his behavior rather strange. I looked over the others and I was met with three confused expressions, they looked at me as if I knew what was going on.

“What is going on? Why is he acting like this?” Bunny and Richard mouthed these questions at me, I just shrugged my shoulders. If I was completely honest, it rather bothered me that I didn’t know what was the case in today’s class, what I knew is that I felt something, but for the life of me I couldn’t say if it was a good or bad feeling. But as I almost got into another thought cycle, Julian stood in front of us and began speaking,

“I suppose you want answers, why am I looking rather impatient?” he looked in our eyes with his usual warm expression. “I have an announcement to make, one that is quite rare,”

“Should we be scared? I don’t know about you guys, but I have an awful gut feeling about this.” said Bunny with his eyes wider than usual.

“You are being a drama queen as usual, dear Bunny.” snickered Francis in response.

“Who says, cher Francois?” Bunny answered with a fake offence in his expression, Francis just stuck his tongue out and turned back to our professor.

Julian looked at me and Richard like a father who is finding amusement in his kids bickering, and we were kind of like his kids.

“Calm your horses, children. If you skipped the joking, you would have already known what I’m about to say,” of course, they got quiet and they put all their attention on Julian. I was on the edge, I so badly wanted to know what he had to say. “Now that I have all your attention, let me make the announcement that I’ve grown quite fond of and I am sure that you will too.” he paused for the dramatic pause. “A new pupil will be joining our small circle!” we just stared in front of us, letting the new information sink in our minds. A new student in the greek class? Again? I always had a hard time getting used to new people around me, and after Richard I didn’t wish to do it again for a while, but as it seems Julian had different plans against my favour. With Richard we got lucky, everyone in our small circle liked him and he fit right in, but maybe luck will not be on our side this time.

“Again? Julian, I believe you are slowly letting every idiot in this class?” said Bunny, offended. Then he paused and looked at Richard, “no offense, old chap,”

“None taken.” said Richard, he tried not to look hurt and he managed to trick Bunny, but Francis and I noticed. While I shot Bunny a belittling glance, Francis caressed his sides in a comforting manner and the hurting look in Richard’s eyes went away in an instant.

“That is quite short-minded of you, Edmund” Julian shook his head as he said “Believe me when I say that our new student is brilliant and charming.” we sat in silence for a few moments, and while I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of getting used to a new person, I was curious about the brilliance and the charm Julian mentioned.

“What’s his name?” asked Richard after a little while. The second he finished the sentence there was a knock on the door, which caused all of us to snap our heads in the direction of the door.

“Very well then,” Julian smiled suddenly and made his way to the door, just as he put his hands on the door handle he said “why don’t you ask that from her?” and he opened a door just a little bit and began talking to the person in front of the door. While I was focused on the door and the person behind it, I heard the others talking in shushed voices. “Her? Another girl? I could hardly tolerate Camilla, but another one? This is straight up bullshit!” At that I turned my head in his direction and what I saw was a very annoyed Bunny, how childish.

“What is wrong with Camilla? Don’t be like that, Bun.” Francis immediately slightly raised his voice a bit.

“Am I hearing that you are questioning Julian’s opinion? And you are already against her and hating her just because she is a girl? Misogyny is one of the stupidest things to exist and yet, you are the first in line for it the second your fragile pride realizes that she is could be smarter than you.” Bunny furrowed his brows in confusion at first, but only for a second. Then he almost said something back at me if Francis didn’t interrupt him. “Henry’s right, Bun. We should meet her first and then we can form an opinion about her.” “Guys– I think we’re about to meet her!” Richard said in a fast sentence and he was looking in the direction of the door, the second I turned my head to do the same, the door opened. Julian opened the door fully and beauty on earth herself, in a short skirt and a dark blue sweater, walked in. She was goddess like, everything about her. From her head of long and full curls, to the long legs that carried her in the most graceful way I’ve ever seen. Her gaze wandered to me first, and it made my breath stop in my throat. Those eyes sucked me in, those eyes that were the most prettiest shades. Is this what they describe in the books? When Julian put his palms on her shoulder and began speaking again she tore her gaze away from my eyes. It made me want to walk over to her and hold her face in one place so she can’t deny those eyes from me. Julian made her stand in front of all of us, I looked over to the others to see if they saw the same thing I did, and they did. They were all looking at her as if she was the most exotic thing in this land, and maybe she was. I found Bunny’s expression rather funny, he was just hating at the mention of her and now he was shamelessly staring at her with an open mouth. Julian put her in a spot where the sun was shining, now she looked like she just stepped right out of a fairytale, her pale skin was shining in the sunlight, and so did her hair and eyes, with the slight blush of her cheeks she really looked like an angel on earth. I almost jumped when Julian began speaking again. “Everyone, meet our Aphrodite!” at that she, let out a light giggle and her sweet sweet voice went straight to my heart. And when she began talking I almost melted, as if I wasn’t myself in that moment.

“Well thank you Julian,” she looked at him and flashed a charming and warm smile to him. “But, no one is as beautiful as Aphrodite, she is not just beautiful, but she is beauty herself. Whatever is beauty, she is exactly that.” Julian seemed surprised that she corrected him, but then he smiled, because he knew that she was right. Right she was, just knowing that she is willing to correct someone even if they are complementing her impressed me. And I always believed that it was hard to impress me, but she already did it with the fist sentence I heard her speak. I drank every word she said, and I still craved more.

“Very well, my dear. Already correcting the teacher, very brave. I can tell you will fit right in.” that made her smile shyly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell us about yourself? We already have tea prepared for you.” he guided her to the seat that was facing mine, and then he sat down on a seat himself. “Because the lack of our beloved twins and our new addition I decided that we just talk today.” he looked around. Francis, Richard and Bunny let out a relieved sigh in unison. Normally, I would have been mad that we talked about anything that’s not greek or latin, but I wanted to hear her speak more. It almost didn’t matter what she would talk about, I just wanted to hear more of that sweet skylark voice, but I also needed to know more about her. Who was I in that moment?

“Thank you, this is a very warm welcome you are giving me.” she took a sip of her tea and I believe she was smiling at Francis, who was almost as fascinated with her as I was. She introduced herself, her name matched her, she had an accent I believe, she didn’t pronounce her name like we would have.

“Well, Y/N. “Julian responded before anyone else could, “these are my boys,” he introduced us to her,but when he saw our inability to talk, he did it himself. “That red haired fellow is Francis Abernathy, also our new addition Richard Papen, Edmund Corcoran also known as ‘Bunny’ and the brilliant Henry Winter.” she followed us with her gaze as Julian introduced us one by one and she gave us all a small smile, Francis made a face and winked at her. That made her smile widely with her teeth, I wanted to make her smile like that. Too bad, I don’t know how to make people laugh out loud. Until now that didn’t bothered me, it still doesn’t if I’m talking about anyone else, but her. “Are you american?” asked Bunny “I mean, obviously you’re not, so like, where are you from?” she sat back a bit and crossed her legs, for a second I saw the lacy top of her black thights and it made my breath hitch in my throat, and that caused me to clear my throat. A bit louder than I anticipated so now all eyes shot to me. I just reached for my tea and took a long sip. I put the teacup back in it’s original place on the table and I lifted my chin towards her, signalling that she can continue. It seemed that it was hard for her to tear her gaze away from mine, she zoned out for a mere second while looking deeply into my eyes through my glasses. Now that she quite close from me I could see the shade of her eyes, and I have never seen a pair of eyes so confusing. They had shades of dark green, the darkest of blues and gray. But they were none of the above, and when I realized that, I knew that those eyes we’re going to follow me anywhere I go.

“No, I am definitely not from america, I’m from europe. A little bit from everywhere. The blood of my family is very colorful, so I don’t tie myself down to one nationality.” she reached for her tea and took small sips as she let the information she just gave us sink in. “It may sound like that, but if I’m honest I didn’t see much of the world.”

We talked for a while, which wasn’t much because Bunny and Richard had to go, but not a second of it was awkward. She had quite the talent to fill up the silence, without sounding boring or anything of the sort. Bunny had a dentists appointment and, of course, he is too much of a child to go on his own, so he found someone to drag to the other side of town and in this case Richard was the victim. Me and Francis bid our goodbyes and left, except Francis gave her a big hug. I just stood by the door and gave her a small nod, barely a smile. She needed to stay in the office for a bit, so Julian could give her everything we did in the past classes, because when she arrived in Hampden it was well into the semester. Strange.

Me and Francis stood in front of the building and lit a cigarette, and stood in silence for a little while. It was nearing the end of autumn, but the leaves were too stubborn to leave the trees. Now that I was thinking about it, the color of the dark leaves matched her hair. She was like a mother or a child of autumn. I turned my head in Francis’s direction, and just as I expected he was already looking at me. What I didn’t expect was a sly smirk on his face, he smiled at me like he knew something that I didn’t, and maybe he did.

“Yes, Francis? Is there anything you would like to say?” I spoke when I realized that he was waiting for me to speak up first.

“Oh, it is nothing.” his grin became wider, but he was trying so hard to hide it. “So, how do you like Hampden’s Aphrodite?” he needed to bite down on his lips, so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. I knew what he was indicating, he noticed my mesmerization with her, but I was too stubborn to let him hear what he wanted, which was close to impossible, it was Francis after all.

“She seems intelligent, and the way she talks shows that she knows a lot of things.” I kept my answer casual, but Francis had other plans.

“And she is very pretty, no?” he nudged my elbows with his, I shot him a cold look. But there was no denying, he knew that her beauty made a nest in my mind. “I am messing with you, I know you are too proud to admit that Henry Winter actually has a soul and he might have a small crush.” he looked like he was so proud of himself, proud that the second I let my emotions show - even if for a second - he could see them loud and clear. “Let me tell you something, I know that we have our differences in romantic interests, but I am most definitely not blind. That girl right in there is someone special, not just because of her beauty, but she is charming and she seems like she has a smart mind.” he was looking almost too deeply into my eyes. “What I am saying may be absolutely worthless to you, but I would not let my pride keep me away from that girl, a girl like her comes once in a lifetime. Do whatever you will with that information.” he patted me on the shoulders after he finished his dramatic speech. What bothered me the most was the fact that he was not saying nonsense.

“Her eyes are so confusing.” that was all I said, and for him it was enough. “I know, that’s what Camilla said and I noticed it myself. Those eyes match her.” we continued our conversation as if Francis never said his monologue about her and I.

“Camilla knows her?” I realized a second later that Camilla already met her somehow. “When her and Charles were on their way to the train station, they stopped here on the way and Camilla ran up to Julian’s office to tell him about their situation. And she was there, they talked for a few minutes and Milly said that they were getting along really well and that she enjoyed their small talk.” said Francis. “Actually, I was thinking of inviting her over to the country house, what do you think?”

“It is perfectly fine by me,--” I looked behind Francis and there she was. She was a bit far away from us, and she didn’t notice our presence. Francis must have noticed the sudden stopping in my speech so he followed my gaze, when he realized what, or more like who I was looking at, we both got quiet. We just spectated her from afar as if any sudden movement would cause her to get away from our gazes, like a deer. She was now bundled up in an overcoat with a silk scarf and gloves, the wind lightly caressed her hair, as if it was trying to be gentle not to hurt her in anyway. She dug up a pack of cigarettes and lit one. As she stood there, looking up to the dark clouds in the sky and blowing out the tobacco out of those lips, I knew that I was going to take up on Francis’s advice. As if I wouldn’t have done that otherwise.

“Si vis amari, ama. (“If you want to be loved, love), said Francis out of the blue. He put out his cigarette, smiled at me and walked away.

I looked back at her, I couldn’t help the corners of my lips turning upwards and I murmured under my breath, to myself.

“Si vis amari, ama.”

#thesecrethistory #tsh #henrywinterimagine #henrywinter #henry winter #henrywintersmut #francis abernathy #richardpapen #bunny corcoran #julian morrow #charles macaulay #charlesmacauley

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